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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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