But there was no one to order him, and with the whole responsibility upon his shoulders, he for the first time in his life began to realise what it meant to be the captain of a ship, answerable for everything thereon.
Chapter Twenty Five.
A Horrible Thought.
Two days glided by, during which Tom Fillot proved himself to be invaluable. The merry joker of the ship’s company showed that he possessed plenty of sound common sense, and that he was an excellent seaman. Thrown, too, as he was, along with his young officer, he never presumed thereon, but, evidently feeling how great a burden there was on the lad’s shoulders, he did all he could to lighten the load, by setting a capital example to his messmates of quick obedience, and was always suggesting little bits of seamanship, and making them seem to emanate from Mark himself. The consequence was that matters went in the most orderly way on board, and they steadily kept on north, north-west, or sometimes due west, according to the trend of the land.
“Easy enough thing, sir, navigation,” Tom said, merrily, “if you’ve got nice calm weather, no rocks or shoals, and a fair line of coast to steer by.”
“Yes, it’s easy enough now, Tom,” replied Mark.
“’Tis, sir; only I should like it better if it was right up in the north, where the sun don’t set. One can’t help feeling a bit scared sometimes when it’s very dark. I was nearly coming las’ night and asking leave to let go the anchor.”
“If I get well out of this, Tom,” said Mark, “I mean to study up my navigation. It’s horrible to be so helpless. I’m ashamed, too, being in charge here, and obliged to trust to seeing the shore for a guide.”