ong 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