“You know how to strike them?” the Skipper asked, abruptly.

“Yes, Sir,” he answered.

The Skipper sung out to the Second Mate: 

“Where’s that boy of yours—­Tammy, Mr. Tulipson?”

“Here, Sir,” said Tammy, answering for himself.

The Old Man took another light from the box.

“Listen to me, boy!” he said.  “Take this, and stand-by on the forrard deck house.  When we go aloft, you must give us a light until the man gets his going in the top.  You understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” answered Tammy, and took the light.

“One minute!” said the Old Man, and stooped and took a second light from the box.  “Your first light may go out before we’re ready.  You’d better have another, in case it does.”

Tammy took the second light, and moved away.

“Those flares all ready for lighting there, Mr. Grainge?” the Captain asked.

“All ready, Sir,” replied the Mate.

The Old Man pushed one of the blue-lights into his coat pocket, and stood upright.

“Very well,” he said.  “Give each of the men one apiece.  And just see that they all have matches.”

He spoke to the men particularly: 

“As soon as we are ready, the other two men in the Mate’s watch will get up into the cranelines, and keep their flares going there.  Take your paraffin tins with you.  When we reach the upper topsail, Quoin and Jaskett will get out on the yard-arms, and show their flares there.  Be careful to keep your lights away from the sails.  Plummer and Jessop will come up with the Second Mate and myself.  Does every man clearly understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” said the men in a chorus.

A sudden idea seemed to occur to the Skipper, and he turned, and went through the doorway into the Saloon.  In about a minute, he came back, and handed something to the Second Mate, that shone in the light from the lanterns.  I saw that it was a revolver, and he held another in his other hand, and this I saw him put into his side pocket.

The Second Mate held the pistol a moment, looking a bit doubtful.

“I don’t think, Sir—­” he began.  But the Skipper cut him short.

“You don’t know!” he said.  “Put it in your pocket.”

Then he turned to the First Mate.

“You will take charge of the deck, Mr. Grainge, while we’re aloft,” he said.

“i, i, Sir,” the Mate answered and sung out to one of his ’prentices to take the blue-light box back into the cabin.

The Old Man turned and led the way forrard.  As we went, the light from the two lanterns shone upon the decks, showing the litter of the t’gallant gear.  The ropes were foul of one another in a regular “bunch o’ buffers[1].”  This had been caused, I suppose, by the crowd trampling over them in their excitement, when they reached the deck.  And then, suddenly, as though the sight had waked me up to a more vivid comprehension, you know, it came to me new and fresh, how damned strange was the whole business...  I got a little touch of despair, and asked myself what was going to be the end of all these beastly happenings.  You can understand?