The ship lay on her side, so the mast hung out over the water. Hands came up once in a cloud of foam and blood, and then he went down for good. When the water was still, I could see him lying on the clean sand under the ship, shot and drowned, in the same place where he had planned to kill me.
Then I felt sick, weak and afraid. Hot blood ran down my back and chest, and the knife in my shoulder burned like hot iron. But worse than the pain was the fear of falling into that still green water beside the dead man. I held on with both hands and shut my eyes until my heart grew calm again.
I tried to pull out the knife, but my courage failed, and I stopped with a violent shiver. Strangely, that shiver set me free. The knife had held me by only a little skin, and the shiver tore it away. Now only my coat and shirt held me to the mast. I pulled them free and climbed down to the deck on the other side. Nothing in the world could make me use the ropes from which Hands had fallen.
I went below and treated my wound. It hurt and bled a lot, but it was not deep, and I could use my arm.
Then I decided to get rid of the ship’s last passenger, the dead O’Brien. I had seen so much death on this voyage that I was hardly afraid of the dead any more. I picked him up around the waist like a sack and threw him over the side. His red cap floated on the water, and soon he and Hands lay side by side on the sand, with little fish swimming over them.
The sun was going down, and the evening wind was rising. I pulled down the small sails and cut the ropes of the big one, so the wind could not pull the ship away. Then I held the cut anchor rope and let myself down into the water. It came only to my waist, and I walked to the shore in great spirits.
There lay the ship, free of pirates at last, ready for our own men to sail her away. Maybe my friends would be angry that I had run away, but the ship was the best answer. Even Captain Smollett, I hoped, would say I had not wasted my time.
Night fell as I walked past the hill with two peaks. Then the moon rose over Spyglass Hill, and by its light I walked and ran toward the stockade. Near it I slowed down. It would be a poor end to my adventures to be shot by my own friends.
Among the trees in front of me I saw a red glow. It was the last of a huge fire. I stopped, surprised and a little afraid. We never made big fires; the captain did not allow it. Had something gone wrong while I was away?
I climbed the fence where the shadow was thickest and crawled toward the log house on my hands and knees. Then my heart grew light. I could hear my friends snoring loudly and peacefully. It was like music to me. But what a bad watch they kept! If Silver and his men came now, nobody would live to see the morning. Again I blamed myself for leaving them with so few men.
I reached the door and stood up. Inside it was completely dark. I heard the snoring and a strange little pecking sound. I walked in with my arms in front of me. I would lie down in my own place, I thought with a silent laugh, and enjoy the looks on their faces in the morning.
My foot hit something soft. It was a sleeper’s leg. He turned and groaned, but did not wake up.
And then, suddenly, a sharp voice cried out of the darkness:
“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”
It was Silver’s green parrot, Captain Flint! She had made the pecking sound, and she was keeping a better watch than any man.
The sleepers jumped up, and Silver’s voice shouted, “Who’s there?”
I turned to run, hit one man, and ran straight into the arms of another, who held me tight.
“Bring a torch, Dick,” said Silver.