I lost no time in telling my mother everything I knew.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I should have told you what was happening a long time ago. Now we're in danger."
My mother sighed and, as always, was worried only about our financial situation.
"Well, the captain owes us quite a bit of money.
But I don't think any of his seedy, old shipmates will pay his debts."
"The captain wanted me to go tell Dr. Livesey in the event of his death, but I can't leave you here alone and unprotected," I said.
Mother shivered. "I don't think either of us can stay here," she said.
"From the crackling of the fire to the ticking of the clock, every creak and rattle in this old house is making me nervous."
"With that dead body on the floor and the thought that the blind man's friends might show up, I'm really jumpy too," I said.
"We must get out of here," said Mother.
I agreed. "We'll ask for help in the village."
We rushed out into the frosty, foggy evening, and by the time we reached the village, it was dark.
The windows of the general store shone with cheerful candlelight, so we went in.
Soon a crowd of men were listening to our story with great concern, but no one wanted to go to the Admiral Benbow.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hawkins," said Mrs. Crossley, the shopkeeper.
"Captain Flint's men are too dangerous."
"We might find someone to ride in the opposite direction to Dr. Livesey's," one man said, "but no one in his right mind would dare help you defend the inn!"
"I will not," Mother declared, "lose money that belongs to my fatherless boy.
If none of you cowards want to help, then Jim and I will go back alone.
We'll open that sea chest, even if we have to die doing it.
Mrs. Crossley, could I at least have a bag to put our money in?"
"I'll ride to the doctor's for help," one lad volunteered.
Another villager handed me a loaded pistol.
"In case you're attacked," he said.
So my mother and I went back to the inn, slipping along the hedges, noiseless and swift.
Finally the door closed behind us; I bolted the lock, and my mother got a candle.
Holding hands, we went over to where the captain lay on his back; his eyes were open and one arm was extended.
"We must get the key to the sea chest off that body!" she said.
"Oh, I don't even want to touch it." She let out a sob.
I knelt down next to the captain, and close to his hand was a paper that was blackened on one side.
"This must be the black spot," I said.
On the other side of the paper, in clear handwriting, was a message.
"'You have until ten tonight,'" I read.
Just then, our old clock began to strike, and my mother and I jumped at the sound.
We calmed down when we looked at the clock, and I sighed.
"It's only six o'clock. They won't be here for four hours yet."
"Now, Jim," Mother said, "find the key."
I searched all the captain's pockets but couldn't find it.
"Perhaps it's around his neck," she suggested.
Overcoming a strong disgust, I tore open his shirt.
There, on a black string, was the key.
I pulled the string over his head, and we hurried up to the captain's room.
We found his sea chest against the wall, where it had stood from the day he had first arrived.
"Give me the key," said Mother, and after a few tries, she turned the stiff lock and opened the lid.
On top was a suit of clothes, carefully brushed and folded.
"This suit has never been worn," Mother said, astonished.
Under that were some worthless trinkets, a tobacco pouch, two brass compasses, a quadrant, and six curious sea shells.
Impatiently, Mother pulled out an old sea cloak, and underneath was a small bundle of papers and a canvas bag of coins that jingled like gold.
"I'm an honest woman," Mother said. "I'll take what he owes me and no more.
Hold open Mrs. Crossley's bag, Jim."
She pulled out a handful of coins and began to count them into the bag.
Suddenly I heard a familiar sound—the tap-tap-tapping of the blind man's stick on the frozen road outside—and I put my hand on Mother's arm.
"Listen!" I whispered.
The sound drew nearer and nearer, and we held our breath as the bolt rattled on the door.
"That horrible man is trying to get in!" I whispered again.
Then there was a long silence.
At last, the tapping began anew, and to our indescribable joy, slowly died away.
"Mother," I said, "take the whole thing and let's go!"
"I won't take more than I'm owed," she said, "but I won't be content with less. Besides, it's not even seven yet."
Then we heard a low whistle a way off, as if a signal was being sent.
That was enough for both of us.
"I'll take what I have," she said, jumping to her feet.
I grabbed the bundle of papers too.
Then we opened the door and ran out into the moonlight.
The fog was rapidly dispersing and wouldn't hide us for long.
Behind us, we heard several running footsteps and saw a lantern coming toward us.
"My dear," Mother gasped breathlessly, "take the money and run. I think I'm going to faint."
She sighed and collapsed with her head on my shoulder.
We were by a little bridge, so I dragged her under it.
I couldn't move her any farther, so there we stayed—within earshot of the inn.