a couple of turns; but I don't have no manner of luck, you see, and that's what's the matter with me. As for that swab, he's good as dead, he is," he added, indicating the man with the red cap. "He warn't no seaman, anyhow. And where mought you have come from?"
"Well," said I, "I've come aboard to take possession of this ship, Mr. Hands; and you'll please regard me as your captain until further notice."
He looked at me sourly enough, but said nothing. Some of the color had come back into his cheeks, though he still looked very sick and still continued to slip out and settle down as the ship banged about.
"By-the-by," I continued, "I can't have these colors, Mr. Hands; and, by your leave, I'll strike 'em. Better none than these."
And, again dodging the boom, I ran to the color-lines, handed down their cursed black flag, and chucked it overboard.
"God save the king!" said I, waving my cap; "and there's an end to Captain Silver!"
He watched me keenly and slyly, his chin all the while on his breast.
"I reckon," he said at last—"I reckon, Cap'n Hawkins, you'll kind of want to get ashore now. S'pose we talks."
"Why, yes," says I, "with all my heart, Mr. Hands. Say on." And I went back to my meal with a good appetite.
"This man," he began, nodding feebly at the corpse—"O'Brien were his name—a rank Irelander—this man and me got the canvas on her, meaning for to sail her back. Well, he's dead now, he is—as dead as bilge; and who's to sail this ship I don't see. Without I gives you a hint, you ain't that man, as far's I can tell. Now, look here, you gives me food and drink and a old scarf or 'ankercher to tie my wound up, you do, and I'll tell you how to sail her; and that's about square all round, I take it."
"I'll tell you one thing," says I: "I'm not going back to Captain Kidd's anchorage. I mean to get into North Inlet, and beach her quietly there."
"To be sure you did," he cried. "Why, I ain't sich an infernal