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.
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