John Gale. The first. The one which gave us our Sept.
Ray. Sept.?
John Gale. You seem mighty interested in these wrecks.
Ray. I am, I am, John Gale. My wife and her infant son sailed from Havre in that same Diana, twenty-three years ago. She was the only passenger with a child: of that I have had abundant proof. This wreck, this name (Enter Sept., C.), the story of the wreck, are convincing proofs of the presence of my lost child beneath your roof. He can be no other than September Gale.
Sept. Me? I your son?
Ray. Yes, my boy: you are indeed my son. You see now, Kate, why your marriage with him was impossible. He is your brother.
Kate. My brother? oh, misery!
Sept. Her brother? thus ends my dream of happiness.
Capt. Her brother? ’Pon honor, my chance is wealy better.