I joined in again.

“There’s another thing, Stubbins,” I said.  “The gasket Tom was hanging by, was on the after side of the yard.  That looks as if the sail might have flapped it over?  If there were wind enough to do the one, it seems to me that it might have done the other.”

“Do you mean that it was hunder ther yard, or hover ther top?” he asked.

“Over the top, of course.  What’s more, the foot of the sail was hanging over the after part of the yard, in a bight.”

Stubbins was plainly surprised at that, and before he was ready with his next objection, Plummer spoke.

“’oo saw it?” he asked.

“I saw it!” I said, a bit sharply.  “So did Williams; so—­for that matter—­did the Second Mate.”

Plummer relapsed into silence; and smoked; and Stubbins broke out afresh.

“I reckon Tom must have had a hold of the foot and the gasket, and pulled ’em hover the yard when he tumbled.”

“No!” interrupted Tom.  “The gasket was under the sail.  I couldn’t even see it.  An’ I hadn’t time to get hold of the foot of the sail, before it up and caught me smack in the face.”

“’ow did yer get ’old er ther gasket, when yer fell, then?” asked Plummer.

“He didn’t get hold of it,” I answered for Tom.  “It had taken a turn round his wrist, and that’s how we found him hanging.”

“Do you mean to say as ’e ’adn’t got ’old of ther garsket?,” Quoin inquired, pausing in the lighting of his pipe.

“Of course, I do,” I said.  “A chap doesn’t go hanging on to a rope when he’s jolly well been knocked senseless.”

“Ye’re richt,” assented Jock.  “Ye’re quite richt there, Jessop.”

Quoin concluded the lighting of his pipe.

“I dunno,” he said.

I went on, without noticing him.

“Anyway, when Williams and I found him, he was hanging by the gasket, and it had a couple of turns round his wrist.  And besides that, as I said before, the foot of the sail was hanging over the after side of the yard, and Tom’s weight on the gasket was holding it there.”

“It’s damned queer,” said Stubbins, in a puzzled voice.  “There don’t seem to be no way of gettin’ a proper hexplanation to it.”

I glanced at Williams, to suggest that I should tell all that we had seen; but he shook his head, and, after a moment’s thought, it seemed to me that there was nothing to be gained by so doing.  We had no very clear idea of the thing that had happened, and our half facts and guesses would only have tended to make the matter appear more grotesque and unlikely.  The only thing to be done was to wait and watch.  If we could only get hold of something tangible, then we might hope to tell all that we knew, without being made into laughing-stocks.

I came out from my think, abruptly.

Stubbins was speaking again.  He was arguing the matter with one of the other men.

“You see, with there bein’ no wind, scarcely, ther thing’s himpossible, an’ yet—­”