“Now, look you here, Jim Hawkins,” he said in a steady whisper that was no more than audible, “you’re within half a plank of death, and, what’s a long sight worse, of torture. They’re going to throw me off. But you mark, I stand by you through thick and thin. I didn’t mean to; no, not till you spoke up. I was about desperate to lose that much blunt, and be hanged into the bargain. But I see you was the right sort. I says to myself: You stand by Hawkins, John, and Hawkins’ll stand by you. You’re his last card, and by the living thunder, John, he’s yours! Back to back, says I. You save your witness and he’ll save your neck!”

I began dimly to understand.

“You mean all’s lost?” I asked.

“Ay, by gum, I do!” he answered. “Ship gone, neck gone⁠—that’s the size of it. Once I looked into that bay, Jim Hawkins, and seen no schooner⁠—well, I’m tough, but I gave out. As for that lot and their council, mark me, they’re outright fools and cowards. I’ll save your life⁠—if so be as I can⁠—from them. But see here, Jim⁠—tit for tat⁠—you save Long John from swinging.”