BIMBO
Your father, yes. I wouldn’t keep a Sunday-swearing man among my crew at no price! One rotten apple in a barrel will contaminate the whole.
LYDIA (anxiously)
And Robert and me——
BIMBO
You scratched and fought or you’d not ha’ been touched. Now that you’ve learned what becomes a respectable-manner female, you’re not only free to go, but you must go. By the strictest law of our commonwealth, women are not permitted aboard except when the ship might be in a port, and then only on Saturday afternoons and only such as may be wife to one of the crew and accompanied by her mother.
LYDIA (anxious)
And Robert?
BIMBO (looking Robert over)
This is a different matter. He’s a fine, active-bodied seaman and knows the art of navigating. But more: he has familiar knowledge of all the upper coast of South America—I had it from the master of your ship—and we design to cruise upon those coasts. He’s needful to our company.
LYDIA (piteously)
You mean to take him with you?
BIMBO (sharply)
He must sign our articles and become one of our commonwealth.
LYDIA (crying out)
No! No! No!
BIMBO
Why, his case is none so bad. We’ll learn him our business, and if he’s diligent he’ll rise in it. Who can tell? If we get better cargoes, away from this discouraging fish and molasses belt of trade, he may come to you in England, retired and prosperous and ready to marry you—and all belike within seven or eight years from now!
LYDIA (wailing)
Seven or eight years! Seven or eight! Eight years! Eight——