"You'll be having that
sail scorched!"
He left the Second Mate, and came back on to the port side of the mast.
To my right, Plummer's flares seemed to be dwindling. I glanced up at
his face through the smoke. He was paying no attention to it; instead,
he was staring up above his head.
"Shove some paraffin on to it, Plummer," I called to him. "It'll be out
in a minute."
He looked down quickly to the light, and did as I suggested. Then he
held it out at arm's length, and peered up again into the darkness.
"See anything?" asked the Old Man, suddenly observing his attitude.
Plummer glanced at him, with a start.
"It's ther r'yal, Sir," he explained. "It's all adrift."
"What!" said the Old Man.
He was standing a few ratlines up the t'gallant rigging, and he bent his
body outwards to get a better look.
"Mr. Tulipson!" he shouted. "Do you know that the royal's all adrift?"
"No, Sir," answered the Second Mate. "If it is, it's more of this
devilish work!"
"It's adrift right enough," said the Skipper, and he and the Second went
a few ratlines higher, keeping level with one another.
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