 CHAPTER I. By some means, needless to record here, I found myself not so many years ago on the beach at Melbourne, in Australia. To be on the beach is not an uncommon occurrence for a sailor in any part of the world, but, since the question is suggested, I will say that I was not a very dissipated young fellow of twenty-five, for up to that time I had never even tasted rum in any form, although I had followed the sea for seven years. I had held a mate's birth, and as I did not care to ship before the mast on the first vessel bound out, I had remained ashore until a threatening landlord made it necessary for me to become less particular as to occupation. It was a time when mates were plenty and men were few, so I made the rounds of the shipping-houses with little hope of getting a chance to show my papers. These together with an old quadrant, a nautical almanac, a thick pea-coat and a pipe, were all I possessed of this world's goods, and I carried the quadrant with me in case I should not succeed in signing on. I could spout it, if need be, at some brokers, and thus raise a few dollars. As I made my way along the water-front, I noticed a fine clippership of nearly two thousand tons lying at a wharf. She was in the hands of a few rigors who were sending aloft her canvas, which, being of a snowy whiteness, proclaimed her nationality even before I could see her hull. On reaching the wharf where she lay, I stopped and noticed that she was loaded deep, for her long black sides were under to within four feet of her main deck in the waist. Her high bulwarks shut off my view of her deck, but from the sounds that came down from there I could tell that she was getting in the last of her cargo. I walked to her stern and read her name in gilt letters, Pirate of Philadelphia. Then I remembered her. She was a Yankee ship of evil reputation, and although I wanted to get back to my home in New York, I turned away thankful that I was not homeward bound in that craft. She had come into port a month before, and had reported three men missing from her papers. There were no witnesses, but the sight of the rest of the crew told the story of the disappearance of their shipmates, and the skipper had been clapped into jail. I had heard of the Ruffian's sinister record before, and inwardly hoped he would get his desserts for his brutality, although I knew there was little chance for it. He belonged to the class of captains that was giving American packets the hard name they were getting, so I heartily wished him evil. As I turned, looking up at the beautiful fabric with her long tapering top-gallop masts, topped with sky-cell yards four and aft, and her tremendous lower yards nearly ninety feet across, I thought what a splendid ship she was. It made me angry to think of what a place she must be for the poor devils who would unwittingly ship aboard her. Only a sailor knows how much of suffering and blows and curses it cost to accomplish all that clean paint and scraped spar. Kind of good looker, hey! Said a voice close aboard me, and looking quickly aft I saw a man leaning over the taff rail. He was a strange-looking fellow, with a great hairy face and bushy head set upon the broadest of shoulders. As for his legs, he appeared not to have any at all, for the rail was but three feet high and his shoulders just reached above it. His enormously long arms were spread along the rail, elbows outward, and his huge hands folded over the bowl of a pipe which he sucked complacently. "'Not so bad to look at,' I answered, meaningly. "'She is a brute in a sea-way, but she keeps dry at both ends,' ascended the fellow, utterly ignoring my meaning. "'It's always so with every hooker if she's deep. Some takes it forward and aft, and some takes it amid ships. It's all one so long as she keeps a dry bilge. Come aboard!' I hesitated, and then climbed up the mizzen channels which were level with the wharf. "'Shorthanded,' I suggested, reaching the deck. "'Naw! There's nobody but me and the doctor in the after-guard. We'll get a crew aboard early in the morning, though. Skip or two, if what they say is correct.' "'Where's the captain?' I asked. He looked queerly at me for a moment, then he spread his short legs wide apart and thrust his great hands into his trousers' pockets before speaking. "'H! You never heard. Limbo, man! And a bad job, too!' Here he made a motion with his hand round his neck, which I understood. "'Murder!' he nodded. I hesitated about staying any longer, and he spoke up. "'Got a hog-yoke, I see,' he said. "'Be ye a mate?' I told him I had been. "'Well, sink me, my boy. That's just what I am aboard here, and they'll be looking for another to match me. I saw what you were when I first raised you coming along the dock. And, says I, you're just my size, my bully!' As he could have walked under my arm when extended horizontally, I saw he had no poor opinion of himself. However, his words conveyed a ray of hope. "'Is the mate with the skipper?' I asked. "'The second mate is, yepp. But he won't raise bail. The old man might, though, keen sabbe. The agents will hail us to-night in settle matters, for we're on the load-line and nigh steved. We can't wait.' I reflected a moment. Here was a possible chance for a mate's birth, and perhaps the skipper would not get bail after all. In that case I thought I could hardly manage better, for my fear of the little mate was not overpowering. I was not exactly of a timid nature. A man seldom rises to be mate of a deep-water ship, who is, but I always dreaded a brutal skipper on account of his absolute authority at sea, where there is no redress. I had once been mixed up in an affair concerning the disappearance of one on a China trader. But no matter. The affair in hand was tempting, and I waited developments. The little mate saw my course and laid his accordingly. "'Suppose you'll come around about knock-off time. The agents will be along about then. Sours and company. You know them. And I'll fix the thing for you.' "'All right,' I said, and after a little conversation relating to the merits of various ships, the pirate in particular, I left and made my way back to my lodgings. I notified my landlord of my proposed voyage, and he was as gracious as could be expected, at the same time expressing some wonderment at the suddenness of my good fortune. The more I thought of the matter, the more I felt like trying elsewhere for a birth. But the time flew so rapidly that I found myself on the way to the ship before my misgivings took too strong hold of me. As I turned down the principal thoroughfare, feeling in a more humorous frame of mind at the many possibilities open to me, I heard a shout. The sound came from a side street, and I looked to see what it meant. Through the door of a saloon, a man shot headlong as if fired from a gun. He struck in the gutter and staggered to his feet, where he was immediately surrounded by the crowd of men that had followed him. This promised much in the way of diversion, and I stopped to see what hidden force lurked behind the door of the saloon. As I did so, a short fellow with a great bushy head emerged, struggling with half a dozen men who bore down upon him and tried to surround and seize him. The little man's face was red from exertion and liquor, but when I caught a glimpse of his great squat nose and huge mouth, I had no difficulty in recognizing my acquaintance on the pirate. He backed rapidly away from his antagonists, swinging a pair of arms each of which seemed to be fully half a fathom long, while every instant he let out a yell that sounded like the bellow of a mad bull. Suddenly he turned and made off down the street at an astonishing pace for one with such short legs, still letting out a yell at every jump. The men who had set upon him hesitated an instant before they realized he was getting away. Then they started after him, shouting and swearing at a great rate. He was up to me in an instant, and as he dashed by I narrowly missed a clip from his hand which he swung viciously at me as he passed. I saw in a moment he couldn't escape at the rate he was moving, in spite of his tremendous exertions, so I stepped aside to watch him as the crowd rushed past in pursuit. The little mate's legs were working like the flying pistons of a locomotive, and his bush hair and beard were streaming aft in the breeze as he neared the corner. Suddenly he stopped, turned about, and dashed right into the foremost of the crowd, letting out a screech and swinging his long arms. Get out of the way! The devil's broke loose and coming for you! He howled as he sent the foremost man to the pavement. Don't stop me! I ain't got no time to stop! Don't stop a little bumpkin buster what's got business in both hands! Stand away or I'll run you down and sink you!" And he tore through the men who grabbed him and grappled to get him down. In a second he was going up the street again in exactly the opposite direction, letting hurled over or dashed aside the fellows who had seized him. Su-ay! he bellowed as he passed. Then he rushed to a doorway where stood a boy's bicycle. He jumped upon the saddle with another yell as he pushed the machine before him, and the next instant was whirling down the thoroughfare with the rapidity of an express-train, bawling for people to stand clear. In another moment he was out of sight, in a cloud of dust, and his yells fell to a drone in the distance. I was in no hurry to get down to the dock, so I strolled around the streets for some time. Then thinking that the little mate had about run himself out, I made my way to the wharf where the pirate lay. As I drew near the ship, I was aware of a bushy head above her port-quarter rail, and in a moment the little mate, Trunnel, looked over and hailed me. He was smoking so composedly and appeared so cool and satisfied that I could hardly believe it was the same man I had seen running amuck but an hour before. "'Have a good ride,' I asked. So, so, it was a bit of a thing to do, though I ain't never rid one of them things afore. They wanted me to cough up stuff for the whole crowd, but nary a cough. One or two drinks is about all I can stand, so when I feels good you don't want to persuade me over much. Come aboard!' He led me below, where we were joined by the doctor, a good-looking negro, who, having washed up his few dishes and put out the fire in his galley, came aft and assumed an importance in keeping with a cook of an American clipper-ship. We sat in the forward cabin and chatted for a few minutes, becoming better acquainted, and I must say they both acquitted themselves very creditably for members of the after-guard of that notorious vessel, but I had learned long ago that there were good men on all ships, and I was not more than ordinarily surprised at my reception. The forward cabin was arranged as on all American ships of large tonnage, that is, with a house built upon the main deck, the forward end of which was a passage athwart ships, to enable one to get out from either side when the vessel was healed over at a sharp angle. Next came the mate's rooms on either side of two alleyways, leading into the forward saloon, and between the alleyways were closets and lockers. The saloon was quite large, and had a table fastened to the floor in the center, where we now sat and awaited the appearance of the agents. Aft of this saloon, and separated from it by a bulkhead, was the captain's cabin, and the state-rooms for whatever passengers the ship might carry. While we were talking, I heard a hail. Mr. Trunnel, the mate, instantly jumped to his feet and sprang up the companion-way aft, his short stout legs curving well outward, and giving him the rolling motion often noticed in short sailors. In a moment there were sounds of footsteps on deck, and several men started down the companion-way. The first that reached the cabin deck was a large man with a flowing beard and sharp eyes, which took in every object in the cabin at a glance. He came into the forward saloon, and the doctor stood up to receive him. He took no notice of the cook, however, but looked sharply at me. Then the mate came in with two other men, who showed in a hundred ways that they were captains of sailing-ships. The large man addressed one of these. He was a short stout man with sandy hair. He wore thin gold earrings, and his sun-bron's face showed that he had but recently come ashore. "'If you don't want to take her out, Cole,' said the large man, roughly, "'say so and be done with it. I can get Thompson.'" "'There's nothing in it without the freight-money. Have it, and it's a go.' Andrews has the whole of it, according to contract. But he's jugged!' He needed all the more. Put in the other captain, who was one of the agents, Colonel Firmoy has put the rate as high as he can. "'I'm sorry, Colonel,' said the stout skipper, turning to the large man. Have or nothing?' "'All right, then, nothing. Mr. Trunnel,' he continued, turning to the mate, "'Captain Cole will not take you out in the morning, as he promised. I'll send Captain Thompson along this evening, or the first thing in the morning. I suppose you know him, so it won't be necessary for me to come down again. Is this your mate?' And he looked at me. "'Yes, sir, that's him,' said Mr. Trunnel. "'Got your papers with you?' asked the Colonel. I pulled them out of my pocket, and laid them upon the table. He glanced at them a moment and then returned them. "'All right, get your donage aboard this evening, and report at the office at nine o'clock to-night. Eight pounds, eh?' "'I almost gasped. Eight pounds for second mate. Five was the rule. "'Hi, aye, sir,' I answered. "'Done. Bear a hand, Mr. Trunnel. Jenkinson will have a crew at five in the morning. Good night.' And he turned and left, followed by all except the doctor, who remained with me, until they were assured. Mr. Trunnel came aboard again in a few minutes, and after thanking him for getting me the job, I left the ship and went to attend to my affairs, before clearing. I had my donage sent aboard, and then stopped at the office and signed on. After that, the night being young, I strolled along the more frequented streets and said farewell to my few acquaintances. I arrived at the ship before midnight, and found the only man there to be the watchman. Trunnel and the doctor had gone uptown, he said, for last look around. I turned in at the bottom of an empty berth in one of the state-rooms, and waited for the after-guard to turn too. The mate came aboard about three in the morning, and as there was much to do, he stuck his head into a bucket of water and tried to get clear of the effects of the bad liquor he had taken. The doctor followed a little later, and fell asleep on the cabin floor. "'Has the old man turned up?' asked the mate, bawling into my resting-place and rousing me. "'Haven't seen any one come aboard?' I answered. "'Well, I reckon he'll be alongside in a few minutes, so you better stand by for a call.' While he spoke, the watchman on deck hailed someone, and a moment later a steady trap sounded along the main deck, and a man came through the port door and into the alleyway. He hesitated for an instant, while a young man with rosy cheeks and light curly hair followed through the door and halted alongside the first-comer. The stranger was tall and slender, with a long face, and high, sharp features, his nose curving like a parrot's beak over a heavy dark mustache. His face was pale, and his skin had the clear look of a man who never is exposed to the sun. But his eyes were the objects that attracted my gaze. They were bright as steel points, and looked out from under heavy straight brows with a quick restless motion I had observed to belong to men used to sudden and desperate resolves. He advanced into the cabin, and scrutinized the surroundings carefully before speaking. "'I suppose you are Mr. Trunnel,' he said to me, for I had now arisen and stood in the doorway of the stateroom. His voice was low and distinct, and I noticed it was not unpleasant. "'I have that honour,' said the little mate, with drunken gravity, sobering quickly, however, under the stranger's look. "'There are no passengers,' asked the man, as the younger companion opened the door leading into the captain's cabin, and gazed within. "'Not a bleeding one, and I'm not sorry for that,' said Trunnel. The old man wasn't billed exactly on passenger lines. "'You wouldn't take a couple, then, say, for a good snug sum?' "'Well, that's the old man's lay, and I can't say as to the why and wherefore. He'll probably be along in an hour or two at best, for the tug will be alongside in a few minutes. We're cleared, and we'll get to see as soon as the bloody crimp gets the bleeding wind-jammers aboard. They ought to be along presently.' "'Emm!' said the man, and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "'You'll be along shortly, Willie, and you are all ready. I think I can hear the tug coming now, hey. Isn't that it?' "'Suppose so?' answered the mate. "'Well, just let me insinuate to you politely, my boy, that the sooner you clear, the better.' His voice was low and full of meaning, and he leaned toward the mate in a menacing manner. "'And if I have to speak to you more than once, my little friend, you will find out the kind of man Captain Thompson is. Can you rise to that?' Trunnel 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 apace. "'How the bleedin' thunder could I tell you were Captain Thompson when you come aboard here and ask for a passage?' he demanded. "'I meant no disrespect, not a bit. No, sir, not a bloody bit. I'm here for further orders. Yes, sir. I'm here for further orders and nothing else. Sing out and I go.' It was plain that the little bushy-headed fellow was not afraid, for he squared his broad shoulders and stood at attention like a man who has dealt with desperate men and knew how to get along with them. At the same time he knew his position and was careful not to go too far. He was evidently disturbed, however, for the little thin silver rings in his ears shook from either nervousness or the effects of liquor. The tall man looked keenly at him and appeared to think. Then he smiled broadly. "'Well, you are a clever little chap, Trunnel,' he said. But for discernment I don't think you'd lay a very straight course, eh? Isn't that it? Not a very straight course. But with my help I reckon we'll navigate this ship all right. Who's this?' And he turned toward me. "'That's Mr. Rawling, the second mate. Didn't you meet him at the office? He was there only a couple of hours ago, just signed on this evening.' "'Ah, yes, I see. A new hand, eh? Well, Mr. Rawling, I suppose you know what's expected of you. I don't interfere with my mates after I get to see. Can you locate the ship and reckon her course?' I told him I could, and although I did not like the unautical way this stranger had about him, I was glad to hear that he did not interfere with his mates. If he were some hard skipper the agents had taken at a pinch. It was just as well for him to keep to himself aft, and let his mates stand watch as they should on every high-class ship. The young man, or rather boy, who had come aboard with him, looked at me curiously with a pair of bright blue eyes, while the captain spoke, and appeared to enjoy the interrogation, for he smiled pleasantly. Everything is already, as I see," the captain continued. "'So I'll go to bed a while, until my things come aboard. This young man will be third mate, Mr. Trunnel, and I'll put him on to your care. He will go ashore now and see to the trunks. But let me know the minute the crew come down, for I won't wait for anything after that. You can let the tug take the line and be ready to pull us out.' Then the skipper went into the captain's cabin, and we saw him no more for several hours. The young man went back up town, and half an hour later returned with a cab containing a trunk, which was put in the after-cabin. The skipper heard the noise and bade them not reawaken him under any circumstances, until the ship was well out at sea. "'If I have to get up and see to our leaving, some one will be sorry for it,' he said in his menacing voice, and Mr. Trunnel was quite content to leave him alone. At five in the morning the boarding-master brought down the men, and a sorry lot of sailors they were. They counted nineteen all told, and half of them could not speak English. I went among them and searched their dunnage for liquor and weapons, and after finding plenty of both, I bundled the entire outfit into the forecastle and let them sort it the best they could, with the result that they all struck a fair average in the way of clothes. Those who were too drunk to be of any use, I let alone, and they made a dirty mess of the clean forecastle. The rest I turned to with some energy, and soon had our towing-gear overhaul. There was now a considerable crowd collecting on the dock to watch the ship clear, and as it was still too dark to see objects distinctly, I couldn't tell what was taking place in the waist, for I had to attend sharply to the work on the top-gallant forecastle. Mr. Trunnel bawled for the tug to pull away, and the ship started to leave the dock. At that instant a man rushed through the crowd and sprang upon the rail at midships, where, seizing some of the running rigging, he let himself down to the main deck. He looked aft at Mr. Trunnel, 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 asked, after getting your advance money! And I smiled as I thought of his chance of getting away without being caught. I never well, sir, he replied, and as I signed on, so will I work. I never skinned a ship yet out of sixpence. Most remarkable! I sneered, but the fellow had such a frank open face that I felt sorry afterward. He was a young man, and had probably not learned enough about ships to have such delicate scruples. He had a smooth face, and looked intelligent, although it was evident that he was not much of a sailor. Well, don't stand gaping. Get to work. Show what you're made of. Stow those slops of yours and get into a jumper quick. Where's your bag? I continued. I haven't any. Well, lay up there and help loose the main topsel. Don't stand here. He looked bewildered for a moment, and then started up the fore-rigging. Here, you blazing idiot, I bawled. What are you about? Don't you know one end of the ship from another? The fellow came to me and spoke in a low voice. I have never shipped before the mast, only as cook or steward, he said. Well, you infernal beggar, do you mean to say that you've passed yourself off as a seamen or sailor here? I cried. He nodded. Then, bless you, if I don't make a sailor of you before you get clear of the ship, I said with some emphasis, for the idea of all hands being incapable made me angry, as the ship would be dependent entirely upon the sailors aboard, until we had taught the landsmen something. The whole outfit was such a scurvy lot, it may be sick to think of what would happen if it should come on to blow suddenly, and we had to shorten down to reef topsels. The pirate had double topsel yards, fore and aft, and all the modern improvements for handling canvas, but a yards were tremendous, and a lift either of her courses on the yards would take not less than half a dozen men, even in good weather. The fellow hung about while I dressed him down, and told him about what a worthless specimen of humanity he was. Finally, I sent him aft to help where he could, and he lent a hand at the braces and the waist under the direction of Mr. Trunnell, who stood on the break of the poop, with the young third mate beside him, and gave his orders utterly oblivious to the boy's presence. In a short time we made an offing, and as the pilot was on the tug, we had only to let go the line and stand away on our course. The top-gallant yards were set up, then the royals sheeded home, and by dint of great effort and plenty of balling we got the canvas on her, fore and aft, and trimmed the yards so as to make each one look as if at odds with its fellows, but yet enough to make a fair wind of the gentle southerly breeze. Then we let go the tow-line and stood to the westward, while the little tug gave a parting whistle, and went heading away into the rising sun, a stern. CHAPTER II I will say now that when I look back on that morning, it is evident there was a lack of discipline or command on board the pirate. But at the time it did not appear to me to be the fact, because the lack of discipline was not apparent in my watch. Truddle and I divided up the men between us, and I believe I laid down the law pretty plain to the dagos and Swedes who fell to my lot. They couldn't understand much of what I said, but they could tell something of my meaning when I held up a rope's end and a belaying pin before their eyes, and made certain significant gestures in regard to their manipulation. This may strike the landsmen as unnecessary and somewhat brutal, but before he passes judgment he should try to take care of a lot of men who are, for a part, a little lower than beasts. If a man can understand the language you use, he can sometimes be made to pay attention if he has the right kind of men over him, but when he cannot understand and goes to see with a certain knowledge he is on a hard ship, and will probably come to blows in a few minutes, he must have some ocular demonstration of what is coming if he doesn't jump when a mate sings out to him. Often the safety of the entire ship depends upon the quickness with which an order can be carried out, and a man must not hang back when the danger is deadly. He must do, as he is told, instantly and without question. If he gets killed, why, there is no great loss, for any owner or skipper can get a crew aboard at any of the large ports of trade. Of course, if he takes a different point of view, the only thing for him to do is to stay on the beach. He must not ship on a sailing packet that is carrying twenty percent more freight than the law allows, and is getting from three to four dollars a ton for carrying at some ten or fifteen thousand miles over every kind of ocean between the frigid zones. My men were surly enough, perhaps because they had heard what kind of treatment they should expect. So after I had told them what they must do, I bade them go below and straighten out their tonnage. Mr. Trunnel, 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. He smelled horribly of stale liquor, and his eyes were bloodshot. I thought he would be just as well off below, so I made no protest against taking command. You see, I never am used to it, he said with a grin. I can't drink nothing. Stave me, Rollins, but the first thing I'll be running foul of some of these dagos, and I don't want to freak us until I see the lay of the old man. He's a queer one, for sure, hey? Did you ever see a skipper with such a look, such bleedin' eyes, and nose, hey, like the beak of an old albatross? He hasn't come out to lay the course yet, but let her go. She'll head within half a point of what she's doing now. Sink me, but I don't believe there's three bloomin' beggars in my watch as can steer the craft, and she's got a new wheelgear on her too. Call me if the old man comes on deck. As he finished he staggered into the door of the forward cabin and made for his room, leaving me in command. I went aft and saw the Lubbers mark holding on west by south, and after being satisfied that the man's steering could tell port from starboard, I climbed the steps to the poop and took a good look around. It was a beautiful morning, and the sun shone brightly over our quarter-rail. The land behind us stood boldly outlined against the sky, and the lumpy clouds above were rosy with sunlight. The air was cool, but not too sharp for comfort. The breeze from the southward blew steadily and just sent the tops of the waves to foam here and there, like white stars appearing and disappearing on the expanse to windward. The pirate lay along on the port-tack, and with her sky sails to her trucks she made a beautiful sight. Her canvas was snowy white, showing that no money had been spared on her sails. Her spars were all painted or scraped, and her standing rigging tarred down to a beautiful blackness. Only on deck and among the ropes of her running gear was shown that sign of untidiness which distinguishes the merchant vessel from the man of war. I managed to get some hands to work on the braces, and finally got the yard's trimmed ship-shape and in the American fashion. That was, with the lower yard's sharp on the backstays, the topsils a little further aft, the top gallant a little further still, until the main sky sail was almost touching with its weather-leach cutting into the breeze a pointer more forward of the weather-beam. The fore and aft canvas was trimmed well, and the outer jibs lifted the ship along at a slapping-rate. She was evidently fast in spite of her load, and I looked over the side at the foam that was seething past the lead-channels and swirls and eddies which gave forth a cheerful hissing sound as they slipped aft at the rate of six knots an hour. The man at the wheel held her easily, and that was a blessing, for nothing as much worse for a mate's discomfort than a wild ship shearing from side to side leaving awake like the path of some monstrous snake. When I looked again on the main deck I saw the figure of a man whom I failed to recognize as a member of the ship's company. He was standing near the opening of the after-hatch-way which had not yet been batten down, and his gaze was fixed upon me. He was a broad shouldered fellow, about the average height, and was dressed in a tight-fitting black coat which reached to his knees. On his head was a skull-cap with a long tassel hanging down from its top, and in his mouth was a handsome Mierscham pipe which hung down by its stem to the middle of his breast. His beard was long and just turning gray, and his eyebrows were heavy and prominent. I stood looking at the figure, and I must say I never saw a more brutal expression upon a man's face. His large mouth and thick lips appeared to wear a sneering smile, while his eyes twinkled with undisguised amusement. His nose was large and flat like a hot-and-tots, and while I gazed at him in astonishment, he raised it in the air and gave forth a snort which apparently meant that he was well satisfied with the way affairs were being carried on aboard the ship, and he was consequently amused. Here, you man, what the deuce are you doing aboard here? I asked as I advanced to the break of the poop and stared down at him. He gave another snort and looked at me with undisguised contempt, but disdained to answer and turned away, going to the lee rail and expectorating over the side. Then he came slowly back across the main deck, while my spleen rose at his superior indifference. I have always been a man of the people, and have fought my way along to whatever position I have held on the comprehensive rule of give and take. Nothing is so offensive to me as the assumption of superiority when back solely by a man's own conception of his value. Therefore it was in no pleasant tone that I addressed the stranger on his return to the deck beneath me. My fine cock, said I, if you haven't a tongue you probably have ears, and if you don't want them to feel like the great bars of the galley stove, you'll do well to sing out when I speak. Can you rise to that? The man looked me squarely in the eyes, and I never saw such a fiendish expression come into a human face as that which gathered in his. You infernal impudent! he began, and here for a moment followed a string of foul oaths from the man's lips, while he passed his hand behind his back and drew forth a long knife. Then without a moment's further hesitation he sprang up the steps to the poop. The fiendishness of the attack took me off my guard, for I was not prepared for such a serious fracas during the first half-hour in command of the deck. But I saw there was little time to lose. There were no belaying pins handy, so the thing for me was to get in as close as possible and get the fellow's knife. As he came up the steps I rushed for him and kicked out with all my strength, when his face was level with my knees. The toe of my heavy shoe caught him solidly in the neck, and he went over backward almost in a complete somersault, landing with a crash upon the main deck just outside the window of Mr. Trunnell's room. He was stunned by the fall, and I hastened down to seize him before he could recover. Just as I gained the main deck, however, he gave a snort and started to his feet. Then he let out a yell like a madman and closed with me, my right hand luckily reaching his wrist below the knife. It was up and down, and all over the deck for a time, the men crowding aft around us, but fearing to take a hand. The fellow had enormous strength, and the way he made that knife-hand jump and twist gave me all I could do to keep fast to it. Soon I found I was losing ground, and he noted the fact, exerting himself more and more as he found me failing. Then it dawned upon me that I was in a bad fix, and I tried to think quickly for some means to save myself. In another mad struggle he would wrench himself clear, and his ugly look told me plainly how much mercy I could expect. I gave one last despairing grip on his wrist as he tore wildly about, and then I felt his arms slip clear of my fingers, and I waited for the stroke with my left arm drawn up to stop its force as far as possible. I could almost feel the sting of the steel in my tense nerves. When something suddenly caught me around the middle impressed me with great force against my enemy. His face was almost against mine, but his arms were pinion to his sides, powerless. And then I was aware that we both were encircled by the ape-like arms of the mate, Mr. Trunnel. How the little fellow held on was a marvel. He braced his short legs wide apart, and giving a hug that almost took the breath out of me, bawled lustily for some man to pass a lashing. Suddenly a man rushed aft and passed a line around the stranger, and I saw that the young landlubber to whom, earlier in the morning, I had been so harsh, was the man to be depended on. The young fellow tied my enemy up in short order, although the Nazi used would not have done any credit to a sailor. But I was more than thankful when I had a chance to wring the long knife out of the murderous stranger's hand, and I spoke out to the smooth-faced fellow. You'll do, my boy, even if you don't know a yard from a main-brace bumpkin. Pass a line around his legs and stuff a swab into his face if he don't stop swearing. Steady, said Trunnel, none of that, as the swab was being brought up. But, Captain Andrews, if you don't belay your tongue will have to do something. And the little mate squared his shoulders and gazed calmly down upon the prostrate stranger who foamed at the mouth with impotent fury. So, I said, this is the ruffian who jumped his bale in his abode here on the sneak. I reckon we'll tack ship and stand back again to put him where he belongs. I was breathing heavily from the fight, and stood leaning against the cabin to recover, while Mr. Trunnel and the fellow Jim, who had helped tie the skipper up, appeared to be in doubt how to proceed. The noise of the scuffle and our conversation had aroused the Captain in the cabin, and as I finished speaking he came to the break of the poop and looked down on the main deck. I was aware of his hooked nose and strange glinting eyes almost before I turned, as he spoke. He placed his foot upon the rail and gave a dry cough. I reckon there ain't any call to tack ship, he said slowly. A pair of irons will do the rest. Just clap them on him, hand in foot, Mr. Rowling, and then rivet him to the deck away up forwards. If you don't stow that bazoo of his, you might ram the end of a hand-spike in his mouth and see if he'll bite. Who are you, you molly-hawk, to give orders about it here? roared Andrews from where he lay on deck. What's happened, Trunnel, when a swivel-eyed idiot with a beak like an albatross stands on the poop and talks to me like this? He's Captain Thompson in command, owing to the little the little fracas you were mixed into last voyage. We didn't exactly expect to have you this trip, sir, said the mate. Well, I'm here, ain't I? Sing out, can't you see me? As your hair struck in and tickled your brain so you don't know who's boss aboard here? Who's this galoot you've just kept from being ripped to ribbons? How subtle matters with you later on for meddling in this affair, you kelp-haired sea-pig. Sink, you Trunnel! 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 Trunnel. We don't care for your suggestions, young fellow, said the skipper, leaning over the rail above us. When there's any orders to be given, I'll attend to matters myself. He spoke in a low, even tone, and his eyes seemed to focus to two sharp, bright points at the sailor, making his great beak-like nose more prominent. Cast me a drift, Trunnel! commanded the ruffian Andrews with an oath. I'm going to kill that lover you've got for mate anyhow, and it might as well be done at once as any other time. We'll settle the matter about who's skipper afterwards. I hear you well enough, Captain Andrews, said Trunnel, but it ain't exactly clear in my mind as to how you have authority aboard. If I was, I'd cast you a drift in spite of the whole crowd, and you could rip and cut to your bloody heart's content. You know I'd back you if it was all right and proper, but I never disobeyed an order yet, and stave me, I never will. I don't care who gives it so long as he has the right. Spoken like a man and a sailor came the sudden sharp tones of the skipper on the poop, and as I looked the skipper drew forth a watch in one hand, and a long revolver in the other, which clicked to readiness as it came in a line between his eye and the body of Andrews. You have just a few seconds less than a minute to get that fellow forwards and out of the way. He said slowly, as if counting his words, I made no movement to drag the ruffian away, for at that minute I would have offered no objection whatever to seeing the skipper make a target of him. But Trunnel and the sailor Jim instantly seized Andrews while he cursed the Captain and dared him shoot. He struggled vainly to get free of his lashings, but the little bushy-headed mate talked him under his arm, while Jim took his feet, and the crowd of gaping men broke away as they went forward. Trunnel and I followed for my somewhat violent exertions, and bound up the slight cut that Andrews had made in my hand with his knife. Eight bells had struck, and the steward brought aft the cabin hash. The skipper went below, and Trunnel and I followed. Captain Thompson seated himself at the head of the table and signed for us to take our places. Then it suddenly occurred to me that I was only second mate, and consequently did not rate the Captain's table. Trunnel noticed my hesitation but said nothing, and the skipper fell too with such a hearty goodwill that he appeared to entirely forget my presence. I hastily made some excuse to get back on deck, and the little bushy-headed mate smiled and nodded approvingly at me as I went up the alleyway forward. I was much pleased at this delicate hint on his part, for many mates would have made uncalled-for remarks at such a blunder. It showed me that the little giant who could keep me from being carved to rat-line stuff could be civil also. I was much taken with him, owing to what had happened, and I looked down at him as he ate, for I could see him very well as he stood near the mizzen on the port side of the cabin skylight. The glass of the hatch was raised to let the cabin air, and I watched the bushy head beneath, with its aggressive beard bending over the dirty tablecloth. The large squat nose seemed to sniff the good grub as the steward served the fresh beef, and trunel made ready with his knife. He laid the blade on his plate, and heaped several large chunks of the meat and potatoes upon it. Then he dropped his chin and seemed to shut his eyes as he carefully conveyed the load to his mouth, drawing the steel quickly through his thick lips without spilling more than a commensurate amount of the stuff upon his beard, injuring himself in no way whatever. The quick jerk with which he slipped the steel clear so as to have it ready for another load made me a trifle nervous. But it was evident that he was not a novice at eating. Indeed, the skipper appeared to admire his dexterity, for I saw his small, glinting eyes look sharply from the little fellow to the boyish third officer who sat disturbed. Never had no call for a fork, eh? said he, after watching the mate apparently come within an inch of cutting his head in two. Nope, said trunel. They ate in silence for some minutes. I like to see a fellow what can make out with the fewest tools. Tools are good enough for a mechanics, a bit and a barrel due for a man. Ever been to New York? Nope, said trunel. There was a moment's silence. I might have known that, said the skipper, as if to himself. Trunel appeared to sniff sarcasm. Oh, I've been to one or two places in my time, said he. There ain't nothing remarkable about New York except the animals, and I don't care for those. Not your mean. Oh, I was close to into the beach off Sandy Hook once, when we were trying to get to the Sotherd, and I see an elephant about a hundred feet high on the island across the bay. There was a fellow aboard as said they had cows there, just as big what gave milk. I wouldn't have believed him, but for the fact that there were the elephant before my eyes. Stuffed, man, he was stuffed, explained the captain. Stuffed or no, there he were, persisted trunel. It would have been no bigger stuffed than alive. Tain't likely they could have a stretched his hide more than a foot. The skipper gave the third mate a sly look, and his nose worked busily like a parrot-speak for a few minutes. You believe lots of things, eh? said he, while his nose worked and wrinkled in amusement. I believe in pretty much all I sees and some little I hears, said trunel, dryly. Especially an elephant, eh? A hundred feet high. But not an arguing over facts, retorted trunel. No sink me when I find some arguing again the world, again facts. I tries to give in some and let the world get the best of the argument. I have opinions the same as you have, but when they don't agree with the rest of the world, do I go snorting around and trying to show how the world is wrong and I am right? Sink me if I do. No, I tries to let the other fellow have a show. I may be right, but if I seize the world is again me, I— Right, you are, trunel, spoken OK, said the skipper. I like to see a man what believes in a few things, even if they is elephants. What do you think of the fellow forwards? Do you believe in him to any extent? The third mate appeared much amused at the conversation, but did not speak. He was a remarkably good-looking young fellow, and I noted the fact at the time. Trunel did not answer the last remark, but held himself very straight in his chair. Do you believe much in the fellow who was skipper, especially after his trying to carve Mr. Rowling? I believe him a good sailor, said Trunel, stiffening up. You don't say, said the skipper. I never criticizes my officers, said Trunel, and after that the skipper let him alone. I was pleased with Trunel. His philosophy was all right, and I believe from that time he was an honest man. Things began to look a little brighter, and in spite of an aversion to the skipper which had begun to creep upon me, I now saw that he was an observing fellow, and was quick to know the value of men. I didn't like his allusion to a bit and bar for a man, but thought little about the matter. In a short time Trunel relieved me, and I went below with the carpenter and steward to our mess. The carpenter was a young Irishman, shipped for the first time. This was the first time I had been to see with a ship carpenter who was not either a Russian, a Fin, or a Swede. The steward was a little mulatto, who announced as he sat down, after bringing in the hash, that he was bloody glad he was an Englishman, and looked at me for approval. 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. "'Diskold the old man thinks it is, when he has the skylight wide opened,' said Chips, looking up at the form of Trunel who stood on the poop. There was a strange light in the young fellow's eye, as he spoke, as if he wished to impart some information, and had not quite determined upon the time and place. I took the hint and smiled knowingly, and then glanced a scans at the steward. "'Faith, he's all right,' blurted out Chips. His skin is a little off the colour of roses, but his heart is white. Where would you see?' "'With me for what?' I asked. "'Anything,' he replied, to go back, to go ahead. There's a fellow forwards who says, go back while you may.' "'And it's a bloody good advice,' said the steward in a low tone. "'I'm not exactly in command aboard here,' I said. "'Do you know who is?' asked Chips. "'His name is Thompson, I believe. I answered coldly, for I did not approve of the sudden criticism of the skipper, much as I disliked his style.' "'See here, mate. You needn't think we're for sayin' again the old man so hark ye. Don't take it hard like. Did you ever heal tale of a sailorman calling a line a rope or a bloomin' hooker like this a boat? No, sir. You can lay to it. He's never had a ship before, and so says Jim Potts, the same as passed the line for ye this mornin'. Can I pass ye the junk? It's sort of sniffty for new slush, but I don't complain.' "'What's the matter with the meat?' I asked, glad to change the conversation. Just sort of sniffty.' "'That's what,' corroborated the steward, lookin' at me, just sort of smelly like for new junk.' "'What has Jim Potts got against the old man?' I asked. You said he didn't believe the skipper had been in a ship before.' "'Nothing I know's of, except he was hot for turnin' back this mornin' and tried to get the men to back him and comin' aft.' "'Do you mean it's mutiny?' "'Lord, no. Just to blendander ye into tack and ship. He most persuaded Mr. Trunnell, and with ye too, to what have been no mutiny to override the new skipper and land the other in the caboose. Much as I would have liked to get ashore again, I knew there was no immediate prospect of it. The skipper would not hear of any such thing. As for Trunnell acting against orders, I knew from what I had seen of this sturdy little fellow, he would obey implicitly any directions given him and at any cost. There was no help for it now. We would be out for months with the ruffian skipper forward and the strange one aft. I said nothing more to the carpenter or steward, for it was evident that there had been some strong arguments used by Jim Potts against the regularity of the ship's company. The more I thought of this, the more I was astonished, for the young landsman was not forced to come out in the ship, and had almost been left as it was. I went on deck in a troubled frame of mind, and determined to keep my eye on every one who approached me, for the voyage had the worst possible beginning. There was much to be done about the main deck, so I busied myself the entire afternoon, getting the running gear cleared up and coiled down ship-shape. The skipper stood near the break of the poop much of the time, but gave no orders, and I noticed that Jim the sailor, or landsman, kept away from his vicinity. Sometimes it seemed as though the captain would follow his movements about the deck forward with his keen eyes. It was Trunel's dog-watch that evening, and by the time the bells struck the vessel was running along to the westward under Royals, with the southerly breathe freshening on her beam. She was a handsome ship. Her long tapering spars rose towering into the semi-gloom overhead, and the great fabric of stretched canvas seemed like a huge cloud resting upon a dark floating object on the surface of the sea, which was carried along rapidly with it, brushing the foam to either side with a roaring, rattling, seething musical noise. At least, this is the picture she presented from the forecastle-head, looking aft. Her great main-yard swung far over the water to Leeward, and the huge belly-ing courses, setting tight as a drum-head with the pressure, sent the roaring of the bow-wave back in a deep-booming echo, until the air was full of vibration from the taut fabric. All around, the horizon was melted into haze, but the stars were glinting overhead in promise of a clear night. I left the forecastle-head and came down on the main-deck. Here the six-foot bow-work shut off the view to Wimward, but little of the cool evening breeze. The men on watch were grouped about the waist, sitting on the comings of the after-hatch, or walking fore and aft in the gangways to keep the blood stirring. All had pea-coats or mufflers over their jumpers, for the air was frosty. The doctor had washed up his pots and cuppers for the evening, and had made his way toward the carpenter's room in the forward house, where a light shone through the crack of the door. On nearly all American ships, the carpenter is raided as an officer, but does not have to stand watch, turning out only during the day-time or when all hands are called in cases of emergency. The cook or doctor, as he is called, also turns in for the night, as do the steward and cabin-boys. The steward, however, gently has a stateroom aft near those of the mates, while the doctor bunks next his galley. The carpenter having permission to burn a light usually turns his shop or bunk-room into a meeting-place for those officers who rate the distinction of being above the ordinary sailor. Here one can always hear the news aboard ships, where the discipline is not too rigid, for the mates, bosun, doctor, steward, sometimes even the quarter-masters, enjoy his hospitality. Trunnel 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 bosun. I took a last look to Wynward over the cold southern ocean, where the sharp evening breeze was rolling the short seas into little patches of white. The horizon was clear, and there was no prospect for some time of any sudden call to shorten sail. The sky was a perfect blue vault in which the stars were twinkling, while the red of the recent sunset held fair on the gibbon end, showing that the quarter-master at the wheel knew his business. I edged toward the door of the house, and then seeing that my actions were not creating too much notice from the poop, I slid back the white panel and entered. The fog from damp clothes and bad tobacco hanged heavy in the close air, and made a blue halo about the little swinging lamp on the bulkhead. Chips, who was sitting on his sea-chest, waved his hand in welcome, and the doctor nodded and showed his white teeth. The bosun was holding forth in full swing in an argument with one of the quarter-masters, and Jim, the fellow I noticed in the morning, was listening. He arose as I entered, as also did the quarter-master, but the rest remained seated. I waved my hand in friendly acknowledgment and lit my pipe at the lamp, while they receded themselves. Yeah, good morning to you. If it ain't too late in the day, said Chips, sit you down and listen to my song, for tis a quer-ship, and the only thing to do is to square our luck with a good song. Cast loose, bosun! We were all new men to the vessel except the carpenter, and had never even sailed in the same ship before on any previous voyage. Yet the bosun cast loose without further orders, and the doctor joined in with his base voice. Then Chips and the rest bawled forth to the tune of Blow a Man Down, and all the dismal prospect of the future in an overloaded ship, with bad food and a queer skipper, was lost in the effort of each one trying to out-bellow his neighbor. Sailors are a strange set. It takes mighty little deplies one at times when he should, with reason, be sad. While again, when everything is fair, nothing will satisfy his whims. When the yarn spinning and singing were over, I turned out for my first watch well pleased with my shipmates. CHAPTER IV During the following days our hands were so busy bending new sails and reaving running gear for our turn of the cape that there was little time for anything else. Much of this work could have been avoided had the ship been under better command when she cleared, but Trunnel had no authority to do anything, and the agents were waiting until the skipper took command and could attend to the necessary overhauling. At meals I saw little of either Trunnel or Captain Thompson and his third mate, but in the short hours of the dog-watch in the evening I had a chance to talk with them upon other subjects than those relating immediately to the running of the ship. The dog-watch is the short watch between six and eight o'clock in the evening. This is made short to keep one watch from turning too at any regular time, and consequently getting all the disagreeable work to be done during those hours. For instance, if one watch had to be on deck every night from twelve until four in the morning, it would mean that the other watch would be on deck from four to eight, and consequently would have to do all the washing down of decks and other work which occurs upon every regulated ship before breakfast. So the dog-watch divides a four-hour watch and is served alternately. As second mate I had access to the poop and could come aft on the weather side like any officer, all sailors, of course, being made to go to Leeward. Trunnel grew to be confidential, and we often discoursed upon many subjects during the hours after supper, for there was little time to turn in when not on dog-watch, and the skipper allowed me aft with much more freedom than many second mates get. He seldom ventured to join in the conversations except when discussing shore topics, where his ignorance of things nautical was becoming more and more apparent to me every day, and he saw it. I wondered vaguely how he ever managed to get command of the ship, and set the reason down to the fact that the agents were glad enough to get any one to take her out. He, however, checked up Trunnel's sights every day and commented upon their accuracy with much freedom, finding fault often, and cautioning him to be more careful in the future. This somewhat perplexed the mate, as he always made his reckoning by rule of thumb, and could no more change his method than work out a problem in trigonometry. The third mate, on the other hand, was quite shy. I noticed what I had failed to note before, and that was the peculiar feminine tone of his voice and manner. He never swung his hands or lounged along the deck like a man used to the sea, and as the regulations call for at least two years sea experience certified to by some reputable skipper before a mate's certificate is issued, this struck me as strange. Besides, he walked with a short, mincing step that failed to swing his rather broad hips, and his knees were well set back at each stride, that went to show more conclusively than anything else that he was not used to a heaving deck. An old sailor, or a young one either, for that matter, will bend his knees to catch the roll and not try to walk like a soldier. One evening after we'd been out about a week, Trunnell and I happened to be standing aft near the taff rail, looking up at a royal preventer's day. Do you know what the old man called discreet, as Trunnell pointing to where it had been made fast? No, said I. What did he call it? A timbered noggin. Well, that don't prove there is nothing wrong with him, does it? I queried. Either that or the timber-noggins has chained some of it in character since I seen them last, said Trunnell. What in Davy Jones would a skipper of a ship call a cleat a timber-noggin for, unless he didn't know no better? A man might or might not have many reasons for calling a cleat a timber-noggin, besides that of not knowing any better than to do so, I responded. For instance, but Trunnell caught me short. No, Mr. Rowling, there ain't no use disguising the fact any more. This skipper don't know nothing about a ship. You'll find that out before we get to the westward of the Agulus. Mind you, I ain't making no criticism of the old man. I never does that to know superior officer. But when a man tells me to do the things he does, it stands to reason that we've got an old man aboard here who's been in a ship for the first time as officer. I agreed with him, and he was much pleased. A man would find's fault and criticizes everybody above him is always a failure, Mr. Rowling. He went on. Yes, sir, the fault finder is always a failure. And the reason so many sailors find fault all the time is because they is failures. I am trying not to find fault with the skipper, but to point out that we're in for some rough times if things don't change aboard in the sailor in line before we get to the westward of the Agulus. Sink me if that ain't so, for here we is without half the sails bent and no new braces, nothing but two-year-old Manila stuff what's war cleaned through. Them top sails look good enough, but they is as rotten with the lime in them as if they was burned. No, sir. I ain't makin' no criticism, but I burns within when I think of the trouble a few dollars would save. Yes, sir, I burns within. Mr. Trunnel here spat profusely to leeward and walked to thwart ships for some moments without further remark. The third mate came on deck and stood near the lee mizzen rigging, looking forward at the foam swirling from the bends and drifting aft alongside at a rapid rate. 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 have been making steadily to the westward overspread the sky. It was nearly time for the southwest monsoon to shift, and with this change would likely follow a spell of weather, as Trunnel chose to put it. The third mate had never given an order since he had come aboard, and I noticed Trunnel's sly wink as he clenched in the direction of the mizzen. Mr. Ralling, said he, Women have been my ruin. Yes, sir, women have been my ruin, and I'm that scared of them that I can raise them before their top mass is above the horizon. Sink me if that ain't one. And he leered at the figure of the third mate, whom we knew as Mr. Bell. What would a woman be doing here is third mate, I asked, for although I had come to the same conclusion some days before, I had said nothing to any one about it. That's the old man's affair, said Trunnel. It may be his wife, or it may be his daughter. But any one can see that the fellow's pants are entirely too big in the heft for a man. And his voice. Sink me, Ralling, but you never hern tell of a man or boy pipe and so soft like. Why, it scares me to listen to it. It's just like... But no matter. Like what? I suggested gently, hoping much. But it was of no use. Trunnel looked at me queerly for a moment as if undecided to give me his confidence. Then he resumed his walk a-thwart the deck, and I went forward to the break of the poop and took a look at the head sails. The night was growing darker, and the breeze was dying slowly, and I wondered why the skipper had not come on deck to take a look around. He was usually on hand during the earlier hours of evening. I reached the side of the third officer, and stood silently gazing at the canvas, which shone dimly through the gathering gloom. As we had always been separated on account of being in different watches, I had never addressed the third mate before, save in a general way when reporting the ship's duties aft. Pretty dark night, eh? I ventured. The third officer looked hard at me for the space of a minute, during which his face underwent many changes of expression. Then he answered in a smooth, even tone, Sorter, said he. This was hardly what I expected, so I ventured again. Looks as if we might have a spell of weather, eh? The wind's falling all the time, and if it keeps on, we'll have a calm night without a draft of air. What do you mean by a calm night without a draft of air? asked the young fellow in a superior tone, while at the same time I detected a smile lurking about the corners of his eyes. If there's one thing I hate to see in a young fellow, it is the desire to make fun of a superior's conversation. Being an American sailor, I had little use for Rs. and every word which had an A, and I had no objection to anyone else talking the way they wished. I was somewhat doubtful just how to sit upon this nebulous third mate. So I began easily. Do you know, said I, there are great many young fellows going out in ships as officers, when they could be of much more benefit to people generally if they stayed home and helped their mothers to bark kark or do other little things around the nursery or kitchen. As I finished, I thought I heard someone swear fiercely in a low tone. I looked over the poop rail down to the main deck beneath, but saw no one near. The third officer seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. It isn't good to be too clever, said he in the tone which was unmistakably a woman's. When a person is good at baking cake or barking kark as you choose to call it, the sea is a good place for them. They can look out for those who haven't sense enough to perform the function. I had a strong notion to ask him outright if he was fitted to perform the function, but his superior air and the feeling that I might make a mistake after all, and incur the displeasure of the beaked-nose skipper deterred me. But I was almost certain that our third mate was a woman. We remained standing together in the night for a few moments while neither spoke. My advances had not received the favourable acknowledgment I had expected, and there was a distinctly disagreeable feeling creeping upon me while in this neutral presence. I was young and hot-headed, so I spoke accordingly before leaving the field, or rather, deck, in retreat. I wish you had the distinction of belonging to the port watch. Why? I think I might strengthen your powers of discernment regarding the relative positions of second and third mates. You'll see who has the better insight in regard to the matter without my being bored to that extent," said the third officer in his softest tones, and again I fancied I heard the voice of a man swearing fiercely in a low voice as if to himself. Then I turned and went aft. "'It's something queer,' said Trunel, shaking his great shaggy head and glancing toward the break of the poop. A step sounded on the companion ladder, and the skipper came on deck. "'Pretty dark, eh?' he said, and his quick eyes took him both Trunel and myself comprehensively. "'Looks like we might have a spell of weather if the wind keeps falling,' observed Trunel. "'Well, I don't suppose a dark night is any worse than a bright one, and I call to mind many a time I'd give something to see it a bit blacker. Do you know where you're at?' She's headin' about the same, but if you don't mind, I'll be gettin' her down gradual like to her torp sails if the glass keeps a-fallen. Short commons,' says I, on the edge of the monsoon. "'Short it is, my boy. Get her down low. The more she looks like you, the better she'll do, eh? What do you think of that, Mr. Rowling? The shorter the longer, the longer the shorter, see? The sooner the quicker, eh?' "'Supposin' the question was asked you, Mr. Rowling. What did you say, eh?' "'Why is Mr. Trunel like a lady's bouquet, eh? Why is the little man like a bunch of flowers?' "'Don't insult him, Mr. Rowling. The sanitary outfit of the cabin is all right. Taint that. No, split me. It ain't that. Think a minute.'" People walk to and fro without a word, while the captain grinned. The fellow at the wheel, Bill Spilgen, a square-cut man with an angular face and enormous hands, stared sullenly into the binnacle. "'It's because he's a daisy,' rapped out the skipper. "'That's it, Mr. Rowling. He's a daisy. Ha, ha, ha! Split me if he ain't. Ha, ha, ha! Shorten her down, Trunel. You're a daisy. Had no mistake.'" There was a distinct smell of liquor in the light breeze, and as the skipper came within the glare of the binnacle lamp I could see he was well set up. Trunel went to the break of the poop, and called out for the watch to clue down the four and mizzen sky-sales. He was much upset at the skipper's talk, but he knew better than to show it. The captain now turned his attention to the man at the wheel. "'How do you head, Bill?' said he. "'West but north,' said Bill. The skipper came to the wheel and stuck his lean face close to the quarter-masters. His glinting eyes grew to two little points, and his hooked nose wrinkled on the sides as he showed his teeth while he drawled in a snarling tone. "'Do you set up for a wit, Bill, that you joke with your captain, hay? Is that it?' ya square-toed lantern-jawed swab. Would you like me to rip you up the back, or lamb some of the dirt out of your hide, hay? Is that it? Don't make jokes at your captain, Bill. It's bad business.' Then he went on in a more conciliating tone. "'Just remember that I'm a knight of a round table, or square one, either, for that matter, while I'm aboard this boat. And if you forget to mention my title of sir every time you speak of me, you'll want to get your hide sewed on tight.' "'I beg pardon, sir,' said Bill, taking a fresh grip upon the spokes with his great hands. "'That's right, my son. You're a beggar aboard this here boat. Don't aspire to anything else.' "'Aye, aye, sir,' said the quarter-master. "'And now that you've got to your bearings, as Trunnel would say, I'll tell you a little story about a man who lost a pet dog called Willie.' I saw that it was high time for me to get forward and slipped away. I turned in ready for a call, thinking that perhaps Trunnel was right in regard to our future prospects in the South Atlantic.' CHAPTER V When I turned out for the mid-watch that night, Trunnel met me at the door of the forward cabin. It was pitch dark on deck, and the wind had died away almost entirely. The canvas had been rolled up, as it had begun to slat heavily against the masts, with the heave from a long quick swell that ran rapidly from the southward. The running gear was not new, and Trunnel was a careful mate, so the ship was down to her upper top cells on the fore and mizzen, and a main top gallant on main mast, the courses fore and after being clued up and left hanging. "'He's out for trouble tonight,' said the little mate. "'Blast him if he ain't touchin' the booze again.' "'Who, the skipper?' I asked. "'He's been below twice during the watch, and each time he's gettin' worse and worse. There he comes now to the edge of the poop.' I looked and saw our old man rolling easily across the deck to the poop-rail. There he stopped and bawled out loudly, "'Lay aft to the main brace!' The men on watch hesitated a moment, and then came crowding aft and began to cast off the weather brace from its belaying pin. It was so dark I couldn't see how many men were there, but I noticed Bill the quartermaster, and as I stood waiting to see what would happen, a little sailor by the name of Johnson, who had a face like a monkey's and legs set wide apart so they never touch clear up to his waist, spoke out to a long-lean Yankee man who jostled me in the darkness. "'Don't pull a pound on the bleedin' line, the old cocks drunk, and we ain't here to be hazed around decks like a pack of damned boys.' The skipper, however, didn't wait to see if his order was carried out, but came down from the poop and asked for Trunel and myself. We went with him into the forward cabin, and he motioned us to sit down. "'Did you ever see such a lot of confounded fools?' he said. "'Here I calls for to take a pull in the main brace, and the whole crowd of duff-eaters come laying aft as if the skipper of a ship should blow them all off to drinks. Blast me, Trunel! I'd have thought you'd get them into better discipline. It's come to a fine state of things when the whole crew turns to every time I get thirsty. But never mind. Sing out as you says, and tell the steward what kind of pison you'll mix with your blood current. Mine's the same old thing.' "'It's my watch below now,' said Mr. Trunel. "'And if you'll excuse me, I'll turn in. The third mate's gone below some time ago.' "'Oh, the boat's all right. It's dead calm, and she can't hurt herself floating around this ocean,' said the old man. "'You can take a drink before you go. Steward! Ahoy there, steward!' "'Yes, sir,' said that active mulatto, springing out of his cabin. "'Yes, sir. I'll use you, Captain.' "'What do you have?' asked Thompson, addressing the mate. Trunel scratched his big bushy head a moment, and then suggested that a bottle of the ginger-pop which the steward had in the pantry would do for him. "'Hell him blazes, man! Take a drink or something!' cried Thompson, turning upon him with his fierce eyes. "'What's the matter with you?' "'Nothing. Only I drinks what I drinks, or else I don't drink at all,' said Trunel. "'You ask me what I'd have, and I says it.' "'All right, shorty,' said Thompson, in mock gravity. "'You drinks what you drinks. What's yours, Rowling?' "'As I've just turned to, a little soda will do for me,' I answered. "'I'd rather take my grog in the morning at regular hours.' Thompson let his hand fall upon the table with a crash, and then sat motionless, looking from one to the other, his long beak-like nose twitching convulsively. "'Steward!' said he, with a nasal draw which made his hooked nose wrinkle. "'Get Mr. Trunel a drink of ginger-pop, or milk if he prefers it. And then, Steward, you may get Mr. Rowling a drink of soda water. It's hot, but I reckon it'll fizz.' "'Yes, sir. What's your own, Captain?' "'You don't think there's a priest aboard here, do you, Steward, hey?' "'No, sir, taint lately, but I can find out, sir. Shall I get your drink first, sir?' "'Well, I don't know. I don't know, Steward. I can't think what I can take what won't offend these gentlemen. You might see first if there's a priest, and if you find one, you can bring me a pint or so of holy water. If it's too strong for you,' said he, turning toward Trunel and myself, I can get the Steward to dilute it for me, hey?' Trunel made no remark at this. 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 Trunel rose and went into his room with a rough good-night. Trunel arose and passed through the door in the bulkhead, and I went on deck to take charge. The night was quiet, and I leaned over the poop rail, looking into the water alongside, which appeared as black as ink. The pirate had little or no headway, for it was now dead calm. Forward at the bends a sudden flare of phosphorescent fire would burn for a moment, alongside, when the heavy ship rolled deeply and sourced her channels under. The southerly swell seemed to roll quickly as if there was something behind it, and the topsils slatted fore and aft with loud flaps as they backed and filled with emotion. It was a bad night for wearing out gear, and I was glad Trunel had rolled up the lighter canvas. Chafing gear had been scarce aboard, and nothing is so aggravating to a mate as to have his cotton or spars cut by useless rolling in a quiet sea-way. If sails can be kept full of wind they will last well enough with care, but let them slat for a few days, and there is more useless where than would take place in a month of ordinary weather with no headway to pay for it. When I looked into the dark water I noticed a long thin streak of fire moving slowly alongside. It wavered and snaked along, growing brighter at times, and then dying out almost completely. Suddenly it turned at the four channels and came slowly aft. I looked harder at the black surface below me and tried to see what caused the disturbance. In an instant I beheld a huge shadow, blacker than the surrounding water, outlined faintly with the phosphorescent glow. It was between twenty and thirty feet in length, and had the form of a shark. The grim monster swam slowly aft and rounded the stern, then sank slowly out of sight into the blackness beneath. There is something so uncanny in the silent watchfulness of these giants of the deep that a sailor always feels unpleasantly disposed toward them. I thought how ghastly would be the ending of any one who should get overboard that night, the sudden splash, the warm water about the body, and the heads of the fellows at the rail starting to pull the unfortunate aboard, then the sudden grizzly clutch from below, and the dragging down out of sight and sound forever. I began to actually reckon the amount of arsenic I should put into a chunk of beef to trick the giant at his last meal. Sharp lightning on Port Bow, sir, came the news from the forward, for although I was supposed to be able to see well enough, I had taught the men of my watch to sing out at everything unusual, more to be certain that they were awake than anything else. I looked up from the black depths in my unpleasant reflections and gazed to the southward. As I did so, several sharp flashes showed upon the dark horizon. It looked as if something were raising fast, and I stepped below a moment to see the glass. It was down to twenty-eight. Going on deck at once I bawled for the watch to clue down the main top gallant sill. In a moment the men were swarming up the main rigging and the sail was let go by the run, the yard settling nicely, while the clues, bunt lines, and leech lines were hauled down in unison. Misen top sail! I cried. The watch came up the poop ladders with a rush and tramping of feet that sound ominously loud for the work on so quiet a night. The yelling of the men at the braces, coupled with the tramping, aroused Captain Thompson in spite of his liquor, and he came up the after companion to see what was the matter. Hey there, hey! he bawled. What are you doing, Rawling? Are you coming to an anchor already? Have I been asleep six months, and is this the breakwater ahead? No. Well, do you expect to get to port without canvas on the ship? Split me, but I thought you knew how to sail a boat when you signed on his mate. Don't come any of these grandmother tricks on me, hey! I won't have it. Don't make a fool of yourself before these men. Get that top-sail up again quicker in hell can scorch a feather, or I'll be taking a hand, see! I'll be taking a hand. Jump lively, you dogs! He roared as he finished. The top-sail was swayed up again, the men silent and sullen with this extra work. Then came the order for the top-gallant sail, and by the time that was mass-headed the skipper followed with orders for royals, fore and aft. During the time these affairs were going on upon the ship, the southern horizon was lit up again and again by vivid flashes. It appeared to sink into a deeper gloom afterward, but in another moment we heard the distinct boom of thunder. Before we could get the top-gallant sail set there was a blinding flash off the bow-port, followed by a deep rolling peel of thunder. I was standing in the waste and sprang to Trunel's room, all hands! I bawled. Then I rushed for the mizzen rigging, yelling for the men to clue down the top-gallant sail and let the top-sail-howards go by the run. At the cry for all hands the men tumbled out, looking around to see what had happened. It was dead still, and the only sounds were the cries of the men on deck to those aloft, and the rattling of gear. Trunel was on deck in a moment, and as he rushed aft I went for the main rigging with the intention of saving the upper top-sail, if I could. It was quick work, getting up those rat-lines, but even as I went I heard a deepening murmur from the southward. The yard came down by the run as I gained the top, owing to Trunel having cast off everything, trusting that we might get some stops on the sail before too late. I heard the skipper roaring out orders to hurry there, followed by curses at the slowness of the work. He appeared to realize now what was happening, and it sobered him. As I crawled out to starboard with a couple of hands, Jackson of Trunel's watch and Davis of mine, the murmur to the southward swelled rapidly in volume. I glanced into the blackness, and as I did so there was a blinding flash. My eyes seemed to be burned out with the brightness, and a crashing roar thundered in my ears. Instantly afterward I heard Trunel's voice, hard up the wheel, hard up, for God's sake. Then with a rush that made the mass creak with the strain, and laid us slowly over, amid a thunder of thrashing canvas, the hurricane struck the ship. There was nothing to do but hold on, with both hands and feet. Jackson, who was outside of me, gripped the jackstay and threw his feet around the yard arm, which was springing and jumping away at a terrific rate with a shock of the cracking topsill. I did likewise, and noticed that the canvas was bellying forward, which showed that we were not back. If we were, I knew our lives were only questions of seconds. All sounds from below were silenced in the roar about us, but flash after flash, following rapidly in succession, showed me momentary glimpses of the deck. We were far over the water as the pirate was laying down with their top-gallant rail beneath the sea. The mizzen topsill had disappeared, as though made of vapor, leaving the mizzen clear. Forward the two topsills and four top-mass stay-sail were holding, but between the flashes the upper canvas melted away like a puff of steam, the ragged ends flying and thrashing into long ribbons to leeward. Three men were on the yard when I looked at first, and then, almost instantly afterward, the yard was bare. Whether they had gone overboard I could not tell, but the thought made me look to myself while I might. Pulling myself along the jack-stay until I reached the bunt, I managed to grasp a line that was tailing taut downward toward the deck. This I grasped quickly with both hands, and balling with all my might to Jackson and Davis to follow, I swung clear of the yard. Looking below, the sea appeared as white as milk in the ghastly light, with the ship's outline now dimly discernible in contrast. I breathed the prayer that the line was fast to midships and slid down. There was a terrific ripping instantly overhead, and I knew the topsill had gone. The line bowed out with the wind, but led toward the deck near the mast, and in a moment my feet struck the fife rail. I was safe for the present. Jackson followed close upon me, but Davis was unable to get the line. He was never seen again. Making my way aft by the aid of the weather rail, I reached the poop and climbed up the steps. The wind nearly swept me from my feet, but I managed to crawl aft to where I could make out by the flashes the forms of trunel and the skipper. She'll go off soon, yelled the mate in my ear. Nothing gone forwards yet, eh? Only the canvas and a couple of men, I yelled in reply. The wind began to draw further and further aft, showing that the ship was gradually gathering headway in spite of her list to starboard. Soon she began to write herself in the storm-torn sea. All was white as snow about us, and the whiteness gave a ghastly light in the gloom. I could now make out the main topsill, dimly, from where I stood, and the outline of the hull forward. Evidently the four lower topsill was holding still. Jackson, who was tall and strong, and who was an American by adoption, was put to the lee-wheel as his knowledge of English made him quick to obey. John, a swede, built very broad with stooping shoulders, and Erickson, a Norwegian with a great blonde 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 four topsill-yard. Trunnel and Captain Thompson called the men aft to the poop, and away we went into the gloom ahead. She was doing a good fifteen knots under her two, or rather one, storm-topsill, for we found out afterward that the four had gone almost instantly after she had paid off. The water was roaring whitestern, and the wind blew so hard that it was impossible to face it for more than a moment. The sea was making fast, and I began to wonder how long the vessel could run before the great heave, which I knew must soon follow us. Thompson stood bare-headed near the binocle, and roared to the men to be careful and keep her steady. It was plain he knew nothing of seamanship, but could tell that a thing must be done well after the mate had given orders. He was apparently perfectly sober now, and as cool as though on the beach. It was evident the man feared nothing and could command. I saw that I could be of little use aft, so I started forward, hoping to be able to keep a lookout for a shift of wind and get some gear ready to heave the vessel too. On reaching the main deck, things showed to be in a hopeless mess. Everything movable had gone to Leeward when she was hoved down, the running rigging was lying about, and no attempt had been made to coil it. The sea, which had been over the lee-rail, had washed that on the starboard side into long tangles which would take hours to clear. I stumbled over a massive rope which must have been the four topsoil brace. I saw a figure moving through the gloom along the bulwarks and called for the man to lay aft and coil down some of the gear. The man, however, paid no attention to me, but made his way into the forward cabin, and as the door opened and the light from within flashed out, I recognized the third mate. A man named Hans answered my hail, and I started forward again. The sea by this time was running rapidly. The ship was so deep that I knew she could not keep her deck clear, and I started to gain the top-gallant forecastle where the height would make it safer. Just as I gained the highest step, a tremendous sea following, broke clear along the top of the rail in the waist, and went forward a good five feet above her bulwarks, the entire length of the main deck. It was terrific! The thundering crash, and smothering jar nearly paralyzed me for a moment. In the dim glare I could see rails, stanchions, boats, rigging, all in the furious white rush. The pirates settled under the load and seemed to stop perfectly still. Then another huge sea went roaring over her, and blotted out everything to the edge of the forecastle ahead. I stood looking down at the main deck in amazement. How long would the hatches stand that strain? Everything was out of sight underwater, save the top of the forward house. I looked up into the roaring void above me and breathed a parting prayer, for it seemed that the ship's end must be at hand. Then I was aware that she was broaching too, and I grabbed the rail to meet the sea. Every stitch of canvas had gone out of her now, and nothing but the barriards were left aloft. How they ever stood the frightful strain was a miracle, and spoke volumes for the Yankee rigors who fitted her out. The wind bore more and more a beam, and under the pressure she healed over, letting the great load on her deck's roar off in a torrent to Leeward, over the top gallant rail in waterways. A sea struck her so heavily that the larger portion of it went thundering clear across her forty feet of deck, landing bodily to Leeward as though the ship were below the surface. I could hear a balling coming faintly from the poop, and new trunel was trying to heave her too. Something flooded from the mizzen rigging and disappeared into the night. Part of a tarpaulin had gone, but it was a chance to get another piece large enough on the rat-lines to hold her head up. I tried to make my way aft again to help, for I saw it was about our only hope, and started to crawl along the weathered top gallant rail. Then a form sprang from the black recess under the forecastle-head, and seized me tightly around the body. End of chapter. CHAPTER VI. The suddenness of this attack and the peculiar position I was in when seized put me at a disadvantage. The quick breathing of the man behind me, and the strong force he put forward as he rushed me towards the ship's side, may be aware that I was in a bad fix. The assassin was silent as the grave, save for his panting, but his bearded face against mine was visible enough to show me, the former captain of the ship. I was carried half over the rail in an instant by the power of the rush. The foam showed beneath me, and for a moment it seemed that the man would accomplish his deadly purpose. It was with a hard feeling of certain death before me that I clutched wildly at the forecastle rail. Luckily my hand caught it, and I was saved from the dive over the side. Then with frantic strength, I twisted around enough to seize the fellow, and dropped on my knees with a grip around his middle. It was up and down and all over that side of the forecastle head for some minutes, until we were both getting tired. We were apparently alone forward, and the fight would be one of endurance, unless the Ruffian happened to have some weapon about him. We struggled on and on in the gloom, with a hurricane roaring over us, carrying the spray and drift in a smothering storm into our faces. A hand would slip with a wet grip, only to take a fresh hold again, and strain away to get the other under. We rolled with the ship, and after a particularly hard rally, in which I had my hand badly bitten, we eased up near the edge of the forecastle head. During this breathing spell, I managed to get my foot braced against the ring-boat. This gave me a slight advantage for a sudden push. In an instant I shoved with all my might, driving us both to the edge. The Ruffian saw what was coming and tried to turn, but it was too late. One single instant of frantic fighting, half suspended in the air, and then over we went, myself on top. We landed heavily upon the main deck, and the shock, falling even as I did upon the body under me, stunned me for several moments. My captain lay motionless. Then, when a sudden rush of cool water poured over us, I came to my senses and started to my feet. In another moment I had passed a line around the Desperado, and was dragging him under the Lee of the Windless, where I finally made him fast to the bits. When I started aft again, I found the trunel had managed to get a tarpaulin into the mizzen rigging, and by the aid of this bit of canvas, the pirate had at last headed the sea within five points. It now took her forward of the beam, and hoeved her down to her bearings with each roll to leeward. The sea breaking heavily across the main deck, keeping the waterways waist deep with the white surge. In this rush objects showed darkly where they floated from their fastenings until they drifted to a waterport and passed on overboard. I finally managed to dodge the seas enough to get aft alive, though one caught me under the lee of the fore rigging, and nigh smothered me as it poured over the top gallant rail. Trunel stood near the break of the poop, and beside him were the skipper and third mate. I noticed a look of surprise come upon the young officer's face when I came close to them. It was much lighter now, and the actions of this young fellow interested me. I thought you might have been drowned! he cried in his high female voice, but with a significant tone and look at the last word which was not lost on me in spite of the elements. Everything is all snug forward, I answered bawling at the captain, but looking fairly at the third mate. You can let a few men go and rivet irons on the convict by the windless bits. He seems to have little trouble unlocking these. And I held up the unlocked irons I had picked up under the forecastle. As I held the irons under the third officer's nose, he drew back. Then he took them and flung them with an impatient gesture over the side into the sea. I thought I heard a fierce oath and a deep voice nearby, but Trunel and the captain were both staring up at the fringe flying from the main topsill yard, and had evidently said nothing. There was little more to do now, for as long as the ship held her head to the sea, she would probably ride it out, unless some accident happened. I was worn out with the exertion from handling canvas in my fracas forward, so after bawling out some of the details of the occurrence into Trunel's ear, I took my watch below to get a rest. The men who preferred to stay aft clear of the water were allowed to lie down near the mizzen. Some took advantage of this permission, but for the most part they stood huddled in a group along the spanker boom, ready for a call. I had made it a rule long ago, when I first gone to sea, that I would never miss a watch below when my turn came if I could be spared with convenience. It is a question always with a sailor when he will be called to shorten sail for a blow, and the best thing he can do is to keep regular hours when he can, and stand by for a crisis when all hands are necessary. With a captain it might be different, for the entire responsibility rests upon him. He also does not have to stand watch, and consequently has no reason to be tired after several hours on deck. But with a sailor or mate who stands his four hours off and on, he must take care he is not pushed beyond his time, for the occasion will certainly come sooner or later, when he will have to stand through several watches without a rest. Then, if he is already tired out, he will be useless. I turned in with a strange feeling about the matter forward, and the third officer's conduct. Although I knew Trunel would take care that the Ruffian would not get loose again that night during his watch, I took out a heavy revolver from my locker, and stuck it under the pillow of my bunk. Then I saw that the door and port were fast before I jammed myself in for a rest. I lay a long time thinking over the strange outfit on board, and the more I thought over the matter, the more I became convinced that the third officer had taken a hand in letting Andrew's loose to try his hand on me again. There was something uncanny about this officer with a woman's voice, and I actually began to have a secret loathing not entirely unmixed with fear for him. When I turned out for the morning watch, Trunel met me in the alleyway. He looked wild and bushy from his exposure to the elements, his hair being in snarls and tangles from having a salwester jammed over his ears, and his great flat nose was red from the irritation of the water that struck and streamed over his bearded face. His wisters gleamed with salt in the light of the lamp, and he spat with great satisfaction as he breathed the quiet air of the cabin. It's letting up, rolling, he said. There's a little light to the easter now. Sink me, but we have a job bending gear. Everything gone out of her but her spars, and Lord knows how they stand it. How would you come to get caught with all that canvas on her? Look here, Trunel, I answered, you know I'm a sailor, even if I'm not much else, and you know how that canvas came to be on her. I'm almost glad it's gone. I would be if it wasn't for the fact that we'll be longer than usual on this run, and I've about made up my mind that the quicker a decent man gets out of this ship, the better. I was buttoning up my oil-skins while I spoke. And Trunel smiled a queer bit of a smile, which finally spread over his bearded face and crinkled up the corners of his little eyes into a network of lines and wrinkles. I heard the outfly, said he, and I was only joking you about the canvas. It's a queer world, you wouldn't think it, but if you want to see a true picture of responsibility are resting heavy like upon the digestion of a man, you'll do well to take a good look at the old man astounded there on the poop. What for, says you? God knows, says me, but there he is, without a drop of liquor or nothing in him since he heard you bella for all hands. I should think he'd feel a little upset after the way he caught her, I answered. He probably has the owner's interests a little at heart. But Trunel shook his head until the water flew around. You're off again, Miss Sun, it ain't that at all. That man don't care a whoop for all the owner's livin', not he. Sink me, rolling, I've got a big head, but nothin' much in it. In spite of this, though, I knows a thing or two when I seize it. That man has some other object and bein' nervous about this here hooker besides owners. Don't ask me what it is, cause I don't know, but I knows what it ain't. The whole outfit is queer, I answered, and the sooner I get out of her, the better satisfied I'll be. No decent sailor would ship in the craft if he could help it. Trunel gave me a queer look. Then he saw I meant to no offence and shook his great head again. Did it ever occur to ye that ye have a duty to do in the world besides huntin' soft jobs? Certainly not that of hunting hard ones. I answered, fastening my belt. Trunel's face underwent a change. He was serious, and waited until I'd strapped my sour-wester under my chin before saying anything. Maybe I'm wrong, and maybe I ain't, he said. But I believes a man has duties to stick to while he's on watch above water. One of these is not to turn tail and skut away, a showin' your stern to every hard thing as comes along. No, sir, when ye runs into a hard gang, like some of these here aboard this hooker, stick to her, says me. If every man who's honest should turn his stern to a vessel that's got a bad name, what would happen to her? Why, any suckin' swab of a cabin-boy can tell you that she get worse and worse with the bad ones that would take your place. Ain't that reason? There's got to be some men to manna-ship, and if no honest ones will, one of them will be a man. Then the owners can't do less than hire rascals. You can't sink a ship just because things have happened to board her? Oh Lord, no. Think a bit, Rowling, and tell me if you ain't blame-glad you were here, and bein' here you must to save some poor devil of a sailor from gettin' killed this voyage? I'm blame-sorry, I, ever. Well, now, supposin' I'd been ashore the day you had the Freakess on the main deck. Where'd you been, now, hey? A hundred fathom-deep, sure as Andrews is aboard this here ship, if I knows anything of his ways, and I've sailed two voyages with him afore. No, man, brace up and do your duty as you may. If every good man was to stay out of bad ships, they'd get so the devil himself will be a fear to go to see in them. I smiled at the little fella. Here was a man who had the reputation of being but little better than an unhung pirate, preaching a most unselfish doctrine. We had been below for several minutes, and I could hear the captain's voice bawling out some order on the deck overhead. The bells were struck by the automatic clock in the cabin, and I turned to go. You're a good Christian, anyhow, Trunnel, I said as I started. Trunnel gave a snort and threw his quid in a corner near a cuspador. I ain't never seen the inside of a church. I only tries to do the square thing to whoever is a runnin' of the sea outfit. Same as you'll do if you take the trouble to think a minute. I was out on the deck, and the wind almost blew me into the scuppers. The captain was standing right above me on the poop, watching the growing light in the east. The waste was full of foaming water that roared and surged and washed everything movable about. Above, the mast and spars looked dark in the dim gray light of the early morning, the strips of canvas stretching away from the jackstays and flicking dismalay to Leeward. All the yards, however, were trimmed nicely, showing Trunnel's master hand, and on the main mast, bellying and straining with the pressure, was a new storm-spenser, set snug and true, holding the plunging vessel up to the great rolling sea that came like a living hill from the southwest. Forward, a bit of a stay sail was set as taught as a drumhead, looking no bigger than a good-sized handkerchief. Aft, a trisail, set on the spanker-boom, helped the tarpaulin in the mizzen to bring her head to the sea. I climbed up the poop ladder and took a look around. It was a dismal sight. As far as the eye could reach through the white haze of the flying drift, the ocean presented a dirty steel-gray color, torn into long, ragged streaks of white where the comers rolled on the high seas before the gale. Overhead all was a deep blank of gray vapor. The wind was not blowing nearly as hard as it had during my last watch on deck, but the sea was rolling heavier. It took the pirate fare on the port bow, and every now and then again it rose so high above her top-gallant rail that it showed green light through the mass that would crash over to the deck and go roaring white to leeward, making the main deck uninhabitable. Sometimes a heavy, quick comber would strike her on the bluff of the bow, and the shock would almost knock the men off their feet. Then the burst of water would shoot high in the air, going sometimes clear to the top-gallant yard, nearly a hundred feet above the deck. While all forward would disappear in the flying spray and spume. Fine weather, rolling hay! Bald the skipper to me as I gained the poop. Oh, it isn't so bad the way she's taken it now. If she hangs on as well as this during the watch, she'll make good weather of it all right, I said. I'm glad you think so, my son. Just call down to the steward to bring me a bracer. Who, just look at that! As he spoke a huge sea rose on the weather-bow, and bore down on the staggering ship, it struck her fair, and rolled over her so heavily that I had to grab a line to keep from being knocked down. The main deck was full of water, and as it roared off through the ports and over the lee rail, I looked to see if anything had gone with it. Then I realized how well we had been washed during the night. From the forecastle aft to the poop there was nothing left, except the hatches and deck-house. The boats were all stove to match wood, except one that was lashed to the forward house. The bulwarks were smashed for many feet along both sides, but this was no real damage, as it allowed the sea to run off easier, relieving the deck of the heavy load. The whole main deck for an aft was as clean-stripped as could be, and the hatches alone were saving us from filling and going under. It was a dismal sight, and the men who stood huddled on the forecastle and poop looked, in their yellow oil-skins, like so many yellow ghosts. I went aft to the wheel, and found that Hans and Johnson were steering without much difficulty, although they had all they could do to hold her when a sea struck aft. Far a stern the light seemed to be growing brighter, and while I looked there appeared some long streaks in the heavy banks of vapor, which showed a break or two. I took the glass which hung on the side of the grating, and cleaned the lens with my hand. Swaping the storm torn to horizon to the southward, nothing showed but rolling seas and haze. I turned the glass to the northward, and in a moment I saw a black speck rise, and then disappear from the line of vision. Vessel to Lord, sir! I bowed to the captain. I don't care for forty vessels, Rowling. Get me that steward with a liquor, or there'll be one afloat here without a second mate. End of chapter.