THERE are moments of great luxury in the life of a secret agent.
THERE were four of us - George, and William Samuel Harris, and myself,
and Montmorency.
As I write, highly civilised human beings are flying overhead, trying to kill me.
SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having
asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from
the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the
island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I
take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when
my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the
sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof.