"He was the chap the governor throwed overboard when he ran away with Xury and the boat," replied Sam. "He was a brave feller, an' a reg'lar water-dog. He swam four miles to reach the shore."
"I don't like the name a bit," said Tom. "I would rather be called captain, or mate, or general, or something."
"I am the only officer in the band," repeated Sam. "If you don't like any of them names, pick out one for yourself."
That was something Tom could not do. He was not acquainted with the names of any of the characters in the book, and consequently he was obliged to consent to be called after the Moor Robinson had thrown overboard.
"That's settled," said Sam, opening the dilapidated copy of Robinson Crusoe, and taking from it a sheet of soiled foolscap; "and the next thing is for you to sign the shipping articles. Listen to 'em."
The "shipping articles" were like a good many similar documents Tom had written—rather badly mixed up—but, by listening attentively, the eavesdropper outside of the cave got an insight into matters; for thus far every thing had been Greek to him. He learned, to his intense astonishment, that Sam and his friends had organized the society with the express purpose of hunting up an island somewhere in the ocean and living Crusoe life. He also discovered that Sam was the supreme ruler of the band; that his orders must be obeyed without the least hesitation; and that any boy who exposed the secrets of the society, or was detected in trying to get up a mutiny, would be punished as the chief thought proper. As Sam read this part of the "shipping articles," he put on a terrible frown, and spoke in a very gruff voice, which was, no doubt, intended to convince the new member that if he dared to be guilty of treason, his punishment would be something awful. Tom, having never before held the rank of private in any secret organization, hesitated a little about signing away his liberty. Sam had the reputation of being a terrible tyrant, and he did not want to put himself too much in his power. However, he had no alternative that he could discover. The members of the Crusoe band were the only friends he had; he had cast his lot with them, and he had already gone too far to desert them.
"What do you say, Tommy?" asked the chief, when he had finished reading the "shipping articles." "Them's our rules, an' you can say yes or no to 'em, jest as you like."
"I say yes!" answered Tom. "I'll obey all orders."
The new member then stepped up to the flour barrel, and affixed his signature to the paper with a blunt lead-pencil, about an inch in length, which was the only thing in the shape of writing material possessed by the band. He was then hailed as a member by the chief, who shook him cordially by the hand and patted him on the back, while the others complimented him in language that grated harshly on his ears.
"No time for foolin', fellers!" said the chief, at length. "Set down agin, an' let's have a talk about the Storm King."