First published in 1883, Stevenson's tale of pirate adventure on the high seas has become one of the best-known classics of English literature.
|Publisher:||Don Johnston Incorporated|
|Age Range:||7 - 9 Years|
About the Author
Born in Edinburgh in 1850, to strict Calvinist parents, Robert Louis Stevenson was a famous Scottish novelist, poet and travel writer. His ill health meant that he spent the latter part of his life voyaging the world, in an attempt to find a climate that suited his health, and this contributed to the exoticism of much of his work. He finally settled in Samoa, and died in 1899. Revered during his lifetime, and often harshly underrated since his death, Robert Louis Stevenson is today recognized as one of the the great writers of the nineteenth century, having influenced authors such as Graham Greene, Jorge Luis Borges and Vladimir Nabokov.
Date of Birth:November 13, 1850
Date of Death:December 3, 1894
Place of Birth:Edinburgh, Scotland
Place of Death:Vailima, Samoa
Education:Edinburgh University, 1875
Read an Excerpt
By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
Dover Publications, Inc.Copyright © 2017 Dover Publications, Inc.
All rights reserved.
The Old Sea Dog at the "Admiral Benbow"
Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17 —, and go back to the time when my father kept the "Admiral Benbow" inn, and the brown old seaman, with the sabre cut, first took up his lodging under our roof.
I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea chest following behind him in a handbarrow; a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man; his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulders of his soiled blue coat; his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails; and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cove and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards: —
"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest — Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"
in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. Then he rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike that he carried, and when my father appeared, called roughly for a glass of rum. This, when it was brought to him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on the taste, and still looking about him at the cliffs and up at our signboard.
"This is a handy cove," says he, at length; "and a pleasant sittyated grog-shop. Much company, mate?"
My father told him no, very little company, the more was the pity.
"Well, then," said he, "this is the berth for me. Here you, matey," he cried to the man who trundled the barrow; "bring up alongside and help up my chest. I'll stay here a bit," he continued. "I'm a plain man; rum and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up there for to watch ships off. What you mought call me? You mought call me captain. Oh, I see what you're at — there;" and he threw down three or four gold pieces on the threshold. "You can tell me when I've worked through that," says he, looking as fierce as a commander.
And, indeed, bad as his clothes were, and coarsely as he spoke, he had none of the appearance of a man who sailed before the mast; but seemed like a mate or skipper, accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. The man who came with the barrow told us the mail had set him down the morning before at the "Royal George;" that he had inquired what inns there were along the coast, and hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of residence. And that was all we could learn of our guest.
He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung round the cove, or upon the cliffs, with a brass telescope; all evening he sat in a corner of the parlour next the fire, and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly he would not speak when spoken to; only look up sudden and fierce, and blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and we and the people who came about our house soon learned to let him be. Every day, when he came back from his stroll, he would ask if any seafaring men had gone by along the road? At first we thought it was the want of company of his own kind that made him ask this question; but at last we began to see he was desirous to avoid them. When a seaman put up at the "Admiral Benbow" (as now and then some did, making by the coast road for Bristol), he would look in at him through the curtained door before he entered the parlour; and he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any such was present. For me, at least, there was no secret about the matter; for I was, in a way, a sharer in his alarms. He had taken me aside one day, and promised me a silver fourpenny on the first of every month if I would only keep my "weather-eye open for a seafaring man with one leg," and let him know the moment he appeared. Often enough, when the first of the month came round, and I applied to him for my wage, he would only blow through his nose at me, and stare me down; but before the week was out he was sure to think better of it, bring me my fourpenny piece, and repeat his orders to look out for "the seafaring man with one leg."
How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house, and the surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg would be cut off at the knee, now at the hip; now he was a monstrous kind of a creature who had never had but the one leg, and that in the middle of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.
But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who knew him. There were nights when he took a deal more rum and water than his head would carry; and then he would sometimes sit and sing his wicked, old, wild sea-songs, minding nobody; but sometimes he would call for glasses round, and force all the trembling company to listen to his stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Often I have heard the house shaking with "Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum;" all the neighbours joining in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing louder than the other, to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most over-riding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for silence all round; he would fly up in a passion of anger at a question, or sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the company was not following his story. Nor would he allow anyone to leave the inn till he had drunk himself sleepy and reeled off to bed.
His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories they were; about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men that God ever allowed upon the sea; and the language in which he told these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannised over and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country life; and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to admire him, calling him a "true sea dog," and a "real old salt," and such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England terrible at sea.
In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us; for he kept on staying week after week, and at last month after month, so that all the money had been long exhausted, and still my father never plucked up the heart to insist on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain blew through his nose so loudly, that you might say he roared, and stared my poor father out of the room. I have seen him wringing his hands after such a rebuff, and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in must have greatly hastened his early and unhappy death.
All the time he lived with us the captain made no change whatever in his dress but to buy some stockings from a hawker. One of the cocks of his hat having fallen down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it was a great annoyance when it blew. I remember the appearance of his coat, which he patched himself up-stairs in his room, and which, before the end, was nothing but patches. He never wrote or received a letter, and he never spoke with any but the neighbours, and with these, for the most part, only when drunk on rum. The great sea chest none of us had ever seen open.
He was only once crossed, and that was towards the end, when my poor father was far gone in a decline that took him off. Dr. Livesey came late one afternoon to see the patient, took a bit of dinner from my mother, and went into the parlour to smoke a pipe until his horse should come down from the hamlet, for we had no stabling at the old "Benbow." I followed him in, and I remember observing the contrast the neat, bright doctor, with his powder as white as snow, and his bright black eyes and pleasant manners, made with the coltish country folk, and above all, with that filthy, heavy, bleared scarecrow of a pirate of ours, sitting far gone in rum, with his arms on the table. Suddenly he — the captain, that is — began to pipe up his eternal song: —
"Fifteen men on the dead man's chest —
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest —
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"
At first I had supposed "the dead mans chest" to be that identical big box of his up-stairs in the front room, and the thought had been mingled in my nightmares with that of the one-legged seafaring man. But by this time we had all long ceased to pay any particular notice to the song; it was new, that night, to nobody but Dr. Livesey, and on him I observed it did not produce an agreeable effect, for he looked up for a moment quite angrily before he went on with his talk to old Taylor, the gardener, on a new cure for the rheumatics. In the meantime, the captain gradually brightened up at his own music, and at last flapped his hand upon the table before him in a way we all knew to mean — silence. The voices stopped at once, all but Dr. Livesey's; he went on as before, speaking clear and kind, and drawing briskly at his pipe between every word or two. The captain glared at him for a while, flapped his hand again, glared still harder, and at last broke out with a villainous, low oath: "Silence, there, between decks!"
"Were you addressing me, sir?" says the doctor; and when the ruffian had told him, with another oath, that this was so, "I have only one thing to say to you, sir," replies the doctor, "that if you keep on drinking rum, the world will soon be quit of a very dirty scoundrel!"
The old fellow's fury was awful. He sprang to his feet, drew and opened a sailor's clasp-knife, and, balancing it open on the palm of his hand, threatened to pin the doctor to the wall.
The doctor never so much as moved. He spoke to him, as before, over his shoulder, and in the same tone of voice; rather high, so that all in the room might hear, but perfectly calm and steady: —
"If you do not put that knife this instant in your pocket, I promise, upon my honour, you shall hang at next assizes."
Then followed a battle of looks between them; but the captain soon knuckled under, put up his weapon, and resumed his seat, grumbling like a beaten dog.
"And now, sir," continued the doctor, "since I now know there's such a fellow in my district, you may count I'll have an eye upon you day and night. I'm not a doctor only; I'm a magistrate; and if I catch a breath of complaint against you, if it's only for a piece of incivility like to-night's, I'll take effectual means to have you hunted down and routed out of this. Let that suffice."
Soon after Dr. Livesey's horse came to the door, and he rode away; but the captain held his peace that evening, and for many evenings to come.CHAPTER 2
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 grey with hoar-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 up-stairs with father; and I was laying the breakfast-table against the captain's return, when the parlour 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 of 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, as like as 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'll 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 round 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 as two blocks, and he's all the pride of my 'art. But the great thing for boys is discipline, sonny — discipline. Now, if you had sailed along of Bill, you wouldn't have stood there to be spoke to twice — not you. That was never Bill's way, nor the way of sich as sailed with him. And here, sure enough, is my mate Bill, with a spy-glass under his arm, bless his old 'art, to be sure. You and me'll just go back into the parlour, sonny, and get behind the door, and we'll give Bill a little surprise — bless his 'art, 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.
At last in strode the captain, slammed the door behind him, without looking to the right or left, and marched straight across the room to where his breakfast awaited him.
"Bill," said the stranger, in a voice that I thought he had tried to make bold and big.
The captain spun round on his heel and fronted us; all the brown had gone out of his face, and even his nose was blue; he had the look of a man who sees a ghost, or the evil one, or something worse, if anything can be; and, upon my word, I felt sorry to see him, all in a moment, turn so old and sick.
"Come, Bill, you know me; you know an old shipmate, Bill, surely," said the stranger.
The captain made a sort of gasp.
"Black Dog!" said he.
"And who else?" returned the other, getting more at his ease. "Black Dog as ever was, come for to see his old shipmate Billy, at the 'Admiral Benbow' inn. Ah, Bill, Bill, we have seen a sight of times, us two, since I lost them two talons," holding up his mutilated hand.
Excerpted from Treasure Island by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Copyright © 2017 Dover Publications, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements Introduction Robert Louis Stevenson: A Brief Chronology A Note on the Text
Appendix A: Reviews of Treasure Island
- From The Academy (1 December 1883)
- From [Arthur John Butler,] The Athenaeum (1 December 1883)
- From W.E. Henley, The Saturday Review (8 December 1883)
- From [Andrew Lang,] Pall Mall Gazette (15 December 1883)
- From Henry James, Century Magazine (April 1888)
- From Fanny Stevenson (7 March 1882)
Appendix B: Robert Louis Stevenson, “My First Book” (1894)
Appendix C: Treasure Island and Washington Irving’s Tales of a Traveller (1824)
Appendix D: Treasure Island and Charles E. Pearce’s Billy Bo’swain (1873)
Appendix E: Puzzles and Conundrums
- How Old Is Jim?
- Long John Silver’s (Invisible) Black Wife
- Why Does Stevenson Not Hang Long John Silver?
- “Fifteen men”? A “dead man’s chest”?
- Who Owned the Parrot before Long John Silver?
- When and Where Is Jim Writing?
- Long John Silver’s Impossible CV
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Seriously this is an amazing story. Do not listen to bad reviews this book will absolutely captivate you. It isn't like the pathetically uncerebral books written today. If you can't handle big words... stick to Twilight. If you want something that will stimulate your imagination, I highly recommend this.
I wish people would stop giving books bad reviews for the sole reason that they are hard to read. I mean, yeah it'll be hard to understand. This was back when average intelligence, or at least vocabulary, was way higher than it is now. The fact is this is a great book, that is why they call it a classic. I guess we've been so dumbed down that we resent anything that forces us to think a little harder than normal.
i just got my nook and was browsing when i found this. i have read it before, and i loved it. if you want to read something good, here you go. its a wonderful classic.
My brother got this book on his kindle and I am soooo glad to get it for free on my nook color. I have to say,it is a must read. Enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The number of typos and "imperfections" was a distraction. And there were occasions where my enjoyment was diminished by trying to figure out what the word is. I recommend trying to get a "cleaner" version of this incredible story, it is worth the effort.
ggreat book but not the best copy....lots of typos
This book was amazing. It is a must read for book fanatics. There are a few errors/spelling mistakes but it doesn't make the book less enjoyable. This is the best book i have read so far. Got to love the classics. If you are looking for a book filled with pirates and exciting adventures than this is the book to read.
It costs $0.99 and whenever I try to read it a little sign pops up that says sorry can't open this book I'm going to delete it after I write this review.
I am on chapter 22 right now and so far, i love it! A lot of peeps die in this book in case you didn't read it yet. It's all about pirates and treasure and killing people(peeps are people!). ANYWAYS............I love this book. And I think you should read a book called The Call Of The Wild by Jack London. That is also one of my favorite books.
Compared to the real book this downlaod has way too many misspellings. Sometimes instead of ltters symbols are used! Loved the story though.
There is a reason this book is an all time classic. It started adventure with buried treasure and pirates. It is a difficult read because it was written at a time when English was almost a different language. When pirates had their own vocabulary. In all a great adventure story.
I mean the book is okay but the movie is better. But who cares about the plot the adventur is better. It is more awe to it but anyway love the book ,but the movie is better it is how I rool. [Look if u single caal back]
I was looking for a book one summer, so my Dad took me to the library. I did not know what to read so he said let's look at the 'classics'. We asked the woman at the desk what some classics were and she said Treasure Island. We ll we found the book and a few others. Ipicked it up in the car on theway home and i was hooked. It starts with a young Jim Hawkins at his father's motel. One day a one-legged pirate came in and he was in awe. You have to read young Jim's story, you will be in awe. 5 stars at LEAST? Great book. I would recomend to anybody with craving for thrill.
I got the "SURPERIOR FORMATTING PUBLISHER" Treasure Island, and the interactive table of content is broke, it does not do anything but a half second flash. Also, the page count is off, it scips 2-3 page numbers, but I don't think there are breaks in the reading, just bad counting.
This one is an all time favourite of mine, from when I was a boy till now. So much more than what a lot of people consider as a children's book.
Rollicking adventure tale - great fun and now I know more about the allusions in Arthur Ransome's novels.
A nice adventure book...one I cannot believe I haven't read before!! Long John Silver was well developed and very well balanced, and I am a sucker for an antagonist with a heart!The characters, though not fleshed out or fully developed, are enticing and realistic. This is, by far, a pure adventure story, though the adventure is slow in rolling itself out. The simple suspense is delightful, and the justice dispensed to those of blacker hearts seems reasonable and natural. Long John Silver's disappearance at the end definitely leaves a wide window for future legends, ideas and adventures to form themselves.
A ship's crew go and head in to the ocean to find Treasure Island
An all time favorite. it has everything in it that goes to make a good book - i think everyone should read this book
Read this again for the first time! It's been many years and it was like reading it fresh again - ya gotta love getting old! A Classic and must-read; there are so many concepts, phrases and ideas that originated with this book. Very enjoyable. For a children's book, it is a bit rough by today's standards, but the moral lessons of loyalty are powerful - the moral ambiguity is a lesson.
The book was amazing! A story of a kid who went to go look for treasure island
Dont judge books by their cover-im sure plenty of you have heard that saying-if the author isnt a great artist, who cares? What matters is the quality of the story and other writing stuff. And also a note to people who like this book and are saying things mabye mean to haters on thus book, just know that everybody is uniqe, there is absolutely no same person.-unless clone machine were invented of course XD-Anyways, what im trying to say is that you have a very differant mindsett or thought than the book hater. I am done with this message now. Thx for reading.
THIS BOOK IS AWESOME AND YOU MUST READ IT. YOU WILL LIKE IT IF YOU ARE CRAVING AND THIRSTY FOR ADVENTURE.