“O, no, I can’t!” drawled Tom.
“Well, then, that’s the first thing you’ll have to learn. You never can be an able seaman until you understand every thing about a vessel, you know. Snow-ball!” he added, turning to the negro, who was the cook of the schooner, “here’s your new boy. He’ll saw all the wood you want.”
The negro dropped the saw, and the officer, again turning to Tom, said:
“Now, then, bear a hand!”
“O, now, I can’t saw wood!” whined Tom. “I didn’t ship for that, and I won’t do it.”
The whole appearance of the mate instantly changed. Stepping to the foremast, he uncoiled a heavy rope from one of the cleats, and, again approaching Tom, exclaimed:
“Now bear a hand, sonny, or I’ll use this rope.”
Tom saw that the mate was in earnest, and that the only way to escape punishment was to obey. Reluctantly picking up one of the smallest sticks of wood he could find, he placed it upon the saw-horse, and took his first lesson in the duties of a sailor. He had never attempted work of that kind before, and it was a most tedious task to saw that stick of wood; but it was accomplished at last, and Tom drew a long breath of relief, for he thought that his work was done.
“That’s the way to do it,” said the mate, approvingly. “You’ll make a sailor yet. You’ll be captain one of these fine days. Now try another!”
Tom looked first at the wood-pile, then at the rope which the mate still held in his hand, and, not daring to refuse, he placed another stick on the saw-horse, and again went to work, his eyes so blinded with tears that he could scarcely see what he was about. For an hour the mate stood by watching his movements, and, seeing that Tom began to make more rapid headway, he said, as he returned the rope to its place: