littering hook:

"Ha--what's yon!" cried he in awful voice; and I turning whither his
glaring eyes stared (and half-dreading to behold my lady) had the
pistol wrenched from my hold and the muzzle under my ear all in a
moment; and stood scowling and defenceless like the vast fool I was.

"Split me!" says he, tapping me gently with his hook "O blind me if I
thought ye such a lubberly fool! So old a trick, Marty! Now look'ee,
were I a murderer and loved it--like Adam, curse him--I should pull
trigger! But being Roger Tressady wi' a heart o' gold, I say sit down,
lad, sit down and let us talk, friend, let us talk. Come--sit down!
Never mind Andy, he shan't trouble us!" So with the pistol at my ear
we sat down side by side and the dead man sprawling at our feet.

"Now first, Marty lad, how come ye here alone on Bartlemy's
island--how?"

But sitting thus chin on fist I stared down at Red Andy's stiffening
body silent as he, I being too full of fierce anger and bitter scorn of
my folly for speech.

"Come, come, Marty, be sociable!" says Tressady, tapping my cheek with
the pistol-muzzle, "Was it Penfeather sent ye hither t' give an eye
to--the treasure? Was it?"

"Aye!"

"'Twould be the night he made the crew drunk and spoiled my plans. Ha,
'twas like him--a cunning rogue! But for this I'd have had the ship
and him and the treasure. O a right cunning, fierce rogue was Adam,
and none to match him but me."

"But he nearly did for you once!" says I bitterly, "And he such a
small, timid man!"

"Look'ee, Martin, when Adam grows timid 'tis time for your bold,
desperate fellows to beware! But he's dead at last, though I'd ha'
felt more comfort, aye I'd ha' took it kinder had he been took off by
my Silver Woman--or this!" Here he thrust his hook before my eyes.
"It ain't a pretty thing, Martin, not pretty, no--but 'tis useful at
all times and serves to shepherd my lambs wi' now and then, 'tis
likewise a mighty persuading argument, but, and best of all--'tis sure,
lad, sure. So I'd ha' took it kinder had I watched him go off on this,
lad, this. My hook for my enemies and for my friends a heart o' gold!
And, talking o' gold, Marty, what--what o' Bartlemy's Treasure?"

"You are happily welcome to it for all me."

"Why, that's spoke manly and like a friend, rot me but it is! And now
where might it lie, Marty, where?"

"I've no idea."

"What ha'n't ye found it, lad?"

"No!"

"Not even--seen it, then?"

"No