What does Jim Hawkins take possession of?

I left Israel Hands on deck and, with no time to lose, went to inspect the ship’s cabin. It was a scene of mass confusion. The pirates had ransacked the ship and opened every chest in search of the map.
My mouth was parched and dry. I found some water and drank it, gulping and spluttering in the process. I also took some up on deck for Hands.
“Mr. Hands,” I said. “I am taking possession of this ship. From now on, I am your captain.”
He looked at me sourly but said nothing. I gave him a sip of water and set the cup to one side.
Then I took down the Jolly Roger.
“God save the king!” I shouted.
Hands watched me slyly, with his chin on his chest. At last he spoke.

“Mr. Hands,” I said. “I am taking possession of this ship. From now on, I am your captain.”
“Well, Cap’n Hawkins,” he groaned. “I reckon you’ll want to get ashore, so suppose we talk. This man,” he said, nodding feebly at the body on the deck, “this man and me got the ship ready to sail back home. Who’s to sail her now? You’re not a sailor, and I reckon unless I give you a hint, you ain’t the man for the job. Now, look here, we need to join forces. Get me a scarf and help me tie up this wound, and then I’ll tell you how to sail her.”
I agreed to work with him, at least for the time being. I lashed the wheel in place and went below to get a handkerchief. I returned to the deck and helped Hands bind up the wound in his thigh. After another gulp or two of water, he sat up straighter, spoke clearer, and looked in every way a revived man.
“Cap’n,” he said, after a while. “I’d take it kindly if you’d get me something to eat. I need some sustenance if we are to manage this ship.” I guessed that this was just a pretext, as his face contained the look of treachery. He wanted to get me off the deck for some reason, though I wasn’t sure why. However, I cleverly masked my suspicions.
“All right,” I answered. “I’ll bring you up some food, but I may have to dig around a bit to find something worth eating.”
I went below, slipped off my shoes, and ran quietly along the gallery deck until I got to the forecastle ladder. I climbed up toward the deck and popped my head out, as I knew Hands would not expect to see me there.
He had risen to his hands and knees, and, though his leg was obviously injured, he was pulling himself across the deck at a good clip. At length, he grabbed a dagger, which he concealed inside his jacket, and then hurried back into his old place against the wall of the ship.
This told me all I needed to know. Hands was mobile, he was armed, and it was clear that I was to be his next victim. Yet I felt sure Hands would not attack me right away. He wanted to get back to land as much as I did. Therefore, he would wait until the ship was safely at anchor.
Hands and I worked in unison to guide in the ship. The entrance to the anchorage was narrow. He gave orders, and I obeyed without giving him the slightest hint that I trusted him as much as I trusted my worst enemy.
Finally, as we approached the anchorage, I heard something creak and saw a shadow moving toward me. I looked around, and there was Hands, coming at me with the dagger in his hand. He roared with fury, like a charging bull. I leaped sideways, letting go of the wheel and ducking away from him. The wheel caught him, leaving me just enough time to reach into my pocket and draw my pistol. I hastily took aim and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell, but the pistol did not fire—the gunpowder was wet.
Hands came after me again, and with no time to reload, my only hope was to retreat. As I fled, the Hispaniola ran aground on a sandbar. The ship tilted to the port side, till the deck stood at an angle of forty-five degrees. Hands and I fell and rolled about the deck.
I got up first and sprang into the ropes. Hands struck at me with his dagger but missed. I began to reload my pistol, and Hands realized the odds were going against him. He hauled himself up into the rigging after me with the dagger clenched between his teeth. He was a third of the way up by the time I readied my pistol.
“One more step, Mr. Hands,” said I, “and I’ll shoot!”
He stopped, and I could see in his eyes that he was considering his next move.

With a choked cry, Hands plunged headfirst into the water.
“Jim,” he said, taking the dagger from his mouth. “I’d have had you if the ship hadn’t run aground. I reckon I’ll have to give up.”
As he spoke these words, he lurched forward. Then something sang through the air like an arrow. I felt a sharp pain and looked to my left. Hands had thrown the dagger, and it had pierced my left shoulder. Without thinking, I fired my pistol.
With a choked cry, Hands plunged headfirst into the water.
The ship was leaning hard to one side, and the masts stuck out over the water. I was afraid I might fall, too. The wound on my arm burned like a hot iron, and I shuddered. Somehow, and I’m not sure how, I slowly let myself down on the deck. Then I went below and tied up my wound. The pain was terrible, and it bled freely, but it was neither deep nor dangerous, and I found I could still use my arm.
After righting the ship, I let myself drop softly overboard into the cool salty water. I waded ashore just as the sun went down.
I made my way back to the stockade. It was dark, and I was able to climb over the fence without being detected. Not a soul stirred. As I made way into the log house, I heard the sound of snoring.


to myself how my friends were taking such a great risk sleeping when they should be standing watch. What if Silver and the pirates launched an attack?
Suddenly my foot struck something. It was a man’s leg. The owner of the leg groaned. Then a shrill voice broke forth in the darkness.
“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”
It was Silver’s parrot, Captain Flint!
I turned to run, but as soon as I did, I collided with another man who grabbed me and held me tight.
Soon the red glare of a torch lit up the interior of the log house. I saw Silver’s face. First he squinted at me and then he smiled.
“Well, shiver me timbers!” he said. “It’s Jim Hawkins! Welcome, lad!”
Even though his greeting was deceptively friendly, Silver had his men tie me up. I counted that he had five men left, but one of them was ghostly pale, with a blood-stained bandage ’round his head, so I figured he would not be able to put up much of a fight.
I could not imagine how these six buccaneers could have driven my friends out of the stockade.
Silver lit a pipe and patted me on the back.
“I knew you were smart, Hawkins,” he said. “You’re a lad of spirit, too. I’ve always said you should get a share of the treasure yourself. And now, I’m afraid you’ve got no choice but to side with us. Cap’n Smollett won’t have you back, and even the doctor has turned against you. ‘Ungrateful scamp.’ That’s what he called you. No, you can’t go back to your own lot now, for they won’t have you. You’ll have to join with Cap’n Silver!”
From this exchange, I learned that my friends were still alive. As for what Silver said about my friends being angry with me, I confess I partly believed him.

“Well,” I said, “if you are forcing me to choose sides, I have a right to know why you’re here and where my friends are.”
“Well, Mr. Hawkins,” Silver began, “yesterday morning Dr. Livesey came to see us with a flag of truce. ‘Silver,’ says he, ‘you’ve been sold out. The ship’s gone.’ Well, that was news to us. Anyway, none of us had been keeping an eye on the ship. We looked out, and by thunder, he was right, it was gone! ‘Well,’ says the doctor, ‘let’s bargain.’ We bargained, him and I, and here we are. We’ve got the log house, supplies, some firewood, and a landing boat. As for them, they’ve gone, and I don’t know to where.
“‘Jim,’ he went on, ‘in case you’re thinking that maybe you was included in the deal I made with the doctor, well, think again. I asked him, ‘How many are you?’ And he told me: ‘four.’ ‘What about the boy?’ says I. And he says, ‘Don’t know where he is and don’t much care.’”
“Well,” I said, “let the worst come—but there’s a thing or two I have to tell you. You’re in a bad way, you’ve lost the ship, and you haven’t got the treasure. You’ve lost most of your men to boot. Your whole business has gone to wreck, and if you want to know who did it—I’m the one! I was in the apple barrel the night we sighted land, and I heard you talking with the others. I heard every word you said—and told my friends before the hour was out. As for the Hispaniola, it was I who cut her loose, it was I who killed the men you had left aboard, and it was I who anchored her where you’ll never see her more! Kill me, if you please, or spare me, but one thing I’ll say, and no more. If you spare me, bygones are bygones, and when you are in court for piracy, I’ll save you if I can. You choose. Kill me and do yourself no good, or spare me and keep a witness to save yourself from the fate of a judge and jury.”
At last I stopped. I was out of breath. Not a man moved. The pirates sat staring at me.
“Well, well,” said Silver, with a curious accent. “That’s a mighty fine speech.”
I could not decide if he was laughing at me or if he was impressed by my apparent courage.
What does Mr. Hands want from Jim Hawkins?
How does Jim realize Hands's true intentions?
What injury does Jim sustain during the fight?
How does Silver react to Jim's speech about the ship?