Narrative Resumed by Jim Hawkins: The Garrison in the Stockade

           AssoonasBenGunnsawthecolourshecametoahalt,stoppedmebythearm,andsatdown.

           "Now,"saidhe,"there’syourfriends,sureenough."

           "Farmorelikelyit’sthemutineers,"Ianswered.

           "That!"hecried."Why,inaplacelikethis,wherenobodyputsinbutgen’lemenoffortune,SilverwouldflytheJollyRoger,youdon’tmakenodoubtofthat.No,that’syourfriends.There’sbeenblowstoo,andIreckonyourfriendshashadthebestofit;andheretheyareashoreintheoldstockade,aswasmadeyearsandyearsagobyFlint.Ah,hewasthemantohaveaheadpiece,wasFlint!Barringrum,hismatchwereneverseen.Hewereafraidofnone,nothe;on’ySilver—Silverwasthatgenteel."

           "Well,"saidI,"thatmaybeso,andsobeit;allthemorereasonthatIshouldhurryonandjoinmyfriends."

           "Nay,mate,"returnedBen,"notyou.You’reagoodboy,orI’mmistook;butyou’reon’yaboy,alltold.Now,BenGunnisfly.Rumwouldn’tbringmethere,whereyou’regoing—notrumwouldn’t,tillIseeyourborngen’lemanandgetsitonhiswordofhonour.Andyouwon’tforgetmywords;‘Aprecioussight(that’swhatyou’llsay),aprecioussightmoreconfidence’—andthennipshim."

           Andhepinchedmethethirdtimewiththesameairofcleverness.

           "AndwhenBenGunniswanted,youknowwheretofindhim,Jim.Justwheeryoufoundhimtoday.Andhimthatcomesistohaveawhitethinginhishand,andhe’stocomealone.Oh!Andyou’llsaythis:‘BenGunn,’saysyou,‘hasreasonsofhisown.’"