[Transcriber's Note: The dialogue in the play uses spaced contractionssuch as "I 've. " Normal contractions are used in the non-dialogue partsof 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 COMPANYPUBLISHERS--BOSTON

WAPPIN' WHARF_All Rights Reserved_

Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this bookwithout a valid contract for production first having been obtainedfrom the publisher, confers no right or license to professionals oramateurs to produce the play publicly or in private for gain orcharity. 

In its present form this play is dedicated to the reading public only, and no performance, representation, production, recitation, or publicreading, or radio broadcasting may be given except by specialarrangement 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 ofTwenty-five Dollars for each performance, payable to Walter H. BakerCompany, 41 Winter Street, Boston, Mass. , or Playhouse Plays, 14 East38th Street, New York City, one week before the date when the play isgiven. 

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must appear on allprograms, printing and advertising for the play: "Produced by specialarrangement with Walter H. Baker Company. "

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for anyinfringement of the author's rights as follows:

"Section 4966: Any person publicly performing or representing anydramatic or musical composition for which copyright has been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musicalcomposition, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damagesthereof, such damages, in all cases to be assessed at such sum, notless than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars forevery subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and forprofit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor andupon conviction shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding oneyear. "--U. S. Revised Statutes: Title 60, Chap. 3. 

Wappin' Wharf

_CHARACTERS_

THE DUKEPATCH-EYETHE CAPTAINRED JOEDARLIN'BETSYOLD MEGSAILOR CAPTAINTHREE 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 widestretch of ocean far below, and the abutments of our stage arise froma dizzy cliff. _

_The time is remote, and ships of forgotten build stand out fromBristol in full sail for the mines of India. But we must be loose andfree of precise date lest our plot be shamed by broken fact. Athousand years are but as yesterday. We make but a general gesture tothe 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, ona stormy crag, clinging by its toes, there stands a pirates' hut. Tothis topmost ledge fishwives sometimes scramble by day; but when awind shall search the crannies of the night, then no villager woulddare to climb so high. _

_You will seek today in vain the pirates' cabin. Since the adventureof our play a thousands tempests have snarled across these rocks. Youmust convince your reason that these pinnacles of yesteryear, toppleddown by storm, lie buried in the sea. _

_We had hoped that our drama's scene might lie on a pirate ship atsea. We had wished for a swaying mast, full-set with canvas--a typhoonto smother our stage in wind. We had hoped to walk a victim off theplank, with the sea roaring in the wings. But our plot dealsstubbornly with us. Alas, our pirates grow old and stiff. They haveretired, as we say, from active practice and live in easy luxury onshore. Yet we shall see that their villany still thrives. _

_How shall we select a name for our frightful play? There is a wharfin London that is known as Wapping. In these days that we call thepresent it has sunk to common use and its rotten timbers are piledwith honest unromantic merchandise. But once a gibbet stood on WappingWharf, and pirates were hanged upon it. It was the first convenientharborage for inbound ships to dispose of this dirty deep-sea cargo. So it was the somber motif of a pirate's life--his moment ofreflection after he had slit his victim's throat. _

_Tonight, although your beards grow long and Time has marked its netof wrinkles--tonight, the years spin backwards. Only the young inheart will catch the slender meaning of our play. _

_We are too quick to think that childhood passes with the years--thatits fine fancy is blunted with the practice of the world. Too longhave 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 piratesputs on his hook. The evil Duke limps for practice on his wooden leg. Presently our curtain will rise. We shall see the pirates' cabin, withthe lighthouse in the distance, Flint's lantern and the ladder to thesleeping-loft. We shall hear a storm unparalleled--thunder, lightningand a rush of wind, if it can be managed. _

_Then our candles burn to socket. Our pasteboard cabin grows dark. Theblustering ocean, the dizzy cliffs of Devon, melt like anunsubstantial 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 aplay for the winter season. The offer was unexpected. "My dear sir, " Isaid, "I am immensely flattered, but I have never written a play. "Then I hastened to ask, "What kind of play?" for fear the offer mightbe withdrawn. He replied with sureness and decision. "I want a play, "he said, "with lots of pirates and--no poetry. " He stressed this withemphatic gesture. "And at least one shooting, " he added. It was a slimprescription. 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 anopportunity to display my wares. The manager himself met me in thehallway. "Is there a shooting?" he asked, with what seemed almost asuppressed excitement. I was able to satisfy him and he led me to hisinner office, where he pointed out an easy chair. The room waspleasantly furnished with bookshelves to the ceiling. Evidently hisformer ventures had been prosperous, and already I imagined myselfcome to fortune as his partner. While I fumbled with embarrassment atmy papers--for I dreaded his severe opinion--he himself fetched abasket of coal for a fire that burned briskly on the hearth. Then hesat rigidly at attention. 

It now appeared that he had summoned to our conference several of hisassociates--the subordinates, merely, of his ventures--his manager offinance (with a sharp eye for a business flaw), his costumer anddesigner, and another person who is his reader and adviser and, inemergency, fills and mends any sudden gap that shows itself. 

My notion of theatrical managers has been that they are a cold anddistant race--the more sullen cousin of an editor. Is it notconsidered 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, itis naught, saith the buyer. I am told that even the best plays arehawked with disregard from theatre to theatre, until the hungryauthor is out at elbow. They get less civility than greets a meancommodity. Worthless mining shares and shoddy gilt editions do notkick their heels with such disregard in the outer office. Popcorn andapples--Armenian laces, even--beg a quicker audience. 

But none of this usual brusqueness appeared. Rather, he showed anagreeable enthusiasm as we proceeded--even an unrestraint, which, Imust confess, at times somewhat marred his repose and dignity. Manifestly it was not his intention to depreciate my wares. Heexchanged frank glances of approval with his subordinates--with hiscostumer especially, with whom his relation seems the closest. 

In the first act of my play, when it becomes apparent that one of mypirates goes stumping on a timber leg, his eye flashed. And when itwas disclosed that the captain wears a hook instead of hand, he forgothis professional restraint and cried out his satisfaction. He was soonwrapped in thought by the mysterious behaviour of the fortune-tellerand he said, if she were short and stout, he had the very actress inhis mind. 

But it was in the second act that he threw caution to the winds. Asyou will know presently, Red Joe--one of my pirates--seizes his trustygun 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 wouldhave tilted his wary nose upon the ceiling and told me that my plotwas humbug. What sailorman would mistake a lantern for a lighthouse?Nor were there lighthouses in the days of the buccaneers. He wouldhave scuttled my play in dock and grinned at the rising bubbles. Markthe difference! My manager, ignoring these inconsequential errors, burst from his chair--this is amazing!--and turned a recklesssomersault 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 aminute and the play went on. Presently, however, when the enragedpirates gathered to wreak vengeance on their victim, I saw how deeplyhe was moved. His exultant eye sought the bookshelves, and I fancythat he was in meditation whether he might be allowed a handstand withhis heels waving against the ceiling. His excited fingers obviouslywere searching for a dagger in his boot. 

You may conceive my pleasure. If his cold and practiced judgment couldbe so stirred, might I not hope that the phlegmatic pit in shinyshirt-fronts would rise and shout its approval at our opening? And towhat reckless license might not the gallery yield? I fancied a burstof somersaults in the upper gloom, and tremendous handsprings--bothmen and women--down the sharp-pitched aisle. It would beshocking--this giddy flash of lingerie--except that our broader timesnow give it countenance. Peeping Tom, late of Coventry, in these moregenerous 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 thesands. I saw myself on the great occasion of our opening night bowingin white tie from the forward box. 

Our conference was successful. When the reading of the play wasfinished and the wicked pirates stood in the shadow of the gibbet, hethanked me and excused himself from further attendance by reason of aprior engagement. Under the stress of selection for his theatre hecannot sleep at night, and his costumer wisely packs him off early tohis bed. She whispers to me, however, that although he had hopes for astorm at sea and a hanging at the end, his decision, nevertheless, iscast in my favor for a quick production, whenever a worthy company canbe 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 hasalready whittled a dozen daggers and they lie somewhere on a shelf, awaiting a coat of silver paint. On the tip of each he has bargainedfor a spot of red. Furthermore, he owns a pistol--a harmless, devicerated thing--and he pops it daily at any rogue that may belurking on the cellar stairs. 

All pirates wear pigtails--pirates, that is, of the upper crust (theKidds 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 hehas wound them on wires, curling them upward at the end and tieingthem with bits of ribbon. The pirate captain is allowed an extra inchof pigtail to exalt him above his fellows. When he first adjusted thispigtail on himself, his costumer cried out that he looked like aChinaman. This was downright stupidity and was hardly worthy of herperception; but ladies cannot be expected to recognize a pirate soinstinctively as we rougher men. The stocking, however, was clipped tohalf its length, and now he is every inch a buccaneer. 

As for the captain's hook, he is resourcefulness itself. These thingsare secrets of the craft, but I may hint that there is a very suitablehook in a butchershop around the corner. Surely the butcher--warmed togenerosity by the family patronage--would lend it for the greatperformance. I have no doubt but that the manager, from this timeforward, will beg all errands in his direction and that his smile willthaw the friendly butcher to his purpose. Certainly two legs of lamb, if whispered that the drama is at stake, will consent to hang for onetremendous day upon a single hook. Our hook is to be screwed into ablock of wood, and there is something about knuckles and a cord aroundthe wrist and a long sleeve to cover up the joining. Anyway, theproblem has been met. 

[Illustration: His smile will thaw the friendly butcher to hispurpose]

In the furnace room he has found a heavy sheet of tin for the thunderstorm, and I have suggested that he dig in a nearby gravel pit for abasket of rain to hurl against the pirates' window. But hard beans, hesays, are better, and he has won the cook's consent. For the slowmonotone of water dripping from the roof in our second act, a singlebean, he tells me, dropped gently in a pan is a baffling counterfeit. 

The lightning seems not to bother him, for he owns a pocketflashlight; but the mighty wind that comes brawling from the ocean wasat first a sticker. The vacuum cleaner popped into his head, but wasput aside. The fireplace bellows were too feeble for any wind that hadgrown a beard. His manager of finance, however, laid aside his bookone night--a weary tract upon the law--and displayed an ability tomoan and whistle through his teeth. The very casement rattled in theblast. He has agreed to sit in the wings and loose a sufficient stormupon a given signal. 

Our stage is cramped. Three strides stretch from side to side. "Canthis 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; butwe do lack space for the kind of riot the manager has in mind in thefinal scene. He wants nothing girlish. Sabers and pistols are hisdemand--a knife between the teeth--and more yelling than I couldpossibly put down in print. A bench must be upset, the beer-caskoverturned, 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 thatlie down and whine for mercy at a single punch. 

At first our manager was baffled how the pirates were to ascend aladder to their sleeping loft. They had no place to go. They wouldcrack their ugly heads upon the ceiling. The costumer was positive(parsimony!) that a hole--even a little hole--should not be cut in theplaster overhead for their disappearance. If the chandelier had beenan honest piece of metal they might have perched on it until the actran out. Or perhaps the candles could be extinguished when their legswere still climbing visibly. At last the manager has contrived that aplank be laid across the tops of two step-ladders, behind a drop sothat the audience cannot see. No reasonable pirate could refuse tosquat upon the plank until the curtain fell. 

[Illustration: With uncertain, questing finger]

We are getting on. Our company has been selected. We need only ahandful of actors, but the manager has enlisted the street. Thedearest little girl has been chosen for Betsy, and each day shepractices her lullaby at the piano with uncertain, questing finger. Agentle rowdy of twelve will speak the Duke's blood-curdling lines. Iunderstand that two quarrelsome pirates have nearly come to blowswhich shall act the captain. The hero, Red Joe, will be played by themanager himself, for it is he who owns the pistol. Is not the boy whohas the baseball the captain of his nine?

I owe an apology to all the mothers of our cast; for the roughlanguage of my lines outweighs their gentler home instruction. Whenever several of our actors meet there is used the vile language ofthe sea. By the bones of my ten fingers has replaced the anemic oathsof childhood. One little girl has been told she cries as easily as acrocodile. Another little girl was heard to say she would slit hersister'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 andcrossbones, and roves the Spanish Main on rainy afternoons. Innocentvictims--girls, chiefly, who will tattle unless a horrid threat islaid upon them--are forced blindfold to walk the plank. If the windblows, 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 treasureburied in the coal-hole. At every mirror pirates practice their cruelfaces. 

[Illustration: Innocent victims ... Are forced blindfold to walk theplank]

And now the daggers are complete, and their tip of blood has beensqueezed from its twisted tube. Chests and neighbors have beenrummaged for outlandish costumes. From the kindling-pile apredestined stick has become the timber leg of the wicked Duke. Thebutcher's hook has yielded to persuasion. 

Presently rehearsals will begin--

 * * * * *

I have been reading lately, and I have come on a sentence with which Iam in disagreement. I shall not tell the name of the book (meremulishness!) but I hope you know it or can guess. It is a tale ofchildren and of a runaway perambulator and of folk who never quitegrew up, with just a flick of inquiry--a slightest gesture now andthen--toward precious rascals like our Patch-Eye and the Duke. Itsauthor stands, in my opinion, a better chance of our lasting memorythan any writer living. 

If you have read this book, you have known in its author a man who ishimself a child--one from whom the years have never taken toll. And ifyou have lingered from page to page, you know what humor is, and loveand gentleness. I think that children must have clambered on hisfamiliar knee and that he learned his plot from their trustful eyes. 

Someone has been reading my very copy of this book, for it is markedwith pencil and whole chapters have been thumbed. I would like to knowwho this reader is--a woman, beyond a doubt--who has dug in thisfashion to the author's heart. But the book is from a lendinglibrary. She is only a number pasted inside the cover, a date thatwarns her against a fine. 

Her pencil has marked the words to a richer cadence. I like to thinkthat she has children of her own and that she read the book attwilight in the nursery, and that its mirth was shared from bed tobed. But the pathetic parts she did not read aloud, fearing to seetears in her children's eyes. Before her own at times there must havefloated a mist. She is a gracious creature, I am sure, with agentleness that only a mother knows who sits with drowsy children. Andnow that it is my turn to read the book--for so does fancy urge me--Ihear her voice and the echo of her children's laughter among thepages. 

It is a book about a great many things--about David and about asausage machine, about a little dog which was supposed to have beencaught up by mistake. But when the handle was reversed out he came, whole and complete except that his bark was missing. A sausage stillstuck to his tail, which presently he ate. And it proved to be hisbark, for at the last bite of the sausage his bark returned. And Davidtook his salty handkerchief from his eyes and laughed. There is achapter on growing old--marked in pencil--a subject which the authorof this book knew nothing about, never having grown old himself. Andthere is another chapter about a spinster, also marked. This chaptersings with exquisite melody, but breaks once to a sob for a love thathas been lost. But the book is chiefly about children. 

There is one particular sentence in this book with which I am not inagreement. "... Down the laughing avenues of childhood, where memorytells us we run but once.... " I cannot believe that. I cannot believewe run but once. In the heart of the man who wrote the book therelives a child. And a child dwells in the heart of the woman of thelending library. 

We are too ready to believe that childhood passes with the years--thatits fine imagination is blunted with the hard practice of the world. Too long have we been taught that the clouds of glory fade in thecommon day--that the lofty castles of the morning perish in thenoon-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 manpermits, a child keeps house within his heart to the very end. 

And therefore, as I think of those whittled daggers with their spot ofblood, of that popping pistol, of the captain's horrid hook, of theblack craft flying the skull and crossbones in the attic, I know, despite appearance, that I am young myself. I snap my fingers at theclock. It ticks merely for its own amusement. I proclaim the calendaris false. The sun rises and sets but makes no chilling notch upon theheart. Once again, despite the weary signpost of the years, I run onthe laughing avenues of childhood. 

[Illustration]

My preface outstays its time. Even as I write our audience hasgathered. Limber folk in front squat on the floor. Bearded folk behindperch on chairs as on a balcony. Already, behind the scenes, thecaptain of the pirates has assumed his hook and villainous attire. Patch-Eye mumbles his lines against a loss of memory. Paint has daubedhim to a rascal. The evil Duke limps for practice on his timber leg. Presently our curtain will rise. We shall see the pirate cabin, withthe lighthouse blinking in the distance, the parrot, Flint's lanternand the ladder to the sleeping loft. We shall hear a stormunparalleled, like a tempest from the ocean--hissed through the teeth. We shall see the pirates in tattered costume and in pigtails made ofstockings. 

And now to bring this tedious explanation to a close, permit me tohush our orchestra for a final word. I have a most importantannouncement. It is the sum and essence of all these pages. This playof pirates--doctored somewhat with fiercer oaths and lengthened forolder actors--this play and my other play of beggars I dedicate withmy love to _John Abram Flory_, who, as Red Joe, was the most frightfulpirate of them all. 

[Illustration]

ON CHOOSING A TITLE

I find difficulty in selecting a name for my pirate play. Childrenseem so easy in comparison--John or Gretchen, or Gwendolyn for parentsof romantic taste. Gwendolyn I myself dislike, and I have thought Iwould 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 thecolumn of his acquaintance, or think which aunt will have the looserpurse-strings in her will. 

An unhappy choice, after all, is rare. Here and there a chocolatePearl or a dusky crinkle-headed Blanche escapes our logic; but who canthink of a sullen Nancy? Its very sound, tossed about the nursery, would brighten a maiden even if she were peevish at the start. I onceknew an excellent couple of the name of Bottom, who chose Ruby fortheir offspring; but I have no doubt that the infelicity was alteredat the font. The fact is that most of our names grow in time to fitour figure and our character. Margaret and Helen sound thin or fat, agreeable or dull, as our friends and neighbors rise before us; andany newcomer to our affection quickly erases the aspect of its formerugly tenant. I confess that till lately a certain name brought to myfancy a bouncing, red-armed creature; but that by a change of leaseupon our street it has acquired an alien grace and beauty. Perhaps ascrawny neighbor by the name of Falstaff might remain inconsequent, but I am sure that if a lady called Messilina moved in next door andwere of charming manner, a month would blur the bad suggestion of hername; which presently--if our gardens ran together--would come tosound sweetly in my ears. 

But a play (more than a child or neighbor) is offered for a suddenjudgment--to sink or swim upon a first impression--and its christeningis an especial peril. I have fretted for a month to find a title formy 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 anovice in his art, attempt by a modest preface to disarm the criticsof his Endymion? "It is just, " he wrote, "that this youngster shoulddie away. " Yet my title was too long. I could not hope, if my comedyreached the boards, that a manager could afford such a long display ofelectric lights above the door. It would require more than a barrel oflamps. 

_The Pirates of Clovelly_ was not bad, except for length, but it wastoo obviously stolen from Gilbert's opera. I could feel my guiltyfingers in his pocket. 

_'S Death_ was suggested, but it was too flippant, too farcical. _'SBlood_, although effective in red lights, met the same objection. _TheSpittin' Devil_, named for our pirate ship, lacked refinement. Certainly no lady in silk and lace would admit acquaintance with sogross a personage. 

_Darlin'_ was offered to me--the name of the old lady with one toothwho cooks and mixes the grog for my sailormen. And I still think thatwith better spelling it would be an excellent title for musicalcomedy. But it was naught for a pirate play. Its anemia would softenthe vigor of my lines. One could as well call the tale of Bluebeard bythe name of his casual cook. 

Then _Clovelly_ seemed enough. At the very least--if my publisher wereenergetic--it ensured a brisk sale of the printed play among theAmerican tourists on the Devon coast, who travel by boat orchar-a-banc to this ancient fishing village where we set our plot. Foreven a trivial book sells to trippers if its story is laid around thecorner. Would it not be pleasant, I thought, when I visit the placeagain, to see them thumbing me as they waited for the steamer--to seea whole window of myself placed in equal prominence with picturepostal cards? When I registered at the inn alongside the wharf might Inot hope that the landlady would recognize my name and give me, as anhonored guest, a front room that looks upon the ocean? Perhaps, as Ihad my tea and clotted cream on the village staircase, I might mentioncasually to a pretty tourist that I was the author of the book thatprotruded from her handbag--and fetch my dishes to her table. 

It is so seldom that an obscure author catches anyone _flagrantedilicto_ on his book. Will no one ever read a book of mine in thesubway, that I may tap him on the shoulder? Do travelers never put mein their grips? Must everyone read in public the latest novel, andreserve all plays and essays for their solitary hours? At the club Ishuffle to the top any periodical that contains my name, but thecrowded noon buries me deep again. 

At best, maybe, in a lending library, I see a date stamped inside mycover; but, although I linger near the shelf, no one comes to draw medown. I think that hunters must look with equal hunger on the bear'stread. 'T is here! 'T is there! But the cunning creature has escaped. Blackmore's pleasant ghost frequents the shadowy church at Porlockwhere he married Lorna and John Ridd, or roams the Valley of the Rocksto see the studious pilgrims at his pages. Stevenson haunts thegloomy inlet where the Admiral Benbow stood and where old Pew cametapping in the night. In the flesh I shall join their revels as anequal comrade. _Clovelly_, however, although its lilt was pleasant tothe ear, was an insufficient title. 

_Skull and Crossbones_ was too obvious, and my next choice was _TheGibbet_. But there was the disadvantage of scaring the timid. Oldladies would pass me by. It would check the sale of tickets. Mynephew, who is fourteen and not at all timid, was stout in itsdefense. He pronounces it as if the _g_ were the hard kind that startsoff gurgle. _G_ibbet! He asked me if I had a hanging in the piece. Ifso, he knew how the business could be managed without chance ofaccident--an extra rope fastened to the belt behind. I told him thatit was none of his business how I ended up the pirates. I would hangthem or not, as I saw fit. He would have to pay his quarter likeanybody else and sit it through. 

He suggested From _Dish-Pan to Matrimony_--obviously a jest. The slyrogue laughs at me. I must confess, however, that he has given me someof my best lines. "Villainy 's afoot!" for example, and "Sink me sternup!" His peaceful school breeds a wealth of pungent English. 

I was in despair. _Revenge!_ Would that have done? I see a maddenedfather stand with smoking revolver above the body of a silky-whiskeredvillain. "Doris, " the panting parent cries, "the butcher boy knowsall and wants you for his bride. " And down comes the happy curtain onthe lovers. _The Wreckers_ belongs to Stevenson. _The Pirates' Nest!_It is too ornithological. The Natural History Museum might buy a copyand think I had cheated them. 

And then _Channel Lights_! It sends us sharply to the days of theolder melodrama--days when we exchanged a ten-cent piece for a galleryseat and hissed the villain. Do you recall the breathless moment whenthe heroine implored the villain to give her back her stolen child?For answer the cruel fellow tied the darling to the buzz-saw. Or thatdarker scene when he tossed the lady to the black waters of theThames, with the splash of a dipper up behind? Hurry, master hero!Your horse's hoofs clatter in the wings. Gallop, Dobbin! A preciouslife depends upon your speed. Our dangerous plot hangs by a singlethread. 

It is quite a task to find a sufficient title. I have wavered for amonth. 

But now my efforts seem rewarded. 

There is a wharf in London below the Tower, not far from the Indiadocks. It has now sunk to common week-day uses, and I suppose itsrotten timbers are piled with honest, unromantic merchandise. But oncepirates were hanged there. It was the first convenient place forinbound ships to dispose of this dirty, deep-sea cargo. Doubtlesshereabout the lanes and building-tops were crowded with an idlethrong as on a holiday, and wherries to the bankside and the playpaused with suspended oar for a sight of the happy festival. DidHamlet wait upon this ghastly prologue? Shakespeare himself, unplayedscript in hand, mused how tragedy and farce go hand in hand. In thosegolden days with which our comedy concerns itself, a gibbet stood onWapping wharf and pirates stepped off the fatal cart to a hangman'sjest. We may hear the shouts of the 'prentice lads echoing across thecenturies. 

I cannot hope that many persons--except dusty scholars--will know ofthe district's ancient ill-repute, yet Wapping wharf figures often inmy dialogue as the somber motif of a pirate's life. It conveys to theplot 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, underthe direction of Frederic McConnell. The settings and costumes weredesigned 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 widestretch of ocean far below. The time is remote and doubtless greatships of forgotten build stand out from Bristol in full sail forwestern shores. Their white canvas winks in the morning sun as iftheir purpose were a jest. They seek a northwest passage and thegolden mines of India. But we must be loose and free of date lest ourplot 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 ofthe 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 outof breath half way. But on a still dizzier crag, storm-blown, clinging by its toes, there stands the pirates' cabin. To this topmostledge fishwives sometimes scramble by day to seek a belated sailagainst Lundy's Isle. But after twilight a night wind searches thecrannies of the rock and whines to the moon of its barren quest, andthen no villager, I think, chooses to walk in that direction. I havevisited Clovelly and have kicked a sodden donkey from the wharf to thetop of the street, past the shops of Devon cream and picture postalcards, but have sought in vain the pirates' cabin. Since our far-offadventure of tonight ten thousand tempests have snarled across thesegiddy cliffs and we must convince our reason that these highest cragswhere we pitch our plot have long since been toppled in a storm. Whereyonder wave lathers the shaggy headland, as if Neptune had turnedbarber, we must fancy that the pinnacles of yesteryear lie buried inthe sea. _

_We had hoped for a play upon the sea, with a tall mast rocking fromwing to wing and a tempest roaring at the rail. Alas! Our pirates growold and stiff. They have retired, as we say, from active practice andlive in idle luxury on shore. Yet we shall see that their villainystill thrives. _

_Our scene is their cabin on the cliff. It is a rough stone buildingwith peeling plaster and slates that by day are green with moss. Butit is night and the wind is whistling its rowdy companions from thesea. Until the morning they will play at leap-frog from cliff tocliff. Far below is the village of Clovelly, snug with fire andcandles. _

_We enter the cabin without knocking--like neighbors through agarden--and poke about a bit before our hosts appear. A door, forwardat the right, leads to the kitchen. Back stage, also, at the right, aladder rises to a sleeping loft. On the left wall are a chimney andfireplace with a crane and pot for heating grog, and smoky timbersabove to mark the frequent thirst. On a great beam overhead are bagsof clinking loot and shining brasses from wrecked ships. Peppers hangto dry before the fire, and a lighted ship's lantern swings from ahook. At the rear of the cabin, to the left, a row of mullionedwindows looks at sea and cliffs in a flash of lightning. Below is aseaman's chest. Above, on the broken plaster, is scrawled a ship. Inthe middle, at the rear, there is a clock with hanging pendulum andweights. A gun of antique pattern leans beside the clock. To the rightthe cabin is recessed, with a door right-angled in the jog and otherwindows looking on the sea. A parrot sits on its perch with curbedprofanity. The gaudy creature is best if stuffed, for its noisy tonguewould drown our dialogue. Like Hamlet's player it would speak beyondits lines and raise a quantity of barren laughter. Our furniture is atable and three stools, and a tall-backed chair beside the hearth. Onthe table a candle burns, bespattered with tallow. The cabin glowswith fire light. _

[Illustration: Two pirates are discovered drinking at a table]

_At the lifting of the curtain there is thunder and lightning, and arush of wind--if it can be managed. Two pirates are discovered, drinking at the table. By the smack of their lips it is excellentgrog. One of them--Patch-Eye--has lost an eye and he wears a blackpatch. 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 andhung on a peg. But all of our pirates wear pigtails--except one, RedJoe. _

_The other pirate at the table is called the Duke, for no apparentreason as he is a shabby rogue. We must not run our finger down thepeerage in hope of finding him, or think that he owns a palace on theStrand. He has only one leg, with a timber below the knee. He wears along cloak so that the actor's rusticated leg can be folded out ofsight. The Duke has a great red nose--grog and rum and that sort ofthing. His whiskers are the bush that marks the merry drinking place. _

_Patch-Eye is melancholy--almost sentimental at times. He would stab aman, but grieve upon a sparrow. At heart we fear he is a coward, andstupid. The Duke, on the contrary, is shrewd and he does a lot ofthinking. He has heavy eyebrows. He is the kind of thinker that youjust know that he is thinking. Both pirates are very cruel--andprofane, but we must be careful. _

_And now we hush the melancholy fiddlers. If this comedy can stir thecroaking bass-viol to any show of mirth, our work tops Falstaff. Glumfolk with beards had best withdraw. Only the young in heart will catchthe slender meaning of our play. Let's light the candles and draw thecurtain!_

PATCH: Darlin'! Darlin'! (_He lolls back in his chair and stretchesout 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. Asprig of mistletoe, even in the Christmas season, would beckonvainly. _)

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 wrinkledstockings. _)

DUKE: There 's no one like Darlin' fer mixin' grog. 

DARLIN': Fer that kind word I 'm lovin' yer. (_She looks at him withadmiration. _) Ain 't he a figger o' a man? Wenus was nothin'. Jestnothin' at all. 

PATCH: It 's grog beats off the melancholy. As soon as me pipes godry, I gets homesick fer the ocean. Here we be, Duke, thrown up atlast ter rot like driftwood on the shore. No more sailin' off toTrinidad! No tackin' 'round the Hebrides! We is ships as has sprung aleak. It was 'appy days when we sailed with ol' Flint on the SpanishMain. 

DUKE: 'Appy days, Patch! (_They drink. _)

PATCH: Aye! The blessed, dear, ol' roarin' hulk. No better pirate everlived 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 ared-hot seacoal. 

PATCH: Fer twenty year and more me and you has seen ol' Flint marchhis wictims off the plank. 

DUKE: "Step lively!" he 'd say. "Does n't yer hear Davy callin' toyer?" There was never a sailorman ever sat in the Port Light atWappin' wharf which could drink with Flint. 

[Illustration: "Port Light" at Wappin' Wharf]

PATCH: Wappin' wharf and gibbets is nothin' ter talk about. Funeralseven is cheerfuller. 

DUKE: There 's his parrot. 

PATCH: She used ter cuss soft and gentle to herself--'appy all theday. She ain 't spoke since Flint was took. Peckin' at yer finger andbroodin'. 

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 clockfer a bouncin' ship. 

[Illustration: "A 'ell of a clock fer a bouncin' ship"]

PATCH: She was tickin' peaceful the day Flint was hanged. But shestopped--does yer remember it?--the very minute they pushed him offthe ladder. 

DUKE: She ain 't ticked since. 

PATCH: It makes yer 'stitious. And she won 't never run agin--that 'swhat Flint alers said--till his death 's revenged. 

DUKE: He told us never ter wind her--says she 'd start hisself withoutno 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' deartickin', and ter know that Flint was restin' easy in his rottencoffin--swappin' stories with the pretty angels. 

PATCH: I loved Flint like a brother. (_He is quite sentimental aboutthis. _) 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 theloot. 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 heapo' sights. I suppose I 've drowned meself a hundred men. It 'scomfertin' when yer lays awake at night. I feels I ain 't wastedmeself. I 've used me gifts. I ain 't been a foolish virgin and put meshinin' 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 smartcabin with winders on the sea. Since I stuffed yer ol' shirt in theroof 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 andthen--if it ain 't too often. 

DUKE: Darlin', me friend Patch is thirsty. And a drop meself. (_Thecups 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 bespittin' up outside. The channel 's as riled as a wampire when yerscorns 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'slocker. I 'm not kickin' much ter be ashore. I rots peaceful. 

(_Patch-Eye has opened the door to consult the night. It slams wide inthe wind and the gust blows out the candle. _)

DUKE: Hi, there, for'ard! Batten yer hatch! Yer blowin' the gizzardout o' us. 

[Illustration: "Yer blowin' the gizzard out o' us"]

(_He hobbles on timber leg to the warm chair by the fire. Patch closesthe 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 terkinder say goodby. Ship all fitted out. He 'd got three newsailormen--fine fellers as had been sentenced ter be hanged fercuttin' purses, but had been let go, as they had reformed and wantedter be honest pirates. 

DUKE: I remembers the night, ol' sea-nymph. It was rainin' ter put outthe 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 ahealthy sweat. 

PATCH: He was ter sail when the tide ran out. Lord a Goody! How thetide 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 andthey 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' herein style and comfert, and jest waitin' fer the treasure ships ter cometer us? We gets the plums without chawin' at the dough. We blows outthe lighthouse, and we sets our lantern so as ter fool 'em on thecourse, and when they smashes on the rocks, well--all we does is stuffour pokes with the treasure that washes up. I prays meself fer fog anddirty weather. Now I lay me, says I, and will yer send it thick andoozy?

PATCH: I ain 't disputin' yer. (_He cheers up a bit. _) And we robslandlubbers once in a while. 

DUKE: Now yer talkin', ol' sea-lion. I 'm tellin' yer it were a goodhaul we made last night on Castle Crag. 

PATCH: Who 's disputin' yer?

DUKE: I 'm tellin' yer. Silver candles! And spoons! Never seen such aheap o' spoons. 

PATCH: What 's anyone want more 'n one spoon fer? Yer cleans it everybite agin the tongue. 

DUKE: Yer disgusts me, Patch. Yer ain 't no manners. Fer meself Ispears me food tidy on me knife. 

(_The Duke sits looking at the seaman's chest at the rear of thecabin. He is deep in thought. _)

DUKE: There 's jest one leetle thing I does n't understand. I asksyer. (_He goes to the chest, opens it and draws out a rich velvetgarment. He holds it up. _) What 's the meaning o' this here loot wetook at Castle Crag? I asks yer. Ain 't we been by that castle ahundred times? The Earl, he don 't wear clothes like this. None o' thearstocky 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. Hesits at the table in meditation. _)

DUKE: I does n't like it, Patch. I does n't understand it. And what Idoes 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 mixanother pot. Our cups is low. Yer does n't want ter be a foolishvirgin 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 practicedhouse-wife. Her apron is maid of all work. It is towel, dust-rag, mopand 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 ascould 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 onthe 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 astick 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 awreck '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 kindergood-lookin' feller. 

DARLIN': (_stirring at the pot_). He ain 't got whiskers like theDuke. 

(_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 itshook and stands at the open door. _) It ain 't blowin' so hard. Ol'Borealis--I speaks poetical--ain 't strainin' at his waistcoat buttonslike 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 ofsolitaire. _)

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 hishead like a connoisseur, critically--with approval. _)

DUKE: I 'm the artist o' that there masterpiece. The Spittin' Devil! Idone 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', crossingfrom the fire, interrupts him. _)

DARLIN': Duke, will yer have a nip o' grog? It eases yer pipes. Yersounds 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. (_Hecontinues 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 upas 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 fromBristol to Guinea--jest ter make all ports cozy. So 's yer goin' hometer a 'appy family, no matter where yer steers. 

DUKE: It 's comfertable, Darlin'--I 'll not deny it--when yer headster harbor to see a winkin' candle in a winder on a hill, and knowthat a faithful wife and a couple o' leetle pirates is waitin' ter hugyer. 

DARLIN': I says so, Duke. I 've been a wife meself on and off, withhusbands 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 waitspatient fer the 'appy question. I lets me beauty do the pleadin'. Iwas a flamin' roarer in me time. Lovers was nothin'. Dozens! There wasa sea-captain once--(_She smiles dreamily, then seems to cut herthroat with her little finger. _) Positive! Jest 'cause we tiffed. Anda 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 momentin her glorious past, then blows her nose upon her apron and returnsto us. _) Duke--askin' yer pardon--I was noticin' lately that you wascastin' 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 brassbeer-pulls. 

DUKE: I 'll not deny I 've given her a thought. Usual, wives isnuisances--naggin' at yer fer sixpences. But sometimes I does getlonesome on a wet night when there are nothin' ter do. I need someoneter hand me down me boots. Betsy 'd make a kinder cozy wife. Could yerlearn 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 oneeye. 

DARLIN': (_with scorn_). Patch!

DUKE: I 'll not deny I 've been considerin' leetle Betsy. I wasthinkin' about it this mornin' as I was cleanin' me boot. Wives cleansboots. 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 ayoung 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 mewhiskers. 

DARLIN': 'Vast there, Duke! There 's a shoal ahead. Red Joe 's a rightsmart 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 yerwatch '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 Joeoff a cliff. I 'm hintin' to yer, Duke. Off a cliff! (_She sniffsaudibly. _) It 's the pig. I clean fergot the pig. It 's burnin' on thefire. Off a cliff! I 'm hintin' to yer. 

(_She runs to the kitchen. _)

DUKE: Red Joe! Women 's queer--queerer than mermaids. A snooper! Jesta 'prentice pirate! No whiskers! Nothin'!

(_At this moment there is a stamping of feet outside and Patch-Eyeenters with Red Joe. _

_If Red Joe were born a gentleman we might expect silver buckles and ayellow feather to trail across his shoulder, for he bears a jauntydignity. His is a careless grace--the swagger of a pleasantvagabond--a bravado that snaps its fingers at danger. His body has thequickness of a cat, his eye a flash of humor--kindly, unless necessitysharpens it. As poets were thick in those golden days we suspect thatthe roar of the ocean sets rhymes jingling in his heart. He is, however, almost as shabby as the other pirates, although he wears nopigtail. His collar is turned up. He wrings the water from his hat. _

_Patch-Eye throws himself on the seaman's chest and falls asleep atonce. He snores an obligato to our scene. Just once an ugly dreamdisturbs him and we must fancy that a gibbet has crossed the frightfulshadow 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 tabbycat. 

DUKE: We 're a blessin' ter ol' Petey. I 'm bettin' me stump he 'd getlonesome up there 'cept fer us. (_He points to the window to theright, where the lighthouse shows. _) There 's ol' Petey, starin' atthe ocean. Yer ain 't never seen a light at that t' other winder, hasyer 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 wesets up our lantern--ol' Flint's lantern--outside on the rocks, jestwhere she shows at t' other winder. The ship sticks her nose agin thecliff. Smash!

(_At this point, after a few moments of convulsion, Patch-Eye fallsoff 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' purplerhinoceroses. Go back ter bed. (_Then to Joe. _) Smash! I says. Oncomes Petey agin. And we jest as innercent as babies in a crib. It wasme own idear. Brains, young feller. Jest yer wait, Joey, till yer seesa 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. Adark thought runs through his head. His shrewd eye quests from kitchendoor 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 jollyoccerpation, and sing us a leetle song. 

DARLIN': (_calling_). Betsy! I wants yer. 

PATCH: I never knowed yer cared fer music, Duke. Usually yer goesoutside. Yer jest boohs. 

DUKE: I does usual, Patch. Tonight 's perticerler. Red Joe ain 'tnever heard Betsy sing. Does yer like music, Joe?

JOE: I like the roaring of the ocean. I like to hear the trees tossingin the wind. 

PATCH: Wind ain 't music. Yer should hear Betsy. She 's got a leetlesong that makes yer feel as good and peaceful as a whinin' parson. 

DARLIN': (_beckoning at the kitchen door_). Betsy! Stop sloppin' withthe dishes!

[Illustration: Betsy enters]

(_Betsy enters. She is a pretty girl. Our guess at her age is--but itis better not to guess. We have in our own experience made severalhumiliating blunders. Let us say that Betsy is young enough to be agrand-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 iswelcome ter the parlor. We wants Red Joe ter hear yer sing. Thatleetle song o' yers. 

(_He returns to the recess at the rear of the cabin and covertlywatches Joe. Patch-Eye is lost in heavenly meditation. Joe's attentionis roused before the first stanza of the song is finished. By thethird 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 bemanaged, for I have tried it with a chair. Once, Patch-Eye blows hisnose to keep his emotions from exposure. But make him blowsoftly--_soto naso_, shall we say?--so as not to disturb the song. InRed Joe the song seems to have stirred a memory. At the end of eachstanza 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 acrib--blessed leetle pirates, pullin' at their bottles, as will follerthe sea some day. 

(_He blows his sentimental nose. A slighter structure would burst inthe explosion. _)

DUKE: Yer ol' nose sounds as if it were tootin' fer a fog. Yer mightbe 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 onBetsy. 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 lullabyfades in the distance. Patch-Eye and Betsy are left together, for theroast pig again calls Darlin' to the kitchen. _)

PATCH: Will yer wait a bit, Betsy--askin' yer pardon--while I talks toyer?

BETSY: Of course, Patch. 

PATCH: I don 't suppose, dearie, I 'm the kind o' pirate as sets yerthinkin' of fiddles tunin' up, ner parsons. No, yer says. Ner cradlesand leetle devils bitin' at their coral. And I don 't suppose yer hasa kind o' hankerin' and yearnin'. Yer never sets and listens to mecomin'. Course not, yer says. Betsy, if I talk out square you 'll notblab it all 'round the village, will yer? They would point theirfingers at me, and giggle in their sleeves. I want ter tell yersomethin' o' a wery tender nater. There 's a leetle word as beginswith _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, yerasks, what done it? It 's a pretty girl, I answers yer, as has smashedit. Does yer foller, Betsy? A pretty girl about your size, and witheyes 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 nudgedHumpty 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'smen could n't fix him. Humpty Dumpty is me, Betsy. Regularly all splitup, fore and aft, rib and keel. I mopes all day fer you, Betsy. And Imopes 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, aswould 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' termeself: She loves me--She don 't love me. But the last potater did n'tlove 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 shabbypirate with only one eye. 

BETSY: I am sorry, Patch. 

(_She offers him her hand. _)

PATCH: Blessed leetle fingers, as twines their selves all 'round meheart. Patch, yer says, yer sorry. There ain 't no hope at all. Yernudges him off the wall, but yer can 't fix him. But I never heardthat Humpty Dumpty did a lot o' squealin' when he bust. He took itlike a pirate. And so does Patch. I does n't sulk. If yer will pardonme, Betsy, I 'll leave yer. Me feelin 's get lumpy in me throat. I 'lltake 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 mugson the table, then stands listening. Presently there is a sound offootsteps. 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 calledher--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 toremember someone else. How long have you been a pirate?

JOE: A pirate? Years, it seems, my dear. But I am more used to asoldier's oaths. I have trailed a pike in the Lowland wars. The roarof cannon, and siege and falling walls, are gayer tunes than any oceantempest. What is this that you remember, Betsy?

BETSY: It is far off. Some one sang to me. It was not Nancy. WhenNancy died, Darlin' took me and brought me up. That was three yearsago. But last year the Captain and Duke and Patch-Eye came climbing upthe rocks. They were sailormen, they said, who had lost a ship. Andthese cliffs with the sea pounding on the shore comforted them whenthey 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 setsme thinking--thinking of something that I have forgotten. (_She standsat the window above the sea. _) Some days I climb high on the cliffsand I look upon the ocean. And I know that there is land beyond--wherechildren play--but I see nothing but a rim of water. And sometimes thewind comes off the sea, and it brings me familiar far-offvoices--voices I once knew--voices I once knew--fragments from a lifeI 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 toremember. 

JOE: I heard the song once when I was a lad--when I was taken on avisit. 

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 wearyhorses and blew out the flaming candles in the west; and shadows werea blanket on the sleeping world. Toward midnight I was roused. We hadcome to the courtyard of a house--this house where I was taken on avisit. 

BETSY: Was it like this, Joe--a cabin on a cliff?

JOE: I remember how the moon peeped around the corner to see who cameso late knocking on the door. I remember--I remember--(_He stopsabruptly_). Do you remember when you first came to live with Nancy?

BETSY: I dreamed once--you will think me silly--Are there great stonesteps somewhere, wider than this room, with marble women standingmotionless? 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, whereboats put in. And I have listened to the songs of the fishermen asthey wind their nets. And through the window of the tavern I haveheard them singing at their rum. And sometimes I have been afraid. Ihave stuffed my ears and ran. But the ugly songs have followed me andscared me in the night. The shadows from the moon have reeled acrossthe floor, like a tipsy sailor from the Harbor Light. Joe, are youreally a man from the sea?

JOE: Why, Betsy?

BETSY: The sea is never gentle. It never sleeps. I have stoodlistening at the window on breathless nights, but the ocean alwaysslaps against the rocks. Even in a calm it moves and frets. Is it notsaid that the ghosts of evil men walk back and forth on the spot wheretheir crimes are done? The ocean, perhaps, for its cruel wreckage, haunts these cliffs. It is doomed through all eternity with a latherof breaking waves to wash these rocks of blood. And the wind whistlesto 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 arethe only one who is always gentle. And I have wondered if you couldreally be a pirate. 

JOE: Me? (_Then with sudden change. _) Me? Gentle? The devil himself ismy 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 havedrowned?

BETSY: Joe! For God's sake! Don 't!

JOE: Is it gentleness to plunge a dagger in a man and watch for hisdying 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 thenaround again to Monday. It is so brief a space that a flower wouldscarcely droop and wither. And yet the day you came seems already longago. And all the days before are of a different life. It was anotherBetsy, not myself, who lived in this cabin on a Sunday before aMonday. 

[Illustration: "From Monday to Monday, and then around again toMonday"]

JOE: It is so always, Betsy, when friends suddenly come to know eachother. All other days sink to unreality like the memory of snow upon aday of August. We wonder how the flowering meadows were once a fieldof white. Our past selves, Betsy, walk apart from us and, although weknow their trick of attitude and the fashion of their clothes, theyare not ourselves. For friendship, when it grips the heart, rewindsthe fibres of our being. Do you remember, dear, how you ran in frightwhen you first saw me clambering up these rocks?

BETSY: I was sent to call the Duke to dinner and carried a bell toring it on the cliff. I was afraid when a stranger's head appearedupon 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 myhand to help me up the slope. You asked my name, and told me yours wasJoe. Then we came together to this cabin. And each day I have beenwith 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 thesedays together. 

BETSY: Joe!

JOE: May be I shall return. Fate is captain. The future shows sovaguely 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 thereis 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 thekitchen. _

_The Captain enters, followed by the Duke. Patch-Eye enters by way ofthe ladder. The Captain has a hook hand. This is the very hookmentioned in my preface--if you read prefaces--got from the cornerbutcher. The Captain would be a frightful man to meet socially. I canhear a host saying "Shake hands with the Captain. " One quite loseshis taste for dinner parties. There is a sabre cut across theCaptain's cheek. He is even more disreputable in appearance than hisfollowers, 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 newsfrom the village. 

(_He wrings the water from his hat. He is provokingly deliberate. Allof the pirates crowd around. _)

CAPTAIN: By the bones of me ten fingers, it 's a blythe night fer ourbusiness. It 's wetter than a crocodile's nest. When I smells a fog, Ifeels 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 jesthearn--blast me rotten timbers! How can a man talk when he 's dry! Acup o' grog!

(_Darlin' has slipped into the room in the excitement. Old customanticipates his desire. She stands at his elbow with the cup, like adirty 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 killscats. (_He yawns and stretches his legs across the hob. _) Down in thevillage 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 terkeep droppin' it in as yer stirs it. I thinks they puts in too muchwater. Water 's not much good--'cept fer washin'. And washin' 's notmuch good. 

DUKE: Now then, Captain, hold hard on yer tiller agin wobblin', andget 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 abreathless 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 piratesnear. _) 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 awayfrom Bristol harbor. With this wind she should be off Clovelly by thistime termorrer night. 

DARLIN': Glory ter God!

DUKE: And then Petey will douse his glim. And we 'll set up the ship'slantern. 

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 afishin' 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 fagat 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 thepretty Duchesses is cuttin' up?

DUKE: I thought he was settin' in Whitehall, tryin' on crowns, so aster 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 thestomich?

DUKE: Igerence. I 'm 'shamed o' yer, Patch. Ain 't yer been terschool? Ain 't yer done lessons on a slate? Ain 't yer been wallopedso standin' 's been comfertabler. The Captain and me soils ourselvestalkin' to yer. Incarnito is dressed up fancy, so as no one can knowhim. 

DARLIN': Like Cindereller at the party. 

DUKE: If yer wants Patch ter understand yer, Captain, yer has got touse leetle words as is still pullin' at their bottles. 

DARLIN': When words grow big and has got beards they jest don 't saynothin' 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 Ipassed 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 piratebusiness 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 theirbottles!

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 passthe 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 gypsyin gorgeous skirt and shawl, and she wears gold earrings. Anywell-instructed nurse-maid would huddle her children close if sheheard her tapping up the street. Meg walks to the table. She sniffsaudibly. It is grog--her weakness. She drinks the dregs of all threecups. She rubs her thrifty finger inside the rims and licks it for theprecious drop. She opens her wallet and takes from it afortune-teller's crystal. _)

MEG: I tells fortins, gentlemen. Would n't any o' yer like ter see thefuture? I sees what 's comin' in this here magic glass. I tells yerwhen 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 ismade fer landlubbery lap dogs? I 've deserted three wives. And that 'senough. More 's a hog. 

(_He retires to the fireplace in disgust. _)

DARLIN': Husbands is nuisances, as I was tellin' the sea-captain, jestafore he cut his throat. 

DUKE: Thank ye, ol' lady, I does n't need yer. When the ol' Duke iswillin', 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 someonewith curlin' locks, as can mix grog as good as Darlin's. And I likesroast pig--crackly, as Darlin' cooks it. (_He offers his hand. _) I hasa leetle girl in mind, but she 's kinder holdin' off. What does yersee, dearie? Does yer hear any fiddles tunin' fer the nupshals? Isthere a pretty lady waitin' fer a kiss?

MEG: I sees the ocean. And a ship. I sees inside the cabin o' thatship. 

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 yertoes--swingin' in the wind. 

PATCH: Yer makes me grog sour on me. 

(_He goes to the rear of the cabin and looks disconsolately over theocean. _)

MEG: (_as she looks in the glass_). I sees misfortin fer everyonehere--'cept one--tragedy, the gibbet. Go not upon the sea until themoon has turned. Ha! Leetle glass, has yer more to show? Has yer anycomfort? The light fades out. It is dark. 

DUKE: Ain 't yer givin' us more 'n a sixpence worth o' misery? Yergloom is sloppin' over the brim. 

MEG: Ah! Here 's light agin at last. There 's a red streak across thedial. 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 yerto 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 avelvet cloak I hooks out his eye. 

DUKE: Captain, yer sweats yerself unnecessary. (_Slyly. _) Here 's RedJoe, ol' dear. Joe 's a spry young feller. He looks as if he might behankerin' 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 tallbuildin' with gold spires. I hears a shout o' joy and I hears statelymusic, like what yer hears in Bartolmy Fair arter the Lord Mayor hasmade his speech. I sees a man in a silk cloak. He swaggers to themusic. I sees--I sees--

(_She looks long in the glass and seems to see great and unexpectedthings. Her eyes are as wide as a child's at a tale of fairies. It isno less a moment--but how different!--than when Lady Bluebeard peepedin the forbidden door. Scarcely was Little Red Riding Hood morestartled when she touched the strange bristles on her grandmother'schin. But Meg is not frightened. She smiles. She bends intently. Sheis 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 asuspicious glance at Red Joe, moves forward to look over her shoulderat the glass. Slyly she sees him. She pushes the crystal forward andit breaks upon the stones. Then she rises abruptly. She lifts aportentous finger. She advances to Red Joe. _)

MEG: I sees danger fer yer, Joe. Who can tell whether it be death? 'Tis 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 silenceexcept 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 meher 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 makesnothing 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 angelstook Flint ter 'ell. 

DUKE: Captain, you and Patch is melancholier 'n funerals. Weepin'widders is jollier. Will yer let a hanted, thirsty, grog-eyedgrand-daughter o' a blinkin' sea-serpent upset yer 'appydispersitions? Stiffen yerself! Keep yer nose up, Captain! We has seaenough. We 're not thumpin' on the rocks. 

CAPTAIN: Yer said it, Duke. I sulks unnecessary. There 's ol' Peteyshinin' up there. Termorrer night, if the wind holds, we 'll see hisstarin' eye go out, and our lantern shinin' at t' other winder. (_Hetakes a pirate flag from his boot. He smoothes it with affection. Thenhe 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 agibbet on Wappin' wharf. It was a mirky night like this, with'prentices gawpin' in the lanterns and Jack Ketch unsnarlin' hiscursed 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' clockis tickin' peaceful and Flint sleepin' 'appy in his rotten coffin. 

CAPTAIN: A drink all 'round. We 'll drink the health o' this hereflag. 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' onthe English throne. 

(_All drink except Red Joe. He makes the pretense, but pours his grogout 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 theladder to the sleeping loft. Patch follows with the candle, warmingthe Captain's seat for speed. The Duke comes next, carrying his oneboot which he has removed before the fire. Darlin' kisses her hand tothe Duke and retires to the kitchen. We suspect that she curls upinside the sink, with a stewpan for a pillow. Red Joe lingers for amoment and stands gazing at the ocean. _)

JOE: My memory fumbles in the past. I, too, hear familiar voices--lostfor many years. A dark curtain lifts and in the past I see myself achild. There are strange tunes in the wind tonight. Methinks they singthe name of Margaret. 

(_He climbs the ladder. And now, with an occasional dropping boot, thepirates 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. Shekicks off her slippers and warms her old red stockings. She comfortsherself with grog and spits across the hearth. She sleeps and gentlysnores. 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 ofsnoring. The range of Caucasus hath not noisier winds. Let's draw thecurtain on the tempest!_)

[Illustration]

[Illustration: ACT II]

ACT II

_It is the same cabin on the following night. There is no thunder andlightning, but it is a dirty night of fog--as wet as a crocodile'snest--and you hear the water dripping from the trees. The Duke, evidently, has had an answer to his "Now I lay me. " The lighthouse, asbefore, shows vaguely through the mist. _

_In this scene we had wished to have a moon. The Duke will need itpresently in his courtship; for marvelously it sharpens a lover'soath. 'T is a silver spur to a halting wooer. Shrewd merchants, I amtold, go so far as to consult the almanac when laying in their storeof wedding fits; for a cloudy June throws Cupid off his aim. Whatcosmetic--what rouge or powder--so paints a beauty! If the moon werefull twice within the month scarcely a bachelor would be left. I prayyou, master carpenter, hang me up a moon. But our plot has put itsfoot down. "Mirk, " it says, "mirk and fog are best for our dirtybusiness. "_

_We had wished, also, to place one act of our piece on the deck of apirate ship, rocking in a storm. Such high excitement is your right, for your payment at the door. It required but the stroke of a lazypencil. But our plot has dealt stubbornly with us. We are still in thepirates' 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 theloft. _)

 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 thedishpan. 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 isharder than any Gordian knot whatsoever. He smoothes and strokes hiswhiskers. He goes so far as to slap himself for dust. He puts a sprigof flowers--amazing!--in the front of his cloak. He practices a smileand 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 fromthe south, but a pirate waits not upon the spring. His lover's oathpops out before the daffodil. I pray you, master carpenter, hang me upa 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 thewooer's posture. He speaks, but not with his usual voice of command. Oberon, as it were, calls Titania to the woodland when stars are torchand candle to the sleeping world. _)

DUKE: Betsy! Betsy!

(_She appears. The Duke wears a silly smile. But did not Bottom in anass's head win the fairy princess? A moon, sweet sir! Andnow--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 wellas 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 seton a cushion without nothin' ter do--(_reflectively_) nothin' 'ceptcookin' 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 ahippopotamus in the front hall. I have bitten my pencil to a pulp--themaker's name is quite gone--but I can think of no lines that areadequate. 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 theopening above the ladder, and they listen with amusement. _)

DUKE: I 'm blowed. I 'm a better man than Patch. I 'm tellin' yer. Isit me stump, Betsy? I has n't a hook hand like the Captain. Yer hasgot ter be linked all 'round. There 's no fun, I says, in bein' huggedby 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 havewaited fer a moon and took yer walkin'? And perched with yer on therocks, with the ol' moon winkin' at yer, shovin' yer on? The Duke 'snever been refused before. A number o' wery perticerler ladies, arterbreakfast even, has jest come scamperin'. 'T ain 't Patch, is itBetsy? A pretty leetle girl would n't love a feller as has one eye. Itain '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 ablinkin' 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' tersay the 'appy word as splices us from keel to topsail? Yer ain 't jesta cruel syren are yer, wavin' me on, hopin' I 'll smash meself? Areyer winkin' at me like ol' Flint's lantern--me thinkin' it 's love Isee, 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 withone hoof inside a coffin does n't make good brides. Yer wants someonekinder 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 theHarbor Light, and one-eyed Pol as mops up the liquor that is spilt. And youngsters, too. A pretty leetle dear--jest a cozy armful--waswinkin' 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 isperticerler. Yer has lovely eyes, Betsy--blessed leetle mirrors whereI sees Cupid playin'. They shines like the lights o' a friendlyharbor. 

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 callsarter we are married, fetch me down me slipper and lay it on thehearth ter warm. Yer husband 's home. And I tosses yer me boot, allmud fer cleanin'. And then yer passes the grog. And arter about thesecond cup I limbers up and kisses yer. And then yer sets upon meknee. 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 yerplease. And I won 't deny as I won 't like it. The ol' Duke ain 'tslingin' the permission 'round general. Darlin' nags me. What yerlaughin' at?

BETSY: You silly old man!

DUKE: Yer riles me. Once and fer all, will yer marry me? I 'll notwaste the night argyin' with yer. I 'm not goin' ter tease yer. I 'veonly one knee and it ain 't no bench fer gigglin' girls as pokes funat their betters. I 'll jolt yer till yer teeth rattles. Is it someoneelse? Has yer a priory 'tachment? Red Joe? Is it Red Joe, Betsy? Is hesnoopin' '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 haveoffered 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 timeyer goes ter town, jest ter spend reckless. I 'll marry yer. I 'lltake yer ter Minehead and get the piousest parson in the town. Wouldyer like Darlin' fer a bridesmaid--and grog and angel-cake? Me jestsettin' ready ter kiss yer every time yer passes it. I 'm blowed! Youare wickeder than ol' Flint's lantern. It must be Red Joe. Him withthe smirk! There 's a young feller 'round here, Betsy, as wants terlook 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. Aninny 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. Hejerks away his hand for fear of being nipped. The ungrateful world hasturned 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 littleship. Women are a queer lot. _

_The Captain and Patch-Eye have climbed down the ladder. They burstwith jest. The Captain sits on the chair by the fire, mimicing theposture of the Duke. Patch-Eye perches on his knee. _)

PATCH: Darlin' loves yer, Duke. 

CAPTAIN: Course she does. They all does. Youngsters, too--winkin' andgivin' 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 Captainand Patch-Eye, chuckling at their jest, sit to a game of cards. TheDuke returns to the chest. Once in a while he lays down the ship andseems to be thinking. The broken crystal of the fortune-teller lies onthe floor. He picks it up and puts it to his eye, as if the future maystill show upon its face. He is preoccupied with his disappointmentand 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 achild at cards, Patch. How ain 't it that yer never learnt? Did n'tyer ever play black-ace at the Rusty Anchor down Greenwich way? Crackme hook, I 've played with ol' Flint hisself, settin' in the leetleback room. With somethin' wet and warmin' now and then, jest ter keepthe stomich cozy. Never stopped till Phoebus's fiery eye looked inthe 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 atear. 

CAPTAIN: Yer cries as easy as a crocodile. And yer as innercent atcards 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 agibbet, jest like ol' Flint. There 's a gibbet, Captain, on Wappin'wharf, jest 'round the corner from the Sailors' Rest. Does yerremember it, Captain? It makes yer grog belch on yer. 

CAPTAIN: (_to tease and frighten Patch_). Aye. There was two sailormenhangin' there when I comes in a year ago. 

PATCH: Horrers!

CAPTAIN: Jest swingin' in the wind, and tryin' ter get their toes downcomfertable. (_He has hooked two empty mugs and he rocks them back andforth. _) 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 andWappin' wharf ain 't nothin' ter talk about. 

CAPTAIN: I never see a flock o' crows but I asks their pardon ferkeepin' 'em waitin' fer their supper. Crows, Patch, is fond o' yer asyer are, without neither sauce ner gravy--jest pickin' 'appy, soupter 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 asPetey's pussycat. 

PATCH: I ain 't, ain 't I? Was n't it me as nudged the Captain o' theNorthern Star off his poop--when he were n't lookin'? Him with apistol in his boot! Did n't I hit Bill, the bos'n, with amarline-spike--jest afore he woke up? Sweet dreams, I says, and Itapped him gentle. I got a lot o' spunk. Bill did n't wake up, he didn'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 yearsago. What yer done since? Jest loadin' yer stomich--jest gruntin' andwallerin' in the trough--jest braggin'. 

PATCH: I ain 't 'fraid o' nothin'--'cept a gibbet. (_For a moment theugly word sticks in his gullet. _) But the ol' lady kinder got me. Yerlooked down yer nose yerself, Captain--askin' yer pardon. 

CAPTAIN: Struck me, Patch, she was jest a wee bit flustered by RedJoe. Did yer notice how she sat and looked at the glass? And would n'tsay nothin'? Jest nothin' at all. 

PATCH: And then the ol' dear's fingers slipped and the glass wasbroke. 

CAPTAIN: It looks almost as if she done it a purpose. 

(_The Duke has been thinking all of this time with necessarycontortions of the face. It is amazing how these help on a knottyproblem. _)

DUKE: Course she done it a purpose. It was ter stop me lookin' 'crossher 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 wasbroke. 

CAPTAIN and PATCH: What did yer see?

(_There is intense silence. The Duke comes forward to the table. Hetaps his fingers sagely. He looks mysteriously at his fellow pirates. They put their heads together. The Duke sinks his voice. In suchposture 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', shewould 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 'sas straight a shot as I 've seen in many a year. Patch, agin him, isjest 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' ladyseen in the glass. 

(_Once more the Duke draws the pirates around him. He is Guy Faux andthe 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 sticko' her--never come ter shore. Does yer remember a wreck 'long herewhere 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 apigtail. 

CAPTAIN: Spinach, I calls it. 

DUKE: And ol' Pew, he 'd got a pigtail, ain 't he? And every blessedman 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, withnary 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 somedesignin' 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. Doesn't yer smell anythin'?

CAPTAIN: (_as he turns his head and sniffs audibly_). I can 't say asI 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 orgrog around. I 'm askin' yer pardon, Captain. Does Red Joe talk like apirate? Sink me, he can 't rip an oath. Did yer ever know a piratewhich 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. Weknows 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 weseen--mermaids and sea-serpents and such? Did yer jest once ever hearRed Joe tell what he 's seen? Yer can sink me stern up with all lightsburnin', 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 hisswift perception. He leans across the table to share his secret withPatch. _) I seem ter get what Duke means. He 's hintin', Patch, thatRed 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 onhim. _)

PATCH: If I thought he was a spy, I 'd ketch him right here with medirk. 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 beenamusin' yerselves. Askin' yer pardon, Captain, but cards rots themind. Did yer ever know a pirate that ain 't drunk at the Port Lighton Wappin' wharf?

CAPTAIN: Not as yet I never did. I never knowed a pirate as did n'thave a double-barreled nose fer grog. 

DUKE: Well, when Red Joe comes in, we 'll jest ask him. And we 'll askhim if he ever played black-ace at the Rusty Anchor. 

CAPTAIN: It ain 't no night ter have spies about. With the Royal 'Arrycomin' 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 'mtellin' 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 himout, won 't yer let me slit his wizen? I does it pretty, withoutmussin' up the cabin. I ain 't askin' favors often, Captain. And I've 'ticerler reasons--reasons as touches me heart. (_For a moment heis almost sentimental. _) Reasons as touches me heart! Red Joe 's beensnoopin'. 

CAPTAIN: I loves yer, Duke. There ain 't much as I won 't let yerhave. And jest ter show yer that I 'm all cut up by this heresnoopin', when I 'm dead I 'll will yer this ol' hook o' mine, as hasscraped a hundred men. 

DUKE: Yer honors me, Captain. And if I is shoveled in first, me stumpis yourn. 

CAPTAIN: It 's handsome of yer, Duke. And I 'll not be jolly till ayear 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 fingerson their lips. They are innocence itself. The Duke scratches the headof the parrot. The strange bird declines to taste his grog. Patch-Eyeshuffles the cards. The Captain hooks the mugs toward him one by onefor 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 asold ladies with their darning. I 've just come from seeing Petey, upat the lighthouse. Petey says that along in about fifteen minutes theRoyal 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 whatRed Joe means. 

CAPTAIN: Right yer are, Joey. We must be trottin'. 

DUKE: What 's the name o' that tavern, Joe, at Wappin' wharf where wegets the uncommon grog?

JOE: Wappin' wharf? I 'm blessed if the name 's not gone from me. Thegrog '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 thesignboard?

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 putfaster and with insolence. Dirk and hook are drawn. Joe stands in aneasy, careless attitude. He seems ignorant of danger. He has taken acoal from the fire and slowly, deliberately, with back to the menace, he lights his pipe. Then suddenly he drops it from his teeth. He leapsto action. He draws his knife--two knives, one for each hand. He kicksaway a chair, for room. He drives the pirates across the cabin. Thecandle--all the mugs upon the table--rattle to the stones. He criesout with bravado. _)

JOE: Who offers me his carcass first? What! Is pirate blood so thinand white?

(_The pirates stand with knives drawn. It is an awkward moment ofsocial precedence. _)

PATCH: (_safe in the farthest corner_). It 's me patch, Captain. It 'sfetched loose. I follers yer. 

JOE: Come, Duke, and take your answer! Have you no stomach for mymessage? 'Fore God, is there no black ram to lead his sheep to theshearing?

(_Joe's is a dangerous gayety. His two knives glisten in the candlelight. _)

PATCH: Scrape him with yer hook, Captain, I follers yer. 

JOE: My knife frets. It is thirsty for thick red wine. Who offers mehis cask to tap? I 'll pledge the King, although it is a dirtyvintage. Come, Captain, I 'll carve you to a dainty morsel. We 'llhave fresh meat for the platter. You 'll not be known from scaredrabbit-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 meis back o' yer. 

JOE: Do you fear to cheat the gibbet on Wapping wharf? A knife 's asweeter end. Who comes first? I 'll help him across the Styx. Or sinkor 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 pigtailsdown your throats. I 'll wash your dirt in blood. 

(_The Duke proves to be the strategist. He has edged to the rear ofthe cabin. He circles behind Red Joe. And now in a flash he leaps onhim. Joe is buried under the three pirates, for Patch's valor returnswhen Joe is down. Joe is tied with ropes and fastened to an upright atthe chimneyside. This is the terrible, glorious moment, now that thefight is over, when the actor-manager, as I first read the play--asexplained in the preface (you really must read the preface)--turnedhis excited somersault down the carpet. _)

PATCH: Did yer notice, Captain, how I took him by the throat? He wassquirmin' loose when I grabbed him. It was me tripped him. 

DUKE: Captain, I asks yer a favor. Can I stick him now. Dead men tellno tales. 

PATCH: Captain, yer jest makes a pet o' the Duke. Ain 't it my turn? Igets 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 willbe showin' 'round the cliff any minute now. Red Joe 's safe. He 'stied up double. We 'll have a merry party arterward--with grog andangel cake. It 's business afore pleasure. Here, Duke, take thelantern. (_He shakes it. _) It 's full o' ile. Jest stir yer timberstump, 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 doesn't step along. Yer a yeller-livered, maggoty land fish. I curbs metongue. I scorns yer worse 'n cow's milk. Go 'long, afore I loosens upand 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 insight. 

DUKE: By by, Joey. See yer later, ol' angel cake. Yer has jest timeter 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. Itain 't proper fer a lady as has me temptin' beauty ter be left alonewith snoopers. 

(_The cabin is empty except for Red Joe. He strains at his cords, butis tied fast. You hear the voices of the pirates singing in thedistance. _)

 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 seesJoe but passes him in fright. She runs to the window and shields hereyes 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 theship's lantern shows at the window to the left. All sounds arehushed. _)

BETSY: The ship 's in sight. I see her lights. She has rounded thefarther cliff. I see her turning. She heads in from the sea. Her threemasts are in line. She steers for the lantern. God have mercy! She 'llstrike in another minute. (_She stuffs her ears and runs from thewindow. _) 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. Sheruns 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. Shecuts Joe's cords. Joe seizes the gun that leans against the clock. Hetakes deliberate aim through the window. He fires. The window glass isshattered. The ship's lantern is hit. The light vanishes. He replacesthe 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. Iremember--

JOE: What do you remember?

BETSY: A great staircase--a room, with shadows from a candle. And whenI was afraid, a lady sang to me. And she set the candle so that thefearful 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 whosecrook'd elbow was level with my head? And once we climbed a tower--ordo I recall a dream? You held me so that I might see the wavesbreaking on the rocks below. Then with level eyes we looked upon thesea, and cried out our discovery of each glistening sail. Are thesethings real? One morning you mounted horse, and I was held aloft sothat you might stoop and kiss me. You rode off with a clatter on thestones. You turned and waved your hat. And now you have come back. Youare 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 thepath outside. Joe has just time to put himself in the posture in whichthe 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 thecliff. 

CAPTAIN: What 's that?

DUKE: I hears the rattlin' o' chains. She 's droppin' anchor. She hassniffed the willainy. Her anchor 's down. She 's saved hisself. Blowme, 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 apirate ship rocking on the sea. Our plot still twists us around itslittle finger. The curtain rises on the tableau of the second act. OldPetey 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 wentout. 

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 jestsniffed willainy and dropped anchor. 

PATCH: I was repeatin' Smash yer devil! Smash yer devil!--kinderhurryin' 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, yerseen 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 agibbet. 

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. Itwere a comfert to the ol' Captain ter know that all o' yer seen it. Iseen a yeller rhinoceros once, runnin' along with purple mice--allalone 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 yearon ol' Flint's ship--swingin' easy and contented all 'round theHorn--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 nomore 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 audiencemight as well go home. But presently the Duke sees something at therear of the cabin. He looks as you or I would look if we saw a yellowelephant taking its after-dinner coffee in the sitting-room; but, ashe is a pirate, he is not frightened--merely interested and intent. Hebrushes his hand before his eyes, to make sure it is no delusion--notgrog or rum. Then he rises softly. He crosses to the window. Verygently he touches the glass. He finds it is really broken. He loosensa piece of the shattered glass. The others are sunk in such melancholythat they do not observe him. _

_He gazes through the window, studying the direction of the brokenship's lantern. He traces the angle with his finger. The gesture endswith an accusing finger pointing at Red Joe. He whistles softly. For amoment his eye rests upon the gun, which leans against the clock. Hehas guessed the riddle. He advances casually, but with dirk in hand. He comes in front of Joe. Suddenly he presses the blade of his dirkagainst 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 thatknife? Does yer see Joe? I 'm tellin' yer. It was him shot out thelantern. 

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' foryer. There 's some folks settin' here as are fat-headed, and thinksships' lanterns explode. 

PATCH: Easy now, ol' dear. Yer alers pitchin' inter me, 'cause I 'mgood-natered. 

CAPTAIN: Red Joe, I calls yer a dirty spy. A swab! A landlubber! Ferone copper farthin' I 'd ketch yer one with this hook. 

DUKE: It was me discovered him. I asks yer, Captain, ter leave Red Joeter 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 tothe kitchen. 

DUKE: This ain 't no place fer a leetle girl. It will give yer baddreams. Mince pie 's nothin'. 

(_Betsy attempts to leave the cabin by the door that leads to thecliffs--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 terbe out. I ain 't goin' ter have me Duchess snifflin' with a cold. Goto grandma! It was me discovered him, Captain. I 'm askin' yer afavor. He 's a snooper. 

PATCH: Captain, I gets rusty. 

CAPTAIN: Lay off, me hearties. Duke! Patch! I loves both o' yer. Iloves yer equal, like two mugs o' grog as is full alike. Yer can pitchdice ter see which does it. 

(_He places the dice cup on the table beside the candle. The Duke andPatch 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. Theleetle bones is me friends. I never throws less 'n a five spot. Imakes a pint o' shakin' the bones till they rattles jolly. I likes thesound o' it even better 'n the blessed scrapin' o' a spoon what 'sstirrin' grog. Write it on me tombstone--if I rots ashore--He was thekinder 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 andfalls. The cabin is dark. You can see her run from the cabin and passthe 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 seacoalfrom 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 sitdown, 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 goodtryin' 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 pairo' sixes! Does yer see it, Duke? Stick yer blinkin' eye right downagin 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 twistit until you roared. I 'd kick you off my path like a snarling cur. Ofwhat filth does nature sometimes compound a man! Shall a skunk walktwo-legged to infect the air? Three cowards will hang on Wapping wharfbefore 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 herehas 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 jestlistenin' to a speech. 

JOE: A pirate takes his chance of death. You guard your dirty skins bywrecking ships upon the rocks. You dare not pit yourselves against abreathing victim. Like carrion-crows you sit to a vile and bloatedbanquet. 

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 majestythat I would clear his coast of pirates. My plans are made. Thechannel is swept by gunboats. They will close in on you tomorrow--youand 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. Inderision he hangs it across Red Joe's shoulders. _)

DUKE: We 'll play ch'rades. Here 's yer costume, Joey. There! It fitsyer like the skin o' a snake. We makes yer King. Yer looks like yerwas 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, andpeacocks struttin' in the garden. 

CAPTAIN: King, I asks yer ter cast yer gig on me. I 'd be a rightsmart Archbishop o' Canterbury. Me whiskers is 'clesiastical. 

DUKE: I offers meself, King, as Lord 'Igh Admiral o' the Navy. Iswears 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' thesound 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 youhear 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 uncommonsleepy. 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 alovin' father ter me. Joey, I 'll tell yer what yer are. Yer the kindo' feller I hates most perticerler. Yer a spy! Say yer prayers, youhissin' 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 dimand faith 's the only compass. Now or hereafter, what matters it? Thesun will gild the meadows as of yesteryear. The moon will fee theworld with silver coin. And all across the earth men will traffic ontheir little errands until nature calls them home. I am a stone castin a windy pool where scarce a ripple shows. Life 's but a candle inthe 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 burnedright down to the bottle. Yer had better put it out, without morehesitatin'. 

(_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 brokenglass. _

_It quite terrifies me as I write. My pencil shakes. Old ladies willwant to scream. _

_The fingers grope along the sill. They fumble on the wall. Theystretch to reach the gun which stands beside the clock. Another inchand they will grasp it and Red Joe will be saved. The arm rubs againstthe pendulum of the clock. It swings and the clock starts to tick. Andstill no one has seen the terrible hand. And now the fingers arethrust blindly against the gun. It falls with a clatter on the stones. The hand and arm disappear. But Darlin' has seen the swinging pendulumand 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 mantalkin'. 

DUKE: Quick! Give me the knife! I 'll stick it in him. And when I 'mdone, we scatters. There 's trouble brewin'. Termorrer night, when thetide is out, we meets at the holler cave. And may the devil lend ahelpin' hand. Snooper, are yer ready? Does yer see this here bladeshinin' in the candle? In about one minute I 'll be wipin' off astreak o' red upon me breeks. Flint--blessin' on yer gentle soul!--yercan 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 velvetcloak!

CAPTAIN: It 's him! Me God! Me hook!

(_With a growl of rage the pirates leap forward toward Joe, but arearrested by the sound of running feet. Into the cabin rushes thesailor captain, followed by three sailors. The sailor captain cries"_'Vast there!_" and the pirates turn to face his men. They put up afight worthy of old Flint. Darlin', to escape the rough-and-tumbleruns half way up the ladder. The table is overturned. The stools arekicked across the room. Even the precious grog is spilled. But thepirates' valor is insufficient. They are overpowered at last and tied. Red Joe's cords are cut. Into the cabin Betsy comes running, followedby 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 isstaunch to the last--a true cook for a pirates' band. _)

JOE: You will transport them in chains to London to wait theirsentence by a court of law. 

SAILOR CAPTAIN: Yes, your majesty. 

JOE: You mistake me, Captain. My father is the King of England. I ambut the Prince of Wales. 

SAILOR CAPTAIN: Alas, sire, we bring you heavy news. Your RoyalFather, the King of England, has been killed, fighting gloriously onthe soil of France. 

JOE: Bear with me. My grief has leaped the channel. My thought is asilent mourner at my father's grave. Shall a King sink to the measureof a mound of turf for the tread of a peasant's foot? Where is now theermine robe, the glistening crown, the harness of a fighting hour, thesceptre that marked the giddy office, the voice, the flashing eye thatstirred a coward to bravery, the iron gauntlet shaking in the pallidface of France? All--all covered by a spadeful of country earth. Captain, has Calais fallen to our army's siege? Are the French liliesplucked for England's boutoniere?

SAILOR CAPTAIN: Calais has fallen. 

JOE: Then God be praised even in this hard hour. By heaven's help Ithrow off the idle practice of my youth. The empty tricks and trivialhabits of the careless years, I renounce them all. A wind has scouredthe sullen clouds of youth. My past has been a ragged garment, stainedwith heedless hours. Tonight I cast it off, like a coat that is out atelbow. My father henceforth lives in me. 

(_Meg, at her entrance, has sniffed the wasted grog. Her nose, surerthan a hazel wand, inclines above the hearth. She bends to the lovelypuddle. She employs and tastes her dripping finger--covertly, withmannerly regard to the Prince's rhetoric--sucking in secret his goodhealth and happy returns, so to speak. The liquor warms hertongue--not to drunkenness, but to ease and comfort. The hearth-stoneis her tavern chair. _)

MEG: (_not boisterously--with just a flip of her trickling finger, asif it were a foaming cup_). Hooray! I wants ter be the first, yerMajesty, ter swear allegiance to yer throne. I saw yer future in theglass. Ol' Meg knowed yer, like she had rocked yer in the cradle. Itold yer I would come in yer hour o' danger. It was me reached throughthe 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 tothe delicious salvage, with back against the chimney and woolen legsout-stretched. Speeches to her are nothing now. We cannot expect herhelp in winding up our play. The burden falls on Joe. We must bepatient through a sentimental page or two. _)

JOE: Ha! My velvet cloak, which I left at Castle Crag when I laidaside the Prince and took disguise. These unintentioned ruffians bytheir 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 Iwant your allegiance in another high concern. Some fourteen years ago, when I was a lad of ten, I journeyed with my royal father to thecastle of the Duke of Cornwall, which stands high on the wind-sweptcoast. Its giddy towers rise sheer above the ocean until the veryrooks nesting in the battlements grow dizzy at the height. It is theouter bastion of the world, laughing to scorn the ocean's siege. 

In that castle, Captain, there lived a little girl; and she and Iromped 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 seethe waves curling on the rocks below. And tales of mermaids Iinvented, and shipwreck and treasure buried in the noisy caverns ofthe rock, where twice a day the greedy tide goes in and out to seekits fortune. And far afield we wandered and stood waist-deep in thegolden meadows, until the weary twilight called us home. 

And I remember, when tired with play, that her mother sang to us anold song, a lullaby. Her voice was soft, with a gentleness that only amother knows who sits with drowsy children. 

And to that little girl I was betrothed. It was sworn with oath andsignature that some day I would marry her and that, when I became kingof 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 toldthe 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 titlepossessor of all land 'twixt Exeter and Land's End. And now, by herconsent 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 myhome. These are my friends--the only friends I have ever known. Theyfed me when I had no food and they kept me warm against the cold. Mustthey 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 tersplice yer, Betsy, keel ter topsail. The ol' Duke never thought theCountess of all them places, and the Queen o' England, ter boot, wouldever be settin' on his knee, pullin' at his whiskers--him askin' herter 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 grogtogether, 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 roastpig 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 kissesher fingers to the pirates in farewell. The sailors follow. Thepirates and Darlin' are left. The pirates sit at the table. Theyexchange glances of satisfaction. They unbutton for a quiet evening athome. Kings are but an episode in a pirate's life. They return to thehappy routine of their lives. Our adventure has circled to itsstart. _)

PATCH: Darlin'! Me friend, the Duke, is thirsty. Yer had better mixanother pot o' grog. Yer does n't want ter be a foolish virgin and getketched 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 comeflutterin' ter his lovin' arms. I thinks it 's yer whiskers, Duke. 

CAPTAIN: Yer can pull one, Betsy, fer the locket that yer wears. We islaughin' 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 goesdry, I gets homesick fer the ocean. Here we be, Duke, thrown up atlast ter rot like driftwood on the shore. It was 'appy days when wesailed 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 contentedfamily around the evening candle. They are as cozy as old ladies withtheir darning. Meg snores in peace as the curtain falls. _)

 * * * * *

_Our candles have burned to socket. Our pasteboard cabin is bare anddark. No longer do pirate flags flaunt the ghostly seas. The stormyocean, the dizzy cliffs of Devon, melt like an unsubstantial pageant. Let's put away our toys--the timber leg, the patch, the frightfulhook. Once again, despite the weary signpost of the years, we have runon the laughing avenues of childhood. _