Thompson, or Tackwell, still commanded the ship, and Chips and I agreed there was no use in forcing matters with Trunnell against us.  We would bide our time and wait for him on making harbor.  He was doing well enough now, and since the women had come aboard he had been quieter in his cups, staying below when not sober enough to talk pleasantly.  His mustache he curled with more care, and his dress was better than before, otherwise he walked the deck with the same commanding air, and drawled out his orders as usual.  He was the most temperate at the very times when I expected him to go off into one of his ugly sarcastic fits, and was evidently trying to carry out the remainder of the voyage without any friction anywhere.  This made matters easy for the mates.

During this period of good weather the routine duties of the ship took the place of the fierce excitement of the past.  The bright sunshine cheered us greatly, and the spirits of all on board rose accordingly.  The day watches were spent in healthy labor on the main deck, bending old sails and sending below the new ones.  A ship, unlike a human being, always puts on her old and dirty clothes in fine weather, and bends her new and strong ones for facing foul.

The poultry and pigs, which nearly all deep-water ships carry, were turned loose to get exercise and air.  The “doctor” worked up his plum-duff on the main hatch in full view of hungry men, and tobacco was in plenty for those who had money to pay for it, Trunnell giving fair measure to all who ran bills on the slop chest.

The little shaggy-headed fellow interested me more than ever now, and he was in evidence all day long.  His hair and beard, which resembled the mane of a lion, could be seen at all times, from the poop to the topgallant forecastle, rising above the hatches or going down the gangways, where he attended to everything in person.  Since the night when he came aboard with his bloody knife, I felt strangely toward him.  He never alluded to the affair again in any way whatever, but went at his work in the same systematic and seaman-like manner that had, from the first, marked him as a thorough sailor.  He was always considerate to the men under him, and many times when I expected an outburst of fierce anger, such as nine out of ten deep-water mates would indulge in at a stupid blunder of a lazy sailor, he simply gave the fellow a quiet talking to and impressed him with the absolute necessity of care in his work.  We had plenty of men aboard, and the crew of the Sovereign were turned to each watch and made to do their share.

After a few days, Trunnell came to me and told me I might choose a third mate for him out of the men who had been in the Sovereign’s crew.  None of the men of the Pirate he said were up to a mate’s berth, except Johnson, and he, poor fellow, couldn’t read or write.  Jenks was too slippery for me after his hand in the fracas, so I asked the steward to pick me out a man from forward,