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Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship 'Pirate'

<h2 id="id00484" style="margin-top: 4em">IX</h2> When I had a chance to slip back into the forward house, Chips had already "cast loose" and was in full swing. "There ain't no use of tellin' everything one sees aboard ship," he was saying, "for you know whin things happen on deep water th' world ain't much th' wiser fer hearing about them. There ain't no telegraphs, an' th' only witnesses is the men concerned—or the wimmen. The men may or mayn't say a thing or two after getting the run av th' beach, but as th' critters have to wait half a year afore getting there, the news av th' occurrence wears off an' regard for the effects on th' teller takes place. It's just as often as not th' men keep mum. You know that as well as I do. "This same Andrews as is forrads in irons was running the Starbuck with Jameson as mate, an' old Garnett as second under him. Ye all know that old pirit. But this time he didn't have any hand in Andrews's game. Andrews wanted to marry the girl Jameson had, an' whin he found he had lost her he played his devil's trick. "Jameson hadn't been married a week afore Andrews took him around b' th' foot av Powell Street in 'Frisco an' set up some drinks. That's the last any one sees av Jameson fer a year or more on th' West Coast, fer whin he comes to, he was at sea on that old tank, th' Baldwin, an' old man Jacobs would as soon have landed him on th'moon as put him ashore." "A purty bloomin' mean trick," interrupted the bos'n. "Th' poor divil did have a hard time av it, fer he wasn't a very fierce sort o' chap. He ware a gentil spoken, kind-hearted feller, an' ye know well enough how a man what isn't made of iron wud git along wid Jacobs or his mates. They hazed him terrible; an', as they ware one hundred an' seventy days an' nights to Liverpool, he took the scurvy. Ye can reckon what was left av him afterwards. Whin he left th' hospital, he was glad enough to ship on a Chilean liner to get even as far to the West Coast as Valparaiso. "He ware aboard this Dago, puttin' in, whin he saw th' Starbuck standin' out o' th' harbor. His wife ware on th' quarter-deck—" "That's the way with most women," snarled the bos'n, interrupting. "I don't know about that," continued Chips. "You see, after he had been gone a few months, an' Andrews had been hangin' around all th' time gettin' in his pisonous work, she began to have a little faith in th' villain. It wasn't long afore he convinced her Jameson had deserted, fer he proved fair enough he had shipped aboard th' Baldwin, without so much as saying good-by. There ware plenty of men to back him on that, includin' th' boatman what rowed them aboard. Finally, partly by blandanderin' an' a-feelin' around, fer th' poor gal ware now alone in th' world, he got her to step aboard th' bleedin' hooker Starbuck the day he ware ready for sea. Thin he jest stood out—an'—an'—well, after they'd been out six months th' matter ended as far as Jameson ware concerned. "Jameson took the news hard whin he got th' run av th' beach, but he was that kindly disposed chap an' went along th' best he could until th' war broke out. He ware still waitin' at Valparaiso whin they drafted him into the Dago army, an' he was lucky enough to be on th' side what got licked. Then there ware no use waitin' there fer th' Starbuck to come in again, so he made a slant for Peru as they niver took no pris'ners. Two weeks afterwards Andrews came in again fer nitrates wid Garnett an' O'Toole fer mates—" "Lucky fer Andrews he wasn't there," said the bos'n; "he'd have had his ornery hide shot full of holes." "What's th' use av ye talking like a fool?" said Chips. "Is shootin' up a feller a-goin' to undo a wrong like that? Th' shootin' was all done on th' other side, an' Andrews is sound yet an' aboard this here ship. Some men think av other things besides revenge. Especially kind-hearted fellers like Jameson what niver cud hurt no one. As soon as some av Jameson's friends who knew of th' affair told his wife, she wint right into th' cabin where Andrews was, an' afore he knew what she ware up to, she had shot herself. Andrews paid her funeral expenses, an' buried her in th' little Dago cemetery out forninst th' city gate. An' thin Garnett, who didn't know av his skipper's diviltry, sware vengeance on th' husband who deserted her, fer she ware gentil and kind wid th' men forrads." Here Chips paused and gave me a sidelong look as he refilled his pipe. Then he lit it and smiled hopefully. "They ware a quare pair, them mates, Garnett an' O'Toole," he said. "What one wasn't th' other was, and wice wersa. They lay there two months loadin' on account o' th' war having blocked th' nitrate beds. "Wan day O'Toole saw an old woman come limpin' along th' dock where th' Starbuck lay. She hobbled on to th' gang-plank an' started aboard, an' O'Toole began to chaff Garnett. He waren't half bad as a joker. "''Pon me whurd, Garnett,' sez he, 'I do belave your own mother is comin' aboard to visit ye—but no, maybe it's yer swateheart, fer ye have an uncommon quare taste, ye know. B' th' saints, ye ware always a bold one fer th' ladies.' "We ware lying in th' next berth, not twenty feet away, an' from where I sat on th' rail I cud hear thim talk an' see what was a-goin' on. "'Stave me,' says old Garnett, solemn like, 'that's true enough. Sink her fer a fool, though, to be a-comin' down here to win back an old windjammer like me—What? ye mean that old hag driftin' along the deck? Blast you for a red-headed shell-back, d'ye s'pose I'd take up wid wimmen av your choice? No, I never makes a superior officer jealous;' an' wid that he takes out his rag an' mops th' dent in th' top av his head where there's no hair nor nothin' but grease, an' he draws out his little pestiverous vial av peppermint salts an' sniffs. "'Faith, an' ye'll need to clear yer old head, ye owld raskil, ye've been too gay fer onct,' says O'Toole. "She ware a tough-lookin' old gal, an' her hat brim flopped over her face. O'Toole met her an' pointed to Garnett. "'If it's th' leddy-killer av th' fleet ye're afther, there he Stan's.' "Th' old woman looked an' stopped. "'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 ashore 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 God, she ware a good gal,' said th' old one, hoarsely. "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 ashore, 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 ashore?' "'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 button 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' button 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' buttons 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 shift 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 bloody raskil! Help, help!' Thin she ware upon him like a wild cat, a clawin' an' bitin', screechin' and yellin'. "'Sink you for a bloody 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 ship, 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 ship, an' thin O'Toole comes up. "'What's th' row?' he bawls to th' mate, but O'Toole ware laffin' so he couldn't spake a whurd. Finally he got it out. "'Faith, 'tis th' leddy-killer av th' fleet, Garnett, at his owld game,' sez he. ''Pon me whurd, 'tis a hangin' matter this time, fer th' damage he's done th' sex. He ware—' but he bruk down afore he could finish. "'Twas five minits afore he could tell what had happened, th' old gal cussin' an' swearin' an' th' crowd a-hootin' an' jeerin', but finally th' skipper got some soldiers to carry th' old gal away. Thin out comes Garnett on th' main deck a-smellin' av his little vial, but avoidin' av th' skipper's eye. "'What th' devil did ye mean?' asked Andrews; 'did ye take her to be Jameson in disguise?' "''Pon me whurd,' says O'Toole, 'th' first wan that comes aboard was no other—an' this one looked enough like him from a stern view. 'Tis a bad trade, though, this killin' av leddies.' An' he leered so at Garnett he swore horrible an' went forrads. "I ware standin' close enough to catch th' glint in Andrews' eye whin this ware said, but he took no notice an' went ashore, an' as I followed after him he was thinkin' hard." Here Chips spat quietly into the corner, fingered his pipe, and rammed the ash down. Then he looked up at the light, and a different expression came upon him. The bos'n's smile died away, and all sat listening for the finish. Far forward sounded the cries of men dressing down the head sheets. "I hadn't much to do," continued Chips, softly, "so I walked on an' saw him stop at a flower stand an' buy a bunch av roses. I wint across to th' cemetery where th' trees are good to look at an' th' grass is green as th' sea nigh th' States. I hadn't gone far whin I sees a man standin' nigh a grave wid another man lyin' on it. I couldn't tell who th' men ware till I came close, fer 'twas now gettin' dark. Thin when Andrews stooped an' lifted th' head av th' one lyin' down, I saw them both plain enough. Jameson's head made me feel sick wid th' horror av it. Whin I spoke, Andrews let th' poor fellow sink back again, an' as I stood alongside I saw th' flowers th' skipper had bought lyin' on th' grave nigh th' hand av poor Jameson, which still held his pistil. Th' old man said nothin', but there ware a hard look in his eyes as I saw him lookin' at th' tops av th' big Chilean mountings where th' sunken sun made them a bloody red. He ware thinkin' hard, an' seemed to be watchin' a flock av vultures a-comin' over th' range, stringin' out in a long line av black specks. Thin all av a sudden he stooped an' picked up the flowers an' placed thim gentle like on th' head av the grave—'twas the only gentil thing I iver knew him to do—an' thin walked away without a word. That's th' last I saw av him until I shipped aboard here, for he cleared from Valparaiso th' next day." "An' this is the beggar we're taking back to the States to be skipper of some American ship, maybe this same one, if he gets clear of the killing of his quartermaster off Melbourne," said the bos'n. "An' that's the reason, by your leave, Mr. Rolling," said Jim, "I say it's best to go back again and deliver this man up to the proper authorities." "As far as I'm concerned," I answered, "I would just as soon see him safe where the wind won't annoy him; but I'm not the skipper, and if you want to get any satisfaction you'll have to go aft." "We did," said the bos'n; "we asked the old man, but he wouldn't hear of it, and Trunnell is with him." "Trunnell is with him because he thinks it right," said Jim, with a shrewd look at me; "but if you were to try to persuade him, I believe he would come around all right." "Why fo' not put him abo'ad the English ship, sah," put in the "doctor." "I votes we ax the ole man to put 'im abo'ad her." All were agreeable to this proposition and decided to go aft the first thing in the morning watch. Jim stuck out for going back. "If you were to go with us, Mr. Rolling, we might persuade Trunnell," said he. "It's no use, he never would—" Before we could continue the discussion further the bells struck out loudly, and the bos'n and I went on deck for our watch. It was a fine, clear night, and I was glad to get the course from the mate and walk fore and aft on the weather side of the poop to enjoy it. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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