Treasure Island
he was back begging on the twentieth. Then he was given a lodge to keep,
exactly as he had feared upon the island; and he still lives, a great
favourite, though something of a butt, with the country boys, and a
notable singer in church on Sundays and saints’ days.
Of Silver we have heard no more. That formidable seafaring man with one
leg has at last gone clean out of my life; but I dare say he met his old
Negress, and perhaps still lives in comfort with her and Captain Flint.
It is to be hoped so, I suppose, for his chances of comfort in another
world are very small.
The bar silver and the arms still lie, for all that I know, where
Flint buried them; and certainly they shall lie there for me. Oxen and
wain-ropes would not bring me back again to that accursed island; and
the worst dreams that ever I have are when I hear the surf booming about
its coasts or start upright in bed with the sharp voice of Captain Flint
still ringing in my ears: “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”