“What would you have done?”
He looks at her morosely and shakes his head suspiciously.
“You are too inquisitive, little girl. Has any one sent you over to me?”
“No. What do you need a ship for?”
Haggart laughs good-naturedly and ironically:
“She asks what a man needs a ship for. You must be a fine set of people. You don’t know what a man needs a ship for! And you speak seriously? If I had a ship I would have rushed toward the sun. And it would not matter how it sets its golden sails, I would overtake it with my black sails. And I would force it to outline my shadow on the deck of my ship. And I would put my foot upon it this way!”
He stamps his foot firmly. Then Mariet asks, cautiously:
“Did you say with black sails?”
“That’s what I said. Why do you always ask questions? I have no ship, you know. Good-bye.”
He puts on his hat, but does not move. Mariet maintains silence. Then he says, very angrily: