Wappin' Wharf Part 10

DARLIN': Ner gibbets?

CAPTAIN: Ner sailormen swingin' in the wind?

(_Old Meg is visibly affected by what she has seen. The Duke, with a suspicious glance at Red Joe, moves forward to look over her shoulder at the gla.s.s. Slyly she sees him. She pushes the crystal forward and it breaks upon the stones. Then she rises abruptly. She lifts a portentous finger. She advances to Red Joe._)

MEG: I sees danger fer yer, Joe. Who can tell whether it be death? 'T is beyond my magic. But beware a knife! Go not near the cliff! (_Then, in a lower tone._) You will see me agin. And in your hour o' danger.

When yer least expects it.

(_She is about to curtsy, but turns abruptly and leaves the cabin.

Darlin', with shaken nerves, runs to bolt the door. There is silence except for the monotone of rain._)

PATCH: Nice cheerful ol' lady, I says.

CAPTAIN: Yer can pipe the devil up, but she give me s.h.i.+vers.

JOE: For just a minute I thought some old lady had died and left me her money box.

(_The Duke picks up a fragment of the crystal and puts it to his eye.

He examines it at the candle, and turns it round and round. He makes nothing of it, and shakes his head._)

PATCH: Yer can dim me gig that 's left, I 'm clean upset.

CAPTAIN: I ain 't been so down in the boots since the blessed angels took Flint ter 'ell.

DUKE: Captain, you and Patch is melancholier 'n funerals. Weepin'

widders is jollier. Will yer let a hanted, thirsty, grog-eyed grand-daughter o' a blinkin' sea-serpent upset yer 'appy dispersitions? Stiffen yerself! Keep yer nose up, Captain! We has sea enough. We 're not thumpin' on the rocks.

CAPTAIN: Yer said it, Duke. I sulks unnecessary. There 's ol' Petey s.h.i.+nin' up there. Termorrer night, if the wind holds, we 'll see his starin' eye go out, and our lantern s.h.i.+nin' at t' other winder. (_He takes a pirate flag from his boot. He smoothes it with affection. Then he waves it on his hook._) The crossbones as hung on the masthead o'

the Spittin' Devil. Ol' Flint's wery flag. Him as they hanged on a gibbet on Wappin' wharf. It was a mirky night like this, with 'prentices gawpin' in the lanterns and Jack Ketch unsnarlin' his cursed ropes. I spits blood ter think o' it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Ol' Flint's wery flag"]

DUKE: I 'll die easy when I 've revenged his death and the ol' clock is tickin' peaceful and Flint sleepin' 'appy in his rotten coffin.

CAPTAIN: A drink all 'round. We 'll drink the health o' this here flag. You 'll drink with us, Darlin'.

DARLIN': Yer spoils me, Captain.

(_Everyone drinks._)

CAPTAIN: And now we 'll drink confusion to the swab that 's settin' on the English throne.

(_All drink except Red Joe. He makes the pretense, but pours his grog out covertly. Our play is nothing if not subtle._)

DUKE: Here 's to ol' Flint!

ALL: Here 's to ol' Flint!

(_It is bed-time. They all stretch and yawn. The Captain climbs the ladder to the sleeping loft. Patch follows with the candle, warming the Captain's seat for speed. The Duke comes next, carrying his one boot which he has removed before the fire. Darlin' kisses her hand to the Duke and retires to the kitchen. We suspect that she curls up inside the sink, with a stewpan for a pillow. Red Joe lingers for a moment and stands gazing at the ocean._)

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

(_He climbs the ladder. And now, with an occasional dropping boot, the pirates prepare for bed. Presently we hear the Duke up above, singing--rigorously at first, until drowsiness dulls the tune._)

It is said in port by the sailor sort, As they swig all night at their rum, That a jolly grave is the ocean wave, But a churchyard bell 's too glum.

I agrees ter this and ter give 'em bliss-- From Pew I learned the trick-- I push 'em wide o' the wessel's side And poke 'em down with a stick.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Darlin' warms her old red stockings]

(_Darlin' enters. With a prodigious yawn she sits at the fire. She kicks off her slippers and warms her old red stockings. She comforts herself with grog and spits across the hearth. She sleeps and gently snores. The Duke continues with his song._)

Ol' Flint had a fist and an iron wrist, And he thumped on the nose, it is said, Till a wictim's gore ran over the floor And he rolled in the scuppers dead.

But, Patch, there 's a few, I 'm tellin' ter you, Who 's nice and they hates a muss, And a plank, I contend, is a tidier end.

No sweepin', nor sc.r.a.pin', nor fuss.

Captain Kidd, when afloat, put the crew in a boat, And he shoved 'em off fer to starve.

On a rock in the sea, says he ter me--on a rock In the sea, says he ter me--on a rock--

(_The singer's voice fails. Sleep engulfs him. Silence! Then sounds of snoring. The range of Caucasus hath not noisier winds. Let's draw the curtain on the tempest!_)

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ACT II]

ACT II

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

_In this scene we had wished to have a moon. The Duke will need it presently in his courts.h.i.+p; for marvelously it sharpens a lover's oath. 'T is a silver spur to a halting wooer. Shrewd merchants, I am told, go so far as to consult the almanac when laying in their store of wedding fits; for a cloudy June throws Cupid off his aim. What cosmetic--what rouge or powder--so paints a beauty! If the moon were full twice within the month scarcely a bachelor would be left. I pray you, master carpenter, hang me up a moon. But our plot has put its foot down. "Mirk," it says, "mirk and fog are best for our dirty business."_

_We had wished, also, to place one act of our piece on the deck of a pirate s.h.i.+p, rocking in a storm. Such high excitement is your right, for your payment at the door. It required but the stroke of a lazy pencil. But our plot has dealt stubbornly with us. We are still in the pirates' cabin in the fog._

_We hear Darlin' singing in the kitchen, as the curtain rises._

[Music: DARLIN'S SONG]

Oh, I am the cook fer a pirate band And food I never spoil.

Cabbage and such, it sure ain 't much, Till I sets it on ter boil.

And I throws on salt and I throws on spice, And the Duke, he says ter me, Me Darlin', me pet, I 'm in yer debt, And he sighs contentedlee.

(_There is a rattle of tinware. Patch-Eye sings the next stanza in the loft._)

On the Strand, it 's true, I 'm tellin' ter you, The Dukes and the d.u.c.h.esses dwell.

And they dines in state on golden plate-- Eatin' and drinkin' like 'ell.