Wappin' Wharf Part 5

He brooded hisself inter drink. 'Appy days! (_She is lost for a moment in her glorious past, then blows her nose upon her ap.r.o.n and returns to us._) Duke--askin' yer pardon--I was noticin' lately that you was castin' yer eyes on leetle Betsy.

DUKE: As washes the dishes?

DARLIN': Her.

DUKE: Go 'long!

DARLIN': And I thought yer might be drawn to her.

DUKE: Darlin', I 'm easy riled.

DARLIN': Yer can have her, Duke, on one condition.

DUKE: She 's a pretty leetle girl.

DARLIN': Yer must set me up in a pub in Bristol--with bra.s.s beer-pulls.

DUKE: I 'll not deny I 've given her a thought. Usual, wives is nuisances--naggin' at yer fer sixpences. But sometimes I does get lonesome on a wet night when there are nothin' ter do. I need someone ter hand me down me boots. Betsy 'd make a kinder cozy wife. Could yer learn her ter make grog?

DARLIN': Aye.

DUKE: I might do worse. And roast pig that crackles?

DARLIN': I could learn her.

DUKE: I might do worser. I 'd marry you, Darlin'--

DARLIN': Dearie!

DUKE: But yer gettin' on. Patch might marry yer. He 's only got one eye.

DARLIN': (_with scorn_). Patch!

DUKE: I 'll not deny I 've been considerin' leetle Betsy. I was thinkin' about it this mornin' as I was cleanin' me boot. Wives cleans boots. I 'm the sort o' sailorman she would be sure ter like.

DARLIN': And what about the pub?

DUKE: Blast me stump, Darlin', I 'll not ferget yer.

DARLIN': Does I get bra.s.s beer-pulls in the tap?

DUKE: Everythin' s.h.i.+ny.

DARLIN': I 'm lovin' yer.

DUKE: Betsy would kinder jump at me. There 's somethin' tender about a young girl's first love--cooin' in yer arms.

DARLIN': Easy, Duke!

DUKE: I alers was a fav'rite with the ladies. I think it 's me whiskers.

DARLIN': 'Vast there, Duke! There 's a shoal ahead. Red Joe 's a right smart feller.

DUKE: Red Joe?

DARLIN': Him. He sets and watches her.

DUKE: What can she see in a young feller like that?

DARLIN': Women 's queer folks. They 're wicious wampires. Jest yer watch 'em together. Red Joe 's snoopin' in on yer.

DUKE: Yer can blast me. He ain 't got whiskers.

DARLIN': I 'm tellin' yer, Duke. If I was you I 'd tumble that Red Joe off a cliff. I 'm hintin' to yer, Duke. Off a cliff! (_She sniffs audibly._) It 's the pig. I clean fergot the pig. It 's burnin' on the fire. Off a cliff! I 'm hintin' to yer.

(_She runs to the kitchen._)

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

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

_If Red Joe were born a gentleman we might expect silver buckles and a yellow feather to trail across his shoulder, for he bears a jaunty dignity. His is a careless grace--the swagger of a pleasant vagabond--a bravado that snaps its fingers at danger. His body has the quickness of a cat, his eye a flash of humor--kindly, unless necessity sharpens it. As poets were thick in those golden days we suspect that the roar of the ocean sets rhymes jingling in his heart. He is, however, almost as shabby as the other pirates, although he wears no pigtail. His collar is turned up. He wrings the water from his hat._

_Patch-Eye throws himself on the seaman's chest and falls asleep at once. He snores an obligato to our scene. Just once an ugly dream disturbs him and we must fancy that a gibbet has crossed the frightful shadow of his thoughts._)

DUKE: Evenin', ol' sea-serpent! Where has you been?

JOE: Up at the lighthouse. It 's as mirky as h.e.l.l's back door.

DUKE: See Petey?

JOE: I did. He was puttering with his light and meowing to his tabby cat.

DUKE: We 're a blessin' ter ol' Petey. I 'm bettin' me stump he 'd get lonesome up there 'cept fer us. (_He points to the window to the right, where the lighthouse shows._) There 's ol' Petey, starin' at the ocean. Yer ain 't never seen a light at that t' other winder, has yer Joe? We waits fer a merchantman which he knows has gold aboard.

Then we jest tips a hint ter Petey, and he douses his light. Then we sets up our lantern--ol' Flint's lantern--outside on the rocks, jest where she shows at t' other winder. The s.h.i.+p sticks her nose agin the cliff. Smas.h.!.+

(_At this point, after a few moments of convulsion, Patch-Eye falls off the chest. He sits up and rubs his eyes._)

PATCH: I dreamed o' gibbets!

DUKE: Yer is lucky, ol' keg o' rum, yer does n't dream o' purple rhinoceroses. Go back ter bed. (_Then to Joe._) Smas.h.!.+ I says. On comes Petey agin. And we jest as innercent as babies in a crib. It was me own idear. Brains, young feller. Jest yer wait, Joey, till yer sees a light at t' other winder.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "And we jest as innercent as babies in a crib"]

(_Betsy is heard singing in the kitchen. The Duke stops and listens. A dark thought runs through his head. His shrewd eye quests from kitchen door to Joe._)

DUKE: Darlin'! Darlin'! (_She thrusts in her head._)

DUKE: Where 's Betsy?