"Bless my soul, how very remarkable, and even terrible," said Ruddle. "How very extraordinary. I wonder if I ever did that, I'll ask Mr. Dixon if the manoeuvre is often performed."
He fell upon the busy and very cross mate with this inquiry, and though Dixon had heard the tale about him he did not credit it, and put it down to some hallucination.
"Do I do it often? Do what often?" asked Dixon scornfully.
"Why, tie those sails up like that when it blows so hard?" asked Ruddle innocently. "Why don't you tie them up when it is fine? It would be much easier I should think."
"Oh, go home and die," said the mate savagely.
"That's very rude," said Ruddle, "and I don't like it."
"If you don't like it you can lump it," said the mate. "Haven't you more sense than to come worrying here in a gale of wind?"
"Is it a real gale?" asked Ruddle. "A very hard one?"
It certainly looked like one, for every squall came harder and harder, so that the topsail when it was once smothered was blown out of the men's grip, and was all abroad and bellying once more.
"Damn your eyes, hold on to it or you'll lose the sail after all!" yelled Dixon. But no one heard him on the yard, they were at grips with the canvas again, and the second mate and the bo'son at the bunt were doing all the cursing that was necessary for a task like that.