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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day More, by Joseph Conrad
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: One Day More
+       A Play In One Act
+
+Author: Joseph Conrad
+
+Release Date: January 29, 2006 [EBook #17621]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY MORE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+This is the sixth book issued by the Beaumont Press 24 copies (four of
+which are not for sale) have been printed on Japanese vellum signed
+by the author and numbered 1 to 24 and 250 copies on hand-made paper
+numbered 25 to 274 This is No. 46
+
+
+
+
+ONE DAY MORE
+
+A PLAY IN ONE ACT
+
+BY JOSEPH CONRAD
+
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+Captain Hagberd (a retired coasting skipper).
+
+Josiah Carvil (formerly a shipbuilder--a widower--blind).
+
+Harry Hagberd (son of Captain Hagberd, who as a boy ran away from home).
+
+A Lamplighter.
+
+Bessie Carvil (daughter of Josiah Carvil).
+
+
+
+
+SCENE
+
+A small sea port.
+
+To rights two yellow brick cottages belonging to Captain Hagberd, one
+inhabited by himself the other by the Carvils. A lamp-post in front. The
+red roofs of the town in the background. A sea-wall to left.
+
+Time: The present-early autumn, towards dusk.
+
+ONE DAY MORE
+
+SCENE I.
+
+CURTAIN RISES DISCLOSING CARVIL _and Bessie moving away from sea-wall.
+Bessie about twenty-five. Black dress; black straw hat. A lot of
+mahogany-coloured hair loosely done up. Pale face. Full figure. Very
+quiet. Carvil, blind, unwieldy. Reddish whiskers; slow, deep voice
+produced without effort. Immovable, big face._
+
+Carvil (_Hanging heavily on Bessie's arm_). Careful! Go slow! (_Stops;
+Bessie waits patiently_.) Want your poor blind father to break his neck?
+(_Shuffles on_.) In a hurry to get home and start that everlasting yarn
+with your chum the lunatic?
+
+Bessie. I am not in a hurry to get home, father.
+
+Carvil. Well, then, go steady with a poor blind man. Blind! Helpless!
+(_Strikes the ground with his stick_.) Never mind! I've had time to make
+enough money to have ham and eggs for breakfast every morning--thank
+God! And thank God, too, for it, girl. You haven't known a single
+hardship in all the days of your idle life. Unless you think that a
+blind, helpless father-------
+
+Bessie. What is there for me to be in a hurry for?
+
+Carvil. What did you say?
+
+Bessie. I said there was nothing for me to hurry home for.
+
+Carvil. There is, tho'. To yarn with a lunatic. Anything to get away
+from your duty.
+
+Bessie. Captain Hagberd's talk never hurt you or anybody else.
+
+Carvil. Go on. Stick up for your only friend.
+
+Bessie. Is it my fault that I haven't another soul to speak to?
+
+Carvil (_Snarls_). It's mine, perhaps. Can I help being blind? You fret
+because you want to be gadding about--with a helpless man left all alone
+at home. Your own father too.
+
+Bessie. I haven't been away from you half a day since mother died.
+
+Carvil (_Viciously_). He's a lunatic, our landlord is. That's what he
+is. Has been for years--long before those damned doctors destroyed my
+sight for me. (_Growls angrily, then sighs_.)
+
+Bessie. Perhaps Captain Hagberd is not so mad as the town takes him for.
+
+Carvil. (_Grimly_). Don't everybody know how he came here from the North
+to wait till his missing son turns up--here--of all places in the world.
+His boy that ran away to sea sixteen years ago and never did give a sign
+of life since! Don't I remember seeing people dodge round corners out
+of his way when he came along High Street. Seeing him, I tell you.
+(_Groan_.) He bothered everybody so with his silly talk of his son being
+sure to come back home--next year--next spring--next month------. What
+is it by this time, hey?
+
+Bessie. Why talk about it? He bothers no one now.
+
+Carvil. No. They've grown too fly. You've got only to pass a remark on
+his sail-cloth coat to make him shut up. All the town knows it. But he's
+got you to listen to his crazy talk whenever he chooses. Don't I hear
+you two at it, jabber, jabber, mumble, mumble------
+
+Bessie. What is there so mad in keeping up hope?
+
+Carvil (_Scathing scorn_). Not mad! Starving himself to lay money
+by--for that son. Filling his house with furniture he won't let anyone
+see--for that son. Advertising in the papers every week, these sixteen
+years--for that son. Not mad! Boy, he calls him. Boy Harry. His boy
+Harry. His lost boy Harry. Yah! Let him lose his sight to know what real
+trouble means. And the boy--the man, I should say--must 've been put
+away safe in Davy Jones's locker for many a year--drowned--food for
+fishes--dead.... Stands to reason, or he would have been here before,
+smelling around the old fool's money. (_Shakes Bessie's arm slightly_.)
+Hey?
+
+Bessie. I don't know. May be.
+
+Carvil (_Bursting out_). Damme if I don't think he ever had a son.
+
+Bessie. Poor man. Perhaps he never had.
+
+Carvil. Ain't that mad enough for you? But I suppose you think it
+sensible.
+
+Bessie. What does it matter? His talk keeps him up.
+
+Carvil. Aye! And it pleases you. Anything to get away from your poor
+blind father.... Jabber, jabber--mumble, mumble--till I begin to think
+you must be as crazy as he is. What do you find to talk about, you two?
+What's your game?
+
+(_During the scene Carvil and Bessie have crossed stage from L. to R.
+slowly with stoppages_.)
+
+Bessie. It's warm. Will you sit out for a while?
+
+Carvil (_Viciously_). Yes, I will sit out. (_Insistent_.) But what can
+be your game? What are you up to? (_They pass through garden gate_.)
+Because if it's his money you are after-------
+
+Bessie. Father! How can you!
+
+Carvil (_Disregarding her_). To make you independent of your poor blind
+father, then you are a fool. (_Drops heavily on seat_.) He's too much of
+a miser to ever make a will--even if he weren't mad.
+
+Bessie. Oh! It never entered my head. I swear it never did.
+
+Carvil. Never did. Hey! Then you are a still bigger fool.... I want to
+go to sleep! (_Takes off' his hat, drops it on ground, and leans his
+head back against the wall_.)
+
+Bessie. And I have been a good daughter to you. Won't you say that for
+me?
+
+Carvil (_Very distinctly_). I want--to--go--to--sleep. I'm tired.
+(_Closes his eyes_.)
+
+(_During that scene Captain Hagberd has been seen hesitating at the
+back of stage, then running quickly to the door of his cottage. He puts
+inside a tin kettle (from under his coat) and comes down to the railing
+between the two gardens stealthily_).
+
+
+
+
+SCENE II.
+
+_Carvil seated. Bessie. Captain Hagberd (white beard, sail-cloth
+jacket_).
+
+Bessie (_Knitting_). You've been out this afternoon for quite a long
+time, haven't you?
+
+Capt. Hagberd (_Eager_). Yes, my dear. (_Slily_) Of course you saw me
+come back.
+
+Bessie. Oh, yes. I did see you. You had something under your coat.
+
+Capt. H. (_Anxiously_). It was only a kettle, my dear. A tin
+water-kettle. I am glad I thought of it just in time. (_Winks, nods_.)
+When a husband gets back from his work he needs a lot of water for a
+wash. See? (_Dignified_.) Not that Harry'll ever need to do a hand's
+turn after he comes home... (_Falters--casts stealthy glances on all
+sides_).... tomorrow.
+
+Bessie (_Looks up, grave_). Captain Hagberd, have you ever thought that
+perhaps your son will not. . .
+
+Capt. H. (_Paternally_). I've thought of everything, my dear--of
+everything a reasonable young couple may need for housekeeping. Why,
+I can hardly turn about in my room up there, the house is that full.
+(_Rubs his hands with satisfaction_.) For my son Harry--when he comes
+home. One day more.
+
+Bessie (_Flattering_). Oh, you are a great one for bargains. (_Captain
+Hagberd delighted_.) But, Captain Hagberd--if--if--you don't know what
+may happen--if all that home you've got together were to be wasted--for
+nothing--after all. (_Aside_.) Oh, I can't bring it out.
+
+Capt. H. (_Agitated; flings arms up, stamps feet; stuttering_). What?
+What d'ye mean? What's going to happen to the things?
+
+Bessie (_Soothing_). Nothing! Nothing! Dust--or moth--you know. Damp,
+perhaps. You never let anyone into the house . . .
+
+Capt. H. Dust! Damp! (_Has a throaty, gurgling laugh_.) I light the
+fires and dust the things myself. (_Indignant_.) Let anyone into the
+house, indeed! What would Harry say! (_Walks up and down his garden
+hastily with tosses, jings, and jerks of his whole body_.)
+
+Bessie (_With authority_.) Now, then, Captain Hagberd! You know I won't
+put up with your tantrums. (_Shakes finger at him_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Subdued, but still sulky, with his back to her_). You want
+to see the things. That's what you're after. Well, no, not even you. Not
+till Harry has had his first look.
+
+Bessie. Oh, no! I don't. (_Relenting_.) Not till you're willing.
+(_Smiles at Capt. H., who has turned half round already!_) You mustn't
+excite yourself. (_Knits_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Condescending_). And you the only sensible girl for miles and
+miles around. Can't you trust me? I am a domestic man. Always was, my
+dear. I hated the sea. People don't know what they let their boys into
+when they send them to sea. As soon make convicts of them at once. What
+sort of life is it? Most of your time you don't know what's going on at
+home. (_Insinuating_.) There's nothing anywhere on earth as good as a
+home, my dear. (_Pause_.) With a good husband...
+
+Carvil (_Heard from his seat fragmentarily_). There they go... jabber,
+jabber... mumble, mumble. (_With a groaning effort?_) Helpless!
+
+Capt. H. (_Mutters_). Extravagant ham and eggs fellow. (_Louder_.) Of
+course it isn't as if he had a son to make a home ready for. Girls are
+different, my dear. They don't run away, my dear, my dear. (_Agitated_.)
+
+Bessie (_Drops her arms wearily_). No, Captain Hagberd--they don't.
+
+Capt. H. (_Slowly_). I wouldn't let my own flesh and blood go to sea.
+Not I.
+
+Bessie. And the boy ran away.
+
+Capt. H. (_A little vacantly_). Yes, my only son Harry. (_Rouses
+himself_.) Coming home to-morrow.
+
+Bessie (_Speaks softly_). Sometimes, Captain Hagberd, a hope turns out
+false.
+
+Capt. H. (_Uneasy_). What's that got to do with Harry's coming back?
+
+Bessie. It's good to hope for something. But suppose now-------(_Feeling
+her way_.) Yours is not the only lost son that's never...
+
+Capt. H. Never what! You don't believe he's drowned. (_Crouches, glaring
+and grasping the rails_.)
+
+Bessie (_Frightened, drops knitting_). Captain Hagberd--don't. (_Catches
+hold of his shoulders over the railings?_) Don't--my God! He's going out
+of his mind! (_Cries_.) I didn't mean it! I don't know.
+
+Capt. H. (_Has backed away. An affected burst of laughter_). What
+nonsense. None of us Hagberds belonged to the sea. All farmers for
+hundreds of years, (_fraternal and cunning?_) Don't alarm yourself, my
+dear. The sea can't get us. Look at me! I didn't get drowned. Moreover,
+Harry ain't a sailor at all. And if he isn't a sailor, he's bound to
+come back--to-morrow.
+
+Bessie (_Has been facing him; murmurs_). No. I give it up. He scares me.
+(_Aloud, sharply_.) Then I would give up that advertising in the papers.
+
+Capt. H. (_Surprised and puzzled_). Why, my dear? Everybody does it. His
+poor mother and I have been advertising for years and years. But she was
+an impatient woman. She died.
+
+Bessie. If your son's coming, as--as you say--what's the good of that
+expense? You had better spend that half-crown on yourself. I believe you
+don't eat enough.
+
+Capt. H. (_Confused_). But it's the right thing to do. Look at the
+Sunday papers. Missing relatives on top page--all proper. (_Looks
+unhappy_.)
+
+Bessie (_Tartly_). Ah, well! I declare I don't know what you live on.
+
+Capt. H. Are you getting impatient, my dear? Don't get impatient--like
+my poor wife. If she'd only been patient she'd be here. Waiting. Only
+one day more. (_Pleadingly_.) Don't be impatient, my dear.
+
+Bessie. I've no patience with you sometimes.
+
+Capt. H. (_Flash of lucidity_). Why? What's the matter? (_Sympathetic_.)
+You're tired out, my dear, that's what it is.
+
+Bessie. Yes, I am. Day after day. (_Stands listless, arms hanging
+down_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Timidly_). House dull?
+
+Bessie (_Apathetic_). Yes.
+
+Capt. H. (_As before_). H'm. Wash, cook, scrub. Hey?
+
+Bessie (_As before_). Yes.
+
+Capt. H. (_Pointing stealthily at the sleeping Carvil_). Heavy?
+
+Bessie. (_In a dead voice_). Like a millstone.
+
+(_A silence_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Burst of indignation_). Why don't that extravagant fellow get
+you a servant?
+
+Bessie. I don't know.
+
+Capt. H. (_Cheerily_). Wait till Harry comes home. He'll get you one.
+
+Bessie (_Almost hysterical; laughs_). Why, Captain Hagberd, perhaps your
+son won't even want to look at me--when he comes home.
+
+Capt. H. (_In a great voice_). What! (_Quite low_.) The boy wouldn't
+dare. (_Rising choler_.) Wouldn't dare to refuse the only sensible girl
+for miles around. That stubborn jackanapes refuse to marry a girl like
+you! (_Walks about in a fury_.) You trust me, my dear, my dear, my dear.
+I'll make him. I'll--I'll -------- (_Splutters_.) Cut him off with a
+shilling.
+
+Bessie. Hush! (_Severe_.) You mustn't talk like that. What's this? More
+of your tantrums?
+
+Capt. H. (_Quite humble_). No, no--this isn't my tantrums--when I don't
+feel quite well in my head. Only I can't stand this... I've grown as
+fond of you as if you'd been the wife of my Harry already.
+
+And to be told-------- (_Cant restrain himself; shouts_.)
+
+Jackanapes!
+
+Bessie. Sh--------! Don't you worry! (_Wearily_.)
+
+I must give that up too, I suppose. (_Aloud_.) I didn't mean it, Captain
+Hagberd.
+
+Capt. H. It's as if I were to have two children to-morrow. My son
+Harry--and the only sensible girl--------. Why, my dear, I couldn't get
+on without you. We two are reasonable together. The rest of the
+people in this town are crazy. The way they stare at you. And the
+grins--they're all on the grin. It makes me dislike to go
+out. (_Bewildered_.) It seems as if there was something wrong
+about--somewhere. My dear, is there anything wrong--you who are
+sensible.. .
+
+Bessie (_Soothingly tender_). No, no, Captain Hagberd. There is nothing
+wrong about you anywhere.
+
+Carvil (_Lying back_). Bessie! (_Sits up_.) Get my hat, Bessie....
+Bessie, my hat.... Bessie.... Bessie. ...
+
+(_At the first sound Bessie picks up and puts away her knitting. She
+walks towards him, picks up hat, puts it on his head_).
+
+Bessie, my... (_Hat on head; shouting stops_.) Bessie. (_Quietly_). Will
+you go in, now? Carvil. Help me up. Steady. I'm dizzy. It's the thundery
+weather. An autumn thunderstorm means a bad gale. Very fierce--and
+sudden. There will be shipwrecks to-night on our coast.
+
+(_Exit Bessie and Carvil through door of their cottage. It has fallen
+dusk_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Picks up spade_). Extravagant fellow! And all this town is
+mad--perfectly mad. I found them out years ago. Thank God they don't
+come this way staring and grinning. I can't bear them. I'll never go
+again into that High Street. (_Agitated_.) Never, never, never. Won't
+need to after to-morrow. Never! (_Flings down spade in passion_.)
+
+(_While Hagberd speaks, the bow window of the Carvils is lit up, and
+Bessie is seen settling her father in a big armchair. Pulls down blind.
+Enter Lamplighter. Capt. H. picks up the spade and leans forward on it
+with both hands; very still, watching him light the lamp_.)
+
+Lamplighter (_Jocular_). There! You will be able to dig by lamplight if
+the fancy takes you.
+
+(_Exit Lamplighter to back_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Disgusted_). Ough! The people here. . . (_Shudders_.)
+
+Lamplighter's Voice (_Heard loudly beyond the cottages_). Yes, that's
+the way.
+
+(_Enter Harry from back_.)
+
+
+
+
+SCENE III.
+
+(_Capt. H. Harry. Later Bessie_).
+
+Harry Hagberd (_thirty-one, tall, broad shoulders, shaven face, small
+moustache. Blue serge suit. Coat open. Grey flannel shirt without
+collar and tie. No waistcoat. Belt with buckle. Black, soft felt hat,
+wide-brimmed, worn crushed in the crown and a little on one side. Good
+nature, recklessness, some swagger in the bearing. Assured, deliberate
+walk with a heavy tread. Slight roll in the gait. Walks down. Stops,
+hands in pockets. Looks about. Speaks_.) This must be it. Can't see
+anything beyond. There's somebody. (_Walks up to Capt. Hagberd's gate?_)
+Can you tell me... (_Manner changes. Leans elbow on gate?_) Why, you
+must be Capt. Hagberd himself.
+
+Capt. H. (_In garden, both hands on spade, peering, startled_). Yes, I
+am.
+
+Harry (_Slowly_). You've been advertising in the papers for your son, I
+believe.
+
+Capt. H. (_Off his guard, nervous_). Yes. My only boy Harry. He's coming
+home to-morrow. (_Mumbles_.) For a permanent stay.
+
+Harry (_Surprised_). The devil he is! (_Change of tone?_) My word!
+You've grown a beard like Father Christmas himself.
+
+Capt. H. (_Impressively_). Go your way. (_Waves one hand loftily?_)
+What's that to you. Go your way. (_Agitated?_) Go your way.
+
+Harry. There, there. I am not trespassing in the street--where I
+stand--am I? Tell you what, I fancy there's something wrong about your
+news. Suppose you let me come in--for a quiet chat, you know.
+
+Capt. H. (_Horrified_). Let you--_you_ come in!
+
+Harry (_Persuasive_). Because I could give you some real information
+about your son. The--very--latest--tip. If you care to hear.
+
+Capt. H. (_Explodes_). No! I don't care to hear. (_Begins to pace to
+and fro, spade on shoulder. Gesticulating with his other arm_.) Here's
+a fellow--a grinning town fellow, who says there's something wrong.
+(_Fiercely_.) I have got more information than you're aware of. I have
+all the information I want. I have had it for years--for years--for
+years--enough to last me till to-morrow! Let you come in, indeed! What
+would Harry say?
+
+(_Bessie Carvil appears at cottage door with a white wrap on her head
+and stands in her garden trying to see_).
+
+Bessie. What's the matter?
+
+Capt. H. (_Beside himself_). An information fellow. (_Stumbles_.)
+
+Harry (_Putting out arm to steady him, gravely_). Here! Steady a bit!
+Seems to me somebody's been trying to get at you. (_Change of tone_.)
+Hullo! What's this rig you've got on?... Storm canvas coat, by George!
+(_He gives a frig, throaty laugh_.) Well! You _are_ a character!
+
+Capt. H. (_Daunted by the allusion, looks at coat_). I--I wear it
+for--for the time being. Till--till--to-morrow. (_Shrinks away, spade in
+hand, to door of his cottage_.)
+
+Bessie (Advancing). And what may you want, sir?
+
+Harry (_Turns to Bessie at once; easy manner_). I'd like to know about
+this swindle that's going to be sprung on him. I didn't mean to startle
+the old man. You see, on my way here I dropped into a barber's to get
+a twopenny shave, and they told me there that he was something of a
+character. He has been a character all his life.
+
+Bessie (_Wondering_). What swindle?
+
+Capt. H. A grinning fellow! (_Makes sudden dash indoors with the spade.
+Door slams. Affected gurgling laugh within_.)
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV.
+
+(_Bessie and Harry. Later Capt. H. from window_).
+
+Harry (_After a short silence_). What on earth's upset him so? What's
+the meaning of all this fuss? He isn't always like that, is he?
+
+Bessie. I don't know who you are; but I may tell you that his mind has
+been troubled for years about an only son who ran away from home--a long
+time ago. Everybody knows that here.
+
+Harry (_Thoughtful_). Troubled--for years! (_Suddenly_.) Well, I am the
+son.
+
+Bessie (_Steps back_). You! . .. Harry!
+
+Harry (_Amused, dry tone_). Got hold of my name, eh? Been making friends
+with the old man?
+
+Bessie (_Distressed_). Yes... I... sometimes. . . (_Rapidly!_) He's our
+landlord.
+
+Harry (_Scornfully_). Owns both them rabbit hutches, does he? Just a
+thing he'd be proud of... (_Earnest_.) And now you had better tell me
+all about that chap who's coming to-morrow. Know anything of him? I
+reckon there's more than one in that little game. Come! Out with it!
+(_Chaffing_.) I don't take no... from women.
+
+Bessie (_Bewildered_). Oh! It's so difficult... What had I better do?...
+
+Harry (_Good-humoured_). Make a clean breast of it.
+
+Bessie (_Wildly to herself_). Impossible! (_Starts_.) You don't
+understand. I must think--see--try to--I, I must have time. Plenty of
+time.
+
+Harry. What for? Come. Two words. And don't be afraid for yourself. I
+ain't going to make it a police job. But it's the other fellow that'll
+get upset when he least expects it. There'll be some fun when he shows
+his mug here to-morrow. (_Snaps fingers_.) I don't care that for the old
+man's dollars, but right is right. You shall see me put a head on that
+coon, whoever he is.
+
+Bessie (_Wrings hands slightly_). What had I better do? (_Suddenly to
+Harry_.) It's you--you yourself that we--that he's waiting for. It's
+_you_ who are to come to-morrow.
+
+Harry (_Slowly_). Oh! it's me! (_Perplexed_.) There's something there
+I can't understand. I haven't written ahead or anything. It was my chum
+who showed me the advertisement with the old boy's address, this very
+morning--in London.
+
+Bessie (_Anxious_). How can I make it plain to you without... (_Bites
+her lip, embarrassed_.) Sometimes he talks so strangely.
+
+Harry (_Expectant_). Does he? What about?
+
+Bessie. Only you. And he will stand no contradicting.
+
+Harry. Stubborn. Eh? The old man hasn't changed much from what I can
+remember. (_They stand looking at each other helplessly_.)
+
+Bessie. He's made up his mind you would come back . . . to-morrow.
+
+Harry. I can't hang about here till morning. Got no money to get a bed.
+Not a cent. But why won't to-day do?
+
+Bessie. Because you've been too long away.
+
+Harry (_With force_). Look here, they fairly drove me out. Poor mother
+nagged at me for being idle, and the old man said he would cut my soul
+out of my body rather than let me go to sea.
+
+Bessie (_Murmurs_). He can bear no contradicting.
+
+Harry (_Continuing_). Well, it looked as tho' he would do it too. So
+I went. (_Moody_.) It seems to me sometimes I was born to them by a
+mistake... in that other rabbit hutch of a house.
+
+Bessie (_A little mocking_). And where do you think you ought to have
+been born by rights?
+
+Harry. In the open--upon a beach--on a windy night.
+
+Bessie (_Faintly_). Ah!
+
+Harry. They were characters, both of them, by George! Shall I try the
+door?
+
+Bessie. Wait. I must explain to you why it is to-morrow.
+
+Harry. Aye. That you must, or...
+
+(_Window in H.'s cottage runs up_.)
+
+Capt. H.'s Voice (_Above_). A--grinning--information--fellow coming to
+worry me in my own garden! What next?
+
+(_Window rumbles down_.)
+
+Bessie. Yes. I must. (_Lays hand on Harry's sleeve_.) Let's get further
+off. Nobody ever comes this way after dark.
+
+Harry (_Careless laugh_). Aye. A good road for a walk with a girl.
+
+(_They turn their backs on audience and move up the stage slowly. Close
+together. Harry bends his head over Bessie_).
+
+Bessie's Voice (_Beginning eagerly_). People here somehow did not take
+kindly to him.
+
+Harry's Voice. Aye. Aye. I understand that.
+
+(_They walk slowly back towards the front_.)
+
+Bessie. He was almost ready to starve himself for your sake.
+
+Harry. And I had to starve more than once for his whim.
+
+Bessie. I'm afraid you've a hard heart. (_Remains thoughtful_.)
+
+Harry. What for? For running away? (_Indignant_.) Why, he wanted to make
+a blamed lawyer's clerk of me.
+
+(_From here this scene goes on mainly near and about the street lamp_.)
+
+Bessie (_Rousing herself_). What are you? A sailor?
+
+Harry. Anything you like. (_Proudly_.) Sailor enough to be worth my salt
+on board any craft that swims the seas.
+
+Bessie. He will never, never believe it. He mustn't be contradicted.
+
+Harry. Always liked to have his own way. And you've been encouraging
+him.
+
+Bessie (_Earnestly_). No!--not in everything--not really!
+
+Harry (_Vexed laugh_). What about that pretty tomorrow notion? I've a
+hungry chum in London--waiting for me.
+
+Bessie (_Defending herself_). Why should I make the poor old friendless
+man miserable? I thought you were far away. I thought you were dead. I
+didn't know but you had never been born. I... I... (_Harry turns to her.
+She desperately_.) It was easier to believe it myself. (_Carried away_.)
+And after all it's true. It's come to pass. This is the to-morrow we've
+been waiting for.
+
+Harry (_Half perfunctorily_). Aye. Anybody can see that your heart is as
+soft as your voice.
+
+Bessie (_As if unable to keep back the words_). I didn't think you would
+have noticed my voice.
+
+Harry (_Already inattentive_). H'm. Dashed scrape. This is a
+queer to-morrow, without any sort of today, as far as I can see.
+(_Resolutely_.) I must try the door.
+
+Bessie. Well--try, then.
+
+Harry (_From gate looking over shoulder at Bessie_). He ain't likely to
+fly out at me, is he? I would be afraid of laying my hands on him. The
+chaps are always telling me I don't know my own strength.
+
+Bessie (_In front_). He's the most harmless creature that ever. ..
+
+Harry. You wouldn't say so if you had seen him walloping me with a hard
+leather strap. (_Walking up garden_.) I haven't forgotten it in sixteen
+long years. (_Rat-tat-tat twice_.) Hullo, Dad. (_Bessie intensely
+expectant. Rat-tat-tat_.) Hullo, Dad--let me in. I am your own Harry.
+Straight. Your son Harry come back home--a day too soon.
+
+(_Window above rumbles up_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Seen leaning out, aiming with spade_). Aha! Bessie
+(_Warningly_). Look out, Harry! (_Spade falls_.) Are you hurt? (_Window
+rumbles down_.) Harry (_In the distance_). Only grazed my hat.
+
+Bessie. Thank God! (_Intensely_.) What'll he do now?
+
+Harry (_Comes forward, slamming gate behind him_). Just like old times.
+Nearly licked the life out of me for wanting to go away, and now I come
+back he shies a confounded old shovel at my head. (_Fumes. Laughs a
+little_). I wouldn't care, only poor little Ginger--Ginger's my chum
+up in London--he will starve while I walk back all the way from here.
+(_Faces Bessie blankly_.) I spent my last twopence on a shave. ... Out
+of respect for the old man.
+
+Bessie. I think, if you let me, I could manage to talk him round in a
+week, maybe.
+
+(_A muffled periodical bellowing had been heard faintly for some time_.)
+
+Harry (_On the alert_). What's this? Who's making this row? Hark!
+Bessie, Bessie. It's in your house, I believe.
+
+Bessie (_Without stirring, drearily_). It's for me.
+
+Harry (_Discreetly, whispering_). Good voice for a ship's deck in a
+squall. Your husband? (_Steps out of lamplight_.)
+
+Bessie. No. My father. He's blind. (_Pause_). I'm not married.
+
+(_Bellowings grow louder_.)
+
+Harry. Oh, I say. What's up? Who's murdering him?
+
+Bessie (_Calmly_). I expect he's finished his tea. (_Bellowing continues
+regularly_.)
+
+Harry. Hadn't you better see to it? You'll have the whole town coming
+out here presently. (_Bessie moves off_.) I say! (_Bessie stops_.)
+Couldn't you scare up some bread and butter for me from that tea? I'm
+hungry. Had no breakfast.
+
+Bessie (_Starts off at the word "hungry," dropping to the ground the
+white woollen shawl_). I won't be a minute. Don't go away.
+
+Harry (_Alone; picks up shawl absently, and, looking at it spread out in
+his hands, pronounces slowly_). A--dam'--silly--scrape. (_Pause. Throws
+shawl on arm. Strolls up and down. Mutters._) No money to get back.
+(_Louder_.) Silly little Ginger'll think I've got hold of the pieces
+and given an old shipmate the go by. One good shove--(_Makes motion of
+bursting in door with his shoulders_)--would burst that door in--I bet.
+(_Looks about_.) I wonder where the nearest bobby is! No. They would
+want to bundle me neck and crop into chokey. (_Shudders_.) Perhaps. It
+makes me dog sick to think of being locked up. Haven't got the nerve.
+Not for prison. (_Leans against lamp-post_.) And not a cent for my fare.
+I wonder if that girl now...
+
+Bessie (Coming hastily forward, plate with bread and meat in hand). I
+didn't take time to get anything else....
+
+Harry (_Begins to eat_). You're not standing treat to a beggar. My dad
+is a rich man--you know.
+
+Bessie (_Plate in hand_). You resemble your father.
+
+Harry. I was the very image of him in face from a boy--(_Eats_)--and
+that's about as far as it goes. He was always one of your domestic
+characters. He looked sick when he had to go to sea for a fortnight's
+trip. (_Laughs_.) He was all for house and home.
+
+Bessie. And you? Have you never wished for a home? (_Goes off with empty
+plate and puts it down hastily on Carvil's bench--out of sight_.)
+
+Harry (_Left in front_). Home! If I found myself shut up in what the
+old man calls a home, I would kick it down about my ears on the third
+day--or else go to bed and die before the week was out. Die in a
+house--ough!
+
+Bessie (_Returning; stops and speaks from garden railing_). And where is
+it that you would wish to die?
+
+Harry. In the bush, in the sea, on some blamed mountain-top for choice.
+No such luck, tho', I suppose.
+
+Bessie (_From distance_). Would that be luck? Harry. Yes! For them that
+make the whole world their home.
+
+Bessie (_Comes forward shyly_). The world's a cold home--they say.
+
+Harry (_A little gloomy_). So it is. When a man's done for.
+
+Bessie. You see! (_Taunting_). And a ship's not so very big after all.
+
+Harry. No. But the sea is great. And then what of the ship! You love her
+and leave her, Miss--Bessie's your name--isn't it?... I like that name.
+
+Bessie. You like my name! I wonder you remembered it.... That's why, I
+suppose.
+
+Harry (_Slight swagger in voice_). What's the odds! As long as a fellow
+has lived. And a voyage isn't a marriage--as we sailors say.
+
+Bessie. So you're not married--(_Movement of Harry_)--to any ship.
+
+Harry (_Soft laugh_). Ship! I've loved and left more of them than I can
+remember. I've been nearly everything you can think of but a tinker or
+a soldier; I've been a boundary rider; I've sheared sheep and humped my
+swag and harpooned a whale; I've rigged ships and skinned dead bullocks
+and prospected for gold--and turned my back on more money than the old
+man would have scraped together in his whole life.
+
+Bessie (_Thoughtfully_). I could talk him over in a week.. . .
+
+Harry (_Negligently_). I dare say you could. (_Joking_.) I don't know
+but what I could make shift to wait if you only promise to talk to
+me now and then. I've grown quite fond of your voice. I like a right
+woman's voice.
+
+Bessie (_Averted head_). Quite fond! (_Sharply_.) Talk! Nonsense! Much
+you'd care. (_Businesslike_.) Of course I would have to sometimes....
+(_Thoughtful again_.) Yes. In a week--if--if only I knew you would try
+to get on with him afterwards.
+
+Harry (_Leaning against lamp-post; growls through his teeth_). More
+humouring. Ah! well, no! (_Hums significantly_)
+
+     Oh, oh, oh, Rio, . . .
+     And fare thee well
+     My bonnie young girl,
+     We're bound for Rio Grande.
+
+Bessie (Shivering). What's this?
+
+Harry. Why! The chorus of an up-anchor tune. Kiss and go. A deep-water
+ship's good-bye.... You are cold. Here's that thing of yours I've
+picked up and forgot there on my arm. Turn round a bit. So. (_Wraps her
+up--commanding_.) Hold the ends together in front.
+
+Bessie (_Softly_). A week is not so very long.
+
+Harry (_Begins violently_). You think that I-------
+
+(_Stops with sidelong look at her_.) I can't dodge about in ditches and
+live on air and water. Can I? I haven't any money--you know.
+
+Bessie. He's been scraping and saving up for years. All he has is for
+you, and perhaps...
+
+Harry (_Interrupts_). Yes. If I come to sit on it like a blamed toad in
+a hole. Thank you.
+
+Bessie (_Angrily_). What did you come for, then?
+
+Harry (_Promptly_). For five quid--(_Pause_.)--after a jolly good spree.
+
+Bessie (_Scathingly_). You and that--that--chum of yours have been
+drinking.
+
+Harry (_Laughs_). Don't fly out, Miss Bessie--dear. Ginger's not a
+bad little chap. Can't take care of himself, tho'. Blind three days.
+(_Serious_.) Don't think I am given that way. Nothing and nobody can get
+over me unless I like. I can be as steady as a rock.
+
+Bessie (_Murmurs_). Oh! I don't think you are bad.
+
+Harry (_Approvingly_). You're right there. (_Impulsive_.) Ask the girls
+all over-------(_Checks himself_.) Ginger, he's long-headed, too, in
+his way--mind you. He sees the paper this morning, and says he to me,
+'Hallo! Look at that, Harry--loving parent--that's five quid, sure.' So
+we scraped all our pockets for the fare....
+
+Bessie (_Unbelieving_). You came here for that.
+
+Harry (_Surprised_). What else would I want here? Five quid isn't much
+to ask for--once in sixteen years. (_Through his teeth with a sidelong
+look at B._) And now I am ready to go--for my fare.
+
+Bessie (_Clasping her hands_). Whoever heard a man talk like this
+before! I can't believe you mean it?
+
+Harry. What? That I would go? You just try and see.
+
+Bessie (_Disregarding him_). Don't you care for anyone? Didn't you ever
+want anyone in the world to care for you?
+
+Harry. In the world! (_Boastful_.) There's hardly a place you can go
+in the world where you wouldn't find somebody that did care for Harry
+Hagberd. (_Pause_.) I'm not of the sort that go about skulking under
+false names.
+
+Bessie. Somebody--that means a woman.
+
+Harry. Well! And if it did.
+
+Bessie (_Unsteadily_). Oh, I see how it is. You get round them with your
+soft speeches, your promises, and then...
+
+Harry (_Violently_). Never!
+
+Bessie (_Startled, steps back_). Ah--you never. . .
+
+Harry (_Calm_). Never yet told a lie to a woman.
+
+Bessie. What lie?
+
+Harry. Why, the lie that comes glib to a man's tongue. None of that for
+me. I leave the sneaking off to them soft-spoken chaps you're thinking
+of. No! If you love me you take me. And if you take me--why, then, the
+capstan-song of deep-water ships is sure to settle it all some fine day.
+
+Bessie (_After a short pause, with effort_). It's like your ships, then.
+
+Harry (_Amused_). Exactly, up to now. Or else I wouldn't be here in a
+silly fix.
+
+Bessie (_Assumed indifference_). Perhaps it's because you've never yet
+met------- (_Voice fails_.)
+
+Harry (_Negligently_). Maybe. And perhaps never shall.... What's the
+odds? It's the looking for a thing.... No matter. I love them all--ships
+and women. The scrapes they got me into, and the scrapes they got me out
+of--my word! I say, Miss Bessie, what are you thinking of?
+
+Bessie (_Lifts her head_). That you are supposed never to tell a lie.
+
+Harry. Never, eh? You wouldn't be that hard on a chap.
+
+Bessie (_Recklessly_). Never to a woman, I mean.
+
+Harry. Well, no. (_Serious_.) Never anything that matters. (_Aside_.) I
+don't seem to get any nearer to my railway fare. (_Leans wearily against
+the lamppost with a far-off look. B. looks at him_.)
+
+Bessie. Now what are _you_ thinking of?
+
+Harry (_Turns his head; stares at B_.). Well, I was thinking what a fine
+figure of a girl you are.
+
+Bessie (_Looks away a moment_). Is that true, or is it only one of them
+that don't matter?
+
+Harry (_Laughing a little_). No! no! That's true. Haven't you ever been
+told that before? The men...
+
+Bessie. I hardly speak to a soul from year's end to year's end. Father's
+blind. He don't like strangers, and he can't bear to think of me out of
+his call. Nobody comes near us much.
+
+Harry (_Absent-minded_). Blind--ah! of course.
+
+Bessie. For years and years . . .
+
+Harry (_Commiserating_). For years and years. In one of them hutches.
+You are a good daughter. (_Brightening up_.) A fine girl altogether. You
+seem the sort that makes a good chum to a man in a fix. And there's not
+a man in this whole town who found you out? I can hardly credit it, Miss
+Bessie. (_B. shakes her head_.) Man I said! (_Contemptuous_.) A lot of
+tame rabbits in hutches I call them.... (_Breaks off_.) I say, when's
+the last train up to London? Can you tell me?
+
+Bessie (_Gazes at him steadily_). What for? You've no money.
+
+Harry. That's just it. (_Leans back against post again_.) Hard luck.
+(_Insinuating_.) But there was never a time in all my travels that a
+woman of the right sort did not turn up to help me out of a fix. I don't
+know why. It's perhaps because they know without telling that I love
+them all. (_Playful_.) I've almost fallen in love with you, Miss Bessie.
+
+Bessie (_Unsteady laugh_). Why! How you talk! You haven't even seen my
+face properly. (_One step towards H., as if compelled._)
+
+Harry (_Bending forward gallantly_). A little pale. It suits some.
+(_Puts out his hand, catches hold of B.'s arm. Draws her to him_.) Let's
+see.... Yes, it suits you. (_It's a moment before B. puts up her hands,
+palms out, and turns away her head_.)
+
+Bessie (_Whispering_). Don't. (_Struggles a little. Released, stands
+averted_.)
+
+Harry. No offence. (_Stands, back to audience, looking at H.'s
+cottage_.)
+
+Bessie (_Alone in front; faces audience; whispers_). My voice--my
+figure--my heart--my face....
+
+(_A silence. B. 's face gradually lights up. Directly H. speaks,
+expression of hopeful attention_.)
+
+Harry (_From railings_). The old man seems to have gone to sleep waiting
+for that to-morrow of his.
+
+Bessie. Come away. He sleeps very little.
+
+Harry (_Strolls down_). He has taken an everlasting jamming hitch round
+the whole business. (_Vexed_.) Cast it loose who may. (_Contemptuous
+exclamation_.) To-morrow. Pooh! It'll be just another mad today.
+
+Bessie. It's the brooding over his hope that's done it. People teased
+him so. It's his fondness for you that's troubled his mind.
+
+Harry. Aye. A confounded shovel on the head. The old man had always a
+queer way of showing his fondness for me.
+
+Bessie. A hopeful, troubled, expecting old man--left alone--all alone.
+
+Harry (_Lower tone_). Did he ever tell you what mother died of?
+
+Bessie. Yes. (_A little bitter_.) From impatience.
+
+Harry (_Makes a gesture with his arm; speaks vaguely but with feeling_).
+I believe you have been very good to my old man....
+
+Bessie (_Tentative_). Wouldn't you try to be a son to him?
+
+Harry (_Angrily_). No contradicting; is that it? You seem to know my dad
+pretty well. And so do I. He's dead nuts on having his own way--and I've
+been used to have my own too long. It's the deuce of a fix.
+
+Bessie. How could it hurt you not to contradict him for a while--and
+perhaps in time you would get used. ..
+
+Harry (_Interrupts sulkily_). I ain't accustomed to knuckle under.
+There's a pair of us. Hagberd's both. I ought to be thinking of my
+train.
+
+Bessie (_Earnestly_). Why? There's no need. Let us get away up the road
+a little.
+
+Harry (_Through his teeth_). And no money for the fare. (_Looks up_.)
+Sky's come overcast. Black, too. It'll be a wild, windy night... to walk
+the high road on. But I and wild nights are old friends wherever the
+free wind blows.
+
+Bessie (_Entreating_). No need. No need. (_Looks apprehensively at
+Hagberd's cottage. Takes a couple of steps up as if to draw Harry
+further off. Harry follows. Both stop_.)
+
+Harry (_After waiting_). What about this tomorrow whim?
+
+Bessie. Leave that to me. Of course all his fancies are not mad. They
+aren't. (_Pause_.) Most people in this town would think what he had
+set his mind on quite sensible. If he ever talks to you of it, don't
+contradict him. It would--it would be dangerous.
+
+Harry (_Surprised_). What would he do?
+
+Bessie. He would--I don't know--something rash.
+
+Harry (_Startled_). To himself?
+
+Bessie. No. It'd be against you--I fear.
+
+Harry (_Sullen_). Let him.
+
+Bessie. Never. Don't quarrel. But perhaps he won't even try to talk to
+you of it. (_Thinking aloud_.) Who knows what I can do with him in a
+week! I can, I can, I can--I must.
+
+Harry. Come--what's this sensible notion of his that I mustn't quarrel
+about?
+
+Bessie (_Turns to Harry, calm, forcible_). If I make him once see that
+you've come back, he will be as sane as you or I. All his mad notions
+will be gone. But that other is quite sensible. And you mustn't quarrel
+over it.
+
+(_Moves up to back of stage. Harry follows a little behind, away from
+audience_.)
+
+Harry's Voice (_Calm_). Let's hear what it is.
+
+(_Voices cease. Action visible as before. Harry steps back and walks
+hastily down. Bessie at his elbow, follows with her hands clasped?_)
+
+(_Loud burst of voice._)
+
+Harry (_Raving to and fro_). No! Expects me--a home. Who wants his
+home?... What I want is hard work, or an all-fired racket, or more room
+than there is in the whole of England. Expects me! A man like me--for
+his rotten money--there ain't enough money in the world to turn me into
+a blamed tame rabbit in a hutch. (_He stops suddenly before Bessie, arms
+crossed on breast. Violently_.) Don't you see it?
+
+Bessie (_Terrified, stammering faintly_). Yes. Yes. Don't look at me
+like this. (_Sudden scream_.) Don't quarrel with him. He's mad!
+
+Harry (_Headlong utterance_). Mad! Not he. He likes his own way. Tie me
+up by the neck here. Here! Ha! Ha! Ha! (_Louder_.) And the whole
+world is not a bit too big for me to spread my elbows in, I can tell
+you--what's your name--Bessie. (_Rising scorn_). Marry! Wants me to
+marry and settle.... (_Scathingly_.) And as likely as not he has looked
+out the girl too--dash my soul. Talked to you about it--did he? And do
+you happen to know the Judy--may I ask?
+
+(_Window in Hagberd's cottage runs up. They start and stand still_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Above, begins slowly_). A grinning information fellow from a
+crazy town. (_Voice changes_.) Bessie, I see you. . . .
+
+Bessie (_Shrill_). Captain Hagberd! Say nothing. You don't understand.
+For heaven's sake don't.
+
+Capt. H. Send him away this minute, or I will tell Harry. They know
+nothing of Harry in this crazy town. Harry's coming home to-morrow. Do
+you hear? One day more!
+
+(_Silence_.)
+
+Harry (_Mutters_). Well!--he _is_ a character.
+
+Capt. H. (_Chuckles softly_). Never you fear! The boy shall marry
+you. (_Sudden anger_.) He'll have to. I'll make him. Or, if
+not--(_Furious_)--I'll cut him off with a shilling, and leave everything
+to you. Jackanapes! Let him starve!
+
+(_Window rumbles down_.)
+
+Harry (_Slowly_). So it's you--the girl. It's you! Now I begin to
+see.... By heavens, you have a heart as soft as your woman's voice.
+
+Bessie (_Half averted, face in hands_). You see! Don't come near me.
+
+Harry (_Makes a step towards her_). I must have another look at your
+pale face.
+
+Bessie (_Turns unexpectedly and pushes him with both hands; Harry
+staggers back and stands still; Bessie, fiercely_). Go away.
+
+Harry (_Watching her_). Directly. But women always had to get me out of
+my scrapes. I am a beggar now, and you must help me out of my scrape.
+
+Bessie (_Who at the word "beggar" had begun fumbling in the pocket of
+her dress, speaks wildly_). Here it is. Take it. Don't look at me. Don't
+speak to me!
+
+Harry (_Swaggers up under the lamp; looks at coin in his palm_).
+Half-a-quid. . .. My fare!
+
+Bessie (_Hands clenched_). Why are you still here?
+
+Harry. Well, you _are_ a fine figure of a girl. My word. I've a good
+mind to stop--for a week.
+
+Bessie (_Pain and shame_). Oh!.... What are you waiting for? If I had
+more money I would give it all, all. I would give everything I have to
+make you go--to make you forget you had ever heard my voice and seen my
+face. (_Covers face with hands_.)
+
+Harry (_Sombre, watches her_). No fear! I haven't forgotten a single one
+of you in the world. Some've given me more than money. No matter. You
+can't buy me in--and you can't buy yourself out. . .
+
+(_Strides towards her. Seizes her arms. Short struggle. Bessie gives way.
+Hair falls loose. H. kisses her forehead, cheeks, lips, then releases
+her. Bessie staggers against railings_.)
+
+(Exit Harry; measured walk without haste)
+
+Bessie (_Staring eyes, hair loose, back against railings; calls out_).
+Harry! (_Gathers up her skirts and runs a little way_) Come back, Harry.
+(_Staggers forward against lamp-post_) Harry! (_Much lower_) Harry! (_In
+a whisper_) Take me with you. (_Begins to laugh, at first faintly, then
+louder._)
+
+(_Window rumbles up, and Capt. H.'s chuckle mingles with Bessie's
+laughter, which abruptly stops_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Goes on chuckling; speaks cautiously_). Is he gone yet, that
+information fellow? Do you see him anywhere, my dear?
+
+Bessie (_Low and stammering_). N-no, no! (_Totters away from lamp-post_)
+I don't see him.
+
+Capt. H. (_Anxious_). A grinning vagabond, my dear. Good girl. It's you
+who drove him away. Good girl.
+
+(_Stage gradually darkens_)
+
+Bessie. Go in; be quiet! You have done harm enough.
+
+Capt. H. (_Alarmed_). Why. Do you hear him yet, my dear?
+
+Bessie (_Sobs, drooping against the railings_). No! No! I don't. I don't
+hear him any more.
+
+Capt. H. (_Triumphant_). Now we shall be all right, my dear, till our
+Harry comes home to-morrow. (_Affected gurgling laugh_.)
+
+Bessie (_Distracted_). Be quiet. Shut yourself in. You will make me mad.
+(_Losing control of herself, repeats with rising infection_) You make me
+mad.
+
+(_With despair_) There is no to-morrow! (_Sinks to ground near middle
+railings. Low sobs_)
+
+(_Stage darkens perceptibly_.)
+
+Capt. H. (_Above, in a voice suddenly dismayed and shrill_).
+
+What! What do you say, my dear? No to-morrow? (_Broken, very feebly_.)
+No--to-morrow?
+
+(_Window runs down_)
+
+Carvil (_Heard within, muffled bellowing_). Bessie--Bessie--Bessie--
+Bessie------ (_At the first call Bessie springs up and begins to stumble
+blindly towards the door. A faint fash of lightnings followed by a very
+low rumble of thunder_) You!--Bessie!
+
+
+CURTAIN
+
+
+     HERE ENDS ONE DAY MORE A PLAY
+
+     in One Act by Joseph Conrad the Typography and
+
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