Drew—Funny Nat’d like to go to sea. He’s always seemed to want to fight shy of it.
Sue—The terrible part is, he’s got Ma worried to death—as if she wasn’t upset enough already. She’s so afraid he’ll go—that Pa’ll let him at the last moment. She’s always pleading with Nat not to think of it—so that he keeps out of her way, too. Poor Ma! She’s only got me to talk to.
Drew—Maybe I can help after all. I can talk to Nat.
Sue—[Shaking her head.] He’s not the same Nat, Danny.
Drew—[Trying to be consoling.] Pshaw, Sue! I think you just get to imagining things. [As he finishes speaking, the door in the rear opens and Nat appears. He is a tall, loose-framed boy of eighteen, who bears a striking resemblance to his father. His face, like his father’s, is large and bony, with deep-set black eyes, an aquiline nose, and a wide, thin-lipped mouth. There is no suggestion in Nat, however, of the older man’s physical health and great strength. He appears an indoor product, undeveloped in muscle, with a sallow complexion and stooped shoulders. His thick hair is a deep black. His voice recalls his father’s, hollow and penetrating. He is dressed in a grey flannel shirt and corduroy trousers. Drew calls out to him, heartly.] Hello, Nat! Speak of the Devil! Sue and I were just talking about you. [He goes toward Nat, his hand outstretched.]
Nat—[Comes toward them, meets Drew, and shakes his hand with evident pleasure.] Hello, Danny! You’re a sight for sore eyes! [His manner undergoes a sudden change. He casts a quick, suspicious glance from Drew to his sister.] You were talking about me? What about?
Sue—[Quickly—with a warning glance at Drew.] About your work down at the shipyard.
Nat—[Disgustedly.] Oh, that. [In a tone of reasonless irritation.] For God’s sake, Sue, let me alone about my work. Don’t I have to live with the damn thing all day, without your shoving it in my face the minute I get home? I want to forget it—get away!
Drew—Go to sea, eh?
Nat—[Suspiciously.] Maybe. Why? What do you mean?