"Aloft, topmen! lay out! furl!" cried the First Lieutenant of
the Neversink.

At the word the men sprang into the rigging, and on all three
masts were soon climbing about the yards, in reckless haste, to
execute their orders.

Now, in furling top-sails or courses, the point of honour, and
the hardest work, is in the _bunt_, or middle of the yard; this
post belongs to the first captain of the top.

"What are you 'bout there, mizzen-top-men?" roared the First
Lieutenant, through his trumpet. "D----n you, you are clumsy as
Russian bears! don't you see the main--top-men are nearly off the
yard? Bear a hand, bear a hand, or I'll stop your grog all round!
You, Baldy! are you going to sleep there in the bunt?"

While this was being said, poor Baldy--his hat off, his face
streaming with perspiration--was frantically exerting himself,
piling up the ponderous folds of canvas in the middle of the
yard; ever and anon glancing at victorious Jack Chase, hard at
work at the main-top-sail-yard before him.

At last, the sail being well piled up, Baldy jumped with both
feet into the _bunt_, holding on with one hand to the chain
"_tie_," and in that manner was violently treading down the
canvas, to pack it close.

"D----n you, Baldy, why don't you move, you crawling caterpillar;"
roared the First Lieutenant.