thirteen men,
were all very comfortably asleep in the main-top, the weather being
remarkably mild for that high latitude. It was the middle watch, from
midnight to four in the morning; Cuff was lying athwart-ships, or
cross-wise of the top, and near the fore part of it, where there were no
topsail nor topmast-shrouds to prevent a fall. There was, indeed, a
"life-line" from the first topmast-shroud, on each side, to the
cap-shore amidships, but it was breast high, and of course afforded no
security to a man who was lying down. My head was pillowed upon Old
Cuff's side, the midshipman's head was on my breast, and the rest of my
earthly tabernacle was occupied as a bolster by as many of the quarter
watch as could get near me. About two o'clock, I was suddenly awoke by
the abduction of my living pillow, and the consequent collision of my
head against one of the top burton-blocks. At the same time I heard a
whizzing noise, like a rope running swiftly through a block, but none of
us took much notice of it; the midshipman growled some at my fidgeting
about while fixing another pillow, but the absence of the captain of the
top was not perceived. At seven bells, or half past three, the
midshipman of the quarter deck hailed, "Main-top there! answer your
musters, in the main-top."

"You had better keep awake in that main-top;" thundered the lieutenant
of the deck, through his trumpet, "you have lost one of your number
already by your sleeping."

All this was "Hebrew Greek" to us, but in a short time the sentry at the
cabin door "reported" eight bells; the larboard watch was called, the
wheel, look-outs, and tops relieved, and the mystery of the loss of "one
of our number" fully explained.

"What did you heave Old Cuff out of the top for?" said the first one of
the larboard watch, whose head came through the "lubber's hole."

"When did Old Cuff, fall from aloft?" said the next that ascended to the
"sky-parlor."

"Old Cuff is done for," said the third that came up.

"He has broke his back-bone short off;" said a fourth, with his jacket
over one shoulder.

"Yes, and four of his ribs to boot;" added a fifth, who was determined
the story should not want particulars.

"The doctor says he won't live till morning," said a sixth, who had not
yet hove in sight, speaking below the top, as Hamlet senior's ghost does
under the stage.

By this time, the whole of the alarming intelligence was fairly
expended, the remaining eight, who