Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson. Part I.
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'Tis the Saviour's Neck, and if I Hadn't Take to You Like Pitch, I'd Have Been Here a Warning of You?'
John Silver and another of the crew stood face to face in conversation, the sun beat full upon them. Far away out in the marsh, there arose all of a sudden, a sound like the cry of anger, then another on the back of it, and then one horrid, long drawn scream. The rocks of the spyglass re-echoed at a score of times, the whole troop of marshbirds rose again, darkening heaven with a simultaneous whirr. Long after that death yell was still ringing in my brain, silence had re-established its empire,. Only the rustle of the re-descending birds, and the boom of the distant surges disturbed the langer
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