Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship "Pirate" — Themes and Context
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This digital edition of Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship "Pirate" — Themes and Context is described by source-level measurements including 67,271 words, 4 hr 53 min estimated reading time, and 6 detected text sections.
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There was now a considerable crowd collecting on the dock to watch the ship clear, and as it was still too dark to see objects distinctly, I couldn't tell what was taking place in the waist, for I had to attend sharply to the work on the topgallant forecastle. Mr. Trunnell bawled for the tug to pull away, and the ship started to leave the dock.
At that instant a man rushed through the crowd and sprang upon the rail amidships, where, seizing some of the running rigging, he let himself down to the main deck. He looked aft at Mr. Trunnell, and then seeing that the mate had command of the ship, he looked into the forward cabin and came to where I stood bawling out orders to the men who were passing the tow-line outside the rigging. I called to him and asked who he was and what he wanted, and he told me quickly that he was the twentieth man of the crew and had almost got left.
"What?" I asked; "after getting your advance money?" And I smiled as I thought of his chance of getting away without being caught.
"I never welsh, sir," he replied, "and as I signed on, so will I work. I never skinned a ship yet out of sixpence."
"Most remarkable," I sneered; but the fellow had such a frank, open face that I felt sorry afterward. He was a young man and had probably not learned enough about ships to have such delicate scruples. He had a smooth face and looked intelligent, although it was evident that he was not much of a sailor.
"Well, don't stand gaping. Get to work and show what you are made of. Stow those slops of yours and get into a jumper quick. Where's your bag?" I continued.
"Well, lay up there and help loose the maintopsail. Don't stand here."
He looked bewildered for a moment and then started up the fore rigging.
"Here, you blazing idiot," I bawled. "What are you about? Don't you know one end of a ship from another?"
The fellow came to me and spoke in a low voice.
"I have never shipped before the mast--only as cook, or steward," he said.
"Well, you infernal beggar, do you mean to say that you've passed yourself off as a seaman or sailor here?" I cried.
"Then, blast you, if I don't make a sailor of you before you get clear of the ship," I said with some emphasis; for the idea of all hands being incapable made me angry, as the ship would be dependent entirely upon the sailors aboard, until we had taught the landsmen something. The whole outfit was such a scurvy lot it made me sick to think of what would happen if it should come on to blow suddenly and we had to shorten down to reefed topsails. The _Pirate_ had double topsail yards fore and aft and all the modern improvements for handling canvas; but her yards were tremendous, and to lift either of her courses on the yards would take not less than half a dozen men even in good weather.
The fellow hung about while I dressed him down and told him about what a worthless specimen of humanity he was. Finally I sent him aft to help where he could, and he lent a hand at the braces in the waist under the direction of Mr. Trunnell, who stood on the break of the poop, with the young third mate beside him, and gave his orders utterly oblivious to the boy's presence.
In a short time we made an offing, and as the pilot was on the tug, we had only to let go the line and stand away on our course. The t'gallant yards were sent up, then the royals sheeted home, and by dint of great effort and plenty of bawling we got the canvas on her fore and aft and trimmed the yards so as to make each one look as if at odds with its fellows, but yet enough to make a fair wind of the gentle southerly breeze. Then we let go the tow-line and stood to the westward, while the little tug gave a parting whistle and went heading away into the rising sun astern.
I will say now that when I look back on that morning it is evident there was a lack of discipline or command on board the _Pirate_; but at the time it did not appear to me to be the fact, because the lack of discipline was not apparent in my watch. Trunnell and I divided up the men between us, and I believe I laid down the law pretty plain to the Dagos and Swedes who fell to my lot. They couldn't understand much of what I said, but they could tell something of my meaning when I held up a rope's-end and belaying-pin before their eyes and made certain significant gestures in regard to their manipulation. This may strike the landsman as unnecessary and somewhat brutal; but, before he passes judgment, he should try to take care of a lot of men who are, for a part, a little lower than beasts.
If a man can understand the language you use, he can sometimes be made to pay attention if he has the right kind of men over him, but when he cannot understand and goes to sea with the certain knowledge he is on a hard ship and will probably come to blows in a few minutes, he must have some ocular demonstration of what is coming if he doesn't jump when a mate sings out to him. Often the safety of the entire ship depends upon the quickness with which an order can be carried out, and a man must not hang back when the danger is deadly. He must do as he is told, instantly and without question; if he gets killed--why, there is no great loss, for any owner or skipper can get a crew aboard at any of the large ports of trade. Of course, if he takes a different point of view, the only thing for him to do is to stay on the beach. He must not ship on a sailing packet that is carrying twenty percent more freight than the law allows and is getting from three to four dollars a ton for carrying it some ten or fifteen thousand miles over every kind of ocean between the frigid zones. My men were surly enough, perhaps because they had heard what kind of treatment they should expect; so after I had told them what they must do, I bade them go below and straighten out their dunnage.
Mr. Trunnell, after separating his men from mine, cursed them individually and collectively as everything he could think of, and only stopped to scratch his big bushy head to figure out some new condemnations. While doing this he saw me coming from the port side, and forthwith he told me to take charge of the ship, as he was dead beat out and would have to soak his head again before coming on watch. He smelled horribly of stale liquor, and his eyes were bloodshot. I thought he would be just as well off below, so I made no protest against taking command.
"Ye see, I never am used to it," he said, with a grin. "I can't drink nothin'. Stave me, Rollins, but the first thing I'll be running foul of some of these Dagos, and I don't want a fracas until I see the lay of the old man. He's a queer one for sure, hey? Did you ever see a skipper with such a look? Sech bleeding eyes--an' nose, hey? Like the beak of an old albatross. He hasn't come out to lay the course yet, but let her go. She'll head within half a point of what she's doin' now. Sink me, but I don't believe there's three bloomin' beggars in my watch as can steer the craft, and she's got a new wheel gear on her too. Call me if the old man comes on deck." As he finished he staggered into the door of the forward cabin and made for his room, leaving me in command.
I went aft and saw the lubber's mark holding on west by south, and after being satisfied that the man steering could tell port from starboard, I climbed the steps to the poop and took a good look around. It was a beautiful morning and the sun shone brightly over our quarter-rail. The land behind us stood boldly outlined against the sky, and the lumpy clouds above were rosy with sunlight.
The air was cool, but not too sharp for comfort; the breeze from the southward blew steadily and just sent the tops of the waves to foam, here and there, like white stars appearing and disappearing on the expanse to windward. The _Pirate_ lay along on the port tack, and with her skysails to her trucks she made a beautiful sight. Her canvas was snowy white, showing that no money had been spared on her sails. Her spars were all painted or scraped and her standing rigging tarred down to a beautiful blackness. Only on deck and among the ropes of her running gear was shown that sign of untidiness which distinguishes the merchant vessel from the man-of-war.
I managed to get some hands to work on the braces, and finally got the yards trimmed shipshape and in the American fashion. That was, with the lower yards sharp on the back-stays, the topsails a little further aft, the t'gallant a little further still, until the main-skysail was almost touching with its weather leach cutting into the breeze a point or more forward of the weather beam. The fore and aft canvas was trimmed well, and the outer jibs lifted the ship along at a slapping rate. She was evidently fast in spite of her load, and I looked over the side at the foam that was seething past the lee channels in swirls and eddies which gave forth a cheerful hissing sound as they slipped aft at the rate of six knots an hour. The man at the wheel held her easily, and that was a blessing; for nothing is much worse for a mate's discomfort than a wild ship sheering from side to side leaving a wake like the path of some monstrous snake.
When I looked again on the main deck I saw the figure of a man whom I failed to recognize as a member of the ship's company. He was standing near the opening of the after-hatchway, which had not yet been battened down, and his gaze was fixed upon me. He was a broad-shouldered fellow, about the average height, and was dressed in a tight-fitting black coat which reached to his knees. On his head was a skull cap with a long tassel hanging down from its top, and in his mouth was a handsome meerschaum pipe, which hung down by its stem to the middle of his breast. His beard was long and just turning gray, and his eyebrows were heavy and prominent.
I stood staring at the figure, and I must say I never saw a more brutal expression upon a man's face. His large mouth and thick lips appeared to wear a sneering smile, while his eyes twinkled with undisguised amusement. His nose was large and flat like a Hottentot's, and while I gazed at him in astonishment, he raised it in the air and gave forth a snort which apparently meant that he was well satisfied with the way affairs were being carried on aboard the ship and he was consequently amused.
"Here! you man; what the deuce are you doing aboard here?" I asked as I advanced to the break of the poop and stared down at him. He gave another snort, and looked at me with undisguised contempt, but disdained to answer and turned away, going to the lee rail and expectorating over the side. Then he came slowly back across the main deck, while my spleen rose at his superior indifference. I have always been a man of the people, and have fought my way along to whatever position I have held on the comprehensive rule of give and take. Nothing is so offensive to me as the assumption of superiority when backed solely by a man's own conception of his value. Therefore it was in no pleasant tone that I addressed the stranger on his return to the deck beneath me.
"My fine cock," said I, "if you haven't a tongue, you probably have ears, and if you don't want them to feel like the grate-bars of the galley stove, you'll do well to sing out when I speak. Can you rise to that?"
The man looked me squarely in the eyes, and I never saw such a fiendish expression come into a human face as that which gathered in his. "You infernal, impudent--" he began; and here for a moment followed a string of foul oaths from the man's lips, while he passed his hand behind his back and drew forth a long knife. Then without a moment's further hesitation he sprang up the steps to the poop.
The fiendishness of the attack took me off my guard, for I was not prepared for such a serious fracas during the first half hour in command of the deck; but I saw there was little time to lose. There were no belaying-pins handy, so the thing for me was to get in as close as possible and get the fellow's knife.
As he came up the steps, I rushed for him and kicked out with all my strength, when his face was level with my knees. The toe of my heavy shoe caught him solidly in the neck, and he went over backward almost in a complete somersault, landing with a crash upon the main deck just outside the window of Mr. Trunnell's room. He was stunned by the fall, and I hastened down to seize him before he could recover. Just as I gained the main deck, however, he gave a snort and started to his feet. Then he let out a yell like a madman and closed with me, my right hand luckily reaching his wrist below the knife.
It was up and down, and all over the deck for a time, the men crowding aft around us, but fearing to take a hand. The fellow had enormous strength, and the way he made that knife hand jump and twist gave me all I could do to keep fast to it. Soon I found I was losing ground, and he noted the fact, exerting himself more and more as he found me failing. Then it dawned upon me that I was in a bad fix, and I tried to think quickly for some means to save myself. In another mad struggle he would wrench himself clear, and his ugly look told me plainly how much mercy I could expect. I gave one last despairing grip on his wrist as he tore wildly about, and then I felt his arm slip clear of my fingers, and I waited for the stroke with my left arm drawn up to stop its force as far as possible. I could almost feel the sting of the steel in my tense nerves, when something suddenly caught me around the middle and pressed me with great force against my enemy. His face was almost against mine, but his arms were pinioned to his sides, powerless, and then I was aware that we both were encircled by the ape-like arms of the mate, Mr. Trunnell. How the little fellow held on was a marvel. He braced his short legs wide apart, and giving a hug that almost took the breath out of me, bawled lustily for some man to pass a lashing.
Suddenly a man rushed aft and passed a line around the stranger, and I saw that the young landlubber to whom, earlier in the morning, I had been so harsh was a man to be depended on. The young fellow tied my enemy up in short order, although the knots he used would not have done any credit to a sailor. But I was more than thankful when I had a chance to wring the long knife out of the murderous stranger's hand, and I spoke out to the smooth-faced fellow. "You'll do, my boy, even if you don't know a yard from a main-brace bumpkin. Pass a line around his legs and stuff a swab into his mouth if he don't stop swearing."
"Steady," said Trunnell, "none of that," as the swab was being brought up. "But, Captain Andrews, if you don't belay your tongue we'll have to do something." And the little mate squared his shoulders, and gazed calmly down upon the prostrate stranger who foamed at the mouth with impotent fury.
"So," I said, "this is the ruffian who jumped his bail and is aboard here on the sneak? I reckon we'll tack ship and stand back again to put him where he belongs."
I was breathing heavily from the fight, and stood leaning against the cabin to recover, while Mr. Trunnell and the fellow Jim, who had helped tie the skipper up, appeared to be in doubt how to proceed. The noise of the scuffle and our conversation had aroused the captain in the cabin, and as I finished speaking he came to the break of the poop and looked down on the main deck. I was aware of his hooked nose and strange, glinting eyes almost before I turned, as he spoke. He placed his foot upon the rail and gave a dry cough.
"I reckon there ain't any call to tack ship," he said slowly; "a pair of irons'll do the rest. Jest clap them on him, hand and foot, Mr. Rolling, and then rivet him to the deck away up forrads. If he don't stow that bazoo of his, you might ram the end of a handspike in his mouth and see if he'll bite."
"Who are you, you molly-hawk, to give orders aboard here?" roared Andrews, from where he lay on deck. "What's happened, Trunnell, when a swivel-eyed idiot with a beak like an albatross stands on the poop and talks to me like this?"
"He's Captain Thompson, in command, owing to the little--the little fracas you was mixed into last v'yage. We didn't exactly expect to have ye this trip, sir," said the mate.
"Well, I'm here, ain't I? Sing out, can't you see me? Has your hair struck in and tickled your brain so you don't know who's boss aboard here? Who's this galoot you've just kept from being ripped to ribbons? I'll settle matters with you later on for meddling in this affair, you kelp-haired sea-pig. Sink you, Trunnell; I never expected you to turn rusty like the miserable swab you are."
"Don't you think it would be best to stand away for port again, sir?" said the fellow Jim, looking sharply at the skipper on the poop as he spoke, and then to myself and Trunnell.
"We don't keer for your suggestions, young feller," said the skipper, leaning over the rail above us. "When there's any orders to be given, I'll attend to matters myself." He spoke in a low, even tone, and his eyes seemed to focus to two sharp, bright points at the sailor, making his great beak-like nose more prominent.
"Cast me adrift, Trunnell," commanded the ruffian Andrews, with an oath. "I'm a-going to kill that lubber you've got for mate anyhow, and it might as well be done at once as any other time. We'll settle the matter about who's skipper afterward."
"I hears ye well enough, Cap'n Andrews," said Trunnell; "but I ain't eggzactly clear in my mind as to how ye have authority aboard. If I was, I'd cast ye adrift in spite o' the whole crowd, an' ye could rip an' cut to your bloody heart's content. Ye know I'd back ye if 'twas all right and proper; but I never disobeyed an order yet, and stave me, I never will. I don't care who gives it so long as he has the right."
The catalog subjects for this title—'Pirate Stories' and 'Sea stories'—might lead a reader to expect swashbuckling action aboard a vessel named Pirate. Yet the opening chapters offer something more ambiguous: a first-person narrator, a young mate stranded in Melbourne, who deliberately avoids the very ship that gives the book its name. The ship Pirate is introduced not as a pirate craft but as a Yankee clipper with 'an evil reputation' and a captain jailed for brutality. The narrator's relief at not shipping on her sets up a tension between the promise of the title and the reality of maritime labor.
The Narrator's Voice and Circumstances
The story opens with a first-person narrator who is pragmatic and self-aware. He describes being 'on the beach' in Melbourne, a common sailor's predicament, and lists his possessions: 'an old quadrant, a nautical almanac, a thick pea coat, and a pipe.' This inventory grounds the character in material reality. He is twenty-five, has never tasted rum, and has held a mate's berth—details that establish him as competent but down on his luck. His decision to avoid the Pirate is based on hearsay: 'three men missing from her papers.' The narrator does not witness violence; he relies on reputation, which colors the reader's expectation of the ship and its mate, Mr. Trunnell.
The Ship as a Character
The Pirate is described with technical precision: 'a fine clipper ship of nearly two thousand tons,' with 'long black sides' and 'tremendous lower yards nearly ninety feet across.' The narrator reads her name in gilt letters and recalls her reputation. This juxtaposition of beauty and menace recurs when the narrator later finds himself aboard a wrecked ship, the Sovereign, where he meets Captain Sackett and his daughter. The wreck becomes a new setting, and the Pirate remains a distant, moving target. The catalog subject 'Pirate Stories' may be misleading: the excerpts show no pirates, only a ship with a tainted name and a mate whose character is yet to be tested.
Evidence of Character Through Dialogue
Dialogue in the excerpts reveals character without direct exposition. The narrator's exchange with Captain Sackett's daughter shows his wariness of heroism: 'Admiration for human beings should not be hysterical.' She retorts with experience: 'From the little I've seen of men during the six voyages I've made around the world in this ship with papa, your advice is somewhat superfluous.' This brief interaction suggests a capable female character and a narrator who is measured, not impulsive. Sackett himself speaks in practical terms about rigging and salvage, reinforcing the theme of survival over adventure. The catalog subject 'American fiction' fits the vernacular and setting, but the 'Pirate Stories' label may overpromise.
Readers approaching Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship "Pirate" should set aside expectations of pirate raids or treasure maps. The excerpts depict a world of maritime labor, damaged vessels, and moral ambiguity. The title character, Mr. Trunnell, has not yet appeared in the provided text; his role remains inferred. The book may reward those interested in the daily realities of seafaring and the slow revelation of character under pressure.
That rainy afternoon, Mr. Trunnell kept me company, though I remember less about pirates than the damp unease of a sailor watching his pay slip away. The book’s quiet dread lingered. Somehow, it led me to A Tale of Two Tunnels: A Romance of the Western Waters — Themes and Context, where that same murky uncertainty simply traded the deck for a dark river.
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