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Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship 'Pirate'

<h2 id="id01083" style="margin-top: 4em">XX</h2> For the next three days we went along merrily to the northward, the beginning of the southeast trade behind us, and our skysails drawing full overhead. On the third day Cape Agullas was sighted on our beam. Then, away we went scudding across the South Atlantic Ocean for the equator. Miss Sackett and her mother came on deck now and enjoyed the beautiful weather. The sufferings they had both gone through had made a deep impression upon them, and they were very quiet. The older woman would sit for hours in a faded dress saved from the wreck of the Sovereign, gazing sadly at the wake sparkling away in the sunshine astern. The bright gleams seemed to light up the memories of her past, and sometimes when I saw her she would have a tear trickling slowly down each cheek. Men as good as Sackett were scarce on deep water. But the daughter was different. She was sad enough, at times. Being young, however, the loss of her father fell easier upon her. We often found time to chat together during the day watches on deck, and she showed a marked interest in the ship, and the people aboard, talking cheerfully of the future and the probable ending of the voyage. Jenks interested her and likewise Trunnell; but the sturdy mate paid little attention to her, devoting all his time to the affairs of her mother. Thompson, or Tackwell, still commanded the ship, and Chips and I agreed there was no use in forcing matters with Trunnell against us. We would bide our time and wait for him on making harbor. He was doing well enough now, and since the women had come aboard he had been quieter in his cups, staying below when not sober enough to talk pleasantly. His mustache he curled with more care, and his dress was better than before, otherwise he walked the deck with the same commanding air, and drawled out his orders as usual. He was the most temperate at the very times when I expected him to go off into one of his ugly sarcastic fits, and was evidently trying to carry out the remainder of the voyage without any friction anywhere. This made matters easy for the mates. During this period of good weather the routine duties of the ship took the place of the fierce excitement of the past. The bright sunshine cheered us greatly, and the spirits of all on board rose accordingly. The day watches were spent in healthy labor on the main deck, bending old sails and sending below the new ones. A ship, unlike a human being, always puts on her old and dirty clothes in fine weather, and bends her new and strong ones for facing foul. The poultry and pigs, which nearly all deep-water ships carry, were turned loose to get exercise and air. The "doctor" worked up his plum-duff on the main hatch in full view of hungry men, and tobacco was in plenty for those who had money to pay for it, Trunnell giving fair measure to all who ran bills on the slop chest. The little shaggy-headed fellow interested me more than ever now, and he was in evidence all day long. His hair and beard, which resembled the mane of a lion, could be seen at all times, from the poop to the topgallant forecastle, rising above the hatches or going down the gangways, where he attended to everything in person. Since the night when he came aboard with his bloody knife, I felt strangely toward him. He never alluded to the affair again in any way whatever, but went at his work in the same systematic and seaman-like manner that had, from the first, marked him as a thorough sailor. He was always considerate to the men under him, and many times when I expected an outburst of fierce anger, such as nine out of ten deep-water mates would indulge in at a stupid blunder of a lazy sailor, he simply gave the fellow a quiet talking to and impressed him with the absolute necessity of care in his work. We had plenty of men aboard, and the crew of the Sovereign were turned to each watch and made to do their share. After a few days, Trunnell came to me and told me I might choose a third mate for him out of the men who had been in the Sovereign's crew. None of the men of the Pirate he said were up to a mate's berth, except Johnson, and he, poor fellow, couldn't read or write. Jenks was too slippery for me after his hand in the fracas, so I asked the steward to pick me out a man from forward, thinking he would be able to note the proper qualities better than myself, as he was thrown in closer contact with the men. The steward, Gunning, was a mulatto, as I have said, and he was of a sympathetic disposition. Among the men who had first come aboard from the wreck was an old fellow of nondescript appearance who had very thoughtfully seized several bottles of Captain Sackett's rum to have in the small boat in case of sickness. This was made possible by the flooding of the ship, which made it necessary for the men to live aft. The old fellow had apparently enjoyed good health, and had saved a couple of bottles which he offered to the steward as a bribe for a recommendation. This kindness on the old man's part had appealed directly to Gunning, and he had sent him aft to me as the very man I wanted. He was very talkative and full of anecdotes, proving a most interesting specimen. "I ain't been out o' sight o' land before in my life," said he, in a fit of confidence the first evening we divided watches, "but old Chris Kingle believed everything I told him, and here I am, third mate of this hooker, as sober as a judge, waitin' to get killed the first time I go aloft. Bleed me, but I'm in a fix; but it's no worse than I expected, for everything goes wrong nowadays." "Well, what do you mean by coming aft here as mate when you know you can't fill the bill?" I roared, made furious at his confession. "Cap," said he, as calmly as if I hadn't spoken, "some men is born great; some men tries to get great; and some men never has no show at all, nohow. Take your chances, says I. Mebbe I'm born great, an' it only needs a little opportunity to bring it out—like the measles. Anyways, I never let an opportunity fer greatness come along without laying fer it. I'm agin it now, an' if y' ever hear o' my bein' at sea agin, just let me know." "If you ever see the beach again, you'll have reason to thank me, and I'll just tell you right now, you can make up your mind for double irons until we get to Philadelphia," I shouted. "Bleed me, cap, that's just about what I didn't think you'd do," the lubber responded. "Give me a chance, 'n' if I'm no good as third mate, I'll probably do as fourth. Try me. If I'm born great, I'll show up. If I'm not, I can at least die great, or greater than I am. I've lived on land all my life, but I know something about sailing. I'm fifty-two year old come next fall, an' if I can't sail a ship after all I've seen o' them, I'll be willing to live in irons or brass, or enny thing." "You go below and tell Mr. Gunning to come here to me," I said, in no pleasant tone, and as the fellow shuffled off to do as I said, his bloated, red features told plainly what it had cost him to overcome Gunning and get the steward into the state he must have been to recommend such a fellow for an officer aboard ship. When Gunning came aft, he was so ashamed of himself that I let him go, and he picked a mate from one of the quartermasters of the watch, while I turned the old fellow to as a landsman. This had no effect on his loquacity, however, for he never lost an opportunity for telling a sad yarn full of the woes of this life and the anticipated ones in the world to come. He had drank much and thought little, except of his own sorrows and ill luck, but as his yearnings for sympathy did no harm, he was seldom repressed. We were three months out before we struck into the rains to the southward of the line, so there was an accumulation of dirty clothes aboard that would have filled the heart of a laundress with joy—or horror. The Pirate was running close on her water, for the port tank had sprung a leak, and there was no condenser aboard. The allowance had been set at two quarts per day for each man. This was barely enough to satisfy ordinary thirst and no more. For the first day or two we made good headway into the squally belt. The heavy, black, and dangerous-looking clouds would come along about every half-hour, just fast enough to keep the men busy clewing down and hoisting the lighter canvas nearly all day long, for some would have a puff of wind ahead of them and some a puff behind, making it all guesswork as to how hard it would strike. After the second day we had the doldrums fair enough, and there we lay with our courses clewed up and our t'gallantsails wearing out with the continuous slatting, as the ship rolled lazily on the long, easy equatorial sea. She was heading all around the compass, for there was not enough air to give her steering way; so, after dinner, all hands were allowed to turn out their outfits on the main deck for a grand wash. When we were under one of those squall-clouds, the water would fall so heavily that it would be ankle deep in the waist in spite of the half-dozen five-inch scuppers spouting full streams out at both sides. The waterfall was enough to take away the breath, standing in it, but all hands turned out stripped to the waist. The scuppers were plugged, and soon the waist of the ship, about forty feet wide and sixty long, looked like a miniature lake with the after-hatch rising like a snow-white island from the centre, and upon which a miniature surf broke as the water swashed and swirled with each roll of the ship. Here were hundreds of gallons of excellent water to wash in, and blankets, jumpers, flannels, etc., were soon floating at will, while the men seized whatever of their belongings they could lay hands on, and rubbed piece after piece with soap. The large pieces, such as blankets, were hauled into the shallows forward, where the ship's sheer made a gently sloping beach. Then they were smeared with soap and laid just awash, while the men would slide along them in their bare feet as though on ice, squeezing out great quantities of dirty suds. Afterwards they would be cast adrift in the deep water to rinse. I came to the break of the poop and looked down upon the busy scene a few feet beneath on the main deck. The water here was fully two feet deep in the scuppers when the ship rolled to either side, and the men were almost washed off their feet with its rush. Some of them had climbed upon the island,—the main hatch,—where they sat and wrung the pieces of their apparel dry. Among these washers was my old third mate, now transformed into a somewhat shiftless sailor. The old fellow's wardrobe was limited. It consisted of his natural covering in the way of skin and hair, one shirt, and a pair of badly worn dungaree trousers. The shirt he had worn during the entire cruise, and perhaps some time before, and as it fitted him tightly, and as his natural covering of hair on his chest was thick, it had gradually worked its way through the cloth, curling sharply on the outside, making the garment and himself as nearly one as possible. This had caused him no little inconvenience in washing, and it was with great difficulty he had removed the garment. He had spent half an hour rubbing it with a piece of salt-water soap, rinsed it thoroughly, and had it spread out on the hatch-combings. His work being finished, he sat near it, with his knees drawn up to his breast, his hands locked around his shins, and his face wearing an expression of deep and very sad thought. Trunnell came out on the deck and had his things cast into the water with the rest. Then he peeled off his shirt and stood forth naked to the waist, a broad belt strapped tightly about him holding his trousers. His muscles now showed out for the first time, and I stood gazing at the enormous bunches on his back and shoulders. He was like some monstrous giant cut off at the waist and stuck upon a pair of absurdly short legs, which, however, were simply knots of muscle. When he had finished his shirt, he turned over the rest of his belongings to Johnson to wash for him. Then his gaze fell upon the unhappy-looking old fellow on the hatch, who was holding his single shirt now in his hands, waiting for it to dry sufficiently for him to wear it again. As the rain fell in torrents every few minutes, this appeared an endless task, and the old man grew more sorrowful. "There ain't nothin' in this world fer me," said he, sadly, cc not even a bloomin' shirt. Here I am shipwrecked and lost on a well-found ship, an' sink me, I ain't even able to change me clothes, one piece at a time." "Ye'll soon be ashore agin, old feller," said Trunnell, "an' then ye'll have licker an' clothes in plenty." "What's licker to me?" said the old man. "Why, meat an' drink, when ye has to quit it off sudden like," said Trunnell. "It's clothes I wants, not no rum. Can't ye see I'm nakid as Adam, except fer this old rag? I wouldn't mind if I ware signed on regular like the rest, 'cause I could take it out the slop chest in work. But here I is without no regular work, no chanst to draw on the old man, an' next month, most like, we'll be running up the latitoods inter frost. I'm in a hard fix, shipmate, an' you kin see it." Trunnell seemed to be thinking for several minutes. Then he spoke. "There's lots o' bugs an' things forrads, ain't there?" said he. "If by lots ye means millions, I reckon ye're talkin'," said the man. "Well," said Trunnell, "I'll tell ye what I'll do. You get a sail needle an' a line to it about half a fathom long, see?" "I sees." "Well, then ye go about between decks, an' in the alleyways, an' behind the bunks, an' around the galley, an' earn yer own outfit with that needle, see? When ye have a string o' bugs a-fillin' the string like clear up to the needle's eye, ye bring them aft to me, an' I gives ye credit fer them in clothes or grog, each string bein' worth a drink, an' a hundred worth a shirt or pants. Do ye get on to the game?" "I get on to it well enough," said the fellow, "but what I wants to know is, whether ye'll take me whurd o' honner that I'll catch a string o' bugs afore night, an' give me the rum now to stave off the chill." "I will," said Trunnell. The old man rose from the hatchway, and struggled hard to get into his shirt. The garment had shrunk so, however, that the sleeves reached but to his elbows and the tails to his waist band. He seized the open front in his hand and looked solemnly at the mate with his sad eyes. "Lead me to it! Lead me to it! For the Lord's sake, lead me to it!" he said quietly. And Trunnell went into the forward cabin with the apparition following eagerly in his wake. What a strange little giant he was, this mate! "Discipline is discipline," he would say, and no man got anything for nothing aboard his ship. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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