One evening after we had been out about a week, Trunnell and I happened to be standing aft near the taffrail looking up at a royal preventer stay.
"D'ye know what th' old man called this cleat?" asked Trunnell, pointing to where it had been made fast.
"No," said I. "What did he call it?"
"A timber noggin."
"Well, that don't prove there is anything wrong with him, does it?" I queried.
"Either that or the timber noggins has changed summat in character since I seen them last," said Trunnell. "What in Davy Jones would a skipper of a ship call a cleat a timber noggin for unless he didn't know no better?"
"A man might or might not have many reasons for calling a cleat a timber noggin besides that of not knowing any better than to do so," I responded. "For instance--"
But Trunnell cut me short. "No, Mr. Rolling, there ain't no use disguising the fact any more, this skipper don't know nothin' about a ship. You'll find that out before we get to the west'ard o' the Agullas. Mind ye, I ain't making no criticism o' the old man. I never does that to no superior officer, but when a man tells me to do the things he does, it stands to reason that we've got an old man aboard here who's been in a ship for the first time as officer."
I agreed with him, and he was much pleased.
"A man what finds fault an' criticises everybody above him is always a failure, Mr. Rolling," he went on. "Yes, sir, the faultfinder is always a failure. An' the reason so many sailors find fault all the time is because they is failures. I am tryin' not to find fault with the skipper, but to pint out that we're in for some rough times if things don't change aboard in the sailorin' line afore we gets to the west'ard o' the Agullas. Sink me, if that ain't so, for here we is without half the sails bent an' no new braces, nothin' but two-year-old manila stuff what's wore clean through. Them topsails look good enough, but they is as rotten with the lime in them as if they was burned. No, sir, I ain't makin' no criticism, but I burns within when I think of the trouble a few dollars would save. Yes, sir, I burns within."
Mr. Trunnell here spat profusely to leeward and walked athwartships for some moments without further remark. The third mate came on deck and stood near the lee mizzen rigging, looking forward at the foam swirling from the bends and drifting aft alongside at a rapid rate. The phosphorus shone brilliantly in the water, and the wake of the ship was like a path of molten metal, for the night was quite dark and the heavy banks of clouds which had been making steadily to the westward over-spread the sky. It was nearly time for the southwest monsoon to shift, and with this change would likely follow a spell o' weather, as Trunnell chose to put it. The third mate had never given an order since he had come aboard, and I noticed Trunnell's sly wink as he glanced in the direction of the mizzen.
"Mr. Rolling," said he, "wimmen have been my ruin. Yes, sir, wimmen have been my ruin, an' I'm that scared o' them I can raise them afore their topmast is above the horizon. Sink me, if that ain't one." And he leered at the figure of the third mate, whom we knew as Mr. Bell.
"What would a woman be doing here as third mate?" I asked; for although I had come to the same conclusion some days before, I had said nothing to any one about it.
"That's the old man's affair," said Trunnell; "it may be his wife, or it may be his daughter, but any one can see that the fellow's pants are entirely too big in the heft for a man. An' his voice! Sink me, Rolling, but you never hearn tell of a man or boy pipin' so soft like. Why, it skeers me to listen to it. It's just like--but no matter."
"Like what?" I suggested gently, hoping much.
But it was of no use. Trunnell looked at me queerly for a moment as if undecided to give me his confidence. Then he resumed his walk athwart the deck, and I went forward to the break of the poop and took a look at the head sails.
The night was growing darker, and the breeze was dying slowly, and I wondered why the skipper had not come on deck to take a look around. He was usually on hand during the earlier hours of evening.
I reached the side of the third officer, and stood silently gazing at the canvas which shone dimly through the gathering gloom. As we had always been separated on account of being in different watches, I had never addressed the third mate before save in a general way when reporting the ship's duties aft.
"Pretty dark night, hey?" I ventured.
The third officer looked hard at me for the space of a minute, during which time his face underwent many changes of expression. Then he answered in a smooth, even tone.
"Sorter," said he.
This was hardly what I expected, so I ventured again.
"Looks as if we might have a spell o' weather, hey? The wind's falling all the time, and if it keeps on, we'll have a calm night without a draught of air."
"What do you mean by a ca'm night without a draft of air?" asked the young fellow, in a superior tone, while at the same time I detected a smile lurking about the corners of his eyes.
If there's one thing I hate to see in a young fellow, it is the desire to make fun of a superior's conversation. Being an American sailor, I had little use for _r_'s in every word which held an a but I had no objection to any one else talking the way they wished. I was somewhat doubtful just how to sit upon this nebulous third mate, so I began easily.
"Do you know," said I, "there are a great many young fellows going out in ships as officers when they could be of much more benefit to people generally if they stayed home and helped their mothers to 'bark cark,' or do other little things around the nursery or kitchen."
As I finished I thought I heard some one swear fiercely in a low tone. I looked over the poop rail down to the main deck beneath, but saw no one near. The third officer seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.
"It isn't good to be too clever," said he, in the tone which was unmistakably a woman's. "When a person is good at baking cake, or 'barking cark,' as you choose to call it, the sea is a good place for them. They can look out for those who haven't sense enough to perform the function."
I had a strong notion to ask him outright if he was fitted to perform the function, but his superior air and the feeling that I might make a mistake after all and incur the displeasure of the beak-nosed skipper deterred me. But I was almost certain that our third mate was a woman.