I had done breakfasting the squire gave me a note addressed to John
Silver, at the sign of the "Spy-glass," and told me I should easily find
the place by following the line of the docks, and keeping a bright
look-out for a little tavern with a large brass telescope for sign. I set
off, overjoyed at this opportunity to see some more of the ships and
seamen, and picked my way among a great crowd of people and carts and
bales, for the dock was now at its busiest, until I found the tavern in
question.

It was a bright enough little place of entertainment. The sign was newly
painted; the windows had neat red curtains; the floor was cleanly sanded.
There was a street on either side, and an open door on both, which made
the large, low room pretty clear to see in, in spite of clouds of
tobacco-smoke.

The customers were mostly seafaring men; and they talked so loudly that I
hung at the door, almost afraid to enter.

As I was waiting, a man came out of a side room, and, at a glance, I was
sure he must be Long John. His left leg was cut off close by the hip, and
under the left shoulder he carried a crutch, which he managed with
wonderful dexterity, hopping about upon it like a bird. He was very tall
and strong, with a face as big as a ham--plain and pale, but intelligent
and smiling. Indeed, he seemed in the most cheerful spirits, whistling as
he moved about among the tables, with a merry word or a slap on the
shoulder for the more favoured of his guests.

Now, to tell you the truth, from the very first mention of Long John in
Squire Trelawney's letter, I had taken a fear in my mind that he might
prove to be the very one-legged sailor whom I had watched for so long at
the old "Benbow." But one look at the man before me was enough. I had
seen the captain, and Black Dog, and the blind man Pew, and I thought I
knew what a buccaneer was like--a very different creature, according to
me, from this clean and pleasant-tempered landlord.

I plucked up courage at once, crossed the threshold, and walked right up
to the man where he stood, propped on his crutch, talking to a customer.

"Mr. Silver, sir?" I asked, holding out the note.

"Yes, my lad," said he; "such is my name, to be sure. And who may you
be?" And then, as he saw the squire's letter, he seemed to me to give
something almost like a start.

"Oh!" said he, quite loud, and offering his hand, "I see. You are our new
cabin-boy; pleased I am to see you."

And he took my h