Mr. Trunnell, page 19 by T. Jenkins Hains
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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 c