_It is the same cabin on the following night. There is no thunder and
lightning, but it is a dirty night of fog--as wet as a crocodile's
nest--and you hear the water dripping from the trees. The Duke,
evidently, has had an answer to his "Now I lay me." The lighthouse, as
before, shows vaguely through the mist._
_In this scene we had wished to have a moon. The Duke will need it
presently in his courtship; for marvelously it sharpens a lover's
oath. 'T is a silver spur to a halting wooer. Shrewd merchants, I am
told, go so far as to consult the almanac when laying in their store
of wedding fits; for a cloudy June throws Cupid off his aim. What
cosmetic--what rouge or powder--so paints a beauty! If the moon were
full twice within the month scarcely a bachelor would be left. I pray
you, master carpenter, hang me up a moon. But our plot has put its
foot down. "Mirk," it says, "mirk and fog are best for our dirty
business."_
_We had wished, also, to place one act of our piece on the deck of a
pirate ship, rocking in a storm. Such high excitement is your right,
for your payment at the door. It required but the stroke of a lazy
pencil. But our plot has dealt stubbornly with us. We are still in the
pirates' cabin in the fog._
_We hear Darlin' singing in the kitchen, as the curtain rises._
[Music: DARLIN'S SONG]
Oh, I am the cook fer a pirate band
And food I never spoil.
Cabbage and such, it sure ain 't much,
Till I sets it on ter boil.
And I throws on salt and I throws on spice,
And the Duke, he says ter me,
Me Darlin', me pet, I 'm in yer debt,
And he sighs contentedlee.
(_There is a rattle of tinware. Patch-Eye sings the next stanza in the
loft._)
On the Strand, it 's true, I 'm tellin' ter you,
The Dukes and the Duchesses dwell.
And they dines in state on golden plate--
Eatin' and drinkin' like 'ell.
But I says ter you, and it 's perfectly true,
They stuffs theirselves too much;
And a mutton stew, when yer gets it through,
Is better than peacocks and such.
(_More tinware in the kitchen. And now Darlin' again!_)
I 've cooked in a brig to a dancin' jig
Which the sea kicks up in a blast.
And me stove 's slid 'round until I 've found
A rope ter make it fast.
But I braces me legs and the Duke, he begs
Fer puddin' with sweets on the side.
Me Darlin', it 's rough, and I likes yer duff.
I 'll marry yer, Darlin', me bride.
(_In her reckless joy at this dim possibility she overturns the
dishpan. During the song the Duke's legs have appeared on the ladder.
He descends, fetching with him a comb and mirror._
_He brushes his hair. This is unusual and he finds a knot that is
harder than any Gordian knot whatsoever. He smoothes and strokes his
whiskers. He goes so far as to slap himself for dust. He puts a sprig
of flowers--amazing!--in the front of his cloak. He practices a smile
and gesture. He seems to speak. He claps his hand upon his heart. Ah,
my dear sir, we have guessed your secret. The wind, as yet, blows from
the south, but a pirate waits not upon the spring. His lover's oath
pops out before the daffodil. I pray you, master carpenter, hang me up
a moon._
[Illustration: "I pray you, master carpenter, hang me up a moon"]
_And now the Duke stands before us the King of smiles. His is the
wooer's posture. He speaks, but not with his usual voice of command.
Oberon, as it were, calls Titania to the woodland when stars are torch
and candle to the sleeping world._)
DUKE: Betsy! Betsy!
(_She appears. The Duke wears a silly smile. But did not Bottom in an
ass's head win the fairy princess? A moon, sweet sir! And
now--suddenly!--the magic night dissolves into coarsest day._)
DUKE: Would yer like ter be the Duchess?
(_This is abrupt and unusual, but nice customs curtsy to Dukes as well
as Kings._)
DUKE: I 'm askin' yer, Betsy. Yer ol' Duke is askin' yer. I 'm lovin'
yer. Yer ol' Duke is lovin' yer. I 'll do the right thing by yer. I
'll marry yer. There! I 've said it. When yer married yer can jest set
on a cushion without nothin' ter do--(_reflectively_) nothin' 'cept
cookin' and washin' and darnin'. Does yer jump at me, Betsy?
(_I confess, myself, a mere man, unable to analyze Betsy's emotions.
She stands staring at the Duke, as you or I might stare at a
hippopotamus in the front hall. I have bitten my pencil to a pulp--the
maker's name is quite gone--but I can think of no lines that are
adequate. Her first surprise, however, turns to amusement._)
DUKE: Ain 't yer a kind o' hankerin' fer me? Come ter me arms,
sweetie, and confess yer blushin' love. I 'm askin' yer. I 'm askin'
yer ter be the Duchess.
BETSY: But I do not love you, Duke.
(_In jest, however, the little rascal perches on his knee._)
DUKE: Make yerself comfertable. Yer husband 's willin'. When I cramps,
I shifts yer. Kiss me, when yer wants.
BETSY: You are an old goose.
DUKE: Did I hear yer? Does yer hold off fer me ter nag yer? The ol'
Duke 's waitin' ter fold yer in his lovin' arms.
BETSY: I do not love you, Duke.
(_The Captain and Patch-Eye have thrust their heads through the
opening above the ladder, and they listen with amusement._)
DUKE: I 'm blowed. I 'm a better man than Patch. I 'm tellin' yer. Is
it me stump, Betsy? I has n't a hook hand like the Captain. Yer has
got ter be linked all 'round. There 's no fun, I says, in bein' hugged
by a one-armed man. Yer would be lop-sided in a week.
BETSY: It 's just that I do not love you, Duke.
DUKE: Yer wounds me feelin's. Does n't I ask yer pretty? Should I have
waited fer a moon and took yer walkin'? And perched with yer on the
rocks, with the ol' moon winkin' at yer, shovin' yer on? The Duke 's
never been refused before. A number o' wery perticerler ladies, arter
breakfast even, has jest come scamperin'. 'T ain 't Patch, is it
Betsy? A pretty leetle girl would n't love a feller as has one eye. It
ain 't the Captain. He ain 't no hand with the ladies. Yer not goin'
ter tell me it 's Petey? I would n't want yer ter fall in love with a
blinkin' light.
BETSY: You have lovely whiskers, Duke.
DUKE: Yer can pull one fer the locket that yer wears. Are yer makin'
fun o' me?
BETSY: I would n't dare.
DUKE: Does yer mean it, Betsy? Are yer relentin'? Are yer goin' ter
say the 'appy word as splices us from keel to topsail? Yer ain 't jest
a cruel syren are yer, wavin' me on, hopin' I 'll smash meself? Are
yer winkin' at me like ol' Flint's lantern--me thinkin' it 's love I
see, shinin' in yer laughin' eyes?
BETSY: Why don 't you marry Darlin'?
DUKE: Her with one tooth? Yer silly. I boohs at yer. Ol' ladies with
one hoof inside a coffin does n't make good brides. Yer wants someone
kinder gay and spry, as yer can pin flowers to.
BETSY: She loves you, Duke.
DUKE: Course she does. So does the ol' lady as keeps the tap at the
Harbor Light, and one-eyed Pol as mops up the liquor that is spilt.
And youngsters, too. A pretty leetle dear--jest a cozy armful--was
winkin' at me yesterday--kinder givin' me the snuggle-up. I pities
'em. It 's their nater, God 'elp 'em, ter love me; but the ol' Duke is
perticerler. Yer has lovely eyes, Betsy--blessed leetle mirrors where
I sees Cupid playin'. They shines like the lights o' a friendly
harbor.
BETSY: Darlin' cooks roast pig that crackles.
DUKE: I sets me heart on top me stomich. Ain 't yer comfertable,
settin' on me knee? Shall I shift yer to me stump? Betsy, I calls
arter we are married, fetch me down me slipper and lay it on the
hearth ter warm. Yer husband 's home. And I tosses yer me boot, all
mud fer cleanin'. And then yer passes the grog. And arter about the
second cup I limbers up and kisses yer. And then yer sets upon me
knee. It will be snug on winter evenin's when the blast is blowin'.
And when we 're married yer can kiss me pretty near as often as yer
please. And I won 't deny as I won 't like it. The ol' Duke ain 't
slingin' the permission 'round general. Darlin' nags me. What yer
laughin' at?
BETSY: You silly old man!
DUKE: Yer riles me. Once and fer all, will yer marry me? I 'll not
waste the night argyin' with yer. I 'm not goin' ter tease yer. I 've
only one knee and it ain 't no bench fer gigglin' girls as pokes fun
at their betters. I 'll jolt yer till yer teeth rattles. Is it someone
else? Has yer a priory 'tachment? Red Joe? Is it Red Joe, Betsy? Is he
snoopin' 'round?
(_Betsy rises with sobered mood, and walks away._)
DUKE: There 's somethin' about that young feller I does n't like. He
's a snooper. Betsy, does yer get what I 'm talkin' about? I have
offered ter make yer the Duchess. I 'll buy--I 'll steal yer a set o'
red beads. I 'll give yer a sixpence--without no naggin'--every time
yer goes ter town, jest ter spend reckless. I 'll marry yer. I 'll
take yer ter Minehead and get the piousest parson in the town. Would
yer like Darlin' fer a bridesmaid--and grog and angel-cake? Me jest
settin' ready ter kiss yer every time yer passes it. I 'm blowed! You
are wickeder than ol' Flint's lantern. It must be Red Joe. Him with
the smirk! There 's a young feller 'round here, Betsy, as wants ter
look out fer his wizen.
(_But Betsy has run in panic to the kitchen._)
DUKE: I does n't understand 'em. I 'm thinkin' the girl 's a fool. A
ninny I calls her. It 's Red Joe. Off a cliff! Yer said it, Darlin'.
Off a cliff!
(_He removes the sprig of flowers and tosses it into the fire._
_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:--_
_He retires to the rear of the cabin and strokes the parrot's head. He
jerks away his hand for fear of being nipped. The ungrateful world has
turned against him._)
DUKE: Yer a spiteful bird. Yer as mean as women. Ninnies I calls 'em.
It must ha' been the moon. I should ha' waited fer a moon.
[Illustration: "Yer as mean as women"]
(_He sits on the chest at the rear of the cabin and whittles a little
ship. Women are a queer lot._
_The Captain and Patch-Eye have climbed down the ladder. They burst
with jest. The Captain sits on the chair by the fire, mimicing the
posture of the Duke. Patch-Eye perches on his knee._)
PATCH: Darlin' loves yer, Duke.
CAPTAIN: Course she does. They all does. Youngsters, too--winkin' and
givin' me the snuggle-up.
PATCH: Yer has lovely whiskers, Duke.
CAPTAIN: Yer can pull one, Betsy, fer the locket that yer wears.
(_But the Duke ends the burlesque by upsetting the chair. The Captain
and Patch-Eye, chuckling at their jest, sit to a game of cards. The
Duke returns to the chest. Once in a while he lays down the ship and
seems to be thinking. The broken crystal of the fortune-teller lies on
the floor. He picks it up and puts it to his eye, as if the future may
still show upon its face. He is preoccupied with his disappointment
and his bitter thoughts._
_Darlin', meantime, is heard singing in the kitchen with her dishes._)
Fer griddle cakes I 've a nimble wrist
And I tosses 'em 'igh on a spoon.
And the Duke and Patch yer can hardly match
Fer their breakfast they stretch till noon.
And I heaps the fire and I greases the iron,
And the Duke, he kisses me thumb.
Me Darlin', me dear, it 's perfectly clear
I 've lovin' yer better than rum.
_Patch, also sings._
She 's cooked fer sailors worn down to the bone,
Till they rolls like the Captain's gig.
At soup and stew we are never through,
But our fav'rite dish is pig.
And she cuts off slabs and passes 'em 'round,
And the Duke, he takes her hand.
Me Darlin', me love, by the gods above,
Yer a cook fer a pirate band.
_And now Darlin' again._
Me grog is the best. It is made o' rum,
And I stirs in sugar, too.
And a hogshead vast will hardly last
A merry evenin' through.
And I fills the cups till mornin' comes,
And the Duke, he talks like a loon.
Me Darlin', me life, will yer be me wife,
And elope by the light o' the moon.
(_Let all the tinware crash!_)
CAPTAIN: (_as he throws down his cards_). There! I done yer. Yer a
child at cards, Patch. How ain 't it that yer never learnt? Did n't
yer ever play black-ace at the Rusty Anchor down Greenwich way? Crack
me hook, I 've played with ol' Flint hisself, settin' in the leetle
back room. With somethin' wet and warmin' now and then, jest ter keep
the stomich cozy. Never stopped till Phoebus's fiery eye looked in
the winder.
[Illustration: "Did n't yer ever play Black-ace at the Rusty Anchor?"]
PATCH: Poor ol' Flint! I never sees his clock up there but I drops a
tear.
CAPTAIN: Yer cries as easy as a crocodile. And yer as innercent at
cards as--as a baby bitin' at his coral, a cooin' leetle pirate.
PATCH: It 's frettin' does it, Captain.
CAPTAIN: What 's frettin' yer?
PATCH: It 's what the ol' lady said last night. She hung me ter a
gibbet, jest like ol' Flint. There 's a gibbet, Captain, on Wappin'
wharf, jest 'round the corner from the Sailors' Rest. Does yer
remember it, Captain? It makes yer grog belch on yer.
CAPTAIN: (_to tease and frighten Patch_). Aye. There was two sailormen
hangin' there when I comes in a year ago.
PATCH: Horrers!
CAPTAIN: Jest swingin' in the wind, and tryin' ter get their toes down
comfertable. (_He has hooked two empty mugs and he rocks them back and
forth._) Jest reachin' with their footies ter ease theirselves.
[Illustration: "Jest swingin' in the wind"]
PATCH: The ol' lady last night made me a wee bit creepy. Gibbets and
Wappin' wharf ain 't nothin' ter talk about.
CAPTAIN: I never see a flock o' crows but I asks their pardon fer
keepin' 'em waitin' fer their supper. Crows, Patch, is fond o' yer as
yer are, without neither sauce ner gravy--jest pickin' 'appy, soup
ter nuts, at yer dry ol' bones. Here 's ol' Patch, they says, waitin'
in the platter fer his 'ungry guests ter come.
PATCH: Me stomich 's turned keel up.
CAPTAIN: Patch, yer ain 't got spunk ter be a pirate. Yer as soft as
Petey's pussycat.
PATCH: I ain 't, ain 't I? Was n't it me as nudged the Captain o' the
Northern Star off his poop--when he were n't lookin'? Him with a
pistol in his boot! Did n't I hit Bill, the bos'n, with a
marline-spike--jest afore he woke up? Sweet dreams, I says, and I
tapped him gentle. I got a lot o' spunk. Bill did n't wake up, he did
n't. Was n't it me, Captain, that started that mutiny? Was n't it me?
I 'm askin' yer.
CAPTAIN: Still braggin' o' that ol' time. It was more 'n four years
ago. What yer done since? Jest loadin' yer stomich--jest gruntin' and
wallerin' in the trough--jest braggin'.
PATCH: I ain 't 'fraid o' nothin'--'cept a gibbet. (_For a moment the
ugly word sticks in his gullet._) But the ol' lady kinder got me. Yer
looked down yer nose yerself, Captain--askin' yer pardon.
CAPTAIN: Struck me, Patch, she was jest a wee bit flustered by Red
Joe. Did yer notice how she sat and looked at the glass? And would n't
say nothin'? Jest nothin' at all.
PATCH: And then the ol' dear's fingers slipped and the glass was
broke.
CAPTAIN: It looks almost as if she done it a purpose.
(_The Duke has been thinking all of this time with necessary
contortions of the face. It is amazing how these help on a knotty
problem._)
DUKE: Course she done it a purpose. It was ter stop me lookin' 'cross
her shoulder in the glass.
CAPTAIN: What does yer think she saw?
PATCH: Was it blood drippin'?
DUKE: I 'll tell yer. I 'll tell yer.
(_But he continues whittling._)
CAPTAIN: Well, ain 't we listenin', Duke?
PATCH: Jest strainin' our ears.
DUKE: I 'll tell yer. I squinted in the glass, meself, arter it was
broke.
CAPTAIN and PATCH: What did yer see?
(_There is intense silence. The Duke comes forward to the table. He
taps his fingers sagely. He looks mysteriously at his fellow pirates.
They put their heads together. The Duke sinks his voice. In such
posture and accent was the gunpowder plot hatched out._)
DUKE: Nothin'! Jest nothin'!
(_The strain is over. They relax._)
CAPTAIN: The Duke, he jest seen nothin'.
PATCH: Jest nothin' at all.
DUKE: That 's what gets me. If the _ol' lady_ 'd seen nothin', she
would n't took ter fidgettin'. And therefore she seen _somethin'_.
Does yer foller? You, Captain? I 'spects nothin' from Patch.
[Illustration: "I 'spects nothin' from Patch"]
PATCH: Yer hurts me feelin's, Duke.
DUKE: Somethin' 's wrong. Somethin' 's wrong with Red Joe.
PATCH: Red Joe 's a right smart feller, I says.
CAPTAIN: He can shoot as straight as ol' Flint. Barin' meself, Joe 's
as straight a shot as I 've seen in many a year. Patch, agin him, is
jest a crooked stick.
PATCH: Pick on the Duke jest once, why does n't yer?
DUKE: Ease off, mates! Red Joe ain 't goin' ter hang on no gibbet.
'Cause why? 'Cause I 'm tellin' yer. I 'll tell yer what the ol' lady
seen in the glass.
(_Once more the Duke draws the pirates around him. He is Guy Faux and
the wicked Bothwell rolled together._)
CAPTAIN: We 're listenin', Duke.
PATCH: Like kittens at a mouse-hole.
DUKE: Captain, it 's deuced strange that Red Joe's ship--nary a stick
o' her--never come ter shore. Does yer remember a wreck 'long here
where nothin' washed ter shore?
CAPTAIN: Yer right, Duke. I never did.
DUKE: Does you remember one, stoopid?
PATCH: I does n't remember one this minute, Duke.
DUKE: Ol' Flint, he had a pigtail, did n't he? And you 've a pigtail,
Captain, has n't yer? And Patch-Eye, he 's got what he calls a
pigtail.
CAPTAIN: Spinach, I calls it.
DUKE: And ol' Pew, he 'd got a pigtail, ain 't he? And every blessed
man as sailed with him. I 'm tellin' yer, Captain.
PATCH: The sea-cook, he did n't have one.
DUKE: Sea-cooks ain 't sailormen. They 're swabs. Jest indoor swabs.
Did yer ever see a pirate snipped all 'round like a landlubber, with
nary a whisp behind?
CAPTAIN: Yer can rot me keel, Duke, I never did.
PATCH: I agrees with the Captain.
DUKE: Red Joe, he ain 't got a pigtail.
CAPTAIN: No more he ain 't.
PATCH: Was n't it Noah, Captain; as got his pigtail cut by some
designin' woman? Does yer think Red Joe 's gone and met a schemin'
wixen?
CAPTAIN: I scorns yer igerence. Yer thinks o' Jonah.
DUKE: Well? Well? I 've told yer Red Joe ain 't got a pigtail. Does
n't yer smell anythin'?
CAPTAIN: (_as he turns his head and sniffs audibly_). I can 't say as
I sniffs nothin'--leastways, nothin' perticerler. I smells a bit o'
grog, perhaps.
PATCH: I gets a whiff o' garlic from the kitchen.
DUKE: The two o' yer never can smell nothin' when there 's garlic or
grog around. I 'm askin' yer pardon, Captain. Does Red Joe talk like a
pirate? Sink me, he can 't rip an oath. Did yer ever know a pirate
which could n't talk fluent?
CAPTAIN: What 's bitin' yer, Duke?
DUKE: Ain 't I tellin' yer?
CAPTAIN: Ain 't we listenin'?
PATCH: Jest hangin' on yer tongue?
DUKE: Captain, you and me and Patch has seen a heap o' sights. We
knows the ocean. We knows her when she 's blue and when she 's kickin'
'igher than a gallow's tree.
CAPTAIN: We has been ter Virginy.
PATCH: We has traded slaves at the Barbadoes.
DUKE: And does n't we set around o' nights and swap the sights we
seen--mermaids and sea-serpents and such? Did yer jest once ever hear
Red Joe tell what he 's seen? Yer can sink me stern up with all lights
burnin', if I think the feller 's ever been beyond the Isle o' Dogs.
CAPTAIN: What 's bitin' yer, Duke?
DUKE: It 's jest this. Red Joe ain 't no pirate. He 's a landlubber.
(_He says this as you or I might call a man a snake._)
CAPTAIN: (_And now a great light comes to him. He is proud of his
swift perception. He leans across the table to share his secret with
Patch._) I seem ter get what Duke means. He 's hintin', Patch, that
Red Joe ain 't a pirate.
PATCH: If he ain 't a pirate, what is he? I asks yer that.
DUKE: (_as he brings down his fist for emphasis_). He 's a bloomin'
spy.
CAPTAIN: A spy! (_He gives a long-drawn whistle as the truth breaks on
him._)
PATCH: If I thought he was a spy, I 'd ketch him right here with me
dirk. I hates spies worse 'n empty bottles.
CAPTAIN: I 'd scrape him with me hook.
[Illustration: "I 'd scrape him with me hook"]
DUKE: I 've been thinkin', Captain, while you and Patch has been
amusin' yerselves. Askin' yer pardon, Captain, but cards rots the
mind. Did yer ever know a pirate that ain 't drunk at the Port Light
on Wappin' wharf?
CAPTAIN: Not as yet I never did. I never knowed a pirate as did n't
have a double-barreled nose fer grog.
DUKE: Well, when Red Joe comes in, we 'll jest ask him. And we 'll ask
him if he ever played black-ace at the Rusty Anchor.
CAPTAIN: It ain 't no night ter have spies about. With the Royal 'Arry
comin' on so pretty.
PATCH: And jest gettin' ready ter smash hisself.
DUKE: That innercent ship will be due in less 'n half an hour.
CAPTAIN: If Red Joe is a spy, by the fiery beard o' Satan, I 'm
tellin' yer that dead men tell no tales.
(_He lifts the terrible hook and claws the air._)
DUKE: Askin' yer pardon, Captain, bein' as it was me as smelled him
out, won 't yer let me slit his wizen? I does it pretty, without
mussin' up the cabin. I ain 't askin' favors often, Captain. And I
've 'ticerler reasons--reasons as touches me heart. (_For a moment he
is almost sentimental._) Reasons as touches me heart! Red Joe 's been
snoopin'.
CAPTAIN: I loves yer, Duke. There ain 't much as I won 't let yer
have. And jest ter show yer that I 'm all cut up by this here
snoopin', when I 'm dead I 'll will yer this ol' hook o' mine, as has
scraped a hundred men.
DUKE: Yer honors me, Captain. And if I is shoveled in first, me stump
is yourn.
CAPTAIN: It 's handsome of yer, Duke. And I 'll not be jolly till a
year is up--jest like a widder.
DUKE: Yer touches me. I 'll tie a black ribbon on yer hook.
(_At this pathetic moment Darlin' is heard singing in the kitchen._)
And I fills the cups till mornin' comes,
And the Duke, he talks like a loon.
Me Darlin', me life, will yer be me wife,
And elope by the light o' the moon?
(_There is a stamping of boots outside. The pirates put their fingers
on their lips. They are innocence itself. The Duke scratches the head
of the parrot. The strange bird declines to taste his grog. Patch-Eye
shuffles the cards. The Captain hooks the mugs toward him one by one
for the last drops of their precious liquor. Red Joe enters. Also,
Darlin' from the kitchen._)
JOE: Hello, mates! Evening, Captain! Are n't you cozy! As peaceful as
old ladies with their darning. I 've just come from seeing Petey, up
at the lighthouse. Petey says that along in about fifteen minutes the
Royal Harry will be showing around the cliff. Is n't it time, Captain,
to set up the lantern where 's she 's useful?
DUKE: _Is n't_ it? Did yer hear that, Captain? _Ain 't_ it, is what
Red Joe means.
CAPTAIN: Right yer are, Joey. We must be trottin'.
DUKE: What 's the name o' that tavern, Joe, at Wappin' wharf where we
gets the uncommon grog?
JOE: Wappin' wharf? I 'm blessed if the name 's not gone from me. The
grog 's nothing to Darling's.
DUKE: What does yer call the tavern on the Isle o' Dogs?
JOE: I 'm remembering the rum. What 's the use of looking at the
signboard?
DUKE: How does yer sight ter turn the bar at Guinea?
JOE: Sorry, Duke. It was my watch below. I was snoring when we turned.
CAPTAIN: What happened to yer pigtail?
PATCH: Where does we ship the niggers?
DARLIN': Ain 't yer got a mermaid on yer chest?
(_The pirates have risen and come forward. Their questions are put
faster and with insolence. Dirk and hook are drawn. Joe stands in an
easy, careless attitude. He seems ignorant of danger. He has taken a
coal from the fire and slowly, deliberately, with back to the menace,
he lights his pipe. Then suddenly he drops it from his teeth. He leaps
to action. He draws his knife--two knives, one for each hand. He kicks
away a chair, for room. He drives the pirates across the cabin. The
candle--all the mugs upon the table--rattle to the stones. He cries
out with bravado._)
JOE: Who offers me his carcass first? What! Is pirate blood so thin
and white?
(_The pirates stand with knives drawn. It is an awkward moment of
social precedence._)
PATCH: (_safe in the farthest corner_). It 's me patch, Captain. It 's
fetched loose. I follers yer.
JOE: Come, Duke, and take your answer! Have you no stomach for my
message? 'Fore God, is there no black ram to lead his sheep to the
shearing?
(_Joe's is a dangerous gayety. His two knives glisten in the candle
light._)
PATCH: Scrape him with yer hook, Captain, I follers yer.
JOE: My knife frets. It is thirsty for thick red wine. Who offers me
his cask to tap? I 'll pledge the King, although it is a dirty
vintage. Come, Captain, I 'll carve you to a dainty morsel. We 'll
have fresh meat for the platter. You 'll not be known from scared
rabbit-flesh.
(_He drives them around the table. Patch takes refuge behind the door.
Darlin's red stockings run up the ladder._)
JOE: You bearded hound!
PATCH: He 's tauntin' yer, Captain. Hand him the hook! The Duke and me
is back o' yer.
JOE: Do you fear to cheat the gibbet on Wapping wharf? A knife 's a
sweeter end. Who comes first? I 'll help him across the Styx. Or sink
or swim! Flint waits in hell for three whelps to join his crew.
PATCH: Captain, I 'm 'sprized at yer good nater. Scrape him one!
JOE: Who comes to the barber first? Cowards! I 'll ram your pigtails
down your throats. I 'll wash your dirt in blood.
(_The Duke proves to be the strategist. He has edged to the rear of
the cabin. He circles behind Red Joe. And now in a flash he leaps on
him. Joe is buried under the three pirates, for Patch's valor returns
when Joe is down. Joe is tied with ropes and fastened to an upright at
the chimneyside. This is the terrible, glorious moment, now that the
fight is over, when the actor-manager, as I first read the play--as
explained in the preface (you really must read the preface)--turned
his excited somersault down the carpet._)
PATCH: Did yer notice, Captain, how I took him by the throat? He was
squirmin' loose when I grabbed him. It was me tripped him.
DUKE: Captain, I asks yer a favor. Can I stick him now. Dead men tell
no tales.
PATCH: Captain, yer jest makes a pet o' the Duke. Ain 't it my turn? I
gets rusty.
DARLIN': Let the Duke do it. He has more reasons than Patch.
CAPTAIN: Lay off, me hearties! Does n't yer know we 're in a hurry?
Red Joe 's kickin' up has wasted a heap o' time. The Royal 'Arry will
be showin' 'round the cliff any minute now. Red Joe 's safe. He 's
tied up double. We 'll have a merry party arterward--with grog and
angel cake. It 's business afore pleasure. Here, Duke, take the
lantern. (_He shakes it._) It 's full o' ile. Jest stir yer timber
stump, Duke. Yer can foller, Patch. Yer follers better 'n yer leads.
Some folks is pussycats.
[Illustration: "It 's full o' ile"]
DUKE: He 's pokin' fun at yer, ol' lionheart.
PATCH: Yer hurts me feelin's.
DUKE: I 'll hurt yer in a fatter place--where yer sits--if yer does
n't step along. Yer a yeller-livered, maggoty land fish. I curbs me
tongue. I scorns yer worse 'n cow's milk. Go 'long, afore I loosens up
and tells yer what yer are!
CAPTAIN: In about two minutes that blessed eye o' Petey will go out.
We must set up the lantern afore the Royal 'Arry sticks her nose in
sight.
DUKE: By by, Joey. See yer later, ol' angel cake. Yer has jest time
ter say "Now I lay me."
CAPTAIN: How 's the night, Duke?
DUKE: Blacker than the Earl o' Hell's top-boots.
DARLIN': I 'll jest stick me apron on me head and go 'long, too. It
ain 't proper fer a lady as has me temptin' beauty ter be left alone
with snoopers.
(_The cabin is empty except for Red Joe. He strains at his cords, but
is tied fast. You hear the voices of the pirates singing in the
distance._)
I agrees ter this and ter give 'em bliss--
From Pew I learned the trick--
I push 'em wide o' the wessel's side,
And poke 'em down with a stick.
(_As soon as the pirates have left the cabin Betsy enters. She sees
Joe but passes him in fright. She runs to the window and shields her
eyes to see into the darkness._)
BETSY: God help the poor sailormen!
JOE: Betsy! Betsy! For the love of God!
(_Suddenly the lighthouse light vanishes. And almost at once the
ship's lantern shows at the window to the left. All sounds are
hushed._)
BETSY: The ship 's in sight. I see her lights. She has rounded the
farther cliff. I see her turning. She heads in from the sea. Her three
masts are in line. She steers for the lantern. God have mercy! She 'll
strike in another minute. (_She stuffs her ears and runs from the
window._) I can 't bear to listen. I can 't bear to look.
JOE: Betsy! Betsy! Do you hear? Margaret! Margaret!
(_At the sound of Margaret she lifts her head, buried in her arms. She
runs toward Joe. Her wits seem dazed._)
JOE: Quick! Margaret! Margaret! That knife! That knife on the stones!
Margaret, cut me loose!
(_Still dazed, moving as if in a dream, Betsy picks up the knife. She
cuts Joe's cords. Joe seizes the gun that leans against the clock. He
takes deliberate aim through the window. He fires. The window glass is
shattered. The ship's lantern is hit. The light vanishes. He replaces
the gun. Betsy stands beside him, looking in his face._)
BETSY: You 've hit it! Thank God! The light is shattered. (_Then,
after a pause._) I seem to remember now. My name is Margaret. I
remember--
JOE: What do you remember?
BETSY: A great staircase--a room, with shadows from a candle. And when
I was afraid, a lady sang to me. And she set the candle so that the
fearful giant upon the wall ran off, and I was safe.
JOE: What else do you remember?
BETSY: I remember--
JOE: Margaret, do you remember me?
(_Margaret looks at him and a new memory is stirred._)
BETSY: Yes, I remember you. Were you not a great tall lad whose
crook'd elbow was level with my head? And once we climbed a tower--or
do I recall a dream? You held me so that I might see the waves
breaking on the rocks below. Then with level eyes we looked upon the
sea, and cried out our discovery of each glistening sail. Are these
things real? One morning you mounted horse, and I was held aloft so
that you might stoop and kiss me. You rode off with a clatter on the
stones. You turned and waved your hat. And now you have come back. You
are Hal. We were playmates once.
JOE: And by luck and God's help we shall be playmates once again.
(_He puts his arms around her and kisses her._)
BETSY: Quick, Hal! You must escape. Quick! Before the pirates come.
Follow the path to the village! You can escape by the Royal Harry.
(_They are running to the door when there is a sound of voices on the
path outside. Joe has just time to put himself in the posture in which
the pirates left him. The pirates and Darlin' enter in dejection.
Betsy runs to the kitchen._)
CAPTAIN: Blast me, the lantern 's out!
PATCH: Rot me, but there were an explosion!
DARLIN': Poof! And there were n't no lantern!
DUKE: What done it? What done it? I asks yer.
(_They stand at the window and look toward the ocean._)
DUKE: She is still headed on. Her nose is still pointin' toward the
cliff.
CAPTAIN: What 's that?
DUKE: I hears the rattlin' o' chains. She 's droppin' anchor. She has
sniffed the willainy. Her anchor 's down. She 's saved hisself. Blow
me, she 's saved hisself.
CAPTAIN: Yer can hang me ter a gibbet.
PATCH: Yer can rot me bones.
DARLIN': Me heart 's gone palpy.
DUKE: What done it? What done it? I asks yer.
(_At this point let us hope that the curtain does not stick._)
[Illustration: "What done it? I asks yer"]
[Illustration: ACT III]