Silver’s Embassy

           Sureenough,thereweretwomenjustoutsidethestockade,oneofthemwavingawhitecloth,theother,nolessapersonthanSilverhimself,standingplacidlyby.

           Itwasstillquiteearly,andthecoldestmorningthatIthinkIeverwasabroadin—achillthatpiercedintothemarrow.Theskywasbrightandcloudlessoverhead,andthetopsofthetreesshonerosilyinthesun.ButwhereSilverstoodwithhislieutenant,allwasstillinshadow,andtheywadedknee-deepinalowwhitevapourthathadcrawledduringthenightoutofthemorass.Thechillandthevapourtakentogethertoldapoortaleoftheisland.Itwasplainlyadamp,feverish,unhealthyspot.

           "Keepindoors,men,"saidthecaptain."Tentoonethisisatrick."

           Thenhehailedthebuccaneer.

           "Whogoes?Stand,orwefire."

           "Flagoftruce,"criedSilver.

           Thecaptainwasintheporch,keepinghimselfcarefullyoutofthewayofatreacherousshot,shouldanybeintended.Heturnedandspoketous,"Doctor’swatchonthelookout.Dr.Liveseytakethenorthside,ifyouplease;Jim,theeast;Gray,west.Thewatchbelow,allhandstoloadmuskets.Lively,men,andcareful."

           Andthenheturnedagaintothemutineers.

           "Andwhatdoyouwantwithyourflagoftruce?"hecried.

           Thistimeitwastheothermanwhoreplied.