Charles S. Brooks

“ Presently our curtain will rise. We shall see the pirate cabin, with the lighthouse blinking in the distance, the parrot, Flint's lantern and the ladder to the sleeping loft. We shall hear a storm unparalleled, like a tempest from the ocean—hissed through the teeth. We shall see the pirates in tattered costume and in pigtails made of stockings. ”

“ He wears a long cloak so that the actor's rusticated leg can be folded out of sight. The Duke has a great red nose—grog and rum and that sort of thing. His whiskers are the bush that marks the merry drinking place.
Patch-Eye is melancholy—almost sentimental at times. He would stab a man, but grieve upon a sparrow. At heart we fear he is a coward, and stupid. The Duke, on the contrary, is shrewd and he does a lot of thinking. He has heavy eyebrows. He is the kind of thinker that you just know that he is thinking. Both pirates are very cruel—and profane, but we must be careful. ”

“ In every attic on the street a rakish craft flies the skull and crossbones, and roves the Spanish Main on rainy afternoons. Innocent victims—girls, chiefly, who will tattle unless a horrid threat is laid upon them—are forced blindfold to walk the plank. If the wind blows, scratching the trees against the roof, it is, by their desire, a tempest whirling their stout ship upon the rocks. ”

“ 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.55 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. ”

“ In the tempest's wrack the stars are dim and faith 's the only compass. Now or hereafter, what matters it? The sun will gild the meadows as of yesteryear. The moon will fee the world with silver coin. And all across the earth men will traffic on their little errands until nature calls them home. I am a stone cast in a windy pool where scarce a ripple shows. Life 's but a candle in the wind. Mine will not burn to socket.
Duke: He 's all wound up like a clock—jest tickin' words. ”

“ Do travelers never put me in their grips? Must everyone read in public the latest novel, and reserve all plays and essays for their solitary hours? At the club I shuffle to the top any periodical that contains my name, but the crowded noon buries me deep again.
At best, maybe, in a lending library, I see a date stamped inside my cover; but, although I linger near the shelf, no one comes to draw me down. ”

“ Whenever several of our actors meet there is used the vile language of the sea. By the bones of my ten fingers has replaced the anemic oaths of childhood. One little girl has been told she cries as easily as a crocodile. ”

“ Yer makes me grog sour on me.
(He goes to the rear of the cabin and looks disconsolately over the ocean.)
Meg: (as she looks in the glass) . I sees misfortin fer everyone here—'cept one—tragedy, the gibbet. Go not upon the sea until the moon has turned. Ha! Leetle glass, has yer more to show? Has yer any comfort? The light fades out. It is dark.
Duke: Ain 't yer givin' us more 'n a sixpence worth o' misery? Yer gloom is sloppin' over the brim.
Meg: Ah! Here 's light agin at last. There 's a red streak across the dial. It drips! It 's blood! ”

“ 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'91 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.
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.) ”

“ By the smack of their lips it is excellent grog. One39 of them—Patch-Eye—has lost an eye and he wears a black patch. His hair curls up in a pigtail, like any sailor before Nelson. It looks as stiff as a hook and he might almost be lifted by it and hung on a peg. But all of our pirates wear pigtails—except one, Red Joe.
The other pirate at the table is called the Duke, for no apparent reason as he is a shabby rogue. We must not run our finger down the peerage in hope of finding him, or think that he owns a palace on the Strand. He has only one leg, with a timber below the knee. ”

“ 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.) ”

“ Yer as sweet as honey. Tell me yer loves me. Me dirk is itchin' fer yer answer. Luck 's a lady as dotes on me. (He throws.) A pair o' sixes! Does yer see it, Duke? Stick yer blinkin' eye right117 down agin the table! It 's me, Captain. (He rises and draws his knife.) Joey are yer ready?
Joe: God, if I were loose I 'd take you by the dirty gullet and twist it until you roared. I 'd kick you off my path like a snarling cur. Of what filth does nature sometimes compound a man! Shall a skunk walk two-legged to infect the air? Three cowards will hang on Wapping wharf before the month is up. ”

“ In those golden days with which our comedy concerns itself, a gibbet stood on Wapping wharf and pirates stepped off the fatal cart to a hangman's jest. We may hear the shouts of the 'prentice lads echoing across the centuries. ”

“ The Duke, he knows a leetle dear as is jest waitin' ter come flutterin' ter his lovin' arms. I thinks it 's yer whiskers, Duke.
Captain: Yer can pull one, Betsy, fer the locket that yer wears. We is laughin' at yer, ol' walrus.
Duke: Kings is bigger than Dukes. I looses without no kickin' up. There 's no one like Darlin' fer mixin' grog.
Darlin': Fer that kind word I 'm lovin' yer.
(She fills the cups.)
Patch: It 's grog beats off the melancholy. As soon as me pipes goes dry, I gets homesick fer the ocean. Here we be, Duke, thrown up at last ter rot like driftwood on the shore. ”

“ Wappin’ Wharf CHARACTERS THE DUKE PATCH-EYE THE CAPTAIN RED JOE DARLIN' BETSY OLD MEG SAILOR CAPTAIN THREE SAILORS SETTING: For details of Stage Set turn to pages 35-6-7.
A PROLOGUE TO BE SPOKEN BY BETSY
Our scene is the wind-swept coast of Devon. By day there is a wide stretch of ocean far below, and the abutments of our stage arise from a dizzy cliff.
The time is remote, and ships of forgotten build stand out from Bristol in full sail for the mines of India. But we must be loose and free of precise date lest our plot be shamed by broken fact. A thousand years are but as yesterday. ”

“ 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 ship sticks her nose agin the cliff. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Leetle Betsy!
(With a wave of the hand Joe departs, and with him, Betsy, who kisses her fingers to the pirates in farewell. The sailors follow. The pirates and Darlin' are left. The pirates sit at the table. They exchange glances of satisfaction. They unbutton for a quiet evening at home. Kings are but an episode in a pirate's life. They return to the happy routine of their lives. Our adventure has circled to its start.)
Patch: Darlin'! Me friend, the Duke, is thirsty. Yer had better mix another pot o' grog. Yer does n't want ter be a foolish virgin and get ketched without no grog. ”

“ 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.) ”

“ We need only a handful of actors, but the manager has enlisted the street. The dearest little girl has been chosen for Betsy, and each day she18 practices her lullaby at the piano with uncertain, questing finger. A gentle rowdy of twelve will speak the Duke's blood-curdling lines. I understand that two quarrelsome pirates have nearly come to blows which shall act the captain. The hero, Red Joe, will be played by the manager himself, for it is he who owns the pistol. Is not the boy who has the baseball the captain of his nine? ”

“ 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 lantern89—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. ”

“ We had hoped for a play upon the sea, with a tall mast rocking from wing to wing and a tempest roaring at the rail. Alas! Our pirates grow old and stiff. They have retired, as we say, from active practice and live in idle luxury on shore. ”

“ They ketched Flint and they strung him to a gibbet. Poor ol' dear! I never touches me patch, but I thinks o' Flint.
Duke: This here life is snug and easy. We has retired from practice, like store-keepers does who has made a fortin. Ain 't we settin' here in style and comfert, and jest waitin' fer the treasure ships ter come ter us? We gets the plums without chawin' at the dough. We blows out the lighthouse, and we sets our lantern so as ter fool 'em on the course, and when they smashes on the rocks, well—all we does is stuff our pokes with the treasure that washes up. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Yer has jest time ter say "Now I lay me."107
Captain: How 's the night, Duke?
Duke: Blacker than the Earl o' Hell's top-boots.
Darlin': I 'll jest stick me apron on me head and go 'long, too. It ain 't proper fer a lady as has me temptin' beauty ter be left alone with snoopers.
(The cabin is empty except for Red Joe. He strains at his cords, but is tied fast. You hear the voices of the pirates singing in the distance.)
(As soon as the pirates have left the cabin Betsy enters. She sees Joe but passes him in fright. She runs to the window and shields her eyes to see into the darkness.) ”

“ 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. ”

“ Yer a precious ol' lady, and I loves yer.
Darlin': Yer spoils me, Duke.
(Lightning and a crash of thunder.)
Duke: It 's foul tonight on the ocean. How the wind blows! It be spittin' up outside. The channel 's as riled as a wampire when yer scorns her. How she snorts!
Patch: The devil hisself is hissin' through his teeth.
Duke: There 'll be sailormen tonight what 's booked fer Davy Jones's locker. I 'm not kickin' much ter be ashore. I rots peaceful.
(Patch-Eye has opened the door to consult the night. It slams wide in the wind and the gust blows out the candle.) ”

“ 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.
(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. ”

“ I dreamed o' gibbets!
"And we jest as innercent as babies in a crib" Duke: Yer is lucky, ol' keg o' rum, yer does n't dream o' purple rhinoceroses. Go back ter bed. (Then to Joe.) Smash! 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.
(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.) ”

“ Come, Captain, I 'll carve you to a dainty morsel. We 'll have fresh meat for the platter. You 'll not be known from scared rabbit-flesh.
(He drives them around the table. Patch takes refuge behind the door. Darlin's red stockings run up the ladder.) 105
Joe: You bearded hound!
Patch: He 's tauntin' yer, Captain. Hand him the hook! The Duke and me is back o' yer.
Joe: Do you fear to cheat the gibbet on Wapping wharf? A knife 's a sweeter end. Who comes first? I 'll help him across the Styx. Or sink or swim! Flint waits in hell for three whelps to join his crew. ”