Woe betide the careless seaman who might lose his balance aloft, and drop within reach of the creature's jaws. In spite of the heat several of the ship's boys, rather than remain stewing below or roasting on deck, were sky-larking in the fore-rigging, chasing each other into the top or up to the cross-trees and along the yards, now swarming up by a lift, now sliding down a stay. The most active of the boys, and generally their leader, though one of the smallest, was Jerry Nott. He had been over the mast-head several times, keeping well before the rest, when he made his way out to the end of the starboard fore-yard-arm. At that moment Mr Scrofton, the boatswain, coming on deck, and reflecting probably that having been deprived of their tails, they were not as fit as their ancestral monkeys to amuse themselves as they were doing, and might come to grief, called the youngsters down. Jerry, startled by the boatswain's voice, cast his eye on deck, instead of fixing it on the topping-lift. A small body was seen falling, and a splash was heard. "Man overboard!" shouted numerous voices. "Lower the starboard quarter boat!" cried Jack Rogers, who was officer of the watch, and having given the order he rushed forward and had sprung into the main-chains, intending to jump overboard and support the boy till the boat could pick them up; when he saw the youngster throw up his arms--a piercing shriek rent the air. That bright face a moment before turned towards him had disappeared, a ruddy circle marking the spot where it had been. With difficulty he restrained the impulse which had prompted him to leap into the water, to which had he given way, he knew that he would probably have shared the fate of the poor boy. The boat, notwithstanding, was lowered, and the men rowed round and round the spot hoping to get a blow at their foe with the boat-hook and an axe with which one of them had armed himself; but neither the shark nor his hapless victim again appeared. The only thing which came to the surface was Jerry's straw hat--crushed and blood-stained. The heat increased--the sun itself seemed to grow larger--the sky became of a metallic tint, the sea lost its silvery brilliancy, and gradually assumed the hue of molten lead. The captain, having several times examined his barometer, came on deck. "All hands, shorten sail!" he shouted out, and while the boatswain was turning up the crew he ordered a signal to be made to the corvette to follow his example. The topmen swarmed on the yards, the idlers were at their stations. "Be smart about it, lads!" he shouted. In a few minutes every sail was furled, with the exception of a closely-reefed fore-topsail, braced sharp up. Royal and top-gallant yards were sent down, and the masts struck. The captain made another signal to the corvette to hasten her proceedings, but her commander showed but little disposition to do so.