I was much taken with him owing to what had happened, and I looked down
at him as he ate, for I could see him very well as I stood near the
mizzen on the port side of the cabin skylight. The glass of the hatch was
raised to let the cabin air, and I watched the bushy head beneath, with
its aggressive beard bending over the dirty table-cloth. The large squat
nose seemed to sniff the good grub as the steward served the fresh beef,
and Trunnell made ready with his knife.

He laid the blade on his plate and heaped several large chunks of the
meat and potatoes upon it. Then he dropped his chin and seemed to shut
his eyes as he carefully conveyed the load to his mouth, drawing the
steel quickly through his thick lips without spilling more than a
commensurate amount of the stuff upon his beard, and injuring himself in
no way whatever. The quick jerk with which he slipped the steel clear so
as to have it ready for another load made me a trifle nervous; but it was
evident that he was not a novice at eating. Indeed, the skipper appeared
to admire his dexterity, for I saw his small, glinting eyes look sharply
from the little fellow to the boyish third officer who sat to starboard.

"Never had no call for a fork, eh?" said he, after watching the mate
apparently come within an inch of cutting his head in two.

"Nope," said Trunnell.

They ate in silence for some minutes.

"I like to see a fellow what can make out with the fewest tools. Tools
are good enough for mechanics; a bit an' a bar'll do for a man. Ever been
to New York?"