Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 259

KEENEY. It's too cold, Annie. You'd best stay below. There's nothing to look at on deck--but ice.

MRS. KEENEY [_monotonously_]. I know--ice, ice, ice! But there's nothing to see down here but these walls.

[_She makes a gesture of loathing._]

KEENEY. You can play the organ, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY [_dully_]. I hate the organ. It puts me in mind of home.

KEENEY [_a touch of resentment in his voice_]. I got it jest for you!

MRS. KEENEY [_dully_]. I know. [_She turns away from them and walks slowly to the bench on left. She lifts up one of the curtains and looks through a porthole; then utters an exclamation of joy._] Ah, water!

Clear water! As far as I can see! How good it looks after all these months of ice! [_She turns round to them, her face transfigured with joy._] Ah, now I must go up on deck and look at it, David!

KEENEY [_frowning_]. Best not to-day, Annie. Best wait for a day when the sun shines.

MRS. KEENEY [_desperately_]. But the sun never shines in this terrible place.

KEENEY [_a tone of command in his voice_]. Best not to-day, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY [_crumbling before this command--abjectly_]. Very well, David.

[_She stands there, staring straight before her as if in a daze.--The two men look at her uneasily._]

KEENEY [_sharply_]. Annie!

MRS. KEENEY [_dully_]. Yes, David.

KEENEY. Me and Mr. Sloc.u.m has business to talk about--ship's business.

MRS. KEENEY. Very well, David.

[_She goes slowly out, rear, and leaves the door three-quarters shut behind her._]

KEENEY. Best not have her on deck if they's goin' to be any trouble.

MATE. Yes, sir.

KEENEY. And trouble they's going to be. I feel it in my bones. [_Takes a revolver from the pocket of his coat and examines it._] Got your'n?

MATE. Yes, sir.

KEENEY. Not that we'll have to use 'em--not if I know their breed of dog--jest to frighten 'em up a bit. [_Grimly._] I ain't never been forced to use one yit; and trouble I've had by land and by sea s'long as I kin remember, and will have till my dyin' day, I reckon.

MATE [_hesitatingly_]. Then you ain't goin'--to turn back?

KEENEY. Turn back! Mr. Sloc.u.m, did you ever hear o' me pointin' s'uth for home with only a measly four hundred barrel of ile in the hold?

MATE [_hastily_]. But the grub's gittin' low.

KEENEY. They's enough to last a long time yit, if they're careful with it; and they's plenty of water.

MATE. They say it's not fit to eat--what's left; and the two years they signed on fur is up to-day. They might make trouble for you in the courts when we git home.

KEENEY. Let them make what law trouble they kin! I don't give a d.a.m.n 'bout the money. I've got to git the ile! [_Glancing sharply at the Mate._] You ain't turnin' no sea lawyer, be you, Mr. Sloc.u.m?

MATE [_flushing_]. Not by a h.e.l.l of a sight, sir.

KEENEY. What do the fools want to go home fur now? Their share o' the four hundred barrel wouldn't keep them in chewin' terbacco.

MATE [_slowly_]. They wants to git back to their old folks an' things, I s'pose.

KEENEY [_looking at him searchingly_]. 'N you want to turn back too.

[_The Mate looks down confusedly before his sharp gaze._] Don't lie, Mr.

Sloc.u.m. It's writ down plain in your eyes. [_With grim sarcasm._] I hope, Mr. Sloc.u.m, you ain't agoin' to jine the men agin me.

MATE [_indignantly_]. That ain't fair, sir, to say sich things.

KEENEY [_with satisfaction_]. I warn't much afeard o' that, Tom. You been with me nigh on ten year and I've learned ye whalin'. No man kin say I ain't a good master, if I be a hard one.

MATE. I warn't thinkin' of myself, sir--'bout turnin' home, I mean.

[_Desperately._] But Mrs. Keeney, sir--seems like she ain't jest satisfied up here, ailin' like--what with the cold an' bad luck an' the ice an' all.

KEENEY [_his face clouding--rebukingly, but not severely_]. That's my business, Mr. Sloc.u.m. I'll thank you to steer a clear course o' that.

[_A pause._] The ice'll break up soon to no'the'ard. I could see it startin' to-day. And when it goes and we git some sun Annie'll pick up.

[_Another pause--then he bursts forth._] It ain't the d.a.m.ned money what's keepin' me up in the Northern seas, Tom. But I can't go back to Homeport with a measly four hundred barrel of ile. I'd die fust. I ain't never come back home in all my days without a full ship. Ain't that true?

MATE. Yes, sir; but this voyage you been ice-bound, an'--

KEENEY [_scornfully_]. And d'you s'pose any of 'em would believe that--any o' them skippers I've beaten voyage after voyage? Can't you hear 'em laughin' and sneerin'--Tibbots n' Harris n' Simms and the rest--and all o' Homeport makin' fun o' me? "Dave Keeney, what boasts he's the best whalin' skipper out o' Homeport, comin' back with a measly four hundred barrel of ile!" [_The thought of this drives him into a frenzy and he smashes his fist down on the marble top of the sideboard._] I got to git the ile, I tell you! How could I figger on this ice? It's never been so bad before in the thirty year I been acomin' here. And now it's breakin' up. In a couple o' days it'll be all gone. And they's whale here, plenty of 'em. I know they is and I ain't never gone wrong yit. I got to git the ile! I got to git it in spite of all h.e.l.l, and by G.o.d, I ain't agoin' home till I do git it!

[_There is the sound of subdued sobbing from the door in rear. The two men stand silent for a moment, listening. Then Keeney goes over to the door and looks in. He hesitates for a moment as if he were going to enter--then closes the door softly. Joe, the harpooner, an enormous six-footer with a battered, ugly face, enters from right and stands waiting for the Captain to notice him._]

KEENEY [_turning and seeing him_]. Don't be standin' there like a hawk, Harpooner. Speak up!

JOE [_confusedly_]. We want--the men, sir--they wants to send a depitation aft to have a word with you.

KEENEY [_furiously_]. Tell 'em to go to--[_Checks himself and continues grimly._] Tell 'em to come. I'll see 'em.

JOE. Aye, aye, sir.

[_He goes out._]

KEENEY [_with a grim smile_]. Here it comes, the trouble you spoke of, Mr. Sloc.u.m, and we'll make short shift of it. It's better to crush such things at the start than let them make headway.

MATE [_worriedly_]. Shall I wake up the First and Fourth, sir? We might need their help.

KEENEY. No, let them sleep. I'm well able to handle this alone, Mr.

Sloc.u.m.