"Do you
think there's nothing but the present story-paper?"
"I don't rightly know for that," said Silver; "and I don't see what
it's got to do with it, anyway. What I know is this: if there is
sich a thing as a Author, I'm his favourite chara'ter. He does me
fathoms better'n he does you - fathoms, he does. And he likes
doing me. He keeps me on deck mostly all the time, crutch and all;
and he leaves you measling in the hold, where nobody can't see you,
nor wants to, and you may lay to that! If there is a Author, by
thunder, but he's on my side, and you may lay to it!"
"I see he's giving you a long rope," said the Captain. "But that
can't change a man's convictions. I know the Author respects me; I
feel it in my bones; when you and I had that talk at the blockhouse
door, who do you think he was for, my man?"
"And don't he respect me?" cried Silver. "Ah, you should 'a' heard
me putting down my mutiny, George Merry and Morgan and that lot, no
longer ago'n last chapter; you'd heard something then! You'd 'a'
seen what the Author thinks o' me! But come now, do you consider
yourself a virtuous chara'ter clean through?"
"God forbid!" said Captain Smollett, solemnly. "I am a man that
tries to do his duty, and makes a mess of it as often as not. I'm
not a very popular man at home, Silver, I'm afraid!" and the
Captain sighed.
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