Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship "Pirate". T. Jenkins Hains

      "He'll need it all the more," put in the other captain, who was one of the agents. "Colonel Fermoy has put the rate as high as he can."

      "I'm sorry, colonel," said the stout skipper, turning to the large man.

       "Halve or nothing."

      "All right, then, nothing. Mr. Trunnell," he continued, turning to the mate, "Captain Cole will not take you out in the morning as he promised. I'll send Captain Thompson along this evening, or the first thing in the morning. I suppose you know him, so it won't be necessary for me to come down again. Is this your mate?" And he looked at me.

      "Yessir, that's him," said Mr. Trunnell.

      "Got your papers with you?" asked the colonel.

      I pulled them out of my pocket and laid them upon the table. He glanced at them a moment and then returned them.

      "All right; get your dunnage aboard this evening and report at the office at nine o'clock to-night. Eight pounds, hey?"

      I almost gasped. Eight pounds for second mate! Five was the rule.

      "Aye, aye, sir," I answered.

      "Done. Bear a hand, Mr. Trunnell. Jenkinson will have a crew at five in the morning. Good night." And he turned and left, followed by all except the "doctor," who remained with me until they were ashore. Mr. Trunnell came aboard again in a few minutes, and after thanking him for getting me the job I left the ship and went to attend to my affairs before clearing.

      I had my "dunnage" sent aboard and then stopped at the office and signed on. After that, the night being young, I strolled along the more frequented streets and said farewell to my few acquaintances.

      I arrived at the ship before midnight and found the only man there to be the watchman. Trunnell and the "doctor" had gone uptown, he said, for a last look around. I turned in at the bottom of an empty berth in one of the staterooms and waited for the after guard to turn to.

      The mate came aboard about three in the morning, and as there was much to do, he stuck his head into a bucket of water and tried to get clear of the effects of the bad liquor he had taken. The "doctor" followed a little later, and fell asleep on the cabin floor.

      "Has the old man turned up?" asked the mate, bawling into my resting place and rousing me.

      "Haven't seen any one come aboard," I answered.

      "Well, I reckon he'll be alongside in a few minutes; so you better stand by for a call."

      While he spoke, the watchman on deck hailed some one, and a moment later a steady tramp sounded along the main deck, and a man came through the port door and into the alleyway.

      He hesitated for an instant, while a young man with rosy cheeks and light curly hair followed through the door and halted alongside the first comer.

      The stranger was tall and slender, with a long face, and high, sharp features, his nose curving like a parrot's beak over a heavy dark mustache. His face was pale and his skin had the clear look of a man who never is exposed to the sun. But his eyes were the objects that attracted my gaze. They were bright as steel points and looked out from under heavy, straight brows with a quick, restless motion I had observed to belong to men used to sudden and desperate resolves. He advanced into the cabin and scrutinized the surroundings carefully before speaking.

      "I suppose you are Mr. Trunnell," he said to me, for I had now arisen and stood in the doorway of the stateroom. His voice was low and distinct, and I noticed it was not unpleasant.

      "I have that honor," said the little mate, with drunken gravity, sobering quickly, however, under the stranger's look.

      "There are no passengers?" asked the man, as the younger companion opened the door leading into the captain's cabin and gazed within.

      "Not a bleeding one, and I'm not sorry for that," said Trunnell; "the old man wasn't built exactly on passenger lines."

      "You wouldn't take a couple, then, say for a good snug sum?"

      "Well, that's the old man's lay, and I can't say as to the why and wherefore. He'll probably be along in an hour or two at best, for the tug will be alongside in a few minutes. We're cleared, and we'll get to sea as soon as the bloody crimp gets the bleeding windjammers aboard. They ought to be along presently."

      "Em-m-m," said the man, and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "He'll be along shortly, will he—and you are all ready. I think I can hear the tug coming now, hey? Isn't that it?"

      "S'pose so," answered the mate.

      "Well, just let me insinuate to you politely, my boy, that the sooner you clear, the better;" his voice was low and full of meaning, and he leaned toward the mate in a menacing manner; "and if I have to speak to you more than once, my little friend, you will find out the kind of man Captain Thompson is. Can you rise to that?"

      Trunnell shrank from the stranger's look, for he stuck his face right into the mate's, and as he finished he raised his voice to its full volume. The liquor was still in the stout little fellow's head, and he drew back one of his long arms as if about to strike; then quickly recovering himself, he scratched his head and stepped back a pace.

      "How the bleeding thunder could I tell you were Captain Thompson, when you come aboard here and ask for a passage?" he demanded. "I meant no disrespect. Not a bit. No, sir, not a bloody bit. I'm here for further orders. Yessir, I'm here for further orders and nothin' else. Sing out and I go."

      It was plain that the little bushy-headed fellow was not afraid, for he squared his broad shoulders and stood at attention like a man who has dealt with desperate men and knew how to get along with them. At the same time he knew his position and was careful not to go too far. He was evidently disturbed, however, for the little thin silver rings in his ears shook from either nervousness or the effects of liquor.

      The tall man looked keenly at him, and appeared to think. Then he smiled broadly.

      "Well, you are a clever little chap, Trunnell," he said; "but for discernment I don't think you'd lay a very straight course, hey? isn't that it? Not a very straight course. But with my help I reckon we'll navigate this ship all right. Who's this?" and he turned toward me.

      "That's Mr. Rolling, the second mate. Didn't you meet him at the office?

       He was there only a couple of hours ago. Just signed on this evening."

      "Ah, yes, I see. A new hand, hey? Well, Mr. Rolling, I suppose you know what's expected of you. I don't interfere with my mates after I get to sea. Can you locate the ship and reckon her course?"

      I told him I could; and although I did not like the unnautical way this stranger had about him, I was glad to hear that he did not interfere with his mates. If he were some hard skipper the agents had taken at a pinch, it was just as well for him to keep to himself aft, and let his mates stand watch as they should on every high-class ship. The young man, or rather boy, who had come aboard with him, looked at me curiously with a pair of bright blue eyes, while the captain spoke, and appeared to enjoy the interrogation, for he smiled pleasantly.

      "Everything is all ready, as I see," the captain continued. "So I'll go to bed awhile until my things come aboard. This young man will be third mate, Mr. Trunnell, and I'll put him under your care. He will go ashore now and see to the trunks. But let me know the minute the crew come down, for I won't wait for anything after that. You can let the tug take the line and be ready to pull us out."

      Then the skipper went into the captain's cabin, and we saw him no more for several hours. The young man went back up town, and half an hour later returned with a cab containing a trunk, which was put in the after-cabin. The skipper heard the noise and bade them not reawaken him under any circumstances until the ship was well out at sea.

      "If I have to get up and see to our leaving, some one will be sorry for it," he said, in his menacing voice, and Mr. Trunnell was quite content to leave him alone.

      At five in the morning the boarding master brought down the men, and a sorry lot of