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.
The Pirate showed herself to be the fast ship she had always been, for we made the run up the trade in less than three weeks. Trunnell took such pride in her that all hands were tired out before we ran over the thirtieth parallel, with the scrubbing, painting, holy-stoning, etc., that he considered necessary to have her undergo before arriving in port. As mate of the ship, I had much opportunity to command the deck alone; that is, without the supervision of any one. Of course, I can't say I spent much time alone on deck, even when in charge; but I would never let social matters interfere with work sufficiently to merit a rebuke from the little skipper. He soon manifested a disposition to be alone during his watch on deck, and at first I believed this to be due to the exalted dignity of his position. It hurt me to think he should be so changed, and I pondered at the peculiarities of mankind for many days. After awhile, however, he became absorbed in a game of checkers with Mrs. Sackett which lasted two weeks. Then I forgave him. Whenever he saw Jennie and myself on deck, he would make haste to get through his business there, and dive below again. This kindly interest on his part was kept up until we raised the Delaware Capes.
How good the land smelled, and how distinctly. It seemed incredible that one could smell the land twenty miles away, almost before the color of the water began to change. Yet it was strong in the nostrils; and even one of the pigs we had not eaten, but had brought back alive, squealed incessantly, as though instinctively feeling that the voyage was over.
It was late in the afternoon, but the men were mustered aft, in the time-worn way of merchant-men, to sign off. Nearly all had bills on the slop-chest for tobacco or clothes. As each went over the poop he gazed at the line on the western horizon and smiled gladly. It meant a new life for more than one. Among the last to go was the old landsman whom Trunnell had given a chance to earn his clothes by bug-hunting. He smiled sadly at the setting sun over the dark line which meant home. Then he shook out several strings of vermin, and holding them at arm's length, stopped at the cabin window. His cheap trousers failed to reach the tops of his coarse shoes, and the gap showed the skin on meagre ankles. I was interested to know what he would take.
"What d'ye want?" asked Trunnell.
"I come for a yaller silk ban'kercheef," said he, offering the strings.
"Don't yer think ye'd better get some o' them woollens? It'll be cold on the beach."
"I got clothes a plenty. I want a yaller silk ban'kercheef. Yer got one, for Sam tole me so. I'm a-goin' ashore to Hennery's, an' I ain't goin' like no clown without a wipe. Kin I have it?"
The handkerchief was passed out, and the old fellow went forward smiling.
What a strange thing is the end of a deep-water voyage! Men who have been living together for months through suffering and hardship will go over the ship's side with a cheery farewell. They may meet for a few moments at the office to draw their pay, and then take a drink all around. That is all. They seldom see or hear of each other again. The world goes on, and they drift about, taking what part in affairs Fate has in store for them. One should come back aboard the ship the day after she makes her dock and look into the deserted forecastle and about the lonely decks, where so much has taken place, to realize man's lonely mission. The old ship-keeper, sitting alone smoking on the hatchway in the evening before unloading begins, will affront one with his presence. Where are the men, rough, honest, coarse, or even bad, that used to sit there so often in the twilight of the dog-watch? There is a strange yearning to see them again. I watched the sun go down with a feeling of mingled joy and sorrow,--joy for the return to the States, and sorrow for the parting which must soon take place between my shipmates.