Mate. I warn't thinkin' of myself, sir—'bout turnin' home, I mean. [Desperately.] But Mrs. Keeney, sir—seems like she ain't jest satisfied up here, ailin' like—what with the cold an' bad luck an' the ice an' all.
Keeney [his face clouding—rebukingly, but not severely]. That's my business, Mr. Slocum. I'll thank you to steer a clear course o' that. [A pause.] The ice'll break up soon to no'the'ard. I could see it startin' to-day. And when it goes and we git some sun Annie'll pick up. [Another pause—then he bursts forth.] It ain't the damned money what's keepin' me up in the Northern seas, Tom. But I can't go back to Homeport with a measly four hundred barrel of ile. I'd die fust. I ain't never come back home in all my days without a full ship. Ain't that true?
Mate. Yes, sir; but this voyage you been ice-bound, an'—
Keeney [scornfully]. And d'you s'pose any of 'em would believe that—any o' them skippers I've beaten voyage after voyage? Can't you hear 'em laughin' and sneerin'—Tibbots n' Harris n' Simms and the rest—and all o' Homeport makin' fun o' me? "Dave Keeney, what boasts he's the best whalin' skipper out o' Homeport, comin' back with a measly four hundred barrel of ile!" [The thought of this drives him into a frenzy and he smashes his fist down on the marble top of the sideboard.] I got to git the ile, I tell you! How could I figger on this ice? It's never been so bad before in the thirty year I been acomin' here. And now it's breakin' up. In a couple o' days it'll be all gone. And they's whale here, plenty of 'em. I know they is and I ain't never gone wrong yit. I got to git the ile! I got to git it in spite of all hell, and by God, I ain't agoin' home till I do git it!
[There is the sound of subdued sobbing from the door in rear. The two men stand silent for a moment, listening. Then Keeney goes over to the door and looks in. He hesitates for a moment as if he were going to enter—then closes the door softly. Joe, the harpooner, an enormous six-footer with a battered, ugly face, enters from right and stands waiting for the Captain to notice him.]
Keeney [turning and seeing him]. Don't be standin' there like a hawk, Harpooner. Speak up!
Joe [confusedly]. We want—the men, sir—they wants to send a depitation aft to have a word with you.
Keeney [furiously]. Tell 'em to go to—[Checks himself and continues grimly.] Tell 'em to come. I'll see 'em.
Joe. Aye, aye, sir.
[He goes out.]