"What has it to do with you, says you? Ah, what! Why, just this. I'm your friend. You stand by me and I'll stand by you. There'll be a 'lection of a cap'n, and if I knows this crew, him as has the treasure-map will come out on top. You get me the map, and I'll put you ashore."
Flint called out again suddenly in a frenzy of fear:
"Bill! Where's Bill Bones? Stand afore me, Bill. There's them here I can't face."
The guttural mutter of Bones' voice answered the plea. Silver cocked his head on one side, hand cupped to ear, listening eagerly. But the words were impossible to distinguish.
"No, no, not yet, Bill," wailed Flint. "I ain't a-goin' to die. Where's Darby? Here, lad, you come and sit by me. You're my luck, Darby. I can't die with you by me."
Bones spoke again, and with an oath Silver cuddled his crutch in his armpit and hopped over the deck to the companionway.
"We better go," said Peter. "Ja, we take der little gal to her room, Bob. I don't like this."
Silver reached the door of Flint's stateroom as we stepped inside the companionway. We could see him distinctly in the light of the fading sunset glow which came through the stern-windows. Ben Gunn was crouching by the door, with his back toward us, hugging his arms about himself and evidently eavesdropping upon what went on in the stateroom. As we watched, Silver swung his right arm and dealt Gunn a blow which knocked him head over heels into the main cabin. The steward emited one agonized howl and scuttled under the cabin table. Silver wrenched open the stateroom door and poked his head inside.
"Well, well, if this ain't a touchin' picter!" he remarked. "Bill, I see you're doin' the kind and dootiful by our lamented skipper. But anybody as knowed ye would expect it of ye. Is that the treasure-map?"
"What are ye goin' to do about it?" snarled Bones by way of answer.