Treasure Island

Treasure Island: R.Luis Stevenson

Cover image: Kubilay Sak

Translation: Google, Gemini

E-isbn (İng): 978-625-6020-53-5

Year of Printing: 2025

It cannot be reproduced, published or distributed without permission from the publishing house, except for short quotations for promotional purposes, provided that the source is cited.

Publication and Distribution: Özlem Publishing House

Yenibati Mahallesi Uğrak İş Merkezi No: 61

Batıkent / Ankara Tel: 0505 346 6049

Trademark Registration: 2012 / 35576

Publisher Certificate: 53253

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Treasure Island

It all started with an old sailor who came to the inn my father ran.

How could I have known that my life would be turned upside down when the old sailor, with a sword scar on his face, appeared at our door? He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dirty clothes and disheveled hair. Besides the sailor, there was nothing but a large chest with him.

While waiting to be invited into the inn, he mumbled, “Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest…”

When my father invited him in, he carefully surveyed the inn. Then he turned to the man carrying his chest and said, “This place is just right for me, mate. Looks like a quiet spot. Put my chest where you’re told.”

Then he turned to my father, “I’ll be staying here for a while. All I ask from you is rum and eggs cooked in oil. I’ll spend my days watching the ships.”

My father eyed this man, who was unlike other customers, intently when the sailor suddenly roared, “I suppose you’re wondering my name! What will you do with it once you know? Just call me Captain!”

As he climbed the stairs behind the porter, who was struggling with the heavy chest, he added, “I pay in advance. Let me know when the three gold coins run out,” and tossed the coins onto the counter.

My father, still surprised, managed to catch the coins before they scattered on the floor and stared after the Captain.

This Captain’s clothes were covered in dirt and grime. He was extremely rude, but he didn’t seem like an ordinary sailor. He had the air of a Captain accustomed to giving orders and punishments.

According to the man who carried his chest, he had arrived in town by cargo ship. He had gotten off in front of the “Royal George” hotel and inquired about the inns along the coast. He had visited all of them but didn't stay because they were too crowded. They had pointed our inn out to him as a quiet place. This was all we knew about our new customer, the Captain.

The Captain’s habit of strolling around the cove daily and watching distant ships with his spyglass also caught our attention, but he disliked being questioned. At night, he would drink rum continuously by the fire, snapping at anyone who tried to talk to him. We and the inn’s customers left him to his own devices. Though not very often, sailors would stop by for a few hours on their way to Bristol. Whenever this happened, the old sea dog would carefully observe the newcomer from behind the curtained door and grow quiet.

A few days later, returning from the sea, he gripped my arm tightly and sternly warned me, “Keep your eyes peeled. Let me know if any sailors pass by on the roads.” He didn't stop there; he promised to give me a silver coin if I immediately informed him when I saw a one-legged sailor. He kept this promise almost every month.

From that day on, I understood that the Captain was running from someone and that he was watching the distance with his spyglass for that reason. The one-legged man he asked about began to haunt my dreams. My fear would grow even stronger on stormy nights when the wind shook our wooden house and the foamy waves roared as they crashed against the rocks. Like the Captain, I had become suspicious. In my dreams, the one-legged man chased me, cornering me in dead ends. Like the Captain, I observed the sailors who came to the inn from a distance, trying not to draw their attention.

The Captain began to drink more and more. When he drank, he would get drunk, and when he was drunk, he would loudly sing the famous “Wild Sailor” song throughout the inn. He even forced our poor village customers to join him in chorus. The inn seemed to shake to its foundations with his wild “yo-ho-ho!” shouts. Perhaps because he never spoke when sober, he tried to compensate for this by making speeches when drunk. He didn't even allow other customers to talk among themselves. At first, his endless sailor stories surprised me greatly, but now, like the other customers, they had begun to bore me intensely.

Moreover, he wouldn't allow anyone to leave the inn until he was dead drunk and put to bed. Over time, the inn’s customers dwindled because of this. My father was most upset about this situation. Every now and then, he would say, “This man will make us bankrupt. Where did he come from to plague us?” and he would pray for him to leave as soon as possible.

However, the Captain didn't seem inclined to leave. Even though the three gold coins he gave were long gone, we couldn't even tell him to pay his debt. At one point, my father mentioned that things were going badly at the inn. He regretted it after the Captain got angry. I have no doubt that these fears caused his early death. During his stay at the inn, the Captain never replaced his clothes. He only bought wine a few times from traveling peddlers. His self-patched jacket was a sight to behold. We all had grown to fear the Captain. We thought he would pounce on us at any moment. From that day on, we never mentioned money to the Captain. He continued to eat and drink with great appetite.

Meanwhile, my father’s health deteriorated. He became bedridden. My mother and I took over all the inn’s affairs.

One day, Doctor Livesey came to the inn to examine my father. After writing the prescriptions, my mother prepared him a meal. As the doctor ate in the parlor, I admired his clean clothes and handsome appearance. With his white wig, sparkling black eyes, and refined manners, he was very different from the villagers. At that moment, our troublesome Captain was puffing on his pipe, singing his song loudly:

“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest, Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum.”

The Captain’s loud singing and his repetition of tales of pirates who had escaped the gallows caught the doctor’s attention. Yet, at that moment, he was advising old gardener Taylor on medicine for his rheumatism. He seemed startled by the song he heard. Turning to the Captain with a stern look, he angered him. The Captain banged his fists on the table and shouted, “Everyone must listen to me!” The doctor turned his chair sideways and retorted sharply, “Look here, you sailor impostor! I have one word for you. If you keep drinking, we’ll all be rid of a filthy creature.”

The commotion we had been expecting for months was about to erupt. It saddened us greatly that this commotion happened while the doctor was examining my father, but the doctor stood up, taking a stance that showed he would not be intimidated by the Captain’s threats. While we all huddled in a corner, the Captain drew his switchblade and aimed it at the doctor. He swore, but seeing that the doctor was not afraid, he grumbled and sat back down.

The doctor then said, “I’ve learned that there’s a man with a knife in this inn. I am also the magistrate of this region. From now on, if I hear any complaints about you, I’ll have you arrested immediately,” and left the inn.

From that day on, the Captain quieted down a bit, but his problems didn’t end. My father, in the midst of this turmoil, died of grief.

We hadn't gotten rid of the Captain, but it could be said that the mysterious chain of events that would bring about this deliverance began that day. On top of all this, winter had set in with full force. Storms brought snow, and everything was frozen. Our business had steadily declined. My mother kept giving me instructions like, “Jim, bring this, Jim, take that,” trying to fill my father’s absence.

One morning in January, it was bitterly cold and sharp. The waves of the bay, gray with frost, slowly licked the rocks. The sun, not yet risen in the sky, only illuminated the mountaintops and distant horizons.

The Captain, who had become like one of the family, was still strolling around the cove every day, regardless of the snow and cold, watching the raging waves pound the rocks. He didn't mind his knife showing from under his torn coat.

As my mother prepared food for the Captain, who would soon come to the inn with his spyglass in hand and a knife at his waist, the inn door suddenly creaked open. A man I had never seen before stumbled in. He was pale-faced, tall, and thin. Two fingers were missing from his left hand. Despite carrying a large knife, he didn't seem like a bad person, but I shivered when I noticed he was one-legged. This sailor must be the person our Captain had asked me about months ago, telling me to inform him if I saw him.

“Bring me rum,” he said, and I came to my senses. After putting the drink on his table and stepping back, he motioned for me to approach. Pointing to the table my mother had prepared, he asked, “This food is for Billy, isn’t it?”

I said that I didn't know anyone by that name and that the table was prepared for a customer we called the Captain, who was staying at the inn. Then, louder, he said, “My friend Billy might have introduced himself as Captain. He has a deep sword scar on his face. When he drinks, he becomes inhuman. Do you recognize him now?”

Suddenly caught off guard, I blurted out, “He’ll be here shortly.” Then, remembering the Captain’s strict warning, I tried to get away from the one-legged man. At that moment, with unexpected agility, he grabbed my arm and shouted, “Hold on, mate, no moving!” pulling me to sit beside him.

When I saw his facial expression, I understood that the Captain would not be happy to see him. Still, it wasn't my business, and I didn’t know what to do.

The man drank his rum while watching the inn door like a cat stalking a mouse. Before long, he said, “Here comes my friend Billy,” and dragged me behind the curtain. He talked about surprising the Captain.

I was very uneasy. The man, on the other hand, polished the hilt of his sword and loosened the dagger in its sheath.

As the Captain, with his usual haste, headed towards the dining table, the one-legged man released my arm and shouted, “Billy!”

At this sound, the Captain turned towards the curtain. His face had turned as white as a sheet. It was as if he had seen a ghost. In an instant, I felt as if the Captain had lost his strength, that he had aged immediately. It wouldn't be a lie to say I felt sorry for the Captain, who had made our lives hell for months, in this state.

As the stranger emerged from behind the curtain, I thought bad things were about to happen. However, he calmly began, “Don’t you recognize me, Billy? Or are you surprised to see me here?”

The Captain grumbled, breathing through clenched teeth, “You… Black Dog!.. Is that you?”

“Of course, it’s me… Who else could it be?” replied the stranger.

The Captain asked, “You’ve finally caught me. Tell me, what do you want?”

The one-legged stranger replied, “Black Dog has come to the inn to see his friend Billy.”

The Captain pulled himself together a bit and said, “Cut the chatter, here we are face to face, tell me your problem.”

Black Dog laughed, “I have no problem, Billy, but you’re in trouble. First, let this boy bring another rum. Let’s sit down and talk like two friends,” and slumped into the chair.

As I approached them with the rum glass, I noticed they were both on edge, their eyes fixed on the door. Black Dog ordered me to go outside and leave the door open. Once outside, though I was curious to hear what they would talk about, I couldn't hear their voices, but soon I began to hear curses.

“No, that’s enough!” one shouted. “If it comes to sharing, I say let’s share everything,” he said. Black Dog retorted, “We need to be hanged! We’ll all be hanged! That’s it!”

Before long, chairs began to fly, and tables toppling. When I peeked inside, the Captain was chasing Black Dog. Both had knives in their hands. As Black Dog retreated, the Captain threw his knife at him. The knife, narrowly missing Black Dog and sticking into the wood, saved him from going to the other world. The knife was stuck in the inn sign. This was the end of the fight. The Captain, in his rage, couldn't reach his knife that had stuck far away. While he stood staring at the knife, Black Dog fled the inn. He disappeared over the hill with a swift run.

As my mother shrieked and came down to the parlor because of the noise, the Captain groaned, “Rum… Bring rum, Jim.”

I rushed immediately, but I was so surprised by everything that had happened that I broke a glass and turned the tap of the rum barrel the wrong way. As I tried to compose myself, I heard a noise from the parlor.

Though my legs and arms were tangled, when I approached the Captain with the rum glass, he was lying on the floor with his eyes closed. My mother and I tried to lift his head, wondering if he was wounded. His face was ashen. Foam was coming from his mouth. We tried to pour liquor into his mouth, thinking it might help, but his jaw was clenched. As we pondered what to do, Doctor Livesey entered. We said with some relief, “Hurry, Doctor! His wound must be serious.” The doctor, reluctantly examining the Captain, said, “He has no wound. This is an epileptic seizure. I must save this brute’s life. Bring me a basin of water.”

By the time I brought the water, the doctor had pulled up the Captain’s shirt, revealing his thick arms. His arm was covered in tattoos. Looking closely, I read the words “Fair Voyage” and “Billy Bones his fancy,” and I could make out a picture of a man hanging from a gallows.

Just then, the doctor, pointing to the man on the gallows, said, “So it’s Billy Bones,” and continued to bleed him.

A little later, the Captain opened his eyes and groaned, “Where is Black Dog?” Seeing the doctor in front of him, he frowned. Seeing me, he relaxed. For the first time, he looked at me with an affectionate expression.

“You’ve had an epileptic seizure,” the doctor said. “I warned you before to drink less. If I hadn’t happened to come to the inn, you’d be in your grave, sir. Though I didn’t particularly want to, I pulled you back from the brink of death.”

Together, we put the Captain in his bed. His head fell from the pillow as if he had fainted. As the doctor left, he said, “Drink will kill him. Be careful, don’t give him too much. He’ll only recover in a week because I bled him. A second seizure could finish him off.”

The next day, when I entered the Captain’s room with medicines and fruit juices, he was lying on his back. He had propped himself up a bit with pillows. He looked weak and agitated. As soon as he saw me, he murmured pleadingly, “Jim, you know I love you very much. Please, bring me a glass of rum.”

When I mentioned the doctor’s instructions, he got angry again.

“Look, my fingers are trembling,” he shouted. “Not drinking rum, but not drinking it will kill me. Believe me, I’ll go mad. What does a doctor know about sailors? I’ve lived in hellishly hot countries. I’ve seen my friends die one by one from yellow fever. I’ve been in places where the ground split open due to earthquakes. What does a doctor understand about such places? Yet, rum has always accompanied me on these adventures.”

To prevent the Captain from making more noise, I brought him a glass of rum. He drank it in one gulp. After relaxing a bit, he asked, “When did the doctor say I’d recover?”

“In a week,” I said. He suddenly sat upright.

“A week?” he said. “That’s impossible. I need to leave immediately. Otherwise, they’ll send Black Spot here. You don’t know those dogs. When their money runs out, they’ll eye others’ shares. I’m not afraid of the greedy ones. I’ll go somewhere and lose my tracks.”

I remained silent as the Captain spoke. At one point, he tried to sit up but collapsed to the floor. Looking up from where he lay, he said, “You saw the man who came today, didn’t you, Jim?”

“Black Dog?” I asked.

“Yes, that bad man, but those who sent him are even worse. If I can’t escape, they’ll set Black Spot on me. Their eyes are on my chest. Know that well,” he said.

I wanted to leave the room, but the Captain spoke again, “Listen, Jim. Get on a horse and go straight to that foolish doctor-magistrate. Tell him that if he wants to catch Flint’s crew, he should gather his men and come here. Let him watch the inn day and night. I was that famous Flint’s first mate. You understand, I was the second in command. Flint told me everything before he died in Savannah. Only I know the place they are looking for.”

As I listened to him in amazement, he warned, “Don’t forget. If Black Spot or the one-legged sailor comes to the inn, you’ll inform the doctor. Keep your eyes open, Jim. We’ll share our earnings fifty-fifty. I promise you, we’ll share.”

After this long speech, his voice faded. After taking his medicine, he fell into a deep sleep. When I left the Captain’s side, I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I wanted to tell the doctor what had happened, but I was afraid the Captain would regret his confessions and make my life hell.

My mind was completely confused. This sailor, who had sung songs in the inn the night my father died, caused scandals in the house of the dead, and constantly oppressed us, was now offering me a partnership. Moreover, instead of gaining strength, he was weakening day by day. As he went down the stairs and from the parlor to the bar, he leaned on the walls to keep from falling. He was breathing rapidly and no longer spoke much. Despite his physical weakness, his tongue had grown sharper. He would drink heavily, place his knife on the table, and just sit there. As I walked away from the inn, pondering the unfolding events, I noticed someone approaching me with heavy steps. Judging by how he used his cane to check the ground, he must have been blind. His sailor’s coat was torn and dirty. I don’t recall ever seeing a more terrifying face in my life. Very close to the inn, he pleaded, “Isn’t there anyone who will tell a poor blind man where he is right now?”

I went to him and told him he was near our inn. I asked him where he wanted to go. At that moment, he gripped my hand tightly. My fingers almost broke.

“Take me to the Captain!” he roared. My attempts to free myself from his grip were futile. He squeezed my fingers like an iron vice. I was suddenly trapped.

“Sir, I can’t take you to the Captain,” I struggled to say.

“Why?” he asked, gripping my arm even tighter this time.

“I’m very afraid of the Captain,” I managed to say.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said. “The Captain is my friend, he’s waiting for me.”

I had no choice but to enter the inn. The Captain’s strict warnings had been useless. Perhaps I was bringing his enemy into the inn with my own hands. As I opened the inn door, the disgusting man gripping my arm said, “Once inside, you’ll turn my face towards the Captain and shout, ‘Your friend has arrived, Billy!’”

If I did what the blind man said, I would be betraying the Captain. If I didn't, my arm would be injured. Frozen between two fires, I came to my senses when the disgusting man shook me. Once inside the inn, I did as he said. The Captain’s face turned ashen. He seemed to sober up from his drunkenness. At that moment, the blind man shouted with a sharp voice, “Don’t move, Billy! Stay where you are. Though my eyes can’t see, I can sense even a fly’s movement!”

Then he turned to me and said, “Young man, hold the Captain’s left hand by the wrist and bring it close to my right hand.” Both of us immediately did as he said. The blind man slipped a piece of paper into the Captain’s palm from the hand holding his cane and said, “It’s done,” then threw himself out of the inn with incredible agility. The tapping sounds of his cane on the stones faded into the distance.

Both the Captain and I came to our senses a little later. I couldn’t tell him that I had been forced to bring the repulsive man into the inn with my own hands. The Captain sensed this from my gaze and suddenly, with terror in his eyes, he cried out, “At ten o’clock! We have six hours, Jim. We can outsmart them within that time.”

The Captain’s body suddenly stiffened. Then he staggered. He brought his hand to his throat and collapsed face down on the floor.

While calling my mother for help, I also checked the Captain’s pulse. His pulse wasn’t beating. He was dead. I started to cry hysterically. We had never liked the Captain, but his death in this way affected me.

The Captain’s sudden death, the arrival of the blind man, and the meaning of the ten o’clock password left my mother and me in deep thought. While the Captain’s body lay on the floor, we were searching for a way out. In the meantime, I briefly explained to my mother what had happened and the partnership the Captain had mentioned. I suddenly understood that our situation was very serious and dangerous. The Captain owed us quite a bit. If he had money, some of it would be ours. I told my mother that these terrifying men might also be after the Captain’s chest. She first thought of finding a horse and calling the doctor, but I couldn’t leave my mother alone. Neither of us could stay here for long. Even the crackling of the coal in the stove and the ticking of the wall clock were enough to scare us.

Finally, considering the severity of our situation, we came to the conviction that we had to leave the inn before them. Given the Captain’s debt, if he had money, we could have a share of it, but the friends I knew, Black Dog and the blind beggar, were not the types to pay this debt. I couldn't leave my mother to seek help either. We had started to get scared. With no one else in the inn, even the rustling of the wind made us suspicious, and we trembled at every sound of footsteps. We had to flee to the village and ask them for help.

When evening fell, we had reached the village. Lamps were lit in the houses. We explained the situation to the villagers. No one was willing to help. The name Flint and his crew filled them with terror. Only a few horsemen set off to inform Doctor Livesey, who lived in a distant quarter.

Fear sometimes instills courage in the other side. My mother was very angry at the villagers. She said that if they were afraid, we would go together. The villagers tried to dissuade us, saying that such behavior was very dangerous, but still, no man would come with us.

The Captain owed us a lot. Because of him, the inn's business had also gone wrong. What we wanted from the villagers was to open the Captain's chest in their presence and take as much gold as was rightfully ours. My orphanhood, and the deterioration of our business after my father's death, had forced my mother to this point. My mother was determined to protect my rights. For that purpose, she reproached the villagers:

“Since you are afraid to come with us, Jim and I will go and open the chest, and if there is gold inside as we hope, we will take our share,” she said.

My mother and I set off hand in hand. My heart pounded all the way. Although I tried not to show my fear to my mother, I felt the blind man’s breath on my neck. The darkness, cold, and anxiety further increased my fear.

Meanwhile, the fog had begun to dissipate. With the rising of the full moon, our chance of reaching the inn unseen diminished.

When we arrived at the inn door, I felt a little relieved, but we were alone with the Captain’s corpse in the large inn. We lit a candle instead of the lights. I approached the Captain’s corpse with fear. I took the paper from his hand. The paper read, “You have until ten o’clock tonight!” At that moment, the wall clock also began to strike. We started, looked at the clock, and realized we had little time left.

We needed to find the key to the chest. I rummaged through the Captain’s pockets. There was nothing but some loose change, a needle, thread, tobacco, a lighter, a knife, and a pocket compass. At my mother’s suggestion, when I opened his shirt, I found the key tied to a string around his neck.

We immediately went up to his room and opened the chest. On top of the chest were clothes made of good fabric. Under the clothes were many packs of tobacco, two pistols, an old watch, and a few books. As we rummaged through the chest, worried that there was no gold, we found a waterproof sailor’s hat and similar items. My mother mumbled, “Is this accursed chest empty?” when we found a pouch. When we opened it, we saw gold coins. At the bottom of the chest were papers wrapped in oilcloth.

My mother began to separate the money that was rightfully ours. This was quite a difficult task because the coins had been collected from various countries. My mother, however, was determined to choose the English gold coins. We were halfway through counting the gold when we heard the tapping of a cane. We suddenly started. This must be the blind man’s cane. A little later, the inn door began to be knocked with the cane. The blind man finding the inn closed would increase his anger. I said to my mother, “Stop counting, take it all and let’s run.” My mother, however, stated that she didn’t want to take more than what was rightfully ours and continued counting the gold. Before we could finish separating the gold we were owed, we began to hear whistling sounds from a distance. This was proof that danger was approaching. My mother, without further insistence, gathered herself and said, “Okay, as you say.” My mother took the gold, and I took the papers wrapped in oilcloth, and we went downstairs. We had left the candle burning next to the empty chest. We found the back door by touch and quickly left the inn. Our knees were trembling. The foggy weather had worked in our favor, but we heard footsteps not too far away. The man in front was guiding those behind him with a lantern. My mother, agitated but quietly, said, “Son, you take the gold and run, I can’t take anymore.”

At that moment, certain feelings arose within me. I cursed the villagers. They had left my mother and me alone. I didn’t accept my mother’s suggestion. It was my duty to protect her. My staggering mother collapsed shortly after. I tried to move forward after hiding my mother, who was unable to go far, under the bridge, but the bridge arch was too low, so I could only crawl forward. We were among the weeds, and I quietly began to watch the inn from among the bushes. My curiosity had overcome my fear. I crept closer to the inn. I wanted to understand what was happening. When I hid among the bushes again, I heard voices saying, “Break the door.” Seven or eight bandits broke the inn door and stormed inside. The blind man and two others remained outside as lookouts. Soon after, a voice from the inn said, “The Captain is dead.” The blind man swore and then gave instructions, “Search his pockets and everywhere, fools. The rest of you, bring the chest out here.”

The worn steps creaked under the boots of the rough sailors. Then came shouts and cries of anger mixed with surprise.

Soon, someone who had broken the window of the Captain’s room called out to those below, “They got here before us. Someone has turned the chest upside down.”

They shouted angrily from below, “Is that thing there?”

“Where’s the silver?”

“Was all that effort for nothing?” The blind man, like a madman, shouted, “Cut the chatter. Is Flint’s packet on Billy? In the chest? Check quickly!”

Soon after, a man came out and reported to the blind man, “We’ve searched the chest and Billy thoroughly. There’s no packet, no papers.”

The blind man’s shouts were so loud that even I trembled from a distance.

“The people in the inn must have done this. They were just here. They couldn’t have gone far. Search everywhere!” he yelled, swinging his cane at his men in anger. The men who were hit by the cane cursed and started searching for us. In an instant, they scattered in all directions. It was as if doomsday had broken loose inside the inn. Heavy footsteps echoed under heavy boots, and objects were tossed everywhere. Doors slammed shut continuously.

The bandits had just reassembled in front of the inn when whistling sounds began to echo. This whistling came from behind the village. These whistles indicated a danger to the bandits. Indeed, one of them warned his friends, “That’s Dick. He whistled twice, which means someone’s coming. We’d better make tracks.” From the bandits calling out to each other, it became clear that the blind man was Pew. Pew angrily objected to them:

“Make tracks? Dick is a coward. He whistles if a bug moves. Disperse and search for them again.