ACT IV.

The same as in Act II. EnterMary,L.,with her hands full of papers. She sits down at the table.

Mary.There! The bills of lading are signed, and all my accounts are straight, so we are ready to begin again. But here we are, still fast at New Orleans, when we ought to have got away three days ago. For some reason or other I can’t get the cargo that was promised, and so I have had to fill up with watermelons. Heavy, unprofitable things! (Writes.) I wish I could hear from William. Poor fellow! The doctor at home said he must take a sea-voyage; and he has gone off with his father to the Grand Banks, fishing. I wish I could see him!

(EnterPhus,R.,bringing a large watermelon.)

Phus.Wattermillions is bos’; dey’s bos’ an’ cool.

Mary.Why, Phus, what do you want of that watermelon?

Phus.It’s such a golly big one; and den it’s marked so peart.

Mary.Why! there’s hundreds of them on board just as good.

Phus.O no! mis’, dere ain’t. Dis one hab de little Voudoo mark dat show dey’s sweet; an’ I wanted de baby to stick his little toof in it, an’ suck de juice. Oh, Lors! (Smacks his lips and sings.)

“Some are pa’shel to de appel, oddahs clamor fo’ de plum;Some fin’ ’joyment in de cherry, oddahs make de peaches hum;Some git fas’ned to de onion, oddahs lub de arti-choke;But my taste an’ wattahmillion er’ bound by a pleasant joke.“Hit er meller, hit er juicy,Hit er coolin’, hit er sweet!Hit er painless ter de stummick—Yo’ kin eat, an’ eat, an’ eat!”

“Some are pa’shel to de appel, oddahs clamor fo’ de plum;

Some fin’ ’joyment in de cherry, oddahs make de peaches hum;

Some git fas’ned to de onion, oddahs lub de arti-choke;

But my taste an’ wattahmillion er’ bound by a pleasant joke.

“Hit er meller, hit er juicy,Hit er coolin’, hit er sweet!Hit er painless ter de stummick—Yo’ kin eat, an’ eat, an’ eat!”

“Hit er meller, hit er juicy,

Hit er coolin’, hit er sweet!

Hit er painless ter de stummick—

Yo’ kin eat, an’ eat, an’ eat!”

I helped you bring ’em on board, didn’t I, mis’?

Mary.Yes, Phus; you’re always handy. I wish you could be the mate, in Patsy’s place, and help me steer the boat.

Phus.Lor’ bress you, mis’! I couldn’t do dat. I should steer for all de snags in de riber; an’ git twisted all up in de bay-yous, an’ run inter all de san’bars.

Mary.Have you found anybody yet to take Patsy’s place, if he leaves?

Phus.No, mis’. All de boys dey say as dey won’t be de mate to no woman. Dey say you has no licens’, an’ can’t be de cap’n. An’ Mass’ Rumberg, he cum an’ take away de Keyhole’s Bride.

Mary.Oh, Phus! is that what they say? Then that is the reason that I could not get the cargo that was promised here; and when they knew, too, that I had been running the boat these three months all alone!

Phus.When de cap’n cum hum?

Mary.Not until December, Phus.

Phus.Whar’s he, mis’, now?

Mary.Away out to sea, on a ship; not a steamboat—asailing vessel. The doctor said it would cure him if he took a sea-voyage.

Phus.Is de sea bigger dan de Missip’ or de Gulf Mex’?

Mary.Oh, yes, Phus! a good deal bigger, and wider, too. You can’t see across.

Phus.O, sho!

Mary(rising and walking about). And the waves are so high! and white on the top! and they come booming in on the rocks! and the breeze! Oh! the breeze is so sweet, so salt, so fresh! It is enough to do your soul good to smell it.

Phus.Golly! mis’. It mus’ be hunky, if it’s sweet, and salt, and fresh, an’ comes in boomin’ at ye, on de rocks, all at once.

Mary(smiling). Better go out again, Phus, and look among the boys for a mate.

Phus.Yes, mis’. (ExitR.)

Mary.I think I’ll write to mother, and tell her my troubles. If she can’t help me any, it will do me good to write; and I can get Phus to carry it to the Post Office before we start. (She writes.)

(EnterMr. Romberg.)

Mr. R.(slowly and deliberately). Mrs. Miller, I came to see what you were going to do about the boat. Your husband has been gone a long time; and it seems there is no prospect of his immediate return. So we might as well talk the matter over now as at any other time.

Mary(rises and offers him a seat). Mr. Romberg? I don’t know as I have seen you before. You are the largest owner in the Creole Bride, I believe? Why do you wish to know what I am going to do? (Sitting.)

Mr. R.(sitting). I (and the other owners) don’t want the boat to be eating her head off here at the wharf.

Mary.We shall not stay here longer than this afternoon. As soon as I come to terms with my mate, I shall be ready to steam her up.

Mr. R.I don’t see how you can run this boat.

Mary(rising). Why not, sir? Ihaverun her for the last three or four months. I carried her ’way up the Red and Yellow, and down again to Baton Rouge, through the most crooked part of our whole thousand-mile route; and I steered most of the time myself. The mate don’t know much about handling the wheel.

Mr. R.The merchants, I find, are not willing to trust you with a cargo; so I don’t see but you will have to give it up. You won’t be able to meet your payments; and I must look out for my own property, as well as that of the rest of the owners, for it is all in my care.

Mary.Is not Mr. Miller’s contract as captain of the boat all right? It does not expire till next year. He is all paid up to the first of the month; and I hope to be able to pay the next quarter,—that is, if I can go on running the boat.

Mr. R.Yes, madam; but you must understand that the contract is withCaptain Miller, and not with his wife; that is where the trouble is. Husband and wife are not one in this business. Captain Miller’s contractisall right, and heispaid up; but if he dies, the whole thing will have to be settled.

Mary(alarmed). But my husband isnotdead. He is not going to die! Why can’t I run the boat up to Cairo? I have a full cargo, and another is promised there. I know the route for the next three months. I have been over it all.

Mr. R.(rising). Mrs. Miller, you cannot be a captain in name.

Mary.But, Mr. Romberg, Iamthe captain.

Mr. R.No, Mrs. Miller. You may run the boat, but you cannot act as captain,—you have no license. The fact is, the law does not allow it. That is what the owners say; and we consulted a lawyer, and he gave it as his opinion,after careful consideration, that a woman cannot be master of a vessel legally.

Mary.Then we must lose our chance of owning the boat; and I cannot raise the money needed for the support of my poor sick husband and my little baby,—just because I am a woman! Oh! Mr. Romberg! this is hard indeed!

Mr. R.I suppose it is rather hard; but that is the way of the law, in Louisiana, at least, and I think all over the United States. When our fathers framed the constitution, they thought it was better that woman should be confined to the domestic sphere. The home, the home is their place,—not the decks of vessels. They wanted to protect women in their proper sphere.

Mary.Protect them! Hinder them, I should think!

Mr. R.(approachingMary). If Captain Miller, now, were not living, you might find some likely river-man to marry you, and be captain of the boat, in name; and then you could keep on acting as master,—your mate, perhaps,—then you’d be all right.

Mary.Marry! The mate! Patsy! Oh, Mr. Romberg! Oh, sir! what do you mean?

Mr. R.(aside). Gad! the women are all alike. How they stick to one man! (To her) I don’t see what else you can do.

Mary.There was Captain Tucker’s wife; after he died she took the boat.

Mr. R.Yes, but she did not run it long; all of us owners objected to a petticoat captain, and we discharged her.

Mary(severely). Then what has become of her and all her six children?

Mr. R.Oh, she tends in a lager-beer saloon in Natchez.

Mary(indignantly). Yes, and I suppose her children are given away or put out to service—all because she is a woman! She has to do this degrading work to get an honest living, and all because you wouldn’t allow her to do the only work she always had done and was best fitted to do. She run the boat three years before her husband died.

Mr. R.Well, she might have married and had some oneto be her captain. The merchants sent one of their best river-men to marry her, but she ordered him off the boat.

Mary.I don’t blame her!

Mr. R.There ain’t much a woman can do round herebutget married. There’s many a likely man that isnota river-man who would like to get a good smart Yankee woman like you.

Mary(sharply). Mr. Romberg! what do you mean?

Mr. R.I mean, of course, if your husband does not come back, which seems most likely—

Mary (turning away). Oh! What shall I do?

Mr. R.My dear Mrs. Miller! you must be as wise as a serpent as well as harmless as a dove.

Mary.Oh, sir! how can I be wise without money, without friends, with my hands tied by a little child, and my means of earning a living taken away?

Mr. R.Well, there is a month or two yet before I shall be obliged to ask you to give up your husband’s papers. Meanwhile, you can go on to Cairo, and come back; go along the Red and Yellow, and leave your cargo. You needn’t take on any more. I’ll see you again when you come down to New Orleans; and then, if your husband has not returned, we must close up our accounts. That is what the rest of the owners say, and I agree.

Mary.Oh, Mr. Romberg! is there nothing I can do to keep the boat? Can I not get a license? Did a woman never have a captain’s license?

Mr. R.I never heard of one. And I don’t think there ever was one. It would be absurd! But I must bid you good-morning.

Mary.Good-morning, sir. (ExitMr. Romberg,R.) Indeed! what kind of a woman does he take me to be! Tellingmeabout marrying another man so as to have a captain! I will show him that I can be master of my own boat.Igo into a lager-beer saloon! As Mary Gandy I would not have done it; and as Mary Miller I certainly shall not.Igive up the boat! My William’s boat? Never! Unless they putme on shore by force.WhycannotIget a license?I’ll try!and then, if worst comes to worst, I must make my way somehow back home again. If I could only hear from mother! (Sits down at the table—arranges papers.)

(EnterPhus,R.)

Phus.O, Lor’! Mis’ Miller! Here’s suthin’ I forgits. I met de pos’-man out here, an’ he holl’d at me (She does not look up.)—“Har, you nig!” I looks round, and sez: “Whar? whar? I dun’ see no nig.” He laf, an’ sez, “You know who dat is?” “Whar?” sez I. “On dis let’,” sez he. “No,” sez I; “who is it?” “It’s Mrs. Mary Miller,” sez he. “Lor’,” sez I, “dat’s my cap’n’s mis’; gib it yere.” “Well, fotch it, then,” sez he, “an’ be darn quick ’bout it.” “I will,” sez I. (Marylooks up.)

Mary.A letter? Oh, give it to me! How long have you had it?

Phus.Jes dis minit, mis’.

Mary(tearing the envelope). From home, and written by dear brother John. Dear little fellow! (Reads.)

Dear Mary,—Motherwants me to write. She says: Tell Mary that I talked it all over with your father, and he asked old Pete Rosson, and then I wrote to the lecture woman up to Boston, and she says you must have a captain’s license so’s you can keep the boat. And she says you must apply to the Local Inspectors (here is a blank for you to fill out), and that if you pass your examination they will see that it is sent to Washington to the Solicitor of the Treasury. You must write to Mr. Le Brun or Mr. Cholmly, Local Inspectors, New Orleans, La. Do it right off before Mr. Romberg gets a chance to take away the boat. And oh! mother says you must sign your own name to the application—Mary Miller, or Mary Gandy Miller (’cause it isn’t legal to sign your husband’s name, andMrs.is nothing but a title). She’s found out that a woman has no more right, legally, to use her husband’s first name and title than he has to use hers. She says Martha Washington had more sense than to call herself Mrs. George, or Mrs. General, or Mrs. President Washington. PlainMartha Washington was good enough for her. And oh! the folks round here are real proud of you, to think you can manage a steamboat, and old Pete Rosson says “it’s a darned shame you have such a hard time, and he hopes you won’t give up the ship.” He expects to go to the Legislature this winter, and he says “if the men at Washington don’t let you have the captain’s license, he’ll vote agin every mother’s son on ’em.”Yours, as usual,John Quincy Adams Gandy.

Dear Mary,—

Motherwants me to write. She says: Tell Mary that I talked it all over with your father, and he asked old Pete Rosson, and then I wrote to the lecture woman up to Boston, and she says you must have a captain’s license so’s you can keep the boat. And she says you must apply to the Local Inspectors (here is a blank for you to fill out), and that if you pass your examination they will see that it is sent to Washington to the Solicitor of the Treasury. You must write to Mr. Le Brun or Mr. Cholmly, Local Inspectors, New Orleans, La. Do it right off before Mr. Romberg gets a chance to take away the boat. And oh! mother says you must sign your own name to the application—Mary Miller, or Mary Gandy Miller (’cause it isn’t legal to sign your husband’s name, andMrs.is nothing but a title). She’s found out that a woman has no more right, legally, to use her husband’s first name and title than he has to use hers. She says Martha Washington had more sense than to call herself Mrs. George, or Mrs. General, or Mrs. President Washington. PlainMartha Washington was good enough for her. And oh! the folks round here are real proud of you, to think you can manage a steamboat, and old Pete Rosson says “it’s a darned shame you have such a hard time, and he hopes you won’t give up the ship.” He expects to go to the Legislature this winter, and he says “if the men at Washington don’t let you have the captain’s license, he’ll vote agin every mother’s son on ’em.”

Yours, as usual,John Quincy Adams Gandy.

Mary(folding the letter). Dear, dear folks at home! How good they are to tell me just what to do! I must write my application at once. (Sits down at the table.)

Phus.Is de folks well, mis’, an’ de cap’n?

Mary(writing). Yes, Phus, the folks are well; but the letter is not from the captain. I do not expect to hear from him at present.

Phus.O, Lor’! mis, is dat so?

Mary.Yes, Phus. You wait round till I get this letter done, then you carry it to the post-office. I want an answer from it, right off, as soon as I can get it.

Phus.Yes, mis’. (He goes out,L.,keeps popping his head in and tiptoeing round.)

Mary(folding up the letter, and putting it in a long envelope). There! my blank is all filled out, and my letter written; both signed plain Mary Miller, which means to me (sighing) that I must hereafter stand alone,—legally, at any rate, and take the responsibility of all my actions. No more hiding behind a husband’s or a father’s name. Plain Mary Miller! A good name, and I must show that I am worthy of it. (ToPhus) There, be as quick as you can; and then come back here and take care of the baby while I go on deck. (She goes to the cradle.)

Phus.Yes, mis’! I’m skippin’. (ExitR.)

Curtain.

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