1 The terror of the dead buccaneer had fallen on their spirits.
2 I was bewildered; it seemed a thing so hopeless he was asking--he, the old buccaneer, the ringleader throughout.
3 As I did so, I could hear hails coming and going between the old buccaneer and his comrades, and this sound of danger lent me wings.
4 Thus encouraged, the buccaneer stepped forth more briskly, and having passed something to Silver, from hand to hand, slipped yet more smartly back again to his companions.
5 It cowed me more than the pain, and I began to obey him at once, walking straight in at the door and towards the parlour, where our sick old buccaneer was sitting, dazed with rum.
6 I had seen the captain, and Black Dog, and the blind man, Pew, and I thought I knew what a buccaneer was like--a very different creature, according to me, from this clean and pleasant-tempered landlord.
7 He lingered all day, breathing loudly like the old buccaneer at home in his apoplectic fit, but the bones of his chest had been crushed by the blow and his skull fractured in falling, and some time in the following night, without sign or sound, he went to his Maker.
8 This also added to my wretchedness, and to crown all, I was haunted by the thought of the tragedy that had once been acted on that plateau, when that ungodly buccaneer with the blue face--he who died at Savannah, singing and shouting for drink--had there, with his own hand, cut down his six accomplices.