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Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship 'Pirate'

<h2 id="id01184" style="margin-top: 4em">XXII</h2> While we ate, Jackwell expanded more and more under the influence of duff and beer. He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the mainmast. "What makes the top of your mast so black, hey? Is it the smoke from the kettles, or have you been afire? Sink me, Henry, there couldn't have been any such luck as your old hooker afire and being put out, hey? Ha, ha, hah! that would have been asking too much of the devil." "It's hollow," said the old mate. "What? Hollow? What the deuce is your mast hollow for?" "Well, that is a question, isn't it, Mrs. Sackett?" said Henry. "Perhaps he asks you sometimes what a smoke-pipe is hollow for, don't he? I never seen such a funny man. But he'll never get over it, I want to know." "Is it really hollow?" asked Jennie of the old mate. "Yessum, it certainly is. Why, it's the smoke-pipe, you know," was the reply. "We have an engine in the lazarette that'll take us along more'n three knots in dead calm weather. It's been a lot o' help, when the wind has been light and ahead, fer picking up the boats. Ye know a whale always makes dead to windward, mostly, an' if the wind is light and we've got to go a long ways, the poor devils would most starve waitin' fer us, like they used to do in the old times. The lower mast is iron. There's lots of them that way now. The soot makes the canvas black sometimes, but there ain't no sparks to speak of ever comes out of that top, as it's mostly blubber we burns." Jackwell became silent for several minutes, and then, as his eyes were still directed at the masthead, I looked again and noticed the topsail yard settled below the lower masthead. "How do you suppose he keeps it up like that?" I asked Jackwell, trying to be civil. "Keeps what up like what?" he said, in his old tone. "The yard," I answered shortly. "Oh, mostly by force of habit, I reckon," said he, nodding sarcastically at me and wrinkling his nose. "That's it, ain't it, Henry? Your yards stay mastheaded mostly by force o' habit, hey? They don't need no ropes." I saw I was not forgotten, so afterward I kept quiet when he spoke. In a moment or two after this there was a wild yell from forward. This terminated into a deep bass roar, and we all jumped up to see what was the matter. The form of a man sat on the starboard cat-head, and in his mouth was a horn of enormous size, the mouth being fully three feet across. "Sooaye, Sooa-a-aye!" he roared. "Make way fer the great king o' the sea!" I saw the fellow had on a long, rope-yarn beard and a wig to match, while a pair of black wings hung from his shoulders. While he called, creatures swarmed over the bows. Men with beards and men without, some holding long spears and streamers, and some with three-pronged tridents, all having huge heads with grotesque faces, and forked tails which hung down behind. "Hooray fer the king o' the sea!" bawled the fellow through the horn; and then the motley crowd yelled in chorus, some blowing huge conch-shells, and all making a most hideous racket. Jennie stopped her ears and gazed, laughing at the throng. She had been across the line before in some of the older ships with her father, and knew of the practice. Mrs. Sackett and Captain Henry cheered and waved their handkerchiefs, but Jackwell sat silently looking on. Finally all of us went to the break of the poop, where we could get a better view, and just as we arrived, a monstrous form came over the knight-heads and stood forth on deck. The fellow had a beard fully a fathom long, and he stood nearly two fathoms high, his feet being hoof-shaped. Gigantic black canvas wings hung from his shoulders, and a huge wig of rope-yarn, with the hair falling to his waist, sat on his head. He was escorted unsteadily to a seat upon the trying-out furnace. "All who have to worship the king, come forth, an' stan' out!" yelled the man with the horn. This was greeted with cheers and blasts on the conch-shells. Some of our men had never been over before, and one of the boat's crew confessed. He was quickly seized and brought before King Neptune. "Sit ye down, right there in that there cheer," said the king, scowling fiercely. The fellow sat down and stared, smiling at the monster. "Have ye paid fer comin' acrost this here latitood, me son?" asked the king. "No," said the sailor. "No, what?" roared the king. The chair was placed on the edge of the main kettle and the monster simply raised his hand to one of his retainers. This fellow tilted it up, sailor and all, into the smother of suds and water. Instantly there were roars of laughter, as all hands watched the man trying to get clear of the slippery iron tank. Every time he would get a hold, his fingers would be rapped sharply, and down he would go, floundering about. He was finally let off with a fine of a plug of tobacco, all his belongings save the clothes he had with him. Other men followed, for the whaler had a crew of thirty-five. Some were shaved with a barrel hoop for a razor, and tar for lather, being finally released for some tobacco. "Come aft, O king," bawled Henry, after the fun had grown fast and furious. "Come aft, and get a donation from the ladies." The great fellow was escorted unsteadily to the poop, where he saluted the women. "Have ye never paid toll to go to the other world, yet?" asked the king. "No," said Jackwell, who was getting tired of the fun, "I ain't never been acrost, and I ain't a-going to pay toll." "Shall he pay?" asked the king of Henry. "Sure," was Henry's response. Instantly the giant sprang upon the deck, getting clear of his stilts by some means or other. He seized Jackwell tightly around the body, and rushing to the rail, sprang into the sea, his followers yelling themselves hoarse with delight. When they were hauled aboard, Jackwell was in a fury. I expected him to shoot the sailor who had the audacity to pitch him overboard, but he controlled himself. The incident, however, ended the fun aboard the brig, Henry, between fits of laughing, telling the mate to serve all hands with all the grog they wanted. "Do not wait for me, madam," said Jackwell, to Mrs. Sackett. "I shall not come aboard my ship in this condition. You get Mr. Rolling to take you and your daughter, and I'll follow, after Captain Henry has given me a new suit of clothes." This appeared to be the best thing to do, as the brig's men were now getting boisterous with the grog, and our men were drinking also. The ladies were tired of the performance, although they had enjoyed some of it very much, and they were glad when I called away the boat's crew to take them back to the Pirate. Jackwell appeared at the rail as we started off. "Rolling," said he, "tell Trunnell not to stay awake at night worrying about my health. This bath will not strike in and tickle me to death as you might be agreeable enough to suppose." "Hurry and change your clothes, captain," cried Mrs. Sackett. "Madam," said he, with great solemnity as the oars were dropped across, "do not grieve for me. It will make me unhappy for the rest of my pious existence if you do. Fare thee well." We were now on our way back to the ship, and he stood a moment, waved his hand, and then disappeared down the companionway. In ten minutes we were aboard again, and I met Chips in the waist as I stopped to get a piece of tobacco. "Well, what was it?" I asked. "Faith, an' I got caught," said Chips, with a sickly grin. "How was it?" I asked. "Come, tell me, while Ford and Tom get the cushions out of the boat;" and I drew the carpenter into the door of the forward cabin where Trunnell couldn't see us. "'Twas a fine thing ye made me do, but no matter," he began. "Ye see, whin ye had started well on yer way to th' fisher, I thinks now is th' time av me life. 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. The door ware open, an' I see the chist ware a little trunk av a thing, no bigger than a hand-bag, so to speak. Up on top av it ware a pile av charts an' things sech as th' raskil sung out to Trunnell not to touch. 'Twas a cute little thing to do; fer how I could get inter th' outfit without a-movin' them struck me. "I finally grabs th' side av th' trunk an' tries to lift it. Ye may say I lie, but s'help me, I cud no more lift that little trunk than th' ship herself. "Gold? Why, how cud it 'a' been anything but solid gold? I cud lift that much lead easy. I stopped a minit and took out me knife, me mind made up to thry th' lock. I give wan good pick at ut, an' thin I hears a sort av grunt. There ware Trunnell a-lookin' right down at me from th' top av th' afther-companion. "Sez he, 'An' what may ye be a-doin' wid th' old man's trunk,' sez he. "'Sure 'tis me own I thought it ware, by th' weight av it,' sez I. "'Is it so heavy, thin?' sez he. "'Faith, ye thry an' lift it,' sez I. "He come down th' ladder an' took a-hold, shutting th' door to keep th' steward from a-lookin' in. Thin he takes hold av th' thing an' lifts fer th' good av his soul. Nary a inch does it move. "'I wud have opened it, but I heard th' captin's order not to disturb th' charts atop av it,' sez I. "'Ye would, ye thafe,' sez he. 'An' if ye had, inter irons would ye go fer th' raskil ye are. I never thought ye ware so bad, Chips,' sez he. "'Tis a victim av discipline I am, fer sure, thin,' sez I. 'Ye know I wud no more steal th' matther av a trunk than fly.' "'An' who give ye th' order, ye disciplinarian?' sez he. "'Me conscience,' sez I. "'Ye better go forrads an' tell yer conscience th' fact that it's a bad wan fer an honest man to travel wid,' sez he. 'An' tell him also to mind what I says about obeyin' orders aboard this here ship. If yer conscience iver wants to command a ship, he don't want to forget that discipline is discipline, an' whin it comes to thavery, discipline will get ye both in irons. Slant away afore I loses my temper an' sails inter ye,' sez he. "So here I am, all in a mess wid that little mate. But th' trunk av gold is safe on th' cabin floor." I had nothing to say further than that the matter couldn't be helped. If the trunk was all right, we might land a fortune yet in the reward Jim had told us about. Jackwell must have made off with a snug little sum. I climbed over the side again with some of the skipper's clothes, and we started slowly back to the brig to get him. Ford was rowing bow oar, and Johnson aft, and both rowing easily made us go very slow. However, there was no hurry. Jackwell would in all probability take several drinks after his bath, and we would only have to wait aboard the whaler for him until he was ready. The sea was so smooth that the boat hardly rippled through it, and the sun was warm, making me somewhat drowsy. The two men rowed in silence for some time, and then Ford suddenly looked ahead to see how we were going. "What's the matter with the bloomin' brig?" said he, rowing with his chin on his shoulder. I looked around, and it seemed as though we had already gone the full distance to her, and yet had as far again to go. The Pirate was certainly half a mile away and there was the brig still far ahead. "Give way, bullies," I said. "Break an oar or two." The men made a response to the order, and the boat went along livelier. I looked at the brig, and suddenly I noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from her maintop where the opening in the lower masthead should be. We were now within fifty fathoms of her, when Jackwell came to the rail aft and looked at us. "Give way, bullies, you're going to sleep." I said. In a few moments we were close aboard, but as we came up, the brig slewed her stern toward us, and then I noticed for the first time that she was moving slowly through the water. There was no wind, and I knew in a moment that she was under steam. She drifted away faster, and the men had all they could do to keep up. Jackwell leaned over the taffrail and gazed calmly down at us. "That's it, boys, give it to her. You'll soon catch us and be towing us back again. Sink me, Rolling, but you're the biggest fool I ever saw," he said. I saw the water rippling away from the brig's side, and now could see the disturbance under her stern where a small wheel turned rapidly. "Throw us a line," I cried to Jackwell. "What d'ye want a line fer? Are ye a-going with us to the Pacific, or are ye jest naturally short of lines, hey?" "Throw us a line or we'll have to quit," I cried; "the men can't keep up as it is." Jackwell let down the end of the spanker sheet, and Ford grabbed it, taking a turn around the thwart. The boat still rushed rapidly along. "Rolling," said the captain of the Pirate, "hadn't you better go home and tell Trunnell he wants you? Seems to me you'll have a long row back in the hot sun. I'd ask you all aboard, but this ship ain't mine. She belongs to a friend who owes me a little due, see? Now be a sensible little fellow. Rolling, and go back nicely, or I'll have to do some target practice, or else cut this rope. Give my kindest regards to the ladies, especially Mrs. Sackett. Tell her that I wouldn't have dreamed of deserting her under any other circumstances, but this brig has got the devil in her and is running away with me. I can't stop her, and I can't say I would if I could. That infernal King Neptune has got hold of her keel and is pulling us along. Good-by, Rolling; don't by any possible means disturb the charts on my trunk. There, let go, you Ford." Ford cast the line adrift, and the boat's headway slacked. The brig drifted slowly ahead, going at least three knots through the smooth water. A long row of smiling faces showed over the rail as we came from under her stern. One fellow, waving his hand, cried out to report Bill Jones of Nantucket as "bein' tolerable well, thank ye." It was evident they knew nothing of Jackwell and treated the going of the brig as a good joke on greenhorns. "That beats me," said Ford, panting from his last exertions. "An' me too," said Johnson. "If we'd had Tom and one or two more along we'd have beat her easy. But ain't he a-comin' back at all at all?" "I hardly think we'll see Captain Thompson any more this voyage," I answered savagely; "but by the Lord Harry, he's left his trunk all right." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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