When we reached the deck and looked after the brig, we found that we had
spent more time below than at first imagined. The _Shark_ was hull down
to the southward and evidently going along steadily at a three-knot rate.
The sun was almost on the horizon, and if we started after her, the
chances were that night would fall long before we could lessen the
distance between us materially. Sober appreciation of the affair took the
place of Trunnell's impetuosity.
"We'll niver see him agin," said Chips, hauling heavily on the
boat tackles.
"There's no use, Trunnell," I cried; "we can't catch that brig in a
whale-boat."
He was already hesitating, and stood scratching his shaggy beard.
"Avast heavin' on that tackle," he bawled. Then he turned to me. "You're
right, Rolling, we've lost a fortune an' the rascal too, but it ain't no
use making bigger fools of ourselves. Stow the boat. After that send
Johnson aft to me with a pair o' scissors. You an' Tom can set the
watches, fer ye see I'm capting of her now. Ye might say, on the side
like, that the first burgoo eater what comes along the weather side o'
the poop while I'm on deck will go over the rail. There's a-goin' to be
some discipline aboard the hooker, or I'll--well, there ain't no tellin'
just what I won't do. I'm capting o' this here ship, an' ye might jest as
well muster the men aft to hear the news."
Then he disappeared down the companion aft, and I sent Johnson to him
with the shears as he had ordered.
When Trunnell came on deck again in the evening, his beard was a sight to
be remembered. It looked as though a rat had nibbled it in spots. His
hair was equally well done by the artist, but Jackwell's last order had
been obeyed. The men were mustered aft, and Trunnell announced that he
was the man they wanted to stand from under. They remained silent until
Johnson suggested that three cheers be given for the new skipper. Then
all hands bawled themselves hoarse. That was all. I was now the first
mate and took my meals at the cabin table, where Jennie and her mother
had been wondering at Trunnell's dexterity with his knife. The little
mate appeared to realize that a certain amount of dignity and dress were
necessary for the maintenance of correct discipline aboard, and he
accordingly changed his shirt once a week and wore a new coat of blue
pilot cloth. He sat at the head of the table, and went through his
knife-juggling each meal, to the never ending amusement of Jennie, and
admiration of Gunning, who swore that, "dey ain't no man afloat cud do
dat no better." He, however, came through the rest of the cruise without
even cutting his lip.
My duties and rating being those of a first mate, I had no longer the
pleasure of being intimate with Chips and the rest forward. The
carpenter, steward, and "doctor" had the quartermaster, Tom, from
Trunnell's watch for a second mate and companion at the second table. Tom
was a Yankee and a good companion, so the change was satisfactory all
around. I sometimes looked in at the carpenter's room in the forward
house, where he and a few chosen spirits would be holding forth upon some
nautical subject, but I had to cut my visits short, for they worried
Trunnell. Being suddenly raised did not quite inspire the necessary
respect in his eyes, unless the person promoted showed unmistakable
dignity and authority by dressing down all who came in contact with him.
For some time it was pretty hard to speak to our little skipper. He
disliked anything he imagined might tend to lessen the discipline aboard
and had a horror of a mate or captain being familiar with the men.
My room was still in the forward cabin, but I now spent much time in the
saloon, and helped Trunnell to shift his belongings aft to Jackwell's
cabin. The truculent knave had left little behind him save a lot of old
clothes, bonds which were not negotiable, and some wrappers used by the
bank of Melbourne for doing up packets of bills. Upon one of these was a
mark of fifty pounds sterling, showing that Jackwell's assets, unless
enormous, could be made to fit in a very small space. He probably carried
all he owned upon his person.
We went through everything in the cabin carefully, but the only thing of
interest discovered was the photograph of a plump young woman torn fairly
in two, the lower half bearing the inscription in Jackwell's handwriting,
"Good riddance to bad rubbish."
I had found this in the chart case and had examined it some minutes
without comment, when Miss Sackett took it from me. She gazed at it a
moment, and cried out, "Why! it's the third mate."
I instantly seized it again and looked carefully at the features, and
then it was plain enough. There he was, in a neat fitting bodice, the
curly blond hair stylishly dressed, and the plump cheeks showing just
the faintest trace of the dimples of our former third officer. I looked
at the back of the photograph. It had the name of a Melbourne artist
upon it, and beneath, in a female hand, the written words, "Yours
lovingly, Belle."
Trunnell heard Jennie's exclamation and came up. He took the picture from
me and gazed long at the face. Then he gave a sigh which sounded like a
blackfish drawing in air, handed it back to me, and went up the
companionway, scratching his head in the manner he did when much
disturbed. He said not a word, nor did he mention Mr. Bell's name, and
that night at supper he never raised his eyes from his plate. Afterward
in the mid-watch he came on the poop and walked fore and aft for three
long hours without so much as speaking to me or asking the man at the
wheel the vessel's course. He finally went below, carrying the odor of
grog along with him. He came on deck many nights after this and walked
fore and aft in silence, as though brooding over some unpleasant subject,
and we were clear of the trade and knocking about in the uncertain
latitudes before he appeared to be anything like himself again.
I avoided any subject relating to the earlier part of the voyage and
tried to cheer him. I thought he had suffered keenly, and was glad
when he stopped drinking and looked me in the eyes without letting his
gaze fall in confusion. Sometimes I caught myself wondering at the
reticence of the men who had rowed him to the burnt wreck that night,
but I found that no one had boarded her except Trunnell and he had
sent the boat astern.
Tom, the quartermaster, made mate under me, was a good sailor. He did his
work thoroughly, and everything went along without friction throughout
the rest of the voyage to the Breakwater. We picked up the northeast
trade in a few days, and hauled our starboard tacks aboard, bracing the
yards sharp up until it gradually swung more and more to the eastward,
letting us off on a taut bowline for the latitude of the States.
The _Pirate_ showed herself to be the fast ship she had always been, for
we made the run up the trade in less than three weeks. Trunnell took such
pride in her that all hands were tired out before we ran over the
thirtieth parallel, with the scrubbing, painting, holy-stoning, etc.,
that he considered necessary to have her undergo before arriving in port.
As mate of the ship, I had much opportunity to command the deck alone;
that is, without the supervision of any one. Of course, I can't say I
spent much time alone on deck, even when in charge; but I would never let
social matters interfere with work sufficiently to merit a rebuke from
the little skipper. He soon manifested a disposition to be alone during
his watch on deck, and at first I believed this to be due to the exalted
dignity of his position. It hurt me to think he should be so changed, and
I pondered at the peculiarities of mankind for many days. After awhile,
however, he became absorbed in a game of checkers with Mrs. Sackett which
lasted two weeks. Then I forgave him. Whenever he saw Jennie and myself
on deck, he would make haste to get through his business there, and dive
below again. This kindly interest on his part was kept up until we raised
the Delaware Capes.
How good the land smelled, and how distinctly. It seemed incredible that
one could smell the land twenty miles away, almost before the color of
the water began to change. Yet it was strong in the nostrils; and even
one of the pigs we had not eaten, but had brought back alive, squealed
incessantly, as though instinctively feeling that the voyage was over.
It was late in the afternoon, but the men were mustered aft, in the
time-worn way of merchant-men, to sign off. Nearly all had bills on the
slop-chest for tobacco or clothes. As each went over the poop he gazed at
the line on the western horizon and smiled gladly. It meant a new life
for more than one. Among the last to go was the old landsman whom
Trunnell had given a chance to earn his clothes by bug-hunting. He smiled
sadly at the setting sun over the dark line which meant home. Then he
shook out several strings of vermin, and holding them at arm's length,
stopped at the cabin window. His cheap trousers failed to reach the tops
of his coarse shoes, and the gap showed the skin on meagre ankles. I was
interested to know what he would take.
"What d'ye want?" asked Trunnell.
"I come for a yaller silk ban'kercheef," said he, offering the strings.
"Don't yer think ye'd better get some o' them woollens? It'll be cold on
the beach."
"I got clothes a plenty. I want a yaller silk ban'kercheef. Yer got one,
for Sam tole me so. I'm a-goin' ashore to Hennery's, an' I ain't goin'
like no clown without a wipe. Kin I have it?"
The handkerchief was passed out, and the old fellow went forward smiling.
What a strange thing is the end of a deep-water voyage! Men who have been
living together for months through suffering and hardship will go over
the ship's side with a cheery farewell. They may meet for a few moments
at the office to draw their pay, and then take a drink all around. That
is all. They seldom see or hear of each other again. The world goes on,
and they drift about, taking what part in affairs Fate has in store for
them. One should come back aboard the ship the day after she makes her
dock and look into the deserted forecastle and about the lonely decks,
where so much has taken place, to realize man's lonely mission. The old
ship-keeper, sitting alone smoking on the hatchway in the evening before
unloading begins, will affront one with his presence. Where are the men,
rough, honest, coarse, or even bad, that used to sit there so often in
the twilight of the dog-watch? There is a strange yearning to see them
again. I watched the sun go down with a feeling of mingled joy and
sorrow,--joy for the return to the States, and sorrow for the parting
which must soon take place between my shipmates.
When we came to an anchor and made ready to go ashore, the little giant
Trunnell came up to say good-by to the ladies. I had decided to accompany
them to the city.
When he shook hands, the tears ran down out of his little eyes and
trickled over his bushy beard to the deck.
"I wishes ye all the best o' luck," said he, and he fumbled in his pocket
for a moment, letting a small piece of paper escape and flutter to the
deck. I stooped and picked it up, glancing at the writing on it. The
words were:--
Mrs. William Sackett, 25 Prince St., E.C., London, Eng.
He snatched it from me and seized my hand, gripping it so hard I almost
cried out.
"Go along, ye lucky dog," he cried. "Say good-by to Chips an' the rest
afore ye goes ashore. We'll be berthed an' paid off when ye comes back."
I said good-by to the men at the gangway, and then helped the ladies over
the side into the boat, seating myself in the stern-sheets between them.
"I should think you'd be thankful to get in at last," said Jennie.
"Yes," I whispered; "but I have no objections to sailing again as a
mate."
Her hand closed upon mine behind the backboard.
"Neither have I," she breathed in return.
"Whose mate?" I asked her.
But that's an old story.