“I’ll go, massa captain,” shouted out Jake, who had been listening eagerly to this conversation. “I’se dibe like porpuss an’ swim like fiss.”
“I know that,” said Captain Miles laughing. “I recollect the way you came aboard my ship. But you can try if you like, darkey. If you find that axe, you’ll be the saving of all of us, and give a fair return for your passage, my hearty!”
Jake did not need any further persuasion.
Making his way along the bulwarks, he clambered on to the main rigging, now lying flat across the capsized vessel, until he came to a clear space between the mainmast and the forecastle, from whence the boats and cook’s galley had been washed away. Jumping into the water at this point, he swam towards the spot where he thought the entrance to the forecastle should lie, for the sea was washing about forward, and nothing to be seen above the surface but a small portion of the port bulwarks near the dead-eyes of the fore-shrouds and a bit of the port cat-head.
Jake then dived below the water, disappearing from our view for a few seconds that seemed interminable as we waited.
“I hope he hasn’t come to grief,” said Captain Miles anxiously. “So many things have been carried away and jumbled up in a mass there forwards, that the poor fellow might get fixed in and be drowned, without the chance of saving himself.”
But his alarm was quite unnecessary, Jake rising above the water in another moment and scrambling up into the main rigging, in a very hurried manner, as if something was pursuing him.
His face as he turned it towards us was almost green | with fright, and we could hear his teeth chattering | with fear and cold combined.
“Well,” sang out Captain Miles, “I’m glad to see you out of that hole alive. But, what’s the matter, my man? have you got the axe?”
“N–n–n–no, Mass’ Cap’en,” stuttered Jake, making his way aft again along the bulwarks, “got no axe nor nuffin’. Dere am duppy or de debbil in de fo’c’s’le. Bress de Lor’, dis pore niggah only sabe him life an’—dat all!”