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As soon as Ben Gunn saw the colors he came to a halt, stopped me by thearm and sat down.

"Now," said he, "there's your friends, sure enough."

"Far more likely it's the mutineers," I answered.

"That!" he cried. "Why, in a place like this, where nobody puts in butgen'lemen of fortune, Silver would fly the Jolly Roger, you don't makeno doubt of that. No, that's your friends. There's been blows, too, andI reckon your friends has had the best of it; and here they are ashorein the old stockade, as was made years and years ago by Flint. Ah, hewas the man to have a headpiece, was Flint! Barring rum, his match wasnever seen. He were afraid of none, not he; on'y Silver--Silver was thatgenteel."

"Well," said I, "that may be so, and so be it; all the more reason thatI should hurry on and join my friends."

"Nay, mate," returned Ben, "not you. You're a good boy, or I'm mistook;but you're on'y a boy, all told. Now Ben Gunn is fly. Rum wouldn't bringme there, where you're going--not rum wouldn't, till I see your borngen'leman, and gets it on his word of honor. And you won't forget mywords: 'A precious sight' (that's what you'll say), 'a precious sightmore confidence'--and then nips him."

And he pinched me the third time with the same air of cleverness.

"And when Ben Gunn is wanted you know where to find him, Jim. Just whereyou found him to-day. And him that comes is to have a white thing in hishand; and he's to come alone. Oh! and you'll say this: 'Ben Gunn,' saysyou, 'has reasons of his own.'"

"Well," said I, "I believe I understand. You have something to propose,and you wish to see the squire or the doctor, and you're to be foundwhere I found you. Is that all?"

"And when? says you," he added. "Why, from about noon observation toabout six bells."

"Good," says I, "and now may I go?"

"You won't forget?" he inquired, anxiously. "Precious sight, and reasonsof his own, says you. Reasons of his own; that's the mainstay; asbetween man and man. Well, then"--still holding me--"I reckon you cango, Jim. And, Jim, if you was to see Silver, you wouldn't go for to sellBen Gunn? wild horses wouldn't draw it from you? No, says you. And ifthem pirates came ashore, Jim, what would you say but there'd be widdersin the morning?"

Here he was interrupted by a loud report, and a cannon ball came tearingthrough the trees and pitched in the sand, not a hundred yards fromwhere we two were talking. The next moment each of us had taken to ourheels in a different direction.

For a good hour to come frequent reports shook the island, and ballskept crashing through the woods. I moved from hiding-place tohiding-place, always pursued, or so it seemed to me, by these terrifyingmissiles. But toward the end of the bombardment, though still I durstnot venture in the direction of the stockade, where the balls felloftenest, I had begun, in a manner, to pluck up my heart again; andafter a long detour to the east, crept down among the shore-side trees.

The sun had just set, the sea breeze was rustling and tumbling in thewoods, and ruffling the gray surface of the anchorage; the tide, too,was far out, and great tracts of sand lay uncovered; the air, after theheat of the day, chilled me through my jacket.

The _Hispaniola_ still lay where she had anchored; but, sure enough,there was the Jolly Roger--the black flag of piracy--flying from herpeak. Even as I looked there came another red flash and another report,that sent the echoes clattering, and one more round shot whistledthrough the air. It was the last of the cannonade.

I lay for some time, watching the bustle which succeeded the attack. Menwere demolishing something with axes on the beach near the stockade--thepoor jolly-boat, I afterwards discovered. Away, near the mouth of theriver, a great fire was glowing among the trees, and between that pointand the ship one of the gigs kept coming and going, the men, whom I hadseen so gloomy, shouting at the oars like children. But there was asound in their voices which suggested rum.

At length I thought I might return towards the stockade. I was prettyfar down on the low, sandy spit that incloses the anchorage to the east,and is joined at half-water to Skeleton Island; and now, as I rose to myfeet, I saw, some distance farther down the spit, and rising from amonglow bushes, an isolated rock, pretty high, and peculiarly white incolor. It occurred to me that this might be the white rock of which BenGunn had spoken, and that some day or other a boat might be wanted, andI should know where to look for one.

Then I skirted among the woods until I had regained the rear, orshoreward side, of the stockade, and was soon warmly welcomed by thefaithful party.

I had soon told my story, and began to look about me. The log-house wasmade of unsquared trunks of pine--roof, walls, and floor. The latterstood in several places as much as a foot or a foot and a half above thesurface of the sand. There was a porch at the door, and under this porchthe little spring welled up into an artificial basin of a rather oddkind--no other than a great ship's kettle of iron, with the bottomknocked out, and sunk "to her bearings," as the captain said, among thesand.

Little had been left beside the framework of the house, but in onecorner there was a stone slab laid down by way of hearth, and an oldrusty iron basket to contain the fire.

The slopes of the knoll and all the inside of the stockade had beencleared of timber to build the house, and we could see by the stumpswhat a fine and lofty grove had been destroyed. Most of the soil hadbeen washed away or buried in drift after the removal of the trees; onlywhere the streamlet ran down from the kettle a thick bed of moss andsome ferns and little creeping bushes were still green among the sand.Very close around the stockade--too close for defense, they said--thewood still flourished high and dense, all of fir on the land side, buttoward the sea with a large admixture of live-oaks.

The cold evening breeze, of which I have spoken, whistled through everychink of the rude building, and sprinkled the floor with a continualrain of fine sand. There was sand in our eyes, sand in our teeth, sandin our suppers, sand dancing in the spring at the bottom of the kettle,for all the world like porridge beginning to boil. Our chimney was asquare hole in the roof; it was but a little part of the smoke thatfound its way out, and the rest eddied about the house, and kept uscoughing and piping the eye.

Add to this that Gray, the new man, had his face tied up in a bandagefor a cut he had got in breaking away from the mutineers; and that poorold Tom Redruth, still unburied, lay along the wall, stiff and stark,under the Union Jack.

If we had been allowed to sit idle, we should all have fallen in theblues, but Captain Smollett was never the man for that. All hands werecalled up before him, and he divided us into watches. The doctor, andGray, and I, for one; the squire, Hunter, and Joyce upon the other.Tired as we all were, two were sent out for firewood, two more were sentto dig a grave for Redruth, the doctor was named cook, I was put sentryat the door, and the captain himself went from one to another, keepingup our spirits and lending a hand wherever it was wanted.

From time to time the doctor came to the door for a little air and torest his eyes, which were almost smoked out of his head, and whenever hedid so, he had a word for me.

"That man Smollett," he said once, "is a better man than I am. And whenI say that it means a deal, Jim."

Another time he came and was silent for a while. Then he put his head onone side, and looked at me.

"Is this Ben Gunn a man?" he asked.

"I do not know, sir," said I. "I am not very sure whether he's sane."

"If there's any doubt about the matter, he is," returned the doctor. "Aman who has been three years biting his nails on a desert island, Jim,can't expect to appear as sane as you or me. It doesn't lie in humannature. Was it cheese you said he had a fancy for?"

"Yes, sir, cheese," I answered.

"Well, Jim," says he, "just see the good that comes of being dainty inyour food. You've seen my snuff-box, haven't you? And you never saw metake snuff; the reason being that in my snuff-box I carry a piece ofParmesan cheese--a cheese made in Italy, very nutritious. Well, that'sfor Ben Gunn!"

Before supper was eaten we buried old Tom in the sand, and stood roundhim for a while bare-headed in the breeze. A good deal of firewood hadbeen got in, but not enough for the captain's fancy, and he shook hishead over it, and told us we "must get back to this to-morrow ratherlivelier." Then, when we had eaten our pork, and each had a good stiffglass of brandy grog, the three chiefs got together in a corner todiscuss our prospects.

It appears they were at their wits' end what to do, the stores being solow that we must have been starved into surrender long before help came.But our best hope, it was decided, was to kill off the buccaneers untilthey either hauled down their flag or ran away with the _Hispaniola_.From nineteen they were already reduced to fifteen, two others werewounded, and one, at least--the man shot beside the gun--severelywounded, if he were not dead. Every time we had a crack at them, we wereto take it, saving our own lives, with the extremest care. And, besidethat, we had two able allies--rum and the climate.

As for the first, though we were about half a mile away, we could hearthem roaring and singing late into the night; and as for the second, thedoctor staked his wig, that camped where they were in the marsh, andunprovided with remedies, the half of them would be on their backsbefore a week.

"So," he added, "if we are not all shot down first, they'll be glad tobe packing in the schooner. It's always a ship, and they can get tobuccaneering again, I suppose."

"First ship that I ever lost," said Captain Smollett.

I was dead tired, as you may fancy, and when I got to sleep, which wasnot till after a great deal of tossing, I slept like a log of wood.

The rest had long been up, and had already breakfasted and increased thepile of firewood by about half as much again, when I was awakened by abustle and the sound of voices.

"Flag of truce!" I heard someone say, and then, immediately after, witha cry of surprise, "Silver himself!"

And, at that, up I jumped, and, rubbing my eyes, ran to a loophole inthe wall.