Chapter 14

"Do not wait for me, madam," said Jackwell, to Mrs. Sackett. "I shall not come aboard my ship in this condition. You get Mr. Rolling to take you and your daughter, and I'll follow, after Captain Henry has given me a new suit of clothes."

This appeared to be the best thing to do, as the brig's men were now getting boisterous with the grog, and our men were drinking also. The ladies were tired of the performance, although they had enjoyed some of it very much, and they were glad when I called away the boat's crew to take them back to the _Pirate_.

Jackwell appeared at the rail as we started off.

"Rolling," said he, "tell Trunnell not to stay awake at night worrying about my health. This bath will not strike in and tickle me to death as you might be agreeable enough to suppose."

"Hurry and change your clothes, captain," cried Mrs. Sackett.

"Madam," said he, with great solemnity as the oars were dropped across, "do not grieve for me. It will make me unhappy for the rest of my pious existence if you do. Fare thee well."

We were now on our way back to the ship, and he stood a moment, waved his hand, and then disappeared down the companionway.

In ten minutes we were aboard again, and I met Chips in the waist as I stopped to get a piece of tobacco.

"Well, what was it?" I asked.

"Faith, an' I got caught," said Chips, with a sickly grin.

"How was it?" I asked. "Come, tell me, while Ford and Tom get the cushions out of the boat;" and I drew the carpenter into the door of the forward cabin where Trunnell couldn't see us.

"'Twas a fine thing ye made me do, but no matter," he began. "Ye see, whin ye had started well on yer way to th' fisher, I thinks now is th' time av me life. Trunnell ware sitting and smokin' on the wheel-gratin', an' all ware as quiet as ye please. I wint below whistling to set him off his guard, like; an' whin I sees me way clear I takes me chance at the afther-cabin, an' in I goes. I stopped whistlin' whin I makes th' enthry, an' I steered straight fer th' chist forninst the captin's room. The door ware open, an' I see the chist ware a little trunk av a thing, no bigger than a hand-bag, so to speak. Up on top av it ware a pile av charts an' things sech as th' raskil sung out to Trunnell not to touch. 'Twas a cute little thing to do; fer how I could get inter th' outfit without a-movin' them struck me.

"I finally grabs th' side av th' trunk an' tries to lift it. Ye may say I lie, but s'help me, I cud no more lift that little trunk than th' ship herself.

"Gold? Why, how cud it 'a' been anything but solid gold? I cud lift that much lead easy. I stopped a minit and took out me knife, me mind made up to thry th' lock. I give wan good pick at ut, an' thin I hears a sort av grunt. There ware Trunnell a-lookin' right down at me from th' top av th' afther-companion.

"Sez he, 'An' what may ye be a-doin' wid th' old man's trunk,' sez he.

"'Sure 'tis me own I thought it ware, by th' weight av it,' sez I.

"'Is it so heavy, thin?' sez he.

"'Faith, ye thry an' lift it,' sez I.

"He come down th' ladder an' took a-hold, shutting th' door to keep th' steward from a-lookin' in. Thin he takes hold av th' thing an' lifts fer th' good av his soul. Nary a inch does it move.

"'I wud have opened it, but I heard th' captin's order not to disturb th' charts atop av it,' sez I.

"'Ye would, ye thafe,' sez he. 'An' if ye had, inter irons would ye go fer th' raskil ye are. I never thought ye ware so bad, Chips,' sez he.

"'Tis a victim av discipline I am, fer sure, thin,' sez I. 'Ye know I wud no more steal th' matther av a trunk than fly.'

"'An' who give ye th' order, ye disciplinarian?' sez he.

"'Me conscience,' sez I.

"'Ye better go forrads an' tell yer conscience th' fact that it's a bad wan fer an honest man to travel wid,' sez he. 'An' tell him also to mind what I says about obeyin' orders aboard this here ship. If yer conscience iver wants to command a ship, he don't want to forget that discipline is discipline, an' whin it comes to thavery, discipline will get ye both in irons. Slant away afore I loses my temper an' sails inter ye,' sez he.

"So here I am, all in a mess wid that little mate. But th' trunk av gold is safe on th' cabin floor."

I had nothing to say further than that the matter couldn't be helped. If the trunk was all right, we might land a fortune yet in the reward Jim had told us about. Jackwell must have made off with a snug little sum. I climbed over the side again with some of the skipper's clothes, and we started slowly back to the brig to get him.

Ford was rowing bow oar, and Johnson aft, and both rowing easily made us go very slow. However, there was no hurry. Jackwell would in all probability take several drinks after his bath, and we would only have to wait aboard the whaler for him until he was ready. The sea was so smooth that the boat hardly rippled through it, and the sun was warm, making me somewhat drowsy. The two men rowed in silence for some time, and then Ford suddenly looked ahead to see how we were going.

"What's the matter with the bloomin' brig?" said he, rowing with his chin on his shoulder.

I looked around, and it seemed as though we had already gone the full distance to her, and yet had as far again to go. The _Pirate_ was certainly half a mile away and there was the brig still far ahead.

"Give way, bullies," I said. "Break an oar or two."

The men made a response to the order, and the boat went along livelier. I looked at the brig, and suddenly I noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from her maintop where the opening in the lower masthead should be.

We were now within fifty fathoms of her, when Jackwell came to the rail aft and looked at us.

"Give way, bullies, you're going to sleep." I said.

In a few moments we were close aboard, but as we came up, the brig slewed her stern toward us, and then I noticed for the first time that she was moving slowly through the water. There was no wind, and I knew in a moment that she was under steam. She drifted away faster, and the men had all they could do to keep up. Jackwell leaned over the taffrail and gazed calmly down at us.

"That's it, boys, give it to her. You'll soon catch us and be towing us back again. Sink me, Rolling, but you're the biggest fool I ever saw," he said.

I saw the water rippling away from the brig's side, and now could see the disturbance under her stern where a small wheel turned rapidly.

"Throw us a line," I cried to Jackwell.

"What d'ye want a line fer? Are ye a-going with us to the Pacific, or are ye jest naturally short of lines, hey?"

"Throw us a line or we'll have to quit," I cried; "the men can't keep up as it is."

Jackwell let down the end of the spanker sheet, and Ford grabbed it, taking a turn around the thwart. The boat still rushed rapidly along.

"Rolling," said the captain of the _Pirate_, "hadn't you better go home and tell Trunnell he wants you? Seems to me you'll have a long row back in the hot sun. I'd ask you all aboard, but this ship ain't mine. She belongs to a friend who owes me a little due, see? Now be a sensible little fellow. Rolling, and go back nicely, or I'll have to do some target practice, or else cut this rope. Give my kindest regards to the ladies, especially Mrs. Sackett. Tell her that I wouldn't have dreamed of deserting her under any other circumstances, but this brig has got the devil in her and is running away with me. I can't stop her, and I can't say I would if I could. That infernal King Neptune has got hold of her keel and is pulling us along. Good-by, Rolling; don't by any possible means disturb the charts on my trunk. There, let go, you Ford."

Ford cast the line adrift, and the boat's headway slacked. The brig drifted slowly ahead, going at least three knots through the smooth water. A long row of smiling faces showed over the rail as we came from under her stern. One fellow, waving his hand, cried out to report Bill Jones of Nantucket as "bein' tolerable well, thank ye." It was evident they knew nothing of Jackwell and treated the going of the brig as a good joke on greenhorns.

"That beats me," said Ford, panting from his last exertions.

"An' me too," said Johnson. "If we'd had Tom and one or two more along we'd have beat her easy. But ain't he a-comin' back at all at all?"

"I hardly think we'll see Captain Thompson any more this voyage," I answered savagely; "but by the Lord Harry, he's left his trunk all right."

XXIII

When we rowed back to the ship, Trunnell was looking at us through the glass up to the time we came under the _Pirate's_ counter. He evidently could see that our skipper wasn't with us, and it seemed as if he could not quite make up his mind to the fact, but must keep looking through the telescope as though the powerful glass would bring the missing one into view. We ran up to the channels, and he looked over the side. A line of heads in the waist told of the curiosity among the men forward.

I said nothing, and nothing was said until the painter was made fast and Ford had sprung on deck.

"He ain't with ye, Rolling?" asked Trunnell.

I was too much disgusted to answer. The empty boat was enough to satisfy any reasonable person.

Chips came to the rail and leaned over as I came up the chain-plates. "'Twas so, then? Th' raskil! But what makes th' bloody hooker move? She's slantin' away as if th' devil himself ware holdin' av her fore foot!"

"Steam, you poor idiots," I cried out, in disgust, for it was evident that even Trunnell couldn't tell what made the _Shark_ get headway, although now the smoke poured handsomely from her masthead.

Trunnell scratched his bushy head and seemed to be thinking deeply. Then he put down the glasses and led the way aft without a word, Chips and I following. We went below and found Mrs. Sackett and Jennie in the saloon.

"Where's the captain?" they asked in a breath.

"Faith, an' he's changed ships, if ye please," said Chips.

"And left a little thing behind he would have liked to have taken with him," I said.

"What was the matter?" they both asked.

Chips and I tried to tell, but we soon made a tangle of it, the only thing coherent being the fact that the fellow was a crook and had left his trunk behind. This was so heavy that Chips had failed to lift it.

"I always knew he was not a sea-captain," cried Jennie. "I don't see how you men let him fool you so badly."

Chips and I looked at the mate, but he simply scratched his head.

"Discipline is discipline," he said. "He ware capting o' this here ship, an' there ware no way to do but obey his orders. No, sir, discipline is discipline, an' the sooner ye get it through your heads, the better."

"But he isn't captain any longer," I said.

"Well, I don't know about that," said Trunnell. "If he ain't a-comin' back, he ain't capting, sure. But ye can't tell nothin' about it. He may come aboard agin in a little while an' want to know why we didn't wait dinner for him."

"He sho' would take his trunk," said Gunning, "an' dat's a fact."

"Why would he?" asked Mrs. Sackett.

"'Cause he take good care o' dat trunk, ma'm. He sleep wid one eye on it an' his gun handy. I come near gettin' killed onct when I come into de cabin, suddin' like, while he was at work ober de things inside."

"For Heaven's sake, let's look at it," said Mrs. Sackett.

"'Tis th' best thing we cud do," said Chips. "'Tis no less than solid gold he stowed in it. Faith, it's as heavy as th' main yard."

Mrs. Sackett led the way to the captain's room, and Trunnell made no farther resistance. She opened the door, and we crowded inside. There lay the trunk on the floor or deck ahead of us.

"Try yer hand at th' liftin' av th' thing," said Chips to me.

I reached down and took hold of the handle at the side. Pulling heavily, I lifted with all my power. The trunk remained stationary.

"Dere's nothin' but gold in dat thing, sho'," said Gunning.

"Well, for Heaven's sake! why don't some one open it?" cried Jennie.

"An' have him a-comin' back aboard, a-wantin' to know who had been at it, hey?" said Trunnell. "I didn't think ye ware that kind o' missy."

"Nonsense!" I said. "He isn't coming back. Even if he is, it won't hurt to lift it, will it?"

"No, I don't know as it will, only it might upset them charts," said Trunnell.

"Try it," I said. "See if it's gold. It'll clink when you shake it, sure."

The little giant stooped and gave a grunt of disdain. "I reckon there ain't nothin' that size I can't lift," said he, in a superior tone, which was not lost on the women. Trunnell seldom bragged, and we crowded around, looking for quick results.

"A little bit o' trunk a-breakin' the backs o' a pair o' fellows as has the impudence to say they are men an' question the discipline o' the ship!" he said, with a loud grunt of disgust. "Stan' clear an' let a man have a chanst. If it's gold, an' ye're right, it'll rattle an' jingle fast enough; an' I hopes then ye'll be satisfied."

He took a strong hold of the leather handle at the side and braced his little legs wide apart. It was evident he would put forth some power. Then he set the great muscles of his broad back slowly, like a dray horse testing the load before putting forth his strength. Slowly and surely the little mate's back raised. He grew red in the face, and we peered over the treasure, hoping it would rise and give forth the welcome jingle.

Suddenly there was a ripping sound. Trunnell straightened up quickly, staggered for an instant, and then pitched forward over the trunk, uttering a fierce oath.

Mrs. Sackett screamed. Jennie burst into a wild fit of laughter. Chips and Gunning stood staring with open mouths and eyes, while Trunnell picked himself up, with the trunk handle in his iron fist.

"Faith, an' ye are a good strong man," said the carpenter. "Ye'd make a fortune as a porter a-liftin' trunks at a hotel."

"He can lift a little thing like that," said Jennie, mimicking the mate's tone to perfection.

Trunnell was now thoroughly mad. If the trunk contained gold, he would soon find out.

"Bring yer tools, an' don't stan' laffin' like a loon, ye bloody Irishman," he said to Chips, and the carpenter disappeared quickly. He returned in a moment with a brace and bit, a cold chisel, and a hammer.

"Knock off the top," said Trunnell.

"Discipline is discipline," whispered Jennie; "and I don't want to be around if the captain comes back."

Trunnell was too angry to pay attention to this remark, so he looked sourly on while the carpenter cut off the rivets holding the lock.

"There ye are," he said, and we crowded around to look in while the mate raised the lid.

Off it came easily enough. We stood perfectly silent for an instant. Then all except Trunnell burst out laughing. The trunk was empty!

"Well, sink me down deep, but that ware the heaviest air I ever see," said Trunnell. Then he picked up a slip of paper in the bottom and looked at it a moment. It had writing on it, and he unfolded it to read. I looked over his shoulder and read aloud:--

"MY DEAR LITTLE MATE: When you get this here billee ducks, don't do anything rash. Remember the discipline of the ship, first of all, and then take the dollar bill here and get somebody to cut your hair fer ye, as it's too loing fer a man of sense and is disagreeable to the ladies. If ye thought ye had a pot of gold in this here outfit, ye get left, sure, and no mistake. Remember money's the root of all evil and thank yer Lord ye ain't got none. There ain't no answer to this note; but if ye feel like writing at enny time, address it to Bill Jackwell, care of anybody at all what happens to be around at the time I'm there--see? Some day we'll meet agin, fer I'm stuck on the sea and am going to buy a boat and appoint ye as captain, only yer must cut yer hair and trim up yer beard some. That's all."

Trunnell held the dollar bill he had unfurled from the note in his hand and dropped the note back into the trunk.

"'Tis screwed fast wid nine big bolts to th' deck," said Chips, who had examined the outfit carefully.

Trunnell scratched his bushy head thoughtfully for a moment longer. "Is there any sech thing as a few men aboard this ship?" he asked.

I said I thought there was.

"Then man the boat and row, for the love o' God!" he roared, springing up the companionway to the deck, leaving us to follow after him.

XXIV

When we reached the deck and looked after the brig, we found that we had spent more time below than at first imagined. The _Shark_ was hull down to the southward and evidently going along steadily at a three-knot rate. The sun was almost on the horizon, and if we started after her, the chances were that night would fall long before we could lessen the distance between us materially. Sober appreciation of the affair took the place of Trunnell's impetuosity.

"We'll niver see him agin," said Chips, hauling heavily on the boat tackles.

"There's no use, Trunnell," I cried; "we can't catch that brig in a whale-boat."

He was already hesitating, and stood scratching his shaggy beard.

"Avast heavin' on that tackle," he bawled. Then he turned to me. "You're right, Rolling, we've lost a fortune an' the rascal too, but it ain't no use making bigger fools of ourselves. Stow the boat. After that send Johnson aft to me with a pair o' scissors. You an' Tom can set the watches, fer ye see I'm capting of her now. Ye might say, on the side like, that the first burgoo eater what comes along the weather side o' the poop while I'm on deck will go over the rail. There's a-goin' to be some discipline aboard the hooker, or I'll--well, there ain't no tellin' just what I won't do. I'm capting o' this here ship, an' ye might jest as well muster the men aft to hear the news."

Then he disappeared down the companion aft, and I sent Johnson to him with the shears as he had ordered.

When Trunnell came on deck again in the evening, his beard was a sight to be remembered. It looked as though a rat had nibbled it in spots. His hair was equally well done by the artist, but Jackwell's last order had been obeyed. The men were mustered aft, and Trunnell announced that he was the man they wanted to stand from under. They remained silent until Johnson suggested that three cheers be given for the new skipper. Then all hands bawled themselves hoarse. That was all. I was now the first mate and took my meals at the cabin table, where Jennie and her mother had been wondering at Trunnell's dexterity with his knife. The little mate appeared to realize that a certain amount of dignity and dress were necessary for the maintenance of correct discipline aboard, and he accordingly changed his shirt once a week and wore a new coat of blue pilot cloth. He sat at the head of the table, and went through his knife-juggling each meal, to the never ending amusement of Jennie, and admiration of Gunning, who swore that, "dey ain't no man afloat cud do dat no better." He, however, came through the rest of the cruise without even cutting his lip.

My duties and rating being those of a first mate, I had no longer the pleasure of being intimate with Chips and the rest forward. The carpenter, steward, and "doctor" had the quartermaster, Tom, from Trunnell's watch for a second mate and companion at the second table. Tom was a Yankee and a good companion, so the change was satisfactory all around. I sometimes looked in at the carpenter's room in the forward house, where he and a few chosen spirits would be holding forth upon some nautical subject, but I had to cut my visits short, for they worried Trunnell. Being suddenly raised did not quite inspire the necessary respect in his eyes, unless the person promoted showed unmistakable dignity and authority by dressing down all who came in contact with him. For some time it was pretty hard to speak to our little skipper. He disliked anything he imagined might tend to lessen the discipline aboard and had a horror of a mate or captain being familiar with the men.

My room was still in the forward cabin, but I now spent much time in the saloon, and helped Trunnell to shift his belongings aft to Jackwell's cabin. The truculent knave had left little behind him save a lot of old clothes, bonds which were not negotiable, and some wrappers used by the bank of Melbourne for doing up packets of bills. Upon one of these was a mark of fifty pounds sterling, showing that Jackwell's assets, unless enormous, could be made to fit in a very small space. He probably carried all he owned upon his person.

We went through everything in the cabin carefully, but the only thing of interest discovered was the photograph of a plump young woman torn fairly in two, the lower half bearing the inscription in Jackwell's handwriting, "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

I had found this in the chart case and had examined it some minutes without comment, when Miss Sackett took it from me. She gazed at it a moment, and cried out, "Why! it's the third mate."

I instantly seized it again and looked carefully at the features, and then it was plain enough. There he was, in a neat fitting bodice, the curly blond hair stylishly dressed, and the plump cheeks showing just the faintest trace of the dimples of our former third officer. I looked at the back of the photograph. It had the name of a Melbourne artist upon it, and beneath, in a female hand, the written words, "Yours lovingly, Belle."

Trunnell heard Jennie's exclamation and came up. He took the picture from me and gazed long at the face. Then he gave a sigh which sounded like a blackfish drawing in air, handed it back to me, and went up the companionway, scratching his head in the manner he did when much disturbed. He said not a word, nor did he mention Mr. Bell's name, and that night at supper he never raised his eyes from his plate. Afterward in the mid-watch he came on the poop and walked fore and aft for three long hours without so much as speaking to me or asking the man at the wheel the vessel's course. He finally went below, carrying the odor of grog along with him. He came on deck many nights after this and walked fore and aft in silence, as though brooding over some unpleasant subject, and we were clear of the trade and knocking about in the uncertain latitudes before he appeared to be anything like himself again.

I avoided any subject relating to the earlier part of the voyage and tried to cheer him. I thought he had suffered keenly, and was glad when he stopped drinking and looked me in the eyes without letting his gaze fall in confusion. Sometimes I caught myself wondering at the reticence of the men who had rowed him to the burnt wreck that night, but I found that no one had boarded her except Trunnell and he had sent the boat astern.

Tom, the quartermaster, made mate under me, was a good sailor. He did his work thoroughly, and everything went along without friction throughout the rest of the voyage to the Breakwater. We picked up the northeast trade in a few days, and hauled our starboard tacks aboard, bracing the yards sharp up until it gradually swung more and more to the eastward, letting us off on a taut bowline for the latitude of the States.