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diff --git a/24914.txt b/24914.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94a950c --- /dev/null +++ b/24914.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3921 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wappin' Wharf, by Charles S. Brooks + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Wappin' Wharf + A Frightful Comedy of Pirates + +Author: Charles S. Brooks + +Illustrator: Julia McCune Flory + +Other: Gordon Hatfield + +Release Date: March 25, 2008 [EBook #24914] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAPPIN' WHARF *** + + + + +Produced by K Nordquist, Linda Cantoni, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) Music +transcribed by Linda Cantoni. + + + + + + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: The dialogue in the play uses spaced contractions +such as "I 've." Normal contractions are used in the non-dialogue parts +of this book, such as the preface and stage directions.] + + + + +Wappin' Wharf + +A Frightful Comedy of Pirates + + +_By_ +CHARLES S. BROOKS + +_with pictures by_ +JULIA McCUNE FLORY + +_music by_ +GORDON HATFIELD + + +COPYRIGHT, 1922 +_By_ HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC. + + +[Illustration] + + +_Special Edition_ +_Imprinted for_ +WALTER H. BAKER COMPANY +PUBLISHERS--BOSTON + + +WAPPIN' WHARF +_All Rights Reserved_ + +Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this book +without a valid contract for production first having been obtained +from the publisher, confers no right or license to professionals or +amateurs to produce the play publicly or in private for gain or +charity. + +In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, +and no performance, representation, production, recitation, or public +reading, or radio broadcasting may be given except by special +arrangement with Walter H. Baker Company, 41 Winter Street, Boston, +Mass., or Playhouse Plays, 14 East 38th Street, New York City. + +This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment of a royalty of +Twenty-five Dollars for each performance, payable to Walter H. Baker +Company, 41 Winter Street, Boston, Mass., or Playhouse Plays, 14 East +38th Street, New York City, one week before the date when the play is +given. + +Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on all +programs, printing and advertising for the play: "Produced by special +arrangement with Walter H. Baker Company." + +Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any +infringement of the author's rights as follows: + +"Section 4966: Any person publicly performing or representing any +dramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, +without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical +composition, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages +thereof, such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not +less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for +every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. +If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and for +profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor and +upon conviction shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one +year."--U.S. Revised Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3. + + + + +Wappin' Wharf + + +_CHARACTERS_ + +THE DUKE +PATCH-EYE +THE CAPTAIN +RED JOE +DARLIN' +BETSY +OLD MEG +SAILOR CAPTAIN +THREE SAILORS + +SETTING: For details of Stage Set turn to pages 35-6-7. + + + + +_A PROLOGUE TO BE SPOKEN BY BETSY_ + + +_Our scene is the wind-swept coast of Devon. By day there is a wide +stretch of ocean far below, and the abutments of our stage arise from +a dizzy cliff._ + +_The time is remote, and ships of forgotten build stand out from +Bristol in full sail for the mines of India. But we must be loose and +free of precise date lest our plot be shamed by broken fact. A +thousand years are but as yesterday. We make but a general gesture to +the dim spaces of the past._ + +_The village of Clovelly climbs in a single street--a staircase, +really--and it is fagged and out of breath half way. But far above, on +a stormy crag, clinging by its toes, there stands a pirates' hut. To +this topmost ledge fishwives sometimes scramble by day; but when a +wind shall search the crannies of the night, then no villager would +dare to climb so high._ + +_You will seek today in vain the pirates' cabin. Since the adventure +of our play a thousands tempests have snarled across these rocks. You +must convince your reason that these pinnacles of yesteryear, toppled +down by storm, lie buried in the sea._ + +_We had hoped that our drama's scene might lie on a pirate ship at +sea. We had wished for a swaying mast, full-set with canvas--a typhoon +to smother our stage in wind. We had hoped to walk a victim off the +plank, with the sea roaring in the wings. But our plot deals +stubbornly with us. Alas, our pirates grow old and stiff. They have +retired, as we say, from active practice and live in easy luxury on +shore. Yet we shall see that their villany still thrives._ + +_How shall we select a name for our frightful play? There is a wharf +in London that is known as Wapping. In these days that we call the +present it has sunk to common use and its rotten timbers are piled +with honest unromantic merchandise. But once a gibbet stood on Wapping +Wharf, and pirates were hanged upon it. It was the first convenient +harborage for inbound ships to dispose of this dirty deep-sea cargo. +So it was the somber motif of a pirate's life--his moment of +reflection after he had slit his victim's throat._ + +_Tonight, although your beards grow long and Time has marked its net +of wrinkles--tonight, the years spin backwards. Only the young in +heart will catch the slender meaning of our play._ + +_We are too quick to think that childhood passes with the years--that +its fine fancy is blunted with the practice of the world. Too long +have we been taught that the clouds of glory fade in the common day. +If a man permits, a child keeps house within his heart._ + +_Our prologue outstays its time. Already the captain of our pirates +puts on his hook. The evil Duke limps for practice on his wooden leg. +Presently our curtain will rise. We shall see the pirates' cabin, with +the lighthouse in the distance, Flint's lantern and the ladder to the +sleeping-loft. We shall hear a storm unparalleled--thunder, lightning +and a rush of wind, if it can be managed._ + +_Then our candles burn to socket. Our pasteboard cabin grows dark. The +blustering ocean, the dizzy cliffs of Devon, melt like an +unsubstantial pageant. Once again, despite the signpost of the years, +we have run on the "laughing avenues of childhood."_ + + + + +[Illustration] + +BY WAY OF EXPLANATION + + +Several weeks ago an actor-manager requested me to try my hand at a +play for the winter season. The offer was unexpected. "My dear sir," I +said, "I am immensely flattered, but I have never written a play." +Then I hastened to ask, "What kind of play?" for fear the offer might +be withdrawn. He replied with sureness and decision. "I want a play," +he said, "with lots of pirates and--no poetry." He stressed this with +emphatic gesture. "And at least one shooting," he added. It was a slim +prescription. He left me to brood upon the matter. + +The proposal was too flattering to be rejected out of hand. + +After a furious week upon a plot and dialogue, I was given an +opportunity to display my wares. The manager himself met me in the +hallway. "Is there a shooting?" he asked, with what seemed almost a +suppressed excitement. I was able to satisfy him and he led me to his +inner office, where he pointed out an easy chair. The room was +pleasantly furnished with bookshelves to the ceiling. Evidently his +former ventures had been prosperous, and already I imagined myself +come to fortune as his partner. While I fumbled with embarrassment at +my papers--for I dreaded his severe opinion--he himself fetched a +basket of coal for a fire that burned briskly on the hearth. Then he +sat rigidly at attention. + +It now appeared that he had summoned to our conference several of his +associates--the subordinates, merely, of his ventures--his manager of +finance (with a sharp eye for a business flaw), his costumer and +designer, and another person who is his reader and adviser and, in +emergency, fills and mends any sudden gap that shows itself. + +My notion of theatrical managers has been that they are a cold and +distant race--the more sullen cousin of an editor. Is it not +considered that on the reading of a play they sit with fallen chin, +and that they chill an author to reduce his royalty? It is naught, it +is naught, saith the buyer. I am told that even the best plays are +hawked with disregard from theatre to theatre, until the hungry +author is out at elbow. They get less civility than greets a mean +commodity. Worthless mining shares and shoddy gilt editions do not +kick their heels with such disregard in the outer office. Popcorn and +apples--Armenian laces, even--beg a quicker audience. + +But none of this usual brusqueness appeared. Rather, he showed an +agreeable enthusiasm as we proceeded--even an unrestraint, which, I +must confess, at times somewhat marred his repose and dignity. +Manifestly it was not his intention to depreciate my wares. He +exchanged frank glances of approval with his subordinates--with his +costumer especially, with whom his relation seems the closest. + +In the first act of my play, when it becomes apparent that one of my +pirates goes stumping on a timber leg, his eye flashed. And when it +was disclosed that the captain wears a hook instead of hand, he forgot +his professional restraint and cried out his satisfaction. He was soon +wrapped in thought by the mysterious behaviour of the fortune-teller +and he said, if she were short and stout, he had the very actress in +his mind. + +But it was in the second act that he threw caution to the winds. As +you will know presently, Red Joe--one of my pirates--seizes his trusty +gun and, taking breathless aim, shoots--But I must not expose my plot. +At this exciting moment (which is quite the climax of my play) +Belasco--or any of his kind--would have squinted for a flaw. He would +have tilted his wary nose upon the ceiling and told me that my plot +was humbug. What sailorman would mistake a lantern for a lighthouse? +Nor were there lighthouses in the days of the buccaneers. He would +have scuttled my play in dock and grinned at the rising bubbles. Mark +the difference! My manager, ignoring these inconsequential errors, +burst from his chair--this is amazing!--and turned a reckless +somersault between the table and the fire. + +His costumer, who knows best how his eccentricity runs to riot, +checked him for this and sent him to his chair. He sobered for a +minute and the play went on. Presently, however, when the enraged +pirates gathered to wreak vengeance on their victim, I saw how deeply +he was moved. His exultant eye sought the bookshelves, and I fancy +that he was in meditation whether he might be allowed a handstand with +his heels waving against the ceiling. His excited fingers obviously +were searching for a dagger in his boot. + +You may conceive my pleasure. If his cold and practiced judgment could +be so stirred, might I not hope that the phlegmatic pit in shiny +shirt-fronts would rise and shout its approval at our opening? And to +what reckless license might not the gallery yield? I fancied a burst +of somersaults in the upper gloom, and tremendous handsprings--both +men and women--down the sharp-pitched aisle. It would be +shocking--this giddy flash of lingerie--except that our broader times +now give it countenance. Peeping Tom, late of Coventry, in these more +generous days need no longer sit like a sneak at his private shutter. +He has only to travel to the beach where a hundred Godivas crowd the +sands. I saw myself on the great occasion of our opening night bowing +in white tie from the forward box. + +Our conference was successful. When the reading of the play was +finished and the wicked pirates stood in the shadow of the gibbet, he +thanked me and excused himself from further attendance by reason of a +prior engagement. Under the stress of selection for his theatre he +cannot sleep at night, and his costumer wisely packs him off early to +his bed. She whispers to me, however, that although he had hopes for a +storm at sea and a hanging at the end, his decision, nevertheless, is +cast in my favor for a quick production, whenever a worthy company can +be assembled. + +[Illustration: On the tip of each he has bargained for a spot of red] + +But we have gone still further toward our opening. The manager has +already whittled a dozen daggers and they lie somewhere on a shelf, +awaiting a coat of silver paint. On the tip of each he has bargained +for a spot of red. Furthermore, he owns a pistol--a harmless, +devicerated thing--and he pops it daily at any rogue that may be +lurking on the cellar stairs. + +All pirates wear pigtails--pirates, that is, of the upper crust (the +Kidds and Flints and Morgans)--and at first this was a knotty problem. +But he obtained a number of old stockings--stockings, of course, +beyond the skill of that versatile person who mends the gaps--and he +has wound them on wires, curling them upward at the end and tieing +them with bits of ribbon. The pirate captain is allowed an extra inch +of pigtail to exalt him above his fellows. When he first adjusted this +pigtail on himself, his costumer cried out that he looked like a +Chinaman. This was downright stupidity and was hardly worthy of her +perception; but ladies cannot be expected to recognize a pirate so +instinctively as we rougher men. The stocking, however, was clipped to +half its length, and now he is every inch a buccaneer. + +As for the captain's hook, he is resourcefulness itself. These things +are secrets of the craft, but I may hint that there is a very suitable +hook in a butchershop around the corner. Surely the butcher--warmed to +generosity by the family patronage--would lend it for the great +performance. I have no doubt but that the manager, from this time +forward, will beg all errands in his direction and that his smile will +thaw the friendly butcher to his purpose. Certainly two legs of lamb, +if whispered that the drama is at stake, will consent to hang for one +tremendous day upon a single hook. Our hook is to be screwed into a +block of wood, and there is something about knuckles and a cord around +the wrist and a long sleeve to cover up the joining. Anyway, the +problem has been met. + +[Illustration: His smile will thaw the friendly butcher to his +purpose] + +In the furnace room he has found a heavy sheet of tin for the thunder +storm, and I have suggested that he dig in a nearby gravel pit for a +basket of rain to hurl against the pirates' window. But hard beans, he +says, are better, and he has won the cook's consent. For the slow +monotone of water dripping from the roof in our second act, a single +bean, he tells me, dropped gently in a pan is a baffling counterfeit. + +The lightning seems not to bother him, for he owns a pocket +flashlight; but the mighty wind that comes brawling from the ocean was +at first a sticker. The vacuum cleaner popped into his head, but was +put aside. The fireplace bellows were too feeble for any wind that had +grown a beard. His manager of finance, however, laid aside his book +one night--a weary tract upon the law--and displayed an ability to +moan and whistle through his teeth. The very casement rattled in the +blast. He has agreed to sit in the wings and loose a sufficient storm +upon a given signal. + +Our stage is cramped. Three strides stretch from side to side. "Can +this cockpit" you ask, "hold the vasty fields of France?" It is not, +of course, the vasty fields of France that we are trying to hold; but +we do lack space for the kind of riot the manager has in mind in the +final scene. He wants nothing girlish. Sabers and pistols are his +demand--a knife between the teeth--and more yelling than I could +possibly put down in print. A bench must be upset, the beer-cask +overturned, a jug of Darlin's grog spilled, and one stool, at least, +must be smashed--preferably on the captain's head, who must, however, +be consulted. Patch-Eye and the Duke are not the kind of pirates that +lie down and whine for mercy at a single punch. + +At first our manager was baffled how the pirates were to ascend a +ladder to their sleeping loft. They had no place to go. They would +crack their ugly heads upon the ceiling. The costumer was positive +(parsimony!) that a hole--even a little hole--should not be cut in the +plaster overhead for their disappearance. If the chandelier had been +an honest piece of metal they might have perched on it until the act +ran out. Or perhaps the candles could be extinguished when their legs +were still climbing visibly. At last the manager has contrived that a +plank be laid across the tops of two step-ladders, behind a drop so +that the audience cannot see. No reasonable pirate could refuse to +squat upon the plank until the curtain fell. + +[Illustration: With uncertain, questing finger] + +We are getting on. Our company has been selected. We need only a +handful of actors, but the manager has enlisted the street. The +dearest little girl has been chosen for Betsy, and each day she +practices her lullaby at the piano with uncertain, questing finger. A +gentle rowdy of twelve will speak the Duke's blood-curdling lines. I +understand that two quarrelsome pirates have nearly come to blows +which shall act the captain. The hero, Red Joe, will be played by the +manager himself, for it is he who owns the pistol. Is not the boy who +has the baseball the captain of his nine? + +I owe an apology to all the mothers of our cast; for the rough +language of my lines outweighs their gentler home instruction. +Whenever several of our actors meet there is used the vile language of +the sea. By the bones of my ten fingers has replaced the anemic oaths +of childhood. One little girl has been told she cries as easily as a +crocodile. Another little girl was heard to say she would slit her +sister's _wisdom_--a slip, no doubt, for _wizen_. And Blast my lamps! +and Sink my timbers! are rolled profanely on the tongue. + +In every attic on the street a rakish craft flies the skull and +crossbones, and roves the Spanish Main on rainy afternoons. Innocent +victims--girls, chiefly, who will tattle unless a horrid threat is +laid upon them--are forced blindfold to walk the plank. If the wind +blows, scratching the trees against the roof, it is, by their desire, +a tempest whirling their stout ship upon the rocks. What ho! We split! +Mysterious chalkings mark the cellar stairs and hint of treasure +buried in the coal-hole. At every mirror pirates practice their cruel +faces. + +[Illustration: Innocent victims ... are forced blindfold to walk the +plank] + +And now the daggers are complete, and their tip of blood has been +squeezed from its twisted tube. Chests and neighbors have been +rummaged for outlandish costumes. From the kindling-pile a +predestined stick has become the timber leg of the wicked Duke. The +butcher's hook has yielded to persuasion. + +Presently rehearsals will begin-- + + * * * * * + +I have been reading lately, and I have come on a sentence with which I +am in disagreement. I shall not tell the name of the book (mere +mulishness!) but I hope you know it or can guess. It is a tale of +children and of a runaway perambulator and of folk who never quite +grew up, with just a flick of inquiry--a slightest gesture now and +then--toward precious rascals like our Patch-Eye and the Duke. Its +author stands, in my opinion, a better chance of our lasting memory +than any writer living. + +If you have read this book, you have known in its author a man who is +himself a child--one from whom the years have never taken toll. And if +you have lingered from page to page, you know what humor is, and love +and gentleness. I think that children must have clambered on his +familiar knee and that he learned his plot from their trustful eyes. + +Someone has been reading my very copy of this book, for it is marked +with pencil and whole chapters have been thumbed. I would like to know +who this reader is--a woman, beyond a doubt--who has dug in this +fashion to the author's heart. But the book is from a lending +library. She is only a number pasted inside the cover, a date that +warns her against a fine. + +Her pencil has marked the words to a richer cadence. I like to think +that she has children of her own and that she read the book at +twilight in the nursery, and that its mirth was shared from bed to +bed. But the pathetic parts she did not read aloud, fearing to see +tears in her children's eyes. Before her own at times there must have +floated a mist. She is a gracious creature, I am sure, with a +gentleness that only a mother knows who sits with drowsy children. And +now that it is my turn to read the book--for so does fancy urge me--I +hear her voice and the echo of her children's laughter among the +pages. + +It is a book about a great many things--about David and about a +sausage machine, about a little dog which was supposed to have been +caught up by mistake. But when the handle was reversed out he came, +whole and complete except that his bark was missing. A sausage still +stuck to his tail, which presently he ate. And it proved to be his +bark, for at the last bite of the sausage his bark returned. And David +took his salty handkerchief from his eyes and laughed. There is a +chapter on growing old--marked in pencil--a subject which the author +of this book knew nothing about, never having grown old himself. And +there is another chapter about a spinster, also marked. This chapter +sings with exquisite melody, but breaks once to a sob for a love that +has been lost. But the book is chiefly about children. + +There is one particular sentence in this book with which I am not in +agreement. "... down the laughing avenues of childhood, where memory +tells us we run but once...." I cannot believe that. I cannot believe +we run but once. In the heart of the man who wrote the book there +lives a child. And a child dwells in the heart of the woman of the +lending library. + +We are too ready to believe that childhood passes with the years--that +its fine imagination is blunted with the hard practice of the world. +Too long have we been taught that the clouds of glory fade in the +common day--that the lofty castles of the morning perish in the +noon-day sun. The magic vista is golden to the coming of the twilight, +and the sunset builds a gaudy tower that out-tops the dawn. If a man +permits, a child keeps house within his heart to the very end. + +And therefore, as I think of those whittled daggers with their spot of +blood, of that popping pistol, of the captain's horrid hook, of the +black craft flying the skull and crossbones in the attic, I know, +despite appearance, that I am young myself. I snap my fingers at the +clock. It ticks merely for its own amusement. I proclaim the calendar +is false. The sun rises and sets but makes no chilling notch upon the +heart. Once again, despite the weary signpost of the years, I run on +the laughing avenues of childhood. + +[Illustration] + +My preface outstays its time. Even as I write our audience has +gathered. Limber folk in front squat on the floor. Bearded folk behind +perch on chairs as on a balcony. Already, behind the scenes, the +captain of the pirates has assumed his hook and villainous attire. +Patch-Eye mumbles his lines against a loss of memory. Paint has daubed +him to a rascal. The evil Duke limps for practice on his timber leg. +Presently our curtain will rise. We shall see the pirate cabin, with +the lighthouse blinking in the distance, the parrot, Flint's lantern +and the ladder to the sleeping loft. We shall hear a storm +unparalleled, like a tempest from the ocean--hissed through the teeth. +We shall see the pirates in tattered costume and in pigtails made of +stockings. + +And now to bring this tedious explanation to a close, permit me to +hush our orchestra for a final word. I have a most important +announcement. It is the sum and essence of all these pages. This play +of pirates--doctored somewhat with fiercer oaths and lengthened for +older actors--this play and my other play of beggars I dedicate with +my love to _John Abram Flory_, who, as Red Joe, was the most frightful +pirate of them all. + + + + +[Illustration] + +ON CHOOSING A TITLE + + +I find difficulty in selecting a name for my pirate play. Children +seem so easy in comparison--John or Gretchen, or Gwendolyn for parents +of romantic taste. Gwendolyn I myself dislike, and I have thought I +would give it to a cow if ever I owned a farm. But this is prejudice. +To name a child, I repeat, one needs only to run his finger down the +column of his acquaintance, or think which aunt will have the looser +purse-strings in her will. + +An unhappy choice, after all, is rare. Here and there a chocolate +Pearl or a dusky crinkle-headed Blanche escapes our logic; but who can +think of a sullen Nancy? Its very sound, tossed about the nursery, +would brighten a maiden even if she were peevish at the start. I once +knew an excellent couple of the name of Bottom, who chose Ruby for +their offspring; but I have no doubt that the infelicity was altered +at the font. The fact is that most of our names grow in time to fit +our figure and our character. Margaret and Helen sound thin or fat, +agreeable or dull, as our friends and neighbors rise before us; and +any newcomer to our affection quickly erases the aspect of its former +ugly tenant. I confess that till lately a certain name brought to my +fancy a bouncing, red-armed creature; but that by a change of lease +upon our street it has acquired an alien grace and beauty. Perhaps a +scrawny neighbor by the name of Falstaff might remain inconsequent, +but I am sure that if a lady called Messilina moved in next door and +were of charming manner, a month would blur the bad suggestion of her +name; which presently--if our gardens ran together--would come to +sound sweetly in my ears. + +But a play (more than a child or neighbor) is offered for a sudden +judgment--to sink or swim upon a first impression--and its christening +is an especial peril. I have fretted for a month to find a title for +my comedy. + +My first choice was _A Frightful Play of Pirates_. In the word +_frightful_ lay the double meaning that I wanted. It held up my hands, +as it were, for mercy. It is an old device. Did not Keats, when a +novice in his art, attempt by a modest preface to disarm the critics +of his Endymion? "It is just," he wrote, "that this youngster should +die away." Yet my title was too long. I could not hope, if my comedy +reached the boards, that a manager could afford such a long display of +electric lights above the door. It would require more than a barrel of +lamps. + +_The Pirates of Clovelly_ was not bad, except for length, but it was +too obviously stolen from Gilbert's opera. I could feel my guilty +fingers in his pocket. + +_'S Death_ was suggested, but it was too flippant, too farcical. _'S +Blood_, although effective in red lights, met the same objection. _The +Spittin' Devil_, named for our pirate ship, lacked refinement. +Certainly no lady in silk and lace would admit acquaintance with so +gross a personage. + +_Darlin'_ was offered to me--the name of the old lady with one tooth +who cooks and mixes the grog for my sailormen. And I still think that +with better spelling it would be an excellent title for musical +comedy. But it was naught for a pirate play. Its anemia would soften +the vigor of my lines. One could as well call the tale of Bluebeard by +the name of his casual cook. + +Then _Clovelly_ seemed enough. At the very least--if my publisher were +energetic--it ensured a brisk sale of the printed play among the +American tourists on the Devon coast, who travel by boat or +char-a-banc to this ancient fishing village where we set our plot. For +even a trivial book sells to trippers if its story is laid around the +corner. Would it not be pleasant, I thought, when I visit the place +again, to see them thumbing me as they waited for the steamer--to see +a whole window of myself placed in equal prominence with picture +postal cards? When I registered at the inn alongside the wharf might I +not hope that the landlady would recognize my name and give me, as an +honored guest, a front room that looks upon the ocean? Perhaps, as I +had my tea and clotted cream on the village staircase, I might mention +casually to a pretty tourist that I was the author of the book that +protruded from her handbag--and fetch my dishes to her table. + +It is so seldom that an obscure author catches anyone _flagrante +dilicto_ on his book. Will no one ever read a book of mine in the +subway, that I may tap him on the shoulder? Do travelers never put me +in their grips? Must everyone read in public the latest novel, and +reserve all plays and essays for their solitary hours? At the club I +shuffle to the top any periodical that contains my name, but the +crowded noon buries me deep again. + +At best, maybe, in a lending library, I see a date stamped inside my +cover; but, although I linger near the shelf, no one comes to draw me +down. I think that hunters must look with equal hunger on the bear's +tread. 'T is here! 'T is there! But the cunning creature has escaped. +Blackmore's pleasant ghost frequents the shadowy church at Porlock +where he married Lorna and John Ridd, or roams the Valley of the Rocks +to see the studious pilgrims at his pages. Stevenson haunts the +gloomy inlet where the Admiral Benbow stood and where old Pew came +tapping in the night. In the flesh I shall join their revels as an +equal comrade. _Clovelly_, however, although its lilt was pleasant to +the ear, was an insufficient title. + +_Skull and Crossbones_ was too obvious, and my next choice was _The +Gibbet_. But there was the disadvantage of scaring the timid. Old +ladies would pass me by. It would check the sale of tickets. My +nephew, who is fourteen and not at all timid, was stout in its +defense. He pronounces it as if the _g_ were the hard kind that starts +off gurgle. _G_ibbet! He asked me if I had a hanging in the piece. If +so, he knew how the business could be managed without chance of +accident--an extra rope fastened to the belt behind. I told him that +it was none of his business how I ended up the pirates. I would hang +them or not, as I saw fit. He would have to pay his quarter like +anybody else and sit it through. + +He suggested From _Dish-Pan to Matrimony_--obviously a jest. The sly +rogue laughs at me. I must confess, however, that he has given me some +of my best lines. "Villainy 's afoot!" for example, and "Sink me stern +up!" His peaceful school breeds a wealth of pungent English. + +I was in despair. _Revenge!_ Would that have done? I see a maddened +father stand with smoking revolver above the body of a silky-whiskered +villain. "Doris," the panting parent cries, "the butcher boy knows +all and wants you for his bride." And down comes the happy curtain on +the lovers. _The Wreckers_ belongs to Stevenson. _The Pirates' Nest!_ +It is too ornithological. The Natural History Museum might buy a copy +and think I had cheated them. + +And then _Channel Lights_! It sends us sharply to the days of the +older melodrama--days when we exchanged a ten-cent piece for a gallery +seat and hissed the villain. Do you recall the breathless moment when +the heroine implored the villain to give her back her stolen child? +For answer the cruel fellow tied the darling to the buzz-saw. Or that +darker scene when he tossed the lady to the black waters of the +Thames, with the splash of a dipper up behind? Hurry, master hero! +Your horse's hoofs clatter in the wings. Gallop, Dobbin! A precious +life depends upon your speed. Our dangerous plot hangs by a single +thread. + +It is quite a task to find a sufficient title. I have wavered for a +month. + +But now my efforts seem rewarded. + +There is a wharf in London below the Tower, not far from the India +docks. It has now sunk to common week-day uses, and I suppose its +rotten timbers are piled with honest, unromantic merchandise. But once +pirates were hanged there. It was the first convenient place for +inbound ships to dispose of this dirty, deep-sea cargo. Doubtless +hereabout the lanes and building-tops were crowded with an idle +throng as on a holiday, and wherries to the bankside and the play +paused with suspended oar for a sight of the happy festival. Did +Hamlet wait upon this ghastly prologue? Shakespeare himself, unplayed +script in hand, mused how tragedy and farce go hand in hand. In those +golden days with which our comedy concerns itself, a gibbet stood on +Wapping wharf and pirates stepped off the fatal cart to a hangman's +jest. We may hear the shouts of the 'prentice lads echoing across the +centuries. + +I cannot hope that many persons--except dusty scholars--will know of +the district's ancient ill-repute, yet Wapping wharf figures often in +my dialogue as the somber motif of a pirate's life. It conveys to the +plot the sense of mystery. It needs but a handful of electric lamps. + +If no one offers me a better title I shall let it stand. + +[Illustration] + + + + +Wappin' Wharf + +_A Frightful Comedy of Pirates_ + + +[Illustration] + +First produced in January, 1922, at the Play House, Cleveland, under +the direction of Frederic McConnell. The settings and costumes were +designed by Julia McCune Flory. The cast was as follows: + +THE DUKE _William C. Keough_ + +PATCH-EYE _Howard Burns_ + +THE CAPTAIN _Ewart Whitworth_ + +RED JOE _K. Elmo Lowe_ + +DARLIN' _Mary Gilson_ + +BETSY _Jeanette Geoghegan_ + +OLD MEG _Emma Tilden_ + +SAILOR CAPTAIN _Ganson Cook_ + +SAILORS _Vance Stewart_, _Alvin Shulman_, _Arthur Kraus_ + + + + +[Illustration] + +Wappin' Wharf + +_A Frightful Comedy of Pirates_ + + + + +ACT I + + +_Our scene is the wind-swept coast of Devon. By day there is a wide +stretch of ocean far below. The time is remote and doubtless great +ships of forgotten build stand out from Bristol in full sail for +western shores. Their white canvas winks in the morning sun as if +their purpose were a jest. They seek a northwest passage and the +golden mines of India. But we must be loose and free of date lest our +plot be shamed by broken fact. A thousand years are but as yesterday. +We shall make no more than a general gesture toward the wide spaces of +the past._ + +_The village of Clovelly climbs in a single street--a staircase, +really--from the shore to the top of the cliff, and is fagged and out +of breath half way. But on a still dizzier crag, storm-blown, +clinging by its toes, there stands the pirates' cabin. To this topmost +ledge fishwives sometimes scramble by day to seek a belated sail +against Lundy's Isle. But after twilight a night wind searches the +crannies of the rock and whines to the moon of its barren quest, and +then no villager, I think, chooses to walk in that direction. I have +visited Clovelly and have kicked a sodden donkey from the wharf to the +top of the street, past the shops of Devon cream and picture postal +cards, but have sought in vain the pirates' cabin. Since our far-off +adventure of tonight ten thousand tempests have snarled across these +giddy cliffs and we must convince our reason that these highest crags +where we pitch our plot have long since been toppled in a storm. Where +yonder wave lathers the shaggy headland, as if Neptune had turned +barber, we must fancy that the pinnacles of yesteryear lie buried in +the sea._ + +_We had hoped for a play upon the sea, with a tall mast rocking from +wing to wing and a tempest roaring at the rail. Alas! Our pirates grow +old and stiff. They have retired, as we say, from active practice and +live in idle luxury on shore. Yet we shall see that their villainy +still thrives._ + +_Our scene is their cabin on the cliff. It is a rough stone building +with peeling plaster and slates that by day are green with moss. But +it is night and the wind is whistling its rowdy companions from the +sea. Until the morning they will play at leap-frog from cliff to +cliff. Far below is the village of Clovelly, snug with fire and +candles._ + +_We enter the cabin without knocking--like neighbors through a +garden--and poke about a bit before our hosts appear. A door, forward +at the right, leads to the kitchen. Back stage, also, at the right, a +ladder rises to a sleeping loft. On the left wall are a chimney and +fireplace with a crane and pot for heating grog, and smoky timbers +above to mark the frequent thirst. On a great beam overhead are bags +of clinking loot and shining brasses from wrecked ships. Peppers hang +to dry before the fire, and a lighted ship's lantern swings from a +hook. At the rear of the cabin, to the left, a row of mullioned +windows looks at sea and cliffs in a flash of lightning. Below is a +seaman's chest. Above, on the broken plaster, is scrawled a ship. In +the middle, at the rear, there is a clock with hanging pendulum and +weights. A gun of antique pattern leans beside the clock. To the right +the cabin is recessed, with a door right-angled in the jog and other +windows looking on the sea. A parrot sits on its perch with curbed +profanity. The gaudy creature is best if stuffed, for its noisy tongue +would drown our dialogue. Like Hamlet's player it would speak beyond +its lines and raise a quantity of barren laughter. Our furniture is a +table and three stools, and a tall-backed chair beside the hearth. On +the table a candle burns, bespattered with tallow. The cabin glows +with fire light._ + +[Illustration: Two pirates are discovered drinking at a table] + +_At the lifting of the curtain there is thunder and lightning, and a +rush of wind--if it can be managed. Two pirates are discovered, +drinking at the table. By the smack of their lips it is excellent +grog. One of them--Patch-Eye--has lost an eye and he wears a black +patch. His hair curls up in a pigtail, like any sailor before Nelson. +It looks as stiff as a hook and he might almost be lifted by it and +hung on a peg. But all of our pirates wear pigtails--except one, Red +Joe._ + +_The other pirate at the table is called the Duke, for no apparent +reason as he is a shabby rogue. We must not run our finger down the +peerage in hope of finding him, or think that he owns a palace on the +Strand. He has only one leg, with a timber below the knee. He wears a +long cloak so that the actor's rusticated leg can be folded out of +sight. The Duke has a great red nose--grog and rum and that sort of +thing. His whiskers are the bush that marks the merry drinking place._ + +_Patch-Eye is melancholy--almost sentimental at times. He would stab a +man, but grieve upon a sparrow. At heart we fear he is a coward, and +stupid. The Duke, on the contrary, is shrewd and he does a lot of +thinking. He has heavy eyebrows. He is the kind of thinker that you +just know that he is thinking. Both pirates are very cruel--and +profane, but we must be careful._ + +_And now we hush the melancholy fiddlers. If this comedy can stir the +croaking bass-viol to any show of mirth, our work tops Falstaff. Glum +folk with beards had best withdraw. Only the young in heart will catch +the slender meaning of our play. Let's light the candles and draw the +curtain!_ + +PATCH: Darlin'! Darlin'! (_He lolls back in his chair and stretches +out his legs for comfort._) Darlin'! + +(_At this a dirty old woman with one tooth appears from the kitchen. +She is called Darlin' just for fun, as she is not at all kissable. A +sprig of mistletoe, even in the Christmas season, would beckon +vainly._) + +PATCH: Me friend, the Duke, is thirsty. Will yer fill the cups? Hurry, +ol' dear! And squeeze in jest a bit o' lemon. It sets the stomich. + +DARLIN': Yer sets yer stomich like it were hen's eggs. Alers coddlin' +it. + +(_She stirs and tastes the pot of grog, and hoists her wrinkled +stockings._) + +DUKE: There 's no one like Darlin' fer mixin' grog. + +DARLIN': Fer that kind word I 'm lovin' yer. (_She looks at him with +admiration._) Ain 't he a figger o' a man? Wenus was nothin'. Jest +nothin' at all. + +PATCH: It 's grog beats off the melancholy. As soon as me pipes go +dry, I gets homesick fer the ocean. Here we be, Duke, thrown up at +last ter rot like driftwood on the shore. No more sailin' off to +Trinidad! No tackin' 'round the Hebrides! We is ships as has sprung a +leak. It was 'appy days when we sailed with ol' Flint on the Spanish +Main. + +DUKE: 'Appy days, Patch! (_They drink._) + +PATCH: Aye! The blessed, dear, ol' roarin' hulk. No better pirate ever +lived than Flint. Smart with his cutlass. Quick at the trigger. Grog! +A sloppin' pail o' it was jest a sip. + +DUKE: I used ter tell him that his leg was holler. + +PATCH: He was a vat, was Flint--jest a swishin' keg. + +DUKE: Grog jest sizzled and disappeared, like when yer drops it on a +red-hot seacoal. + +PATCH: Fer twenty year and more me and you has seen ol' Flint march +his wictims off the plank. + +DUKE: "Step lively!" he 'd say. "Does n't yer hear Davy callin' to +yer?" There was never a sailorman ever sat in the Port Light at +Wappin' wharf which could drink with Flint. + +[Illustration: "Port Light" at Wappin' Wharf] + +PATCH: Wappin' wharf and gibbets is nothin' ter talk about. Funerals +even is cheerfuller. + +DUKE: There 's his parrot. + +PATCH: She used ter cuss soft and gentle to herself--'appy all the +day. She ain 't spoke since Flint was took. Peckin' at yer finger and +broodin'. + +DUKE: There 's his ol' clock. + +PATCH: As hung in the cabin o' the Spittin' Devil. + +DUKE: With the pendulum gettin' tangled in a storm. A 'ell of a clock +fer a bouncin' ship. + +[Illustration: "A 'ell of a clock fer a bouncin' ship"] + +PATCH: She was tickin' peaceful the day Flint was hanged. But she +stopped--does yer remember it?--the very minute they pushed him off +the ladder. + +DUKE: She ain 't ticked since. + +PATCH: It makes yer 'stitious. And she won 't never run agin--that 's +what Flint alers said--till his death 's revenged. + +DUKE: He told us never ter wind her--says she 'd start hisself without +no windin' when the right time came. + +PATCH: If I was ter look up and see that pendulum swingin'--Horrers! +Yeller elephants would be nothin'! + +DUKE: Pooh! I 'd give a month o' grog jest ter hear the ol' dear +tickin', and ter know that Flint was restin' easy in his rotten +coffin--swappin' stories with the pretty angels. + +PATCH: I loved Flint like a brother. (_He is quite sentimental about +this._) It was him knocked this out. (_Pointing to his missing eye._) +But it was jest in the way o' business. We differed a leetle in the +loot. He was very persuasive, was ol' Flint. + +DUKE: Yer talks like a woman. They loves yer to cuff 'em. Them was +'appy days, Patch. + +PATCH: Blast me gig what 's left, Duke, but me and you has seen a heap +o' sights. I suppose I 've drowned meself a hundred men. It 's +comfertin' when yer lays awake at night. I feels I ain 't wasted +meself. I 've used me gifts. I ain 't been a foolish virgin and put me +shinin' talent inside a bushel. But me and you is driftwood now, Duke. + +DUKE: Aye. But it ain 't no use snifflin' about it, ol' crocodile. +Darlin' is certainly handy at mixin' grog. And we 've a right smart +cabin with winders on the sea. Since I stuffed yer ol' shirt in the +roof it hardly leaks. + +PATCH: My shirt! Next week is me week fer changin'. How could yer ha' +done it? I 'm a kinder perticerler dresser. I likes ter wash now and +then--if it ain 't too often. + +DUKE: Darlin', me friend Patch is thirsty. And a drop meself. (_The +cups are filled._) Yer a precious ol' lady, and I loves yer. + +DARLIN': Yer spoils me, Duke. + +(_Lightning and a crash of thunder._) + +DUKE: It 's foul tonight on the ocean. How the wind blows! It be +spittin' up outside. The channel 's as riled as a wampire when yer +scorns her. How she snorts! + +PATCH: The devil hisself is hissin' through his teeth. + +DUKE: There 'll be sailormen tonight what 's booked fer Davy Jones's +locker. I 'm not kickin' much ter be ashore. I rots peaceful. + +(_Patch-Eye has opened the door to consult the night. It slams wide in +the wind and the gust blows out the candle._) + +DUKE: Hi, there, for'ard! Batten yer hatch! Yer blowin' the gizzard +out o' us. + +[Illustration: "Yer blowin' the gizzard out o' us"] + +(_He hobbles on timber leg to the warm chair by the fire. Patch closes +the door and sits. Darlin' relights the candle._) + +PATCH: Poor Flint! He was took on jest such a night. + +Dropped inter the Port Light fer somethin' wet and warmin'. Jest ter +kinder say goodby. Ship all fitted out. He 'd got three new +sailormen--fine fellers as had been sentenced ter be hanged fer +cuttin' purses, but had been let go, as they had reformed and wanted +ter be honest pirates. + +DUKE: I remembers the night, ol' sea-nymph. It was rainin' ter put out +the fires o' hell--with the leetle devils stoakin' in the sinners. It +'s sinners, Patch, as is used fer kindlers, ter keep the devils in a +healthy sweat. + +PATCH: He was ter sail when the tide ran out. Lord a Goody! How the +tide runs down the Thames, as if it were homesick fer the ocean! + +DUKE: But someone squealed. + +PATCH: Squealers is worse 'n hissin' reptiles. They ketched Flint and +they strung him to a gibbet. Poor ol' dear! I never touches me patch, +but I thinks o' Flint. + +DUKE: This here life is snug and easy. We has retired from practice, +like store-keepers does who has made a fortin. Ain 't we settin' here +in style and comfert, and jest waitin' fer the treasure ships ter come +ter us? We gets the plums without chawin' at the dough. We blows out +the lighthouse, and we sets our lantern so as ter fool 'em on the +course, and when they smashes on the rocks, well--all we does is stuff +our pokes with the treasure that washes up. I prays meself fer fog and +dirty weather. Now I lay me, says I, and will yer send it thick and +oozy? + +PATCH: I ain 't disputin' yer. (_He cheers up a bit._) And we robs +landlubbers once in a while. + +DUKE: Now yer talkin', ol' sea-lion. I 'm tellin' yer it were a good +haul we made last night on Castle Crag. + +PATCH: Who 's disputin' yer? + +DUKE: I 'm tellin' yer. Silver candles! And spoons! Never seen such a +heap o' spoons. + +PATCH: What 's anyone want more 'n one spoon fer? Yer cleans it every +bite agin the tongue. + +DUKE: Yer disgusts me, Patch. Yer ain 't no manners. Fer meself I +spears me food tidy on me knife. + +(_The Duke sits looking at the seaman's chest at the rear of the +cabin. He is deep in thought._) + +DUKE: There 's jest one leetle thing I does n't understand. I asks +yer. (_He goes to the chest, opens it and draws out a rich velvet +garment. He holds it up._) What 's the meaning o' this here loot we +took at Castle Crag? I asks yer. Ain 't we been by that castle a +hundred times? The Earl, he don 't wear clothes like this. None o' the +arstocky does, 'cept when they struts on Piccadilly. I asks yer, +Patch. I asks yer who wears a thing like that. + +(_He puts the garment around Patch's shoulders._) + +DARLIN': Yer looks like the Archbishop o' Canterbury. + +PATCH: (_with strut and gesture_). His Grice takin' the air--pluckin' +posies. + +DUKE: Lookin' like a silly jackass. + +PATCH: Yer hurts me feelin's, Duke. + +(_The Duke folds the cloak and puts it back again in the chest. He +sits at the table in meditation._) + +DUKE: I does n't like it, Patch. I does n't understand it. And what I +does n't understand, I does n't like. + +PATCH: What? + +DUKE: Them gay clothes. Who owned 'em, I asks yer, afore we stole 'em. + +PATCH: Darlin'! Me friend, the Duke, is thirsty. Yer had better mix +another pot. Our cups is low. Yer does n't want ter be a foolish +virgin and get ketched without no grog. + +DUKE: With this bit o' slop what 's left I drinks to yer shinin' +lamps--Wenus's flashin' gigs. + +DARLIN': I loves yer, Duke. + +(_She fills, mixes and stirs the pot. She tastes it like a practiced +house-wife. Her apron is maid of all work. It is towel, dust-rag, mop +and handkerchief._) + +[Illustration: Her apron is towel, dust rag, mop and handkerchief] + +DUKE: What does yer make, ol' Cyclops, o' the new recruit? + +PATCH: Red Joe? + +DUKE: Him. + +PATCH: He 's a right smart pirate, I says. I never seen a feller as +could shoot so straight. + +DUKE: I says so. But he 's a wee bit nobby--kinder stiff in the nose. + +PATCH: Looks as if he knowed he was kinder good. + +DUKE: It 's queer how he come ter us. Jest settin' on top his dory on +the beach, when we found him. And what he said about his ship goin' +down! Blast me ol' stump, but it were queer. + +PATCH: Queer? + +DUKE: Yer said it, Patch. Queerer than mermaids. Did we ever see a +stick o' that ship? I 'm askin' yer, Patch. + +PATCH: Ain 't I listenin'? + +DUKE: Ain 't I tellin' yer? Nary a bit washed in. Did yer ever know a +wreck 'long here where nothin' washed in--jest nothin'? I 'm askin' +yer. + +PATCH: You and me would starve if it happened regular. + +DUKE: It 's what we lives by--pickin's on the beach. + +PATCH: He 's a right smart pirate, 's Red Joe. The Captain--the most +'ticerler man I know--he took ter him at once. He 's a kinder +good-lookin' feller. + +DARLIN': (_stirring at the pot_). He ain 't got whiskers like the +Duke. + +(_She spits--must I say it?--she spits into the fire._) + +DUKE: Queer that never a stick washed in. + +PATCH: I 'm not denyin' yer, Duke. Where 's Red Joe now? It 's gettin' +on. I 'll jest take a look fer him. (_He takes the lantern from its +hook and stands at the open door._) It ain 't blowin' so hard. Ol' +Borealis--I speaks poetical--ain 't strainin' at his waistcoat buttons +like he was. + +DUKE: Igerence! I pities yer. Borealis ain 't wind. He 's rainbows. + +(_Patch-Eye goes into the night. The Duke sits to a greasy game of +solitaire._) + +DUKE: It 's queer, I says. Nary a stick! Jest Red Joe on top his dory! +(_He sings abstractedly._) + +[Music: PIRATE CHANTY] + + Bill Bones used ter say, on many a day, + When takin' a ship fer its loot, + That a blow on the head was quickest dead + And safest and best ter boot. + But a wictim's end, fer meself I contend-- + There 's a hundred been killed by me-- + Is a walk, I 'll be frank, on a slippery plank, + And a splash in the roarin' sea. + +(_He turns and surveys the drawing above the windows. He cocks his +head like a connoisseur, critically--with approval._) + +DUKE: I 'm the artist o' that there masterpiece. The Spittin' Devil! I +done it on a rainy mornin'. Genius is queer. (_Then he sings again._) + + Ol' Pew had a jerk with a long-handled dirk-- + His choice was a jab in the dark-- + +(_He is engaged thus, fumbling with his cards, when Darlin', crossing +from the fire, interrupts him._) + +DARLIN': Duke, will yer have a nip o' grog? It eases yer pipes. Yer +sounds as if yer had crumbs in yer gullet. + +[Illustration: "It eases yer pipes"] + +(_The Duke pushes forward his cup._) + +DUKE: It 's a lovely tune, and I wrote the words meself. (_He +continues his song._) + + Old Pew had a jerk with a long-handled dirk-- + His choice was a jab in the dark-- + And Morgan's crew, 'twixt me and you, + Considered a rope a lark. + But a prettier end, I repeat and contend-- + And I 've sailed on every sea-- + Is a plunge off the side in the foamin' tide. + It tickles a sailor like me. + +DARLIN': Duke, does yer happen ter have a wife? + +DUKE: (_deeply engaged_). Some tunes is hard, so I jest makes 'em up +as I goes along. + + Blackbeard had a knife which he stuck in his wife. + Fer naggin', says he ter me-- + +DARLIN': Has yer a wife? A wife as might turn up, I mean. + +DUKE: Say it agin, Darlin'. + +DARLIN': Most sailors has wives o' course, strewed here and there from +Bristol to Guinea--jest ter make all ports cozy. So 's yer goin' home +ter a 'appy family, no matter where yer steers. + +DUKE: It 's comfertable, Darlin'--I 'll not deny it--when yer heads +ter harbor to see a winkin' candle in a winder on a hill, and know +that a faithful wife and a couple o' leetle pirates is waitin' ter hug +yer. + +DARLIN': I says so, Duke. I 've been a wife meself on and off, with +husbands sailin' in and out--kissin' yer and 'oistin' sail. +Roundabout, I says, makes 'appy marriages. Has yer a wife, +Duke--livin', as yer can remember? + +DUKE: Yer a bold, for'ard creature. Are yer proposin' ter me? + +(_Something like a wink shows in the blush._) + +DARLIN': I blush fer yer bad manners, Duke. I 'm a lady and I waits +patient fer the 'appy question. I lets me beauty do the pleadin'. I +was a flamin' roarer in me time. Lovers was nothin'. Dozens! There was +a sea-captain once--(_She smiles dreamily, then seems to cut her +throat with her little finger._) Positive! Jest 'cause we tiffed. And +a stage-coach driver! I had ter cool his passion with a rollin' pin. +He brooded hisself inter drink. 'Appy days! (_She is lost for a moment +in her glorious past, then blows her nose upon her apron and returns +to us._) Duke--askin' yer pardon--I was noticin' lately that you was +castin' yer eyes on leetle Betsy. + +DUKE: As washes the dishes? + +DARLIN': Her. + +DUKE: Go 'long! + +DARLIN': And I thought yer might be drawn to her. + +DUKE: Darlin', I 'm easy riled. + +DARLIN': Yer can have her, Duke, on one condition. + +DUKE: She 's a pretty leetle girl. + +DARLIN': Yer must set me up in a pub in Bristol--with brass +beer-pulls. + +DUKE: I 'll not deny I 've given her a thought. Usual, wives is +nuisances--naggin' at yer fer sixpences. But sometimes I does get +lonesome on a wet night when there are nothin' ter do. I need someone +ter hand me down me boots. Betsy 'd make a kinder cozy wife. Could yer +learn her ter make grog? + +DARLIN': Aye. + +DUKE: I might do worse. And roast pig that crackles? + +DARLIN': I could learn her. + +DUKE: I might do worser. I 'd marry you, Darlin'-- + +DARLIN': Dearie! + +DUKE: But yer gettin' on. Patch might marry yer. He 's only got one +eye. + +DARLIN': (_with scorn_). Patch! + +DUKE: I 'll not deny I 've been considerin' leetle Betsy. I was +thinkin' about it this mornin' as I was cleanin' me boot. Wives cleans +boots. I 'm the sort o' sailorman she would be sure ter like. + +DARLIN': And what about the pub? + +DUKE: Blast me stump, Darlin', I 'll not ferget yer. + +DARLIN': Does I get brass beer-pulls in the tap? + +DUKE: Everythin' shiny. + +DARLIN': I 'm lovin' yer. + +DUKE: Betsy would kinder jump at me. There 's somethin' tender about a +young girl's first love--cooin' in yer arms. + +DARLIN': Easy, Duke! + +DUKE: I alers was a fav'rite with the ladies. I think it 's me +whiskers. + +DARLIN': 'Vast there, Duke! There 's a shoal ahead. Red Joe 's a right +smart feller. + +DUKE: Red Joe? + +DARLIN': Him. He sets and watches her. + +DUKE: What can she see in a young feller like that? + +DARLIN': Women 's queer folks. They 're wicious wampires. Jest yer +watch 'em together. Red Joe 's snoopin' in on yer. + +DUKE: Yer can blast me. He ain 't got whiskers. + +DARLIN': I 'm tellin' yer, Duke. If I was you I 'd tumble that Red Joe +off a cliff. I 'm hintin' to yer, Duke. Off a cliff! (_She sniffs +audibly._) It 's the pig. I clean fergot the pig. It 's burnin' on the +fire. Off a cliff! I 'm hintin' to yer. + +(_She runs to the kitchen._) + +DUKE: Red Joe! Women 's queer--queerer than mermaids. A snooper! Jest +a 'prentice pirate! No whiskers! Nothin'! + +(_At this moment there is a stamping of feet outside and Patch-Eye +enters with Red Joe._ + +_If Red Joe were born a gentleman we might expect silver buckles and a +yellow feather to trail across his shoulder, for he bears a jaunty +dignity. His is a careless grace--the swagger of a pleasant +vagabond--a bravado that snaps its fingers at danger. His body has the +quickness of a cat, his eye a flash of humor--kindly, unless necessity +sharpens it. As poets were thick in those golden days we suspect that +the roar of the ocean sets rhymes jingling in his heart. He is, +however, almost as shabby as the other pirates, although he wears no +pigtail. His collar is turned up. He wrings the water from his hat._ + +_Patch-Eye throws himself on the seaman's chest and falls asleep at +once. He snores an obligato to our scene. Just once an ugly dream +disturbs him and we must fancy that a gibbet has crossed the frightful +shadow of his thoughts._) + +DUKE: Evenin', ol' sea-serpent! Where has you been? + +JOE: Up at the lighthouse. It 's as mirky as hell's back door. + +DUKE: See Petey? + +JOE: I did. He was puttering with his light and meowing to his tabby +cat. + +DUKE: We 're a blessin' ter ol' Petey. I 'm bettin' me stump he 'd get +lonesome up there 'cept fer us. (_He points to the window to the +right, where the lighthouse shows._) There 's ol' Petey, starin' at +the ocean. Yer ain 't never seen a light at that t' other winder, has +yer Joe? We waits fer a merchantman which he knows has gold aboard. +Then we jest tips a hint ter Petey, and he douses his light. Then we +sets up our lantern--ol' Flint's lantern--outside on the rocks, jest +where she shows at t' other winder. The ship sticks her nose agin the +cliff. Smash! + +(_At this point, after a few moments of convulsion, Patch-Eye falls +off the chest. He sits up and rubs his eyes._) + +PATCH: I dreamed o' gibbets! + +DUKE: Yer is lucky, ol' keg o' rum, yer does n't dream o' purple +rhinoceroses. Go back ter bed. (_Then to Joe._) Smash! I says. On +comes Petey agin. And we jest as innercent as babies in a crib. It was +me own idear. Brains, young feller. Jest yer wait, Joey, till yer sees +a light at t' other winder. + +[Illustration: "And we jest as innercent as babies in a crib"] + +(_Betsy is heard singing in the kitchen. The Duke stops and listens. A +dark thought runs through his head. His shrewd eye quests from kitchen +door to Joe._) + +DUKE: Darlin'! Darlin'! (_She thrusts in her head._) + +DUKE: Where 's Betsy? + +DARLIN': She 's washin' dishes. + +DUKE: I 'm wonderin' if she would lay off a bit from her jolly +occerpation, and sing us a leetle song. + +DARLIN': (_calling_). Betsy! I wants yer. + +PATCH: I never knowed yer cared fer music, Duke. Usually yer goes +outside. Yer jest boohs. + +DUKE: I does usual, Patch. Tonight 's perticerler. Red Joe ain 't +never heard Betsy sing. Does yer like music, Joe? + +JOE: I like the roaring of the ocean. I like to hear the trees tossing +in the wind. + +PATCH: Wind ain 't music. Yer should hear Betsy. She 's got a leetle +song that makes yer feel as good and peaceful as a whinin' parson. + +DARLIN': (_beckoning at the kitchen door_). Betsy! Stop sloppin' with +the dishes! + +[Illustration: Betsy enters] + +(_Betsy enters. She is a pretty girl. Our guess at her age is--but it +is better not to guess. We have in our own experience made several +humiliating blunders. Let us say that Betsy is young enough to be a +grand-daughter. Plainly she is a pirate by accident, not inheritance, +for she is clean and she wears a pretty dress._) + +DUKE: (_as he rises and makes a show of manners_). Betsy, yer is +welcome ter the parlor. We wants Red Joe ter hear yer sing. That +leetle song o' yers. + +(_He returns to the recess at the rear of the cabin and covertly +watches Joe. Patch-Eye is lost in heavenly meditation. Joe's attention +is roused before the first stanza of the song is finished. By the +third stanza Betsy sings to him alone._) + +[Music: Betsy's Lullaby] + +[Transcriber's Note: Misspelled "Betsey" in original music title.] + +BETSY: (_sings_). + + The north wind's cheeks are puffed with tunes: + It whistles across the sky. + Its song is shrill and rough, until + The hour of twilight 's nigh. + Rest, my dear one, rest and dream. + The winds on tip-toe keep. + In the dusk of day they hum their lay, + And weary children sleep. + + The waves since dawn roared on the rocks: + They snarled at the ships on the deep. + But at twilight hour they chain their power + And little children sleep. + Rest, my dear one, rest and dream. + The ships in a cradle swing, + And sailormen blink and children sink + To sleep, as the wavelets sing. + + The sun at noon was red and hot: + It stifled the east and west. + But at even song the shadows long + Have summoned the world to rest. + Rest, my dear one, rest and dream. + The sun runs off from the sky. + But the stars, it 's odd, while children nod, + Are tuned to a lullaby. + +(_She sings slowly, to a measure that might rock a cradle. This can be +managed, for I have tried it with a chair. Once, Patch-Eye blows his +nose to keep his emotions from exposure. But make him blow +softly--_soto naso_, shall we say?--so as not to disturb the song. In +Red Joe the song seems to have stirred a memory. At the end of each +stanza Betsy pauses, as if she, too, dwelt in the past._) + +PATCH: When I hears that song I feels as if I were rockin' babies in a +crib--blessed leetle pirates, pullin' at their bottles, as will foller +the sea some day. + +(_He blows his sentimental nose. A slighter structure would burst in +the explosion._) + +DUKE: Yer ol' nose sounds as if it were tootin' fer a fog. Yer might +be roundin' the Isle o' Dogs on a mirky night. + +(_He goes to the door and stretches out his hand for raindrops._) + +DUKE: Joe, you and me has got ter put ile in the lantern. Come on, ol' +sweetheart. When yer sees this lantern blinkin' at that there winder, +yer will know that willainy 's afoot. + +(_He comes close to Darlin' and whispers._) + +DUKE: Yer said it, Darlin'. Yer said it. Red Joe 's castin' his eye on +Betsy. Off a cliff! Tonight! Now! If I gets a chance. Off a cliff! +Come on, Joey! + +(_He goes outdoors with Red Joe, singing Betsy's song. The lullaby +fades in the distance. Patch-Eye and Betsy are left together, for the +roast pig again calls Darlin' to the kitchen._) + +PATCH: Will yer wait a bit, Betsy--askin' yer pardon--while I talks to +yer? + +BETSY: Of course, Patch. + +PATCH: I don 't suppose, dearie, I 'm the kind o' pirate as sets yer +thinkin' of fiddles tunin' up, ner parsons. No, yer says. Ner cradles +and leetle devils bitin' at their coral. And I don 't suppose yer has +a kind o' hankerin' and yearnin'. Yer never sets and listens to me +comin'. Course not, yer says. Betsy, if I talk out square you 'll not +blab it all 'round the village, will yer? They would point their +fingers at me, and giggle in their sleeves. I want ter tell yer +somethin' o' a wery tender nater. There 's a leetle word as begins +with _L_. _L_, I mean, not 'ell. I would n't want yer to think, Betsy, +I 'm cussin'. 'Ell is cussin'. That leetle word is what 's ailing me. +It 's love, Betsy. It 's me heart. Smashed all ter bits! Jesus, yer +asks, what done it? It 's a pretty girl, I answers yer, as has smashed +it. Does yer foller, Betsy? A pretty girl about your size, and with +eyes the color o' yourn. What does yer say, Betsy? Yer says nothin'. + +BETSY: I never meant to, Patch. I 'm sorry. + +PATCH: Course you are. Jest as sorry as the careless feller as nudged +Humpty Dumpty off the wall. But it did n't do no good. There he was, +broke all ter flinders. And all the King's horses and all the King's +men could n't fix him. Humpty Dumpty is me, Betsy. Regularly all split +up, fore and aft, rib and keel. I mopes all day fer you, Betsy. And I +mopes all night. Last night I did n't get ter sleep, jest fidgettin', +till way past 'leven o' clock. And I woke agin at seven, askin' +meself, if I loves you hopeless. Yer is a lump o' sugar, Betsy, as +would sweeten ol' Patch's life. If we was married I 'd jest tag +'round behind yer and hand yer things. And now yer tells me there ain +'t no hope at all. + +BETSY: No hope at all, Patch. + +PATCH: Yesterday I was countin' the potaters in the pot, sayin' ter +meself: She loves me--She don 't love me. But the last potater did n't +love me, Betsy. There was jest one too many potaters in the pot. No, +yer says, yer could n't love me. Cause why? Cause Patch is a shabby +pirate with only one eye. + +BETSY: I am sorry, Patch. + +(_She offers him her hand._) + +PATCH: Blessed leetle fingers, as twines their selves all 'round me +heart. Patch, yer says, yer sorry. There ain 't no hope at all. Yer +nudges him off the wall, but yer can 't fix him. But I never heard +that Humpty Dumpty did a lot o' squealin' when he bust. He took it +like a pirate. And so does Patch. I does n't sulk. If yer will pardon +me, Betsy, I 'll leave yer. Me feelin 's get lumpy in me throat. I 'll +take a wink o' sleep in the loft. + +(_He climbs the ladder, but turns at the top._) + +PATCH: There was jest one too many potaters in the pot. + +(_He disappears through the hole in the wall. Betsy arranges the mugs +on the table, then stands listening. Presently there is a sound of +footsteps. Red Joe enters at the rear._) + +JOE: I slipped the Duke in the dark. I came back to talk with you. +(_Then bluntly, but with kindness._) How old are you, my dear? + +BETSY: I don 't know. + +JOE: You don 't know? How long have you lived here? + +BETSY: In this cabin? Three years. + +JOE: And where did you live before? + +BETSY: In the village--in Clovelly. + +JOE: Did your parents live there? + +BETSY: Y-e-s. I think so. I don 't know. Old Nancy, they called +her--she brought me up. But she died three years ago. + +JOE: Who was old Nancy? + +BETSY: She did washing for the sailormen. + +[Illustration: "She did washing for the sailormen"] + +JOE: Was she good to you? + +BETSY: Oh yes. I think--I do not know--that she was not my mother. + +JOE: And Darlin'? + +BETSY: Yes. She has been good to me. And the others, too. I seem to +remember someone else. How long have you been a pirate? + +JOE: A pirate? Years, it seems, my dear. But I am more used to a +soldier's oaths. I have trailed a pike in the Lowland wars. The roar +of cannon, and siege and falling walls, are gayer tunes than any ocean +tempest. What is this that you remember, Betsy? + +BETSY: It is far off. Some one sang to me. It was not Nancy. When +Nancy died, Darlin' took me and brought me up. That was three years +ago. But last year the Captain and Duke and Patch-Eye came climbing up +the rocks. They were sailormen, they said, who had lost a ship. And +these cliffs with the sea pounding on the shore comforted them when +they were lonely. So they stayed. And Darlin' and I cook for them. + +JOE: Do you remember who it was who sang to you? + +BETSY: No. + +JOE: That song you just sang--where did you learn it? + +BETSY: I have always known it. It makes me sad to sing it, for it sets +me thinking--thinking of something that I have forgotten. (_She stands +at the window above the sea._) Some days I climb high on the cliffs +and I look upon the ocean. And I know that there is land beyond--where +children play--but I see nothing but a rim of water. And sometimes the +wind comes off the sea, and it brings me familiar far-off +voices--voices I once knew--voices I once knew--fragments from a life +I have forgotten. Why do you ask about my song? + +JOE: Because I heard it once myself. + +(_Betsy sits beside him at the table._) + +BETSY: Where? Perhaps, if you will tell me, it will help me to +remember. + +JOE: I heard the song once when I was a lad--when I was taken on a +visit. + +BETSY: Were your parents pirates? + +JOE: It was a long journey and all day we bumped upon the road, +seeking an outlet from the tangled hills. Night overtook our weary +horses and blew out the flaming candles in the west; and shadows were +a blanket on the sleeping world. Toward midnight I was roused. We had +come to the courtyard of a house--this house where I was taken on a +visit. + +BETSY: Was it like this, Joe--a cabin on a cliff? + +JOE: I remember how the moon peeped around the corner to see who came +so late knocking on the door. I remember--I remember--(_He stops +abruptly_). Do you remember when you first came to live with Nancy? + +BETSY: I dreamed once--you will think me silly--Are there great stone +steps somewhere, wider than this room, with marble women standing +motionless? And walls with dizzy towers upon them? + +JOE: Go on, Betsy. + +BETSY: In Clovelly there are naught but cabins pitched upon a hill, +and ladders to a loft. And, at the foot of the town, a mole, where +boats put in. And I have listened to the songs of the fishermen as +they wind their nets. And through the window of the tavern I have +heard them singing at their rum. And sometimes I have been afraid. I +have stuffed my ears and ran. But the ugly songs have followed me and +scared me in the night. The shadows from the moon have reeled across +the floor, like a tipsy sailor from the Harbor Light. Joe, are you +really a man from the sea? + +JOE: Why, Betsy? + +BETSY: The sea is never gentle. It never sleeps. I have stood +listening at the window on breathless nights, but the ocean always +slaps against the rocks. Even in a calm it moves and frets. Is it not +said that the ghosts of evil men walk back and forth on the spot where +their crimes are done? The ocean, perhaps, for its cruel wreckage, +haunts these cliffs. It is doomed through all eternity with a lather +of breaking waves to wash these rocks of blood. And the wind whistles +to bury the cries of drowning men that plague the memory. Joe-- + +JOE: Yes, my dear. + +BETSY: You are the only one--Patch-Eye, Duke and the Captain--you are +the only one who is always gentle. And I have wondered if you could +really be a pirate. + +JOE: Me? (_Then with sudden change._) Me? Gentle? The devil himself is +my softer twin. + +BETSY: Don 't! Don 't! + +JOE: What do you know of scuttled ships, and rascals ripped in fight? +Of the last bubbles that grin upon the surface where a dozen men have +drowned? + +BETSY: Joe! For God's sake! Don 't! + +JOE: Is it gentleness to plunge a dagger in a man and watch for his +dying eye to glaze? + +BETSY: It is a lie. Tell me it is a lie! + +JOE: My dear. (_Gently he touches her hand._) + +BETSY: It is a lie. + +JOE: We 'll pretend it is a lie. + +(_They sit for a moment without speaking._) + +BETSY: How long, Joe, have you lived with us? + +JOE: Two weeks, Betsy. + +BETSY: Two weeks? So short a time. From Monday to Monday and then +around again to Monday. It is so brief a space that a flower would +scarcely droop and wither. And yet the day you came seems already long +ago. And all the days before are of a different life. It was another +Betsy, not myself, who lived in this cabin on a Sunday before a +Monday. + +[Illustration: "From Monday to Monday, and then around again to +Monday"] + +JOE: It is so always, Betsy, when friends suddenly come to know each +other. All other days sink to unreality like the memory of snow upon a +day of August. We wonder how the flowering meadows were once a field +of white. Our past selves, Betsy, walk apart from us and, although we +know their trick of attitude and the fashion of their clothes, they +are not ourselves. For friendship, when it grips the heart, rewinds +the fibres of our being. Do you remember, dear, how you ran in fright +when you first saw me clambering up these rocks? + +BETSY: I was sent to call the Duke to dinner and carried a bell to +ring it on the cliff. I was afraid when a stranger's head appeared +upon the path. + +JOE: Yet, when I spoke, you stopped. + +BETSY: At the first word I knew I need n't be afraid. And you took my +hand to help me up the slope. You asked my name, and told me yours was +Joe. Then we came together to this cabin. And each day I have been +with you. Two weeks only. + +JOE: I shall be gone, Betsy, in a little while. + +BETSY: Gone? + +JOE: I am not, my dear, the master of myself. We must forget these +days together. + +BETSY: Joe! + +JOE: May be I shall return. Fate is captain. The future shows so +vaguely in the mist. Listen! It is the Duke. + +(_In the distance the Duke is heard singing the pirates' song._) + +JOE: We must speak of these things together. Another time when there +is no interruption. + +(_Gently she touches his fingers._) + +BETSY: I shall be lonely when you go. + +(_There is loud stamping at the door. Betsy goes quickly to the +kitchen._ + +_The Captain enters, followed by the Duke. Patch-Eye enters by way of +the ladder. The Captain has a hook hand. This is the very hook +mentioned in my preface--if you read prefaces--got from the corner +butcher. The Captain would be a frightful man to meet socially. I can +hear a host saying "Shake hands with the Captain." One quite loses +his taste for dinner parties. There is a sabre cut across the +Captain's cheek. He is even more disreputable in appearance than his +followers, with a bluster that marks his rank._) + +[Illustration: The Captain would be a frightful man to meet socially] + +CAPTAIN: There 's news! There 's news, me men! I 've brought big news +from the village. + +(_He wrings the water from his hat. He is provokingly deliberate. All +of the pirates crowd around._) + +CAPTAIN: By the bones of me ten fingers, it 's a blythe night fer our +business. It 's wetter than a crocodile's nest. When I smells a fog, I +feels good. I tastes it and is 'appy. + +PATCH: What 's yer news, Captain? + +CAPTAIN: News? Oh yes, the news. I 've jest hearn--I 've jest +hearn--blast me rotten timbers! How can a man talk when he 's dry! A +cup o' grog! + +(_Darlin' has slipped into the room in the excitement. Old custom +anticipates his desire. She stands at his elbow with the cup, like a +dirty Ganymede. The Captain drinks slowly._) + +CAPTAIN: There 's big news, me hearties. + +DUKE: What 's yer news, Captain? We asks yer. + +CAPTAIN: I 'm tellin' yer. It 's sweatin' with curiosity that kills +cats. (_He yawns and stretches his legs across the hob._) Down in the +village I learnt--I was jest takin' a drop o' rum at the Harbor Light. +It 's not as sweet as Darlin's. They skimps their sugar. Yer wants ter +keep droppin' it in as yer stirs it. I thinks they puts in too much +water. Water 's not much good--'cept fer washin'. And washin' 's not +much good. + +DUKE: Now then, Captain, hold hard on yer tiller agin wobblin', and +get ter port. + +DARLIN': We 're hangin' on yer lips. + +CAPTAIN: Yer need n't keep shovin' me. I kicks up when I 'm riled. +They say down in the village-- + +(_It is now a sneeze that will not dislodge. He has hopes of it for a +breathless moment, but it proves to be a dud._) + +CAPTAIN: There 's Petey-- + +PATCH: We 're jest fidgettin' fer the news. + +CAPTAIN: The news? Oh, yes. Now yer hears it. (_He draws the pirates +near._) A great merchantman has jest sailed from Bristol. The Royal +'Arry. It 's her. With gold fer the armies in France. She 's a brig o' +five hundred ton. This night, when the tide runs out, she slips away +from Bristol harbor. With this wind she should be off Clovelly by this +time termorrer night. + +DARLIN': Glory ter God! + +DUKE: And then Petey will douse his glim. And we 'll set up the ship's +lantern. + +PATCH: Smash! + +DUKE: Then Petey will light hisself. + +PATCH: And we 'll be jest as innercent as babies rockin' in a crib. + +[Illustration: "The Royal 'Arry. It 's her."] + +DUKE: And lay it on the helmsman fer bein' sleepy. + +CAPTAIN: And I 've other news. Down in the village they say--fer a +fishin' sloop brought the word--that his 'Ighness, the Prince o' +Wales, left London a month ago. + +DUKE: And him not givin' me word. I calls that shabby. He was me fag +at Eton. + +PATCH: Does yer think, Captain, he 'll spend a week-end with us, +ridin' to the 'ounds, jest tellin' us the London gossip--how the +pretty Duchesses is cuttin' up? + +DUKE: I thought he was settin' in Whitehall, tryin' on crowns, so as +ter get one that did n't scratch his ears. + +CAPTAIN: They say he 's incarnito. + +PATCH: What? Is it somethin' yer ketches like wollygogs in the +stomich? + +DUKE: Igerence. I 'm 'shamed o' yer, Patch. Ain 't yer been ter +school? Ain 't yer done lessons on a slate? Ain 't yer been walloped +so standin' 's been comfertabler. The Captain and me soils ourselves +talkin' to yer. Incarnito is dressed up fancy, so as no one can know +him. + +DARLIN': Like Cindereller at the party. + +DUKE: If yer wants Patch ter understand yer, Captain, yer has got to +use leetle words as is still pullin' at their bottles. + +DARLIN': When words grow big and has got beards they jest don 't say +nothin' to Patch. + +CAPTAIN: This here Prince o' Wales is journeyin' down Plymouth way. + +DUKE: What 's that ter us? I 'm askin' yer. His 'Ighness cut me when I +passed him in Piccadilly. The bloomin' swab! I pulled me hat, standin' +in the gutter, but he jest seemed ter smell somethin'. + +PATCH: It were n't roses, I 'm tellin' yer. + +CAPTAIN: Silence! They say he has sworn an oath to break up the pirate +business on the coast. + +PATCH: And let us starve? It 's unfeelin'. + +DUKE: No pickin's on the beach? + +JOE: I 'd like to catch him. I 'd slit his wizen. + +DARLIN': I 'd put pizen in the pig I feeds him. + +DUKE: I 'd nudge him off the cliff--jest like he were a sneakin' +snooper. + +CAPTAIN: Well, there 's yer news! I 'm dry. Darlin'! Some grog! + +(_He crosses to the table and draws the pirates around him._) + +CAPTAIN: Here 's to the Royal 'Arry! + +DUKE: And may the helmsman be wery sleepy! + +DARLIN': And we as innercent as leetle pirates suckin' at their +bottles! + +ALL: The Royal 'Arry! + +(_While the cups are still aloft there is a loud banging at the door. +An old woman enters--old Meg. We have seen her but a minute since pass +the windows. Perhaps she is as dirty as Darlin'. A sprig of mistletoe, +even at the reckless New Year, would wither in despair. She is a gypsy +in gorgeous skirt and shawl, and she wears gold earrings. Any +well-instructed nurse-maid would huddle her children close if she +heard her tapping up the street. Meg walks to the table. She sniffs +audibly. It is grog--her weakness. She drinks the dregs of all three +cups. She rubs her thrifty finger inside the rims and licks it for the +precious drop. She opens her wallet and takes from it a +fortune-teller's crystal._) + +MEG: I tells fortins, gentlemen. Would n't any o' yer like ter see the +future? I sees what 's comin' in this here magic glass. I tells yer +when ter set yer nets--and of rising storms. Has any o' yer a kind o' +hankerin' fer matrimony? I can tell yer if the lady be light or dark. +It will cost yer only a sixpence. + +CAPTAIN: Yer insults me. Fer better and fer worse is usual fer worse. +Does yer think yer can anchor an ol' sea-dog like me to a kennel as is +made fer landlubbery lap dogs? I 've deserted three wives. And that 's +enough. More 's a hog. + +(_He retires to the fireplace in disgust._) + +DARLIN': Husbands is nuisances, as I was tellin' the sea-captain, jest +afore he cut his throat. + +DUKE: Thank ye, ol' lady, I does n't need yer. When the ol' Duke is +willin', he knows a leetle dear as will come flutterin' to his arms. + +PATCH: What can yer do fer an ol' sailorman like me? I 'd like someone +with curlin' locks, as can mix grog as good as Darlin's. And I likes +roast pig--crackly, as Darlin' cooks it. (_He offers his hand._) I has +a leetle girl in mind, but she 's kinder holdin' off. What does yer +see, dearie? Does yer hear any fiddles tunin' fer the nupshals? Is +there a pretty lady waitin' fer a kiss? + +MEG: I sees the ocean. And a ship. I sees inside the cabin o' that +ship. + +PATCH: Does yer see me as the captain o' that ship? Jest settin' easy, +bawlin' orders--jest feedin' on plum duff. + +MEG: I sees yer in irons. + +PATCH: Mother o' goodness! Now yer done it! + +MEG: I sees Wappin' wharf. I sees a gibbet. I sees-- + +[Illustration: "I sees a gibbet. I sees----"] + +PATCH: Horrers! + +MEG: I sees you swingin' on that gibbet--stretchin' with yer +toes--swingin' in the wind. + +PATCH: Yer makes me grog sour on me. + +(_He goes to the rear of the cabin and looks disconsolately over the +ocean._) + +MEG: (_as she looks in the glass_). I sees misfortin fer everyone +here--'cept one--tragedy, the gibbet. Go not upon the sea until the +moon has turned. Ha! Leetle glass, has yer more to show? Has yer any +comfort? The light fades out. It is dark. + +DUKE: Ain 't yer givin' us more 'n a sixpence worth o' misery? Yer +gloom is sloppin' over the brim. + +MEG: Ah! Here 's light agin at last. There 's a red streak across the +dial. It drips! It 's blood! + +CAPTAIN: Ain 't yer got any pretty picters in that glass? + +PATCH: Graveyards are cheerfuller 'n gibbets. + +MEG: Peace! I sees a man in a velvet cloak. It 's him that swings yer +to a gibbet. It 's him that strangles yer till yer eyes is poppin'. +That man avoid like a pizened snake. + +CAPTAIN: Avoid? By the rotten bones o' Flint, if I meets that man in a +velvet cloak I hooks out his eye. + +DUKE: Captain, yer sweats yerself unnecessary. (_Slyly._) Here 's Red +Joe, ol' dear. Joe 's a spry young feller. He looks as if he might be +hankerin' fer a wife. Hey, Darlin'? + +DARLIN': He 's the kind as wampires makes their wictims. + +(_With a laugh--but unwillingly--Joe holds out his hand._) + +MEG: (_as she looks in the glass her face brightens_). I sees a tall +buildin' with gold spires. I hears a shout o' joy and I hears stately +music, like what yer hears in Bartolmy Fair arter the Lord Mayor has +made his speech. I sees a man in a silk cloak. He swaggers to the +music. I sees--I sees-- + +(_She looks long in the glass and seems to see great and unexpected +things. Her eyes are as wide as a child's at a tale of fairies. It is +no less a moment--but how different!--than when Lady Bluebeard peeped +in the forbidden door. Scarcely was Little Red Riding Hood more +startled when she touched the strange bristles on her grandmother's +chin. But Meg is not frightened. She smiles. She bends intently. She +is about to speak. Then she sinks into the chair behind the table._) + +MEG: I sees--I sees--nothin'! The glass is blank! + +CAPTAIN: Nothin'? Jest nothin' at all? + +PATCH: Ain 't there no blood drippin'? + +DARLIN': Ner gibbets? + +CAPTAIN: Ner sailormen swingin' in the wind? + +(_Old Meg is visibly affected by what she has seen. The Duke, with a +suspicious glance at Red Joe, moves forward to look over her shoulder +at the glass. Slyly she sees him. She pushes the crystal forward and +it breaks upon the stones. Then she rises abruptly. She lifts a +portentous finger. She advances to Red Joe._) + +MEG: I sees danger fer yer, Joe. Who can tell whether it be death? 'T +is beyond my magic. But beware a knife! Go not near the cliff! (_Then, +in a lower tone._) You will see me agin. And in your hour o' danger. +When yer least expects it. + +(_She is about to curtsy, but turns abruptly and leaves the cabin. +Darlin', with shaken nerves, runs to bolt the door. There is silence +except for the monotone of rain._) + +PATCH: Nice cheerful ol' lady, I says. + +CAPTAIN: Yer can pipe the devil up, but she give me shivers. + +JOE: For just a minute I thought some old lady had died and left me +her money box. + +(_The Duke picks up a fragment of the crystal and puts it to his eye. +He examines it at the candle, and turns it round and round. He makes +nothing of it, and shakes his head._) + +PATCH: Yer can dim me gig that 's left, I 'm clean upset. + +CAPTAIN: I ain 't been so down in the boots since the blessed angels +took Flint ter 'ell. + +DUKE: Captain, you and Patch is melancholier 'n funerals. Weepin' +widders is jollier. Will yer let a hanted, thirsty, grog-eyed +grand-daughter o' a blinkin' sea-serpent upset yer 'appy +dispersitions? Stiffen yerself! Keep yer nose up, Captain! We has sea +enough. We 're not thumpin' on the rocks. + +CAPTAIN: Yer said it, Duke. I sulks unnecessary. There 's ol' Petey +shinin' up there. Termorrer night, if the wind holds, we 'll see his +starin' eye go out, and our lantern shinin' at t' other winder. (_He +takes a pirate flag from his boot. He smoothes it with affection. Then +he waves it on his hook._) The crossbones as hung on the masthead o' +the Spittin' Devil. Ol' Flint's wery flag. Him as they hanged on a +gibbet on Wappin' wharf. It was a mirky night like this, with +'prentices gawpin' in the lanterns and Jack Ketch unsnarlin' his +cursed ropes. I spits blood ter think o' it. + +[Illustration: "Ol' Flint's wery flag"] + +DUKE: I 'll die easy when I 've revenged his death and the ol' clock +is tickin' peaceful and Flint sleepin' 'appy in his rotten coffin. + +CAPTAIN: A drink all 'round. We 'll drink the health o' this here +flag. You 'll drink with us, Darlin'. + +DARLIN': Yer spoils me, Captain. + +(_Everyone drinks._) + +CAPTAIN: And now we 'll drink confusion to the swab that 's settin' on +the English throne. + +(_All drink except Red Joe. He makes the pretense, but pours his grog +out covertly. Our play is nothing if not subtle._) + +DUKE: Here 's to ol' Flint! + +ALL: Here 's to ol' Flint! + +(_It is bed-time. They all stretch and yawn. The Captain climbs the +ladder to the sleeping loft. Patch follows with the candle, warming +the Captain's seat for speed. The Duke comes next, carrying his one +boot which he has removed before the fire. Darlin' kisses her hand to +the Duke and retires to the kitchen. We suspect that she curls up +inside the sink, with a stewpan for a pillow. Red Joe lingers for a +moment and stands gazing at the ocean._) + +JOE: My memory fumbles in the past. I, too, hear familiar voices--lost +for many years. A dark curtain lifts and in the past I see myself a +child. There are strange tunes in the wind tonight. Methinks they sing +the name of Margaret. + +(_He climbs the ladder. And now, with an occasional dropping boot, the +pirates prepare for bed. Presently we hear the Duke up above, +singing--rigorously at first, until drowsiness dulls the tune._) + + It is said in port by the sailor sort, + As they swig all night at their rum, + That a jolly grave is the ocean wave, + But a churchyard bell 's too glum. + 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. + +[Illustration: Darlin' warms her old red stockings] + +(_Darlin' enters. With a prodigious yawn she sits at the fire. She +kicks off her slippers and warms her old red stockings. She comforts +herself with grog and spits across the hearth. She sleeps and gently +snores. The Duke continues with his song._) + + Ol' Flint had a fist and an iron wrist, + And he thumped on the nose, it is said, + Till a wictim's gore ran over the floor + And he rolled in the scuppers dead. + But, Patch, there 's a few, I 'm tellin' ter you, + Who 's nice and they hates a muss, + And a plank, I contend, is a tidier end. + No sweepin', nor scrapin', nor fuss. + + Captain Kidd, when afloat, put the crew in a boat, + And he shoved 'em off fer to starve. + On a rock in the sea, says he ter me--on a rock + In the sea, says he ter me--on a rock-- + +(_The singer's voice fails. Sleep engulfs him. Silence! Then sounds of +snoring. The range of Caucasus hath not noisier winds. Let's draw the +curtain on the tempest!_) + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration: ACT II] + +ACT II + + +_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] + +ACT III + + +_The scene is the same as before. We have given up all hope of a +pirate ship rocking on the sea. Our plot still twists us around its +little finger. The curtain rises on the tableau of the second act. Old +Petey shows again at the window to the right._ + +DUKE: What done it? What done it? I asks yer. + +PATCH: Jest when everythin' was goin' pretty. + +CAPTAIN: Jest when she was about ter hit. + +DARLIN': Me heart near stopped--I was that excited. + +(_The pirates sit in deep dejection._) + +DUKE: The mystery o' this business is how the blinkin' lantern went +out. + +CAPTAIN: Ol' Petey done his part. + +PATCH: He doused herself in time. + +CAPTAIN: It was the lantern done it. + +DUKE: When there were n't no light at all, the Royal 'Arry, she jest +sniffed willainy and dropped anchor. + +PATCH: I was repeatin' Smash yer devil! Smash yer devil!--kinder +hurryin' her on. + +DARLIN': I was sayin' Now I lay me--throbbin' with excitement. + +DUKE: It was n't ile. I put ile in the lantern meself. Captain, yer +seen me put in ile. + +CAPTAIN: I seen yer. And I swished it meself ter be sure. + +PATCH: Nothin 's been right since that ol' lady hanged me ter a +gibbet. + +CAPTAIN: There we was watchin'-- + +PATCH: Pop! + +CAPTAIN: And all of a sudden--quicker 'n seven devils--the bloomin' +lantern went all ter pieces. It 's grog, I says. Snakes is next. It +were a comfert to the ol' Captain ter know that all o' yer seen it. I +seen a yeller rhinoceros once, runnin' along with purple mice--all +alone I seen it--and it kinder sickened me o' rum. + +PATCH: Does yer think the lantern exploded? + +DUKE: Did yer ever hear o' a ship's lantern explodin'? I asks yer, +Captain. + +CAPTAIN: Yer talks silly, Patch. That lantern has hung fer twenty year +on ol' Flint's ship--swingin' easy and contented all 'round the +Horn--and it ain 't never exploded once. + +DUKE: Swabs' lanterns explode, stoopid. Ships' lanterns don 't. +Captain, I feels as mournful as when Flint's clock did n't tick no +more and we knowed he was took by the blessed angels. + +CAPTAIN: I ain 't meself as gay as a cuckoo--not quite I ain 't. + +PATCH: Ever since that ol' lady-- + +DUKE: Lay off on that ol' lady! + +(_They sit in silence, in dejection. All stare stupidly at the floor. +For a moment it seems as if nothing more will be said and the audience +might as well go home. But presently the Duke sees something at the +rear of the cabin. He looks as you or I would look if we saw a yellow +elephant taking its after-dinner coffee in the sitting-room; but, as +he is a pirate, he is not frightened--merely interested and intent. He +brushes his hand before his eyes, to make sure it is no delusion--not +grog or rum. Then he rises softly. He crosses to the window. Very +gently he touches the glass. He finds it is really broken. He loosens +a piece of the shattered glass. The others are sunk in such melancholy +that they do not observe him._ + +_He gazes through the window, studying the direction of the broken +ship's lantern. He traces the angle with his finger. The gesture ends +with an accusing finger pointing at Red Joe. He whistles softly. For a +moment his eye rests upon the gun, which leans against the clock. He +has guessed the riddle. He advances casually, but with dirk in hand. +He comes in front of Joe. Suddenly he presses the blade of his dirk +against Joe's stomach._) + +DUKE: Captain! Captain! Quick! Tie him up! + +(_Joe is bound again with rope._) + +DUKE: It 's him that done it. It 's Red Joe. + +CAPTAIN: How did he get loose? + +DUKE: (_as he points to the knife on the floor_). Does yer see that +knife? Does yer see Joe? I 'm tellin' yer. It was him shot out the +lantern. + +PATCH: Did n't I help ter tie him meself? + +DUKE: Askin' yer pardon, Captain, but you and Patch has the brains o' +a baby aligator. A stuffed rhinocopoterus is pos'-lutely nothin'. +Askin' yer pardon fer speakin' so plain. I does all yer thinkin' for +yer. There 's some folks settin' here as are fat-headed, and thinks +ships' lanterns explode. + +PATCH: Easy now, ol' dear. Yer alers pitchin' inter me, 'cause I 'm +good-natered. + +CAPTAIN: Red Joe, I calls yer a dirty spy. A swab! A landlubber! Fer +one copper farthin' I 'd ketch yer one with this hook. + +DUKE: It was me discovered him. I asks yer, Captain, ter leave Red Joe +ter me. I hates him most perticerler. + +(_Betsy enters from the kitchen._) + +BETSY: Did you call, Captain? + +DARLIN': Nobody ain 't callin' yer, dearie. Now jest toddle back to +the kitchen. + +DUKE: This ain 't no place fer a leetle girl. It will give yer bad +dreams. Mince pie 's nothin'. + +(_Betsy attempts to leave the cabin by the door that leads to the +cliffs--the door at the rear of the cabin._) + +DUKE: Where you goin', Betsy? + +BETSY: I 've an errand in the village. + +DUKE: Well, yer ain 't goin'. It ain 't no night fer a leetle girl ter +be out. I ain 't goin' ter have me Duchess snifflin' with a cold. Go +to grandma! It was me discovered him, Captain. I 'm askin' yer a +favor. He 's a snooper. + +PATCH: Captain, I gets rusty. + +CAPTAIN: Lay off, me hearties. Duke! Patch! I loves both o' yer. I +loves yer equal, like two mugs o' grog as is full alike. Yer can pitch +dice ter see which does it. + +(_He places the dice cup on the table beside the candle. The Duke and +Patch take their places. Betsy, under cover of this centered interest, +runs to Red Joe, who whispers to her._) + +DUKE: I drops 'em in me mug, so 's they can get a smell o' rum. The +leetle bones is me friends. I never throws less 'n a five spot. I +makes a pint o' shakin' the bones till they rattles jolly. I likes the +sound o' it even better 'n the blessed scrapin' o' a spoon what 's +stirrin' grog. Write it on me tombstone--if I rots ashore--He was the +kinder feller as never throwed less 'n a five spot. + +[Illustration: "The leetle bones is me friends"] + +CAPTAIN: Go 'long, Duke. Bones, as is kept waitin', sulks. + +PATCH: One or three? + +DUKE: One 's enough. I 'm talkin' to yer, bones. I wants sixes, +sweeties. + +(_As he throws Betsy jostles the candle with her arm. It overturns and +falls. The cabin is dark. You can see her run from the cabin and pass +the windows to the left._) + +DUKE: Now yer done it! + +PATCH: You is all thumbs, Betsy. + +CAPTAIN: Easy, mates! It were jest an accident. Betsy, fetch a seacoal +from the hearth! Betsy! We ain 't goin' ter wallop yer. Where are yer, +Betsy? + +DARLIN': Come out o' yer hidin'! + +CAPTAIN: I 'll light the candle meself. + +(_He takes it to the fire, lights it and returns to the table._) + +CAPTAIN: There yer are--blazin' like ol' Petey. Yer had better sit +down, Betsy. Crack me stump, where is the girl? + +PATCH: Kinder silly o' her ter run away. We ain 't never walloped her. + +DUKE: Women 's silly folks. I calls 'em ninnies. It don 't do no good +tryin' ter understand 'em. Now then, ol' lionheart, are yer ready? +(_He throws._) Two fives! I 've done yer, Patch. + +(_It is Patch's turn. He kisses the cubes._) + +PATCH: Yer as sweet as honey. Tell me yer loves me. Me dirk is itchin' +fer yer answer. Luck 's a lady as dotes on me. (_He throws._) A pair +o' sixes! Does yer see it, Duke? Stick yer blinkin' eye right down +agin the table! It 's me, Captain. (_He rises and draws his knife._) +Joey are yer ready? + +JOE: God, if I were loose I 'd take you by the dirty gullet and twist +it until you roared. I 'd kick you off my path like a snarling cur. Of +what filth does nature sometimes compound a man! Shall a skunk walk +two-legged to infect the air? Three cowards will hang on Wapping wharf +before the month is up. + +PATCH: Are n't meanin' us, are yer Joey? + +JOE: And I 'll tell you more. + +CAPTAIN: Ain 't we listenin' to yer? Yer can talk spry, as Patch here +has a leetle job ter do, and it 's nearin' bed time. + +DUKE: We does n't want ter sit up late and lose our beauty sleep jest +listenin' to a speech. + +JOE: A pirate takes his chance of death. You guard your dirty skins by +wrecking ships upon the rocks. You dare not pit yourselves against a +breathing victim. Like carrion-crows you sit to a vile and bloated +banquet. + +PATCH: Tip me the wink, Captain, when yer has heard enough. + +JOE: Stand off, you whelp! The King of England fights in France-- + +DUKE: Ain 't yer 'shamed that you is not there ter help? + +JOE: I 'll tell you why I am not in France. I swore to his majesty +that I would clear his coast of pirates. My plans are made. The +channel is swept by gunboats. They will close in on you tomorrow--you +and all the dirty vermin that befoul these cliffs. + +DUKE: He talks so big, ye 'd think he was the King himself. + +(_Everyone laughs at this. The Duke takes the cloak from the chest. In +derision he hangs it across Red Joe's shoulders._) + +DUKE: We 'll play ch'rades. Here 's yer costume, Joey. There! It fits +yer like the skin o' a snake. We makes yer King. Yer looks like yer +was paradin' in St. James's park, lampin' a Duchess. + +PATCH: Does yer majesty need a new 'igh chancellor. I asks yer fer it. +I wants a fine house in London town, runnin' ter the Strand, and +peacocks struttin' in the garden. + +CAPTAIN: King, I asks yer ter cast yer gig on me. I 'd be a right +smart Archbishop o' Canterbury. Me whiskers is 'clesiastical. + +DUKE: I offers meself, King, as Lord 'Igh Admiral o' the Navy. I +swears fluent. + +DARLIN': Has yer a Princess vacant? I lolls graceful on a throne. +(_The horrid creature spits._) + +CAPTAIN: 'Vast there, me hearties! I 'm thinkin' I 'm hearin' the +sound o' footsteps. + +DUKE: (_to Patch_). Did yer lordship hear any sound? + +PATCH: Askin' your Grice's pardon, I did n't ketch a thing. Did you +hear anythin', Princess? + +DARLIN': There 's nothin' come ter me pearly ears. + +CAPTAIN: Silence! I wants ter listen. + +(_No sound is heard._) + +CAPTAIN: Well, Patch, yer had better get yer dirk ready. I 'm uncommon +sleepy. I wants ter get ter bed. + +DARLIN': Ketch him a deep one, Patch. + +PATCH: I takes it mighty kind o' you, Captain. Yer has alers been a +lovin' father ter me. Joey, I 'll tell yer what yer are. Yer the kind +o' feller I hates most perticerler. Yer a spy! Say yer prayers, you +hissin' snake! + +(_He sharpens his dirk and gayly tests it on his whiskers._) + +JOE: My wasted day is done. In the tempest's wrack the stars are dim +and faith 's the only compass. Now or hereafter, what matters it? The +sun will gild the meadows as of yesteryear. The moon will fee the +world with silver coin. And all across the earth men will traffic on +their little errands until nature calls them home. I am a stone cast +in a windy pool where scarce a ripple shows. Life 's but a candle in +the wind. Mine will not burn to socket. + +DUKE: He 's all wound up like a clock--jest tickin' words. + +CAPTAIN: Patch, Joe is tellin' us poetical that his wick has burned +right down to the bottle. Yer had better put it out, without more +hesitatin'. + +(_And now, as they are intent for the coming blow--suddenly! +quietly!--a woman's hand and arm--a claw, rather, with long, thin, +shrivelled fingers--have come in sight at the window with the broken +glass._ + +_It quite terrifies me as I write. My pencil shakes. Old ladies will +want to scream._ + +_The fingers grope along the sill. They fumble on the wall. They +stretch to reach the gun which stands beside the clock. Another inch +and they will grasp it and Red Joe will be saved. The arm rubs against +the pendulum of the clock. It swings and the clock starts to tick. And +still no one has seen the terrible hand. And now the fingers are +thrust blindly against the gun. It falls with a clatter on the stones. +The hand and arm disappear. But Darlin' has seen the swinging pendulum +and shrieks._) + +DUKE: Does yer see it, Captain? + +PATCH: Horrers! + +DUKE: It 's never went since Flint was hanged. + +CAPTAIN: And would n't run till his death 's revenged and him layin' +peaceful in his coffin. + +PATCH: Does yer think it 's grog? Does all o' yer see it? + +DUKE: What done it? + +(_From the distance is heard a long-drawn whistle._) + +CAPTAIN: What 's that? + +PATCH: It makes me jumpy. + +DUKE: It ain 't a night when folks whistles jest fer cows and such. +Finish yer job, Patch. + +PATCH: Are yer feared o' somethin' special, Duke? + +DUKE: Feared? If we ain 't quick, there 'll be a gibbet fer all o' us. + +CAPTAIN: Ain 't the clock tickin' peaceful? + +PATCH: She ain 't got no right ter tick. It 's like a dead man +talkin'. + +DUKE: Quick! Give me the knife! I 'll stick it in him. And when I 'm +done, we scatters. There 's trouble brewin'. Termorrer night, when the +tide is out, we meets at the holler cave. And may the devil lend a +helpin' hand. Snooper, are yer ready? Does yer see this here blade +shinin' in the candle? In about one minute I 'll be wipin' off a +streak o' red upon me breeks. Flint--blessin' on yer gentle soul!--yer +can rest in peace! + +[Illustration: "I 'll be wipin off a streak o' red upon me breeks"] + +(_He approaches Joe with upraised knife. Suddenly he cries out._) + +DUKE: It 's him the fortin-teller mentioned. It 's the man in a velvet +cloak! + +CAPTAIN: It 's him! Me God! Me hook! + +(_With a growl of rage the pirates leap forward toward Joe, but are +arrested by the sound of running feet. Into the cabin rushes the +sailor captain, followed by three sailors. The sailor captain cries +"_'Vast there!_" and the pirates turn to face his men. They put up a +fight worthy of old Flint. Darlin', to escape the rough-and-tumble +runs half way up the ladder. The table is overturned. The stools are +kicked across the room. Even the precious grog is spilled. But the +pirates' valor is insufficient. They are overpowered at last and tied. +Red Joe's cords are cut. Into the cabin Betsy comes running, followed +by old Meg._) + +BETSY: Joe! Hal! Thank God, you are safe. + +JOE: Margaret! + +SAILOR CAPTAIN: I am the captain of the Royal Harry. + +JOE: Captain, I charge you to arrest these men. + +SAILOR CAPTAIN: Yes, your Royal Highness. + +DUKE: Royal 'Ighness? Did yer hear what he said? + +DARLIN': 'Ighness nothin'. He 's jest a snooper. + +(_She sits on the floor, with her head on the Duke's knee. She is +staunch to the last--a true cook for a pirates' band._) + +JOE: You will transport them in chains to London to wait their +sentence by a court of law. + +SAILOR CAPTAIN: Yes, your majesty. + +JOE: You mistake me, Captain. My father is the King of England. I am +but the Prince of Wales. + +SAILOR CAPTAIN: Alas, sire, we bring you heavy news. Your Royal +Father, the King of England, has been killed, fighting gloriously on +the soil of France. + +JOE: Bear with me. My grief has leaped the channel. My thought is a +silent mourner at my father's grave. Shall a King sink to the measure +of a mound of turf for the tread of a peasant's foot? Where is now the +ermine robe, the glistening crown, the harness of a fighting hour, the +sceptre that marked the giddy office, the voice, the flashing eye that +stirred a coward to bravery, the iron gauntlet shaking in the pallid +face of France? All--all covered by a spadeful of country earth. +Captain, has Calais fallen to our army's siege? Are the French lilies +plucked for England's boutoniere? + +SAILOR CAPTAIN: Calais has fallen. + +JOE: Then God be praised even in this hard hour. By heaven's help I +throw off the idle practice of my youth. The empty tricks and trivial +habits of the careless years, I renounce them all. A wind has scoured +the sullen clouds of youth. My past has been a ragged garment, stained +with heedless hours. Tonight I cast it off, like a coat that is out at +elbow. My father henceforth lives in me. + +(_Meg, at her entrance, has sniffed the wasted grog. Her nose, surer +than a hazel wand, inclines above the hearth. She bends to the lovely +puddle. She employs and tastes her dripping finger--covertly, with +mannerly regard to the Prince's rhetoric--sucking in secret his good +health and happy returns, so to speak. The liquor warms her +tongue--not to drunkenness, but to ease and comfort. The hearth-stone +is her tavern chair._) + +MEG: (_not boisterously--with just a flip of her trickling finger, as +if it were a foaming cup_). Hooray! I wants ter be the first, yer +Majesty, ter swear allegiance to yer throne. I saw yer future in the +glass. Ol' Meg knowed yer, like she had rocked yer in the cradle. I +told yer I would come in yer hour o' danger. It was me reached through +the winder fer the gun ter save yer. It was me whistle that yer heard, +dearie, hurryin' up the sailormen as Betsy went ter fetch. + +JOE: Thanks my good woman. We grant you a pension for your love. + +(_She quests back to her pool of grog. She finds a spoon. She sits to +the delicious salvage, with back against the chimney and woolen legs +out-stretched. Speeches to her are nothing now. We cannot expect her +help in winding up our play. The burden falls on Joe. We must be +patient through a sentimental page or two._) + +JOE: Ha! My velvet cloak, which I left at Castle Crag when I laid +aside the Prince and took disguise. These unintentioned ruffians by +their dirty jest have clothed me to my office. + +SAILOR CAPTAIN: I swear my allegiance, your Majesty. + +JOE: I rely on my sailors to clear the coast and seas. But first I +want your allegiance in another high concern. Some fourteen years ago, +when I was a lad of ten, I journeyed with my royal father to the +castle of the Duke of Cornwall, which stands high on the wind-swept +coast. Its giddy towers rise sheer above the ocean until the very +rooks nesting in the battlements grow dizzy at the height. It is the +outer bastion of the world, laughing to scorn the ocean's siege. + +In that castle, Captain, there lived a little girl; and she and I +romped the sounding corridors together. And once I led her to an open +'brasure in the steep-pitched wall, and held her so that she might see +the waves curling on the rocks below. And tales of mermaids I +invented, and shipwreck and treasure buried in the noisy caverns of +the rock, where twice a day the greedy tide goes in and out to seek +its fortune. And far afield we wandered and stood waist-deep in the +golden meadows, until the weary twilight called us home. + +And I remember, when tired with play, that her mother sang to us an +old song, a lullaby. Her voice was soft, with a gentleness that only a +mother knows who sits with drowsy children. + +And to that little girl I was betrothed. It was sworn with oath and +signature that some day I would marry her and that, when I became king +of England in the revolving years, she would be its queen. + +BETSY: By what miracle did you know me, Hal? + +JOE: It was the song you sang. Your voice was the miracle that told +the secret. With unvarnished speech I woo you. I love you, Margaret, +and I ask you to be my wife. + +MEG: (_faintly--floating in a golden sea of grog_) Hooray! + +(_Joe takes Betsy in his arms and kisses her._) + +JOE: The magic of your lips, my dear, is the miracle that answers me. +My loyal sailors, I present you. Margaret, Duchess of Cornwall, +Countess of Devon, Princess of the Western Marches, by right and title +possessor of all land 'twixt Exeter and Land's End. And now, by her +consent and the grace of God, the wife of Harry, King of England. + +CAPTAIN: Leetle Betsy, I fergives yer. + +DUKE: I asks yer health, though I swings termorrer. + +PATCH: And may yer live long and 'appy! + +DARLIN': We 're lovin' yer, Betsy. + +BETSY: My gracious lord, for these three years this cabin has been my +home. These are my friends--the only friends I have ever known. They +fed me when I had no food and they kept me warm against the cold. Must +they hang? I ask you to pardon them. + +DARLIN': Glory ter God! + +JOE: The pardon is granted. Captain, strike off their irons! + +DARLIN': We loves yer, Betsy. + +CAPTAIN: We are fonder of yer than grog and singin' angels. + +PATCH: I thanks yer, King. + +DUKE: It were jest an hour ago, settin' in that chair, I asks ter +splice yer, Betsy, keel ter topsail. The ol' Duke never thought the +Countess of all them places, and the Queen o' England, ter boot, would +ever be settin' on his knee, pullin' at his whiskers--him askin' her +ter name the 'appy day. + +BETSY: It was a prior attachment, Duke. + +CAPTAIN: We 'll serve yer, King, like we served ol' Flint. + +PATCH: Top and bottom, fore and aft. + +DUKE: We 'll brag how the King o' England and us has drunk grog +together, and how the Queen washed up the mugs. + +MEG: (_in a whisper_). Hooray! + +JOE: And now, Captain, lead the way. We must speed to London. + +BETSY: Good by, Duke. Some day you will find a girl who cooks roast +pig that crackles. + +DUKE: A blessin', Betsy, on yer laughin' eyes! + +CAPTAIN: A health ter King Hal and his blushin' bride! + +ALL: King Hal! Leetle Betsy! + +(_With a wave of the hand Joe departs, and with him, Betsy, who kisses +her fingers to the pirates in farewell. The sailors follow. The +pirates and Darlin' are left. The pirates sit at the table. They +exchange glances of satisfaction. They unbutton for a quiet evening at +home. Kings are but an episode in a pirate's life. They return to the +happy routine of their lives. Our adventure has circled to its +start._) + +PATCH: Darlin'! Me friend, the Duke, is thirsty. Yer had better mix +another pot o' grog. Yer does n't want ter be a foolish virgin and get +ketched without no grog. + +DARLIN': (_at the fire_). Yer coddles yer stomich, Patch. + +PATCH: The Duke, he knows a leetle dear as is jest waitin' ter come +flutterin' ter his lovin' arms. I thinks it 's yer whiskers, Duke. + +CAPTAIN: Yer can pull one, Betsy, fer the locket that yer wears. We is +laughin' at yer, ol' walrus. + +DUKE: Kings is bigger than Dukes. I looses without no kickin' up. +There 's no one like Darlin' fer mixin' grog. + +DARLIN': Fer that kind word I 'm lovin' yer. + +(_She fills the cups._) + +PATCH: It 's grog beats off the melancholy. As soon as me pipes goes +dry, I gets homesick fer the ocean. Here we be, Duke, thrown up at +last ter rot like driftwood on the shore. It was 'appy days when we +sailed with ol' Flint on the Spanish Main. + +CAPTAIN: 'Appy days, Patch! + +ALL: 'Appy days! + +(_They lift their cups in memory of a golden past. It is a contented +family around the evening candle. They are as cozy as old ladies with +their darning. Meg snores in peace as the curtain falls._) + + * * * * * + +_Our candles have burned to socket. Our pasteboard cabin is bare and +dark. No longer do pirate flags flaunt the ghostly seas. The stormy +ocean, the dizzy cliffs of Devon, melt like an unsubstantial pageant. +Let's put away our toys--the timber leg, the patch, the frightful +hook. Once again, despite the weary signpost of the years, we have run +on the laughing avenues of childhood._ + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wappin' Wharf, by Charles S. 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