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 a