17
is thus described: "the stage represents the parlour of the Admiral Benbow inn. Fireplace right, with high-backed settles on each side. … Tables left, with glasses, pipes, etc. … window with red half-curtains; spittoons; candles on both the front tables." Here, you see, he draws in every detail upon his memories of the toy-theatre. And in writing the play his effort was constantly, and one may almost say confessedly, to reproduce the atmosphere of conventional nautical melodrama—to re-handle its material, while replacing its bald language with dialogue of high literary merit. And of course he succeeded in writing many speeches of great beauty. Take this for instance. It is the scene in the first act between John Gaunt—called "Admiral Guinea"—Kit French, a privateersman, and Gaunt's daughter Arethusa. Arethusa, you will remember, is the pretty, virtuous maiden of nautical melodrama; Kit the careless, harem-scarem young sea-dog in love with the virtuous maiden and desirous, in his weak way, of casting his reckless habits behind him and of becoming a respectable and respected coasting skipper. Gaunt, a vigorously-drawn character, was once, I may remind you, captain of a slaver but is now an altered man, harsh, pious, repentant. Gaunt, entering his room, surprises Kit French and his daughter together.
Kit standing beside Arethusa, her hand in his, says to the father, "Captain Gaunt, I have come to ask you for your daughter." The old man sinks into his chair with a growl. "I love her," says Kit, "and she loves me, sir. I've left the privateering. I've enough to set me up and buy a tidy sloop—Jack Lee's; you know the boat, Captain; clinker built, not four years old, eighty tons burthen, steers like a child. I've put my mother's ring on Arethusa's finger; and if you'll give us your blessing, I'll engage to turn over a new leaf, and make her a good husband.
Gaunt.
"In whose strength, Christopher French?
