├── src ├── step2.scss ├── step3.scss ├── step4.scss ├── ie.scss ├── step1.scss ├── _min_width_720.scss ├── _normalize.scss ├── _max_width_720.scss └── _base.scss ├── img ├── nav-icon.png ├── close-btn.png ├── nav-icon.svg └── close-btn.svg ├── js ├── modernizr.js ├── main.jquery.js ├── main.js └── modernizr.min.js ├── compass-watch ├── README.md ├── extras ├── js │ ├── jquery.requestAnimationFrame.min.js │ ├── main.jquery2.js │ └── jquery.animate-enhanced.min.js ├── step3-jquery-enhanced.html └── step3-jquery-animation-frame.html ├── css ├── ie.css ├── step1.css ├── step2.css ├── step3.css └── step4.css ├── step1.html ├── step2.html ├── step3.html ├── step4.html └── step3-jquery.html /src/step2.scss: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | $step: 2; 2 | 3 | @import "step1"; -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /src/step3.scss: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | $step: 3; 2 | 3 | @import "step1"; -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /src/step4.scss: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | $step: 4; 2 | 3 | @import "step1"; -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /img/nav-icon.png: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- https://raw.githubusercontent.com/dbushell/Responsive-Off-Canvas-Menu/HEAD/img/nav-icon.png -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /img/close-btn.png: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- https://raw.githubusercontent.com/dbushell/Responsive-Off-Canvas-Menu/HEAD/img/close-btn.png -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /js/modernizr.js: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | document.documentElement.innerHTML = ''; 2 | alert('do not load this script directly from Github!'); 3 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /compass-watch: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | compass watch --output-style=expanded --no-line-comments --sass-dir="src" --css-dir="./css" --image-dir="./img" --fonts-dir="./font" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /src/ie.scss: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | @charset "UTF-8"; 2 | 3 | /*! 4 | * 5 | * Copyright (c) David Bushell | http://dbushell.com/ 6 | * 7 | */ 8 | 9 | @import "compass/css3"; 10 | 11 | @import "normalize"; 12 | 13 | @import "base"; 14 | 15 | @import "min_width_720"; 16 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /README.md: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | Responsive Off Canvas Menu 2 | ========================== 3 | 4 | A responsive off-canvas menu using CSS transforms and transitions. This repository contains several demos to support a Smashing Magazine article. 5 | 6 | **[Implementing Off-Canvas Navigation For A Responsive Website 7 | ](http://coding.smashingmagazine.com/2013/01/15/off-canvas-navigation-for-responsive-website/)** 8 | 9 | Copyright © David Bushell | BSD & MIT license -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /src/step1.scss: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | @charset "UTF-8"; 2 | 3 | @-ms-viewport { 4 | width: device-width; 5 | } 6 | 7 | @viewport { 8 | width: device-width; 9 | } 10 | 11 | /*! 12 | * 13 | * Copyright (c) David Bushell | http://dbushell.com/ 14 | * 15 | */ 16 | 17 | $step: 1 !default; 18 | 19 | @import "compass/css3"; 20 | 21 | @import "normalize"; 22 | 23 | @import "base"; 24 | 25 | @media screen and (min-width: 45.0625em) { 26 | @import "min_width_720"; 27 | } 28 | 29 | @media screen and (max-width: 45em) { 30 | @import "max_width_720"; 31 | } 32 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /img/nav-icon.svg: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /src/_min_width_720.scss: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | #top { 2 | 3 | .nav-btn { 4 | @include visuallyhidden; 5 | } 6 | } 7 | 8 | #nav { 9 | 10 | .close-btn { 11 | @include visuallyhidden; 12 | } 13 | 14 | .block-title { 15 | @include visuallyhidden; 16 | } 17 | 18 | ul { 19 | text-align: center; 20 | white-space: nowrap; 21 | } 22 | 23 | li { 24 | display: inline-block; 25 | border-right: 1px solid rgba(255,255,255, 0.1); 26 | 27 | &:last-child { 28 | border-right: none; 29 | } 30 | 31 | a { 32 | padding: pem(6, 14) pem(12, 14); 33 | } 34 | } 35 | } 36 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /img/close-btn.svg: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /extras/js/jquery.requestAnimationFrame.min.js: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | /*! jQuery requestAnimationFrame - v0.0.0 - 2012-08-31 2 | * https://github.com/gnarf37/jquery-requestAnimationFrame 3 | * Copyright (c) 2012 Corey Frang; Licensed MIT */ 4 | (function(e){function o(){t&&(i(o),jQuery.fx.tick())}var t,n=0,r=["ms","moz","webkit","o"],i=window.requestAnimationFrame,s=window.cancelAnimationFrame;for(;n 1) { 60 | 61 | .js-ready { 62 | 63 | #nav { 64 | height: 100%; 65 | width: $nav-off-canvas-width; 66 | background: $background-color; 67 | @include box-shadow(inset pem(-24) 0 pem(24) pem(-12) rgba(0,0,0, 0.25)); 68 | 69 | .block { 70 | background: transparent; 71 | } 72 | 73 | .close-btn { 74 | display: block; 75 | @include opacity(0.7); 76 | 77 | &:focus, 78 | &:hover { 79 | @include opacity(1); 80 | } 81 | } 82 | } 83 | } 84 | 85 | } // end @if ($step > 1) 86 | 87 | @if ($step > 1) { 88 | 89 | .js-ready { 90 | 91 | #nav { 92 | left: (0 - $nav-off-canvas-width); 93 | } 94 | 95 | #inner-wrap { 96 | left: 0; 97 | } 98 | } 99 | 100 | .js-nav { 101 | 102 | #inner-wrap { 103 | left: $nav-off-canvas-width; 104 | } 105 | } 106 | 107 | } // end @if ($step > 1) 108 | 109 | @if ($step > 2) { 110 | 111 | .csstransforms3d.csstransitions.js-ready { 112 | 113 | #nav { 114 | left: 0; 115 | @include transform(translate3d(-100%,0,0)); 116 | @include backface-visibility(hidden); 117 | } 118 | 119 | #inner-wrap { 120 | left: 0 !important; 121 | @include transform(translate3d(0,0,0)); 122 | @include transition(transform 500ms ease); 123 | @include backface-visibility(hidden); 124 | } 125 | } 126 | 127 | .csstransforms3d.csstransitions.js-nav { 128 | 129 | #inner-wrap { 130 | @include transform(translate3d($nav-off-canvas-width,0,0) scale3d(1,1,1)); 131 | } 132 | } 133 | 134 | } // end @if ($step > 2) 135 | 136 | 137 | @if ($step > 3) { 138 | 139 | .csstransforms3d.csstransitions.js-ready { 140 | 141 | #nav { 142 | 143 | .block { 144 | @include opacity(0.7); 145 | @include transition(opacity 300ms 100ms ease, transform 500ms ease); 146 | @include transform(translate3d($nav-off-canvas-width,0,0) scale3d(0.9,0.9,0.9)); 147 | @include transform-origin(50%, 0%); 148 | } 149 | } 150 | } 151 | 152 | .csstransforms3d.csstransitions.js-nav { 153 | 154 | #nav { 155 | 156 | .block { 157 | @include opacity(1); 158 | @include transform(translate3d(0,0,0)); 159 | } 160 | } 161 | } 162 | 163 | } // end @if ($step > 3) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /js/main.js: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | /*! 2 | * 3 | * Copyright (c) David Bushell | http://dbushell.com/ 4 | * 5 | */ 6 | (function(window, document, undefined) 7 | { 8 | 9 | // helper functions 10 | 11 | var trim = function(str) 12 | { 13 | return str.trim ? str.trim() : str.replace(/^\s+|\s+$/g,''); 14 | }; 15 | 16 | var hasClass = function(el, cn) 17 | { 18 | return (' ' + el.className + ' ').indexOf(' ' + cn + ' ') !== -1; 19 | }; 20 | 21 | var addClass = function(el, cn) 22 | { 23 | if (!hasClass(el, cn)) { 24 | el.className = (el.className === '') ? cn : el.className + ' ' + cn; 25 | } 26 | }; 27 | 28 | var removeClass = function(el, cn) 29 | { 30 | el.className = trim((' ' + el.className + ' ').replace(' ' + cn + ' ', ' ')); 31 | }; 32 | 33 | var hasParent = function(el, id) 34 | { 35 | if (el) { 36 | do { 37 | if (el.id === id) { 38 | return true; 39 | } 40 | if (el.nodeType === 9) { 41 | break; 42 | } 43 | } 44 | while((el = el.parentNode)); 45 | } 46 | return false; 47 | }; 48 | 49 | // normalize vendor prefixes 50 | 51 | var doc = document.documentElement; 52 | 53 | var transform_prop = window.Modernizr.prefixed('transform'), 54 | transition_prop = window.Modernizr.prefixed('transition'), 55 | transition_end = (function() { 56 | var props = { 57 | 'WebkitTransition' : 'webkitTransitionEnd', 58 | 'MozTransition' : 'transitionend', 59 | 'OTransition' : 'oTransitionEnd otransitionend', 60 | 'msTransition' : 'MSTransitionEnd', 61 | 'transition' : 'transitionend' 62 | }; 63 | return props.hasOwnProperty(transition_prop) ? props[transition_prop] : false; 64 | })(); 65 | 66 | window.App = (function() 67 | { 68 | 69 | var _init = false, app = { }; 70 | 71 | var inner = document.getElementById('inner-wrap'), 72 | 73 | nav_open = false, 74 | 75 | nav_class = 'js-nav'; 76 | 77 | 78 | app.init = function() 79 | { 80 | if (_init) { 81 | return; 82 | } 83 | _init = true; 84 | 85 | var closeNavEnd = function(e) 86 | { 87 | if (e && e.target === inner) { 88 | document.removeEventListener(transition_end, closeNavEnd, false); 89 | } 90 | nav_open = false; 91 | }; 92 | 93 | app.closeNav =function() 94 | { 95 | if (nav_open) { 96 | // close navigation after transition or immediately 97 | var duration = (transition_end && transition_prop) ? parseFloat(window.getComputedStyle(inner, '')[transition_prop + 'Duration']) : 0; 98 | if (duration > 0) { 99 | document.addEventListener(transition_end, closeNavEnd, false); 100 | } else { 101 | closeNavEnd(null); 102 | } 103 | } 104 | removeClass(doc, nav_class); 105 | }; 106 | 107 | app.openNav = function() 108 | { 109 | if (nav_open) { 110 | return; 111 | } 112 | addClass(doc, nav_class); 113 | nav_open = true; 114 | }; 115 | 116 | app.toggleNav = function(e) 117 | { 118 | if (nav_open && hasClass(doc, nav_class)) { 119 | app.closeNav(); 120 | } else { 121 | app.openNav(); 122 | } 123 | if (e) { 124 | e.preventDefault(); 125 | } 126 | }; 127 | 128 | // open nav with main "nav" button 129 | document.getElementById('nav-open-btn').addEventListener('click', app.toggleNav, false); 130 | 131 | // close nav with main "close" button 132 | document.getElementById('nav-close-btn').addEventListener('click', app.toggleNav, false); 133 | 134 | // close nav by touching the partial off-screen content 135 | document.addEventListener('click', function(e) 136 | { 137 | if (nav_open && !hasParent(e.target, 'nav')) { 138 | e.preventDefault(); 139 | app.closeNav(); 140 | } 141 | }, 142 | true); 143 | 144 | addClass(doc, 'js-ready'); 145 | 146 | }; 147 | 148 | return app; 149 | 150 | })(); 151 | 152 | if (window.addEventListener) { 153 | window.addEventListener('DOMContentLoaded', window.App.init, false); 154 | } 155 | 156 | })(window, window.document); 157 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /src/_base.scss: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | $background-color: #333; 2 | 3 | @function pem($px, $base: 16) { 4 | @return ($px / $base) + em; 5 | } 6 | 7 | @mixin clearfix { 8 | &:before, 9 | &:after { 10 | content: ""; 11 | display: table; 12 | } 13 | &:after { 14 | clear: both; 15 | } 16 | *zoom: 1; 17 | } 18 | 19 | // Hide from both screenreaders and browsers: h5bp.com/u 20 | @mixin hidden { 21 | display: none !important; 22 | visibility: hidden; 23 | } 24 | 25 | // Hide only visually, but have it available for screenreaders: h5bp.com/v 26 | @mixin visuallyhidden { 27 | border: 0; 28 | clip: rect(0 0 0 0); 29 | height: 1px; 30 | margin: -1px; 31 | overflow: hidden; 32 | padding: 0; 33 | position: absolute; 34 | width: 1px; 35 | } 36 | 37 | ul, ol { 38 | padding: 0; 39 | list-style: none; 40 | } 41 | 42 | h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6, p, ul, ol { 43 | margin: 0; 44 | } 45 | 46 | a { 47 | text-decoration: none; 48 | } 49 | 50 | body { 51 | color: #333; 52 | position: relative; 53 | width: 100%; 54 | min-width: pem(320); 55 | background: $background-color; 56 | } 57 | 58 | .highlight { 59 | background: #fff699; 60 | padding: 0 0.5em; 61 | } 62 | 63 | .prose { 64 | 65 | ul, ol { 66 | list-style: outside disc; 67 | font-size: pem(16); 68 | line-height: pem(24); 69 | margin-bottom: pem(24); 70 | } 71 | 72 | p { 73 | font-size: pem(16); 74 | line-height: pem(24); 75 | margin-bottom: pem(24); 76 | 77 | &.small { 78 | color: #666; 79 | font-size: pem(13); 80 | line-height: pem(24, 13); 81 | margin-bottom: pem(24, 13); 82 | } 83 | 84 | &.medium { 85 | color: #666; 86 | font-size: pem(14); 87 | line-height: pem(24, 14); 88 | margin-bottom: pem(24, 14); 89 | } 90 | 91 | &:last-child { 92 | margin-bottom: 0; 93 | } 94 | } 95 | 96 | h1 { 97 | font-size: pem(30); 98 | line-height: pem(36, 30); 99 | margin-bottom: pem(12, 30); 100 | } 101 | 102 | h2 { 103 | font-size: pem(24); 104 | line-height: pem(30, 24); 105 | margin-bottom: pem(12, 24); 106 | } 107 | 108 | a { 109 | color: #6d7173; 110 | border-bottom: 1px solid #a1cfe5; 111 | text-decoration: none; 112 | outline: none; 113 | 114 | &:focus, 115 | &:hover { 116 | color: #4ab336; 117 | border-bottom-color: #77b36b; 118 | } 119 | } 120 | } 121 | 122 | .block { 123 | position: relative; 124 | margin: 0 auto; 125 | padding: pem(24) pem(20); 126 | max-width: pem(960); 127 | } 128 | 129 | .close-btn { 130 | display: block; 131 | width: pem(42); 132 | height: pem(36); 133 | padding: 0; 134 | border: 0; 135 | outline: none; 136 | background: $background-color url("../img/close-btn.svg") left center no-repeat; 137 | background-size: pem(30) pem(30); 138 | overflow: hidden; 139 | white-space: nowrap; 140 | text-indent: 100%; 141 | @include opacity(1); 142 | -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0,0,0,0); 143 | 144 | .no-svg & { 145 | background-image: url("../img/close-btn.png"); 146 | } 147 | 148 | &:focus, 149 | &:hover { 150 | @include opacity(1); 151 | } 152 | } 153 | 154 | .nav-btn { 155 | display: block; 156 | width: pem(42); 157 | height: pem(36); 158 | padding: 0; 159 | border: 0; 160 | outline: none; 161 | background: $background-color url("../img/nav-icon.svg") left center no-repeat; 162 | background-size: pem(30) pem(24); 163 | overflow: hidden; 164 | white-space: nowrap; 165 | text-indent: 100%; 166 | @include opacity(0.7); 167 | -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0,0,0,0); 168 | 169 | .no-svg & { 170 | background-image: url("../img/nav-icon.png"); 171 | } 172 | 173 | &:hover, 174 | &:focus { 175 | @include opacity(1); 176 | } 177 | } 178 | 179 | #outer-wrap { 180 | position: relative; 181 | overflow: hidden; 182 | width: 100%; 183 | } 184 | 185 | #inner-wrap { 186 | position: relative; 187 | width: 100%; 188 | } 189 | 190 | #nav { 191 | z-index: 200; 192 | position: relative; 193 | overflow: hidden; 194 | width: 100%; 195 | color: #fff; 196 | 197 | .close-btn { 198 | display: none; 199 | } 200 | 201 | .block-title { 202 | @include visuallyhidden; 203 | } 204 | 205 | .block { 206 | z-index: 2; 207 | position: relative; 208 | padding: pem(12) pem(20); 209 | background: $background-color; 210 | } 211 | 212 | ul { 213 | @include clearfix; 214 | display: block; 215 | } 216 | 217 | li { 218 | display: block; 219 | 220 | a { 221 | display: block; 222 | color: #ccc; 223 | font-size: pem(14); 224 | line-height: pem(18, 14); 225 | font-weight: bold; 226 | outline: none; 227 | 228 | &:focus, 229 | &:hover { 230 | color: #fff; 231 | background: rgba(255,255,255, 0.1); 232 | } 233 | } 234 | 235 | &.is-active { 236 | a { 237 | color: #fff; 238 | } 239 | } 240 | } 241 | } 242 | 243 | // header[role="banner"] { 244 | #top { 245 | z-index: 100; 246 | position: relative; 247 | color: #fff; 248 | background: $background-color; 249 | 250 | .block-title { 251 | margin: 0; 252 | font-size: pem(30); 253 | line-height: pem(36, 30); 254 | text-align: center; 255 | white-space: nowrap; 256 | } 257 | 258 | .nav-btn { 259 | position: absolute; 260 | top: pem(24); 261 | left: pem(30); 262 | } 263 | } 264 | 265 | #main { 266 | background: #fff; 267 | 268 | .block { 269 | padding: pem(42) pem(30); 270 | } 271 | } 272 | 273 | footer[role="contentinfo"] { 274 | background: #ddd; 275 | } 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27 |
28 | 29 | 35 | 36 | 59 | 60 |
61 |
62 | 63 |

Treasure Island

64 | 65 |

SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having 66 | asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from 67 | the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the 68 | island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I 69 | take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when 70 | my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the 71 | sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

72 |

I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the 73 | inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a 74 | tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the 75 | shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with 76 | black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid 77 | white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself 78 | as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so 79 | often afterwards:

80 |

in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and 81 | broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of 82 | stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, 83 | called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, 84 | he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still 85 | looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.

86 |

"This is a handy cove," says he at length; "and a pleasant sittyated 87 | grog-shop. Much company, mate?"

88 |

My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.

89 |

"Well, then," said he, "this is the berth for me. Here you, matey," he 90 | cried to the man who trundled the barrow; "bring up alongside and help 91 | up my chest. I'll stay here a bit," he continued. "I'm a plain man; rum 92 | and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch 93 | ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I 94 | see what you're at—there"; and he threw down three or four gold pieces 95 | on the threshold. "You can tell me when I've worked through that," says 96 | he, looking as fierce as a commander.

97 |

And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none 98 | of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like 99 | a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came 100 | with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at 101 | the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the 102 | coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as 103 | lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And 104 | that was all we could learn of our guest.

105 |

He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or 106 | upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner 107 | of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly 108 | he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and 109 | blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came 110 | about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back 111 | from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the 112 | road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind 113 | that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was 114 | desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow 115 | (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he 116 | would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the 117 | parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such 118 | was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for 119 | I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day 120 | and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I 121 | would only keep my "weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg" 122 | and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first 123 | of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only 124 | blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was 125 | out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and 126 | repeat his orders to look out for "the seafaring man with one leg."

127 |

How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On 128 | stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and 129 | the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a 130 | thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg 131 | would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous 132 | kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the 133 | middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and 134 | ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for 135 | my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.

136 |

But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one 137 | leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who 138 | knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water 139 | than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his 140 | wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call 141 | for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his 142 | stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house 143 | shaking with "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," all the neighbours joining 144 | in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing 145 | louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most 146 | overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for 147 | silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, 148 | or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not 149 | following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he 150 | had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.

151 |

His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories 152 | they were—about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and 153 | the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his 154 | own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men 155 | that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told 156 | these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the 157 | crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be 158 | ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over 159 | and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his 160 | presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking 161 | back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country 162 | life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to 163 | admire him, calling him a "true sea-dog" and a "real old salt" and 164 | such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England 165 | terrible at sea.

166 |

In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week 167 | after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had 168 | been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to 169 | insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through 170 | his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor 171 | father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a 172 | rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have 173 | greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.

174 |

All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his 175 | dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his 176 | hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it 177 | was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his 178 | coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before 179 | the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, 180 | and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the 181 | most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had 182 | ever seen open.

183 |

He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor 184 | father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came 185 | late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my 186 | mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should 187 | come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I 188 | followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright 189 | doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and 190 | pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, 191 | with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, 192 | far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he—the captain, 193 | that is—began to pipe up his eternal song:

194 |

At first I had supposed "the dead man's chest" to be that identical big 195 | box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled 196 | in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this 197 | time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it 198 | was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it 199 | did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite 200 | angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on 201 | a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually 202 | brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon 203 | the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices 204 | stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey's; he went on as before speaking 205 | clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or 206 | two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, 207 | glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, 208 | "Silence, there, between decks!"

209 |

"Were you addressing me, sir?" says the doctor; and when the ruffian had 210 | told him, with another oath, that this was so, "I have only one thing to 211 | say to you, sir," replies the doctor, "that if you keep on drinking rum, 212 | the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"

213 |

The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened 214 | a sailor's clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, 215 | threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.

216 |

The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his 217 | shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the 218 | room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: "If you do not put that 219 | knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall 220 | hang at the next assizes."

221 |

Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon 222 | knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like 223 | a beaten dog.

224 |

"And now, sir," continued the doctor, "since I now know there's such a 225 | fellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and 226 | night. I'm not a doctor only; I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath 227 | of complaint against you, if it's only for a piece of incivility like 228 | tonight's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed 229 | out of this. Let that suffice."

230 |

Soon after, Dr. Livesey's horse came to the door and he rode away, but 231 | the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.

232 | 233 |
234 |
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244 | 245 |
246 | 247 | 248 | 249 | 250 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /step2.html: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | [2] Treasure Island 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
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28 | 29 | 35 | 36 | 59 | 60 |
61 |
62 | 63 |

Treasure Island

64 | 65 |

SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having 66 | asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from 67 | the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the 68 | island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I 69 | take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when 70 | my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the 71 | sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

72 |

I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the 73 | inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a 74 | tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the 75 | shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with 76 | black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid 77 | white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself 78 | as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so 79 | often afterwards:

80 |

in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and 81 | broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of 82 | stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, 83 | called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, 84 | he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still 85 | looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.

86 |

"This is a handy cove," says he at length; "and a pleasant sittyated 87 | grog-shop. Much company, mate?"

88 |

My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.

89 |

"Well, then," said he, "this is the berth for me. Here you, matey," he 90 | cried to the man who trundled the barrow; "bring up alongside and help 91 | up my chest. I'll stay here a bit," he continued. "I'm a plain man; rum 92 | and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch 93 | ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I 94 | see what you're at—there"; and he threw down three or four gold pieces 95 | on the threshold. "You can tell me when I've worked through that," says 96 | he, looking as fierce as a commander.

97 |

And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none 98 | of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like 99 | a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came 100 | with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at 101 | the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the 102 | coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as 103 | lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And 104 | that was all we could learn of our guest.

105 |

He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or 106 | upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner 107 | of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly 108 | he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and 109 | blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came 110 | about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back 111 | from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the 112 | road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind 113 | that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was 114 | desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow 115 | (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he 116 | would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the 117 | parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such 118 | was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for 119 | I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day 120 | and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I 121 | would only keep my "weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg" 122 | and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first 123 | of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only 124 | blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was 125 | out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and 126 | repeat his orders to look out for "the seafaring man with one leg."

127 |

How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On 128 | stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and 129 | the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a 130 | thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg 131 | would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous 132 | kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the 133 | middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and 134 | ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for 135 | my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.

136 |

But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one 137 | leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who 138 | knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water 139 | than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his 140 | wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call 141 | for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his 142 | stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house 143 | shaking with "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," all the neighbours joining 144 | in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing 145 | louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most 146 | overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for 147 | silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, 148 | or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not 149 | following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he 150 | had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.

151 |

His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories 152 | they were—about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and 153 | the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his 154 | own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men 155 | that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told 156 | these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the 157 | crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be 158 | ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over 159 | and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his 160 | presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking 161 | back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country 162 | life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to 163 | admire him, calling him a "true sea-dog" and a "real old salt" and 164 | such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England 165 | terrible at sea.

166 |

In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week 167 | after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had 168 | been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to 169 | insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through 170 | his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor 171 | father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a 172 | rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have 173 | greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.

174 |

All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his 175 | dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his 176 | hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it 177 | was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his 178 | coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before 179 | the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, 180 | and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the 181 | most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had 182 | ever seen open.

183 |

He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor 184 | father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came 185 | late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my 186 | mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should 187 | come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I 188 | followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright 189 | doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and 190 | pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, 191 | with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, 192 | far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he—the captain, 193 | that is—began to pipe up his eternal song:

194 |

At first I had supposed "the dead man's chest" to be that identical big 195 | box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled 196 | in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this 197 | time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it 198 | was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it 199 | did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite 200 | angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on 201 | a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually 202 | brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon 203 | the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices 204 | stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey's; he went on as before speaking 205 | clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or 206 | two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, 207 | glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, 208 | "Silence, there, between decks!"

209 |

"Were you addressing me, sir?" says the doctor; and when the ruffian had 210 | told him, with another oath, that this was so, "I have only one thing to 211 | say to you, sir," replies the doctor, "that if you keep on drinking rum, 212 | the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"

213 |

The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened 214 | a sailor's clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, 215 | threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.

216 |

The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his 217 | shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the 218 | room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: "If you do not put that 219 | knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall 220 | hang at the next assizes."

221 |

Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon 222 | knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like 223 | a beaten dog.

224 |

"And now, sir," continued the doctor, "since I now know there's such a 225 | fellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and 226 | night. I'm not a doctor only; I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath 227 | of complaint against you, if it's only for a piece of incivility like 228 | tonight's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed 229 | out of this. Let that suffice."

230 |

Soon after, Dr. Livesey's horse came to the door and he rode away, but 231 | the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.

232 | 233 |
234 |
235 | 236 | 242 | 243 |
244 | 245 |
246 | 247 | 248 | 249 | 250 | 251 | 252 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /step3.html: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | [3] Treasure Island 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
27 |
28 | 29 | 35 | 36 | 59 | 60 |
61 |
62 | 63 |

Treasure Island

64 | 65 |

SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having 66 | asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from 67 | the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the 68 | island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I 69 | take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when 70 | my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the 71 | sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

72 |

I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the 73 | inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a 74 | tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the 75 | shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with 76 | black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid 77 | white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself 78 | as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so 79 | often afterwards:

80 |

in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and 81 | broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of 82 | stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, 83 | called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, 84 | he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still 85 | looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.

86 |

"This is a handy cove," says he at length; "and a pleasant sittyated 87 | grog-shop. Much company, mate?"

88 |

My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.

89 |

"Well, then," said he, "this is the berth for me. Here you, matey," he 90 | cried to the man who trundled the barrow; "bring up alongside and help 91 | up my chest. I'll stay here a bit," he continued. "I'm a plain man; rum 92 | and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch 93 | ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I 94 | see what you're at—there"; and he threw down three or four gold pieces 95 | on the threshold. "You can tell me when I've worked through that," says 96 | he, looking as fierce as a commander.

97 |

And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none 98 | of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like 99 | a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came 100 | with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at 101 | the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the 102 | coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as 103 | lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And 104 | that was all we could learn of our guest.

105 |

He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or 106 | upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner 107 | of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly 108 | he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and 109 | blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came 110 | about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back 111 | from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the 112 | road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind 113 | that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was 114 | desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow 115 | (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he 116 | would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the 117 | parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such 118 | was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for 119 | I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day 120 | and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I 121 | would only keep my "weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg" 122 | and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first 123 | of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only 124 | blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was 125 | out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and 126 | repeat his orders to look out for "the seafaring man with one leg."

127 |

How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On 128 | stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and 129 | the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a 130 | thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg 131 | would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous 132 | kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the 133 | middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and 134 | ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for 135 | my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.

136 |

But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one 137 | leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who 138 | knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water 139 | than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his 140 | wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call 141 | for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his 142 | stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house 143 | shaking with "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," all the neighbours joining 144 | in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing 145 | louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most 146 | overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for 147 | silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, 148 | or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not 149 | following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he 150 | had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.

151 |

His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories 152 | they were—about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and 153 | the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his 154 | own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men 155 | that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told 156 | these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the 157 | crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be 158 | ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over 159 | and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his 160 | presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking 161 | back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country 162 | life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to 163 | admire him, calling him a "true sea-dog" and a "real old salt" and 164 | such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England 165 | terrible at sea.

166 |

In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week 167 | after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had 168 | been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to 169 | insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through 170 | his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor 171 | father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a 172 | rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have 173 | greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.

174 |

All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his 175 | dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his 176 | hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it 177 | was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his 178 | coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before 179 | the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, 180 | and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the 181 | most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had 182 | ever seen open.

183 |

He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor 184 | father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came 185 | late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my 186 | mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should 187 | come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I 188 | followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright 189 | doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and 190 | pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, 191 | with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, 192 | far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he—the captain, 193 | that is—began to pipe up his eternal song:

194 |

At first I had supposed "the dead man's chest" to be that identical big 195 | box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled 196 | in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this 197 | time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it 198 | was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it 199 | did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite 200 | angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on 201 | a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually 202 | brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon 203 | the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices 204 | stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey's; he went on as before speaking 205 | clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or 206 | two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, 207 | glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, 208 | "Silence, there, between decks!"

209 |

"Were you addressing me, sir?" says the doctor; and when the ruffian had 210 | told him, with another oath, that this was so, "I have only one thing to 211 | say to you, sir," replies the doctor, "that if you keep on drinking rum, 212 | the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"

213 |

The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened 214 | a sailor's clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, 215 | threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.

216 |

The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his 217 | shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the 218 | room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: "If you do not put that 219 | knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall 220 | hang at the next assizes."

221 |

Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon 222 | knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like 223 | a beaten dog.

224 |

"And now, sir," continued the doctor, "since I now know there's such a 225 | fellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and 226 | night. I'm not a doctor only; I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath 227 | of complaint against you, if it's only for a piece of incivility like 228 | tonight's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed 229 | out of this. Let that suffice."

230 |

Soon after, Dr. Livesey's horse came to the door and he rode away, but 231 | the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.

232 | 233 |
234 |
235 | 236 | 242 | 243 |
244 | 245 |
246 | 247 | 248 | 249 | 250 | 251 | 252 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /step4.html: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | [4] Treasure Island 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
27 |
28 | 29 | 35 | 36 | 59 | 60 |
61 |
62 | 63 |

Treasure Island

64 | 65 |

SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having 66 | asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from 67 | the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the 68 | island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I 69 | take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when 70 | my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the 71 | sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

72 |

I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the 73 | inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a 74 | tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the 75 | shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with 76 | black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid 77 | white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself 78 | as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so 79 | often afterwards:

80 |

in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and 81 | broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of 82 | stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, 83 | called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, 84 | he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still 85 | looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.

86 |

"This is a handy cove," says he at length; "and a pleasant sittyated 87 | grog-shop. Much company, mate?"

88 |

My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.

89 |

"Well, then," said he, "this is the berth for me. Here you, matey," he 90 | cried to the man who trundled the barrow; "bring up alongside and help 91 | up my chest. I'll stay here a bit," he continued. "I'm a plain man; rum 92 | and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch 93 | ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I 94 | see what you're at—there"; and he threw down three or four gold pieces 95 | on the threshold. "You can tell me when I've worked through that," says 96 | he, looking as fierce as a commander.

97 |

And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none 98 | of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like 99 | a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came 100 | with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at 101 | the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the 102 | coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as 103 | lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And 104 | that was all we could learn of our guest.

105 |

He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or 106 | upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner 107 | of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly 108 | he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and 109 | blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came 110 | about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back 111 | from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the 112 | road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind 113 | that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was 114 | desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow 115 | (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he 116 | would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the 117 | parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such 118 | was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for 119 | I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day 120 | and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I 121 | would only keep my "weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg" 122 | and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first 123 | of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only 124 | blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was 125 | out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and 126 | repeat his orders to look out for "the seafaring man with one leg."

127 |

How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On 128 | stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and 129 | the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a 130 | thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg 131 | would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous 132 | kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the 133 | middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and 134 | ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for 135 | my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.

136 |

But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one 137 | leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who 138 | knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water 139 | than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his 140 | wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call 141 | for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his 142 | stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house 143 | shaking with "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," all the neighbours joining 144 | in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing 145 | louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most 146 | overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for 147 | silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, 148 | or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not 149 | following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he 150 | had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.

151 |

His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories 152 | they were—about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and 153 | the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his 154 | own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men 155 | that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told 156 | these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the 157 | crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be 158 | ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over 159 | and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his 160 | presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking 161 | back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country 162 | life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to 163 | admire him, calling him a "true sea-dog" and a "real old salt" and 164 | such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England 165 | terrible at sea.

166 |

In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week 167 | after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had 168 | been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to 169 | insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through 170 | his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor 171 | father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a 172 | rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have 173 | greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.

174 |

All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his 175 | dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his 176 | hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it 177 | was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his 178 | coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before 179 | the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, 180 | and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the 181 | most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had 182 | ever seen open.

183 |

He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor 184 | father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came 185 | late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my 186 | mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should 187 | come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I 188 | followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright 189 | doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and 190 | pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, 191 | with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, 192 | far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he—the captain, 193 | that is—began to pipe up his eternal song:

194 |

At first I had supposed "the dead man's chest" to be that identical big 195 | box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled 196 | in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this 197 | time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it 198 | was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it 199 | did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite 200 | angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on 201 | a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually 202 | brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon 203 | the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices 204 | stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey's; he went on as before speaking 205 | clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or 206 | two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, 207 | glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, 208 | "Silence, there, between decks!"

209 |

"Were you addressing me, sir?" says the doctor; and when the ruffian had 210 | told him, with another oath, that this was so, "I have only one thing to 211 | say to you, sir," replies the doctor, "that if you keep on drinking rum, 212 | the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"

213 |

The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened 214 | a sailor's clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, 215 | threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.

216 |

The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his 217 | shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the 218 | room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: "If you do not put that 219 | knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall 220 | hang at the next assizes."

221 |

Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon 222 | knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like 223 | a beaten dog.

224 |

"And now, sir," continued the doctor, "since I now know there's such a 225 | fellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and 226 | night. I'm not a doctor only; I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath 227 | of complaint against you, if it's only for a piece of incivility like 228 | tonight's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed 229 | out of this. Let that suffice."

230 |

Soon after, Dr. Livesey's horse came to the door and he rode away, but 231 | the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.

232 | 233 |
234 |
235 | 236 | 242 | 243 |
244 | 245 |
246 | 247 | 248 | 249 | 250 | 251 | 252 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /step3-jquery.html: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | [J] Treasure Island 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
27 |
28 | 29 | 35 | 36 | 59 | 60 |
61 |
62 | 63 |

Treasure Island

64 | 65 |

SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having 66 | asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from 67 | the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the 68 | island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I 69 | take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when 70 | my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the 71 | sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

72 |

I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the 73 | inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a 74 | tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the 75 | shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with 76 | black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid 77 | white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself 78 | as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so 79 | often afterwards:

80 |

in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and 81 | broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of 82 | stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, 83 | called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, 84 | he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still 85 | looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.

86 |

"This is a handy cove," says he at length; "and a pleasant sittyated 87 | grog-shop. Much company, mate?"

88 |

My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.

89 |

"Well, then," said he, "this is the berth for me. Here you, matey," he 90 | cried to the man who trundled the barrow; "bring up alongside and help 91 | up my chest. I'll stay here a bit," he continued. "I'm a plain man; rum 92 | and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch 93 | ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I 94 | see what you're at—there"; and he threw down three or four gold pieces 95 | on the threshold. "You can tell me when I've worked through that," says 96 | he, looking as fierce as a commander.

97 |

And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none 98 | of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like 99 | a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came 100 | with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at 101 | the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the 102 | coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as 103 | lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And 104 | that was all we could learn of our guest.

105 |

He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or 106 | upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner 107 | of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly 108 | he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and 109 | blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came 110 | about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back 111 | from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the 112 | road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind 113 | that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was 114 | desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow 115 | (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he 116 | would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the 117 | parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such 118 | was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for 119 | I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day 120 | and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I 121 | would only keep my "weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg" 122 | and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first 123 | of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only 124 | blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was 125 | out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and 126 | repeat his orders to look out for "the seafaring man with one leg."

127 |

How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On 128 | stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and 129 | the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a 130 | thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg 131 | would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous 132 | kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the 133 | middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and 134 | ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for 135 | my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.

136 |

But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one 137 | leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who 138 | knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water 139 | than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his 140 | wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call 141 | for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his 142 | stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house 143 | shaking with "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," all the neighbours joining 144 | in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing 145 | louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most 146 | overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for 147 | silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, 148 | or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not 149 | following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he 150 | had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.

151 |

His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories 152 | they were—about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and 153 | the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his 154 | own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men 155 | that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told 156 | these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the 157 | crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be 158 | ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over 159 | and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his 160 | presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking 161 | back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country 162 | life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to 163 | admire him, calling him a "true sea-dog" and a "real old salt" and 164 | such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England 165 | terrible at sea.

166 |

In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week 167 | after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had 168 | been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to 169 | insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through 170 | his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor 171 | father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a 172 | rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have 173 | greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.

174 |

All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his 175 | dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his 176 | hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it 177 | was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his 178 | coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before 179 | the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, 180 | and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the 181 | most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had 182 | ever seen open.

183 |

He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor 184 | father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came 185 | late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my 186 | mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should 187 | come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I 188 | followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright 189 | doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and 190 | pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, 191 | with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, 192 | far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he—the captain, 193 | that is—began to pipe up his eternal song:

194 |

At first I had supposed "the dead man's chest" to be that identical big 195 | box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled 196 | in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this 197 | time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it 198 | was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it 199 | did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite 200 | angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on 201 | a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually 202 | brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon 203 | the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices 204 | stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey's; he went on as before speaking 205 | clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or 206 | two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, 207 | glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, 208 | "Silence, there, between decks!"

209 |

"Were you addressing me, sir?" says the doctor; and when the ruffian had 210 | told him, with another oath, that this was so, "I have only one thing to 211 | say to you, sir," replies the doctor, "that if you keep on drinking rum, 212 | the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"

213 |

The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened 214 | a sailor's clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, 215 | threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.

216 |

The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his 217 | shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the 218 | room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: "If you do not put that 219 | knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall 220 | hang at the next assizes."

221 |

Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon 222 | knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like 223 | a beaten dog.

224 |

"And now, sir," continued the doctor, "since I now know there's such a 225 | fellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and 226 | night. I'm not a doctor only; I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath 227 | of complaint against you, if it's only for a piece of incivility like 228 | tonight's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed 229 | out of this. Let that suffice."

230 |

Soon after, Dr. Livesey's horse came to the door and he rode away, but 231 | the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.

232 | 233 |
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61 |
62 | 63 |

Treasure Island

64 | 65 |

SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having 66 | asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from 67 | the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the 68 | island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I 69 | take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when 70 | my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the 71 | sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

72 |

I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the 73 | inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a 74 | tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the 75 | shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with 76 | black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid 77 | white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself 78 | as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so 79 | often afterwards:

80 |

in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and 81 | broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of 82 | stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, 83 | called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, 84 | he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still 85 | looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.

86 |

"This is a handy cove," says he at length; "and a pleasant sittyated 87 | grog-shop. Much company, mate?"

88 |

My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.

89 |

"Well, then," said he, "this is the berth for me. Here you, matey," he 90 | cried to the man who trundled the barrow; "bring up alongside and help 91 | up my chest. I'll stay here a bit," he continued. "I'm a plain man; rum 92 | and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch 93 | ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I 94 | see what you're at—there"; and he threw down three or four gold pieces 95 | on the threshold. "You can tell me when I've worked through that," says 96 | he, looking as fierce as a commander.

97 |

And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none 98 | of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like 99 | a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came 100 | with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at 101 | the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the 102 | coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as 103 | lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And 104 | that was all we could learn of our guest.

105 |

He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or 106 | upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner 107 | of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly 108 | he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and 109 | blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came 110 | about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back 111 | from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the 112 | road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind 113 | that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was 114 | desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow 115 | (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he 116 | would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the 117 | parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such 118 | was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for 119 | I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day 120 | and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I 121 | would only keep my "weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg" 122 | and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first 123 | of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only 124 | blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was 125 | out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and 126 | repeat his orders to look out for "the seafaring man with one leg."

127 |

How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On 128 | stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and 129 | the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a 130 | thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg 131 | would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous 132 | kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the 133 | middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and 134 | ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for 135 | my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.

136 |

But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one 137 | leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who 138 | knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water 139 | than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his 140 | wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call 141 | for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his 142 | stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house 143 | shaking with "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," all the neighbours joining 144 | in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing 145 | louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most 146 | overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for 147 | silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, 148 | or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not 149 | following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he 150 | had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.

151 |

His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories 152 | they were—about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and 153 | the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his 154 | own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men 155 | that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told 156 | these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the 157 | crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be 158 | ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over 159 | and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his 160 | presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking 161 | back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country 162 | life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to 163 | admire him, calling him a "true sea-dog" and a "real old salt" and 164 | such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England 165 | terrible at sea.

166 |

In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week 167 | after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had 168 | been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to 169 | insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through 170 | his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor 171 | father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a 172 | rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have 173 | greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.

174 |

All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his 175 | dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his 176 | hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it 177 | was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his 178 | coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before 179 | the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, 180 | and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the 181 | most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had 182 | ever seen open.

183 |

He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor 184 | father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came 185 | late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my 186 | mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should 187 | come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I 188 | followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright 189 | doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and 190 | pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, 191 | with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, 192 | far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he—the captain, 193 | that is—began to pipe up his eternal song:

194 |

At first I had supposed "the dead man's chest" to be that identical big 195 | box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled 196 | in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this 197 | time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it 198 | was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it 199 | did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite 200 | angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on 201 | a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually 202 | brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon 203 | the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices 204 | stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey's; he went on as before speaking 205 | clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or 206 | two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, 207 | glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, 208 | "Silence, there, between decks!"

209 |

"Were you addressing me, sir?" says the doctor; and when the ruffian had 210 | told him, with another oath, that this was so, "I have only one thing to 211 | say to you, sir," replies the doctor, "that if you keep on drinking rum, 212 | the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"

213 |

The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened 214 | a sailor's clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, 215 | threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.

216 |

The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his 217 | shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the 218 | room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: "If you do not put that 219 | knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall 220 | hang at the next assizes."

221 |

Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon 222 | knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like 223 | a beaten dog.

224 |

"And now, sir," continued the doctor, "since I now know there's such a 225 | fellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and 226 | night. I'm not a doctor only; I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath 227 | of complaint against you, if it's only for a piece of incivility like 228 | tonight's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed 229 | out of this. Let that suffice."

230 |

Soon after, Dr. Livesey's horse came to the door and he rode away, but 231 | the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.

232 | 233 |
234 |
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244 | 245 |
246 | 247 | 248 | 249 | 250 | 251 | 252 | 253 | -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- /extras/step3-jquery-animation-frame.html: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | [J] Treasure Island 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
27 |
28 | 29 | 35 | 36 | 59 | 60 |
61 |
62 | 63 |

Treasure Island

64 | 65 |

SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having 66 | asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from 67 | the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the 68 | island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I 69 | take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when 70 | my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the 71 | sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.

72 |

I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the 73 | inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a 74 | tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the 75 | shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with 76 | black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid 77 | white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself 78 | as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so 79 | often afterwards:

80 |

in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and 81 | broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of 82 | stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, 83 | called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, 84 | he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste and still 85 | looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.

86 |

"This is a handy cove," says he at length; "and a pleasant sittyated 87 | grog-shop. Much company, mate?"

88 |

My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.

89 |

"Well, then," said he, "this is the berth for me. Here you, matey," he 90 | cried to the man who trundled the barrow; "bring up alongside and help 91 | up my chest. I'll stay here a bit," he continued. "I'm a plain man; rum 92 | and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch 93 | ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I 94 | see what you're at—there"; and he threw down three or four gold pieces 95 | on the threshold. "You can tell me when I've worked through that," says 96 | he, looking as fierce as a commander.

97 |

And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as he spoke, he had none 98 | of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast, but seemed like 99 | a mate or skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came 100 | with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at 101 | the Royal George, that he had inquired what inns there were along the 102 | coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as 103 | lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And 104 | that was all we could learn of our guest.

105 |

He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove or 106 | upon the cliffs with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner 107 | of the parlour next the fire and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly 108 | he would not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and fierce and 109 | blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came 110 | about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day when he came back 111 | from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the 112 | road. At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind 113 | that made him ask this question, but at last we began to see he was 114 | desirous to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral Benbow 115 | (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol) he 116 | would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the 117 | parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such 118 | was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter, for 119 | I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day 120 | and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I 121 | would only keep my "weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg" 122 | and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough when the first 123 | of the month came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would only 124 | blow through his nose at me and stare me down, but before the week was 125 | out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and 126 | repeat his orders to look out for "the seafaring man with one leg."

127 |

How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On 128 | stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house and 129 | the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a 130 | thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg 131 | would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous 132 | kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the 133 | middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and 134 | ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for 135 | my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.

136 |

But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one 137 | leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who 138 | knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water 139 | than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his 140 | wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call 141 | for glasses round and force all the trembling company to listen to his 142 | stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house 143 | shaking with "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum," all the neighbours joining 144 | in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing 145 | louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most 146 | overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for 147 | silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, 148 | or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not 149 | following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he 150 | had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.

151 |

His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories 152 | they were—about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and 153 | the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his 154 | own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men 155 | that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told 156 | these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the 157 | crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be 158 | ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over 159 | and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his 160 | presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking 161 | back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country 162 | life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to 163 | admire him, calling him a "true sea-dog" and a "real old salt" and 164 | such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England 165 | terrible at sea.

166 |

In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he kept on staying week 167 | after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had 168 | been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to 169 | insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through 170 | his nose so loudly that you might say he roared, and stared my poor 171 | father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a 172 | rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have 173 | greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.

174 |

All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his 175 | dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his 176 | hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it 177 | was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his 178 | coat, which he patched himself upstairs in his room, and which, before 179 | the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, 180 | and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the 181 | most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea-chest none of us had 182 | ever seen open.

183 |

He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor 184 | father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came 185 | late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my 186 | mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should 187 | come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old Benbow. I 188 | followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright 189 | doctor, with his powder as white as snow and his bright, black eyes and 190 | pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, 191 | with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting, 192 | far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he—the captain, 193 | that is—began to pipe up his eternal song:

194 |

At first I had supposed "the dead man's chest" to be that identical big 195 | box of his upstairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled 196 | in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this 197 | time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it 198 | was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it 199 | did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite 200 | angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on 201 | a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually 202 | brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon 203 | the table before him in a way we all knew to mean silence. The voices 204 | stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey's; he went on as before speaking 205 | clear and kind and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or 206 | two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, 207 | glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath, 208 | "Silence, there, between decks!"

209 |

"Were you addressing me, sir?" says the doctor; and when the ruffian had 210 | told him, with another oath, that this was so, "I have only one thing to 211 | say to you, sir," replies the doctor, "that if you keep on drinking rum, 212 | the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"

213 |

The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened 214 | a sailor's clasp-knife, and balancing it open on the palm of his hand, 215 | threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.

216 |

The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him as before, over his 217 | shoulder and in the same tone of voice, rather high, so that all the 218 | room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: "If you do not put that 219 | knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall 220 | hang at the next assizes."

221 |

Then followed a battle of looks between them, but the captain soon 222 | knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like 223 | a beaten dog.

224 |

"And now, sir," continued the doctor, "since I now know there's such a 225 | fellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and 226 | night. I'm not a doctor only; I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath 227 | of complaint against you, if it's only for a piece of incivility like 228 | tonight's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed 229 | out of this. Let that suffice."

230 |

Soon after, Dr. Livesey's horse came to the door and he rode away, but 231 | the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.

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