_CONRAD’S vessel discovered, surrounded by the raging waters._ _CONRAD, MEDORA and SAILOR, discovered on the deck._ _Conrad._ Courage, Medora, all will yet be well; I s’pose you ne’er saw such a heavy swell? Cheer up! you’re pale--you must be ill, I’m thinking? _Medora._ No, no! I only feel a little sinking. [_Noise of ship striking._ Hark! the ship’s striking--we are lost! _Conrad._ Pooh! pooh! Who cares, if the effect is striking too, If with the public we go down to-night! _Medora._ She sinks! we’re _going down_! _Conrad._ We are? All right! [_Ship sinks. Scene closes._ SCENE IV.--_The Pirate’s Home._--_A large arch in C., with curtains closed. Music._ _Enter BIRBANTO and YUSSUF, stealthily, L._ _Yussuf._ [L.] Say, stranger. _Birb._ [R.] Hush! don’t speak,--don’t breathe--don’t wink! _Yussuf._ All slick, old coon, we see’d the critter sink In last night’s storm. _Birb._ He’s saved tho’, I’ll be bound; Men born for his fate, never can be drowned. _Yussuf._ How was it we escaped? _Birb._ Because, you see, We were not born for drowning more than he. But come, to business! where’s the cash? fork out! _Yussuf._ I’d rather have the gal back, first. _Birb._ No doubt. _Yussuf._ I’ll liquidate, safe as the bank. _Birb._ Just so; But then banks are not always safe, you know. No trust. _Yussuf._ [_Gives money._] Well, there. Now, how d’ye mean to fix him? _Birb._ A sleeping draught I’ll go at once and mix him, So strong, that if his food in it you steep, You’d even catch a weasel fast asleep. _Yussuf._ I see. So then, when he this potion drinking, Goes off like nodding, we go off like winking, And take the gal. _Birb._ [_Aside._] A rash step, p’raps, I’ve taken; I’d take a rasher, could I save my bacon, And settle him at once, clean out of hand, But that I fear the vengeance of the band. No matter, time will come. Hah! hah! _Yussuf._ I say. _Birb._ I beg your pardon. Come--away! away! [_Exit melo-dramatically, followed by YUSSUF, R._ _Music._--_The curtains in the arch, C., are raised, and discover CONRAD reclining on a couch of tiger skins, smoking a chibouque, MEDORA seated at his feet._ _Conrad._ And so your uncle sold you into slavery? The monster!