an of them moved, but all sat staring at me like as many sheep. And
while they were still staring, I broke out again:--

"And now, Mr. Silver," I said, "I believe you're the best man here, and
if things go the worst, I'll take it kind of you to let the doctor know
the way I took it."

"I'll bear it in mind," said Silver, with an accent so curious that I
could not, for the life of me, decide whether he were laughing at my
request, or had been favourably affected by my courage.

"I'll put one to that," cried the old mahogany-faced seaman--Morgan by
name--whom I had seen in Long John's public-house upon the quays of
Bristol. "It was him that knowed Black Dog."

"Well, and see here," added the sea-cook. "I'll put another again to
that, by thunder! for it was this same boy that faked the chart from
Billy Bones. First and last, we've split upon Jim Hawkins!"

"Then here goes!" said Morgan, with an oath.

And he sprang up, drawing his knife as if he had been twenty.

"Avast there!" cried Silver. "Who are you, Tom Morgan? Maybe you thought
you was cap'n here, perhaps. By the powers, but I'll teach you better!
Cross me, and you'll go where many a good man's gone before you, first
and last, these thirty year back--some to the yard-arm, shiver my sides!
and some by the board, and all to feed the fishes. There's never a man
looked me between the eyes and seen a good day a'terwards, Tom Morgan,
you may lay to that."

Morgan paused; but a hoarse murmur rose from the others.

"Tom's right," said one.

"I stood hazing long enough from one," added another. "I'll be hanged if
I'll be hazed by you, John Silver."

"Did any of you gentlemen want to have it out with _me_?" roared Silver,
bending far forward from his position on the keg, with his pipe still
glowing in his right hand. "Put a name on what you're at; you ain't dumb,
I reckon. Him that wants shall get it. Have I lived this many years, and
a son of a rum-puncheon cock his hat athwart my hawse at the latter end
of it? You know the way; you're all gentlemen o' fortune, by your
account. Well, I'm ready. Take a cutlass, him that dares, and I'll see
the colour of his inside, crutch and all, before that pipe's empty."

Not a man stirred; not a man answered.

"That's your sort, is it?" he added, returning his pipe to his mouth.
"Well, you're a gay lot to look at, anyway. Not much worth to fight, you
ain't. P'r'aps you can understand King George's English. I'm cap'n here
by