The other men, both the watch on deck and
the watch below, had gone into the fo'cas'le, so that I imagined I was
the only one about the maindeck. Yet, a minute later, I discovered that
I was mistaken; for, as I proceeded to light up, I saw Williams, the
young cockney, come out from under the lee of the house, and turn and
look up at the Ordinary as he went steadily upwards. I was a little
surprised, as I knew he and three of the others had a "poker fight" on,
and he'd won over sixty pounds of tobacco. I believe I opened my mouth
to sing out to him to know why he wasn't playing; and then, all at once,
there came into my mind the memory of my first conversation with him. I
remembered that he had said sails were always blowing adrift _at night_. I remembered the, then, unaccountable emphasis he had laid on those two
words; and remembering that, I felt suddenly afraid. For, all at once,
the absurdity had struck me of a sail--even a badly stowed one--blowing
adrift in such fine and calm weather as we were then having. I wondered
I had not seen before that there was something queer and unlikely about
the affair. Sails don't blow adrift in fine weather, with the sea calm
and the ship as steady as a rock. I moved away from the rail and went
towards Williams. He knew something, or, at least, he guessed at
something that was very much a blankness to me at that time. Up above,
the boy was climbing up, to what? That was the thing that made me feel
so frightened. Ought I to tell all I knew and guessed? And then, who
should I tell? I should only be laughed at--I--

Williams turned towards me, and spoke. "Gawd!" he said, "it's started agen!" "What?" I said. Though I knew what he meant. "Them syles," he answered, and made a gesture towards the fore royal. I glanced up, briefly. All the lee side of the sail was adrift, from the
bunt gasket outwards. Lower, I saw Tom; he was just hoisting himself
into the t'gallant rigging. Williams spoke again. "We lost two on 'em just sime way, comin' art." "Two of the men!" I exclaimed. "Yus!" he said tersely. "I can't understand," I went on. "I never heard anything about it." "Who'd yer got ter tell yer abart it?" he asked. I made no reply to his question; indeed, I had scarcely comprehended it,
for the problem of what I ought to do in the matter had risen again in
my mind. "I've a good mind to go aft and tell the Second Mate all I know," I
said. "He's seen something himself that he can't explain away, and--and
anyway I can't stand this state of things. If the Second Mate knew all--"

"Garn!" he cut in, interrupting me. "An' be told yer're a blastid
hidiot. Not yer. Yer sty were yer are." I stood irresolute. What he had said, was perfectly correct, and I was
positively stumped what to do for the best. That there was danger aloft,
I was convinced; though if I had been asked my reasons for supposing
this, they would have been hard to find. Yet of its existence, I was as
certain as though my eyes already saw it. I wondered whether, being so
ignorant of the form it would assume, I could stop it by joining Tom on
the yard? This thought came as I stared up at the royal. Tom had reached
the sail, and was standing on the foot-rope, close in to the bunt. He
was bending over the yard, and reaching down for the slack of the sail. And then, as I looked, I saw the belly of the royal tossed up and down
abruptly, as though a sudden heavy gust of wind had caught it. "I'm blimed--!" Williams began, with a sort of excited expectation. And
then he stopped as abruptly as he had begun. For, in a moment, the sail
had thrashed right over the after side of the yard, apparently knocking
Tom clean from off the foot-rope. "My God!" I shouted out loud. "He's gone!" For an instant there was a blur over my eyes, and Williams was singing
out something that I could not catch. Then, just as quickly, it went,
and I could see again, clearly. Williams was pointing, and I saw something black, swinging below the
yard. Williams called out something fresh, and made a run for the fore
rigging. I caught the last part----

"--ther garskit." Straightway, I knew that Tom had managed to grab the gasket as he fell,
and I bolted after Williams to give him a hand in getting the youngster
into safety. Down on deck, I caught the sound of running feet, and then the Second
Mate's voice. He was asking what the devil was up; but I did not trouble
to answer him then. I wanted all my breath to help me aloft. I knew very
well that some of the gaskets were little better than old shakins; and,
unless Tom got hold of something on the t'gallant yard below him, he
might come down with a run any moment. I reached the top, and lifted
myself over it in quick time. Williams was some distance above me. In
less than half a minute, I reached the t'gallant yard. Williams had gone
up on to the royal. I slid out on to the t'gallant foot-rope until I was
just below Tom; then I sung out to him to let himself down to me, and I
would catch him. He made no answer, and I saw that he was hanging in a
curiously limp fashion, and by one hand. Williams's voice came down to me from the royal yard. He was singing out
to me to go up and give him a hand to pull Tom up on to the yard. When I
reached him, he told me that the gasket had hitched itself round the
lad's wrist. I bent beside the yard, and peered down. It was as Williams
had said, and I realised how near a thing it had been. Strangely enough,
even at that moment, the thought came to me how little wind there was. I
remembered the wild way in which the sail had lashed at the boy. All this time, I was busily working, unreeving the port buntline. I took
the end, made a running bowline with it round the gasket, and let the
loop slide down over the boy's head and shoulders. Then I took a strain
on it and tightened it under his arms. A minute later we had him safely
on the yard between us. In the uncertain moonlight, I could just make
out the mark of a great lump on his forehead, where the foot of the sail
must have caught him when it knocked him over. As we stood there a moment, taking our breath, I caught the sound of the
Second Mate's voice close beneath us. Williams glanced down; then he
looked up at me and gave a short, grunting laugh. "Crikey!" he said. "What's up?" I asked, quickly. He jerked his head backwards and downwards. I screwed round a bit,
holding the jackstay with one hand, and steadying the insensible
Ordinary with the other. In this way I could look below. At first, I
could see nothing. Then the Second Mate's voice came up to me again. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing?" I saw him now. He was standing at the foot of the weather t'gallant
rigging, his face was turned upwards, peering round the after side of
the mast. It showed to me only as a blurred, pale-coloured oval in the
moonlight. He repeated his question. "It's Williams and I, Sir," I said. "Tom, here, has had an accident." I stopped. He began to come up higher towards us.