Name : Intan Bestika Putri

Class : XII Science 6

The Work of Creating Synopsis Out of a Novel

Title : Treasure Island

Writer : Robert Louis Stevenson

Publisher : PT Gramedia Pustaka Utama

Thick Books : 320 Pages

Synopsis of The Novel Called Treasure Island

Chapter 1 ” The Old Sea – dog at the Admiral Benbow”

My name is Jim Hawkins, and Squire Trelawney and Dr. Livesey asked me to write down the
whole story of Treasure Island from beginning to end. They told me to tell everything and
keep nothing back except the location of the island, since a lot of the treasure is still there. So,
here I am in the year 1750, remembering a time when my father ran the Admiral Benbow Inn
and an old seaman first came to our door. He was a tall, strong, nut-brown man, pulling a sea
chest behind him. A dark pigtail fell over the soiled shoulder of his blue coat. His ragged
hands had black, broken nails, and the scar across his cheek was a dirty, ugly white. He came
in, sat down, and ordered a glass of rum.
"A comfortable inn," he said, drinking slowly, "and in a good location. Many customers,
mate?"
"No, very few," my father said. "It’s a pity."
"Well, then," he said, "this is the place for me. All I’ll need each day is bacon and eggs in the
morning, some rum, and a room with a high window to watch for ships." He threw down
three gold pieces. "You can call me ‘Captain,’" he said, looking fierce. "Let me know when
you need more money to cover my board." The captain was a very quiet man. All day he
would hang around the cove or the cliffs with a brass telescope, and all evening, he would sit
next to the fire and drink rum.
"Let him be," my father warned me. Every day the old man went for a walk, and when he
returned to the inn, he’d always look over his shoulder and ask, "Have any seafaring men
been here?" Occasionally, seamen did arrive at the Admiral Benbow, and he’d spy on them
through the curtains. He took me aside one day and held out a silver coin. "I’ll pay you every
month," he said, "if you keep your eyes open for a seafaring man with one leg."
"One leg?" I said.
"Let me know the moment he appears." On the first of each month, I’d ask him for my wage.
He’d stare at me for a long time, but eventually he would give me my coin.
"Look out for the seafaring man with one leg," he repeated ominously. How that one-legged
man haunted my dreams! On stormy nights, he appeared to me in a thousand different forms,
with a thousand evil expressions. Sometimes his leg was cut off at the knee, and sometimes
the entire leg would be missing. The one-legged man would chase me over hedges and into
ditches. I thought these nightmares were a high price for my monthly pay, but oddly, the
captain himself didn’t scare me at all.
"More rum!" he’d shout. He’d force our trembling guests to listen to his stories and his
singing, and he wouldn’t allow anyone to leave. "Pay attention!"
"Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest," he sang.
"Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!" everyone sang in answer, joining in for fear of death.
"You’d walk the plank in the Dry Tortugas," he said, pointing to one reluctant guest. "And on
the bloody Spanish Main," he said, pointing to another, "you’d be tortured and then hung."
"He’s lived among the wickedest men on the sea," one guest whispered.
"He uses such shocking language," said another. My father held his head in his hands. "The
inn will be ruined. People won’t come to be bullied and sent shivering to their beds." I
disagreed and said to my father, "The captain does us good. People are frightened, but they
like the excitement. There’s even a group of young men who pretend to admire him. They
call him ‘sea dog’ and ‘old salt’ and say he’s the sort of man that made England fearsome at
sea."
"But the money he paid us is long gone," my father said. "I don’t know how to insist on
more. Whenever I try, he just stares at me." Father wrung his hands and looked very ill.
So the captain stayed. He never wrote or received letters, or spoke with anyone but the
guests, and then only when drunk. And we never saw inside his great sea chest. Late one
afternoon, Dr. Livesey arrived to see my father, who had become quite sick. This well-
dressed doctor, with his white powdered wig, clear eyes, and pleasant manners, contrasted
sharply with the filthy, bleary-eyed old sailor, drunk and sitting with his arms on the table.
Suddenly the captain began to sing:
"Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest,
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the rest—
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!"
Dr. Livesey was giving orders for my father’s care when the captain banged his hand on the
table for quiet. Everyone stopped talking, but Dr. Livesey continued. The captain glared,
swore, and said, "Silence, there, between decks!"
"Are you addressing me, sir?" the doctor asked.
"Aye," the captain said. "Shut the devil up."
"I have only one thing to say, sir," the doctor replied. "Keep drinking rum and you’ll soon be
dead, you scoundrel!" The old fellow sprang up, opened a pocketknife, and threatened to pin
the doctor to the wall. The doctor spoke louder. "Put that knife away, or I promise, on my
honor, you shall hang." There was a battle of looks, but the captain soon closed his weapon,
grumbling like a beaten dog.
"And now, sir," the doctor continued, "I’ll be watching you. I'm not only a doctor, but also an
officer of the law. If I hear any complaints about you, I'll have you hunted down. So behave."
Soon after, Dr. Livesey rode away, but the captain held his peace that evening and many
evenings to come.