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Updated: May 13, 2025
He seemed seized with the crazy fancy, that his darling twenty-four-pounders were fragile, and might break, like glass retorts. Now, from this Quoin's vigilance, how could my poor friend the poet hope to escape with his box?
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. Then out from the semi-darkness at the starboard yard-arm, there came a curse from Jaskett, followed almost immediately by a noise of something vibrating. "What's up?" shouted the Second Mate. "What's up, Jaskett?"
It was descending full upon Plummer, who, all unconscious of the thing, was staring towards the t'gallant yard. "Look out above you, Plummer!" I almost shrieked. "What? where?" he called, and grabbed at the stay, and waved his flare, excitedly. Down on the upper topsail yard, Quoin's and Jaskett's voices rose simultaneously, and in the identical instant, their flares went out.
We had reached the t'gallant rigging, and he was pointing up to the royal yard. "Ye're a fule, Quoin. That's what ye are." The voice came from above. It was Jock's, and there was a burst of laughter at Quoin's expense. I could see Jock now. He was standing in the rigging, just below the yard. He had gone straight away up, while the rest of us were mooning over the top.
Yer carn't say as it's ever been proved as it wasn't." Stubbins passed the box back to me, and went on without noticing Quoin's remark: "Told you to go an' have a snooze, did he? I don't hunderstand what he's bluffin' at." "How do you mean, bluffing?" I asked. He nodded his head, sagely. "It's my hidea he knows you saw that light, just as bloomin' well as I do."
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