o see by, my son. (_He shuts the lantern and puts it in his
pocket. Stage quite dark. Moonlight at window._) All ship-shape? No
sparks about? No? Come, then, lean on me and heave ahead for the lovely
female. (_Singing sotto voce_)--

"Time for us to go,
Time for us to go,
And when we'd clapped the hatches on,
'Twas time for us to go."

ACT III

_The Stage represents the Admiral's house, as in Act I. GAUNT, seated,
is reading aloud; ARETHUSA sits at his feet. Candles_

SCENE I

ARETHUSA, GAUNT

GAUNT (_reading_). "And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to
return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and
where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy
God my God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried:
the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and
me." (_He closes the book._) Amen.

ARETHUSA. Amen. Father, there spoke my heart.

GAUNT. Arethusa, the Lord in His mercy has seen right to vex us with
trials of many kinds. It is a little matter to endure the pangs of the
flesh, the smart of wounds, the passion of hunger and thirst, the
heaviness of disease; and in this world I have learned to take thought
for nothing save the quiet of your soul. It is through our affections
that we are smitten with the true pain, even the pain that kills.

ARETHUSA. And yet this pain is our natural lot. Father, I fear to boast,
but I know that I can bear it. Let my life, then, flow like common
lives, each pain rewarded with some pleasure, each pleasure linked with
some pain: nothing pure whether for good or evil: and my husband, like
myself and all the rest of us, only a poor, kind-hearted sinner,
striving for the better part. What more could any woman ask?

GAUNT. Child, child, your words are like a sword. What would she ask?
Look upon me whom, in the earthly sense, you are commanded to respect.
Look upon me: do I bear a mark? is there any outward sign to bid a woman
avoid and flee from me?

ARETHUSA. I see nothing but the face I love.

GAUNT. There is none: nor yet on the young man Christopher, whose words
still haunt and upbraid me. Yes, I am hard; I was born hard, born a
tyrant, born to be what I was, a slaver captain. But to-night, and to
save you, I will pluck my heart out of my bosom. You shall know what
makes me what I am; you shall hear, out of my own life, why I dread and