"Ask what?" inquired Plummer, getting out of his bunk, sleepily. The 'prentice repeated his message. The man yawned and stretched himself. "Let me see," he muttered, and scratched his head with one hand, while he fumbled for his trousers with the other. "'oo made ther fore r'yal fast?" He got into his trousers, and stood up. "Why, ther Or'nary, er course; 'oo else do yer suppose?" "That's all I wanted to know!" said the 'prentice, and went away. "Hi! Tom!" Stubbins sung out to the Ordinary. "Wake up, you lazy young devil. Ther Mate's just sent to hinquire who it was made the fore royal fast. It's all blowin' adrift, and he says you're to get along up as soon as eight bells goes, and make it fast again." Tom jumped out of his bunk, and began to dress, quickly. "Blowin' adrift!" he said. "There ain't all that much wind; and I tucked the ends of the gaskets well in under the other turns." "P'raps one of ther gaskets is rotten, and given way," suggested Stubbins. "Anyway, you'd better hurry up, it's just on eight bells." A minute later, eight bells went, and we trooped away aft for roll-call. As soon as the names were called over, I saw the Mate lean towards the Second and say something. Then the Second Mate sung out: "Tom!" "Sir!" answered Tom. "Was it you made fast that fore royal, last watch?" "Yes, Sir." "How's that it's broken adrift?" "Carn't say, Sir." "Well, it has, and you'd better jump aloft and shove the gasket round it again. And mind you make a better job of it this time." "i, i, Sir," said Tom, and followed the rest of us forrard. Reaching the fore rigging, he climbed into it, and began to make his way leisurely aloft. I could see him with a fair amount of distinctness, as the moon was very clear and bright, though getting old.