PART FOUR: The Stockade
                       Chapter 20: Silver's Embassy
 (continued)
And he filled a pipe and lighted it; and the two men sat
 silently smoking for quite a while, now looking each other
 in the face, now stopping their tobacco, now leaning forward
 to spit.  It was as good as the play to see them. 
"Now," resumed Silver, "here it is.  You give us the
 chart to get the treasure by, and drop shooting poor
 seamen and stoving of their heads in while asleep.  You
 do that, and we'll offer you a choice.  Either you come
 aboard along of us, once the treasure shipped, and then
 I'll give you my affy-davy, upon my word of honour, to
 clap you somewhere safe ashore.  Or if that ain't to
 your fancy, some of my hands being rough and having old
 scores on account of hazing, then you can stay here,
 you can.  We'll divide stores with you, man for man;
 and I'll give my affy-davy, as before to speak the
 first ship I sight, and send 'em here to pick you up.
 Now, you'll own that's talking.  Handsomer you couldn't
 look to get, now you.  And I hope"--raising his voice--
 "that all hands in this here block house will overhaul
 my words, for what is spoke to one is spoke to all." 
Captain Smollett rose from his seat and knocked out the
 ashes of his pipe in the palm of his left hand. 
"Is that all?" he asked. 
"Every last word, by thunder!" answered John.  "Refuse
 that, and you've seen the last of me but musket-balls." 
"Very good," said the captain.  "Now you'll hear me.
 If you'll come up one by one, unarmed, I'll engage to
 clap you all in irons and take you home to a fair trial
 in England.  If you won't, my name is Alexander
 Smollett, I've flown my sovereign's colours, and I'll
 see you all to Davy Jones.  You can't find the
 treasure.  You can't sail the ship--there's not a man
 among you fit to sail the ship.  You can't fight us--
 Gray, there, got away from five of you.  Your ship's in
 irons, Master Silver; you're on a lee shore, and so
 you'll find.  I stand here and tell you so; and they're
 the last good words you'll get from me, for in the name
 of heaven, I'll put a bullet in your back when next I
 meet you.  Tramp, my lad.  Bundle out of this, please,
 hand over hand, and double quick." 
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