Happy Birthday Mr Stevenson

I do not remember when I first read Treasure Island. What I remember is rediscovering it. One day at my grandmother's house when I was ten or twelve I uncovered a set of books while nosing about. There were several classic titles in the set, but I immediately seized Treasure Island because I had read it before.

When I opened it, however, I remember that I felt cheated. This edition was full of wonderful, colorful illustrations. Nothing at all like the poor line drawings in the book I had checked out from the library. But not only were they wonderfully done, as I reread the the story that afternoon, I discovered they were accurately done. They depicted the scene as it was actually written.

This simple fact commanded a tremendous respect from me as a young boy. I felt that Mr Wyeth, in contrast to most illustrators, was doing his job. He was painting the image that Mr Stevenson had imagined when he wrote the story. His illustrations didn't fight my imagination; they complemented it.

In reading the story, I knew that Jim climbed up into the rigging and Israel Hands was after him. I knew also that Jim had two pistols and Israel Hands had a knife called a dirk. But the rest of the image was fuzzy. I had never seen a tall ship. I didn't really know how to picture it in my mind's eye. But once I saw Mr Wyeth's illustration, I knew. And I feared for Jim more than ever, for he was truly in a precarious position. I could see it.

Of course, Jim escapes, but it still bothers me whenever I see him with just one pistol. That's not the way the story goes. Any fool who can read knows that.