Nat—[Staring down fascinatedly.] How long will the voyage take?
Bartlett—[Preoccupied.] How long?
Nat—[Insinuatingly.] To get to the island.
Bartlett—Three months at most—with fair luck. [Exultantly.] And I’ll have luck now!
Nat—Then in six months you may be back—with it?
Bartlett—Aye, with—[Stopping abruptly, turns and stares into his son’s eyes—angrily.] With what? What boy’s foolishness be ye talkin’?
Nat—[Pleading fiercely.] I want to go, Pa! There’s no good in my staying here any more. I can’t think of anything but—Oh, why don’t you be fair and let me sail with you!
Bartlett—[Sternly, to conceal his uneasiness.] Keep clear o’ this, boy, I’ve warned ye!
Sue—[Appearing in doorway—indignantly.] Nat! Haven’t you gone for the doctor yet?
Nat—[Shame-facedly.] I forgot.