“Just hand us that double-barrel spyglass o’ yourn, Mr Pugh, will you please?” said Oakum quietly; and when he had set it to the right focus for his eyes, he took a long look at the shore, shut the glass up, returned it, sat down on the deck, and taking out his tobacco and knife hewed off a good piece of the hard cake, and thrust it into his mouth without a word.
“Well, Mr Oakum,” said the captain, at last, with a look of annoyance on his face, “what is to be done next?”
“Send forrard for ’Pollo,” said Sam, coolly.
The captain gave an impatient stamp, but turning to the mulatto, who was by the bulwark, sent him for the black cook.
“You want me, sah?” exclaimed ’Pollo, showing his white teeth.
“So I do, ’Pollo,” said Sam, borrowing the glass again from Dutch, and, after focussing it, placing it flat on the bulwarks, and bringing it to bear on some object ashore. “Now, come here, ’Pollo,” he continued; “stoop down and take a squint through this here glass, and tell us what you see.”
’Pollo stooped down to look through the glass.
“Not that way, you lubber,” cried Sam. “What are you shutting one eye up for? Don’t you see it’s a double spyglass?”
“Oh, yes, sah—I see, sah,” said ’Pollo, bending down for another look.
“Now you’re a-shutting up tother eye,” cried Sam, sharply.