29
The Black Spot Again
THE council of buccaneers had lasted some time, when
one of them re-entered 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.
I turned to the loophole nearest me and looked out.
The embers of the great fire had so far burned
themselves out and now glowed so low and duskily that I
understood why these conspirators desired a torch.
About half-way down the slope to the stockade, they
were collected in a group; one held the light, another
was on his knees in their midst, and I s
