The Black Spot Again
The council of the buccaneers had lasted some time, when one of them reentered the house, and with a repetition of the same salute, which had in my eyes an ironical air, begged for a moment’s loan of the torch. Silver briefly agreed, and this emissary retired again, leaving us together in the dark.
“There’s a breeze coming, Jim,” said Silver, who had by this time adopted quite a friendly and familiar tone.