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Title: Outward bound
Author: Sutton Vane
Release date: January 13, 2026 [eBook #77696]
Language: English
Original publication: London: Chatto & Windus, 1924
Credits: Hendrik Kaiber, Tim Lindell, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUTWARD BOUND ***
OUTWARD BOUND
By
SUTTON VANE
LONDON
CHATTO & WINDUS
1924
PRINTED IN ENGLAND BY
THE DE LA MORE PRESS LTD.
LONDON, W.
[Illustration]
ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED
TO DIANA, MY WIFE
All applications for amateur performances of this play must be made
to Samuel French Limited, 26 Southampton Street, Strand, London, W.C.
2, and for professional rights to the author’s agents The London Play
Company, 51 Piccadilly, London, W. 1.
“OUTWARD BOUND” was first produced at the Everyman Theatre,
Hampstead, London on Monday, the 17th of September, 1923, with the
following cast:
SCRUBBY STANLEY LATHBURY
ANN DIANA HAMILTON
HENRY WILLIAM STACK
Mr. PRIOR FREDERICK COOPER
Mrs. CLIVEDEN-BANKS GLADYS FFOLLIOTT
Rev. WILLIAM DUKE FREDERICK LEISTER
Mrs. MIDGET CLARE GREET
Mr. LINGLEY ARTHUR PAGE
Rev. FRANK THOMSON ROY BYFORD
CHARACTERS
(_In order of their appearance_)
SCRUBBY
ANN
HENRY
MR. PRIOR
MRS. CLIVEDEN-BANKS
REV. WILLIAM DUKE
MRS. MIDGET
MR. LINGLEY
REV. FRANK THOMSON
_Scene_: On board ship.
_Time_: The present.
ACT I
In harbour. Morning.
ACT II
At sea. The same evening.
ACT III
About six days later. SCENE I. Afternoon. SCENE II. The night of the
same day.
CONTENTS
ACT I
ACT II
ACT III
Scene I
Scene II
ACT I
_The curtain rises on a room which suggests rather than represents
the lounge smoke-room of a small ocean liner. There is a bar on the
right with the usual array of glasses and bottles on the counter and
on the shelves behind it. On the extreme left is a small writing
table, and the rest of the furniture consists of the usual small
round tables and swivel arm-chairs that are found in the smoke-room
on most liners. Up against the bar are two high stools. Around the
room at the back is a red cushioned wall seat. The carpet is of warm
neutral tone. There are three doors. One behind the bar: another
leading off left and a third, centre, opening on to the deck. This
centre door is wide open, and behind it can be seen the liner
railings. The colour of the sky at the back arrests the attention at
once. It is a curious colour--vague and almost nondescript. There are
four portholes in the back wall, fitted up with small curtains which
are now drawn. Three large lights hang from the ceiling, and some
small lamp brackets on the walls._
_The sun is shining, and it is a clear still morning. Behind the bar
stands_ Scrubby,_ busy polishing the glasses--preparatory to the boat
sailing. He is dressed in the usual uniform of a ship’s steward. His
manner is always calm and reposeful, and his voice gentle and kindly.
He is an elderly man, typically English._
Ann _is seen to pass along the deck, and she comes through the centre
door into the room. She is wearing a hat and coat, underneath which
is a simple but very smart clinging frock of green. She is young, but
one sees at once that she is terribly nervous. She pauses and looks
round in a frightened manner. Then_ Scrubby _clinks a glass and she
turns and sees him._
ANN. Oh, I beg your pardon--good morning.
SCRUBBY. Good morning, madam.
ANN. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m afraid we’ve lost our way.
SCRUBBY. Where do you want to get to, Madam?
ANN. The cabins, of course.
SCRUBBY. Cabins?
ANN. Yes! Where we sleep. I’m afraid I’m awfully stupid. I’ve never
been on the sea before.
SCRUBBY. The old ship will be highly flattered. You’ll find all the
berths right forward (_points to the left_) down there.
ANN. Thank you very much. (_She goes up to the centre opening and
speaks to someone outside._) Henry, come along, dear, I was quite
right, this is the way.
(Henry _enters from the deck. He is wearing a well-cut lounge suit
and a dark soft hat. He is an ardent young man, about thirty years
old. He is good looking, quietly emotional, serious and sincere.
He is rather mystic in manner, and behaves like a dazed man who has
recently received a severe shock._)
HENRY. Sorry, I was looking at the sea. What did you say?
ANN. This _is_ the way, dear.
HENRY. Oh, good! We’ll probably find all our stuff in the cabin
already. How did you find out?
ANN. _He_ told me. (_Indicating_ Scrubby.)
HENRY. Oh!--good morning!
SCRUBBY. Good morning, sir.
(Ann _moves down to left_.)
HENRY. Bit confusing these boats, aren’t they?
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir, to begin with.
ANN. Come along, dear.
HENRY. I say, I’m feeling awfully tired.
ANN. Do you wonder?--after what you’ve been through?
HENRY. No, I suppose I don’t. I can’t quite focus it all even now,
you know. By Jove, we’ll have a gorgeous trip though, won’t we.
ANN. Yes, dear.
HENRY. The rest--the peace and--and--
ANN. Don’t worry so, dear.
HENRY. And the forgetfulness--
ANN. Of course, dear, don’t worry.
HENRY. No, I won’t, I won’t! (_To_ Scrubby.) Thanks for telling
my--my wife the way.
ANN. Give me your hand.
HENRY. What’s that?
ANN. Give me your hand, dear.
HENRY. Oh! You treat me like a child! I’m quite all right really.
ANN. Give me your hand. (_Goes to her, takes her hand._) There!
HENRY. Thanks for the hand.
ANN. Come along.
(_They go off together, left, and a moment later_ Tom Prior _enters
by the centre door._ Prior _is a slight young man, highly strung. He
is not specifically drunk at the moment, but rather more displays the
mellow and bland cock-sureness of a youth who for some time has kept
himself going with constant stimulants. He is wearing a lounge suit,
and is very cheerful and smiling._)
TOM. Oh!--er--good morning, steward.
SCRUBBY. Good morning, sir.
TOM. This is the smoke-room, I suppose?
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir.
TOM. Look here, then--er--how long before we sail?
SCRUBBY. About a quarter of an hour--sir--or more--or less.
TOM. Then I say, could I--er--I get a drink?
SCRUBBY. Certainly, sir.
TOM. Bravo! (_He crosses right and sits down._) I want it.
SCRUBBY. What shall I get you, sir?
TOM. A Scotch.
SCRUBBY. Any soda-water, sir?
TOM. No, thank you.
SCRUBBY. All Scotch!
TOM. As a matter of fact, steward, you’ll probably see a lot of me
during this trip. Yes, you’ll get to know me quite well, so I thought
I’d warn you to begin with.
SCRUBBY (_brings drink_). The warning is an honour, sir.
TOM. Yes, thanks. How much is it?
SCRUBBY. Oh, you needn’t pay, sir.
TOM. What!
SCRUBBY. If you’ll just sign this. (_Presents chit book._)
TOM. Oh yes, of course, I’d forgotten that catch. Have one yourself?
SCRUBBY. No thank you, sir.
TOM (_drinks_). Ah, that’s better. As a matter of fact, steward, I’d
a rather thick night last night--
SCRUBBY. Indeed, sir!
TOM. Yes--yes--and I want pulling together. By Jove--it must have
been a jolly thick night because I can’t remember anything about
it now. But never mind--(_Drinks again._) It’s a gorgeous morning,
anyway.
SCRUBBY. It is, sir. A pity some people should be alive to spoil it.
TOM. What’s that?
SCRUBBY. I was talking to myself, sir.
TOM. I say, steward, how many passengers have we got?
SCRUBBY. Not many, sir, it’s our slack time of year.
TOM. The last time I came out--why--it must be over ten years
ago--I was going tea planting, and--and--I was only about
nineteen--and--(_Pause._) Phew, how time flies! Get me some
cigarettes.
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir! Egyptians, Turkish or Virginian?
TOM. Gold Flake. What’s the old Captain like?
SCRUBBY. Very decent sort I’ve heard say, sir. Very respected, I
_know_.
TOM. Oh, I don’t like that sort--not on these small ships. Now when I
went out before--
SCRUBBY. Your cigarettes, sir.
TOM. Thank you. And get me another drink. The same.
(Mrs. Cliveden-Banks _enters from the centre and goes down to_
Tom. _She is a withered old harridan of fifty odd--probably once
beautiful. Smartly frocked in travelling costume. She carries an
armful of magazines._)
MRS. C-BANKS. Ah ha! I thought I knew that voice!
TOM. What! (_Rises, turns._) Oh, really! Good gracious! Mrs.
Cliveden-Banks! How are you? What a surprise. (_Shakes hands._)
MRS. C-BANKS. I saw your name on the passenger list, so I asked for
the bar at once, and here you are! (_Sits left of table._)
TOM. Delighted. Come and sit down. What are you doing here? (_Sits
above table._)
MRS. C-BANKS. Joining my dear husband. And I’m afraid we’re in for a
very dull trip. There is nobody on board--at least nobody who _is_
anybody. Though, of course, the poor creatures can’t help that. You
follow me. What I say I mean in the most kindly manner--but still,
there it is.
TOM. We must try and cheer each other up then, Mrs. Banks.
MRS. C-BANKS. Yes, all friends at sea, of course. By the way, my
name is _Cliveden_-Banks. You know, of course, but it’s such a long
while since we met. There was a plain Mrs. Banks in the divorce
court lately--so silly of her--and so plain, judging from the
Daily Mirror--a total stranger, of course. Still it’s made me very
particular about my hyphen. Not that I am ever likely to appear in a
divorce court.
TOM. No, most unlikely. (_With a significant appraisal of her._)
MRS. C-BANKS. Still you see what I mean.
(Scrubby _puts drink on table_.)
TOM. Of course. Thank you. Mrs. _Cliveden_-Banks, will you have a
drink?
MRS. C-BANKS. Thank you--what are you drinking--ginger ale?
TOM. No--er--whiskey.
MRS. C-BANKS. At this time in the morning?
TOM. Whiskey at any time in the morning, afternoon or evening.
MRS. C-BANKS. I’m afraid you’re still a naughty boy. I’ll have a
ginger ale. (Scrubby _proceeds to fetch her the drink_.) When I said
there was nobody on board, dear Mr. Prior, between you and me, there
is one person on board to whom I shall take a strong objection. He’s
a clergyman.
TOM. Poor blighter! I should pity rather than blame him.
MRS. C-BANKS. Oh, don’t you know? Clergymen at sea are dreadfully
unlucky. We shall probably all go to the bottom. If we do I shall
blame the clergyman entirely. In my opinion steamship companies have
no right to let clergymen travel at all. The clergy ought to stay at
home in their own parishes and do good, not go gadding about all over
the world putting other people’s lives in danger.
SCRUBBY. Your ginger ale, madam! (_Puts drink on table._)
MRS. C-BANKS. Thank you, steward. (_Takes drink._) Isn’t that so?
SCRUBBY. Isn’t what so, Madam?
MRS. C-BANKS. Oh, you must have been listening to what I was saying.
SCRUBBY. I assure you, Madam, I was not.
MRS. C-BANKS. How odd! (Tom _signs for drink_.) I was remarking that
the sea-faring men regard the presence of a Clergyman on board your
ship as highly unlucky.
SCRUBBY. I believe there is a superstition to that effect, Madam,
yes. (_Returns behind bar._)
MRS. C-BANKS. There! I told you so. Well, the best thing we can do is
to cut the fellow dead. Nicely, of course, but firmly. (_They change
glasses._)
TOM. Just as you like. But will we save the boat by doing it?
MRS. C-BANKS. How droll you are!
TOM. Look out! Talk of the--
(The Rev. William Duke _enters left, crosses to desk and looks for
writing paper and envelope. As he does so he speaks to_ Tom. Duke _is
a very sincere, earnest young clergyman_.)
DUKE. Good morning, sir.
TOM (_in a loud voice to_ Mrs. C-Banks). How is the Colonel?
MRS. C-BANKS. Dear Benjamin, I regret to say is feeling the heat
dreadfully. I should have joined him last year, but somehow I never
got time. The penalty of popularity. My great friend, Mabel, the
Duchess of Middleford--_you don’t_ know her, of course, she was only
saying to me at the Palace the other day--
DUKE (_as he sits at writing desk with paper, etc., turns to_ Tom.)
Good morning.
TOM. Eh--oh, good morning.
MRS. C-BANKS. Who is that man?
TOM. Really, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks, I dunno--I--
MRS. C-BANKS. How strange! Peculiar people one must meet, mustn’t
one, in public places. Never mind. Let me see, where was I?
TOM. With your great friend whom I don’t know.
MRS. C-BANKS. Oh yes, of course. (Rev. William Duke _sits left and
writes_.) And then that strange man whom we neither of us know
interrupted by wishing you good morning. Never mind. Mabel pointed
out to me very clearly that I was in danger of neglecting my duty.
She said to me quite plainly, almost brutally, and she can be very
brutal sometimes--“My dear Genevieve,” she said, “you must remember
you are a daughter of the Empire, a soldier’s _daughter_--a soldier’s
_wife_. Your place is by your husband’s side in far far India.” In
fact she was so insistent on my leaving England that if I didn’t know
her really well, I should have felt she wanted to get rid of me.
Still I have taken her advice, I have abandoned London’s gaieties and
go to help poor dear Benjamin rule a lot of black men. Frankly I hate
the idea.
DUKE (_still sitting at table, turns_). I’m awfully sorry to bother
you, Madam, but could you tell me what the date is?
MRS. C-BANKS. What was that?
DUKE. I ought to know, of course, seeing that it’s the date we sail,
but my memory’s so--
MRS. C-BANKS. Did you say the date?
DUKE. Yes, if you please.
MRS. C-BANKS. The _date_?
DUKE. If you would--
MRS. C-BANKS. You’re trying to start a conversation with me, aren’t
you?
DUKE (_laughs_). Well, frankly, as we’re all to be shipmates, the
sooner we get to know each other the better, don’t you think?
MRS. C-BANKS. That, young man, is a matter of opinion.
DUKE. Oh, I’m awfully sorry if--I didn’t think introductions were
necessary on board ship.
MRS. C-BANKS. Possibly they may not have been in the days of Walter
Raleigh. Not having been there myself at the time I cannot say for
certain. But customs change at sea, young man, even though the
Church remains exactly where it always was. Under the circumstances,
therefore, there can be no question of me giving you a date.
DUKE. I beg your pardon--I’ll find it out for myself.
MRS. C-BANKS. Was that cutting enough, dear Mr. Prior?
TOM. Oh yes, most; but what did it mean?
MRS. C-BANKS. I don’t know.
(Mrs. Midget _wanders on from the deck. A poor charwoman in black
little bonnet, black shawl and dress--her best. Very humble, simple
and obviously out of place in these strange surroundings. But sweet
and motherly._)
MRS. MIDGET. You’ll excuse me, mum, but--
MRS. C-BANKS (_looking up and seeing her_). Good gracious!
MRS. MIDGET. You’ll excuse me speaking up as it were, but I must say
something to someone. And as you’re the only other lady I’ve seen
about, bar myself, I must ask you to give me a--
MRS. C-BANKS. Mr. Prior, am I to be attacked from all sides?
MRS. MIDGET (_starts suddenly at sound of name_). Mr. Prior?
TOM. Any objection?
MRS. MIDGET. No, very pleased to meet you. You see, mum, I ’ad to
follow yer because yer see, mum, I’ve been struck all of a ’eap.
MRS. C-BANKS. You’ve been what?
MRS. MIDGET. Struck all of a ’eap.
MRS. C-BANKS. Mr. Prior, rescue me. And you had better do something
for this good woman, too. It appears she has been struck all of a
heap--whatever that may mean.
TOM. Well--what’s the trouble?
MRS. MIDGET. Well, sir, thanking you, it’s like this, as it were--
MRS. C-BANKS. “As it were.” How quaint! “As it was” is correct, of
course--we all know that from our Prayer Book. Go on.
MRS. MIDGET. Well, sir, it were like this, _as it was;_ only last
Saturday, Mrs. Roberts and I were talking about the sheets being
damp, and I says--
MRS. C-BANKS. Ah! Sheets--damp. The good woman is, of course, a
stewardess.
TOM. Are you?
MRS. MIDGET. Am I what?
TOM. A stewardess on this boat?
MRS. MIDGET. No, I’m a passenger.
MRS. C-BANKS. She’s a passenger! Oh, I see it, she’s a passenger!
I see it all! The whole thing has come to me in a flash! She’s a
passenger. Don’t worry yourself any more, Mr. Prior, I have solved
the good woman’s trouble. She’s a passenger and she’s lost her way;
haven’t you, good woman?
MRS. MIDGET. Exactly, mum.
MRS. C-BANKS. Mr. Prior, tell that steward fellow to tell somebody
to take the good woman back to her proper place immediately. She’s
been wandering. She’s on the wrong deck, she’s in the wrong class.
Goodbye, good woman, goodbye. So glad to have been so helpful.
MRS. MIDGET. Thank you, mum.
TOM (_going to her_). Oh, steward, just get someone to show this
woman steerage--er--third class deck--or something, will you?
SCRUBBY (_turns to_ Tom). The third class, sir?
TOM. Yes, please.
SCRUBBY. I think you’ve made some mistake, sir. There is only one
class on the boat.
(Rev. William Duke _finishes his letter and goes out left._)
MRS. C-BANKS. (_Faintly._) What was that?
TOM. Only one class?
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir. It’s the same on all this line.
MRS. C-BANKS. What was that?
TOM. Oh, sorry--I didn’t know. (_Returning._) Er--Mrs.
Cliveden-Banks.--
MRS. C-BANKS. Mr. Prior, did I, or did I not hear that fellow say
there is only one class on this boat?
TOM. He said so, certainly.
MRS. C-BANKS. Mr. Prior, the thing’s impossible.
TOM. Well, he ought to know.
MRS. C-BANKS. How dare she--how dare my secretary book me a passage
on a vessel with only one class? How am I to know who are the ladies
and gentlemen, and who are not?
TOM. Now, now, don’t get excited.
MRS. C-BANKS. Excited! Mr. Prior, a terrible thought has just struck
me. That woman there--
TOM. Well, what about her?
MRS. C-BANKS. She probably eats.
TOM. Extremely likely, I should say.
MRS. C-BANKS. Well then--if she eats--and if there’s only one
class--she will eat in the same place as we shall. It can’t be done,
I shall disembark immediately.
TOM. Now look here, Mrs. Banks--Mrs. Cliveden-Banks--she’s probably
only a lady’s maid or something.
MRS. C-BANKS. Who would have a maid like that--outside a theatrical
boarding house?
TOM. The idea of your landing is absurd. Don’t get nervy about
nothing. We can easily avoid her. If you’re really upset--
MRS. C-BANKS. And I am, I am!
TOM. Then I’ll question her.
MRS. C-BANKS. Yes. Do, do, quickly. It would be quite impossible for
me to lunch at the same table with a woman who has been struck all of
a heap.
TOM. Come here, will you? I--er--we want to help you if we possibly
can. (_Drinks._)
MRS. MIDGET. Thank you, sir.
TOM. Excuse me. (_Finishes drink._) Thanks. Now, what is--your name?
MRS. MIDGET. Midget.
TOM. What?
MRS. MIDGET. Midget.
MRS. C-BANKS. That, to begin with, is an alibi. No one could possibly
be called Midget.
MRS. MIDGET (_warming in quick resentment_). Oh, couldn’t they? Well,
I’ll show you whether they could or not all right. Midget’s as good a
name as any other name, Midget is. And don’t you forget it, old Mrs.
’Igh and Mighty. My name’s Midget all right, Midget married me all
right, and I can prove it, and I’ve got my lines, which was a job to
get as I admit.
MRS. C-BANKS. How dreadfully sordid!
MRS. MIDGET. But when it comes to utter strangers tellin’ me as I
don’t know what my own name is, then I speaks up and unabashed, as I
would do in front of the ’ole street. I’ve nothing to ’ide, I’ve not,
I’m not one of these--
MRS. C-BANKS. That will do, that will do. The world is full of
troubles we know. Doubtless you have had yours, my good--er--my woman.
MRS. MIDGET. I ’ave ’ad trouble, I confess.
TOM. But what’s your present one--that’s what--what we want to know?
MRS. MIDGET. Where am I?
TOM. On board--on board this ship.
MRS. MIDGET. Yes, but what for?
TOM. How should _I_ know. Are your tickets and luggage all right?
MRS. MIDGET. I suppose so. I’m not one to worry over little things.
TOM. Have you been to your cabin yet?
MRS. MIDGET. No.
TOM. What’s the number?
MRS. MIDGET. ’Ow do I know if I ain’t been there?
TOM. I say--you’re not tight, are you?
MRS. MIDGET. Tight?
TOM. Blotto--squiffy--gone away.
MRS. MIDGET. Not me. “T.T.” I am.
TOM. How wise of you. (_Drinks._) Well, are you ill?
MRS. MIDGET. Now, that’s what I’m a-wondering. Am I ill? I don’t
think so. I don’t feel ill. And yet I said to Mrs. Roberts last
Thursday--or was it Wednesday--never mind, I said to ’er any way I
says--“What I want” says I--or did she say it to me? Never mind, it
don’t make no difference, one of us says it to the other, “What I or
you want” according to which ever of us _did_ say it, “is a thorough
’oliday.” And then--wait a minute--I remember now--it’s all coming
back--I’ve come on ’ere to meet somebody.
TOM. Oh, that’s it, is it?
MRS. MIDGET. Yes, at the other end. It was our parson’s idea. “A
thorough ’oliday” of course! ’Ow silly of me to forget. But of course
I ain’t ’ad much to eat to-day and what with the excitement and one
thing and another, and Mrs. Roberts--
TOM. Damn Mrs. Roberts!
MRS. MIDGET. Oh, I do, sir--often.
TOM. Look here, what you want’s a sandwich and a drink, and a good
sleep. Then you’ll remember everything. Someone should have brought
you here, of course. But if you’re being met at the other end,
there’s nothing to worry about.
MRS. MIDGET. Thank you, sir.
MRS. C-BANKS. The woman is obviously light-headed. Have her removed.
TOM. Steward, can you find out this passenger’s stewardess for
me--for her. Have her put in her charge, see she gets everything she
should have. Nervous you know, never been to sea.
SCRUBBY. Certainly, sir. (_Crosses left from behind bar._)
MRS. C-BANKS. I should certainly suggest a sleep for her. A long,
long sleep--in fact, if I were in her place I should take a complete
rest, have all my meals in my own cabin, and never come on deck at
all. I’m sure she would feel better if she did that.
MRS. MIDGET. Much obliged. But I ’ope to be ’opping about like a
cricket in an ’our or two.
SCRUBBY. This way, Madam.
MRS. MIDGET. (_Flattered by the attention._) Thank you, _Captain_.
(Scrubby _and_ Mrs. Midget _go off together left._)
SCRUBBY. Straight ahead.
MRS. C-BANKS. I should like to burn Miss Longton. Miss Longton is my
secretary.
TOM (_looking after them_). Do you think that woman was speaking the
truth?
MRS. C-BANKS. No. She’s probably one of a gang of international
crooks. Look at the way she scraped acquaintance with me. Personally
I shall be on my guard against her. (_Low muffled syren heard._) What
do you think that is?
TOM. Sailing shortly, I suppose.
MRS. C-BANKS. Then I shall go on deck and wave farewell to the dear
old white cliffs. (_Rises._) By the way, I’m told on many parts of
the coast they’re crumbling fast. Still, England, England, there is
no country like her.
TOM. Thank goodness.
MRS. C-BANKS. Why do you say that?
TOM. I don’t. That’s what other countries say.
MRS. C-BANKS. How naughty you are. Well, come along and protect me
from the mob.
TOM. No, thanks, if you’ll excuse me. I’d far rather remain here and
slip away from my native land oblivious of her disregard for me.
MRS. C-BANKS. Which means--?
TOM. That I’m going to have another drink.
MRS. C-BANKS. You’re a bad lad. Still, I’ll see you later.
(_She passes through the centre door and goes left along the deck._)
TOM. I suppose so. Confound the woman. (_Drinks and lights
cigarette._)
(Rev. William Duke _re-appears from the left._)
Oh, I say, Padre!
DUKE. How is the Colonel? (_Goes up right to table._)
TOM. Padre.
DUKE. Were you speaking to me, sir?
TOM. Yes. I want to--to apologise.
DUKE (_centre_). What for?
TOM. Cutting you stone dead like the silly old woman I was with.
DUKE. Oh, that’s all right.
TOM. Sure?
DUKE. Sure!
TOM. Positive?
DUKE. Positive!
TOM. Good. Have a drink?
DUKE. Thanks. (_He sits down left of table._)
TOM. The fellow will be back in a second.
DUKE. Good.
TOM. Cigarette?
DUKE. Thanks.
TOM. Hot, isn’t it?
DUKE. Yes. Hot.
TOM. Yes--er--do you think we shall have--er--smooth passage?
DUKE. Quite. I mean--I hope so.
TOM. So do I.
DUKE. I suppose we all do.
TOM. Er--yes. I suppose we all do. I say, I must tell you, of course,
that I should never have behaved as I did just now, pretending not to
see you and all that, but of course I’m a very weak character.
DUKE. Strong of you to admit it.
TOM. Yes, I’m easily swayed. No stamina. (_Drinks._) I can’t think
why. And the old cat was drivelling along, and she persuaded me not
to see you. Told me you were unlucky.
DUKE. Ha!
TOM. So I agreed not to. I always agree with anyone I’m with. She was
to blame entirely.
DUKE. I have always found it an unwise habit to run down other
people. They have a nasty way of getting to hear about it and
retaliating--with interest.
TOM. You’re not going to preach a sermon, are you?
DUKE. Good lor’, no! I say, do you know Bethnal Green?
TOM. Good heavens, no!
DUKE. Take my advice then and don’t; I do. I’ve known it for the last
eight years. And I’m sick of the slums and people I was trying to
keep straight with sermons--official and otherwise--and the drizzle,
and the smell of tea in urns with the Vicar--oh yes, the Vicar more
than anything. No, no, no more sermons from me for a bit. But I beg
your pardon, I must be boring you.
TOM. Not at all so far. You must have had a pretty rotten time!
(Scrubby _re-enters from the left and goes to bar._)
DUKE. Oh, I don’t know, I’m awfully keen on my job. I want a rest,
that’s all.
TOM. “A thorough ’oliday,” in fact. Hello, he’s our man. This will do
you good. What’s it to be?
(Scrubby _collects empty glasses._)
DUKE. Beer, please.
TOM. Er--steward--er what is your name?
SCRUBBY. Scrubby.
TOM. Midget and Scrubby. Good lor’! Oh, well, it can’t be helped, I
suppose. A Bass please, and a--the same.
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir.
DUKE. I think everybody ought to be awfully keen, don’t you?
TOM. What do you mean? Sort of getting up in the morning before
breakfast and having a cold bath? Because if you do, I don’t.
DUKE. No, no, not necessarily that, of course. But keen every moment
of the day, keen on something--never wasting a moment--at it, always
at it, as it were. Now there’s the trip for instance, that we’re
going on. We must arrange to enjoy every moment of it.
TOM. Why?
DUKE. Because we’re meant to.
TOM. Oh!
DUKE. We must organise amongst ourselves. I’ve thought out lots of
jolly little ideas.
TOM. Such as--?
DUKE. Well--for instance--we’ll get up a concert.
TOM. Oh! that will be jolly. _Must_ we get up a concert?
DUKE. Of course.
TOM. How awful! Why must we?
DUKE. Just to amuse the other passengers.
TOM. _Would_ it amuse the other passengers?
DUKE. And ourselves too.
TOM. Oh, I see.
DUKE. It always _is_ done, you know.
TOM. Some habits want breaking--
DUKE. Do you sing?
TOM. No.
DUKE. That’s a pity.
TOM. Do you recite?
DUKE. Er--no--
TOM. That’s excellent!
(Scrubby _advances with drinks._)
SCRUBBY. Your drinks, sir, and it’s quite all _right_.
TOM. What’s quite all _right_?
SCRUBBY. The lady, sir.
TOM. Which lady?
SCRUBBY. The lady you wanted put in charge of her stewardess.
TOM. Oh yes, of course. That lady. Thanks very much.
SCRUBBY. Thank you, sir. (_Returns behind bar._)
DUKE. I say, I really oughtn’t to know, but I’d always understood you
couldn’t get a drink on board a ship until she sailed?
TOM. Neither you can as a rule. That never struck me--don’t say
anything.
DUKE. It’s very queer.
TOM. It’s very lucky. Cheero!
DUKE. Cheero!
TOM. Got any other gadget on you for the passenger’s amusement?
Perhaps you’d like me to walk the plank or something?
DUKE. We ought to have some sports, of course.
TOM. Why did I put the idea into your head?
DUKE. You can help with the organization. You need not participate.
TOM. Right. I’ll organize anything you like--from here. Cheery spot
this.
(_Through the centre door enters_ Mr. Lingley. _He is a hard and
unpleasant business man, aged fifty-five or sixty. He is loud and
officious, and is obviously self made. He has on a travelling cap
and a heavy overcoat, and he is carrying an attaché case, containing
business papers. He is evidently in a great hurry._)
LINGLEY. Ah, good morning, gentlemen. My name’s Lingley.
TOM. Hurray!
LINGLEY. I’ve had a narrow shave--nearly missed her.
DUKE (_rises_). Duke’s my name. Very warm to-day, sir.
LINGLEY. Damn warm--I beg your pardon, I didn’t notice your
collar--very warm. Steward get me a drink. (_Sits at table left._)
(Duke _sits._)
SCRUBBY. Whiskey and soda, sir?
LINGLEY. No, confound you, ginger ale with some ice. Yes, I left it a
bit too late, another five minutes and I’d have missed her.
DUKE. We’ll soon be off then?
LINGLEY. We’re sailing now.
TOM. Land of hope and glory--au revoir! (_Drinks._)
DUKE. You motored here?
LINGLEY. No, flew--in my office two hours ago. Now I must get on with
things. (_Opens attaché case and lays out papers._)
(Scrubby _brings him his drink._)
DUKE (_to_ Tom). There you are, you see, the man’s keen.
TOM. I _know_ the blighter.
LINGLEY (_to_ Scrubby). How much?
SCRUBBY. You needn’t pay, sir.
LINGLEY. I always pay. How much?
SCRUBBY. One shilling, sir.
LINGLEY. Damn--er--_very_ expensive still--here is _one_ shilling.
SCRUBBY. Thank you, sir.
LINGLEY. What for? (Scrubby _returns behind bar._) I haven’t tipped
you.
DUKE. I hope you won’t be so busy, sir, that we shan’t see you on the
trip.
LINGLEY. Once in my state-room I don’t suppose I’ll leave it--till we
touch--er--er--Marseilles.
DUKE. I hope it’s interesting work, sir.
LINGLEY. No, it isn’t, but it keeps me busy--I am an M.P. you know.
(Scrubby _disappears through the door right._)
DUKE. Oh! Pleased to meet you.
LINGLEY. Not at all. I’m on the London County Council as well,
incidentally I own twenty-one music-halls, a chain of cinemas, two
gold mines and a Methodist chapel. Naturally they want looking after.
DUKE. Naturally. What are you doing with the chapel?
LINGLEY. Having it pulled down.
TOM. Sportsman!
LINGLEY. You--you there!
TOM. Me?
LINGLEY. Yes! I know your face, don’t I? I never forget a face.
TOM. How that must sadden your sweet life at times.
LINGLEY. Where have I seen it before?
TOM. Oh, in your office. You gave me a job once. It lasted two days.
LINGLEY. What was the matter?
TOM. Your office! I couldn’t stand the atmosphere so I drownded it in
drink.
LINGLEY. I remember. I remember. You were sacked mechanically.
TOM. Yes. You wouldn’t give me a second chance.
LINGLEY. No one has ever given _me_ a second chance. I shall never
expect one. I shall certainly never ask for one.
TOM. As you said when you sacked me mechanically. In my opinion, Mr.
Lingley, L.C.C., M.P., you’re a pompous old idiot.
LINGLEY (_rising_). How dare you! How--you must be crazy.
TOM. I’m not in your ghastly office now. I can say what I like.
(_Shouts._) You’re a blue-nosed baboon! There! I’ve dreamt I said
that to you for weeks, and now I’ve said it.
LINGLEY. If you’re not careful, Mr.--Mr.--er--er--I’ll--I’ll--
TOM. If _you’re_ not careful, Mr. Lingley, I’ll make you walk the
plank at the sports.
LINGLEY. Mr. Prior, you are obviously drunk now.
TOM. I am drunk I admit--but I had trusted not obviously.
DUKE. Dear, dear, dear, dear!
TOM. Yes, that remark helps matters such a lot, doesn’t it?
LINGLEY. I shall go on deck. Where are my papers? I’ve been
irritated. The doctors said I must not be irritated. I’ve too much to
do to be irritated.
DUKE. Oh, I’m sure Mr. Prior didn’t mean--
TOM. I did. Every word of it. Shut up! He’s a pink-eyed rabbit. He’s
a rotter, he’s a grasper--
LINGLEY. Silence, sir! For goodness sake silence! I shan’t be able to
concentrate after this interruption. I came here for peace, damn you.
I’ve been thinking too hard as it is--and now this little gnat--he’s
destroyed what I’d nearly completed in my mind. Damn you, sir, I’m
sick of opposition--Damn you--you--(_the long low syren is heard
again_). Oh, my God! (_Drops into a chair._)
DUKE. Mr. Lingley, what is it? (_Goes to Lingley._)
(Tom _goes to above_ Lingley _glass in hand._)
LINGLEY. Wait--wait!
DUKE. You’re looking ill.
LINGLEY. Yes, I am ill, I’m feeling ill I am. Suddenly. I must have
help, I was warned about this. An arm, please--and some of that stuff
you’re drinking.
(Tom _gives him drink and supports him._)
Thank you. I shall be all right in a minute.
DUKE. I’ll get the doctor.
LINGLEY. No. He’ll only irritate me. I know what to do. I’ve been
told what to do. Absolute quiet and fresh air. I’ll go on deck.
(_Feels in pocket._) Oh yes, I’d forgotten. I’m to take one of these.
(Tom _takes phial from his pocket and gives him a tabloid._) Thank
you. I must keep quiet, calm and not think. I shall be all right in a
minute, and I’ll see another man the moment I get to--get to--(_Looks
from one to the other._)--where _am_ I going to?
DUKE. Marseilles you said, sir.
LINGLEY. Oh yes, of course, Marseilles. (_Pause._) What am I going to
Marseilles for?
DUKE. Don’t worry now.
LINGLEY. No, don’t worry, that’s right. I felt quite faint for the
moment, Mr. Duke; your drink has done me good. I’ll go on deck and
sit down.
DUKE. I’ll see you there.
LINGLEY. Thank you. I prefer to be alone. I’m quite all right. I
shall soon remember everything. I know what I’m doing. (_Rises._)
Oh, I’ve forgotten my papers.
(Tom _supports him towards the centre door._)
DUKE. Leave them--they can wait--I’ll look after them.
LINGLEY. No, no, give them to me.
(Tom _gives them._)
DUKE. I wish you’d let me come and--
LINGLEY. Please don’t worry me! It’s all right this time, I know
it is, if I’m not worried. Thank you. I know what I’m doing, of
course--I know--already I’m better. I’m going to meet someone, that’s
all. But was it Aaronson or was it Bantock?
DUKE. Remember what your doctor said, don’t worry!
LINGLEY (_going towards the door_). Of course not--no. That was the
worst attack I’ve had so far. But I’m better now--yes--and the quiet
and sea air will soon clear my mind completely. Thank you. I wish I
could remember if it was Aaronson or Bantock! Thank you, Mr. Duke,
for your very kind assistance.
(_He goes out slowly on to the deck and passes out of sight to the
right._ Duke _follows up after him._)
TOM. Padre! (_Up by centre opening._)
DUKE (_stopping_). Well?
TOM. What was it?
DUKE. I don’t know--some sudden sort of attack--I’m going to stop by
him. (_Starting to follow_ Lingley.)
TOM. Padre!
DUKE. Well?
TOM. It was my fault, I suppose.
DUKE. Oh no, I--
TOM. Are you angry with me?
DUKE. Why should I be?
TOM. You know.
DUKE. Drink is a terrible--
TOM. It seemed to do _him_ good.
(_Returns to above table and sits, and_ Duke _follows._)
DUKE. That’s different.
TOM. You promised no sermons, anyway.
DUKE. What made you start it?
TOM. You said everyone should be keen on something. Drink’s my hobby.
Let’s leave it at that.
DUKE. Please don’t joke about it.
TOM. All right. If you won’t be angry with me--I hate people to be
angry with me. But I wasn’t joking.
DUKE (_over_ Tom). I’ll see you later. In fact I hope to see a lot of
you on the voyage. (_Starting out centre._)
TOM. Thanks. That’s what I said to the steward. (_Stopping him
again._) Padre!
DUKE (_returning_). Well--well!
TOM. One moment.
DUKE. What is it?
TOM. In strict confidence--now we’re friends again--has it struck you
by any chance that there’s anything queer about this boat? Strictly
between ourselves.
DUKE. No, it hasn’t.
TOM. It has me.
DUKE. How do you mean?
TOM. I think there’s something jolly queer about her. By Jove, if I
were right it _would_ be a joke!
DUKE. I don’t follow you.
TOM. It’s difficult to explain. But Mr. Lingley--and--and--Oh, I’m
not quite sure myself. It may be only my--
DUKE. Imagination?
TOM. Exactly. Only somehow I don’t think it is.
DUKE. Go on. I must hurry.
TOM. Yes. Well (_turns to_ Duke) there was a sort of charwoman here
just now--you didn’t see her--a very decent sort of soul, of course,
but--well--hardly the kind of person you’d expect to find here. And
she couldn’t remember where she was going. Excepting she was going
to meet someone. (_Turns to him._) Now this Lingley fellow’s just
told us the same thing in different words. He couldn’t remember where
he was going either, at least not clearly. And I’ve noticed lots
of other little things. For instance, it’s absurd sailing with our
passenger list--there are so few of us. I tell you it’s queer--and--
DUKE. Really I can’t follow you.
TOM. Then there’s old Mrs. Banks drivelling on about joining her
husband--Good lor’! It’s just struck me.
DUKE. What has?
TOM. Colonel Cliveden-Banks kicked the bucket over a month ago.
Surely she can’t have forgotten _that_. Or--or would _that_ be her
father?
DUKE. Mr. Prior, if you take my advice, you’ll follow Mr. Lingley’s
example and get some fresh air on deck.
TOM. Yes, I think I will. All the same it _is_ queer. (_Rises to
above table._) Certain you’re not angry with me?
DUKE. Oh yes, certain. Shipmates, eh? (_Shakes hands._)
TOM. Oh yes, shipmates. But I bet you cut me the moment we land.
DUKE. Rot!
(_He follows_ Lingley _on to the deck._ Henry _has entered and is
lighting his pipe from a match which he has taken from the table down
left._)
TOM. Excuse me, sir, after you. (_Coming up to him, takes his match
and lights his cigarette from it._) Thanks. I say, do you mind if I
ask you a question?
HENRY. Of course not.
TOM. It’s rather a queer question.
HENRY. Go on.
TOM. Do--you--know--where--you--are going--to?
HENRY. Are you a Salvation Army man or what?
TOM. No, I’m quite serious.
HENRY. Of course I know where I’m going to.
TOM. On this boat?
HENRY. Certainly.
TOM. Thank goodness! I’m going to get some fresh air!
(_He goes out on to the deck._ Henry _goes up towards the deck, looks
out._ Ann _enters left._)
ANN. Why did you run away?
HENRY. Wanted a match.
ANN. I had some.
HENRY. A bit nervy too. (_Coming down centre._)
ANN. You’ve no need to be now--we’ve sailed.
HENRY. Really!
ANN. Yes. I saw the water moving by the porthole.
HENRY. (_Runs up centre and looks out._) You’re right. Why, we’re
well out. Almost open water.
ANN. Yes, dear.
HENRY. Give me your hand. (_To her._)
ANN. Hold tight to it.
HENRY. Queer. It’s just like an ordinary sailing.
ANN. Is it? (_Pause._)
HENRY. A man just now asked me if I knew where I was going. I said I
did.
ANN. That was right.
HENRY. Funny question though, wasn’t it?
ANN. Oh, I don’t know.
HENRY. He said it was queer. You don’t think he--
ANN. Of course not, dear. Can you smell the sea?
HENRY. Yes, fine, isn’t it?
ANN. I hope it will be terribly rough with lots of spray and wind.
HENRY. Why?
ANN. You can hold me closer.
HENRY. Ann! Ann! I’ve been worrying, I’ve been thinking just
now--these modern inventions--and things like that, you know.
ANN. You prosaic old thing--aren’t you?
HENRY. They couldn’t possibly call us back even now, could they?
ANN. Of course not, dear. How could they? We’re safe enough as long
as we hold tight.
HENRY. It was a risk, though, wasn’t it?
ANN. Yes, dear.
HENRY. If--supposing--if it hadn’t happened.
ANN. My dear, we always knew it would.
HENRY. Yes, but if it hadn’t.
ANN. But we knew.
HENRY. I think you were always more certain than I was.
ANN (_sits_). Well then, I knew for both of us.
HENRY (_sits_). Yes, that’s right. You knew. Ann, I trust you so in
things I can’t quite understand. Of course I trust you in things I
can understand too. But you seem to know so much more about the big
things than I do.
ANN. Perhaps I only pretend to.
HENRY. Oh no, you know all right. Give me another light will you?
Thanks. It’s nice being able to smoke. Ann?
ANN. Well, dear.
HENRY. You’re quite, quite sure.
ANN. Quite sure, dear.
HENRY. Isn’t ours a terribly big secret?
ANN. Isn’t it?
HENRY. Yes, Ann, I love you.
ANN. I love you, Henry.
HENRY. Always?
ANN. Always.
HENRY. Ann, I wonder how the dog is?
ANN. You baby--poor old Jock! Oh, they’ll look after him all right.
HENRY. I hope so. I say, Ann, when dogs die, what do you think
happens to them?
ANN. I dunno. There must be some sort of doggie’s heaven, I suppose.
HENRY. What a jolly place it must be! No cats in it, of course.
ANN. Of course not. Just lots of bones and meat and water. And hot
fires to lie in front of in the winter.
HENRY. What about the kind masters?
ANN. I’d forgotten them. Oh, I expect there’s some arrangement so
that the good dogs can’t remember the kind masters.
HENRY. _We_ remember, though.
ANN. Yes. _You_ were a very kind master.
HENRY (_rises_). It’s queer. (_Over to centre._) Poor old Jock.
(_Turns._) I say, Ann, you don’t think--
ANN. What?
HENRY. Any of these other people can possibly know.
ANN. Our secret? Of course they can’t.
HENRY. It _is_ a wonderful secret.
ANN (_rises_). I told you, Henry, how it would be as long as we
believed.
HENRY. And yet? (_Over to her._) I wonder if it’s safe--even now.
ANN. What makes you say that?
HENRY. I can’t quite remember, Ann, not clearly, not yet--it’s coming
back gradually of course, but--but--
ANN. Yes, dear?
HENRY. Ann, haven’t you and I sinned in some way?
ANN. We’ve been true to each other. How can we have sinned?
HENRY. If we had, Ann, could they separate us?
ANN. Hold my hand tightly.
HENRY. I’m trying so hard to remember.
ANN. What, dear?
HENRY. What it is we’ve done that isn’t right.
ANN. We’ve done nothing that isn’t right.
HENRY. No. Not in our light, of course. But have we from other--from
the world’s--
ANN. We’ve never cared for the world. We’re not going to care for it
now.
HENRY. If we were wrong and if it were something very, very wrong,
they couldn’t separate us, could they?
ANN. That sort of thing’s all over now, Henry. You’ve forgotten our
secret.
HENRY. No, I haven’t, it’s all perfect, of course--excepting this
one thing. (Tom _enters from the deck and unobserved by them stands
quietly at the back leaning against doorway._) Don’t laugh--don’t
laugh at me, Ann, I’m only trying to remember, and asking for your
help. But it seems (_sits_) to me this thing--this crime, if it is
one--that we’ve committed, is something big and yet that it’s--now
don’t laugh--that it’s only something to do with gas.
ANN (_sits beside him_). Gas?
HENRY. Yes.
ANN. You silly.
HENRY. It seems to me that before we left the flat--
ANN. Our sad little flat!
HENRY. I forgot--to turn off--the gas.
ANN. You terrible silly! Of course you did. We--agreed--that. That’s
what we agreed.
HENRY. There’s nothing very wrong in not turning off gas!
ANN. Don’t worry, dear. Take my hand.
HENRY (_laughs_). Nothing so bad that they could separate us for it.
You can’t blame people for not turning off gas! And yet, I’d have
sworn--Ann, you’re quite certain that there isn’t something else
we’ve done. Something big?
ANN. There’s nothing else, dear, I’m certain. You’ve nothing to be
ashamed of.
HENRY. I love you so.
ANN. Thank you, Henry. Don’t worry, dear.
HENRY. I wish I could remember _how_ we got here. We wanted to so
long. Anyway, now we have.
ANN. Let’s go out on to the deck.
HENRY. Yes, let’s--bless you. (_Both turn and see_ Tom.) Hello, sir.
TOM (_quietly_). Hello!
HENRY. We didn’t notice you--
TOM. It’s all right. I just came back to--
HENRY. May I introduce my wife. Ann, this is the gentleman who asked
me if I knew where I was going.
ANN. How do you do?
TOM. How do you do?
(Tom _is a changed man. His tone is quiet and sad, and he stands
perfectly rigid. The awful truth which has dawned upon him has
completely sobered him. There is a pause. Then_ Ann _goes out on to
the deck, and_ Henry _follows her._)
HENRY (_as he goes_). We’ll see you later. We’ve sailed you know.
(Scrubby _appears behind the bar._)
TOM. Yes, I am right. (_Comes down to bar._) The same.
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir, certainly sir. A _very_ warm day, sir. (_Bringing
drink to table._)
TOM. I am right, aren’t I, Scrubby?
SCRUBBY. Right, sir, in the head, do you mean?
TOM (_takes drink_). You know what I mean.
SCRUBBY. No, I don’t sir. Right about what?
TOM. You--I--all of us on the boat.
SCRUBBY. What about all of us on this boat, sir?
TOM (_trembling with apprehension_). We are--now answer me
truthfully--we are all _dead, aren’t we_?
SCRUBBY (_after a pause. Very quietly with firm conviction._) Yes,
sir, we are all dead. Quite dead. They don’t find out so soon as you
have as a rule.
TOM (_pause_). Queer! (_Sits left of table._)
SCRUBBY. Not when you get used to it, sir.
TOM. How long have you been--you been--oh, you know?
SCRUBBY. Me, sir? Oh, I was lost young.
TOM. You were what?
SCRUBBY. Lost young, sir.
TOM. I don’t understand.
SCRUBBY. No, sir, you wouldn’t not yet. But you’ll get to know lots
of things as the voyage goes on.
TOM. Tell me--tell me one thing--_now_. (_His anxiety is terrific,
and he is in a state of extreme tension._)
SCRUBBY. Anything I can, sir.
TOM (_terrified_). Where--where are we sailing for?
SCRUBBY. Heaven, sir. (_Pause._) And hell too, (_pause_) it’s the
same place you see.
CURTAIN.
ACT II
_The scene is unchanged, but it is evening. The curtains are drawn
over the portholes, and the electric lights are on. The centre door
is open from time to time, and it is pitch black outside._
_On the left is seated_ Mrs. Cliveden-Banks. Mr. Lingley _is with
her, seated at the table on the right._
LINGLEY. Well, I’m feeling very much better.
MRS. C-BANKS. I am so glad.
LINGLEY. I didn’t quite catch your name at dinner. Being introduced
during the soup has its disadvantages. The lady sitting next to us
made it a little difficult to hear concisely.
MRS. C-BANKS. Mrs. Cliveden-Banks. Yes, I foresaw trouble with her
this morning. Er--Mrs. Midget.
LINGLEY. Thank you. I say, Mrs. Midget--
MRS. C-BANKS. No, no! No. _I_ am Cliveden-Banks.
LINGLEY. I apologise. What strikes me is that this line can’t be
paying any dividends--Why there’s nobody on board.
MRS. C-BANKS. Bother dividends as long as I’m comfortable!
LINGLEY. This I think _is_ the best place.
MRS. C-BANKS. Quite a jolly little snuggery. (The Reverend William
Duke _enters and comes down centre._) At least it _was_.
LINGLEY. Join me in a cigar, Duke?
REVEREND W. DUKE. Thank you.
MRS. C-BANKS (_after a glance at_ Duke). And I was so comfortable.
Where on earth can I go to now, I wonder? (_Rises._)
LINGLEY. Oh! don’t go.
DUKE. I hope you are not leaving on my account?
MRS. C-BANKS. Your hope is shattered, sir, I am.
DUKE. Mrs. Cliveden-Banks, I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you.
I can’t help being a parson. But I do know that you’ll make it very
uncomfortable for the others if you go on like this. So come, look
over my shortcomings just for the trip. Remember that to “err is
human, to forgive divine.”
MRS. C-BANKS. Are you suggesting I have ever erred?
DUKE. In your case, I am certain such a thing would be impossible.
MRS. C-BANKS. Oh! very well. I sacrifice myself for the others’
sake. I am a generous woman. How do you do? (_Shaking hands._) But
remember, Mr. Duke, if you _do_ drown us all, I’ll never speak to you
again. (_Sits left._)
DUKE. Splendid! (_Sits right of table right._) Now, where are those
other two? We might get up some bridge. We _must_ all do something
our first night out.
MRS. C-BANKS. What other two do you mean?
DUKE. They--er--at dinner. They sat by themselves. Seemed awfully
nice--quiet. I don’t know their names--I think the girl’s called Ann.
MRS. C-BANKS. Oh! that couple! Oh! dear! Did you like the look of
_them_?
DUKE. Yes, didn’t you?
MRS. C-BANKS. No, I thought there was something funny about them.
LINGLEY. “Funny”?
DUKE. What do you mean by that?
MRS. C-BANKS. I don’t know. It just struck me they were funny. Not
nice. I may be wrong. I hope I am. But that _is_ my opinion. Not
nice. Funny.
(Mrs. Midget _wanders in from the deck. Now hatless._)
MRS. MIDGET. May I come in?
MRS. C-BANKS. Now I _shall_ go.
DUKE (_rises_). Yes, come in, Mrs. Midget, come in.
MRS. MIDGET (_entering_). It’s a bit lonely in the street.
DUKE. “Street”?
MRS. MIDGET. Out there.
MRS. C-BANKS. She means the deck--how quaint.
DUKE. It’s more cheerful in here, isn’t it?
MRS. MIDGET. Oh, much. (_Advancing left centre._)
DUKE. Sit down. You’re not nervous, now, are you?
MRS. MIDGET (_sits above table, right centre_). Not of you, sir. You
wear just the same sort of collar as our parson does. I wish I was
back in the Lambeth Road.
MRS. C-BANKS (_to_ Lingley). I can’t stand the creature. I really
can’t--she’s too impossible. I shall squash her. Good evening, Mrs.
Midget. We heard you at dinner. Very warm, this evening, isn’t it?
MRS. MIDGET. Yes, dearie. ’Ellish ’ot. Beggin’ your Reverence’s
pardon. I’ve come out all of a sweat. (_Wiping her neck with
handkerchief._)
MRS. C-BANKS. Dear me! Have you really? How embarrassing. What a day
you have had, haven’t you? First of all you’re struck into a heap and
now you’ve come out all of a--yes, exactly. Yet, I suppose you travel
a great deal?
MRS. MIDGET. Every day. Lambeth to the Bank and from the Bank back to
Lambeth. Workin’ in the City as I did--do.
MRS. C-BANKS. The city! How enthralling! Big financial interests, I
presume?
MRS. MIDGET. No--charrin’. And in the old times we always managed
Margate in the summer. Nice spot, Margate, ain’t it?
MRS. C-BANKS. I know nothing against it. I have never been there, of
course.
MRS. MIDGET. Never been to Margate! (_To_ Duke.) Would you believe it?
DUKE. Yes.
MRS. MIDGET. Oh! you’d love Margate a treat, mum. What with the
paddling and everything. Do you like cocoanuts?
MRS. C-BANKS. Cocoanuts? Oh good Lord no!
MRS. MIDGET. Ah! Then you mightn’t like Margate. They grow very good
ones there though. At least they used to. Cors’ I ain’t been there
since I lost all my money. Do you know, all of yer, believe me or
believe me not, I once had a house of my very own.
MRS. C-BANKS. How magnificent!
MRS. MIDGET. Yes, wasn’t it? Though of course it wasn’t _all_ my own.
No. Semi-detached, and lodgers yer know. Payin’ guests and very well
it _did_ pay for donkey’s years. Well enough for me to make my son a
gentleman anyway, and send him to a public school to prove it.
MRS. C-BANKS. Quite romantic. Perhaps I have met your dear boy? Where
is he now? Cambridge or Cologne?
MRS. MIDGET. Well, ’avin’ become a gentleman ’e naturally lost all
’is money. And ’is money was my money. And I ain’t seen him since.
’E hasn’t seen me, not to know me, since ’e was a little boy. I got
my brother-in-law, ’e’s rich, to take him over and manage things for
me. You see I didn’t want to disgrace ’im. ’E’s been a good boy.
LINGLEY. Sounds it.
MRS. MIDGET (_resentfully_). ’E _was_ I tell yer. But you know what
it is yerself, sir.
LINGLEY. I do not--I have never lost a penny in my life.
MRS. MIDGET. Ah! then you can’t be a gentleman.
LINGLEY. What?
MRS. MIDGET. Now the gentlemen my--my boy mixed with _were_ gents.
Always broke, bless ’em, and then ’avin’ “another one” just to make
’em forget about it. And my boy the life and soul of the ’ole crowd.
At least so the letter told me from the brother-in-law. And you can’t
’ave your cake and eat it, as the sayin’ goes, nor your gin and drink
it _as_ you well know, sir.
LINGLEY. Confound it, madam, I do _not_ know.
DUKE. Sorrow’s sent to try us, Mrs. Midget.
MRS. MIDGET. Cors’ it’s sent to try us. What else could it be sent
for. And it does try us very much.
DUKE. Yes--but sometimes as in your case--
MRS. C-BANKS. Mr. Duke means you would never have the steady poise,
you would not be the woman of the world you so obviously are unless--
MRS. MIDGET. You’re trying to pull my leg, aren’t you?
DUKE. I’m afraid Mrs. Cliveden-Banks _was_ trying to. I certainly
didn’t mean that.
MRS. MIDGET. Thank you, sir. (_Rises and crosses centre to_ Mrs.
Cliveden-Banks.) Mum, I may not know the manners of Society, and if
them is such as yours I do _not_ want to. With which terse remark I
shuts up, being sorry for anything I’ve said. (_Moves up centre._)
DUKE. Yes, yes, quite, quite. Well, we must all _do_ something you
know, time is getting on. What about those cards?
MRS. MIDGET (_coming down right_). Oh! I’d love a game o’ nap.
(_Sits._) Mr. Prior was only telling me this afternoon before
’e--well ’e was telling me that ’e played cards.
LINGLEY. Prior--pooh!
MRS. MIDGET. _I_ like ’im anyway.
DUKE. Very unfortunate--Prior--Yes, yes, dear, dear, dear.
MRS. C-BANKS. Poor Mr. Prior! But I hear he’s always like that
nowadays. A thoroughly bad lot in fact. Not that I would say so in
public of course--but just between ourselves I mean. Oh! (_Laughs._)
What a sight he was and what an exhibition he made of himself. I
shall never forget it. Never! (_Laughs again._) Mr. Lingley, he
called you a--dear, dear me--I can’t help smiling but he called you
a--(_laughs_) didn’t he?
LINGLEY. Never mind what he called me, madam.
MRS. C-BANKS. Well, you _are_ rather like one you know, if you don’t
mind my saying so. Where is he now, I wonder?
LINGLEY. Sleeping it off if he’s a wise man.
DUKE. Which he isn’t.
MRS. C-BANKS. He wasn’t at dinner naturally. I expect you all noticed
it.
DUKE. Of course, of course. It’s a great shame, a great pity. (Tom
_enters; he is very pale, tense and very quiet._) Ah! Prior!
MRS. C-BANKS. Mr. Prior! Why, we were just talking about you--
TOM. Indeed.
MRS. C-BANKS. Yes, I was only saying what a steady hand--
TOM. Don’t waste any more of your breath than is absolutely
necessary, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks. Nor any of you either.
MRS. C-BANKS. I beg your pardon.
DUKE. What’s the matter now?
TOM. We’re trapped, that’s all.
DUKE (_rises_). Trapped!
TOM. Yes, trapped. Every one of us--all of us on this boat, we’re
done for.
MRS. C-BANKS. What, _already_! (_Threateningly pointing to_ Duke.)
Mr. _Duke_!!--
TOM. I mean it. You needn’t believe me if you don’t want to. It’s
true all the same. We’re dead people.
LINGLEY. Oh, run away, run away, young man, and sleep it off.
TOM. I’m sober enough now. And the boat’s not sinking. I don’t mean
that either.
LINGLEY. What the blazes _do_ you mean then, sir?
TOM. Duke, come here. Feel my pulse. Draw a chalk line on the floor
and make me walk it if you want to. (Duke _moves up right of table to
him._) Look at my eyes. Now--I am sober, aren’t I?
DUKE. Yes, I think so.
TOM. The last time I heard a clergyman say “Yes, I think so” was on
the music-halls. Funny I shall never go to a Music Hall again.
MRS. MIDGET (_rises_). Why doesn’t someone put the poor young man to
bed? It would be much kinder.
TOM. Quiet please. I don’t want to frighten you--any of you--but I
feel--I ought to try and convince you. You admit I’m sober. You’ll
have to take my word I’m not mad.
LINGLEY. I should want more than your word for that.
TOM. You shall have it. You shall have the word of the--the man
who calls himself a steward, and the words of two of our fellow
passengers. The two whom I see are not here.
LINGLEY. But what about, sir? What are you driving at?
TOM (_comes down left centre_). I began to suspect this morning
before lunch. Nobody seemed to know where they were going to. I’d
forgotten myself, though I didn’t admit it. I didn’t want to. I
didn’t dare to. I daren’t now. When I was quite convinced, I got
drunk. That was only natural. All my life I’ve started to face
facts by getting drunk. Well--when--when I woke up again--about an
hour ago, you were all in the saloon. I was frightened, terribly
frightened. At last I got out of my cabin and went over the ship. I
made myself. Yes, over her, all over her. Into the officers’ quarters
and everything. No one said a word to me for a very simple reason.
There’s no one on board _to_ say anything. No captain, no crew, no
nothing.
MRS. C-BANKS. If there’s _no_ crew on board this ship, Mr. Prior, may
I ask who waited on _me_ at dinner.
TOM. There’s no one at all on board this ship, excepting we five--and
those two--and the steward. _He_ waited on you at dinner. He’s in
charge of the ship. I made myself find out. Do you know where that
steward is now? He’s in the rigging--sitting cross legged--high up in
the rigging. I’ve just seen him.
MRS. MIDGET. It’s takin’ ’im in a funny way, ain’t it?
DUKE (_advancing on_ Tom). Really, Prior, I think that--
TOM (_turning to_ Duke). I don’t know what I’m talking about? Very
well, then, answer me this. Who have you, any of you, seen on board
this ship since she sailed? Excepting ourselves? Mrs. Midget, perhaps
you can help. (_Going to_ Mrs. Midget.) When I sent you to your
stewardess this morning, did you see her?
MRS. MIDGET. See who? I saw no one except the fellow I went with. And
first rate he looked after me. Got me a cup of tea and--
TOM. I tell you I--. (_Turns to_ Duke.) Padre--Padre, think
carefully, who exactly have _you_ spoken to?
DUKE. I--really, I--I have seen men about of course.
TOM. Have you? Have you indeed? What sort of men, sailors?
DUKE. Yes, I think so.
TOM. In the same way that you thought I was sober.
MRS. C-BANKS. You don’t expect us to talk to sailors, do you, Mr.
Prior, able bodied though they may be.
TOM. Have any of you met anybody else then? A Purser, an officer of
any sort, even a stoker?
LINGLEY. That reminds me. In your gigantic tour of this vessel did
you by any chance strike the engine room?
TOM. No, I couldn’t find it.
LINGLEY. A pity! I’d hoped you were going to say the ship was worked
by elastic--ha, ha, ha.
(Mrs. Cliveden-Banks _laughs also._)
TOM. Joke if you want to. If that _is_ a joke. Well, Padre, speak up.
DUKE. Well, I--I must have met someone of course.
TOM. You _should_ have met someone you mean. But you’ve not. Padre,
where are _you_ landing?
DUKE. Landing? I’m going to--of course I’m going to--mind your own
business.
TOM. _Where are you landing?_
DUKE. I’m taking a little holiday that’s all. I’m going first to--to--
TOM. You see you can’t remember. I’m right! I knew I was. Why, look
at the quiet way we sail. Was anybody here to see any of us off? No,
you know they weren’t. Because you can’t see people off--not right
off--to where we’re going.
LINGLEY. I wish you’d get out, sir, we want to play cards.
TOM. Cards--pah! Lingley, Lingley, (_down to_ Lingley) you’re
impossible! Why I should try and warn _you_, I don’t know. Still can
you really, honestly tell me you’ve seen nothing queer about this
boat?
LINGLEY. Nothing whatever--excepting you. She’s exactly the same as
any other boat--go away.
TOM. Is she? Is she indeed?
(Henry _and_ Ann _appear at the centre door and cross down left. They
are as ever, close together and almost always hand in hand, and aloof
from the others._)
TOM. Well, I’ll tell you one little thing I noticed about her that
struck me as slightly different. This boat doesn’t carry a port
light--no--and she doesn’t carry a starboard one either! _Now_ is she
the same as any other? _Now_ can you settle down to your cards?
LINGLEY. You _are_ mad?
TOM. Go and look then! Get on deck. You can find out if you go
forward for yourself, and if you can see ’em--you’re mad.
LINGLEY. I shouldn’t make such a fool of myself.
TOM (_seeing_ Ann _and_ Henry). Ah!--you’re just in time.
HENRY. What for?
TOM. To give these people their chance--to stop them making fools of
themselves--to back me up.
HENRY. I don’t quite follow.
TOM. You know--you knew this morning.
HENRY. Knew what?
TOM. You’ve been on deck?
HENRY. Just now.
TOM. Notice anything wrong? (_A pause._)
HENRY. What with?
TOM. Oh! don’t pretend--don’t lie to me.
HENRY. Really, I _don’t_ understand.
TOM. Then you don’t understand how you got here either I suppose? How
either of you got here. (_Up to them._) Gas, my dear sir, sheer gas.
ANN. Henry, don’t speak to him! (_Moves down a step._) He frightens
me.
TOM. Yes, I suppose I do. I know as well, you see.
MRS. C-BANKS. He’s trying to frighten us, that’s all.
LINGLEY. Madam, I must apologise for our fellow passenger. He--he is
not--ahem--well.
TOM (_moves down a step_). Of course I’m not well. Under the
circumstances I should have thought that would have been obvious.
LINGLEY (_rises_). Mr. Duke, I see an unpleasant duty will have to
be performed. As a clergyman you must be more used to unpleasantness
than any of us. Will you please perform it.
DUKE. What do you want me to do?
LINGLEY. Get him to the doctor--or lock him up.
(Duke _moves slightly to centre door._)
TOM (_up to centre door_). The doctor! I tell you there _is_ no
doctor. No one! And if you try any of that sort of thing on, I’ll
make trouble.
MRS. C-BANKS. Oh, dear, how selfish.
TOM. But I tell you what you _can_ do if you like--
LINGLEY. Well?
TOM. I’ll make a bargain with you.
LINGLEY. What is it?
TOM. Go out there--one of you men and convince yourselves about those
lights. Then if I’m wrong--well I’ll go quietly.
MRS. MIDGET. That seems fair, poor fellow.
TOM. Well? What do you say? Mr. Lingley, will you oblige?
LINGLEY. I should never dream of interfering with the ship’s
discipline.
TOM (_to_ Henry). It’s no good asking _you_, of course?
HENRY. No.
TOM. Padre--you’re the only one left--what do you say?
DUKE. If I do it--just to satisfy you--you’ll keep your word.
TOM. Yes.
DUKE. Very well then.
LINGLEY. Preposterous! (_Sits down._)
TOM. Thank you. (Duke _goes slowly to doorway._) Oh! Duke, the truth.
DUKE. Of course.
(Duke _goes quietly out on to the deck._)
LINGLEY. Weak, weak.
MRS. C-BANKS. Ah! the Church was always like that!
TOM. Don’t you run the Church down so. Take my advice, you may want
her help very badly before long. (_Sits left of table right._) Wait
until I’m proved right.
MRS. C-BANKS. I simply ignore you, Mr. Prior. You won’t be right.
That is why I ignore you.
(Drake’s _drum is faintly heard, a heavily muffled and mysterious and
irregular beating._)
LINGLEY. Childish weak foolishness giving in to you. _I’ve_ never
given into anyone. No one’s ever given in to me. I should never
expect them to. You’re drunk, sir, and you’re in the wrong, sir and--
(_The Drum stops._)
TOM. Quiet. (_Rises._) I can hear something--out there.
HENRY. What is it?
TOM. Wait a minute--it’s stopped now.
LINGLEY. I didn’t hear anything.
TOM. I did. It sounded like a drum.
LINGLEY. A drum?
TOM. Yes. A muffled drum.
MRS. C-BANKS. Very possibly it _was_ a muffled drum.
LINGLEY. Very possibly it was imagination.
MRS. C-BANKS. What’s the good of talking about things out there in
the cold, anyway. Let’s concentrate on making it nice and comfortable
in here for our cards, (_to_ Tom) which we hope to start the moment
you’ve gone.
TOM (_moving towards her_). Mrs. Cliveden-Banks, you’re an ostrich!
I’m sorry, but you are. You’re in danger, great danger of something
out there--something I don’t know what it is--but it may affect your
very soul--yet all you can think about is light and warmth and cards
in here. So the only word for you _is_ ostrich.
LINGLEY (_smiling_). Dear me, dear me, I can’t help smiling but he
called you a--didn’t he?
ANN (_looking out on to the deck_). Oh! why doesn’t he come back?
(_In terrified impatience._)
HENRY. Steady, steady. (_To others._) My wife is easily upset.
(_Draws her away from door left._)
MRS. MIDGET. Poor dear.
LINGLEY. It’s too bad of you, Prior.
TOM. Is it?
ANN. What has happened to him?
TOM. To whom?
ANN. The clergyman--of course.
TOM. Oh! Duke. Who knows? Perhaps he can’t get back. He’s only been a
second away.
ANN. You don’t think--(_Drum starts again, beating irregularly and a
trifle more loudly._)
TOM. I don’t think, because I don’t know any more than you do. Hark!
(_A pause._) Listen, there it is again. The drum!
LINGLEY. Um! _I_ must be getting deaf!
(Duke _appears as if breathless--a pause--He is pale and agitated,
terrified--but tries to conceal it._)
TOM (_tensely anxious_). Well--well?
LINGLEY. Well--speak, Mr. Duke. (_A pause._)
ANN (_with a great effort at dissembling_). It’s--it’s all right, of
course.
LINGLEY. Duke? (_Another pause._) It _is_ all right?
DUKE. Of course.
LINGLEY. Everything?
DUKE. Everything.
(_Drum stops._)
MRS. C-BANKS. I knew it would be all the time.
TOM (_rushing up and throwing himself on_ Duke). You liar! You liar!
Come with me--I’ll show you. (_Grabs him by throat._)
(Lingley _rises._)
DUKE (_struggling with him_). Prior! (Mrs. Midget _rises._ Lingley
_seizes_ Tom’s _neck._ Ann _and_ Henry _up left huddled together in
alarm._) You promised to go quietly.
TOM. You swore to tell the truth! _You clergyman_, you dirty liar!
DUKE. Got him, Lingley?
TOM (_struggling violently_). I’ll show you! No more lies! Now
we’re dead, you bloody liar! I won’t be cheated! I _will_ make you
understand! I’m trying to help I tell you--help us all!!!
LINGLEY. Be quiet, sir.
(_They bring_ Tom _to chair left of table right. He sinks to
chair and with head buried in arms on table sobs hysterically but
quietly--exhausted._)
MRS. C-BANKS. If wanted, I’ll be in the Ladies’ Writing Room.
(_Going left._) A long letter you know, while the details are still
fresh. (_Turns._) Coming dear? (_Sees she is speaking to_ Mrs.
Midget--_Turns at door._) Oh no! (_She goes out with her nose in the
air._)
(Mrs. Midget _crosses and Exits left following_ Mrs. Cliveden-Banks.
_All stand quietly for a moment’s pause._)
HENRY (_to_ Ann). Dear?
ANN (_as she goes_). I’ll wait on deck.
LINGLEY (_to_ Henry). Shut those doors.
(Henry _closes centre door._)
LINGLEY. _And now, sir._
DUKE (_coming down to_ Prior). Prior. I apologise.
LINGLEY. What do you mean?
DUKE. That Mr. Prior was perfectly right.
LINGLEY. What?
DUKE. There _is_ no--there’s no starboard--no--
LINGLEY. There’s _not_!
DUKE. No. There’s no light on the boat at all. She’s as black as
pitch.
LINGLEY. Impossible.
DUKE. Look for yourself.
LINGLEY (_alarmed now, crosses to centre door, opens it and glances
out into the dark, then shuts it. Then hesitates and turns_).
But--the bridge?
DUKE. As far as I could see there’s nothing--nothing anywhere.
LINGLEY. Nothing--nobody?
DUKE. I’m not even certain that we’re moving.
LINGLEY (_coming back_). Good heavens, man, why didn’t you tell us
this at once?
DUKE. I didn’t want to alarm the ladies.
LINGLEY. Women drown as easily as men.
DUKE. Is this a question of drowning? Something must be done--we must
all do something immediately. (_Sits right of table right._)
TOM. Exactly, but what?
LINGLEY (_thoroughly rattled_). To begin
with--well--somebody--somebody ought to ring a bell.
TOM. And get someone else to explain.
LINGLEY. Duke--do you--do you believe in all this?
DUKE. I don’t understand it.
LINGLEY (_to_ Henry). And you, sir?
HENRY. I don’t understand it either.
TOM. That’s not true! (_Rises._) And you know it’s not true!
DUKE. Prior! Now look here, when did you first feel certain, in your
mind, about all this?
TOM (_pointing at_ Henry--_sits on table_). After I’d heard something
he said. I spoke to the steward, I asked him if--he told me the truth
I’m sure--it seems we’re sailing for (_pause_)--both Hell and Heaven.
DUKE. Very interesting from a professional point of view of course.
TOM. If there’s anything else you want to know better ask _him, the
steward_.
DUKE. Where is he now I wonder?
LINGLEY. Still sitting high up in the rigging I expect.
TOM. Don’t be sarcastic! He was there.
LINGLEY. Was he? (_Rises, takes one step towards_ Tom.) Then how did
you see him if it’s all dark outside?
TOM (_vaguely_). That never struck me. But he was there.
(Scrubby _enters, softly strolls across towards centre._)
DUKE (_rises_). We must hurry. Whilst we’re talking like this we may
be drifting on to the rocks--crashing into something or--
SCRUBBY (_always very kindly, very quiet and compassionate--like a
tolerant elder to children_). No, sir, you won’t do that.
LINGLEY. Now look here, my man. What is all this nonsense? I can’t
stand excitement. My doctor ordered rest and quiet. Where’s the
Captain? Take me to him!
SCRUBBY. Oh, he left long ago, sir.
LINGLEY. Enough of that! Understand? By Gad when I get back to London
I’ll report--
SCRUBBY. I’m afraid you won’t get back to London, sir--
LINGLEY. No more of your impertinence! Take me to the Captain!--do
you hear?--you’re only a damned servant--take me to him--
DUKE. Mr. Lingley, I think we should _all_ keep our tempers.
SCRUBBY. That’s all right, sir, I’ve known a lot of them to get angry
at first.
LINGLEY. A lot of whom?
SCRUBBY. People like you, sir, who are just beginning.
LINGLEY. Beginning?
SCRUBBY. To be passengers.
TOM. What you told me this morning _was_ true, wasn’t it?
SCRUBBY. That we’re dead, sir? Yes, quite dead if that’s what you
mean.
LINGLEY. You speak for yourself.
DUKE. It _is_ queer. (_Sits right of table right._)
SCRUBBY. Why, sir? We didn’t think it was queer when we were born.
LINGLEY. Now listen. I don’t want any mysteries.
SCRUBBY. There are none, sir.
LINGLEY. And I mean to get in touch with someone at once--ah! I have
it, the wireless!
SCRUBBY. She doesn’t carry any, sir.
LINGLEY. That’s illegal anyway! Duke? (_A pause._) Duke?
DUKE. I’m afraid I can’t suggest anything.
LINGLEY. But--but--! (_Suddenly overcome with fear._) I must get out
of this--I must get out of it.
SCRUBBY. That, sir, is impossible until after the examination.
LINGLEY. What examination?
SCRUBBY. You’ll find out later, sir.
LINGLEY. The ladies ought to be warned immediately.
SCRUBBY. I should leave them to find out for themselves, sir, if I
were you. I have known some of them not to like the idea to begin
with and get hysterical. It is kinder to let them find out for
themselves.
DUKE. They will find out?
SCRUBBY. Undoubtedly, sir.
LINGLEY (_suddenly seeing_ Henry). Damn it--don’t stand there saying
nothing--get upset!
HENRY. I am--of course.
LINGLEY. You’re a bright lot all of you, aren’t you? So
helpful--but--but--what are we to do? What are we to do? (_To_ Duke.)
_You’re_ always talking about doing things? What are we to do?
DUKE. I really--don’t know. Of course, if we were all quite
certain--a prayer--
LINGLEY. Is praying going to bring the captain or the crew to life?
TOM. Or any of us, for that.
SCRUBBY. There’s no danger, gentlemen, if _that’s_ what you’re
frightened of.
LINGLEY. Isn’t there?
SCRUBBY. No, sir.
LINGLEY. _I’m_ not frightened.
DUKE. I am. How many times have _you_ made this passage, steward?
SCRUBBY. About five thousand times, sir.
LINGLEY. Five--
SCRUBBY. Yes. I was lost young.
DUKE. And it’s always been like this?
SCRUBBY. Not always, sir. No. As I was telling this gentleman
(_referring to_ Prior), the passengers don’t find out so quickly as a
rule. I suppose it’s because of the half-ways we’ve got on board this
trip.
DUKE. Half-ways?
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir, it sometimes _does_ work like that.
LINGLEY. There is no point in standing here talking to a lunatic. The
question is--“What is--?”
SCRUBBY. --to be done? That’s what they _all_ ask, sir. There’s
_nothing_ to be done. Just go on as if nothing had happened.
TOM. How simple.
SCRUBBY. Quite, sir, quite. You’ll find everything simple now. Until
it comes to the examination.
LINGLEY. Don’t talk to me as if I were a schoolboy.
SCRUBBY. It _is_ rather like going to school, sir.
LINGLEY. Stop! It’s all right. Everything’s all right. I’ve solved
the whole thing suddenly.
HENRY. Have you? (_Still up left aloof._)
LINGLEY. Of course I have. I’m asleep. I’m safe really. I’m simply
asleep.
TOM. What am I?--part of the nightmare?
LINGLEY. I’ve had dreams like this before. Go away, go away, all you
people. It’s no good you waiting! I’m Lingley of Lingley Ltd. Not
one of you can touch me. I turned myself into a company years ago.
Only go away now. (_A pause and then he turns to the steward._) _I am
asleep_, aren’t I?
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir--sound asleep--or just waking.
LINGLEY. Good, good. Now get away, get away all you people. I shall
go. I will go. (_Crosses to door left._) Isn’t that lucky! I _can_
go. You know, in _some_ dreams, you _can’t_.
(Lingley _walks off left._)
SCRUBBY (_following him_). Don’t worry, gentlemen, I’ll look after
him.
(Scrubby _follows him._)
DUKE. A good sleep would be the very best thing for LINGLEY.
TOM. Would it?
DUKE. Eh?
TOM. Well, I mean--you know--would it help now?
DUKE. Oh! yes, of course--I’d forgotten--I really don’t know. I--I
don’t understand. I’m quite a young man and there’s such a lot of
work to be done after my holiday.
TOM. Try some of this whisky--it still seems to work.
DUKE (_rises_). No, I don’t think I will if you’ll excuse me, in case
we--we meet anyone.
TOM (_toying idly with glass_). I’m awfully sorry. I’m afraid I’m a
fearful rotter, I’m so used to it. Any crises you--(_He puts down the
glass. Both sit on front of table._) I say--I say--(_Pause._) Charles
Reid--or some other rotten novelist once said “Never too late to
mend,” didn’t he? Do you think there’s any truth in novels? And then
there was that other chap--the Great One, you know, in the Bible, he
said--he--There you are, you see; that’s the sort of fellow I am!
I’ve forgotten what _he_ said.
DUKE. Does it really much matter what either of them said? Isn’t it
more to the point what _you_ have got to say?
TOM. No sermons! But, if you please, I would like to talk to you
seriously if you’d listen to me, out there in the dark.
DUKE (_rises_). Shall we go out there--in the dark--and talk to each
other, shipmate?
TOM (_humorously_). This is a great chance for _you_, isn’t it?
DUKE. We must both, my dear Prior, keep our sense of humour. (_Moves
up to door centre. To_ Henry _at door_). Coming out, sir? (_With_
Tom _to door arm in arm._)
HENRY. No, not yet. (_Still up left._)
DUKE. See you later then. (_He goes out._)
HENRY. Yes.
TOM. I say, your wife’s out there, isn’t she?
HENRY. Yes.
TOM. Shall I send her to you?
HENRY. Oh--thank you.
TOM (_returning a step from door_). You must have known or you
wouldn’t have let her be out there alone.
HENRY. I knew _nothing_. I know nothing now, Good-night.
TOM. I suppose so. (_He walks out on to the deck and disappears.
There is a pause and then_ Henry _calls_ “Ann.” _Another pause. He
calls again._ Ann _enters from the deck._)
HENRY. Ann--(_A pause._) Come here. (_Crosses right to above table._)
ANN. What is it? (_She goes to left of_ Henry.)
HENRY. Come here.
ANN. I’m with you.
HENRY. Ann--listen--they know we’re dead--they’re--they’re finding
out our secret.
ANN (_frightened_). I know! I know they are! (_They look at each
other._)
HENRY. What will they _do_ to us dear?
ANN (_getting closer to him_). They won’t separate us--will they?
CURTAIN.
ACT III
SCENE I
_It is an afternoon some days later. There is a small table near
the bar with a water carafe and a glass, a hand bell and papers on
it. Chairs are arranged round it in a circle as if for a meeting.
Otherwise the scene is unchanged._
Mr. Lingley _is pacing up and down the room in an agitated manner,
watch in hand._
LINGLEY. Four thirty--four thirty _one_! Tut, tut, tut! (_Goes to
table._) Late, late. Now let’s see--(_Counting the chairs._) Mrs.
Cliveden-Banks--Mr. Duke--two--four--six--(_Touching armchair at
head and fingering water bottle._) Myself here--yes that’s right.
(_The syren is heard. Takes out watch again._) Four thirty one and a
half--four thirty _two_. Oh, tut, tut, tut! (Tom _walks in from the
deck._ Lingley _stops in his walk on seeing him._) Good gracious,
fancy _you_ being the first!
TOM. First for what?
LINGLEY. The meeting, sir!
TOM. Oh, I’d forgotten about your rotten old meeting.
LINGLEY. Where are the others?
TOM. On deck. It may interest you to know we’ve just sighted land.
(_Sits above table._)
LINGLEY. Land, Mr. Prior? Land! (_Delighted._)
TOM. Yes. We’ve just sighted _hell_.
LINGLEY. Oh.
TOM. It looks quite a jolly little spot from here. The padre’s
arranging a sweepstake on the exact time it will take us to get in.
He’s suddenly developed a sense of humour.
LINGLEY. Sense of humour and sweepstakes when we’re all--all--!
What’s the use of a sense of humour to a dead man? (_Pacing to and
fro up and down._)
TOM. I dunno! I’ve never asked one.
LINGLEY. Oh, why don’t they _come_?
TOM. You’re getting the wind up a bit, aren’t you? Oh, I don’t blame
you, Lingley of Lingley Limited, for I shouldn’t be surprised if over
there a nice private little gridiron isn’t being warmed up for your
personal reception. (_Goes to table and sits down._)
LINGLEY. Will you be quiet, you foolish boy!
(Scrubby _enters left._)
SCRUBBY (_indicating the table_). Everything correct, sir?
LINGLEY. Eh?
SCRUBBY. Enough chairs, sir?
LINGLEY. Oh! yes, very nice indeed, very nice, Mr. Scrubby. Er--here
is half-a-crown for your trouble. Thank you.
SCRUBBY. Thank _you_, sir.
LINGLEY. What for? Half-a-crown is no use to me now. Wait! Please
tell the others--the others--my shipmates--that they’re late for the
meeting.
SCRUBBY (_as he goes_). Certainly, sir.
LINGLEY. Thank you, Mr. Scrubby, thank you.
TOM. What’s the object of this meeting, anyway?
LINGLEY. Can’t you see?
TOM. Yes. That’s why I asked.
LINGLEY. We’re approaching our destination, and I want to make this
one last effort. I feel we should talk the matter over in a rational
spirit--and as a business man I’ve called this meeting.
TOM. You would. And, as has probably been your custom, you think
that a committee report and minutes, and balance sheets and all that
bunkum may impress the examiner as they do shareholders and _other_
examiners. Of course you’ll be chairman?
LINGLEY. Naturally. I seem to be the only one qualified.
TOM. You admit it.
LINGLEY. By right of experience and proved ability--Prior, when I was
a boy--
TOM. Were you ever a boy? Poor parents!
LINGLEY. When I was seventeen I could only manage one egg for
breakfast.
TOM. I can never manage _any_ breakfast myself.
LINGLEY. _Afford_ one egg, I mean. At six thirty a.m. I used to walk
to my work.
TOM. On the egg?
LINGLEY. And after business I’d walk home again. That was the
beginning of Lingley Limited. When I was seventeen I made my motto
“Try to rely on yourself.” At thirty-seven I made it “Rely on
yourself.”
TOM. So you fired _me_.
LINGLEY. At forty-seven I made it “Rely on yourself _absolutely_”;
because if you fail all your friends will only say “It serves you
right.”
TOM. _Had_ you any friends at forty-seven?
LINGLEY. You’re incorrigible! And I thought _you_ were concerned in
this--this dilemma.
TOM. I _am_.
(Mrs. Cliveden-Banks _enters through the centre door. She is in the
very deepest mourning._)
MRS. C-BANKS. I must apologise for being late! I’ve been playing
sweepstake.
LINGLEY. Mrs. Cliveden-Banks! Why this dress?
MRS. C-BANKS. Our present circumstances!
(Tom _sits--his attitude toward the subsequent proceedings is one of
contempt._)
LINGLEY. Will you sit here?
MRS. C-BANKS. It’s nice to be able to, isn’t it? (_Sits in the first
chair left of table._) And the object of this meeting, Mr. Lingley
is--er--?
LINGLEY. Well--er--is this company alive or dead?
TOM. And the next question on the agenda?
LINGLEY (_a pause. Sits_). What is going to happen to us? Mr.
Prior--as a prospective shareholder--I ask you what you think?
TOM. Lingley--do you know anything about Elizabethan furniture?
LINGLEY. Nothing whatever.
TOM. Neither do I. That’s why I never talk about it.
LINGLEY. But it is the right thing to do isn’t it?
TOM. To solemnly sit down and discuss if we’ve immortal souls or
if we haven’t? And if we have, to pool ’em. (_Sarcastically._)
Undoubtedly. (_Rises._) “We must combine”--the most hopeful refuge
for an embarrassed business man like you.
LINGLEY. Exactly. We must all face this examiner together.
(Rev. W. Duke _enters. He is quite different and most cheerful._)
DUKE. Hello, Tom! Hello, Lingley! (_To_ Mrs. Cliveden-Banks): Hello,
Banky!
MRS. C-BANKS. Banky!
DUKE. Yes. (_He shakes her shoulders._) Banky, Banky! We’re dead now
so my job’s over and I can be quite natural; do what I like and say
what I like, Banky. (_Over_ Lingley’s _right shoulder._) Prior, have
you heard this one--I’ve been dying to spring it for ages--“There was
a young girl of Hong-Kong.”
MRS. C-BANKS (_convulsed with laughter_). Oh, _I_ know that one.
LINGLEY. Sir! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. We are about to
hold a Board Meeting.
DUKE. Sorry. I overheard one of my ex-choir boys reciting that in the
Vestry. I remember his voice was breaking at the time. Damn badly.
(_Sits below_ Tom.)
LINGLEY. Supposing your Bishop heard you say “damn.”
DUKE. Impossible, unless he’s listening in.
LINGLEY. You’ve evidently become unbalanced.
MRS. MIDGET (_entering centre_). Is this the meeting ’ouse?
LINGLEY. Yes, Mrs. Midget. Sit here will you? Very good of you to
come. I hope you--your family are well and--
MRS. MIDGET (_sits above table right of_ Lingley). What the ’ell are
you talking about?
MRS. C-BANKS. Please do not mention hell, Mrs. Midget, it’s a rather
ticklish subject at the moment.
LINGLEY. Now, are we all here?
TOM. We’re all here.
MRS. MIDGET. The young couple aren’t ’ere.
LINGLEY. _They_ never say anything, anyway. Shall we begin?
MRS. C-BANKS. Begin.
LINGLEY. Very well, then. (_Rises._) Ahem! (_Rings bell on table._)
TOM. They’re off!
LINGLEY. Ladies and gentlemen--
MRS. MIDGET. ’Ear, ’Ear!
MRS. C-BANKS. Be quiet!
MRS. MIDGET. I was only thanking ’im for the compliment.
LINGLEY. Ladies _and_ gentlemen--“de mortuis nil nisi bonum.”
TOM. Oh, get on with it!
LINGLEY. I intend to. _Ladies_ and gentlemen--I am a business man.
DUKE. Quite.
LINGLEY. I have never done anything in my life without a reason.
DUKE. Quite.
LINGLEY. I would like firstly, therefore, to explain that my reason
for calling this meeting, is, if I may put it in this manner, to draw
up a clean balance sheet.
DUKE. Quite.
LINGLEY. Now, secondly--if I may say so--
TOM. You may say anything you like, old boy, only for goodness sake
say it.
LINGLEY. Sir! I--
MRS. C-BANKS. Order, please. Order.
TOM. I’ll have the same, with a splash.
LINGLEY. Oh, please don’t all keep interrupting.
MRS. C-BANKS. Well, they always say “order” at meetings--
DUKE. Quite!
LINGLEY. Where was I?
DUKE. Drawing up a balance sheet.
TOM. “Laughter.”
LINGLEY. And trying to explain my reason for doing so.
DUKE. Quite.
TOM. Quite _what_?
LINGLEY. My reasons--
TOM. _Have_ you any?
LINGLEY. (_Sits down in disgust._) I shall say no more.
TOM. _Good._
MRS. MIDGET. Oh, sir, don’t rob the gentleman of his amusement! ’E
may not ’ave much more opportunity.
LINGLEY. I only thought in view of the shortness of time at
our command, _and_ the nature of the harbour we are rapidly
approaching,--I shall therefore call on Mr. Duke for a few words. He
should, professionally, know more of the matter than we do. Ahem! The
Rev. W. Duke, M.C.
DUKE (_without rising_). All I can say is--if we _are_ all dead then
let us hope we have done our jobs to the best of our ability.
LINGLEY. I’ve never been late for an appointment in my life.
DUKE. And now that we’re nearing this--this dread examiner, we think
something should be done. And we’ve put off really thinking what to
do till the last moment. Naturally we _would_, we’re all English.
MRS. C-BANKS. Rule Britannia!
DUKE. You ask for my professional advice! I have none to give. The
Steward himself has none to give.
MRS. MIDGET. You might pray for us, sir.
DUKE. I would if I thought my prayer would be worth anything. But now
I don’t understand. To pray for something one doesn’t understand is
to be an idolater.
MRS. MIDGET. Oh, we mustn’t be one of those.
DUKE. It’s the first time in my--it’s the first _time_ I’ve never
known what to do. It’s a strange business, this being dead. (_The
drum is heard again._ Ann _and_ Henry _appear in the centre. A pause
and then the_ Rev. Duke _notices the couple._) Oh, come in. (Ann
_and_ Henry _come in and stand away from the others._) By the way, I
suppose we’re all agreed on that point?
LINGLEY. What point?
TOM. Ask these two.
LINGLEY. What point?
DUKE. _Are we all dead or are we not?_
LINGLEY. That’s what I called this meeting to decide. (_To_ Ann _and_
Henry.) You two, won’t you sit down? (_No reply, they simply huddle
closer together, and stand aloof left._) No? No. Very well, then. The
motion in front of us is I think perfectly plain to all. “Are we--”
Who will speak first?
MRS. C-BANKS. I will. For I think it’s a most impertinent question to
be asked. If I am dead, why can’t I be dead in private? Personally,
I believe I _am_ dead. My corsets have never fitted so comfortably
anyway.
LINGLEY. Mr. Prior?
TOM. I _know_. And I don’t care a damn one way or the other.
MRS. C-BANKS. The man’s a plebiscite.
LINGLEY. Mr. Duke?
DUKE. Agreed. Mr. Lingley?
LINGLEY (_pause_). I agree. Mrs. Midget?
MRS. MIDGET. Ladies and gents, all I want to know is this, and I
really don’t know what’s goin’ on. But if it _’as_ ’appened--it would
greatly please me to know that I’ve been _done proper_.
LINGLEY. I beg your pardon.
MRS. MIDGET. You know, the street, the neighbours, the sherry wine
and cake--and flowers.
LINGLEY. This is beside the point--do you think you’re dead or do you
not?
MRS. MIDGET. Oh, I leave it entirely to you, sir.
LINGLEY. I take it in favour of the motion. And now you two young
people?
TOM. They know. They’ve always known.
LINGLEY. Please, please, let them answer for themselves. Well? Well,
what do you say?
HENRY. We have nothing to say.
LINGLEY. I suppose we must disregard your evidence. As far as
the rest of us are concerned, I think there is nothing more to
be done than to enter the verdict that this board (_commences to
write_) “certifies itself to be dead.” And the next thing for me to
decide--is the most effective way--in all our interests--to meet and
talk with this examiner.
TOM. Do you mean we want to get out of it if we can?
LINGLEY. If we can. Well--er--if we can’t--we want to get out of it
as lightly as we can.
MRS. C-BANKS. Go on.
LINGLEY. And we’re under a great disadvantage. You see we do not know
what sort of a person this examiner is, who is suddenly to pounce
upon us. He is bound to be a hard, stern business man. In which case,
I suggest I am one best fitted to deal with him.
TOM. Hear, hear!
DUKE. Supposing he isn’t anything like that? Supposing he is
something even _you_ can’t understand? Supposing he is really _the_
examiner? Don’t you think we all ought to speak for ourselves?--if we
can.
LINGLEY. It’s if we _can’t_ I’m thinking of.
DUKE. I wish we knew. I certainly wish we knew.
(Scrubby _enters from behind bar._)
MRS. C-BANKS. Why not ask that steward person about him? They must
have met before.
TOM. Not a bad idea at all, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks.
LINGLEY. The steward! Exactly, will someone go and fetch him?
SCRUBBY. You want _me_, sir?
LINGLEY. What the--!
SCRUBBY. I have been here all the time.
LINGLEY. But, we--
SCRUBBY. You wanted to ask me about the examiner, sir.
LINGLEY. Yes, if you would be so good.
SCRUBBY. What did you want to know exactly, sir?
LINGLEY. Well, he can’t be tipped, that of course is obvious--but
between ourselves--what sort of a person is he?
SCRUBBY. I can’t say. I don’t know. It all depends.
LINGLEY. Depends on what?
SCRUBBY. Yourselves, sir. I have seen some men and women before him
cry for--but no, I can’t say.
LINGLEY. Tell us just this, Mr. Scrubby, what do you think we really
ought to do--how exactly should we approach him?
SCRUBBY. I have been asked that question nearly five thousand
times, sir; I have always answered that it is better to leave the
approaching to him. (_Starts to go out centre._)
DUKE. Scrubby, have I any chance?
SCRUBBY (_standing in door silhouetted against the golden light
outside_). You _all_ have chances, sir.
DUKE. What’s he like?
SCRUBBY. He’s the wind and the skies and the earth, sir. He knows
the furthest eddy of the high tide up the remotest cove. He knows
the simpleness of beauty and the evilest thoughts of the human mind.
He’ll know all your evil thoughts.
DUKE (_quickly_). God!
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir, he will. (_Looks out on to the deck._) Would you
excuse me now, please. I can tell no more; and a seagull has just
fallen on to the deck. I’m afraid it may have broken its wing. If so
I must try and mend it.
ANN. Poor thing!
SCRUBBY. Yes, madam, it’s very sad the way the birds die in these
strange waters. (_He walks off along the deck._)
DUKE. Just like the first day at school again.
TOM. _Now_ do you want to deal with him--collectively? Or will you
just make yourself responsible for your own sins?
LINGLEY. Oh, come, come, come! We mustn’t all get jumpy. I still
think we ought to be prepared though my own conscience is perfectly
clear.
MRS. C-BANKS. Then you’d better worry about _ours_, dear Mr. Lingley.
Come tabulate us, as it were.
LINGLEY. Excellent. Then I can put all the cases before this--this
examiner briefly and to the point.
MRS. C-BANKS. It should save us a great amount of trouble.
LINGLEY. So, if you will all just give me a few details about
yourselves--and any special little reference you might like me to
bring forward, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks, let me start with you. What shall
I say about _you_ to this--er--examiner?
MRS. C-BANKS. I should just say I am--or _was_--Mrs.
Cliveden-Banks--and leave it at that.
LINGLEY. Um! Oh, very well; you, Mrs. Midget?
MRS. MIDGET. Oh, I dun’no.
LINGLEY. Oh, dear, dear, dear! Is that really all?
MRS. MIDGET. Yes, please, sir.
LINGLEY. All right--not at all satisfactory but I suppose all
right--in my hands. I can answer for myself of course. You, Mr. Prior?
TOM. Oh, say, I’m an old drunk. Or rather a young one.
LINGLEY. That won’t help you very much.
TOM. How do _you_ know?
LINGLEY. But you must have had some redeeming qualities that will
help you? For instance, were you good to your mother or--did you go
to Oxford?
TOM. Put down the truth--he will know it anyway.
LINGLEY. Really, you’re none of you being very helpful. (_Writes._) A
drunk--er--a Mrs. Cliveden-Banks--er--and an, I dunno.
MRS. C-BANKS. I should prefer to precede the drunk.
LINGLEY. Very well. (_To Henry._) Now, sir, how can _you_ assist me?
HENRY. I can’t.
LINGLEY. But--you then, madam?
ANN. He speaks for both of us.
HENRY. We have nothing to say.
LINGLEY. It is really most discourteous of you! Mr. Duke, I can rely
on _you_ at any rate.
DUKE. You can rely on me for _one_ piece of information.
LINGLEY. Thank you very much.
DUKE. I now entirely agree with Mr. Prior for calling you a pompous
old idiot!
TOM. Cheers.
LINGLEY. What?--just because I’m trying to do my duty!
DUKE. Your duty! Your rubbish! You’re doing what you are because
you’re in a blue funk! And I don’t blame you. I’m in a blue funk,
too! But not so much as to make an utter ass of myself by trying to
get out of this with balance sheets and board meetings! You want to
try and impress this examiner with your cleverness, your business
importance, your supposed interest in your fellow creatures. You’re
hoping to save your own skin that way. And I think it’s pretty rotten!
LINGLEY. Indeed. Destructive criticism is very simple. Then perhaps
_you_ can advise me.
DUKE. I can advise nothing.
LINGLEY. ’Um! That’s _very_ useful.
MRS. MIDGET. Oh, sir, not just _one_ word of ’elp?
DUKE. That is different. If I can _help_ I will. But you mustn’t take
anything I say in the nature of advice. The blind leading the blind,
you know. I can only tell you what I am going to do myself, and I may
be wrong.
TOM. _What_ are you going to do, Duke? (_Staccato._)
DUKE. I have been trying to look into myself silently, trying to
examine my past thoughtfully and humbly--to seek out all the faults
and not try to excuse them. But to know all that I am responsible
for; and when I see my life, lying before me like a blurred map, I
am going to pray to be able to make one more prayer. But for myself;
I am not fit to pray for others. If any of you care to do likewise
please do so if it will comfort you. Look back.
MRS. C-BANKS. I _could_ look back, of course, but I don’t intend to.
Remember Mrs. Lot.
MRS. MIDGET. Thank you, sir.
DUKE. No, no, now that’s just what I didn’t _want_ you to do. You
see, Mrs. Midget--try to understand--we’re just shipmates, you and
I--trying to help one another. I’m not a captain any longer, I cannot
pray for others. Perhaps the realisation of that is the beginning of
my punishment. I’ve _lost_ my job.
LINGLEY. I don’t suppose it was worth much anyway.
DUKE. It was the most glorious job in the world. I suppose a man
never really knows he’s incompetent until he’s sacked, and I can’t,
I can’t understand and I _ought_ to. It’s my _job_ to; and it’s
beastly hard _not_ to be able to. It’s heart-breaking--it’s--(_to_
Prior)--Give me a cigarette.
(_The syren is heard again._ Henry _moves away from_ Ann.)
LINGLEY. Well, let’s get down to hard facts--I suggest.
DUKE. Too late. Didn’t you hear?
LINGLEY. What?
ANN. _I_ heard.
TOM. What?
DUKE. The syren.
TOM (_after a pause suddenly hysterical_). I didn’t hear anything--I
didn’t hear anything.
(Duke _and_ Tom _rise._ Tom _knocks chair over._)
DUKE. Now, now, Prior.
TOM. I didn’t, I didn’t! (_Another pause._) But I can feel something
though, can’t you?
DUKE. No.
TOM. The boat’s stopped.
DUKE. Exactly. We’re in.
(_Another pause. The syren is repeated._)
TOM. No, no! I won’t face it! I daren’t! It’s all been bluff on my
part! Let me get away! Let me get--!
DUKE (_rising with hand on_ Prior). Prior, my boy!
TOM. I can’t face it. I want to get away! Make the boat go on!
ANN. Henry! (_She gets closer to him._)
TOM. Let me get away. (_Struggling to get away._)
DUKE. We can none of us get away. We’ve stopped for good now. This is
the judgment.
TOM (_pulling himself together_). No, it can’t be. Here in the
smoke-room of a liner?
DUKE. Why _shouldn’t_ it be here in the smoke-room of a
liner? Have any of us really ever troubled very much to think
where-and-how-and-when it might be?
ANN (_quietly_). Henry. They won’t _separate_ us--they _can’t_.
(Henry _merely holds her closer--as if in defiance._)
DUKE. We’re for it now all right.
(Duke _sits right of table with his face buried in his hands._)
TOM. We must stick together. Duke, man, you _must_ pray even if the
words are meaningless. Don’t desert duty at the last moment. We’re in
the night and I want a prayer. I want a prayer from a man, I don’t
care if he’s a clergyman or not.
MRS. MIDGET (_going to_ Duke). You _ought_ to pray, your reverence.
TOM. Even if you can’t understand what for--you understand _us_.
DUKE. You really think I ought to, Mrs. Midget?
MRS. MIDGET (_bending over him_). Yes, sir, pardon the liberty.
There’s no ’arm in ’abits--if they’re _good_ ’abits; and prayer _is_
a good ’abit.
DUKE (_without rising--but slowly facing front and with
utter simplicity and sincerity_). Forgive me then, for I
don’t know--“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, look upon a little
child--children--pardon our simplicity, suffer us to come to Thee.
God bless father and mother, Harriet (she was my nurse), all kind
friends, make me a good boy. Amen.” That was the first prayer I ever
learnt, so it’s probably the finest. Say it to yourselves if you want
to; and remember--Harriet--she was a worthy soul.
ANN (_after a long pause_). Henry, let’s hide. (_She takes his hand
and they drift off together, left._)
MRS. MIDGET. I feel better.
(Scrubby _enters from the left, giving a glance back as he does so._)
SCRUBBY (_brightly--and business-like_). We’re in, ladies and
gentlemen, we’re in.
DUKE. Yes, yes, we know.
SCRUBBY. The examiner is just coming on board. His cutter’s
alongside. He’ll _be_ with you in a second. (_He goes out on to the
deck._)
DUKE. We can do nothing now.
MRS. C-BANKS (_in a whisper_). Mr. Lingley--Mr. Lingley! (_She and
Lingley have gone to wall seat at back--where they sit._)
LINGLEY. Well?
MRS. C-BANKS. Well--hadn’t we better all stand up? (_All rise._)
LINGLEY. Eh? Oh, yes, of course, it would be more polite.
DUKE. Politeness!
SCRUBBY (_appearing and announcing_). The Examiner!
TOM (_quickly and quietly appealingly_). Duke!
DUKE. Quiet.
(The Rev. Frank Thomson _is heard shouting off, Right._)
THOMSON. Hello, hello, hello there I say! Where is everyone? Where
are you, Duke? (_He appears in the centre. An elderly and massive
clergyman, rotund, rubicund and jovial. He is dressed in white drill
and a topee. But he wears a clergyman’s collar and black bib._) Ah,
there you are! Duke, my old boy, how are you?
DUKE. Good--! My--! Well--! Well I’m dashed if it isn’t old “grease
spot.” (_Crossing and shaking hands._)
THOMSON. It is, sir, and greasier than ever. Phew! This climate!
Well, I am glad to see you after all this time. How are you, Duke?
Have a good passage? You’re looking fit. (_Taking off topee and
wiping forehead._)
DUKE. I’m not _feeling_ it.
THOMSON. I only heard this morning your boat was due in this
afternoon, I’d seen your name on the passenger list of course--so
I hurried down especially to meet you, I’d been up country. (_Sits
above table._)
DUKE. Thank you.
THOMSON. Well, how goes everything. I’m bursting for news! How’s
Fergusson--still in the same old place?
DUKE. No, they’ve made him a bishop now.
THOMSON. Good lor’, they _would_. Well I hope he likes it. And what’s
become of Maltby; and that little fellow with the red hair and
spectacles? I never could remember his name. (_Lights a cigarette._)
And do you still go for your blow-out at Simpson’s every pay day, you
young rascal? Tell me, what’s the meat like there now?
DUKE (_greatly agitated and in no mood for Thomson’s frivolity_).
Thomson, I’m delighted to see you again, of course, and I’m dying to
tell you everything afterwards--_if I can_--but can’t you realise--at
this moment--how terribly worried I am?
THOMSON. Worried--worried about what?
DUKE. This--this person.
THOMSON. What person?
DUKE. This person--or whoever it is--who’s just coming to examine us.
THOMSON. The examiner! Oh, I shouldn’t worry about him!
DUKE. What--do--you--mean?
THOMSON. _I’m_ the examiner!
(_General movement._)
DUKE. You--you are!
THOMSON. Well, I’m one of ’em anyway. We’ve got dozens on the job.
And they _will_ shove all the duds on to it. My dear boy, our
profession is not what it used to be. Terribly overcrowded, too,
believe me.
DUKE. You’re--my--examiner?
THOMSON. Yes--you’re under _my_ orders now. And I tell you, my boy,
you’ll have to mind your p’s and q’s; and _how_ you’ll have to slog
at it! But I’ve fixed your “digs” up for you all right, they’re not
up to much, but clean, in the same house as myself; the old woman’s
quite a decent sort. And it’s near your work, right in the centre of
the parish so you couldn’t do better, really.
DUKE. _Work?_
THOMSON. I find it quite handy myself.
DUKE. “Parish--slog at it.” Thomson, Thomson, you don’t mean I
haven’t lost my job after all? Don’t torture me, tell me quickly.
THOMSON. Of course you haven’t lost it. You haven’t started it yet.
You’re just beginning it.
DUKE. Not lost my job? Still got my job. Oh, thank you! Oh, thank
God! I will work harder now every moment, I swear I will, Mr.
Thomson. Harder than ever! Oh, do you all hear? My job I was so keen
on--it’s not been taken from me after all. My--oh! (_Sits right of
table, left, and quietly cries_)--job.
THOMSON (_patting him on shoulder_). There, there, boy, there, there!
Whatever made you think it would be taken from you? (_Duke sobs._)
There, there, it’s quite all right.
MRS. C-BANKS (_at back on the seat with_ Lingley). I’m very glad to
see they know each other so well--but what about us?
LINGLEY. This might be a suitable moment to approach him.
MRS. C-BANKS. Try.
LINGLEY. I will (_importantly crossing to examiner who takes no
notice_). Sir--ahem--my name is Lingley--of Ling--
THOMSON. Go away.
LINGLEY. I have advocated myself--or rather my fellow passengers have
advocated me--their spokesman as it were--
THOMSON (_still attending to_ Duke). Go away.
LINGLEY. And I thought this might be a good moment to approach a
somewhat--
THOMSON (_turning on him positively_). Will you go away, sir?
LINGLEY. Certainly. (_Retires._) I’ve no wish to stay where I’m not
wanted. (_Goes back to his seat._)
MRS. C-BANKS. How very rude!
LINGLEY. I don’t believe he’s the examiner at all.
MRS. C-BANKS. Of course, Mr. Duke will get off lightly. (_Rises._) A
friend at court, you see. Influence! Ah! It’s always the same. Shall
_I_ say something to him?
LINGLEY. Good lor’, madam, _no_.
THOMSON (_to_ Duke). Feeling better now?
DUKE. I’m very sorry, sir. But it means such a lot to me. You
understand.
THOMSON. Perfectly. I had exactly the same feeling when it happened
to _me_. But you’ve nothing to worry about except your work.
DUKE. I’m full of energy.
THOMSON. Then you can start your apprenticeship now and help me with
this bunch. By the way, there aren’t many of you.
DUKE. No, sir.
THOMSON. Then it won’t take long and we can get on shore for dinner.
LINGLEY. Sir, if I find my trial’s being “scamped” I shall appeal.
THOMSON (_to_ Scrubby). Take that man away, will you?
SCRUBBY. Certainly, sir. This way, Mr. Lingley.
LINGLEY (_as he goes out, left_). It’s disgraceful.
THOMSON. And the rest had better wait _with_ him--outside.
SCRUBBY. Very good, sir. Will you all come this way, please?
MRS. C-BANKS (_making a large sweep towards_ Thomson). How do you do?
(_Seeing she is ignored she follows the others out._) Oh!
(Tom _goes out, left, followed by_ Mrs. Midget.)
THOMSON. That’s all. (Scrubby _follows them off, left._) Now, we’ll
get to work.
DUKE. Yes, sir.
THOMSON. Let’s see; who have we got on board? (_Reads from his
note-book._) Cliveden-Banks, Midget, Prior and the officious gent who
spoke to me--yourself.
DUKE. There’s an awfully nice quiet young couple.
THOMSON. Oh? I don’t remember them. They’re not on the passenger
list. We’ll begin with the officious one. (_Calls._) Scrubby! (_Goes
up centre and returns._) Where’s that fellow got to?
SCRUBBY (_appearing_). Here, sir.
THOMSON. Oh. (_Reading._) Show in Mr. Feltmann.
SCRUBBY (_calling off left_). Mr. Feltmann!
DUKE. There’s no Feltmann on board, Thomson!
THOMSON. Isn’t there?
SCRUBBY (_calling off left louder_). Mr. Feltmann!!
DUKE. Not that I know of.
(_There is a pause. Then_ Thomson _rises, goes up to left opening and
calls--looking off as he does so._)
THOMSON. Feltmann, come here.
(_Then_ Lingley _appears in the opening._)
LINGLEY. You were looking at _me_?
THOMSON. Yes. Come in. Sit down. (_Returns to seat._) _There._
(Lingley _comes slowly in and sits down._)
LINGLEY. Well?
THOMSON. Well, sir?
LINGLEY. You’ve made a mistake. My name’s Lingley, of Lingley, Ltd.
THOMSON. Your name’s Feltmann. At least that was the name of your
parents.
LINGLEY. No, sir. My name’s Lingley. And I’m sorry to see you mixing
up things to begin with. I’m a business man and mistakes annoy me.
You see, my fellow passengers have practically left everything in my
hands. Now if you’ll just put your cards on the table we--
THOMSON. Is your name Feltmann or is it _not_?
LINGLEY. It is _not_.
THOMSON. Very well then, your case is over. Get up.
LINGLEY. Wait. My name _is_ Feltmann.
(Lingley _sits slowly._)
THOMSON. Why did you say it wasn’t?
LINGLEY. Business.
THOMSON. Rascality.
LINGLEY (_rather truculent_). What am I charged with anyway?
THOMSON. Just being yourself.
LINGLEY. I am very proud of being myself. From small beginnings
I have worked up to great things. I have never hesitated for a
second but always kept to the straight path. I am an honest British
merchant--my bank balance will show you that--and that I have a
career behind me any self-made man might be proud of. I await my just
reward.
THOMSON. You shall get it, honest British merchant. As a matter of
fact you’re not British at all, Feltmann. You were born in Leipzig.
You commenced your career by breaking a playmate’s head against a
granite curb because he had a painted toy horse. You wanted to get it.
LINGLEY. Well, I got it.
THOMSON. Oh, I’ll grant you that! That’s how you’ve made that
glorious straight path you boast about. By knocking down anyone who
came across it or tried to turn you off it. Well, you’ll have to
_learn_, that’s all.
LINGLEY. I’ve not been wicked--people respect me.
THOMSON. Do they? To your face, perhaps. Come. (_Over to above
table._) Feltmann, you’re a business man. (_Sits._) I’m ready to
admit that. Some men get found out during their lives. You’re only
found out now. Come off you get.
(Henry _and_ Ann _appear at the centre door coming from left. They
hesitate, looking in for a second, as if awaiting their turn then
pass on right._ Duke _sees them._)
LINGLEY. I--I--
THOMSON. There is no appeal. You will suffer as you made others
suffer. (_Pause._)
(Thomson’s _manner is not hard and vindictive. He is kindly, tolerant
and possibly even reluctant to dole out justice. But he is firm and
just._)
LINGLEY (_after a pause_). Give me a second chance.
THOMSON. Did _you_ give anybody a second chance? No, you must learn,
my son. (_He turns and makes a note in his book._)
(Lingley _looks defiantly for a moment at_ Thomson, _whose back is
turned, as if he’d like to strike him. This he attempts to do. But is
suddenly stopped._)
THOMSON (_turning. Quietly_). That’s all.
(Lingley _slowly turns and goes out centre to left, utterly broken
and dejected._)
DUKE. Thomson!
THOMSON. Don’t look so shocked. It must be done. Suffering sometimes
works wonderful transformations. Let’s hope, boy, let’s hope. Scrubby!
SCRUBBY. Sir.
THOMSON (_to_ Scrubby). Just see he goes the right way.
SCRUBBY. Very good, sir.
(_He follows_ Lingley.)
DUKE (_rises_). I wish you’d see the young couple next. I know _they_
must be suffering.
THOMSON. What young couple is this?
DUKE. I told you about them.
THOMSON. Yes, but I’ve had no information from any other quarter.
It’s funny.
DUKE. They seem so devoted. You’ll have a pleasant job with them, I
know.
THOMSON. But who exactly are they?
DUKE. Well, I used to call them, to myself, “the lovers.”
(Scrubby _has appeared again in the centre._)
THOMSON. Steward, do you know anything about a young couple on this
boat?
SCRUBBY. Oh, those two, sir! You wouldn’t want to see them.
DUKE. Not see them?
THOMSON. Why _shouldn’t_ I want to see them?
SCRUBBY. They’re “half-ways” sir.
THOMSON. Half-ways. Oh, that explains it. No, it wouldn’t be much use
my seeing them. Show in--Mrs. Cliveden-Banks.
SCRUBBY. Yes, sir. (_He goes out left._)
DUKE. You’re not even going to see them?
THOMSON. I _can’t_, old boy.
DUKE (_curiously_). What is a “half-way,” Thomson?
THOMSON. You’ll learn, Duke, you’ll learn in good time.
(Scrubby _appears again announcing._)
DUKE. But I wish you would--
SCRUBBY. Mrs. Cliveden-Banks!
(_She enters left and gushingly crosses to_ Thomson. Scrubby _goes._)
MRS. C-BANKS. How do you do? How _do_ you do? _Very_ pleased to meet
you.
THOMSON. Delighted to meet you, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks. Come and sit
down.
MRS. C-BANKS. Thank you. Very sultry weather for the time of the
year, isn’t it? Still, we’ve had a lovely passage, haven’t we, _dear_
Mr. Duke?
DUKE. Oh, yes, delightful, _dear_ Mrs. Cliveden-Banks.
MRS. C-BANKS. It was a bit rough at first though, I must admit.
Between ourselves, I was publicly ill on several occasions, but I
didn’t mind. I love giving pleasure to others.
THOMSON. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.
MRS. C-BANKS. Oh, I did, I did. Thanks to your kind friend, Mr. Duke.
We clung together like limpets. I really don’t know _what_ I should
have done without him. What wonderful men our church turns out,
Mr.--er--
THOMSON. Thomson, madam.
MRS. C-BANKS. No; surely not one of the _Berkshire_ Thomsons?
THOMSON. Not that I am aware of.
MRS. C-BANKS. Ah! a pity. My great-great-grandfather was a Berkshire
Thomson.
THOMSON. Really--my great-great-grandfather was hanged for
horse-thieving.
MRS. C-BANKS. How quaint.
THOMSON. Mrs. Cliveden-Banks--
MRS. C-BANKS. Do you play golf?
THOMSON. I play indifferently.
MRS. C-BANKS. I think all men ought to play golf. It keeps them away
from home such a lot. My husband, Colonel Cliveden-Banks, is quite an
expert I believe.
THOMSON. Oh, yes, Bunny’s hot stuff. I was having a round with him
not long ago.
MRS. C-BANKS. I’m so glad to hear it. (_A pause, then suddenly._)
_What_ did you say? You had a round with my husband not long ago?
THOMSON. He was in terrific form after lunch.
MRS. C-BANKS (_alarmed_). When was this?
THOMSON. Oh, about a week ago, I think.
MRS. C-BANKS. But I don’t understand. Is he _here_?
THOMSON. He’s waiting for you. (_Rises._) Yes, we had a great game.
He’ll tell you all about it when you land.
MRS. C-BANKS. I _don’t land_!--How did _he_ get here?
THOMSON. Poor old Bunny died a couple of months ago.
MRS. C-BANKS. How wicked of him. He might have let me know.
THOMSON. Perhaps he didn’t think you’d care very much one way or the
other.
MRS. C-BANKS. Why not? There was life insurance--how like him, how
very like him. Always self centred. Look at the passage money I’ve
wasted! (_Suddenly._) Benjamin and I are _both_ dead then? (_She
moves to chair left of table._)
THOMSON. Quite dead.
MRS. C-BANKS (_hopefully_). That makes the marriage null and void.
THOMSON. Your marriage is only just beginning.
MRS. C-BANKS. How droll you are. But how nice of you to put it that
way.
THOMSON. Now will you go ashore. You’ll find everything most
comfortable. A villa, servants, all you want--and your husband
waiting--with outstretched arms.
MRS. C-BANKS. Yes, I can see him; exactly like a monkey.
THOMSON. I hope you will be able to see his _heart_. I know it’s
aching for you very badly.
MRS. C-BANKS. How ghastly.
THOMSON. What’s the matter?
MRS. C-BANKS. What _right’s_ he got to bob up again like this?
THOMSON. Every right, and we’re very glad to have him here. Your
husband is a very useful man.
MRS. C-BANKS. How well I know that phrase! It has always been used of
Benjamin in every new office he’s undertaken, at the start. Later he
invariably got the push.
(Henry _and_ Ann _pass the centre door again during this speech, look
anxiously in and then pass on left._)
THOMSON. And do you know why? Because of his wife’s malicious tongue.
MRS. C-BANKS (_rises, crosses to left_). How dare you? I’m sure I’ve
never said anything nasty about anyone--except when it was for their
good. I’ve certainly never said anything bad about Benjamin. I don’t
know that I’ve said anything good about him, because there’s nothing
good _to_ say about him. (_Sits._)
THOMSON. There is a very great deal of good in Bunny. But it was
always stifled back by you. He was a staunch, a devoted husband--look
what he gave _you_--and what did you give in return? Nothing!
MRS. C-BANKS. But I haven’t seen him for years.
THOMSON. It was _your_ neglect--not his.
MRS. C-BANKS. Oh, but he looks so funny.
THOMSON. The only funny thing about him is that he wants to see you.
Why he should _want_ to see you is beyond me. But he does, and he’s
going to.
MRS. C-BANKS. And what shall I be exactly?
THOMSON. You’ll be his wife; and in time you will learn to be a
_good_ wife.
MRS. C-BANKS. I refuse absolutely.
THOMSON. You _can’t_ refuse. (_With finality._)
(_A long pause._)
MRS. C-BANKS. I won’t do it! I won’t, I won’t.
DUKE. Why won’t you, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks?
MRS. C-BANKS. _He_ knows--ask him. (_Indicating_ Thomson.)
DUKE. Mr. Thomson--?
(Thomson _is silent, waiting._)
MRS. C-BANKS (_to_ Thomson). You know as well as I do, it’s his eyes.
The look in his eyes. You know I couldn’t face them any more--
THOMSON. Yes;--you never could look him in the eyes. You’re a
thoroughly bad lot. You trapped him; you were grasping, you made him
marry you. You--you--you--
MRS. C-BANKS. Don’t let me down before _him_. (_Indicating_ Duke.)
THOMSON. I wouldn’t if you’d been a _good_ harlot, but you weren’t,
you were a bad one.
MRS. C-BANKS. (_Pause._) Rather a vulgar way of putting it! Anyway I
was nothing of the sort.
DUKE. She always said she was a soldier’s daughter.
MRS. C-BANKS. And so I _am_!--I’m the daughter of a lance-corporal.
And mother never even knew his regiment. Is that frank enough for
you, Mr. Duke?
DUKE. Dear, dear, only a poor unfortunate after all.
THOMSON. No, Duke, _not_ a poor unfortunate. This old woman was
once a beautiful young girl, outwardly, but she was never an
unfortunate, never. She’s been just a schemer. And somehow she’s
always managed to fall on her feet. There were two other men before
she met Cliveden-Banks, richer men too than he was then. But she saw
something _steady_ in Bunny, so she made him marry her. He found out
all about it later--and he’s never told her. Too unselfish--too
“big”--too loyal.--So she goes back to him. I hope he _beats_
her--but I know he won’t. Anyway, she’ll get her punishment. The eyes
that made her run away.--Only remember, Mrs. Cliveden-Banks, it won’t
be Bunny who’ll know now, it will be you and I and everybody _except_
Bunny. He’ll have forgotten. (_Over to left of table._)
MRS. C-BANKS. Um! Now let me see. A villa--servants. And you really
think Benjamin would idealise me? Oh well, I suppose it might be
worse, I’ll go. (_Rises, crosses to centre._)
THOMSON. Of _course_ you will.
MRS. C-BANKS. For his sake, yes. I see it’s my duty to. Ah, duty,
duty, such a compelling thing. Speaking of duties, there are no
_customs_, I suppose? No. Good. Perhaps you’ll both come and dine
with the Colonel and me--one night. Goodbye, Mr--(_Moves up centre to
door_)--er--Tomkins. (_Pause._) You swine.
(_She goes out right._)
THOMSON. Phew! this place wants fumigating. (Henry _and_ Ann _appear
from left and pause anxiously._ Henry _catches_ Duke’s _eye and his
appealing look is understood by_ Duke. Duke _attracts_ Thomson’s
_attention to them._) Eh? (_Turns and looks toward_ Henry _and_
Ann--_then back to_ Duke.) Is this the--er--couple?
DUKE (_nods “Yes”_). Can’t you--?
THOMSON (_to_ Henry _and_ Ann). (_Shaking his head benignly._) Not
_yet_, my children.
(Henry _and_ Ann _retire centre._)
DUKE (_after watching them off curiously, turns to_ Thomson).
Thomson--what _are_ “half-ways”?
(_Before_ Thomson _can reply_ Prior _enters left excitedly._)
TOM. Duke--Duke!
DUKE. Yes. (_Cross left._)
TOM. Make him see _me_ next.
DUKE. Really, Prior--
TOM. You must, I can’t stand the suspense. My nerves aren’t
right--and I can’t stand it.
DUKE. There’s nothing to worry about.
TOM (_shouts_). I tell you I can’t stand it. I want to be put out.
THOMSON (_turning and coming down_). What’s the matter, boy?
TOM. Oh, sir, if you please, I want you to deal with me next. It
isn’t fair treating me like the others--I’m very highly strung.
THOMSON. Come in, boy, come in and don’t be frightened. (_Passes_ Tom
_to chair left of table._) We’re not going to hurt you. (_Leading him
over._) There, sit down there. Now what’s the trouble?
TOM. I want to be dealt with, sir. I want to _know_.
THOMSON. Calm yourself, boy, calm yourself. (_Giving him glass._)
Drink this. You’re fond of your drink, I know.
TOM. Thanks, sir. (_Drinks and then holds out glass again._)
THOMSON. Well, what do you want? (_Goes right of table and sits._)
TOM. I want to be killed--I want to be killed.
THOMSON. Um! Healthy outlook you’ve got, haven’t you?
TOM. No, I haven’t. I’m a weak character. I want to be let off
lightly. I want to be hit over the head with a stone and finished.
THOMSON (_rises_). Duke, send ashore for a bag of stones, will you?
TOM. Oh, don’t joke! I’ll drop all sarcasm--it’s the only thing that
kept me going up till now--but I’ll drop it now if you will.
THOMSON. Certainly. (_Sits right of table._)
TOM. I know--at least I guess what you’re doing with the others.
You’re keeping them going, keeping them going with punishment and
promises and things. Well, _I_ don’t want to be kept going. I want
blank.
THOMSON. Impossible.
TOM. But I’m dead. (_Rise._) And I demand the right to be properly
dead. I’ve always dreamt about being dead--when I’ve slept at all.
THOMSON. How old are you?
TOM (_sits_). Oh, hundreds of years--I must be. Give me blank.
THOMSON. You’re going on like the others. You’ve got to.
TOM. I won’t, I won’t!
THOMSON. You’ll find it quite easy to forget here, you know.
TOM. Easy to forget what? You’re not suggesting I’m to go on, and
without _this_? (_The glass._)
(Mrs. Midget _appears left._)
THOMSON. Yes.
TOM. Is that all I’m to forget?
THOMSON. Yes.
TOM. As if I could! As if I would anyway. You damned torturer. I see
what you want me to do. You want me to chuck drink, develop a nice
clean brain and remember all the other horrors! No, I won’t do it.
It’s all I’ve got, it’s my only comfort and if I’m to go on I won’t
give it up. See? But I’m not going to go on. Kill me! There, it’s not
asking much. And look at all the trouble it will spare you. I’m not
worth saving. I’m not really.
THOMSON. You’ve suffered.
TOM. Ha! (_As if to say_ “Haven’t I?”)
THOMSON. Can’t I do _anything_?
TOM. No, you can’t. (_Rises and goes up centre._)
MRS. MIDGET (_quietly from the back_). Perhaps _I_ could, sir.
THOMSON (_facing sharply_). What do you want?
MRS. MIDGET. My name’s Midget, sir. Excuse me bargein’ in as it were,
but--
THOMSON. I’m very pleased to meet you--yes, yes, I know all about
you. But you’ve no business here yet.
MRS. MIDGET. Oh, but I _have_. You see, yer reverence, when I first
got on to this big boat nobody would speak to me. I was lost as it
were--was--and then young Mr. Prior was very kind to me. _’E_ spoke
to me and broke the icicles, as is said, and if he is in trouble I
really don’t feel I could put my ’ead on my pillow to-night--if I
’ave one--after what ’e done for me. (_Goes to_ Tom, _touches him._)
Now what is all this fluster and to do, anyway? It’s about the booze,
ain’t it?
TOM. Booze--eh? Oh, well--yes--drink _is_ certainly mixed up with it.
MRS. MIDGET. Nasty ’orrid stuff.
TOM. Beautiful stuff, Mrs. Midget.
MRS. MIDGET. Mind you I don’t say there’s any ’arm in a man ’aving’
’is beer if he wants ’is beer, but the man I does object to is the
man who’s _always_ wanting it. I shouldn’t think you’ve ever ’ad much
of a _chance_, though, ’ave you, sir?
TOM. I’ve had every chance, Mrs. Midget. I was spoilt. I was
ungrateful. I ruined--Please drop it.
MRS. MIDGET (_pause_). There was a girl, too, wasn’t there?
TOM. Be quiet!
MRS. MIDGET (_another pause_). There _was_ a girl, though, wasn’t
there?
TOM. Oh yes, there was. How did you know?
MRS. MIDGET. She was the final old ’ow do you do, I take it?
TOM. As you so poetically express it, she _was_.
(Henry _and_ Ann _appear at door centre and unseen by the others
stand listening apprehensively._)
MRS. MIDGET. She chucked you, didn’t she? But you’ll be different
now, I know something about girls and--your reverence (_behind_ Tom
_to_ Thomson), I daresay this particular one might come along here
some day?
THOMSON. It’s quite possible. But it doesn’t always follow, Mrs.
Midget, that just because a boy and girl are sweethearts, they may
always go on together here. On the contrary, they’re sometimes
_separated_--so much depends--so much depends.
(Ann _utters a faint wail and_ Henry _leads her further back into the
shadows up left where they remain enviously watching the rest of the
scene._ Mrs. Midget _looks sympathetically at_ Henry _and_ Ann; _then
resumes to_ Tom.)
MRS. MIDGET. What a triumph it would be for you if _your_ girl
suddenly appeared ’ere and found you, mind yer it _might_ ’appen,
settled down and smart and respectable like, with a good job and
a decent salary reg’lar every Saturday. (_To_ Thomson.) I suppose
you’ve got jobs ’ere, ’aven’t you?
THOMSON. Plenty.
MRS. MIDGET. Now what you want is a nice, good, honest, steady
respectable housekeeper who’d take care of you.
TOM (_annoyed_). Mrs. Midget--!
MRS. MIDGET. Yes, _she_ might do. Then all your things would be
properly looked after. With everything mended and darned ready for
yer to put on. Someone to see yer didn’t sit up too late, too often.
No fussing mind, and call you in the morning with a nice ’ot cup of
tea. What time do you get up?
TOM. Oh, don’t!
MRS. MIDGET. Oh you can ’ave your drinks, as long as you don’t let
them interfere with your meals or take away your appetite. I’m a good
cook I am, and if you left anything untouched it would upset me awful.
THOMSON. Mrs. Midget, you’re suggesting.
MRS. MIDGET. I was _thinking_ of it, yes.
THOMSON. Very fine, very fine of you. There’s a little cottage
waiting for you, with a garden by the sea.
MRS. MIDGET (_enthusiastic_). There we _are_ then! The very spot.
(_Sudden change to the practical._) ’As it got a good sink?
THOMSON. You don’t quite follow. True, Mr. Prior is free to do as he
chooses but he has not yet arrived on the same plane as you have. He
would not be allowed to live there to begin with anyway.
MRS. MIDGET. Then why can’t I go where _he’s_ going? That’s simple
enough.
THOMSON. It would mean going back to the _slums_.
MRS. MIDGET. And what’s the matter with the slums. They’re all right.
TOM. I won’t listen to the idea.
MRS. MIDGET (_pleading_). You can always give me a week’s notice.
TOM. I’m not worth bothering about.
MRS. MIDGET. I’m willing to ’ave a shot.
TOM. I can’t understand this extraordinary interest anyway.
MRS. MIDGET. One good turn deserves another. Sir, wouldn’t the people
who spoilt you be glad if they knew you was in capable ’ands?
TOM. They would be, I suppose.
MRS. MIDGET. _And_ doing well? (_With growing fervour._)
TOM. Er--yes--of course.
MRS. MIDGET. That might ease those ’orrid thoughts of yours a bit
too, mightn’t it?
TOM. It might.
MRS. MIDGET. Well then, ain’t it worth it?
TOM. This is another trap.
MRS. MIDGET. Velvet-lined, sir.
TOM. Please don’t keep on calling me “sir,” I’m not a gentleman
really.
MRS. MIDGET. Aren’t you, sir?
TOM. No, I’m not. If I were, I shouldn’t be hesitating as I am. Mr.
Examiner, help me. _You_ must be experienced in making decisions.
THOMSON. No, boy, I can’t help you in this. It’s your own choice.
TOM. Duke, I--
DUKE. You know what Mr. Thomson said, it’s for you to speak.
TOM. Very well then. (_Pause._) I’ll go. (_Rising and going up
centre. Another pause._) By myself!
DUKE. Prior!
TOM. _I’m not worth bothering about._
THOMSON. And in those very words you’ve proved you are! Because you
really meant ’em. Humility, my boy, humility! Take him away, Mrs.
What’s--er--name and do the best you can with him. And jolly good
luck to you both, you couple of rascals.
TOM. Mind you I won’t promise--I won’t promise to be good.
MRS. MIDGET. No, sir, we’ll just ’ope--mutual like.
TOM (_fingering his glass_). It’s going to be difficult--yes, it’s
going to be difficult.
THOMSON. _That’s_ the way.
TOM. Thanks awfully. (_Sets down glass._) And I will try.
(_He goes out on to the deck and off right._ Mrs. Midget _overjoyed
starts to follow him._)
THOMSON. Good day, Mrs. Prior--you’re a good mother.
MRS. MIDGET (_turning on_ Thomson _ferociously_). Blast you, how
did you find out. Blast you! (_Then suddenly changing to pleading
pitifully._) You’ll never tell ’im, will you? Promise you’ll never
let him know.
THOMSON. I promise.
MRS. MIDGET (_going to_ Duke _and clutching him_). And you too, sir?
DUKE. I promise, of course.
MRS. MIDGET (_turning back_). Thank you, both. You see he mustn’t
even guess. Oh, sirs, ain’t it wonderful? He doesn’t know me, and
I’ve got him to look after at last--Without any fear of me disgracing
him, it’s ’Eaven, that’s what it is, it’s ’Eaven!
TOM (_off_). Mrs. Midget.
MRS. MIDGET. He wants me at last--yes dearie, I’m coming. (_She goes
out centre in ecstacy, and off right._)
(Thomson _with a pleased chuckle stands left of door with his back
to_ Henry _and_ Ann, _watching her out._ Duke _stands further down
right._ Henry _and_ Ann _drop down to extreme left._)
THOMSON (_after a pause_). Come along, Duke. (_He comes down a bit,
takes_ Duke _by the arm in a most fraternal way and without looking
back goes out centre and off right._)
(Duke _follows but hesitates at door a moment and looks back at_
Henry _and_ Ann, _who stand mystified and fearful._ Henry _makes a
slight but frantic gesture of appeal to_ Duke _as if to say “But
what about us?”_ Duke _looks at them sympathetically, but shrugs his
shoulders helplessly._ Duke _follows and disappears._ Henry _and_
Ann _stand hopeless and bewildered, they look from one to the other
curiously; then she, terror-stricken in awful apprehension of the
uncertainty of their plight, at their being ignored, at the mystery
of it all, suddenly clutches_ Henry’s _arm and holds to him tightly._)
CURTAIN.
SCENE II
_The scene is now as it was before, the small table which was used
for the meeting having been removed. It is moonlight outside. The
moonlight pours in through the portholes and through the centre door
which is wide open._
Scrubby _enters from the left. He collects a few glasses, and places
them on a tray. He is tidying up. He then goes through the door
behind the bar. Once more the mysterious drum is heard, and_ Ann
_appears from the deck._
ANN. Henry! (_Goes to left._) Henry! Henry, where are you? I want
you! (_Up again._) Henry! Henry! (_Left._)
HENRY (_from centre opening_). Yes, dear?
ANN. Where have you been?
HENRY. Looking at the sea--
ANN. You know we’ve sailed again.
HENRY. Yes.
ANN. Why have we both been left behind?
HENRY. I don’t know, dear. But what does it matter, we’ve been left
together.
ANN. Yes, you and I.
HENRY. The lights of that place have gone now.
ANN (_up to_ Henry _up centre_). Where were you just now? Where were
you?
HENRY. Looking at the sea.
ANN (_arm in arm down centre_). I’ve taken a dislike to the sea,
husband. It seems to me we should keep terribly close.
HENRY. Why, dear?
ANN. Can’t you ever feel when things are passing over you? Bad
things, I can. They’re round us now, all round. They’ve been round us
since we left that harbour.
HENRY. Why weren’t _we_ judged?
ANN. I don’t know--and I don’t know why you left me for a while.
(_Sits._)
HENRY. I thought I heard a dog bark. It was Jock. What’s that?
ANN. What?
HENRY. Something seemed to touch my hand. (_He is uneasy._) We should
have insisted on being heard, we were cowards.
ANN. Not because we are ashamed of our love.
HENRY. No. Because we were afraid of being separated.
ANN. Yes.
(_A faint, very faint, sound of breaking glass off right._)
HENRY (_pause--listens_). It’s strange that tinkling noise like
glass--sharp pieces of glass falling on stone. Do you hear it, Ann?
ANN. No, dear.
HENRY. My nerves are all on edge. I’d have sworn I did. Ann, where
are we going to?
ANN. I can’t think. (_Rises, pause._) Perhaps it’s the dreadful house
with the double staircase in the Hall. You know.
HENRY. The stairs I run up and down trying to find you.
ANN. Perhaps it isn’t a dream place at all.
HENRY. Ann, since we left that harbour I feel we are bound for some
place dimly remembered.... Ann, I feel--a breeze like a breath of
new--of different air.
ANN. They didn’t question us. Perhaps it’s freedom.
HENRY. Ann, Ann, wife, wife. Don’t let’s get away from each other.
We don’t know where we are, we don’t know what’s becoming to us, or
where we’re going.
ANN. I don’t really care what’s becoming to me as long as I am with
my husband. What else matters? But if _you_ went away from me--
HENRY. It seems you’re rather leaning on me now!
ANN. Shares, Henry.
HENRY. Shares, Ann.
ANN. You see, I love you. I love you so much. I love the way you
walk, the way you hold your head. I love _you_. I love your mouth.
(Ann _kisses him and then sits down._ Henry _kneels with his arm
round her._)
HENRY. My wonderful Ann. They won’t separate us now will they, Ann?
Nothing can take one from the other now?
ANN. Nothing--nothing.
HENRY. Keep close though, keep close.... Are _you_ cold?
ANN (_takes hold of him_). No. I’ve got you darling, I’ve got you.
HENRY. Never let go.
ANN. Why aren’t we closer? I thought we _would_ be when we’re dead.
HENRY. I thought there would be no need for speech. That _we_, the
_real_ you and I would drift away together. Where is the utter
completeness?--Oh Ann--Ann--
ANN. Supposing after all, we were wrong.
HENRY. Wrong?--how wrong? What was that? (_Rises._)
ANN. Just supposing--
HENRY. Ann--(_Listening._)
(Scrubby _comes in quickly. He puts down the empty tray on bar._)
SCRUBBY. Good evening, madam, good evening, sir. (_Goes left._)
ANN. Good evening, Scrubby.
HENRY. Ann!!
ANN. Yes, dear?
HENRY. There’s Jock barking. (_Stepping right a pace._)
ANN. Don’t be silly.
SCRUBBY. Who’s Jock, ma’am?
ANN. Our dog--at home.
HENRY. Listen! Listen! (_Stepping further right._)
ANN. Don’t be silly, Henry.
HENRY. I’d like _him_ to be with us. Jock!
SCRUBBY. Keep close to him, miss, if you’ll take my advice.
HENRY. You can tell us, you can help, can’t you? Where are we going
to?
SCRUBBY. We just go on like this, sir--forwards and
backwards--backwards and forwards.
HENRY. For ever?
ANN. Alone?
SCRUBBY. Yes, quite alone. Until--
HENRY (_slightly excited_). Why is this happening to us?
SCRUBBY. It happens to all half-ways like--like we are.
ANN. But what are we, Scrubby? We--we half-ways?
SCRUBBY. We’re the people who ought to have had more courage.
ANN. For what?
SCRUBBY. To face life.
ANN. Do you remember how you became a half-way?
SCRUBBY. Oh, no. I’ve been allowed to forget. I hope you’ll be
allowed to forget. It would be too cruel if they didn’t let you
forget in time that you killed yourselves.
ANN. Scrubby! (_She rises._)
HENRY (_cries out_). My God! that’s it! Now I remember! Suicide!
SCRUBBY. Keep closer to him, madam.
HENRY. The people who ought to have had more courage! I see. _That’s_
what we’ve done that wasn’t right.
ANN. Henry! (_Goes to him._)
HENRY. The little bits are fitting together.
ANN. Dear, don’t worry.
HENRY. Ann, I wanted to forget. (_Collapses on chair above table._)
Oh, don’t say the damned torture’s going to start all over again.
We’d reached the end of our tether as it was. Ann--
ANN. I’m with you still--(_she stands behind his chair and puts her
arm round him._)
HENRY. But you can’t face it, Ann, you can’t stand it any more. I
won’t let you suffer--not another second. We’ll kill ourselves dear,
and forget in each other’s arms. Then we’ll be so happy, sweet,
so happy for ever. (_Pause._) Oh, but it’s over. We _have_ killed
ourselves. And we’re not happy.
ANN. No--we’re not. (_Sits down._)
HENRY. We can’t stand it, Ann.
ANN (_after a pause_). We’ve got to.
SCRUBBY. Why did you kill yourselves?
ANN (_pause_). We weren’t married, Scrubby.
SCRUBBY. Weren’t you, madam? Oh, you two poor dears. Pardon my
familiarity.
HENRY. I was trapped into a marriage.
ANN. He’s so guileless, Scrubby.
HENRY (_indicating_ Ann). Ann came to me in such a wonderful way. It
was like dawn.
ANN. They’d been so cruel to him, Scrubby. Never an atom of love in
his whole life before, was there, Henry?
HENRY. Never, Ann was the only true and good thing I’ve ever met. We
loved. We loved. I gave my soul for love as Ann gave hers. We got
so _near_ each other that we _knew_ that there was only one minute
spiritual barrier between us, and that we believed was Death. Death
can unify utterly. We believed that--and yet we are just as if we had
never died.
SCRUBBY. You killed _yourselves_.
ANN. We should have waited?
SCRUBBY. Yes.
ANN. Oh, Scrubby--you don’t know the agony we’ve been through. The
way people talked--the things they said.
HENRY. Lies--such bloody lies! (_Rises._)
ANN. They smeared our love--smeared--
HENRY. With their dirty tongues.
ANN. You see, Scrubby, we didn’t conceal it--we didn’t pretend.
HENRY. We weren’t ashamed. We started so proudly, so proudly.
ANN. Till we were beaten down so bruised, so hurt.
HENRY. But we should have gone on?
ANN. Yes.
SCRUBBY. And now you children are faced with memories.
HENRY. I remember the long sweep into the dark. The last thing I saw
was Jock’s face against the window. I can see him now--almost feel
him--Jock!--(_Stooping as if to pet the dog._) Jock!
SCRUBBY. _Outside_ the window, sir?
HENRY. Yes--outside. (_To_ Ann.) And then you, Ann--I haven’t taken
care of you well enough, and I’ve been a coward. (Ann _rises._) Oh!
to be given back even a little while--to try again. Our future here
isn’t Hell, it isn’t Heaven, it’s past imagination.
SCRUBBY. Eternity.
HENRY. Ann, Ann, I must save you. I promise that I will. I’m the man.
Oh, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault. We didn’t understand, dear,
that we should have been true and brave and fearless. Then nothing
could have hurt us wherever we were whatever we have been, or may be.
ANN. It’s too late now.
HENRY (_moving away_). Let me think dear. There must be a way out.
Let me think. The air seems fresher out here.
(_Walks slowly to the deck and leans over rail. After a few seconds
during the following dialogue, walks slowly up and down passing and
re-passing the entrance. Gradually a bigger pause between each pass
till he doesn’t come past._)
SCRUBBY (_below settee_). Don’t let him go too far, madam. Call him
now.
ANN. Henry!
HENRY. Ann!
ANN. Don’t go too far away.
HENRY (_off_). No dear!
ANN (_crosses to_ Scrubby). Why aren’t people kinder to each other,
Scrubby?
SCRUBBY (Ann _sits left_). Being unkind comes more natural to most
people, I’m afraid.
ANN. I’d try to be kinder if I had it over again. Now there’s no one
left here to be kind to.
SCRUBBY (_crosses right to table_). Present company excepted. What
did you like best in life?
ANN. I liked so many things. I loved the earth, the scent of the
earth, of newly-cut grass, after rain; and the trees, and all clear
things like water. Are you very lonely, Scrubby?
SCRUBBY. Oh no, ma’am, not on the whole. I’ve all sorts of comforting
little thoughts locked up in my brain, so when I get a bit monotonous
I just turn the key and out come the thoughts to dance in front of
me. Very whimsical and entertaining some of them are too, I must say.
ANN. I do hope we’ll get on together. When I was living I did want
people to look after, but I had so few friends. Now I’ve none
excepting you.
SCRUBBY. You’ll find lots of new friends, ma’am. Not quite the
same, but most consoling. The birds come on board occasionally--and
the sky appreciates a clean good morning, and the sea’s in a good
temper sometimes. Don’t always think of nature as men and women. If
you’re kind to nature, nature will understand. These are some of my
comforts. You want the earth again. But the sea will tell your wish
to the clouds maybe, and perhaps some little drifting cloud will
float with the news over to the land, and rest above the cool trees
and the yellow gorse and the grass near the chalk pits. So though you
can’t get the earth again, ma’am, the earth may know. And let’s hope
she will, and send back her kind regards and very best wishes. Call
him again.
ANN. Call him? Why?
SCRUBBY. Call him.
ANN. Henry! Henry! (_A pause._) Henry! (_Long pause. Rises and goes
up centre, exits and returns. Another pause--goes out left and
re-enters. At opening left screams._) Henry! Henry! (_Pause._) He
must be here. He must be here. (_She dashes on to the deck again.
Looks round. Then returning cries once more, wildly._) Henry! (_There
is no answer. She looks at_ Scrubby _questioningly._)
SCRUBBY. He has gone.
ANN (_screams_). Henry!! You haven’t looked.
SCRUBBY. Useless.
ANN. What do you mean? (_Quiet now._)
SCRUBBY. I know what’s happened to him.
ANN. What?
SCRUBBY. He lives again!
ANN. Lives! Henry gone back?
SCRUBBY. The dog, ma’am, outside the window. Perhaps broke through.
ANN. Henry is gone back, alone.
SCRUBBY. He’s stronger than you--more power to resist the fumes maybe.
ANN. Gone back. I’ll follow him.
SCRUBBY. You can’t.
ANN. Henry wouldn’t leave me alone.
SCRUBBY. He couldn’t help himself, madam.
ANN. But we’ve been dead a week--
SCRUBBY. A week! A century! A moment! There’s no time here. He’s gone
back, madam.
ANN. Then I’ll go too.
SCRUBBY. You can’t.
ANN. I will. I must!
SCRUBBY. It’s impossible.
ANN. _I will follow._ Henry. Henry. (_Comes down right in front of
table, facing front._) Henry dear, where are you? It’s Ann, dear.
Where are you, baby? Just tell me where you are? _Where are you?_
I’ll come darling. Just tell me. Henry! Henry!
SCRUBBY. He won’t answer.
ANN. Henry. Henry are you in the flat? I believe you are, Henry; you
mustn’t be there by yourself--you won’t know how to manage anything.
SCRUBBY. It’s useless.
ANN. Henry, listen, Henry. Our love, our great love. (_The drum is
heard again._) It’s speaking, Henry. The little wedding ring, that
wasn’t a wedding ring at all--put it on my finger again. It’s on the
mantelpiece. Henry don’t leave me alone for ever. It’s Ann, your
Ann, who wants you. Henry! Henry dear!
(_The drum stops._)
SCRUBBY. Quiet. Quiet. I heard something out there--on the deck.
(_Another pause then_ Henry _appears in the centre doorway._)
ANN (_without seeing him, still facing front_). Hello, Henry.
HENRY (_coming down to her partly_). Hello, Ann. Quick, dear, be very
quick. There’s only a second or two. I’ve come to fetch you home,
dear. Ready, sweetheart? (_Holding out his hand._)
ANN. Ready, Henry, ready! (_Turning up and taking his hand._)
HENRY. We’ve such a lot to do my love. And such a little time to do
it in. Quick. Quick.
(_They go out together. The drum starts again very softly._ Scrubby
_watches them go._)
CURTAIN.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
- Clear mistakes in punctuation have been fixed.
- Some inconsistently hyphenated words have been normalized.
- Text in _underscores_ represents italics.
- The table of contents was created for this edition.
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