After a little time—for we had run nearly half a mile before going about and some minutes were consumed in getting the ship round on the opposite tack—we approached the spot where the accident had occurred; then, all of us could see Jackson plainly from the deck.
He was swimming grandly; now rising up on the top of a rolling wave, and then, as he surmounted this, sinking for a moment from sight in the hollow of the next, but making steady progress towards the ship all the while. Every now and again, too, he lifted one of his hands out of the water on commencing his stroke, as if to tell us he was all right and in good heart, noticing that we were coming to his rescue. The boat, the while rowed ahead of us as fast as the men in her could pull, putting their backs into the oars with all their strength, although making for the gallant swimmer in a slanting course to that of the Josephine.
Nearer and nearer we sailed, but much more slowly than all hands on board could wish, for the breeze was very light; nearer and nearer the gig approached Jackson, until we could see the very expression of his face.
He was actually grinning, and appeared from the movement of his mouth once when on top of a roller, to shout out some chaffing exclamation to us, seeming to regard the whole thing as a huge joke; and, Captain Miles was just about issuing some order about backing the main-topsail in order to heave the ship to, so as to get him and the boat aboard again, when, all at once, our anticipated joy at welcoming the poor fellow was turned into dismay by a startled cry from Jake, who was standing up in the weather rigging near me.
“Golly, Mass’ Tom!” he yelled out, loud enough for all to hear him, his black face changing nearly to a sickly sea-green colour with horror and consternation. “Dere’s one big shark swimmin’ right ahind de poor buckra. O Lor’, O Lor’, he jus’ up to him now!”
At this time the ship was not quite a cable’s length from the unfortunate man, who was about a point off our port bow; while the gig couldn’t have been half that distance away from him; and, no sooner had Jake’s startling announcement of the shark’s proximity alarmed us all at the new and terrible peril threatening the swimmer, than the crew, led by Captain Miles, shouted out a concentrated cry of warning. “Ahoy! Look out! Shark!”
The words came out almost simultaneously, as it uttered by one voice, thrilling through the air with their fearful meaning, when, hardly had the sounds died away than we could see that Mr Marline and those in the gig with him heard us; for, recognising the urgency of the case, they redoubled their exertions to reach Jackson in time, so as to frustrate the intentions of his terrible antagonist. They seemed to put fresh steam in their oars, pulling all they knew against the choppy sea and wind, both of which were against them, counteracting their efforts and pressing the boat back as they urged it forwards.
From the fact, however, of our being to leeward of him and the wind bearing our shout away, Jackson unfortunately did not appear to hear us. At all events, he made no sign in response whatever, still swimming onwards in the direction of the ship, but leisurely, as if ignorant of any new source of danger.
Captain Miles grew intensely excited, as, indeed, we all were by this time; so, jumping up on the poop bulwarks and holding on to the mizzen shrouds, he repeated the cry of warning, all hands taking it up as before in one hoarse shout.
“Shark! shark! Look out, man alive! He’s now close in upon you, and coming up fast astern!”