(The door in rear is opened and MRS. KEENEY stands in the doorway.  She is a slight, sweet-faced little woman primly dressed in black.  Her eyes are red from weeping and her face drawn and pale.  She takes in the cabin with a frightened glance and stands as if fixed to the spot by some nameless dread, clasping and unclasping her hands nervously.  The two men turn and look at her.)

KEENEY (with rough tenderness).  Well, Annie?

MRS. KEENEY (as if awakening from a dream).  David, I—­(She is silent.  The MATE starts for the doorway.)

KEENEY (turning to him—­sharply).  Wait!

MATE.  Yes, sir.

KEENEY.  D’you want anything, Annie?

MRS. KEENEY (after a pause, during which she seems to be endeavoring to collect her thoughts).  I thought maybe—­I’d go up on deck, David, to get a breath of fresh air.

(She stand’s humbly awaiting his permission.  He and the MATE exchange a significant glance.)

KEENEY.  It’s too cold, Annie.  You’d best stay below to-day.  There’s nothing to look at on deck—­but ice.

MRS. KEENEY (monotonously).  I know—­ice, ice, ice!  But there’s nothing to see down here but these walls.

(She makes a gesture of loathing.)

KEENEY.  You can play the organ, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY (dully).  I hate the organ.  It puts me in mind of home.

KEENEY (a touch of resentment in his voice).  I got it jest for you.

MRS. KEENEY (dully).  I know. (She turns away from them and walks slowly to the bench on left.  She lifts up one of the curtains and looks through a porthole; then utters an exclamation of joy.) Ah, water!  Clear water!  As far as I can see!  How good it looks after all these months of ice! (She turns round to them, her face transfigured with joy.) Ah, now I must go upon deck and look at it, David.

KEENEY (frowning).  Best not to-day, Annie.  Best wait for a day when the sun shines.

MRS. KEENEY (desperately).  But the sun never shines in this terrible place.

KEENEY (a tone of command in his voice).  Best not to-day, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY (crumbling before this command—­abjectly).  Very well, David.

(She stands there staring straight before her as if in a daze.  The two men look at her uneasily.)

KEENEY (sharply).  Annie!

MRS. KEENEY (dully).  Yes, David.

KEENEY.  Me and Mr. Slocum has business to talk about—­ship’s business.

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.