Part 5

I 've cooked in a brig to a dancin' jig Which the sea kicks up in a blast. And me stove 's slid 'round until I 've found A rope ter make it fast. But I braces me legs and the Duke, he begs Fer puddin' with sweets on the side. Me Darlin', it 's rough, and I likes yer duff. I 'll marry yer, Darlin', me bride.

(_In her reckless joy at this dim possibility she overturns the dishpan. During the song the Duke's legs have appeared on the ladder. He descends, fetching with him a comb and mirror._

_He brushes his hair. This is unusual and he finds a knot that is harder than any Gordian knot whatsoever. He smoothes and strokes his whiskers. He goes so far as to slap himself for dust. He puts a sprig of flowers--amazing!--in the front of his cloak. He practices a smile and gesture. He seems to speak. He claps his hand upon his heart. Ah, my dear sir, we have guessed your secret. The wind, as yet, blows from the south, but a pirate waits not upon the spring. His lover's oath pops out before the daffodil. I pray you, master carpenter, hang me up a moon._

[Illustration: "I pray you, master carpenter, hang me up a moon"]

_And now the Duke stands before us the King of smiles. His is the wooer's posture. He speaks, but not with his usual voice of command. Oberon, as it were, calls Titania to the woodland when stars are torch and candle to the sleeping world._)

DUKE: Betsy! Betsy!

(_She appears. The Duke wears a silly smile. But did not Bottom in an ass's head win the fairy princess? A moon, sweet sir! And now--suddenly!--the magic night dissolves into coarsest day._)

DUKE: Would yer like ter be the Duchess?

(_This is abrupt and unusual, but nice customs curtsy to Dukes as well as Kings._)

DUKE: I 'm askin' yer, Betsy. Yer ol' Duke is askin' yer. I 'm lovin' yer. Yer ol' Duke is lovin' yer. I 'll do the right thing by yer. I 'll marry yer. There! I 've said it. When yer married yer can jest set on a cushion without nothin' ter do--(_reflectively_) nothin' 'cept cookin' and washin' and darnin'. Does yer jump at me, Betsy?

(_I confess, myself, a mere man, unable to analyze Betsy's emotions. She stands staring at the Duke, as you or I might stare at a hippopotamus in the front hall. I have bitten my pencil to a pulp--the maker's name is quite gone--but I can think of no lines that are adequate. Her first surprise, however, turns to amusement._)

DUKE: Ain 't yer a kind o' hankerin' fer me? Come ter me arms, sweetie, and confess yer blushin' love. I 'm askin' yer. I 'm askin' yer ter be the Duchess.

BETSY: But I do not love you, Duke.

(_In jest, however, the little rascal perches on his knee._)

DUKE: Make yerself comfertable. Yer husband 's willin'. When I cramps, I shifts yer. Kiss me, when yer wants.

BETSY: You are an old goose.

DUKE: Did I hear yer? Does yer hold off fer me ter nag yer? The ol' Duke 's waitin' ter fold yer in his lovin' arms.

BETSY: I do not love you, Duke.

(_The Captain and Patch-Eye have thrust their heads through the opening above the ladder, and they listen with amusement._)

DUKE: I 'm blowed. I 'm a better man than Patch. I 'm tellin' yer. Is it me stump, Betsy? I has n't a hook hand like the Captain. Yer has got ter be linked all 'round. There 's no fun, I says, in bein' hugged by a one-armed man. Yer would be lop-sided in a week.

BETSY: It 's just that I do not love you, Duke.

DUKE: Yer wounds me feelin's. Does n't I ask yer pretty? Should I have waited fer a moon and took yer walkin'? And perched with yer on the rocks, with the ol' moon winkin' at yer, shovin' yer on? The Duke 's never been refused before. A number o' wery perticerler ladies, arter breakfast even, has jest come scamperin'. 'T ain 't Patch, is it Betsy? A pretty leetle girl would n't love a feller as has one eye. It ain 't the Captain. He ain 't no hand with the ladies. Yer not goin' ter tell me it 's Petey? I would n't want yer ter fall in love with a blinkin' light.

BETSY: You have lovely whiskers, Duke.

DUKE: Yer can pull one fer the locket that yer wears. Are yer makin' fun o' me?

BETSY: I would n't dare.

DUKE: Does yer mean it, Betsy? Are yer relentin'? Are yer goin' ter say the 'appy word as splices us from keel to topsail? Yer ain 't jest a cruel syren are yer, wavin' me on, hopin' I 'll smash meself? Are yer winkin' at me like ol' Flint's lantern--me thinkin' it 's love I see, shinin' in yer laughin' eyes?

BETSY: Why don 't you marry Darlin'?

DUKE: Her with one tooth? Yer silly. I boohs at yer. Ol' ladies with one hoof inside a coffin does n't make good brides. Yer wants someone kinder gay and spry, as yer can pin flowers to.

BETSY: She loves you, Duke.

DUKE: Course she does. So does the ol' lady as keeps the tap at the Harbor Light, and one-eyed Pol as mops up the liquor that is spilt. And youngsters, too. A pretty leetle dear--jest a cozy armful--was winkin' at me yesterday--kinder givin' me the snuggle-up. I pities 'em. It 's their nater, God 'elp 'em, ter love me; but the ol' Duke is perticerler. Yer has lovely eyes, Betsy--blessed leetle mirrors where I sees Cupid playin'. They shines like the lights o' a friendly harbor.

BETSY: Darlin' cooks roast pig that crackles.

DUKE: I sets me heart on top me stomich. Ain 't yer comfertable, settin' on me knee? Shall I shift yer to me stump? Betsy, I calls arter we are married, fetch me down me slipper and lay it on the hearth ter warm. Yer husband 's home. And I tosses yer me boot, all mud fer cleanin'. And then yer passes the grog. And arter about the second cup I limbers up and kisses yer. And then yer sets upon me knee. It will be snug on winter evenin's when the blast is blowin'. And when we 're married yer can kiss me pretty near as often as yer please. And I won 't deny as I won 't like it. The ol' Duke ain 't slingin' the permission 'round general. Darlin' nags me. What yer laughin' at?

BETSY: You silly old man!

DUKE: Yer riles me. Once and fer all, will yer marry me? I 'll not waste the night argyin' with yer. I 'm not goin' ter tease yer. I 've only one knee and it ain 't no bench fer gigglin' girls as pokes fun at their betters. I 'll jolt yer till yer teeth rattles. Is it someone else? Has yer a priory 'tachment? Red Joe? Is it Red Joe, Betsy? Is he snoopin' 'round?

(_Betsy rises with sobered mood, and walks away._)

DUKE: There 's somethin' about that young feller I does n't like. He 's a snooper. Betsy, does yer get what I 'm talkin' about? I have offered ter make yer the Duchess. I 'll buy--I 'll steal yer a set o' red beads. I 'll give yer a sixpence--without no naggin'--every time yer goes ter town, jest ter spend reckless. I 'll marry yer. I 'll take yer ter Minehead and get the piousest parson in the town. Would yer like Darlin' fer a bridesmaid--and grog and angel-cake? Me jest settin' ready ter kiss yer every time yer passes it. I 'm blowed! You are wickeder than ol' Flint's lantern. It must be Red Joe. Him with the smirk! There 's a young feller 'round here, Betsy, as wants ter look out fer his wizen.

(_But Betsy has run in panic to the kitchen._)

DUKE: I does n't understand 'em. I 'm thinkin' the girl 's a fool. A ninny I calls her. It 's Red Joe. Off a cliff! Yer said it, Darlin'. Off a cliff!

(_He removes the sprig of flowers and tosses it into the fire._

_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date:--_

_He retires to the rear of the cabin and strokes the parrot's head. He jerks away his hand for fear of being nipped. The ungrateful world has turned against him._)

DUKE: Yer a spiteful bird. Yer as mean as women. Ninnies I calls 'em. It must ha' been the moon. I should ha' waited fer a moon.

[Illustration: "Yer as mean as women"]

(_He sits on the chest at the rear of the cabin and whittles a little ship. Women are a queer lot._

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

PATCH: Darlin' loves yer, Duke.

CAPTAIN: Course she does. They all does. Youngsters, too--winkin' and givin' me the snuggle-up.

PATCH: Yer has lovely whiskers, Duke.

CAPTAIN: Yer can pull one, Betsy, fer the locket that yer wears.

(_But the Duke ends the burlesque by upsetting the chair. The Captain and Patch-Eye, chuckling at their jest, sit to a game of cards. The Duke returns to the chest. Once in a while he lays down the ship and seems to be thinking. The broken crystal of the fortune-teller lies on the floor. He picks it up and puts it to his eye, as if the future may still show upon its face. He is preoccupied with his disappointment and his bitter thoughts._

_Darlin', meantime, is heard singing in the kitchen with her dishes._)

Fer griddle cakes I 've a nimble wrist And I tosses 'em 'igh on a spoon. And the Duke and Patch yer can hardly match Fer their breakfast they stretch till noon. And I heaps the fire and I greases the iron, And the Duke, he kisses me thumb. Me Darlin', me dear, it 's perfectly clear I 've lovin' yer better than rum.

_Patch, also sings._

She 's cooked fer sailors worn down to the bone, Till they rolls like the Captain's gig. At soup and stew we are never through, But our fav'rite dish is pig. And she cuts off slabs and passes 'em 'round, And the Duke, he takes her hand. Me Darlin', me love, by the gods above, Yer a cook fer a pirate band.

_And now Darlin' again._

Me grog is the best. It is made o' rum, And I stirs in sugar, too. And a hogshead vast will hardly last A merry evenin' through. And I fills the cups till mornin' comes, And the Duke, he talks like a loon. Me Darlin', me life, will yer be me wife, And elope by the light o' the moon.

(_Let all the tinware crash!_)

CAPTAIN: (_as he throws down his cards_). There! I done yer. Yer a child at cards, Patch. How ain 't it that yer never learnt? Did n't yer ever play black-ace at the Rusty Anchor down Greenwich way? Crack me hook, I 've played with ol' Flint hisself, settin' in the leetle back room. With somethin' wet and warmin' now and then, jest ter keep the stomich cozy. Never stopped till Phoebus's fiery eye looked in the winder.

[Illustration: "Did n't yer ever play Black-ace at the Rusty Anchor?"]

PATCH: Poor ol' Flint! I never sees his clock up there but I drops a tear.

CAPTAIN: Yer cries as easy as a crocodile. And yer as innercent at cards as--as a baby bitin' at his coral, a cooin' leetle pirate.

PATCH: It 's frettin' does it, Captain.

CAPTAIN: What 's frettin' yer?

PATCH: It 's what the ol' lady said last night. She hung me ter a gibbet, jest like ol' Flint. There 's a gibbet, Captain, on Wappin' wharf, jest 'round the corner from the Sailors' Rest. Does yer remember it, Captain? It makes yer grog belch on yer.

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

PATCH: Horrers!

CAPTAIN: Jest swingin' in the wind, and tryin' ter get their toes down comfertable. (_He has hooked two empty mugs and he rocks them back and forth._) Jest reachin' with their footies ter ease theirselves.

[Illustration: "Jest swingin' in the wind"]

PATCH: The ol' lady last night made me a wee bit creepy. Gibbets and Wappin' wharf ain 't nothin' ter talk about.

CAPTAIN: I never see a flock o' crows but I asks their pardon fer keepin' 'em waitin' fer their supper. Crows, Patch, is fond o' yer as yer are, without neither sauce ner gravy--jest pickin' 'appy, soup ter nuts, at yer dry ol' bones. Here 's ol' Patch, they says, waitin' in the platter fer his 'ungry guests ter come.

PATCH: Me stomich 's turned keel up.

CAPTAIN: Patch, yer ain 't got spunk ter be a pirate. Yer as soft as Petey's pussycat.

PATCH: I ain 't, ain 't I? Was n't it me as nudged the Captain o' the Northern Star off his poop--when he were n't lookin'? Him with a pistol in his boot! Did n't I hit Bill, the bos'n, with a marline-spike--jest afore he woke up? Sweet dreams, I says, and I tapped him gentle. I got a lot o' spunk. Bill did n't wake up, he did n't. Was n't it me, Captain, that started that mutiny? Was n't it me? I 'm askin' yer.

CAPTAIN: Still braggin' o' that ol' time. It was more 'n four years ago. What yer done since? Jest loadin' yer stomich--jest gruntin' and wallerin' in the trough--jest braggin'.

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

CAPTAIN: Struck me, Patch, she was jest a wee bit flustered by Red Joe. Did yer notice how she sat and looked at the glass? And would n't say nothin'? Jest nothin' at all.

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

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

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

DUKE: Course she done it a purpose. It was ter stop me lookin' 'cross her shoulder in the glass.

CAPTAIN: What does yer think she saw?

PATCH: Was it blood drippin'?

DUKE: I 'll tell yer. I 'll tell yer.

(_But he continues whittling._)

CAPTAIN: Well, ain 't we listenin', Duke?

PATCH: Jest strainin' our ears.

DUKE: I 'll tell yer. I squinted in the glass, meself, arter it was broke.

CAPTAIN and PATCH: What did yer see?

(_There is intense silence. The Duke comes forward to the table. He taps his fingers sagely. He looks mysteriously at his fellow pirates. They put their heads together. The Duke sinks his voice. In such posture and accent was the gunpowder plot hatched out._)

DUKE: Nothin'! Jest nothin'!

(_The strain is over. They relax._)

CAPTAIN: The Duke, he jest seen nothin'.

PATCH: Jest nothin' at all.

DUKE: That 's what gets me. If the _ol' lady_ 'd seen nothin', she would n't took ter fidgettin'. And therefore she seen _somethin'_. Does yer foller? You, Captain? I 'spects nothin' from Patch.

[Illustration: "I 'spects nothin' from Patch"]

PATCH: Yer hurts me feelin's, Duke.

DUKE: Somethin' 's wrong. Somethin' 's wrong with Red Joe.

PATCH: Red Joe 's a right smart feller, I says.

CAPTAIN: He can shoot as straight as ol' Flint. Barin' meself, Joe 's as straight a shot as I 've seen in many a year. Patch, agin him, is jest a crooked stick.

PATCH: Pick on the Duke jest once, why does n't yer?

DUKE: Ease off, mates! Red Joe ain 't goin' ter hang on no gibbet. 'Cause why? 'Cause I 'm tellin' yer. I 'll tell yer what the ol' lady seen in the glass.

(_Once more the Duke draws the pirates around him. He is Guy Faux and the wicked Bothwell rolled together._)

CAPTAIN: We 're listenin', Duke.

PATCH: Like kittens at a mouse-hole.

DUKE: Captain, it 's deuced strange that Red Joe's ship--nary a stick o' her--never come ter shore. Does yer remember a wreck 'long here where nothin' washed ter shore?

CAPTAIN: Yer right, Duke. I never did.

DUKE: Does you remember one, stoopid?

PATCH: I does n't remember one this minute, Duke.

DUKE: Ol' Flint, he had a pigtail, did n't he? And you 've a pigtail, Captain, has n't yer? And Patch-Eye, he 's got what he calls a pigtail.

CAPTAIN: Spinach, I calls it.

DUKE: And ol' Pew, he 'd got a pigtail, ain 't he? And every blessed man as sailed with him. I 'm tellin' yer, Captain.

PATCH: The sea-cook, he did n't have one.

DUKE: Sea-cooks ain 't sailormen. They 're swabs. Jest indoor swabs. Did yer ever see a pirate snipped all 'round like a landlubber, with nary a whisp behind?

CAPTAIN: Yer can rot me keel, Duke, I never did.

PATCH: I agrees with the Captain.

DUKE: Red Joe, he ain 't got a pigtail.

CAPTAIN: No more he ain 't.

PATCH: Was n't it Noah, Captain; as got his pigtail cut by some designin' woman? Does yer think Red Joe 's gone and met a schemin' wixen?

CAPTAIN: I scorns yer igerence. Yer thinks o' Jonah.

DUKE: Well? Well? I 've told yer Red Joe ain 't got a pigtail. Does n't yer smell anythin'?

CAPTAIN: (_as he turns his head and sniffs audibly_). I can 't say as I sniffs nothin'--leastways, nothin' perticerler. I smells a bit o' grog, perhaps.

PATCH: I gets a whiff o' garlic from the kitchen.

DUKE: The two o' yer never can smell nothin' when there 's garlic or grog around. I 'm askin' yer pardon, Captain. Does Red Joe talk like a pirate? Sink me, he can 't rip an oath. Did yer ever know a pirate which could n't talk fluent?

CAPTAIN: What 's bitin' yer, Duke?

DUKE: Ain 't I tellin' yer?

CAPTAIN: Ain 't we listenin'?

PATCH: Jest hangin' on yer tongue?

DUKE: Captain, you and me and Patch has seen a heap o' sights. We knows the ocean. We knows her when she 's blue and when she 's kickin' 'igher than a gallow's tree.

CAPTAIN: We has been ter Virginy.

PATCH: We has traded slaves at the Barbadoes.

DUKE: And does n't we set around o' nights and swap the sights we seen--mermaids and sea-serpents and such? Did yer jest once ever hear Red Joe tell what he 's seen? Yer can sink me stern up with all lights burnin', if I think the feller 's ever been beyond the Isle o' Dogs.

CAPTAIN: What 's bitin' yer, Duke?

DUKE: It 's jest this. Red Joe ain 't no pirate. He 's a landlubber.

(_He says this as you or I might call a man a snake._)

CAPTAIN: (_And now a great light comes to him. He is proud of his swift perception. He leans across the table to share his secret with Patch._) I seem ter get what Duke means. He 's hintin', Patch, that Red Joe ain 't a pirate.

PATCH: If he ain 't a pirate, what is he? I asks yer that.

DUKE: (_as he brings down his fist for emphasis_). He 's a bloomin' spy.

CAPTAIN: A spy! (_He gives a long-drawn whistle as the truth breaks on him._)

PATCH: If I thought he was a spy, I 'd ketch him right here with me dirk. I hates spies worse 'n empty bottles.

CAPTAIN: I 'd scrape him with me hook.

[Illustration: "I 'd scrape him with me hook"]

DUKE: I 've been thinkin', Captain, while you and Patch has been amusin' yerselves. Askin' yer pardon, Captain, but cards rots the mind. Did yer ever know a pirate that ain 't drunk at the Port Light on Wappin' wharf?

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

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

CAPTAIN: It ain 't no night ter have spies about. With the Royal 'Arry comin' on so pretty.

PATCH: And jest gettin' ready ter smash hisself.

DUKE: That innercent ship will be due in less 'n half an hour.

CAPTAIN: If Red Joe is a spy, by the fiery beard o' Satan, I 'm tellin' yer that dead men tell no tales.

(_He lifts the terrible hook and claws the air._)

DUKE: Askin' yer pardon, Captain, bein' as it was me as smelled him out, won 't yer let me slit his wizen? I does it pretty, without mussin' up the cabin. I ain 't askin' favors often, Captain. And I 've 'ticerler reasons--reasons as touches me heart. (_For a moment he is almost sentimental._) Reasons as touches me heart! Red Joe 's been snoopin'.

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

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

CAPTAIN: It 's handsome of yer, Duke. And I 'll not be jolly till a year is up--jest like a widder.

DUKE: Yer touches me. I 'll tie a black ribbon on yer hook.

(_At this pathetic moment Darlin' is heard singing in the kitchen._)

And I fills the cups till mornin' comes, And the Duke, he talks like a loon. Me Darlin', me life, will yer be me wife, And elope by the light o' the moon?

(_There is a stamping of boots outside. The pirates put their fingers on their lips. They are innocence itself. The Duke scratches the head of the parrot. The strange bird declines to taste his grog. Patch-Eye shuffles the cards. The Captain hooks the mugs toward him one by one for the last drops of their precious liquor. Red Joe enters. Also, Darlin' from the kitchen._)

JOE: Hello, mates! Evening, Captain! Are n't you cozy! As peaceful as old ladies with their darning. I 've just come from seeing Petey, up at the lighthouse. Petey says that along in about fifteen minutes the Royal Harry will be showing around the cliff. Is n't it time, Captain, to set up the lantern where 's she 's useful?

DUKE: _Is n't_ it? Did yer hear that, Captain? _Ain 't_ it, is what Red Joe means.

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

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

JOE: Wappin' wharf? I 'm blessed if the name 's not gone from me. The grog 's nothing to Darling's.

DUKE: What does yer call the tavern on the Isle o' Dogs?

JOE: I 'm remembering the rum. What 's the use of looking at the signboard?

DUKE: How does yer sight ter turn the bar at Guinea?

JOE: Sorry, Duke. It was my watch below. I was snoring when we turned.

CAPTAIN: What happened to yer pigtail?