Mrs. Bartlett—[Firmly.] No.
Bartlett—[Menacingly.] Take heed, Sarah, o’ what ye’re sayin’! I’m your husband ye’ve sworn to obey. By right I kin order ye, not ask.
Mrs. Bartlett—I’ve never refused in anything that’s right—but this be wicked wrong.
Bartlett—It’s only your stubborn woman’s spite makes ye refuse. Ye’ve christened every ship I’ve ever been skipper on, and it’s brought me luck o’ a kind, though not the luck I wanted. And we’ll christen this one with your own name to bring me the luck I’ve always been seekin’.
Mrs. Bartlett—[Resolutely.] I won’t, Isaiah.
Bartlett—Ye will, Sarah, for I’ll make ye. Ye force me to it.
Mrs. Bartlett—[Again trying to get up.] Is this the way you talk to me who’ve been a good wife to you for more than thirty years?
Bartlett—[Commandingly.] Wait! [Threateningly.] If ye don’t christen her afore she sails, I’ll take Nat on the vige along with me. [Mrs. Bartlett sinks back in her chair, stunned.] He wants to go, ye know it. He’s asked me a hundred times. He s’spects—’bout the gold—but he don’t know for sartin. But I’ll tell him the truth o’ it, and he’ll come with me, unless—
Mrs. Bartlett—[Looking at him with terror-stricken eyes—imploringly.] You won’t do that, Isaiah? You won’t take Nat away from me and drag him into sin? I know he’ll go if you give him the word, in spite of what I say. [Pitifully.] You be only frightenin’ me! You can’t be so wicked cruel as that.
Bartlett—I’ll do it, I take my oath—unless—