The stern window was open, for it was a warm night, and you could see the moon shining behind on the ship’s wake. “Now, Hawkins,” said the squire, “you have something to say. Speak up.” I did as I was bid, and as short as I could make it, told the whole details of Silver’s conversation. Nobody interrupted me till I was done, nor did any one of the three of them make so much as a movement, but they kept their eyes upon my face from first to last. “Jim,” said Dr. Livesey, “take a seat.” And they made me sit down at table beside them, poured me out a glass of wine, filled my hands with raisins, and all three, one after the other, and each with a bow, drank my good health, and their service to me, for my luck and courage. “Now, captain,” said the squire, “you were right, and I was wrong. I own myself an ass, and I await your orders.” “No more an ass than I, sir,” returned the captain. “I never heard of a crew that meant to mutiny but what showed signs before, for any man that had an eye in his head to see the mischief and take steps according. But this crew,” he added, “beats me.” “Captain,” said the doctor, “with your permission, that’s Silver. A very remarkable man.” “He’d look remarkably well from a yard-arm, sir,” returned the captain. “But this is talk; this don’t lead to anything.