PART TWO: The Sea-cook
                       Chapter  8: At the Sign of the Spy-glass
 (continued)
"It was!" cried Silver, now quite excited.  "Pew!  That
 were his name for certain.  Ah, he looked a shark, he
 did!  If we run down this Black Dog, now, there'll be
 news for Cap'n Trelawney!  Ben's a good runner; few
 seamen run better than Ben.  He should run him down,
 hand over hand, by the powers!  He talked o' keel-hauling,
 did he?  I'LL keel-haul him!" 
All the time he was jerking out these phrases he was
 stumping up and down the tavern on his crutch, slapping
 tables with his hand, and giving such a show of
 excitement as would have convinced an Old Bailey judge
 or a Bow Street runner.  My suspicions had been
 thoroughly reawakened on finding Black Dog at the Spy-glass,
 and I watched the cook narrowly.  But he was too
 deep, and too ready, and too clever for me, and by the
 time the two men had come back out of breath and
 confessed that they had lost the track in a crowd, and
 been scolded like thieves, I would have gone bail for
 the innocence of Long John Silver. 
"See here, now, Hawkins," said he, "here's a blessed
 hard thing on a man like me, now, ain't it?  There's
 Cap'n Trelawney--what's he to think?  Here I have this
 confounded son of a Dutchman sitting in my own house
 drinking of my own rum!  Here you comes and tells me of
 it plain; and here I let him give us all the slip
 before my blessed deadlights!  Now, Hawkins, you do me
 justice with the cap'n.  You're a lad, you are, but
 you're as smart as paint.  I see that when you first
 come in.  Now, here it is: What could I do, with this
 old timber I hobble on?  When I was an A B master
 mariner I'd have come up alongside of him, hand over
 hand, and broached him to in a brace of old shakes, I
 would; but now--" 
And then, all of a sudden, he stopped, and his jaw
 dropped as though he had remembered something. 
"The score!" he burst out.  "Three goes o' rum!  Why,
 shiver my timbers, if I hadn't forgotten my score!" 
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