but you never hearn tell of a man or boy pipin' so soft like. Why, it
skeers me to listen to it. It's just like--but no matter."

"Like what?" I suggested gently, hoping much.

But it was of no use. Trunnell looked at me queerly for a moment as if
undecided to give me his confidence. Then he resumed his walk athwart the
deck, and I went forward to the break of the poop and took a look at the
head sails.

The night was growing darker, and the breeze was dying slowly, and I
wondered why the skipper had not come on deck to take a look around. He
was usually on hand during the earlier hours of evening.

I reached the side of the third officer, and stood silently gazing at the
canvas which shone dimly through the gathering gloom. As we had always
been separated on account of being in different watches, I had never
addressed the third mate before save in a general way when reporting the
ship's duties aft.

"Pretty dark night, hey?" I ventured.

The third officer looked hard at me for the space of a minute, during
which time his face underwent many changes of expression. Then he
answered in a smooth, even tone.

"Sorter," said he.

This was hardly what I expected, so I ventured again.