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Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship 'Pirate'

<h2 id="id01125" style="margin-top: 4em">XXI</h2> We crossed the line in 24 west longitude, running close to the St. Paul's Rocks. These strange peaks to the southward of the equator caused some interest aboard, rising as they do out of the middle of the ocean a mile or more in depth. The air was hot and muggy the day we crossed into the northern hemisphere, and the light breeze died away again, leaving the ship with her courses clewed up, rolling and wallowing uneasily in the swell. Jackwell, as I must always call him now, spruced himself up better than usual, and paid more attention to the ladies. He avoided me at every opportunity; but as neither Chips nor myself ever alluded to the story we had heard from Jim, his courage rose, and he became more familiar with the men. Up to this time, we had not sighted a single sail since the Sovereign; but here on the line, where the fleets of the maritime world congregate to pick up the north or southeast trades, we sighted many ships bound both out and in. One of these that happened near us was the Shark, whaling brig of three hundred tons, commanded by Captain Henry,—a man who had sailed in American ships engaged in the deep-water trade for years before he had taken to whaling. This vessel signalled us; and when we had answered and found out who our neighbor was, we were invited aboard. Jackwell was willing to go with the ladies, as he thought it might prove a diversion. There was no chance for a breeze, and the ships were within half a mile of each other, with a smooth sea between. He insisted, however, that I go along to command the boat. Chips and I had from the first decided to try and get a peep at the captain's trunk, and this might prove our chance. Gunning's tale of its great weight gave rise to many high thoughts; and if it were gold, much might be hoped for if we landed our man when we made port. A few words with the carpenter was enough, and then I got the men at work hoisting out the boat. I found time to try and persuade Trunnell to take my place in the small craft, but he was firm. It would never do, he said, to leave the ship without a high officer aboard. "There's no telling, Rolling, just what might happen in this world while a feller is on the deep sea. No, sir; go ahead and enjoy yourself. There's a-goin' to be some line jokes, I reckon, aboard that brig. If the skipper ain't been acrost before, he'll be liable to catch the fun as well as the rest, but he don't know nothin' about sech things." I was a little suspicious at Trunnell's determination to stay aboard, especially when I found out he knew the captain of the whaler very well. However, I had the small boat hoisted out and made ready for the passengers. This time there was a compass and water breaker aboard, and a foghorn in the stern sheets in case of need. Mrs. Sackett was helped into the small craft, and her daughter followed, both women looking brighter than at any time during the cruise. Mrs. Sackett was not a bad-looking woman at any time, being of about the medium height, with a smooth complexion, and her figure finely proportioned. 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. "We'll expect ye back to dinner." "Keep an eye on my room, and don't let the steward disturb the charts on my trunk until I come back. The last sight is worked out on the one lying on the table," replied Jackwell. Then the oars fell across, and we shot out over the smooth ocean to the brig that rolled lazily half a mile distant. The skipper appeared in a most humorous mood, which increased as did the distance between the ships. He talked to Mrs. Sackett incessantly and actually had that lady laughing happily at his remarks. Miss Sackett did not rise to his humor, however, and her mother noticed it. "Jennie, dear, why don't you laugh? Captain Thompson is so funny," she said. "I will when he gets off a good joke, mother." "Get off a good joke?" echoed the skipper. "Well, that's what I call hard. A good joke? Why, my dear child, I've gotten off the joke of my life to-day. Sink me, if I ain't played the best joke of the year, and on Trunnell too, at that. A good joke? ha, ha, hah!" and he threw his head back and laughed so loud and long that his mirth was infectious, and I even found myself smiling at him. "Tell us what it is," said Miss Jennie. "Oh, ho, ho, tell you what it is," laughed Jackwell, and his nose worked up and down so rapidly that I marvelled at it. His glinting eyes were almost closed and his face was red with exertion. "And suppose I'd tell you what it is, Miss Sackett? You wouldn't laugh. Not you. You couldn't rise to the occasion like your mamma. No, sink me, if I told you what it was, you wouldn't laugh; so you'll all have to wait till you get back aboard to hear it. But it's a good one, no fear." We were now almost alongside of the brig, and could see her captain at the gangway, waiting to receive us. All along the rail strange faces peeped over at us. "Way enough," cried Jackwell, and the oars were shipped. The boat swept alongside, and a ladder was lowered for us. I climbed out first to be able to assist the ladies, and as I gained the deck I was greeted by a strongly built, bearded man who looked at me keenly out of clear blue eyes. "I'm glad to see you, sir," said he, holding out his hand. I shook hands and turned to help Mrs. Sackett over the rail. Then came Miss Jennie, and last of all our captain. Jackwell sprang up the ladder quickly, and stood in the gangway. "How are you, sir, Captain Thomp—" Captain Henry checked himself, looking at our skipper as though he had seen a ghost. "Why, Jack—" But Jackwell had put up his hand, smiling pleasantly. "Jack it is, old man. You haven't forgotten the time I picked you up on the beach, have you?" he said, laughing. "Mrs. Sackett," he cried, turning, "allow me to introduce my friend, Captain Henry. Miss Sackett, also. Here's a skipper who hasn't forgotten the day I pulled him out of the water on the coast of South Wales, where he was wrecked. Sink me, but it's a blessing to see gratitude," he cried again, laughing heartily. "Fancy one skipper pulling another out of the sea, hey? Can you do that?" "Well, I want to know," replied Henry. "I never knew you was a—" "You never knew what, old man? What is it ye never knew? Sink me, it would fill every barrel you have below, hey? wouldn't it? What you never knew, nor never will know, would fill your little ship so full she'd sink, Henry, or I'm a soger. Ha, ha, hah! my boy; I don't mean to cast no insinuations at you, but that's a fact, ain't it? But what the dickens have you got going on aboard?" He turned and gazed at the brig's main deck, where tubs of water and soapsuds were being poured into the trying-out kettles built in the brig's waist. "Why," said Henry, "since you are a sea-capting, you must know the lay of it. Hain't you never crossed the line in a sailin' ship before?" He had apparently recovered himself, and the surprise at meeting an old acquaintance appeared to give him pleasure. Taking Mrs. Sackett by the hand, he led her aft up the poop steps, Jackwell following, keeping up a continual talk about whales and whaling skippers. Jennie and I followed behind and examined the brig's strange outfit. The first mate, a man of middle age, lean and gaunt, came forward and introduced himself. He had sailed in every kind of ship, and was now whaling, he declared, for the last time. As I had made several "last voyages" myself, I knew that he meant simply to show involuntarily that he was a confirmed sailor of the most pronounced sort. He showed us the lines and irons, the cutting-in outfit, and the kettles and furnace for boiling down the blubber. We followed him about, and I expressed my thanks when we arrived at the poop again, where he left us. Jennie was not interested, and the fact was not lost upon the old fellow, who turned away to join his mates at the kettles. "Do you know, Mr. Rolling, I don't care a rap for ships," said she. "They don't interest me any more, and I don't think they are the place for women, anyhow." "It would be mighty lonesome for some men if they acted on that idea and kept out of them," I answered. We were all alone by the mizzen, the captains having gone below with Mrs. Sackett to show her the interior of the ship. The young girl looked up, and I fancied there was just a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. "Do you really think so?" she said. "Can't men find more useful occupations than following the sea,—that is, those who are lonely?" "Some men are fitted to do certain things in this world and unfitted for others. It would be hard on those whose lines are laid out like that for them. You don't think a man follows the sea after his first voyage because he likes it, do you?" I said. "Then for Heaven's sake why don't they stay ashore?" she demanded. "Would you care for a man who would stay out of a thing that he was fitted for, simply because it was hard?" I asked her. She blushed and turned away. "I was not speaking of caring for any one, Mr. Rolling," she replied. And then she added quickly, "I think we will go below and see what they have for us." "No, wait just one minute, Jennie," I said, taking her hand and stopping her gently without attracting the attention of the men forward. "This is the first time we've had a chance to talk of ourselves in two months. I want to ask you if you really meant that?" "Meant what?" she said, stopping and turning around, facing me squarely. "That you didn't care for any one?" I stammered, and I remember how my face burned. She let me hold her hand and looked up into my eyes. "I never said any such thing—that I didn't care for any one," she replied. "Then do you, Jennie?" She made no answer, and let her eyes fall. I let go her hand and drew myself up, for I was uncertain. "I say, Rolling, what the deuce are you two doing?" bawled the voice of Jackwell from the companion, and then I realized that there was little privacy aboard a ship of three hundred tons. We went aft guiltily, and met the rest coming up the companion with bottled beer and sandwiches which were served as refreshments. Chairs were set out by the old mate and two harpooners who had come aft, and the cook spruced himself up to get us out a plum-duff for lunch. From where we sat behind the poop rise, nothing could be seen forward, and here we ate and drank while Jackwell laughed and talked incessantly, being a completely changed man from the sarcastic and somewhat truculent skipper I had known for the last three months. It was finally suggested that as the awning was stretched, the plum-duff could be served on deck better than below in the stuffy cabin, so here we enjoyed the meal. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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