"Will you take the tiller, or will you let the boat upset?" added Fanny, with firmness and decision. "You can't go on shore again till I get ready to let you. I command this vessel, and if you ever want to put your foot on the dry land again, you must mind what I say."
"Please to let me go back," pleaded Kate.
"I won't please to do anything of the kind. Take the tiller, I say."
"What shall I do with it?" asked the poor girl, cowed down and subdued by the force and decision of her companion.
"Sit here," replied Fanny, pointing to the corner of the stern-sheets, where the helmsman usually sits. "This is the tiller," she added, indicating the serpent-shaped stick attached to the rudder, by which the boat is steered. "Keep it just as it is, until I tell you to move it."
"I don't know how to move it."
"When I say right, move it this way;" and Fanny pointed to the starboard side. "When I say left, move it the other way."
Fanny watched her a moment to see that her instructions were obeyed.
"We don't want this any longer," said she, unfastening the painter of the skiff and throwing it into the water, thus permitting the boat to go adrift.
"What did you do that for?" demanded Kate, as the Greyhound dashed on, leaving the skiff behind to be borne down the river by the tide.