"Jim," Long John whispered, "I know the doctor told you to run for it, and you refused. I saved your life, and now you’ve saved mine. I won’t forget it. But the doctor is being secretive about the treasure, and that makes me uneasy. So we’ll stick together and save our necks."
"Breakfast, mates," someone called.
We sat in the sand and had biscuits and fried bacon.
With his parrot sitting on his shoulder, Long John talked to his men to restore their hope and confidence. "It’s lucky you have old Long John to think for you! I’m glad I let the boy say good-bye to his friend. Thanks to that, I discovered they have the ship! I don’t know where it is yet, but once we have the treasure, we’ll find out."He talked on, his mouth full of bacon. "As for the hostage, we’ll keep him. Once we’re off to sea with the treasure, we’ll talk Mr. Hawkins into joining and give him his share of the gold."
The men were all smiling and eating heartily, but I pushed my breakfast away, upset and worried. "How can I trust him?" I thought. "Long John will take wealth and freedom with the pirates over a narrow escape from hanging, which is all our side can offer."
Adding to my fears was the odd behavior of my friends. "Why did they desert the stockade?" I wondered. "Why did they give the map to Long John? And why did Dr. Livesey warn Long John to stay away from the treasure?"
After breakfast, Long John and his men got ready to search for Flint’s buried treasure.
"Is everyone armed?" George Merry asked.
"All but the boy," Tom Morgan said. "Let’s go."
Long John hung a gun on his chest and one on his back, secured a cutlass in his belt, and put two pistols in his pockets. He tied a rope about my waist to keep me close as we walked. I felt like a dancing bear.
We all set out—even the fellow with the head wound—carrying picks, shovels, and supplies to the shore boats. The pirates and I got in, and as the boats moved along the shoreline, Merry and Morgan discussed the map.
"The red cross is too large to be exact," Merry pointed out.
Morgan said, "The note on the back isn’t clear either." He read it aloud: "‘Tall tree, Spyglass shoulder bearing North of North North East. Skeleton Island, East South East and by East. Ten feet.’"
"So a tall tree is the main landmark," said Merry.
Before us was a high plateau that joined the sloping southern shoulder of Spyglass Hill. As we rowed, the plateau merged with the cliffs of Mizzen Hill, and the top of the plateau was dotted with tall pine trees.
"It’s that one!" Dick pointed to a tree.
"No, it’s that one!" said Tom Morgan, pointing to another.
"Wait until we get there, boys!" shouted Long John. "Flint’s tall tree can only be found by the readings of the compass. Take it easy—it’ll be a while."
We eventually landed at the mouth of a second river, which ran down a ridge from Spyglass Hill, and then we climbed a marshy slope toward the plateau.
At first, heavy mud slowed us down, but gradually, the hill got stony underfoot, and the woods became less dense.
"Smell the air!" Dick said, breathing deeply.
"Forget that," George Merry snapped. "Look for that tree!"
Up ahead, each man ran around excitedly in search of the tree as Long John and I followed behind. I was still tied, but I had to help him so he wouldn’t fall down the hill.
We’d proceeded about half a mile when, suddenly, one of the men cried out, as if in terror.
"Aaahhh! Aaahhh!"
Everyone ran in the direction of the screams.
"He can’t have found the treasure," Morgan said, hurrying past us.
We soon saw the cause of the man’s terror. At the base of a big pine tree was a human skeleton, with a few shreds of clothing still attached. A chill struck every heart.
"He was a seaman," George Merry stated, examining the rags. "This is good sailor’s cloth."
"Aye, but why is he lying that way?" asked Long John.
The man’s bones lay perfectly straight—his feet pointing in one direction, his hands, raised above his head, pointing in the opposite.
"Ah, I know! Here’s the compass, George," Long John said. "There’s the point of Skeleton Island, sticking out like a tooth. Just take a bearing along the line of the bones."
George Merry took the bearing. "The body points straight in the direction of the island, and the compass reads East South East and by East."
"It’s a pointer!" Long John shouted. "It’s one of Flint’s jokes. He and his six men were alone here. He killed them all and laid one down to show the way. Flint was a coldhearted man." Long John pointed to the skeleton. "Look—the hair’s yellow. That would be Dennis. Remember him, Tom?"
"Aye, I knew him," Morgan said. "He stole my knife."
"Dennis was quite a thief!" laughed Long John.
"They were murdered and left here," Dick said uneasily, kneeling among the bones. "It’s not natural."
"Not natural and not nice," Long John agreed. "If Flint were alive, it’d be six of them against six of us. But they’re all bones now."
"Flint is dead," the fellow with the bandage said, "but if any ghost could walk, Flint’s would. Flint died hard—deeply drunk and asking for more rum!"
"Aye, that he did," muttered Tom Morgan.
"Stop this talk," Long John said. "Flint’s dead and doesn’t walk. Let’s get the treasure."
But the pirates no longer ran through the woods; they stayed together, anxious and quiet. The dead pirate had frightened them.