The sailors drug or drink the owner, seize control, and steer wherever their appetites lead — feasting on the provisions and calling it good seamanship. The true navigator knows about seasons, sky, and wind. But the crew regards this knowledge as irrelevant, and the navigator as an impractical dreamer.
The sailors represent the populace and its demagogues — people who use rhetoric, flattery, and faction to seize power while dismissing the one skill actual governance requires. The navigator corresponds to the philosopher: the person who understands what the city's genuine good consists in. Democratic legitimacy and political competence are different things, and Plato insists on keeping that distinction sharp.
We do not let the loudest voice pick the surgeon or the engineer. Plato asks why we let it pick the ruler. His image has been used ever since to argue both for and against democracy — its power lies in the sharpness of the question it poses: is governing a learned skill, or mere common sense? And if it is a skill — who has it, and how would we know?
The Ship of State image appears in Book VI of The Republic. Plato does not conclude that democracy is always wrong, but that expertise in governing — like expertise in navigation — is real, rare, and not determined by a vote.