Tom was very glad to hear this, for he was always delighted to have even a short respite from his unpleasant duties. Precisely at twelve o’clock, however, he was again called on deck by the second mate, and compelled to resume his work. He managed to saw a very little wood, and was twice sent aloft by the officer, who, as before, was obliged to threaten the rope’s end in case of refusal. Day after day was passed in this way, and, long before the schooner arrived at her destination, Tom had lost all desire to become the commander of a vessel. His position was far from being a pleasant one, but, in this respect, he could blame no one but himself. He well knew what his duties were, but he would never perform them except upon compulsion. He was always ill-natured; and the consequence was, he was cordially disliked by all on board, from the captain down to the negro cook. The former scarcely ever spoke to him, except to repeat his advice in regard to promptly obeying all orders (which, it is needless to say, was advice wasted), and the latter scolded him continually for his failure to keep the galley stove in fuel. The sailors tormented him in every conceivable way, and invariably called him “Sonny”—a name that Tom particularly disliked.
But it was the severest blow of all to Tom to notice how kindly Bob White was treated by both officers and men. The reason for this was, that Bob always cheerfully and promptly obeyed all orders, without waiting to be threatened with punishment. He was always accommodating, and ready to do any thing to assist one of the crew; and when he was spoken harshly to—as he was sometimes—he never answered back. Tom, on the contrary, was always cross and sullen; he moved about the deck as if he scarcely had strength to stand on his feet; and when one of the sailors asked him to do an errand for him, he would answer: “Wait on yourself! I didn’t ship to be every body’s servant.” Under such circumstances, the only wonder was, that he ever escaped severe punishment. He knew, as well as any one, that he was entirely to blame; but he regarded the officers and crew of the schooner as his inferiors, and he was resolved that he would obey them only when he was forced to do so.
One afternoon the second mate called Tom and Bob White; and, after informing them that he was about to begin teaching them the names of the different ropes, asked if they thought they could learn them. Bob promptly replied that he could; but Tom, although he wanted some excuse to leave his wood-pile, thought the task was too difficult. He looked up and down the vessel, and at the numerous ropes which crossed and recrossed each other in every direction, and finally drawled out:
“O, no, I can’t learn them, Mr. Robson. There’s too many of them.”
“Get back to your wood-pile, then,” said the mate, beginning to get discouraged, “and, sonny, remember what I tell you! You’ll never be any body in the world so long as you say ‘I can’t!’ Why don’t you say ‘I’ll try!’”
“O, now, what’s the use of trying!” whined Tom. “Don’t I know what I can do, and what I can’t, without trying?”
“Bear a hand at that wood-pile,” said the mate. “Come, now, Bob!”
Tom went back to his work, while Bob walked about the schooner with the mate, paying strict attention to all he said, and trying hard to remember it. The result was that, by the time they reached Callao, he could stand his watch at the wheel in fair weather, knew the names of all the ropes, and had once assisted in taking in the sails. In the meantime, Tom had learned that the right hand side of the schooner, looking forward, was called starboard, and the left hand, port; and that was the extent of his knowledge of a vessel.
When the Savannah reached her destination, Tom drew a long breath of relief, for he thought that his work for the present was over. But the galley still needed wood, the bunks must be made every morning, and the captain wanted his boots blacked as regularly as when at sea; and by the time these duties were done, it was night; so that Tom never once went ashore. He had always thought that he would experience much pleasure in visiting foreign countries, but now he was so absorbed in his troubles that he never took any notice of what was going on; and when the vessel had discharged her cargo and been reloaded, he knew no more about Callao than he did when he first arrived there.
One day, just before the schooner was ready to start on her homeward voyage, the mate came forward where Tom was at work at his wood-pile, and informed him that the captain wished to see him. Confident that at last affairs had taken a turn in his favor, the young sailor hurried aft, and as he entered the cabin, the skipper said: