Because of the ship's tilt, the bay was below me; Israel Hands had fallen between me and the rest of the ship .
He rose to the surface in a lather of foam and blood, and then bobbed in the waves.
I felt sick, faint, and terrified. The dagger burned hot in my shoulder, and I clung to the ropes with both hands until my fingernails ached.
I wanted to be free from the mast, but I thought falling into the water beside the dead body of Israel Hands would be far worse!
I could feel hot blood running over my back and chest.
"Pull out the knife!" I told myself. But neither of my hands would let go of the ropes.
I started to cry and shuddered at the thought of my predicament.
Oddly enough, my shuddering helped. The knife, which I thought had stuck me to the mast so securely, had really almost missed me completely.
I was held to the mast only by a mere pinch of skin, and my shudder tore it away.
Blood ran down my back faster, but I was free.
I pulled my coat and shirt away, moved to the opposite side of the ship, and climbed down on that side.
Nothing could make me go down the ropes above where Israel had fallen.
I went below deck and did what I could for my wound.
I was in pain, but the wound was neither deep nor dangerous, nor did it bother me too much to use my arm.
Back up on the top deck, I looked around and saw Red Cap.
He was leaning against the side of the ship like some horrible, life-size puppet.
"He looks easier to move now," I said to myself.
After what I had been through, another dead body didn't bother me, so I grabbed his belt and, with one good heave, threw him overboard.
He went in with a splash, but his red cap came off and remained floating in the water.
The evening breeze started whistling softly through the rope lines and rattled the sails.
"The wind may be a danger to the ship," I thought.
I was able to get the front sails down, but the mainsail was too difficult to manage.
When the ship tipped, the mainsail had swung out so that now a foot or two of the sail was under water.
I got my knife and cut the lines that usually raise and lower the sail, and the loose canvas dropped instantly into the water.
"Now both the Hispaniola and I must hope for a little luck," I said.
I suddenly realized the sun had set and the air was getting chilly, so I let myself drop softly overboard.
The water barely reached my waist, and I waded ashore as the breeze whistled low among the pines.
I wanted to get to my friends and boast that I had recaptured the ship single-handedly.
"Even Captain Smollett will admit I'm resourceful and brave," I thought.
"He may even want to give me a medal or something!" I laughed out loud at that.
In high spirits, I set out for the stockade, and before long, I was near the hill where I'd first encountered Ben Gunn.
In the distance, I could see a glow against the sky and thought Ben Gunn was cooking his supper.
"Why is he so careless?" I wondered. "If I can see his fire, so can Long John."
Gradually the night became darker.
I kept tripping over tree roots and stumbling into sandpits until the moon finally rose and gave me some light.
I continued walking, sometimes running impatiently, to the stockade.
"I must stay alert," I thought. "I don't want my friends to shoot me by mistake."
As the moon climbed higher, the glow appeared among the trees again.
This time, the fire resembled the red-hot embers of a smoldering bonfire somewhere near the stockade.
By the time I reached the fence, I saw the remains of what must have been an immense fire at the side of the house.
"Did something go wrong while I was absent?" I wondered.
I climbed the fence, got on my hands and knees, and crawled without a sound toward the corner of the house.
As I drew near, I heard my friends snoring, peaceful in their sleep, and the unpleasant noises sounded like music to me.
"If Long John was creeping in on them like this, my friends would all be dead by daybreak," I said to myself.
"I shouldn't have left them with so few men remaining to guard the house."
I crept in.
"I should lie down in my usual place," I thought with a chuckle, "and enjoy the looks on their faces when they find me in the morning."
My foot struck a sleeper's leg, and he turned and groaned, but didn't wake.
And then suddenly a shrill voice screamed from the darkness.
"Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!"
"Long John's parrot!" I whispered. My body froze with fear as the sleepers awoke and jumped up.
"Who goes there?" roared Long John Silver.
I turned to run, slammed violently against one person, jumped back, and ran into the arms o f a second man.
He held me tight as I struggled against his grip.
"Bring a torch, Dick," said Long John.
One of the pirates left the log house and returned with a long piece of burning wood.