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Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship Part 23

Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship - BestLightNovel.com

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This shows how a sailor is at the mercy of any one who has been established in authority. If he resists in any manner, he is mutinous and is liable to the severest penalties. Here we were with every prospect of having Andrews and our third mate on board again, to go through some other horror, unless we turned pirates and took the s.h.i.+p. This was a risky thing to attempt, for if successful and there was any bloodshed, we would certainly either swing or pa.s.s under a heavy sentence. That is, of course, if we failed to prove that Thompson was the rascal Jim had told us he was. On the other hand, if we failed, there was the absolute certainty of being at the mercy of the rascal's cruelty, unless Trunnell would be able to control them all.

The little mate was a strange character. He believed in obeying orders under any conditions whatever, unless absolute proof could be had that the one who gave the orders was unauthorized to do so. In spite of his friends.h.i.+p for me, I knew full well that he would die rather than disobey the captain, no matter what the order was, provided he considered it a legitimate one. The fact that the men had committed horrible crimes did not in any manner disinherit them from the s.h.i.+p in his opinion. They should be dealt with afterward according to the law.

I took no part in an argument. Neither did Trunnell or the skipper. They both seemed satisfied of their position and took no pains to talk to the men as if they suspected a rising. I stood in the waist and remained looking steadily at the horizon until the sun dipped, and there was every prospect that night would come before we raised the black mast of the wreck. My pistol was in my pocket ready for instant use, and I saw by the bunch under Chips' coat that he was also ready. His small black mustache was worked into points under the pressure of his nervous fingers, and he sat on the hatch-combings apart from all save Johnson. The sailor walked athwarts.h.i.+ps before him on the deck as if to get the stiffness out of his little legs, which seemed now thinner than ever, as the setting sun shone between them through the curious gap.

The upper limb of the red sun was just touching the line of water when the man in the foretop hailed the deck.

"Wreck on weather bow, sir!" he bawled.



My heart gave a great jump and I looked at Chips. Johnson made a movement with his hand as if holding a knife and went to the weather rail and looked over.

"Weather maintopsail brace!" came the call from Trunnell. The men came tumbling aft and took their places.

"Lee braces, Mr. Rolling," he called again, and I crossed the deck, knowing that he would jam her as high as he could to make as far to windward as possible before darkness set in.

We braced her sharper, and she pointed a bit higher, but she could not quite head up to the black stick that showed above the horizon. The wind, however, was steady, and under her royals the _Pirate_ was about the fastest and prettiest s.h.i.+p afloat. She heeled gently to the breeze and went through it to the tune of seven knots, rolling the heft of the long sea away from her clipper bows and tossing off the foam without a jar or tremble. I looked hard at the distant speck which was now just visible from the deck, and wondered how Andrews and his crew felt. I could see nothing of the _Sovereign's_ hull, and hope rose within me. I found myself saying over and over again to myself, "She's gone under, she's gone under." Then just before it grew too dark to see any longer I went aft and took up the gla.s.s. Through it the black forecastle of the wreck showed above the sea.

XIX

It was quite dark before the _Pirate_ had come up with the wreck. The skipper and Trunnell had gone below to their supper, and I had charge of the deck, with orders to heave the s.h.i.+p into the wind when we came abreast, and sing out for the mate to man the boat.

We were barely able to make within half a mile dead to leeward, but when we did, I backed the main yards and clewed up the courses, taking in the royals to keep from drifting off too fast in the gloom.

Trunnell came on deck and gave orders to get out the boat. She was soon at the channels, jumping and thras.h.i.+ng in the sea, for the breeze was now quite strong. The mate jumped into her with four men, and Thompson went to the break of the p.o.o.p and told me I could go below to supper. Chips and the steward came aft, also, and we made out to eat a square meal in silence, each making a sign to his neighbor toward the back of his belt.

While we ate, listening for the sound of oars that would tell of the return of the boat, we could hear s.n.a.t.c.hes of the sad talk of the two women in the after-cabin, through the bulkhead. This did not tend to raise our spirits, and we hurried through to be on deck when Trunnell returned.

Scarcely had we gained the main deck when we heard the regular sound of the oars and oar-locks. Soon the dim shadow of the boat was seen heading toward us, outlined against the light in the eastern sky where the moon was rising.

We took our places at the waist and awaited developments. Jackwell stood directly above me, and I could see his face with its glinting eyes turned toward me. His mustache was waxed into sharp points and curved upward, while his protruding chin and beak-like nose appeared to draw even nearer together. He was evidently quite well satisfied that he would be able to take care of his pa.s.sengers, for he said nothing to me to indicate that he was disturbed by my proximity to the gangway.

I had decided to shoot Andrews the moment he came over the side, without a word. This much I had confided to Chips and Johnson. They would stand by me if there was a general attack, and we would make the best terms possible afterward.

The boat drew close aboard, and I could see the backs of the rowers swing fore and aft to the stroke. Then she shot alongside and was fast to the mizzen channels, and I stepped back ready for action. Jackwell noticed my move and drew his pistol. I drew mine, and glancing around I saw that the carpenter and Johnson were standing near, with their weapons at hand, and half a dozen sailors with them. I would not be alone.

A form sprang over the side, and I raised my weapon almost before I knew it. Then I recognized Trunnell.

"You can disarm that young fool, Trunnell," said Jackwell, putting away his gun. "It's lucky for him you've come back without any one, or I'd have shot him in half a second more."

The little mate came down the p.o.o.p steps and went up to me.

"You better go below, Rolling," said he. "I didn't tell him," he added under his breath, "that you had said you'd mutiny afore I left, or he would probably have done for both you and Chips. He doesn't even know now that Chips was with you, so get into your room and pipe down."

I was so dazed at Trunnell coming back alone I could hardly talk. I looked again over the side to see if there was no mistake. All the men were now aboard, and only the empty craft was there, dancing at the end of her painter. Then I turned and followed the mate below, he stopping just long enough to give orders to hoist in the boat and swing the yards.

Jackwell went to the wheel, and away the s.h.i.+p went to the westward, leaving the shadowy thing there on the eastern horizon to mark the end of a fine s.h.i.+p. I stopped a moment to look at the derelict, and the rising moon cast a long line of silver light across the sea.

Out in that s.h.i.+ning track, a dark stick rose from the water. That was the last I saw of the _Sovereign_.

"Where were they?" I asked Trunnell, as we came into the cabin.

"Well," said the little mate, coolly, "since you've worked yourself up so much over the matter, and as we're a-goin' along on our course agin, as I suggested to the skipper afore we raised the wrack"--here he went to the pantry and brought out a bottle, and held it out to me.

"No," I said; "I don't want anything to drink. Tell me what became of the fellows on the wreck. It's my second watch, if I remember right, and I'll be ready to turn out at eight bells."

"Well," said Trunnell, "where they is an' where they is not, stumps me.

Where a feller goes when he dies is mostly a matter o' guesswork, so I don't know as I can say eggzackly jest where them fellers is at."

Here he took a long drink, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. I put my gun in my room, and sat down at the cabin table, where he held the bottle as though undecided whether to take another drink or put it away in the pantry. Rum appeared to be easy of access on the s.h.i.+p, and I knew I could get it any time I wanted it.

"Well, ye see, the way of it ware like this," went on the mate. "I didn't take no stock o' those fellers bein' aboard a s.h.i.+p what had been afire, so when ye went into stays an' swore to do b.l.o.o.d.y murder an'

suddin death to them fellers, I didn't let on to the old man. What's the use? says I. We ain't a-goin' to bring them back noways."

"Weren't they aboard?" I asked.

Trunnell gave me a long, keen look.

"Be ye tellin' o' this yarn, Rolling, or me?" he said.

I asked his pardon for interrupting.

"As I ware a-sayin' afore ye put in your oar, when I hears that ye both had told the truth o' the matter o' the fight, it appeared to me that them fellers couldn't be aboard that wrack. I told the old man so, but he ware fer standin' along after them anyways. Then I ware clean decided that the wrack had done fer them."

"Wasn't there a sign of them aboard?" I asked again.

"There's such a thing as bein' inquisitive," said Trunnell, looking at me with his keen little eyes from under their s.h.a.ggy brows. "Them men ain't on that wrack--an' I told the skipper so, see?"

He pulled out his sheath-knife, went to the door of the cabin, and flung it clear of the s.h.i.+p's side. Then he came back.

"There's some such thing as justice on s.h.i.+ps, when the fellers go too far; but discipline is discipline. The sooner ye get that through yer head, the better. As fer them men with Andrews, they had give up any right to live afore I got there. I told the old man that the chances were agin their bein' found there. I comes back and reports that they ain't there. That's all. Where they is I don't much keer. They is plenty o'

sharrucks in this here ocean, and some parts o' them is most likely helpin' them. The rest is mostly in h.e.l.l, I reckon, but as I says afore, that is a matter o' mostly guesswork."

A dim idea of the horror he had gone through came upon me.

"Good G.o.d, Trunnell," I said, "did you do it alone?"

"Well, there ware only one strong one in the lot--but look here, young man, if ye don't turn in pretty soon, ye'll be in trouble agin."

He poured himself out another drink, and put the bottle in the pantry.

Then he went on deck, and I turned in to think over the spectacle that must have occurred aboard the blackened derelict. I could see Andrews's hope and the third mate's joy at being rescued. I could even picture them undergoing the wild joy I had just felt myself, when we had sighted the _Pirate_. Then came that nameless something. Had the men seen it? A rescuer coming aboard with a b.l.o.o.d.y knife in his belt, and the s.h.i.+p standing away again on her course for the States on the other side of the world!

There would be no explanations, and the blackened wreck, half sunken in the swell, would tell no tales. Trunnell was really a strange character.

"Discipline is discipline," I seemed to hear him saying all my watch below. His step sounded above my head as he walked fore and aft, during his watch; and during the periods of fitful slumber I enjoyed before eight bells struck, I fancied him a great giant whose feet struck with a thunderous sound at every stride. I was almost startled when his great bushy head was thrust into my room door, and he announced loudly that it was the mid-watch, and that I would need a stout jacket to ward off the cold.

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Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship Part 23 summary

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