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Updated: June 17, 2025
Trunnell, and then seeing that the mate had command of the ship, he looked into the forward cabin and came to where I stood bawling out orders to the men who were passing the tow-line outside the rigging. I called to him and asked who he was and what he wanted, and he told me quickly that he was the twentieth man of the crew and had almost got left. "What?"
"I think the men will stand to us in the matter, Trunnell," I said. The little mate looked sorrowfully at us both, and shook his great head slowly. "'Tain't no use o' makin' a fuss," he said at last. "Discipline is discipline, an' you knows it. If the captain wants them fellows aboard, aboard they comes, and no one here kin stop them. There's only one captain to a ship.
The steward brought in our drinks and informed the skipper loudly that there was no one in the crew who had held holy orders. "Never mind, then, steward," said Thompson. "I'll wait till it rains and get it fresh from heaven." In a moment Trunnell rose and went into his room with a rough "good night." Thompson arose and passed through the door in the bulkhead, and I went on deck to take charge.
John, a Swede, built very broad with stooping shoulders, and Erikson, a Norwegian with a great blond head and powerful neck, grasped the weather spokes. Bill, the other quartermaster, had not shown up, and we found later that he was one of the missing from the fore topsail yard. Trunnell and Captain Thompson called the men aft to the poop, and away we went into the gloom ahead.
This was to show that he did not approve of the scene he had witnessed on the main deck in the morning, and I accepted it as a token of friendship. "'Tis cold th' owld man thinks it is, whin he has th' skylight wide open," said Chips, looking up at the form of Trunnell, who stood on the poop.
Trunnell shrank from the stranger's look, for he stuck his face right into the mate's, and as he finished he raised his voice to its full volume. The liquor was still in the stout little fellow's head, and he drew back one of his long arms as if about to strike; then quickly recovering himself, he scratched his head and stepped back a pace.
Then I recognized Trunnell. "You can disarm that young fool, Trunnell," said Jackwell, putting away his gun. "It's lucky for him you've come back without any one, or I'd have shot him in half a second more." The little mate came down the poop steps and went up to me. "You better go below, Rolling," said he.
Chips and Gunning stood staring with open mouths and eyes, while Trunnell picked himself up, with the trunk handle in his iron fist. "Faith, an' ye are a good strong man," said the carpenter. "Ye'd make a fortune as a porter a-liftin' trunks at a hotel." "He can lift a little thing like that," said Jennie, mimicking the mate's tone to perfection. Trunnell was now thoroughly mad.
Trunnell ware sitting and smokin' on the wheel-gratin', an' all ware as quiet as ye please. I wint below whistling to set him off his guard, like; an' whin I sees me way clear I takes me chance at the afther-cabin, an' in I goes. I stopped whistlin' whin I makes th' enthry, an' I steered straight fer th' chist forninst the captin's room.
Her daughter seated herself beside her in the stern, and Jackwell climbed over the rail. He was dressed in a very fine suit of clothes, his shirt-front white, and his waxed mustache curled fiercely. His glinting eyes had a somewhat humorous expression, I thought, and he appeared very well pleased with himself. Trunnell came to the rail and leaned over. "Good luck to ye," he cried.
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