Mate. Yes, sir.
Keeney [with grim decision]. I'm acomin' with ye.
Mate. Aye, aye, sir. [Jubilantly.] You'll git the ile now right enough, sir.
[His head is withdrawn and he can be heard shouting orders.]
Keeney [turning to his wife]. Annie! Did you hear him? I'll git the ile. [She doesn't answer or seem to know he is there. He gives a hard laugh which is almost a groan.] I know you're foolin' me, Annie. You ain't out of your mind—[Anxiously.] be you? I'll git the ile now right enough—jest a little while longer, Annie—then we'll turn home'ard. I can't turn back now, you see that, don't you? I've got to git the ile. [In sudden terror.] Answer me! You ain't mad, be you?
[She keeps on playing the organ, but makes no reply. The Mate's face appears again through the skylight.]
Mate. All ready, sir.
[Keeney turns his back on his wife and strides to the doorway, where he stands for a moment and looks back at her in anguish, fighting to control his feelings.]
Mate. Comin', sir?
Keeney [his face suddenly grows hard with determination]. Aye.