He was watching all this time a large ship, which, totally dismasted, was being driven towards the coast. He quickly put on his foul-weather-dress, as he called it, with water-proof boots, and a sou’-wester, and went to his wife’s room. He put his head into the room and said, “Margaret, I am wanted out there. God protect you and Margery. I pray that I may be soon back—so will you, I know, dear wife—good-bye.” He did not stay to say more, and before she could ask any questions he had hurried from the room.
Tom saw his master leaving the house. “I know what you’re after,” he said to himself, and with a rapidity which few but sailors can exercise, he had stepped into his rough-weather clothing, and was hurrying after him. Though the captain was superior to Tom in most things, Tom having two real legs, and the captain only one, Tom went over the ground the fastest, and soon caught him up. “You are not going without me, sir, I hope,” said Tom, in a tone which showed that his feelings were deeply hurt. “Did you ever go without me, sir, where there was anything to be done, and the chance of a knock on the head?”
“No! Tom—but you see in this sort of work two hands are wanted, and you haven’t got two, and that’s the long and the short of it,” answered the captain.
“One of them was lost in saving my life. I don’t forget that either.”
“That’s nothing, sir,” answered Tom. “If I haven’t two hands, I’ve got a strong set of teeth, which are pretty well as useful as a hand; and who can say that my on arm isn’t as good as the two arms of many a man.”
“Not I, Tom, not I!” answered the captain; “but it’s just this—if anything was to happen to me, what would my wife and child do without you, Tom, to look after them?”
Tom still, however, argued the point. They were walking as fast as the captain could move down to the beach. Suddenly the latter stopped, looked Tom full in the face, and said—“It’s just this. Are you captain, or am I?”
“You, sir,” answered Tom, touching his hat mechanically, as he was wont in the days of yore.
“Then stay, and do as I order you,” said the captain, walking on. “But I’ll tell you what, Tom; you may go and look out for volunteers, and then come and help to launch the boat.”
The appearance of the captain at the boat was the signal for the inmates of the neighbouring huts to come out to know what he wanted. He showed them the ship driving towards the coast—urged them to come and help him save the lives of those on board; and when he saw that his appeal made but little impression, talked of the salvage money they would receive, and other recompense from those they might save, and from their friends. First one man volunteered—then another, and another, from various motives. Tom had collected more from other quarters, till a fine crew was formed. Once having said they would go, they were not the men to draw back; but they might have been excused had they done so, for it was very evident that the undertaking was one full of dangers of the most formidable character.