Part 6 (2/2)
”I won't touch the tiller; I say we go fast enough. You want to drown me--don't you?”
”If I drown you, I must drown myself--mustn't I?”
”I won't touch the tiller; I don't want the other sail hoisted,”
persisted Kate.
”What are you afraid of? I didn't think you were a coward. If I had, I shouldn't have asked you to come with me.”
”I'm not a coward, any more than you are. I don't see what you want to hoist the other sail for; we are going like fury through the water now.”
”We need more head sail,” answered f.a.n.n.y, using an expression she had borrowed from the nautical speeches of Ben, the boatman.
”No, we don't need more head sail,” replied Kate, who, however, had not the most remote idea of the meaning of her friend's language.
”Take the tiller, Kate, and don't bother me.”
”I will not.”
”Then I will hoist the sail, and let the boat take care of herself while I do it. If she is upset, it will be your fault,--not mine.”
f.a.n.n.y was resolute; she had a will, as well as a way, of her own. She did not want any advice, and she was not willing to take any. She looked upon her companion as a weak-minded, poor-spirited girl, and she treated her opinions and her wishes with the utmost contempt, now that she had her completely in her power. It was useless for Kate to attempt to oppose her.
”I don't know anything about the tiller, as you call it. I don't even know what it is, and I'm sure I couldn't tell what to do with it,”
continued Kate.
”That's a good girl!” replied f.a.n.n.y, in patronizing tones, when she saw that her companion was disposed to yield.
”I don't want to touch it.”
”But you must.”
”Must! Who says I must?”
”I say so; if you don't, we may be upset.”
”I have gone far enough, Fan Grant; I don't want to go any farther: I want to go on sh.o.r.e again!” exclaimed Kate, now completely disgusted with the venture, for in addition to the perils of wrong doing, she found she must submit to the impudence and the arrogance of her friend.
”Well, why don't you go on sh.o.r.e?” replied f.a.n.n.y, with the utmost coolness and self-possession.
”You know I can't. Turn the boat round, and let me go back to the land.”
”I think not.”
”I have had enough of this thing.”
”Will you take the tiller, or will you let the boat upset?” added f.a.n.n.y, with firmness and decision. ”You can't go on sh.o.r.e 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.”
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