Scene—About nine o’clock of a moonlight night one year later—Captain Bartlett’s“cabin,” a room erected on the top of his house as a lookout post. The interior is fitted up like the cabin of a sailing vessel. On the left, forward, a porthole. Farther back, the stairs of the companionway. Still farther, two more portholes. In the rear, left, a marble-topped sideboard. In the rear, center, a door opening on stairs which lead to the lower house. A cot with a blanket is placed against the wall to the right of door. In the right wall, five portholes. Directly under them, a wooden bench. In front of the bench, a long table with two chairs placed, one in front, one to the left of it. A cheap, dark-colored rug is on the floor. In the ceiling, midway from front to rear, a skylight extending from opposite the door to above the left edge of the table. In the right extremity of the skylight is placed a floating ship’s compass. The light from the binnacle sheds down over this and seeps into the room, casting a vague globular shadow of thecompass on the floor. Moonlight creeps in through the portholes on the right. A lighted lantern is on the table.As the curtain rises,SueandDoctor Berryare discovered sitting by the table. The doctor is a man of sixty or so, hale and hearty-looking, his white hair and mustache setting off his ruddy completion. His blue eyes have a gentle expression, his smile is kindly and sympathetic. His whole manner towardSueis that of the old family doctor and friend, not the least of whose duties is to play father-confessor to his patients. She is dressed in deep mourning. She looks much older. Her face is pale and plainly marked by the ravages of suffering and grief. But there is an excited elation in her face at present, her eyes are alight with some unexpected joy.
Scene—About nine o’clock of a moonlight night one year later—Captain Bartlett’s“cabin,” a room erected on the top of his house as a lookout post. The interior is fitted up like the cabin of a sailing vessel. On the left, forward, a porthole. Farther back, the stairs of the companionway. Still farther, two more portholes. In the rear, left, a marble-topped sideboard. In the rear, center, a door opening on stairs which lead to the lower house. A cot with a blanket is placed against the wall to the right of door. In the right wall, five portholes. Directly under them, a wooden bench. In front of the bench, a long table with two chairs placed, one in front, one to the left of it. A cheap, dark-colored rug is on the floor. In the ceiling, midway from front to rear, a skylight extending from opposite the door to above the left edge of the table. In the right extremity of the skylight is placed a floating ship’s compass. The light from the binnacle sheds down over this and seeps into the room, casting a vague globular shadow of thecompass on the floor. Moonlight creeps in through the portholes on the right. A lighted lantern is on the table.
As the curtain rises,SueandDoctor Berryare discovered sitting by the table. The doctor is a man of sixty or so, hale and hearty-looking, his white hair and mustache setting off his ruddy completion. His blue eyes have a gentle expression, his smile is kindly and sympathetic. His whole manner towardSueis that of the old family doctor and friend, not the least of whose duties is to play father-confessor to his patients. She is dressed in deep mourning. She looks much older. Her face is pale and plainly marked by the ravages of suffering and grief. But there is an excited elation in her face at present, her eyes are alight with some unexpected joy.
Sue—[Excitedly.] And here is Danny’s letter, Doctor—to prove it’s all true. [She takes a letter from the bosom of her dress and holds it out to him.]
Doctor—[Takes it with a smile, patting her hand.] I can’t say how glad I am, Susan. Coming after we’d all given him up for lost—it’s like a miracle. Eh, well, I can hardly believe——
Sue—[Smiling happily.] Read what he says. Then you won’t doubt.
Doctor—[Hesitating—playfully.] I don’t know that it’s right for me—love letters at my age!
Sue—Go ahead. I want you to read it. [He reaches in his pocket for his spectacles.Suecontinues gratefully.] As if I could have any secrets from you after all you’ve done for us since Ma died. You’ve been the only friend—— [She stops, her lips trembling.]
Doctor—Tut-tut. [He adjusts his spectacles and peers at her over them.] Who wouldn’t be of all the service he could to a brave girl like you—and I who’ve known you since you were so high! Eh, well, my dear girl, this past year—with your mother’s death—the state your father’s in—and then the news of the schooner being reported lost—one damn thing on top of another! You’ve borne the whole brunt of it on your shoulders and stood up like a major. I’ll tell Danny when he comes he ought to get down on his knees and thank God for getting such a wife!
Sue—[Flushing.] You’re too good. I don’t deserve it. It was just a case where someone had to carry things on.
Doctor—Not many could have stood it—living in this house with him the way he is—even if he was their father.
Sue—[Glancing up at the skylight—apprehensively.] Ssshh! He might hear you.
Doctor—[Listening intently.] Not him. There he goes pacing up and down up there in the night, looking out to sea for that ship that will never comeback! And your brother Nat is getting just as bad. [Shaking himself.] Brrr! This house of mad dreams! It’s the crowning wonder to me you haven’t lost your balance too—spending nearly all of your time in this crazy cabin—afraid to go out—afraid of what he might do——
Sue—Don’t you think Pa’ll come to realize the schooner is lost as time goes by and she doesn’t come back?
Doctor—If he was going to realize that, the report of the facts five months ago would have convinced him. There it was, plain as the nose on your face. British freighter reports finding derelict schooner. Steams near enough to read the name on the stern—Sarah Allen, Harborport. Well, who could get around that evidence except a man with an obsession? No, your father won’t let himself look the facts in the face. If he did, probably the shock of it would kill him. That darn dream of his has become his life. No, Susan, as time goes on he’ll believe in it harder and harder. After observing him for the past year—and I speak for his own sake, too, as his good friend for twenty years or more—my final advice is the same: Send him to an asylum.
Sue—[With a shudder.] No, Doctor.
Doctor—[Shaking his head.] You’ll have to come to it in time. He’s getting worse. No one can tell—he might get violent——
Sue—How can you say that? You know howgentle and sane he is with me—just like he used to be in the old days.
Doctor—You’re his last connecting link with things as they are—but that can’t last. On the other hand, I think that if we got him away from the sea, from this house, especially from this crazy cabin and the ship’s deck he had built up there—[He nods upward.]—that perhaps——
Sue—[With conviction.] No. It would kill him to leave it.
Doctor—Eh, well, my dear, one thing you’ve got to realize: Your father and Nat must be separated somehow. Nat’s going to pieces. He’s lost his job, he moons about this house, he takes no interest in anything but this craziness. I’ll bet he doesn’t believe that schooner is lost any more than your father does.
Sue—You mean he still hopes it may not be true. That’s only natural. He’s in San Francisco now tracing down the report again. He saw in the papers where the British freighter that found the derelict was in port again and he went to talk with the people on board. I’m hoping he’ll come back fully convinced, with the whole thing out of his mind.
Doctor—[Shaking his head—gravely.] I’ve watched him and talked with him—— Why, even your father seems to realize, in his twisted way, that he has a bad effect on Nat.
Sue—Yes, as I’ve told you before, he hasn’t spoken to Nat alone since the schooner sailed a year ago. And Nat sneaks about trying to spy on him—and I have to be always on the watch to keep them apart—— It’s terrible.
Doctor—You’ve got to persuade Nat to go away, Susan.
Sue—He won’t heed me—but I was thinking that now Danny is coming back, I’d get him——
Doctor—There’s another thing. You can’t continue to play slave to these two after you’re married.
Sue—[Miserably.] We’ll have to wait a while longer——
Doctor—[Roughly.] Rats! You can’t sacrifice any more of your life and Danny’s to mad dreams.
Sue—[Helplessly.] I don’t know—— [Then brightening.] That’ll all be decided when the time comes. Just now it’s enough to know Danny’s alive and coming back. Read his letter, Doctor. You’ve been holding it in your hand all this time.
Doctor—Yes, yes, let’s see. [He takes the letter from the envelope.]
Sue—Poor Danny! He’s been through terrible things.
Doctor—Hmm! Rangoon.
Sue—Yes, he’s still in the hospital there. You’ll see.
Doctor—[Reads the letter—grunts with astonishment—angrily.] By Gad! The damn scoundrels!
Sue—[Shuddering.] Yes, wasn’t it hideous—those awful men stabbing him and leaving him for dead in that out of the way native settlement! The natives nursed him back to life, have you got that far yet? And then he was laid up for four months there waiting for a vessel to touch and take him back to civilization. And then, think of it, getting the fever on top of all that and nearly dying in the hospital in Rangoon!
Doctor—A terrible time of it! He’s lucky to be alive. Hmm. I see he foresaw the wreck of the schooner. Those brutes couldn’t navigate. [Folding the letter and putting it back.] He doesn’t seem to have found out what the purpose of that mad trip was. Horne hid it from him to the last, he says. Well, it’s queer—damn queer. But I’m glad to know those wretches have gone to their final accounting.
Sue—[With a shudder.] I was always afraid of them. They looked like—murderers. [At a noise from below they both start. Steps can be heard climbing the stairs.Suejumps to her feet frightenedly.] Why—do you hear—who can that be? [There is a soft rap on the door. The Doctor jumps to his feet.Sueturns to him with a half-hysterical laugh.] Shall I open? I don’t know why—but I’m afraid.
Doctor—Tut-tut! I’ll see who it is. [He opens the door andNatis discovered on the stairs outside.] Why hello, boy. You gave us a scare. Susan thought it was a ghost knocking.
Nat—[Comes into the room. He has aged, grown thin, his face gaunt and drawn from continual mental strain, his eyes moody and preoccupied. He glances up at the skylight apprehensively, then turns toSue.] I didn’t find you downstairs so I—— [Then to the Doctor.] Yes, you do grow to look for ghosts in this house, don’t you? [Again glancing upward.] He’s up there as usual, I suppose—looking for a ship that’llnever, never come now!
Doctor—[With a grunt of approval.] I’m glad to hear you acknowledge that.
Sue—[Who is just recovering from her fright.] But, Nat, I didn’t expect you—— Did you find out——?
Nat—Yes, I talked with several of the men who were on board at the time. They said they steamed in so close to the schooner it was easy to read the name with the naked eye. All agreed—Sarah Allen, Harborport. They even remembered how her tafrail was painted. There’s no chance for mistake. The Sarah Allen is gone. [With great emphasis.] And I’m glad—damn glad! I feel as if a weight of lead had been taken off my brain. I feel free again, and I can go back to work—but not here. I’ve got to go away—start new altogether.
Sue—[Happily, coming and putting her armsaround him.] It’s so good to hear you talk like your old self again.
Doctor—[Earnestly.] Yes, Nat, by Gad, that’s sound sense. Get out of this.
Nat—[Giving him a queer look.] I suppose you thought I was doomed, eh?—like him. [He makes a motion upward—then with an uncertain laugh.] A doctor’s always looking for trouble where there isn’t any. [In a tone of finality.] Well, it’s all over, anyway.
Sue—[Snatching the letter from the table.] Oh, I was forgetting, Nat. Read this. I got it yesterday.
Nat—[Turns it over in his hands suspiciously.] Who from?
Sue—Open it and see.
Nat—[Does so and turns over the pages to read the signature—he gives a start—hoarsely.] Danny! It can’t be! But it’s his writing sure enough! [He exclaims with a sudden wild exultation.] Then they must have been lying to me!
Sue—No, the Sarah Allen was wrecked all right, but that was afterwards. He wasn’t on board then. Read it. You’ll see. [Natsinks back on a chair, evidently depressed by this information. He starts to read the letter with unconcealed indifference, then becomes engrossed, excited, the paper trembling in his hands. The Doctor shakes his head atSueindicating his disapproval of her giving him the letter.Natfinishes and springs to his feet—angrily.]
Nat—The stupid fool! He let Horne pull the wool over his eyes in fine shape. He deserved all he got for being so dumb!
Sue—[Indignantly.] Nat!
Nat—[Unheedingly.] Oh, if I could only have gone in his place! I knew the kind Horne was. He couldn’t have played that trick on me. I’d have forced the secret out of him if I had to—— [He raises his clenched fist in a gesture of threat like his father’s—then lets it fall and sits down again—disgustedly.] But what’s the use? And what’s the use of this? [Tosses the letter contemptuously on the table.] He might just as well not have written. We’re no wiser than we were before.
Sue—[Snatching up the letter—deeply hurt.] Aren’t you even glad to hear Danny’s alive?
Nat—[Turning to her at once—with remorseful confusion.] Yes—yes—of course, Sue—I don’t have to say that, do I? What I mean is, he never found out from Horne—and we’re no wiser.
Doctor—[Briskly—with a significant glance atSue.] Well, Susan—Nat—I’ve got to run along—[Meaningly.] I’ll be over again tomorrow, Susan.
Sue—Yes, do come. [Goes with him to the door.] Can you see your way?
Doctor—Yes. Good night.
Sue—Good night. [She closes the door and comes back toNat.The Doctor’s footsteps die out.]
Nat—[Savagely.] That damned old fool! What is he doing, sneaking around here all the time? I’ve grown to hate the sight of him.
Sue—Nat! You can’t mean that. Think of how kind he’s been.
Nat—Yes—kindness with a purpose.
Sue—Don’t be silly. What purpose could he have except wanting to help us?
Nat—To find out things, of course, you simpleton. To pump Pa when he’s not responsible for what he’s saying.
Sue—[Indignantly.] Nat!
Nat—Much good it’s done him! I know Pa. Sane or not, he won’t tellthatto anyone—not even you or me, Sue. [With sudden fury.] I’m going away—but before I go I’m going to make him tell me! He won’t refuse this time when he knows I’m leaving for good. He’ll be glad then. He’s been so afraid I’d find out, so scared to speak to me even—locking himself up here. But I’ll make him tell—yes, I will!
Sue—Careful, Nat. He’ll hear you if you shout like that.
Nat—But we have a right to know—his own children. What if he dies without ever speaking?
Sue—[Uneasily.] Be sensible, Nat. There’s nothing to tell except in your imagination. [Taking his arm—persuasively.] Come on downstairs. I’ll get you something to eat. You must be starved, aren’t you?
Nat—No—I don’t know—I suppose I ought to be. [He gets to his feet and glances around with a shudder.] What a place for him to build to wait in—like the cabin of a ship sunk deep under the sea—like the Sarah Allen’s cabin as it is now, probably. [With a shiver.] There’s a chill comes over you. No wonder he’s mad. [He listens.] Hear him. A year ago today she sailed. I wonder if he knows that. Back and forth, always staring out to sea for the Sarah Allen. Ha-ha! God! It would be funny if it didn’t make your flesh creep. [Brusquely.] Come on. Let’s leave him and go down where there’s light and warmth. [They go down the stairs, closing the door behind them. There is a pause. Then the door of the companionway above is heard being opened and shut. A gust of wind sweeps down into the room.Bartlettstamps down the stairs. The madness which has taken almost complete possession of him in the past year is clearly stamped on his face, particularly in his eyes which seem to stare through and beyond objects with a hunted, haunted expression. His movements suggest an automaton obeying invisible wires. They are quick, jerky, spasmodic. He appears to be laboring under a state of extraordinary excitement. He stands for a second at the foot of the stairs,peering about him suspiciously. Then he goes to the table and sits down on the edge of a chair, his chin supported on his hands.]
Bartlett—[Takes a folded piece of paper from his pocket and spreads it out on the table in the light of the lantern—pointing with his finger—mumblingly.] Where the cross be—ye’ll not forget that, Silas Horne. Ye had a copy o’ this—no chance for a mistake, bullies—the gold’s there, restin’ safe—back to me and we’ll share it fair and square. A year ago today—ye remember the orders I wrote ye, Horne. [Threateningly.] Ye’ll not be gone more nor a year or I’ll—and if ye make port to home here at night, hang a red and a green light at the mainm’st head so I’ll see ye comin.’ A red and a green—— [He springs up suddenly and goes to a porthole to look out at the sea—disappointedly.] No light be there—but they’ll come. The year be up today and ye’ve got to come or I’ll—— [He sinks back on the chair, his head in his hands. Suddenly he starts and stares straight in front of him as if he saw something in the air—with angry defiance.] Aye, there ye be again—the two o’ ye! Makin’ a mock o’ me! Brass and junk, ye say, not worth a damn! Ye don’t believe, do ye? I’ll show ye! [He springs to his feet and makes a motion as if grabbing someone by the throat and shaking them—savagely.] Ye lie! Is it gold or no? Answer me! [With a mocking laugh.] Aye, ye own upto it now, right enough. Too late, ye swabs! No share for ye! [He sinks back on the chair again—after a pause, dully.] Jimmy’s gone. Let them rot. But I spoke no word, Silas Horne, remember! [Then in a tone of fear.] Be ye dyin’, Sarah? No, ye must live—live to see your ship come home with the gold—and I’ll buy ye all in the world ye set your heart on. No, not ambergris, Sarah—gold and diamonds and sech! We’re rich at last! [Then with great anguish.] What woman’s stubborn talk be this? Confess, ye say? But I spoke no word, I swear to ye! Why will ye hound me and think evil o’ what I done? Men’s business, I tell ye. They would have killed us and stolen the gold, can’t ye see? [Wildly.] Enough o’ talk, Sarah! I’ll sail out in spite o’ ye! [He gets to his feet and paces up and down the room. The door in the rear is opened andNatre-enters. He glances at his father, then looks down the stairs behind him cautiously to see if he is followed. He comes in and closes the door behind him carefully.]
Nat—[In a low voice.] Pa! [Then as his father does not appear to notice his presence—louder.] Pa!
Bartlett—[Stops short and stares at his son as if he were gradually awakening from a dream—slowly.] Be that ye, Nat?
Nat—[Coming forward.] Yes. I want to talk with you.
Bartlett—[Struggling to bring his thoughts under control.] Talk? Ye want to talk—to me? Men’s business—no room for a boy in it—keep clear o’ this.
Nat—[Defiantly.] That’s what you’ve always said. But I won’t be put off any longer. I won’t, do you hear?
Bartlett—[Angrily.] I’ve ordered ye not to set foot in this cabin o’ mine. Git below where ye belong. Where’s Sue? I told her to keep ye away.
Nat—She can’t prevent me this time. I’ve made up my mind. Listen, Pa. I’m going away tomorrow.
Bartlett—[Uncertainly.] Goin’ away?
Nat—Yes, and I’m never coming back. I’m going to start a new life. That’s why I want a final talk with you—before I go.
Bartlett—[Dully.] I’ve naught to say to ye.
Nat—You will have. Listen. I’ve absolute proof the Sarah Allen is lost.
Bartlett—[Fiercely.] Ye lie!
Nat—[Curiously.] Why do you say that? You know it’s true. It’s just that youwon’t believe.
Bartlett—[Wanderingly—the word heading his mind into another channel.] Believe? Aye, he wouldn’t believe. Brass and junk, he said, not worth a damn—but in the end I made him own up ’twas gold.
Nat—[Repeating the word fascinatedly.] Gold?
Bartlett—A year ago today she sailed. Ye lie! Ye don’t believe either, do ye?—like him. But I’ll show ye! I’ll make ye own up as I made him! [With mad exultation.] She’s comin’ home tonight as I ordered Horne she must! I kin feel her makin’ for home, I tell ye! A red an’ a green at the mainm’sthead if ye make port o’ night, I ordered Horne. Ye’ll see! [He goes to look out of a porthole.Nat,as if under a spell, goes to another.]
Nat—[Turning away disappointedly—making an effort to throw off his thoughts—without conviction.] Nonsense. There’s nothing there—no lights—and I don’t believe there ever will be.
Bartlett—[His wild eyes fixed on his son’s with an intense effort of will as if he were trying to break down his resistance.] Ye’ll see, I tell ye—a red and a green! It ain’t time yet, boy, but when it be they’ll be plain in the night afore your eyes. [He goes and sits down by the table.Natfollows him and sits down in the other chair. He sees the map and stares at it fascinatedly.]
Nat—What is this—the map of the island? [He reaches out his hand for it.]
Bartlett—[Snatching it up—with a momentary return to reason—frightenedly.] Not for ye, boy. Keep clear o’ this for your own good. [Then with a crazed triumph.] Aye! Ye’d believe this soon enough, wouldn’t ye?
Nat—[Intensely.] I’ve always believed therewas something—and a moment ago you mentioned gold. [Triumphant in his turn.] So you needn’t try to hide the secret any longer. I know now. It’s gold—gold you found on that island—gold you fitted out the Sarah Allen to sail back for—gold you buried where I saw that cross marked on the map! [Passionately.] Why have you been afraid to confide in me, your own son? Why didn’t you let me sail back in your place? Were you afraid I’d give the secret away? Did you think I wouldn’t believe——?
Bartlett—[With a mad chuckle.] Aye, ye believe now, right enough.
Nat—I always believed, I tell you. [Pleadingly.] And now that I know so much why can’t you tell me the rest? I must know! I have a right to be heir to the secret. Why don’t you confess——
Bartlett—[Interrupting—his brain catching at the word.] Confess? Confess, did ye say, Sarah? To Nat, did ye mean? Aye, Sarah, I’ll tell him all and leave it to him to say if I did wrong. [His gleaming eyes fixed on his son’s.] I’ll tell ye, boy, from start to finish o’ it. I been eatin’ my heart to tell someone—someone who’d believe—someone that’d say I did no wrong. Listen, boy, ye know o’ our four days in an open boat after the Triton went down. I told ye o’ that when I come home. But what I didn’t tell ye was they was six o’ us in that boat, not four.
Nat—Six? There were you and Horne and Cates and Jimmy——
Bartlett—The cook o’ the Triton and the ship’s boy. We’d been on the island two days—an island barren as hell, mind—without food or drink. We was roasted by the sun and nigh mad with thirst. Then, on the second day, I seed a Malay canoe—a proper war canoe such as the pirates use—sunk down inside the reef. I sent Jimmy down to go over her thinkin’ they might be some cask o’ water in her the sea’d not got to. [With impressive emphasis.] He found no water, boy, but he did find—d’ye know what, boy?
Nat—[Exultantly.] The gold, of course!
Bartlett—[Laughing harshly.] Ha-ha! Ye do believe right enough, don’t ye! Aye, the gold—in a chest. We hauled her up ashore and forced the lid open. [Gloatingly.] And there it was afore our eyes in the sun—gold bracelets and rings and ornaments o’ all sorts fixed up fancy with diamonds and emeralds and rubies and sech—red and green—shinin’ in the sun! [He stops impressively.]
Nat—[Fascinatedly.] Diamonds and—— But how did they get there?
Bartlett—Looted treasure o’ some Chinese junk, likely. What matter how it come about? There it was afore our eyes. And then, mind ye, that thief o’ a cook came runnin’ up from where he’d been shirkin’ to look at what we’d found. “Noshare for ye, ye swab,” I yelled at him; and then he says: “It ain’t gold—brass and junk,” he says and run off for fear o’ me. Aye, he run off to the boy and told him to jine with his sneakin’ plan to steal the gold from us!
Nat—[Savagely.] But why didn’t you stop him? Why didn’t you——?
Bartlett—I be comin’ to that, boy, and ye’ll see if I did wrong. We carried the chest to the shade o’ a palm and there was that thief o’ a cook an’ the boy waitin’. I collared ’em both and made ’em look at the gold. “Look and tell me if it’s gold or no,” I says. [Triumphantly.] They was afeerd to lie. Even that thief o’ a cook owned up ’twas gold. Then when I turned ’em loose, because he knowed he’d git no share, he shouted again: “Brass and junk. Not worth a damn.”
Nat—[Furiously.] But why did you allow—— Why didn’t you——
Bartlett—[With mad satisfaction.] Aye, ye be seein’ the way o’ it, boy. It was just then we sighted the schooner that picked us up after. We made a map and was burryin’ the gold when we noticed them two thieves sneakin’ about to see where we’d hide it. I saw ’em plain, the scum! That thief o’ a cook was thinkin’ he’d tell the folks on the schooner and go shares with them—and leave us on the island to rot; or he was thinkin’ he and the boy’d be able to come back and dig it up afore Icould. We had to do somethin’ quick to spile their plan afore the schooner come. [In a tone of savage satisfaction.] And so—though I spoke no word to him—Jimmy knifed ’em both and covered ’em up with sand. But I spoke no word, d’ye hear? Their deaths be on Jimmy’s head alone.
Nat—[Passionately.] And what if you had? They deserved what they got.
Bartlett—Then ye think I did no wrong?
Nat—No! Any man—I’d have done the same myself.
Bartlett—[Gripping his son’s hand tensely.] Ye be true son o’ mine, Nat. I ought to told ye before. [Exultantly.] Ye hear, Sarah? Nat says I done no wrong.
Nat—The map! Can I see it?
Bartlett—Aye. [He hands it toNatwho spreads it out on the table and pores over it.]
Nat—[Excitedly.] Why, with this I—we—can go back—even if the Sarah Allen is lost.
Bartlett—She ain’t lost, boy—not her. Don’t heed them lies ye been hearin’. She’s due now. I’ll go up and look. [He goes up the companionway stairs.Natdoes not seem to notice his going, absorbed in the map. Then there is a loud muffled hail inBartlett’svoice.] “Sarah Allen, ahoy!” [Natstarts, transfixed—then rushes to one of the portholes to look. He turns back, passing his hand over his eyes, frowning bewilderedly. The door above isflung open and slammed shut andBartlettstamps down the stairs.]
Bartlett—[FixingNathypnotically with his eyes—triumphantly.] What did I tell ye? D’ye believe now she’ll come back? D’ye credit your own eyes?
Nat—[Vaguely.] Eyes? I looked. I didn’t see——
Bartlett—Ye lie! The Sarah Allen, ye blind fool, come back from the Southern Seas as I swore she must! Loaded with gold as I swore she would be!—makin’ port!—droppin’ her anchor just when I hailed her.
Nat—[Feebly, his will crumbling.] But—how do you know?—some other schooner——
Bartlett—Not know my own ship—and the signal I’d ordered Horne to make!
Nat—[Mechanically.] I know—a red and a green at the mainm’sthead.
Bartlett—Then look out if ye dare! [He goes to a porthole.] Ye kin see it plain from here. [Commandingly.] Will ye believe your eyes? Look! [Natcomes to him slowly—looks through the porthole—and starts back, a possessed expression coming over his face.]
Nat—[Slowly.] A red and a green—clear as day!
Bartlett—[His face is now transfigured by the ecstasy of a dream come true.] They’ve lowered aboat—the three—Horne an’ Cates and Jimmy Kanaka. They’re rowin’ ashore. Listen. I hear the oars in the locks. Listen!
Nat—[Staring into his father’s eyes—after a pause during which he appears to be straining his hearing to the breaking point—excitedly.] I hear!
Bartlett—Listen! They’ve landed. They’ll be comin’ up the path now. [In a crooning, monotonous tone.] They move slowly—slowly. It be heavy, I know—that chest. [After a pause.] Hark! They’re below at the door in front.
Nat—I hear!
Bartlett—Ye’ll see it now in a moment, boy—the gold. Up with it, bullies! Up ye come! Up, bullies! It’s heavy, heavy!
Nat—[Madly.] I hear them! They’re on the floor below! They’re coming! I’ll open the door. [He springs to the door and flings it open, shouting.] Welcome home, boys! [Sueis discovered outside just climbing up the stairs from below. She steps inside, then stops, looking with amazement and horror from father to brother.Natpushes her roughly aside to look behind her down the stairs.]
Sue—Nat!
Nat—[Turning to his father.] I’ll go down to the wharf. They must be there or—— [The rest of his words are lost as he hurries down the stairs.Bartlettsteps back, shrinking away from hisdaughter, and sinks on a chair by the table with a groan, his hands over his eyes.]
Sue—[Comes to him and shakes him by the shoulder—alarmed.] Pa! What has happened? What is the matter with Nat? What have you told him? [With bitter despair.] Oh, can’t you see you’re driving him mad, too?
Bartlett—[Letting his hands fall and staring at her haggardly—falteringly, as if reason were slowly filtering back into his brain.] Sue—ye said—drivin’ him mad,too! Then ye think I be——? [He staggers to his feet.Suebreaks down, sobbing.Bartlettfalters on.] But I seen her—the Sarah Allen—the signal lights——
Sue—Oh, Pa, there’s nothing there! You know it! She was lost months ago.
Bartlett—Lost? [He stumbles over to a porthole and looks out. His body sags as if he were going to fall. He turns away and cries hopelessly in a tone of heart-rending grief.] Lost! Aye, they be no Sarah Allen there—no lights—nothin’!
Sue—[Pleading fiercely.] Pa, you’ve got to save Nat! He won’t heed anyone else. Can’t you tell him the truth—the whole truth whatever it is—now when I’m here and you’re yourself again—and set him free from this crazy dream!
Bartlett—[With wild grief.] Confess, ye mean? Sue, ye be houndin’ me like your Ma did to her dyin’ hour! Confess—that I spoke the word toJimmy—in my mind! Confess—brass and junk—not worth a damn! [In frenzied protest.] No! Ye lie!
Sue—Oh, Pa, I don’t know what you mean. Tell Nat the truth! Save him!
Bartlett—The truth? It’s a lie! [AsSuetries to bar his way to the companionway—sternly.] Out o’ my way, girl! [He pulls himself feebly up the stairs. The door is heard slamming above.Suesits down in a chair in a hopeless, exhausted attitude. After a pauseNatre-enters. He is panting heavily from his exertions. His pale face is set in an expression of despair.]
Nat—[Looking about the room wildly.] Where is he? Sue! [He comes forward and falls on his knees beside her chair, hiding his face in her lap like a frightened child. He sobs hoarsely.] Sue! What does it all mean? I looked. There was nothing there—no schooner—nothing.
Sue—[Soothing him as if he were a little boy.] Of course there wasn’t. Did you expect there would be, you foolish boy? Come, you know better than that. Why, Nat, you told the doctor and I that you were absolutely convinced the Sarah Allen was lost.
Nat—[Dully.] Yes, I know—but I don’t believe—like him——
Sue—Sshhhh! You know the state Pa is in. He doesn’t realize what he’s saying half the time.You ought to have better sense than to pay any attention——
Nat—[Excitedly.] But he told me all he’s been hiding from us—all about the gold!
Sue—[Looking at him with alarm—mystified.] Gold? [Then forcing a smile.] Don’t be silly, Nat. It doesn’t exist except in his poor, deranged mind.
Nat—[Fiercely.] That’s a lie, Sue! I saw the map, I tell you—the map of the island with a cross marked on it where they buried the gold.
Sue—He showed a map to you—a real map? [Gently.] Are you sure you’re not just imagining that, too?
Nat—I had it in my hands, you fool, you! There—on the table. [He springs to his feet, sees the map on the table, and snatches it up with an exclamation of joy—showing it toSue.] See! Now will you believe me! [She examines the map perplexedly.Natpaces up and down—excitedly.] I tell you it’s all true. You can’t deny it now. It’s lucky for us I forced him to confess. He might have died keeping the secret and then we’d have lost—I’ll tell you what I’m going to do now, Sue. I’m going to raise the money somewhere, somehow, and fit out another schooner and this time I’ll sail on her myself. No trusting to Danny or anyone else! Yes, Sue, we’ll come into our own yet, even if the Sarah Allen is lost—— [He stops—then in accents of bewildered fear.] But—she can’t be lost—I saw the lights,Sue—red and green—as plain as I see you now—— [He goes to one of the portholes again.]
Sue—[Who has been watching him worriedly, puts the map back on the table, gets up and, assuming a brisk, matter-of-fact tone, she goes over and takes him by the arm.] Come downstairs, Nat. Don’t think any more about it tonight. It’s late and you’re worn out. You need rest and a good sleep.
Nat—[Following her toward the door—confusedly.] But Sue—I saw them—— [From above in the night comes the muffled hail inBartlett’svoice.] Sarah Allen, ahoy! [Natstops, tortured, his hands instinctively raised up to cover his ears.Suegives a startled cry. The door above is slammed andBartlettcomes down the stairs, his face revealing that the delusion has again full possession of his mind.]
Bartlett—[Pointing his finger at his son and fixing him with his eyes—in ringing, triumphant tones.] The Sarah Allen, boy—in the harbor below—a red and a green plain afore my eyes! What did I tell ye, boy? Come back from the Southern Seas as I swore she must! Loaded with gold as I swore she would be! [Natagain seems to crumble—to give way to the stronger will. He takes a step toward his father, his eyes lighting up.Suelooks at his face—then rushes to her father.]
Sue—[Putting her hands to her father’s head and forcing him to look down into her face—intensely.] Pa! Stop, do you hear me! It’s all mad! You’re driving Nat mad, too! [As she sees her father hesitate, the wild light dying out of his eyes, she summons all her power to a fierce pleading.] For my sake, Pa! For Ma’s sake! Think of how she would feel if she were alive and saw you acting this way with Nat! Tell him! Tell him now—before me—tell him it’s all a lie!
Bartlett—[Trying in an agony of conflict to get hold of his reason—incoherently.] Yes, Sue—I hear ye—confess—aye, Sarah, your dyin’ words—keep Nat clear o’ this—but—red and green—I seen ’em plain—— [Then suddenly after a tremendous struggle, lifting his tortured face toNat’s—in tones of despair.] Nothin’ there, boy! Don’t ye believe! No red and green! She’ll never come! Derelict and lost, boy, the Sarah Allen. [After another struggle with himself.] And I lied to ye, boy. I gave the word—in my mind—to kill them two. I murdered ’em in cold blood.
Sue—[Shrinking from him in horror.] Pa! You don’t know what you’re saying.
Bartlett—The truth, girl. Ye said—confess——
Nat—[Bewilderedly.] But—it was right. They were trying to steal——
Bartlett—[Overcome by the old obsession fora moment—savagely.] Aye, that’s it! The thievin’ scum! They was tryin’—— [He stays short, throwing his head back, his whole body tense and quivering with the effort he makes to force this sustaining lie out of his brain—then, broken but self-conquering, he looks again atNat—gently.] No, Nat. That be the lie I been tellin’ myself ever since. That cook—he said ’twas brass—— But I’d been lookin’ for ambergris—gold—the whole o’ my life—and when we found that chest—Ihadto believe, I tell ye! I’d been dreamin’ o’ it all my days! But he said brass and junk, and told the boy—and I give the word to murder ’em both and cover ’em up with sand.
Nat—[Very pale—despairingly.] But he lied, didn’t he? It is gold—real gold—isn’t it?
Bartlett—[Slowly takes the studded anklet from his pocket and holds it out toNat.The latter brings it to the light of the lantern.Bartlettsits on a chair, covering his face with his hands—in a tone of terrible suffering.] Ye’ll tell me, boy—if it’s gold or no. I’ve had it by me all this time—but I’ve been afeerd to show——
Nat—[In a tone of wild scorn.] Why, it’s brass, of course! The cheapest kind of junk—not worth a damn! [He flings it savagely into a corner of the room.Bartlettgroans and seems to shrink up and turn into a figure of pitiable feebleness.]
Sue—[Pityingly.] Don’t, Nat. [She puts herarms around her father’s shoulders protectingly.]
Nat—[In a stifled voice.] What a damned fool I’ve been! [He flings himself down on the cot, his shoulders heaving.]
Bartlett—[Uncovers his grey face on which there is now settling an expression of strange peace—stroking his daughter’s hand.] Sue—don’t think hard o’ me. [He takes the map.] An end to this! [He slowly tears it into small pieces, seeming to grow weaker and weaker as he does so. Finally as he lets the fragments filter through his fingers, his whole frame suddenly relaxes. He sighs, his eyes shut, and sags back in his chair, his head bent forward limply on his chest.]
Sue—[Alarmed.] Pa! [She sinks to her knees beside him and looks up into his face.] Pa! Speak to me! It’s Sue! [Then turning toward her brother—terrifiedly.] Nat! Run—get the doctor—— [Natstarts to a sitting position.Suetries with trembling hands to feel of her father’s pulse, his heart—then begins to sob hysterically.] Oh, Nat—he’s dead, I think—he’s dead!
[The Curtain Falls]