Chapter 4: The Sea-chest
As Jim stares down at the captain's lifeless body, he comes to a decision. See, prior to the arrival of the blind beggar, the captain had explained (somewhat unintellgibly if I'm being honest) that he'd served as first mate under Captain Flint—and took over upon Flint's passing—and that the remnants of Flint's boys might be coming after him. And at that time, he'd told Jim that if his old crew tracked him down and delivered the black spot, Jim should ride straight to Doctor Livesey the magistrate and get him to round up a posse to ambush them at the inn.
Naturally, Jim does not do this very sensible thing. I guess the implication is that he doesn't want to leave his mother alone at the inn, and Livesey is too far away to go on foot, and Mrs. Hawkins either can't ride or there is only a single horse; but none of this is explicitly stated, so it seems a bit out-of-the-blue when he abandons that plan in favor of trying to recruit some volunteers from the nearby hamlet.
This goes incredibly poorly, because it seems like everybody in the world but the Hawkins family—who, again, operate an inn for travelers and thus should have access to far more information than the average citizen—have heard of Captain Flint before and know he's nothing but bad news, and they have ZERO interest in getting themselves involved with that mess. This riles up Mrs. Hawkins, who is determined to collect the back rent that the captain has been stiffing them on for months, and she tells them:
"If none of the rest of you dare, Jim and I dare. Back we will go, the way we came, and small thanks to you big, hulking, chicken-hearted men."
Which is an absolute banger of an insult, and yet is somehow still not enough to guilt anybody into actually coming back with them.
So the two go back to the inn. See, what I haven't told you yet is that from the day he moved in, the captain kept an old sea-chest in his room that he was very protective of, going so far as to wear the key around his neck. If Flint's crew has been harassing the captain, it stands to reason there's something valuable in that chest, which is why Mrs. Hawkins is intent on opening it.
But I have some issues with this segment, so let's dive into
Skep's Complaint Corner
First off—look. I get that the man has been mean-mugging you every time you come around to collect his room & board payments, and now that he's dead you're entitled to your share. I know how estate settlement works. But he's been holding out on you for months now, which means you've adjusted your budget by this point. And actually, that budget just got a bit more balanced because he's no longer mooching off of you. If a gang of violent thugs is hell-bent on collecting his things, and they otherwise have no business with you, wouldn't it be easier to just give them what they want? It seems inconceivable to me that they would have any reason to cause you trouble if you just cooperate with them.
Then again it is also inconceivable to me that anybody would enthusiastically vote for a convicted felon with clear fascist ambitions, so maybe I'm the asshole here.
Second, Jim investigates the captain's body for the key to the sea-chest, and in so doing retrieves the "black spot" from the man's hand. The book describes it as a circular piece of paper that is blackened on one side. I cannot express how funny it is to me to imagine one of these menacing men sitting at a desk, taking the time to carefully cut up a piece of parchment with a pair of scissors and then, I don't know, either coating one side of it in ink, or maybe charring it with a candle flame, possibly even doing two or three of these after the candle accidentally sets a few alight. And all this to include a message "hey, come see us by this time or we'll get you" when you could just, you know, go get him.
SPEAKING of which, the back side of the black spot specifically says "you have till ten tonight", but per Jim's narration, this entire segment takes place between 6 and 6:45—at which point the crew show up at the inn anyway (which I'll get to in a bit). So like... why go through all that trouble just to say "10 pm", and then not wait until 10? If you were always going to go anyway, just go! Why make this extra work for yourself?! Do you just want an excuse to have arts and crafts time???
Anyway, the two Hawkinses dig through the sea-chest, mostly removing a bunch of worthless trinkets and mementos until they pull up an old cloak to reveal: a bundle of papers wrapped in oilcloth, and a coinpurse. The coinpurse contains a hodgepodge of currency from many different countries, but they don't have time to count out what they're owed before there's a knock at the front door. Jim immediately suspects the blind man again, and though they had secured the door for safety, he knows it's going to look real sus that their inn is suddenly locked up tight.
They make a break for it; Mrs. Hawkins takes a handful of coins, and Jim pockets the unidentified bundle of papers, although the book provides exactly zero justification for his doing so. They slip out the back door with the intention of escaping back to the nearby hamlet, but don't get very far when they hear the footfalls of multiple people running toward the inn, accompanied by the light of a lantern. Mrs. Hawkins faints from fright in that moment, and it's all Jim can do to haul the two of them underneath a bridge—their only shelter from the bright moonlight, yet still within earshot of the inn.