JOB (_after a slight pause during which the others mumble angrily to one another_). The grub we're gittin' now is rotten. KEENEY. It's good enough fur ye. Better men than ye are have eaten worse. (_There is a chorus of angry exclamations from the crowd._) JOE (_encouraged by this support_). We ain'ta-goin' to work no more 'less you puts back fur home. KEENEY (_fiercely_). You ain't, ain't you? JOE. No; and the law courts 'll say we was right. KEENEY. To hell with your law courts! We're at sea now and I'm the law on this ship. (_Edging up toward the harpooner._) And every mother's son of you what don't obey orders goes in irons. (_There are more angry exclamations from the crew._ MRS. KEENEY _appears in the doorway in rear and looks on with startled eyes. None of the men notices her._) JOE (_with bravado_). Then we're a-goin' to mutiny and take the old hooker home ourselves. Ain't we, boys? (_As he turns his head to look at the others_, KEENEY'S _fist shoots out to the side of his jaw._ JOE _goes down in a heap and lies there._ MRS. KEENEY _gives a shriek and hides her face in her hands. The men pull out their sheath knives and start a rush, but stop when they find themselves confronted by the revolvers of_ KEENEY _and the_ MATE.) KEENEY (_his eyes and voice snapping_). Hold still! (_The men stand huddled together in a sullen silence._ KEENEY'S _voice is full of mockery._) You've found out it ain't safe to mutiny on this ship, ain't you? And now git for'ard where ye belong, and (_he gives_ JOE'S _body a contemptuous kick_) drag him with you. And remember, the first man of ye I see shirkin' I'll shoot dead as sure as there's a sea under us, and you can tell the rest the same. Git for'ard now! Quick! (_The men leave in cowed silence, carrying_ JOE _with them._ KEENEY _turns to the_ MATE _with a short laugh and puts his revolver back in his pocket._) Best get up on deck, Mr. Slocum, and see to it they don't try none of their skulkin' tricks. We'll have to keep an eye peeled from now on. I know 'em. MATE. Yes, sir. (_He goes out, right._ KEENEY _hears his wife's hysterical weeping and turns around in surprise--then walks slowly to her side._) KEENEY (_putting an arm around her shoulder--with gruff tenderness_). There, there, Annie. Don't be afeard. It's all past and gone. MRS. KEENEY (_shrinking away from, him_). Oh, I can't bear it! I can't bear it any longer! KEENEY (_gently_). Can't bear what, Annie? MRS. KEENEY (_hysterically_). All this horrible brutality, and these brutes of men, and this terrible ship, and this prison cell of a room, and the ice all around, and the silence. (_After this outburst she calms down and wipes her eyes with her handkerchief._) KEENEY (_after a pause during which he looks down at her with a puzzled frown_). Remember, I warn't hankerin' to have you come on this voyage, Annie.