MRS. KEENEY. Very well, David. (_She goes slowly out, rear, and leaves the door three quarters shut behind her._) KEENEY. Best not have her on deck if they's goin' to be any trouble. MATE. Yes, sir. KEENEY. And trouble they's goin' to be. I feel it in my bones. (_Takes a revolver from the pocket of his coat and examines it._) Got yourn? MATE. Yes, sir. KEENEY. Not that we'll have to use 'em--not if I know their breed of dog--jest to frighten 'em up a bit. (_Grimly_) I ain't never been forced to use one yit; and trouble I've had by land and by sea's long as I kin remember, and will have till my dyin' day, I reckon. MATE (_hesitatingly_). Then you ain't goin'--to turn back? KEENEY. Turn back! Mr. Slocum, did you ever hear o' me pointin' s'uth for home with only a measly four hundred barrel of ile in the hold? MATE (_hastily_). No, sir--but the grub's gittin' low. KEENEY. They's enough to last a long time yit, if they're careful with it; and they's plenty o' water. MATE. They say it's not fit to eat--what's left; and the two years they signed on fur is up to-day. They might make trouble for you in the courts when we git home. KEENEY. To hell with 'em! Let them make what law trouble they kin. I don't give a damn 'bout the money. I've got to git the ile! (_Glancing sharply at the_ MATE) You ain't turnin' no damned sea lawyer, be you, Mr. Slocum? MATE (_flushing_). Not by a hell of a sight, sir. KEENEY. What do the fools want to go home fur now? Their share o' the four hundred barrel wouldn't keep 'em in chewin' terbacco. MATE (_slowly_). They wants to git back to their folks an' things, I s'pose. KEENEY (_looking at him searchingly_). 'N' you want to turn back, too. (THE MATE _looks down confusedly before his sharp gaze._) Don't lie, Mr. Slocum. It's writ down plain in your eyes. (_With grim sarcasm_) I hope, Mr. Slocum, you ain't agoin' to jine the men agin me. MATE (_indignantly_). That ain't fair, sir, to say sich things. KEENEY (_with satisfaction_). I warn't much afeard o' that, Tom. You been with me nigh on ten year and I've learned ye whalin'. No man kin say I ain't a good master, if I be a hard one. 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'th'rd. I could see it startin' to-day. And when it goes and we git some sun, Annie'll perk 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 truth?