KEENEY (scornfully).  And d’ you s’pose any of ’em would believe that—­any o’ them skippers I’ve beaten voyage after voyage?  Can’t you hear ’em laughin’ and sneerin’—­Tibbots ‘n’ Harris ‘n’ Simms and the rest—­and all o’ Homeport makin’ fun o’ me?  “Dave Keeney what boasts he’s the best whalin’ skipper out o’ Homeport comin’ back with a measly four hundred barrel of ile?” (The thought of this drives him into a frenzy, and he smashes his fist down on the marble top of the sideboard.) Hell!  I got to git the ile, I tell you.  How could I figger on this ice?  It’s never been so bad before in the thirty year I been a-comin’ here.  And now it’s breakin’up.  In a couple o’days it’ll be all gone.  And they’s whale here, plenty of ’em.  I know they is and I ain’t never gone wrong yit.  I got to git the ile!  I got to git it in spite of all hell, and by God, I ain’t a-goin’ home till I do git it!

(There is the sound of subdued sobbing from the door in rear.  The two men stand silent for a moment, listening.  Then KEENEY goes over to the door and looks in.  He hesitates for a moment as if he were going to enter—­then closes the door softly. JOE, the harpooner, an enormous six-footer with a battered, ugly face, enters from right and stands waiting for the captain to notice him.)

KEENEY (turning and seeing him).  Don’t be standin’ there like a gawk, Harpooner.  Speak up!

JOE (confusedly).  We want—­the men, sir—­they want send a depitation aft to have a word with you.

KEENEY (furiously).  Tell ’em to go to—­(checks himself and continues grimly) Tell’em to come.  I’ll see’em.

JOE.  Aye, aye, sir.

(He goes out.)

KEENEY (with a grim smile).  Here it comes, the trouble you spoke of, Mr. Slocum, and we’ll make short shift of it.  It’s better to crush such things at the start than let them make headway.

MATE (worriedly).  Shall I wake up the First and Fourth, sir?  We might need their help.

KEENEY.  No, let them sleep.  I’m well able to handle this alone, Mr. Slocum.

(There is the shuffling of footsteps from outside and five of the crew crowd into the cabin, led by JOE. All are dressed alike—­sweaters, sea-boots, etc.  They glance uneasily at the CAPTAIN, twirling their fur caps in their hands.)

KEENEY (after a pause).  Well?  Who’s to speak fur ye?

JOE (stepping forward with an air of bravado).  I be.

KEENEY (eyeing him up and down coldly).  So you be.  Then speak your say and be quick about it.

JOE (trying not to wilt before the CAPTAIN’S glance and avoiding his eyes).  The time we signed up for is done to-day.

KEENEY (icily).  You’re tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t know.

JOE.  You ain’t p’intin’ fur home yit, far’s we kin see.

KEENEY.  No, and I ain’t agoin’ to till this ship is full of ile.