Keeney [his voice suddenly grim with determination]. Then get her ready and we'll drive her through.
Mate. Aye, aye, sir.
Mrs. Keeney [appealingly]. David! David!
Keeney [not heeding her]. Will the men turn to willin' or must we drag 'em out?
Mate. They'll turn to willin' enough. You put the fear o' God into 'em, sir. They're meek as lambs.
Keeney. Then drive 'em—both watches. [With grim determination.] They's whale t'other side o' this floe and we're agoin' to git 'em.
Mate. Aye, aye, sir.
[He goes out hurriedly. A moment later there is the sound of scuffling feet from the deck outside and the Mate's voice shouting orders.]
Keeney [speaking aloud to himself—derisively]. And I was agoin' home like a yaller dog!
Mrs. Keeney [imploringly]. David!