d come of the apple-barrel, as you shall hear; for if it had
not been for that we should have had no note of warning, and might all
have perished by the hand of treachery.

This was how it came about.

We had ran up the trades to get the wind of the island we were after--I
am not allowed to be more plain,--and now we were running down for it
with a bright look-out day and night. It was about the last day of our
outward voyage, by the largest computation; some time that night, or, at
latest, before noon of the morrow, we should sight the Treasure Island.
We were heading S.S.W., and had a steady breeze abeam and a quiet sea.
The _Hispaniola_ rolled steadily, dipping her bowsprit now and then with
a whiff of spray. All was drawing alow and aloft; every one was in the
bravest spirits, because we were now so near an end of the first part of
our adventure.

Now, just after sundown, when all my work was over, and I was on my way
to my berth, it occurred to me that I should like an apple. I ran on
deck. The watch was all forward looking out for the island. The man at
the helm was watching the luff of the sail, and whistling away gently to
himself; and that was the only sound excepting the swish of the sea
against the bows and around the sides of the ship.

In I got bodily into the apple-barrel, and found there was scarce an
apple left; but, sitting down there in the dark, what with the sound of
the waters and the rocking movement of the ship, I had either fallen
asleep, or was on the point of doing so, when a heavy man sat down with
rather a clash close by. The barrel shook as he leaned his shoulders
against it, and I was just about to jump up when the man began to speak.
It was Silver's voice, and, before I had heard a dozen words, I would not
have shown myself for all the world, but lay there, trembling and
listening, in the extreme of fear and curiosity; for from these dozen
words I understood that the lives of all the honest men aboard depended
upon me alone.

CHAPTER XI

WHAT I HEARD IN THE APPLE-BARREL

"No, not I," said Silver. "Flint was cap'n; I was quartermaster, along of
my timber leg. The same broadside I lost my leg old Pew lost his
dead-lights. It was a master surgeon, him that ampytated me--out of
college and all--Latin by the bucket, and what not; but he was hanged
like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle. That was
Roberts' men, that was, and comed of changing names to their