Maka had his own ideas about this affair. There was no use telling him
Mr. Shirley was sick--at least, that he was afflicted by any common
ailment. He and his fellows knew very well that there were devils back
in the blackness of that cave, and if the captain did not mind them, it
was because they were taking care of the property, whatever it was,
that he kept back here, and for which he had now returned. With what
that property was, and how it happened to be there, the mind of the
negro did not concern itself. Of course, it must be valuable, or the
captain would not have come to get it, but that was his business. He
had taken the first mate into that darkness, and the sight of the
devils had nearly killed him, and now the negro's mind was filled with
but one idea, and that was that the captain might take him in there and
make him see devils.
After a time Shirley felt very much better, and able to walk.
"Now, captain," said he, "I am all right, but I tell you what we must do:
I'll go to the ship, and I'll take charge of her, and I'll do whatever
has got to be done on shore. Yes, and, what's more, I'll help do the
carrying part of the business,--it would be mean to sneak out of
that,--and I'll shoulder any sort of a load that's put out on the sand in
the daylight. But, captain, I don't want to do anything to make me look
into that hole. I can't stand it, and that is the long and short of it.
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