["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> AT THE \"ADMIRAL BENBOW\"\n\n\nSquire Trelawney, Doctor Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having\nasked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from\nthe beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the\nisland, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I\ntake up my pen in the year of grace 17--, and go back to the time when\nmy father kept the \"Admiral Benbow\" Inn, and the brown old seaman, with\nthe saber cut, first took up his lodging under our roof. [Illustration: _I remember him as if it were yesterday as he came\nplodding to the inn door_ (Page 3)]\n\nI remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn\ndoor, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow; a tall,\nstrong, heavy, nut-brown man; his tarry pig-tail falling over the\nshoulders of his soiled blue coat; his hands ragged and scarred, with\nblack, broken nails, and the saber cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid\nwhite. I remember him looking round the cove and whistling to himself as\nhe did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so\noften afterwards:\n\n    \"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest,\n      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!\" in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and\nbroken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of\nstick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared,\ncalled roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, he\ndrank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste, and still\nlooking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard. \"This is a handy cove,\" says he, at length; \"and a pleasant sittyated\ngrog-shop. Much company, mate?\" My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity. \"Well, then,\" said he, \"this is the berth for me. Here you, matey,\" he\ncried to the man who trundled the barrow; \"bring up alongside and help\nup my chest. I'll stay here a bit,\" he continued. \"I'm a plain man; rum\nand bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch\nships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I\nsee what you're at--there\"; and he threw down three or four gold pieces\non the threshold. \"You can tell me when I've worked through that,\" said\nhe, looking as fierce as a commander. And, indeed, bad as his clothes were, and coarsely as he spoke, he had\nnone of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed\nlike a mate or skipper, accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man\nwho came with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning\nbefore at the \"Royal George\"; that he had inquired what inns there were\nalong the coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and\ndescribed as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of\nresidence. And that was all we could learn of our guest. He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove, or\nupon the cliffs, with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner\nof the parlor next the fire, and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly\nhe would not speak when spoken to; only look up sudden and fierce, and\nblow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came\nabout our house soon learned to let him be. Every day, when he came back\nfrom his stroll, he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the\nroad. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind\nthat made him ask this question; but at last we began to see he was\ndesirous to avoid them. When a seaman put up at the \"Admiral Benbow\" (as\nnow and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol), he would\nlook in at him through the curtained door before he entered the parlor;\nand he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such was\npresent. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter; for I\nwas, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day and promised me a silver fourpenny on the\nfirst of every month if I would only keep my \"weather eye open for a\nseafaring man with one leg,\" and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first of the month came round, and I applied to\nhim for my wage, he would only blow through his nose at me, and stare me\ndown; but before the week was out he was sure to think better of it,\nbring me my fourpenny piece, and repeat his orders to look out for \"the\nseafaring man with one leg.\" How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On\nstormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house, and\nthe surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a\nthousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg\nwould be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous\nkind of a creature who had never had but one leg, and that in the middle\nof his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and ditch,\nwas the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for my\nmonthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies. But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one\nleg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who\nknew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water than\nhis head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his\nwicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call\nfor glasses round, and force all the trembling company to listen to his\nstories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house\nshaking with \"Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum,\" all the neighbors joining\nin for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing\nlouder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most\noverriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for\nsilence all around; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question,\nor sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not\nfollowing his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he\nhad drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed. His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories\nthey were; about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and\nthe Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his\nown account, he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men\nthat God ever allowed upon the sea; and the language in which he told\nthese stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the\ncrimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be\nruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over\nand put down and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his\npresence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking\nback they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country\nlife; and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to\nadmire him, calling him a \"true sea-dog,\" and a \"real old salt,\" and\nsuch like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England\nterrible at sea. In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us; for he kept on staying week\nafter week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had\nbeen long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to\ninsist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through\nhis nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor\nfather out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a\nrebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have\ngreatly hastened his early and unhappy death. All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his\ndress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his\nhat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it\nwas a great annoyance when it blew.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-04 The user is reading a book]\n<User> I remember the appearance of his\ncoat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before\nthe end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter,\nand he never spoke with any but the neighbors, and with these, for the\nmost part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had\never seen open. He was only once crossed, and that was toward the end, when my poor\nfather was far gone in a decline that took him off. Doctor Livesey came\nlate one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my\nmother, and went into the parlor to smoke a pipe until his horse should\ncome down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old \"Benbow.\" I\nfollowed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright\ndoctor, with his powder as white as snow, and his bright, black eyes and\npleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all,\nwith that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting\nfar gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he--the captain,\nthat is--began to pipe up his eternal song:\n\n    \"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest--\n      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for the rest--\n      Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!\" At first I had supposed \"the dead man's chest\" to be that identical big\nbox of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled\nin my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this\ntime we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it\nwas new, that night, to nobody but Doctor Livesey, and on him I observed\nit did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment\nquite angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the\ngardener, on a new cure for rheumatics. In the meantime the captain\ngradually brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand\nupon the table before him in a way we all knew to mean--silence. The\nvoices stopped at once, all but Doctor Livesey's; he went on as before,\nspeaking clear and kind, and drawing briskly at his pipe between every\nword or two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand\nagain, glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous\noath: \"Silence, there, between decks!\" \"Were you addressing me, sir?\" said the doctor; and when the ruffian had\ntold him, with another oath, that this was so, replied, \"I have only one\nthing to say to you, sir, that if you keep on drinking rum, the world\nwill soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!\" The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened\na sailor's clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand,\nthreatened to pin the doctor to the wall. The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him, as before, over his\nshoulder, and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the\nroom might hear, but perfectly calm and steady:\n\n\"If you do not put that knife this instant into your pocket, I promise,\nupon my honor, you shall hang at the next assizes.\" Then followed a battle of looks between them; but the captain soon\nknuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like\na beaten dog. \"And now, sir,\" continued the doctor, \"since I now know there's such a\nfellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and\nnight. I'm not a doctor only, I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath\nof complaint against you, if it's only for a piece of incivility like\nto-night's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed\nout of this. Let that suffice.\" Soon after Doctor Livesey's horse came to the door and he rode away, but\nthe captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come. [Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nBLACK DOG APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS\n\n\nIt was not very long after this that there occurred the first of the\nmysterious events that rid us at last of the captain, though not, as you\nwill see, of his affairs. It was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard\nfrosts and heavy gales; and it was plain from the first that my poor\nfather was little likely to see the spring. He sank daily, and my mother\nand I had all the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without\npaying much regard to our unpleasant guest. It was one January morning, very early--a pinching, frosty morning--the\ncove all gray with hoar-frost, the ripple lapping softly on the stones,\nthe sun still low, and only touching the hill-tops and shining far to\nseaward. The captain had risen earlier than usual, and set out down the\nbeach, his cutlass swinging under the broad skirts of the old blue coat,\nhis brass telescope under his arm, his hat tilted back upon his head. I\nremember his breath hanging like smoke in his wake as he strode off, and\nthe last sound I heard of him, as he turned the big rock, was a loud\nsnort of indignation, as though his mind was still running upon Doctor\nLivesey. Well, mother was upstairs with father, and I was laying the breakfast\ntable against the captain's return, when the parlor door opened and a\nman stepped in on whom I had never set my eyes before. He was a pale,\ntallowy creature, wanting two fingers of the left hand; and, though he\nwore a cutlass, he did not look much like a fighter. I had always my\neyes open for seafaring men, with one leg or two, and I remember this\none puzzled me. He was not sailorly, and yet he had a smack of the sea\nabout him too. I asked him what was for his service, and he said he would take rum, but\nas I was going out of the room to fetch it he sat down upon a table and\nmotioned to me to draw near. I paused where I was, with my napkin in my\nhand. \"Come here, sonny,\" said he. \"Come nearer here.\" I took a step nearer. \"Is this here table for my mate Bill?\" he asked, with a kind of leer. I told him I did not know his mate Bill, and this was for a person who\nstayed at our house, whom we called the captain. \"Well,\" said he, \"my mate Bill would be called the captain, as like as\nnot. He has a cut on one cheek, and a mighty pleasant way with him,\nparticularly in drink, has my mate Bill. We'll put it, for argument\nlike, that your captain has a cut on one cheek--and we'll put it, if you\nlike, that that cheek's the right one. Ah, well! I told you. Now, is my\nmate Bill in this here house?\" I told him he was out walking. \"Which way, sonny? Which way is he gone?\" And when I had pointed out the rock and told him how the captain was\nlikely to return, and how soon, and answered a few other questions,\n\"Ah,\" said he, \"this'll be as good as drink to my mate Bill.\" The expression of his face as he said these words was not at all\npleasant, and I had my own reasons for thinking that the stranger was\nmistaken, even supposing he meant what he said. But it was no affair of\nmine, I thought; and, besides, it was difficult to know what to do. The stranger kept hanging about just inside the inn door, peering round\nthe corner like a cat waiting for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself\ninto the road, but he immediately called me back, and, as I did not obey\nquick enough for his fancy, a most horrible change came over his tallowy\nface, and he ordered me in with an oath that made me jump. As soon as I\nwas back again he returned to his former manner, half-fawning,\nhalf-sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy, and\nhe had taken quite a fancy to me. \"I have a son of my own,\" said he, \"as\nlike you as two blocks, and he's all the pride of my 'art. But the great\nthing for boys is discipline, sonny--discipline. Now, if you had sailed\nalong of Bill, you wouldn't have stood there to be spoke to twice--not\nyou. That was never Bill's way, nor the way of sich as sailed with him. And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy-glass under his arm,\nbless his old 'art, to be sure.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-04, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-05 The user is reading a book]\n<User> You and me'll just go back into the\nparlor, sonny, and get behind the door, and we'll give Bill a little\nsurprise--bless his 'art, I say again.\" So saying, the stranger backed along with me into the parlor, and put me\nbehind him into the corner, so that we were both hidden by the open\ndoor. I was very uneasy and alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather\nadded to my fears to observe that the stranger was certainly frightened\nhimself. He cleared the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the blade in\nthe sheath, and all the time we were waiting there he kept swallowing\nas if he felt what we used to call a lump in the throat. At last in strode the captain, slammed the door behind him, without\nlooking to the right or left, and marched straight across the room to\nwhere his breakfast awaited him. \"Bill,\" said the stranger, in a voice that I thought he had tried to\nmake bold and big. The captain spun round on his heel and fronted us; all the brown had\ngone out of his face, and even his nose was blue; he had the look of a\nman who sees a ghost, or the Evil One, or something worse, if anything\ncan be; and, upon my word, I felt sorry to see him, all in a moment,\nturn so old and sick. \"Come, Bill, you know me; you know an old shipmate, Bill, surely,\" said\nthe stranger. The captain made a sort of gasp. \"Black Dog!\" said he. \"And who else?\" returned the other, getting more at his ease. \"Black Dog\nas ever was, come for to see his old shipmate, Billy, at the 'Admiral\nBenbow' Inn. Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a sight of times, us two,\nsince I lost them two talons,\" holding up his mutilated hand. \"Now, look here,\" said the captain; \"you've run me down; here I am;\nwell, then, speak up; what is it?\" \"That's you, Bill,\" returned Black Dog; \"you're in the right of it,\nBilly. I'll have a glass of rum from this dear child here, as I've took\nsuch a liking to; and we'll sit down, if you please, and talk square,\nlike old shipmates.\" When I returned with the rum they were already seated on either side of\nthe captain's breakfast table--Black Dog next to the door, and sitting\nsideways, so as to have one eye on his old shipmate and one, as I\nthought, on his retreat. He bade me go and leave the door wide open. \"None of your keyholes for\nme, sonny,\" he said, and I left them together and retired into the bar. For a long time, though I certainly did my best to listen, I could hear\nnothing but a low gabbling; but at last the voices began to grow higher,\nand I could pick up a word or two, mostly oaths, from the captain. \"No, no, no, no; and an end of it!\" he cried once. And again, \"If it\ncomes to swinging, swing all, say I.\" Then all of a sudden there was a tremendous explosion of oaths and other\nnoises; the chair and table went over in a lump, a clash of steel\nfollowed, and then a cry of pain, and the next instant I saw Black Dog\nin full flight, and the captain hotly pursuing, both with drawn\ncutlasses, and the former streaming blood from the left shoulder. Just\nat the door the captain aimed at the fugitive one last tremendous cut,\nwhich would certainly have split him to the chin had it not been\nintercepted by our big signboard of \"Admiral Benbow.\" You may see the\nnotch on the lower side of the frame to this day. That blow was the last of the battle. Once out upon the road, Black Dog,\nin spite of his wound, showed a wonderful clean pair of heels, and\ndisappeared over the edge of the hill in half a minute. The captain, for\nhis part, stood staring at the signboard like a bewildered man. Then he\npassed his hand over his eyes several times, and at last turned back\ninto the house. \"Jim,\" says he, \"rum\"; and as he spoke he reeled a little, and caught\nhimself with one hand against the wall. \"Are you hurt?\" cried I. \"Rum,\" he repeated. \"I must get away from here. Rum! rum!\" I ran to fetch it, but I was quite unsteadied by all that had fallen\nout, and I broke one glass and fouled the tap, and while I was still\ngetting in my own way, I heard a loud fall in the parlor, and, running\nin, beheld the captain lying full length upon the floor. At the same\ninstant my mother, alarmed by the cries and fighting, came running\ndownstairs to help me. Between us we raised his head. He was breathing\nvery loud and hard, but his eyes were closed and his face was a horrible\ncolor. \"Dear, deary me!\" cried my mother, \"what a disgrace upon the house! And\nyour poor father sick!\" In the meantime we had no idea what to do to help the captain, nor any\nother thought but that he had got his death-hurt in the scuffle with the\nstranger. I got the rum, to be sure, and tried to put it down his\nthroat, but his teeth were tightly shut, and his jaws as strong as iron. It was a happy relief for us when the door opened and Doctor Livesey\ncame in, on his visit to my father. \"Oh, doctor,\" we cried, \"what shall we do? Where is he wounded?\" \"Wounded? A fiddlestick's end!\" said the doctor. \"No more wounded than\nyou or I. The man has had a stroke, as I warned him. Now, Mrs. Hawkins,\njust you run upstairs to your husband and tell him, if possible, nothing\nabout it. For my part, I must do my best to save this fellow's trebly\nworthless life; and, Jim, you get me a basin.\" When I got back with the basin the doctor had already ripped up the\ncaptain's sleeve and exposed his great sinewy arm. It was tattooed in\nseveral places. \"Here's luck,\" \"A fair wind,\" and \"Billy Bones, his\nfancy,\" were very neatly and clearly executed on the forearm; and up\nnear the shoulder there was a sketch of a gallows and a man hanging from\nit--done, as I thought, with great spirit. \"Prophetic,\" said the doctor, touching this picture with his finger. \"And now, Master Billy Bones, if that be your name, we'll have a look at\nthe color of your blood. Jim,\" he said, \"are you afraid of blood?\" \"No, sir,\" said I. \"Well, then,\" said he, \"you hold the basin,\" and with that he took his\nlancet and opened a vein. A great deal of blood was taken before the captain opened his eyes and\nlooked mistily about him. First he recognized the doctor with an\nunmistakable frown; then his glance fell upon me, and he looked\nrelieved. But suddenly his color changed, and he tried to raise himself,\ncrying:\n\n\"Where's Black Dog?\" \"There is no Black Dog here,\" said the doctor, \"except what you have on\nyour own back. You have been drinking rum; you have had a stroke\nprecisely as I told you; and I have just, very much against my own will,\ndragged you headforemost out of the grave. Now, Mr. Bones--\"\n\n\"That's not my name,\" he interrupted. \"Much I care,\" returned the doctor. \"It's the name of a buccaneer of my\nacquaintance, and I call you by it for the sake of shortness, and what I\nhave to say to you is this: One glass of rum won't kill you, but if you\ntake one you'll take another and another, and I stake my wig if you\ndon't break off short, you'll die--do you understand that?--die, and go\nto your own place, like the man in the Bible. Come, now, make an\neffort. I'll help you to your bed for once.\" Between us, with much trouble, we managed to hoist him upstairs, and\nlaid him on his bed, where his head fell back on the pillow, as if he\nwere almost fainting. \"Now, mind you,\" said the doctor, \"I clear my conscience--the name of\nrum for you is death.\" And with that he went off to see my father, taking me with him by the\narm. \"This is nothing,\" he said, as soon as he had closed the door. \"I have\ndrawn blood enough to keep him quiet awhile; he should lie for a week\nwhere he is--that is the best thing for him and you, but another stroke\nwould settle him.\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-05, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-08 The user is reading a book]\n<User> THE BLACK SPOT\n\n\nAbout noon I stopped at the captain's door with some cooling drinks and\nmedicines. He was lying very much as we had left him, only a little\nhigher, and he seemed both weak and excited. \"Jim,\" he said, \"you're the only one here that's worth anything; and you\nknow I've always been good to you. Never a month but I've given you a\nsilver fourpenny for yourself. And now you see, mate, I'm pretty low,\nand deserted by all; and, Jim, you'll bring me one noggin of rum, now,\nwon't you, matey?\" \"The doctor--\" I began. But he broke in, cursing the doctor in a feeble voice, but heartily. \"Doctors is all swabs,\" he said; \"and that doctor there, why, what do he\nknow about seafaring men? I been in places hot as pitch, and mates\ndropping round with yellow jack, and the blessed land a-heaving like the\nsea with earthquakes--what do the doctor know of lands like that?--and I\nlived on rum, I tell you. It's been meat and drink, and man and wife, to\nme; and if I am not to have my rum now I'm a poor old hulk on a lee\nshore. My blood'll be on you, Jim, and that doctor swab,\" and he ran on\nagain for a while with curses. \"Look, Jim, how my fingers fidges,\" he\ncontinued in the pleading tone. \"I can't keep 'em still, not I. I\nhaven't had a drop this blessed day. That doctor's a fool, I tell you. If I don't have a drain o' rum, Jim, I'll have the horrors; I seen some\non 'em already. I seen old Flint in the corner there, behind you; as\nplain as print, I seen him; and if I get the horrors, I'm a man that has\nlived rough, and I'll raise Cain. Your doctor hisself said one glass\nwouldn't hurt me. I'll give you a golden guinea for a noggin, Jim.\" He was growing more and more excited, and this alarmed me, for my\nfather, who was very low that day, needed quiet; besides, I was\nreassured by the doctor's words, now quoted to me, and rather offended\nby the offer of a bribe. \"I want none of your money,\" said I, \"but what you owe my father. I'll\nget you one glass and no more.\" When I brought it to him he seized it greedily and drank it out. \"Ay, ay,\" said he, \"that's some better, sure enough. And now, matey, did\nthat doctor say how long I was to lie here in this old berth?\" \"A week at least,\" said I. \"Thunder!\" he cried. \"A week! I can't do that; they'd have the black\nspot on me by then. The lubbers is going about to get the wind of me\nthis blessed moment; lubbers as couldn't keep what they got, and want to\nnail what is another's. Is that seamanly behavior, now, I want to know? But I'm a saving soul. I never wasted good money of mine, nor lost it\nneither; and I'll trick 'em again. I'm not afraid on 'em. I'll shake out\nanother reef, matey, and daddle 'em again.\" As he was thus speaking, he had risen from bed with great difficulty,\nholding to my shoulder with a grip that almost made me cry out, and\nmoving his legs like so much dead weight. His words, spirited as they\nwere in meaning, contrasted sadly with the weakness of the voice in\nwhich they were uttered. He paused when he had got into a sitting\nposition on the edge. \"That doctor's done me,\" he murmured. \"My ears is singing. Lay me back.\" Before I could do much to help him he had fallen back again to his\nformer place, where he lay for a while silent. \"Jim,\" he said, at length, \"you saw that seafaring man to-day?\" \"Black Dog?\" I asked. \"Ah! Black Dog,\" said he. \"_He's_ a bad 'un; but there's worse that put\nhim on. Now, if I can't get away nohow, and they tip me the black spot,\nmind you, it's my old sea-chest they're after; you get on a horse--you\ncan, can't you? Well, then, you get on a horse and go to--well, yes, I\nwill!--to that eternal doctor swab, and tell him to pipe all\nhands--magistrates and sich--and he'll lay 'em aboard at the 'Admiral\nBenbow'--all old Flint's crew, man and boy, all on 'em that's left. I\nwas first mate, I was, old Flint's first mate, and I'm the on'y one as\nknows the place. He gave it me at Savannah, when he lay a-dying, like as\nif I was to now, you see. But you won't peach unless they get the black\nspot on me, or unless you see that Black Dog again, or a seafaring man\nwith one leg, Jim--him above all.\" \"But what is the black spot, captain?\" I asked. \"That's a summons, mate. I'll tell you if they get that. But you keep\nyour weather-eye open, Jim, and I'll share with you equals, upon my\nhonor.\" He wandered a little longer, his voice growing weaker; but soon after I\nhad given him his medicine, which he took like a child, with the remark,\n\"If ever a seaman wanted drugs, it's me,\" he fell at last into a heavy,\nswoon-like sleep, in which I left him. What I should have done had all\ngone well I do not know. Probably I should have told the whole story to\nthe doctor; for I was in mortal fear lest the captain should repent of\nhis confessions and make an end of me. But as things fell out, my poor\nfather died quite suddenly that evening, which put all other matters on\none side. Our natural distress, the visits of the neighbors, the\narranging of the funeral, and all the work of the inn to be carried on\nin the meanwhile, kept me so busy that I had scarcely time to think of\nthe captain, far less to be afraid of him. He got downstairs next morning, to be sure, and had his meals as usual,\nthough he ate little, and had more, I am afraid, than his usual supply\nof rum, for he helped himself out of the bar, scowling and blowing\nthrough his nose, and no one dared to cross him. On the night before the\nfuneral he was as drunk as ever; and it was shocking, in that house of\nmourning, to hear him singing away his ugly old sea-song; but, weak as\nhe was, we were all in fear of death for him, and the doctor was\nsuddenly taken up with a case many miles away, and was never near the\nhouse after my father's death. I have said the captain was weak, and\nindeed he seemed rather to grow weaker than to regain his strength. He\nclambered up and down stairs, and went from the parlor to the bar and\nback again, and sometimes put his nose out of doors to smell the sea,\nholding on to the walls as he went for support, and breathing hard and\nfast, like a man on a steep mountain. He never particularly addressed\nme, and it is my belief he had as good as forgotten his confidences; but\nhis temper was more flighty, and, allowing for his bodily weakness, more\nviolent than ever. He had an alarming way now when he was drunk of\ndrawing his cutlass and laying it bare before him on the table. But,\nwith all that, he minded people less, and seemed shut up in his own\nthoughts and rather wandering. Once, for instance, to our extreme\nwonder, he piped up to a different air, a kind of country love-song,\nthat he must have learned in his youth before he had begun to follow the\nsea. So things passed until the day after the funeral and about three o'clock\nof a bitter, foggy, frosty afternoon, I was standing at the door for a\nmoment, full of sad thoughts about my father, when I saw someone drawing\nslowly near along the road. He was plainly blind, for he tapped before\nhim with a stick, and wore a great green shade over his eyes and nose;\nand he was hunched, as if with age or weakness, and wore a huge old\ntattered sea-cloak with a hood that made him appear positively deformed. I never saw in my life a more dreadful-looking figure. He stopped a\nlittle from the inn and, raising his voice in an odd sing-song,\naddressed the air in front of him:\n\n\"Will any kind friend inform a poor blind man, who has lost the precious\nsight of his eyes in the gracious defense of his native country,\nEngland, and God bless King George!--where or in what part of this\ncountry he may now be?\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-08, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-10 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"You are at the 'Admiral Benbow,' Black Hill Cove, my good man,\" said I. \"I hear a voice,\" said he, \"a young voice. Will you give me your hand,\nmy kind young friend, and lead me in?\" I held out my hand, and the horrible, soft-spoken, eyeless creature\ngripped it in a moment like a vise. I was so much startled that I\nstruggled to withdraw, but the blind man pulled me close up to him with\na single action of his arm. \"Now, boy,\" he said, \"take me in to the captain.\" \"Sir,\" said I, \"upon my word I dare not.\" \"Oh,\" he sneered, \"that's it! Take me in straight, or I'll break your\narm.\" He gave it, as he spoke, a wrench that made me cry out. \"Sir,\" said I, \"it is for yourself I mean. The captain is not what he\nused to be. He sits with a drawn cutlass. Another gentleman--\"\n\n\"Come, now, march,\" interrupted he, and I never heard a voice so cruel,\nand cold, and ugly as that blind man's. It cowed me more than the pain,\nand I began to obey him at once, walking straight in at the door and\ntowards the parlor, where the sick old buccaneer was sitting, dazed with\nrum. The blind man clung close to me, holding me in one iron fist, and\nleaning almost more of his weight on me than I could carry. \"Lead me\nstraight up to him, and when I'm in view, cry out, 'Here's a friend for\nyou, Bill.' If you don't, I'll do this,\" and with that he gave me a\ntwitch that I thought would have made me faint. Between this and that, I\nwas so utterly terrified by the blind beggar that I forgot my terror of\nthe captain, and as I opened the parlor door, cried out the words he had\nordered in a trembling voice. The poor captain raised his eyes, and at one look the rum went out of\nhim and left him staring sober. The expression of his face was not so\nmuch of terror as of mortal sickness. He made a movement to rise, but I\ndo not believe he had enough force left in his body. \"Now, Bill, sit where you are,\" said the beggar. \"If I can't see, I can\nhear a finger stirring. Business is business. Hold out your left hand. Boy, take his left hand by the wrist and bring it near to my right.\" We both obeyed him to the letter, and I saw him pass something from the\nhollow of the hand that held his stick into the palm of the captain's,\nwhich closed upon it instantly. \"And now that's done,\" said the blind man, and at the words he suddenly\nleft hold of me, and with incredible accuracy and nimbleness, skipped\nout of the parlor and into the road, where, as I stood motionless, I\ncould hear his stick go tap-tap-tapping into the distance. It was some time before either I or the captain seemed to gather our\nsenses; but at length, and about the same moment, I released his wrist,\nwhich I was still holding, and he drew in his hand, and looked sharply\ninto the palm. \"Ten o'clock!\" he cried. \"Six hours! We'll do them yet!\" and he sprang\nto his feet. Even as he did so, he reeled, put his hand to his throat, stood swaying\nfor a moment, and then, with a peculiar sound, fell from his whole\nheight face foremost to the floor. I ran to him at once, calling to my mother. But haste was all in vain. The captain had been struck dead by thundering apoplexy. It is a curious\nthing to understand, for I had certainly never liked the man, though of\nlate I had begun to pity him, but as soon as I saw that he was dead I\nburst into a flood of tears. It was the second death I had known, and\nthe sorrow of the first was still fresh in my heart. THE SEA-CHEST\n\n\nI lost no time, of course, in telling my mother all that I knew, and\nperhaps should have told her long before, and we saw ourselves at once\nin a difficult and dangerous position. Some of the man's money--if he\nhad any--was certainly due to us, but it was not likely that our\ncaptain's shipmates, above all the two specimens seen by me--Black Dog\nand the blind beggar--would be inclined to give up their booty in\npayment of the dead man's debts. The captain's order to mount at once\nand ride for Doctor Livesey would have left my mother alone and\nunprotected, which was not to be thought of. Indeed, it seemed\nimpossible for either of us to remain much longer in the house; the fall\nof coals in the kitchen grate, the very ticking of the clock, filled us\nwith alarm. The neighborhood, to our ears, seemed haunted by approaching\nfootsteps; and what between the dead body of the captain on the parlor\nfloor and the thought of that detestable blind beggar hovering near at\nhand and ready to return, there were moments when, as the saying goes, I\njumped in my skin for terror. Something must speedily be resolved upon,\nand it occurred to us at last to go forth together and seek help in the\nneighboring hamlet. No sooner said than done. Bareheaded as we were, we\nran out at once in the gathering evening and the frosty fog. The hamlet lay not many hundred yards away, though out of view, on the\nother side of the next cove; and what greatly encouraged me, it was in\nan opposite direction from that whence the blind man had made his\nappearance, and whither he had presumably returned. We were not many\nminutes on the road, though we sometimes stopped to lay hold of each\nother and hearken. But there was no unusual sound--nothing but the low\nwash of the ripple and the croaking of the inmates of the wood. It was already candle-light when we reached the hamlet, and I shall\nnever forget how much I was cheered to see the yellow shine in doors and\nwindows; but that, as it proved, was the best of the help we were likely\nto get in that quarter. For--you would have thought men would have been\nashamed of themselves--no soul would consent to return with us to the\n\"Admiral Benbow.\" The more we told of our troubles, the more--man,\nwoman, and child--they clung to the shelter of their houses. The name of\nCaptain Flint, though it was strange to me, was well enough known to\nsome there, and carried a great weight of terror. Some of the men who\nhad been to field-work on the far side of the \"Admiral Benbow\"\nremembered, besides, to have seen several strangers on the road, and,\ntaking them to be smugglers, to have bolted away; and one at least had\nseen a little lugger in what we called Kitt's Hole. For that matter,\nanyone who was a comrade of the captain's was enough to frighten them to\ndeath. And the short and the long of the matter was, that while we could\nget several who were willing enough to ride to Doctor Livesey's, which\nlay in another direction, not one would help us to defend the inn. They say cowardice is infectious; but then argument is, on the other\nhand, a great emboldener; and so when each had said his say, my mother\nmade them a speech. She would not, she declared, lose money that\nbelonged to her fatherless boy. \"If none of the rest of you dare,\" she\nsaid, \"Jim and I dare. Back we will go, the way we came, and small\nthanks to you big, hulking, chicken-hearted men! We'll have that chest\nopen, if we die for it. And I'll thank you for that bag, Mrs. Crossley,\nto bring back our lawful money in.\" Of course I said I would go with my mother; and of course they all cried\nout at our foolhardiness; but even then not a man would go along with\nus. All they would do was to give me a loaded pistol, lest we were\nattacked; and to promise to have horses ready saddled, in case we were\npursued on our return; while one lad was to ride forward to the doctor's\nin search of armed assistance. My heart was beating fiercely when we two set forth in the cold night\nupon this dangerous venture. A full moon was beginning to rise and\npeered redly through the upper edges of the fog, and this increased our\nhaste, for it was plain, before we came forth again, that all would be\nbright as day, and our departure exposed to the eyes of any watchers. We\nslipped along the hedges, noiseless and swift, nor did we see or hear\nanything to increase our terrors till, to our huge relief, the door of\nthe \"Admiral Benbow\" had closed behind us.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-10, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-13 The user is reading a book]\n<User> I slipped the bolt at once, and we stood and panted for a moment in the\ndark, alone in the house with the dead captain's body. Then my mother\ngot a candle in the bar, and, holding each other's hands, we advanced\ninto the parlor. He lay as we had left him, on his back, with his eyes\nopen, and one arm stretched out. \"Draw down the blind, Jim,\" whispered my mother; \"they might come and\nwatch outside. And now,\" said she, when I had done so, \"we have to get\nthe key off _that_; and who's to touch it, I should like to know!\" and\nshe gave a kind of sob as she said the words. I went down on my knees at once. On the floor close to his hand there\nwas a little round of paper, blackened on one side. I could not doubt\nthat this was the _black spot_; and, taking it up, I found written on\nthe other side, in a very good, clear hand, this short message, \"You\nhave till ten to-night.\" \"He had till ten, mother,\" said I; and, just as I said it, our old clock\nbegan striking. This sudden noise startled us shockingly; but the news\nwas good, for it was only six. \"Now, Jim,\" she said, \"that key!\" I felt in his pockets, one after another. A few small coins, a thimble,\nand some thread and big needles, a piece of pig-tail tobacco bitten away\nat the end, his gully with the crooked handle, a pocket compass, and a\ntinder-box, were all that they contained, and I began to despair. \"Perhaps it's round his neck,\" suggested my mother. Overcoming a strong repugnance, I tore open his shirt at the neck, and\nthere, sure enough, hanging to a bit of tarry string, which I cut with\nhis own gully, we found the key. At this triumph we were filled with\nhope, and hurried upstairs, without delay, to the little room where he\nhad slept so long, and where his box had stood since the day of his\narrival. It was like any other seaman's chest on the outside, the initial \"B\"\nburned on the top of it with a hot iron, and the corners somewhat\nsmashed and broken as by long, rough usage. \"Give me the key,\" said my mother, and though the lock was very stiff,\nshe had turned it and thrown back the lid in a twinkling. A strong smell of tobacco and tar arose from the interior, but nothing\nwas to be seen on the top except a suit of very good clothes, carefully\nbrushed and folded. They had never been worn, my mother said. Under that\nthe miscellany began--a quadrant, a tin cannikin, several sticks of\ntobacco, two brace of very handsome pistols, a piece of bar silver, an\nold Spanish watch, and some other trinkets of little value and mostly of\nforeign make, a pair of compasses mounted with brass, and five or six\ncurious West Indian shells. I have often wondered since why he should\nhave carried about these shells with him in his wandering, guilty, and\nhunted life. In the meantime we found nothing of any value but the silver and the\ntrinkets, and neither of these were in our way. Underneath there was an\nold boat-cloak, whitened with sea-salt on many a harbor-bar. My mother\npulled it up with impatience, and there lay before us, the last things\nin the chest, a bundle tied up in oilcloth, and looking like papers, and\na canvas bag that gave forth, at a touch, the jingle of gold. \"I'll show those rogues that I'm an honest woman,\" said my mother. \"I'll\nhave my dues and not a farthing over. Hold Mrs. Crossley's bag.\" And she\nbegan to count over the amount of the captain's score from the sailor's\nbag into the one that I was holding. It was a long, difficult business, for the coins were of all countries\nand sizes--doubloons, and louis-d'ors, and guineas, and pieces of eight,\nand I know not what besides, all shaken together at random. The guineas,\ntoo, were about the scarcest, and it was with these only that my mother\nknew how to make her count. When we were about halfway through, I suddenly put my hand upon her arm,\nfor I had heard in the silent, frosty air, a sound that brought my heart\ninto my mouth--the tap-tapping of the blind man's stick upon the frozen\nroad. It drew nearer and nearer, while we sat holding our breath. Then\nit struck sharp on the inn door, and then we could hear the handle being\nturned, and the bolt rattling as the wretched being tried to enter; and\nthen there was a long time of silence both within and without. At last\nthe tapping recommenced, and to our indescribable joy and gratitude,\ndied slowly away again until it ceased to be heard. \"Mother,\" said I, \"take the whole and let's be going\"; for I was sure\nthe bolted door must have seemed suspicious, and would bring the whole\nhornet's nest about our ears; though how thankful I was that I had\nbolted it, none could tell who had never met that terrible blind man. But my mother, frightened as she was, would not consent to take a\nfraction more than was due to her, and was obstinately unwilling to be\ncontent with less. It was not yet seven, she said, by a long way; she\nknew her rights and she would have them; and she was still arguing with\nme, when a little low whistle sounded a good way off upon the hill. That\nwas enough, and more than enough, for both of us. \"I'll take what I have,\" she said, jumping to her feet. \"And I'll take this to square the count,\" said I, picking up the oilskin\npacket. Next moment we were both groping downstairs, leaving the candle by the\nempty chest; and the next we had opened the door and were in full\nretreat. We had not started a moment too soon. The fog was rapidly\ndispersing; already the moon shone quite clear on the high ground on\neither side, and it was only in the exact bottom of the dell and round\nthe tavern door that a thin veil still hung unbroken to conceal the\nfirst steps of our escape. Far less than halfway to the hamlet, very\nlittle beyond the bottom of the hill, we must come forth into the\nmoonlight. Nor was this all; for the sound of several footsteps running\ncame already to our ears, and as we looked back in their direction, a\nlight, tossing to and fro, and still rapidly advancing, showed that one\nof the new-comers carried a lantern. \"My dear,\" said my mother, suddenly, \"take the money and run on. I am\ngoing to faint.\" This was certainly the end for both of us, I thought. How I cursed the\ncowardice of the neighbors! how I blamed my poor mother for her honesty\nand her greed, for her past foolhardiness and present weakness! We were\njust at the little bridge, by good fortune, and I helped her, tottering\nas she was, to the edge of the bank, where, sure enough, she gave a sigh\nand fell on my shoulder. I do not know how I found the strength to do it\nall, and I am afraid it was roughly done, but I managed to drag her down\nthe bank and a little way under the arch. Farther I could not move her,\nfor the bridge was too low to let me do more than crawl below it. So\nthere we had to stay--my mother almost entirely exposed, and both of us\nwithin earshot of the inn. THE LAST OF THE BLIND MAN\n\n\nMy curiosity, in a sense, was stronger than my fear; for I could not\nremain where I was, but crept back to the bank again, whence, sheltering\nmy head behind a bush of broom, I might command the road before our\ndoor. I was scarcely in position ere my enemies began to arrive, seven\nor eight of them, running hard, their feet beating out of time along the\nroad, and the man with the lantern some paces in front. Three men ran\ntogether, hand in hand; and I made out, even through the mist, that the\nmiddle man of this trio was the blind beggar. The next moment his voice\nshowed me that I was right. \"Down with the door!\" he cried. \"Ay, ay, sir!\" answered two or three; and a rush was made upon the\n\"Admiral Benbow,\" the lantern-bearer following; and then I could see\nthem pause, and hear speeches passed in a lower key, as if they were\nsurprised to find the door open. But the pause was brief, for the blind\nman again issued his commands. His voice sounded louder and higher, as\nif he were afire with eagerness and rage.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-13, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-14 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"In, in, in!\" he shouted, and cursed them for their delay. Four or five of them obeyed at once, two remaining on the road with the\nformidable beggar. There was a pause, then a cry of surprise, and then\na voice shouting from the house:\n\n\"Bill's dead!\" But the blind man swore at them again for their delay. \"Search him, some of you shirking lubbers, and the rest of you aloft and\nget the chest,\" he cried. I could hear their feet rattling up our old stairs, so that the house\nmust have shook with it. Promptly afterward fresh sounds of astonishment\narose; the window of the captain's room was thrown open with a slam and\na jingle of broken glass, and a man leaned out into the moonlight, head\nand shoulders, and addressed the blind beggar on the road below him. [Illustration: _\"Pew!\" he cried, \"they've been before us\"_ (Page 34)]\n\n\"Pew!\" he cried, \"they've been before us. Someone's turned the chest out\nalow and aloft.\" \"Is it there?\" roared Pew. \"The money's there.\" The blind man cursed the money. \"Flint's fist, I mean,\" he cried. \"We don't see it here, nohow,\" returned the man. \"Here, you below there, is it on Bill?\" cried the blind man again. At that, another fellow, probably he who had remained below to search\nthe captain's body, came to the door of the inn. \"Bill's been overhauled\na'ready,\" said he, \"nothin' left.\" \"It's these people of the inn--it's that boy. I wish I had put his eyes\nout!\" cried the blind man, Pew. \"They were here no time ago--they had\nthe door bolted when I tried it. Scatter, lads, and find 'em.\" \"Sure enough, they left their glim here,\" said the fellow from the\nwindow. \"Scatter and find 'em! Rout the house out!\" reiterated Pew, striking\nwith his stick upon the road. Then there followed a great to-do through all our old inn, heavy feet\npounding to and fro, furniture all thrown over, doors kicked in, until\nthe very rocks re-echoed, and the men came out again, one after another,\non the road, and declared that we were nowhere to be found. And just\nthen the same whistle that had alarmed my mother and myself over the\ndead captain's money was once more clearly audible through the night,\nbut this time twice repeated. I had thought it to be the blind man's\ntrumpet, so to speak, summoning his crew to the assault; but I now found\nthat it was a signal from the hillside toward the hamlet, and, from its\neffect upon the buccaneers, a signal to warn them of approaching danger. \"There's Dirk again,\" said one. \"Twice! We'll have to budge, mates.\" \"Budge, you skulk!\" cried Pew. \"Dirk was a fool and a coward from the\nfirst--you wouldn't mind him. They must be close by; they can't be far;\nyou have your hands on it. Scatter and look for them, dogs. Oh, shiver\nmy soul,\" he cried, \"if I had eyes!\" This appeal seemed to produce some effect, for two of the fellows began\nto look here and there among the lumber, but half-heartedly, I thought,\nand with half an eye to their own danger all the time, while the rest\nstood irresolute on the road. \"You have your hands on thousands, you fools, and you hang a leg! You'd\nbe as rich as kings if you could find it, and you know it's here, and\nyou stand there skulking. There wasn't one of you dared face Bill, and I\ndid it--a blind man! And I'm to lose my chance for you! I'm to be a\npoor, crawling beggar, sponging for rum, when I might be rolling in a\ncoach! If you had the pluck of a weevil in a biscuit, you would catch\nthem still.\" \"Hang it, Pew, we've got the doubloons!\" grumbled one. \"They might have hid the blessed thing,\" said another. \"Take the\nGeorges, Pew, and don't stand here squalling.\" Squalling was the word for it; Pew's anger rose so high at these\nobjections; till at last, his passion completely taking the upper hand,\nhe struck at them right and left in his blindness, and his stick sounded\nheavily on more than one. These, in their turn, cursed back at the blind miscreant, threatened him\nin horrid terms, and tried in vain to catch the stick and wrest it from\nhis grasp. This quarrel was the saving of us; for while it was still raging,\nanother sound came from the top of the hill on the side of the\nhamlet--the tramp of horses galloping. Almost at the same time a\npistol-shot, flash, and report came from the hedge side. And that was\nplainly the last signal of danger, for the buccaneers turned at once and\nran, separating in every direction, one seaward along the cove, one\nslant across the hill, and so on, so that in half a minute not a sign of\nthem remained but Pew. Him they had deserted, whether in sheer panic or\nout of revenge for his ill words and blows, I know not; but there he\nremained behind, tapping up and down the road in a frenzy, and groping\nand calling for his comrades. Finally he took the wrong turn, and ran a\nfew steps past me, towards the hamlet, crying:\n\n\"Johnny, Black Dog, Dirk,\" and other names, \"you won't leave old Pew,\nmates--not old Pew?\" Just then the noise of horses topped the rise, and four or five riders\ncame in sight in the moonlight, and swept at full gallop down the slope. At this Pew saw his error, turned with a scream, and ran straight for\nthe ditch, into which he rolled. But he was on his feet again in a\nsecond, and made another dash, now utterly bewildered, right under the\nnearest of the coming horses. The rider tried to save him, but in vain. Down went Pew with a cry that\nrang high into the night, and the four hoofs trampled and spurned him\nand passed by. He fell on his side, then gently collapsed upon his face,\nand moved no more. I leaped to my feet and hailed the riders. They were pulling up, at any\nrate, horrified at the accident, and I soon saw what they were. One,\ntailing out behind the rest, was a lad that had gone from the hamlet to\nDoctor Livesey's; the rest were revenue officers, whom he had met by the\nway, and with whom he had had the intelligence to return at once. Some\nnews of the lugger in Kitt's Hole had found its way to Supervisor Dance,\nand set him forth that night in our direction, and to that circumstance\nmy mother and I owed our preservation from death. Pew was dead, stone dead. As for my mother, when we had carried her up\nto the hamlet, a little cold water and salts very soon brought her back\nagain, and she was none the worse for her terror, though she still\ncontinued to deplore the balance of the money. In the meantime the supervisor rode on, as fast as he could, to Kitt's\nHole; but his men had to dismount and grope down the dingle, leading,\nand sometimes supporting, their horses, and in continual fear of\nambushes; so it was no great matter for surprise that when they got\ndown to the Hole the lugger was already under way, though still close\nin. He hailed her. A voice replied, telling him to keep out of the\nmoonlight, or he would get some lead in him, and at the same time a\nbullet whistled close by his arm. Soon after, the lugger doubled the\npoint and disappeared. Mr. Dance stood there, as he said, \"like a fish\nout of water,\" and all he could do was to dispatch a man to B---- to\nwarn the cutter. \"And that,\" said he, \"is just about as good as nothing. They've got off clean, and there's an end. Only,\" he added, \"I'm glad I\ntrod on Master Pew's corns\"; for by this time he had heard my story. I went back with him to the \"Admiral Benbow,\" and you cannot imagine a\nhouse in such a state of smash; the very clock had been thrown down by\nthese fellows in their furious hunt after my mother and myself; and\nthough nothing had actually been taken away except the captain's\nmoney-bag and a little silver from the till, I could see at once that we\nwere ruined. Mr. Dance could make nothing of the scene. \"They got the money, you say? Well, then, Hawkins, what in fortune were\nthey after?\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-14, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-15 The user is reading a book]\n<User> More money, I suppose?\" \"No, sir; not money, I think,\" replied I. \"In fact, sir, I believe I\nhave the thing in my breast-pocket; and, to tell you the truth, I should\nlike to get it put in safety.\" \"To be sure, boy; quite right,\" said he. \"I'll take it, if you like.\" \"I thought, perhaps, Doctor Livesey--\" I began. \"Perfectly right,\" he interrupted, very cheerily, \"perfectly right--a\ngentleman and a magistrate. And, now I come to think of it, I might as\nwell ride round there myself and report to him or squire. Master Pew's\ndead, when all's done; not that I regret it, but he's dead, you see, and\npeople will make it out against an officer of his Majesty's revenue, if\nmake it out they can. Now, I'll tell you, Hawkins, if you like, I'll\ntake you along.\" I thanked him heartily for the offer, and we walked back to the hamlet\nwhere the horses were. By the time I had told mother of my purpose they\nwere all in the saddle. \"Dogger,\" said Mr. Dance, \"you have a good horse; take up this lad\nbehind you.\" As soon as I was mounted, holding on to Dogger's belt, the supervisor\ngave the word, and the party struck out at a bouncing trot on the road\nto Doctor Livesey's house. [Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CAPTAIN'S PAPERS\n\n\nWe rode hard all the way, till we drew up before Doctor Livesey's door. The house was all dark to the front. Mr. Dance told me to jump down and knock, and Dogger gave me a stirrup\nto descend by. The door was opened almost at once by the maid. \"Is Doctor Livesey in?\" I asked. \"No,\" she said. He had come home in the afternoon, but had gone up to\nthe Hall to dine and pass the evening with the squire. \"So there we go, boys,\" said Mr. Dance. This time, as the distance was short, I did not mount, but ran with\nDogger's stirrup-leather to the lodge gates, and up the long, leafless,\nmoonlit avenue to where the white line of the Hall buildings looked on\neither hand on great old gardens. Here Mr. Dance dismounted and, taking\nme along with him, was admitted at a word into the house. The servant led us down a matted passage, and showed us at the end into\na great library, all lined with bookcases and busts upon top of them,\nwhere the squire and Doctor Livesey sat, pipe in hand, on either side of\na bright fire. I had never seen the squire so near at hand. He was a tall man, over six\nfeet high, and broad in proportion, and he had a bluff, rough-and-ready\nface, all roughened and reddened and lined in his long travels. His\neyebrows were very black, and moved readily, and this gave him a look of\nsome temper, not bad, you would say, but quick and high. \"Come in, Mr. Dance,\" said he, very stately and condescending. \"Good evening, Dance,\" said the doctor, with a nod. \"And good evening to\nyou, friend Jim. What good wind brings you here?\" The supervisor stood up straight and stiff, and told his story like a\nlesson; and you should have seen how the two gentlemen leaned forward\nand looked at each other, and forgot to smoke in their surprise and\ninterest. When they heard how my mother went back to the inn, Doctor\nLivesey fairly slapped his thigh, and the squire cried \"Bravo!\" and\nbroke his long pipe against the grate. Long before it was done, Mr.\nTrelawney (that, you will remember, was the squire's name) had got up\nfrom his seat, and was striding about the room, and the doctor, as if to\nhear the better, had taken off his powdered wig, and sat there, looking\nvery strange indeed with his own close-cropped, black poll. At last Mr. Dance finished the story. \"Mr. Dance,\" said the squire, \"you are a very noble fellow. And as for\nriding down that black, atrocious miscreant, I regard it as an act of\nvirtue, sir, like stamping on a cockroach. This lad Hawkins is a trump,\nI perceive. Hawkins, will you ring that bell? Mr. Dance must have some\nale.\" \"And so, Jim,\" said the doctor, \"you have the thing that they were\nafter, have you?\" \"Here it is, sir,\" said I, and gave him the oilskin packet. The doctor looked it all over, as if his fingers were itching to open\nit; but, instead of doing that, he put it quietly in the pocket of his\ncoat. \"Squire,\" said he, \"when Dance has had his ale he must, of course, be\noff on his Majesty's service; but I mean to keep Jim Hawkins here to\nsleep at my house, and, with your permission, I propose we should have\nup the cold pie, and let him sup.\" \"As you will, Livesey,\" said the squire; \"Hawkins has earned better than\ncold pie.\" So a big pigeon pie was brought in and put on a side-table, and I made a\nhearty supper, for I was as hungry as a hawk, while Mr. Dance was\nfurther complimented, and at last dismissed. \"And now, squire,\" said the doctor. \"And now, Livesey,\" said the squire, in the same breath. \"One at a time, one at a time,\" laughed Doctor Livesey. \"You have heard\nof this Flint, I suppose?\" \"Heard of him!\" cried the squire. \"Heard of him, you say! He was the\nblood-thirstiest buccaneer that sailed. Blackbeard was a child to Flint. The Spaniards were so prodigiously afraid of him that, I tell you, sir,\nI was sometimes proud he was an Englishman. I've seen his topsails with\nthese eyes, off Trinidad, and the cowardly son of a rum-puncheon that I\nsailed with put back--put back, sir, into Port of Spain.\" \"Well, I've heard of him myself, in England,\" said the doctor. \"But the\npoint is, had he money?\" \"Money!\" cried the squire. \"Have you heard the story? What were these\nvillains after but money? What do they care for but money? For what\nwould they risk their rascal carcasses but money?\" \"That we shall soon know,\" replied the doctor. \"But you are so\nconfoundedly hot-headed and exclamatory that I cannot get a word in. What I want to know is this: Supposing that I have here in my pocket\nsome clue to where Flint buried his treasure, will that treasure amount\nto much?\" \"Amount, sir!\" cried the squire. \"It will amount to this: If we have the\nclue you talk about, I'll fit out a ship in Bristol dock, and take you\nand Hawkins here along, and I'll have that treasure if I search a year.\" \"Very well,\" said the doctor. \"Now, then, if Jim is agreeable, we'll\nopen the packet,\" and he laid it before him on the table. The bundle was sewn together, and the doctor had to get out his\ninstrument case and cut the stitches with his medical scissors. It\ncontained two things--a book and a sealed paper. \"First of all we'll try the book,\" observed the doctor. The squire and I were both peering over his shoulder as he opened it,\nfor Doctor Livesey had kindly motioned me to come round from the\nside-table, where I had been eating, to enjoy the sport of the search. On the first page there were only some scraps of writing, such as a man\nwith a pen in his hand might make for idleness or practice. One was the\nsame as the tattoo mark, \"Billy Bones his fancy\"; then there was \"Mr. W.\nBones, mate,\" \"No more rum,\" \"Off Palm Key he got itt,\" and some other\nsnatches, mostly single words and unintelligible. I could not help\nwondering who it was that had \"got itt,\" and what \"itt\" was that he got. A knife in his back as like as not. \"Not much instruction there,\" said Doctor Livesey, as he passed on. The next ten or twelve pages were filled with a curious series of\nentries. There was a date at one end of the line and at the other a sum\nof money, as in common account-books; but instead of explanatory\nwriting, only a varying number of crosses between the two. On the 12th\nof June, 1745, for instance, a sum of seventy pounds had plainly become\ndue to someone, and there was nothing but six crosses to explain the\ncause.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-15, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-17 The user is reading a book]\n<User> In a few cases, to be sure, the name of a place would be added,\nas \"Offe Caraccas\"; or a mere entry of latitude and longitude, as \"62 \ndeg. 17' 20\", 19 deg. 2' 40\".\" The record lasted over nearly twenty years, the amount of the separate\nentries growing larger as time went on, and at the end a grand total had\nbeen made out, after five or six wrong additions, and these words\nappended, \"Bones, his pile.\" \"I can't make head or tail of this,\" said Doctor Livesey. \"The thing is as clear as noonday,\" cried the squire. \"This is the\nblack-hearted hound's account-book. These crosses stand for the names of\nships or towns that they sank or plundered. The sums are the scoundrel's\nshare, and where he feared an ambiguity, you see he added something\nclearer. 'Offe Caraccas,' now; you see, here was some unhappy vessel\nboarded off that coast. God help the poor souls that manned her--coral\nlong ago.\" \"Right!\" said the doctor. \"See what it is to be a traveler. Right! And\nthe amounts increase, you see, as he rose in rank.\" There was little else in the volume but a few bearings of places noted\nin the blank leaves toward the end, and a table for reducing French,\nEnglish, and Spanish moneys to a common value. \"Thrifty man!\" cried the doctor. \"He wasn't the one to be cheated.\" \"And now,\" said the squire, \"for the other.\" The paper had been sealed in several places with a thimble by way of\nseal; the very thimble, perhaps, that I had found in the captain's\npocket. The doctor opened the seals with great care, and there fell out\nthe map of an island, with latitude and longitude, soundings, names of\nhills and bays and inlets, and every particular that would be needed to\nbring a ship to a safe anchorage upon its shores. It was about nine\nmiles long and five across, shaped, you might say, like a fat dragon\nstanding up, and had two fine landlocked harbors, and a hill in the\ncenter part marked \"The Spy-glass.\" There were several additions of a\nlater date; but, above all, three crosses of red ink--two on the north\npart of the island, one in the southwest, and, beside this last, in the\nsame red ink, and in a small, neat hand, very different from the\ncaptain's tottery characters, these words: \"Bulk of treasure here.\" Over on the back the same hand had written this further information:\n\n    \"Tall tree, Spy-glass shoulder, bearing a point to the N. of N.N.E. \"Skeleton Island E.S.E. and by E.\n\n    \"Ten feet. \"The bar silver is in the north cache; you can find it by the trend\n    of the east hummock, ten fathoms south of the black crag with the\n    face on it. \"The arms are easy found, in the sandhill, N. point of north inlet\n    cape, bearing E. and a quarter N.\n\n                                                                 \"J. F.\"\n\nThat was all, but brief as it was, and, to me, incomprehensible, it\nfilled the squire and Doctor Livesey with delight. \"Livesey,\" said the squire, \"you will give up this wretched practice at\nonce. To-morrow I start for Bristol. In three weeks' time--three\nweeks!--two weeks--ten days--we'll have the best ship, sir, and the\nchoicest crew in England. Hawkins shall come as cabin-boy. You'll make a\nfamous cabin-boy, Hawkins. You, Livesey, are ship's doctor; I am\nadmiral. We'll take Redruth, Joyce, and Hunter. We'll have favorable\nwinds, a quick passage, and not the least difficulty in finding the\nspot, and money to eat--to roll in--to play duck and drake with ever\nafter.\" \"Trelawney,\" said the doctor, \"I'll go with you; and I'll go bail for\nit, so will Jim, and be a credit to the undertaking. There's only one\nman I'm afraid of.\" \"And who's that?\" cried the squire. \"Name the dog, sir!\" \"You,\" replied the doctor, \"for you cannot hold your tongue. We are not\nthe only men who know of this paper. These fellows who attacked the inn\nto-night--bold, desperate blades, for sure--and the rest who stayed\naboard that lugger, and more, I dare say, not far off, are, one and all,\nthrough thick and thin, bound that they'll get that money. We must none\nof us go alone till we get to sea. Jim and I shall stick together in the\nmeanwhile; you'll take Joyce and Hunter when you ride to Bristol, and,\nfrom first to last, not one of us must breathe a word of what we've\nfound.\" \"Livesey,\" returned the squire, \"you are always in the right of it. I'll\nbe as silent as the grave.\" PART II\n\nTHE SEA-COOK\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-17, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-17", "answer": "Jim Hawkins, Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, Admiral Benbow Inn, the captain, Billy Bones, Black Dog, Pew, Mrs. Hawkins, Mr. Dance, Bristol, treasure island, sea chest, sealed packet, treasure map, Flint's crew, pirate Flint, rum, stroke, black spot, sword fight, funeral, blind man, revenue men, magistrate, cabin boy, ship's doctor, plunder record, twenty years, port city, law enforcement, horsemen, robbery, fear, secrecy, death, adventure, loyalty, courage, danger, betrayal, treasure hunt, island location, January morning, telescope, violent sea songs, threats, medicine, fainting, escape, pursuit, squire's hall, hiring crew, silence vow"}]