“‘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.

“Faith, he’s all right,” blurted out Chips; “his skin is a little off th’ color av roses, but his heart is white.  We’re wid ye, see?”

“With me for what?” I asked.

“Anything,” he replied.  “To go back, to go ahead.  There’s a fellow forrads who says go back while ye may.”

“An’ it’s bloody good advice,” said the steward, in a low tone.

“I’m not exactly in command aboard here,” I said.

“D’ye know who is?” asked Chips.

“His name is Thompson, I believe,” I answered coldly, for I did not approve of this sudden criticism of the skipper, much as I disliked his style.

“See here, mate, ye needn’t think we’re fer sayin’ agin the old man, so hark ye, don’t take it hard like.  Did ye iver hear tell av a sailorman a-callin’ a line a ‘rope’ or a bloomin’ hooker like this a ‘boat’?  No, sir, ye can lay to it he’s niver had a ship before; an’ so says Jim Potts, the same as passed th’ line fer ye this mornin’.  Kin I pass ye the junk?  It’s sort o’ snifty fer new slush, but I don’t complain.”

“What’s the matter with the meat?” I asked, glad to change the conversation.

“Jest sort o’ snifty.”

“That’s what,” corroborated the steward, looking at me.  “Jest sort o’ smelly like fer new junk.”

“What has Jim Potts got against the old man?” I asked.  “You said he didn’t believe the skipper had been in a ship before.”

“Nothin’ I knows of, ‘cept he was hot fer turnin’ back this mornin’ an’ tried to get th’ men to back him in comin’ aft.”

“Do you mean it’s mutiny?”

“Lord, no; jest to blandander ye inter tackin’ ship.  He most persuaded Mr. Trunnell, an’ wid ye too, ‘twould ha’ been no mutiny to override the new skipper, an’ land th’ other in th’ caboose.”

Much as I would have liked to get ashore again, I knew there was no immediate prospect of it.  The skipper would not hear of any such thing.  As for Trunnell acting against orders, I knew from what I had seen of this sturdy little fellow he would obey implicitly any directions given him, and at any cost.  There was no help for it now.  We would be out for months with the ruffian skipper forward and the strange one aft.  I said nothing more to the carpenter or steward, for it was evident that there had been some strong arguments used by Jim Potts against the regularity of the ship’s company.  The more I thought of this, the more I was astonished, for the young landsman was not forced to come out in the ship, and had almost been left, as it was.  I went on deck in a troubled frame of mind, and determined to keep my eye on every one who approached me, for the voyage had the worst possible beginning.