"I wish you had the distinction of belonging to the port watch."
"Why?"
"I think I might strengthen your powers of discernment regarding the relative positions of second and third mates."
"We'll see who has the better insight in regard to the matter without my being bored to that extent," said the third officer in his softest tones, and again I fancied I heard the voice of a man swearing fiercely in a low voice as if to himself. Then I turned and went aft.
"It's something queer," said Trunnell, shaking his great shaggy head and glancing toward the break of the poop. A step sounded on the companion ladder, and the skipper came on deck.
"Pretty dark, hey?" he said, and his quick eyes took in both Trunnell and myself comprehensively.
"Looks like we might have a spell o' weather if the wind keeps fallin'," observed Trunnell.
"Well, I don't suppose a dark night is any worse than a bright one, and I call to mind many a time I'd give something to see it a bit blacker. Do you know where you're at?"
"She's headin' about the same, but if ye don't mind, I'll be gettin' her down gradual like to her torps'ls if the glass keeps a-fallin'. Short commons, says I, on the edge o' the monsoon."
"Short it is, my boy. Get her down low. The more she looks like you, the better she'll do, hey? What d'you think of that, Mr. Rolling? The shorter the longer, the longer the shorter—see? The sooner the quicker, eh? Supposen the question was asked you, Mr. Rolling, what'd you say, hey? Why is Mr. Trunnell like a lady's bouquet, hey? Why is the little man like a bunch of flowers? Don't insult him, Mr. Rolling. The sanitary outfit of the cabin is all right. 'Tain't that. No, split me, it ain't that. Think a minute."