_Oh, Tusitala, you who lie “Under the wide and starry sky” On that Samoan hill, Think not this wretched, miswrought tale Is meant to breast the thundering gale Of your great art and skill-- As well the humble trading bark Might sail to cloudland with the lark! Be patient, sir, until We meet on some far height of dreams And I explain just why it seems John Silver’s with us still, And all the raffish, ruffian crew That you and young Jim Hawkins knew-- They burst Time’s dungeon-grill!_ You are responsible for some of the incidents in this roaring yarn, and for that and other reasons it should be inscribed to you--who, in your own person, lead a l…
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