"I believe him a good sailor," said Trunnell, stiffening up.

"Ye don't say?" said the skipper.

"I never critisizez my officers," said Trunnell; and after that the
skipper let him alone.

I was pleased with Trunnell. His philosophy was all right, and I believed
from that time he was an honest man. Things began to look a little
brighter, and in spite of an aversion to the skipper which had begun to
creep upon me, I now saw that he was an observing fellow, and was quick
to know the value of men. I didn't like his allusion to a bit and bar for
a man, but thought little about the matter. In a short time Trunnell
relieved me, and I went below with the carpenter and steward to our mess.

The carpenter was a young Irishman, shipped for the first time. This was
the first time I had been to sea with a ship carpenter who was not either
a Russian, a Finn, or a Swede. The steward was a little mulatto, who
announced, as he sat down, after bringing in the hash, that he was bloody
glad he was an Englishman, and looked at me for approval.

This was to show that he did not approve of the scene he had witnessed on
the main deck in the morning, and I accepted it as a token of friendship.

"'Tis cold th' owld man thinks it is, whin he has th' skylight wide
open," said Chips, looking up at the form of Trunnell, who stood on the
poop. There was a strange light in the young fellow's eye as he spoke, as
if he wished to impart some information, and had not quite determined
upon the time and place. I took the hint and smiled knowingly, and then
glanced askance at the steward.