But Trunnell shook his head until the water flew around.

"Ye're off agin, me son. It ain't that at all. That man don't care a
whoop for all the owners livin'. Not he. Sink me, Rolling, I got a big
head, but nothin' much in it; in spite o' this, though, I knows a thing
or two when I sees it. That man has some other object in bein' nervous
about this here hooker besides owners. Don't ask me what it is, 'cause I
don't know. But I knows what it ain't."

"The whole outfit is queer," I answered, "and the sooner I get out of
her, the better satisfied I'll be. No decent sailor would ship in the
craft if he could help it."

Trunnell gave me a queer look. Then he saw I meant no offence and shook
his great head again.

"Did it ever occur to ye that ye had a duty to do in the world beside
huntin' soft jobs?"

"Certainly not that of hunting hard ones," I answered, fastening my belt.

Trunnell's face underwent a change. He was serious and waited until I had
strapped my sou'wester under my chin before saying anything.

"Mebbe I'm wrong, an' mebbe I ain't," he said. "But I believes a man has
duties to stick to while he's on watch above water. One of these is not
to turn tail and scud away, a-showin' your stern to every hard thing as
comes along. No, sir, when ye runs into a hard gang like some o' these
here aboard this hooker, stick to her, says me. If every man who's honest
should turn his stern to a wessel that's got a bad name, what would