Mr. Trunnell, an' wid ye too, 'twould ha' been no mutiny to override the
new skipper, an' land th' other in th' caboose."

Much as I would have liked to get ashore again, I knew there was no
immediate prospect of it. The skipper would not hear of any such thing.
As for Trunnell acting against orders, I knew from what I had seen of
this sturdy little fellow he would obey implicitly any directions given
him, and at any cost. There was no help for it now. We would be out for
months with the ruffian skipper forward and the strange one aft. I said
nothing more to the carpenter or steward, for it was evident that there
had been some strong arguments used by Jim Potts against the regularity
of the ship's company. The more I thought of this, the more I was
astonished, for the young landsman was not forced to come out in the
ship, and had almost been left, as it was. I went on deck in a troubled
frame of mind, and determined to keep my eye on every one who approached
me, for the voyage had the worst possible beginning.

There was much to be done about the main deck, so I busied myself the
entire afternoon getting the running gear cleared up and coiled down
shipshape. The skipper stood near the break of the poop much of the time,
but gave no orders, and I noticed that Jim the sailor, or landsman, kept
away from his vicinity. Sometimes it seemed as though the captain would
follow his movements about the deck forward with his keen eyes.

It was Trunnell's dog-watch that evening, and by the time the bells
struck the vessel was running along to the westward under royals, with
the southerly breeze freshening on her beam. She was a handsome ship. Her
long, tapering spars rose towering into the semi-gloom overhead, and the
great fabric of stretched canvas seemed like a huge cloud resting upon a
dark, floating object on the surface of the sea, which was carried along
rapidly with it, brushing the foam to either side with a roaring,
rattling, seething, musical noise. At least, this is the picture she
presented from the forecastle head looking aft. Her great main yard swung
far over the water to leeward, and the huge bellying courses, setting
tight as a drumhead with the pressure, sent the roaring of the bow-wave
back in a deep booming echo, until the air was full of vibration from the
taut fabric. All around, the horizon was melted into haze, but the stars
were glinting overhead in promise of a clear night.

I left the forecastle head