Yesterday I was walking at the harbour and I saw one of my old friends Jim Hawkins. I wondered why he was there, he lives twenty miles from here in an old inn. He was talking to a man with a wooden leg and a very noisy green parrot. He was also well-dressed, like an navy admiral, he had a big red coat, a pair of green pants and a great black hat with a golden mark showing two swords crossing. He seemed to be a nice captain maybe a little old.
Minutes
after Jim left the captain, I met him in the ally just behind the old
Maggot Inn. He said that he was to sail to an unknown island. And of
course I didn't believe him, he has always been a dreamer, always
been fantasising: that he was on big adventures with pirates and
other unbelievable things. I think he is like that because he hasn't
that many friends and that he lives far from the city, and maybe
because of the sailors that comes to the inn and tells stories about
that.
I asked for the name for the captain and Jim said that he
was Captain John Silver.