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diff --git a/3418-h/3418-h.htm b/3418-h/3418-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b382b1 --- /dev/null +++ b/3418-h/3418-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5268 @@ +<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captain Brassbound's Conversion, by Bernard Shaw</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify;} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + 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> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Captain Brassbound’s Conversion, by George Bernard Shaw</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Captain Brassbound’s Conversion</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Bernard Shaw</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 11, 2001 [eBook #3418]<br /> +[Most recently updated: August 18, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Eve Sobol and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND’S CONVERSION ***</div> + + <h1> + CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND'S CONVERSION + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Bernard Shaw + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> ACT I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> ACT II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ACT III </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <a href="#link2H_NOTE"> NOTES TO CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND'S CONVERSION </a> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT I + </h2> + <p> + On the heights overlooking the harbor of Mogador, a seaport on the west + coast of Morocco, the missionary, in the coolness of the late afternoon, + is following the precept of Voltaire by cultivating his garden. He is an + elderly Scotchman, spiritually a little weatherbeaten, as having to + navigate his creed in strange waters crowded with other craft but still a + convinced son of the Free Church and the North African Mission, with a + faithful brown eye, and a peaceful soul. Physically a wiry small-knit man, + well tanned, clean shaven, with delicate resolute features and a twinkle + of mild humor. He wears the sun helmet and pagri, the neutral-tinted + spectacles, and the white canvas Spanish sand shoes of the modern Scotch + missionary: but instead of a cheap tourist's suit from Glasgow, a grey + flannel shirt with white collar, a green sailor knot tie with a cheap pin + in it, he wears a suit of clean white linen, acceptable in color, if not + in cut, to the Moorish mind. + </p> + <p> + The view from the garden includes much Atlantic Ocean and a long stretch + of sandy coast to the south, swept by the north east trade wind, and + scantily nourishing a few stunted pepper trees, mangy palms, and + tamarisks. The prospect ends, as far as the land is concerned, in little + hills that come nearly to the sea: rudiments, these, of the Atlas + Mountains. The missionary, having had daily opportunities of looking at + this seascape for thirty years or so, pays no heed to it, being absorbed + in trimming a huge red geranium bush, to English eyes unnaturally big, + which, with a dusty smilax or two, is the sole product of his pet + flower-bed. He is sitting to his work on a Moorish stool. In the middle of + the garden there is a pleasant seat in the shade of a tamarisk tree. The + house is in the south west corner of the garden, and the geranium bush in + the north east corner. + </p> + <p> + At the garden-door of the house there appears presently a man who is + clearly no barbarian, being in fact a less agreeable product peculiar to + modern commercial civilization. His frame and flesh are those of an + ill-nourished lad of seventeen; but his age is inscrutable: only the + absence of any sign of grey in his mud colored hair suggests that he is at + all events probably under forty, without prejudice to the possibility of + his being under twenty. A Londoner would recognize him at once as an + extreme but hardy specimen of the abortion produced by nature in a city + slum. His utterance, affectedly pumped and hearty, and naturally vulgar + and nasal, is ready and fluent: nature, a Board School education, and some + kerbstone practice having made him a bit of an orator. His dialect, apart + from its base nasal delivery, is not unlike that of smart London society + in its tendency to replace diphthongs by vowels (sometimes rather + prettily) and to shuffle all the traditional vowel pronunciations. He + pronounces ow as ah, and i as aw, using the ordinary ow for o, i for a, a + for u, and e for a, with this reservation, that when any vowel is followed + by an r he signifies its presence, not by pronouncing the r, which he + never does under these circumstances, but by prolonging and modifyinq the + vowel, sometimes even to the extreme degree of pronouncing it properly. As + to his yol for l (a compendious delivery of the provincial eh-al), and + other metropolitan refinements, amazing to all but cockneys, they cannot + be indicated, save in the above imperfect manner, without the aid of a + phonetic alphabet. He is dressed in somebody else's very second best as a + coast-guardsman, and gives himself the airs of a stage tar with sufficient + success to pass as a possible fish porter of bad character in casual + employment during busy times at Billingsgate. His manner shows an earnest + disposition to ingratiate himself with the missionary, probably for some + dishonest purpose. + </p> + <p> + THE MAN. Awtenoon, Mr. Renkin. (The missionary sits up quickly, and turns, + resigning himself dutifully to the interruption.) Yr honor's eolth. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (reservedly). Good afternoon, Mr. Drinkwotter. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. You're not best pleased to be hinterrupted in yr bit o gawdnin + bow the lawk o me, gavner. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. A missionary knows nothing of leks of that soart, or of disleks + either, Mr. Drinkwotter. What can I do for ye? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (heartily). Nathink, gavner. Awve brort noos fer yer. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Well, sit ye doon. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Aw thenk yr honor. (He sits down on the seat under the tree + and composes himself for conversation.) Hever ear o Jadge Ellam? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Sir Howrrd Hallam? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Thet's im-enginest jadge in Hingland!—awlus gives the + ket wen it's robbry with voylence, bless is awt. Aw sy nathink agin im: + awm all fer lor mawseolf, AW em. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Well? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Hever ear of is sist-in-lor: Lidy Sisly Winefleet? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Do ye mean the celebrated Leddy—the traveller? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Yuss: should think aw doo. Walked acrost Harfricar with + nathink but a little dawg, and wrowt abaht it in the Dily Mile (the Daily + Mail, a popular London newspaper), she did. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Is she Sir Howrrd Hallam's sister-in-law? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Deeceased wawfe's sister: yuss: thet's wot SHE is. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Well, what about them? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Wot abaht them! Waw, they're EAH. Lannid aht of a steam yacht + in Mogador awber not twenty minnits agow. Gorn to the British cornsl's. + E'll send em orn to you: e ynt got naowheres to put em. Sor em awr (hire) + a Harab an two Krooboys to kerry their laggige. Thort awd cam an teoll + yer. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Thank you. It's verra kind of you, Mr. Drinkwotter. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Down't mention it, gavner. Lor bless yer, wawn't it you as + converted me? Wot was aw wen aw cam eah but a pore lorst sinner? Down't aw + ow y'a turn fer thet? Besawds, gavner, this Lidy Sisly Winefleet mawt + wor't to tike a walk crost Morocker—a rawd inter the mahntns or sech + lawk. Weoll, as you knaow, gavner, thet cawn't be done eah withaht a + hescort. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. It's impoassible: th' would oall b' murrdered. Morocco is not lek + the rest of Africa. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. No, gavner: these eah Moors ez their religion; an it mikes em + dinegerous. Hever convert a Moor, gavner? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (with a rueful smile). No. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (solemnly). Nor never will, gavner. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I have been at work here for twenty-five years, Mr. Drinkwotter; + and you are my first and only convert. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Down't seem naow good, do it, gavner? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I don't say that. I hope I have done some good. They come to me + for medicine when they are ill; and they call me the Christian who is not + a thief. THAT is something. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Their mawnds kennot rawse to Christiennity lawk hahrs ken, + gavner: thet's ah it is. Weoll, ez haw was syin, if a hescort is wornted, + there's maw friend and commawnder Kepn Brarsbahnd of the schooner + Thenksgivin, an is crew, incloodin mawseolf, will see the lidy an Jadge + Ellam through henny little excursion in reason. Yr honor mawt mention it. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I will certainly not propose anything so dangerous as an + excursion. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (virtuously). Naow, gavner, nor would I awst you to. (Shaking + his head.) Naow, naow: it IS dinegerous. But hall the more call for a + hescort if they should ev it hin their mawnds to gow. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I hope they won't. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. An sow aw do too, gavner. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (pondering). 'Tis strange that they should come to Mogador, of all + places; and to my house! I once met Sir Howrrd Hallam, years ago. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (amazed). Naow! didger? Think o thet, gavner! Waw, sow aw did + too. But it were a misunnerstedin, thet wors. Lef the court withaht a + stine on maw kerrickter, aw did. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (with some indignation). I hope you don't think I met Sir Howrrd in + that way. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Mawt yeppn to the honestest, best meanin pusson, aw do assure + yer, gavner. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I would have you to know that I met him privately, Mr. + Drinkwotter. His brother was a dear friend of mine. Years ago. He went out + to the West Indies. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. The Wust Hindies! Jist acrost there, tather sawd thet howcean + (pointing seaward)! Dear me! We cams hin with vennity, an we deepawts in + dawkness. Down't we, gavner? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (pricking up his ears). Eh? Have you been reading that little book + I gave you? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Aw hev, et odd tawms. Very camfitn, gavner. (He rises, + apprehensive lest further catechism should find him unprepared.) Awll sy + good awtenoon, gavner: you're busy hexpectin o Sr Ahrd an Lidy Sisly, ynt + yer? (About to go.) + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (stopping him). No, stop: we're oalways ready for travellers here. + I have something else to say—a question to ask you. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (with a misgiving, which he masks by exaggerating his hearty + sailor manner). An weollcome, yr honor. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Who is this Captain Brassbound? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (guiltily). Kepn Brarsbahnd! E's-weoll, e's maw Kepn, gavner. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Yes. Well? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (feebly). Kepn of the schooner Thenksgivin, gavner. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (searchingly). Have ye ever haird of a bad character in these seas + called Black Paquito? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (with a sudden radiance of complete enlightenment). Aoh, nar aw + tikes yer wiv me, yr honor. Nah sammun es bin a teolln you thet Kepn + Brarsbahnd an Bleck Pakeetow is hawdentically the sime pussn. Ynt thet + sow? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. That is so. (Drinkwater slaps his knee triumphantly. The + missionary proceeds determinedly) And the someone was a verra honest, + straightforward man, as far as I could judge. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (embracing the implication). Course a wors, gavner: Ev aw said + a word agin him? Ev aw nah? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. But is Captain Brassbound Black Paquito then? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Waw, it's the nime is blessed mather give im at er knee, bless + is little awt! Ther ynt naow awm in it. She ware a Wust Hinjin—howver + there agin, yer see (pointing seaward)—leastwaws, naow she worn't: + she were a Brazilian, aw think; an Pakeetow's Brazilian for a bloomin + little perrit—awskin yr pawdn for the word. (Sentimentally) Lawk as + a Hinglish lidy mawt call er little boy Birdie. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (not quite convinced). But why BLACK Paquito? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (artlessly). Waw, the bird in its netral stite bein green, an e + evin bleck air, y' knaow— + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (cutting him short). I see. And now I will put ye another question. + WHAT is Captain Brassbound, or Paquito, or whatever he calls himself? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (officiously). Brarsbahnd, gavner. Awlus calls isseolf + Brarsbahnd. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Well. Brassbound, then. What is he? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (fervently). You awsks me wot e is, gavner? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (firmly). I do. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (with rising enthusiasm). An shll aw teoll yer wot e is, yr + honor? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (not at all impressed). If ye will be so good, Mr. Drinkwotter. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (with overwhelming conviction). Then awll teoll you, gavner, + wot he is. Ee's a Paffick Genlmn: thet's wot e is. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (gravely). Mr. Drinkwotter: pairfection is an attribute, not of + West Coast captains, but of thr Maaker. And there are gentlemen and + gentlemen in the world, espaecially in these latitudes. Which sort of + gentleman is he? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Hinglish genlmn, gavner. Hinglish speakin; Hinglish fawther; + West Hinjin plawnter; Hinglish true blue breed. (Reflectively) Tech o + brahn from the mather, preps, she bein Brazilian. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Now on your faith as a Christian, Felix Drinkwotter, is Captain + Brassbound a slaver or not? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (surprised into his natural cockney pertness). Naow e ynt. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Are ye SURE? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Waw, a sliver is abaht the wanne thing in the wy of a genlmn o + fortn thet e YNT. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I've haird that expression "gentleman of fortune" before, Mr. + Drinkwotter. It means pirate. Do ye know that? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Bless y'r awt, y' cawnt be a pawrit naradys. Waw, the aw seas + is wuss pleest nor Piccadilly Suckus. If aw was to do orn thet there + Hetlentic Howcean the things aw did as a bwoy in the Worterleoo Rowd, awd + ev maw air cat afore aw could turn maw ed. Pawrit be blaowed!—awskink + yr pawdn, gavner. Nah, jest to shaow you ah little thet there striteforard + man y' mide mention on knaowed wot e was atorkin abaht: oo would you + spowse was the marster to wich Kepn Brarsbahnd served apprentice, as yr + mawt sy? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I don't know. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Gawdn, gavner, Gawdn. Gawdn o Kawtoom—stetcher stends in + Trifawlgr Square to this dy. Trined Bleck Pakeetow in smawshin hap the + slive riders, e did. Promist Gawdn e wouldn't never smaggle slives nor + gin, an (with suppressed aggravation) WOWN'T, gavner, not if we gows dahn + on ahr bloomin bended knees to im to do it. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (drily). And DO ye go down on your bended knees to him to do it? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (somewhat abashed). Some of huz is hanconverted men, gavner; an + they sy: You smaggles wanne thing, Kepn; waw not hanather? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. We've come to it at last. I thought so. Captain Brassbound is a + smuggler. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Weoll, waw not? Waw not, gavner? Ahrs is a Free Tride nition. + It gows agin us as Hinglishmen to see these bloomin furriners settin ap + their Castoms Ahses and spheres o hinfluence and sich lawk hall owver + Arfricar. Daown't Harfricar belong as much to huz as to them? thet's wot + we sy. Ennywys, there ynt naow awm in ahr business. All we daz is hescort, + tourist HOR commercial. Cook's hexcursions to the Hatlas Mahntns: thet's + hall it is. Waw, it's spreadin civlawzytion, it is. Ynt it nah? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. You think Captain Brassbound's crew sufficiently equipped for + that, do you? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Hee-quipped! Haw should think sow. Lawtnin rawfles, twelve + shots in the meggezine! Oo's to storp us? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. The most dangerous chieftain in these parts, the Sheikh Sidi el + Assif, has a new American machine pistol which fires ten bullets without + loadin; and his rifle has sixteen shots in the magazine. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (indignantly). Yuss; an the people that sells sich things into + the ends o' them eathen bleck niggers calls theirseolves Christians! It's + a crool shime, sow it is. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. If a man has the heart to pull the trigger, it matters little what + color his hand is, Mr. Drinkwotter. Have ye anything else to say to me + this afternoon? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (rising). Nathink, gavner, cept to wishyer the bust o yolth, + and a many cornverts. Awtenoon, gavner. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Good afternoon to ye, Mr. Drinkwotter. + </p> + <p> + As Drinkwater turns to go, a Moorish porter comes from the house with two + Krooboys. + </p> + <p> + THE PORTER (at the door, addressing Rankin). Bikouros (Moroccan for + Epicurus, a general Moorish name for the missionaries, who are supposed by + the Moors to have chosen their calling through a love of luxurious + idleness): I have brought to your house a Christian dog and his woman. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. There's eathen menners fer yer! Calls Sr Ahrd Ellam an Lidy + Winefleet a Christian dorg and is woman! If ee ed you in the dorck et the + Centl Crimnal, you'd fawnd aht oo was the dorg and oo was is marster, + pretty quick, you would. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Have you broat their boxes? + </p> + <p> + THE PORTER. By Allah, two camel loads! + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Have you been paid? + </p> + <p> + THE PORTER. Only one miserable dollar, Bikouros. I have brought them to + your house. They will pay you. Give me something for bringing gold to your + door. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Yah! You oughter bin bawn a Christian, you ought. You knaow + too mach. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. You have broat onnly trouble and expense to my door, Hassan; and + you know it. Have I ever charged your wife and children for my medicines? + </p> + <p> + HASSAN (philosophically). It is always permitted by the Prophet to ask, + Bikouros. (He goes cheerfully into the house with the Krooboys.) + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Jist thort eed trah it orn, a did. Hooman nitre is the sime + everywheres. Them eathens is jast lawk you an' me, gavner. + </p> + <p> + A lady and gentleman, both English, come into the garden. The gentleman, + more than elderly, is facing old age on compulsion, not resignedly. He is + clean shaven, and has a brainy rectangular forehead, a resolute nose with + strongly governed nostrils, and a tightly fastened down mouth which has + evidently shut in much temper and anger in its time. He has a habit of + deliberately assumed authority and dignity, but is trying to take life + more genially and easily in his character of tourist, which is further + borne out by his white hat and summery racecourse attire. + </p> + <p> + The lady is between thirty and forty, tall, very goodlooking, sympathetic, + intelligent, tender and humorous, dressed with cunning simplicity not as a + businesslike, tailor made, gaitered tourist, but as if she lived at the + next cottage and had dropped in for tea in blouse and flowered straw hat. + A woman of great vitality and humanity, who begins a casual acquaintance + at the point usually attained by English people after thirty years + acquaintance when they are capable of reaching it at all. She pounces + genially on Drinkwater, who is smirking at her, hat in hand, with an air + of hearty welcome. The gentleman, on the other hand, comes down the side + of the garden next the house, instinctively maintaining a distance between + himself and the others. + </p> + <p> + THE LADY (to Drinkwater). How dye do? Are you the missionary? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (modestly). Naow, lidy, aw will not deceive you, thow the + mistike his but netral. Awm wanne of the missionary's good works, lidy—is + first cornvert, a umble British seaman—countrymen o yours, lidy, and + of is lawdship's. This eah is Mr. Renkin, the bust worker in the wust + cowst vawnyawd. (Introducing the judge) Mr. Renkin: is lawdship Sr Ahrd + Ellam. (He withdraws discreetly into the house.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (to Rankin). I am sorry to intrude on you, Mr. Rankin; but in + the absence of a hotel there seems to be no alternative. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (beaming on him). Besides, we would so much RATHER stay with + you, if you will have us, Mr. Rankin. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (introducing her). My sister-in-law, Lady Cicely Waynflete, Mr. + Rankin. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I am glad to be of service to your leddyship. You will be wishing + to have some tea after your journey, I'm thinking. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Thoughtful man that you are, Mr. Rankin! But we've had some + already on board the yacht. And I've arranged everything with your + servants; so you must go on gardening just as if we were not here. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I am sorry to have to warn you, Mr. Rankin, that Lady Cicely, + from travelling in Africa, has acquired a habit of walking into people's + houses and behaving as if she were in her own. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But, my dear Howard, I assure you the natives like it. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (gallantly). So do I. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (delighted). Oh, that is so nice of you, Mr. Rankin. This is a + delicious country! And the people seem so good! They have such nice faces! + We had such a handsome Moor to carry our luggage up! And two perfect pets + of Krooboys! Did you notice their faces, Howard? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I did; and I can confidently say, after a long experience of + faces of the worst type looking at me from the dock, that I have never + seen so entirely villainous a trio as that Moor and the two Krooboys, to + whom you gave five dollars when they would have been perfectly satisfied + with one. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (throwing up his hands). Five dollars! 'Tis easy to see you are not + Scotch, my leddy. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, poor things, they must want it more than we do; and you + know, Howard, that Mahometans never spend money in drink. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Excuse me a moment, my leddy. I have a word in season to say to + that same Moor. (He goes into the house.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (walking about the garden, looking at the view and at the + flowers). I think this is a perfectly heavenly place. + </p> + <p> + Drinkwater returns from the house with a chair. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (placing the chair for Sir Howard). Awskink yr pawdn for the + libbety, Sr Ahrd. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (looking a him). I have seen you before somewhere. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. You ev, Sr Ahrd. But aw do assure yer it were hall a mistike. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. As usual. (He sits down.) Wrongfully convicted, of course. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (with sly delight). Naow, gavner. (Half whispering, with an + ineffable grin) Wrorngfully hacquittid! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Indeed! That's the first case of the kind I have ever met. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Lawd, Sr Ahrd, wot jagginses them jurymen was! You an me + knaowed it too, didn't we? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I daresay we did. I am sorry to say I forget the exact nature + of the difficulty you were in. Can you refresh my memory? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Owny the aw sperrits o youth, y' lawdship. Worterleoo Rowd + kice. Wot they calls Ooliganism. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Oh! You were a Hooligan, were you? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (puzzled). A Hooligan! + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (deprecatingly). Nime giv huz pore thortless leds baw a gent on + the Dily Chrornicle, lidy. (Rankin returns. Drinkwater immediately + withdraws, stopping the missionary for a moment near the threshold to say, + touching his forelock) Awll eng abaht within ile, gavner, hin kice aw + should be wornted. (He goes into the house with soft steps.) + </p> + <p> + Lady Cicely sits down on the bench under the tamarisk. Rankin takes his + stool from the flowerbed and sits down on her left, Sir Howard being on + her right. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. What a pleasant face your sailor friend has, Mr. Rankin! He + has been so frank and truthful with us. You know I don't think anybody can + pay me a greater compliment than to be quite sincere with me at first + sight. It's the perfection of natural good manners. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. You must not suppose, Mr. Rankin, that my sister-in-law talks + nonsense on purpose. She will continue to believe in your friend until he + steals her watch; and even then she will find excuses for him. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (drily changing the subject). And how have ye been, Sir Howrrd, + since our last meeting that morning nigh forty year ago down at the docks + in London? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (greatly surprised, pulling himself together) Our last meeting! + Mr. Rankin: have I been unfortunate enough to forget an old acquaintance? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Well, perhaps hardly an acquaintance, Sir Howrrd. But I was a + close friend of your brother Miles: and when he sailed for Brazil I was + one of the little party that saw him off. You were one of the party also, + if I'm not mistaken. I took particular notice of you because you were + Miles's brother and I had never seen ye before. But ye had no call to take + notice of me. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (reflecting). Yes: there was a young friend of my brother's who + might well be you. But the name, as I recollect it, was Leslie. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. That was me, sir. My name is Leslie Rankin; and your brother and I + were always Miles and Leslie to one another. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (pluming himself a little). Ah! that explains it. I can trust + my memory still, Mr. Rankin; though some people do complain that I am + growing old. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. And where may Miles be now, Sir Howard? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (abruptly). Don't you know that he is dead? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (much shocked). Never haird of it. Dear, dear: I shall never see + him again; and I can scarcely bring his face to mind after all these + years. (With moistening eyes, which at once touch Lady Cicely's sympathy) + I'm right sorry—right sorry. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (decorously subduing his voice). Yes: he did not live long: + indeed, he never came back to England. It must be nearly thirty years ago + now that he died in the West Indies on his property there. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (surprised). His proaperty! Miles with a proaperty! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Yes: he became a planter, and did well out there, Mr. Rankin. + The history of that property is a very curious and interesting one—at + least it is so to a lawyer like myself. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I should be glad to hear it for Miles's sake, though I am no + lawyer, Sir Howrrd. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I never knew you had a brother, Howard. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (not pleased by this remark). Perhaps because you never asked + me. (Turning more blandly to Rankin) I will tell you the story, Mr. + Rankin. When Miles died, he left an estate in one of the West Indian + islands. It was in charge of an agent who was a sharpish fellow, with all + his wits about him. Now, sir, that man did a thing which probably could + hardly be done with impunity even here in Morocco, under the most + barbarous of surviving civilizations. He quite simply took the estate for + himself and kept it. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. But how about the law? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. The law, sir, in that island, consisted practically of the + Attorney General and the Solicitor General; and these gentlemen were both + retained by the agent. Consequently there was no solicitor in the island + to take up the case against him. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Is such a thing possible to-day in the British Empire? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (calmly). Oh, quite. Quite. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But could not a firstrate solicitor have been sent out from + London? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. No doubt, by paying him enough to compensate him for giving up + his London practice: that is, rather more than there was any reasonable + likelihood of the estate proving worth. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Then the estate was lost? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Not permanently. It is in my hands at present. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Then how did ye get it back? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (with crafty enjoyment of his own cunning). By hoisting the + rogue with his own petard. I had to leave matters as they were for many + years; for I had my own position in the world to make. But at last I made + it. In the course of a holiday trip to the West Indies, I found that this + dishonest agent had left the island, and placed the estate in the hands of + an agent of his own, whom he was foolish enough to pay very badly. I put + the case before that agent; and he decided to treat the estate as my + property. The robber now found himself in exactly the same position he had + formerly forced me into. Nobody in the island would act against me, least + of all the Attorney and Solicitor General, who appreciated my influence at + the Colonial Office. And so I got the estate back. "The mills of the gods + grind slowly," Mr. Rankin; "but they grind exceeding small." + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Now I suppose if I'd done such a clever thing in England, + you'd have sent me to prison. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Probably, unless you had taken care to keep outside the law + against conspiracy. Whenever you wish to do anything against the law, + Cicely, always consult a good solicitor first. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. So I do. But suppose your agent takes it into his head to + give the estate back to his wicked old employer! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I heartily wish he would. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (openeyed). You wish he WOULD!! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Yes. A few years ago the collapse of the West Indian sugar + industry converted the income of the estate into an annual loss of about + 150 pounds a year. If I can't sell it soon, I shall simply abandon it—unless + you, Mr. Rankin, would like to take it as a present. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (laughing). I thank your lordship: we have estates enough of that + sort in Scotland. You're setting with your back to the sun, Leddy Ceecily, + and losing something worth looking at. See there. (He rises and points + seaward, where the rapid twilight of the latitude has begun.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (getting up to look and uttering a cry of admiration). Oh, how + lovely! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (also rising). What are those hills over there to the + southeast? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. They are the outposts, so to speak, of the Atlas Mountains. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. The Atlas Mountains! Where Shelley's witch lived! We'll make + an excursion to them to-morrow, Howard. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. That's impoassible, my leddy. The natives are verra dangerous. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Why? Has any explorer been shooting them? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. No. But every man of them believes he will go to heaven if he + kills an unbeliever. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Bless you, dear Mr. Rankin, the people in England believe + that they will go to heaven if they give all their property to the poor. + But they don't do it. I'm not a bit afraid of that. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. But they are not accustomed to see women going about unveiled. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I always get on best with people when they can see my face. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Cicely: you are talking great nonsense and you know it. These + people have no laws to restrain them, which means, in plain English, that + they are habitual thieves and murderers. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Nay, nay: not exactly that. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (indignantly). Of course not. You always think, Howard, that + nothing prevents people killing each other but the fear of your hanging + them for it. But what nonsense that is! And how wicked! If these people + weren't here for some good purpose, they wouldn't have been made, would + they, Mr. Rankin? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. That is a point, certainly, Leddy Ceecily. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Oh, if you are going to talk theology— + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Well, why not? theology is as respectable as law, I should + think. Besides, I'm only talking commonsense. Why do people get killed by + savages? Because instead of being polite to them, and saying Howdyedo? + like me, people aim pistols at them. I've been among savages—cannibals + and all sorts. Everybody said they'd kill me. But when I met them, I said + Howdyedo? and they were quite nice. The kings always wanted to marry me. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. That does not seem to me to make you any safer here, Cicely. + You shall certainly not stir a step beyond the protection of the consul, + if I can help it, without a strong escort. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I don't want an escort. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I do. And I suppose you will expect me to accompany you. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. 'Tis not safe, Leddy Ceecily. Really and truly, 'tis not safe. The + tribes are verra fierce; and there are cities here that no Christian has + ever set foot in. If you go without being well protected, the first chief + you meet well seize you and send you back again to prevent his followers + murdering you. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, how nice of him, Mr. Rankin! + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. He would not do it for your sake, Leddy Ceecily, but for his own. + The Sultan would get into trouble with England if you were killed; and the + Sultan would kill the chief to pacify the English government. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But I always go everywhere. I KNOW the people here won't + touch me. They have such nice faces and such pretty scenery. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (to Rankin, sitting down again resignedly). You can imagine how + much use there is in talking to a woman who admires the faces of the + ruffians who infest these ports, Mr. Rankin. Can anything be done in the + way of an escort? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. There is a certain Captain Brassbound here who trades along the + coast, and occasionally escorts parties of merchants on journeys into the + interior. I understand that he served under Gordon in the Soudan. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. That sounds promising. But I should like to know a little more + about him before I trust myself in his hands. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I quite agree with you, Sir Howrrd. I'll send Felix Drinkwotter + for him. (He claps his hands. An Arab boy appears at the house door.) + Muley: is sailor man here? (Muley nods.) Tell sailor man bring captain. + (Muley nods and goes.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Who is Drinkwater? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. His agent, or mate: I don't rightly know which. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, if he has a mate named Felix Drinkwater, it must be quite + a respectable crew. It is such a nice name. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. You saw him here just now. He is a convert of mine. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (delighted). That nice truthful sailor! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (horrified). What! The Hooligan! + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (puzzled). Hooligan? No, my lord: he is an Englishman. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. My dear Mr. Rankin, this man was tried before me on a charge + of street ruffianism. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. So he told me. He was badly broat up, I am afraid. But he is now a + converted man. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Of course he is. His telling you so frankly proves it. You + know, really, Howard, all those poor people whom you try are more sinned + against than sinning. If you would only talk to them in a friendly way + instead of passing cruel sentences on them, you would find them quite nice + to you. (Indignantly) I won't have this poor man trampled on merely + because his mother brought him up as a Hooligan. I am sure nobody could be + nicer than he was when he spoke to us. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. In short, we are to have an escort of Hooligans commanded by a + filibuster. Very well, very well. You will most likely admire all their + faces; and I have no doubt at all that they will admire yours. + </p> + <p> + Drinkwater comes from the house with an Italian dressed in a much worn + suit of blue serge, a dilapidated Alpine hat, and boots laced with scraps + of twine. He remains near the door, whilst Drinkwater comes forward + between Sir Howard and Lady Cicely. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Yr honor's servant. (To the Italian) Mawtzow: is lawdship Sr + Ahrd Ellam. (Marzo touches his hat.) Er Lidyship Lidy Winefleet. (Marzo + touches his hat.) Hawtellian shipmite, lidy. Hahr chef. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (nodding affably to Marzo). Howdyedo? I love Italy. What part + of it were you born in? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Worn't bawn in Hitly at all, lidy. Bawn in Ettn Gawdn (Hatton + Garden). Hawce barrer an street pianner Hawtellian, lidy: thet's wot e is. + Kepn Brarsbahnd's respects to yr honors; an e awites yr commawnds. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Shall we go indoors to see him? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I think we had better have a look at him by daylight. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Then we must lose no time: the dark is soon down in this latitude. + (To Drinkwater) Will ye ask him to step out here to us, Mr. Drinkwotter? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Rawt you aw, gavner. (He goes officiously into the house.) + </p> + <p> + Lady Cicely and Rankin sit down as before to receive the Captain. The + light is by this time waning rapidly, the darkness creeping west into the + orange crimson. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (whispering). Don't you feel rather creepy, Mr. Rankin? I + wonder what he'll be like. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I misdoubt me he will not answer, your leddyship. + </p> + <p> + There is a scuffling noise in the house; and Drinkwater shoots out through + the doorway across the garden with every appearance of having been + violently kicked. Marzo immediately hurries down the garden on Sir + Howard's right out of the neighborhood of the doorway. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (trying to put a cheerful air on much mortification and bodily + anguish). Narsty step to thet ere door tripped me hap, it did. (Raising + his voice and narrowly escaping a squeak of pain) Kepn Brarsbahnd. (He + gets as far from the house as possible, on Rankin's left. Rankin rises to + receive his guest.) + </p> + <p> + An olive complexioned man with dark southern eyes and hair comes from the + house. Age about 36. Handsome features, but joyless; dark eyebrows drawn + towards one another; mouth set grimly; nostrils large and strained: a face + set to one tragic purpose. A man of few words, fewer gestures, and much + significance. On the whole, interesting, and even attractive, but not + friendly. He stands for a moment, saturnine in the ruddy light, to see who + is present, looking in a singular and rather deadly way at Sir Howard; + then with some surprise and uneasiness at Lady Cicely. Finally he comes + down into the middle of the garden, and confronts Rankin, who has been + glaring at him in consternation from the moment of his entrance, and + continues to do so in so marked a way that the glow in Brassbound's eyes + deepens as he begins to take offence. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Well, sir, have you stared your fill at me? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (recovering himself with a start). I ask your pardon for my bad + manners, Captain Brassbound. Ye are extraordinair lek an auld college + friend of mine, whose face I said not ten minutes gone that I could no + longer bring to mind. It was as if he had come from the grave to remind me + of it. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Why have you sent for me? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. We have a matter of business with ye, Captain. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Who are "we"? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. This is Sir Howrrd Hallam, who will be well known to ye as one of + Her Majesty's judges. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (turning the singular look again on Sir Howard). The friend of + the widow! the protector of the fatherless! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (startled). I did not know I was so favorably spoken of in + these parts, Captain Brassbound. We want an escort for a trip into the + mountains. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (ignoring this announcement). Who is the lady? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Lady Ceecily Waynflete, his lordship's sister-in-law. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Howdyedo, Captain Brassbound? (He bows gravely.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (a little impatient of these questions, which strike him as + somewhat impertinent). Let us come to business, if you please. We are + thinking of making a short excursion to see the country about here. Can + you provide us with an escort of respectable, trustworthy men? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. No. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (in strong remonstrance). Nah, nah, nah! Nah look eah, Kepn, + y'knaow— + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (between his teeth). Hold your tongue. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (abjectly). Yuss, Kepn. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. I understood it was your business to provide escorts, Captain + Brassbound. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You were rightly informed. That IS my business. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Then why won't you do it for us? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You are not content with an escort. You want respectable, + trustworthy men. You should have brought a division of London policemen + with you. My men are neither respectable nor trustworthy. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (unable to contain himself). Nah, nah, look eah, Kepn. If you + want to be moddist, be moddist on your aown accahnt, nort on mawn. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You see what my men are like. That rascal (indicating Marzo) + would cut a throat for a dollar if he had courage enough. + </p> + <p> + MARZO. I not understand. I no spik Englis. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. This thing (pointing to Drinkwater) is the greatest liar, + thief, drunkard, and rapscallion on the west coast. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (affecting an ironic indifference). Gow orn, Gow orn. Sr Ahrd + ez erd witnesses to maw kerrickter afoah. E knaows ah mech to believe of + em. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Captain Brassbound: I have heard all that before about the + blacks; and I found them very nice people when they were properly treated. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (chuckling: the Italian is also grinning). Nah, Kepn, nah! Owp + yr prahd o y'seolf nah. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I quite understand the proper treatment for him, madam. If he + opens his mouth again without my leave, I will break every bone in his + skin. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (in her most sunnily matter-of-fact way). Does Captain + Brassbound always treat you like this, Mr. Drinkwater? + </p> + <p> + Drinkwater hesitates, and looks apprehensively at the Captain. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Answer, you dog, when the lady orders you. (To Lady Cicely) Do + not address him as Mr. Drinkwater, madam: he is accustomed to be called + Brandyfaced Jack. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (indignantly). Eah, aw sy! nah look eah, Kepn: maw nime is + Drinkworter. You awsk em et Sin Jorn's in the Worterleoo Rowd. Orn maw + grenfawther's tombstown, it is. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. It will be on your own tombstone, presently, if you cannot + hold your tongue. (Turning to the others) Let us understand one another, + if you please. An escort here, or anywhere where there are no regular + disciplined forces, is what its captain makes it. If I undertake this + business, I shall be your escort. I may require a dozen men, just as I may + require a dozen horses. Some of the horses will be vicious; so will all + the men. If either horse or man tries any of his viciousness on me, so + much the worse for him; but it will make no difference to you. I will + order my men to behave themselves before the lady; and they shall obey + their orders. But the lady will please understand that I take my own way + with them and suffer no interference. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Captain Brassbound: I don't want an escort at all. It will + simply get us all into danger; and I shall have the trouble of getting it + out again. That's what escorts always do. But since Sir Howard prefers an + escort, I think you had better stay at home and let me take charge of it. + I know your men will get on perfectly well if they're properly treated. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (with enthusiasm). Feed aht o yr and, lidy, we would. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (with sardonic assent). Good. I agree. (To Drinkwater) You + shall go without me. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. (terrified). Eah! Wot are you a syin orn? We cawn't gow + withaht yer. (To Lady Cicely) Naow, lidy: it wouldn't be for yr hown good. + Yer cawn't hexpect a lot o poor honeddikited men lawk huz to ran ahrseolvs + into dineger withaht naow Kepn to teoll us wot to do. Naow, lidy: + hoonawted we stend: deevawdid we fall. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, if you prefer your captain, have him by all means. Do you + LIKE to be treated as he treats you? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (with a smile of vanity). Weoll, lidy: y cawn't deenaw that e's + a Paffick Genlmn. Bit hawbitrairy, preps; but hin a genlmn you looks for + sich. It tikes a hawbitrairy wanne to knock aht them eathen Shikes, aw + teoll yer. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. That's enough. Go. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Weoll, aw was hownly a teolln the lidy thet— (A + threatening movement from Brassbound cuts him short. He flies for his life + into the house, followed by the Italian.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Your ladyship sees. These men serve me by their own free + choice. If they are dissatisfied, they go. If I am dissatisfied, they go. + They take care that I am not dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (who has listened with approval and growing confidence). + Captain Brassbound: you are the man I want. If your terms are at all + reasonable, I will accept your services if we decide to make an excursion. + You do not object, Cicely, I hope. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh no. After all, those men must really like you, Captain + Brassbound. I feel sure you have a kind heart. You have such nice eyes. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (scandalized). My DEAR Cicely: you really must restrain your + expressions of confidence in people's eyes and faces. (To Brassbound) Now, + about terms, Captain? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Where do you propose to go? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I hardly know. Where CAN we go, Mr. Rankin? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Take my advice, Sir Howrrd. Don't go far. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I can take you to Meskala, from which you can see the Atlas + Mountains. From Meskala I can take you to an ancient castle in the hills, + where you can put up as long as you please. The customary charge is half a + dollar a man per day and his food. I charge double. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I suppose you answer for your men being sturdy fellows, who + will stand to their guns if necessary. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I can answer for their being more afraid of me than of the + Moors. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. That doesn't matter in the least, Howard. The important + thing, Captain Brassbound, is: first, that we should have as few men as + possible, because men give such a lot of trouble travelling. And then, + they must have good lungs and not be always catching cold. Above all, + their clothes must be of good wearing material. Otherwise I shall be + nursing and stitching and mending all the way; and it will be trouble + enough, I assure you, to keep them washed and fed without that. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (haughtily). My men, madam, are not children in the nursery. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (with unanswerable conviction). Captain Brassbound: all men + are children in the nursery. I see that you don't notice things. That poor + Italian had only one proper bootlace: the other was a bit of string. And I + am sure from Mr. Drinkwater's complexion that he ought to have some + medicine. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (outwardly determined not to be trifled with: inwardly puzzled + and rather daunted). Madam: if you want an escort, I can provide you with + an escort. If you want a Sunday School treat, I can NOT provide it. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (with sweet melancholy). Ah, don't you wish you could, + Captain? Oh, if I could only show you my children from Waynflete Sunday + School! The darlings would love this place, with all the camels and black + men. I'm sure you would enjoy having them here, Captain Brassbound; and it + would be such an education for your men! (Brassbound stares at her with + drying lips.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Cicely: when you have quite done talking nonsense to Captain + Brassbound, we can proceed to make some definite arrangement with him. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But it's arranged already. We'll start at eight o'clock + to-morrow morning, if you please, Captain. Never mind about the Italian: I + have a big box of clothes with me for my brother in Rome; and there are + some bootlaces in it. Now go home to bed and don't fuss yourself. All you + have to do is to bring your men round; and I'll see to the rest. Men are + always so nervous about moving. Goodnight. (She offers him her hand. + Surprised, he pulls off his cap for the first time. Some scruple prevents + him from taking her hand at once. He hesitates; then turns to Sir Howard + and addresses him with warning earnestness.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Sir Howard Hallam: I advise you not to attempt this + expedition. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Indeed! Why? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You are safe here. I warn you, in those hills there is a + justice that is not the justice of your courts in England. If you have + wronged a man, you may meet that man there. If you have wronged a woman, + you may meet her son there. The justice of those hills is the justice of + vengeance. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (faintly amused). You are superstitious, Captain. Most sailors + are, I notice. However, I have complete confidence in your escort. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (almost threateningly). Take care. The avenger may be one of + the escort. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I have already met the only member of your escort who might + have borne a grudge against me, Captain; and he was acquitted. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You are fated to come, then? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (smiling). It seems so. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. On your head be it! (To Lady Cicely, accepting her hand at + last) Goodnight. + </p> + <p> + He goes. It is by this time starry night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II + </h2> + <p> + Midday. A roam in a Moorish castle. A divan seat runs round the + dilapidated adobe walls, which are partly painted, partly faced with white + tiles patterned in green and yellow. The ceiling is made up of little + squares, painted in bright colors, with gilded edges, and ornamented with + gilt knobs. On the cement floor are mattings, sheepskins, and leathern + cushions with geometrical patterns on them. There is a tiny Moorish table + in the middle; and at it a huge saddle, with saddle cloths of various + colors, showing that the room is used by foreigners accustomed to chairs. + Anyone sitting at the table in this seat would have the chief entrance, a + large horseshoe arch, on his left, and another saddle seat between him and + the arch; whilst, if susceptible to draughts, he would probably catch cold + from a little Moorish door in the wall behind him to his right. + </p> + <p> + Two or three of Brassbound's men, overcome by the midday heat, sprawl + supine on the floor, with their reefer coats under their heads, their + knees uplifted, and their calves laid comfortably on the divan. Those who + wear shirts have them open at the throat for greater coolness. Some have + jerseys. All wear boots and belts, and have guns ready to their hands. One + of them, lying with his head against the second saddle seat, wears what + was once a fashionable white English yachting suit. He is evidently a + pleasantly worthless young English gentleman gone to the bad, but + retaining sufficient self-respect to shave carefully and brush his hair, + which is wearing thin, and does not seem to have been luxuriant even in + its best days. + </p> + <p> + The silence is broken only by the snores of the young gentleman, whose + mouth has fallen open, until a few distant shots half waken him. He shuts + his mouth convulsively, and opens his eyes sleepily. A door is violently + kicked outside; and the voice of Drinkwater is heard raising urgent alarm. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Wot ow! Wike ap there, will yr. Wike ap. (He rushes in through + the horseshoe arch, hot and excited, and runs round, kicking the sleepers) + Nah then. Git ap. Git ap, will yr, Kiddy Redbrook. (He gives the young + qentleman a rude shove.) + </p> + <p> + REDBOOK (sitting up). Stow that, will you. What's amiss? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (disgusted). Wot's amiss! Didn't eah naow fawrin, I spowse. + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. No. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (sneering). Naow. Thort it sifer nort, didn't yr? + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (with crisp intelligence). What! You're running away, are you? + (He springs up, crying) Look alive, Johnnies: there's danger. Brandyfaced + Jack's on the run. (They spring up hastily, grasping their guns.) + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Dineger! Yuss: should think there wors dineger. It's howver, + thow, as it mowstly his baw the tawm YOU'RE awike. (They relapse into + lassitude.) Waw wasn't you on the look-aht to give us a end? Bin hattecked + baw the Benny Seeras (Beni Siras), we ev, an ed to rawd for it pretty + strite, too, aw teoll yr. Mawtzow is it: the bullet glawnst all rahnd is + bloomin brisket. Brarsbahnd e dropt the Shike's oss at six unnern fifty + yawds. (Bustling them about) Nah then: git the plice ready for the British + herristoracy, Lawd Ellam and Lidy Wineflete. + </p> + <p> + REDBOOK. Lady faint, eh? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Fynt! Not lawkly. Wornted to gow an talk, to the Benny Seeras: + blaow me if she didn't! huz wot we was frahtnd of. Tyin up Mawtzow's + wound, she is, like a bloomin orspittle nass. (Sir Howard, with a copious + pagri on his white hat, enters through the horseshoe arch, followed by a + couple of men supporting the wounded Marzo, who, weeping and + terrorstricken by the prospect of death and of subsequent torments for + which he is conscious of having eminently qualified himself, has his coat + off and a bandage round his chest. One of his supporters is a + blackbearded, thickset, slow, middle-aged man with an air of damaged + respectability, named—as it afterwards appears—Johnson. Lady + Cicely walks beside Marzo. Redbrook, a little shamefaced, crosses the room + to the opposite wall as far away as possible from the visitors. Drinkwater + turns and receives them with jocular ceremony.) Weolcome to Brarsbahnd + Cawstl, Sr Ahrd an lidy. This eah is the corfee and commercial room. + </p> + <p> + Sir Howard goes to the table and sits on the saddle, rather exhausted. + Lady Cicely comes to Drinkwater. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Where is Marzo's bed? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Is bed, lidy? Weoll: e ynt petickler, lidy. E ez is chawce of + henny flegstown agin thet wall. + </p> + <p> + They deposit Marzo on the flags against the wall close to the little door. + He groans. Johnson phlegmatically leaves him and joins Redbrook. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But you can't leave him there in that state. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Ow: e's hall rawt. (Strolling up callously to Marzo) You're + hall rawt, ynt yer, Mawtzow? (Marzo whimpers.) Corse y'aw. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (to Sir Howard). Did you ever see such a helpless lot of poor + creatures? (She makes for the little door.) + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Eah! (He runs to the door and places himself before it.) Where + mawt yr lidyship be gowin? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I'm going through every room in this castle to find a proper + place to put that man. And now I'll tell you where YOU'RE going. You're + going to get some water for Marzo, who is very thirsty. And then, when + I've chosen a room for him, you're going to make a bed for him there. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (sarcastically). Ow! Henny ather little suvvice? Mike yrseolf + at owm, y' knaow, lidy. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (considerately). Don't go if you'd rather not, Mr. Drinkwater. + Perhaps you're too tired. (Turning to the archway) I'll ask Captain + Brassbound: he won't mind. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (terrified, running after her and getting between her and the + arch). Naow, naow! Naow, lidy: doesn't you goes disturbin the Kepn. Awll + see to it. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (gravely). I was sure you would, Mr. Drinkwater. You have such + a kind face. (She turns back and goes out through the small door.) + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (looking after her). Garn! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (to Drinkwater). Will you ask one of your friends to show me to + my room whilst you are getting the water? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (insolently). Yr room! Ow: this ynt good enaf fr yr, ynt it? + (Ferociously) Oo a you orderin abaht, ih? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (rising quietly, and taking refuge between Redbrook and + Johnson, whom he addresses). Can you find me a more private room than + this? + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON (shaking his head). I've no orders. You must wait til the capn + comes, sir. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (following Sir Howard). Yuss; an whawl you're witin, yll tike + your horders from me: see? + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON (with slow severity, to Drinkwater). Look here: do you see three + genlmen talkin to one another here, civil and private, eh? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (chapfallen). No offence, Miste Jornsn— + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON (ominously). Ay; but there is offence. Where's your manners, you + guttersnipe? (Turning to Sir Howard) That's the curse o this kind o life, + sir: you got to associate with all sorts. My father, sir, was Capn Johnson + o Hull—owned his own schooner, sir. We're mostly gentlemen here, + sir, as you'll find, except the poor ignorant foreigner and that there + scum of the submerged tenth. (Contemptuously looking at Drinkwater) HE + ain't nobody's son: he's only a offspring o coster folk or such. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (bursting into tears). Clawss feelin! thet's wot it is: clawss + feelin! Wot are yer, arter all, bat a bloomin gang o west cowst cazhls + (casual ward paupers)? (Johnson is scandalized; and there is a general + thrill of indignation.) Better ev naow fembly, an rawse aht of it, lawk + me, than ev a specble one and disgrice it, lawk you. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Brandyfaced Jack: I name you for conduct and language unbecoming + to a gentleman. Those who agree will signify the same in the usual manner. + </p> + <p> + ALL (vehemently). Aye. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (wildly). Naow. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Felix Drinkwater: are you goin out, or are you goin to wait til + you're chucked out? You can cry in the passage. If you give any trouble, + you'll have something to cry for. + </p> + <p> + They make a threatenng movement towards Drinkwater. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (whimpering). You lee me alown: awm gowin. There's n'maw true + demmecrettick feelin eah than there is in the owl bloomin M division of + Noontn Corzwy coppers (Newington Causeway policemen). + </p> + <p> + As he slinks away in tears towards the arch, Brassbound enters. Drinkwater + promptly shelters himself on the captain's left hand, the others + retreating to the opposite side as Brassbound advances to the middle of + the room. Sir Howard retires behind them and seats himself on the divan, + much fatigued. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (to Drinkwater). What are you snivelling at? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. You awsk the wust cowst herristorcracy. They fawnds maw + cornduck hanbecammin to a genlmn. + </p> + <p> + Brassbound is about to ask Johnson for an explanation, when Lady Cicely + returns through the little door, and comes between Brassbound and + Drinkwater. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (to Drinkwater). Have you fetched the water? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Yuss: nah YOU begin orn me. (He weeps afresh.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (surprised). Oh! This won't do, Mr. Drinkwater. If you cry, I + can't let you nurse your friend. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (frantic). Thet'll brike maw awt, wown't it nah? (With a + lamentable sob, he throws himself down on the divan, raging like an angry + child.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (after contemplating him in astonishment for a moment). + Captain Brassbound: are there any charwomen in the Atlas Mountains? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. There are people here who will work if you pay them, as there + are elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. This castle is very romantic, Captain; but it hasn't had a + spring cleaning since the Prophet lived in it. There's only one room I can + put that wounded man into. It's the only one that has a bed in it: the + second room on the right out of that passage. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (haughtily). That is my room, madam. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (relieved). Oh, that's all right. It would have been so + awkward if I had had to ask one of your men to turn out. You won't mind, I + know. (All the men stare at her. Even Drinkwater forgets his sorrows in + his stupefaction.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Pray, madam, have you made any arrangements for my + accommodation? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (reassuringly). Yes: you can have my room instead wherever it + may be: I'm sure you chose me a nice one. I must be near my patient; and I + don't mind roughing it. Now I must have Marzo moved very carefully. Where + is that truly gentlemanly Mr. Johnson?—oh, there you are, Mr. + Johnson. (She runs to Johnson, past Brassbound, who has to step back + hastily out of her way with every expression frozen out of his face except + one of extreme and indignant dumbfoundedness). Will you ask your strong + friend to help you with Marzo: strong people are always so gentle. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Let me introdooce Mr. Redbrook. Your ladyship may know his + father, the very Rev. Dean Redbrook. (He goes to Marzo.) + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. Happy to oblige you, Lady Cicely. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (shaking hands). Howdyedo? Of course I knew your father—Dunham, + wasn't it? Were you ever called— + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. The kid? Yes. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But why— + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (anticipating the rest of the question). Cards and drink, Lady + Sis. (He follows Johnson to the patient. Lady Cicely goes too.) Now, Count + Marzo. (Marzo groans as Johnson and Redbrook raise him.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Now they're NOT hurting you, Marzo. They couldn't be more + gentle. + </p> + <p> + MARZO. Drink. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I'll get you some water myself. Your friend Mr. Drinkwater + was too overcome—take care of the corner—that's it—the + second door on the right. (She goes out with Marzo and his bearers through + the little door.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (still staring). Well, I AM damned—! + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (getting up). Weoll, blimey! + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (turning irritably on him). What did you say? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Weoll, wot did yer sy yrseolf, kepn? Fust tawm aw yever see y' + afride of ennybody. (The others laugh.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Afraid! + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (maliciously). She's took y' bed from hander yr for a bloomin + penny hawcemen. If y' ynt afride, let's eah yer speak ap to er wen she + cams bawck agin. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (to Sir Howard). I wish you to understand, Sir Howard, that in + this castle, it is I who give orders, and no one else. Will you be good + enough to let Lady Cicely Waynflete know that. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (sitting up on the divan and pulling himself together). You + will have ample opportunity for speaking to Lady Cicely yourself when she + returns. (Drinkwater chuckles: and the rest grin.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. My manners are rough, Sir Howard. I have no wish to frighten + the lady. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Captain Brassbound: if you can frighten Lady Cicely, you will + confer a great obligation on her family. If she had any sense of danger, + perhaps she would keep out of it. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Well, sir, if she were ten Lady Cicelys, she must consult me + while she is here. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Thet's rawt, kepn. Let's eah you steblish yr hawthority. + (Brassbound turns impatiently on him: He retreats remonstrating) Nah, nah, + nah! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. If you feel at all nervous, Captain Brassbound, I will mention + the matter with pleasure. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Nervous, sir! no. Nervousness is not in my line. You will find + me perfectly capable of saying what I want to say—with considerable + emphasis, if necessary. (Sir Howard assents with a polite but incredulous + nod.) + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Eah, eah! + </p> + <p> + Lady Cicely returns with Johnson and Redbrook. She carries a jar. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (stopping between the door and the arch). Now for the water. + Where is it? + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. There's a well in the courtyard. I'll come and work the bucket. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. So good of you, Mr. Redbrook. (She makes for the horseshoe + arch, followed by Redbrook.) + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Nah, Kepn Brassbound: you got sathink to sy to the lidy, ynt + yr? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (stopping). I'll come back to hear it presently, Captain. And + oh, while I remember it (coming forward between Brassbound and + Drinkwater), do please tell me Captain, if I interfere with your + arrangements in any way. It I disturb you the least bit in the world, stop + me at once. You have all the responsibility; and your comfort and your + authority must be the first thing. You'll tell me, won't you? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (awkwardly, quite beaten). Pray do as you please, madam. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Thank you. That's so like you, Captain. Thank you. Now, Mr. + Redbrook! Show me the way to the well. (She follows Redbrook out through + the arch.) + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Yah! Yah! Shime! Beat baw a woman! + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON (coming forward on Brassbound's right). What's wrong now? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (with an air of disappointment and disillusion). Down't awsk + me, Miste Jornsn. The kepn's naow clawss arter all. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (a little shamefacedly). What has she been fixing up in there, + Johnson? + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Well: Marzo's in your bed. Lady wants to make a kitchen of the + Sheikh's audience chamber, and to put me and the Kid handy in his bedroom + in case Marzo gets erysipelas and breaks out violent. From what I can make + out, she means to make herself matron of this institution. I spose it's + all right, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Yuss, an horder huz abaht as if we was keb tahts! An the kepn + afride to talk bawck at er! + </p> + <p> + Lady Cicely returns with Redbrook. She carries the jar full of water. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (putting down the jar, and coming between Brassbound and + Drinkwater as before). And now, Captain, before I go to poor Marzo, what + have you to say to me? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I! Nothing. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Down't fank it, gavner. Be a men! + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (looking at Drinkwater, puzzled). Mr. Drinkwater said you had. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (recovering himself). It was only this. That fellow there + (pointing to Drinkwater) is subject to fits of insolence. If he is + impertinent to your ladyship, or disobedient, you have my authority to + order him as many kicks as you think good for him; and I will see that he + gets them. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (lifting up his voice in protest). Nah, nah— + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, I couldn't think of such a thing, Captain Brassbound. I + am sure it would hurt Mr. Drinkwater. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (lachrymosely). Lidy's hinkyp'ble o sich bawbrous usage. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But there's one thing I SHOULD like, if Mr. Drinkwater won't + mind my mentioning it. It's so important if he's to attend on Marzo. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. What is that? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Well—you WON'T mind, Mr. Drinkwater, will you? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (suspiciously). Wot is it? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. There would be so much less danger of erysipelas if you would + be so good as to take a bath. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (aghast). A bawth! + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (in tones of command). Stand by, all hands. (They stand by.) + Take that man and wash him. (With a roar of laughter they seize him.) + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (in an agony of protest). Naow, naow. Look eah— + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (ruthlessly). In COLD water. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (shrieking). Na-a-a-a-ow. Aw eawn't, aw toel yer. Naow. Aw sy, + look eah. Naow, naow, naow, naow, naow, NAOW!!! + </p> + <p> + He is dragged away through the arch in a whirlwind of laughter, protests + and tears. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I'm afraid he isn't used to it, poor fellow; but REALLY it + will do him good, Captain Brassbound. Now I must be off to my patient. + (She takes up her jar and goes out by the little door, leaving Brassbound + and Sir Howard alone together.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (rising). And now, Captain Brass— + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (cutting him short with a fierce contempt that astonishes him). + I will attend to you presently. (Calling) Johnson. Send me Johnson there. + And Osman. (He pulls off his coat and throws it on the table, standing at + his ease in his blue jersey.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (after a momentary flush of anger, with a controlled force that + compels Brassbound's attention in spite of himself). You seem to be in a + strong position with reference to these men of yours. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I am in a strong position with reference to everyone in this + castle. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (politely but threateningly). I have just been noticing that + you think so. I do not agree with you. Her Majesty's Government, Captain + Brassbound, has a strong arm and a long arm. If anything disagreeable + happens to me or to my sister-in-law, that arm will be stretched out. If + that happens you will not be in a strong position. Excuse my reminding you + of it. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (grimly). Much good may it do you! (Johnson comes in through + the arch.) Where is Osman, the Sheikh's messenger? I want him too. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Coming, Captain. He had a prayer to finish. + </p> + <p> + Osman, a tall, skinny, whiteclad, elderly Moor, appears in the archway. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Osman Ali (Osman comes forward between Brassbound and + Johnson): you have seen this unbeliever (indicating Sir Howard) come in + with us? + </p> + <p> + OSMAN. Yea, and the shameless one with the naked face, who flattered my + countenance and offered me her hand. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Yes; and you took it too, Johnny, didn't you? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Take horse, then; and ride fast to your master the Sheikh Sidi + el Assif. + </p> + <p> + OSMAN (proudly). Kinsman to the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Tell him what you have seen here. That is all. Johnson: give + him a dollar; and note the hour of his going, that his master may know how + fast he rides. + </p> + <p> + OSMAN. The believer's word shall prevail with Allah and his servant Sidi + el Assif. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Off with you. + </p> + <p> + OSMAN. Make good thy master's word ere I go out from his presence, O + Johnson el Hull. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. He wants the dollar. + </p> + <p> + Brassbound gives Osman a coin. + </p> + <p> + OSMAN (bowing). Allah will make hell easy for the friend of Sidi el Assif + and his servant. (He goes out through the arch.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (to Johnson). Keep the men out of this until the Sheikh comes. + I have business to talk over. When he does come, we must keep together + all: Sidi el Assif's natural instinct will be to cut every Christian + throat here. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. We look to you, Captain, to square him, since you invited him + over. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You can depend on me; and you know it, I think. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON (phlegmatically). Yes: we know it. (He is going out when Sir + Howard speaks.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. You know also, Mr. Johnson, I hope, that you can depend on ME. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON (turning). On YOU, sir? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Yes: on me. If my throat is cut, the Sultan of Morocco may + send Sidi's head with a hundred thousand dollars blood-money to the + Colonial Office; but it will not be enough to save his kingdom—any + more than it would saw your life, if your Captain here did the same thing. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON (struck). Is that so, Captain? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I know the gentleman's value—better perhaps than he + knows it himself. I shall not lose sight of it. + </p> + <p> + Johnson nods gravely, and is going out when Lady Cicely returns softly by + the little door and calls to him in a whisper. She has taken off her + travelling things and put on an apron. At her chatelaine is a case of + sewing materials. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Mr. Johnson. (He turns.) I've got Marzo to sleep. Would you + mind asking the gentlemen not to make a noise under his window in the + courtyard. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Right, maam. (He goes out.) + </p> + <p> + Lady Cicely sits down at the tiny table, and begins stitching at a sling + bandage for Marzo's arm. Brassbound walks up and down on her right, + muttering to himself so ominously that Sir Howard quietly gets out of his + way by crossing to the other side and sitting down on the second saddle + seat. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Are you yet able to attend to me for a moment, Captain + Brassbound? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (still walking about). What do you want? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Well, I am afraid I want a little privacy, and, if you will + allow me to say so, a little civility. I am greatly obliged to you for + bringing us safely off to-day when we were attacked. So far, you have + carried out your contract. But since we have been your guests here, your + tone and that of the worst of your men has changed—intentionally + changed, I think. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (stopping abruptly and flinging the announcement at him). You + are not my guest: you are my prisoner. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Prisoner! + </p> + <p> + Lady Cicely, after a single glance up, continues stitching, apparently + quite unconcerned. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I warned you. You should have taken my warning. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (immediately taking the tone of cold disgust for moral + delinquency). Am I to understand, then, that you are a brigand? Is this a + matter of ransom? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (with unaccountable intensity). All the wealth of England shall + not ransom you. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Then what do you expect to gain by this? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Justice on a thief and a murderer. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cicely lays down her work and looks up anxiously. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (deeply outraged, rising with venerable dignity). Sir: do you + apply those terms to me? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I do. (He turns to Lady Cicely, and adds, pointing + contemptuously to Sir Howard) Look at him. You would not take this + virtuously indignant gentleman for the uncle of a brigand, would you? + </p> + <p> + Sir Howard starts. The shock is too much for him: he sits down again, + looking very old; and his hands tremble; but his eyes and mouth are + intrepid, resolute, and angry. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Uncle! What do you mean? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Has he never told you about my mother? this fellow who puts on + ermine and scarlet and calls himself Justice. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (almost voiceless). You are the son of that woman! + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (fiercely). "That woman!" (He makes a movement as if to rush at + Sir Howard.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (rising quickly and putting her hand on his arm). Take care. + You mustn't strike an old man. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (raging). He did not spare my mother—"that woman," he + calls her—because of her sex. I will not spare him because of his + age. (Lowering his tone to one of sullen vindictiveness) But I am not + going to strike him. (Lady Cicely releases him, and sits down, much + perplexed. Brassbound continues, with an evil glance at Sir Howard) I + shall do no more than justice. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (recovering his voice and vigor). Justice! I think you mean + vengeance, disguised as justice by your passions. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. To many and many a poor wretch in the dock YOU have brought + vengeance in that disguise—the vengeance of society, disguised as + justice by ITS passions. Now the justice you have outraged meets you + disguised as vengeance. How do you like it? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I shall meet it, I trust, as becomes an innocent man and an + upright judge. What do you charge against me? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I charge you with the death of my mother and the theft of my + inheritance. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. As to your inheritance, sir, it was yours whenever you came + forward to claim it. Three minutes ago I did not know of your existence. I + affirm that most solemnly. I never knew—never dreamt—that my + brother Miles left a son. As to your mother, her case was a hard one—perhaps + the hardest that has come within even my experience. I mentioned it, as + such, to Mr. Rankin, the missionary, the evening we met you. As to her + death, you know—you MUST know—that she died in her native + country, years after our last meeting. Perhaps you were too young to know + that she could hardly have expected to live long. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You mean that she drank. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I did not say so. I do not think she was always accountable + for what she did. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Yes: she was mad too; and whether drink drove her to madness + or madness drove her to drink matters little. The question is, who drove + her to both? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I presume the dishonest agent who seized her estate did. I + repeat, it was a hard case—a frightful injustice. But it could not + be remedied. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You told her so. When she would not take that false answer you + drove her from your doors. When she exposed you in the street and + threatened to take with her own hands the redress the law denied her, you + had her imprisoned, and forced her to write you an apology and leave the + country to regain her liberty and save herself from a lunatic asylum. And + when she was gone, and dead, and forgotten, you found for yourself the + remedy you could not find for her. You recovered the estate easily enough + then, robber and rascal that you are. Did he tell the missionary that, + Lady Cicely, eh? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (sympathetically). Poor woman! (To Sir Howard) Couldn't you + have helped her, Howard? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. No. This man may be ignorant enough to suppose that when I was + a struggling barrister I could do everything I did when I was Attorney + General. You know better. There is some excuse for his mother. She was an + uneducated Brazilian, knowing nothing of English society, and driven mad + by injustice. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Your defence— + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (interrupting him determinedly). I do not defend myself. I call + on you to obey the law. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I intend to do so. The law of the Atlas Mountains is + administered by the Sheikh Sidi el Assif. He will be here within an hour. + He is a judge like yourself. You can talk law to him. He will give you + both the law and the prophets. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Does he know what the power of England is? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. He knows that the Mahdi killed my master Gordon, and that the + Mahdi died in his bed and went to paradise. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Then he knows also that England's vengeance was on the Mahdi's + track. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Ay, on the track of the railway from the Cape to Cairo. Who + are you, that a nation should go to war for you? If you are missing, what + will your newspapers say? A foolhardy tourist. What will your learned + friends at the bar say? That it was time for you to make room for younger + and better men. YOU a national hero! You had better find a goldfield in + the Atlas Mountains. Then all the governments of Europe will rush to your + rescue. Until then, take care of yourself; for you are going to see at + last the hypocrisy in the sanctimonious speech of the judge who is + sentencing you, instead of the despair in the white face of the wretch you + are recommending to the mercy of your God. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (deeply and personally offended by this slight to his + profession, and for the first time throwing away his assumed dignity and + rising to approach Brassbound with his fists clenched; so that Lady Cicely + lifts one eye from her work to assure herself that the table is between + them). I have no more to say to you, sir. I am not afraid of you, nor of + any bandit with whom you may be in league. As to your property, it is + ready for you as soon as you come to your senses and claim it as your + father's heir. Commit a crime, and you will become an outlaw, and not only + lose the property, but shut the doors of civilization against yourself for + ever. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I will not sell my mother's revenge for ten properties. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (placidly). Besides, really, Howard, as the property now costs + 150 pounds a year to keep up instead of bringing in anything, I am afraid + it would not be of much use to him. (Brassbound stands amazed at this + revelation.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (taken aback). I must say, Cicely, I think you might have + chosen a more suitable moment to mention that fact. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (with disgust). Agh! Trickster! Lawyer! Even the price you + offer for your life is to be paid in false coin. (Calling) Hallo there! + Johnson! Redbrook! Some of you there! (To Sir Howard) You ask for a little + privacy: you shall have it. I will not endure the company of such a fellow— + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (very angry, and full of the crustiest pluck). You insult me, + sir. You are a rascal. You are a rascal. + </p> + <p> + Johnson, Redbrook, and a few others come in through the arch. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Take this man away. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Where are we to put him? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Put him where you please so long as you can find him when he + is wanted. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. You will be laid by the heels yet, my friend. + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (with cheerful tact). Tut tut, Sir Howard: what's the use of + talking back? Come along: we'll make you comfortable. + </p> + <p> + Sir Howard goes out through the arch between Johnson and Redbrook, + muttering wrathfully. The rest, except Brassbound and Lady Cicely, follow. + </p> + <p> + Brassbound walks up and down the room, nursing his indignation. In doing + so he unconsciously enters upon an unequal contest with Lady Cicely, who + sits quietly stitching. It soon becomes clear that a tranquil woman can go + on sewing longer than an angry man can go on fuming. Further, it begins to + dawn on Brassbound's wrath-blurred perception that Lady Cicely has at some + unnoticed stage in the proceedings finished Marzo's bandage, and is now + stitching a coat. He stops; glances at his shirtsleeves; finally realizes + the situation. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. What are you doing there, madam? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Mending your coat, Captain Brassbound. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I have no recollection of asking you to take that trouble. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. No: I don't suppose you even knew it was torn. Some men are + BORN untidy. You cannot very well receive Sidi el—what's his name?—with + your sleeve half out. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (disconcerted). I—I don't know how it got torn. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. You should not get virtuously indignant with people. It + bursts clothes more than anything else, Mr. Hallam. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (flushing, quickly). I beg you will not call me Mr. Hallam. I + hate the name. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Black Paquito is your pet name, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (huffily). I am not usually called so to my face. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (turning the coat a little). I'm so sorry. (She takes another + piece of thread and puts it into her needle, looking placidly and + reflectively upward meanwhile.) Do you know, You are wonderfully like your + uncle. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Damnation! + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Eh? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. If I thought my veins contained a drop of his black blood, I + would drain them empty with my knife. I have no relations. I had a mother: + that was all. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (unconvinced) I daresay you have your mother's complexion. But + didn't you notice Sir Howard's temper, his doggedness, his high spirit: + above all, his belief in ruling people by force, as you rule your men; and + in revenge and punishment, just as you want to revenge your mother? Didn't + you recognize yourself in that? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (startled). Myself!—in that! + </p> + <p> + LADY CECILY (returning to the tailoring question as if her last remark + were of no consequence whatever). Did this sleeve catch you at all under + the arm? Perhaps I had better make it a little easier for you. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (irritably). Let my coat alone. It will do very well as it is. + Put it down. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICILY. Oh, don't ask me to sit doing nothing. It bores me so. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. In Heaven's name then, do what you like! Only don't worry me + with it. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I'm so sorry. All the Hallams are irritable. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (penning up his fury with difficulty). As I have already said, + that remark has no application to me. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (resuming her stitching). That's so funny! They all hate to be + told that they are like one another. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (with the beginnings of despair in his voice). Why did you come + here? My trap was laid for him, not for you. Do you know the danger you + are in? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. There's always a danger of something or other. Do you think + it's worth bothering about? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (scolding her). Do I THINK! Do you think my coat's worth + mending? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (prosaically). Oh yes: it's not so far gone as that. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Have you any feeling? Or are you a fool? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I'm afraid I'm a dreadful fool. But I can't help it. I was + made so, I suppose. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Perhaps you don't realize that your friend my good uncle will + be pretty fortunate if he is allowed to live out his life as a slave with + a set of chains on him? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, I don't know about that, Mr. H—I mean Captain + Brassbound. Men are always thinking that they are going to do something + grandly wicked to their enemies; but when it comes to the point, really + bad men are just as rare as really good ones. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You forget that I am like my uncle, according to you. Have you + any doubt as to the reality of HIS badness? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Bless me! your uncle Howard is one of the most harmless of + men—much nicer than most professional people. Of course he does + dreadful things as a judge; but then if you take a man and pay him 5,000 + pounds a year to be wicked, and praise him for it, and have policemen and + courts and laws and juries to drive him into it so that he can't help + doing it, what can you expect? Sir Howard's all right when he's left to + himself. We caught a burglar one night at Waynflete when he was staying + with us; and I insisted on his locking the poor man up until the police + came, in a room with a window opening on the lawn. The man came back next + day and said he must return to a life of crime unless I gave him a job in + the garden; and I did. It was much more sensible than giving him ten years + penal servitude: Howard admitted it. So you see he's not a bit bad really. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. He had a fellow feeling for a thief, knowing he was a thief + himself. Do you forget that he sent my mother to prison? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (softly). Were you very fond of your poor mother, and always + very good to her? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (rather taken aback). I was not worse than other sons, I + suppose. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (opening her eyes very widely). Oh! Was THAT all? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (exculpating himself, full of gloomy remembrances). You don't + understand. It was not always possible to be very tender with my mother. + She had unfortunately a very violent temper; and she—she— + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Yes: so you told Howard. (With genuine pity for him) You must + have had a very unhappy childhood. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (grimily). Hell. That was what my childhood was. Hell. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Do you think she would really have killed Howard, as she + threatened, if he hadn't sent her to prison? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (breaking out again, with a growing sense of being morally + trapped). What if she did? Why did he rob her? Why did he not help her to + get the estate, as he got it for himself afterwards? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. He says he couldn't, you know. But perhaps the real reason + was that he didn't like her. You know, don't you, that if you don't like + people you think of all the reasons for not helping them, and if you like + them you think of all the opposite reasons. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. But his duty as a brother! + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Are you going to do your duty as a nephew? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Don't quibble with me. I am going to do my duty as a son; and + you know it. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But I should have thought that the time for that was in your + mother's lifetime, when you could have been kind and forbearing with her. + Hurting your uncle won't do her any good, you know. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. It will teach other scoundrels to respect widows and orphans. + Do you forget that there is such a thing as justice? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (gaily shaking out the finished coat). Oh, if you are going to + dress yourself in ermine and call yourself Justice, I give you up. You are + just your uncle over again; only he gets £5,000 a year for it, and you do + it for nothing. + </p> + <p> + (She holds the coat up to see whether any further repairs are needed.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (sulkily). You twist my words very cleverly. But no man or + woman has ever changed me. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Dear me! That must be very nice for the people you deal with, + because they can always depend on you; but isn't it rather inconvenient + for yourself when you change your mind? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I never change my mind. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (rising with the coat in her hands). Oh! Oh!! Nothing will + ever persuade me that you are as pigheaded as that. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (offended). Pigheaded! + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (with quick, caressing apology). No, no, no. I didn't mean + that. Firm! Unalterable! Resolute! Ironwilled! Stonewall Jackson! That's + the idea, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (hopelessly). You are laughing at me. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. No: trembling, I assure you. Now will you try this on for me: + I'm SO afraid I have made it too tight under the arm. (She holds it behind + him.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (obeying mechanically). You take me for a fool I think. (He + misses the sleeve.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. No: all men look foolish when they are feeling for their + sleeves. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Agh! (He turns and snatches the coat from her; then puts it on + himself and buttons the lowest button.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (horrified). Stop. No. You must NEVER pull a coat at the + skirts, Captain Brassbound: it spoils the sit of it. Allow me. (She pulls + the lappels of his coat vigorously forward) Put back your shoulders. (He + frowns, but obeys.) That's better. (She buttons the top button.) Now + button the rest from the top down. DOES it catch you at all under the arm? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (miserably—all resistance beaten out of him). No. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. That's right. Now before I go back to poor Marzo, say thank + you to me for mending your jacket, like a nice polite sailor. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (sitting down at the table in great agitation). Damn you! you + have belittled my whole life to me. (He bows his head on his hands, + convulsed.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (quite understanding, and putting her hand kindly on his + shoulder). Oh no. I am sure you have done lots of kind things and brave + things, if you could only recollect them. With Gordon for instance? Nobody + can belittle that. + </p> + <p> + He looks up at her for a moment; then kisses her hand. She presses his and + turns away with her eyes so wet that she sees Drinkwater, coming in + through the arch just then, with a prismatic halo round him. Even when she + sees him clearly, she hardly recognizes him; for he is ludicrously clean + and smoothly brushed; and his hair, formerly mud color, is now a lively + red. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Look eah, kepn. (Brassbound springs up and recovers himself + quickly.) Eahs the bloomin Shike jest appeahd on the orawzn wiv abaht + fifty men. Thy'll be eah insawd o ten minnits, they will. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. The Sheikh! + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Sidi el Assif and fifty men! (To Lady Cicely) You were too + late: I gave you up my vengeance when it was no longer in my hand. (To + Drinkwater) Call all hands to stand by and shut the gates. Then all here + to me for orders; and bring the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Rawt, kepn. (He runs out.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Is there really any danger for Howard? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Yes. Danger for all of us unless I keep to my bargain with + this fanatic. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. What bargain? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I pay him so much a head for every party I escort through to + the interior. In return he protects me and lets my caravans alone. But I + have sworn an oath to him to take only Jews and true believers—no + Christians, you understand. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Then why did you take us? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I took my uncle on purpose—and sent word to Sidi that he + was here. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Well, that's a pretty kettle of fish, isn't it? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I will do what I can to save him—and you. But I fear my + repentance has come too late, as repentance usually does. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (cheerfully). Well, I must go and look after Marzo, at all + events. (She goes out through the little door. Johnson, Redbrook and the + rest come in through the arch, with Sir Howard, still very crusty and + determined. He keeps close to Johnson, who comes to Brassbound's right, + Redbrook taking the other side.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Where's Drinkwater? + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. On the lookout. Look here, Capn: we don't half like this job. The + gentleman has been talking to us a bit; and we think that he IS a + gentleman, and talks straight sense. + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. Righto, Brother Johnson. (To Brassbound) Won't do, governor. Not + good enough. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (fiercely). Mutiny, eh? + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. Not at all, governor. Don't talk Tommy rot with Brother Sidi + only five minutes gallop off. Can't hand over an Englishman to a nigger to + have his throat cut. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (unexpectedly acquiescing). Very good. You know, I suppose, + that if you break my bargain with Sidi, you'll have to defend this place + and fight for your lives in five minutes. That can't be done without + discipline: you know that too. I'll take my part with the rest under + whatever leader you are willing to obey. So choose your captain and look + sharp about it. (Murmurs of surprise and discontent.) + </p> + <p> + VOICES. No, no. Brassbound must command. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You're wasting your five minutes. Try Johnson. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. No. I haven't the head for it. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Well, Redbrook. + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. Not this Johnny, thank you. Haven't character enough. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Well, there's Sir Howard Hallam for You! HE has character + enough. + </p> + <p> + A VOICE. He's too old. + </p> + <p> + ALL. No, no. Brassbound, Brassbound. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. There's nobody but you, Captain. + </p> + <p> + REDRROOK. The mutiny's over, governor. You win, hands down. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (turning on them). Now listen, you, all of you. If I am to + command here, I am going to do what I like, not what you like. I'll give + this gentleman here to Sidi or to the devil if I choose. I'll not be + intimidated or talked back to. Is that understood? + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (diplomatically). He's offered a present of five hundred quid if + he gets safe back to Mogador, governor. Excuse my mentioning it. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Myself AND Lady Cicely. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. What! A judge compound a felony! You greenhorns, he is more + likely to send you all to penal servitude if you are fools enough to give + him the chance. + </p> + <p> + VOICES. So he would. Whew! (Murmurs of conviction.) + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. Righto, governor. That's the ace of trumps. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (to Sir Howard). Now, have you any other card to play? Any + other bribe? Any other threat? Quick. Time presses. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. My life is in the hands of Providence. Do your worst. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Or my best. I still have that choice. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (running in). Look eah, kepn. Eah's anather lot cammin from the + sahth heast. Hunnerds of em, this tawm. The owl dezzit is lawk a bloomin + Awd Pawk demonstrition. Aw blieve it's the Kidy from Kintorfy. (General + alarm. All look to Brassbound.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (eagerly). The Cadi! How far off? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Matter o two mawl. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. We're saved. Open the gates to the Sheikh. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (appalled, almost in tears). Naow, naow. Lissn, kepn (Pointing + to Sir Howard): e'll give huz fawv unnerd red uns. (To the others) Ynt yer + spowk to im, Miste Jornsn—Miste Redbrook— + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (cutting him short). Now then, do you understand plain English? + Johnson and Redbrook: take what men you want and open the gates to the + Sheikh. Let him come straight to me. Look alive, will you. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Ay ay, sir. + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. Righto, governor. + </p> + <p> + They hurry out, with a few others. Drinkwater stares after them, + dumbfounded by their obedience. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (taking out a pistol). You wanted to sell me to my prisoner, + did you, you dog. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (falling on his knees with a yell). Naow! (Brassbound turns on + him as if to kick him. He scrambles away and takes refuge behind Sir + Howard.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Sir Howard Hallam: you have one chance left. The Cadi of + Kintafi stands superior to the Sheikh as the responsible governor of the + whole province. It is the Cadi who will be sacrificed by the Sultan if + England demands satisfaction for any injury to you. If we can hold the + Sheikh in parley until the Cadi arrives, you may frighten the Cadi into + forcing the Sheikh to release you. The Cadi's coming is a lucky chance for + YOU. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. If it were a real chance, you would not tell me of it. Don't + try to play cat and mouse with me, man. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (aside to Sir Howard, as Brassbound turns contemptuously away + to the other side of the room). It ynt mach of a chawnst, Sr Ahrd. But if + there was a ganbowt in Mogador Awbr, awd put a bit on it, aw would. + </p> + <p> + Johnson, Redbrook, and the others return, rather mistrustfully ushering in + Sidi el Assif, attended by Osman and a troop of Arabs. Brassbound's men + keep together on the archway side, backing their captain. Sidi's followers + cross the room behind the table and assemble near Sir Howard, who stands + his ground. Drinkwater runs across to Brassbound and stands at his elbow + as he turns to face Sidi. + </p> + <p> + Sidi el Aasif, clad in spotless white, is a nobly handsome Arab, hardly + thirty, with fine eyes, bronzed complexion, and instinctively dignified + carriage. He places himself between the two groups, with Osman in + attendance at his right hand. + </p> + <p> + OSMAN (pointing out Sir Howard). This is the infidel Cadi. (Sir Howard + bows to Sidi, but, being an infidel, receives only the haughtiest stare in + acknowledgement.) This (pointing to Brassbound) is Brassbound the + Franguestani captain, the servant of Sidi. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (not to be outdone, points out the Sheikh and Osman to + Brassbound). This eah is the Commawnder of the Fythful an is Vizzeer + Rosman. + </p> + <p> + SIDI. Where is the woman? + </p> + <p> + OSMAN. The shameless one is not here. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Sidi el Assif, kinsman of the Prophet: you are welcome. + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (with much aplomb). There is no majesty and no might save in + Allah, the Glorious, the Great! + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Eah, eah! + </p> + <p> + OSMAN (to Sidi). The servant of the captain makes his profession of faith + as a true believer. + </p> + <p> + SIDI. It is well. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (aside to Redbrook). Where did you pick that up? + </p> + <p> + REDRROOK (aside to Brassbound). Captain Burton's Arabian Nights—copy + in the library of the National Liberal Club. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (calling without). Mr. Drinkwater. Come and help me with + Marzo. (The Sheikh pricks up his ears. His nostrils and eyes expand.) + </p> + <p> + OSMAN. The shameless one! + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (to Drinkwater, seizing him by the collar and slinging him + towards the door). Off with you. + </p> + <p> + Drinkwater goes out through the little door. + </p> + <p> + OSMAN. Shall we hide her face before she enters? + </p> + <p> + SIDI. NO. + </p> + <p> + Lady Cicely, who has resumed her travelling equipment, and has her hat + slung across her arm, comes through the little door supporting Marzo, who + is very white, but able to get about. Drinkwater has his other arm. + Redbrook hastens to relieve Lady Cicely of Marzo, taking him into the + group behind Brassbound. Lady Cicely comes forward between Brassbound and + the Sheikh, to whom she turns affably. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (proffering her hand). Sidi el Assif, isn't it? How dye do? + (He recoils, blushing somewhat.) + </p> + <p> + OSMAN (scandalized). Woman; touch not the kinsman of the Prophet. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, I see. I'm being presented at court. Very good. (She + makes a presentation curtsey.) + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. Sidi el Assif: this is one of the mighty women Sheikhs of + Franguestan. She goes unveiled among Kings; and only princes may touch her + hand. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Allah upon thee, Sidi el Assif! Be a good little Sheikh, and + shake hands. + </p> + <p> + SIDI (timidly touching her hand). Now this is a wonderful thing, and + worthy to be chronicled with the story of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. + Is it not so, Osman Ali? + </p> + <p> + OSMAN. Allah upon thee, master! it is so. + </p> + <p> + SIDI. Brassbound Ali: the oath of a just man fulfils itself without many + words. The infidel Cadi, thy captive, falls to my share. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (firmly). It cannot be, Sidi el Assif. (Sidi's brows contract + gravely.) The price of his blood will be required of our lord the Sultan. + I will take him to Morocco and deliver him up there. + </p> + <p> + SIDI (impressively). Brassbound: I am in mine own house and amid mine own + people. I am the Sultan here. Consider what you say; for when my word goes + forth for life or death, it may not be recalled. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Sidi el Assif: I will buy the man from you at what price you + choose to name; and if I do not pay faithfully, you shall take my head for + his. + </p> + <p> + SIDI. It is well. You shall keep the man, and give me the woman in + payment. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD AND BRASSBOUND (with the same impulse). No, no. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (eagerly). Yes, yes. Certainly, Mr. Sidi. Certainly. + </p> + <p> + Sidi smiles gravely. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Impossible. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You don't know what you're doing. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, don't I? I've not crossed Africa and stayed with six + cannibal chiefs for nothing. (To the Sheikh) It's all right, Mr. Sidi: I + shall be delighted. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. You are mad. Do you suppose this man will treat you as a + European gentleman would? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. No: he'll treat me like one of Nature's gentlemen: look at + his perfectly splendid face! (Addressing Osman as if he were her oldest + and most attached retainer.) Osman: be sure you choose me a good horse; + and get a nice strong camel for my luggage. + </p> + <p> + Osman, after a moment of stupefaction, hurries out. Lady Cicely puts on + her hat and pins it to her hair, the Sheikh gazing at her during the + process with timid admiration. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (chuckling). She'll mawch em all to church next Sunder lawk a + bloomin lot o' cherrity kids: you see if she doesn't. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (busily). Goodbye, Howard: don't be anxious about me; and + above all, don't bring a parcel of men with guns to rescue me. I shall be + all right now that I am getting away from the escort. Captain Brassbound: + I rely on you to see that Sir Howard gets safe to Mogador. (Whispering) + Take your hand off that pistol. (He takes his hand out of his pocket, + reluctantly.) Goodbye. + </p> + <p> + A tumult without. They all turn apprehensively to the arch. Osman rushes + in. + </p> + <p> + OSMAN. The Cadi, the Cadi. He is in anger. His men are upon us. Defend— + </p> + <p> + The Cadi, a vigorous, fatfeatured, choleric, whitehaired and bearded + elder, rushes in, cudgel in hand, with an overwhelming retinue, and + silences Osman with a sounding thwack. In a moment the back of the room is + crowded with his followers. The Sheikh retreats a little towards his men; + and the Cadi comes impetuously forward between him and Lady Cicely. + </p> + <p> + THE CADI. Now woe upon thee, Sidi el Assif, thou child of mischief! + </p> + <p> + SIDI (sternly). Am I a dog, Muley Othman, that thou speakest thus to me? + </p> + <p> + THE CADI. Wilt thou destroy thy country, and give us all into the hands of + them that set the sea on fire but yesterday with their ships of war? Where + are the Franguestani captives? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Here we are, Cadi. How dye do? + </p> + <p> + THE CADI. Allah upon thee, thou moon at the full! Where is thy kinsman, + the Cadi of Franguestan? I am his friend, his servant. I come on behalf of + my master the Sultan to do him honor, and to cast down his enemies. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. You are very good, I am sure. + </p> + <p> + SIDI (graver than ever). Muley Othman— + </p> + <p> + TAE CADI (fumbling in his breast). Peace, peace, thou inconsiderate one. + (He takes out a letter.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Cadi— + </p> + <p> + THE CADI. Oh thou dog, thou, thou accursed Brassbound, son of a wanton: it + is thou hast led Sidi el Assif into this wrongdoing. Read this writing + that thou hast brought upon me from the commander of the warship. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Warship! (He takes the letter and opens it, his men whispering + to one another very low-spiritedly meanwhile.) + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. Warship! Whew! + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Gunboat, praps. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Lawk bloomin Worterleoo buses, they are, on this cowst. + </p> + <p> + Brassbound folds up the letter, looking glum. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (sharply). Well, sir, are we not to have the benefit of that + letter? Your men are waiting to hear it, I think. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. It is not a British ship. (Sir Howard's face falls.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. What is it, then? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. An American cruiser. The Santiago. + </p> + <p> + THE CADI (tearing his beard). Woe! alas! it is where they set the sea on + fire. + </p> + <p> + SIDI. Peace, Muley Othman: Allah is still above us. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Would you mind readin it to us, capn? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (grimly). Oh, I'll read it to you. "Mogador Harbor. 26 Sept. + 1899. Captain Hamlin Kearney, of the cruiser Santiago, presents the + compliments of the United States to the Cadi Muley Othman el Kintafi, and + announces that he is coming to look for the two British travellers Sir + Howard Hallam and Lady Cicely Waynflete, in the Cadi's jurisdiction. As + the search will be conducted with machine guns, the prompt return of the + travellers to Mogador Harbor will save much trouble to all parties." + </p> + <p> + THE CADI. As I live, O Cadi, and thou, moon of loveliness, ye shall be led + back to Mogador with honor. And thou, accursed Brassbound, shalt go + thither a prisoner in chains, thou and thy people. (Brassbound and his men + make a movement to defend themselves.) Seize them. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, please don't fight. (Brassbound, seeing that his men are + hopelessly outnumbered, makes no resistance. They are made prisoners by + the Cadi's followers.) + </p> + <p> + SIDI (attempting to draw his scimitar). The woman is mine: I will not + forego her. (He is seized and overpowered after a Homeric struggle.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (drily). I told you you were not in a strong position, Captain + Brassbound. (Looking implacably at him.) You are laid by the heels, my + friend, as I said you would be. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But I assure you— + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (interrupting her). What have you to assure him of? You + persuaded me to spare him. Look at his face. Will you be able to persuade + him to spare me? + </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> + ACT III + </h2> + <p> + Torrid forenoon filtered through small Moorish windows high up in the + adobe walls of the largest room in Leslie Rankin's house. A clean cool + room, with the table (a Christian article) set in the middle, a + presidentially elbowed chair behind it, and an inkstand and paper ready + for the sitter. A couple of cheap American chairs right and left of the + table, facing the same way as the presidential chair, give a judicial + aspect to the arrangement. Rankin is placing a little tray with a jug and + some glasses near the inkstand when Lady Cicely's voice is heard at the + door, which is behind him in the corner to his right. + </p> + <p> + LADE CICELY. Good morning. May I come in? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Certainly. (She comes in, to the nearest end of the table. She has + discarded all travelling equipment, and is dressed exactly as she might be + in Surrey on a very hot day.) Sit ye doon, Leddy Ceecily. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (sitting down). How nice you've made the room for the inquiry! + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (doubtfully). I could wish there were more chairs. Yon American + captain will preside in this; and that leaves but one for Sir Howrrd and + one for your leddyship. I could almost be tempted to call it a maircy that + your friend that owns the yacht has sprained his ankle and cannot come. I + misdoubt me it will not look judeecial to have Captain Kearney's officers + squatting on the floor. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, they won't mind. What about the prisoners? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. They are to be broat here from the town gaol presently. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. And where is that silly old Cadi, and my handsome Sheikh + Sidi? I must see them before the inquiry,or they'll give Captain Kearney + quite a false impression of what happened. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. But ye cannot see them. They decamped last night, back to their + castles in the Atlas. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (delighted). No! + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Indeed and they did. The poor Cadi is so terrified by all he has + haird of the destruction of the Spanish fleet, that he daren't trust + himself in the captain's hands. (Looking reproachfully at her) On your + journey back here, ye seem to have frightened the poor man yourself, Leddy + Ceecily, by talking to him about the fanatical Chreestianity of the + Americans. Ye have largely yourself to thank if he's gone. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Allah be praised! WHAT a weight off our minds, Mr. Rankin! + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (puzzled). And why? Do ye not understand how necessary their + evidence is? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. THEIR evidence! It would spoil everything. They would perjure + themselves out of pure spite against poor Captain Brassbound. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (amazed). Do ye call him POOR Captain Brassbound! Does not your + leddyship know that this Brasshound is—Heaven forgive me for judging + him!—a precious scoundrel? Did ye not hear what Sir Howrrd told me + on the yacht last night? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. All a mistake, Mr. Rankin: all a mistake, I assure you. You + said just now, Heaven forgive you for judging him! Well, that's just what + the whole quarrel is about. Captain Brassbound is just like you: he thinks + we have no right to judge one another; and its Sir Howard gets £5,000 a + year for doing nothing else but judging people, he thinks poor Captain + Brassbound a regular Anarchist. They quarreled dreadfully at the castle. + You mustn't mind what Sir Howard says about him: you really mustn't. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. But his conduct— + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Perfectly saintly, Mr. Rankin. Worthy of yourself in your + best moments. He forgave Sir Howard, and did all he could to save him. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Ye astoanish me, Leddy Ceecily. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. And think of the temptation to behave badly when he had us + all there helpless! + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. The temptation! ay: that's true. Ye're ower bonny to be cast away + among a parcel o lone, lawless men, my leddy. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (naively). Bless me, that's quite true; and I never thought of + it! Oh, after that you really must do all you can to help Captain + Brassbound. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (reservedly). No: I cannot say that, Leddy Ceecily. I doubt he has + imposed on your good nature and sweet disposeetion. I had a crack with the + Cadi as well as with Sir Howrrd; and there is little question in my mind + but that Captain Brassbound is no better than a breegand. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (apparently deeply impressed). I wonder whether he can be, Mr. + Rankin. If you think so, that's heavily against him in my opinion, because + you have more knowledge of men than anyone else here. Perhaps I'm + mistaken. I only thought you might like to help him as the son of your old + friend. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (startled). The son of my old friend! What d'ye mean? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh! Didn't Sir Howard tell you that? Why, Captain Brassbound + turns out to be Sir Howard's nephew, the son of the brother you knew. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (overwhelmed). I saw the likeness the night he came here! It's + true: it's true. Uncle and nephew! + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Yes: that's why they quarrelled so. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (with a momentary sense of ill usage). I think Sir Howrrd might + have told me that. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Of course he OUGHT to have told you. You see he only tells + one side of the story. That comes from his training as a barrister. You + mustn't think he's naturally deceitful: if he'd been brought up as a + clergyman, he'd have told you the whole truth as a matter of course. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (too much perturbed to dwell on his grievance). Leddy Ceecily: I + must go to the prison and see the lad. He may have been a bit wild; but I + can't leave poor Miles's son unbefriended in a foreign gaol. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (rising, radiant). Oh, how good of you! You have a real kind + heart of gold, Mr. Rankin. Now, before you go, shall we just put our heads + together, and consider how to give Miles's son every chance—I mean + of course every chance that he ought to have. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (rather addled). I am so confused by this astoanishing news— + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Yes, yes: of course you are. But don't you think he would + make a better impression on the American captain if he were a little more + respectably dressed? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Mebbe. But how can that be remedied here in Mogador? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, I've thought of that. You know I'm going back to England + by way of Rome, Mr. Rankin; and I'm bringing a portmanteau full of clothes + for my brother there: he's ambassador, you know, and has to be VERY + particular as to what he wears. I had the portmanteau brought here this + morning. Now WOULD you mind taking it to the prison, and smartening up + Captain Brassbound a little. Tell him he ought to do it to show his + respect for me; and he will. It will be quite easy: there are two Krooboys + waiting to carry the portmanteau. You will: I know you will. (She edges + him to the door.) And do you think there is time to get him shaved? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (succumbing, half bewildered). I'll do my best. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I know you will. (As he is going out) Oh! one word, Mr. + Rankin. (He comes back.) The Cadi didn't know that Captain Brassbound was + Sir Howard's nephew, did he? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. No. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Then he must have misunderstood everything quite dreadfully. + I'm afraid, Mr. Rankin—though you know best, of course—that we + are bound not to repeat anything at the inquiry that the Cadi said. He + didn't know, you see. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (cannily). I take your point, Leddy Ceecily. It alters the case. I + shall certainly make no allusion to it. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (magnanimously). Well, then, I won't either. There! They shake + hands on it. Sir Howard comes in. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Good morning Mr. Rankin. I hope you got home safely from the + yacht last night. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Quite safe, thank ye, Sir Howrrd. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Howard, he's in a hurry. Don't make him stop to talk. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Very good, very good. (He comes to the table and takes Lady + Cicely's chair.) + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Oo revoir, Leddy Ceecily. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Bless you, Mr. Rankin. (Rankin goes out. She comes to the + other end of the table, looking at Sir Howard with a troubled, sorrowfully + sympathetic air, but unconsciously making her right hand stalk about the + table on the tips of its fingers in a tentative stealthy way which would + put Sir Howard on his guard if he were in a suspicious frame of mind, + which, as it happens, he is not.) I'm so sorry for you, Howard, about this + unfortunate inquiry. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (swinging round on his chair, astonished). Sorry for ME! Why? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. It will look so dreadful. Your own nephew, you know. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Cicely: an English judge has no nephews, no sons even, when he + has to carry out the law. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But then he oughtn't to have any property either. People will + never understand about the West Indian Estate. They'll think you're the + wicked uncle out of the Babes in the Wood. (With a fresh gush of + compassion) I'm so SO sorry for you. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (rather stiffly). I really do not see how I need your + commiseration, Cicely. The woman was an impossible person, half mad, half + drunk. Do you understand what such a creature is when she has a grievance, + and imagines some innocent person to be the author of it? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (with a touch of impatience). Oh, quite. THAT'll be made clear + enough. I can see it all in the papers already: our half mad, half drunk + sister-in-law, making scenes with you in the street, with the police + called in, and prison and all the rest of it. The family will be furious. + (Sir Howard quails. She instantly follows up her advantage with) Think of + papa! + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I shall expect Lord Waynflete to look at the matter as a + reasonable man. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Do you think he's so greatly changed as that, Howard? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (falling back on the fatalism of the depersonalized public + man). My dear Cicely: there is no use discussing the matter. It cannot be + helped, however disagreeable it may be. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Of course not. That's what's so dreadful. Do you think people + will understand? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I really cannot say. Whether they do or not, I cannot help it. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. If you were anybody but a judge, it wouldn't matter so much. + But a judge mustn't even be misunderstood. (Despairingly) Oh, it's + dreadful, Howard: it's terrible! What would poor Mary say if she were + alive now? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (with emotion). I don't think, Cicely, that my dear wife would + misunderstand me. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. No: SHE'D know you mean well. And when you came home and + said, "Mary: I've just told all the world that your sister-in-law was a + police court criminal, and that I sent her to prison; and your nephew is a + brigand, and I'm sending HIM to prison." she'd have thought it must be all + right because you did it. But you don't think she would have LIKED it, any + more than papa and the rest of us, do you? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (appalled). But what am I to do? Do you ask me to compound a + felony? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (sternly). Certainly not. I would not allow such a thing, even + if you were wicked enough to attempt it. No. What I say is, that you ought + not to tell the story yourself + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Why? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Because everybody would say you are such a clever lawyer you + could make a poor simple sailor like Captain Kearney believe anything. The + proper thing for you to do, Howard, is to let ME tell the exact truth. + Then you can simply say that you are bound to confirm me. Nobody can blame + you for that. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (looking suspiciously at her). Cicely: you are up to some + devilment. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (promptly washing her hands of his interests). Oh, very well. + Tell the story yourself, in your own clever way. I only proposed to tell + the exact truth. You call that devilment. So it is, I daresay, from a + lawyer's point of view. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I hope you're not offended. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (with the utmost goodhumor). My dear Howard, not a bit. Of + course you're right: you know how these things ought to be done. I'll do + exactly what you tell me, and confirm everything you say. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (alarmed by the completeness of his victory). Oh, my dear, you + mustn't act in MY interest. You must give your evidence with absolute + impartiality. (She nods, as if thoroughly impressed and reproved, and + gazes at him with the steadfast candor peculiar to liars who read novels. + His eyes turn to the ground; and his brow clouds perplexedly. He rises; + rubs his chin nervously with his forefinger; and adds) I think, perhaps, + on reflection, that there is something to be said for your proposal to + relieve me of the very painful duty of telling what has occurred. + </p> + <p> + LADI CICELY (holding off). But you'd do it so very much better. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. For that very reason, perhaps, it had better come from you. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (reluctantly). Well, if you'd rather. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. But mind, Cicely, the exact truth. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (with conviction). The exact truth. (They shake hands on it.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (holding her hand). Fiat justitia: ruat coelum! + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Let Justice be done, though the ceiling fall. + </p> + <p> + An American bluejacket appears at the door. + </p> + <p> + BLUEJACKET. Captain Kearney's cawmpliments to Lady Waynflete; and may he + come in? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Yes. By all means. Where are the prisoners? + </p> + <p> + BLUEJACKET. Party gawn to the jail to fetch em, marm. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Thank you. I should like to be told when they are coming, if + I might. + </p> + <p> + BLUEJACKET. You shall so, marm. (He stands aside, saluting, to admit his + captain, and goes out.) + </p> + <p> + Captain Hamlin Kearney is a robustly built western American, with the + keen, squeezed, wind beaten eyes and obstinately enduring mouth of his + profession. A curious ethnological specimen, with all the nations of the + old world at war in his veins, he is developing artificially in the + direction of sleekness and culture under the restraints of an overwhelming + dread of European criticism, and climatically in the direction of the + indiginous North American, who is already in possession of his hair, his + cheekbones, and the manlier instincts in him, which the sea has rescued + from civilization. The world, pondering on the great part of its own + future which is in his hands, contemplates him with wonder as to what the + devil he will evolve into in another century or two. Meanwhile he presents + himself to Lady Cicely as a blunt sailor who has something to say to her + concerning her conduct which he wishes to put politely, as becomes an + officer addressing a lady, but also with an emphatically implied rebuke, + as an American addressing an English person who has taken a liberty. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (as he enters). So glad you've come, Captain Kearney. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (coming between Sir Howard and Lady Cicely). When we parted + yesterday ahfternoon, Lady Waynflete, I was unaware that in the course of + your visit to my ship you had entirely altered the sleeping arrangements + of my stokers. I thahnk you. As captain of the ship, I am customairily + cawnsulted before the orders of English visitors are carried out; but as + your alterations appear to cawndooce to the comfort of the men, I have not + interfered with them. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. How clever of you to find out! I believe you know every bolt + in that ship. + </p> + <p> + Kearney softens perceptibly. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. I am really very sorry that my sister-in-law has taken so + serious a liberty, Captain Kearney. It is a mania of hers—simply a + mania. Why did your men pay any attention to her? + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (with gravely dissembled humor). Well, I ahsked that question too. + I said, Why did you obey that lady's orders instead of waiting for mine? + They said they didn't see exactly how they could refuse. I ahsked whether + they cawnsidered that discipline. They said, Well, sir, will you talk to + the lady yourself next time? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I'm so sorry. But you know, Captain, the one thing that one + misses on board a man-of-war is a woman. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. We often feel that deprivation verry keenly, Lady Waynflete. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. My uncle is first Lord of the Admiralty; and I am always + telling him what a scandal it is that an English captain should be + forbidden to take his wife on board to look after the ship. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. Stranger still, Lady Waynflete, he is not forbidden to take any + other lady. Yours is an extraordinairy country—to an Amerrican. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But it's most serious, Captain. The poor men go melancholy + mad, and ram each other's ships and do all sorts of things. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Cicely: I beg you will not talk nonsense to Captain Kearney. + Your ideas on some subjects are really hardly decorous. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (to Kearney). That's what English people are like, Captain + Kearney. They won't hear of anything concerning you poor sailors except + Nelson and Trafalgar. YOU understand me, don't you? + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (gallantly). I cawnsider that you have more sense in your wedding + ring finger than the British Ahdmiralty has in its whole cawnstitootion, + Lady Waynflete. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Of course I have. Sailors always understand things. + </p> + <p> + The bluejacket reappears. + </p> + <p> + BLUEJACKET (to Lady Cicely). Prisoners coming up the hill, marm. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (turning sharply on him). Who sent you in to say that? + </p> + <p> + BLUEJACKET (calmly). British lady's orders, sir. (He goes out, unruffled, + leaving Kearney dumbfounded.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (contemplating Kearney's expression with dismay). I am really + very sorry, Captain Kearney. I am quite aware that Lady Cicely has no + right whatever to give orders to your men. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I didn't give orders: I just asked him. He has such a nice + face! Don't you think so, Captain Kearney? (He gasps, speechless.) And now + will you excuse me a moment. I want to speak to somebody before the + inquiry begins. (She hurries out.) + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. There is sertnly a wonderful chahrn about the British + aristocracy, Sir Howard Hallam. Are they all like that? (He takes the + presidential chair.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (resuming his seat on Kearney's right). Fortunately not, + Captain Kearney. Half a dozen such women would make an end of law in + England in six months. + </p> + <p> + The bluejacket comes to the door again. + </p> + <p> + BLUEJACKET. All ready, sir. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. Verry good. I'm waiting. + </p> + <p> + The bluejacket turns and intimates this to those without. + </p> + <p> + The officers of the Santiago enter. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (rising and bobbing to them in a judicial manner). Good + morning, gentlemen. + </p> + <p> + They acknowledge the greeting rather shyly, bowing or touching their caps, + and stand in a group behind Kearney. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (to Sir Howard). You will be glahd to hear that I have a verry + good account of one of our prisoners from our chahplain, who visited them + in the gaol. He has expressed a wish to be cawnverted to Episcopalianism. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (drily). Yes, I think I know him. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. Bring in the prisoners. + </p> + <p> + BLUEJACKET (at the door). They are engaged with the British lady, sir. + Shall I ask her— + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (jumping up and exploding in storm piercing tones). Bring in the + prisoners. Tell the lady those are my orders. Do you hear? Tell her so. + (The bluejacket goes out dubiously. The officers look at one another in + mute comment on the unaccountable pepperiness of their commander.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (suavely). Mr. Rankin will be present, I presume. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (angrily). Rahnkin! Who is Rahnkin? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. Our host the missionary. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (subsiding unwillingly). Oh! Rahnkin, is he? He'd better look + sharp or he'll be late. (Again exploding.) What are they doing with those + prisoners? + </p> + <p> + Rankin hurries in, and takes his place near Sir Howard. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. This is Mr. Rankin, Captain Kearney. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. Excuse my delay, Captain Kearney. The leddy sent me on an errand. + (Kearney grunts.) I thought I should be late. But the first thing I heard + when I arrived was your officer giving your compliments to Leddy Ceecily, + and would she kindly allow the prisoners to come in, as you were anxious + to see her again. Then I knew I was in time. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. Oh, that was it, was it? May I ask, sir, did you notice any sign + on Lady Waynflete's part of cawmplying with that verry moderate request? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (outside). Coming, coming. + </p> + <p> + The prisoners are brought in by a guard of armed bluejackets. + </p> + <p> + Drinkwater first, again elaborately clean, and conveying by a virtuous and + steadfast smirk a cheerful confidence in his innocence. Johnson solid and + inexpressive, Redbrook unconcerned and debonair, Marzo uneasy. These four + form a little group together on the captain's left. The rest wait + unintelligently on Providence in a row against the wall on the same side, + shepherded by the bluejackets. The first bluejacket, a petty officer, + posts himself on the captain's right, behind Rankin and Sir Howard. + Finally Brassbound appears with Lady Cicely on his arm. He is in + fashionable frock coat and trousers, spotless collar and cuffs, and + elegant boots. He carries a glossy tall hat in his hand. To an + unsophisticated eye, the change is monstrous and appalling; and its effect + on himself is so unmanning that he is quite out of countenance—a + shaven Samson. Lady Cicely, however, is greatly pleased with it; and the + rest regard it as an unquestionable improvement. The officers fall back + gallantly to allow her to pass. Kearney rises to receive her, and stares + with some surprise at Brassbound as he stops at the table on his left. Sir + Howard rises punctiliously when Kearney rises and sits when he sits. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. Is this another gentleman of your party, Lady Waynflete? I + presume I met you lahst night, sir, on board the yacht. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. No. I am your prisoner. My name is Brassbound. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (officiously). Kepn Brarsbahnd, of the schooner Thenksgiv— + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (hastily). Shut up, you fool. (He elbows Drinkwater into the + background.) + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (surprised and rather suspicious). Well, I hardly understahnd + this. However, if you are Captain Brassbound, you can take your place with + the rest. (Brassbound joins Redbrook and Johnson. Kearney sits down again, + after inviting Lady Cicely, with a solemn gesture, to take the vacant + chair.) Now let me see. You are a man of experience in these matters, Sir + Howard Hallam. If you had to conduct this business, how would you start? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. He'd call on the counsel for the prosecution, wouldn't you, + Howard? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. But there is no counsel for the prosecution, Cicely. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh yes there is. I'm counsel for the prosecution. You mustn't + let Sir Howard make a speech, Captain Kearney: his doctors have positively + forbidden anything of that sort. Will you begin with me? + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. By your leave, Lady Waynfiete, I think I will just begin with + myself. Sailor fashion will do as well here as lawyer fashion. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Ever so much better, dear Captain Kearney. (Silence. Kearney + composes himself to speak. She breaks out again). You look so nice as a + judge! + </p> + <p> + A general smile. Drinkwater splutters into a half suppressed laugh. + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (in a fierce whisper). Shut up, you fool, will you? (Again he + pushes him back with a furtive kick.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (remonstrating). Cicely! + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (grimly keeping his countenance). Your ladyship's cawmpliments + will be in order at a later stage. Captain Brassbound: the position is + this. My ship, the United States cruiser Santiago, was spoken off Mogador + latest Thursday by the yacht Redgauntlet. The owner of the aforesaid + yacht, who is not present through having sprained his ankle, gave me sertn + information. In cawnsequence of that information the Santiago made the + twenty knots to Mogador Harbor inside of fifty-seven minutes. Before noon + next day a messenger of mine gave the Cadi of the district sertn + information. In cawnsequence of that information the Cadi stimulated + himself to some ten knots an hour, and lodged you and your men in Mogador + jail at my disposal. The Cadi then went back to his mountain fahstnesses; + so we shall not have the pleasure of his company here to-day. Do you + follow me so far? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Yes. I know what you did and what the Cadi did. The point is, + why did you do it? + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. With doo patience we shall come to that presently. Mr. Rahnkin: + will you kindly take up the parable? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. On the very day that Sir Howrrd and Lady Cicely started on their + excursion I was applied to for medicine by a follower of the Sheikh Sidi + el Assif. He told me I should never see Sir Howrrd again, because his + master knew he was a Christian and would take him out of the hands of + Captain Brassbound. I hurried on board the yacht and told the owner to + scour the coast for a gunboat or cruiser to come into the harbor and put + persuasion on the authorities. (Sir Howard turns and looks at Rankin with + a sudden doubt of his integrity as a witness.) + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. But I understood from our chahplain that you reported Captain + Brassbound as in league with the Sheikh to deliver Sir Howard up to him. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. That was my first hasty conclusion, Captain Kearney. But it + appears that the compact between them was that Captain Brassbound should + escort travellers under the Sheikh's protection at a certain payment per + head, provided none of them were Christians. As I understand it, he tried + to smuggle Sir Howrrd through under this compact, and the Sheikh found him + out. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Rawt, gavner. Thet's jest ah it wors. The Kepn— + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (again suppressing him). Shut up, you fool, I tell you. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (to Rankin). May I ask have you had any conversation with Lady + Cicely on this subject? + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (naively). Yes. (Sir Howard qrunts emphatically, as who should say + "I thought so." Rankin continues, addressing the court) May I say how + sorry I am that there are so few chairs, Captain and gentlemen. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (with genial American courtesy). Oh, THAT's all right, Mr. + Rahnkin. Well, I see no harm so far: it's human fawlly, but not human + crime. Now the counsel for the prosecution can proceed to prosecute. The + floor is yours, Lady Waynflete. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (rising). I can only tell you the exact truth— + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (involuntarily). Naow, down't do thet, lidy— + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (as before). SHUT up, you fool, will you? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. We had a most delightful trip in the hills; and Captain + Brassbound's men could not have been nicer—I must say that for them—until + we saw a tribe of Arabs—such nice looking men!—and then the + poor things were frightened. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. The Arabs? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. No: Arabs are never frightened. The escort, of course: + escorts are always frightened. I wanted to speak to the Arab chief; but + Captain Brassbound cruelly shot his horse; and the chief shot the Count; + and then— + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. The Count! What Count? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Marzo. That's Marzo (pointing to Marzo, who grins and touches + his forehead). + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (slightly overwhelmed by the unexpected profusion of incident and + character in her story). Well, what happened then? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Then the escort ran away—all escorts do—and + dragged me into the castle, which you really ought to make them clean and + whitewash thoroughly, Captain Kearney. Then Captain Brassbound and Sir + Howard turned out to be related to one another (sensation); and then of + course, there was a quarrel. The Hallams always quarrel. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (rising to protest). Cicely! Captain Kearney: this man told me— + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (swiftly interrupting him). You mustn't say what people told + you: it's not evidence. (Sir Howard chokes with indignation.) + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (calmly). Allow the lady to proceed, Sir Howard Hallam. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (recovering his self-control with a gulp, and resuming his + seat). I beg your pardon, Captain Kearney. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Then Sidi came. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. Sidney! Who was Sidney? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. No, Sidi. The Sheikh. Sidi el Assif. A noble creature, with + such a fine face! He fell in love with me at first sight— + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (remonstrating). Cicely! + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. He did: you know he did. You told me to tell the exact truth. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. I can readily believe it, madam. Proceed. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Well, that put the poor fellow into a most cruel dilemma. You + see, he could claim to carry off Sir Howard, because Sir Howard is a + Christian. But as I am only a woman, he had no claim to me. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (somewhat sternly, suspecting Lady Cicely of aristocratic + atheism). But you are a Christian woman. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. No: the Arabs don't count women. They don't believe we have + any souls. + </p> + <p> + RANKIN. That is true, Captain: the poor benighted creatures! + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Well, what was he to do? He wasn't in love with Sir Howard; + and he WAS in love with me. So he naturally offered to swop Sir Howard for + me. Don't you think that was nice of him, Captain Kearney? + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. I should have done the same myself, Lady Waynflete. Proceed. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Captain Brassbound, I must say, was nobleness itself, in + spite of the quarrel between himself and Sir Howard. He refused to give up + either of us, and was on the point of fighting for us when in came the + Cadi with your most amusing and delightful letter, captain, and bundled us + all back to Mogador after calling my poor Sidi the most dreadful names, + and putting all the blame on Captain Brassbound. So here we are. Now, + Howard, isn't that the exact truth, every word of it? + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. It is the truth, Cicely, and nothing but the truth. But the + English law requires a witness to tell the WHOLE truth. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. What nonsense! As if anybody ever knew the whole truth about + anything! (Sitting down, much hurt and discouraged.) I'm sorry you wish + Captain Kearney to understand that I am an untruthful witness. + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD. No: but— + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Very well, then: please don't say things that convey that + impression. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. But Sir Howard told me yesterday that Captain Brassbound + threatened to sell him into slavery. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (springing up again). Did Sir Howard tell you the things he + said about Captain Brassbound's mother? (Renewed sensation.) I told you + they quarrelled, Captain Kearney. I said so, didn't I? + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (crisply). Distinctly. (Drinkwater opens his mouth to + corroborate.) Shut up, you fool. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Of course I did. Now, Captain Kearney, do YOU want me—does + Sir Howard want me—does ANYBODY want me to go into the details of + that shocking family quarrel? Am I to stand here in the absence of any + individual of my own sex and repeat the language of two angry men? + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (rising impressively). The United States navy will have no hahnd + in offering any violence to the pure instincts of womanhood. Lady + Waynflete: I thahnk you for the delicacy with which you have given your + evidence. (Lady Cicely beams on him gratefully and sits down triumphant.) + Captain Brassbound: I shall not hold you respawnsible for what you may + have said when the English bench addressed you in the language of the + English forecastle— (Sir Howard is about to protest.) No, Sir Howard + Hallam: excuse ME. In moments of pahssion I have called a man that myself. + We are glahd to find real flesh and blood beneath the ermine of the judge. + We will all now drop a subject that should never have been broached in a + lady's presence. (He resumes his seat, and adds, in a businesslike tone) + Is there anything further before we release these men? + </p> + <p> + BLUEJACKET. There are some dawcuments handed over by the Cadi, sir. He + reckoned they were sort of magic spells. The chahplain ordered them to be + reported to you and burnt, with your leave, sir. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. What are they? + </p> + <p> + BLUEJACKET (reading from a list). Four books, torn and dirty, made up of + separate numbers, value each wawn penny, and entitled Sweeny Todd, the + Demon Barber of London; The Skeleton Horseman— + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (rushing forward in painful alarm, and anxiety). It's maw + lawbrary, gavner. Down't burn em. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. You'll be better without that sort of reading, my man. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (in intense distress, appealing to Lady Cicely) Down't let em + burn em, Lidy. They dasn't if you horder them not to. (With desperate + eloquence) Yer dunno wot them books is to me. They took me aht of the + sawdid reeyellities of the Worterleoo Rowd. They formed maw mawnd: they + shaowed me sathink awgher than the squalor of a corster's lawf— + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (collaring him). Oh shut up, you fool. Get out. Hold your ton— + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (frantically breaking from him). Lidy, lidy: sy a word for me. + Ev a feelin awt. (His tears choke him: he clasps his hands in dumb + entreaty.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (touched). Don't burn his books. Captain. Let me give them + back to him. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. The books will be handed over to the lady. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (in a small voice). Thenkyer, Lidy. (He retires among his + comrades, snivelling subduedly.) + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (aside to him as he passes). You silly ass, you. (Drinkwater + sniffs and does not reply.) + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. I suppose you and your men accept this lady's account of what + passed, Captain Brassbound. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (gloomily). Yes. It is true—as far as it goes. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY (impatiently). Do you wawnt it to go any further? + </p> + <p> + MARZO. She leave out something. Arab shoot me. She nurse me. She cure me. + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. And who are you, pray? + </p> + <p> + MARZO (seized with a sanctimonious desire to demonstrate his higher + nature). Only dam thief. Dam liar. Dam rascal. She no lady. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON (revolted by the seeming insult to the English peerage from a low + Italian). What? What's that you say? + </p> + <p> + MARZO. No lady nurse dam rascal. Only saint. She saint. She get me to + heaven—get us all to heaven. We do what we like now. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Indeed you will do nothing of the sort Marzo, unless you like + to behave yourself very nicely indeed. What hour did you say we were to + lunch at, Captain Kearney? + </p> + <p> + KEARNEY. You recall me to my dooty, Lady Waynflete. My barge will be ready + to take off you and Sir Howard to the Santiago at one o'clawk. (He rises.) + Captain Brassbound: this innquery has elicited no reason why I should + detain you or your men. I advise you to ahct as escort in future to + heathens exclusively. Mr. Rahnkin: I thahnk you in the name of the United + States for the hospitahlity you have extended to us today; and I invite + you to accompany me bahck to my ship with a view to lunch at half-past + one. Gentlemen: we will wait on the governor of the gaol on our way to the + harbor (He goes out, following his officers, and followed by the + bluejackets and the petty officer.) + </p> + <p> + SIR HOWARD (to Lady Cicely). Cicely: in the course of my professional + career I have met with unscrupulous witnesses, and, I am sorry to say, + unscrupulous counsel also. But the combination of unscrupulous witness and + unscrupulous counsel I have met to-day has taken away my breath You have + made me your accomplice in defeating justice. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Yes: aren't you glad it's been defeated for once? (She takes + his arm to go out with him.) Captain Brassbound: I will come back to say + goodbye before I go. (He nods gloomily. She goes out with Sir Howard, + following the Captain and his staff.) + </p> + <p> + RANKIN (running to Brassbound and taking both his hands). I'm right glad + ye're cleared. I'll come back and have a crack with ye when yon lunch is + over. God bless ye. (Hs goes out quickly.) + </p> + <p> + Brassbound and his men, left by themselves in the room, free and + unobserved, go straight out of their senses. They laugh; they dance; they + embrace one another; they set to partners and waltz clumsily; they shake + hands repeatedly and maudlinly. Three only retain some sort of + self-possession. Marzo, proud of having successfully thrust himself into a + leading part in the recent proceedings and made a dramatic speech, + inflates his chest, curls his scanty moustache, and throws himself into a + swaggering pose, chin up and right foot forward, despising the emotional + English barbarians around him. Brassbound's eyes and the working of his + mouth show that he is infected with the general excitement; but he bridles + himself savagely. Redbrook, trained to affect indifference, grins + cynically; winks at Brassbound; and finally relieves himself by assuming + the character of a circus ringmaster, flourishing an imaginary whip and + egging on the rest to wilder exertions. A climax is reached when + Drinkwater, let loose without a stain on his character for the second + time, is rapt by belief in his star into an ecstasy in which, scorning all + partnership, he becomes as it were a whirling dervish, and executes so + miraculous a clog dance that the others gradually cease their slower + antics to stare at him. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (tearing off his hat and striding forward as Drinkwater + collapses, exhausted, and is picked up by Redbrook). Now to get rid of + this respectable clobber and feel like a man again. Stand by, all hands, + to jump on the captain's tall hat. (He puts the hat down and prepares to + jump on it. The effect is startling, and takes him completely aback. His + followers, far from appreciating his iconoclasm, are shocked into + scandalized sobriety, except Redbrook, who is immensely tickled by their + prudery.) + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Naow, look eah, kepn: that ynt rawt. Dror a lawn somewhere. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. I say nothin agen a bit of fun, Capn, but let's be gentlemen. + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. I suggest to you, Brassbound, that the clobber belongs to Lady + Sis. Ain't you going to give it back to her? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (picking up the hat and brushing the dust off it anxiously). + That's true. I'm a fool. All the same, she shall not see me again like + this. (He pulls off the coat and waistcoat together.) Does any man here + know how to fold up this sort of thing properly? + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. Allow me, governor. (He takes the coat and waistcoat to the + table, and folds them up.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (loosening his collar and the front of his shirt). Brandyfaced + Jack: you're looking at these studs. I know what's in your mind. + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER (indignantly). Naow yer down't: nort a bit on it. Wot's in maw + mawnd is secrifawce, seolf-secrifawce. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. If one brass pin of that lady's property is missing, I'll hang + you with my own hands at the gaff of the Thanksgiving—and would, if + she were lying under the guns of all the fleets in Europe. (He pulls off + the shirt and stands in his blue jersey, with his hair ruffled. He passes + his hand through it and exclaims) Now I am half a man, at any rate. + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK. A horrible combination, governor: churchwarden from the waist + down, and the rest pirate. Lady Sis won't speak to you in it. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I'll change altogether. (He leaves the room to get his own + trousers.) + </p> + <p> + REDBROOK (softly). Look here, Johnson, and gents generally. (They gather + about him.) Spose she takes him back to England! + </p> + <p> + MARZO (trying to repeat his success). Im! Im only dam pirate. She saint, I + tell you—no take any man nowhere. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON (severely). Don't you be a ignorant and immoral foreigner. (The + rebuke is well received; and Marzo is hustled into the background and + extinguished.) She won't take him for harm; but she might take him for + good. And then where should we be? + </p> + <p> + DRINKWATER. Brarsbahnd ynt the ownly kepn in the world. Wot mikes a kepn + is brines an knollidge o lawf. It ynt thet ther's naow sitch pusson: it's + thet you dunno where to look fr im. (The implication that he is such a + person is so intolerable that they receive it with a prolonged burst of + booing.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (returning in his own clothes, getting into his jacket as he + comes). Stand by, all. (They start asunder guiltily, and wait for orders.) + Redbrook: you pack that clobber in the lady's portmanteau, and put it + aboard the yacht for her. Johnson: you take all hands aboard the + Thanksgiving; look through the stores: weigh anchor; and make all ready + for sea. Then send Jack to wait for me at the slip with a boat; and give + me a gunfire for a signal. Lose no time. + </p> + <p> + JOHNSON. Ay, ay, air. All aboard, mates. + </p> + <p> + ALL. Ay, ay. (They rush out tumultuously.) + </p> + <p> + When they are gone, Brassbound sits down at the end of the table, with his + elbows on it and his head on his fists, gloomily thinking. Then he takes + from the breast pocket of his jacket a leather case, from which he + extracts a scrappy packet of dirty letters and newspaper cuttings. These + he throws on the table. Next comes a photograph in a cheap frame. He + throws it down untenderly beside the papers; then folds his arms, and is + looking at it with grim distaste when Lady Cicely enters. His back is + towards her; and he does not hear her. Perceiving this, she shuts the door + loudly enough to attract his attention. He starts up. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (coming to the opposite end of the table). So you've taken off + all my beautiful clothes! + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Your brother's, you mean. A man should wear his own clothes; + and a man should tell his own lies. I'm sorry you had to tell mine for me + to-day. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, women spend half their lives telling little lies for men, + and sometimes big ones. We're used to it. But mind! I don't admit that I + told any to-day. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. How did you square my uncle? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I don't understand the expression. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I mean— + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I'm afraid we haven't time to go into what you mean before + lunch. I want to speak to you about your future. May I? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (darkening a little, but politely). Sit down. (She sits down. + So does he.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. What are your plans? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I have no plans. You will hear a gun fired in the harbor + presently. That will mean that the Thanksgiving's anchor's weighed and + that she is waiting for her captain to put out to sea. And her captain + doesn't know now whether to turn her head north or south. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Why not north for England? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Why not south for the Pole? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But you must do something with yourself. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (settling himself with his fists and elbows weightily on the + table and looking straight and powerfully at her). Look you: when you and + I first met, I was a man with a purpose. I stood alone: I saddled no + friend, woman or man, with that purpose, because it was against law, + against religion, against my own credit and safety. But I believed in it; + and I stood alone for it, as a man should stand for his belief, against + law and religion as much as against wickedness and selfishness. Whatever I + may be, I am none of your fairweather sailors that'll do nothing for their + creed but go to Heaven for it. I was ready to go to hell for mine. Perhaps + you don't understand that. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh bless you, yes. It's so very like a certain sort of man. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I daresay but I've not met many of that sort. Anyhow, that was + what I was like. I don't say I was happy in it; but I wasn't unhappy, + because I wasn't drifting. I was steering a course and had work in hand. + Give a man health and a course to steer; and he'll never stop to trouble + about whether he's happy or not. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Sometimes he won't even stop to trouble about whether other + people are happy or not. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I don't deny that: nothing makes a man so selfish as work. But + I was not self-seeking: it seemed to me that I had put justice above self. + I tell you life meant something to me then. Do you see that dirty little + bundle of scraps of paper? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. What are they? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Accounts cut out of newspapers. Speeches made by my uncle at + charitable dinners, or sentencing men to death—pious, highminded + speeches by a man who was to me a thief and a murderer! To my mind they + were more weighty, more momentous, better revelations of the wickedness of + law and respectability than the book of the prophet Amos. What are they + now? (He quietly tears the newspaper cuttings into little fragments and + throws them away, looking fixedly at her meanwhile.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Well, that's a comfort, at all events. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Yes; but it's a part of my life gone: YOUR doing, remember. + What have I left? See here! (He take up the letters) the letters my uncle + wrote to my mother, with her comments on their cold drawn insolence, their + treachery and cruelty. And the piteous letters she wrote to him later on, + returned unopened. Must they go too? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (uneasily). I can't ask you to destroy your mother's letters. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Why not, now that you have taken the meaning out of them? (He + tears them.) Is that a comfort too? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. It's a little sad; but perhaps it is best so. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. That leaves one relic: her portrait. (He plucks the photograph + out of its cheap case.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (with vivid curiosity). Oh, let me see. (He hands it to her. + Before she can control herself, her expression changes to one of + unmistakable disappointment and repulsion.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (with a single sardonic cachinnation). Ha! You expected + something better than that. Well, you're right. Her face does not look + well opposite yours. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (distressed). I said nothing. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. What could you say? (He takes back the portrait: she + relinquishes it without a word. He looks at it; shakes his head; and takes + it quietly between his finger and thumb to tear it.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (staying his hand). Oh, not your mother's picture! + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. If that were your picture, would you like your son to keep it + for younger and better women to see? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (releasing his hand). Oh, you are dreadful! Tear it, tear it. + (She covers her eyes for a moment to shut out the sight.) + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (tearing it quietly). You killed her for me that day in the + castle; and I am better without her. (He throws away the fragments.) Now + everything is gone. You have taken the old meaning out of my life; but you + have put no new meaning into it. I can see that you have some clue to the + world that makes all its difficulties easy for you; but I'm not clever + enough to seize it. You've lamed me by showing me that I take life the + wrong way when I'm left to myself. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh no. Why do you say that? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. What else can I say? See what I've done! My uncle is no worse + a man than myself—better, most likely; for he has a better head and + a higher place. Well, I took him for a villain out of a storybook. My + mother would have opened anybody else's eyes: she shut mine. I'm a + stupider man than Brandyfaced Jack even; for he got his romantic nonsense + out of his penny numbers and such like trash; but I got just the same + nonsense out of life and experience. (Shaking his head) It was vulgar—VULGAR. + I see that now; for you've opened my eyes to the past; but what good is + that for the future? What am I to do? Where am I to go? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. It's quite simple. Do whatever you like. That's what I always + do. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. That answer is no good to me. What I like is to have something + to do; and I have nothing. You might as well talk like the missionary and + tell me to do my duty. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (quickly). Oh no thank you. I've had quite enough of your + duty, and Howard's duty. Where would you both be now if I'd let you do it? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. We'd have been somewhere, at all events. It seems to me that + now I am nowhere. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. But aren't you coming back to England with us? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. What for? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Why, to make the most of your opportunities. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. What opportunities? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Don't you understand that when you are the nephew of a great + bigwig, and have influential connexions, and good friends among them, lots + of things can be done for you that are never done for ordinary ship + captains? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Ah; but I'm not an aristocrat, you see. And like most poor + men, I'm proud. I don't like being patronized. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. What is the use of saying that? In my world, which is now + your world—OUR world—getting patronage is the whole art of + life. A man can't have a career without it. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. In my world a man can navigate a ship and get his living by + it. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, I see you're one of the Idealists—the + Impossibilists! We have them, too, occasionally, in our world. There's + only one thing to be done with them. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. What's that? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Marry them straight off to some girl with enough money for + them, and plenty of sentiment. That's their fate. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. You've spoiled even that chance for me. Do you think I could + look at any ordinary woman after you? You seem to be able to make me do + pretty well what you like; but you can't make me marry anybody but + yourself. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Do you know, Captain Paquito, that I've married no less than + seventeen men (Brassbound stares) to other women. And they all opened the + subject by saying that they would never marry anybody but me. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Then I shall be the first man you ever found to stand to his + word. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (part pleased, part amused, part sympathetic). Do you really + want a wife? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I want a commander. Don't undervalue me: I am a good man when + I have a good leader. I have courage: I have determination: I'm not a + drinker: I can command a schooner and a shore party if I can't command a + ship or an army. When work is put upon me, I turn neither to save my life + nor to fill my pocket. Gordon trusted me; and he never regretted it. If + you trust me, you shan't regret it. All the same, there's something + wanting in me: I suppose I'm stupid. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Oh, you're not stupid. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Yes I am. Since you saw me for the first time in that garden, + you've heard me say nothing clever. And I've heard you say nothing that + didn't make me laugh, or make me feel friendly, as well as telling me what + to think and what to do. That's what I mean by real cleverness. Well, I + haven't got it. I can give an order when I know what order to give. I can + make men obey it, willing or unwilling. But I'm stupid, I tell you: + stupid. When there's no Gordon to command me, I can't think of what to do. + Left to myself, I've become half a brigand. I can kick that little + gutterscrub Drinkwater; but I find myself doing what he puts into my head + because I can't think of anything else. When you came, I took your orders + as naturally as I took Gordon's, though I little thought my next commander + would be a woman. I want to take service under you. And there's no way in + which that can be done except marrying you. Will you let me do it? + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. I'm afraid you don't quite know how odd a match it would be + for me according to the ideas of English society. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. I care nothing about English society: let it mind its own + business. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (rising, a little alarmed). Captain Paquito: I am not in love + with you. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (also rising, with his gaze still steadfastly on her). I didn't + suppose you were: the commander is not usually in love with his + subordinate. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. Nor the subordinate with the commander. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND (assenting firmly). Nor the subordinate with the commander. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (learning for the first time in her life what terror is, as + she finds that he is unconsciously mesmerizing her). Oh, you are + dangerous! + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Come: are you in love with anybody else? That's the question. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (shaking her head). I have never been in love with any real + person; and I never shall. How could I manage people if I had that mad + little bit of self left in me? That's my secret. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. Then throw away the last bit of self. Marry me. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (vainly struggling to recall her wandering will). Must I? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. There is no must. You CAN. I ask you to. My fate depends on + it. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. It's frightful; for I don't mean to—don't wish to. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. But you will. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (quite lost, slowly stretches out her hand to give it to him). + I— (Gunfire from the Thanksgiving. His eyes dilate. It wakes her + from her trance) What is that? + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. It is farewell. Rescue for you—safety, freedom! You were + made to be something better than the wife of Black Paquito. (He kneels and + takes her hands) You can do no more for me now: I have blundered somehow + on the secret of command at last (he kisses her hands): thanks for that, + and for a man's power and purpose restored and righted. And farewell, + farewell, farewell. + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY (in a strange ecstasy, holding his hands as he rises). Oh, + farewell. With my heart's deepest feeling, farewell, farewell. + </p> + <p> + BRASSBOUND. With my heart's noblest honor and triumph, farewell. (He turns + and flies.) + </p> + <p> + LADY CICELY. How glorious! how glorious! And what an escape! + </p> + <p> + CURTAIN <a name="link2H_NOTE" id="link2H_NOTE"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NOTES TO CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND'S CONVERSION + </h2> + <h3> + SOURCES OF THE PLAY + </h3> + <p> + I claim as a notable merit in the authorship of this play that I have been + intelligent enough to steal its scenery, its surroundings, its atmosphere, + its geography, its knowledge of the east, its fascinating Cadis and + Kearneys and Sheikhs and mud castles from an excellent book of philosophic + travel and vivid adventure entitled Mogreb-el-Acksa (Morocco the Most + Holy) by Cunninghame Graham. My own first hand knowledge of Morocco is + based on a morning's walk through Tangier, and a cursory observation of + the coast through a binocular from the deck of an Orient steamer, both + later in date than the writing of the play. + </p> + <p> + Cunninghame Graham is the hero of his own book; but I have not made him + the hero of my play, because so incredible a personage must have destroyed + its likelihood—such as it is. There are moments when I do not myself + believe in his existence. And yet he must be real; for I have seen him + with these eyes; and I am one of the few men living who can decipher the + curious alphabet in which he writes his private letters. The man is on + public record too. The battle of Trafalgar Square, in which he personally + and bodily assailed civilization as represented by the concentrated + military and constabular forces of the capital of the world, can scarcely + be forgotten by the more discreet spectators, of whom I was one. On that + occasion civilization, qualitatively his inferior, was quantitatively so + hugely in excess of him that it put him in prison, but had not sense + enough to keep him there. Yet his getting out of prison was as nothing + compared to his getting into the House of Commons. How he did it I know + not; but the thing certainly happened, somehow. That he made pregnant + utterances as a legislator may be taken as proved by the keen philosophy + of the travels and tales he has since tossed to us; but the House, strong + in stupidity, did not understand him until in an inspired moment he voiced + a universal impulse by bluntly damning its hypocrisy. Of all the eloquence + of that silly parliament, there remains only one single damn. It has + survived the front bench speeches of the eighties as the word of Cervantes + survives the oraculations of the Dons and Deys who put him, too, in + prison. The shocked House demanded that he should withdraw his cruel word. + "I never withdraw," said he; and I promptly stole the potent phrase for + the sake of its perfect style, and used it as a cockade for the Bulgarian + hero of Arms and the Man. The theft prospered; and I naturally take the + first opportunity of repeating it. In what other Lepantos besides + Trafalgar Square Cunninghame Graham has fought, I cannot tell. He is a + fascinating mystery to a sedentary person like myself. The horse, a + dangerous animal whom, when I cannot avoid, I propitiate with apples and + sugar, he bestrides and dominates fearlessly, yet with a true republican + sense of the rights of the fourlegged fellowcreature whose martyrdom, and + man's shame therein, he has told most powerfully in his Calvary, a tale + with an edge that will cut the soft cruel hearts and strike fire from the + hard kind ones. He handles the other lethal weapons as familiarly as the + pen: medieval sword and modern Mauser are to him as umbrellas and kodaks + are to me. His tales of adventure have the true Cervantes touch of the man + who has been there—so refreshingly different from the scenes + imagined by bloody-minded clerks who escape from their servitude into + literature to tell us how men and cities are conceived in the counting + house and the volunteer corps. He is, I understand, a Spanish hidalgo: + hence the superbity of his portrait by Lavery (Velasquez being no longer + available). He is, I know, a Scotch laird. How he contrives to be + authentically the two things at the same time is no more intelligible to + me than the fact that everything that has ever happened to him seems to + have happened in Paraguay or Texas instead of in Spain or Scotland. He is, + I regret to add, an impenitent and unashamed dandy: such boots, such a + hat, would have dazzled D'Orsay himself. With that hat he once saluted me + in Regent St. when I was walking with my mother. Her interest was + instantly kindled; and the following conversation ensued. "Who is that?" + "Cunninghame Graham." "Nonsense! Cunninghame Graham is one of your + Socialists: that man is a gentleman." This is the punishment of vanity, a + fault I have myself always avoided, as I find conceit less troublesome and + much less expensive. Later on somebody told him of Tarudant, a city in + Morocco in which no Christian had ever set foot. Concluding at once that + it must be an exceptionally desirable place to live in, he took ship and + horse: changed the hat for a turban; and made straight for the sacred + city, via Mogador. How he fared, and how he fell into the hands of the + Cadi of Kintafi, who rightly held that there was more danger to Islam in + one Cunninghame Graham than in a thousand Christians, may be learnt from + his account of it in Mogreb-el-Acksa, without which Captain Brassbound's + Conversion would never have been written. + </p> + <p> + I am equally guiltless of any exercise of invention concerning the story + of the West Indian estate which so very nearly serves as a peg to hang + Captain Brassbound. To Mr. Frederick Jackson of Hindhead, who, against all + his principles, encourages and abets me in my career as a dramatist, I owe + my knowledge of those main facts of the case which became public through + an attempt to make the House of Commons act on them. This being so, I must + add that the character of Captain Brassbound's mother, like the recovery + of the estate by the next heir, is an interpolation of my own. It is not, + however, an invention. One of the evils of the pretence that our + institutions represent abstract principles of justice instead of being + mere social scaffolding is that persons of a certain temperament take the + pretence seriously, and when the law is on the side of injustice, will not + accept the situation, and are driven mad by their vain struggle against + it. Dickens has drawn the type in his Man from Shropshire in Bleak House. + Most public men and all lawyers have been appealed to by victims of this + sense of injustice—the most unhelpable of afflictions in a society + like ours. + </p> + <p> + ENGLISH AND AMERICAN DIALECTS + </p> + <p> + The fact that English is spelt conventionally and not phonetically makes + the art of recording speech almost impossible. What is more, it places the + modern dramatist, who writes for America as well as England, in a most + trying position. Take for example my American captain and my English lady. + I have spelt the word conduce, as uttered by the American captain, as + cawndooce, to suggest (very roughly) the American pronunciation to English + readers. Then why not spell the same word, when uttered by Lady Cicely, as + kerndewce, to suggest the English pronunciation to American readers? To + this I have absolutely no defence: I can only plead that an author who + lives in England necessarily loses his consciousness of the peculiarities + of English speech, and sharpens his consciousness of the points in which + American speech differs from it; so that it is more convenient to leave + English peculiarities to be recorded by American authors. I must, however, + most vehemently disclaim any intention of suggesting that English + pronunciation is authoritative and correct. My own tongue is neither + American English nor English English, but Irish English; so I am as nearly + impartial in the matter as it is in human nature to be. Besides, there is + no standard English pronunciation any more than there is an American one: + in England every county has its catchwords, just as no doubt every state + in the Union has. I cannot believe that the pioneer American, for example, + can spare time to learn that last refinement of modern speech, the + exquisite diphthong, a farfetched combination of the French eu and the + English e, with which a New Yorker pronounces such words as world, bird + &c. I have spent months without success in trying to achieve glibness + with it. + </p> + <p> + To Felix Drinkwater also I owe some apology for implying that all his + vowel pronunciations are unfashionable. They are very far from being so. + As far as my social experience goes (and I have kept very mixed company) + there is no class in English society in which a good deal of Drinkwater + pronunciation does not pass unchallenged save by the expert phonetician. + This is no mere rash and ignorant jibe of my own at the expense of my + English neighbors. Academic authority in the matter of English speech is + represented at present by Mr. Henry Sweet, of the University of Oxford, + whose Elementarbuch des gesprochenen Engliach, translated into his native + language for the use of British islanders as a Primer of Spoken English, + is the most accessible standard work on the subject. In such words as + plum, come, humbug, up, gum, etc., Mr. Sweet's evidence is conclusive. + Ladies and gentlemen in Southern England pronounce them as plam, kam, + hambag, ap, gan, etc., exactly as Felix Drinkwater does. I could not claim + Mr. Sweet's authority if I dared to whisper that such coster English as + the rather pretty dahn tahn for down town, or the decidedly ugly cowcow + for cocoa is current in very polite circles. The entire nation, costers + and all, would undoubtedly repudiate any such pronunciation as vulgar. All + the same, if I were to attempt to represent current "smart" cockney speech + as I have attempted to represent Drinkwater's, without the niceties of Mr. + Sweet's Romic alphabets, I am afraid I should often have to write dahn + tahn and cowcow as being at least nearer to the actual sound than down + town and cocoa. And this would give such offence that I should have to + leave the country; for nothing annoys a native speaker of English more + than a faithful setting down in phonetic spelling of the sounds he utters. + He imagines that a departure from conventional spelling indicates a + departure from the correct standard English of good society. Alas! this + correct standard English of good society is unknown to phoneticians. It is + only one of the many figments that bewilder our poor snobbish brains. No + such thing exists; but what does that matter to people trained from + infancy to make a point of honor of belief in abstractions and + incredibilities? And so I am compelled to hide Lady Cicely's speech under + the veil of conventional orthography. + </p> + <p> + I need not shield Drinkwater, because he will never read my book. So I + have taken the liberty of making a special example of him, as far as that + can be done without a phonetic alphabet, for the benefit of the mass of + readers outside London who still form their notions of cockney dialect on + Sam Weller. When I came to London in 1876, the Sam Weller dialect had + passed away so completely that I should have given it up as a literary + fiction if I had not discovered it surviving in a Middlesex village, and + heard of it from an Essex one. Some time in the eighties the late Andrew + Tuer called attention in the Pall Mall Gazette to several peculiarities of + modern cockney, and to the obsolescence of the Dickens dialect that was + still being copied from book to book by authors who never dreamt of using + their ears, much less of training them to listen. Then came Mr. Anstey's + cockney dialogues in Punch, a great advance, and Mr. Chevalier's coster + songs and patter. The Tompkins verses contributed by Mr. Barry Pain to the + London Daily Chronicle have also done something to bring the literary + convention for cockney English up to date. But Tompkins sometimes + perpetrates horrible solecisms. He will pronounce face as fits, accurately + enough; but he will rhyme it quite impossibly to nice, which Tompkins + would pronounce as newts: for example Mawl Enn Rowd for Mile End Road. + This aw for i, which I have made Drinkwater use, is the latest stage of + the old diphthongal oi, which Mr. Chevalier still uses. Irish, Scotch and + north country readers must remember that Drinkwater's rs are absolutely + unpronounced when they follow a vowel, though they modify the vowel very + considerably. Thus, luggage is pronounced by him as laggige, but turn is + not pronounced as tern, but as teun with the eu sounded as in French. The + London r seems thoroughly understood in America, with the result, however, + that the use of the r by Artemus Ward and other American dialect writers + causes Irish people to misread them grotesquely. I once saw the + pronunciation of malheureux represented in a cockney handbook by + mal-err-err: not at all a bad makeshift to instruct a Londoner, but out of + the question elsewhere in the British Isles. In America, representations + of English speech dwell too derisively on the dropped or interpolated h. + American writers have apparently not noticed the fact that the south + English h is not the same as the never-dropped Irish and American h, and + that to ridicule an Englishman for dropping it is as absurd as to ridicule + the whole French and Italian nation for doing the same. The American h, + helped out by a general agreement to pronounce wh as hw, is tempestuously + audible, and cannot be dropped without being immediately missed. The + London h is so comparatively quiet at all times, and so completely + inaudible in wh, that it probably fell out of use simply by escaping the + ears of children learning to speak. However that may be, it is kept alive + only by the literate classes who are reminded constantly of its existence + by seeing it on paper. + </p> + <p> + Roughly speaking, I should say that in England he who bothers about his hs + is a fool, and he who ridicules a dropped h a snob. As to the interpolated + h, my experience as a London vestryman has convinced me that it is often + effective as a means of emphasis, and that the London language would be + poorer without it. The objection to it is no more respectable than the + objection of a street boy to a black man or to a lady in knickerbockers. + </p> + <p> + I have made only the most perfunctory attempt to represent the dialect of + the missionary. There is no literary notation for the grave music of good + Scotch. + </p> + <p> + BLACKDOWN, August 1900 + </p> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN BRASSBOUND’S CONVERSION ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law 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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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