Treasure Island Part I Chapter II - Black Dog Appears and Disappears

**Robert Louis Stevenson** (0:19)
CHAPTER II Black Dog Appears and Disappears It was not very long after this that there occurred the first of the mysterious events that rid us at last of the captain, though not, as you will see, of his affairs. It was a bitter cold winter, with long hard frosts and heavy gales, and it was plain from the first that my poor father was little likely to see the spring. He sank daily, and my mother and I had all the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without paying much regard to our unpleasant guest.
It was one January morning, very early, a pinching frosty morning, the cove all gray with whore frost, the ripple lapping softly on the stones, the sun still low and only touching the hilltops and shining far to seaward.
The captain had risen earlier than usual and set out down the beach, his cutlass swinging under the broad skirts of the old blue coat, his brass telescope under his arm, his hat tilted back upon his head. I remember his breath hanging like smoke in his wake as he strode off, and the last sound I heard of him as he turned the big rock was a loud snort of indignation, as though his mind was still running upon Dr. Livesey.
Well, mother was upstairs with father, and I was laying the breakfast table against the captain's return when the parlor door opened, and a man stepped in on whom I had never set my eyes before. He was a pale, tallowy creature, wanting two fingers off the left hand, and though he wore a cutlass he did not look much like a fighter. I had always my eye open for seafaring men, with one leg or two, and I remember this one puzzled me. He was not sailorly, and yet he had a smack of the sea about him, too.
I asked him what was for his service, and he said he would take rum. But as I was going out of the room to fetch it, he sat down upon a table and motioned me to draw near. I paused where I was with my napkin in my hand. Come here, sonny, says he. Come nearer here. I took a step nearer. Is this here table for my mate, Bill? he asked with a kind of leer.
I told him I did not know his mate, Bill, and this was for a person who stayed in our house whom we called the Captain. Well, said he, my mate, Bill, would be called the Captain, is like is not. He has a cut on one cheek, and a mighty pleasant way with him, particularly in drink, has my mate, Bill. We'll put it for argument like, that your Captain has a cut on one cheek, and we'll put it, if you like, that that cheek's the right one. Ah, well, I told you. Now, is my mate, Bill, in this here house? I told him he was out walking. Which way, sonny? Which way is he gone? And when I had pointed out the rock and told him how the Captain was likely to return, and how soon, and answered a few other questions—'Ah, said he, this will be as good as drink to my mate Bill. The expression of his face as he said these words was not at all pleasant, and I had my own reasons for thinking that the stranger was mistaken, even supposing he meant what he said.
But it was no affair of mine, I thought, and besides, it was difficult to know what to do. The stranger kept hanging about just inside the inn door, peering around the corner like a cat waiting for a mouse. Once I stepped out myself into the road, but he immediately called me back, and as I did not obey quick enough for his fancy, a most horrible change came over his tallowy face, and he ordered me in, with an oath that made me jump. As soon as I was back again he returned to his former manner, half-fawning, half-sneering, patted me on the shoulder, told me I was a good boy, and he had taken quite a fancy to me. I have a son of my own, said he. As like you is two blocks, and he's all the pride of my heart. But the great thing for boys is discipline, sonny, discipline. Now, if you had sailed along a bill, you wouldn't have stood there to be smoked to twice, not you. That was never Bill's way, nor the way of such as sailed with him. And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with his spy-glass under his arm, bless his old art, to be sure. You and me will just go back into the parlour, sonny, get behind the door, and we'll give Bill a little surprise. Bless his heart, I say again. So saying, the stranger backed along with me into the parlour, and put me behind him in the corner, so that we were both hidden by the open door. I was very uneasy and alarmed, as you may fancy, and it rather added to my fears to observe that the stranger was certainly frightened himself. He cleared the hilt of his cutlass and loosened the blade in the sheath, and all the time we were waiting there he kept swallowing as if he felt what we used to call a lump in the throat.