At the Sign of the Spy-glass

           WhenIhaddonebreakfastingthesquiregavemeanoteaddressedtoJohnSilver,atthesignoftheSpy-glass,andtoldmeIshouldeasilyfindtheplacebyfollowingthelineofthedocksandkeepingabrightlookoutforalittletavernwithalargebrasstelescopeforsign.Isetoff,overjoyedatthisopportunitytoseesomemoreoftheshipsandseamen,andpickedmywayamongagreatcrowdofpeopleandcartsandbales,forthedockwasnowatitsbusiest,untilIfoundthetaverninquestion.

           Itwasabrightenoughlittleplaceofentertainment.Thesignwasnewlypainted;thewindowshadneatredcurtains;thefloorwascleanlysanded.Therewasastreetoneachsideandanopendooronboth,whichmadethelarge,lowroomprettycleartoseein,inspiteofcloudsoftobaccosmoke.

           Thecustomersweremostlyseafaringmen,andtheytalkedsoloudlythatIhungatthedoor,almostafraidtoenter.

           AsIwaswaiting,amancameoutofasideroom,andataglanceIwassurehemustbeLongJohn.Hisleftlegwascutoffclosebythehip,andundertheleftshoulderhecarriedacrutch,whichhemanagedwithwonderfuldexterity,hoppingaboutuponitlikeabird.Hewasverytallandstrong,withafaceasbigasaham—plainandpale,butintelligentandsmiling.Indeed,heseemedinthemostcheerfulspirits,whistlingashemovedaboutamongthetables,withamerrywordoraslapontheshoulderforthemorefavouredofhisguests.

           Now,totellyouthetruth,fromtheveryfirstmentionofLongJohninSquireTrelawney’sletterIhadtakenafearinmymindthathemightprovetobetheveryone-leggedsailorwhomIhadwatchedforsolongattheoldBenbow.