The infatuated fruiterer is, nevertheless, resolved to make up a match between his daughter and the industrious mechanic, and, accordingly, brings Mister Charleys home with him.
Mister Charleys, who has fortified himself with a strong stimulant, is waiting at the wing for his cue, in company with the 'call-boy' (an old man in this instance), who holds a copy of cues in one hand and a lighted candle in the other. The call-boy whispers 'Fuera!' as a signal for me to disappear from the wing, gives me an encouraging push, and the gloom behind the scenes is suddenly exchanged for a blaze of gas, and a theatre full of enthusiastic spectators.
Following Don Gabriel, who leads the way, I am greeted with a round of hearty applause in acknowledgement of my effective make-up, and when I give utterance to the opening words, in which reference is made to the heat of the weather, and to the difficulties Mister Charleys has encountered in his quest after refreshment, the house is convulsed.
Some time, however, elapses before I can thoroughly appreciate my situation, and realise the fact that all this applause and laughter is due to my appearance on the stage. I easily overcome the temporary agitation induced by the glare of the lamps and the gaze of the hundreds of upturned faces before me; but I cannot withstand the behaviour of the gentleman in the domed trap. His perpetual prompting, combined with his perceptible enjoyment of the new piece, is, to say the least of it, confusing, and fills me with misgivings of a premature 'hitch.'
The play proceeds. I am formally introduced to the ladies, whose hands I squeeze awkwardly and savagely, while Don Gabriel—whom I address as Don Guebriel—sings the praises of Mister Charleys.
Enter my rival Ramon, disguised as a Catalan shopkeeper, in false whiskers, and a tall white hat with a black band. Shopkeepers in Cuba are usually natives of Barcelona, and the object of Ramon's disguise, is to persuade Don Gabriel that he is one of that money-making community. He talks Spanish with the approved Catalonian accent; introduces himself as 'Dun Panchu Defulou, Cutulan y cumerciante,' and offers to traffic with his host. The imposture is, however, short-lived. In a hard squeeze of the hand which I give the sham Catalan at parting, he inadvertently roars out in a good Creole accent:—
'Ay! ay! ay! caramba, suelte usted.' (Oh! for goodness' sake, let go!)
The old gentleman suspects his maiden sister of aiding and abetting the dangerous 'mocito,' and there is every reason for his suspicion; Doña Lola having persuaded herself that it is she, and not her young niece, who is the object of the 'mocito's' solicitations. Deluded with this notion, the elderly spinster facilitates Ramon's visit to the house, and there is a scene in which she helps to conceal him in a huge barrel used for storing charcoal. One of the chief 'situations' in the farce occurs when Don Gabriel, at the instigation of Mister Charleys (whom Ramon nicknames Mister Estornudo, or Sneezer, from the resemblance of his name to a sneeze as expressed in Spanish), fires a loaded pistol at the barrel and its human contents.
It is during the action of this scene that the questionable phrase, already referred to, should be delivered by the Yankee engineer.
The cue being given, I am in the act of repeating the lines, when the voice of Don Baltazar, the manager, to whom is apportioned the rôle of Ramon, is heard imploring me, from the barrel, to omit the words. Conscious of the presence of his Excellency the Governor, the manager is suddenly seized with misgivings as to the manner in which the expression will be received, and will not risk his Excellency's displeasure. My fellow-comedians, who are all Cubans, urge me to proceed. The prompter thinks I have forgotten my part, and repeats the text—so often, indeed, that the spectators in the third row of the stalls at last overhear him, and call unanimously for the correct version of the play.