"No, I never did. I've been out on the sea so much in my life that when I got ashore I generally picked out the shows that hadn't anything to do with it—'Hamlet,' or 'Lydia Thompson's British Blondes,' or somethin' like that," with a wink. Then he added, more soberly, "The old salt water looks mighty good to me now, though. Strange how you don't want a thing you can have and long for it when you can't.... But I'm not supposed to preach a sermon, at least I haven't heard anybody ask me to. What's your part in this—what d'ye call it?—'Out on the Beach,' George?"
"'Down by the Sea.' Oh, I'm 'March Gale,' and when I was a baby I was cast ashore from a wreck."
"Humph! When you were a baby. Started your seafarin' early, I should say. Who else is in it?"
"Oh, Frank Crosby, he is 'Sept Gale,' my brother—only he isn't my brother. And John Carleton—the schoolteacher, you know—he is 'Raymond,' the city man; he's good, too. And Sam Ryder, and Erastus Snow. There was one part—'John Gale,' an old fisherman chap, we couldn't seem to think of any one who could, or would, play it. But at last we did, and who do you think it was? Joel Macomber, your sister's husband."
"What? Joel Macomber—on the stage! Oh, come now, George!"
"It's a fact. And he's good, too. Some one told one of us that Macomber had done some amateur acting when he was young, and, in desperation, we asked him to try this part. And he is good. You would be surprised, Cap'n Kendrick."
"Um-hm, I am now. I certainly am. What sort of a part is it Joel's got? What does this—er—Gale do; anything but blow?"
"Why—why, he doesn't really do much, that's a fact. He is supposed to be a fisherman, as I said, but—well, about all he does in the play is to come on and off and talk a good deal, and scold at Frank and me—his sons, you know—and fuss at his wife and——"
Captain Sears held up his hand.
"That's enough, George," he interrupted. "That'll do. Don't do much of anything, talks a lot, and finds fault with other folks. No wonder Joel Macomber can act that part. He ought to be as natural as life in it. Aren't there any womenfolks in this play, though? I don't see how much could happen without them aboard."