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 colour 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 colours, Mr. Hands; and by your leave, I'll strike 'em. Better none than these."
And, again dodging the boom, I ran to the colour 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;
