The tilted ship left the masts hanging far out over the water. From where I clung to the cross-trees, there was nothing beneath me but the green surface of the bay.
Hands had not climbed as high as I had. Because of that, he was closer to the ship and fell between me and the side rails.
For one brief moment, he came back up through the water, covered in foam and blood.
Then he sank again and never returned.
As the water became calm, I could see him lying curled up on the bright sand beneath the shadow of the ship. A few fish swam past his body.
The movement of the water sometimes made him seem as if he was trying to move.
But he was dead.
He had been both shot and drowned, and now he had become food for fish in the very place where he had planned to kill me.
The moment I realized this, I began to feel weak, sick, and frightened.
Blood was running down my back and chest.
The dagger that had pinned my shoulder against the mast burned like a hot piece of metal.
But strangely, the pain itself was not what frightened me most. I felt I could endure that.
What terrified me was the thought of falling from the cross-trees into the silent green water beside the dead body of the man who had attacked me.
I held on with both hands until my fingernails hurt.
I closed my eyes, as if that could hide me from the danger below.
Slowly, my mind became clearer again. My heartbeat settled, and I began to feel like myself once more.
My first thought was to pull out the dagger.
But either it was stuck too firmly, or I lost my courage at the last moment.
I stopped with a violent shiver.
Oddly enough, that shiver saved me.
The knife had barely missed causing a much worse injury. It was only holding me by a small piece of skin.
The sudden movement tore that skin free.
The bleeding became heavier, but I was free again.
I was no longer attached to the mast by the dagger, only by my coat and shirt.
With one strong pull, I tore through the cloth and climbed back onto the deck using the starboard ropes.
I would never have dared use the ropes on the other side. Israel had only just fallen from there, and I had no wish to follow him.
I went below deck and treated my wound as best I could.
It hurt badly and continued bleeding, but it was not deep or dangerous. It also did not stop me from using my arm.
Then I looked around the ship.
The schooner was now almost mine.
There was only one last passenger to remove—the dead man, O’Brien.
He had fallen against the side rails and lay there like a terrible wooden puppet.
He was the size of a living man, but nothing about him looked alive anymore.
Since he was lying in a place where I could easily move him, I grabbed him around the waist as if he were only a heavy sack.
With one strong push, I threw him overboard.
He hit the water with a loud splash.
His red cap floated away on the surface.
When the water became still again, I saw him and Israel lying beside each other below the waves, both moving slightly with the water’s motion.
O’Brien was still a young man, but he was almost completely bald.
Now his bald head rested across the knees of the man who had killed him, while quick little fish swam around both bodies.
I was completely alone on the ship.
The tide had just begun to change.
The sun was close to setting, and the shadows of the pine trees on the western shore stretched across the anchorage and covered the deck with dark patterns.
The evening wind had risen.
The hill on the eastern side protected us from most of it, but the ropes had begun to sing softly, and the loose sails rattled back and forth.
I realized the ship was in danger.
I quickly lowered the front sails and brought them down onto the deck.
The main sail was much harder.
Because the schooner was leaning over, the boom had swung outward, and part of the sail was hanging under the water.
I thought this made the situation even more dangerous.
The pressure was so great that I was afraid to touch it.
Finally, I took my knife and cut the ropes holding it.
The top of the sail dropped immediately.
A huge sheet of loose canvas spread across the water.
I pulled as hard as I could, but I could not move the lower rope.
That was all I could do.
The Hispaniola would have to depend on luck, just as I had.
By then, the entire anchorage was covered in shadow.
I remember the last sunlight shining through a gap in the forest and making the flowers near the wreck glow like jewels.
The air became cold.
The tide was rushing away quickly.
The schooner settled farther and farther onto its side.
I climbed forward and looked over the edge.
The water seemed shallow enough.
Holding the cut rope tightly as my final support, I lowered myself into the sea.
The water only reached my waist.
The sand beneath my feet was firm and covered with little wave marks.
I walked to shore in excellent spirits, leaving the Hispaniola lying on her side with her main sail spread across the bay.
At almost the same moment, the sun disappeared completely, and the evening wind whispered through the pine trees.
At last, I was free from the sea.
And I had not returned empty-handed.
There was the schooner, finally taken away from the pirates and ready for our own men to use.
More than anything, I wanted to return to the stockade and tell my friends what I had done.
Perhaps they would scold me a little for leaving without permission.
But capturing the Hispaniola was a strong answer.
I hoped even Captain Smollett would admit that my adventure had not been wasted.
With these thoughts filling my mind, I started walking back toward the blockhouse.
I remembered that the easternmost stream flowing into Captain Kidd’s anchorage came from the hill with two peaks.
I headed that way so I could cross it while the water was still shallow.
The forest was fairly open.
Keeping along the lower slopes, I soon passed around the hill and later crossed the stream, where the water only reached halfway up my calves.
This brought me close to the place where I had first met Ben Gunn, the man abandoned on the island.
So I became more careful and watched every direction.
Night was almost completely upon me.
When I reached the gap between the two peaks, I saw a flickering light against the sky.
It looked as if the island man was cooking his dinner beside a large fire.
Yet I wondered why he was being so careless.
If I could see that fire, perhaps Silver and his men near the marshes could see it too.
The darkness grew deeper.
It became difficult to find my way.
The two-peaked hill behind me and the Spy-glass on my right slowly disappeared into the darkness.
The stars were faint.
In the low ground, I kept tripping over bushes and falling into sandy holes.
Suddenly, a pale light appeared around me.
I looked up.
Moonlight had reached the top of the Spy-glass.
Soon I saw something wide and silver moving behind the trees.
The moon had risen.
With its help, I moved faster.
Sometimes I walked, sometimes I ran, eager to reach the stockade.
But as I entered the woods near it, I became careful again.
It would have been a foolish ending to my adventures if my own friends had mistaken me for an enemy and shot me.
The moon climbed higher.
Its light poured through the open spaces between the trees.
Then I saw another light ahead.
This one was different.
It was red and warm, sometimes fading like the glowing ashes of a dying fire.
I could not understand what it was.
At last, I reached the edge of the clearing.
The western side was already bright with moonlight.
The rest of the clearing and the blockhouse remained hidden in darkness, crossed only by thin silver lines.
Behind the house, a huge fire had burned down into glowing red embers.
Its warm light stood out against the pale moonlight.
There was no one moving.
There was no sound except the wind.
I stopped, filled with surprise and a little fear.
We had never built such large fires.
Captain Smollett had ordered us to save firewood carefully.
I began to worry that something terrible had happened while I was away.
I quietly moved around the eastern side of the clearing and crossed the wooden wall where the shadows were deepest.
To be extra careful, I dropped onto my hands and knees and crawled silently toward the corner of the house.
As I got closer, my heart suddenly felt lighter.
The sound was not usually pleasant.
I had often complained about it before.
But at that moment, hearing my friends snoring peacefully inside sounded like beautiful music.
It was as comforting as the sailor’s call of “All’s well” during a night watch.
However, one thing was clear.
Their guard duty was terrible.
If Silver and his men had been sneaking toward them instead of me, nobody would have survived until morning.
I blamed myself again for leaving them in such danger with so few men watching.
By now I had reached the door and stood up.
Inside was completely dark.
I could see nothing.
The only sounds were the steady breathing of the sleepers and a strange little tapping noise that I could not explain.
I stepped inside slowly.
I smiled quietly to myself.
I imagined lying down in my usual place and seeing their shocked faces when they discovered me in the morning.
Then my foot touched something soft.
It was someone’s leg.
The sleeper moved and groaned but did not wake.
Suddenly, a sharp voice came out of the darkness.
“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”
The words repeated again and again without stopping, like a tiny machine making the same sound forever.
It was Captain Flint, Silver’s green parrot.
She was the one I had heard tapping at a piece of wood.
She had kept a better watch than any human guard and was now announcing my arrival with her endless cry.
I had no time to react.
The moment the parrot screamed, the sleepers woke and jumped up.
Then Silver’s voice shouted:
“Who goes there?”
I turned to run.
I crashed into one man, stumbled backward, and immediately ran straight into another.
He grabbed me and held me tightly.
“Bring a torch, Dick,” Silver ordered.
One of the men left the blockhouse and soon returned carrying a burning torch.