Ah ! By gum , if you could understand how bad it 's bungled , you would see ! We 're that near the gibbet that my neck 's stiff with thinking on it . You 've seen 'em , maybe , hanged in chains , birds about 'em , seamen p ` inting 'em out as they go down with the tide . ` Who 's that ? ' says one . ` That ! Why , that 's John Silver . I knowed him well , ' says another . And you can hear the chains a-jangle as you go about and reach for the other buoy . Now , that 's about where we are , every mother 's son of us , thanks to him , and Hands , and Anderson , and other ruination fools of you . And if you want to know about number four , and that boy , why , shiver my timbers , is n't he a hostage ? Are we a-going to waste a hostage ? No , not us ; he might be our last chance , and I should n't wonder . Kill that boy ? Not me , mates ! And number three ? Ah , well , there 's a deal to say to number three . Maybe you do n't count it nothing to have a real college doctor to see you every day -- you , John , with your head broke -- or you , George Merry , that had the ague shakes upon you not six hours agone , and has your eyes the colour of lemon peel to this same moment on the clock ? And maybe , perhaps , you did n't know there was a consort coming either ?
But there is , and not so long till then ; and we 'll XXXXX who 'll be glad to have a hostage when it comes to that .
's broke buoy count go knowed see shakes thinking wonder