Preface and Dedication and Disclaimer to Kidnapped. While my husband and Mr. Henley were engaged in writing plays in Bournemouth, they made a number of titles, hoping to use them in the future. Dramatic composition was not what my husband preferred, but the tort of Mr. Henley's enthusiasm swept him off his feet. However, after several plays had been finished, and his health seriously impaired by his endeavors to keep up with Mr. Henley, playwriting was abandoned forever. Then my husband returned to his legitimate vocation. Having added one of the titles, The Hanging Judge, to the list of projected plays now thrown aside, and emboldened by my husband's offer to give me any help needed, I concluded to try and write it myself. As it wanted a trial scene in the Old Bailey, I chose the period of 1700 for my purpose, but being shamefully ignorant of my subject and my husband confessing to little more knowledge than I possessed, a London bookseller was commissioned to send us everything he could procure bearing on Old Bailey trials. A great package came in response to our order, and very soon we were both absorbed, not so much in the trials, as in following the brilliant career of a Mr. Garrow who appeared as counsel in many of the cases. We sent for more books, and yet more, still intent on Mr. Garrow, whose subtle cross-examination of witnesses and masterly, if sometimes startling methods of arriving at the truth, seemed more thrilling to us than any novel. Occasionally other trials than those in the Old Bailey would be included in the package of books we received from London. Among these my husband found in red with avidity the trial of James Stewart in O'Carne in Durer of Appen for the murder of Colin Campbell of Glenure E. F. Q., factor for his majesty on the forfeited estate of Artfield. My husband was always interested in this period of his country's history, and had already the intention of writing a story that should turn on the Appen murder. The tale was to be of a boy, David Balfour, supposed to belong to my husband's own family, who should travel in Scotland as though it were a foreign country, meeting with various adventures and misadventures, by the way. From the trial of James Stewart my husband gleaned much valuable material for his novel, the most important being the character of Alan Brick. Aside from having described him as smallish in stature, my husband seems to have taken Alan Brick's personal appearance even to his clothing from the book. A letter from James Stewart to Mr. John McFarlane introduced as evidence in the trial says, There is one Alan Stewart, a distant friend of the late hardeals, who is in the French service, and came over in March last, as he said to some in order to settle at home, to others, that he was to go soon back, and was, as I hear, the day that the murder was committed, seen not far from the place where it happened, and is not now to be seen, by which it is believed he was the actor. He is a desperate foolish fellow, and if he is guilty, came to the country for that very purpose. He is a tall, pock-pitted lad, very black hair, and wore a blue coat and metal buttons, an old red vest, and breeches of the same color. A second witness testified to having seen him wearing a blue coat with silver buttons, a red waistcoat, black shag breeches, tartan hose, and a feathered hat with a big coat, done colored, a costume referred to by one of the counsel as French clothes, which were remarkable. There are many incidents given in the trial that point to Alan's fiery spirit and highland quickness to take offense. One witness declared also that the said Alan Brick threatened that he would challenge Bally Violin and his sons to fight because of his removing the declarant last year from Glenduror. On another page, Duncan Campbell, change-keeper at Annett, aged thirty-five years, married, witness-sighted, sworn, purged, and examined, at Tsupra de Pones, that in the month of April last the deponent met with Alan Brick Stewart, with whom he was not acquainted, and John Stewart, in Oknachuan, in the house of the Walkmiller of Ockelfragen, and went on with them to the house. Alan Brick Stewart said that he hated all the name of Campbell, and the deponent said he had no reason for doing so. But Alan said he had very good reason for it, that thereafter they left that house, and, after drinking a dram at another house, came to the deponent's house, where they went in and drunk some drams, and Alan Brick renewed the former conversation. And the deponent, making the same answer, Alan said that, if the deponent had any respect for his friends, he would tell them that, if they offered to turn out the possessors of Ardheel's estate, he would make black cocks of them, before they entered into possession, by which the deponent understood shooting them, it being a common phrase in the country. Some time after the publication of Kidnapped, we stopped for a short while in the Appan country, where we were surprised and interested to discover that the feeling concerning the murder of Glenure, the Red Fox, also called Cullen Roy, was almost as keen as though the tragedy had taken place the day before. For several years my husband received letters of expostulation or commendation from members of the Campbell and Stewart clans. I have in my possession a paper, yellow with age, that was sent soon after the novel appeared, containing the pedigree of the family of Apin, wherein it is said that Alan III Baron of Apin was not killed at Floodown, though there but lived to a great old age. He married Cameron's daughter to Ewan McCamron of Lockheedle. Following this is a paragraph stating that John Stewart first of Ardheel of his descendants, Alan Breck, had better be omitted, Duncan Bain Stewart in Acondirach, his father was a bastard. One day, while my husband was busily at work, I sat beside him reading an old cookery book called The Complete Housewife, an accomplished gentlewoman's companion. In the midst of receipts for rabbits and chickens mumbled, pickled semfire, skirt pie, baked tansy, and other forgotten delicacies, there were directions for the preparation of several lotions for the preservation of beauty. One of these was so charming that I interrupted my husband to read it aloud. Just what I wanted, he exclaimed, and the receipt for the lily of the valley water was instantly incorporated into kidnapped. F. V. D. E. G. S. Dedication. My dear Charles Baxter. If you ever read this tale, you will likely ask yourself more questions than I should care to answer, as, for instance, how the Apin murder has come to fall in the year 1751, how the tauren rocks have crept so nearer to air raid, or why the printed trial is silent as to all the touches David Balfour. These are nuts beyond my ability to crack. But if you tried me on the point of Allen's guilt or innocence, I think I could defend the reading of the text. To this day you will find the tradition of Apin clear in Allen's favour. If you inquire, you may even hear that the descendants of the other man who fired the shot are in the country to this day. But that other man's name inquire as you please, you shall not hear. For the Highlander values a secret for itself, and for the congenial exercise of keeping it, I might go on for long to justify one point and own another indefensible. It is more honest to confess it wants how little I am touched by the desire of accuracy. This is no furniture for the scholar's library, but a book for the winter evening schoolroom when the tasks are over and the hour for bed draws near. An honest Allen, who was a grim old fire-eater in his stay, has, in this new avatar, no more desperate purpose than to steal some young gentleman's attention from his ovid, carry him a while into the Highlands in the last century, and pack him to bed with some engaging images to mingle with his dreams. As for you, my dear Charles, I do not even ask you to like this tale, but perhaps when he is older, your son will. He may then be pleased to find his father's name on the fly-leaf, and in the meanwhile it pleases me to set it there, in memory of many days that were happy, and some, now perhaps as pleasant to remember, that were sad. It is strange for me to look back from a distance both in time and space on these bygone adventures of our youth. It must be stranger for you who tread the same streets, who may tomorrow open the door of the old speculative, where we began to rank with Scott and Robert Emmett, and the beloved and inglorious McBean, or may pass the corner of the close where that great society, the LJR, held its meetings and drank its beer, sitting in the seats of Burns and his companions. I think I see you, moving there by plain daylight, beholding with your natural eyes those places that have now become for your companion a part of the scenery of dreams. How, in the interval of present business, the past must echo in your memory, let it not echo often without some kind thoughts of your friend, Robert Louis Stevenson, signed in Scarybore, Bournemouth. Now a disclaimer. Your reader is an American. I'm sorry. I will do my absolute level best to pronounce the Scots words accurately and the names as well, but I cannot promise that they are accurate. Neither can I pretend to a Highland or a Lowland Scots accent. I will make some kind of an attempt, but please bear with me when I fall short. Thank you and good listening. CHAPTER 1 I SET OFF UPON MY JOURNEY TO THE HOUSE OF SHAWS I will begin the story of my adventures with a certain morning early in the month of June, the year of Grace, 1751, when I took the key for the last time out of the door of my father's house. The sun began to shine upon the summit of the hills as I went down the road, and by the time I had come as far as the mats, the black birds were whistling in the garden lilacs, and the mist that hung around the valley in the time of the dawn was beginning to arise and die away. Mr. Campbell, the minister of Essendine, was waiting for me by the garden gate, good man. He asked me if I had breakfasted, and hearing that I lacked for nothing, he took my hand in both of his and clapped it kindly under his arm. Well, David Lad, said he, I will go with you as far as the Ford to set you on the way, and we began to walk forward in silence. Are you sorry to leave Essendine? said he after a while. Why, sir, said I, if I knew where I was going, or what was likely to become of me, I would tell you candidly, Essendine is of good place indeed, and I have been very happy there, but then I have never been anywhere else. My father and mother, since they are both dead, I shall be no nearer to in Essendine than in the kingdom of Hungary, and to speak truth, if I thought I had a chance to better myself where I was going, I would go with a good will. I, said Mr. Campbell, very well, David, then it behooves me to tell your fortune, or so far as I may.  So soon, says he, as I am gone, and houses red up and the gear disposed of, all which David hath been done, give my boy this letter into his hand, and start him off to the house of Shaw's, not far from Kremen. That is the place I came from, he said, and it's where it befits that my boy should return. He is a steady lad, your father said, and a canny gore, and I doubt not he will come safe and be well liked where he goes. The house of Shaw's, I cried, what hath my poor father to do with the house of Shaw's? Nay, said Mr. Campbell, who can tell that for assurity, but the name of that family, David Boy, is the name you bear. Balfour's of Shaw's, an ancient, honest, reputable house, per adventure in these latter days, decayed. Father, too, was a man of learning as befitted his position. No man more plausibly conducted school, nor had he the manner or the speech of a common dominey. But, as ye will yourself remember, I took I a pleasure to have him to the mats to meet the gentry, and those of my own house, Campbell of Kilrennit, Campbell of Dunswire, Campbell of Minch, and others, all well-kenned gentlemen, had pleasure in his society. Lastly, to put all the elements of this affair before you, here is the testamentary letter itself, superscribed by the own hand of our departed brother. He gave me the letter which was addressed in these words. To the hands of Ebenezer Balfour, Esquire, of Shaw's, in his house of Shaw's, these will be delivered by my son, David Balfour. My heart was beating hard at this great prospect, now suddenly opening before a lad of seventeen years of age, the son of a poor country dominey in the forest of Ettrick. Mr. Campbell, I stammered, and if you were in my shoes, would you go? Of assurity, said the minister, that would I, and without pause. A pretty lad like you should get to Cramond, which is near in by Edinburgh, in two days of walk. If the worst come to the worst, and your high relations, as I cannot but suppose them to be somewhat of your blood, should put you to the door. You can but walk the two days back again and respect the man's door. But I would rather hope that you should be well received, as your poor father forecast for you, and for anything that I can, come to be a great man in time. And here, David Laddie, he resumed, it lies near upon my conscience to improve this parting, and set you on the right guard against the dangers of the world. Here he cast about for a comfortable seat, lighted on a big boulder under a birch by the trackside, sat down upon it with a very long, serious upper lip, and the son now shining in upon us between two peaks, put his pocket handkerchief over his cocked hat to shelter him. There, then, with uplifted forefinger, he first put me on my guard against a considerable number of heresies, to which I had no temptation, and urged upon me to be instant in my prayers and reading of the Bible. That done he drew a picture of the great house that I was bound to, and how I should conduct myself with its inhabitants. Be suple, David, in things immaterial, said he, bear ye this in mind, that though gentle-born you have a country rearing. Denyshamus, David, denyshamus, in young great muckle-house, with all these domestics, upper and under, show yourself as nice, as circumspect, as quick at the conception, and as slow of speech as any. As for the Laird, remember he's the Laird, I say no more. Honour to whom honour? It's a pleasure to obey a Laird, or should be, to the young. Well, sir, said I, it may be, and I'll promise you I'll try to make it so. Why, very well said, replied Mr. Campbell heartily, and now to come to the material, or to make a quibble, to the immaterial. I have here a little packet which contains four things. He tugged it as he spoke, and with some great difficulty from the skirt pocket of his coat. Of these four things the first is your legal due, the little pickle-money for your father's books and plenishing, which I have bought, as I explained from the first, in the design of reselling at a profit to the incoming Domini. The other three are gifties that Mrs. Campbell and myself would be blithe of your acceptance. The first, which is round, will likely please your best at the first off-go. But, O Davey, laddie, it's but a drop of water in the sea. It'll help you but a step, and vanish like the morning. The second, which is flat and square and written upon, will stand by you through life like a good staff for the road, and a good pillow to your head in sickness. And as for the last, which is cubicle, that'll see you, as my prayerful wish, for a better land. With that he got upon his feet, took off his hat, and prayed a little while aloud, and in effecting terms, for a young man setting out into the world, then suddenly took me in his arms and embraced me very hard, then held me at arm's length, looking at me with his face all working with sorrow, and then whipped about, and crying good-bye to me, set off backward by the way that we had come at a sort of jogging run. It might have been laughable to another, but I was in no mind to laugh. I watched him as long as he was in sight, and he never stopped hurrying, nor once looked back. Then it came in upon my mind that this was all his sorrow at my departure, and my conscience smote me hard and fast, because I, for my part, was overjoyed to get out of that quiet countryside and go to a great busy house among rich and respected gentlefolk of my own name and blood. Davy, Davy, I thought, was ever seen such black in gratitude. Can you forget old favors and old friends at the mere whistle of a name? Bye! Bye! Think shame! And I sat down on the boulder the good man had just left, and opened the parcel to see the nature of my gifts. That which he had called cubicle I had never had much doubt of. Sure enough it was a little Bible to carry in a plaid nuke. That which he had called round I found to be a shilling piece, and the third, which was to help me so wonderfully both in health and sickness all the days of my life, was a little piece of coarse yellow paper written upon thus in red ink. To make Lillia the Valley water. Take the flowers of Lillia the Valley and distill them in sack, and drink a spoonful or two as there is occasion.  It is good against the gout. It comforts the heart and strengthens the memory. And the flowers put into a glass, close stopped, and set into a hill of ants for a month, then take it out, and you will find a liquor which comes from the flowers, which keep in a vial. It is good, ill or well, and whether man or woman. And then in the minister's own hand was added. Likewise for sprains rub it in, and for the colic a great spoonful in the hour. To be sure I laughed over this, but it was rather tremulous laughter, and I was glad to get my bundle on my staff's end and set out over the ford and up the hill upon the farther side, till, just as I came on the green drove-road running wide through the heather, I took my last look of Kirk Essendine, the trees about the mants, and the big rowens in the Kirkyard, where my father and my mother lay. End of chapter. Chapter 2 of Kidnapped This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. Chapter 2 I come to my journey's end. On the forenoon of the second day, coming to the top of a hill, I saw all the country fall away before me down to the sea, and in the midst of this descent, on a long ridge, the city of Edinburgh smoking like a kiln. There was a flag upon the castle, and ships moving or lying anchored in the Firth, both of which, for as far away as they were, I could distinguish clearly, and both brought my country-heart into my mouth. Presently after, I came by a house where a shepherd lived and got a rough direction for the neighborhood of Cremond, and so, from one to another, worked my way to the westward of the capital by Collinton, till I came out upon the Glasgow Road. And there, to my great pleasure and wonder, I beheld a regiment marching to the Fife's every foot in time, an old red-faced general on a grey horse at the one end, and at the other, the company of grenadiers with their popes hats. The pride of life seemed to mount into my brain at the sight of the red coats and the hearing of that merry music. A little further on, and I was told I was in Cremond to perish, and began to substitute in my inquiries the name of the House of Shaw's. It was a word that seemed to surprise those of whom I sought my way. At first I thought the plainness of my appearance in my country habit, and that all dusty from the road, consorted ill with the greatness of the place to which I was bound. But after two or maybe three had given me the same look and the same answer, I began to take it in my head that there was something strange about the Shaw's itself. The better to set this fear at rest, I changed the form of my inquiries, and spying an honest fellow coming along a lane on the shaft of his cart, I asked him if he had ever heard tell of a house that called the House of Shaw's. He stopped his cart and looked at me like the others. I, said he, what for? It's a great house, I asked. Doubtless, says he, the house is a big muckle-house. I, said I, but the folk that are in it? Folk! cried he. Are you daft, than they folks there to call folk? What, say I, not Mr. Ebenezer? Oh, I, says the man. There's the lad to be sure, if it's him you're wanting. What'll like be your business, Manny? I was led to think that I would get a situation, I said, looking as modest as I could. What! cries the Carter in so sharp a note that his very horse started, and then— Well, Manny, he added, it's none of my affairs, but you seem a decent spoken lad, and if you'll take a word from me you'll keep clear of the Shaw's. The next person I came across was a dapper little man and a beautiful white wig, whom I saw to be a barber on his rounds, and knowing well that barbers were great gossips, I asked him plainly what sort of a man was Mr. Balfour of the Shaw's. Hoot, hoot, hoot! said the barber. Not kind of a man, not kind of a man at all! And began to ask me very shrewdly what my business was, but I was more than a match for him at that, and he went on to his next customer no wiser than he came. I cannot well describe the blow this dealt to my illusions. The more indistinct the accusations were, the less I liked them. For they left the wider field to fancy. What kind of a great house was this that all the parish should start and stare to be asked the way to it? Or what sort of a gentleman that is ill-famed should be thus current on the wayside? If an hour's walking would have brought me back to Essendine I would have left my adventure then and there and returned to Mr. Campbell's. But when I had come so far away already, mere shame would not suffer me to desist till I had put the matter to the touch of proof. I was bound, out of mere self-respect, to carry it through, and little as I liked the sound of what I heard, and slow as I began to travel, I still kept asking my way and still kept advancing. I was drawing on to sundown when I met a stout, dark, sour-looking woman coming trudging down a hill, and she, when I had put my usual question, turned sharp about, accompanied me back to the summit she had just left, and pointed to a great bulk of buildings standing very bare upon a green in the bottom of the next valley. The country was pleasant roundabout, running in low hills, pleasantly watered and wooded, and the crops to my eyes wonderfully good. But the house itself seemed to be a kind of ruin, no road led up to it, no smoke arose from any of the chimneys, nor was there any semblance of a garden. My heart sank. That, I cried.  That is the house of shores, she cried. Blood built it, blood stopped the building of it, blood shall bring it down. See here, she cried again, I spit upon the ground and crack my thumb at it. Black be its fall! If you see the Laird, tell him what you hear, tell him this makes the twelve-hunter in nineteen time that Yedic Cleuston has called down the curse on him and his house, buyer and stable, man, guest and master, wife, miss or baron. Black, black be their fall! And the woman, whose voice had ridden to a kind of eldritch sing-song, turned with a skip and was gone. I could, where she left me, with my hair on end. In those days folks still believed in witches and trembled at a curse, and this one, falling so pat, like a waist-side omen, to arrest me air I carried out my purpose, took the pith out of my legs. I sat me down and stared at the house of shores. The more I looked, the pleasanter that countryside appeared, being all set with hawthorn bushes full of flowers, fields dotted with sheep, a fine flight of rooks in the sky, and every sign of a kind soil and climate, and yet the barrack in the midst of it went sore against my fancy. Country folk went by from the fields as I sat there on the side of the ditch, but I lacked the spirit to give them a gooding. At last the sun went down, and then, right up against the yellow sky, I saw a scroll of smoke go mounting. Not much thicker, as it seemed to me, than the smoke of a candle, but still there it was, a mental fire and warmth and cookery, and some living inhabitant that must have lit it, and this comforted my heart. So I set forward by a little faint track in the grass that led in my direction. It was very faint indeed, to be the only way to a place of habitation, yet I saw no other. Presently it brought me to stone uprights with an unroofed lodge beside them and coats of arms upon the top. A main entrance it was plainly meant to be, but never finished. Instead of gates of wrought iron, a pair of hurdles were tied across with a straw rope, and as there were no park walls nor any sign of avenue, the track that I was following passed on the right hand of the pillars and went wandering on toward the house. The nearer I got to that, the drearier it appeared. It seemed like the one wing of a house that had never been finished. What should have been the inner end stood open on the upper floors and showed against the sky with steps and stairs of uncompleted masonry. Many of the windows were unglazed, and bats flew in and out like doves out of a dove-coat. The night had begun to fall as I got close, and in three of the lower windows, which were very high up and narrow and well barred, the changing light of a little fire began to glimmer. Was this the palace I had been coming to? Was it within these walls that I was to seek new friends and begin great fortunes? Why, in my father's house on Essin Waterside, the fire and the bright lights would show a mile away and the door open to a beggar's knock. I came forward cautiously, and giving ear as I came heard someone rattling with dishes a little dry eager cough that came in fits, but there was no sound of speech and not a dog barked. The door, as well as I could see it in the dim light, was a great piece of wood all studded with nails, and I lifted my hand with a faint heart under my jacket and knocked once. Then I stood and waited. The house had fallen into a dead silence. The whole minute passed away, and nothing stirred but the bats overhead. I knocked again and hearkened again. By this time my ears had grown so accustomed to the quiet that I could hear the ticking of the clock inside as it slowly counted out the seconds, but whoever was in that house kept deadly still and must have held his breath. I was in two minds whether to run away, but anger got the upper hand, and I began instead to rain kicks and buffets on the door and to shout aloud for Mr. Balfour. I was in full career, when I heard the cough right overhead, and jumping back and looking up beheld a man's head in a tall nightcap and the bell-mouth of a blunder-bus at one of the first story windows. "'It's loaded,' said a voice. "'I have come here with a letter,' I said. "'To Mr. Ebenezer Balfour of Shaw's. Is he here?' "'From whom is it?' asked the man with the blunder-bus. "'That is neither here nor there,' said I, for I was growing very wroth.' "'Well,' was the reply. "'You can put it down upon the doorstep and be off with you.' "'I will do no such thing,' I cried. "'I will deliver it into Mr. Balfour's hands as it was met I should. "'It is a letter of introduction.' "'A what?' cried the voice sharply. I repeated what I had said. "'Who are you, yourself?' was the next question, after a considerable pause. "'I'm not ashamed of my name,' said I. "'They call me David Balfour.' At that I made sure the man started, for I heard the blunder-bus rattle on the windowsill, and it was after quite a long pause, and with a curious change of voice that the next question followed. "'Is your father dead?' I was so much surprised at this that I could find no voice to answer, but stood staring. "'I,' the man resumed, he'll be dead no doubt, and that'll be what brings you chappin' to my door.' Another pause, and then defiantly. "'Well, man,' he said. "'I'll let you in.'" And he disappeared from the window. End of chapter. CHAPTER III This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. CHAPTER III I make acquaintance of my uncle. Presently there came a great rattling of chains and bolts, and the door was cautiously opened and shut to again behind me as soon as I had passed. "'Go into the kitchen and touch Nethin,' said the voice, and while the person of the house set himself to replacing the defences of the door, I groped my way forward and entered the kitchen. The fire had burned up fairly bright and showed me the barest room I think I ever put my eyes on. Half a dozen dishes stood upon the shelves. The table was laid for supper with a bowl of porridge, a horned spoon, and a cup of small beer. Besides what I have named there was not another thing in that great stone vaulted empty chamber, but lock-fast chests arranged along the wall and a corner covered with a padlock. As soon as the last chain was up the man rejoined me. He was a mean, stooping, narrow-shouldered, clay-faced creature, and his age might have been anything between fifty and seventy. His nightcap was of flannel, and so was the nightgown that he wore, instead of coat and waistcoat over his ragged shirt. He was long unshaved, but what most distressed and even daunted me, he would neither take his eyes away from me nor look me fairly in the face. What he was, whether by trade or birth, was more than I could fathom, but he seemed most like an old, unprofitable serving man who should have been left in charge of that big house upon board wages. Are you sharp-set? he asked, glancing at about the level of my knee. You can eat that drop, Perich. I said I feared it was his own supper. Oh, said he, I can do fine wanting it. I'll take the ale, though, for it slackens my cough. He drank the cup about half out, still keeping an eye upon me as he drank, and then suddenly held out his hand. Let's see the letter, said he. I told him the letter was for Mr. Balfour, not for him. And who do you think I am, says he. Give me Alexander's letter. You know my father's name? It would be strange if I did not, he returned, for he was my born brother, and little as you seem to like either me or my house or my good Perich, I'm your born uncle Davy, my man, and you my born nephew. So give us the letter and sit down and fill your kite. I had been some years younger, what with shame, weariness, and disappointment, I believe I had burst into tears. As it was I could find no words, neither black nor white, but handed him the letter and sat down to the porridge with as little appetite for me as ever a young man had. Meanwhile my uncle, stooping over the fire, turned the letter over and over in his hands. Dear Ken, what's in it? he asked, suddenly. You see for yourself, sir, said I, that the seal has not been broken. I, said he, but what brought you here? To give the letter, said I. No, says he, cunningly, but you'll have some hopes, no doubt. I confess, sir, said I, when I was told that I had kinsfolk well to do, I did indeed indulge the hope that they might help me in my life. But I am no beggar, I look for no favors at your hands, and I want none that are not freely given. For as poor as I appear I have friends of my own that will be blithe to help me. Who toot? said uncle Ebenezer. Didn't I fly up in the snuff at me? We'll agree fine yet. And, David, my man, if you're done with that bit of perich, I could just tick a sup of it myself. I, he continued, as soon as he had ousted me from the stool and spoon, there fine hails some food, their grand food, perich. He murmured a little grace to himself, and fell too. Your father was very fond of his meat, I mind. He was a hearty, if not a great eater, but as for me I could never do more than pike at food. He took a pull at the small beer which probably reminded him of hospitable duties for his next speech ran thus. If you're dry you'll find water behind the door. To this I returned no answer, standing stiffly on my two feet, and looking down upon my uncle with a mighty angry heart.  Once only, when he had ventured to look a little higher, our eyes met, and no thief taken with a hand in a man's pocket could have shown more lively signals of distress. This set me in amuse, whether his timidity arose from too long a disuse of any human company, or whether perhaps, upon a little trial, it might pass off, and my uncle changed into an altogether different man. From this I was awakened by his sharp voice. "'Your father's been long dead,' he asked. "'Three weeks, sir,' said I. "'He was a secret man, Alexander, a secret silent man.' He continued. "'He never said muckl when he was young. "'He never have spoken muckl of me?' "'I never knew, sir, till you told it me yourself that he had any brother.' "'Dear me, dear me,' said Ebenezer. "'Nor yet of Shaw's, I daresay.' "'Not so much as the name, sir,' said I. "'To think of that,' said he, a strange nature of a man. "'For all that he seemed singularly satisfied. "'But whether with himself, or me, or with this conduct of my father's "'was more than I could read. "'Certainly, however, he seemed to be outgrowing that distaste "'or ill-will that he had conceived at first against my person, "'for presently he jumped up, came across the room behind me, "'and hit me a smack upon the shoulder.' "'We'll agree fine yet,' he cried.  "'And now come away to your bed.' To my surprise he lit no lamp or candle, but set forth into the dark passage, groped his way, breathing deeply up a flight of steps, and paused before a door which he unlocked. I was close upon his heels having stumbled after him as best I might, and then he bade me go in, for that was my chamber. I did his e-bed, but paused after a few steps and begged the light to go to bed with. "'Who toot?' said Uncle Ebenezer. "'There's a fine moon.' "'Neither moon or star, sir, and pit-merk,' said I. "'I cannot see the bed.' "'Who toot? Who toot?' said he. "'Lights and a house is a thing I did not agree with. "'Uncle, fair to fires! "'Gnight to you, David, my man!' And before I had time to add a further protest he pulled the door to, and I heard him lock me in from the outside. I did not know whether to laugh or cry. The room was as cold as so well, and the bed, when I had found my way to it, as damp as a peat-hag, but by good fortune I had caught up my bundle in my plaid and rolling myself in the ladder. I lay down upon the floor under lee of the big bedstead and fell speedily asleep. With the first peep of day I opened my eyes, to find myself in a great chamber, hung with snapped leather, furnished with fine embroidered furniture, and lit by three fair windows. Ten years ago, or perhaps twenty, it must have been as pleasant a room to lie down or to awaken as a man could wish. But damp, dirt, disuse, and the mice and spiders had done their worst since then. Many of the windowpains besides were broken, and indeed this was so common a feature in that house that I believe my uncle must at some time have stood a siege from his indignant neighbors, perhaps with Genek Klustin at their head. Meanwhile the sun was shining outside and, being very cold in that miserable room, I knocked and shouted till my jailer came and let me out. He carried me to the back of the house where there was a draw-well and told me to wash my face there if I wanted. And when that was done I made the best of my own way back to the kitchen where he had lit the fire and was making the porridge. The table was laid with two bowls and two hornspoons but the same single measure of small beer. Perhaps my eye rested on this particular with some surprise, and perhaps my uncle observed it, for he spoke up as if an answer to my thought, asking me if I would like to drink ale for so he called it. I told him such was my habit but not to put himself about. Nah, nah, said he. I'll deny you nothing in reason. He fetched another cup from the shelf and then to my great surprise, instead of drawing more beer, he poured an acrid half from one cup to the other. There was a kind of nobleness in this that took my breath away. If my uncle was certainly a miser he was one of that thoroughbred that goes near to make the vice respectable. When we had made an end of our meal my uncle Ebenezer unlocked a drawer and drew out of it a clay pipe and a lump of tobacco, from which he cut one fill before he locked it up again. Then he sat down in the sun at one of the windows and silently smoked. From time to time his eyes came coasting round to me and he shot me out one of his questions, once it was, And your mother? And when I had told him that she too was dead. Ah, she was a bonny lassie! Then after another long pause. Where were these friends of yours? I told him they were different gentlemen of the name of Campbell, though indeed there was only one and that the minister that had ever taken the least note of me, but I began to think my uncle made too light of my position and finding myself all alone with him I did not wish him to suppose me helpless. He seemed to turn this over in his mind and then, David my man, said he, You've come to the right bit when you come to your uncle Ebenezer. I have a great notion of the family and I mean to do the right by you but while I've taken a bit of think to myself of what's the best thing to put you to, whether the law or the ministry or maybe the army, Wilk is what boys are fondest of. I wouldn't have liked the Balfors to be humbled before a ween Eileen Campbell's and I'll ask you to keep your tongue within your teeth. No letters, no messages, no kind of work to anybody or else. There's my door. Uncle Ebenezer, said I, I've no manner of reason to suppose you mean anything but well by me. For all that I would have you to know that I have a pride of my own. It was by no will of mine that I came seeking you and if you show me your door again I'll take you at the word. He seemed grievously put out, Who toot? said he. Cacanny, man, cacanny! By the day or two I'm no warlock to find a fortune for you in the bottom of a parish-bowl but just you give me a day or two, say nothing to nobody and I'm as sure as sure I'll do the right by you. Very well, said I. Enough said. But you want to help me, there's no doubt but I'll be glad of it none but I'll be grateful. It seemed to me, too soon, I daresay, that I was getting the upper hand of my uncle and I began next to say that I must have the bed and bed-clothes aired and put to sun-dry for nothing would make me sleep in such a pickle. Is this my house or yours? said he and his keen voice and then all of a sudden broke off. Nah, nah, said he. I didn't mean that. What's mine is yours, David of a man and what's yours is mine. Blood-sticker than water and there's nobody but you and me that ought the name. Then on he rambled about the family and its ancient greatness and his father that began to enlarge the house and himself that stopped the building as a sinful waste and this put it in my head to give him Genic Cluston's message. The limmer, he cried, twelve hundred and fifteen that's every day since I had the limmer routed. Dodd, David, I'll have a roasted on red-peats before I'm by with it. A witch, a proclaimed witch, I'll often see the session-clark. With that he opened a chest and got out a very old and well-preserved blue coat and waistcoat and a good enough beaver hat, both without lace. These he threw on anyway and, taking a staff from the cupboard, locked all up again and was first setting out when a thought arrested him. I cannot leave you by yourself in the house," said he, I have to lock you out. The blood came to my face. If you lock me out, I said, it'll be the last you'll see of me in friendship.  This is not the way, he said, looking wickedly at a corner of the floor, this is not the way to win my favor, David. Sir, says I, with a proper reverence for your age and our common blood, I do not value your favor at a bottle's purchase. I was brought up to have a good concede of myself, and if you were all the uncle and all the family I had in the world ten times over, I wouldn't buy your liking at such prices. Uncle Ebenezer went and looked out of the window for a while. I could see him all trembling and twitching like a man with palsy, but when he turned round he had a smile upon his face. Well, well, said he, we must bear and forebear. I'll no go, that's all to be said of it. Uncle Ebenezer, I said, take nothing out of this.   You let me see it every word in every minute. It's not possible that you can like me, and as for me, I've spoken to you as I've never thought to speak to any man. Why do you seek to keep me then? Let me gang back, let me gang back to the friends I have that like me.  Bide here quiet, there's a good lad, just you bide here quiet a pity, and you'll find that we agree. Well, sir, said I, after I'd thought the matter out in silence, I'll stay a while. It's more just I should be helped by my own blood than strangers, I'll be through no fault of mine. End of chapter. Chapter 4 of Kidnapped This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. Chapter 4 I run a great danger in the house of Shaw. For a day that was begun so ill, the day passed fairly well. We had the porridge cold again at noon and hot porridge at night. Porridge and small beer was my uncle's diet. He spoke but little, and that in the same way as before. Shooting a question at me, after a long silence, and when I sought to lead him to talk about my future, slipped out of it again. In a room next door to the kitchen where he suffered me to go, I found a great number of books both Latin and English in which I took great pleasure all the afternoon. Indeed, the time passed so lightly in this good company that I began to be almost reconciled to my residence at Shaw's, and nothing but the sight of my uncle and his eyes playing a hide-and-seek with mine revived the force of my distrust. One thing I discovered which put me in some doubt. There was an entry on the fly-leaf of a chap-book, one of Patrick Walker's, plainly written by my father's hand and thus conceived to my brother Ebenezer on his fifth birthday. Now what puzzled me was this, that as my father was of course the younger brother he must either have made some strange error, or he must have written, before he was yet five, an excellent, clear, manly hand of writing. I tried to get this out of my head, but though I took down many interesting authors, old and new, history, poetry and story-book, this notion of my father's hand of writing stuck to me, and when at length I went back into the kitchen and sat down once more to porridge and small beer, the first thing I said to Uncle Ebenezer was to ask him if my father had not been very quick at his book. Alexander, know him, was the reply. I was far quicker myself. I was a clever chappy when I was young. Why, I could read as soon as he could. This puzzled me yet more, and a thought coming into my head I asked if he and my father had been twins. He jumped upon his stool and the hornspoon fell out of his hand upon the floor. Look, Garje asked that, he said, and he caught me by the breast of the jacket, and looked this time straight into my eyes, his own were little and light and bright like a bird's, blinking and winking strangely. What do you mean? I asked very calmly for I was far stronger than he and not easily frightened. Take your hand for my jacket. This is no way to behave. My uncle seemed to make a great effort upon himself. Died man David, he said, you shouldn't have speak to me about your father. That's where the mistake is. He sat a while and shook, blinking in his plate. He was all the brother that ever I had. He added with no heart in his voice, and then he caught up his spoon and fell to supper again, but still shaking. Now this last passage, this laying of hands upon my person of love for my dead father went so clean beyond my comprehension that it put me into both fear and hope. On the one hand I began to think my uncle was perhaps insane and might be dangerous. On the other there came up into my mind, quite unbidden by me and even discouraged.  But why should my uncle play a part with a relative that came almost a beggar to his door unless in his heart he had some cause to fear him? With this notion, all unacknowledged, but nevertheless getting firmly settled in my head, I now began to imitate his covert looks so that we sat at table like a cat and a mouse, each stealthily observing the other. Not another word had he to say to me, black or white, but he was busy turning something secretly over in his mind, and the longer we sat and the more I looked at him, the more certain I became that the something was unfriendly to myself. When he had cleared the platter he got out a single pipeful of tobacco, just as in the morning, turned round a stool into the chimney corner and sat a while smoking with his back to me. Davey? He sat at length. I've been thinking. Then he paused and said it again. There's a wee bit siller that I have promised you before you was born. He continued, promised it to your father. Oh, nothing legal, you understand. Just gentlemen daffin' at their wine. Well, I keep it that bit of money separate. It was a great expense, but a promise he is a promise, and it has grown by now to be a matter of just just exactly and here he paused and stumbled just exactly forty pounds. This last he wrapped out with a side-long glance over his shoulder and the next moment he added almost with a scream scots! The pound scots being the same thing as an English shilling the difference made by this second thought was considerable. I could see besides that the whole story was a lie, invented with some end which it puzzled me to guess, and I made no attempt to conceal the tone of railery in which I answered, Oh, think again, sir, pound sterling, I believe. That's what I said, returned my uncle, pound sterling, and if you'll step out by to the door a minute just to see what kind of a night it is I'll get it out to you and call you in again. Still, smiling to myself in my contempt that he should think I was so easily to be deceived, it was a dark night, with a few stars low down, and as I stood just outside the door I heard a hollow moaning of wind far off among the hills. I said to myself there was something thundery and changeful in the weather and little knew of what a vast importance that should prove to me before the evening passed. When I was called in again my uncle counted out into my hand seven and thirty golden guinea pieces. The rest was in his hand in small gold and silver, but his heart failed him there and he crammed the change into his pocket. There, said he, that'll show ya, I'm a queer man and strange with strangers, but my word is my bond and there's the proof of it. Now, my uncle seemed so miserly that I was so dumb by the sudden generosity and could find no words in which to thank him. No word, he said, no thanks, I want no thanks, I do my duty. I'm no saying that everybody would have done it, but for my part though I'm a careful body too, it's a pleasure to me to do the right by my brother's son and it's a pleasure to me to think that now we'll agree as such near friends should. I spoke him in return as handsomely as I was able but all the while I was wondering what would come next and why he had parted with his precious guineas for as to the reason he had given a baby would have refused it. Presently he looked towards me sideways. And see here, said he, tit for tat. I told him I was ready to prove my gratitude in any reasonable degree and then waited looking for some monstrous demand and yet when at last he plucked up courage to speak it was only to tell me very properly as I thought that he was growing old and a little broken and that he would expect me to help him with the house and the bill of garden. I answered and expressed my readiness to serve. Well, said he, let's begin. He pulled out of his pocket a rusty key. Says he, there's the key of the stair-tower at the far end of the house. You can only win into it from the outside for that part of the house is no finished. Gangya in there, and up the stairs and bring me down the chest that's at the top. There's papers in it, he added. Can I have a light, sir, said I. Nah, said he, very cunningly. No lights in my house. Very well, sir, said I. Are the stairs good? They're grand, said he. And then, as I was going, keep to the wall, he added. There's no banisters, but the stairs are grand underfoot. Out I went into the night. The wind was still moaning in the distance, though never a breath of it came near the house of Shaw's. It had fallen blacker than ever and I was glad to feel along the wall till I came the length of the stair-tower door at the far end of the unfinished wing. I had got the key into the keyhole and had just turned it when all of a sudden, without sound of wind or thunder, the whole sky lighted up with wild fire and went black again. I had to put my hand over my eyes to get back to the color of the darkness and indeed I was already half-blinded when I stepped into the tower. It was so dark inside it seemed a body could scarce breathe but I pushed out with foot in hand and presently struck the wall with one and the lowermost round of the stair with the other. The wall by the touch was a fine hewn stone. The steps, too, though somewhat steep and narrow, were of polished mason work and regular and solid underfoot. Minding my uncle's word about the banisters, I kept close to the tower side and felt my weight in the pitch darkness with a beating heart. The house of Shaw's stood some five full stories high, not counting lofts. Well, as I advanced, it seemed to me the stair grew airier and a thought more lightsome and I was wondering what might be the cause of this change when a second blink of the summer lightning came and went. If I did not cry out, it was because fear had me by the throat and if I did not fall it was more by heaven's mercy than my own strength. It was not only that the flash shone in on every side through breeches and the wall so that I seemed to be clambering aloft upon an open scaffold, but the same passing brightness showed me the steps were of unequal length and that one of my feet rested that moment within two inches of the well. This was the grand stare, I thought, and with the thought a gust of angry courage came into my heart. My uncle had sent me here certainly to run great risks, perhaps to die. I swore I would settle that perhaps, if I should break my neck for it, got me down upon my hands and knees and as slowly as a snail feeling before me every inch and testing the solidity of every stone I continued to ascend the stair. The darkness, by contrast with the flash appeared to have redoubled. Nor was that all, for my ears were now troubled and my mind confounded by a great stir of bats in the top part of the tower and the foul beasts flying downwards sometimes beat about my face and body. The tower, I should have said, was square and in every corner the step was made of a great stone of a different shape to join the flights. Well, I had come close to one of these turns when feeling forward as usual my hand slipped upon an edge and found nothing but emptiness beyond it. The stair had been carried no higher. To set a stranger mounting it in the darkness was to send him straight to his death. And, although thanks to the lightning and my own precautions I was safe enough, the mere thought of the peril in which I might have stood and the dreadful hide I might have fallen from brought out the sweat upon my body and relaxed my joints. But I knew what I wanted now and turned and groped my way down again with a wonderful anger in my heart. About half way down the wind sprang up in a clap and shook the tower and died again. The rain followed and before I had reached the ground level it fell in buckets. I put out my head into the storm and looked along towards the kitchen. The door which I had shut behind me when I left now stood open and shed a little glimmer of light and I thought I could see a figure standing in the rain, quite still like a man harkening. Then there came a blinding flash which showed me my uncle plainly just where I had fancied him to stand and hard upon the heels of it a great toro of thunder. Now, whether my uncle thought the crash to be the sound of my fall or whether he heard in it God's voice a dancing murder, I will leave you to guess. Certain it is, at least, that he was seized on by a kind of panic fear and that he ran into the house and left the door open behind him. I followed as softly as I could and coming unheard into the kitchen stood and watched him. He had found time to open the corner cupboard and bring out a great case bottle of aquavite and now sat with his back towards me ever and again he would be seized with a fit of deadly shuddering and groan aloud and carrying the bottle to his lips drink down the raw spirits by the mouthful. I stepped forward, came close behind him where he sat and suddenly clapping my two hands down upon his shoulders ah! cried I. My uncle gave a kind of broken cry like a sheep's bleat flung up his arms into the floor like a dead man. I was somewhat shocked at this but I had myself to look to first of all and I did not hesitate to let him lie as he had fallen. The keys were hanging in the cupboard and it was my design to furnish myself with arms before my uncle should come again to his senses in the power of devising evil. In the cupboard were a few bottles some apparently of medicine a great many bills and other papers which I should willingly enough have rummaged had I had the time and a few necessaries that were nothing to my purpose. Thence I turned to the chests the first was full of meal the second of money bags and papers tied into sheaves in the third with many other things and these for the most part clothes I found a rusty ugly looking Highland Dirk without the scabbard. This then I concealed inside my waistcoat and turned to my uncle. He lay as he had fallen all huddled with one knee up and one arm sprawling abroad. His face had a strange colour of blue and he seemed to have ceased breathing.  At last he looked up and saw me and there came into his eyes a horror that was not of this world. Come, come, said I, sit up. Are you alive? he sobbed. Oh man, are you alive? That am I, said I, small thanks to you. He had begun to seek for his breath with deep sighs. The blue file said he in the almerie the blue file was slower still. I ran to the cupboard and sure enough found there a blue file of medicine with the dose written on it on a paper and this I administered to him with what speed I might. Hits the trouble, said he, reviving a little. I have a trouble, Davey, it's the heart. I set him on a chair and looked at him. It is true I felt some pity besides of righteous anger and I numbered over before him the points on which I wanted explanation. Why he lied to me at every word. Why he feared that I should leave him. Why he disliked it to be hinted that he and my father were twins. Is that because it is true? I asked. Why he had given me money to which I was convinced I had no claim and last of all why he had tried to kill me. He heard me all through in silence and then in a broken voice begged me to let him go to bed. I'll tell you the mourn, he said, assures death I will. And so weak was he that I could do nothing but consent. I locked him into his room, however, and pocketed the key and then returning to the kitchen made up such a blaze as had not shown there for many a long year and wrapping myself in my plaid lay down upon the chair my plaid lay down upon the chests and fell asleep. End of chapter Chapter 5 of Kidnapped This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson Chapter 5 I go to the Queen's Ferry Much rain fell in the night and the next morning there blew a bitter wintry wind out of the Northwest driving scattered clouds. For all that, and before the sun began to peep or the last of the stars had vanished, I made my way to the side of the burn and had a plunge in a deep whirling pool. All aglow from my bath I sat down once more beside the fire which I replenished and began gravely to consider my position. There was now no doubt about my uncle's enmity, there was no doubt I carried my life in my hand and he would leave no stone unturned that he might compass my destruction. But I was young and spirited and like most lads that have been country-bred, I had a great opinion of my shrewdness.  He had met me with treachery and violence. It would be of fine consummation to take the upper hand and drive him like a herd of sheep.  The warlock of Essendine, they say, had made a mirror in which men could read the future.  Presently all swollen with conceit I went upstairs and gave my prisoner his liberty. He gave me good morning civilly and I gave the same to him smiling down upon him in the midst of my sufficiency. Soon we were set to breakfast as it might have been the day before. Well, sir, said I, with a jeering tone, have you nothing more to say to me? And then, as he made no articulate reply, it will be time, I think, to understand each other, I continued.  I took you for a good man or no worse than others at the least. It seems we were both wrong. What cause have you to fear me, to cheat me and to attempt my life? He murmured something about a jest and that he liked a bit of fun. And then, seeing me smile, changed his tone and assured me he would make all clear as soon as we had breakfasted. I saw by his face that he had no lie ready for me, though he was hard at work preparing one. And I think I was about to tell him so, when we were interrupted by knocking at the door. Bidding my uncle's sit where he was I went to open it and found on the doorstep a half-grown boy in sea clothes. He had no sooner seen me than he began to dance some steps of the sea-hornpipe, which I had never before heard of, far less seen, snapping his fingers in the air and footing it right cleverly.  What cheer, mate? says he with a cracked voice. I asked him soberly to name his pleasure. Oh, pleasure! says he and then began to sing for it's my delight of a shiny night in the season of the year. Well, says I, if you have no business at all I will even be so unmanorly as to shut you out. Stay, brother," he cried.  I've brought a letter from old Hesiosi to Mr. Belflower. He showed me a letter as he spoke. And I say, mate," he added. I'm mortal hungry. Well, said I, come into the house and you shall have a bite if I go empty for it. With that I brought him in and set him down to my own place where he fell too greedily on the remains of breakfast winking to me between wiles and making many faces which I think the poor soul considered manly. Meanwhile my uncle had read the letter and sat thinking. Then suddenly he got to his feet with a great air of liveliness and pulled me apart into the farthest corner of the room. Read that," said he and put the letter in my hand. Here it is lying before me as I write. The Haws Inn at the Queen's Ferry Sir, I lie here with my hawser up and down and send my cabin-boy to inform. If you have any further commands for overseas today will be the last occasion as the wind will serve us well out of the Firth. I will not seek to deny that I have had crosses with your doer, Mr. Rancyler, of which, if not speedily read up, you may look to see some losses follow. I have drawn a bill upon you as per margin and am, sir, your most obedient, humble servant, Elias Hoseason, agent. You see, Davy," resumed my uncle as soon as he saw that I had done, I have a venture with this man Hoseason, the captain of a trading brig, the Covenant of Dysart. Now, if you and me was to walk over with young Lad, I could see the captain of the Haws maybe on board the Covenant if there were papers to be signed, and so far from a loss of time we can jog on to the lawyer, Mr. Rancyler's. After that's come and gone you would be swirer to believe me upon my naked word. But you'll believe Rancyler. He's factored a half the gentry in these pots, an old man, for by, highly respected, and he caned your father. I stood a while in thought. I was going to some place of shipping which was doubtless populous and where my uncle durst attempt no violence, and indeed even the society of the cabin boys so far protected me. Once there I believed I could force on the visit to the lawyer and my uncle were now insincere in proposing it, and perhaps in the bottom of my heart I wished a nearer view of the sea and ships. You are to remember I had lived all my life in the inland hills, and just two days before had my first sight of the Firth lying like a blue floor, and the sailed ships moving on the face of it, no bigger than toys. One thing with another I made up my mind. Very well, says I. Let us go to the ferry. My uncle got into his hat-and-coat and buckled an old rusty cutlass on, and then we trod the fire out, locked the door, and set forth upon our walk. The wind, being in that cold quarter the northwest, blew nearly in our faces as we went. It was the month of June. The grass was all white with daisies, and the trees with blossoms, but to judge by our blue nails and aching wrists the time might have been winter and the whiteness of December frost. Uncle Ebenezer trudged in the ditch, jogging from side to side like an old plowman coming home from work. He never said a word the whole way, and I was thrown for talk on the cabin boy. He told me his name was ransom, and that he had followed the sea since he was nine, but could not say how old he was as he had lost his reckoning. He showed me tattoo marks bearing his breast and the teeth of the wind and in spite of my remonstrances, for I thought it was enough to kill him. He swore horribly whenever he remembered, but more like a silly school boy than a man, and boasted of many wild and bad things that he had done. Stealthy thefts, false accusations, eye, and even murder. But all was such a dearth of likelihood in the details, and such a weak and crazy swagger in the delivery as disposed me rather to pity than to believe him. I asked him of the brig, which he declared was the finest ship that sailed, and of Captain Ho season, in whose praise as he was equally loud. He's the OC, for so he still named the skipper, was a man, by his account, that minded for nothing, either in heaven or earth, one that, as people said, would crack on all sail rough, fierce, unscrupulous, and brutal, and all this my poor cabin boy had taught himself to admire as something seaman-like and manly. He would only admit one flaw in his idol. He ain't no seaman, he admitted. That's Mr. Schoen that navigates the bridge. He's the finest seaman in the trade, only for drink. And I tell you I believe it. Why, look here! And turning down his stocking bright, raw, red wound that made my blood run cold. He'd done that. Mr. Schoen did that. He said with a air of pride. What! I cried. Do you take such savage usage at his hands, while you're no slave to be so handled? No, said the poor moon-calf, changing his tune at once. And so he'll find, see here! And he showed me a great case knife, which he told me was stolen. Oh, says he. Let him see me. Try. I dare him to. I'll do for him. Oh, he ain't the first.  I have never felt such pity for any one in this wide world as I felt for that half-witted creature.  Have you new friends? said I. He said he had a father in some English seaport. I forget which. He was a fine man, too, he said. But he's dead. In Heaven's name, cried I, can you find no reputable life on shore? Oh, no, says he, winking and looking very sly. They would put me to a trade. I know a trick worth two of that, I do. I asked him what trade could be so dreadful as the one he followed, where he ran the continual peril of his life, not alone from wind and sea, but by the hard cruelty of those who were his masters. He said it was very true and then began to praise the life and tell what a pleasure it was to get on shore with money in his pocket and spend it like a man and buy apples and swagger and surprise what he called sticking the mud-boys. And then it's not all as bad as that, says he. There's worse off than me. There's the twenty pounders. Oh, laws, you should see them taking on. Why, I've seen a man as old as you, I'd death say. To him I seemed old. Ah, and he had a beard, too. Well, and as soon as we cleared out of the river and he had the drug out of his head, how he cried and carried on. I made a fine fool of him, I tell you. But then there's littleans, too. Oh, little by me. I tell you, I keep them in order. When we carry littleans, I have a robesend of my own to wallop them. And so he ran on, until it came in on me what he meant by twenty pounders were those unhappy criminals who were sent overseas to kidnap or tripand, as the word went, for private interest or vengeance. Just then we came to the top of the hill and looked down on the ferry and the hope. The Firth of Forth, as is very well known, narrows at this point to the width of a good-sized river, which makes a convenient ferry going north and turns the upper reach into a landlocked haven for all manner of ships. The town of Queen's Ferry lies further west, and the neighborhood of the inn looked pretty lonely at that time of day, for the boat had just gone north with passengers. A skiff, however, lay beside the pier with some seamstresses, and on the south shore they had built a pier for the service of the ferry, and at the end of the pier on the other side of the road lay beside the pier with some seamen sleeping on the thwarts. This, as Ransom told me, was the Briggs boat waiting for the captain, and about half a mile off and all alone in the anchorage he showed me the Covenant herself. There was a sea-going bustle on board, yards were swinging into place, and as the wind blew from that quarter I could hear the song of the sailors as they pulled upon the ropes. After all I had listened to upon the way I looked at that ship with an extreme abhorrence, and from the bottom of my heart I pitied all poor souls that were condemned to sail in her. We had all three pulled up on the brow of the hill, and now I marched across the road and addressed my uncle. I think it right to tell you, sir, says I. There's nothing that will bring me on board that Covenant. He seemed to waken from a dream. Eh! he said. What's that? I told him over again. Well, well, he said. We'll have to please you, I suppose. But what are we standing here for? It's perishing cold, and if I'm no mistake, and they're busking the Covenant for sea. End of chapter. Chapter 6 of Kidnapped This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. Chapter 6 What Bevelled at the Queen's Ferry As soon as we came to the inn, ransom led us up the stair to a small room with a bed in it, and heated like an oven by a great fire of coal. At a table hard by the chimney, a tall, dark, sober-looking man sat riding. In spite of the heat of the room he wore a thick sea-jacket buttoned to the neck, and a tall hairy cap drawn down over his ears. Yet I never saw any man, not even a judge upon the bench, look cooler or more studious and self-possessed than this ship captain. He got to his feet at once, and coming forward offered his large hand to Ebenezer. I am proud to see Mr. Balfour, said he in a fine deep voice, and glad that you are here in time. The wind's fair, and the tide upon the turn, we'll see the old coal bucket burning on the Isle of May before tonight. Captain Ho season, returned my uncle, you keep your room uncle hot. It's a habit I have, Mr. Balfour, said the skipper. I'm a cold-rife man by my nature. I have a cold blood, sir. There's neither fur nor flannel. No, sir, nor hot rum will warm up what they call the temperature. Sir, it's the same with most men that have been carbonadoed, as they call it, in the tropic seas. Well, well, captain, replied my uncle, we must all be the way we're made. But a chance that's as fancy as the captain's had a great share in my misfortunes. For though I had promised myself not to let my captain go, though I had promised myself not to let my kinsmen out of sight, I was both so impatient for a nearer look of the sea and so sickened by the closeness of the room that when he told me to run downstairs and play myself a while, I was full enough to take him at his word. A way I went, therefore, leaving the two men sitting down to a bottle and a great mass of papers, and crossing the road in front of the inn, walked down upon the beach.  But the weeds were new to me, some green, some brown and long, and some with little bladders that crackled between my fingers. Even so far up the furth the smell of the sea water was exceedingly salt and stirring. The covenant besides was beginning to shake out her sails, which hung upon the yards and clusters, and the spirit of all that I beheld put me in thoughts of far voyages and foreign places. I looked, too, at the seamen with the skiff, big brown fellows, some in shirts, some with jackets, some with coloured handkerchiefs about their throats, one with a brace of pistols stuck into his pockets, two or three with knotty bludgeons and all with their case-knives. I passed the time of day with one that looked less desperate than the fellows and asked him of the sailing of the brig. He said they would get under way as soon as the ebb set and expressed his gladness to be out of a port where there were no taverns and fiddlers, but all with such horrifying oaths that I made haste to get away from him. This threw me back on ransom, who seemed the least wicked of that gang, and who soon came out of the inn and ran to me crying for a bowl of punch. I told him I would give him no such heen or I was of an age for such indulgences. But a class of ale you may have and welcome, says I. He mopped and mawed at me and called me names, but he was glad to get the ale for all that, and presently we were set down at a table in the front room of the inn and both eating and drinking with a good appetite. Here it occurred to me that, as the landlord was a man of that county, I might do well to make a friend of him. I would give him a share, as was much the custom in those days, but he was far too great a man to sit with such poor customers as ransom and myself, and he was leaving the room when I called him back to ask if he knew Mr. Rangkyler. Oh, it's I, says he, and a very honest man, and oh, by the by, says he, was it you who came in with Ebenezer? And when I told him yes, he asked, meaning in the Scottish way that I would be no relative, I told him no, none. I thought not, said he, and yet you have a kind of glyph of Mr. Alexander. I said it seemed that Ebenezer was ill-seen in the country. Nay doubt, said the landlord, he's a wicked old man, and there's many would like to see him gurning in the toe. Anymore that he is harried out a house and ham, and yet he was once a fine young fellow too, but that was before the soft gate abroad about Mr. Alexander. That was like the death of him. And what was it, I asked.  Did you never hear that? And what would he kill him for, said I. And what for, but just to get the place, said he. The place, said I. The shaws? The other place that I can, said he. I, man, said I. Is that so? Was Alexander the eldest son? Deed he was, said the landlord. What else would he have killed him for? And with that he went away as he had been impatient to do from the beginning. Of course, I had guessed it a long while ago, but it is one thing to guess, another to know. And I sat stunned with my good fortune and could scarce grow to believe that the same poor lad who had trudged in the dust from Ettrick Forest, not two days ago, was now one of the rich of the earth and had a house and broad lands and might mount his horse to-morrow. All these pleasant things and a thousand others crowded into my mind as I sat staring before me out of the inn window and paying no heed to what I saw. Only I remember that my eye lighted on Captain Ho season down on the pier among his seamen and speaking with some authority. Presently he came marching back towards the house with no mark of a sailor's clumsiness but carrying his fine tall figure with a manly bearing and still with the same sober grave expression on his face. I wondered if it was possible that Ransom's stories could be true and half disbelieve them. They fitted so ill with the man's looks. But indeed he was neither so good as I supposed him, nor quite so bad as Ransom did, for in fact he was two men and left the better one behind as soon as he set foot on board his vessel. The next thing I heard my uncle calling me and found the pair in the road together. It was the captain who addressed me and that was an air very flattering to a young lad of grave equality. Sir, says he, Mr. Balfour tells me great things of you and for my own part I like your looks. I wish I was for longer here that we might make the better friends but we'll make the most of what we have. You shall come on board my brig for half an hour till the ebb sets and drink a bowl with me. Now I longed to see the inside of a ship more than words can tell but I was not going to put myself in jeopardy and I told him my uncle and I had an appointment with a lawyer. I, I, said he. He passed me word of that. But you see, the boat will set you ashore at the town pier and that's but a penny stone cast from Rancala's house. And here he suddenly leaned down and whispered in my ear, take care of the old Todd. He means, Mr. come aboard till I can get a word with you. And then passing his arm through mine he continued aloud as he set off towards his boat. But come what can I bring you from the Carolinas? Any friend of Mr. Balfour's can command a roll of tobacco, Indian feather work, a skin of a wild beast, a stone pipe, the mockingbird that mews for all the world and no bird that it is, as red as blood, take your pick and say your pleasure. By this time we were at the boat side and he was handing me in. I did not dream of hanging back. I thought, the poor fool, that I had found a good friend and helper and I was rejoiced to see the ship. As soon as we were all set in our places the boat was thrust off from the pier and began to move over the waters and what with my pleasure in this new movement and my surprise at our low position and the appearance of the shores and the growing bigness of the brig as we drew near to it I could hardly understand what the captain said and must have answered him at random. As soon as we were alongside where I sat fairly gaping at the ship's height the strong humming of the tide against its sides and the pleasant cries of the seamen at their work Ho season, bearing that he and I must be the first to board ordered to tackle to be sent down from the main yard. In this I was whipped into the air and set down again on the deck where the captain stood ready waiting for me and instantly slipped back his arm under mine. There I stood some while a little dizzy with the unsteadiness of all around me perhaps a little afraid and yet vastly pleased with these strange sights the captain meanwhile pointing out the strangest and telling me their names and uses. But where is my uncle? said I suddenly. Hi! said Ho season with a sudden grimness. That's the point! I felt I was lost with all my strength I plucked myself clear of him and ran to the bulwarks. Sure enough there was the boat pulling for the town with my uncle sitting in the stern. I caved a piercing cry. Help! Help! Murder! So that both sides of the anchorage rang with it and my uncle turned round where he was sitting and showed me a face full of cruelty and terror. It was the last I saw. Already strong hands had been plucking me back from the ship's side and now a thunderbolt seemed to strike me. I saw a great flash of fire and fell senseless. End of chapter. Chapter 7 of Kidnapped This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. Chapter 7 I go to see in the Brig Covenant of Dysart. I came to myself in darkness, in great pain, barefoot and deafened by many unfamiliar noises. There sounded in my ears a roaring of water as of a huge mill-damp, the thrashing of heavy sprays, the thundering of the sails and the shrill cries of semen. The whole world now heaved giddily up and now rushed giddily downward. And so sick and hurt was I in body and my mind so much confounded that it took me a long while chasing my thoughts up and down and ever stunned again by a fresh stab of pain, to realize that I must be lying somewhere bound in the belly of that unlucky ship and that the wind must have strengthened to a gale. With a clear perception of my plight there fell upon me a blackness of despair, a horror of remorse at my own folly and a passion of anger at my uncle that once more bereft me of my senses. When I returned again to life the same uproar, the same confused and violent movements shook and deafened me and presently to my other pains and distresses there was added the sickness of an unused landsmen on the sea. In that time of my adventurous youth I suffered many hard chips, but none that was so crushing to my mind and body were lit by so few hopes as these first hours aboard the brig. I heard a gunfire and suppose the storm had proved too strong for us and we were firing signals of distress. The thought of deliverance even by death in the deep sea was welcome to me. Yet it was no such matter, but, as I was afterwards told, a common habit of the captains which I here set down to show that even the worst man may have as kindly your side. We were then passing, it appeared, within some miles of Dysart where the brig was built and where old Mrs. Ho season, the captain's mother, had come some years before to live and whether outward or inward bound the Covenant was never suffered to go by that place by day without a gun fired and colours shown. I had no measure of time. Day and night were alike in that ill-smelling cavern of the ship's bowels where I lay and the misery of my situation drew out the hours to double. How long, therefore, I lay waiting to hear the ship split upon some rock or to feel her real head foremost into the depths of the sea I have not the means of computation. But sleep at length stole from me this consciousness of sorrow. I was awakened by the light of a hand lantern shining in my face. A small man of about thirty green eyes and a tangle of fair hair stood looking down at me. Well, said he, how goes it? I answered by a sob and my visitor then felt my pulse and temples and set himself to wash and dress the wound upon my scalp. I, said he, a sore-dunt. What, man? Cheer up! The world's no done. You've made a bad start of it, but you'll make it better. Have you had any meat? I said I could not look at it but he gave me some brandy and water in a tin panacon and left me once more to myself. The next time he came to see me I was lying between sleep and waking. My eye is wide open in the darkness. The sickness quite departed but succeeded by a horrid giddiness in swimming that were almost worse to bear. I ached besides in every limb and the cords that bound me seemed to be of fire. The smell of the hole in which I lay seemed to have become a part of me and during the long interval since his last visit I had suffered tortures of fear, now from the scurrying of the ship's rats that sometimes pattered on my very face and now from the dismal imaginings that haunt the bed of fever. The glimmer of the lantern as a trap opened shone in like the Heaven's sunlight and though it only showed me the strong dark beams of the ship that was my prison I could have cried aloud for gladness. The man with the green eyes was the first to descend the ladder and I noticed that he came somewhat unsteadily. He was followed by the captain. Neither said a word but the first set to and examined me and dressed my wound as before while Ho's season looked me in my face with an odd black look. Now, sir, you see for yourself, said the first, a high fever, no appetite, no light, no meat, you see for yourself what that means. I am no conjurer, Mr. Riach, said the captain.   What you may want, sir, as a matter of concern to nobody but yourself, return the captain but I can tell you that which is to be. Here he is, here he shall bide. Admitting that you have been paid in proportion, said the other, I will crave leave humbly to say that I have not. Paid I am and none too much to be the second officer of this old tub and you can very well if I do my best to earn it but I was paid for nothing more. If you could hold back your hand from the tin pan, Mr. Riach, I would have no complaint to make of you. Return the skipper and instead of asking riddles I make bold to say that you would hold your breath to cool your porridge. We'll be required on deck. He added in a sharper note and set one foot upon the ladder. But Mr. Riach caught him by the sleeve. Admitting that you have been paid to do a murder, he began. Hose season turned upon him with a flash. What's that?" he cried. What kind of talk is that? It seems it is the talk that you can understand, said Mr. Riach, looking him steadily in the face. Mr. Riach, I have sailed with three cruisers, replied the captain. In all that time, sir, you should have learned to know me. I'm a stiff man and a dour man but for what you say there now, thigh, thigh, it comes from a bad heart and a black conscience. If you say the lad will die. I, he will, said Mr. Riach. Well, sir, is that not enough? said Hose season. Flit him where you please. Thereupon the captain ascended the ladder, and I, who had lain silent throughout this strange conversation, beheld Mr. Riach turn after how as low as to his knees in what was plainly a spirit of derision. Even in my then state of sickness I perceived two things, that the mate was touched with liquor as the captain hinted, and that drunk or sober he was like to prove a valuable friend.  It was a blessed thing, indeed, to open my eyes again upon the daylight and to find myself in the society of men. The forecastle was a roomy place enough, set all about with births in which the men of the watch below were seated smoking or lying down asleep. The day being calm and the wind fair, the scuttle was open and not only the good daylight but from time to time, as the ship rolled, a dusty beam of sunlight shown in I had no sooner moved moreover than one of the men brought me a drink of something healing which Mr. Riach had prepared and made me lie still and I should soon be well again. There were no bones broken, he explained. The clower on the head were nothing. Man, said he, it was me that gave it you. Here I lay for the space of many days a close prisoner and not only got my health again but came to know my companions. They were a rough lot indeed, as sailors mostly are. Being men rooted out of all the kindly parts of life and condemned to toss together on the rough seas with masters no less cruel. There were some among them that had sailed with the pirates and seen things that would be a shame even to speak of. Some were men that had run from the king's ships and went with a halter round their necks of which they made no secret and all, as the saying goes, brought a word and a blow with their best friends. Yet I had not been many days shut up with them before I began to be ashamed of my first judgment when I had drawn away from them at the ferry pier as though they had been unclean beasts. No class of men is altogether bad but each has its own faults and virtues and these shipmates of mine were no exception to the rule. Sure enough and bad I suppose but they had many virtues. They were kind when it occurred to them simple even beyond the simplicity of a country lad like me and had some glimmerings of honesty.  He was a fisher that had lost his boat and thus been driven to the deep sea voyaging. Well, it is years ago now but I have never forgotten him. His wife, who was young by him as he often told me, waited in vain to see her man return. He would never again make the fire for her in the morning nor yet keep the Baron when she was sick. Indeed many of these poor fellows as the event proved were upon their last cruise. The deep seas and cannibal fish receive them and it is a thankless business to speak ill of the dead. Among other good deeds that they did they returned my money which had been shared among them and though it was about a third short I was very glad to get it and hoped great good from it in the land I was going to. The ship was bound for the Carolinas and you must not suppose that I was going to that place merely as an exile. The trade was even them much depressed since that and with the rebellion of the colonies and the formation of the United States it has, of course, come to an end. But in those days of my youth white men were still sold into slavery on the plantations and that was the destiny to which my wicked uncle had condemned me. The cabin boy ransom from whom I had first heard of these atrocities came in at times from the roundhouse where he birthed and served now nursing a bruised limb in silent agony and the cruelty of Mr. Shuon. It made my heart bleed but the men had a great respect for the chief mate who was, as they said, the only semen of the whole Jing Bang and none such a bad man when he was sober. Indeed, I found there was a strange peculiarity about our two mates that Mr. Riach was sullen, unkind and harsh when he was sober and Mr. Shuon would not hurt a fly except when he was drinking. I asked about the captain but I was told Drink made no difference upon that man of iron. I did my best in the small time allowed me to make something like a man or rather I should say something like a boy of the poor creature ransom but his mind was scarce, truly human. He could remember nothing of the time before he came to see only that his father had made clocks and had a starling in the parlor which could whistle the North Country all else had been blotted out in these years of hardship and cruelties. He had a strange notion of the dry land picked up from sailor's stories that it was a place where lads were put to some kind of slavery called a trade and where apprentices were continually lashed and clapped into foul prisons. In a town he thought every second person a decoy and every third house a place in which semen would be drugged to be sure I would tell him how kindly I had myself been used upon that dry land he was so much afraid of and how well fed and carefully taught both by my friends and my parents. And if he had been recently hurt he would weep bitterly and swear to run away but if he was in his usual crack-brain humor or still more if he had had a glass of spirits in the round house he would deride the notion. It was Mr. Riyach heaven forgive him who gave the boy drink and it was doubtless kindly meant but besides that it was ruined to his health it was the pitifulest thing in life to see this unhappy unfriended creature staggering and dancing and talking he knew not what. Some of the men laughed but not all others would grow as black as thunder thinking perhaps of their own childhood or their own children to that nonsense and think what he was doing. As for me I felt ashamed to look at him and the poor child still comes about me in my dreams.  There was constant labour for all hands the sails had to be made and shortened every hour the strain told on the men's temper there was a growl of quarrelling all day long from birth to birth and as I was never allowed to set my foot on deck you can picture to yourselves how weary of my life I grew to be and how impatient for a change. And a change I was to get as you shall hear but in my first tell of a conversation I had with Mr. Riach which put a little heart in me to bear my troubles. Getting him in a favourable stage of drink for indeed he never looked near me when he was sober I pledged him to secrecy and told him my whole story. He declared it was like a ballad that he would do his best to help me that I should have paper, pen and ink and write one line to Mr. Campbell and another to Mr. Rankiler and that if I had told the truth ten to one he would be able with their help to pull me through and set me in my rights and in the meantime says he keep your heart up you're not the only one I'll tell you that there's many a man hoeing tobacco overseas that should be mounting his horse at his own door at home many and many and life is all a very orm at the best look at me, I'm a layered son and more than half a doctor man jacked a ho season I thought it would be civil to ask him for a story he whistled loud never had one, said he I like fun, that's all and he skipped out of the forecastle end of chapter chapter 8 of Kidnapped this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson chapter 8, The Roundhouse one night about 11 o'clock a man of Mr. Riyach's watch which was on deck came below for his jacket and instantly there began to go a whisper about the forecastle that Shu'an had done for him at last there was no need of a name we all knew who was meant but we had scarce time to get the idea rightly in our heads far less to speak of it when the scuttle was again flung open and Captain Ho season came down the ladder he looked sharply round the bunks in the tossing light of the lantern and then walking straight up to me he addressed me to my surprise in tones of kindness my man, said he we want you to serve in the roundhouse you and ransom are to change births run away aft with ya even as he spoke two seamen appeared in the scuttle carrying ransom in their arms and the ship at that moment giving a great shear into the sea and the lantern swinging the light fell direct on the boy's face it was white as wax and had a look upon it like a dreadful smile the blood in me ran cold and I drew in my breath as if I had been struck run away aft run away aft with ya cried Ho season and at that I brushed by the sailors and the boy who neither spoke nor moved and ran up the ladder on deck the brig was shearing swiftly and giddily through a long cresting swell she was on the starboard tack and on the left hand under the arch foot of the foresail I could see the sunset still quite bright this at such an hour of the night surprised me greatly but I was too ignorant to draw the true conclusion that we were going north about round Scotland and were now on the high sea between the Orkney and Shetland Islands having avoided the dangerous currents of the Pentland Firth for my part who had been so long shut in the dark and knew nothing of headwinds I thought we might be half way or more across the Atlantic and indeed beyond that I wandered a little at the lateness of the sunset light I gave no heed to it pushed on across the decks running between the seas catching at ropes and only saved from going overboard by one of the hands on deck who had always been kind to me the roundhouse for which I was bound and where I was now to sleep and serve stood some six feet above the decks and considering the size of the brig was of good dimensions one for the table and bench and two berths one for the captain and the other for the two mates turn and turn about was all fitted with lockers from top to bottom so as to stow away the officers' belongings in a part of the ship's stores there was a second storeroom underneath which you entered by a hatchway in the middle of the deck indeed all the best of the meat and drink and the whole of the powder the two pieces of brass ordnance were set in a rack in the aftermost wall of the roundhouse the most of the cutlasses were in another place a small window with a shutter on each side and a skylight in the roof gave it light by day and after dark there was a lamp always burning it was burning when I entered not brightly but enough to show Mr. Shuan sitting at the table with the brandy bottle and a tin panicin in front of him there was a tall man strongly made and very black and he stared before him on the table like one's stupid he took no notice of my coming in nor did he move when the captain followed and leaned on the berth beside me looking darkly at the mate I stood in great fear of ho season and had my reasons for it but something told me I need not be afraid of him just then and I whispered in his ear how is he he shook his head like one that does not know and does not wish to think and his face was very stern presently Mr. Riach came in he gave the captain a glance that meant the boy was dead his plane is speaking and took his place like the rest of us so that we all three stood without a word staring down at Mr. Shuan and Mr. Shuan on his side sat without a word looking hard upon the table all of a sudden he put out his hand to take the bottle and at that Mr. Riach started forward and caught it away from him rather by surprise than violence crying out with an oath that there had been too much of this work altogether and that a judgment would fall upon the ship and as he spoke the weather sliding doors standing open he tossed the bottle into the sea Mr. Shuan was on his feet at a trice but he meant murder and would have done it for the second time that night had not the captain stepped in between him and his victim sit down roars the captain you sot and swine do you know what you've done you murdered the boy Mr. Shuan seemed to understand for he sat down again and put up his hand to his brow hell he said he brought me a dirty panic at that word the captain and I and Mr. Riach all looked at each other for a second with a kind of frightened look and then Ho season walked up to his chief officer took him by the shoulder let him across to his bunk and made him lie down and go to sleep as you might speak to a bad child the murderer cried a little but he took off his sea boots and obeyed ha! cried Mr. Riach with the dreadful voice I've interfered long since it's too late now Mr. Riach said the captain this night's work must never be Kenton Dysart the boy went overboard sir that's what the story is and I would give five pounds out of my pocket it was true he turned to the table what made you throw the good bottle away he added there was no sense in that sir here David draw me another they're in the bottom locker and he tossed me a key you'll need a glass yourself sir he added to Riach Jan was an ugly thing to see so the pair sat down and habanobbed and while they did so the murderer who had been lying and whimpering in his birth raised himself upon his elbow and looked at them and at me that was the first night of my new duties and in the course of the next day I had got well into the run of them I had to serve at the meals which the captain took at regular hours sitting down with the officer who was off duty all the day through I would be running with a dram to one or other of my three masters and at night I slept on a blanket thrown on the deck boards at the aftermost end of the roundhouse and right in the draft of the two doors it was a hard and a cold bed nor was I suffered to sleep without interruption for someone would always be coming in from deck to get a dram and when a fresh watch was to be set two and sometimes all three would sit down and brew a bowl together how they kept their health I know not any more than how I kept my own and yet in other ways it was an easy service there was no cloth delay the meals were either of oatmeal porridge or a salt junk except twice a week when there was duffin though I was clumsy enough and not being firm on my sea legs sometimes fell with what I was bringing them both Mr. Riyach and the captain were singularly patient I could not but fancy they were making up leeway with their consciences and that they would scarce have been so good with me if they had not been worse with ransom as for Mr. Shuan the drink or his crime or the two together had certainly his mind I cannot say I ever saw him in his proper wits he never grew used to my being there stared at me continually sometimes I could have thought with terror and more than once drew back from my hand when I was serving him I was pretty sure from the first that he had no clear mind of what he had done and on my second day in the roundhouse I had the proof of it we were alone and he had been staring at me when all at once up he got his pale as death and came up close to me to my great terror but I had no cause to be afraid of him you were not here before he asked no sir said I there was another boy he asked again and when I had answered him ah says he I thought that and went and sat down with that another word and called for Brandy you may think it's strange but for all the horror I had I was still sorry for him he was a married man with a wife in Leith but whether or no he had a family I have now forgotten I hope not altogether it was no very hard life for the time it lasted which as you are to hear was not long I was as well fed as the best of them even their pickles which were the great dainty I was allowed my share of and had I liked I might have been drunk from morning to night like Mr. Shuwan I had company to and good company of its sort Mr. Riach who had been to the college spoke to me like a friend when he was not sulking told me many curious things and some that were informing and even the captain though he kept me at the stick's end the most part of the time would sometimes unbuckle a bit and tell me of the fine countries he had visited the shadow of poor ransom to be sure lay on all four of us and on me and Mr. Shuwan in particular most heavily and then I had another trouble of my own here I was doing dirty work for three men that I looked down upon and one of whom at least should have been hung upon a gallows that was for the present and as for the future I could only see myself slaving the crows in the tobacco fields Mr. Riach perhaps from caution would never suffer me to say another word about my story the captain whom I tried to approach rebuffed me like a dog and would not hear a word and as the days came and went my heart sank lower and lower till I was even glad of the work which kept me from thinking End of chapter Chapter 9 of Kidnapped is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson Chapter 9 The Man with the Belt of Gold More than a week went by in which the ill luck that it hitherto pursued upon this voyage grew yet more strongly marked Some days she made a little way others she was driven actually back At last we were beaten so far to the south that we tossed intact to and fro the whole of the ninth day within sight of Cape Wrath and the wild rocky coast on either hand of it There followed on that a council of the officers and some decision which I did not rightly understand the result that we had made a fair wind of a foul one and were running south The tenth afternoon there was a falling swell and a thick, wet, white fog that hid one end of the brig from the other All afternoon when I went on deck I saw men and officers listening hard over the bulwarks For breakers, they said and though I did not so much as understand the word I felt danger in the air and was excited Maybe about ten at night I was serving Mr. Riyach and the captain at their supper When the ship struck something with a great sound and we heard voices singing out My two masters leaped to their feet She struck, said Mr. Riyach No sir, said the captain We've only run a boat down and they hurried out The captain was in the right of it We had run down a boat in the fog and she had parted in the midst and gone to the bottom with all her crew but one This man, as I heard afterwards had been sitting in the stern as a passenger while the rest were on the benches rowing At the moment of the blow the stern had been thrown into the air and the man, having his hands free and for all he was encumbered with a freeze overcoat that came below his knees had leaped up and caught hold of the brig's bow-sprit It showed he had luck and much agility and unusual strength that he should have thus saved himself from such a pass and yet when the captain brought him into the roundhouse and I set eyes on him for the first time he looked as cool as I did He was smallish in stature but well-set and as nimble as a goat His face was of a good open expression but sun burnt very dark and heavily freckled and pitted with a smallpox His eyes were unusually light and had a kind of dancing madness in them that was both engaging and alarming and when he took off his greatcoat he laid a pair of fine silver-mounted pistols on the table and I saw that he was belted with a great sword His manners besides were elegant and he pledged the captain handsomely Altogether I thought of him at the first sight that here was a man I would rather call my friend than my enemy The captain too was taking his observations but rather of the man's clothes than his person and to be sure as soon as he had taken off the greatcoat he showed forth mighty fine for the roundhouse of a merchant brig having a hat with feathers a red waistcoat breeches of black plush and a blue coat with silver buttons and handsome silver lace costly clothes though somewhat spoiled with a fog being slept in I'm vexed, sir, about the boat said the captain There are some pretty men gone to the bottom said the stranger that I would rather see on the dry land again than half a score of boats Friends of yours said Ho season You have none such friends in your country was the reply they would have died for me like dogs Well, sir said the captain, still watching him There are more men in the world than boats to put them in And that's true too cried the other and you seem to be a gentleman of great penetration I have been in France, sir says the captain so that it was plain he meant more by the words than showed upon the face of them Well, sir says the other and so as many a pretty man for the matter of that No doubt, sir says the captain and fine coats A whole, says the stranger Is that how the wind sets and he laid his hand quickly on his pistols Don't be hasty said the captain Don't do a mischief before you see the need of it You have a French soldier's coat upon your back and a scotch tongue in your head to be sure But so has many an honest fellow these days and none the worse of it So said the gentleman in the fine coat Are ye of the honest party? Meaning was he a Jacobite for each side in these sort of civil broils takes the name of honesty for its own Why, sir replied the captain I am a true blue Protestant and I thank God for it It was the first word of any religion from him but I learned afterwards he was a great churchgoer while on shore But for all that, says he I can be sorry to see another man with his back to the wall Can you so indeed asked the Jacobite Well, sir, to be quite plain with you I am one of those honest gentlemen that were in trouble about the years 45 and 6 and to be still quite plain with you if I got into the hands of any of the red-coated gentry it's like it would go hard with me Now, sir, I was for France and there was a French ship cruising here to pick me up but she gave us the go-by and the fog as I wish from the heart that ye had done yourself and the best that I can say is this if you can set me a shore where I was going I have that upon me will reward you highly for your trouble In France, says the captain No, sir, that I cannot do but where ye come from we might talk of that and then, unhappily he observed me standing in my corner and packed me off to the galley to get supper for the gentleman I lost no time, I promise you and when I came back into the round-house I found the gentleman had taken a money-belt from about his waist and poured out a guinea or two upon the table the gentleman was looking at the guineas and then at the belt and then at the gentleman's face and I thought he seemed excited Half of it, he cried and I'm your man the other swept back the guineas into the belt and put it on again under his waistcoat I have told ye, sir, said he that not one deut of it belongs to me it belongs to my chieftain and here he touched his hat and while I would be but a silly messenger to grudge some of it that the rest might come safe I should show myself a hound indeed if I bought my own carcass any too dear thirty guineas on the seaside or sixty if you set me on the linear lock take it, if you will if not, you can do your worst I, said Ho season and if I give ye over to the soldiers ye would make a fool's bargain said the other my chief let me tell you, sir is forfeit like every honest man in Scotland his estates is in the hands of the man they call King George and it is his officers that collects the rents or try to collect them but for the honour of Scotland the poor tenet bodies take a thought upon their chief lying in exile and this money is a part of that very rent for which King George is looking now, sir ye seem to me to be a man that understands things bring this money within the reach of government and how much of it will come to you little enough to be sure said Ho season and then if they knew he added dryly but I think if I was to try that I could hold my tongue about it ah, but I'll be gawk you there cried the gentleman play me false and I'll play you cunning if a hand is laid upon me they shall ken what money it is well, return the captain that must be must sixty guineas and done here's my hand upon it and here's mine said the other and there upon the captain went out rather hurriedly I thought and left me alone in the round house with the stranger at that period so soon after the forty-five perils of their lives either to see their friends or to collect a little money and as for the Highland chiefs that had been forfeited it was a common matter of talk how their tenants would stint themselves to send the money and their clansmen outfaced the soldiery to get it in and run the gauntlet of our great navy to carry it across all this I had, of course, heard tell of and now I had a man under my eyes even more for he was not only a rebel and a smuggler of rents but he had taken service with King Louis of France and as if all this were not enough he had a belt full of golden guineas round his loins whatever my opinions I could not look on such a man without a lively interest and so you're a Jacobite said I as I set meet before him I said he, beginning to eat you by your long face should be a wig betwixt in between said I not to annoy him but for indeed I was as good a wig as Mr. Campbell could make me and that's nothing said he but I'm saying Mr. Betwixt in between he added this bottle of yours is dry and it's hard if I'm to pay sixty guineas and be grudged a dram upon the back of it I'll go and ask for the key said I and stepped on deck the fog was as close as ever but the swell almost down they had laid the brig too not knowing precisely where they were and the wind what little there was of it not serving well for their true course some of the hands were still hearkening for breakers but the captain and the two officers were in the waist with their heads together it struck me I don't know why that they were after no good and the first word I heard as I drew softly near more than confirm me it was Mr. Riach crying out as if upon the sudden thought couldn't we wail him out of the roundhouse he's better where he is returned Ho season he hasn't room to use his sword well that's true said Riach but he's hard to come at but said Ho season we can get the man in talk one upon each side impending by the two arms or if that'll not hold sir we can make a run by both the doors and get him under hand before he has the time to draw at this hearing I was seized with both fear and anger at these treacherous greedy bloody men that I sailed with my first mind was to run away my second was bolder captain said I taking a dram and the bottles out will you give me the key they all started and turned about why here's our chance to get the firearms Riach cried and then to me Huck you David he said do you can where the pistols are I I put in Ho season David kens David's a good lad you see David my man young wild Highland man there's a danger to the ship besides being a rank four to King George God bless him I had never been so be David since I came on board but I said yes as if all I heard were quite natural the trouble is resume the captain that all our fire locks great and little are in the roundhouse under this man's nose likewise the powder now if I or one of the officers was to go in and take them he would fall to thinking but a lad like you David might snap up a horn and a pistol or two without remark and if you can do it cleverly I'll bear it in mind when it'll be good for you to have friends and that's when we come to Carolina here Mr. Riach whispered him a little very right sir said the captain and then to myself and see here David young man has a belt full of gold and I give you my word that you shall have your fingers in it I told him I would do as he wished though indeed I had scarce breath to speak with and upon that he gave me the key of the spirit locker and I began to go slowly back to the roundhouse what was I to do they were dogs and thieves they had stolen me from my own country they had killed Port Ransom and was I to hold the candle to another murder but then upon the other hand there was the fear of death very plain before me for what could a boy and a man if they were as brave as lions against a whole ship's company I was still arguing it back and forth and getting no great clearness when I came into the roundhouse and saw the Jacobite eating his supper under the lamp and at that my mind was made up all in a moment I have no credit by it was by no choice of mine the impulse that I walked right up to the table and put my hand on his shoulder do you want to be killed? said I he sprang to his feet and looked a question at me as clear as if he had spoken oh! cried I they're all murderers here it's a ship full of them they've murdered a boy already now it's you I, I said he but they haven't got me yet they're looking at me curiously will you stand with me? that will I said I I am no thief nor yet murderer I'll stand by you why then said he what's your name David Balfour said I and then thinking that a man with so fine a coat must like fine people I added for the first time of Shaw's for a Highlander is used to see great gentle folk and great poverty but as he had no a state of his own my words nettle the very childish vanity he had my name is Stuart he said drawing himself up Alan Breck they call me the king's name is good enough for me though I bear it plain and have the name of no farm meeting to clap to the hind end of it and having administered this rebuke as though it were something of a chief importance he turned to examine our defenses the roundhouse was built very strong to support the breaching of the seas of its five apertures only the skylight and the two doors were large enough for the passage of a man the doors besides could be drawn close they were of stout oak and ran in grooves and were fitted with hooks to keep them either shut or open as the need arose the one that was already shut I secured in this fashion but when I was proceeding to slide to the other Alan stopped me David said he for I cannot bring to mind the name of your landed estate and so will make so bold as to call you David that door being open is the best part of my defenses it would be yet better shut says I not so David says he you see I have but one face long as that door is open in my face to it the best part of my enemies will be in front of me where I would I wish to find them then he gave me from the rack a cutlass of which there were a few besides the firearms choosing it with great care shaking his head and saying he had never in all his life seen poorer weapons and next he set me down to the table with a powder horn a bag of bullets and all the pistols which he bade me charge and that will be better work let me tell you said he for a gentleman of decent berth then scraping plates and raxing drums to a weaned Terry sailors therepony stood up in the midst with his face to the door and drawing his great sword made trial of the room he had to wield it in I must stick to the point he said shaking his head and that's a pity too it doesn't set my genius all for the upper guard and now said he do you keep on charging the pistols and give heed to me I told him I would listen closely my chest was tight my mouth dry the light dark to my eyes and the thought of the numbers that were soon to leap in upon us kept my heart in a flutter and the sea which I heard washing round the brig and where I thought my dead body would be cast air mourning ran in my mind strangely first of all said he I reckon them up and such was the hurry of my mind I had to cast the numbers twice 15 said I Alan whistled well said he that can't be cured and now follow me it is my part to keep this door where I look for the main battle in that you have no hand and mind identifier to this side unless they get me down for I would rather have ten foes in front of me than one friend like you cracking pistols at my back I told him indeed I was no great shot and that's very bravely said he cried in a great admiration of my candor there's many of pretty gentlemen that wouldn't dare to say it but then sir said I there is the door behind you which they may perhaps break in I said he and that is the part of your work no sooner the pistols charge then you must climb up into young bed where you handy at the window and if they lift hand against the door you're to shoot but that's not all let's make a bit of a soldier of you David what else have you to guard there's the skylight said I but indeed mr. steward I would need to have eyes upon both sides to keep the two of them for when my face is at the one my back is to the other and that's very true said Alan but have you no ears to your head to be sure cried I I must hear the bursting of the glass you have some rudiments of sense said Alan grimly end of chapter chapter ten of kidnapped Lebervox recording all Lebervox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit Lebervox.org this recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson chapter ten the siege of the roundhouse but now our time of truce was come to an end those on deck had waited for my coming till they grew impatient and scarce had Alan spoken when the captain showed face in the open door stand cried Alan and pointed his sword at him the captain stood indeed but he neither went nor drew back a foot unnaked sword said he this is a strange return for hospitality do you see me said Alan I am come of kings I bear a king's name my badge is the oak do you see my sword it has slashed the heads off my wiggamores than you have toes upon your feet call up your vermin to your back sir and fall on the sooner the clash begins the sooner you'll taste this steel through your vitals the captain said nothing to Alan but he looked over at me with an ugly look David said he I'll mine this and the sound of his voice went through me with a jar that was gone and now said Alan let your hand keep your head for the grip is coming Alan drew a dirk which he held in his left hand in case they should run in under his sword I on my part clambered up into the berth with an armful of pistols and something of a heavy heart and set open the window where I was to watch it was a small part of the deck that I could overlook but enough for our purpose it had gone down and the wind was steady and kept the sails quiet so that there was a great stillness in the ship in which I made sure I heard the sound of muttering voices a little after and there came a clash of steel upon the deck by which I knew they were dealing out the cutlaces and wanted been let fall and after that silence again I do not know if I was what you call afraid but my heart beat like a bird's and little and there was a dimness come before my eyes which I continually rubbed away and which continually returned as for hope I had none but only a darkness of despair and a sort of anger against all the world that may be long to sell my life as dear as I was able I tried to pray I remember but that same hurry of my mind like a man running would not suffer me to think upon the words that my chief wish was to have the thing begin and be done with it it came all of a sudden when it did with a rush of feet and a roar and then a shout from Alan and a sound of blows and someone crying out as if hurt I looked back over my shoulder and saw Mr. Shewan in the doorway crossing blades with Alan that's him that killed the boy I cried look to your window said Alan and as I turned back to my place Alan passes sword through the mate's body it was none too soon for me to look to my own part for my head was scarce back at the window before five men carrying a spare yard for a battering ram ran past me and took post to drive the door in I had never fired with a pistol in my life and not often with a gun far less against a fellow creature but it was now or never and just as they swang the yard I cried out take that and shot into their midst I must have hit one of them for he sang out and gave back a step and the rest stopped as if a little disconcerted before they had time to recover I sent another ball over their heads and at my third shot which went as wide as the second the whole party threw down the yard and ran for it then I looked round again into the deck house the whole place was full of the smoke of my own firing just as my ears seemed to be burst the noise of the shots but there was Alan standing as before only now his sword was running blood to the hilt and himself so swelled with triumph and fallen into so fine an attitude that he looked to be invincible right before him on the floor was Mr. Shu'an on his hands and knees the blood was pouring from his mouth and he was sinking slowly lower the terrible white face and just as I looked some of those from behind caught hold of him by the heels and dragged him bodily out of the round house I believe he died as they were doing it There's one of your wigs for ya cried Alan and then turning to me he asked if I had done much execution I told him I had winged one and thought it was the captain and I have settled too says he No, there's not enough blood let they'll be back again till you watch David come before me I settled back to my place recharging the three pistols I had fired and keeping watch with both eye and ear Our enemies were disputing not far off upon the deck and that's so loudly that I could hear a word or two above the washing of the seas It was Shu'an buckled it I heard one say and another one answered him with a reached man he's paid the piper and after that the voices fell again into the same muttering as before only now one person spoke most of the time as though laying down a plan and first one and then another answered him briefly like men taking orders by this I made sure they were coming on again and told Alan it's what we have to pray for said he unless we can give them a good distaste of us and done with it there'll be no sleep for either you or me but this time mind they'll be in earnest by this my pistols were ready and there was nothing to do but listen and wait while the brush lasted I had not the time to think if I was frightened but now when all was still again my mind ran upon nothing else the thought of the sharp swords and the cold steel was strong in me and presently when I began to hear stealthy steps and a brushing of men's clothes all and knew they were taking their places in the dark I could have found it in my mind to cry out aloud all this was upon Alan's side and I had begun to think my share of the fight was at an end when I heard someone drop softly on the roof above me then there came a single call on the sea pipe and that was the signal a knot of them made one rush of it cutless in hand against the door and at the same moment the glass skylight was dashed in a thousand pieces and a man leaped through and landed on the floor before he got his feet I had clapped the pistol to his back and I might have shot him too only at the touch of him and him alive my whole flesh misgave me and I could no more pull the trigger than I could have flown he had dropped his cutlass as he jumped and when he felt the pistol whipped straight around and laid hold of me roaring out an oath and at that either my courage came again or I grew so much afraid as came to the same thing for I gave a shriek and shot him in the midst of the body he gave the most horrible ugly groan and fell to the floor the foot of a second fellow whose legs were dangling through the skylight struck me at the same time upon the head and at that I snatched another pistol and shot this one through the thigh so that he slipped through and tumbled in a lump on his companion's body there was no talk of missing any more than there was time to aim I clapped the muzzle to the very place and fired I might have stood and stared at them for long but I heard Alan shout as if for help that brought me to my senses he had kept the door so long but one of the seamen while he was engaged with others had run in under his guard and caught him about the body Alan was dirking him with his left hand but the fellow clung like a leech another had broken in and had his cutlass raised the door was thronged with their faces I thought we were lost and catching up my cutlass fell on them in flank but I had not time to be of help the wrestler dropped at last and Alan leaping back to get his distance ran upon the others like a bull roaring as he went they broke before him like water turning and running and falling one against another in their haste the sword in his hands flashed like quicksilver into the huddle of our fleeing enemies and at every flash there came the scream of a man hurt I was still thinking we were lost when low they were all gone and Alan was driving them along the deck as a sheep dog chases sheep yet he was no sooner out than he was back again being as cautious as he was brave and meanwhile the seamen continued running and crying out as if he was still behind them and we heard them screaming as if he was still behind them and we heard them tumble one upon another into the forecastle and clapped to the hatch upon the top the roundhouse was like a shambles three were dead inside another lay in his death agony across the threshold and there were Alan and I victorious and unhurt he came up to me with open arms come to my arms he cried and embraced and kissed me hard upon both cheeks and said he I love you like a brother and oh man he cried in a kind of ecstasy and I know a bony fighter there upon he turned to the four enemies passed his sword clean through each of them and tumbled them out of doors one after the other as he did so he kept humming and singing and whistling to himself like a man trying to recall an air only what he was trying was to make one all the while the flush was in his face and his eyes were as bright as a five-year-old child's with a new toy and presently he sat down upon the table sword in hand the air that he was making all the time began to run a little clearer and then clearer still and then out he burst with a great voice into a Gaelic song I have translated it here not in verse of which I have no skill but at least in the king's English he sang it often afterwards and the thing became popular so that I have heard it and had explained to me many's the time this is the song of the sword of Alan the smith made it the fire set it now it shines in the hand of Alan Breck their eyes were many and bright swift were they to behold many the hands they guided the sword was alone the done deer troop over the hill they are many the hill is one the done deer vanish the hill remains come to me from the hills of Heather come from the aisles of the sea oh far beholding eagles here is your meat now this song which he made both words and music in the hour of our victory is something less than just to me who stood beside him in the tussle Mr. Shuan and five more were either killed outright or thoroughly disabled but of these two fell by my hand the two that came by the skylight four more were hurt and of that number one and he not the least important got his hurt from me so that all together I did my fair share both of the killing and the wounding it might have claimed a place in Alan's verses but poets have to think upon their rhymes and in good prose talk Alan always did me more than justice in the meanwhile I was innocent of any wrong being done me for not only I knew no word of the Gaelic but what with the long suspense of the waiting and the scurry and strain of our two spurts of fighting had more than all the horror I had of some of my own share in it the thing was no sooner over than I was glad to stagger to a seat there was that tightness on my chest that I could hardly breathe the thought of the two men I had shot sat upon me like a nightmare and all upon a sudden and before I had a guess of what was coming I began to sob and cry like any child Alan clapped my shoulder and said I was a brave lad and wanted nothing but a sleep I'll take the first watch said he you've done well by me David first and last and I wouldn't lose you for all happen no nor for Brittlebane so I made up my bed on the floor and he took the first spell pistol in hand and sword on knee three hours by the captain's watch upon the wall then he roused me up and I took my turn of three hours before the end of which it was broad day and a very quiet morning with a smooth rolling sea that tossed the ship and made the blood run to and fro on the roundhouse floor and a heavy rain that drummed upon the roof all my watch there was nothing stirring and by the banging of the helm I knew they had even no one at the tiller indeed as I learned afterwards there were so many of them hurt or dead and the rest and so ill a temper that Mr. Riyach and the captain had to take turn and turn like Alan and me or the brig might have gone ashore and nobody the w