e boys are coming down the street.
(_Sees father._) Dad! Mother has told you?

HILDA (_calmly_). Yes; I've told him.

WALLACE. And you're going to let me go, Dad?

HILDA. Yes.

WALLACE. Oh, thanks, Dad (_grasping his hand_).

I knew mother would make you see. (_Music nearer._) Listen! Isn't
that a great tune? Lifts you up on your feet and carries you over
there. Gee, it just gets into a fellow and makes him want to run
for his gun and charge over the top. (_He goes to balcony._) Look!
They're nearing here; all ready to sail with the morning tide.
They've got their helmets on. You can't see the end of them
coming down the avenue. Oh, thank God, I'm going to be one of
them soon. Thank God! I'm going to fight for Uncle Sam and the
Stars and Stripes. (_Calls off_) Hurrah! (_To them_) Oh, I wish I had
a flag. Why haven't we got a flag here?--Hurrah!!

(_As he goes out on the balcony the music plays louder. HILDA has
gone to WHITE during this, and stands behind him, with her arms
down his arms, as he sits there, gazing before him._)

HILDA (_fervently_). Oh, Will, if I could only feel it as he does!!

(_The music begins to trail off as WHITE tenderly takes hold of
her hands._)

[CURTAIN]

ILE

Eugene O'Neill

SCENE: CAPTAIN KEENEY'S cabin on board the steam whaling ship
Atlantic Queen--a small, square compartment, about eight feet
high, with a skylight in the centre looking out on the poop deck.
On the left (_the stern of the ship_) a long bench with rough
cushions is built in against the wall. In front of the bench, a
table. Over the bench, several curtained portholes.

In the rear, left, a door leading to the captain's
sleeping-quarters. To the right of the door a small organ,
looking as if it were brand-new, is placed against the wall.

On the right, to the rear, a marble-topped, sideboard. On the
sideboard, a woman's sewing-basket. Farther forward, a doorway
leading to the companion way, and past the officers' quarters to
the main deck.

In the centre of the room, a stove. From the middle of the
ceiling a hanging lamp is suspended. The walls of the cabin are
painted white.

There is no rolling of the ship, and the light which comes
through the skylight is sickly and faint, indicating one of those
gray days of calm when ocean and sky are alike dead. The silence
is unbroken except for the measured tread of someone walking up
and down on the poop deck overhead.

It is