XI

What I Heard in the Apple Barrel

“No, not I,” said Silver. “Flint was cap’n; I was quartermaster, along of my timber leg. The same broadside I lost my leg, old Pew lost his deadlights. It was a master surgeon, him that ampytated me⁠—out of college and all⁠—Latin by the bucket, and whatnot; but he was hanged like a dog, and sun-dried like the rest, at Corso Castle. That was Roberts’ men, that was, and comed of changing names to their ships⁠— Royal Fortune and so on. Now, what a ship was christened, so let her stay, I says. So it was with the Cassandra , as brought us all safe home from Malabar, after England took the Viceroy of the Indies ; so it was with the old Walrus , Flint’s old ship, as I’ve seen amuck with the red blood and fit to sink with gold.”