The Second Mate told a couple of the men to lift him and
straighten him out on the hatch. Then he went aft to call the Skipper. He returned in a couple of minutes with an old ensign which he spread
over the poor beggar. Almost directly, the Captain came hurrying forward
along the decks. He pulled back one end of the ensign, and looked; then
he put it back quietly, and the Second Mate explained all that we knew,
in a few words. "Would you leave him where he is, Sir?" he asked, after he had told
everything. "The night's fine," said the Captain. "You may as well leave the poor
devil there." He turned, and went aft, slowly. The man who was holding the light,
swept it round so that it showed the place where Williams had struck the
deck. The Second Mate spoke abruptly. "Get a broom and a couple of buckets, some of you." He turned sharply, and ordered Tammy on to the poop. As soon as he had seen the yard mast-headed, and the ropes cleared up,
he followed Tammy. He knew well enough that it would not do for the
youngster to let his mind dwell too much on the poor chap on the hatch,
and I found out, a little later, that he gave the boy something to
occupy his thoughts. After they had gone aft, we went into the fo'cas'le. Every one was moody
and frightened. For a little while, we sat about in our bunks and on the
chests, and no one said a word. The watch below were all asleep, and not
one of them knew what had happened. All at once, Plummer, whose wheel it was, stepped over the starboard
washboard, into the fo'cas'le. "What's up, anyway?" he asked. "Is Williams much 'urt?" "Sh!" I said. "You'll wake the others. Who's taken your wheel?" "Tammy--ther Second sent 'im. 'e said I could go forrard an' 'ave er
smoke. 'e said Williams 'ad 'ad er fall." He broke off, and looked across the fo'cas'le. "Where is 'e?" he inquired, in a puzzled voice. I glanced at the others; but no one seemed inclined to start yarning
about it. "He fell from the t'gallant rigging!" I said. "Where is 'e?" he repeated. "Smashed up," I said. "He's lying on the hatch." "Dead?" he asked. I nodded. "I guessed 'twere somethin' pretty bad, when I saw the Old Man come
forrard. 'ow did it 'appen?" He looked round at the lot of us sitting there silent and smoking. "No one knows," I said, and glanced at Stubbins. I caught him eyeing me,
doubtfully. After a moment's silence, Plummer spoke again. "I 'eard 'im screech, when I was at ther wheel. 'e must 'ave got 'urt up
aloft." Stubbins struck a match and proceeded to relight his pipe. "How d'yer mean?" he asked, speaking for the first time. "'ow do I mean? Well, I can't say. Maybe 'e jammed 'is fingers between
ther parrel an' ther mast." "What about 'is swearin' at ther Second Mate? Was that 'cause 'e'd
jammed 'is fingers?" put in Quoin. "I never 'eard about that," said Plummer. "'oo 'eard 'im? "I should think heverybody in ther bloomin' ship heard him," Stubbins
answered. "All ther same, I hain't sure he _was_ swearin' at ther Second
Mate. I thought at first he'd gone dotty an' was cussin' him; but
somehow it don't seem likely, now I come to think. It don't stand to
reason he should go to cuss ther man. There was nothin' to go cussin'
about. What's more, he didn't seem ter be talkin' down to us on deck--
what I could make hout. 'sides, what would he want ter go talkin' to
ther Second about his pay-day?" He looked across to where I was sitting. Jock, who was smoking, quietly,
on the chest next to me, took his pipe slowly out from between his
teeth. "Ye're no far oot, Stubbins, I'm thinkin'. Ye're no far oot," he said,
nodding his head. Stubbins still continued to gaze at me. "What's your idee?" he said, abruptly. It may have been my fancy, but it seemed to me that there was something
deeper than the mere sense the question conveyed. I glanced at him. I couldn't have said, myself, just what my idea was. "I don't know!" I answered, a little adrift. "He didn't strike me as
cursing at the Second Mate. That is, I should say, after the first
minute." "Just what I say," he replied. "Another thing--don't it strike you as
bein' bloomin' queer about Tom nearly comin' down by ther run, an' then
_this?_"

I nodded. "It would have been all hup with Tom, if it hadn't been for ther
gasket." He paused. After a moment, he went on again. "That was honly three or four nights ago!" "Well," said Plummer. "What are yer drivin' at?" "Nothin'," answered Stubbins. "Honly it's damned queer. Looks as though
ther ship might be unlucky, after all." "Well," agreed Plummer. "Things 'as been a bit funny lately; and then
there's what's 'appened ter-night. I shall 'ang on pretty tight ther
next time I go aloft." Old Jaskett took his pipe from his mouth, and sighed. "Things is going wrong 'most every night," he said, almost pathetically. "It's as diff'rent as chalk 'n' cheese ter what it were w'en we started
this 'ere trip. I thought it were all 'ellish rot about 'er bein'
'aunted; but it's not, seem'ly." He stopped and expectorated. "She hain't haunted," said Stubbins. "Leastways, not like you mean--"

He paused, as though trying to grasp some elusive thought. "Eh?" said Jaskett, in the interval. Stubbins continued, without noticing the query. He appeared to be
answering some half-formed thought in his own brain, rather than
Jaskett:

"Things is queer--an' it's been a bad job tonight. I don't savvy one bit
what Williams was sayin' of hup aloft. I've thought sometimes he'd
somethin' on 'is mind--"

Then, after a pause of about half a minute, he said this:

"_Who_ was he sayin' that to?" "Eh?" said Jaskett, again, with a puzzled expression. "I was thinkin'," said Stubbins, knocking out his pipe on the edge of
the chest. "P'raps you're right, hafter all." VI


_Another Man to the Wheel_

The conversation had slacked off. We were all moody and shaken, and I
know I, for one, was thinking some rather troublesome thoughts. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the Second's whistle. Then his voice came
along the deck:

"Another man to the wheel!" "'e's singin' out for some one to go aft an' relieve ther wheel," said
Quoin, who had gone to the door to listen. "Yer'd better 'urry up,
Plummer." "What's ther time?" asked Plummer, standing up and knocking out his
pipe. "Must be close on ter four bells, 'oo's next wheel is it?" "It's all right, Plummer," I said, getting up from the chest on which I
had been sitting. "I'll go along. It's my wheel, and it only wants a
couple of minutes to four bells." Plummer sat down again, and I went out of the fo'cas'le. Reaching the
poop, I met Tammy on the lee side, pacing up and down. "Who's at the wheel?" I asked him, in astonishment. "The Second Mate," he said, in a shaky sort of voice. "He's waiting to
be relieved. I'll tell you all about it as soon as I get a chance." I went on aft to the wheel. "Who's that?" the Second inquired. "It's Jessop, Sir," I answered. He gave me the course, and then, without another word, went forrard
along the poop.