l
Benbow"--since he was repainted, no longer quite so dear. One of my last
thoughts was of the captain, who had so often strode along the beach with
his cocked hat, his sabre-cut cheek, and his old brass telescope. Next
moment we had turned the corner, and my home was out of sight.

The mail picked us up about dusk at the "Royal George" on the heath. I
was wedged in between Redruth and a stout old gentleman, and in spite of
the swift motion and the cold night-air, I must have dozed a great deal
from the very first, and then slept like a log up hill and down dale
through stage after stage; for when I was awakened, at last, it was by a
punch in the ribs, and I opened my eyes, to find that we were standing
still before a large building in a city street, and that the day had
already broken a long time.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Bristol," said Tom. "Get down."

Mr. Trelawney had taken up his residence at an inn far down the docks, to
superintend the work upon the schooner. Thither we had now to walk, and
our way, to my great delight, lay along the quays and beside the great
multitude of ships of all sizes and rigs and nations. In one, sailors
were singing at their work; in another, there were men aloft, high over
my head, hanging to threads that seemed no thicker than a spider's.
Though I had lived by the shore all my life, I seemed never to have been
near the sea till then. The smell of tar and salt was something new. I
saw the most wonderful figureheads, that had all been far over the ocean.
I saw, besides, many old sailors, with rings in their ears, and whiskers
curled in ringlets, and tarry pigtails, and their swaggering, clumsy
sea-walk; and if I had seen as many kings or archbishops I could not have
been more delighted.

And I was going to sea myself; to sea in a schooner, with a piping
boatswain, and pig-tailed singing seamen; to sea, bound for an unknown
island, and to seek for buried treasures!

While I was still in this delightful dream, we came suddenly in front of
a large inn, and met Squire Trelawney, all dressed out like a
sea-officer, in stout blue cloth, coming out of the door with a smile on
his face and a capital imitation of a sailor's walk.

"Here you are," he cried, "and the doctor came last night from London.
Bravo! the ship's company complete!"

"Oh, sir," cried I, "when do we sail?"

"Sail!" says he. "We sail to-morrow!"

CHAPTER VIII

AT THE SIGN OF THE "SPY-GLASS"

When