Early the next morning we began to carry the gold to the ship. It was a big job for so few people: almost a mile to the beach, and then three miles by boat. Gray and Ben Gunn rowed back and forth, and the others carried the gold down to the beach. I was not much help with the carrying, so I stayed in the cave and packed the coins into bags.
It was a strange collection: English, French, Spanish and Portuguese coins with the faces of all the kings of Europe, and strange coins from the East, some round, some square, some with a hole in the middle. There was money from almost every country in the world, as many coins as autumn leaves. My back and fingers hurt from sorting them, but I never enjoyed anything more.
On the third night the doctor and I were walking on the hill when the wind brought us a sound from the darkness below, something between screaming and singing.
“Heaven forgive them,” said the doctor. “It’s the pirates!”
“All drunk, sir,” said Silver’s voice behind us.
Silver was free to go where he liked. We were all cold to him, but he stayed polite and friendly to everyone.
“Drunk or sick with fever,” said the doctor. “If I were sure they were sick, I would go and help them, whatever the danger.”
“Excuse me, sir, but you would be very wrong,” said Silver. “You would lose your life. Those men can’t keep their word, and they would never believe that you could keep yours.”
“No,” said the doctor. “You’re the man to keep your word. We know that.”
We decided that we had to leave the three men on the island. Ben Gunn was very pleased, and Gray agreed. We left them powder, most of the salted goat, some medicine, tools, clothes, a spare sail and some rope, and, because the doctor wanted it, a nice present of tobacco.
At last, one fine morning, we sailed out of North Inlet under the same British flag that the captain had raised over the log house. As we passed the southern point, we saw all three pirates kneeling on the sand with their arms raised. They called us by our names and begged us, for God’s sake, not to leave them to die in such a place. It hurt all of us, but we could not risk another mutiny, and to take them home to be hanged would be a cruel kind of kindness. The doctor shouted to them where to find the things we had left.
The ship sailed on. Then one of them jumped up with a wild cry and fired his gun. The shot flew over Silver’s head and through the sail. When I looked again, they were gone, and before noon, to my great joy, the last rock of Treasure Island had sunk into the blue sea.
We sailed to the nearest port in Spanish America to find new sailors. At sunset small boats came out to us, and people sold us fruit and vegetables. The doctor and the squire took me ashore for the evening, and we had such a good time that the sun was coming up when we got back to the Hispaniola.
Ben Gunn was alone on deck, and he had something to tell us. Silver was gone. Ben had helped him to escape in a small boat a few hours earlier. He said he did it to save our lives: “that man with one leg” would have killed us all. But Silver had not gone with empty hands. Without anyone seeing, he had cut through a wooden wall inside the ship and taken a bag of coins, worth perhaps three or four hundred guineas.
I think we were all glad to be rid of him so cheaply.
To make a long story short, we found a few new sailors and had a good voyage home. The Hispaniola reached Bristol just as Mr. Blandly was beginning to think of sending a ship to look for us. Only five of the men who had sailed came back with her. The old song was right:
“Drink and the devil had done for the rest—
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!”
We all had a large share of the treasure, and each of us used it wisely or foolishly, as was his nature. Captain Smollett has now left the sea. Gray saved his money and studied hard, and now he is first mate and part owner of a fine ship, with a wife and children. Ben Gunn got a thousand pounds and spent it all in nineteen days. On the twentieth day he was back, asking for help. Now he is a gatekeeper and lives in the little house beside the gate. The village boys like him and laugh at him a little, and on Sundays he sings in church.
Of Silver we have heard nothing more. That terrible sailor with one leg has gone out of my life at last. Perhaps he found his wife again and lives in comfort with her and Captain Flint.
The bar silver and the weapons are still where Flint left them, as far as I know, and they can stay there. Nothing in the world would bring me back to that island. In my worst dreams I hear the waves on its shores, or I sit up in bed with the sharp voice of Captain Flint still in my ears: “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”