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!