Tom looked at the mast, the top of which described almost a half-circle in the air, as the schooner plowed through the waves, and then at the mate, and finally drawled out, in his lazy way: “O, I can’t! I wouldn’t mind going up there in calm weather, but the schooner pitches so badly, I couldn’t hold on. I should certainly fall down.”
“Why, sonny, sailors can’t choose the weather for going aloft!” said the mate. “I am surprised to hear a boy who expects some day to be master of a vessel talk as if he was afraid; come, bear a hand; don’t be a coward.”
The officer had touched Tom in a very tender place. He did not like to be called a coward, and, almost involuntarily, he started toward the shrouds, as if he intended to convince the mate that he was not wanting in courage. But just then the schooner gave a tremendous lurch, and Tom, being taken unawares, was thrown flat upon the deck. Slowly rising to his feet, he clung to the fife-rail for support, and, again looking up at the mast, drawled out:
“O, I can’t go up there! Why don’t you tell Bob to go? I have to do all the work!”
But Bob had, but a few moments before, performed the same experiment; only the mate had placed the rope he wished him to bring on the extreme end of the bowsprit, and securing it was a much more unpleasant piece of work than Tom was now called upon to execute; for, in addition to running the risk of being shaken overboard, he had been almost smothered by the waves. Bob, however, had shipped for the purpose of learning to be a sailor; and when the mate directed him to bring the rope, he started at once to obey the order, and the officer, pleased with his prompt obedience, patted him on the head and praised him for his courage. The mate related this circumstance to Tom; but the latter, although he disliked to be beaten in any thing, could not muster up sufficient courage to make the attempt, until the officer stepped to the mast and began to uncoil one of the ropes. Then knowing that it was dangerous to hesitate any longer, Tom reluctantly placed his hands on the ratlines, and began the ascent. He slowly worked his way up until he reached the height of ten or twelve feet from the deck, when he paused, and, looking down at the mate, said, in a most pitiful voice:
“O, I can’t go up there, I tell you! I shall certainly fall down.”
“Go on, sonny!” replied the officer, shaking the rope. “Up you go; no backing out.”
Tom again began to work his way upward, stopping every few feet to remonstrate with the mate, whose only answer was: “Up you go,” accompanied by a flourish of the rope, which always seemed to infuse new courage into Tom. At length the cross-trees were reached, the rope was detached after considerable trouble, and Tom, feeling very much relieved, descended in safety to the deck, and handed it to the mate, who said:
“That’s right, sonny! I tell you that you will be master of a full-rigged ship some of these days. Now you may go and turn in until noon.”