Gray and I were sitting together at the far end of the blockhouse, to be out of earshot of our officers, consulting, and Gray took his pipe out of his mouth and fairly forgot to put it back again, so thunderstruck he was at this occurrence.

“Why, in the name of Davy Jones,” said he, “is Doctor Livesey mad?”

“Why, no,” says I. “He’s about the last of this crew for that, I take it.”

“Well, shipmate,” said Gray, “mad he may not be, but if he’s not, mark my words, I am.”

“I take it,” replied I, “the doctor has his idea, and if I am right, he’s going now to see Ben Gunn.”