Then Israel Hands turned with a low cry of pain. He looked across at me and whispered one word: "Rum".

"By thunder!" he said. "I wanted some of that. But where have you come from?"

I lost no time and climbed up the rope on to the deck of the ship. The two men were there, red-cap on his back, Israel Hands against the side, his face white There was dark blood around them on the deck, and I was sure each had killed the other in their drunken fight.

I went below to the cabin where there were empty bottles on the floor and tobacco smoke filled the air. I found a bottle with some rum left in it, and found some water and some bread and cheese for myself. I took the bottle back on deck, where Hands drank half the rum before taking the bottle from his mouth.

"I've come to take control of this ship, Mr Hands," I said, "so please remember I'm your captain."

He watched me pull down the Jolly Roger and throw it overboard, then he said, "I expect you'll want to go ashore now. Suppose we talk about it." There was some colour back in his cheeks but he looked very sick. "Who's going to sail the ship now? You can't do it; but if you give me food and drink and a handkerchief to tie up my wound, I'll tell you how to sail her."

"All right," I agreed. "We'll go into North Inlet and quietly put her on the beach there."

We could not put the ship on the beach when we reached North Inlet because the sea was too high. We had to wait, sit ting in silence over another meal.

In three minutes I had the Hispaniola sailing easily before the wind, along the coast of Treasure Island. Then I went be-low and got a handkerchief and helped. Hands tie up the great bleeding wound in his leg. He ate a little and drank more of the rum, then he began to look a little better.

"Cap'n," Hands said to me, still with that smile on his face, "my old mate, O'Brien, is dead. Can you throw him overboard?"

There was a pause, then he said, "Well now, would you be very kind and go down to the cabin and fetch me a bottle of wine, Jim? This rum's too strong for my head."

We sailed ahead of the wind, the island moving past quickly. After my success, I was less sorry about deserting the stockade. There was only one thing that worried me. It was the way Israel Hands watched me at my work, a cold little smile on his face.

"I'm not strong enough," I said.

"Wine?" I said. "Will you have white or red?"

"I'll have to search for it," I told him.

I listened to his words but didn't believe them. He wanted me to leave the deck, that was clear, but why?

"I don't mind," he said, "as long as it's strong and there's plenty of it."

I went below, then took off my shoes and went quietly up the other stairs to watch him. He was on his hands and knees and, although his leg hurt him, he moved quickly across the deck and took a long knife from among some ropes. I could see the blood on it. Then he hid it under his coat and went back to his place.

Afterwards, we sailed into North Inlet and I forgot to watch Hands carefully. We were nearly on the beach and I was looking over the side of the ship. Perhaps I heard a sound or saw his shadow moving, I don't know. But when I looked round, there he was, half-way towards me with the knife in his right hand!

This was all I needed to know Israel Hands could move about and now had a weapon, and he was going to try to kill me. But I knew that he wouldn't use the knife until the ship was safely on the beach. I went back to the cabin, put my shoes on again, and picked up a bottle of wine. Then I went back up on deck.

He took a long drink from the bottle of wine, saying, "Here's luck!"

But then, with a sudden movement, his hand went back and something went speeding through the air. I felt a sharp pain, and I was pinned to the mast by my shoulder. In the terrible pain and surprise of the moment, both my pistols went off and fell from my hands.

Hands was pulling himself up among the sails now, the knife between his teeth.

He threw himself at me and I jumped to one side, leaving him to fall on the deck. Quickly, I took a pistol from my pocket and aimed it at him -- he powder was wet and the pistol didn't fire! He got up and came at me with surprising speed, but suddenly the Hispaniola hit the sand and went over on one side. We were. both thrown down and began to roll across the deck, but I was on my feet first and climbed up into the sails, hand over hand. When I was in a safe place, I loaded my pistols, this time with dry powder.

"One more step," I said, "and I'll kill you!"

"Jim," he said. He took the knife from his mouth to speak, and looked beaten. "We'll have to make peace, you and I. You're too sharp and quick for an old sailor like me…"

They did not fall alone. With a cry, Hands fell into the water. He came up, the water around him red from his blood, then he went down again, for ever.

I felt sick and frightened. The blood from my wound ran over my back and chest, and the knife seemed to burn like hot iron. But I was trembling so badly that it shook the knife out of my skin, and I could move again. I climbed down through the sails, then went below to tie up my wound. There was a lot of blood but it wasn't deep. Next, I went up on deck. It was now evening and a light wind was blowing, so I lowered the sails before climbing down a rope and into the sea.

The water was only waist-deep and I walked ashore. The sun had gone now and, once on dry land, I began to walk to the stockade. Perhaps the others would blame me for deserting, I thought, but Captain Smollett would be pleased I had taken the Hispaniola, I was sure.

When I reached the stockade, the house lay in dark shadow. But on the other side, a large fire had almost burned itself out. This seemed strange, as it had not been our habit to build lange fires.

There were no sounds, except for the wind in the trees, and I went quietly round to the eastern side, keeping in the shadows. As I came nearer to the corner of the house, I heard my friends breathing loudly as they slept, and at once felt happier again. I got to the door and looked in, but all was dark and I could see nothing. With my arms out in front of me, I walked in.

Suddenly, there was a high voice screaming in the darkness: "Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!" It was Silver's parrot, Captain Flint!

Immediately, men began to wake up, and I heard Silver's voice shout, "Who's there?"

I turned to run, crashed violently against one person, then ran straight into the arms of another.