“Well,” said Bob, “I believe now that whistling will get up a storm. We’ll be in a bad fix if we don’t find shelter somewhere very soon. What shall we do, captain? Give your orders.”
“O, I’m sick,” answered Tom, looking up at the cloud, which seemed to rise more rapidly. “You be captain, and if any thing happens you can call me.”
Tom’s terror was great, but his pride was greater. He did not wish to acknowledge his utter inability to give the necessary orders, so he resorted to this expedient, to shift all the responsibility on Bob’s shoulders; and he thought that he was acting in a perfectly honorable manner; for, while he was on board the Savannah, he once heard the captain say to the first mate: “I am very unwell, and I wish you would take charge of the vessel; carry as much or as little sail as you please. If any thing happens, call me.” The captain then went down into the cabin, and kept his bed for two days, during which time the first mate sailed the schooner. So Tom, with this example before him, thought that he had a perfect right to turn the command of the Mystery over to his mate, if he chose to do so, and no one could question his motives.
Bob, at first, did not wish to take charge of the little vessel, but Tom insisted, saying:
“I will lie down here in the stern-sheets, and if any thing happens, you can call me.” And, suiting the action to the words, he stretched himself out at full length, and rested his head on his hands, as if he were very ill indeed.
“Well, then,” said the fisher-boy, “if I am the captain, I shall shape her course toward the shore and take in that topsail and flying-jib.”
“Do as you like,” replied Tom; “carry as much or as little sail as you please. I’m sick.”
The fisher-boy accordingly headed the Mystery toward the beach, and, again turning to Tom, said:
“Now, if I am the captain, you must be the crew.”