Do you know if there is a term for someone who exists outside of the allo-ace-aro-etc spectrum? I'm looking for something like nonbinary or binaryless but for sexual or romantic orientation but I'm not sure if such a term already exists or if it even makes sense outside of my head. I just don't feel allo or ace at all.

I believe this would be Absrose ( defined as "Someone beyond, between or removed from aromantic / alloromantic and asexual / allosexual dichotomy." ) which is a combination of Absromantic and Abssexual.

Some people use Greyrose / Greyromantic / Greysexual with this definition as well. I know some people tend to see Grey- / Gray- terms as being Aspec-aligned but that's really up to the individual in question as it's a very broad and nebulous umbrella ( covering the whole "grey area" which can include those outside Ace and Allo. )

If you'd like me to coin you something more specific please feel free to drop a rq ( as detailed as you'd like ) in my inbox !!

I had a rough day, and came to a realisation. I will say a bit about my own experience, and then, after having to lay the groundwork of explaining 400 things about Japan because American schools and media think the whole world is the US, Western Europe, and places to blow up, making explaining necessary, will tie it to Ichigo, or at least how I portray him.

I'm Post Dankai Juniors, growing up in Japan. So's Kubo, actually. The boundaries of this Japanese generation are roughly '75 to '85, Yutori, the following generation that's always translated and localised as Millennial, pretty solidly set as beginning at '86. These things are always fuzzy because you can't vivisect living brains and find the part that likes char siu buns and the part that likes jazz fusion. I *majored* in Social Science. You'll have teachers who say "it is absolute that we date people who are similar to us because we're all actually narcists." (It *might* be because they're like our beloved family or community. Narcistic Personality is not universal) But it really just is fuzzy, and that teacher/book author is an idiot. Anyway, Yutori is always translated as Millennial. I don't know the end boundary. Post Dankai Juniors covers almost totally a debated throe for Germanic nations (I know Britain, Germany, and Nederland use the same generations as America, and their languages are Germanic) because of how fuzzy it all is, though.

Anyway, so since coming to the US, my interactions with other Asians, again, how is this defined when China, Mongolia, Japan all border Russia and West Asia includes Jordan and Saudi Arabia, South Asia is India's area, Southeast Asia is Laos, Thailand's area, I mean, find the Arabic kanji. I don't think Thailand even uses soy sauce. What the heck IS Asia, really? (Or "Middle East" when half of that's Africa and the other half shares plate with Europe? )

Anyway, my experience with Asians that are Boomer ages tends to be people who immigrated as adults, who more identity with a generation like "Dankai" or "Sirake." My experiences with Latinos older than me... I've never actually asked if the generational labels are even the same.

The thing about that is that when the name is the same, it means enough cultural traits are shared.

My biggest experience with people who grew up under the term "Boomer" are Black and white.

I've noticed a unifying trait.

If they're something oppressed (Black, gay), their attitude tends to be"it is mandatory to stand up for *my* demograph...but kicking the person behind me on the ladder in the teeth is wholesome, pure, and fun."

Outing me to large groups and saying I "speak Asian" seem to be the most common two. Calling me "Chinese" long after I've cleared this up for them is a close third.

I mean, don't get me wrong--my experience with Italian Americans past GI generation has been that now acquiring the "white" label, just like biphobic/aphobic/transphobic cisgays, they're more often staunch priveledge defenders than cishet people of Anglo descent! And it's just as true for X and Y as it is for Boomer (for the latter, one need only look at NYC destroyer and trump defender Giuliani) I actually don't really identify with my Italian side at all because I was kinda locked out of making any meaningful connection.

But back to my point that even in so-leftist-it's-almost-not-America Bay Area, Boomers are still like this!

The kind of stuff that flows out a X/Y TERF's mouth, or the mouth of an X/Y person with a Confederate flag on his wall, American-raised Boomers say with ease regardless of their alignment! It's banananas.

(Please note that I also just have not met a whole lot of Native Americans, period, nor enough people significantly older than me from any one place in Africa, that was an omission of lacking data, not intended as erasure)

How I tie it to Ichigo--

So Kubo avoids specifying birth years for anyone.

When I see something like this, I generally assume date of publication, as do most people in most fandoms (which of course gets screwy when you have something endlessly rebooted like Superman or Batman or something eternally unchanging like Detective Conan)

Anyway, the first Bleach something published was the comic in '01.

I generally assume it was supposed to be the start of a new school year, as Ichigo doesn't know many of his classmates until at least the first test scores come out. So it's probably April or something.

If Ichigo was 15 then, he'd also be Post Dankai Juniors, just barely. If Ichigo TURNED 15 shortly after, during his adventure, he'd be undebatably Millennial.

Now, there is still something up with Dankai and Sirake. PM Abe is the latter, b. 1954. A lot of his age-peers are behind him. This is the guy who supports remilitarisation and was caught funding a private militarist/fascist high(?) school that teaches that people from countries Japan conquered during its brief phase of trying to beat colonial Europe are less than dogs.

Now, I left there as a teen. Clinton was US president. Scandals still got people kicked out of public office in Japan. I hadn't figured or come out yet. Sure, I got bullied for being mixed, but kids will pick if you like different singers than the "cool" ones. They'll pick based on what's in your lunch. That data is sausage.

I'm not 100% sure what Ichigo would face day-to-day sociopolitically as he grew up/aged. I haven't had living family since'95 there, and friendships don't get deep enough to ever last distance until at least high school. For me, adulthood.

But I've kept/caught up enough (you try keeping up in the South before the internet was more than ten University sites!) that I know he'd face fascists (c'mon, the guy takes on a martial law government to save a new friend--that's anarchist, he just doesn't seem anarchist in his own world. He only fights humans in defence) I'm not sure how he'd feel about the JSDF, but he only fought the sinigami's war out of feeling like it was his responsibility because the adults around him kinda made it so. I super don't see him being for *starting* wars. In a human war, I see him actually being like Sugihara Chiune, a historical figure who died when I was a kid who I majorly admire. He worked at a Japanese embassy in Nazi territory, and when the embassy was evacuated,he continued throwing passports to Jewish people to go to Japan from the train he was departing on,and is hidden from Americans in the same spirit that Martin Luther King is...pulled the teeth out of. (PS, speaking of,go Google Steven Kiyosi Kuromiya)

Also, Ichigo's whole schtick is defending those worse off than him. He's not someone I see defending Yamato Japanese priveledge. Heck, I could see him joining Uchinanchu efforts to get Parliament and the US base to leave them alone. I can easily see him sticking up for a Filipino domestic worker he met thirty seconds ago.

To this end, I think regardless of what he is, he'd have a large rub with Japan's equivalents of Boomers.

Not to mention that Abe supporters tend to be very sexist and queerphobic, which isn't even homegrown but imported from Américanisation. I mean, there were female warriors--assasins, which is what Yoruichi and Soi-Fon are styled after, and go look at some Ukiyoe, like Utagawa Kitamaro. Quite a few artists in the 200-ish years of the Edo period depicted life in the queer districts. I've also had people posit that Noh might've been a welcoming draw for trans people the same way drag was all over the US in the twentieth century and still is in rural areas, where there's less cisgay gatekeeping. But this isn't something I can reasonably research without access to plenty of older and not well known dusty documents, and lots of time, and I live in the US many years now. And do you know how much round trip airfare alone is!? Also, the language changed so much and I can't read anything before Meiji without dropping words. Rukia, Byakuya, Yoruichi all have made for TV old-sounding Japanese like period dramas. Actual 18th Century Japanese would be unintelligible to the unspecialised.

So this stuff isn't really native, but Abe and a lot of people his age support all these -isms.

I super don't see Ichigo being happy about this.

(I also feel like Issin's old enough to remember before these -isms, but that's my own thing. In my project, he was in those districts, but that's me)

At the same time, I'm still writing this through my own lens. Also, not still being there, I just don't have enough data on Yutori in adulthood, or the grown Yutori lens. Honestly, even most other immigrants I meet are older than that. Or older than that and their adorable three year old children. So I have no clue.

In the early 2000s, I got myself from the South to CA and began to reconnect, but began to is the key phrase. I can tell you right now that Abe is as much of a second phase of Nakasone as trump is of Nakasone's buddy Regean. But what shifted when, I can't say. I'm not entirely sure how Koizumi ran the ship, as it were. I know some things, but not enough to say.

But whenever things shifted however, and whichever year Ichigo was born, I just cannot imagine him being any more on board with current events than really anyone in my area not born between 1946-1964 and raised in America.

I feel like he'd probably be too tired or self-effacing to fight for himself, but he'd take on, loud and proud, any bigotry against *others.*

I...also can't really say I'm much different, except my joints are held together by the power of wishes, so I'm more like "get the victim to safety" than "give the attacker plenty of regret." So, I can only do anything in limited ways.

Ichigo is also entirely fuelled by the power of love. Lost his ability to protect and feels like his sinigami friends ditched him? Mondo depressed, however much he wants no one to notice--which most do a great job of ignoring! Everyone in his world turned against him for a guy who has attacked people close to him? Terrified, and murder can now be an answer. (Fullbring Arc)

I was going somewhere with that. I've forgotten, but I'll leave it.

But anyway, I feel like he really only comes close to fighting for himself when others are taken away from him in a way that's also wronging them.

So yeah, I super don't see him happy with current events or Sirake gen.

I'm not sure how much I see him fighting for himself as mixed panromantic grey-ace. I mean, we know he fights people who are about to punch his face in for his looks, but what else can you reasonably do at that point? Get your head bashed in? I'm not sure how much I see him fighting hateful words pointed at him versus resigning himself to "people are the worst." I mean, when he talks about being picked on, he kinda seems resigned, or at least like it's a fact, like shoes being for outside or something.

I guess I tied it to Ichigo a lot better than I thought!

But also, the struggle against people born just after the war is not just you, and not just America. It's a major problem.

And it's likely that Ichigo would agree.

Zoo 3.11, “Cradles and Graves”

Maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me

I don't know if I'm more upset that this show had the gall to unironically use (a cover of)“Wonderwall” for dramatic effect, or that after 3 days of my inability to stop watching this episode, it's actually working for me.

I distinctly remember bursting out laughing when the first lyrics hit my ears, and now I'm like, teary eyed and nodding sagely through that whole montage. "Wow. So deep. So profound and meaningful."

------

A list of things I did not care for this week: the IADG bullpen unless Tessa was talking. Now that we've got that out of the way... Some things I like about the first 5 minutes -Imagining the Darkest Timeline version where they are all already dead by the time Clem finds them. -The (unintentional?) hilarity of the fact that Jackson's blood waits for the exactly perfect moment to ooze under the door for maximum dramatic effect -The fact that Mitch is found on the stairs instead of where he was shot, which suggests to me that he got to feel the full horror of seeing both Max and Jamie on the ground before he succumbed to his own wound (which is probably just an irresponsible directing choice because if he had, I'd think he'd be a little more grateful about the whole them-not-being-dead part, but it's fun to think about! Otherwise I just get bogged down again in wondering about the logistics of GSW injuries.) Ctrl + Z I loved it, but my parents and I could not stop laughing during the entire resurrection scene. "So I guess everybody's actively dying and no one can help us, but it's cool. Just gimme some of that tank serum (totally valid medical term) and mix it with water (just your basic home remedy recipe), and then we'll suffocate them back to life and five minutes later their mortal wounds will be fine and we can get on with the real problems." A.K.A. So there's example 57 or so of an entire episode's worth of possible plot being pushed aside because this show refuses to take a breath. We could have wrung so much more emotion out of Clementine, whilst ignoring her own signs of labor, trying to triage her father, grandfather, adoptive mother, surrogate uncle I'm pretending she is already attached to more than I'm sure she is, and other surrogate uncle who is also her best chance of saving her baby, the most important of all, if something goes wrong in delivery. ...and GDI now I gotta go find a special episode of Grey's Anatomy to get my mass tragedy fix. But I'm grateful that even at Zoo speed, they still gave me a little taste (in two flavors!) of people suffering the after-effects of injuries the serum couldn't fully fix. You're Responsible, You're the One to Blame, It's Your Fault :( to everyone being too busy hating her to notice Jamie cradling a clearly injured arm. But I love absolutely every sentence in this 7-way argument, including but not limited to Mitch's strangled "are you full term? how long was I out?!", the group-wide reveal of when exactly Mr. Duncan disappeared, Jackson's deadly-quiet anger, Jamie's valid defense of her actions, Mitch trying to take his daughter and blow this popsicle stand at a doubled-over limp, Clem taking her sweet time mentioning the quarantine, Max and Jamie's "oh" realizations about the plane, and Mitch's fabulously cranky echo and "what now" attitude. Last but far from least, the disgusted "I can't even look at you" was kind of my favorite part? I dig it when one member of an OTP is that intensely furious at the other out of hurt. (see also: Castle at the end of season 4)

A+ Comic Relief Laughing for 1 million years at Clem hopping off the exam table pantsless while all the men in the vicinity double take and look away* (except for Sam, whom Mitch hilariously whacks on the arm for his impudence, in my favorite sight gag since "Special Consultant") *the fact that Abe also does this, while understandably instinctive and appropriately respectful, is also kind of hilarious given where he just was 

Oh My Darling(s, Sam &) Clementine (who can't make a good shipmanteau to save their life) I don't have enough interest to do it myself, but it sure sounds like the story of how they met would make a pretty great YA novel plot. Anyone who doesn't actually want to spend the month trying to be a paid author need a NaNoWriMo prompt? Particularly someone who likes world-building, because this show leaves things wide open to fill in the details of U.S. society outside New York and the plane. Speaking of which! Did Clem happen to share with him the part of her backstory about being raised as an orphan basically the same way for the same reason? Because that seems like it would decently bond them. I like this parallel. Also update, I am getting a lot fonder of his face, mostly because he shut up and stayed out of the way except when I needed him to chime in to be sweet and supportive of Clementine (or side with her dad about ranking her over the baby on the priority list). He seems like he's really tried/is trying to be a good partner, and I'm impressed that he holds his ground despite a faceful of largely unwarranted hostility from her. I might actually be okay with him being the head of his family, even though up until now my head has danced with visions of Clem raising her baby under Mitch (and Jamie)'s purview and/or roof, Last Man Standing style. (although I guess there's always Reba-style, where both young parents are under that roof) (I realize I'm making a lot of assumptions about everyone's ability to stay alive and/or live a semi-normal life)

Beta Ship 2.0 / My Wonderwall** There's something immensely funny to me about the juxtaposition of Jackson being in his Brooding Cave Of Isolated Despair while Tessa is in a brightly ilt location, in the middle of the hustle and bustle and basically being like, "Buck up and stop being so melodramatic." (Jackson: The prophecies have spoken. Food turns to dust in my mouth. A great wave shall fall upon us all. // Tessa: is your plane out of groceries again?) But on a serious note, I love so much that he's thisclose to broken until she pulls him out of it that I'm not even gonna whine about him asking Tessa to do the same thing he's punishing Jamie for. Though in his defense, he did say "stop" her and not "kill her,” which is an important distinction for him. **My friend once wrote a Jim/Pam (The Office) parody of Jim/Pam stories using this title, and that is at least 50% of why I can't take this song seriously even though I actually have always loved it. 

I Don't Know What To Do My Whole Brain is Celebrating "How do you know the name of Jamie's scorpion?" "Because my son and Jamie have, uh, very lively pillow talk."** !!!!!!!!!! NO BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE.

The fact that Abe pipes up despite a sucking chest wound just so he can help take the mick out of Mitch is glorious. The cranky and ineffectual "shut up" in response is THE BEST. I love that Mitch has just always blatantly refused to publicly acknowledge how he feels about Jamie, despite the fact that everyone and their mother is like,  "Oh yeah, I know Mitch. Snarky scientist, walks around with hearts in his eyes to match the one on his sleeve?" (Mitch, in the distance: I do not LOVE her, okay, I just...miss her when she's not around, think about her all the time, and I imagine us one day running towards each other in slow motion and I'm wearing a brown suede vest.) I doubly appreciate this exchange because I was wondering when the hell these people actually sleep and I was getting worried there was no recognizable place in canon that they might have both had a chance to go to bed at the same time. **This writer could not have more clearly been flagging us with a fic prompt. Max Morgan, Love Doctor My very favorite of the small moments in this ep is Max insisting that Mitch let him patch him up. I was all on board for some serious injury, but I loved the subversion of his attention being caught by the scars I thought the show had forgotten about instead. "Oh, Mitch."

That just kills me. I want to unpack their relationship right here so much more, but also, it's 7pm on the night of new Zoo. Suffice to say Mitch isn't the only parent who suffers over the thought of his kid being in pain tonight, and that's beautiful. And gosh do I love him quietly, individually, nudging Mitch and Jamie back towards each other. The promise that Mitch will understand eventually was an immediate balm upon my soul. If Max says a thing about my ship, it must be true! Mitch + Being A Mess of Emotions About His Daughter (if anyone wanted to make a gifset off of this theme I would not be opposed) Words cannot express how thrilled I am that Mitch gives zero bothers about Sam's baby daddy rights and takes up prime positioning to stroke Clementine's hair nonstop throughout the whole labor,* even stealing the requisite final "you can do this" encouragement. He also gets to be the first one to hold the baby and it's amazing.

* and makes some pretty wonderful faces over how hard it is to see her in pain and not be able to do anything about it -- and remind me I've got either some meta or a story scrap about how this is what Audra was on the front lines for all those years he selfishly hid away, telling himself it was for the best P.S. As much as I love that Mitch just falls apart in full Worried Dad mode and can't seem to process a single medical term or physical symptom as it pertains to pregnancy, you know that if Abe weren't a sex doctor and the writers weren't butts, Mitch would absolutely be whipping out the stethoscopes and telling us all about the time he delivered a baby gorilla so this is basically the same thing -- I imagine Clem would take loud offense here -- while roping in Jamie as a delivery nurse to follow his instructions to the letter (because there are some things fathers just should not do no matter how brilliant they are). Things I would like to know Why Mitch -- who apparently had a through and through -- is the only one whose gunshot wound is still bothering him Why Clementine didn't once ask where Jamie was. (at which point I'd really like to see Mitch try and explain that one.)

It is straight up ridiculous to me that 19-year-old girl in labor, surrounded by men, would not want a woman with her, particularly one she loves. This is the most "what...man...[wrote] this" moment I have ever had about TV.

Did I just miss it, or is it kinda weird that Sam doesn't bat an eye upon finding out Charles Duncan is actually a different person and his girlfriend's father? 

Leftover Thoughts

This show is so nuts, I am just now realizing I didn't even stop to wonder how the hell Abigail reanimated herself last week before now.

Mitch being a testy bitch @ Abe is a thing that just does not get old. ("You put hybrid goo in my daughter? Was that not worth a little chat?")

Aww @ Mitch's mini pep-talk about being a good parent, followed by the "OK time to go" and the sweet "I'm having this baby?" / "You are having this baby."

I also really enjoy Mitch deciding to be cranky about Sam just because he's there and he can. It's kinda like sniping at Logan, but more fun and with way better reasons. (Which I hope is exactly what Mitch says when Clementine inevitably tells him to knock it off)

"Goodbye frequent flyer miles" lmao

I love that instead of shutting down the beacon by cutting the wire, they multiplied its effect by a thousand and destroyed a city, to which the response is basically, "Whoops."

"You've been good for my son. Take care of him for me." So I LOVE THIS, but also: dammit Max that is not what "die for our ship" means.

But I love the moment where Jamie and Max, individually, hear the baby crying. The joy dawning on their faces is so pure it actually makes it worthwhile that they're not present at the birth itself.

(I know we're especially mad about Jamie. But honestly, if it means All Mitch All The Time, that's an OK trade to me.)

tl;dr if something is not mentioned please assume I loved it

COMING SOON:

(will be links shortly) Mini essays analyzing Jamie V. Jackson, Mitch/Jamie and Max's death.

In conclusion: I spent my entire night writing this, but it was worth it. Future Me is gonna love looking back.

SURE enough, there were two men just outside the stockade, one of them waving a white cloth, the other, no less a person than Silver himself, standing placidly by. It was still quite early, and the coldest morning that I think I ever was abroad in - a chill that pierced into the marrow. The sky was bright and cloudless overhead, and the tops of the trees shone rosily in the sun. But where Silver stood with his lieutenant, all was still in shadow, and they waded knee-deep in a low white vapour that had crawled during the night out of the morass. The chill and the vapour taken together told a poor tale of the island. It was plainly a damp, feverish, unhealthy spot. "Keep indoors, men," said the captain. "Ten to one this is a trick." Then he hailed the buccaneer. "Who goes? Stand, or we fire." "Flag of truce," cried Silver. The captain was in the porch, keeping himself carefully out of the way of a treacherous shot, should any be intended. He turned and spoke to us, "Doctor's watch on the lookout. Dr. Livesey take the north side, if you please; Jim, the east; Gray, west. The watch below, all hands to load muskets. Lively, men, and careful." And then he turned again to the mutineers. "And what do you want with your flag of truce?" he cried. This time it was the other man who replied. "Cap'n Silver, sir, to come on board and make terms," he shouted. "Cap'n Silver! Don't know him. Who's he?" cried the captain. And we could hear him adding to himself, "Cap'n, is it? My heart, and here's promotion!" Long John answered for himself. "Me, sir. These poor lads have chosen me cap'n, after your desertion, sir"-laying a particular emphasis upon the word "desertion." "We're willing to submit, if we can come to terms, and no bones about it. All I ask is your word, Cap'n Smollett, to let me safe and sound out of this here stockade, and one minute to get out o' shot before a gun is fired." "My man," said Captain Smollett, "I have not the slightest desire to talk to you. If you wish to talk to me, you can come, that's all. If there's any treachery, it'll be on your side, and the Lord help you." "That's enough, cap'n," shouted Long John cheerily. "A word from you's enough. I know a gentleman, and you may lay to that." We could see the man who carried the flag of truce attempting to hold Silver back. Nor was that wonderful, seeing how cavalier had been the captain's answer. But Silver laughed at him aloud and slapped him on the back as if the idea of alarm had been absurd. Then he advanced to the stockade, threw over his crutch, got a leg up, and with great vigour and skill succeeded in surmounting the fence and dropping safely to the other side. I will confess that I was far too much taken up with what was going on to be of the slightest use as sentry; indeed, I had already deserted my eastern loophole and crept up behind the captain, who had now seated himself on the threshold, with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, and his eyes fixed on the water as it bubbled out of the old iron kettle in the sand. He was whistling "Come, Lasses and Lads." Silver had terrible hard work getting up the knoll. What with the steepness of the incline, the thick tree stumps, and the soft sand, he and his crutch were as helpless as a ship in stays. But he stuck to it like a man in silence, and at last arrived before the captain, whom he saluted in the handsomest style. He was tricked out in his best; an immense blue coat, thick with brass buttons, hung as low as to his knees, and a fine laced hat was set on the back of his head. "Here you are, my man," said the captain, raising his head. "You had better sit down." "You ain't a-going to let me inside, cap'n?" complained Long John. "It's a main cold morning, to be sure, sir, to sit outside upon the sand." "Why, Silver," said the captain, "if you had pleased to be an honest man, you might have been sitting in your galley. It's your own doing. You're either my ship's cook - and then you were treated handsome - or Cap'n Silver, a common mutineer and pirate, and then you can go hang!" "Well, well, cap'n," returned the sea-cook, sitting down as he was bidden on the sand, "you'll have to give me a hand up again, that's all. A sweet pretty place you have of it here. Ah, there's Jim! The top of the morning to you, Jim. Doctor, here's my service. Why, there you all are together like a happy family, in a manner of speaking." "If you have anything to say, my man, better say it," said the captain. "Right you were, Cap'n Smollett," replied Silver. "Dooty is dooty, to be sure. Well now, you look here, that was a good lay of yours last night. I don't deny it was a good lay. Some of you pretty handy with a handspike-end. And I'll not deny neither but what some of my people was shook - maybe all was shook; maybe I was shook myself; maybe that's why I'm here for terms. But you mark me, cap'n, it won't do twice, by thunder! We'll have to do sentry-go and ease off a point or so on the rum. Maybe you think we were all a sheet in the wind's eye. But I'll tell you I was sober; I was on'y dog tired; and if I'd awoke a second sooner, I'd 'a caught you at the act, I would. He wasn't dead when I got round to him, not he." "Well?" says Captain Smollett as cool as can be. All that Silver said was a riddle to him, but you would never have guessed it from his tone. As for me, I began to have an inkling. Ben Gunn's last words came back to my mind. I began to suppose that he had paid the buccaneers a visit while they all lay drunk together round their fire, and I reckoned up with glee that we had only fourteen enemies to deal with. "Well, here it is," said Silver. "We want that treasure, and we'll have it - that's our point! You would just as soon save your lives, I reckon; and that's yours. You have a chart, haven't you?" "That's as may be," replied the captain. "Oh, well, you have, I know that," returned Long John. "You needn't be so husky with a man; there ain't a particle of service in that, and you may lay to it. What I mean is, we want your chart. Now, I never meant you no harm, myself." "That won't do with me, my man," interrupted the captain. "We know exactly what you meant to do, and we don't care, for now, you see, you can't do it." And the captain looked at him calmly and proceeded to fill a pipe. "If Abe Gray - " Silver broke out. "Avast there!" cried Mr. Smollett. "Gray told me nothing, and I asked him nothing; and what's more, I would see you and him and this whole island blown clean out of the water into blazes first. So there's my mind for you, my man, on that." This little whiff of temper seemed to cool Silver down. He had been growing nettled before, but now he pulled himself together. "Like enough," said he. "I would set no limits to what gentlemen might consider shipshape, or might not, as the case were. And seein' as how you are about to take a pipe, cap'n, I'll make so free as do likewise." And he filled a pipe and lighted it; and the two men sat silently smoking for quite a while, now looking each other in the face, now stopping their tobacco, now leaning forward to spit. It was as good as the play to see them. "Now," resumed Silver, "here it is. You give us the chart to get the treasure by, and drop shooting poor seamen and stoving of their heads in while asleep. You do that, and we'll offer you a choice. Either you come aboard along of us, once the treasure shipped, and then I'll give you my affy-davy, upon my word of honour, to clap you somewhere safe ashore. Or if that ain't to your fancy, some of my hands being rough and having old scores on account of hazing, then you can stay here, you can. We'll divide stores with you, man for man; and I'll give my affy-davy, as before to speak the first ship I sight, and send 'em here to pick you up. Now, you'll own that's talking. Handsomer you couldn't look to get, now you. And I hope" - raising his voice-"that all hands in this here block house will overhaul my words, for what is spoke to one is spoke to all." Captain Smollett rose from his seat and knocked out the ashes of his pipe in the palm of his left hand. "Is that all?" he asked. "Every last word, by thunder!" answered John. "Refuse that, and you've seen the last of me but musket-balls." "Very good," said the captain. "Now you'll hear me. If you'll come up one by one, unarmed, I'll engage to clap you all in irons and take you home to a fair trial in England. If you won't, my name is Alexander Smollett, I've flown my sovereign's colours, and I'll see you all to Davy Jones. You can't find the treasure. You can't sail the ship - there's not a man among you fit to sail the ship. You can't fight us-Gray, there, got away from five of you. Your ship's in irons, Master Silver; you're on a lee shore, and so you'll find. I stand here and tell you so; and they're the last good words you'll get from me, for in the name of heaven, I'll put a bullet in your back when next I meet you. Tramp, my lad. Bundle out of this, please, hand over hand, and double quick." Silver's face was a picture; his eyes started in his head with wrath. He shook the fire out of his pipe. "Give me a hand up!" he cried. "Not I," returned the captain. "Who'll give me a hand up?" he roared. Not a man among us moved. Growling the foulest imprecations, he crawled along the sand till he got hold of the porch and could hoist himself again upon his crutch. Then he spat into the spring. "There!" he cried. "That's what I think of ye. Before an hour's out, I'll stove in your old block house like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by thunder, laugh! Before an hour's out, ye'll laugh upon the other side. Them that die'll be the lucky ones." And with a dreadful oath he stumbled off, ploughed down the sand, was helped across the stockade, after four or five failures, by the man with the flag of truce, and disappeared in an instant afterwards among the trees.