Bartlett—A year ago today she sailed. Ye lie! Ye don’t believe either, do ye?—like him. But I’ll show ye! I’ll make ye own up as I made him! [With mad exultation.] She’s comin’ home tonight as I ordered Horne she must! I kin feel her makin’ for home, I tell ye! A red an’ a green at the mainm’sthead if ye make port o’ night, I ordered Horne. Ye’ll see! [He goes to look out of a porthole. Nat, as if under a spell, goes to another.]
Nat—[Turning away disappointedly—making an effort to throw off his thoughts—without conviction.] Nonsense. There’s nothing there—no lights—and I don’t believe there ever will be.
Bartlett—[His wild eyes fixed on his son’s with an intense effort of will as if he were trying to break down his resistance.] Ye’ll see, I tell ye—a red and a green! It ain’t time yet, boy, but when it be they’ll be plain in the night afore your eyes. [He goes and sits down by the table. Nat follows him and sits down in the other chair. He sees the map and stares at it fascinatedly.]
Nat—What is this—the map of the island? [He reaches out his hand for it.]
Bartlett—[Snatching it up—with a momentary return to reason—frightenedly.] Not for ye, boy. Keep clear o’ this for your own good. [Then with a crazed triumph.] Aye! Ye’d believe this soon enough, wouldn’t ye?
Nat—[Intensely.] I’ve always believed there was something—and a moment ago you mentioned gold. [Triumphant in his turn.] So you needn’t try to hide the secret any longer. I know now. It’s gold—gold you found on that island—gold you fitted out the Sarah Allen to sail back for—gold you buried where I saw that cross marked on the map! [Passionately.] Why have you been afraid to confide in me, your own son? Why didn’t you let me sail back in your place? Were you afraid I’d give the secret away? Did you think I wouldn’t believe——?
Bartlett—[With a mad chuckle.] Aye, ye believe now, right enough.
Nat—I always believed, I tell you. [Pleadingly.] And now that I know so much why can’t you tell me the rest? I must know! I have a right to be heir to the secret. Why don’t you confess——
Bartlett—[Interrupting—his brain catching at the word.] Confess? Confess, did ye say, Sarah? To Nat, did ye mean? Aye, Sarah, I’ll tell him all and leave it to him to say if I did wrong. [His gleaming eyes fixed on his son’s.] I’ll tell ye, boy, from start to finish o’ it. I been eatin’ my heart to tell someone—someone who’d believe—someone that’d say I did no wrong. Listen, boy, ye know o’ our four days in an open boat after the Triton went down. I told ye o’ that when I come home. But what I didn’t tell ye was they was six o’ us in that boat, not four.
Nat—Six? There were you and Horne and Cates and Jimmy——