- World Literature Classics Collection (Complete Translation)

Author: Robert Louis Stevenson (United Kingdom)
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-09-01
Features: The old captain, Sir Travers, the doctor Livesey, and the other gentlemen who lived at General Benbow Inn kept urging me to write down the details of Treasure Island, from beginning to end, without reserve, except for the location of the island, which was left out because there were still treasures left to be dug up on it. Now it is the year 17×× in the Christian era, and I take up my pen and recall the time when my father kept General Benbow Inn. At that time, the old sailor with a saber scar on his face and brown skin had just come to live with us. Thinking of him now, it seems like yesterday. Then he walked slowly to the inn door with heavy steps, his sailor trunk behind him in a wheelbarrow. He was a tall, strong, sturdy man with deep brown skin; his tarred hung down over the shoulder of his ragged blue coat; his hands were rough and scarred, with dark, broken fingernails; the saber scar cut across one side of his cheek, dirty and lead-colored. I still remember him scanning the bay, whistling to himself as he watched, then suddenly bursting into the old sea shanty he often sang later: Fifteen men on the dead man's chest—Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum! His voice was high and tremulous, like the broken sound of a windlass. Then he knocked hard on the door with a rod he carried. My father came out, and he barked for a bottle of rum. When the rum was brought, he sipped it slowly, like a connoisseur, tasting it with great care, while still surveying the nearby cliffs and looking up at our sign. "This is a fine bay," he said at last, "and a pleasant little inn. Are there many guests, mate?" My father told him there weren't many—quite few, in fact, which was a pity. "Well, then," he said, "this is where I'll stay. Come on, mate," he called to the man with the wheelbarrow, "stop there, and help me lift the trunk over. I'll be staying here for a while." He then said, "I'm a simple man, just needing rum, smoked pork, and eggs, and then watching the ships go past over there. What should I be called? Just call me Captain. Oh, I know what you're thinking—look!" He tossed three or four gold pieces onto the threshold. "When I've spent this money, you can tell me." He said this with a terrifying air, like a commander. To be honest, though he was dressed in rags and spokely, he was not in the least like an ordinary sailor; rather, he was like a first mate or captain, accustomed to giving orders or striking people. The man with the wheelbarrow told us that the next morning, after getting off the mail coach in front of King George Inn, he had inquired about the inns by the sea and heard of our reputation. I suppose he also heard that it was little frequented and so chose to stay at our inn instead of others. As for our guests, that was all we knew about them. P1-2