“i, i, Sir,” I said and made a run for the rigging.  I felt a bit queer.  Had Williams gone mad?  He certainly always had been a bit funny.  Or—­and the thought came with a jump—­had he seen—­I did not finish.  Suddenly, up aloft, there sounded a frightful scream.  I stopped, with my hand on the sheerpole.  The next instant, something fell out of the darkness—­a heavy body, that struck the deck near the waiting men, with a tremendous crash and a loud, ringing, wheezy sound that sickened me.  Several of the men shouted out loud in their fright, and let go of the haulyards; but luckily the stopper held it, and the yard did not come down.  Then, for the space of several seconds, there was a dead silence among the crowd; and it seemed to me that the wind had in it a strange moaning note.

The Second Mate was the first to speak.  His voice came so abruptly that it startled me.

“Get a light, one of you, quick now!”

There was a moment’s hesitation.

“Fetch one of the binnacle lamps, you, Tammy.”

“i, i, Sir,” the youngster said, in a quavering voice, and ran aft.

In less than a minute I saw the light coming towards us along the deck. 
The boy was running.  He reached us, and handed the lamp to the Second
Mate, who took it and went towards the dark, huddled heap on the deck. 
He held the light out before him, and peered at the thing.

“My God!” he said.  “It’s Williams!”

He stooped lower with the light, and I saw details.  It was Williams right enough.  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.