THE MAN OF THE ISLAND
"Now, Jim, you tell me true: that ain't Flint's ship?" he asked.
At this I had a happy inspiration. I began to believe that I had found an ally, and I answered him at once.
"It's not Flint's ship, and Flint is dead; but I'll tell you true, as you ask me—there are some of Flint's hands aboard; worse luck for the rest of us."
"Not a man—with one—leg ?" he gasped.
"Silver?" I asked.
"Ah, Silver!" says he; "that were his name."
"He's the cook; and the ringleader, too."
He was still holding me by the wrist, and at that he gave it quite a wring.
"If you was sent by Long John," he said, "I'm as good as pork, and I know it. But where was you, do you suppose?"
I had made my mind up in a moment, and by way of answer told him the whole story of our voyage, and the predicament in which we found ourselves. He heard me with the keenest interest, and when I had done he patted me on the head.
"You 're a good lad, Jim," he said; "and you're all in a clove hitch, ain't you? Well, you just put your trust in Ben Gunn—Ben Gunn's the man to do it. Would you think it likely, now, that your squire would prove a liberal-minded one in case of help—him being in a clove hitch, as you remark?"
I told him the squire was the most liberal of men.
"Ay, but you see," returned Ben Gunn, "I didn't mean giving me a gate to keep, and a shuit of livery clothes, and
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