We rode as fast as we could until we reached Dr. Livesey’s house.
The front of the house was completely dark.
“Jump down and knock on the door,” Mr. Dance told me.
Dogger helped me down by holding out the stirrup.
The maid opened the door almost immediately.
“Is Dr. Livesey at home?” I asked.
“No,” she replied. “He came back this afternoon, but he went to the hall to have dinner and spend the evening with the squire.”
“Then that’s where we’re going, boys,” said Mr. Dance.
The distance was short, so I did not get back on the horse. Instead, I ran beside Dogger, holding onto the stirrup strap, until we reached the lodge gate.
Then we followed a long, empty avenue beneath the moonlight. The trees were bare, and the white walls of the hall stood on both sides among the huge old gardens.
Mr. Dance got off his horse there.
He took me with him, and the servants let us inside as soon as he explained who he was.
A servant led us through a hallway covered with carpets.
At the end, he opened the door to a huge library.
The room was filled with bookshelves, and stone busts stood on top of them.
Near a bright fire sat the squire and Dr. Livesey, each holding a pipe.
I had never seen the squire so closely before.
He was a very tall man, more than six feet high, with a wide, powerful body.
His face was rough and weathered, showing the marks of many journeys.
His eyebrows were extremely dark and moved quickly, giving him a fierce expression.
He was not an unpleasant man, but everyone could see he had a quick and fiery temper.
“Come in, Mr. Dance,” the squire said proudly.
“Good evening, Dance,” said the doctor with a nod.
“And good evening to you, Jim. What brings you here tonight?”
Mr. Dance stood straight and stiff.
Then he told the whole story from beginning to end.
You should have seen how the two gentlemen reacted.
They leaned forward in their chairs, looked at each other in surprise, and completely forgot about their pipes.
When they heard that my mother had returned to the inn alone, Dr. Livesey slapped his thigh in excitement.
The squire shouted:
“Excellent!”
Then he hit his long pipe against the fireplace and broke it.
Before Mr. Dance had even finished, Mr. Trelawney—the squire’s name—had already stood up and begun walking around the room.
Dr. Livesey wanted to hear every detail clearly, so he removed his powdered wig.
Without it, his short black hair made him look completely different.
At last, Mr. Dance finished his story.
“Mr. Dance,” said the squire, “you are a truly brave man. Chasing down that terrible criminal was a noble act. It was like crushing a poisonous insect.”
He looked at me.
“And this young Hawkins is a fine fellow, I see. Hawkins, would you ring the bell? Mr. Dance deserves a drink.”
Then Dr. Livesey turned to me.
“So, Jim, you have the thing those men were searching for?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
I handed him the oilskin package.
The doctor examined it carefully.
His fingers seemed eager to open it immediately.
But instead, he calmly placed it inside his coat pocket.
“Squire,” said the doctor, “after Mr. Dance has had his drink, he must return to his duty. But I would like Jim to stay at my house tonight. With your permission, we can bring out some food and let him have dinner.”
“Of course, Livesey,” said the squire.
“After what Hawkins has done, he deserves much more than a simple meal.”
A large pigeon pie was brought in and placed on a small table.
I ate quickly and happily because I was starving.
Meanwhile, Mr. Dance received many more words of praise before finally leaving.
“And now, squire,” said the doctor.
“And now, Livesey,” said the squire at the exact same moment.
Dr. Livesey laughed.
“One at a time, gentlemen. One at a time.”
“You have heard of Captain Flint, I suppose?”
“Heard of him?” shouted the squire.
“Of course I have! He was the most terrifying pirate ever to sail the seas.”
“Blackbeard was nothing compared with Flint.”
“The Spanish feared him so much that, I admit, I was sometimes proud he was an Englishman.”
“I once saw his sails near Trinidad with my own eyes. The cowardly captain I was traveling with turned around and fled back to Port of Spain.”
“I have heard stories of him here in England too,” said the doctor.
“But the important question is this—did he have money?”
“Money?” cried the squire.
“What else would those villains chase after?”
“What else would they risk their worthless lives for?”
“That is exactly what we are going to discover,” said the doctor.
“But you are speaking so loudly and getting so excited that I cannot finish a sentence.”
“What I want to know is this: if I have some clue about where Flint buried his treasure, how valuable would that treasure be?”
“How valuable?” shouted the squire.
“If we truly have such a clue, I will prepare a ship in Bristol immediately.”
“I will take you and Hawkins with me.”
“I will search for that treasure for a whole year if necessary.”
“Very good,” said the doctor.
“Now, if Jim agrees, we will open the package.”
He placed it on the table.
The bundle had been carefully sewn shut.
The doctor took out his medical scissors and cut through the stitches.
Inside were two things:
A book.
And a sealed piece of paper.
“Let us examine the book first,” said Dr. Livesey.
The squire and I both leaned over his shoulder.
The doctor had kindly invited me to leave my meal and come closer so I could watch.
The first page contained only random notes, the kind a man might write while holding a pen out of boredom.
One line matched the tattoo mark on the captain’s arm:
“Billy Bones his fancy.”
There were also other notes:
“Mr. W. Bones, mate.”
“No more rum.”
“Off Palm Key he got it.”
And several other strange words that made little sense.
I could not help wondering:
Who was the person who had “got it”?
And what exactly had he gotten?
A knife in the back, perhaps.
“Nothing very useful here,” said Dr. Livesey as he turned the page.
The next ten or twelve pages were filled with strange records.
Each line had a date on one side and a sum of money on the other.
Between them were different numbers of crosses.
For example, on June 12, 1745, there was a record showing seventy pounds.
But instead of an explanation, there were only six crosses.
Sometimes a place name was added.
One entry said:
“Off Caraccas.”
Others showed only positions written with numbers, like a ship’s location.
The records continued for almost twenty years.
The amounts became larger as time passed.
At the end, there was a final total after several incorrect additions.
Underneath were the words:
“Bones, his pile.”
“I cannot understand this at all,” said Dr. Livesey.
“It is perfectly clear,” shouted the squire.
“This is Flint’s account book.”
“These crosses represent the ships or towns he attacked.”
“The money was his share of the stolen treasure.”
“When he wanted to make something clear, he added details.”
“Look here—‘Off Caraccas.’”
“That means they attacked some unfortunate ship near that coast.”
“Those poor sailors are long dead now.”
“Exactly,” said the doctor.
“See what experience teaches you.”
“The amounts grew larger because Flint became more powerful over time.”
There was little else in the book.
Near the end were some notes about locations and a table showing how French, English, and Spanish money could be converted into equal values.
“A careful man,” said the doctor.
“He certainly knew how to keep track of his wealth.”
“And now,” said the squire, “let us see the other item.”
The paper had been sealed in several places.
The seals looked like they had been made with a small metal thimble.
Perhaps it was the same thimble I had found in the captain’s pocket.
The doctor carefully broke the seals.
Inside was a map.
It showed an island with its exact latitude and longitude.
There were measurements of water depth, names of hills, bays, and small inlets.
Everything needed to guide a ship safely to shore was marked.
The island was about nine miles long and five miles wide.
Its shape looked like a fat dragon standing upright.
It had two excellent hidden harbors.
At the center was a hill marked:
“The Spy-glass.”
There were later notes added to the map.
But the most important marks were three red crosses.
Two were on the northern side of the island.
One was in the southwest.
Beside the last cross, written neatly in red ink, were the words:
“Bulk of treasure here.”
The handwriting was small and neat.
It was completely different from the captain’s shaky writing.
On the back of the map, more instructions had been written:
“Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to the north of north-northeast.”
“Skeleton Island east-southeast and by east.”
“Ten feet.”
“The silver bars are in the northern hiding place.”
“You can find it by following the line of the eastern hill.”
“Ten fathoms south of the black rock with the face carved on it.”
“The weapons are easy to find.”
“They are in the sand hill at the northern point of the north inlet cape.”
“Bearing east and a quarter north.”
“J.F.”
That was everything.
The instructions were short.
I could not understand them.
But the squire and Dr. Livesey were filled with excitement.
“Livesey,” cried the squire, “you must leave your boring medical practice immediately.”
“Tomorrow I leave for Bristol.”
“In three weeks—no, two weeks—perhaps ten days—we will have the finest ship and the best crew in England.”
“Hawkins will come as cabin boy.”
“You will make an excellent cabin boy, Hawkins.”
“You, Livesey, will be the ship’s doctor.”
“I will be the admiral.”
“We will take Redruth, Joyce, and Hunter with us.”
“With good winds, we will reach the island quickly.”
“We will find the treasure without trouble.”
“And then we will have enough money to spend for the rest of our lives.”
“Trelawney,” said Dr. Livesey, “I will go with you.”
“And I believe Jim will go too.”
“He will bring honor to the journey.”
“There is only one person I worry about.”
“Who?” shouted the squire.
“Tell me the name of that villain.”
“You,” replied the doctor.
“Because you cannot keep a secret.”
“We are not the only people who know about this map.”
“The men who attacked the inn tonight are dangerous and determined.”
“The others who remained on the ship are just as desperate.”
“They will do anything to get that treasure.”
“Until we reach the sea, none of us should travel alone.”
“Jim and I will stay together.”
“When you go to Bristol, take Joyce and Hunter with you.”
“And from now on, not a single person must hear a word about what we have discovered.”
“Livesey,” said the squire, “you are right as always.”
“I will be silent as the grave.”