"We need more head sail," answered Fanny, 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."

Fanny 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 Fanny, 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 shore 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 shore?" replied Fanny, 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
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 st