still
lives in
comfort
with her
and
Captain
Flint. It
is to be
hoped so,
I suppose,
for his
chances of
comfort in
another
world are
very
small. The
bar silver
and the
arms still
lie, for
all that I
know,
where
Flint
buried
them; and
certainly
they shall
lie there
for me.
Oxen and
wain-ropes
would not
bring me
back again
to that
accursed
island;
and the
worst
dreams
that ever
I have are
when I
hear the
surf
booming
about its
coasts or
