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Title: Captain Mary Miller
        A drama

Author: Harriet Jane Hanson Robinson

Release date: November 5, 2023 [eBook #72038]

Language: English

Original publication: Boston: Walter H Baker & Co

Credits: Bob Taylor, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN MARY MILLER ***





  Transcriber’s Note
  Italic text displayed as: _italic_




  CAPTAIN MARY MILLER.

  A Drama

  BY

  HARRIET H. ROBINSON.

  “But, if you ask me what offices women may fill, I reply—any.
  I do not care what case you put; let them be sea-captains if you
  will.”—MARGARET FULLER (in 1844).

  BOSTON:




[Illustration: Decoration]




CHARACTERS:


  NATHAN GANDY                                _A retired sea-captain._
  WILLIAM MILLER  _A down-East skipper,
                              afterwards captain of the Creole Bride._
  MR. ROMBERG                                          _A ship-owner._
  HANK (or Henry) MUDGETT                 _The cook, a Nantucket boy._
  PATSY HEFRON                             _Mate of the Creole Bride._
  JOSEPHUS HERODOTUS, called PHUS[1]              _The Captain’s boy._
  LORANY GANDY                                _Wife of Captain Gandy._
  MARY GANDY                       _Daughter of Capt. and Mrs. Gandy._
  LEAFY JANE GANDY        }
  JOHN QUINCY ADAMS GANDY }        _Children of Capt. and Mrs. Gandy._

[1] This part may be changed to that of a girl, named PHUSEPHONY
(PERSEPHONE) HERODIAS.


COPYRIGHT, 1887, BY GEORGE M. BAKER.




CAPTAIN MARY MILLER.




ACT I.


 NATHAN GANDY’S _house, near the wharf in Annisport. Living-room.
 Fireplace_, R. _Doors_, R. _and_ L. _and back. Table_, R. C., _on
 which is a braided-rag mat, partly done. Chairs, pictures of ships, a
 mourning piece (weeping willow hanging over a tomb)_ MRS. GANDY _with
 a broom. She sweeps carefully away from the middle of the room._

MRS. G. There! there’s that plaguy money for me to sweep raound agin!
I’m tired to death on it, I be; an’ that’s a fac’, I can’t half sweep
my floor! But, I snum, I won’t pick it up! I told Nathan I wouldn’t,
an’ I won’t!

(_Enter_ CAPTAIN GANDY, L., _singing_.)

    “On Springfield’s maountins there did dwell
    A lovelye youth, an’ known full well,
    Leftenant Carter’s onlie son,
    A galliant youth, nigh twenty-one.”

(_Sees his wife, who does not look up._)

CAPT. G. Hullo, Lorany! didn’t know yer was thar. What makes yer so
glum? (_Aside_) Oh, the caarf, I bet! Say, Lorany, I’m plaguy sorry I
sold the caarf. I’d buy her back, but the fellers ’d laf at me. I told
some on ’em haow bad yer felt, daown to the store. And old Pete Rosson,
he was a-sittin’ on a kintle o’ salt fish; he said: “Wimmin’s rights!
I s’pose Mis’ Gandy went ter the meetin’ and heerd the lectur’-woman.
I guess Mis’ Rosson wouldn’t dare ter complain ef I sold one o’ her
caarfs. I’d let her know they was _mine_, double quick.” Won’t yer take
up yer money, Lorany?

MRS. G. (_dusting_). No! Nathan, I won’t! So, there! It ’ill hev to
stay there, wher’ it dropped, for all o’ me; for I’ll never pick it
up as long as I live. I tho’t all we had was aourn together, and
that everything belonged as much ter me as it does ter you. But
I see naow that it’s as the lectur’-woman sed. I read it in the
_Transkip_:—“Husband and wife is one, but that one is the husband.”
I shouldn’t ’a’ tho’t o’ sellin’ yaour caarf or yaour best caow. You
call ’em yaourn, an’ the caarf was allus called mine. An’, then, little
Sally, that’s gone, tho’t so much on’t! (_Wipes her eyes._)

CAPT. G. Hang it! don’t take on so. (_Aside_) Darn them fellers,
flingin’ their wimmin’s right at me! (_To her_) Who cares what the
lectur’-woman says? Some darned old maid, or divorced widder, I s’pose.
Didn’t I buy suthin’ for yer with the money! Didn’t I buy yer a gaown,
a shawl, an’ a bunnit! An’, when yer didn’t like ’em, didn’t I give yer
all the money back, and yer wouldn’t take it! An’ didn’t yer fling it
daown on the floor, an’ vaow you wouldn’t pick it up!

MRS. G. Yes, but yer never as’d me! an’ I didn’t want her sold, nuther!
You know haow I took care o’ that caarf. Her mother died, an’ never
saw her. I almost feel as if she was mine; for I brought her up like
a baby, and she sucked milk from my finger before she could stan’.
I’m sure I’m as much her mother as harf the hens are mothers of their
chickens: for they never see some o’ the eggs till they are put under
’em to hatch, an’ they don’t know which is which.

CAPT. G. Waal! yaou’ve got yer new things, hain’t ye? an’ I’m glad
on’t. I’m abaout sick o’ them black clo’es o’ yourn. They look so
maugre. For my part, I want ter see yer in suthin’ bright.

MRS. G. I sh’d think yer did! Yer tho’t I was abaout sixteen, didn’t
yer? (_Opens the door at the back, and produces a very showy piece of
dress goods, a shawl of a very loud pattern, and a bonnet trimmed with
green and red and yellow_) Look a’ that! What do you think o’ them
things! Young enough for Mary, or Leafy Jane, either. I never wore
such bright things when I was a gal; an’ I’m sure I ain’t a-gwine ter
begin naow.

CAPT. G. I don’t see why, Lorany! They ain’t no brighter than the
marygoolds, pecuniaries (_petunias_), and dadyoluses, yer like so well,
in the garden, or even the persalter roses.

MRS. G. That’s a different thing. I ain’t a flower-garden; I do wish
the men-folks ’d let their wives buy their own clo’es, or give ’em the
money to buy ’em with. (_Sits down and braids on her mat._)

CAPT. G. Why, Lorany! the wimmen folks ain’t used to layin’ out money.
We can make it spend a great deal better ’n they can.

MRS. G. P’r’aps yer can; but we’d like what we bought ourselves a great
deal better; I do wish they’d let us buy our own clo’es, I say, or give
us the money to buy ’em with, so’s we could suit ourselves.

CAPT. G. Wall, I snum, yer as bad as the lectur’-woman Pete Rosson
told on. He said she said wimmen ortter have their own private pusses,
same’s the men, and other things tew; and that the Legislater ort to
see tew’t, but that they was tew busy,—trying to settle the size of a
bar’l o’ cramberries, an’ talkin’ baout sellin’ eggs by weight, and
sich things,—to care what becomes o’ wimmin’s rights. Sellin’ eggs by
weight! what durned nonsense! Some on ’em would take twenty to make a
paound, and some wouldn’t take mor’n eight, an’ where’d yer cookin’ go
ter, I’d like ter know?

MRS. G. Waal, Nathan, I don’t care nuthin’ abaout that! I shall put
twelve eggs inter my old-fashioned paound cake, as the recipee sez,
whether they’re big or little. But I do care about the caarf. I’d
almost rather you’d ’a’ sold _me_!

CAPT. G. Wall, I vum to vummy!

MRS. G. You knew haow much I allus tho’t on her ’cause little Sally
loved her so; an’ ’afore she died she’d be’n a-readin’ some o’ them old
pictur’-books, an’ she said the caarf had eyes just like one on ’em in
it, an’ so she named the caarf May Donna, or some sich name. (_Wipes
her eyes._)

CAPT. G. Consarn it all! Lorany, don’t cry! There! There! I’ll pick up
the money, Lorany, I’ll pick up the money. (_Aside_) I wonder if there
_is_ anything in them wimmin’s rights, after all! (_Puts the money in
his pocket. Sits in chair tipped back against the wall, and eats an
apple, cutting it with his jack-knife._)

(_Enter_ LEAFY JANE _and_ JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, _the latter dragging a
small log of wood_.)

MRS. G. (_looking up_). Where yer be’n all the arternoon?

J. Q. A. Ben to the wharf, chippin’.

L. J. (_lisping_). Yeth, we chipped and got our bathkeths full, and the
thkipperth (_skipper’s_) boy, he thed, ‘There, take a log’—and we took
one.

CAPT. G. The skipper’s boy!—who’s he?

J. Q. A. He’s the skipper’s son.

CAPT. G. What skipper’s son?

J. Q. A. Why! the captain of the Betsey Ludgitt. He’s down there to
the wharf, unloadin’ his wood. And his boy, he’s real hunkey! He give
me all these butnuts (_shows them_) and this gum,—see this gum,—real
spruce gum!—none o’ your Burgundy pitch and candle-grease, such as you
buy to the store.

MRS. G. Gum! Then I s’pose you’ll go to chawin’ agin!

J. Q. A. I’ll bet I will. Its rippin’ good! (_Chews._)

L. J. (_lisps_). Marm, he sthiks hith cud on the head-board, and it
makth a white plathe. I theen it when I make the bed.

MRS. G. Sticks his cud on the head-board! What on airth do you mean?

L. J. Yeth, hith cud o’ gum. He doth it motht every night, when he
_hath_ gum.

MRS. G. What do you do that for?

J. Q. A. I stick it there when I go to sleep, so when I wake up in the
middle of the night I can have a good chaw to pass away the time.

CAPT. G. Haw! Haw! Haw!

MRS. G. John Quincy Adams Gandy! What’ll yer do next!

J. Q. A. Go a-fishin’, I guess, marmy. (_Kisses her._)

CAPT. G. What’s the skipper’s name?

J. Q. A. Miller—Solomon Miller; and his son’s name’s William.

L. J. And the cook’th name ith Henry Mudgett.

MRS. G. The cook! What der yer know abaout the cook?

L. J. He’th real nithe. I thaw him lath fall. Hith mother an’
grandfather live down to Nantucket. Hith grandfather thalth (_salts_)
down fith, nam’th (_name’s_) Zabulon, and they have a big houth an’ a
lot of land.

CAPT. G. A lot o’ sand, I guess you mean. Haow’d yer come ter know ’em
so well?

J. Q. A. Oh! They was up here in the fall when we went a-chippin’ with
Mary, and they talked with us a good deal.

L. J. Yeth, an’ the thkipper’th thon kept lookin’ at Mary.

J. Q. A. Yes, and so did Hank at you.

L. J. Hith name ain’t Hank! it’h Henry!

J. Q. A. Oh, Lawks!

MRS. G. Whar _is_ Mary?

J. Q. A. We left her down to the wharf, an’ she was a talkin’ to the
skipper’s son.

L. J. Yeth, and the thkipper came out, and he talked, an’ they all
laughed, and he thed to John Pin, “Run along, Totty, with your log o’
wood. They’ll foller ye, an’ tell yer pa an’ ma all about it.”

J. Q. A. I guess I aint Totty! (_Chewing._) I seen ’em an’ after they
done it,—

L. J. Oh, John Pin Ad! you muthn’t thay ‘I theen,’ _Mary_ theth. You
can’t thay ‘theen’ nor ‘done,’ unleth you can thay have’ before it; an’
you can’t thay ‘I theed,’ at all.

J. Q. A. I guess I can too. Mary needn’t feel so big ’cause she’s ben
to Bradford ’cademy three months.

L. J. Yeth, you mutht thay ‘I have thawed,’ and ‘I hain’t theen,’ and
‘I have did,’ and ‘I hain’t done it,’ and you’ll be right.

J. Q. A. Poh! you ain’t right at all! Hear me. You must say ‘I have
done, I have seen,’ or ‘I saw and I did’; and you must never say ‘I
seed, I sawed, I seen,’ nor ‘I done it.’ That’s what _Mary_ says.

L. J. Father thayth ‘I theen and I done’; and I gueth what father theth
ith about right.

CAPT. G. O child! Yer mustn’t talk as I do. Mary knows what’s proper
to say, better’n yer old dad. He never had no edication. There was no
’cademy for him.

MRS. G. Nor me, nuther. Gals wa’n’t ’lowed to go to school in my time,
daown to Plymouth, when my folks lived there. There was too many boys
wanted to go; and the gals had to stay ter hum, to make room for ’em.

(_Enter_ MARY _and_ WILLIAM.)

MARY. Father, here’s Captain Miller’s son. I made his acquaintance down
at the wharf last fall. (_Goes to_ MRS. G., _seats herself on a stool
near her, and arranges rags, and hands them to her_.)

CAPT. G. (_rising and shaking hands with_ WILL). Is that _so_?

WILL. Yes! and, when I went home, I told the folks all about her and
the children, and the Captain and Mrs. Gandy; and mother said one of
her girl friends, a real intimate, married a Gandy.

MRS. G. What was her name afore she was married?

WILL. Johnson.

MRS. G. Plumy Johnson, as I’m alive!

WILL. Yes, her name was Plumy—Plumy Johnson.

MRS. G. (_shaking his hand_) Wal, if ain’t right glad ter see yer. Set
right daown an’ tell us all abaout your folks.

WILL (_sitting_). There ain’t much to tell. Father, he’s skipper of the
Betsey Ludgitt, and we live in North Pittston, Maine. We’ve got a nice
little place there, and there’s ten of us children. I am the oldest.

CAPT. G. (_sitting_). Haow long yer be’n skippin’?

WILL. About five years. I’ve got so now I can handle a boat, and one of
the other boys is going to take my place.

CAPT. G. What are you goin’ ter dew?

WILL. There’s a man out West, clear beyond the Ohio, that wants me to
run a boat on the Mississippi, up and down. It’s a steamboat. He’s got
a good mate for her that knows all about the ingine, and he says I can
learn the ropes about that fast enough. But I don’t know. I hate to go
so far from home, and almost alone too. (_He looks conscious._)

MRS. G. I should think yer would. Don’t stand gawpin’ raound, Leafy
Jane. Go ’long and git yer knittin’-work. (L. J. _obeys and seats
herself on the log_. J. Q. A. _bothers her_.) And yer marm, what does
she say?

WILL. Oh! marm, she hates to have me go; but she’s more willing than
she would be, ’cause Hank Mudgitt, a likely Nantucket boy, wants to go
with me, to be the cook. He’s been cooking for father. His marm was a
Folger, and knew my marm when she lived to Nantucket, and she says I’d
better not lose the chance.

CAPT. G. Folger? Folger? Why! I’ve heerd that name afore. I knew a
Captain Folger onct, of the barque Hulda Griggs. He had a lot o’ boys,
an’ one on ’em went to college, and turned out a smart lawyer. I guess
yer’d better not lose the chance. Lots o’ boys go West, and they do
well, or they don’t come back to tell us. Horace Greeley told ’em all
to go West, in his _Trybune_, you know, when he wrote the whole on’t.
“Go West, young man,” he says, though he didn’t go himself. But I
s’pose his advice was jest as good, same as the guide-board p’ints the
way it never goes.

WILL. The man that wants me says it’s a good steamboat, with a nice,
clean cabin for a family to live in, if a captain had one.

CAPT. G. Is it a side-wheeler or a skre-you?

J. Q. A. Oh! father, all them Mississippi steamboats are side-wheelers,
and they have to be made flat-bottomed on account of the snags in the
river, and the shallow water, so’s they can run ’em right up to the
shore, where there’s no landing. Oliver Optic says so in one of his
books.

CAPT. G. Dew tell! I’d ruther have a sailin’ vessel. Give me a good
three-masted schaouner, with a spankin’ breeze to make her go, and a
bower anchor to cast when she comes inter port.

WILL. The man says he’ll pay me so much a year, enough to live on, and
give me a certain per cent on the freight, and a chance to buy into the
vessel in two years.

CAPT. G. A smackin’ good chance, I should say. I advise yer to snap at
it. When does he want ye?

WILL. Right off, in a month or so, and now, if I could get anybody,
besides Hank Mudgitt, to go with me (_looks at_ MARY), I shall write
right off and accept the offer.

CAPT. G. Somebody ter go with ye besides Hank! What do you want anybody
else for? Ain’t he a good cook?

MRS. G. What on airth do you mean?

WILL. (_to_ CAPT. G.) Yes, but I want somebody, somebody to be—my—wife.

CAPT. G. Dew tell! What kind of a wife do yer want? Not one o’ them
gals that wears bangs an’ boot-heels, an’ go a-teetering along the road?

WILL. No, I don’t want one of that kind. Mary—Mary says she’ll go with
me if you are both willing.

MRS. G. Aour Mary! Mary Gandy!

CAPT. G. Wal, I swan to man!

MRS. G. Why! Mary, where’d he git a chance to ask yer?

MARY. I saw him first, mother, as I told you, last fall, when I went
down to the wharf with the children, chipping. You know you didn’t want
them to go alone. He said then he should come back in the spring, and
hoped he’d see me again.

WILL. And I have seen her several times; and the other day I told her
about the steamboat, and she ’lowed she was willing to go with me.

MRS. G. I thought she was ’mazin’ fond o’ chippin’ all to onct.

MARY. I guess you mean that ‘I promised,’ don’t you, William?

WILL. Yes, you promised, and I told father; and he said he guessed it
was all right. He’d known o’ Captain Gandy quite a spell. The Nancy
Paige lay at the wharf alongside the Betsey Ludgitt once, down to
Castine.

J. Q. A. (_trying to mend a whip-lash_). By darn!

L. J. My Thunday-thkool teacher theth you muthn’t thay _by darn_; but
if you mutht thay _by anything_, you can thay _by jollerth_ (_jollers_).

J. Q. A. I saw the skipper’s son kiss Mary, and she kissed him just as
he give me a log o’ wood. (_Singing derisively._) Kissin’ the fellers,
kissin’ the fellers!

(WILL _rises in confusion, and goes to back of stage_.)

MRS. G. Stop! John Quincy Adams Gandy!

CAPT. G. (_walking about_). I snum to pucker. Wal! seein’ it’s all made
up between yer, I don’t see as we have anything to do abaout it.

MRS. G. I don’t know as it would do any good for me to say no, even if
I wanted to. (_To_ WILLIAM) Haow long you goin’ to be raound here?

WILL. Another week. Then I must go home with father to get my things
and what money I’ve saved up, then come back and buy the fixings to
furnish the cabin with. If Mary’s ready by that time, we will start for
the Mississippi about the first of June.

CAPT. G. Better come here every day, and let us see something of ye.
P’r’aps Mary will conclude not to go, if she sees too much on ye.

MRS. G. Yes. Come right here and stay. I feel as if Plumy Johnson’s son
must be a good boy; an’, if Mary is set on havin’ ye, I want to get
some acquainted with my new son-in-law. (MARY _rises and crosses to_
WILLIAM.)

L. J. I geth he ain’t the only thon-in-law you’ll have, mother.

MRS. G. I hope he’ll be so good that I shall want another.

J. Q. A. (_trying to snap_ L. J.’S _ears_). I s’pose you want to be a
loveress, too. (_Makes up a face._)

L. J. _You_ won’t be.

J. Q. A. I will, too.

L. J. You won’t, nuther. (_Makes up a face._)

    Old Phin Gan-dowdy,
    He’th an’ old rowdy.

J. Q. A. This is the way you’ll look when you are a loveress.
(_Imitates a fine young lady._) How are you, Hank! Mrs. Henry Mudgitt!

L. J. Go way—you gump!

MRS. G. Do, children, stop yer bickerin’! (_To_ MARY) I declare for’t’
I hate to hev yer go so far from hum. But, then (_with a sigh_), my
mother lives e’en a’most to the jumpin’-off place daown East; and I
hain’t seen her this five year.

CAPT. G. (_goes to_ MRS. G. _and puts hand on her shoulder_). It’s the
way o’ natur’, mother. The Bible says: “A man shall leave his father
and mother, an’ shall be united to his wife.”

J. Q. A. Well, father, it don’t say _she_ shall. It says _he_.

CAPT. G. It means the same, any way. The Bible allus means she when it
says he. It means ’em both. Genesis says, yer know, chap. V., verse 2,
Male and female created he them, an’ blessed them, an’ called their
name Adam, in the day when they was created. The Bible said that in the
beginning. Even old Pete Rosson allows that.

MRS. G. I wonder yer hadn’t thought o’ that when yer sold my caarf,
_aour_ caarf, mine as well as yourn.

CAPT. G. (_walking off_). I van! I never did.

MRS. G. If he did creat’ men an’ wimmin ekal, an’ call their name Adam,
just as we call aourn Gandy, one on us has no right to sell the things
that belong to both without askin’ each other’s leave.

CAPT. G. (_returning_). I don’t s’pose they have, Lorany. If yer don’t
beat ’em all in an argiment. (_Aside_) Hang that caarf! Come, mother,
don’t let’s bicker any more abaout that. (_To_ MARY) Yer’ll have quite
a weddin’ tower, won’t ye, Mary, ’way out onto the Mississippi? Yer’ll
have ter work spry ter git yer weddin’ toggery ready. Whar yer goin’
ter be married; ter hum?

MRS. G. Lucky I saved my old receipee for weddin’ cake.

WILL. We think we’d better go to the minister’s, and have it done quiet
like, the very morning before we start. We sha’n’t feel like making
much of a touse about it, ’cause everybody ’ll be crying to see Mary go
off.

MRS. G. And, then, our relations live so far off, they couldn’t any on’
em come. Lucky yer made them sheets, Mary. Yer wouldn’t ’a’ had half
time enough naow to get ’em done.

CAPT. G. I van! mother. It reminds me o’ the time when we went to live
on the Nancy Paige.

MRS. G. So it does me.

CAPT. G. There’s nothing like the sea to live on, is there, mother?
(_Sings._)

    “I’m on the sea,
    I am where I would ever be,
    The deep, the dark, the rolling sea.”

MARY. You’ll have to sing it “river” for us, father.

J. Q. A. (_takes up the refrain, and snaps his whip at the end of each
line_).

    I am where I would ever be-iver,
    The deep, the dark, the rolling re-iver.

L. J. Thtop! you thap-head (_sap-head_), you thilly coot! (WILLIAM
_and_ MARY _whisper together_.)

CAPT. G. I guess I’ll go an’ fodder them caows. (_Humming._)

    “An’ turnin’ raound he straight did feel
    A pywison sarpient byite hywis hee-ee-el.”

  (_Exit_ R.)

WILL. (_taking_ MARY _by both hands_). Be all ready, now Mary, when I
come back? If I can, I’ll come on so as to stay a day or two before
we’re married. But I’ll be here in season, any way. You fix the day,
and let me know. And write often (_whispers_), dear Mary, won’t you?

MARY. Yes, William.

WILL. Good-by!

MARY. Good-by! (_Exit_ WILLIAM, L.)

J. Q. A. Good-by! Good-by! Smack, smack!

_Disposition of characters at end of Act I._ MRS. G. _sitting at table
braiding mat_. MARY _standing at left, with her hands clasped before
her, looking down_. J. Q. A. _and_ L. J. _in centre, bickering_.




ACT II.


 _Cabin of the Creole Bride, a Mississippi steamboat cosily furnished.
 Doors_ R. _and_ L. _Table and cradle_ C. _Pictures. Four books on a
 little shelf. A parasol and handkerchief lie on the table._ MARY,
 _the_ CAPTAIN’S _wife, sits by the cradle sewing_.

MARY (_sings_).

    “By low baby,
     By low baby,
     By low baby,
     By low by.”

  (_Rises._)

There! he’s asleep at last. He keeps awake just as long as he can, I do
believe. (_Takes a book from the shelf._) I don’t know what I should
do this stormy weather, I am sure, if it weren’t for these books. Away
up here, on this river, where we don’t get a newspaper but once in
two weeks! (_Turns over the books._) I am tired of “Baxter’s Saint’s
Rest,” and I know “Alonzo and Melissa” by heart. I suppose I ought to
read my Bible more, but here’s this book on navigation. (_Reads._)
“Thoms’ Navigator,” by Janet Thorms, a Yankee schoolmarm, they say, up
near Boston. It seems fresh all the time. I like to study it, too, when
I am rocking the cradle. (_Sits and reads._) Somehow, it seems to come
natural to me to know all about a boat, and I love any kind of a one.
How they skip round the bend of the river, and over the sea, at home!
I wonder why they call a vessel _she_! Father says they ought to call
steamboats _he_, because they smoke so. Dear father! how I should like
to see him, and hear him sing!

(_Enter_ PHUS, R.)

PHUS (_in a loud voice_). Mis’, de cap’n say—

MARY. Sh! you’ll wake the baby.

PHUS (_in a loud whisper_). Mis’, de cap’n dun tole me he not feel
well, an’ you come to de weel-house. Phus tote de baby.

MARY (_rising hastily_). Take good care of him. (_Exit_ R.)

PHUS. Take good care ob _him_. (_Imitates her voice, and tip-toes round
the room._) How golly fine it am to be de cap’n’s mis’, a-sittin’ down
har all fix’ up, and den walkin’ on deck wid de par-sol, totin’ de
baby. Oh, Lor! (_Sings softly._)

    Min’ de pick’niny,
    Min’ de pick’niny,
    Take good care ob _him_.

Wot’s dem books? I dunno, caze I can’t read ’em all yit. But the
cap’n’s mis’, she try larn me. Lemme see. (_Takes up a book and
reads._) “Meel-iss-see-felt-a-cold-han’-on-her-fore-head-an’
-she-scream-ded-scream-ded.” Wot’s dat? Golly! I can’t do dat. (_Shuts
up the book._) Sh! sh! de baby’s wokem up. He’ll holler ef he see me.
I’ll make him tink I’m de cap’n’s mis’. (_He takes the parasol and
opens it, spreads the handkerchief over his face, and sits down by the
cradle. Enter_ CAPTAIN MILLER, R., _leaning on_ MARY’S _shoulder_.)

MARY. Tell me, dear, just how you feel. (_Sees_ PHUS.) Oh, Phus! you’ll
scare the baby.

PHUS. Mis’, de baby was a gwine to wokem up, and I specks he’d tink
’twas you.

CAPT. M. Phus, take off that rig, and go on deck, you lubber! (_Exit_
PHUS, R.) Oh, I don’t know. I feel just as I did once when I was a boy,
before I had the typhoid fever,—tired all over. (_Sits._) My head is as
light as a feather, and my feet are heavy as lead. I don’t feel as if I
could step a step.

MARY. Lie down a little while, and perhaps you’ll feel better. How much
farther do we go up river?

CAPT. M. About two hundred miles. We shall reach the last station in
a few days. (_Takes off his jacket and shoes wearily, as he talks._)
Patsy is at the wheel, and you can bring me word if he wants anything.

MARY (_aside_). Oh, dear! I know he is going to be sick. (_To him_)
Where is the chart of the river?

CAPT. M. On deck, in the wheel-house.

MARY. And all the things you use?

CAPT. M. Yes. Why?

MARY. Because I want to know, so that you can have a good long nap.

CAPT. M. Our course is all marked out, and what to steer by; but I
shall feel better, I hope, after I have had some sleep. You’d better go
on deck, once in a while, see how things are going on, and let me know.
(_Exit_ L., _holding by the doorway_.)

MARY (_sitting_). What shall I do! away up here, a hundred miles from a
doctor. I am afraid William has the river fever, the same as Phus had
last year. Oh! mother! mother! If I could only have you with me! If I
could only get word to you! (_Leans her head on the table._)

(_Enter_ PHUS, R.)

PHUS. Whar de cap’n? Pats say he want know which way ter go, and de
cap’n must tell him.

MARY. Phus, do you remember how sick you were last year?

PHUS. An’! wouldn’t ’a’ libed ef you hadn’t ’a’ nussed me.

MARY. Do you want to pay me for it?

PHUS. I ain’t got no money, mis’; but I prays ebery night: Lor’ bress
de cap’n’s wife. She nuss me; make me well.

MARY. I don’t want any money, Phus. You can pay me in a better way.

PHUS. An’ I sings in de cook-house w’en de pork’s a-fizzlin’, an’ Hank
he likes it. (_Sings mournfully._)

                  I’se poor Jo-Phus,—’Lijah cum down.
                  Sick in de ’teamboat,—’Lijah cum down.
                  Cap’n’s mis’ nuss me,—’Lijah cum down.
    (_Livelier._) An’ den I gits well,—’Lijah cum down.
                  Swing low de goolden charyot,
                  Rock de baby, car’ long de cap’n’s mis’.
                                        ’Lijah cum down.

(MARY _does not listen_.)

MARY. Phus, listen to me. The captain is very sick, and you can help me
if you will; and more than pay me for anything I have done for you.

PHUS. I’ll do ebryting. You so good to poor Phus—make me well, an’ larn
me to read—see here. (_Reads._) “Mee-liss-see-felt-a-scream-ded,” no,
dat ain’t de place; “col’—col’—han’—” (_cold hand_.)

MARY. Never mind reading now, Phus. I want you to stay here while I go
on deck, and listen to the captain. If he wakes up and wants anything,
you must go in and tell him I will come right down; then you come and
call me. (_Exit_ R.)

PHUS. Yaas, mis’! (_Applies ear to keyhole of door_, L.)


CURTAIN.




ACT III.


 _Forward deck of the Creole Bride. Wheel-house at_ R. _gangway and
 railing at_ L., _table and two camp chairs at_ C., _chairs_ C. MARY
 _at the wheel, with the chart and compass beside her_.

MARY. I wonder if I am all right here! The course is not very clearly
marked out. Willie is still so sick that he can’t tell me any more
about steering, and Patsy don’t seem to know anything but his engine,
or how to go when it is plain sailing. (_Studies the chart._) Let me
see! We must stop at three more stations before we reach the mouth of
the Washita,—Munroe, Columbia, and Harrisonburg; and then we go down
the Red and Yellow to Baton Rouge. Oh! yes, I see. We steer right here
by Dead Man’s Bluff, and then by Run-away Swamp. How lucky I studied
that book on navigation! It helps me so much to understand these marks
on the chart. If Patsy would only behave well, I should be all right;
but he don’t like the idea of being “bossed,” as he calls it, “by a
woman.”

(_Enter_ PATSY, R.)

MARY. Patsy, have you thrown out the line lately?

PATSY. Yes, mum.

MARY. Where are we?

PATSY. Be-gorries! I dunno, mum.

MARY. How much water?

PATSY. Faix! the lid was varry well down, and the mud was yaller.

MARY. That may mean something to you, I suppose. You can’t read. Bring
me the line. (_He bring it from_ L.)

PATSY. It’s tin fut, mum. (_Aside_) Bedad, she thinks she’s cap’n.

MARY. That’ll do, Take the line forward, and mind your engine.

PATSY (_muttering_). Mind the injun, is it? O’ coorse. Musha and faix,
I wull! I’m the lasht lad not to be mindin’ me injun. (_Drops the line
and goes toward_ R.)

MARY. Patsy!

PATSY. Vart do yer want? I can’t be lavin’ my injun arl the time. True
for yez!

MARY. Patsy! I told you to take the line _forward_!

PATSY. I’ll not do it, mum, for all of yez. Ye’re not the cap’n!

MARY (_looking at him severely_). Patsy! Take that line forrard, and be
quick about it!

PATSY (_takes the line to_ L., _and exit_ R., _muttering_). I’ll not be
bossed by no woman!

MARY. I don’t know what I shall do with Patsy. He threatens to leave me
at the next station, and I can’t find a decent engineer short of Baton
Rouge; and I mustn’t trouble William with it, he is still so feeble.

(_Enter_ PHUS, L.)

PHUS. Mis’, de cap’n say he feel bet’ as did, an’ he wan’ ter see yer.

MARY. Very well, I’ll go down. You call Patsy to stand at the wheel;
and then you go and stay with the baby.

PHUS. Yes, mis’. (_Calls_, R.) Pats! Har! you Pats, lave dat injyne an’
cum an’ stan’ by de wheel. Pay—ats! Pay—ats! Pay—a—ts! Cum, Pats, to de
weel-house! Mis’ say so.

(_Enter_ PATS R. _He takes the wheel._)

MARY (_to_ PATSY). Mind your helm now; keep her on her course. (_Exit_
MARY, R.)

PATSY. Ugh! Bedad!

PHUS (_sits down at the wheel-house and takes his banjo_). Bress de
Lor’, de cap’n’s bet’ as was. He say he mean git well. (_Sings and
rocks himself._)

    Lor’ bress de cap’n,—’Lijah cum down.
    Lor’ bress de cap’n’s mis’,—’Lijah cum down.
    An’ let ’im git well,—’Lijah cum down.
    As dis poor Jo-Phus did,—“Lijah cum down.
    Swing low de goolden charyot,
    Car’ long de baby, cap’n, an’ de cap’n’s mis’,
                        ’Lijah cum down.

PATSY (_putting his head out of the wheel-house_). Musha! Shtop yer
hullabaloo, you black nayger.

PHUS. Dere aint no sich man round here. My name’s Jo-see-phus,
Herodytus Miller. (_Exit_ L.)

(_Re-enter_ MARY, R., _half supporting_ CAPTAIN MILLER, _who tries to
walk; he sits down near the table wearily_.)

CAPT. M. (_feebly_). It’s no use, Mary, I can’t walk. I can’t use my
legs a mite, and that’s a fact. The malaria has settled in them, and I
don’t know as I shall ever walk again.

MARY (_stands beside him, and keeps her eye on the vessel’s course_).
Yes, you will, dear. The doctor says so; and he says you must get away
from the boat, go into the mountains and stay awhile, and then you will
be as well as ever.

CAPT. M. Oh, Mary! If I could only go to New England. I feel as if it
would cure me. If I could only go to Maine, and see the White Hills,
all covered with snow on top, from behind father’s house, see mother,
and have some of their good victuals—(_He breaks down._)

MARY. You _shall_ go. It won’t cost any more to go there than it will
to pay your board at some place near the mountains; and no matter if it
does.

CAPT. M. How can I leave the vessel? If I take the money to go East
with, I shan’t be able to meet my payments, and shall lose my chance of
buying into her.

MARY (_to_ PATSY). Ease her off a couple of points. (_To_ WILLIAM)
Never mind that! Don’t worry. It’s better to lose everything else than
to lose your health. But you will not lose the boat. I can run her
while you’re gone. Only three months! The doctor says he thinks that
will do.

CAPT. M. I don’t know about your running the boat, Mary. Ours is a
thousand-mile trip, you know, next time, and it’s easier to come down
than it is to go up. The Yellow-red winds like a corkscrew.

MARY. I know that, William; but I think I can manage her. I have done
it; and here we are safe so far, and no accident yet.

CAPT. M. (_considering_). This cargo is secure, and the next one all
promised. But I hate to leave you, Mary, and the baby.

MARY (_to_ PATSY). Keep her on her course, boy! (_To_ WILLIAM) I hate
to have you go, William, only I know that it is for your good; and
then, if I go, you’ll have to give up the boat, and we shan’t have
anything to live on; and that will never do.

CAPT. M. You’re right, Mary, as you always are.

(_Enter_ HANK, _the cook, with a waiter full of dishes_.)

HANK. Here’s your lunch, sir.

CAPT. M. Why, Hank! Have _you_ come again? It isn’t more than half an
hour since I ate my breakfast.

HANK (_drawling_). Yes, it is, sir. It’s an hour. And the doctor says
you was to eat every hour.

CAPT. M. (_looks at the waiter_). What have you got now?

MARY (_to_ PATSY, _hurriedly_). Hard a-port, there! Give that snag a
wide berth! (_She goes quickly towards the wheel-house._) Go below,
Patsy, and fire up, or we shan’t get to Munroe till moonrise. (_Exit_
PATSY, L., _muttering_.)

HANK (_to_ WILLIAM). Waal, tha’s some fixings the Indians say is good
for invaliges, and one on ’em showed me how to cook ’em.

CAPT. M. What are they, Hank? Name over your bill of fare.

HANK. Waal, cap, this ere’s corn-pone, o’ coose; and a dodger or so;
a slice o’ bacon; a helter-skelter; some succotash; two frog’s legs
pealed and sizzled; a pigeon biled in milk; some baked punkin; eel’s
tails soused; and some no-cake.

CAPT. M. What! what! what! Are you going to stuff me to death, or
poison me—which?

HANK. Oh, sir! you needn’t eat ’em all. The Injuns said if you eat just
the right thing for you, you’d be sure to get well.

CAPT. M. I dare say. They’d cure a dog with their charms and their
notions.

HANK. Some of the vittals is good, and some pretty middlin’ poor, but
it’s all good for suthin’,— or the pigs!

CAPT. M. (_laughing_). I shouldn’t wonder. (_Looking over the waiter._)
What’s baked punkin for, Hank? It looks like raw, dried potato-parings.

HANK. The Indians said ’twas to chaw, and give you an appetite.

MARY (_from the wheel-house_). What in the world are the soused
eel’s-tails for?

HANK. Oh, to make you feel lively, and cherk you up a little. They make
brains.

CAPT. M. What next? What’s the no-cake for, and where is it? Cake
sounds kind o’ good. And hot biscuit. Mother’s hot biscuit! Oh! how I
should like some of them.

HANK. Well, the no-cake is that aire white stuff piled up on that aire
plate. It looks like something goodish; but when you chaw it, it feels
like sand. The Injuns eat it, and they said ’twould make the cap’n
sleep good.

CAPT. M. I should think it would,—and dream of my grandmother. If it
chews like sand, it will be heavy enough.

HANK. There ain’t no decent vittals for a sick man to eat in these
diggings. ’Tain’t half so good as the Nantucket feed, such as my marm
used to cook.

CAPT. M. Oh, Hank! don’t speak of it! How I should like some fried
perch,—some good fresh salt-water perch, with their heads on; and some
steamed clams, fresh-dug Nantucket clams, with the shells all gaping
at you. I feel as if I could eat a good four-quart tin pan full this
minute, shells and all.

HANK. I’d like to make you a rippin’ good chowder, sir. Such as we have
ter hum. What you want is real, good, hard, fresh cod-fish or haddock,
head and all, some white potatoes (none o’ your flat yellow sweets),
some onions, some Boston crackers, and a generous rasher of salt strip
pork (none o’ your middlings). But I can’t do it. They never heerd of a
Boston cracker, and there ain’t a decent piece o’ fresh salt-water fish
between here and Nantucket. Only this darned canned stuff; and that’s
enough to p’isen a feller.

MARY (_to_ WILLIAM, _from the wheel-house_). You’ll have some chowder
when you get home, dear; and you’ll eat again of all the old New
England food.

HANK. Oh, sir! you goin’ hum?

CAPT. M. I think of it.

MARY (_to_ HANK). Yes, he _is_ going home; and pretty soon, too.

HANK. If you do, sir, I hope you’ll take a skip down to Nantucket, and
see my folks. Marm ’ll be mighty glad to see you. I’ll write to her,
and send her some money, and you can take the letter, sir, right along.
And please, sir, fetch me word how the old place looks, and if marm
seems comfortable.

CAPT. M. Yes, Hank, I’ll take your letter; and if I can’t go to see
your mother, I will send it to her by express.

HANK. Thank you, sir, thank you; and if you should go to Annisport, and
see Miss Leafy Jane, please tell her I hain’t forgot her, and if you
can say I’ve been a good feller—and behaved tip-top—

CAPT. M. Why, Hank! do you remember that little fly-away? You steady
old boy, you. Of course you’ve been a good fellow, and I’ll tell her
so,—if I see her,—but why don’t you write to her yourself?

HANK. Oh, sir! she might not like it.

CAPT. M. That’s so. Well, do as you like, Hank. You can leave the
waiter. I will eat all I can of your concoctions. (_Exit_ HANK, R.)

CAPT. M. (_turning towards_ MARY). I did not know that there was any
love-making in that quarter.

MARY. Nor I, neither.

[_Disposition of characters at end of act._ CAPT. MILLER _at table_,
C., _eating_. MARY _at the wheel_, L.]


CURTAIN.




ACT IV.


 _The same as in Act II. Enter_ MARY, L., _with her hands full of
 papers. She sits down at the table._

MARY. There! The bills of lading are signed, and all my accounts are
straight, so we are ready to begin again. But here we are, still fast
at New Orleans, when we ought to have got away three days ago. For
some reason or other I can’t get the cargo that was promised, and so
I have had to fill up with watermelons. Heavy, unprofitable things!
(_Writes._) I wish I could hear from William. Poor fellow! The doctor
at home said he must take a sea-voyage; and he has gone off with his
father to the Grand Banks, fishing. I wish I could see him!

(_Enter_ PHUS, R., _bringing a large watermelon_.)

PHUS. Wattermillions is bos’; dey’s bos’ an’ cool.

MARY. Why, Phus, what do you want of that watermelon?

PHUS. It’s such a golly big one; and den it’s marked so peart.

MARY. Why! there’s hundreds of them on board just as good.

PHUS. O no! mis’, dere ain’t. Dis one hab de little Voudoo mark dat
show dey’s sweet; an’ I wanted de baby to stick his little toof in it,
an’ suck de juice. Oh, Lors! (_Smacks his lips and sings._)

    “Some are pa’shel to de appel, oddahs clamor fo’ de plum;
    Some fin’ ’joyment in de cherry, oddahs make de peaches hum;
    Some git fas’ned to de onion, oddahs lub de arti-choke;
    But my taste an’ wattahmillion er’ bound by a pleasant joke.

                    “Hit er meller, hit er juicy,
                    Hit er coolin’, hit er sweet!
                    Hit er painless ter de stummick—
                    Yo’ kin eat, an’ eat, an’ eat!”

I helped you bring ’em on board, didn’t I, mis’?

MARY. Yes, Phus; you’re always handy. I wish you could be the mate, in
Patsy’s place, and help me steer the boat.

PHUS. Lor’ bress you, mis’! I couldn’t do dat. I should steer for all
de snags in de riber; an’ git twisted all up in de bay-yous, an’ run
inter all de san’bars.

MARY. Have you found anybody yet to take Patsy’s place, if he leaves?

PHUS. No, mis’. All de boys dey say as dey won’t be de mate to no
woman. Dey say you has no licens’, an’ can’t be de cap’n. An’ Mass’
Rumberg, he cum an’ take away de Keyhole’s Bride.

MARY. Oh, Phus! is that what they say? Then that is the reason that I
could not get the cargo that was promised here; and when they knew,
too, that I had been running the boat these three months all alone!

PHUS. When de cap’n cum hum?

MARY. Not until December, Phus.

PHUS. Whar’s he, mis’, now?

MARY. Away out to sea, on a ship; not a steamboat—a sailing vessel.
The doctor said it would cure him if he took a sea-voyage.

PHUS. Is de sea bigger dan de Missip’ or de Gulf Mex’?

MARY. Oh, yes, Phus! a good deal bigger, and wider, too. You can’t see
across.

PHUS. O, sho!

MARY (_rising and walking about_). And the waves are so high! and white
on the top! and they come booming in on the rocks! and the breeze! Oh!
the breeze is so sweet, so salt, so fresh! It is enough to do your soul
good to smell it.

PHUS. Golly! mis’. It mus’ be hunky, if it’s sweet, and salt, and
fresh, an’ comes in boomin’ at ye, on de rocks, all at once.

MARY (_smiling_). Better go out again, Phus, and look among the boys
for a mate.

PHUS. Yes, mis’. (_Exit_ R.)

MARY. I think I’ll write to mother, and tell her my troubles. If she
can’t help me any, it will do me good to write; and I can get Phus to
carry it to the Post Office before we start. (_She writes._)

(_Enter_ MR. ROMBERG.)

MR. R. (_slowly and deliberately_). Mrs. Miller, I came to see what
you were going to do about the boat. Your husband has been gone a long
time; and it seems there is no prospect of his immediate return. So we
might as well talk the matter over now as at any other time.

MARY (_rises and offers him a seat_). Mr. Romberg? I don’t know as I
have seen you before. You are the largest owner in the Creole Bride, I
believe? Why do you wish to know what I am going to do? (_Sitting._)

MR. R. (_sitting_). I (and the other owners) don’t want the boat to be
eating her head off here at the wharf.

MARY. We shall not stay here longer than this afternoon. As soon as I
come to terms with my mate, I shall be ready to steam her up.

MR. R. I don’t see how you can run this boat.

MARY (_rising_). Why not, sir? I _have_ run her for the last three
or four months. I carried her ’way up the Red and Yellow, and down
again to Baton Rouge, through the most crooked part of our whole
thousand-mile route; and I steered most of the time myself. The mate
don’t know much about handling the wheel.

MR. R. The merchants, I find, are not willing to trust you with a
cargo; so I don’t see but you will have to give it up. You won’t be
able to meet your payments; and I must look out for my own property, as
well as that of the rest of the owners, for it is all in my care.

MARY. Is not Mr. Miller’s contract as captain of the boat all right? It
does not expire till next year. He is all paid up to the first of the
month; and I hope to be able to pay the next quarter,—that is, if I can
go on running the boat.

MR. R. Yes, madam; but you must understand that the contract is with
_Captain Miller_, and not with his wife; that is where the trouble
is. Husband and wife are not one in this business. Captain Miller’s
contract _is_ all right, and he _is_ paid up; but if he dies, the whole
thing will have to be settled.

MARY (_alarmed_). But my husband is _not_ dead. He is not going to die!
Why can’t I run the boat up to Cairo? I have a full cargo, and another
is promised there. I know the route for the next three months. I have
been over it all.

MR. R. (_rising_). Mrs. Miller, you cannot be a captain in name.

MARY. But, Mr. Romberg, I _am_ the captain.

MR. R. No, Mrs. Miller. You may run the boat, but you cannot act as
captain,—you have no license. The fact is, the law does not allow it.
That is what the owners say; and we consulted a lawyer, and he gave it
as his opinion, _after careful consideration_, that a woman cannot be
master of a vessel legally.

MARY. Then we must lose our chance of owning the boat; and I cannot
raise the money needed for the support of my poor sick husband and my
little baby,—just because I am a woman! Oh! Mr. Romberg! this is hard
indeed!

MR. R. I suppose it is rather hard; but that is the way of the law, in
Louisiana, at least, and I think all over the United States. When our
fathers framed the constitution, they thought it was better that woman
should be confined to the domestic sphere. The home, the home is their
place,—not the decks of vessels. They wanted to protect women in their
proper sphere.

MARY. Protect them! Hinder them, I should think!

MR. R. (_approaching_ MARY). If Captain Miller, now, were not living,
you might find some likely river-man to marry you, and be captain of
the boat, in name; and then you could keep on acting as master,—your
mate, perhaps,—then you’d be all right.

MARY. Marry! The mate! Patsy! Oh, Mr. Romberg! Oh, sir! what do you
mean?

MR. R. (_aside_). Gad! the women are all alike. How they stick to one
man! (_To her_) I don’t see what else you can do.

MARY. There was Captain Tucker’s wife; after he died she took the boat.

MR. R. Yes, but she did not run it long; all of us owners objected to a
petticoat captain, and we discharged her.

MARY (_severely_). Then what has become of her and all her six children?

MR. R. Oh, she tends in a lager-beer saloon in Natchez.

MARY (_indignantly_). Yes, and I suppose her children are given away
or put out to service—all because she is a woman! She has to do this
degrading work to get an honest living, and all because you wouldn’t
allow her to do the only work she always had done and was best fitted
to do. She run the boat three years before her husband died.

MR. R. Well, she might have married and had some one to be her
captain. The merchants sent one of their best river-men to marry her,
but she ordered him off the boat.

MARY. I don’t blame her!

MR. R. There ain’t much a woman can do round here _but_ get married.
There’s many a likely man that is _not_ a river-man who would like to
get a good smart Yankee woman like you.

MARY (_sharply_). Mr. Romberg! what do you mean?

MR. R. I mean, of course, if your husband does not come back, which
seems most likely—

Mary (_turning away_). Oh! What shall I do?

MR. R. My dear Mrs. Miller! you must be as wise as a serpent as well as
harmless as a dove.

MARY. Oh, sir! how can I be wise without money, without friends, with
my hands tied by a little child, and my means of earning a living taken
away?

MR. R. Well, there is a month or two yet before I shall be obliged to
ask you to give up your husband’s papers. Meanwhile, you can go on
to Cairo, and come back; go along the Red and Yellow, and leave your
cargo. You needn’t take on any more. I’ll see you again when you come
down to New Orleans; and then, if your husband has not returned, we
must close up our accounts. That is what the rest of the owners say,
and I agree.

MARY. Oh, Mr. Romberg! is there nothing I can do to keep the boat? Can
I not get a license? Did a woman never have a captain’s license?

MR. R. I never heard of one. And I don’t think there ever was one. It
would be absurd! But I must bid you good-morning.

MARY. Good-morning, sir. (_Exit_ MR. ROMBERG, R.) Indeed! what kind of
a woman does he take me to be! Telling _me_ about marrying another man
so as to have a captain! I will show him that I can be master of my
own boat. _I_ go into a lager-beer saloon! As Mary Gandy I would not
have done it; and as Mary Miller I certainly shall not. _I_ give up the
boat! My William’s boat? Never! Unless they put me on shore by force.
_Why_ cannot _I_ get a license? _I’ll try!_ and then, if worst comes to
worst, I must make my way somehow back home again. If I could only hear
from mother! (_Sits down at the table—arranges papers._)

(_Enter_ PHUS, R.)

PHUS. O, Lor’! Mis’ Miller! Here’s suthin’ I forgits. I met de pos’-man
out here, an’ he holl’d at me (_She does not look up._)—“Har, you nig!”
I looks round, and sez: “Whar? whar? I dun’ see no nig.” He laf, an’
sez, “You know who dat is?” “Whar?” sez I. “On dis let’,” sez he. “No,”
sez I; “who is it?” “It’s Mrs. Mary Miller,” sez he. “Lor’,” sez I,
“dat’s my cap’n’s mis’; gib it yere.” “Well, fotch it, then,” sez he,
“an’ be darn quick ’bout it.” “I will,” sez I. (MARY _looks up_.)

MARY. A letter? Oh, give it to me! How long have you had it?

PHUS. Jes dis minit, mis’.

MARY (_tearing the envelope_). From home, and written by dear brother
John. Dear little fellow! (_Reads._)

  DEAR MARY,—

 Mother wants me to write. She says: Tell Mary that I talked it all
 over with your father, and he asked old Pete Rosson, and then I wrote
 to the lecture woman up to Boston, and she says you must have a
 captain’s license so’s you can keep the boat. And she says you must
 apply to the Local Inspectors (here is a blank for you to fill out),
 and that if you pass your examination they will see that it is sent
 to Washington to the Solicitor of the Treasury. You must write to
 Mr. Le Brun or Mr. Cholmly, Local Inspectors, New Orleans, La. Do it
 right off before Mr. Romberg gets a chance to take away the boat. And
 oh! mother says you must sign your own name to the application—Mary
 Miller, or Mary Gandy Miller (’cause it isn’t legal to sign your
 husband’s name, and _Mrs._ is nothing but a title). She’s found out
 that a woman has no more right, legally, to use her husband’s first
 name and title than he has to use hers. She says Martha Washington had
 more sense than to call herself Mrs. George, or Mrs. General, or Mrs.
 President Washington. Plain Martha Washington was good enough for
 her. And oh! the folks round here are real proud of you, to think you
 can manage a steamboat, and old Pete Rosson says “it’s a darned shame
 you have such a hard time, and he hopes you won’t give up the ship.”
 He expects to go to the Legislature this winter, and he says “if the
 men at Washington don’t let you have the captain’s license, he’ll vote
 agin every mother’s son on ’em.”

  Yours, as usual,
  JOHN QUINCY ADAMS GANDY.

MARY (_folding the letter)_. Dear, dear folks at home! How good they
are to tell me just what to do! I must write my application at once.
(_Sits down at the table._)

PHUS. Is de folks well, mis’, an’ de cap’n?

MARY (_writing_). Yes, Phus, the folks are well; but the letter is not
from the captain. I do not expect to hear from him at present.

PHUS. O, Lor’! mis, is dat so?

MARY. Yes, Phus. You wait round till I get this letter done, then you
carry it to the post-office. I want an answer from it, right off, as
soon as I can get it.

PHUS. Yes, mis’. (_He goes out_, L., _keeps popping his head in and
tiptoeing round_.)

MARY (_folding up the letter, and putting it in a long envelope_).
There! my blank is all filled out, and my letter written; both signed
plain Mary Miller, which means to me (_sighing_) that I must hereafter
stand alone,—legally, at any rate, and take the responsibility of all
my actions. No more hiding behind a husband’s or a father’s name. Plain
Mary Miller! A good name, and I must show that I am worthy of it. (_To_
PHUS) There, be as quick as you can; and then come back here and take
care of the baby while I go on deck. (_She goes to the cradle._)

PHUS. Yes, mis’! I’m skippin’. (_Exit_ R.)


CURTAIN.




ACT V.


 _Same as in Act III., with the addition of a hammock slung near the
 wheel-house, containing the baby. Enter_ MARY _from the wheel-house
 with a small sailor hat and reefer on. She takes them off, and lays
 them on a chair as she talks._

MARY. Here we are at last, safe at New Orleans. I wish I could hear
from Washington; and why _don’t_ I hear from William? I sent home the
last money I had saved up, and I shall have no more if they take the
boat away. I can’t give her up! And I can’t do anything else to earn a
living. This is my business—my life.

(_Enter_ PHUS, L.)

PHUS. Oh, mis’! Pats he say he won’t help unload de boat; an’ I can’t
get nobody to help, as you tole me. Dey all say dey won’t be bos’ by no
woman.

MARY (_sighs_). Well, Phus, _you’re_ willing to work for me, ain’t you?
_You_ won’t leave your mistress, will you?

PHUS. Neber! No, mis’! I allus work for you an’ de cap’n an’ de baby.
Hank, too, he stay. He ben hawlin out de cargo like sixty. He say
wimmin good ’nough for him. He ruther be cook to wimmin bos’; cos dey
knows more ’bout de fixin’s, an’ dey neber sez, “darn dat stuff.”

MARY. Phus, you run and tell Patsy he can go. He’s all paid up; and I
don’t want him any more. And, here! take my reefer and hat down into
the cabin. I shan’t want them at present.

PHUS. Yes, mis’. (_He goes out_, R.)

MARY (_swinging the hammock gently_). Must I leave my happy home, where
I came a bride? (_Leans over the baby_) My baby’s birthplace? Why! I
love every timber in this tight little steamboat. She is as dear to
me as one of the biggest houses on the river is to the fine lady who
lives in it.

PHUS (_re-entering_). Oh, mis’! Pats he say he _will_ go wid you up
riber a piece, to where he woman lib, an’ get off dar.

MARY. Very well. I’ll see him by and by; but I don’t know as I shall
want him. Oh! if my license would only come!

PHUS. You licens’, mis; wot’s you licens’?

MARY (_sadly_). Why, Phus, I have asked the big men at Washington to
give me a license; same as the other river-captains have.

PHUS (_whimpering_). Oh, Lor’, mis, bress de Lor’! I hope it’ll cum.
(_Sits on floor at_ R., _and sings softly_.)

    Bring ’long de licens’,—’Lijah cum down.

(_Takes a book from his pocket, sits on floor at_ R., _and reads with a
great deal of action_.)

MARY (_looking at him_). Poor Phus! If the big men at Washington could
only see me as he sees me, and know, as he knows, how well I can handle
a boat, they would very soon say yes to my application.

(_Enter_ MR. ROMBERG, L.)

MR. R. Good-day, Mrs. Miller. I am sorry to be obliged to proceed
against you, and ask you to deliver up your husband’s papers. _I_
might be willing to wait a little longer; but the other owners are not
satisfied. They say that as you cannot get a captain’s license, some
man must take the boat.

MARY. Cannot get a captain’s license? How do you know that? I have
applied for one; and am expecting every minute to hear from Washington.

MR. R. I know that. Here is the _Delta_ with a long account of your
case, and the decision of the Solicitor of the Treasury.

MARY (_coming forward_). Let me see it! I have heard nothing about it.
We have had no mail since we got in.

MR. R. (_reads from the newspaper emphatically_). “One of the richest
papers on the woman question that has ever emanated from an official
source is the opinion of Solicitor Rayner on the question whether
licenses should be granted women to command steamboats. He says:
‘Instead of being master in name, while some one else performs the
duties, why does she not let some one else be master in name? She would
not stand her watch at night in the cold. She would not enforce the
discipline on a Mississippi steamer. She would not tramp to the rooms
of shippers and consigners to do the banking business—’”

MARY (_interrupting_). Why! that is just what I have been doing for the
last five months.

MR. R. (_reads on_). “‘All the accounts concur in describing the
lady who makes this application as one of high character, business
qualifications, and highest worth. But, in the application of what
is with me a principle, the higher the character and worth, the
greater my difficulty in asking that the license asked for to command
a Mississippi steamboat be granted. Because it would be assigning a
position to woman which God, in his providence, never intended her to
fill.

  K. Rayner, Solicitor of the Treasury.’”

(_Holds out paper to her._)

MARY. What does he mean? I am sure God has permitted me to fill this
position, and (_reverently_) if He had not permitted it, and helped
me, too, I never could have done it so well. How unjust this man is!
Oh, Mr. Rayner! can you not comprehend that, when a woman _can do_ a
man’s work, she ought to have the legal right? (_Comes forward, takes
the paper, and reads to herself. To him_) But see, Mr. Romberg. Here is
something else about it; something from the Secretary of the Treasury.
(_Reads_) “The United States Revised Statutes say that whenever any
person applies to be licensed, the inspectors shall diligently inquire
as to the character of the person, whether male or female. I see no
reason, then, in unwritten or in written law, why Mistress Miller may
not lawfully demand an examination; and, if she proves herself duly
qualified, have a license to serve as master of a vessel. Let the
local inspectors carefully examine her, and if they are satisfied that
she can be safely intrusted with the duties and responsibilities of a
master of a steam vessel, let them grant her a license, according to
section 4439.

  Chas. J. Folger, Secretary of the Treasury.”

Bless him for that! He may make it all right. You see, Mr. Romberg, it
is not fully decided. I may get the license yet. (PHUS _looks up from
his book_.) I have been examined; and when I told the inspectors all
about that large boat that got stuck up the river, near Cairo, and that
we had the chance to take off the loaded barges, and how I had them
made fast to us, took the wheel myself, turned the big boat round, and
carried her safely into Cairo, they looked surprised enough. And one of
them said that I did seem to be qualified. Phus remembers it, the visit
of the inspectors; don’t you, Phus?

PHUS (_jumping up and putting his whole hand in the book for a mark_).
O, yes, mis’! dem two gem’man, one wid de black bandanna on he hat, de
oder wid de gaiters! De las’ one, he say, “You culled pusson, tel’ me
troo, your mis’ _she_ no bos’ dis boat?” I say, “Yaas, saar!” Den de
one wid de black bandanna, he say, “But de mate, _he_ de real cap’n;
_he_ stan’ at w’eel, steer, an’ tak’ car’ ob injyne, don’ he?”

MARY. What did you tell him?

PHUS. I sez, “No! On’y when mis’ restin’, an’ it’s cam (_calm_), an’
dere ain’t no snags nor be-yous. _She_ bos’, _she_ steer, _she_ watch
injyne. Pats, he on’y shovel coal, ’bey orders. On’y he mad sometime,
an’ he say he not be bos’ by wimmin. Den de one wid de gaiters, he say,
“You nig tell de trute; she _raal_ cap’n? She bos’ ebryting?” I say,
“Yas, saar-e! ebryting! She bos’ steamboat. She bos’ Pats. She bos’
Hank and me—Phus—dat’s me W’y! mis’ could bos’ you, bos’ de President
’nited States, be cap’n ob ebrybody.” Den dey bof laf, an’ I help’ ’em
obe de gang-plank.

MARY (_sitting_). Oh, Phus! you tried to prove too much. But you make
me laugh, in spite of my troubles.

PHUS. I does my bes’, mis’. (_Sits down_, R., _and reads_.)

MR. R. The other owners say, and the newspapers, too, that you have no
chance; and we are all so certain of it that we have agreed not to take
away the boat if you do get the license.

MARY. Do you think yourselves so certain as that? Very well. But I have
faith to believe that you will all wish that you had not made that
promise, unless you really want me to have the boat.

MR. R. Oh, madam! we’ve no notion you’ll get it. The other owners scorn
the idea of a woman captain, and so do I. It’s ridiculous! (_Walks
about._)

PHUS (_reading to himself_). W’ot did Meelissee scramded—no—squeemed
for? ’coz she felt a col’ han’ on her fourhed? Golly! wos she ’f’aid o’
dat? (_Reads_) Oh! she was alone in de dark, in de bed, an’ couldn’t
see nobody! I should ’a’ thought she would ’a’ squeemed. (_Looks all
around in a frightened manner._)

MR. R. (_seating himself near_ MARY). When did you hear from your
husband last?

MARY. Not for a long time. I can’t think what the reason is. I expected
to find a letter here, but haven’t received any. Phus!

PHUS (_jumping up in terror, and then relieved_). Oh! it’s on’y mis’.
Yaas! yaas!

MARY. Phus, you go to the post-office, and see if there are any
letters. The post-man may not know that we have come in.

PHUS. Yaas, mis’. (_Puts book on the wheel-house, and exit_ L.)

MR. R. He went out with a fishing-fleet, didn’t he, from Gloucester?

MARY. Yes; why?

MR. R. Well, there have been a good many fishing-boats lost lately,
down at the Banks, that went from Gloucester. What was the name of his
boat?

MARY. The Betsey Ludgitt, Captain Zabulon Miller.

MR. R. That’s the name of one of them, I think. Here’s the shipping
list. It says (_he reads_), “Several vessels strayed from the fleet,
and have not been heard from since. It is feared that they are lost.
Among them is the Betsey Ludgitt, Captain Zab—”

MARY (_rising in alarm_). Merciful Heaven! it cannot be! I should
have heard; something would have told me if such a dreadful thing had
happened to William. I cannot believe it.

MR. R. He _may_ be safe; but the probabilities are that he is lost.

MARY. Oh! do not say that again. I cannot and will not believe it.
(_Goes to the hammock, and bends over it._)

MR. R. (_approaching_ MARY _in an insinuating way_). My dear—madam, if
anything should happen to your husband, remember (_smiling_) that you
have a warm friend in me. I will give you as good a home as there is on
the river, and take your child, too. Yes! yes! I’ll take your child.

MARY (_turning suddenly upon him_). Give me a home? Take my child? What
do you mean?

MR. R. Why, I mean that I’ll marry you!

MARY. Marry me? Who gave you the right to say you’d marry me, or take
my baby? William’s child! How dare you!

MR. R. I don’t see as you can help yourself. You need the protection of
a man. You can’t have the boat; and you certainly can’t get a living
around here, with your hands tied by that young one. And you’re too
pretty a woman—(_Tries to take her hand._)

MARY. (_indignantly_). Sir! you’ve said enough! You may own my boat,
and you may have the power to take her from me; but you cannot have the
wife of Captain William Miller. I tell you, sir, that I would rather
beg my way home from door to door, with my child in my arms,—yes,
I would starve,—before I would be the wife of any man but my own
husband. Dead or alive, it makes no difference to me. He is still my
husband!

MR. R. (_aside_). Those down-East women beat the world. The spunk they
show—Yankee grit they call it—it’s amazing! But, Gad! it makes her look
handsomer than ever. (_To her, insinuatingly_) You may change your
mind; but, whether you do or not, remember that I will always be your
friend. (_Smiling._)

MARY. Sir! I shall _never_ change my mind; and I forbid you ever to
mention this subject to me again. I want no such friendship as yours.
Good-morning! (_Turns from him, and goes to the hammock._)

MR. R. (_apologetically_). Well, I’m sure I—(_Aside_) Gad! I want
her more than ever. (_To her_) You know I said if you _did_ get the
license, we won’t take away the boat. I’m sure you ought not to
complain of that!

MARY (_without turning_). Very well, sir—then, there is nothing more to
say. Good-morning.

MR. R. (_shamefacedly_). Er-er-good-morning. (_Exit_ R.)

MARY (_scornfully_). So this is the way men _protect_ women! Wretch! To
dare to speak so to me!

(_Re-enter_ PHUS, R.)

PHUS. O, mis’! dere’s an ol’ gemmen an’ young maars on de warf, an’ dey
bof ax for you.

MARY. Why, who can they be? Ask them to come on deck.

PHUS (_at_ R.). Dis way! Dis way!

(CAPTAIN GANDY, _outside, sings_.)

    “On Springfield maount’ins there did dwell
     A lovelye youth an’ known full well—”

MARY (_in great surprise_). Father Gandy!

(_Enter_ CAPT. G. _at_ R., _with_ J. Q. A., _in the uniform of a
railroad-train boy, with a basket on his arm_.)

MARY. Why, father! Where _did_ you come from? And John Quincy Adams!
(_Rushes into his arms, spilling the basket._)

J. Q. A. Here! Here! What are you about, spilling all my spondulics!
(_Puts down his basket, and takes off his hat._)

MARY. Dear, dear father! where in the world did you come from? (_Throws
her arms round him._)

CAPT G. Why! from hum, o’ coorse. Whar else should I hail from?

MARY (_eagerly_). Oh, father! do you know anything about William? I
haven’t heard from him for two months, and I can’t think what the
reason is. You don’t suppose anything could have happened to him, do
you?

CAPT. G. Oh! wal, no—I guess not. I saw by the _Herald_ that Zab
Miller’s skewner had strayed from the rest on ’em; but he knows wot
he’s abaout. He ain’t a-gwine ter tell all Glowchester where them
skewls o’ haulibaout hide. (_Pats her on the shoulder._) Don’t yer
worry abaout that! There ain’t no telegraph poles on them fishin’
graounds, an’ the post-man don’t drop in every day in them diggin’s,
an’ there ain’t no delivery if yer do write, nuther.

MARY. I can’t help worrying; and yet I know he must be safe. But,
father, how did _you_ happen to come?

CAPT. G. Wal, yer marm was so worrited abaout your trouble that she
made me start off; coz she sed I could act as cap’n, if that was all
the gov’ment wanted, be “master in name” (she read it in the _Globe_),
so’s you could keep the boat. (_Shoves hat on back of head, puts hands
in pockets, and walks about, sailor fashion._)

J. Q. A. _I_ was the first one to think of coming. And I went to Boston
on Jim Rosson’s engine, and got a chance as train-boy to New York. And
when marm found out I was bound to come, she said pup should go, too. I
wanted to come and punch old Romberg’s head. (_Walks about and inspects
everything._)

MARY. But where did you get the money to come with, father? and, John
(_to_ J. Q. A.), who paid your fare from New York?

J. Q. A. Why! I paid myself, of course. What do you take me for? When I
got to New York I got another chance as train-boy, all the way through;
and I’ve peddled out water in a big-nosed coffee-pot from Annisport to
New Orleans. And sold books, too! And prize packages, and things, and
magazines. (_Calls_) “Harper’s! December Harper’s! Baby Pathfinder!
Puck! Peanuts! Gum drops? (_Offers his basket to_ MARY.)

MARY. You funny boy!

CAPT. G. Well, yer see, yer marm—

MARY (_interrupting_). Sit down, father. (_Offers him a camp-stool._)

CAPT. G. No, I just ’s lives stand. (_Leans against railing._) Yer marm
took boarders all summer, an’ she made me take that money. She said
’twould never do any more good; an’, then, Leafy Jane, she’s l’arnt the
millinger’s trade, an’ she giv’ me some o’ hern.

J. Q. A. I tried to get a pass for him, part way, at least; but them
railroad men are so mean they’ll never help a fellow along.

CAPT. G. Haow is little Nate?

MARY. Oh! he’s all right! Here he is, father. Come and see him. (_They
go together to the hammock._) He hasn’t been sick a day this summer.
The dear little fellow! He grows like a weed.

J. Q. A. (_at the hammock, aside_). A pig weed, I s’pose.

CAPT. G. Yer see, Mary, yer trouble has set me ter thinkin’; an’ when
you wrote they was goin’ to take away yer boat, just cos yer was a
woman, by the great horn spoon, I was mad: for yer a Gandy cl’ar
through, a sea-cap’n born like all the rest on us. And I’ve made up my
mind that wimmin’s rights must be worth suthin’ to wimmin, as well as
men’s rights to men. An’, as old Pete Rosson said, when he felt so bad
about yer losing the boat, “Sence a woman can’t allus hev her husband
or her father tew take care on her, she ort to have the right to take
care o’ herself, an’ then she can use it or not, as she wants tew.”
An’ so I begin to think that I don’t care if we do let ’em vote.

J. Q. A. (_examining the wheel_). Cracky! you can’t make me believe
that. I shall vote in five years, and I’m sure I don’t want Leafy Jane
taggin’ after me to the poles. ’Tain’t any place for girls.

CAPT. G. Stop yer gab! Wait till yer ten year older an’ then if yer up
for _see_-lectman, yer’ll be glad enuf ter have tem vote for _yaou_!

J. Q. A. Wouldn’t I make a healthy selectman? Yes, I guess not!

CAPT. G. An’—an’, Mary, I want to tell yer suthin’ else. I gin in about
yer mother’s caarf, an’ went an’ bought her back. To be sure, she
ain’t a caarf no longer, but a good likely heifer; but yer mother sez
the principle ’s just as good as if she was jest born, or as old as
Methuselum. An’ she’s tickled enuf abaout it, an’ she said men ain’t so
bad arter all, if yer can onny make ’em see what is wimmin’s jest dues.

(_Enter_ PHUS, L.)

PHUS. Oh, mis’! dere’s a s’prise for yer, a golly big one!

MARY. A surprise! What is it?

PHUS. Dere’s two ladies talking to Hank; an’ one looks so peart, so
peart, oh, Lor’! (_Turns to_ R. _Aside_) I wan’ tell her de res’. O,
golly! I can’t keep in.

MARY. Talking to Hank? Some of his lady friends, I suppose.

PHUS. O, yes! I forgets. Dey wants ter see you, dey say, and Hank say
he bring’d ’em in.

(_Enter_ HANK, R., _in a stage sailor suit, with_ MRS. GANDY _and_
LEAFY JANE, _the latter very stylishly dressed_.)

MARY. Mother! Leafy Jane! (_Rushes to them._) Well, this _is_ a
surprise, I should think.

CAPT. G. (_in great surprise_). I vum to vummy, I am beat now!

PHUS. Wot I tole yer? Wot I tol yer, mis’? (_Aside._) But de odder
one’s bigger!

CAPT. G. Waal, I swan to man, Lorany! you’ve got ahead on us this time.
(_Goes up to her_) Tarnation! haow glad I am ter see yer!

MARY. Why, Leafy Jane, how you’ve grown!

J. Q. A. Yes, and she feels bigger’n you do, and puts on a plaguy sight
more airs. She wants father (she calls him par) to put an _e_ in Gandy,
’cause she says it’s more genteel.—And say! she don’t lithp (_lisp_)
any more; the customers laughed at her so for saying “yeth, thir.”

CAPT. G. (_to_ MRS. G.). Where _in_ the world ’d you come from?

MRS. G. (_deliberately sitting, and removing bonnet, mitts, etc._).
Waal, Nathan, we heerd of an exertion train daown here, at redooced
rates; an’ the boarders,—one on ’em’s writin’ a book,—an’ wanted to
be quiet,—said they’d take the haouse furnished for tew months, and
pay in advance. And so Leafy an’ me come right along. She’s made a
lot o’ bunnits this fall on her own accaount, so she’s quite a haress
(_heiress_).

L. J. Oh, mar!

MRS. G. Yer see, par, we hadn’t time to write after we’d made up our
mind to start, an’ we cum a leetle sooner’n we should ef it hadn’t ’a’
been for comin’ with—er—with—

L. J. (_whispers warningly_). Why, mar!

MRS. G.—with the exertionists. (_Aside_). Why in the world don’t he
come? I’m tired o’ keepin’ it in. He said he onny wanted to go ter the
bank. (_To_ MARY) An’ then I was afraid you or the baby—why! where _is_
the baby? Do les see him!

MARY. He’s asleep, mother. Here, come and see him. Isn’t he a darling?
(_They go to the hammock._)

L. J. Oh, Mary, what made you name the baby Nathan? I wish you had
called him Herbert, Ernest, or Montmorenci. It’s so much more genteel.

J. Q. A. Montmorenci Miller! Cracky! wouldn’t that be tony?

L. J. (_scornfully_). Tony! (_Walks off with_ HANK _to the
wheel-house_.)

MRS. G. (_To_ MARY) We tole yer young man that looks so much like Fred
Douglass not ta tell yer who we was.

J. Q. A. Marm won’t say “colored man.”

MRS. G. No, I won’t; I’m sick o’ readin’ on’t in the newspapers.
They’re allus sayin’ such a man, _colored_, had his leg took off, or
died, or suthin’. What difference does it make, I should like to know,
whether he’s colored or not! He’s hurt all the same, ain’t he? an’ he’s
a man, tew, all the same, ain’t he?

PHUS (_aside_). Golly! I shall bust!

MARY (_to_ MRS. G.). How long can you stay? a good while, I hope.

HANK (_steps forward, drawls_). I think we must start in about three
weeks from Monday, if all the signs come right. (_To_ MARY) You see the
excursion don’t last only till then.

MARY (_in surprise_). _We_ must start! What in the world does this mean?

HANK. Wal, you see, Leafy and me, we’ve been a-writin’ back and forth
sence the cap’n told me I’d better; an’ she’s agreed to hev me, an’ go
an’ live down to Nantucket. Grandfather’s old, and my marm wants me to
come home an’ settle down an’ see to things. She says she’s tired o’
housekeeping, and wants to see some young folks round.

J. Q. A. (_To_ L. J.). ’Fore I’d marry a cook! Anybody that feels as
big as you do. Cookie Mudgitt! How are you, Mrs. Cookie Mudgitt!

CAPT. G. Hold your yorp! Hundreds of big men hev ben cooks. There was
the most worshipful G. M. of aour Masonic Lodge, he used to be cook in
Annisport Jail, an’ now he’s a ’surance man, an’ lives in a tarnal big
haouse. An’, then, there was a feller cooked on a ranch five year’, an’
they sent him to Congress.

MARY. Oh, Hank! what shall we do without you?

HANK. I tho’t o’ that. But a nice French Creole feller is takin’ my
place to-day; an’ if he does well, p’r’aps you’ll keep him. If not,
I’ll find somebody else afore we go.

MARY (_to_ L. J.). When are you going to be married?

L. J. (_loftily_). As soon as we have made the needed preparations.
Henry will explain.

J. Q. A. (_to_ HANK). Then, that’s what you’re so rigged up for, ain’t
it, Bub? in all them sailor slops. You look like a royal tar, a regular
old Britisher.

HANK (_sheepishly_). Why, yes; you see, Leafy, she likes it. But as
soon as the weddin’ is over (she wants me to be married in ’em here on
the boat), I mean to put the whole rig away in my sea-chist, with them
blasted books that deluded me into goin’ to sea; an’ that will be the
last of my bein’ a sailor. I’ve had enough of it. Darn the bunks! I
want to sleep on a first-rate feather-bed the rest of my life.

L. J. Law! Henry. How you do talk!

HANK. It’s a fact, Leafy, so there! (_He goes up to her and tries to
kiss her._)

L. J. (_pushing him away_). There! that will do, Henry. That’s seven
times to-day since I came.

HANK. Is it? Well, ’tain’t any too many, anyhow!

J. Q. A. You great galloot! Catch me ever being such a fool. Say! what
kind of a necktie you going to wear?

HANK. Oh, a stunner! blue and yallar, I guess. (_Looks at_ L. J.)
Sha’n’t I, Leafy?

L. J. (_with dignity_). No, Henry; you must have one to match my dress.

J. Q. A. (_to_ L. J.). ’Fore I’d go taggin’ way down to New Orleans
after a husband!

L. J. You’ll have to tag all round the world before you’ll find any one
fool enough to wed _you_.

J. Q. A. I don’t think I shall ever “wed.” My affections have been
blighted by a fair damsel from Chicago. She had large feet.

MRS. G. Stop, John Quincy! Yer as sarsy daown here as yer was ter hum;
ain’t ye l’arnt nothin’ by travellin’?

(PHUS, _who has been examining_ J. Q. A.’S _basket, attracted by the
peanuts, puts his hand in his pocket for money to buy some, and,
feeling a letter there, draws it forth_.)

PHUS. Golly, I forgets dat let’! Mis’! mis’! here’s a let’; seems it
mus’ be dat licens’. Yes! see dis great t’ing on it, big as a hoe-cake
and red as a ’simmon.

MARY (_eagerly_). Give it to me! (_Breaks the seal and hastily reads._)

  NEW ORLEANS, Feb. 8, 1884.

 MRS. MARY MILLER: Dear madam, I take great pleasure in forwarding
 to you a captain’s license, for a Mississippi steamboat, granted
 according to the decision of Secretary Folger, under Section 4439 of
 the Revised Statutes of the United States.

  Very Respectfully,
  DANIEL DUMONT.
  Supervising Inspector-General.

(MARY _bursts into tears, and sits down_.)

PHUS. Is it, mis’? Is it de licens’?

MARY (_rising proudly, and holding it out_). Yes, it is my license; and
I am Captain Mary Miller! (_Hands paper to_ CAPT. G.)

HANK. Hurrah! Three cheers for Captain Mary Miller!

J. Q. A. And a Tiger-r-r-rrr!

(PATSY _looks in, then enters and listens_).

CAPT. G. I thought Charles J. Folger ’d hev the rights on’t.

MRS. G. Them Folgers could allus be depended on to do the right thing;
believed in ekality from the beginnin’. Old Ben Franklin was one on
’em, and Lucreshy Mott. They ain’t a bit like some o’ them Nantucket
Halletts—allus on the wrong side of ekality.

PHUS. Lor’ bress Cap’n Mary Miller, cap’n of de Keyhole’s Bride.
(_Seizes his banjo, sings uproariously, and dances about._)

  Bress de men at Washington,—’Lijah cum down,
  Dat made a woman cap’n,—’Lijah cum down.
  But bress above dem all,—’Lijah cum down.
  Good Seketelly Folger,—’Lijah cum down.
  May de charyott ob Erlijah swing him softly up to (_Slower_) Heben,
  An’ Mary Miller’s blessin’ be his eberlastin’ crown.

MRS. G. (_to him, aside_). You go’n see ef he ain’t a-comin’. I can’t
hold in much longer. (_Exit_ PHUS, R.)

PATSY. Faix, mum, I’ll shthay wid ye as lang as ye varnt.

MARY. But, Patsy, if you do stay, you must expect to obey orders.

PATSY. For sure, mum; I shpects to ’bey a raal laycensed cap’n. (_Goes
to wheel and sits by it._)

MARY. And now I am captain of my own vessel in name as well as in
reality. God bless Secretary Folger! He has saved us from want,
protected our little home, and given a woman the right to be captain of
her own boat. If William were only here!

PHUS (_entering in great excitement_). Oh, mis’! here’s de biggest
s’prise in de worl’! (_Beckoning._) Dis way! Dis way!

(_Enter_ CAPTAIN MILLER, L. _All rise._)

CAPT. M. Mary!

MARY. My dear William! I knew you would come back! (_Embraces him._)

CAPT. M. Of course, my darling wife. Why shouldn’t I come back?

MARY. Why, the papers said your vessel had drifted from the rest, and—

CAPT. M. That is true. But we drifted to some purpose, for we struck a
splendid school of halibut, and we stayed till we filled up. That’s the
reason I did not write. And when we landed, I ran up to Annisport, and
found Mother Gandy and Leafy Jane wanted to come with me, and so we all
came along together.

(_Shakes hands all round, returns to_ MARY.)

MARY. But, William, where have you been all this time?

CAPT. M. Oh, I had to go to the bank for father to pay the interest on
a note—

MRS. G. But we thought we’d come right along—

MARY. Why didn’t you tell me, mother?

MRS. G. William told me not to. He wanted to s’prise yer.

J. Q. A. She thought she wouldn’t “tell you all at once, for fear you
couldn’t bore it.”

PHUS. I seen de cap’n at de pos’-office. He say, “How Mis Miller?” I
say, “Bos’, an’ de baby, too.” Golly, wa’n’t it a big s’prise?

MARY. See, William, here’s my license as captain. I sent to Washington
for a license, and here it is. (_Shows it to him._)

MRS. G. Think of aour Mary’s bein’ a cap’n. Haow lucky! An’, naow, if
anything happens to you, William, she can allus get a livin’, ’cos she
can manage her own boat.

J. Q. A. Yes, and she can paddle her own canoe.

L. J. John Quincy Adams Gandy, how very vulgar!

CAPT. G. (_to_ WILLIAM). What’ll _you_ do, neaow Mary’s made capt’n?
Haow’ll _you_ git along?

MARY. Oh, we’ll both be captains.

CAPT. M. No! She shall be captain still; and I’ll be her mate. It won’t
be the first time a man has sailed through life under the orders of a
brave and true-hearted woman,—nor the last, I hope. And so, Captain
Mary Miller, I salute you. (_Makes a naval salute._)

PHUS. Wid a kiss! wid a kiss! Mars cap’n, kiss mis’ cap’n.

CAPT. M. Yes, to please you, my good fellow (and myself also), it shall
be with a kiss. (_Kisses her hand_). My captain!


_Disposition of characters_:

      R.                         C.                       L.
  CAPT. G.    MRS. G.                              HANK AND L. J.

                       CAPT. M. AND MARY.

                                                 J. Q. A.     PHUS.





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