AuthorCAT — write your own illustrated novel — for authors
  1. Jim freezes among the pines as a shaggy figure circles to cut off his way to the boats

    From trunk to trunk

    Instantly the figure reappeared, and making a wide circuit, began to head me off. I was tired, at any rate; but had I been as fresh as when I rose, I could see it was in vain for me to contend in speed with such an adversary. From trunk to trunk the creature flitted like a deer, running manlike on two legs, but unlike any man that I had ever seen, stooping almost double as it ran. Yet a man it was, I could no longer be in doubt about that.

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  2. The shaggy islander kneels before Jim, who keeps his hand on his pistol pocket

    On his knees, hands clasped

    He was concealed by this time behind another tree trunk; but he must have been watching me closely, for as soon as I began to move in his direction he reappeared and took a step to meet me. Then he hesitated, drew back, came forward again, and at last, to my wonder and confusion, threw himself on his knees and held out his clasped hands in supplication.

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  3. Close-up of the islander's face behind his tangled beard as he says his name

    Ben Gunn, I am

    “Ben Gunn,” he answered, and his voice sounded hoarse and awkward, like a rusty lock. “I’m poor Ben Gunn, I am; and I haven’t spoke with a Christian these three years.”

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  4. Close-up of Ben Gunn whispering his three-year secret, eyes slanted to the wood

    I'm rich

    “Ah, well,” said he, “but I had—_re_markable pious. And I was a civil, pious boy, and could rattle off my catechism that fast, as you couldn’t tell one word from another. And here’s what it come to, Jim, and it begun with chuck-farthen on the blessed grave-stones! That’s what it begun with, but it went further’n that; and so my mother told me, and predicked the whole, she did, the pious woman! But it were Providence that put me here. I’ve thought it all out in this here lonely island, and I’m back on piety. You don’t catch me tasting rum so much, but just a thimbleful for luck, of course, the first chance I have. I’m bound I’ll be good, and I see the way to. And, Jim”—looking all round him and lowering his voice to a whisper—“I’m rich.”

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  5. Close-up of the islander's face turned to stone with terror at Flint's men

    Not a man — with one — leg?

    “Not a man—with one—leg?” he gasped.

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  6. Ben Gunn slyly presses Jim Hawkins for a last term; Jim answers with open palms

    AND a passage home?

    “AND a passage home?” he added with a look of great shrewdness.

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  7. Ben Gunn breaks off his story, hand raised before his face, staring up at the crags

    The six all dead

    “Now, I’ll tell you what,” he went on. “So much I’ll tell you, and no more. I were in Flint’s ship when he buried the treasure; he and six along—six strong seamen. They was ashore nigh on a week, and us standing off and on in the old WALRUS. One fine day up went the signal, and here come Flint by himself in a little boat, and his head done up in a blue scarf. The sun was getting up, and mortal white he looked about the cutwater. But, there he was, you mind, and the six all dead—dead and buried. How he done it, not a man aboard us could make out. It was battle, murder, and sudden death, leastways—him against six. Billy Bones was the mate; Long John, he was quartermaster; and they asked him where the treasure was. ‘Ah,’ says he, ‘you can go ashore, if you like, and stay,’ he says; ‘but as for the ship, she’ll beat up for more, by thunder!’ That’s what he said.

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  8. Jim and Ben Gunn turn toward the anchorage at a cannon-shot as birds burst up

    The echoes bellow to a cannon

    For just then, although the sun had still an hour or two to run, all the echoes of the island awoke and bellowed to the thunder of a cannon.

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  9. Jim runs for the anchorage while Ben Gunn trots beside him, pointing the way

    Running for the anchorage

    And I began to run towards the anchorage, my terrors all forgotten, while close at my side the marooned man in his goatskins trotted easily and lightly.

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  10. The Union Jack blazes above the treetops as powder-smoke drifts from the wood

    The Union Jack above the wood

    Another pause, and then, not a quarter of a mile in front of me, I beheld the Union Jack flutter in the air above a wood.

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