Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship Part 11

"'No,' says she, in a sort o' jangled tone, 'eets my little gal I looks fer--she's aboard here wid th' capt'in,'

"'Ye can't see her,' says Garnett, 'an' ye better get ash.o.r.e afore I calls one av thim Dago soldiers to carry ye off an' marry ye.'

"I cud jest get th' glint av th' old woman's eyes, then she bent her head lower.

"'E--eets my leetle gal I must see,' an' there was somethin' in her voice that made one pay attention, 'twas so deep an' solemn like. I ware listening an' a few soldiers av th' army what was camped in th' town came up an' stopped an' looked on.

"'She ware a good leetle gal--an' I cared for her--Yes, by G.o.d, she ware a good gal,' said th' old one, hoa.r.s.ely.

"I cud see O'Toole turn away his head an' Garnett sniff hard at his vial.

'Twas good, he used to say, fer things in th' head. Thin he turned to th'

old woman.

"'Ye better get ash.o.r.e, old gal, she ain't aboard here. We don't take thim kind on deep water.'

"'I must see her afore I goes,' says th' old woman, an' her voice ware a whisper that died away, but ware so full av force O'Toole turned to her.

"'Was it Mrs. Jameson ye wished to see?' he asked.

"The old woman nodded.

"'Well--er--faith, an' she--er,' an' thin he stopped to look at Garnett.

"'She had an accident, by yer lave, 'bout a month ago. How was it ye niver hearn tell? Waren't ye here whin th' old man brought her ash.o.r.e?'

"'I come from 'Frisco,' says she.

"'Well, I s'pose ye might as well know now as niver,' O'Toole blurted out; 'she's dead, owld woman. Been dead a month gone. Th' old man buried her dacent like, fer, as ye say, she ware a rale good gal, 'pon me whurd, fer a fact, she ware that. 'Tis hard to tell ye, but it's th' truth, th'

whole truth, an' divil a bit besides.'

"While he talked th' old woman's head went lower, and whin he finished, she gave a hard gasp. Thin she stood huddled forninst th' deck-house, an'

Garnett started forward to th' men at work stevin' th' last av th' cargo.

"All av a sudden like I saw her raise her face an' spit a b.u.t.ton from her mouth. Her eyes ware starin' an' lookin' at th' hill away off t' th'

eastward av th' town an' beyant to th' great southern mountings av th'

Andes range. Thin she slowly straightened up an' walked wid a firm step along th' deck an' th' gang-plank.

"Th' soldier men made way for her on th' dock, but she looked straight beyant her nose an' held her way firm an' strong until she went out av sight, lavin' O'Toole starin' after her.

"''Pon me whurd, Garnett,' he called, ''tis a most wonderful thing, look!'

"''Tis a mother's love, ye haythen; 'pon me whurd, there's nothin' else like it. See how th' news affected th' poor old crayther. It puts me in mind av the time whin I had an old leddy t' look after me. 'Tis a rale jewil av a thing, an' a man only has it th' onct.'

"'More's th' pity,' says Garnett. 'Sink ye, but ye sure are a tough one to tell th' old gal on so short notice. But ye niver did have no feelin's, ye bloomin' heathen.'

"''Pon me sowl, what cud I do else?'

"'O' course, 'tain't likely a rough feller like you could do any better, but whin any wimmen folks come aboard agin, come to a man as is used to thim. A man as can talk an' act in a way they likes. A man wid some ways to him. A man--' Here he stooped an' picked up th' b.u.t.ton th' old gal had dropped.

"'Where did this come from?' he asked.

"'She had it in her mouth,' says O'Toole.

"'Well, it's one av th' b.u.t.tons off a uniform that ain't healthy to be wearin' around these parts just now.' An' then they both looked hard at th' little thing.

"'D'ye s'pose it cud have been?' asked O'Toole.

"'Been what?' says Garnett.

"'Jameson, ye blatherin' ijiot. Jameson, th' same as left his wife, a-comin' here huntin' for her. 'Twas so, fer a fact. He had it in his mouth to kape us from knowin' his voice, an' by th' same tokin, I calls to mind th' chokin' in his throat, the scand'lous owld woman he was.'

"'Stave me, but ye might have been right for onct in yer life, so bear a hand an' let's stand away after him an' ketch th' old leddy an' see,'

says Garnett.

"They started off without listenin' to my hail, so I climbed down to th'

dock an' follows. It was evenin' now, an' th' street was crowded, but they pushed along ahead av me.

"Ye see it ware Jameson, sure enough, an whin he heard his wife ware dead, he wint up that street like a man in a dream. He forgot all about his dress, an' his face ware hard set like a man thinkin' over th' past.

He had some five minutes' start av th' mates, an' whin a poor beggar woman spoke to him he scared her half to death with his voice when he asked her th' way to th' cemetery. Thin he remembered his disguise, stepped into a doorway, pulled off th' dress an' hat an' flung thim to th' old beggar woman, an' went his way.

"Garnett an' O'Toole came along a few minutes later an' saw th' beggar.

"'There he is. That's him,' sung out the old sailor, pintin' to th' old gal walkin' along wid her rags tied in a bundle tucked under her arm, fer she had made s.h.i.+ft to change thim fer Jameson's slops.

"''Pon me whurd, ye're right fer onct agin,' says O'Toole.

"'Well, don't go a-spoilin' th' thing this time. Let me sail inter him, an' if I wants yer, I'll sing out, an' ye can bear a hand an' help.'

Garnett swung across th' street to overhaul th' old woman, an' came up behind her.

"'Evenin', old lady, I wants to have a talk wid ye;' an' he lays his hand on her shoulder wid a grip to take a piece av flesh out. She stopped an'

turned quick.

"'_Caramba_!' she yells; 'I teach ye to insult a dacent old lady, you Yankee dog. Help! Murder! ye b.l.o.o.d.y raskil! Help, help!' Thin she ware upon him like a wild cat, a clawin' an' bitin', screechin' and yellin'.

"'Sink you for a b.l.o.o.d.y scoundrel, Jameson, I knows ye,' roared Garnett.

'Larry, there, bear a hand. I have him.'

"'Hold him thin, ye brave man,' sings out O'Toole, comin' up. 'Go it, owld gal, give it to him. 'Tis a leddy-killer he is fer sure, 'pon me whurd, fer a fact. Claw him, bite him, even though he's as tough as nails. Yell him deaf, owld leddy. Do it fer his mether's sake, th'

scand'lous owld rake he is. Get his year in yer teeth an' hold on, fer 'tis a leddy-killer ye have in yer hands at last. Whang his hide off!

Whang him! Whang him!' An' I thought th' old raskil would die av laffin'.

"We ware crowdin' around thim to see th' fun, an' th' way that old gal whanged an' lammed, an' lammed an' whanged, wud have brung tears to yer eyes. 'Twas too much fer human natur' to stan', an' so away goes Garnett down th' street as fast as his bow-legs can git him over th' beach, wid his sheets slacked off a-runnin' free, an' likewise, b' th' same tokin, away squares th' old leddy wid her skysails set an' everythin' drawin'

'cept her skirts, which she holds b' th' clews an' bunts.

"'After him! Catch th' blackguard!' bawls O'Toole, rolling on th'

pavement, laffin' an' bawlin'.

"That old beggar was clipper built, fer sure, for wid her skirts clewed up she ware bearin' down fast on th' old mate an' kept his bow-legs a-lurchin' afore th' crowd a-comin' along in th' wake a-yellin' an'

hootin' like mad. A man jumped out to stop him, but I knowed Garnett would niver stop this side o' th' gangway av his s.h.i.+p, an' sure 'nuff, out flashes his hand an? th' Dago rolls over an' over. They yelled harder than ever, an' Garnett had to shake out another reef afore he could make th' gang-plank, an' get aboard. He managed to get below jest as some soldiers rushed up. Th' noise brought Andrews on deck in time to get men to keep th' crowd off his s.h.i.+p, an' thin O'Toole comes up.