PART ONE: The Old Buccaneer
Chapter 6: The Captain's Papers
The supervisor stood up straight and stiff and told his
story like a lesson; and you should have seen how the
two gentlemen leaned forward and looked at each other,
and forgot to smoke in their surprise and interest.
When they heard how my mother went back to the inn, Dr.
Livesey fairly slapped his thigh, and the squire cried
"Bravo!" and broke his long pipe against the grate.
Long before it was done, Mr. Trelawney (that, you will
remember, was the squire's name) had got up from his
seat and was striding about the room, and the doctor,
as if to hear the better, had taken off his powdered
wig and sat there looking very strange indeed with his
own close-cropped black poll."
At last Mr. Dance finished the story.
"Mr. Dance," said the squire, "you are a very noble
fellow. And as for riding down that black, atrocious
miscreant, I regard it as an act of virtue, sir, like
stamping on a cockroach. This lad Hawkins is a trump,
I perceive. Hawkins, will you ring that bell? Mr.
Dance must have some ale."
"And so, Jim," said the doctor, "you have the thing
that they were after, have you?"
"Here it is, sir," said I, and gave him the oilskin packet.
The doctor looked it all over, as if his fingers were
itching to open it; but instead of doing that, he put
it quietly in the pocket of his coat.
"Squire," said he, "when Dance has had his ale he must,
of course, be off on his Majesty's service; but I mean
to keep Jim Hawkins here to sleep at my house, and with
your permission, I propose we should have up the cold
pie and let him sup."
"As you will, Livesey," said the squire; "Hawkins has
earned better than cold pie."
So a big pigeon pie was brought in and put on a
sidetable, and I made a hearty supper, for I was as
hungry as a hawk, while Mr. Dance was further
complimented and at last dismissed.