Part 9
SIR JOSEPH. No, no, the other splendid seaman. CAPT. Ralph Rackstraw, three paces to the front—march! SIR JOSEPH (sternly). If what? CAPT. I beg your pardon—I don't think I understand you. SIR JOSEPH. If you please. CAPT. Oh, yes, of course. If you please. (RALPH steps forward.) SIR JOSEPH. You're a remarkably fine fellow. RALPH. Yes, your honour. SIR JOSEPH. And a first-rate seaman, I'll be bound. RALPH. There's not a smarter topman in the Navy, your honour, though I say it who shouldn't. SIR JOSEPH. Not at all. Proper self-respect, nothing more. Can you dance a hornpipe? RALPH. No, your honour. SIR JOSEPH. That's a pity: all sailors should dance hornpipes. I will teach you one this evening, after dinner. Now tell me—don't be afraid— how does your captain treat you, eh? RALPH. A better captain don't walk the deck, your honour. ALL. Aye; Aye! SIR JOSEPH. Good. I like to hear you speak well of your commanding officer; I daresay he don't deserve it, but still it does you credit. Can you sing? RALPH. I can hum a little, your honour. SIR JOSEPH. Then hum this at your leisure. (Giving him MS. music.) It is a song that I have composed for the use of the Royal Navy. It is designed to encourage independence of thought and action in the lower branches of the service, and to teach the principle that a British sailor is any man's equal, excepting mine. Now, Captain Corcoran, a word with you in your cabin, on a tender and sentimental subject. CAPT. Aye, aye, Sir Joseph (Crossing) Boatswain, in commemoration of this joyous occasion, see that extra grog is served out to the ship's company at seven bells. BOAT. Beg pardon. If what, your honour? CAPT. If what? I don't think I understand you. BOAT. If you please, your honour. CAPT. What! SIR JOSEPH. The gentleman is quite right. If you please. CAPT. (stamping his foot impatiently). If you please! [Exit. SIR JOSEPH. For I hold that on the seas The expression, "if you please", A particularly gentlemanly tone implants. COUSIN HEBE. And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts! ALL. And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
[Exeunt SIR JOSEPH AND RELATIVES.
BOAT. Ah! Sir Joseph's true gentleman; courteous and considerate to the very humblest. RALPH. True, Boatswain, but we are not the very humblest. Sir Joseph has explained our true position to us. As he says, a British seaman is any man's equal excepting his, and if Sir Joseph says that, is it not our duty to believe him? ALL. Well spoke! well spoke! DICK. You're on a wrong tack, and so is he. He means well, but he don't know. When people have to obey other people's orders, equality's out of the question. ALL (recoiling). Horrible! horrible! BOAT. Dick Deadeye, if you go for to infuriate this here ship's company too far, I won't answer for being able to hold 'em in. I'm shocked! that's what I am—shocked! RALPH. Messmates, my mind's made up. I'll speak to the captain's daughter, and tell her, like an honest man, of the honest love I have for her. ALL. Aye, aye! RALPH. Is not my love as good as another's? Is not my heart as true as another's? Have I not hands and eyes and ears and limbs like another? ALL. Aye, Aye! RALPH. True, I lack birth— BOAT. You've a berth on board this very ship. RALPH. Well said—I had forgotten that. Messmates—what do you say? Do you approve my determination? ALL. We do. DICK. I don t. BOAT. What is to be done with this here hopeless chap? Let us sing him the song that Sir Joseph has kindly composed for us. Perhaps it will bring this here miserable creetur to a proper state of mind.
GLEE!—RALPH, BOATSWAIN, BOATSWAIN'S MATE, and CHORUS
A British tar is a soaring soul, As free as a mountain bird, His energetic fist should be ready to resist A dictatorial word. His nose should pant and his lip should curl, His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl, His bosom should heave and his heart should glow, And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.
CHORUS.—His nose should pant, etc.
His eyes should flash with an inborn fire, His brow with scorn be wrung; He never should bow down to a domineering frown, Or the tang of a tyrant tongue. His foot should stamp and his throat should growl, His hair should twirl and his face should scowl; His eyes should flash and his breast protrude, And this should be his customary attitude—(pose).
CHORUS.—His foot should stamp, etc.
[All dance off excepting RALPH, who remains, leaning pensively against bulwark.
Enter JOSEPHINE from cabin
JOS. It is useless—Sir Joseph's attentions nauseate me. I know that he is a truly great and good man, for he told me so himself, but to me he seems tedious, fretful, and dictatorial. Yet his must be a mind of no common order, or he would not dare to teach my dear father to dance a hornpipe on the cabin table. (Sees RALPH.) Ralph Rackstraw! (Overcome by emotion.) RALPH. Aye, lady—no other than poor Ralph Rackstraw! JOS. (aside). How my heart beats! (Aloud) And why poor, Ralph? RALPH. I am poor in the essence of happiness, lady—rich only in never- ending unrest. In me there meet a combination of antithetical elements which are at eternal war with one another. Driven hither by objective influences—thither by subjective emotions—wafted one moment into blazing day, by mocking hope—plunged the next into the Cimmerian darkness of tangible despair, I am but a living ganglion of irreconcilable antagonisms. I hope I make myself clear, lady? JOS. Perfectly. (Aside.) His simple eloquence goes to my heart. Oh, if I dared—but no, the thought is madness! (Aloud.) Dismiss these foolish fancies, they torture you but needlessly. Come, make one effort. RALPH (aside). I will—one. (Aloud.) Josephine! JOS. (Indignantly). Sir! RALPH. Aye, even though Jove's armoury were launched at the head of the audacious mortal whose lips, unhallowed by relationship, dared to breathe that precious word, yet would I breathe it once, and then perchance be silent evermore. Josephine, in one brief breath I will concentrate the hopes, the doubts, the anxious fears of six weary months. Josephine, I am a British sailor, and I love you! JOS. Sir, this audacity! (Aside.) Oh, my heart, my beating heart! (Aloud.) This unwarrantable presumption on the part of a common sailor! (Aside.) Common! oh, the irony of the word! (Crossing, aloud.) Oh, sir, you forget the disparity in our ranks. RALPH. I forget nothing, haughty lady. I love you desperately, my life is in your hand—I lay it at your feet! Give me hope, and what I lack in education and polite accomplishments, that I will endeavour to acquire. Drive me to despair, and in death alone I shall look for consolation. I am proud and cannot stoop to implore. I have spoken and I wait your word. JOS. You shall not wait long. Your proffered love I haughtily reject. Go, sir, and learn to cast your eyes on some village maiden in your own poor rank—they should be lowered before your captain's daughter.
DUET—JOSEPHINE and RALPH
JOS. Refrain, audacious tar, Your suit from pressing, Remember what you are, And whom addressing! (Aside.) I'd laugh my rank to scorn In union holy, Were he more highly born Or I more lowly! RALPH. Proud lady, have your way, Unfeeling beauty! You speak and I obey, It is my duty! I am the lowliest tar That sails the water, And you, proud maiden, are My captain's daughter! (Aside.) My heart with anguish torn Bows down before her, She laughs my love to scorn, Yet I adore her!
[Repeat refrain, ensemble, then exit JOSEPHINE into cabin.
RALPH. (Recit.) Can I survive this overbearing Or live a life of mad despairing, My proffered love despised, rejected? No, no, it's not to be expected! (Calling off.) Messmates, ahoy! Come here! Come here!
Enter SAILORS, HEBE, and RELATIVES
ALL. Aye, aye, my boy, What cheer, what cheer? Now tell us, pray, Without delay, What does she say— What cheer, what cheer?
RALPH (to COUSIN HEBE). The maiden treats my suit with scorn, Rejects my humble gift, my lady; She says I am ignobly born, And cuts my hopes adrift, my lady. ALL. Oh, cruel one.
DICK. She spurns your suit? Oho! Oho! I told you so, I told you so.
SAILORS and RELATIVES. Shall { we } submit? Are { we } but slaves? they they Love comes alike to high and low— Britannia's sailors rule the waves, And shall they stoop to insult? No!
DICK. You must submit, you are but slaves; A lady she! Oho! Oho! You lowly toilers of the waves, She spurns you all—I told you so!
RALPH. My friends, my leave of life I'm taking, For oh, my heart, my heart is breaking. When I am gone, oh, prithee tell The maid that, as I died, I loved her well!
ALL (turning away, weeping). Of life, alas! his leave he's taking, For ah! his faithful heart is breaking; When he is gone we'll surely tell The maid that, as he died, he loved her well.
[During Chorus BOATSWAIN has loaded pistol, which he hands to RALPH.
RALPH. Be warned, my messmates all Who love in rank above you— For Josephine I fall!
[Puts pistol to his head. All the sailors stop their ears.
Enter JOSEPHINE on deck
JOS. Ah! stay your hand—I love you! ALL. Ah! stay your hand—she loves you! RALPH. (incredulously). Loves me? JOS. Loves you! ALL. Yes, yes—ah, yes,—she loves you!
ENSEMBLE
SAILORS and RELATIVES and JOSEPHINE
Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen, For now the sky is all serene; The god of day—the orb of love— Has hung his ensign high above, The sky is all ablaze.
With wooing words and loving song, We'll chase the lagging hours along, And if {I find } the maiden coy, we find I'll } murmur forth decorous joy We'll In dreamy roundelays!
DICK DEADEYE
He thinks he's won his Josephine, But though the sky is now serene, A frowning thunderbolt above May end their ill-assorted love Which now is all ablaze.
Our captain, ere the day is gone, Will be extremely down upon The wicked men who art employ To make his Josephine less coy In many various ways. [Exit DICK.
JOS. This very night, HEBE. With bated breath RALPH. And muffled oar— JOS. Without a light, HEBE. As still as death, RALPH. We'll steal ashore JOS. A clergyman RALPH. Shall make us one BOAT, At half-past ten, JOS. And then we can RALPH Return, for none BOAT. Can part them then! ALL. This very night, etc.
(DICK appears at hatchway.)
DICK. Forbear, nor carry out the scheme you've planned; She is a lady—you a foremast hand! Remember, she's your gallant captain's daughter, And you the meanest slave that crawls the water! ALL. Back, vermin, back, Nor mock us! Back, vermin, back, You shock us! [Exit DICK
Let's give three cheers for the sailor's bride Who casts all thought of rank aside— Who gives up home and fortune too For the honest love of a sailor true! For a British tar is a soaring soul As free as a mountain bird! His energetic fist should be ready to resist A dictatorial word! His foot should stamp and his throat should growl, His hair should twirl and his face should scowl, His eyes should flash and his breast protrude, And this should be his customary attitude—(pose).
GENERAL DANCE
END OF ACT I
## ACT II
Same Scene. Night. Awning removed. Moonlight. CAPTAIN discovered singing on poop deck, and accompanying himself on a mandolin. LITTLE BUTTERCUP seated on quarterdeck, gazing sentimentally at him.
SONG—CAPTAIN
Fair moon, to thee I sing, Bright regent of the heavens, Say, why is everything Either at sixes or at sevens? I have lived hitherto Free from breath of slander, Beloved by all my crew— A really popular commander. But now my kindly crew rebel, My daughter to a tar is partial, Sir Joseph storms, and, sad to tell, He threatens a court martial! Fair moon, to thee I sing, Bright regent of the heavens, Say, why is everything Either at sixes or at sevens?
BUT. How sweetly he carols forth his melody to the unconscious moon! Of whom is he thinking? Of some high-born beauty? It may be! Who is poor Little Buttercup that she should expect his glance to fall on one so lowly! And yet if he knew—if he only knew! CAPT. (coming down). Ah! Little Buttercup, still on board? That is not quite right, little one. It would have been more respectable to have gone on shore at dusk. BUT, True, dear Captain—but the recollection of your sad pale face seemed to chain me to the ship. I would fain see you smile before I go. CAPT. Ah! Little Buttercup, I fear it will be long before I recover my accustomed cheerfulness, for misfortunes crowd upon me, and all my old friends seem to have turned against me! BUT, Oh no—do not say "all", dear Captain. That were unjust to one, at least. CAPT. True, for you are staunch to me. (Aside.) If ever I gave my heart again, methinks it would be to such a one as this! (Aloud.) I am touched to the heart by your innocent regard for me, and were we differently situated, I think I could have returned it. But as it is, I fear I can never be more to you than a friend. BUT, I understand! You hold aloof from me because you are rich and lofty—and I poor and lowly. But take care! The poor bumboat woman has gipsy blood in her veins, and she can read destinies. CAPT. Destinies? BUT. There is a change in store for you! CAPT. A change? BUT. Aye—be prepared!
DUET—LITTLE BUTTERCUP and CAPTAIN
BUT, Things are seldom what they seem, Skim milk masquerades as cream; Highlows pass as patent leathers; Jackdaws strut in peacock's feathers. CAPT. (puzzled). Very true, So they do. BUT. Black sheep dwell in every fold; All that glitters is not gold; Storks turn out to be but logs; Bulls are but inflated frogs. CAPT. (puzzled). So they be, Frequentlee. BUT. Drops the wind and stops the mill; Turbot is ambitious brill; Gild the farthing if you will, Yet it is a farthing still. CAPT. (puzzled). Yes, I know. That is so. Though to catch your drift I'm striving, It is shady—it is shady; I don't see at what you're driving, Mystic lady—mystic lady. (Aside.) Stern conviction's o'er me stealing, That the mystic lady's dealing In oracular revealing. BUT. (aside).Stern conviction's o'er him stealing, That the mystic lady's dealing In oracular revealing. Yes, I know— That is so! CAPT. Though I'm anything but clever, I could talk like that for ever: Once a cat was killed by care; Only brave deserve the fair. Very true, So they do. CAPT. Wink is often good as nod; Spoils the child who spares the rod; Thirsty lambs run foxy dangers; Dogs are found in many mangers. BUT. Frequentlee, I agree. Paw of cat the chestnut snatches; Worn-out garments show new patches; Only count the chick that hatches; Men are grown-up catchy-catchies. BUT. Yes, I know, That is so. (Aside.) Though to catch my drift he's striving, I'll dissemble—I'll dissemble; When he sees at what I'm driving, Let him tremble—let him tremble!
ENSEMBLE
Though a mystic tone { I } borrow, you You will } learn the truth with sorrow, I shall Here to-day and gone to-morrow; Yes, I know— That is so! [At the end exit LITTLE BUTTERCUP melodramatically.
CAPT. Incomprehensible as her utterances are, I nevertheless feel that they are dictated by a sincere regard for me. But to what new misery is she referring? Time alone can tell!
Enter SIR JOSEPH
SIR JOSEPH. Captain Corcoran, I am much disappointed with your daughter. In fact, I don't think she will do. CAPT. She won't do, Sir Joseph! SIR JOSEPH. I'm afraid not. The fact is, that although I have urged my suit with as much eloquence as is consistent with an official utterance, I have done so hitherto without success. How do you account for this? CAPT. Really, Sir Joseph, I hardly know. Josephine is of course sensible of your condescension. SIR JOSEPH. She naturally would be. CAPT. But perhaps your exalted rank dazzles her. SIR JOSEPH. You think it does? CAPT. I can hardly say; but she is a modest girl, and her social position is far below your own. It may be that she feels she is not worthy of you. SIR JOSEPH. That is really a very sensible suggestion, and displays more knowledge of human nature than I had given you credit for. CAPT. See, she comes. If your lordship would kindly reason with her and assure her officially that it is a standing rule at the Admiralty that love levels all ranks, her respect for an official utterance might induce her to look upon your offer in its proper light. SIR JOSEPH. It is not unlikely. I will adopt your suggestion. But soft, she is here. Let us withdraw, and watch our opportunity.
Enter JOSEPHINE from cabin. FIRST LORD and CAPTAIN retire
SCENE—JOSEPHINE
The hours creep on apace, My guilty heart is quaking! Oh, that I might retrace The step that I am taking! Its folly it were easy to be showing, What I am giving up and whither going. On the one hand, papa's luxurious home, Hung with ancestral armour and old brasses, Carved oak and tapestry from distant Rome, Rare "blue and white" Venetian finger-glasses, Rich oriental rugs, luxurious sofa pillows, And everything that isn't old, from Gillow's. And on the other, a dark and dingy room, In some back street with stuffy children crying, Where organs yell, and clacking housewives fume, And clothes are hanging out all day a-drying. With one cracked looking-glass to see your face in, And dinner served up in a pudding basin!
A simple sailor, lowly born, Unlettered and unknown, Who toils for bread from early mom Till half the night has flown! No golden rank can he impart— No wealth of house or land— No fortune save his trusty heart And honest brown right hand! And yet he is so wondrous fair That love for one so passing rare, So peerless in his manly beauty, Were little else than solemn duty! Oh, god of love, and god of reason, say, Which of you twain shall my poor heart obey!
SIR JOSEPH and CAPTAIN enter
SIR JOSEPH. Madam, it has been represented to me that you are appalled by my exalted rank. I desire to convey to you officially my assurance, that if your hesitation is attributable to that circumstance, it is uncalled for. JOS. Oh! then your lordship is of opinion that married happiness is not inconsistent with discrepancy in rank? SIR JOSEPH. I am officially of that opinion. JOS. That the high and the lowly may be truly happy together, provided that they truly love one another? SIR JOSEPH. Madam, I desire to convey to you officially my opinion that love is a platform upon which all ranks meet. JOS. I thank you, Sir Joseph. I did hesitate, but I will hesitate no longer. (Aside.) He little thinks how eloquently he has pleaded his rival's cause!
TRIO
FIRST LORD, CAPTAIN, and JOSEPHINE
CAPT. Never mind the why and wherefore, Love can level ranks, and therefore, Though his lordship's station's mighty, Though stupendous be his brain, Though your tastes are mean and flighty And your fortune poor and plain, CAPT. and Ring the merry bells on board-ship, SIR JOSEPH. Rend the air with warbling wild, For the union of { his } lordship my With a humble captain's child! CAPT. For a humble captain's daughter— JOS. For a gallant captain's daughter— SIR JOSEPH. And a lord who rules the water— JOS. (aside). And a tar who ploughs the water! ALL. Let the air with joy be laden, Rend with songs the air above, For the union of a maiden With the man who owns her love! SIR JOSEPH. Never mind the why and wherefore, Love can level ranks, and therefore, Though your nautical relation (alluding to CAPT.) In my set could scarcely pass— Though you occupy a station In the lower middle class— CAPT. and Ring the merry bells on board-ship, SIR JOSEPH Rend the air with warbling wild, For the union of { my } lordship your With a humble captain's child! CAPT. For a humble captain's daughter— JOS. For a gallant captain's daughter— SIR JOSEPH. And a lord who rules the water— JOS. (aside). And a tar who ploughs the water! ALL. Let the air with joy be laden, Rend with songs the air above, For the union of a maiden With the man who owns her love!
JOS. Never mind the why and wherefore, Love can level ranks, and therefore I admit the jurisdiction; Ably have you played your part; You have carried firm conviction To my hesitating heart. CAPT. and Ring the merry bells on board-ship, SIR JOSEPH. Rend the air with warbling wild, For the union of { my } lordship his With a humble captain's child! CAPT. For a humble captain's daughter— JOS. For a gallant captain's daughter— SIR JOSEPH. And a lord who rules the water— JOS. (aside). And a tar who ploughs the water! (Aloud.) Let the air with joy be laden. CAPT. and SIR JOSEPH. Ring the merry bells on board-ship— JOS. For the union of a maiden— CAPT. and SIR JOSEPH. For her union with his lordship. ALL. Rend with songs the air above For the man who owns her love!
[Exit JOS. CAPT. Sir Joseph, I cannot express to you my delight at the happy result of your eloquence. Your argument was unanswerable. SIR JOSEPH. Captain Corcoran, it is one of the happiest characteristics of this glorious country that official utterances are invariably regarded as unanswerable. [Exit SIR JOSEPH. CAPT. At last my fond hopes are to be crowned. My only daughter is to be the bride of a Cabinet Minister. The prospect is Elysian. (During this speech DICK DEADEYE has entered.) DICK. Captain. CAPT. Deadeye! You here? Don't! (Recoiling from him.) DICK. Ah, don't shrink from me, Captain. I'm unpleasant to look at, and my name's agin me, but I ain't as bad as I seem. CAPT. What would you with me? DICK (mysteriously). I'm come to give you warning. CAPT. Indeed! do you propose to leave the Navy then? DICK. No, no, you misunderstand me; listen!
DUET CAPTAIN and DICK DEADEYE
DICK. Kind Captain, I've important information, Sing hey, the kind commander that you are, About a certain intimate relation, Sing hey, the merry maiden and the tar. BOTH. The merry maiden and the tar.
CAPT. Good fellow, in conundrums you are speaking, Sing hey, the mystic sailor that you are; The answer to them vainly I am seeking; Sing hey, the merry maiden and the tar. BOTH The merry maiden and the tar.
DICK. Kind Captain, your young lady is a-sighing, Sing hey, the simple captain that you are, This very might with Rackstraw to be flying; Sing hey, the merry maiden and the tar. BOTH. The merry maiden and the tar.
CAPT. Good fellow, you have given timely warning, Sing hey, the thoughtful sailor that you are, I'll talk to Master Rackstraw in the morning: Sing hey, the cat-o'-nine-tails and the tar. (Producing a "cat".)
BOTH. The merry cat-o'-nine-tails and the tar!
CAPT. Dick Deadeye—I thank you for your warning—I will at once take means to arrest their flight. This boat cloak will afford me ample disguise—So! (Envelops himself in a mysterious cloak, holding it before his face.) DICK. Ha, ha! They are foiled—foiled—foiled!