Later that day, I stopped at the captain's door with a cool drink.
He seemed weak and excited at the same time.
"Jim," he said, "I've been good to you. But now, I'm low and alone.
Bring me some rum, won't you, matey?"
"The doctor?—," I began.
He cursed the doctor. "Doctors are all swabs, only fit to clean a ship," he said.
"What does the doctor know? I've been in places hot as a furnace, with mates falling sick with yellow fever, and I lived on rum, I tell you.
If I can't have some rum now, I'll die—and my death will be your fault, Jim."
He cursed some more and then began to plead.
"Look how my fingers are shaking. I haven't had a drop to drink today.
The doctor himself said one glass wouldn't hurt me.
I'll give you a gold coin for a drink, Jim!"
He was growing far too excited and loud, and my father needed peace and quiet.
And the doctor had said one drink wouldn't hurt.
Finally I said, "I don't want your money, except what you owe my father.
I'll get you one glass, and no more."
When I brought it, he seized it greedily and drank.
"Aye," he said. "That's better. How long must I lie here?"
"A week, at least," I replied.
"Thunder!" the captain cried loudly. "I can't do that!
They'll find out where I am and give me the black spot. I must get away."
He rose from the pillow with great difficulty, holding on to my shoulder with a grip that almost made me cry out.
Then he paused, sat up in bed, and said, "Help me up."
But before I could, he fell back on his pillow.
"You saw that seafaring man today?"
"Black Dog?" I asked.
"Yes, Black Dog. He's bad, but there are worse men than him from old Flint's crew.
They're after my sea chest, boy, and if I can't get away. . ." The old man coughed.
"Captain?" I said.
"You get on a horse and ride to that doctor and tell him to have them all arrested, all of them, all that's left of old Flint's crew!"
The captain closed his eyes, but kept speaking.
"I was Flint's first mate, and I am the only one who knows the secret place.
Flint told me when he was dying.
But don't get the doctor unless Flint's old crew puts the black spot on me, or if you see Black Dog again, or a seafaring man with one leg—him above all."
"But what's the black spot?" I asked.
"It's a judgment, Jim—an evil summons to my own death."
I gave him some medicine, and he fell into a deep sleep.
As it happened, my father died quite suddenly that evening.
Our grief, the visits from the neighbors, the funeral arrangements, and the work at the inn kept me too busy to worry about the captain for a few days.
He came downstairs to eat his meals as usual, but he drank more rum than he had before.
He seemed shut up in his own thoughts, never talking to me or any of the other guests.
Then one frosty afternoon, as I stood at the door, full of sad thoughts, I noticed a blind man outside.
He tapped his way down the road, using a long stick for a cane.
He wore a green cloth over his eyes and a huge, tattered sea cloak with a hood that made him appear deformed.
I never saw a more dreadful-looking figure.
He stopped, and addressing the air, said, "Will any kind friend inform a poor blind man where he is?"
"You are at the Admiral Benbow Inn," I said.
"I hear a young voice," he said.
"Will you give me your hand, my kind young friend, and lead me in?"
I held out my hand, and the horrible, soft-spoken, eyeless creature gripped me so hard it hurt.
I struggled, but the blind man pulled me closer.
"Now, boy," he said, "take me to the captain or I'll break your arm."
He gave my arm a wrench that made me cry out.
"Sir," I said, "the captain is ill."
"March," he commanded.
The blind man held me tight, and I never heard a voice more cruel, cold, and ugly.
"Lead me to him and say, 'A friend is here to see you, Bill,' or else I'll do this."
And he pinched me so hard I thought I'd faint.
I walked over to the captain's table and said, "Your friend is here, Bill!"
The poor captain raised his head from his arms on the table; the drunkenness went out of his eyes, and he stared at me sober.
He looked mortally sick.
"Time for business," the blind man said.
"Boy, take his wrist and bring it near to me."
I took the captain's wrist and he didn't resist.
I brought his hand toward the blind man and then saw something pass from the blind man's hand into the captain's palm.
"And now that's done," the blind man said.
He let go of me, and with incredible nimbleness, skipped out of the inn.
He went out to the road, his stick tap-tap-tapping into the distance.
The captain looked sharply into his palm.
"Ten o'clock!" he cried. "Six hours."
He sprang to his feet but then staggered backward, putting his hand to his throat.
Swaying for a moment, he then fell with a thud to the floor.
I ran to him at once. "Mother!" I cried. "Help us! Mother!"
But it was too late. The captain was dead.
I burst into tears. It was the second death I'd known, and the sorrow of the first was still fresh in my heart.