When I had done breakfasting the squire gave me a note addressed to John Silver, at the sign of the Spyglass, and told me I should easily find the [...] little tavern. [...] As I was waiting, a man came out of a side room, and at a glance I was sure he must be Long John. His left leg was cut off close by the hip, and under the left shoulder he carried a crutch, which he managed with wonderful dexterity, hopping about upon it like a bird.

He was very tall and strong, with a face as big as a ham - plain and pale, but intelligent and smiling. [...] I plucked up courage at once, crossed the threshold, and walked right up to the man where he stood [...].

“Mr. Silver, sir?” I asked while I was holding out the note.

“Yes, my lad,” said he; “such is my name, to be sure.”