title: Treasure Island
author:  Robert Louis Stevenson 
description: ''There are few novels which grip so thrillingly as those first read in childhood, and for me none which has quite matched the excitement of Robert Louis Stevenson's <i>Treasure Island</i>.'' -- P. D. James, author, <i>The Children of Men</i><br /><br /> ''Reading <i>Treasure Island</i> at the age of seven or eight was my real awakening as a reader . . . it is all as frightening and exciting when read for the umpteenth time in middle age as when first discovered in childhood.'' --A. N. Wilson, author, <i>The Lying Tongue</i><br /><br /> ''What I didn't anticipate was the power of Stevenson's prose. His ability to bring everything vividly to life is still astonishing. It was probably the first time for me that reading became as exciting as messing about. The pirate has a dangerous glamour to him, a degenerate dandyism, something, once I was in my teens, that I would admire in people like David Bowie.'' --Jake Arnott, author, <i> The Long Firm</i><br /><br />''<i>Treasure Island</i> is a vision not only of white skeletons but also green palm trees and sapphire seas.'' --G. K. Chesterton <br /><br /> ''With its dastardly plot and motley crew of rogues and villains, it seems unlikely that children will ever say no to this timeless classic.'' --Amazon.com, editorial review<br /><br /> ''I don't know of a more gripping tale of derring-do on the high seas, with its desperate search for hidden gold on a tropical island.'' --<i>Independent</i> (London)<br /><br />''A rereading of Stevenson's novel after all those years says nothing to me so much as that good books - and <i>Treasure Island</i> is a very good book - really have lives of their own, entirely apart from movies and other adaptations of them.'' --<i>Washington Post</i>
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  _For the heroic staff and volunteers of_
  
   _the Royal National Lifeboat Institution_
  
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  PART ONE
  
  > > > >  _‘How that personage haunted my dreams, I need scarcely tell you. On
  > stormy nights, when the wind shook the four corners of the house, and the
  > surf roared along the cove and up the cliffs, I would see him in a thousand
  > forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions.’_
  
  > > > > TREASURE ISLAND,
  
  > > > >  _Robert Louis Stevenson, 1883_
  
  It’s midnight when the woman begins her steep descent down Tregarthen Hill.
  Excitement washes through her system as she follows the rocky path, with the
  breeze warm against her skin, a kitbag slung across her shoulders. She pauses
  halfway to catch her breath, staring up at the granite cairn that lowers over
  the bay like a giant’s silhouette. When she drops down to the beach, she can
  feel someone’s eye