15. I strike the Jolly Roger. I had scarce gained a position on the bowsprit, when the flying jib flapped and filled on the other tack with a report like a gun. The schooner trembled to her keel under the reverse, but the next moment, the other sails still drawing, the jib flapped back again and hung idle. This had nearly tossed me off into the sea, and now I lost no time, crawled back along the bowsprit, and tumbled head foremost on the deck. I was on the lee side of the folksle, and the mainsail, which was still drawing, concealed me from a certain portion of the after-deck. Not a soul was to be seen. The planks, which had not been swabbed since the mutiny, bore the print of many feet, and an empty bottle, broken by the neck, tumbled to and fro like a live thing in the scuppers. Suddenly the Hispaniola came right into the wind. The jibs behind me cracked aloud, the rudder slammed to, the whole ship gave a sickening heave and shudder, and at the same moment the main boom swung inboard, the sheet groaning in the blocks, and showed me the lee after-deck. There were the two watchmen, sure enough, red cap on his back as stiff as a hand-spike, with his arms stretched out like those of a crucifix, and his teeth showing through his open lips. Several hands propped against the bulwarks, his chin on his chest, his hands lying open before him on the deck, his face as white under his tan as a tallow candle. For a while the ship kept bucking and sidling like a vicious horse, the sails filling now on one tack, now on another, and the boom swinging to and fro till the mast groaned aloud under the strain. Now and again, too, there would come a cloud of light sprays under the bulwark, and a heavy blow of the ship's bow was against the swell. So much heavier weather was made of it by this great-rigged ship than by my homemade lopsided coracle now gone to the bottom of the sea. At every jump of the schooner red cap slipped to and fro, but, what was ghastly to behold, neither his attitude nor his fixed teeth-disclosing grin was in any way disturbed by this rough usage. At every jump, too, hands appeared still more to sink into himself and settle down upon the deck, his feet sliding ever the farther out, and the whole body canting toward the stern, so that his face became little by little hid from me. At last I could see nothing beyond his ear and the frayed ringlet of one whisker. At the same time I observed around both of them splashes of dark blood upon the planks, and began to feel sure that they had killed each other in their drunken wrath. While I was thus looking and wondering, in a calm moment when the ship was still, Israel hands turned partly round, and with a low moan writhed himself back to the position in which I had seen him first. The moan, which told of pain and deadly weakness, and the way in which his jaw hung open, went right to my heart. But when I remembered the talk I had overheard from the apple-barrel, all pity left me. I walked aft until I reached the main mast. "'Come aboard, Mr. Hands,' I said ironically. He rolled his eyes round heavily, but he was far too gone to express surprise. All he could do was utter one word. "'Brandy!' It occurred to me that there was no time to lose, and dodging the boom as it once more lurched across the deck, I slipped aft and down the companion's stairs into the cabin. It was such a scene of confusion as you can hardly fancy. All the lock-fast places had been broken open in quest of the chart. The floor was thick with mud, where the ruffians had sat down to drink or consult after wading in the marshes round their camp. The bulkheads, all painted in clear white, and beaded round with gilt, bore a pattern of dirty hands. Dozens of empty bottles clinked together in corners to the rolling of the ship. One of the doctor's medical books lay open on the table. Half of the leaves gutted out, I suppose, for pipe-lights. In the midst of all this the lamp still cast a smoky glow, obscure and brown as umber. I went into the cellar. All the barrels were gone, and of the bottles a most surprising number had been drunk out and thrown away. Certainly since the muciny began not a man of them could ever have been sober.  With these I came on deck, put down my own stock behind the rudder-head, and well out of the coxswain's reach, went forward to the water-breaker, and had a good, deep drink of water, and then, not until then, gave hands the brandy. He must have drunk a jill before he took the bottle from his mouth. "'Ay,' he said he, "'by thunder, but I wanted some of that!' And he sat down already in my corner, and began to eat. "'Much hurt,' I asked him. He grunted, or rather, I might say he barked. "'If that doctor was abhorred,' he said, "'I'd be right enough in a couple of turns, but I don't have no manner of luck, you see. That's what's the matter with me. And for that swab he's good and dead he is," he added, indicating the man with the red cap. "'He would no semen anyhow. And where more you have come from?' "'Well,' said I, "'I have come aboard to take possession of the ship, Mr. Hans, and you'll please regard me as your captain until further notice. He looked at me sourly enough, but said nothing. Some of the colour had come back into his cheeks, though he still looked very sick, and still continued to slip out and settle down as the ship banged about. "'By the by,' I continued, "'I can't have these colours, Mr. Hans, and by your leave I'll strike them. Better none than these.' And, again dodging the boom, I ran to the colour-lines, and hauled down their cursed black flag, and chucked it overboard. "'God save the king,' said I, waving my cap, and there's an end to Captain Silver. He watched me keenly and slyly, his chin all the while on his breast. "'I reckon,' he said at last, "'I reckon, Captain Hawkins. You kind of want to get ashore now. Suppose we talks?' "'Why, yes,' says I, with all my heart, Mr. Hans, say on. And I went back to my meal with a good appetite. "'This man,' he began, nodding feebly at the corpse. "'O' Brian was his name. A rank islander. This man and me got the canvas on her, leading forward to sail her back.  And who's to sail this ship, I don't see. Without, I'll give you a hint. You ain't that man, as far as I can tell. Now, look here.  And that's about square all round I take it. "'I'll tell you one thing,' says I. "'I'm not going back to Captain Kid's anchorage. I mean to get into North Inlet and beach her quietly there.' "'To be sure you did,' he cried. "'Why, I ain't such an infernal labyrinth after all. I can see, can't I? I've tried my fling I haven't. I've lost. And it's you as the wind of me. North Inlet? Why, I haven't no choice, not I. I'da help you sail her up to Execution Dock by thunder, so I would.' Well, as it seemed to me, there was some sense in this. We struck our bargain on the spot. In three minutes I had the Hispaniola sailing easily before the wind along the coast of Treasure Island, with good hopes of turning the northern point at airnoon, and beating down again, as far as North Inlet before High Water, when we might beach her safely, and wait until the subsiding tide permitted us to land. Then I lashed the tiller, and went below to my own chest, where I got a soft silk handkerchief of my mother's. With this, and with my aid, hands bound up the great bleeding stab he had received in the thigh, and after he had eaten a little, and had a swallower or two more of the brandy, he began to pick up visibly, sat straighter up, spoke louder and clearer, and looked in every way another man. The breeze served us admirably. We skimmed before it like a bird, the coast of the island flashing by, and the view changing every minute. Soon we were past the highlands, and bowling beside low sandy country, sparsely dotted with dwarf pines, and soon we were so beyond that again, and had turned the corner of the rocky hill that ends the island on the north. I was greatly elated with my new command, and pleased with the bright, sun-shiny weather, and these different prospects of the coast. I now had plenty of water and good things to eat, and my conscience, which had smitten me hard for my desertion, was quieted by the great conquest I had made. I should, I think, have had nothing left me to desire, but for the eyes of the coxswain as they followed me derisively about the deck, and the odd smile that appeared continually on his face. It was a smile that had in it something both of pain and weakness, a haggard old man's smile. But there was, besides that, a grain of derision, a shadow of treachery in his expression as he craftily watched and watched and watched me at my work. CHAPTER XXVI ISRAEL HANDS The wind, serving us to a desire, now hauled into the west. We could run so much easier from the northeast corner of the island to the mouth of the north inlet, only as we had no power to anchor, and dared not beat her until the tide had flowed a good deal farther, time hung on our hands. The coxswain told me how to lay the ship, too. After a good many trials I succeeded, and we both sat in silence over another meal. Catton, said he, at length, with that same uncomfortable smile. Here's my old shipmate O'Brien. Suppose you was to leave him overboard. I ain't as particular as a rule, and I don't take no blame for settling his hash. But I don't reckon him ornamental now, do you? I'm not strong enough, and I don't like the job. And there he lies for me, said I. He is an unlucky ship, the Hispaniola, Jim. He went on blinking. There's a pair of men being killed on this Hispaniola, a sight of poor seamen, dead and gone, since you and me took the ship to Bristol. I never seen such dirty luck, nor I.  Well, now I'm no scholar, and you're a lad as can read and figure. And to put it straight, do you take it as a dead man is dead for good, or do you come alive again? You can kill the body, Mr. Hands, but not the spirit. You must know that already," I replied. O'Brien there is in another world, and may be watching us. Ah! says he. Well, that's unfortunate. Appears as if killing parties was a waste of time. Now some ever. Spirits don't reckon for much, by what I've seen. I'll chance it with the spirit's, Jim. And now you spoke up free, and I'll take it kind if you'll step down into that dear cabin, and get me a—well, shiver my timbers, I can't hit the name-ont. Well, you can get me a bottle of wine, Jim. This ear-brand is too strong for my head. Now the coxswain's hesitation seemed to be unnatural. And, as for the notion of his preferring wine to Brandy, I entirely disbelieved it. The whole story was a pretext. He wanted me to leave the deck. So much was plain. But with what purpose I could in no way imagine. His eyes never met mine. They kept wandering to and fro up and down, now with a look to the sky, now with a flitting glance upon the dead O'Brien. All the time he kept smiling and putting his tongue out in a most guilty, embarrassed manner, so that a child could have told that he was bent on some deception. I was prompt with my answer, however, for I saw where my advantage lay, and that, with a fellow so densely stupid, I could easily conceal my suspicions to the end. Some wine, I said, far better. Will you have white or red? Well, I reckon it's about the blessed same to me, shipmate," he replied. So it's strong, and plenty of it was the odds. All right, I answered. I'll bring you port, Mr. Hands, but I'll have to dig for it. And with that I scuttled down the companion with all the noise I could. Slipped off my shoes, ran quietly along the sparred gallery, mounted the folksal ladder, and popped my head out of the fore-companion. I knew he would not expect to see me there, yet I took every precaution possible, and certainly the worst of my suspicions proved too true. He had risen from his position to his hands and knees, and though his leg obviously hurt him pretty sharply when he moved, for I could hear him stifle at groan, yet it was at a good rattling rate that he trailed himself across the deck. In half a minute he had reached the port scuppers, and picked up a coil of rope with a long knife, or rather a short dirk, discoloured to the hilt with blood. He looked upon it for a moment, thrusting forth his under-jaw, tried the pointer upon his hand, and then hastily concealing it in the bosom of his jacket, trundled back again into his old place against the bulwark. This was all that I required to know. Israel could move about, he was now armed, and if he had been at so much trouble to get rid of me, it was plain that I was meant to be the victim. What would he do afterward? Whether he would try to crawl right across the island from North Inlet to the camp among the swamps, or whether he would fire Long Tom, trusting that his own comrades might first come to help him, was of course more than I could say. Yet I felt sure that I could trust him in one point, since in that our interests jumped together, and that was the disposition of the schooner. We both desired to have her stranded safe enough in a sheltered place, so that when the time came she could be got off again with as little labour and danger as might be, and until that was done I considered that my life would certainly be spared. While I was thus turning the business over in my mind I had not been idle with my body. I had stolen back to the cabin, slipped once more into my shoes, and laid my hand at random on a bottle of wine, and now, with this for an excuse, I made my reappearance on the deck. Hands lay as I had left him, all fallen together in a bundle, and with his eyelids lowered, as though he were too weak to bear the light. He looked up, however, at my coming, knocked the neck off the bottle like a man who had done the same thing often, and took a good swig, with his favourite toast of his luck. Then he lay quiet for a little, and then, pulling out a stick of tobacco, begged me to cut him a quid. Cut me a junk of that, says he, for I haven't no knife, and I'll leave the strength enough, so be as I had. Ah, Jim, Jim, I reckon I've missed stays. Cut me a quid as likely to be the last, lad, for I'm for my long home, and no mistake. Well, said I, I'll cut you some tobacco, but if I was you and thought myself so badly I would go to my prayers like a Christian man. Why, said he, now you tell me why. Why? I cried. You were asking me just now about the dead. You've broken your trust, you've lived in sin and lies and blood. There's a man you killed lying at your feet this very moment, and you asked me why? For God's mercy, Mr. Hands, that's why.  He, for his part, took a great draught of the wine and spoke with the most unusual solemnity. For thirty year, he said, I've sailed the seas and seen good and bad, better and worse, fair weather and foul, provisions running out, knives going, and what not. Well, now I'll tell you, I never seen good come out of goodness yet, him as strikes first is my fancy, dead men don't bite, them's my views, amen, so be it. And now you look here. He added, suddenly changing his tone, we've had enough of this foolery, the tide's made good enough by now, you just take my orders, Captain Orkins, and we'll sail, slap in, and be done with it. All told, we had scarce two miles to run, but the navigation was delicate. The entrance to this northern anchorage was not only narrow and shoal, but lay east and west, so that the schooner must be nicely handled to be got in. I think I was a good prompt, Subilton, and I am sure that Hans was an excellent pilot, for we went about and about, and dodged in shaving the banks with a certainty and a neatness that were a pleasure to behold. Scarcely had we passed the head before the land closed around us. The shores of North Inlet were as thickly wooded as those of the southern anchorage, but the space was longer and narrower, and more like what in truth it was the estuary of a river. Right before us at the southern end we saw the wreck of a ship in the last stages of dilapidation. It had been a great vessel of three masts, but had lain so long exposed to the injuries of the weather that it was hung about with great webs of dripping seaweed, and on the decks of it sure bushes had taken root, and now flourished thick with flowers. It was a sad sight, but it showed us that the anchorage was calm. Now, said Hans, look there, there's a pet bit for to beach a ship in. Fine flat sand, never a cat's paw, trees all around of it, and flowers are blowing like a garden on that old ship. And once beached, I inquired, how shall we get her off again? Why so? he replied. You take a line ashore there on the other side at low water, take a turn about one of them big pines, bring it back, take a turn around the capstan, and lie to for the tide. Come high water, all hands take a pull upon the line, and off she comes as sweet as nature. And now, boy, you stand by. We've hit the bit now, and she's too much way on her. Starboard a little, so steady starboard, labored a little, steady, steady. So he issued his commands, which I breathlessly obeyed, till all of a sudden he cried, Now, my hearty laugh! And I put the helm hard up, and the Hispaniola swung round rapidly, and ran stem on for the low wooded shore. The excitement of these last maneuvers had somewhat interfered with the watch I had kept here the two sharply enough upon the coxswain. Even then I was still so much interested, waiting for the ship to touch, that I had quite forgotten the peril that hung over my head, and stood craning over the starboard bulwarks, and watching the ripples spreading wide before the bowels. I might have fallen without a struggle for my life, had not a sudden disquietitude seized upon me, and made me turn my head. Perhaps I had heard a creak, or seen his shadow moving with the tail of my eye. Perhaps it was an instinct, like a cat's. But sure enough, when I looked round, there was hands, already half-way toward me, with the dirk in his right hand. We must both have cried out aloud when our eyes met. But while mine was the shrill cry of terror, his was a roar of fury, like a charging bull's. At the same instant he threw himself forward, and I leapt sideways toward the bowels. As I did so, I let go of the tiller, which sprung sharp to leeward, and I think this saved my life, for it struck hands across the chest, and stopped him for the moment dead. Before he could recover I was safe out of the corner where he had me trapped, with all the deck to dodge about. Just forward of the main mast I stopped, drew a pistol from my pocket, took a cool aim, though he had already turned, and was once more coming directly after me, and drew the trigger. The hammer fell, but there followed neither flash nor sound. The priming was useless with sea-water. I cursed myself for my neglect. Why had I not, long before reprimed and reloaded my only weapons, then I should not have been as now a mere fleeing sheep before this butcher. Wounded as he was, it was wonderful how fast he could move, his grizzled hair tumbling over his face, and his face itself as red as a red ensign with his haste and fury. I had no time to try my other pistol, nor indeed much inclination, for I was sure it would be useless. One thing I saw plainly, I must not simply retreat before him, or he would speedily hold me boxed in the bowels, as a moment since he had so neatly boxed me in the stern. Once so caught, and nine or ten inches of the blood-stained dirk would be my last experience on this side of eternity. I placed my palms against the main mast, which was of a goodish bigness, and waited every nerve upon the stretch. Seeing that I meant to dodge, he also paused, and a moment or two passed in faints on his part and corresponding movements upon mine. It was such a game as I had often played at home about the rocks of Black Hill Cove, but never before you may be sure with such a wildly beating heart as now. Still, as I say it, it was a boy's game, and I thought I could hold my own at it against an elderly seaman with a wounded thigh. Indeed, my courage had began to rise so high that I allowed myself a few darting thoughts on what would be the end of the affair, and while I saw certainly that I could spin it out for long, I saw no hope in any ultimate escape. Well, while things stood thus, suddenly the Hispaniola struck, staggered, ground for an instant in the sand, and then, swift as a blow, canted over to the port side, till the deck stood at an angle of forty-five degrees, and about a punch in the water splashed into the scupper-holes, and lay in a pool between the deck and the bulwark. We were both of us capsized in a second, and both of us rolled almost together into the scuppers. The dead red cap with his arms still spread out, tumbling stiffly after us. So near were we indeed that my head came against the coxswain's foot with a crack that made my teeth rattle. Blow and all I was the first to foot again for hands had got involved with the dead body. The sudden canting of the ship had made the deck no place for running on. I had found some new way of escape, and that upon the instant, for my foe was almost touching me. Quick as thought, I sprang into the mizzen shrouds, rattled up hand over hand, and did not draw a breath till I was seated on the cross-trees. I had been saved by being prompt.  Now that I had a moment to myself, I lost no time in changing the priming of my pistol, and then having one ready for service, and to make assurance doubly sure, I proceeded to draw the load of the other and recharge it afresh from the beginning. My new employment struck hands all over heap. He began to see the dice going against him, and after an obvious hesitation, he also hauled himself heavily into the shrouds, and with the dirk in his teeth began slowly and painfully to mount. It cost him no end of time and groans to haul his wounded leg behind him, and I had quietly finished my arrangements before he was much more than a third of the way up. Then with a pistol in either hand I addressed him. One more step, Mr. Hands, said I, and I'll blow your brains out. Dead men don't bite, you know, I added, with a chuckle. He stopped instantly. I could see by the workings of his face that he was trying to think, and the process was so slow and laborious that in my newfound security I laughed out loud. At last, with a swallow or two, he spoke. His face still wearing the same expression of extreme perplexity. In order to speak he had to take the dagger from his mouth, but in all else he remained unmoved. Jim, says he, I reckon we have fouled, you and me, and we will have to sign articles. I'd have had you but for that dear lurch, but I don't have no luck, nor I, and I reckon I'll have to strike, which comes hard, you see, for a master mariner, to a ship's yanker like you, Jim.  Something sang like an arrow through the air. I felt a blow, and then a sharp pang, and there I was, pinned by the shoulder to the mast. In the horrid pain and surprise of the moment, I scarce can say it was by my own volition, and I am sure it was without a conscious aim.  They did not fall alone.  End of CHAPTER XXVI. TREASURE ISLAND by Robert Lewis Stevenson This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. TREASURE ISLAND by Robert Lewis Stevenson Read by Adrian Pretzelis CHAPTER XXVII. Pieces of Eight Owing to the cant of the vessel the mast hung far out over the water, and from my perch on the cross-trees I had nothing below me but the surface of the bay. Hand, who was not so far up, was in consequence nearer to the ship, and fell between me and the bulwarks. He rose once to the surface in a lather of foam and blood, and then sank again for good. As the water settled I could see him lying huddled together on the clean, bright sand in the shadow of the vessel's sides. A fish or two whipped past his body. Sometimes by the quivering of the water he appeared to move a little, as if he were trying to rise, but he was dead enough for all that, being both shot and drowned, and was food for fish in the very place where he had designed my slaughter. I was no sooner certain of this than I began to feel sick, faint, and terrified. The hot blood was running over my back and chest, the dirk where it had pinned my shoulder to the mast, seemed to burn like a hot iron. Yet it was not so much these real sufferings that distressed me, for these it seemed to me I could bear without a murmur. It was the horror that I had upon my mind of falling from the cross-tree into that still green water beside the body of the coxswain.  Gradually my mind came back again. My pulses quieted down to a more natural time, and I was once more in possession of myself. It was my first thought to pluck forth the dirk, but either it struck too hard or my nerve failed me, and I desisted with a violent shudder. Oddly enough that very shudder did the business. The knife, in fact, had come the nearest in the world to missing me altogether. It held me by a mere pinch of skin, and this the shudder tore away. The blood ran down the faster, to be sure, but I was my own master again, and only tacked to the mast by my coat and shirt. These last I broke through with a sudden jerk, and then regained the deck by the starboard shrouds. For nothing in the world would I have again ventured shaken as I was upon the overhanging port shrouds from which Israel had so lately fallen. I went below and did what I could for my wound. It pained me a good deal and still bled freely, but it was neither deep nor dangerous, nor did it greatly gall me when I used my arm. Then I looked around me, and as the ship was now, in a sense, my own, I began to think of clearing it from its last passenger, the dead man O'Brien. He had pitched, as I have said, against the bulwarks, where he lay like some horrid, ungainly sort of puppet. Life-size indeed, but how different from life's colour or life's comeliness. In that position I could easily have my way with him, and as the habit of tragical adventures had worn off almost all my terror for the dead, I took him by the waist, as if he'd been a sack of bran, and, with one good heave, tumbled him overboard. He went in with a sounding plunge. The red cap came off and remained floating on the surface, and as soon as the splash subsided I could see him and Israel, lying side by side, both wavering with the tremulous movement of the water. O'Brien, though still quite a young man, was very bald. There he lay with that bald head across the knees of the man who had killed him, and the quick fishes steering to and fro over both. I was now alone within the ship. The tide had just turned. The sun was within so few degrees of setting that already the shadows of the pines upon the western shore began to reach right across the anchorage and fall in patterns on the deck. The evening breeze had sprung up, and though it was well warded off by the hill with the two peaks upon the east, the cordage had begun to sing a little softly to itself, and the idle sails to rattle to and fro. I began to see a danger to the ship. The jibs I speedily doused and brought tumbling to the deck, but the mainsail was a harder matter. Of course, when the schooner canted over, the boom had swung outward, and the cap of it and a foot or two of sail hung even under water. I thought this made it still more dangerous, yet the strain was so heavy that I half feared to meddle. At last I got my knife and cut the halyards. The peak dropped instantly, the great belly of loose canvas floated broad upon the water, and since, pull as I liked, I could not budge the down-haul, that was the extent of what I could accomplish. For the rest, the Hispaniola must trust to luck, like myself. By this time the whole anchorage had fallen into shadow. The last rays I remember falling through a glade of the wood, and shining bright as jewels on the flowery mantle of the wreck. It began to be chill. The tide was rapidly fleeting seaward, the schooner settling more and more on her beam ends. I scrambled forward and looked over. It seemed shallow enough, and holding the cut horser in both hands for a last security, I let myself drop softly overboard. The water scarcely reached my waist. The sand was firm and covered with ripple marks, and I waited ashore in great spirits, leaving the Hispaniola on her side, with her mainsail trailing wide upon the surface of the bay. About the same time the sun went fairly down, and the breeze whistled low in the dusk among the tossing pines. At least, and at last, I was off the sea, nor had I returned thence empty-handed. There lay the schooner, clear at last from buccaneers, and ready for our own men to board and get to sea again. I had nothing nearer my fancy than to get home to the stock-aid and boast of my achievements. Possibly I might be blamed a bit for my truanty, but the recapture of the Hispaniola was a clinching answer, and I hoped that even Captain Smollett would confess I had not lost my time. So thinking and in famous spirits, I began to set my face homeward for the blockhouse and my companions. I remembered that the most easterly of the rivers which drain into Captain Kidd's anchorage ran from the two peaked hill upon my left, and I bent my course in that direction that I might pass the stream while it was small. The wood was pretty open, and keeping along the lower spurs, I had soon turned the corner of that hill and not long after, waited to the mid-carth across the water-course. This brought me near to where I had encountered Ben Gunn, the maroon, and I walked more circumspectly, keeping an eye on every side. The dusk had come nigh-hand completely, and as I opened out of the cleft between the two peaks I became aware of a wavering glow against the sky where, as I judged, the man of the island was cooking his supper before a roaring fire. And yet I wondered in my heart that he should show himself so careless. For if I could see this radiance, might it not reach the eye of Silver himself, where he camped upon the shore among the marshes? Gradually the night fell blacker. It was all I could do to guide myself even roughly toward my destination, the double hill behind me, and the spy-glass on my right hand loomed fainter and fainter. The stars were few in pale, and in the low ground where I wandered I kept tripping among bushes and rolling into sandy pits. Suddenly a kind of brightness fell about me. I looked up. A pale glimmer of moonbeams had lighted on the summit of the spy-glass, and soon after I saw something broad and silvery moving low down behind the trees, and knew the moon had risen. With this to help me I passed rapidly over what remained to me of my journey, and, sometimes walking, sometimes running, impatiently drew near to the stockade. Yet as I began to thread the grove that lies before it, I was not so thoughtless but that I slacked my pace, and went a trifle warily. It would have been a poor end of my adventures to get shot down by my own party in mistake. The moon was climbing higher and higher. Its light began to fall here and there in masses through the more open districts of the wood, and right in front of me a glow of a different colour appeared among the trees. It was red and hot, and now and again it was a little darkened, as it were the embers of a bonfire smoldering. For the life of me I could not think what it might be. At last I came right down upon the borders of the clearing. The western end was already steeped in moonshine. The rest and the block-house itself still lay in a black shadow, checkered with long silvery streaks of light. On the other side of the house an immense fire had burned itself into clear embers, and shared a steadily red reverberation, contrasting strongly with the mellow paleness of the moon. There was not a soul stirring, nor a sound beside the noises of that breeze. I stopped with much wonder in my heart, and perhaps a little terror also. It had not been our way to build great fires. We were indeed, by the captain's orders, somewhat niggardly afireward, and I began to fear that something had gone wrong while I was absent. I stole round by the eastern end, keeping close in shadow, and at a convenient place where the darkness was thickest crossed the palisade. To make assurance sureer I got upon my hands and knees, and crawled without a sound toward the corner of the house. As I drew nearer my heart was suddenly and greatly lightened. It was not a pleasant noise in itself, and I have often complained of it in other times, but just then it was like music to hear my friends snoring together so loud and peaceful in their sleep. The sea cry of the watch, that beautiful all's well, never fell more reassuring me on my ear. In the meantime there was no doubt of one thing. They kept an infamous bad watch. If it had been Silver and his lads that were now creeping in on them, not a soul would have seen Daybreak. That was what it was, thought I, to have the captain wounded, and again I blamed myself sharply for leaving them in that danger with so few to mount guard. By this time I had got to the door and stood up. All was dark within, so that I could distinguish nothing by the eye. As for sounds there was the steady drone of the snorers, and a small occasional noise, a flickering or pecking, that I could in nowhere count for. With my arms before me I walked steadily in. I should lie down in my own place, I thought with a silent chuckle, and enjoy their faces when they found me in the morning. My foot struck something yielding. It was a sleeper's leg, and he turned and groaned, but without awaking. And then, all of a sudden, a shrill voice broke forth out of the darkness. Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! And so forth, without pause or change, like the clacking of a tiny mill. Silver's green parrot, Captain Flint, it was she whom I had heard pecking at a piece of bark. It was she keeping better watch than any human being who thus announced my arrival with her weariesome refrain. I had no time left me to recover. At the sharp clicking tone of the parrot, the sleepers awoke and sprang up, and with a mighty oath, the voice of Silver cried. Who goes? I turned to run, struck violently against one person, recoiled, and ran full into the arms of a second, who, for his part, closed upon and held me tight. Bring a torch, Dick! said Silver, when my capture was thus assured, and one of the men left the log-house and presently returned with a lighted brand. End of Chapter 27. Part 6 Captain Silver Chapter 28 In the Enemy's Camp The bright glare of the torch lighting up the interior of the blockhouse showed me the worst of my apprehensions realized. The pirates were in possession of the house and stores, there was the cask of Cognac, there were the pork and bread as before, and what tenfold increased my horror, not a sign of any prisoner. I could only judge that all had perished, and my heart smoked me sorely that I had not been there to perish with them. There were six of the Buccaneers all told, not another man was left alive. Five of them were on their feet, flushed and swollen, suddenly called out of the first sleep of drunkenness. The sixth had only risen upon his elbow. He was deadly pale, and the blood-stained bandage round his head told that he had recently been wounded, and was still more recently dressed. I remembered the man who had been shot and run back among the woods in the Great Attack, and doubted not that this was he. The parrot sat, preening her plumage, on Long John's shoulder. He himself, I thought, looked somewhat paler and more stern than I was used to. He still wore his fine, broad cloth suit, in which he had fulfilled his mission, but it was bitterly the worst for wear, daubed with clay and torn with sharp briars of the wood. So, said he, here's Jim Hawkins shiver my timbers, dropped in like a, where come I take that friendly? And thereupon he sat down across the brandy cask, and began to fill a pipe. Give me the loan of a link-dick, said he, and then, when he had a good light, I'll do my lad, he added, stick the glam in the wood-eep, and you gentlemen, bring yourselves to. You needn't stand up for Mr Hawkins. He'll excuse you, you may later that.  I see you were smart when first I set my eyes on you, but this ear gets away from me, clean it do. To all this, as may be well supposed, I made no answer. They had set me with my back against the wall, and I stood there looking silver in the face, pluckily enough, I hoped, to all outward appearance, but with black despair in my heart. Silver took a whiff or two of his pipe, with great composure, and then ran on again. Now you see, Jim, so busy you are here, said he, I'll give you a piece of my mind. I've always liked you, I have, for a lot of spirit, and the picture of my own self, when I was young and handsome. I always wanted to join and take your share, and do it, gentlemen, and now my cock, you've got to. Captain Smollett to find Seaman, as I alone up to any day, but stiff on discipline. Duty is duty, says he, and right he is. Just you keep clear of the captain.  Ungrateful scamp, was what he said. And the short and the long of the whole story is about here. You can't go back to your own lot, for they won't have you, and without you start a third ship's company all by yourself, which might be lonely, you'll have to join with Captain Silver. So far so good. My friends then were still alive, and though I partly believed the truth of Silver's statement, that the cabin party were incensed at me for my desertion, I was more relieved than distressed by what I heard. I don't say nothing as to your being in our hands, continued Silver, though there you are, and you may lay to it. I'm all for argument. I never seen good come out of threatening. If you like the service, well, you're joined, and if you don't, Jim, why, you're free to answer no. Free and welcome, shipmate, and if fairer can be said by mortal seamen, shiver my sides. Am I to answer, then? I asked, with a very tremulous voice. Through all this sneering talk I was made to feel the threat of death that overhung me, and my cheeks burned and my heart beat painfully in my breast. Lad, said Silver, no one's oppressing of you. Take your bearings. None of us won't are you, mate. Time goes so pleasant in your company, you see. Well, says I, growing a bit bolder, if I'm to choose, I declare I have a right to know what's what, and why you're here, and where my friends are. What's what? repeated one of the Buccaneers in a deep growl. I'd be a lucky one, as know that. You're perhaps betting down your arches till you are spoken to, my friend, cried Silver traculently to the speaker, and then, in his first gracious tones, he replied to me, Yesterday morning, Mr. Hawkins, said he, in the dog-watch, down came Dr. Livesey with a flag of truce. Says he, come, Silver, you're sold out. Ship's gone. Well, maybe we'd been taking a glass and a song to help it round. I won't say no. Least ways none of us had looked out. We looked out, and by thunder the old ship was gone. I never seen a pack of fools look fishier, and you may later that, if I tell you that I look the fishiest. Well, says the doctor, let's bargain. We bargained, him and I, and here we are. Stores, brandy, blockhouse, the firewood you was thoughtful enough to cut, and in a manner of speaking the whole blessed boat from cross-trees to Kielson. As for them they've tramped. I don't know where's they are. He drew again quietly at his pipe. Unless you should take it into that, any yours, he went on. You was included in the treaty. Here's the last word that was said. How many are you, says I, to leave? Four, says he, four, and one of us wounded. As for that boy, I don't know where he is, confound him, says he, nor I don't much care.  Is that all? I asked. Well, it's all your to hear, my son. Return, Silver. And now I am to choose? And now you are to choose, and you may later that, said Silver. Well, said I, I am not such a fool, but I know pretty well what I have to look for.  It's little I care. I've seen too many dies since I fell in with you. But there's a thing or two I have to tell you, I said, and by this time I was quite excited. And the first is this. Here you are, in a bad way, ship lost, treasure lost, men lost, your whole business gone to wreck. And if you want to know who did it, it was I. I was in the apple barrel that night we sighted land, and heard you, John, and you, Dick Johnson, and Hans, who is now at the bottom of the sea, and told every word you said before the hour was out.  The laugh's on my side. I've had the top of this business from the first. I no more fear you than I fear a fly.  But one thing I'll say, and no more, if you spare me, bygones are bygones, and when you fellows are in court for piracy, I'll save you all I can. It is for you to choose. Kill another, and do yourselves no good, or spare me, and keep a witness to save you from the gallows. I stopped now, for I tell you I was out of breath, and to my wonder, not a man of the move, but all sat staring at me like as many sheep. And while they were still staring, I broke out again. And now, Mr. Silver, I said, I believe you're the best man here, and if things go to the worst, I'll take it kind of you to let the doctor know the way I took it. I'll bear it in mind, said Silver, with an accent so curious that I could not for the life of me decide whether he was laughing at my request, or had been favourably affected by my courage. I'll put one to that, cried the old mahogany-faced seaman, Morgan by name, whom I had seen in Long John's public house, upon the keys of Bristol. It was him that no black dog. Well, and sear! added the sea-cook. I'll put another to that, boy Thunder. It was this same boy that faked the chart from Billy Bones. First and last we've split upon Jim Hawkins. Then here goes, said Morgan, with an oath. And he sprang up, drawing his knife as if he had been 20. A vast there, cried Silver. Who are you, Tom, Morgan? Maybe you thought you were captain here, perhaps? Boy, that power is by all teach you better. Cross me and you'll go where many a good man's gone before you, first and last, these 30 years back. Some to the yard, I'm shivering my sides, and some by the board, and all to feed the fishes. There's never a man looked me between the eyes, and seen a good day. Outerwards, Tom, Morgan, you may late that. Morgan paused, but a horse murmur rose from the others. Tom's right! said one. I stood hazing low enough from one, added another. I'll be hanged if I'll be hazed by you, John Silver. Did any of you gentlemen want to have it out with me? Rod Silver bending far forward from his position on the keg, with his pipe still glowing in his right hand. Put a name on what you're at, you ain't dumb, I reckoned, in that once shall get it.  You know the way.  Well, I am ready. Take a cutlass in the dares, and I'll see the collar of his inside crutch at all before that pipe's empty. Not a man stirred, not a man answered. That's your sword, is it? he added, returning his pipe to his mouth.  Not worth much in a foot, you ain't. Perhaps you can understand King George's English. I'm captain here by lection. I'm captain here because I'm the best man by a long sea mile. You won't fight as gentlemen of fortune should, then by thunder-yellow bay, and you may lay to it. I like that boy now. I've never seen a better boy than that. He's more a man than any pair of rats of you in this ear else, and what I say is this. Let me see him that'll lay a hand on him. That's what I say, and you may lay to it. There was a long pause after this. I stood straight up against the wall, my heart still going like a sledgehammer, but with a ray of hope now shining in my bosom. Silver lent back against the wall his arms crossed, his pipe in the corner of his mouth as calm as though he had been in church, yet his eye kept wandering furtively, and he kept a tail of it on his unruly followers. They, on their part, drew gradually together toward the far end of the blockhouse, and the low hiss of their whispering sounded in my ears continuously like a stream. One after another they would look up, and the red light of the torch would fall for a second on their nervous faces, but it was not toward me. It was toward Silver that they turned their eyes. You seemed to have a lot to say. Remarked Silver spitting fire into the air. Pipe up, and let me hear it or lay to. Axe your pardon, sir. Returned one of the men. You are pretty free with some of the rules. Maybe you'll kindly keep an eye upon the rest. This crew's dissatisfied. This crew don't valley bully in Lamarling Spike. This crew, as its rights, like other crews, I'll make so free as that, and by your own rules I'll take it we can talk together. I ax your pardon, sir, acknowledging you for the captain at this present, but I claim my right, and steps outside for a council. And with an elaborate sea salute this fellow, a long ill-looking yellow-eyed man of five and thirty, stepped coolly toward the door and disappeared out of the house. One after another the rest followed his example, each making a salute as he passed, each adding some apology. Called into roles, said one. Folks all counsel, said Morgan, and so, with one remark or another, all marched out and left Silver and me alone with the torch. The sea-cook instantly removed his pipe. Near look you hear, Jim Orkins, he said in a steady whisper that was no more than audible. You're with and half a plank of death, and what's alongside worse, of torture.  I didn't mean to, no. Not till you spoke up, I was about desperate to lose that much blunt, and be hanged into the bargain. But I see you as the right sort. I says to myself, you stand by Hawkins, John, and Hawkins will stand by you. You're his last card, and by the living thunder, John, he's yours. Back to back, says I.  I began dimly to understand. You mean all's lost? I asked. I buy gum, I do, he answered. Ship gone, neck gone, that's the size of it. Once I looked into that bay, Jim Hawkins, and seen no schooner. Well, I'm tough, but I gave out.  I'll save your life, if so be as I can, from them. But see here, Jim, different tart. You save long, John, from swinging. I was bewildered. It seemed a thing so hopeless, he was asking. He, the old Buccaneer, the ringleader threw out. What I can do, that I'll do, I said. It's a bargain, cried long, John. You speak up plucky and both under I have a chance. He hobbled to the torch, where it stood, propped among the firewood, and took a fresh light to his pipe. Understand me, Jim, he said, returning. I've head on my shoulders, I have. I'm on Squire's side now. I know you've got that ship safe somewheres. Oh, you've done it, I don't know, but safe it is. I guess hands and old Brian turn soft. I never much believed in neither of them. No, you mark me. I ask no questions, nor won't let others. I know what a game's up I do, and I know a lad at staunch. Ah, you that's young. You might, you and me, might have done a power of good together. He drew some cognac from the cask into a tin canikin. Will you taste, mess, mate? he asked. And when I had refused, well, I'd take a drain myself, Jim, said he. I need a corker for this trouble on hand. And then, and talking at trouble, I did that doctor give me the chart, Jim. My face expressed a wonder so unaffected that he saw the needlessness of further questions. Ah, well, he did, though, said he, and there is something under that, no doubt, something surely under that, Jim, bad or good. And he took another swallow of the brandy, shaking his great fair head, like a man who looks forward to the worst. CHAPTER XXIX THE BLACK SPOT AGAIN The council of the buccaneers had lasted some time, when one of them re-entered the house, and with the repetition of the same salute, which had, in my eyes, an ironical air, begged for a moment's loan of the torch. Silver briefly agreed, and this emissary retired again, leaving us together in the dark. There is a breeze come in, Jim, said Silver, who had by this time adopted quite a friendly and familiar tone. I turned to the loophole nearest me, and looked out. The embers of the great fire had so far burned themselves out, and now glowed so low and duskily that I understood why these conspirators desired a torch. About halfway down the slope to the stockade, they were collected in a group. One held the light, another was on his knees in their midst, and I saw the blade of an open knife shine in his hand with varying colours in the moon and torchlight. The rest were all somewhat stooping, as though watching the manoeuvres of this last. I could just make out that he had a book as well as a knife in his hand, and was still wondering how anything so incongruous had come in their possession when the kneeling figure rose once more to his feet, and the whole party began to move together toward the house. Here they come, said I, and returned to my former position, for it seemed beneath my dignity that they should find me watching them. Well, let them come, lad, let them come, said Silver cheerily. I've still a shot in my locker. The door opened, and the five men, standing huddled together just inside, pushed one of their number forward. In any other circumstances it would have been comical to see his slow advance, hesitating as he sat down each foot, but holding his closed right hand in front of him.  Hand it over, lover, I know the rules too. I won't hurt a deputation. Thus encouraged the buccaneer stepped forth more briskly, and having passed something to Silver from hand to hand, slipped yet more smartly back again to his companions. The sea-cook looked at what had been given him. The black spot, I thought so, he observed. Where am I? You've got the paper. Oh, yellow, look here now, eat this lucky. You've gone and cut this out of a bible.  Ah, there, said Morgan. There, what did I say? No good will come of that, I said. Well, you've about fixed it now among you, continued Silver. You'll all swing now, I reckon, what soft-headed lubber had a bible. It was Dick, said one. Dick was it. Then Dick can get to prayers, said Silver. He's seen his slicer look as Dick, and you may later that. But here the long man with the yellow eyes struck in. Belay that talk, John Silver. He said, This crew has tipped you the black spot in full council, as duty-bound. Just you turn it over, as in duty-bound, and see what's wrote there. Then you can talk. Thank you, George, replied the sea-cook. You always was brisk for a business, and as the rules by heart, George, as I'm pleased to see. Well, what is it, anyway? Ah, deposed. That's it, is it? Well, very pretty wrote, to be sure. Like print, I swear. Your hand, I write, George? Why, you was getting quite the leading man and the sea-crew. You'll be captain next, I shouldn't wonder. Just oblige me with that torch again, will you? This pipe don't draw. Come now, said George. You don't fool this crew no more.  But you're over now, and you'll maybe step down off that barrel and help vote. I thought you said you know the rules. Returned Silver contemptuously. Least wise, if you don't, I do. And I wait here.  In the meantime, your black spite worth a biscuit. After that, we'll see. Oh, reply, George. You don't be under no kind of apprehension. We're all square, we are. First, you've made a hash of this cruise. You'll be a bold man to say no to that. Second, you let the enemy out of this here trap for nothing. Why did they want out? I don't know, but it's pretty plain they wanted it. Third, you wouldn't let us go at them upon the march. Ah, we see through you, John Silver. You want to play booty. That's what's wrong with you. And then fourth, there's this here boy. Is that all? asked Silver quietly. Enough, too, retorted George. We'll all swing and sun dry for your bungling. Well, now, look here, I'll answer these four points. One after another, I'll answer them. I made a hash of this cruise, did I? Well, now you all know what I wanted.  Every man of us alive and fit, and full of good plumb duff. And the treasure in the hold of her by thunder. Well, who crossed me? You fast, my hand, as was the lawful captain. Who tipped me the black spot the day we landed and began this dance? Ah, it's a fine dance. I am with you there, and it looks mighty like a horn pipe in a rope-send execution dock, by London town it does. But who done it?  But this tops the stiffest yarn to nothing. Silver paused, and I could see by the faces of George and his late comrades that these words had not been said in vain. That's for number one! cried the accused, wiping the sweat from his brow, for he had been talking with the vehemence that shook the house.   See, gentlemen of fortune, I reckon, tailor's is your trade. Go on, John, said Morgan, speak up to the others. Ah, the others. Turn, John, they're a nice lot, ain't they? You say this cruise is bungled? By gum, if you could understand how bad it's bungled, you would see. Were that near the gibbet that my next stiff were thinking on it? You've seen them, maybe, hanged in chains, birds about them, seamen putting them out as they go down with the tide. Who's that, says one? That's John Silver, I knowed him well, says another. And you can hear the chains of jangle as you go about and reach for the other boy. No, that's about where we are, every mother's son of us, thanks to him, and Hans and Anderson, and other ruination fools of you. And if you want to know about number four and that boy, why, shiver my timbers, isn't he a hostage? Are we going to waste a hostage? No, not us. He might be our last chance, I shouldn't wonder. Kill that boy, not me, mates. And number three? Wow, well, there's a deal to say to number three. Maybe you don't count it nothing to have a real college doctor come to see you every day.  And maybe, perhaps, you didn't know there was a consort coming, either. But there is, and not so long till then, and we'll see you'll be glad to have a hostage when it comes to that. And as for number two, why, I made a bargain.  And you'd have starved, too, if I hadn't. But that's a trifle. You look there, that's why. And he cast down upon the floor a paper that I instantly recognized, none other than the chart on yellow paper, with the three red crosses that I had found in the oil-cloth at the bottom of the captain's chest. Why the doctor had given it to him was more than I could fancy. But if it were inexplicable to me, the appearance of the chart was incredible to the surviving mutineers. They leapt upon it like cats upon a mouse. It went from hand to hand, one tearing it from another, and by the oaths and the cries and the childish laughter with which they accompanied their examination, you would have thought not only they were fingering the very gold, but were at sea with it besides in safety. Yes, said one, that's Flint for sure, JF and a score below, with a close hitch to it. So he ever done. Mighty pretty, said George, but how are we to get away with it, and us no ship? Silver suddenly sprang up and supporting himself with a hand against the wall. Now I'll give you warn in George, he cried.  How? Why, how do I know?  But not you, you can't. You ain't got the invention of a cockroach, but, civil, you can speak, and you shall, George Mary, you may later that. That's fair enough, said the old man, Morgan. Fair I reckon so, said the sea-cook. You lost the ship, I found the treasure. Who's the better man at that? And now I resign by thunder-elect, whom you please to be your captain now. I'm done with it. Silver, they cried. Barbecue for ever, barbecue for captain. So that's the tune, is it? cried the cook. George, I reckon you'll have to wait another turn, friend, and lucky for you, as I'm not a revengeful man. But that was never my way.  Take much good now, is it? Dick's crossed his luck and spoiled his bible, and that's about all. It'll do to kiss the book on, still, won't it? growl, Dick, who was evidently uneasy at the curse he had brought upon himself. A boy-bull with a bit cut out. Returned silver, derisively. Not it. It don't boil more than a ballon-book. Don't it, though? cried Dick, with a sort of joy. Well, I reckon that's worth having, too. Eer, Jim, here's a curiosity for ya, said Silver, and he tossed me the paper. It was a round about the size of a crown-piece. One side was blank, for it had been the last leaf. The other contained a verse or two of revelation. These words among the rest which struck sharply home upon my mind. Without are dogs and murderers. The printed side had been blackened with wood-ash, which already began to come off and soil my fingers. On the blank side had been written with the same material, the one word, deposed. I have that curiosity beside me at this moment, but not a trace of writing now remains beyond a single scratch, such as a man might make with his thumbnail. That was the end of the night's business. Soon after, with a drink all round, we lay down to sleep, and the outside of Silver's vengeance was to put George Merry up for Sentinel, and threaten him with death, if he should prove unfaithful. It was long ere I could close an eye, and Heaven knows I had matter enough a thought in the man whom I had slain that afternoon, in my own most perilous position, and, above all, in the remarkable game that I saw Silver now engaged upon. Keeping the mutineers together with one hand, and grasping with the other, after every means possible and impossible, to make his peace and save his miserable life. He himself slept peacefully and snored aloud, yet my heart was sore for him, wicked as he was, to think on the dark perils that environed, and the shameful gibbet that awaited him. End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 On Parole I was wakened, indeed we were all wakened, for I could see even the Sentinel shake himself together from where he had fallen against the doorpost, by a clear hearty voice hailing us from the margin of the wood. Blockhouse ahoy! it cried. Here's the doctor! and the doctor it was. Although I was glad to hear the sound, yet my gladness was not without admixture. I remembered with confusion my insubordinate and stealthy conduct, and when I saw where it had brought me, among what companions, and surrounded by what dangers, I'd felt ashamed to look him in the face. He must have risen in the dark, for the day had hardly come, and when I ran to a loophole and looked out, I saw him standing, like Silver once before, up to the mid-leg in creeping vapor. You doctor, top of the morning to you, sir! cried Silver, broad awake and beaming with good nature in a moment. Bright and early to be sure, and it's the early bird as the saying goes against the rations. George, shake up your timbers, so an' help Dr. Livesey over the ship's side. All are doing well, your patience was all well and merry. So he patted on, standing on the hill-top, with his crutch under his elbow, and one hand upon the side of the log-house, quite the old John in voice, manner and expression. We've quite a surprise for you too, sir, he continued. We've got a little stranger here, he hee! A new border and larger, sir, and looking fit and torn as a fiddle. Slept like a super-cargo we did, right alongside of John, stem to stem we was all night. Dr. Livesey was by this time across the stock-aid, and pretty near the cook, and I could hear the alternation in his voice as he said, not Jim, the very same Jim as ever was, said Silver. The doctor stopped outright, although he did not speak, and it was some seconds before he seemed able to move on. Well, well, he said at last, duty first and pleasure afterwards, as you might have said yourself, Silver, let us overhaul these patience of yours. A moment afterwards he had entered the block-house, and with one grim nod to me proceeded with his work among the sick. He seemed under no apprehension, though he must have known that his life among these treacherous demons depended on a hare, and he rattled on to his patience, as if he were paying an ordinary professional visit in a quiet English family. His manner, I suppose, reacted on the men, for they behaved to him as if nothing had occurred, as if he were still ship's doctor, and they still faithful hands before the mast. You're doing well, my friend," he said to the fellow with the bandaged head, and if ever a person had a close shave, it was you. Your head must be as hard as iron. Well, George, how goes it?  Did you take that medicine? Did he take that medicine, men? Oi, oi, sir, he took it sure enough, returned Morgan. Because you see, since I am a mutineer's doctor, or prison doctor, as I prefer to call it, says Dr. Livesey in his pleasantest way, I make it a point of honor not to lose a man for King George, God bless him, and the gallows. The rogues looked at each other, but swallowed the home thrust in silence. Dick, don't feel well, sir, said one. Don't hear, replied the doctor. Well, step up here, Dick, and let me see your tongue. No, I should be surprised if he didn't. The man's tongue is fit to frighten the French another fever. Oh, there, said Morgan, that cumbed of spilling bibles. That cumbed, as you call it, for being arrant asses, retorted the doctor. And not having sense enough to know honest air from prison and the dry land from a vile pestifalous slough. I think it most probable, though, of course, it's only an opinion, that you'll all have the deuce to pay before you get that malaria out of your systems. Camp in a bog, would you? Silver, I'm surprised at you.  But you don't appear to me to have the rudiments of a notion of the rules of health. Well, he added, after he had dosed them round, and they had taken his prescriptions, with real laughable humility, more like charity schoolchildren than blood guilty mutineers and pirates. Well, that's done for today. And now I should wish to have a talk with that boy, please. And he nodded his head in my direction, carelessly. George Mary was at the door, spitting and spluttering over some bad tasting medicine. But at the first word of the doctor's proposal, he swung round with a deep flush, and cried, no, and swore. Silver struck the barrel with his open hand. Silence! He roared and looked about him positively like a lion. Doctor! He went on in his usual tones. I was thinking of that, knowing as though you had a fancy for the boy. We're all humbly grateful for your kindness. And as you see, puts faith in you, and takes the drugs down like that much grog. And now I take it, I found a way as little suit all. Oh, kids, will you give me your word of honour as a young gentleman? For a young gentleman you are, though poor-born. Your word of honour not to slip your cable. I readily gave the pledge required. Then, Doctor, said Silver, you just step out, so do that stuck-aid, and once you're there, I'll bring the boy down on the inside, and I reckon you can yarn through the spars. Good day to you, sir, and all our duties to the squire, and come, small it. The explosion of disapproval, which nothing but Silver's black looks had restrained, broke out immediately the Doctor had left the house. Silver was round the accused of playing double, of trying to make a separate piece for himself, of sacrificing the interests of his accomplices and victims, and, in one word, of the identical exact thing that he was doing. It seemed to me so obvious, in this case, that I should not imagine how he was to turn their anger, but he was twice the man the rest were, and his last night's victory had given him a huge preponderance in their minds. He called them all the fools and dolts you can imagine. Said it was necessary I should talk to the Doctor, fluttered the chart in their faces, ask them if they could afford to break the treaty the very day they were bound to treasure-hunting. No boy thunder! he cried. It's us must break the treaty when the time comes, until then I'll gammon that Doctor, if I have to oil his boots with brandy.  Slow lad, slow! he said. They might round upon us in a twinkle of an eye, if we were seen to hurry. Very deliberately, then, did we advance across the sand to where the Doctor awaited us, on the other side of the stockade, and soon as we were within easy speaking distance, Silver stopped. You all make a note of this ear also, Doctor, said he, and the Boyle tell you our saved his life, and were deposed for it too. You may late that. Doctor, when a man, steering as near to the wind as me, playing Chuck Fathen with the last breath in his body like, you wouldn't think it too much, may I, to give him one good word. You, please bear in mind it's not my life only now, it's that boy's into the bargain, and you speak me fair, Doctor, and give me a bit of hope to go on for the sake of mercy. Silver was a changed man. Once he was out there and had his back to his friends and the blockhouse. His cheeks seemed to have fallen in. His voice trembled. Never was a soul more dead in earnest. Why, John, you're not afraid, asked Doctor Livesey. Doctor, I'm no coward, no, not I, not so much. And he snapped his fingers. If I was, I wouldn't say it. But alone up fairly, I've had the shakes upon me for the gallows. You're a good man and a true, never seen a better man. And you'll not forget what I done good. Not any more, you'll forget the bad, I know. And I step aside, see here, and leave you and Jim alone. And you'll put that down for me too, for it's a long stretch it is. So saying, he stepped back a little way till he was out of ear shots, and there sat down upon a tree stump and began to whistle, spinning round now and again upon his seat, so as to command the sight, sometimes of me and the Doctor, and sometimes of his unruly ruffians, as they went to and fro in the sand, between the fire, which they were busy rekindling, and the house, from which they brought forth pork and bread to make the breakfast. So, Jim, said the Doctor sadly, Here you are. As you have brewed, so shall you drink, my boy. Heaven knows I cannot find it in my heart to blame you. But this much I will say, be it kind or unkind. When Captain Smollett was well, you dared not have gone off, and when he was ill, and couldn't help it by George, it was downright cowardly. I will own that I here began to weep. Doctor, I said, you might spare me. I have blamed myself enough. My life's forfeit anyway, and I should have been dead now if Silver hadn't stood for me. And Doctor, believe this, I can die, and I guess I deserve it, for what I fear is torture. If they come to torture me, Jim, the Doctor interrupted, and his voice was quite changed. Jim, I can't have this. Whip over, and we'll run for it. Doctor, said I, I passed my word. I know, I know, he cried. We can't help that, Jim, now. I'll take it on my shoulders, wholess, boless, blame and shame, my boy. But stay here, I cannot let you. Jump!  No, I replied. You know right well you wouldn't do the same thing yourself, neither you nor Squire nor Captain. Nor more will I. Silver trusted me. I passed my word, and back I go. But Doctor, you did not let me finish. If they come to torture me, I might let slip a word of where the ship is. For I got the ship, part by luck and part by risking, and she lies in the north inlet on the southern beach, and just below high water. At half tide she must be high and dry. The ship! exclaimed the Doctor. Rapidly I described to him my adventures, and he heard me out in silence. There's a kind of fate in this, he observed when I had done. Every step it's you that save our lives, and you are supposed by any chance that we are going to let you lose yours. That would be a poor return, my boy. You found out the plot. You found Ben Gunn, the best deed that you ever did or will do, though you lived to ninety. Oh, by Jupiter, and talking of Ben Gunn, why, this is the mischief in person. Silver! he cried. Silver! I'll give you a piece of advice. He continued as the cook drew nearer again. Don't you be in any great hurry after that treasure? Why, sir, I do my possible, which that ain't, said Silver. I can only ask in your pardon, save my life and the boys, boys, seek him for that treasure, and you may later that. Well, Silver, replied the Doctor, if that is so, I'll go one step farther. Look out for squalls when you find it. Sir, said Silver, as between man and man, that's too much and too little. What year after? Why, you left the blockhouse? Why, you've given me that there a chart? I don't know now, do I?  But no, this ear is too much.  No, said the Doctor, musingly. I have no right to say more. It's not my secrecy, Silver, or I give you my word. I'd tell it to you. But I'll go as far with you as I dare go, and not a step beyond. For I'll have my wig sorted by the captain, or I'm mistaken. And first, I'll give you a bit of hope. Silver, if we both get out alive out of this wolf-track, I'll do my best to save you, short of perjury. Silver's face was radiant. You couldn't say more. I'm sure, sir, not if you was my mother, he cried. Well, that's my first concession, added the Doctor. My second is a piece of advice. Keep the boy close beside you, and when you need help, hello! I am off to seek it for you, and that itself will show you if I speak at random. Goodbye, Jim. And Dr. Livesey shook hands with me through the stockade, nodded to Silver, and set off at a brisk pace into the wood. End of Chapter 30


The following is transcribed. Family Theatre presents Ruth Hussie, Roddy McDowell, and Lois Butler. The mutual network in cooperation with Family Theatre brings you a Christmas fantasy set in a framework of Christmas music. To tell you about our presentation of Charles Tazwell's classic lullaby of Christmas, we present Ruth Hussie. Thank you, Tony Lafranco. You know, one of the wonderful things about Christmas is the pretty web of legend, song, and story that has grown up around it without obscuring for any of us, I hope, the truth of the matter. At another time of year, we might call the joyousness of spirit we experience an excess, but in the expansive mood that Christmas brings to everything, I'd use a more gentle word, a more generous description. Won't you agree that the right word is abundance? I think it's out of this abundance that most Christmas fantasy springs, out of the fact that the real truth of Christmas is so wonderful, so dramatic, so quickening to the heart and to the imagination, and that leads us to lullaby of Christmas, which Roddy McDowell is going to narrate for us. Story is as old as Christmas, and yet is neither remembered nor told except by the tongue-less ones, the water, the wind, the rain, and the snow, by the grasses, the trees, the rocks, and the earth. They have told the story for almost 2,000 Christmases past, and they'll still be telling it 2,000 times 2,000 Christmases to come. It will be told by a wind rustling a tree of palm or pine, or of maple or mimosa, by water as it crowds against the bank or shore of brook, lake, river and ocean, and all the scattered seven seas, by rain tiptoeing across the roofs and skylights of every building north, east, south, and west of Greenwich, by the singing grasses of southern Pampers, Bush, and Savannah, and by the icy twang of sleeted stubble on prairie, heath, and plain. It will be told by the sucking swamp mud and the hard-wringing frozen earth and the tumbling rock and the migrant sand. It will be told whether or not men listen, or whether or not there are men to listen. For as the storytellers are eternal, so is their story eternal, their story of the lullaby of Christmas. Whenever someone looked in his direction and bellowed, hey, you, he came running because he was eager to please, but a you wasn't his name. No one knew from whence he came, or when, or how, or why. It was quite possible that he was a forlorn and useless bit of Jetson from one of the caravans that were forever appearing and disappearing like mirages, with camel bells clanging, dogs barking, and drivers howling for right of way through the narrow crowded roadways of Bethlehem. He might have been eight, or he could have been nine, a childish collection of angles and knobs with an animated pipe stem on each corner for an arm or leg. His clothing was an assortment of tattered rags fastened together with knots, thorns, and bits of cord, and it stayed with him when he ran, merely because his greater speed was never quite equal to the greater law of gravity. And he was always running to something from something, his sandals which had been owned and discarded by three much larger wearers, flapping up and down and right and left, and his bobbing head perching precariously on his scrawny little neck like a fledgling heron on one leg. And yet, there was something about the boy that made people notice him. There was something appealing in his dark eyes and something about his cherub's mouth that unlocked the heart. Now and then someone along the street would stop him and ask his name. But when he tried to answer, from out of his cherub's mouth instead of words, would come a horrible sound, a scourging, piercing, ear-scraping, howling and shrieking. Yes, A.U. was without the gift of speech. And at night, in the stable of the inn where he made his bed, he would curl up in the fragrant hay and think of all the beautiful magic words that he would like to say. Just suppose... Just suppose that a miracle should take place during the night. Just suppose that he should wake up tomorrow morning and walk over to that stall and say, Good morning, Mr. Cal. Oh, wonderful. And then he'd run outside to the pen and call out, Hello, Mr. Sheep. Oh, Mac, never since morning he could talk. He could say anything and everything that he wanted to say. And wouldn't the innkeeper's wife be surprised when she handed out the scraps for his breakfast and loudly and clearly he said, I'm terrible obliged, ma'am. Just terrible obliged. And then when he was called to do some task or errand, he could tell the innkeeper and his guests that his name wasn't A.U. Why, that wasn't any kind of name at all. It was just an easy and careless way they all had of shouting, Hey, you! Hey, you! My name isn't A.U. Hey, don't you hear me? Hey, you! My name's Ezekiel. But the most opendous, overwhelming thing of all, he would be able to sing. Yes, sing as no one had ever sung before with every word and note so clear and sweet and perfect that everyone in Bethlehem would stand rock still to listen. He would be able to sing with the other children when they played their games. And he would be able to sing right along with a foreign music maker, the one with the lyre and the tame bear who walked the roadways and sang for coins. Oh, a Babylon maiden will hasten the oars with kisses of honey and cinnamon flowers. And at night in the inn, when the roaring fire was juggling fat hot sparks and the black-cavern chimney, and the innkeeper and his guests were all flowing with wine and song, he'd never need hide himself in the darkest corner in fear that they would make him join in just so that they could laugh at him. No. He'd be able to stand right by the fire and listen because he'd be able to sing that song much better than anyone in the room. Oh, fill the bowl up to the brim let memory blend with wine and drink to glories of the past. And so, each night, before A.U. closed his eyes, he prayed for the gift of speech and song and faithfully promised that if God saw a fit to grant these great blessings to a small boy that he would never use any words that weren't kind and gentle and reverent and that he would never sing any songs that were not beautiful, joyful and harmonious. Then he borrowed deep into the hay and fell asleep, warm and content in his belief that on this night, God had heard him. In the morning, when the rising sun reached through the doorway and touched his shoulder to wake him up, he would open his eyes and then he'd open his mouth and then very loudly and thankfully he'd say, Oh, thank you, God. Thank you very much. But morning after morning, God disappointed him. And finally, after months of mornings had vanished into Egypt, A.U. knew that he would always be just as he was as in articulate as a tumblebug, as a woodtick, as a worm. For a few nights, A.U. cried himself to sleep in black discouragement and then he resolved that he would never open his mouth again to make people laugh. And when his work was done, he'd trudged out of Bethlehem and wandered over the fields and hills. Travellers sometimes wondered if they saw his lonely little figure against the sky and none of them knew that he really wasn't lonely at all why he couldn't be lonely among friends for he discovered that a brook running over its pebbles and stones could chatter and prattle and sing to him and if he answered, or even if he sang, the brook didn't care a ripple that the noises he made were strange and unmusical. It went right along singing as loudly and joyfully as ever. Yes, and the winds were forever whispering or humming or caroling. Sometimes they were so filled with music that they shook their great trees and woke them up and they tossed the great limbs and made every leaf and twig join in with the singing. So A.U. sang too. And the trees didn't care and the winds didn't care. Neither did the rain when it front on the rocks or strung through the tall grasses. It went right on just as though his horrible din was the most sublime music it has ever heard. And then, when he was tired, A.U. would lie on the ground with his ear pressed tight against the moss and listen to the small faraway voices. The little, scarcely audible voices deep in the ever-moving, ever-singing earth itself. The song they sang was very sweet but so faint and distant that try as he might, he could never learn the melody. And so, listening to his friends, the tongueless ones, A.U. would fall fast asleep. And in the days that followed, he was a little scarecrow stuffed with happiness. A standing on tiptoe happiness that was more prolific than a cottontail rabbit. An invincible, conquering happiness that could summon up more legions than the Roman emperor. It was so far above the miracle he had asked for in his prayers that A.U. took a long time every night to thank God for his generosity. He thanked him so meticulously and particularly and abundantly that his small fingers developed a cramp and on each round knobby knee was a round knobby callus. And then, without the slightest warning, coming with cockroach as any other day, wearing the same identical colors of dawn as yesterday's beneficent morning came the dreadful day. It was begun by the innkeeper being methodically at the mound of hay where A.U. had buried himself and bawling. Then the dreadful day was helped along by the innkeeper's fat and fuming wife. At mid-morning, when A.U.'s stomach was tied in a double bone knot with hunger, he stuck one eye around the frame of the kitchen door to let it beg for his breakfast and the innkeeper's wife doused him with slimy dishwater and screamed, Don't come grunting and squealing for scraps at my door Get out with the rest of the swine! And in the afternoon, as A.U. was racing through the town on one of his endless errands, a tired thong snapped on one of his oversized sandals and the sandal went skittering through the air, purposely ignoring half a dozen people who would have merely scowled or scolded and dropped deliberately and maliciously on the proud and helmeted head of a swaggering centurion. The centurion plucked A.U. out of the crowd by his rags and lifted him up off the ground and held him dangling at arm's length demanding his name and his dwelling place and when A.U. tried to answer but only made meaningless sounds the centurion shook him until he flipped and flopped like a limp grief-stricken starfish and he bellowed Look at me, O you dribbling, babbling, voiceless off-shoot of a scurvy dribble-mouthed alirat If ever again you foul my eyes I'll cage you and send you to Rome to feed the emperor's lions and through the remaining hours of the dreadful days afternoon no matter how fast A.U. ran the story of his affliction and humiliation always ran faster it was a street, an alley, or even a doorway ahead of him he seemed to run through a forest of pointing fingers that threatened to pin him to a wall under a sky of leering eyes that fell and clung to him like leeches by endless craters of jeering mouths that spouted laughter like bottomless goat-skin waterbed and that night as each hour slowly yielded to an older one and the dreadful day near its end A.U. was kept late at his tasks in the inn anyone could believe that half the known world had journeyed to Bethlehem and the inn was so crowded that the ancient floors seemed to sag from the mass weight of weary bone and unwashed flesh A.U. longed to bury his shame and tears in the nestling warmth of the stable hay but his tired trembling legs carried him about with staggering arm loads of steaming bowls and slopping mugs he took him up, hand slapped his ears to ringing and his knees jolted his aching rhythm the one who discovered and recognized A.U. was a huge mountain of a man whose eyes rolled like quicksilver in their beef beds of jellied fat one hairy paw crossed a crumb of steel from his beard while the other fastened on A.U.'s hair and lifted him, his legs still running desperately in the air then in a voice that would have silenced Balum's donkey he braided to the listening ears a miserable insect that I have captured for your examination and amusement you must not laugh my friends you must gather close with ears agape because this struggling thing has a wondrous golden voice never equal on land or sea or up in heaven oh yes, I swear it is true a centurion made a chirp today and its music was so sweet it broke my heart and made the angels whip in ecstasy ah, tell me would you like to hear it sing it's boudoir no, you're not hear me will you sing or shall I slit your tongue like a crow's so you can speak like a human, eh sing I tell you sing, sing standing on the table A.U. tried to sing and at every tuneless howl the crowd shocked its mockery at every unmalodious screech it roared its derision at every discordant squeak it loosed a thunderbolt of laughter that crashed and splintered on his head and his mind was fear and his body was shame and his blood was tears but he went on he went on until the crowd had rung the last outstanding afore the final satisfying chuckle the ultimate forced snigger from his wretched little body and when it released him he ran blindly off through the dark labor in the Bethlehem a terror-stricken shadow racing for the quiet hills and the warm comforting voices of the tuneless ones tonight there were no voices even though A.U. held his breath even though he strained his ears he could hear no sound from the tuneless ones even when he threw himself down and laid his ear to the ground there was no small sound to hear even the little voices deep in the earth had stopped their whispering and were quiet then A.U. howled and babbled and tried to make the tuneless ones answer him but they only waited and listened and he croaked and screamed at them but still they waited and listened and he wept and shrieked at them but they kept silent while they waited and listened just listened and waited then A.U. rolled over on his back to listen too and he saw that a great white star had risen and was shining over Bethlehem a star so bright it blinded him and so he closed his eyes and exhausted by the dreadful day he went to sleep it was close to morning when A.U. returned to the inn he tiptoed across the frosty stones of the dark courtyard and crept into the stable for a moment his fear held emotionless for the stable was bathed with a bright glowing radiance that revealed every corner and straw and peg and moat of dust and it flowed like molten sunlight over a man and a woman and a manger where a child was cradled neither the man nor the woman appeared surprised to see A.U. it was as though they had expected him to come and were waiting for him so he stole nearer and he looked down at the child and the child lifted small hands and smiled at him then A.U. felt that he must speak to this child so he whispered and the words he spoke were as clear and melodious as the water of the brook then he said and the words that came from his lips were as sweet as the winds as perfect as each raindrop and as soft as the long flowing grasses then A.U. knew why he'd been born never to speak until this moment and why the tongueless ones of God's world of water and earth and air had all sung to him and why tonight they had all been still and silent and waiting now the waiting was over now they were his voice and he was their song and this was their song to the child of the manger this story is as old as Christmas and yet it's neither remembered nor told except by the tongueless ones the water, the wind, the rain and the snow the grasses, the trees, the rocks and the earth it will be told this Christmas by a wind rustling a tree of palm or pine or maple or mimosa by water as it crowds against the bank or shore of brook, lake, river and ocean and all the scattered zeven seas by rain as it patters across the roofs and skylights yes and by the singing grasses of the southern pampas bush and savannah and the icy twang of sleeted stubble on prairie, heath and plain the few ears that listen may wonder at the strange childlike quality in the voices of all these storytellers but that's so very easy to understand it is the bright, joyful, exultant tone of the boy who sang for them one early morning one Christmas morning one glorious morning in Bethlehem Thank you, Roddy, for steering us so imaginatively Christmas time is associated by all of us with first beginnings and with the home it's really a time of return in spirit we can all return to that little family of Bethlehem centered at the Christmas crib and that's where Lois Butler leads us as she sings Yezu Bambino, the baby Jesus Thank you, Lois Butler When Charles Tazwell's script said so powerfully is that all creation daily thanks its author in its mute and mighty way others might see monotony but to the discerning eye it's beauty Just the other day a friend asked me isn't prayer a monotonous thing? I didn't think so No, on the matter of monotony I don't think God blames the levelness of the plain for not being a solitary mountain peak or a flight of friendly swallows for not being lonely eagles There is beauty in order and in change beauty in variety and beauty in sameness These are but some of the reasons I can't believe that the God prayer is ever monotonous I know that to each new-made father the child in his arms is completely unlike the billions born before him a family kneeling together saying the same prayers beget among themselves not a feeling of monotony but a feeling of splendid unity That's why family theater keeps saying the family that prays together stays together More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of From Hollywood Family Theater has brought you transcribed Charles Tazwell's Lullaby of Christmas narrated by Roddy McDowell with Ruth Hussie as hostess Our soloist was Lois Butler Others in our cast were Michael Edwards Ted DeCossia Irene Tedrow and Bill Johnstone Music was composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman Family Theater's director was Joseph F. Mansfield This is Tony Lofrano expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God may be upon you and your home and inviting you to be with us next Sunday at 9 p.m. Eastern Standard Time over most of these stations when Family Theater will present our special Christmas program The Joyful Hour starring Letia Albanese and Blythe McDonnell-Carrie Jeff Chandler, Jean Cagney, Bing Crosby Bobby Driscoll, Jimmy Duranty June Haver, Ruth Hussie, William Ludbingen Pat O'Brien, Rod O'Connor, Maureen O'Hara Maureen O'Sullivan, Gigi Perot, Lanny Ross Robert Ryan and Leonard Warren and next week Family Theater will present Star of Wonder starring Pat O'Brien Join us, won't you? This is the Mutual Broadcasting System


What is going on guys welcome back to the channel and I appreciate you being here today I want to talk more on the Curse of Osiris DLC expansion for Destiny 2 and whether or not I think it will be worth the asking price for this DLC. Now you see most of us at release for Destiny 2 will have purchased both DLCs so we don't have a choice whether or not we pay for this we already have but others definitely do. I will give you guys my honest opinion on whether I think this DLC will be worth the asking price and you guys know me I won't hold back if the truth needs to be told I will tell it. So let's check out what we get from the Curse of Osiris DLC. Now we get a handful of new story missions set around Osiris Sanseguira his core shell we also get a couple of new strikes which are also thrown into the story which is cool gives purpose behind them and more story behind these strikes which I think would have been great for past strikes as well. We get a new planet to explore that being Mercury we also get a new social space upon Mercury that will be the Lighthouse which holds the rubber vans I believe this expansion is only confirmed in Urenda. Upon Mercury we get a place called the Infinite Forest within the Infinite Forest there are places known as Trees which take you back to a past Mercury to a future Mercury and another version of the present Mercury. Within here we basically have an infinite amount of ways we can experience this place due to how it can change its surroundings and enemies and so on it's actually truly a great idea if definitely used correctly I do believe though at the moment it's mostly used for new adventures that will be on Mercury for us to complete. Now upon completing the story mission for this DLC and what it offers we also get weekly things to do in terms of verses with advance offers these verses which in turn after you complete a verse which requires you to do certain activities the verse then becomes fulfilled and you basically get to forge a weapon from it. Now advance I believe will bring three of these per week and there's 11 in total so that means we get four weeks worth at least. So the DLC ain't looking too bad at the moment. The rubber vans will also introduce which is new to this DLC heroic adventures. I believe he'll bring between three and six per week for us to take part in and get heroic rewards for. At the moment though I'm not sure if these rewards are worth the actual grind to do these but I'm sure they will change in the future if they are poor so that's a good new addition in my opinion especially if they're going to add them to every single planetary render that would be great and we also get a new raid activity coming with the Curse of all South DLC. Now it's not a complete new raid but it is something called a red layer. This is basically a add-on to the Leviathan raid it's set within the same headquarters or to speak though but it does come with a whole new set of encounters new gear including weapons armours and cosmetics as well as new bosses although they said it won't be as long as a Leviathan raid it will be just as challenging. Now when we sum up this and we sum up what else is coming with season 2 of Destiny when you look at it as a bigger picture it definitely isn't short on content there are plenty of things to do once it's released and for that very reason I would say it's definitely worth the money. Now I know people are going to get beat you at the point I just made but please hear me out and definitely listen and watch the rest of the video. People are seriously underwhelmed about what's not about the DLC but not because of the DLC content itself it's the fact that Bungie seemed to not be addressing the major issues this game has and that's quality of life. If this game's quality of life was much better and we had reasons to continue to play the game week after week we will probably be super excited about the release of this DLC. The issue is there is no quality of life here. The game offers a limited longevity there is no reason to continue playing it's that luster at best it truly is. To fix these issues the game needs serious changes changes that I don't think will happen anytime soon the changes also in my opinion can't be fixed with a single patch the core mechanics to the way this game works are kind of broke and the loot system is flawed it's way too easy it's way too casual and the token system in my opinion just doesn't work at the moment that's not to say it needs to be moving I'm just saying it don't work at the moment. Fixed roles also don't work either in my opinion but there are ways to fix that without actually introducing random roles but these are the things I am hearing people state among many other things these are the issues people are having with Destiny at the moment but fixes of such are not an overnight thing the DLC as we know was in the works way before Destiny 2 was even launched and no doubt they are still tweaking things but the DLC itself won't fix the underlying problems this game offers but they have state changes they are working on are coming you can see this list on screen now I'm sure we all saw this over a month back with the weekly updates the changes here seem great and these will be incorporated I'm sure just as the DLC drops with season 2 the problem here is though and the problem people are having and rightly so is the fact these changes which we need we want to hear more of stop streaming and spoiling the DLC and feel us improvements coming to the game yes I know like I said it can't be fixed overnight but please stop pretending everything is all fine and dandy when it clearly ain't at the end of the day it's us the consumers who make this all possible it should be our needs which are looked into and addressed first if they were to drop a stream tomorrow talking about these major improvements they've already basically announced people be like okay well at least they are trying to put things right at least we know eventually things will be better but the fact we don't and won't get that and we are getting streams where they think all is okay this is what pisses most of us off so yes my answer to the question is is the DLC worth the money I'd say yes now would I buy this DLC with a current state destiny is in I would have to say no if they announce changes coming to destiny to make quality of life better in the near future I'd buy the DLC and patiently wait but hey that is just my opinion the content coming within this DLC is not sure of the DLCs we've received in the past for destiny one but at the time with destiny one we had a better backbone of the game there's no backbond to destiny to there's nothing holding the game up so this DLC will just crumble within a week there's no two which ways about it we need serious changes or at least announce these changes coming in the future and people for sure would be happier I for one definitely would anyway but guys that is the end of the video and hey it's just my opinion if you disagree with me and have some constructive criticism to leave down below in that comment section feel free to do so but thanks as always for stopping by and hopefully people I will see you on that next one