ROBERT (groaning)
I don’t know!
LYDIA
Will they throw us into the sea, tied as we are?
ROBERT
I can’t tell!
LYDIA
Do you think they would be kind enough to murder us together—if I asked them? (He groans, not answering.) If I begged them, don’t you think they might, Robert?
ROBERT (in a strangled voice)
I—I hope so.
LYDIA
Hark!
ROBERT
What do you hear?
LYDIA (faintly)
I think they are coming now. (There is silence; then she whispers.) Hark!
(Silence again; after which a slight noise is heard; the door at the back of the stage is opened and a man appears there, carrying an iron lantern that affords a somewhat better view of the scene and of the three persons now animating it, though they and the place are still indistinct, the lights insufficient and the shadows heavy.
The cabin walls are dark wood, hung irregularly with one or two strips of tapestry and some Oriental rugs. In each side wall are three small square windows, now covered by short red curtains; the ceiling, of brown wood, is low. Against the walls are several rough sea chests; there is a brass brazier with a grilled cover near the center of the cabin; and against the rear wall there is a tall cupboard, closed. A rough and heavy wooden table, six feet long, is upon the right of the stage and is set parallel with the side walls. Upon it are some articles of antique pattern; a large copper bowl, a painted wooden box with a padlock, some pewter mugs, a large ledger and a jar of long clay pipes.
Beneath the table Robert is seen stretched upon the floor. His wrists are lashed to the rearward legs of the table and his ankles to the others. He is an athletic young man, about twenty-seven, and is dressed with a little more elegance than one might expect to see upon the mate of a merchant ship in the year 1725, though at present his attire and long curled hair are naturally much disarranged. One of the sleeves of his coat is almost torn away; his neckwear, of linen, bordered with lace, is in tatters; and his forehead shows a cut from a sharp edge.
Lydia, a beautiful maiden of eighteen or nineteen, is also a little too elegant for a rough sea voyage; and although her fineries are naturally rumpled by mishandling, she would otherwise receive favorable mention from the critics of St. James’s, for, like Robert, she has been dressing to a lover’s eye. She now lies upon her side beneath the central lantern, her ankles tied, her wrists roped behind her, and her long, luxuriant curls disordered.
The man who has just entered by the only door that leads into the cabin—upon the left at the back—is the pirate ship’s Gunner. He is big in person, brawny, and brown-skinned. His long, coarse, black hair hangs about his face; a white cloth, stained with red, is bound round his head, covering one eye; and his cheeks and chin are blurred by two or three days’ growth of beard. He wears a gay but soiled kerchief at his throat, a green coat heavily ornamented with gold lace, loose yellow breeches almost to the ankles, and is barefooted. At his waist hangs a heavy cutlass.)
THE GUNNER (as he enters)
We’ll just have a better look at ye! We think belike you’re worth lookin’ at too!
(He laughs chucklingly, moving to the right.)
LYDIA (crying out and turning so that her face is away from him)
No! You shall not look at me!