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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/17621-h.zip b/17621-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c28ffc --- /dev/null +++ b/17621-h.zip diff --git a/17621-h/17621-h.htm b/17621-h/17621-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce76552 --- /dev/null +++ b/17621-h/17621-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2063 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + One Day More, a play by Joseph Conrad + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +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] +Last Updated: November 17, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY MORE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="cover (101K)" src="images/cover.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + ONE DAY MORE + </h1> + <h3> + A PLAY IN ONE ACT + </h3> + <h2> + BY JOSEPH CONRAD + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="frontpaper (17K)" src="images/frontpaper.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="titlepage (44K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> SCENE I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> SCENE II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> SCENE III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> SCENE IV. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + CHARACTERS + </h2> + <blockquote> + <blockquote> + <blockquote> + <blockquote> + <p> + Captain Hagberd (a retired coasting skipper). + </p> + <p> + Josiah Carvil (formerly a shipbuilder—a widower—blind). + </p> + <p> + Harry Hagberd (son of Captain Hagberd, who as a boy ran away from + home). + </p> + <p> + A Lamplighter. + </p> + <p> + Bessie Carvil (daughter of Josiah Carvil). + </p> + </blockquote> + </blockquote> + </blockquote> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + SCENE + </h2> + <h3> + A small sea port. + </h3> + <p> + To right, 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. + </p> + <p> + Time: The present-early autumn, towards dusk. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + ONE DAY MORE + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h3> + SCENE I. + </h3> + <p> + CURTAIN RISES DISCLOSING CARVIL <i>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.</i> + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Hanging heavily on Bessie's arm</i>). Careful! Go slow! (<i>Stops; + Bessie waits patiently</i>.) Want your poor blind father to break his + neck? (<i>Shuffles on</i>.) In a hurry to get home and start that + everlasting yarn with your chum the lunatic? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. I am not in a hurry to get home, father. + </p> + <p> + Carvil. Well, then, go steady with a poor blind man. Blind! Helpless! (<i>Strikes + the ground with his stick</i>.) 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———- + </p> + <p> + Bessie. What is there for me to be in a hurry for? + </p> + <p> + Carvil. What did you say? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. I said there was nothing for me to hurry home for. + </p> + <p> + Carvil. There is, tho'. To yarn with a lunatic. Anything to get away from + your duty. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Captain Hagberd's talk never hurt you or anybody else. + </p> + <p> + Carvil. Go on. Stick up for your only friend. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Is it my fault that I haven't another soul to speak to? + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Snarls</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. I haven't been away from you half a day since mother died. + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Viciously</i>). 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. (<i>Growls angrily, then sighs</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Perhaps Captain Hagberd is not so mad as the town takes him for. + </p> + <p> + Carvil. (<i>Grimly</i>). 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. (<i>Groan</i>.) 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? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Why talk about it? He bothers no one now. + </p> + <p> + 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——— + </p> + <p> + Bessie. What is there so mad in keeping up hope? + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Scathing scorn</i>). 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. (<i>Shakes Bessie's arm slightly</i>.) Hey? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. I don't know. May be. + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Bursting out</i>). Damme if I don't think he ever had a son. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Poor man. Perhaps he never had. + </p> + <p> + Carvil. Ain't that mad enough for you? But I suppose you think it + sensible. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. What does it matter? His talk keeps him up. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + (<i>During the scene Carvil and Bessie have crossed stage from L. to R. + slowly with stoppages</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie. It's warm. Will you sit out for a while? + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Viciously</i>). Yes, I will sit out. (<i>Insistent</i>.) But + what can be your game? What are you up to? (<i>They pass through garden + gate</i>.) Because if it's his money you are after———- + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Father! How can you! + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Disregarding her</i>). To make you independent of your poor + blind father, then you are a fool. (<i>Drops heavily on seat</i>.) He's + too much of a miser to ever make a will—even if he weren't mad. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Oh! It never entered my head. I swear it never did. + </p> + <p> + Carvil. Never did. Hey! Then you are a still bigger fool.... I want to go + to sleep! (<i>Takes off' his hat, drops it on ground, and leans his head + back against the wall</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie. And I have been a good daughter to you. Won't you say that for me? + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Very distinctly</i>). I want—to—go—to—sleep. + I'm tired. (<i>Closes his eyes</i>.) + </p> + <p> + (<i>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</i>). + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE II. + </h2> + <p> + <i>Carvil seated. Bessie. Captain Hagberd (white beard, sail-cloth jacket</i>). + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Knitting</i>). You've been out this afternoon for quite a long + time, haven't you? + </p> + <p> + Capt. Hagberd (<i>Eager</i>). Yes, my dear. (<i>Slily</i>) Of course you + saw me come back. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Oh, yes. I did see you. You had something under your coat. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Anxiously</i>). It was only a kettle, my dear. A tin + water-kettle. I am glad I thought of it just in time. (<i>Winks, nods</i>.) + When a husband gets back from his work he needs a lot of water for a wash. + See? (<i>Dignified</i>.) Not that Harry'll ever need to do a hand's turn + after he comes home... (<i>Falters—casts stealthy glances on all + sides</i>).... tomorrow. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Looks up, grave</i>). Captain Hagberd, have you ever thought + that perhaps your son will not. . . + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Paternally</i>). 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. (<i>Rubs + his hands with satisfaction</i>.) For my son Harry—when he comes + home. One day more. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Flattering</i>). Oh, you are a great one for bargains. (<i>Captain + Hagberd delighted</i>.) 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. (<i>Aside</i>.) Oh, I + can't bring it out. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Agitated; flings arms up, stamps feet; stuttering</i>). What? + What d'ye mean? What's going to happen to the things? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Soothing</i>). Nothing! Nothing! Dust—or moth—you + know. Damp, perhaps. You never let anyone into the house . . . + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. Dust! Damp! (<i>Has a throaty, gurgling laugh</i>.) I light the + fires and dust the things myself. (<i>Indignant</i>.) Let anyone into the + house, indeed! What would Harry say! (<i>Walks up and down his garden + hastily with tosses, jings, and jerks of his whole body</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>With authority</i>.) Now, then, Captain Hagberd! You know I + won't put up with your tantrums. (<i>Shakes finger at him</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Subdued, but still sulky, with his back to her</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Oh, no! I don't. (<i>Relenting</i>.) Not till you're willing. (<i>Smiles + at Capt. H., who has turned half round already!</i>) You mustn't excite + yourself. (<i>Knits</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Condescending</i>). 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. (<i>Insinuating</i>.) There's nothing anywhere on earth as good as a + home, my dear. (<i>Pause</i>.) With a good husband... + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Heard from his seat fragmentarily</i>). There they go... + jabber, jabber... mumble, mumble. (<i>With a groaning effort?</i>) + Helpless! + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Mutters</i>). Extravagant ham and eggs fellow. (<i>Louder</i>.) + 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. (<i>Agitated</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Drops her arms wearily</i>). No, Captain Hagberd—they + don't. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Slowly</i>). I wouldn't let my own flesh and blood go to sea. + Not I. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. And the boy ran away. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>A little vacantly</i>). Yes, my only son Harry. (<i>Rouses + himself</i>.) Coming home to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Speaks softly</i>). Sometimes, Captain Hagberd, a hope turns + out false. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Uneasy</i>). What's that got to do with Harry's coming back? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. It's good to hope for something. But suppose now———-(<i>Feeling + her way</i>.) Yours is not the only lost son that's never... + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. Never what! You don't believe he's drowned. (<i>Crouches, glaring + and grasping the rails</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Frightened, drops knitting</i>). Captain Hagberd—don't. (<i>Catches + hold of his shoulders over the railings?</i>) Don't—my God! He's + going out of his mind! (<i>Cries</i>.) I didn't mean it! I don't know. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Has backed away. An affected burst of laughter</i>). What + nonsense. None of us Hagberds belonged to the sea. All farmers for + hundreds of years, (<i>fraternal and cunning?</i>) 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Has been facing him; murmurs</i>). No. I give it up. He scares + me. (<i>Aloud, sharply</i>.) Then I would give up that advertising in the + papers. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Surprised and puzzled</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Confused</i>). But it's the right thing to do. Look at the + Sunday papers. Missing relatives on top page—all proper. (<i>Looks + unhappy</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Tartly</i>). Ah, well! I declare I don't know what you live on. + </p> + <p> + 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. (<i>Pleadingly</i>.) Don't be impatient, my dear. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. I've no patience with you sometimes. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Flash of lucidity</i>). Why? What's the matter? (<i>Sympathetic</i>.) + You're tired out, my dear, that's what it is. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Yes, I am. Day after day. (<i>Stands listless, arms hanging down</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Timidly</i>). House dull? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Apathetic</i>). Yes. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>As before</i>). H'm. Wash, cook, scrub. Hey? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>As before</i>). Yes. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Pointing stealthily at the sleeping Carvil</i>). Heavy? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. (<i>In a dead voice</i>). Like a millstone. + </p> + <p> + (<i>A silence</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Burst of indignation</i>). Why don't that extravagant fellow + get you a servant? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. I don't know. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Cheerily</i>). Wait till Harry comes home. He'll get you one. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Almost hysterical; laughs</i>). Why, Captain Hagberd, perhaps + your son won't even want to look at me—when he comes home. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>In a great voice</i>). What! (<i>Quite low</i>.) The boy + wouldn't dare. (<i>Rising choler</i>.) Wouldn't dare to refuse the only + sensible girl for miles around. That stubborn jackanapes refuse to marry a + girl like you! (<i>Walks about in a fury</i>.) You trust me, my dear, my + dear, my dear. I'll make him. I'll—I'll ———— + (<i>Splutters</i>.) Cut him off with a shilling. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Hush! (<i>Severe</i>.) You mustn't talk like that. What's this? + More of your tantrums? + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Quite humble</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + And to be told———— (<i>Cant restrain himself; + shouts</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Jackanapes! + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Sh————! Don't you worry! (<i>Wearily</i>.) + </p> + <p> + I must give that up too, I suppose. (<i>Aloud</i>.) I didn't mean it, + Captain Hagberd. + </p> + <p> + 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. (<i>Bewildered</i>.) + It seems as if there was something wrong about—somewhere. My dear, + is there anything wrong—you who are sensible.. . + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Soothingly tender</i>). No, no, Captain Hagberd. There is + nothing wrong about you anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Lying back</i>). Bessie! (<i>Sits up</i>.) Get my hat, + Bessie.... Bessie, my hat.... Bessie.... Bessie. ... + </p> + <p> + (<i>At the first sound Bessie picks up and puts away her knitting. She + walks towards him, picks up hat, puts it on his head</i>). + </p> + <p> + Bessie, my... (<i>Hat on head; shouting stops</i>.) Bessie. (<i>Quietly</i>). + 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. + </p> + <p> + (<i>Exit Bessie and Carvil through door of their cottage. It has fallen + dusk</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Picks up spade</i>). 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. (<i>Agitated</i>.) Never, never, never. Won't need + to after to-morrow. Never! (<i>Flings down spade in passion</i>.) + </p> + <p> + (<i>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</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Lamplighter (<i>Jocular</i>). There! You will be able to dig by lamplight + if the fancy takes you. + </p> + <p> + (<i>Exit Lamplighter to back</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Disgusted</i>). Ough! The people here. . . (<i>Shudders</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Lamplighter's Voice (<i>Heard loudly beyond the cottages</i>). Yes, that's + the way. + </p> + <p> + (<i>Enter Harry from back</i>.) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE III. + </h2> + <h3> + (<i>Capt. H. Harry. Later Bessie</i>). + </h3> + <p> + Harry Hagberd (<i>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</i>.) This must be it. Can't see anything + beyond. There's somebody. (<i>Walks up to Capt. Hagberd's gate?</i>) Can + you tell me... (<i>Manner changes. Leans elbow on gate?</i>) Why, you must + be Capt. Hagberd himself. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>In garden, both hands on spade, peering, startled</i>). Yes, + I am. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Slowly</i>). You've been advertising in the papers for your son, + I believe. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Off his guard, nervous</i>). Yes. My only boy Harry. He's + coming home to-morrow. (<i>Mumbles</i>.) For a permanent stay. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Surprised</i>). The devil he is! (<i>Change of tone?</i>) My + word! You've grown a beard like Father Christmas himself. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Impressively</i>). Go your way. (<i>Waves one hand loftily?</i>) + What's that to you. Go your way. (<i>Agitated?</i>) Go your way. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Horrified</i>). Let you—<i>you</i> come in! + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Persuasive</i>). Because I could give you some real information + about your son. The—very—latest—tip. If you care to + hear. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Explodes</i>). No! I don't care to hear. (<i>Begins to pace + to and fro, spade on shoulder. Gesticulating with his other arm</i>.) + Here's a fellow—a grinning town fellow, who says there's something + wrong. (<i>Fiercely</i>.) 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? + </p> + <p> + (<i>Bessie Carvil appears at cottage door with a white wrap on her head + and stands in her garden trying to see</i>). + </p> + <p> + Bessie. What's the matter? + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Beside himself</i>). An information fellow. (<i>Stumbles</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Putting out arm to steady him, gravely</i>). Here! Steady a bit! + Seems to me somebody's been trying to get at you. (<i>Change of tone</i>.) + Hullo! What's this rig you've got on?... Storm canvas coat, by George! (<i>He + gives a frig, throaty laugh</i>.) Well! You <i>are</i> a character! + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Daunted by the allusion, looks at coat</i>). I—I wear + it for—for the time being. Till—till—to-morrow. (<i>Shrinks + away, spade in hand, to door of his cottage</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (Advancing). And what may you want, sir? + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Turns to Bessie at once; easy manner</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Wondering</i>). What swindle? + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. A grinning fellow! (<i>Makes sudden dash indoors with the spade. + Door slams. Affected gurgling laugh within</i>.) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SCENE IV. + </h2> + <h3> + (<i>Bessie and Harry. Later Capt. H. from window</i>). + </h3> + <p> + Harry (<i>After a short silence</i>). What on earth's upset him so? What's + the meaning of all this fuss? He isn't always like that, is he? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Thoughtful</i>). Troubled—for years! (<i>Suddenly</i>.) + Well, I am the son. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Steps back</i>). You! . .. Harry! + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Amused, dry tone</i>). Got hold of my name, eh? Been making + friends with the old man? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Distressed</i>). Yes... I... sometimes. . . (<i>Rapidly!</i>) + He's our landlord. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Scornfully</i>). Owns both them rabbit hutches, does he? Just a + thing he'd be proud of... (<i>Earnest</i>.) 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! (<i>Chaffing</i>.) + I don't take no... from women. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Bewildered</i>). Oh! It's so difficult... What had I better + do?... + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Good-humoured</i>). Make a clean breast of it. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Wildly to herself</i>). Impossible! (<i>Starts</i>.) You don't + understand. I must think—see—try to—I, I must have time. + Plenty of time. + </p> + <p> + 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. (<i>Snaps fingers</i>.) 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Wrings hands slightly</i>). What had I better do? (<i>Suddenly + to Harry</i>.) It's you—you yourself that we—that he's waiting + for. It's <i>you</i> who are to come to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Slowly</i>). Oh! it's me! (<i>Perplexed</i>.) 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Anxious</i>). How can I make it plain to you without... (<i>Bites + her lip, embarrassed</i>.) Sometimes he talks so strangely. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Expectant</i>). Does he? What about? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Only you. And he will stand no contradicting. + </p> + <p> + Harry. Stubborn. Eh? The old man hasn't changed much from what I can + remember. (<i>They stand looking at each other helplessly</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie. He's made up his mind you would come back . . . to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Because you've been too long away. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>With force</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Murmurs</i>). He can bear no contradicting. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Continuing</i>). Well, it looked as tho' he would do it too. So + I went. (<i>Moody</i>.) It seems to me sometimes I was born to them by a + mistake... in that other rabbit hutch of a house. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>A little mocking</i>). And where do you think you ought to have + been born by rights? + </p> + <p> + Harry. In the open—upon a beach—on a windy night. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Faintly</i>). Ah! + </p> + <p> + Harry. They were characters, both of them, by George! Shall I try the + door? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Wait. I must explain to you why it is to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + Harry. Aye. That you must, or... + </p> + <p> + (<i>Window in H.'s cottage runs up</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H.'s Voice (<i>Above</i>). A—grinning—information—fellow + coming to worry me in my own garden! What next? + </p> + <p> + (<i>Window rumbles down</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Yes. I must. (<i>Lays hand on Harry's sleeve</i>.) Let's get + further off. Nobody ever comes this way after dark. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Careless laugh</i>). Aye. A good road for a walk with a girl. + </p> + <p> + (<i>They turn their backs on audience and move up the stage slowly. Close + together. Harry bends his head over Bessie</i>). + </p> + <p> + Bessie's Voice (<i>Beginning eagerly</i>). People here somehow did not + take kindly to him. + </p> + <p> + Harry's Voice. Aye. Aye. I understand that. + </p> + <p> + (<i>They walk slowly back towards the front</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie. He was almost ready to starve himself for your sake. + </p> + <p> + Harry. And I had to starve more than once for his whim. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. I'm afraid you've a hard heart. (<i>Remains thoughtful</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry. What for? For running away? (<i>Indignant</i>.) Why, he wanted to + make a blamed lawyer's clerk of me. + </p> + <p> + (<i>From here this scene goes on mainly near and about the street lamp</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Rousing herself</i>). What are you? A sailor? + </p> + <p> + Harry. Anything you like. (<i>Proudly</i>.) Sailor enough to be worth my + salt on board any craft that swims the seas. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. He will never, never believe it. He mustn't be contradicted. + </p> + <p> + Harry. Always liked to have his own way. And you've been encouraging him. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Earnestly</i>). No!—not in everything—not really! + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Vexed laugh</i>). What about that pretty tomorrow notion? I've a + hungry chum in London—waiting for me. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Defending herself</i>). 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... (<i>Harry turns + to her. She desperately</i>.) It was easier to believe it myself. (<i>Carried + away</i>.) And after all it's true. It's come to pass. This is the + to-morrow we've been waiting for. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Half perfunctorily</i>). Aye. Anybody can see that your heart is + as soft as your voice. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>As if unable to keep back the words</i>). I didn't think you + would have noticed my voice. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Already inattentive</i>). H'm. Dashed scrape. This is a queer + to-morrow, without any sort of today, as far as I can see. (<i>Resolutely</i>.) + I must try the door. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Well—try, then. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>From gate looking over shoulder at Bessie</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>In front</i>). He's the most harmless creature that ever. .. + </p> + <p> + Harry. You wouldn't say so if you had seen him walloping me with a hard + leather strap. (<i>Walking up garden</i>.) I haven't forgotten it in + sixteen long years. (<i>Rat-tat-tat twice</i>.) Hullo, Dad. (<i>Bessie + intensely expectant. Rat-tat-tat</i>.) Hullo, Dad—let me in. I am + your own Harry. Straight. Your son Harry come back home—a day too + soon. + </p> + <p> + (<i>Window above rumbles up</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Seen leaning out, aiming with spade</i>). Aha! Bessie (<i>Warningly</i>). + Look out, Harry! (<i>Spade falls</i>.) Are you hurt? (<i>Window rumbles + down</i>.) Harry (<i>In the distance</i>). Only grazed my hat. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Thank God! (<i>Intensely</i>.) What'll he do now? + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Comes forward, slamming gate behind him</i>). 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. (<i>Fumes. Laughs a + little</i>). 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. (<i>Faces Bessie blankly</i>.) I spent my last twopence on a shave. + ... Out of respect for the old man. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. I think, if you let me, I could manage to talk him round in a + week, maybe. + </p> + <p> + (<i>A muffled periodical bellowing had been heard faintly for some time</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>On the alert</i>). What's this? Who's making this row? Hark! + Bessie, Bessie. It's in your house, I believe. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Without stirring, drearily</i>). It's for me. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Discreetly, whispering</i>). Good voice for a ship's deck in a + squall. Your husband? (<i>Steps out of lamplight</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie. No. My father. He's blind. (<i>Pause</i>). I'm not married. + </p> + <p> + (<i>Bellowings grow louder</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry. Oh, I say. What's up? Who's murdering him? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Calmly</i>). I expect he's finished his tea. (<i>Bellowing + continues regularly</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry. Hadn't you better see to it? You'll have the whole town coming out + here presently. (<i>Bessie moves off</i>.) I say! (<i>Bessie stops</i>.) + Couldn't you scare up some bread and butter for me from that tea? I'm + hungry. Had no breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Starts off at the word "hungry," dropping to the ground the + white woollen shawl</i>). I won't be a minute. Don't go away. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Alone; picks up shawl absently, and, looking at it spread out in + his hands, pronounces slowly</i>). A—dam'—silly—scrape. + (<i>Pause. Throws shawl on arm. Strolls up and down. Mutters.</i>) No + money to get back. (<i>Louder</i>.) Silly little Ginger'll think I've got + hold of the pieces and given an old shipmate the go by. One good shove—(<i>Makes + motion of bursting in door with his shoulders</i>)—would burst that + door in—I bet. (<i>Looks about</i>.) I wonder where the nearest + bobby is! No. They would want to bundle me neck and crop into chokey. (<i>Shudders</i>.) + Perhaps. It makes me dog sick to think of being locked up. Haven't got the + nerve. Not for prison. (<i>Leans against lamp-post</i>.) And not a cent + for my fare. I wonder if that girl now... + </p> + <p> + Bessie (Coming hastily forward, plate with bread and meat in hand). I + didn't take time to get anything else.... + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Begins to eat</i>). You're not standing treat to a beggar. My + dad is a rich man—you know. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Plate in hand</i>). You resemble your father. + </p> + <p> + Harry. I was the very image of him in face from a boy—(<i>Eats</i>)—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. (<i>Laughs</i>.) He was all for house and home. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. And you? Have you never wished for a home? (<i>Goes off with empty + plate and puts it down hastily on Carvil's bench—out of sight</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Left in front</i>). 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! + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Returning; stops and speaks from garden railing</i>). And where + is it that you would wish to die? + </p> + <p> + Harry. In the bush, in the sea, on some blamed mountain-top for choice. No + such luck, tho', I suppose. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>From distance</i>). Would that be luck? Harry. Yes! For them + that make the whole world their home. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Comes forward shyly</i>). The world's a cold home—they + say. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>A little gloomy</i>). So it is. When a man's done for. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. You see! (<i>Taunting</i>). And a ship's not so very big after + all. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. You like my name! I wonder you remembered it.... That's why, I + suppose. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Slight swagger in voice</i>). What's the odds! As long as a + fellow has lived. And a voyage isn't a marriage—as we sailors say. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. So you're not married—(<i>Movement of Harry</i>)—to + any ship. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Soft laugh</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Thoughtfully</i>). I could talk him over in a week.. . . + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Negligently</i>). I dare say you could. (<i>Joking</i>.) 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Averted head</i>). Quite fond! (<i>Sharply</i>.) Talk! + Nonsense! Much you'd care. (<i>Businesslike</i>.) Of course I would have + to sometimes.... (<i>Thoughtful again</i>.) Yes. In a week—if—if + only I knew you would try to get on with him afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Leaning against lamp-post; growls through his teeth</i>). More + humouring. Ah! well, no! (<i>Hums significantly</i>) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, oh, oh, Rio, . . . + And fare thee well + My bonnie young girl, + We're bound for Rio Grande. +</pre> + <p> + Bessie (Shivering). What's this? + </p> + <p> + 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. (<i>Wraps her up—commanding</i>.) + Hold the ends together in front. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Softly</i>). A week is not so very long. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Begins violently</i>). You think that I———- + </p> + <p> + (<i>Stops with sidelong look at her</i>.) I can't dodge about in ditches + and live on air and water. Can I? I haven't any money—you know. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. He's been scraping and saving up for years. All he has is for you, + and perhaps... + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Interrupts</i>). Yes. If I come to sit on it like a blamed toad + in a hole. Thank you. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Angrily</i>). What did you come for, then? + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Promptly</i>). For five quid—(<i>Pause</i>.)—after a + jolly good spree. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Scathingly</i>). You and that—that—chum of yours + have been drinking. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Laughs</i>). Don't fly out, Miss Bessie—dear. Ginger's not + a bad little chap. Can't take care of himself, tho'. Blind three days. (<i>Serious</i>.) + 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Murmurs</i>). Oh! I don't think you are bad. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Approvingly</i>). You're right there. (<i>Impulsive</i>.) Ask + the girls all over———-(<i>Checks himself</i>.) 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.... + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Unbelieving</i>). You came here for that. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Surprised</i>). What else would I want here? Five quid isn't + much to ask for—once in sixteen years. (<i>Through his teeth with a + sidelong look at B.</i>) And now I am ready to go—for my fare. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Clasping her hands</i>). Whoever heard a man talk like this + before! I can't believe you mean it? + </p> + <p> + Harry. What? That I would go? You just try and see. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Disregarding him</i>). Don't you care for anyone? Didn't you + ever want anyone in the world to care for you? + </p> + <p> + Harry. In the world! (<i>Boastful</i>.) There's hardly a place you can go + in the world where you wouldn't find somebody that did care for Harry + Hagberd. (<i>Pause</i>.) I'm not of the sort that go about skulking under + false names. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Somebody—that means a woman. + </p> + <p> + Harry. Well! And if it did. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Unsteadily</i>). Oh, I see how it is. You get round them with + your soft speeches, your promises, and then... + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Violently</i>). Never! + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Startled, steps back</i>). Ah—you never. . . + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Calm</i>). Never yet told a lie to a woman. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. What lie? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>After a short pause, with effort</i>). It's like your ships, + then. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Amused</i>). Exactly, up to now. Or else I wouldn't be here in a + silly fix. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Assumed indifference</i>). Perhaps it's because you've never + yet met———- (<i>Voice fails</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Negligently</i>). 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? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Lifts her head</i>). That you are supposed never to tell a lie. + </p> + <p> + Harry. Never, eh? You wouldn't be that hard on a chap. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Recklessly</i>). Never to a woman, I mean. + </p> + <p> + Harry. Well, no. (<i>Serious</i>.) Never anything that matters. (<i>Aside</i>.) + I don't seem to get any nearer to my railway fare. (<i>Leans wearily + against the lamppost with a far-off look. B. looks at him</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Now what are <i>you</i> thinking of? + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Turns his head; stares at B</i>.). Well, I was thinking what a + fine figure of a girl you are. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Looks away a moment</i>). Is that true, or is it only one of + them that don't matter? + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Laughing a little</i>). No! no! That's true. Haven't you ever + been told that before? The men... + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Absent-minded</i>). Blind—ah! of course. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. For years and years . . . + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Commiserating</i>). For years and years. In one of them hutches. + You are a good daughter. (<i>Brightening up</i>.) 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. (<i>B. shakes her head</i>.) Man I said! (<i>Contemptuous</i>.) + A lot of tame rabbits in hutches I call them.... (<i>Breaks off</i>.) I + say, when's the last train up to London? Can you tell me? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Gazes at him steadily</i>). What for? You've no money. + </p> + <p> + Harry. That's just it. (<i>Leans back against post again</i>.) Hard luck. + (<i>Insinuating</i>.) 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. (<i>Playful</i>.) I've almost fallen in love with you, Miss Bessie. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Unsteady laugh</i>). Why! How you talk! You haven't even seen + my face properly. (<i>One step towards H., as if compelled.</i>) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Bending forward gallantly</i>). A little pale. It suits some. (<i>Puts + out his hand, catches hold of B.'s arm. Draws her to him</i>.) Let's + see.... Yes, it suits you. (<i>It's a moment before B. puts up her hands, + palms out, and turns away her head</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Whispering</i>). Don't. (<i>Struggles a little. Released, + stands averted</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry. No offence. (<i>Stands, back to audience, looking at H.'s cottage</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Alone in front; faces audience; whispers</i>). My voice—my + figure—my heart—my face.... + </p> + <p> + (<i>A silence. B. 's face gradually lights up. Directly H. speaks, + expression of hopeful attention</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>From railings</i>). The old man seems to have gone to sleep + waiting for that to-morrow of his. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Come away. He sleeps very little. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Strolls down</i>). He has taken an everlasting jamming hitch + round the whole business. (<i>Vexed</i>.) Cast it loose who may. (<i>Contemptuous + exclamation</i>.) To-morrow. Pooh! It'll be just another mad today. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Harry. Aye. A confounded shovel on the head. The old man had always a + queer way of showing his fondness for me. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. A hopeful, troubled, expecting old man—left alone—all + alone. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Lower tone</i>). Did he ever tell you what mother died of? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Yes. (<i>A little bitter</i>.) From impatience. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Makes a gesture with his arm; speaks vaguely but with feeling</i>). + I believe you have been very good to my old man.... + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Tentative</i>). Wouldn't you try to be a son to him? + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Angrily</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. How could it hurt you not to contradict him for a while—and + perhaps in time you would get used. .. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Interrupts sulkily</i>). I ain't accustomed to knuckle under. + There's a pair of us. Hagberd's both. I ought to be thinking of my train. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Earnestly</i>). Why? There's no need. Let us get away up the + road a little. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Through his teeth</i>). And no money for the fare. (<i>Looks up</i>.) + 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Entreating</i>). No need. No need. (<i>Looks apprehensively at + Hagberd's cottage. Takes a couple of steps up as if to draw Harry further + off. Harry follows. Both stop</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>After waiting</i>). What about this tomorrow whim? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Leave that to me. Of course all his fancies are not mad. They + aren't. (<i>Pause</i>.) 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. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Surprised</i>). What would he do? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. He would—I don't know—something rash. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Startled</i>). To himself? + </p> + <p> + Bessie. No. It'd be against you—I fear. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Sullen</i>). Let him. + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Never. Don't quarrel. But perhaps he won't even try to talk to you + of it. (<i>Thinking aloud</i>.) Who knows what I can do with him in a + week! I can, I can, I can—I must. + </p> + <p> + Harry. Come—what's this sensible notion of his that I mustn't + quarrel about? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Turns to Harry, calm, forcible</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + (<i>Moves up to back of stage. Harry follows a little behind, away from + audience</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry's Voice (<i>Calm</i>). Let's hear what it is. + </p> + <p> + (<i>Voices cease. Action visible as before. Harry steps back and walks + hastily down. Bessie at his elbow, follows with her hands clasped?</i>) + </p> + <p> + (<i>Loud burst of voice.</i>) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Raving to and fro</i>). 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. (<i>He stops suddenly before Bessie, + arms crossed on breast. Violently</i>.) Don't you see it? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Terrified, stammering faintly</i>). Yes. Yes. Don't look at me + like this. (<i>Sudden scream</i>.) Don't quarrel with him. He's mad! + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Headlong utterance</i>). Mad! Not he. He likes his own way. Tie + me up by the neck here. Here! Ha! Ha! Ha! (<i>Louder</i>.) 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. (<i>Rising scorn</i>). Marry! Wants me to marry + and settle.... (<i>Scathingly</i>.) 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? + </p> + <p> + (<i>Window in Hagberd's cottage runs up. They start and stand still</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Above, begins slowly</i>). A grinning information fellow from + a crazy town. (<i>Voice changes</i>.) Bessie, I see you. . . . + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Shrill</i>). Captain Hagberd! Say nothing. You don't + understand. For heaven's sake don't. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + (<i>Silence</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Mutters</i>). Well!—he <i>is</i> a character. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Chuckles softly</i>). Never you fear! The boy shall marry + you. (<i>Sudden anger</i>.) He'll have to. I'll make him. Or, if not—(<i>Furious</i>)—I'll + cut him off with a shilling, and leave everything to you. Jackanapes! Let + him starve! + </p> + <p> + (<i>Window rumbles down</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Slowly</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Half averted, face in hands</i>). You see! Don't come near me. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Makes a step towards her</i>). I must have another look at your + pale face. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Turns unexpectedly and pushes him with both hands; Harry + staggers back and stands still; Bessie, fiercely</i>). Go away. + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Watching her</i>). 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. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Who at the word "beggar" had begun fumbling in the pocket of + her dress, speaks wildly</i>). Here it is. Take it. Don't look at me. + Don't speak to me! + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Swaggers up under the lamp; looks at coin in his palm</i>). + Half-a-quid. . .. My fare! + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Hands clenched</i>). Why are you still here? + </p> + <p> + Harry. Well, you <i>are</i> a fine figure of a girl. My word. I've a good + mind to stop—for a week. + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Pain and shame</i>). 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. (<i>Covers face with hands</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Harry (<i>Sombre, watches her</i>). 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. . . + </p> + <p> + (<i>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</i>.) + </p> + <p> + (Exit Harry; measured walk without haste) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Staring eyes, hair loose, back against railings; calls out</i>). + Harry! (<i>Gathers up her skirts and runs a little way</i>) Come back, + Harry. (<i>Staggers forward against lamp-post</i>) Harry! (<i>Much lower</i>) + Harry! (<i>In a whisper</i>) Take me with you. (<i>Begins to laugh, at + first faintly, then louder.</i>) + </p> + <p> + (<i>Window rumbles up, and Capt. H.'s chuckle mingles with Bessie's + laughter, which abruptly stops</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Goes on chuckling; speaks cautiously</i>). Is he gone yet, + that information fellow? Do you see him anywhere, my dear? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Low and stammering</i>). N-no, no! (<i>Totters away from + lamp-post</i>) I don't see him. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Anxious</i>). A grinning vagabond, my dear. Good girl. It's + you who drove him away. Good girl. + </p> + <p> + (<i>Stage gradually darkens</i>) + </p> + <p> + Bessie. Go in; be quiet! You have done harm enough. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Alarmed</i>). Why. Do you hear him yet, my dear? + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Sobs, drooping against the railings</i>). No! No! I don't. I + don't hear him any more. + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Triumphant</i>). Now we shall be all right, my dear, till our + Harry comes home to-morrow. (<i>Affected gurgling laugh</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Bessie (<i>Distracted</i>). Be quiet. Shut yourself in. You will make me + mad. (<i>Losing control of herself, repeats with rising infection</i>) You + make me mad. + </p> + <p> + (<i>With despair</i>) There is no to-morrow! (<i>Sinks to ground near + middle railings. Low sobs</i>) + </p> + <p> + (<i>Stage darkens perceptibly</i>.) + </p> + <p> + Capt. H. (<i>Above, in a voice suddenly dismayed and shrill</i>). + </p> + <p> + What! What do you say, my dear? No to-morrow? (<i>Broken, very feebly</i>.) + No—to-morrow? + </p> + <p> + (<i>Window runs down</i>) + </p> + <p> + Carvil (<i>Heard within, muffled bellowing</i>). Bessie—Bessie—Bessie— + Bessie——— (<i>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</i>) You!—Bessie! + </p> + <p> + CURTAIN <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="backpaper (51K)" src="images/backpaper.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="backcover (102K)" src="images/backcover.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day More, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY MORE *** + +***** This file should be named 17621-h.htm or 17621-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/6/2/17621/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 + + Binding arranged by Cyril William Beaumont + + Printed on his Press in London and Published + + by him at 75 Charing Cross Road in the + + City of Westminster Completed + + on the last day of January + + MDCCCCXIX + + The cover has been designed by Michel Sevier + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day More, by Joseph Conrad + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY MORE *** + +***** This file should be named 17621.txt or 17621.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/6/2/17621/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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