‘I ’splained it to the second officer as a woice, sir,’ said the man, speaking very respectfully, but emphatically, as one talking out of a conviction. ‘What did this voice say?’ said the captain. ‘I was mounting the topmast rigging,’ replied the man, ‘and my head was on a level with the tawps’l yard, when a woice broke into a sort of raw “haw-haw,” and says, “What d’ye want?” it says. “Hook it!” it says. “I know you.” So down I come.’ ‘Anybody skylarking up there, Mr. Cocker?’ The mate looked up with his hand to the side of his mouth. ‘Aloft there!’ he bawled; ‘anybody on the topsail yard?’ We all strained our ears, staring intently, but no response came, and there was nothing to be seen. Dark as the shadow of the night was up in the loom of the squares of canvas, it was not so black but that a human figure might have been seen up in it after some searching with the gaze. ‘It’s your imagination, my man,’ said the captain, half-turning as though to walk aft. ‘Up aloft with you again, now!’ exclaimed the second-mate. ‘By thunder, then,’ cried the man, smiting the ratline with his fist, whilst he clipped hold of it with the other, swinging out and staring up, ‘I’d rather go into irons for the rest of the woyage!’ By this time a number of the watch on deck had gathered about the main-hatchway, and stood in a huddle in the obscurity, listening to what was going forward. On a sudden a fellow leapt out of the group and sprang into the main rigging. He hove some curses under his breath at the seaman, who continued to hang in the shrouds, and went aloft, hand over fist, as good as disappearing to the eye as he climbed into the big main top. The other man put his foot on to the rail and dropped on to the deck, where some of the sailors began eagerly in hoarse hurried whispers to question him. ‘Well, what d’ye see?’ shouted Mr. Cocker, sending his voice fair into the full heart of the high glooming topsail. There was no answer; but a few seconds later I spied the dark form of the man swing off the rigging on to the topmast backstay, down which he slided in headlong speed. He jumped on to the poop ladder and roared out: ‘By holy Moses, then, sir, it’s the devil himself! There’s no man to be seen, and yet a man there is!’ ‘And what did he say?’ ‘Why,’ he cried, wiping the sweat off his brow, ‘Blast me, here he is again!’