e now assured us he had only done so to preserve our lives, which
would certainly have been forfeit if "that man with the one leg
had stayed aboard." But this was not all. The sea-cook had not gone
empty-handed. He had cut through a bulkhead unobserved and had removed
one of the sacks of coin, worth perhaps three or four hundred guineas,
to help him on his further wanderings.

I think we were all pleased to be so cheaply quit of him.

Well, to make a long story short, we got a few hands on board, made a
good cruise home, and the HISPANIOLA reached Bristol just as Mr. Blandly
was beginning to think of fitting out her consort. Five men only of
those who had sailed returned with her. "Drink and the devil had done
for the rest," with a vengeance, although, to be sure, we were not quite
in so bad a case as that other ship they sang about:

With one man of her crew alive,
What put to sea with seventy-five.

All of us had an ample share of the treasure and used it wisely or
foolishly, according to our natures. Captain Smollett is now retired
from the sea. Gray not only saved his money, but being suddenly smit
with the desire to rise, also studied his profession, and he is now
mate and part owner of a fine full-rigged ship, married besides, and the
father of a family. As for Ben Gunn, he got a thousand pounds, which he
spent or lost in three weeks, or to be more exact, in nineteen days, for
he was back begging on the twentieth. Then he was given a lodge to keep,
exactly as he had feared upon the island; and he still lives, a great
favourite, though something of a butt, with the country boys, and a
notable singer in church on Sundays and saints' days.

Of Silver we have heard no more. That formidable seafaring man with one
leg has at last gone clean out of my life; but I dare say he met his old
Negress, and perhaps still lives in comfort with her and Captain Flint.
It is to be hoped so, I suppose, for his chances of comfort in another
world are very small.

The bar silver and the arms still lie, for all that I know, where
Flint buried them; and certainly they shall lie there for me. Oxen and
wain-ropes would not bring me back again to that accursed island; and
the worst dreams that ever I have are when I hear the surf booming about
its coasts or start upright in bed with the sharp voice of Captain Flint
still ringing in my ears: "Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!"

End of Project Gutenberg's Treasure Isl