Dr. Livesey was having dinner with the squire at the hall that evening, so we rode on there. A servant led us into a large room full of books, where the squire and the doctor sat with their pipes on either side of a bright fire.
I had never seen the squire so close. He was a big man, over six feet tall, with a rough red face and very black eyebrows. You could see that he was quick to anger.
“Come in, Mr. Dance,” he said grandly.
“Good evening, Dance,” said the doctor. “And good evening to you, Jim.”
Mr. Dance told his story, and the two gentlemen leaned forward and forgot to smoke. When they heard how my mother went back to the inn, the squire cried “Well done!” and broke his long pipe against the fireplace.
“Mr. Dance,” said the squire, “you are a very fine fellow. And this boy Hawkins is a good lad.”
“So, Jim,” said the doctor, “you have the thing they were looking for?”
“Here it is, sir,” I said, and I gave him the packet.
He put it quietly into his pocket. Mr. Dance went back to his duties, and I had a big supper of pigeon pie, because I was very hungry.
“You have heard of this Flint, I suppose?” the doctor asked the squire.
“Heard of him!” cried the squire. “He was the cruelest pirate that ever sailed. The Spanish were so afraid of him that sometimes, sir, I was proud he was an Englishman.”
“But did he have money?” asked the doctor. “If I have a clue to where Flint buried his treasure, will that treasure be worth much?”
“If we have that clue,” cried the squire, “I will buy a ship in Bristol and take you and Hawkins with me, and I’ll have that treasure even if I have to search for a year!”
“Very well,” said the doctor. “Now, if Jim agrees, we’ll open the packet.”
Inside were two things: a book and a sealed paper. The book was full of lines with a date at one end and a sum of money at the other. In between there were only crosses, and sometimes the name of a place. The lines went on for nearly twenty years, and the sums grew bigger as the years passed.
“I can’t understand this,” said Dr. Livesey.
“It’s as clear as day,” cried the squire. “This is the villain’s account book. The crosses are the ships and towns that they robbed or sank, and the sums are his share.”
Then the doctor carefully opened the paper, and out fell a map of an island. It showed hills and bays and everything a captain would need to bring a ship there safely. The island was about nine miles long and five across, shaped like a fat dragon standing up, with a hill in the middle called “The Spyglass.” And there were three crosses in red ink, two in the north of the island and one in the southwest. Beside the last one, in small, neat writing, were the words: “Most of the treasure here.”
On the back the same hand had written:
“Tall tree, Spyglass shoulder, a point to the north of north-northeast.
Skeleton Island east-southeast and by east.
Ten feet.
The bar silver is in the north hiding place.
The weapons are in the sand hill at the north point.
J.F.”
I did not understand it, but it filled the squire and Dr. Livesey with joy.
“Livesey,” said the squire, “you must stop your work at once. Tomorrow I start for Bristol. In three weeks—no, two weeks—ten days!—we’ll have the best ship and the best crew in England. Hawkins will come as cabin boy. You, Livesey, will be the ship’s doctor. We’ll take Redruth, Joyce and Hunter. We’ll find the place easily, and we’ll have money for the rest of our lives!”
“Trelawney,” said the doctor, “I’ll go with you, and so will Jim. There’s only one man I’m afraid of.”
“And who is that?” cried the squire. “Name him, sir!”
“You,” said the doctor, “because you cannot keep quiet. We are not the only men who know about this paper. Those men who attacked the inn tonight will do anything to get that money. None of us must go anywhere alone until we are at sea. And none of us must say a word about what we’ve found.”
“Livesey,” said the squire, “you are always right. I’ll be as silent as the grave.”