“Where is the captain?”

“Here.  Halt, the captain is here!”

“It’s all done.  They can be crammed into a basket like herrings.”

“Our boatswain is a brave fellow!  A jolly man.”

Khorre, intoxicated and jolly, shouts: 

“Not so loud, devils!  Don’t you see that the captain is here?  They scream like seagulls over a dead dolphin.”

Mariet steps aside a little distance, where little Noni is sleeping.

Khorre—­Here we are, Captain.  No losses, Captain.  And how we laughed, Noni.

Haggart—­You got drunk rather early.  Come to the point.

Khorre—­Very well.  The thing is done, Captain.  We’ve picked up all our money—­not worse than the imperial tax collectors.  I could not tell which was ours, so I picked up all the money.  But if they have buried some of the gold, forgive us, Captain—­we are not peasants to plough the ground.

Laughter.  Haggart also laughs.

“Let them sow, we shall reap.”

“Golden words, Noni.  Eh, Tommy, listen to what the Captain is saying.  And another thing:  Whether you will be angry or not—­I have broken the music.  I have scattered it in small pieces.  Show your pipe, Tetyu!  Do you see, Noni, I didn’t do it at once, no.  I told him to play a jig, and he said that he couldn’t do it.  Then he lost his mind and ran away.  They all lost their minds there, Captain.  Eh, Tommy, show your beard.  An old woman tore half of his beard out, Captain—­now he is a disgrace to look upon.  Eh, Tommy!  He has hidden himself, he’s ashamed to show his face, Captain.  And there’s another thing:  The priest is coming here.”

Mariet exclaims: 

“Father!”

Khorre, astonished, asks: 

“Are you here?  If she came to complain, I must report to you,
Captain—­the priest almost killed one of our sailors.  And she, too. 
I ordered the men to bind the priest—­”

“Silence.”

“I don’t understand your actions, Noni—­”

Haggart, restraining his rage, exclaims: 

“I shall have you put in irons!  Silence!”

With ever-growing rage: 

“You dare talk back to me, riff-raff!  You—­”

Mariet cautions him: 

“Gart!  They have brought father here.”

Several sailors bring in the abbot, bound.  His clothes are in disorder, his face is agitated and pale.  He looks at Mariet with some amazement, and lowers his eyes.  Then he heaves a sigh.

“Untie him!” says Mariet.  Haggart corrects her restrainedly: 

“Only I command here, Mariet.  Khorre, untie him.”

Khorre unfastens the knots.  Silence.

Abbot—­Hello, Haggart.

“Hello, abbot.”

“You have arranged a fine night, Haggart!”

Haggart speaks with restraint: