rong. But I was only a boy, and I had made
my mind up.

Well, as things at last fell out, I found an admirable opportunity. The
squire and Gray were busy helping the captain with his bandages; the
coast was clear; I made a bolt for it over the stockade and into the
thickest of the trees, and before my absence was observed I was out of
cry of my companions.

This was my second folly, far worse than the first, as I left but two
sound men to guard the house; but like the first, it was a help towards
saving all of us.

I took my way straight for the east coast of the island, for I was
determined to go down the sea side of the spit to avoid all chance of
observation from the anchorage. It was already late in the afternoon,
although still warm and sunny. As I continued to thread the tall woods I
could hear from far before me not only the continuous thunder of the
surf, but a certain tossing of foliage and grinding of boughs, which
showed me the sea breeze had set in higher than usual. Soon cool draughts
of air began to reach me; and a few steps farther I came forth into the
open borders of the grove, and saw the sea lying blue and sunny to the
horizon, and the surf tumbling and tossing its foam along the beach.

I have never seen the sea quiet round Treasure Island. The sun might
blaze overhead, the air be without a breath, the surface smooth and blue,
but still these great rollers would be running along all the external
coast, thundering and thundering by day and night; and I scarce believe
there is one spot in the island where a man would be out of earshot of
their noise.

I walked along beside the surf with great enjoyment, till, thinking I was
now got far enough to the south, I took the cover of some thick bushes,
and crept warily up to the ridge of the spit.

Behind me was the sea, in front the anchorage. The sea breeze, as though
it had the sooner blown itself out by its unusual violence, was already
at an end; it had been succeeded by light, variable airs from the south
and south-east, carrying great banks of fog; and the anchorage, under lee
of Skeleton Island, lay still and leaden as when first we entered it. The
_Hispaniola_, in that unbroken mirror, was exactly portrayed from the
truck to the water-line, the Jolly Roger hanging from her peak.

Alongside lay one of the gigs, Silver in the stern-sheets--him I could
always recognise--while a couple of men were leaning over the stern
bulwarks, one of them with