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He was about to buy his passage when he found the real Captain Thompson wasn't there, and would probably not be down until the last minute. That was enough for him. Trunnell was taken clear aback by his nerve. It was a risky thing to do, but Jackwell takes risks. The man has more real cheek and impudence than any above ground, or water either, for that matter.
The phosphorus shone brilliantly in the water, and the wake of the ship was like a path of molten metal, for the night was quite dark and the heavy banks of clouds which had been making steadily to the westward over-spread the sky. It was nearly time for the southwest monsoon to shift, and with this change would likely follow a spell o' weather, as Trunnell chose to put it.
I could almost feel the sting of the steel in my tense nerves, when something suddenly caught me around the middle and pressed me with great force against my enemy. His face was almost against mine, but his arms were pinioned to his sides, powerless, and then I was aware that we both were encircled by the ape-like arms of the mate, Mr. Trunnell. How the little fellow held on was a marvel.
We know all about ye. Th' best thing ye can do is to step down from the quarter-deck." "Trunnell," said Thompson, with his drawl, "what d'ye think of these men coming back clean daft?" The mate was close beside us, giving orders for the disposal of the small boat, and he turned and clasped my hand for the first time. "Mighty glad t' see ye both back.
I said nothing, and nothing was said until the painter was made fast and Ford had sprung on deck. "He ain't with ye, Rolling?" asked Trunnell. I was too much disgusted to answer. The empty boat was enough to satisfy any reasonable person. Chips came to the rail and leaned over as I came up the chain-plates. "'Twas so, then? Th' raskil! But what makes th' bloody hooker move?
Sink you, Trunnell; I never expected you to turn rusty like the miserable swab you are." "Don't you think it would be best to stand away for port again, sir?" said the fellow Jim, looking sharply at the skipper on the poop as he spoke, and then to myself and Trunnell. "We don't keer for your suggestions, young feller," said the skipper, leaning over the rail above us.
Trunnell, after separating his men from mine, cursed them individually and collectively as everything he could think of, and only stopped to scratch his big bushy head to figure out some new condemnations. While doing this he saw me coming from the port side, and forthwith he told me to take charge of the ship, as he was dead beat out and would have to soak his head again before coming on watch.
Trunnell was on deck in a moment, and as he rushed aft I went for the main rigging with the intention of saving the upper topsail if I could. It was quick work getting up those ratlines, but even as I went I heard a deepening murmur from the southward.
Trunnell was on the poop, and the captain was below. I had a chance to get a little better insight into the natures of my shipmates if I could join in their conversation, or even listen to it for a while. My position as second mate was not too exalted to prohibit terms of intimacy with the carpenter, or, for that matter, even the bos'n.
The large squat nose seemed to sniff the good grub as the steward served the fresh beef, and Trunnell made ready with his knife. He laid the blade on his plate and heaped several large chunks of the meat and potatoes upon it.
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