Остров сокровищ

УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
 
С 80

ISBN 978-5-9925-0707-2

Стивенсон Р. Л.
С 80 
 Остров сокровищ: Книга для чтения на англий ском языке. — СПб.: КАРО, 2011. — 288 с. 
(«Classical litera ture»).

ISBN 978-5-9925-0707-2.

Предлагаем вниманию читателей роман знаменитого 
английского писателя-романтика Р. Л. Стивенсона «Остров 
сокровищ».
Неадаптированный текст романа снабжен комментариями и словарем. Книга предназначена для учащихся старщих 
классов школ с углубленным изучением английского языка, 
студентов языковых вузов и всех любителей английской 
приключенческой литературы.

УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2011

Об авторе

Знаменитый английский писатель шотландского происхождения Роберт Льюис Стивенсон (1850–1894) родился 
13 ноября 1850 года в Эдинбурге, в семье инженера. При 
крещении получил имя Роберт Льюис Бэлфур, но в возрасте 18 лет сменил фамилию на Стивенсон, а написание 
второго имени — с Lewis на Louis (без изменения произношения).
После окончания школы молодой человек поступил 
в Эдинбургский университет на юридический факультет, но адвокатской деятельностью практически не занимался — этому помешало состояние здоровья, с одной 
стороны, и первые успехи на литературном поприще, с 
другой. В результате он стал писателем. В 1870-х годах 
Стивенсон жил преимущественно во Франции на скромные заработки подающего надежды литератора и редкие 
денежные переводы из дома, подружился со многими 
французскими художниками. В эти же годы он много путешествовал по Франции, Германии и родной Шотландии. 
Итогом этих путешествий Сти вен сона стали первые две 
книги, путевые впечатления — «Поездка внутрь страны» 
(An Inland Voyage, 1878) и «Путешествия с ослом» (Travels 
with a Donkey in the Cevennes, 1879). «Эссе», написанные 
в этот период, были им собраны в книге «Virginibus 
Puerisque» (1881).
Во французской деревушке Грез, известной своими 
собраниями и встречами художников, Роберт Льюис 

ОБ АВТОРЕ

встретил свою будущую жену Франсес Матильду Осборн. 
Это была увлеченная живописью американка. Разъехавшись с мужем, она жила с детьми в Европе. Стивенсон 
горячо полюбил ее, и 19 мая 1880 года, как только развод 
был получен, влюбленные сочетались браком в СанФранциско. Их совместная жизнь была отмечена неусыпной заботой Фанни о болезненном муже. Роберт 
Льюис подружился с детьми своей жены, а впоследствии 
его пасынок Сэмюэл Ллойд Осборн стал соавтором трех 
книг Стивенсона: «Несусветный багаж» (1889), «Отлив» 
(1894) и «Потерпевшие кораблекрушение» (1892).
В 1880 году у Стивенсона был обнаружен туберкулез. 
В поисках целительного климата он посетил Швейцарию, 
юг Франции, в 1887–1888 годах — Са ра нак-Лейк в штате 
Нью-Йорк. Отчасти из-за плохого здоровья, отчасти чтобы 
собрать материал для очерков, Стивенсон с женой, матерью и пасынком отправился на яхте в южные области 
Тихого океана. Они посетили Маркизские острова, Туамоту, 
Таити, Гавайи, Микронезию и Австралию и приобрели 
участок земли на Самоа.
Климат острова пошел ему на пользу: в просторном 
плантаторском доме в Вайлиме — так Стивенсон назвал 
свое владение — были написаны некоторые из лучших 
его произведений. Здесь же 3 декабря 1894 года он скоропостижно скончался, оставшись в истории английской 
литературы замечательным писа те лем-романтиком, автором приключенческих романов, которыми до сих пор зачитываются подростки во всем мире, — «Черная Стрела», 
«Владелец Бал лантре» и, конечно же, «Остров сокровищ».

Part One

THE OLD BUCCANEER

1

The Old Sea-dog 
at the Admiral Benbow

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 back1 but the 
bearings of the island, and that only because there is 
still treasure not yet lift ed, I take up my pen in the year 
of grace 17__ and go back to the time when my father 
kept the Admiral Benbow inn2 and the brown old 
seaman with the sabre cut fi rst took up his lodging 
under our roof.
I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came 
plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind 
him in a hand-barrow — a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown 

1 keeping nothing back  — (разг.) без утайки; ничего не 
утаивая
2 the Admiral Benbow inn — гостиница названа в честь 
Джона Бенбоу (1653–1702), английского адмирала

PART ONE

6

man, his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his 
soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with 
black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, 
a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the 
cover and whistling to himself as he did so, and then 
breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so oft en 
aft erwards:
“Fift een men on the dead man’s chest — 
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!”
in the high, old tottering voice that seemed to have 
been tuned and broken at the capstan bars. Th en he 
rapped on the door with a bit of stick like a handspike 
that he carried, and when my father appeared, called 
roughly for a glass of rum. Th is, when it was brought to 
him, he drank slowly, like a connoisseur, lingering on 
the taste and still looking about him at the cliff s and up 
at our signboard.
“Th is is a handy cove,” says he at length; “and a pleasant sittyated grog-shop. Much company1, mate?”
My father told him no, very little company, the more 
was the pity.
“Well, then,” said he, “this is the berth for me. Here 
you, matey,” he cried to the man who trundled the 
barrow; “bring up alongside and help up my chest. I’ll 
stay here a bit,” he continued. “I’m a plain man; rum 
and bacon and eggs is what I want, and that head up 
there for to watch ships off . What you mought call me? 
You mought call me captain. Oh, I see what you’re at — 
there”; and he threw down three or four gold pieces on 
the threshold. “You can tell me when I’ve worked 

1 Much company — (разг.) Много народу здесь бывает

THE OLD BUCCANEER

7

through that,” says he, looking as fi erce as a commander.
And indeed bad as his clothes were and coarsely as 
he spoke, he had none of the appearance of a man who 
sailed before the mast1, but seemed like a mate or 
skipper accustomed to be obeyed or to strike. Th e man 
who came with the barrow told us the mail had set him 
down the morning before at the Royal George, that he 
had inquired what inns there were along the coast, and 
hearing ours well spoken of, I suppose, and described 
as lonely, had chosen it from the others for his place of 
residence. And that was all we could learn of our guest.
He was a very silent man by custom. All day he hung 
round the cove or upon the cliff s with a brass telescope; 
all evening he sat in a corner of the parlour next the fi re 
and drank rum and water very strong. Mostly he would 
not speak when spoken to, only look up sudden and 
fi erce and blow through his nose like a fog-horn; and 
we and the people who came about our house soon 
learned to let him be2. Every day when he came back 
from his stroll he would ask if any seafaring men had 
gone by along the road. At fi rst we thought it was the 
want of company of his own kind that made him ask 
this question, but at last we began to see he was desirous 
to avoid them. When a seaman did put up at the Admiral 
Benbow (as now and then3 some did, making by the 
coast road for Bristol) he would look in at him through 

1 sailed before the mast — (мор.) служил простым матросом
2 learned to let him be — (разг.) привыкли его не беспокоить
3 now and then — (разг.) изредка; время от времени

PART ONE

8

the curtained door before he entered the parlour; and 
he was always sure to be as silent as a mouse when any 
such was present. For me, at least, there was no secret 
about the matter, for I was, in a way, a sharer in his 
alarms. He had taken me aside one day and promised 
me a silver fourpenny on the fi rst of every month if I 
would only keep my “weather-eye open for a seafaring 
man with one leg” and let him know the moment he 
appeared. Oft en enough when the fi rst of the month 
came round and I applied to him for my wage, he would 
only blow through his nose at me and stare me down, 
but before the week was out he was sure to think better 
of it, bring me my four-penny piece, and repeat his 
orders to look out for “the seafaring man with one leg.”
How that personage haunted my dreams, I need 
scarcely tell you. On stormy nights, when the wind 
shook the four corners of the house and the surf roared 
along the cove and up the cliff s, I would see him in a 
thousand forms, and with a thousand diabolical expressions. Now the leg would be cut off  at the knee, now at 
the hip; now he was a monstrous kind of a creature who 
had never had but the one leg, and that in the middle 
of his body. To see him leap and run and pursue me 
over hedge and ditch1 was the worst of nightmares. 
And altogether I paid pretty dear for my monthly 
four-penny piece, in the shape of these abomin able 
fancies.
But though I was so terrifi ed by the idea of the 
seafaring man with one leg, I was far less afraid of the 

1 over hedge and ditch — (разг.) напрямик; кратчайшим 
путем

THE OLD BUCCANEER

9

captain himself than anybody else who knew him. 
Th ere were nights when he took a deal more rum and 
water than his head would carry; and then he would 
sometimes sit and sing his wicked, old, wild sea-songs, 
minding nobody1; but sometimes he would call for 
glasses round and force all the trembling company to 
listen to his stories or bear a chorus to his singing. Oft en 
I have heard the house shaking with “Yo-ho-ho, and a 
bottle of rum,” all the neighbours joining in for dear 
life2, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing 
louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fi ts 
he was the most overriding companion ever known; he 
would slap his hand on the table for silence all round; 
he would fl y up in a passion of anger at a question, or 
sometimes because none was put, and so he judged the 
company was not following his story. Nor would he 
allow anyone to leave the inn till he had drunk himself 
sleepy and reeled off  to bed.
His stories were what frightened people worst of all. 
Dreadful stories they were — about hanging, and 
walking the plank, and storms at sea, and the Dry 
Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish 
Main3. By his own account he must have lived his life 
among some of the wickedest men that God ever 

1 minding nobody — (разг.) не обращая ни на кого внимания
2 for dear life — (разг.) отчаянно; как будто их жизнь зависела от этого
3 the Spanish Main — район северного побережья Южной Америки, откуда испанские корабли возили золото 
и другие сокровища в Испанию (XVI–XVII вв.); область активных действий пиратов

PART ONE

10

allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told 
these stories shocked our plain country people almost 
as much as the crimes that he described. My father was 
always saying the inn would be ruined, for people would 
soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over and put 
down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really 
believe his presence did us good. People were frightened 
at the time, but on looking back they rather liked it; it 
was a fi ne excitement in a quiet country life, and there 
was even a party of the younger men who pretended to 
admire him, calling him a “true sea-dog” and a “real old 
salt1” and such like names, and saying there was the sort 
of man that made England terrible at sea.
In one way, indeed, he bade fair to ruin us, for he 
kept on staying week aft er week, and at last month aft er 
month, so that all the money had been long exhausted, 
and still my father never plucked up the heart2 to insist 
on having more. If ever he mentioned it, the captain 
blew through his nose so loudly that you might say he 
roared, and stared my poor father out of the room. 
I have seen him wringing his hands aft er such a rebuff , 
and I am sure the annoyance and the terror he lived in 
must have greatly hastened his early and unhappy 
death.
All the time he lived with us the captain made no 
change whatever in his dress but to buy some stockings 
from a hawker. One of the cocks of his hat having fallen 
down, he let it hang from that day forth, though it was 

1 real old salt — (разг.) настоящий морской волк
2 never plucked up the heart — (разг.) так и не отважился 
(не набрался храбрости)