We got him in to the lee rigging. Then, one going beside him, and the other keeping below, we made our way slowly down on deck. We went very slowly--so slowly, in fact, that the Second Mate--who had stayed a minute to shove the gasket round the lee side of the sail--was almost as soon down. "Take Jacobs forrard to his bunk," he said, and went away aft to where a crowd of the men, one with a lantern, stood round the door of an empty berth under the break of the poop on the starboard side. We hurried forrard to the fo'cas'le. There we found all in darkness. "They're haft with Jock, and Svenson!" Stubbins had hesitated an instant before saying the name. "Yes," I replied. "That's what it must have been, right enough." "I kind of knew it all ther time," he said. I stepped in through the doorway, and struck a match. Stubbins followed, guiding Jacobs before him, and, together, we got him into his bunk. We covered him up with his blankets, for he was pretty shivery. Then we came out. During the whole time, he had not spoken a word. As we went aft, Stubbins remarked that he thought the business must have made him a bit dotty. "It's driven him clean barmy," he went on. "He don't hunderstand a word that's said ter him." "He may be different in the morning," I answered. As we neared the poop, and the crowd of waiting men, he spoke again: "They've put 'em hinter ther Second's hempty berth." "Yes," I said. "Poor beggars." We reached the other men, and they opened out, and allowed us to get near the door. Several of them asked in low tones, whether Jacobs was all right, and I told them, "Yes"; not saying anything then about his condition. I got close up to the doorway, and looked into the berth. The lamp was lit, and I could see, plainly. There were two bunks in the place, and a man had been laid in each. The Skipper was there, leaning up against a bulkshead. He looked worried; but was silent--seeming to be mooding in his own thoughts. The Second Mate was busy with a couple of flags, which he was spreading over the bodies. The First Mate was talking, evidently telling him something; but his tone was so low that I caught his words only with difficulty. It struck me that he seemed pretty subdued. I got parts of his sentences in patches, as it were. "...broken," I heard him say. "And the Dutchman...." "I've seen him," the Second Mate said, shortly. "Two, straight off the reel," said the Mate "...three in...." The Second made no reply. "Of course, yer know ... accident." The First Mate went on. "Is it!" the Second said, in a queer voice. I saw the Mate glance at him, in a doubtful sort of way; but the Second was covering poor old Jock's dead face, and did not appear to notice his look. "It--it--" the mate said, and stopped. After a moment's hesitation, he said something further, that I could not catch; but there seemed a lot of funk in his voice.