Then, suddenly, when I was close under the top, there came from above me the sharp flare of a blue-light, and almost in the same instant, Tammy’s went out.

I glanced down at the decks.  They were filled with flickering, grotesque shadows cast by the dripping light above.  A group of the men stood by the port galley door—­their faces upturned and pale and unreal under the gleam of the light.

Then I was in the futtock rigging, and a moment afterwards, standing in the top, beside the Old Man.  He was shouting to the men who had gone out on the craneline.  It seemed that the man on the port side was bungling; but at last—­nearly a minute after the other man had lit his flare—­he got going.  In that time, the man in the top had lit his second blue-light, and we were ready to get into the topmast rigging.  First, however, the Skipper leant over the afterside of the top, and sung out to the First Mate to send a man up on to the fo’cas’le head with a flare.  The Mate replied, and then we started again, the Old Man leading.

Fortunately, the rain had ceased, and there seemed to be no increase in the wind; indeed, if anything, there appeared to be rather less; yet what there was drove the flames of the flare-ups out into occasional, twisting serpents of fire at least a yard long.

About half-way up the topmast rigging, the Second Mate sung out to the Skipper, to know whether Plummer should light his flare; but the Old Man said he had better wait until we reached the crosstrees, as then he could get out away from the gear to where there would be less danger of setting fire to anything.

We neared the crosstrees, and the Old Man stopped and sung out to me to pass him the lantern by Quoin.  A few ratlines more, and both he and the Second Mate stopped almost simultaneously, holding their lanterns as high as possible, and peered up into the darkness.

“See any signs of him, Mr. Tulipson?” the Old Man asked.

“No, Sir,” replied the Second.  “Not a sign.”

He raised his voice.

“Stubbins,” he sung out.  “Stubbins, are you there?”

We listened; but nothing came to us beyond the blowing moan of the wind, and the flap, flap of the bellying t’gallant above.

The Second Mate climbed over the crosstrees, and Plummer followed.  The man got out by the royal backstay, and lit his flare.  By its light we could see, plainly; but there was no vestige of Stubbins, so far as the light went.

“Get out on to the yard-arms with those flares, you two men,” shouted the Skipper.  “Be smart now!  Keep them away from the sail!”

The men got on to the foot-ropes—­Quoin on the port, and Jaskett on the starboard side.  By the light from Plummer’s flare, I could see them clearly, as they lay out upon the yard.  It occurred to me that they went gingerly—­which is no surprising thing.  And then, as they drew near to the yard-arms, they passed beyond the brilliance of the light; so that I could not see them clearly.  A few seconds passed, and then the light from Quoin’s flare streamed out upon the wind; yet nearly a minute went by, and there was no sign of Jaskett’s.