Robert Louis Stevenson

Treasure Island

Treasure Island is an adventure novel by Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson, narrating a tale of «buccaneers and buried gold». First published as a book on May 23, 1883, it was originally serialized in the children’s magazine Young Folks between 1881–82 under the title Treasure Island or, the mutiny of the Hispaniola with Stevenson adopting the pseudonym Captain George North.
Traditionally considered a coming-of-age story, Treasure Island is an adventure tale known for its atmosphere, characters and action, and also as a wry commentary on the ambiguity of morality — as seen in Long John Silver — unusual for children’s literature now and then. It is one of the most frequently dramatized of all novels. The influence of Treasure Island on popular perceptions of pirates is enormous, including treasure maps marked with an «X», schooners, the Black Spot, tropical islands, and one-legged seamen carrying parrots on their shoulders.
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Təəssüratlar

    b4327085071təəssüratları paylaş6 ay öncə
    👍Tövsiyə edirəm

    Cool book

    Nadina Razanitəəssüratları paylaş5 il öncə
    🚀Ayrılmaq olmur

    such an interesting adventure!

    Kev Keithtəəssüratları paylaş6 il öncə
    🚀Ayrılmaq olmur

    Couldn't put it down

Sitatlar

    Alexandr Barshevskysitat gətirir3 il öncə
    "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."
    b1219793562sitat gətirir2 ay öncə
    I confess I could hardly believe these same men were plotting for our blood.

    Признаюсь, мне с трудом верилось, что эти самые люди замышляют заговор ради нашей крови.

    b8533534977sitat gətirir3 ay öncə
    him leap and run and pursue me over hedge and ditch was the worst of nightmares. And altogether I paid pretty dear for my monthly fourpenny piece, in the shape of these abominable fancies.
    But though I was so terrified by the idea of the seafaring man with one leg, I was far less afraid of the captain himself than anybody else who knew him. There 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 nobody; 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. Often I have heard the house shaking with «Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum,» all the neighbours joining in for dear life, with the fear of death upon them, and each singing louder than the other to avoid remark. For in these fits he was the most overriding companion ever known; he would slap his hand on the table for silence all

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