“That’s the style, lads!” the Second sung out, encouragingly.  Then he ran aft to the Mate’s crowd.  I heard him and the Mate talking to the men, and presently, when we were going over the foretop, I made out that they were beginning to get into the rigging.

I found out, afterwards, that as soon as the Second Mate had seen them off the deck, he went up to the mizzen t’gallant, along with the four ’prentices.

On our part, we made our way slowly aloft, keeping one hand for ourselves and the other for the ship, as you can fancy.  In this manner we had gone as far as the crosstrees, at least, Stubbins, who was first, had; when, all at once, he gave out just another such cry as had the Second Mate a little earlier, only that in his case he followed it by turning round and blasting Plummer.

“You might have blarsted well sent me flyin’ down hon deck,” he shouted.  “If you bl—­dy well think it’s a joke, try it hon some one else—­”

“It wasn’t me!” interrupted Plummer.  “I ’aven’t touched yer. ’oo the ‘ell are yer swearin’ at?”

“At you—!” I heard him reply; but what more he may have said, was lost in a loud shout from Plummer.

“What’s up, Plummer?” I sung out.  “For God’s sake, you two, don’t get fighting, up aloft!”

But a loud, frightened curse was all the answer he gave.  Then straightway, he began to shout at the top of his voice, and in the lulls of his noise, I caught the voice of Stubbins, cursing savagely.

“They’ll come down with a run!” I shouted, helplessly.  “They’ll come down as sure as nuts.”

I caught Jaskett by the boot.

“What are they doing?  What are they doing?” I sung out.  “Can’t you see?” I shook his leg as I spoke.  But at my touch, the old idiot—­as I thought him at the moment—­began to shout in a frightened voice: 

“Oh! oh! help! hel—!”

“Shut up!” I bellowed.  “Shut up, you old fool.  If you won’t do anything, let me get past you.”

Yet he only cried out the more.  And then, abruptly, I caught the sound of a frightened clamour of men’s voices, away down somewhere about the maintop—­curses, cries of fear, even shrieks, and above it all, someone shouting to go down on deck: 

“Get down! get down! down! down!  Blarst—­” The rest was drowned in a fresh outburst of hoarse crying in the night.

I tried to get past old Jaskett; but he was clinging to the rigging, sprawled on to it, is the best way to describe his attitude, so much of it as I could see in the darkness.  Up above him, Stubbins and Plummer still shouted and cursed, and the shrouds quivered and shook, as though the two were fighting desperately.

Stubbins seemed to be shouting something definite; but whatever it was, I could not catch.

At my helplessness, I grew angry, and shook and prodded Jaskett, to make him move.

“Damn you, Jaskett!” I roared.  “Damn you for a funky old fool!  Let me get past!  Let me get past, will you!”