Jackson easily repulsed his struggles to do him any injury; but, before he and the other sailors could secure the madman, he sprang to his feet and, shouting out something which we could not distinguish, jumped right down among the group of sharks that were still swimming about under the stern.
There was a heavy plunge, followed by a wild scurrying to and fro in the water of the moving fins; and, a moment after, when the sea had got still again, a circle of blood on the surface alone told of the unhappy man’s fate.
The incident saddened us all very much, taking away our hopeful thoughts and courage alike; so we waited on listlessly for what we now believed must shortly be our own doom, not a soul speaking a word or even looking at his neighbour for some time afterwards.
Jackson was the first to recover himself.
The sight of the cruel sharks under the ship’s counter and the memory of our two shipmates, whom they had already devoured, appeared to prey on his mind and make him furious.
“I can’t stand this any longer,” he cried. “I must try and kill one of these brutes, captain, or die in the attempt!”
Captain Miles thought he had gone out of his senses too and spoke soothingly to him; but Jackson soon showed that if he had become insane there was a method in his madness.
Rising on his feet, he walked on the top of the bulwarks to the main-shrouds, and clambering out on his hands and knees along these, made his way to where a long wooden handspike, that had been used for heaving round the windlass, was floating under the rigging.
Picking up this and cutting off a good length of the topsail halliards, he came back to where we all were, and proceeded to make a running noose at the end of the rope.
“What are you going to do?” asked Captain Miles, not quite certain yet of Jackson’s sanity.