The Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day More, by Joseph Conrad This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: One Day More A Play In One Act Author: Joseph Conrad Release Date: January 29, 2006 [EBook #17621] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY MORE *** Produced by David Widger This is the sixth book issued by the Beaumont Press 24 copies (four of which are not for sale) have been printed on Japanese vellum signed by the author and numbered 1 to 24 and 250 copies on hand-made paper numbered 25 to 274 This is No. 46 ONE DAY MORE A PLAY IN ONE ACT BY JOSEPH CONRAD CHARACTERS Captain Hagberd (a retired coasting skipper). Josiah Carvil (formerly a shipbuilder--a widower--blind). Harry Hagberd (son of Captain Hagberd, who as a boy ran away from home). A Lamplighter. Bessie Carvil (daughter of Josiah Carvil). SCENE A small sea port. To rights two yellow brick cottages belonging to Captain Hagberd, one inhabited by himself the other by the Carvils. A lamp-post in front. The red roofs of the town in the background. A sea-wall to left. Time: The present-early autumn, towards dusk. ONE DAY MORE SCENE I. CURTAIN RISES DISCLOSING CARVIL _and Bessie moving away from sea-wall. Bessie about twenty-five. Black dress; black straw hat. A lot of mahogany-coloured hair loosely done up. Pale face. Full figure. Very quiet. Carvil, blind, unwieldy. Reddish whiskers; slow, deep voice produced without effort. Immovable, big face._ Carvil (_Hanging heavily on Bessie's arm_). Careful! Go slow! (_Stops; Bessie waits patiently_.) Want your poor blind father to break his neck? (_Shuffles on_.) In a hurry to get home and start that everlasting yarn with your chum the lunatic? Bessie. I am not in a hurry to get home, father. Carvil. Well, then, go steady with a poor blind man. Blind! Helpless! (_Strikes the ground with his stick_.) Never mind! I've had time to make enough money to have ham and eggs for breakfast every morning--thank God! And thank God, too, for it, girl. You haven't known a single hardship in all the days of your idle life. Unless you think that a blind, helpless father------- Bessie. What is there for me to be in a hurry for? Carvil. What did you say? Bessie. I said there was nothing for me to hurry home for. Carvil. There is, tho'. To yarn with a lunatic. Anything to get away from your duty. Bessie. Captain Hagberd's talk never hurt you or anybody else. Carvil. Go on. Stick up for your only friend. Bessie. Is it my fault that I haven't another soul to speak to? Carvil (_Snarls_). It's mine, perhaps. Can I help being blind? You fret because you want to be gadding about--with a helpless man left all alone at home. Your own father too. Bessie. I haven't been away from you half a day since mother died. Carvil (_Viciously_). He's a lunatic, our landlord is. That's what he is. Has been for years--long before those damned doctors destroyed my sight for me. (_Growls angrily, then sighs_.) Bessie. Perhaps Captain Hagberd is not so mad as the town takes him for. Carvil. (_Grimly_). Don't everybody know how he came here from the North to wait till his missing son turns up--here--of all places in the world. His boy that ran away to sea sixteen years ago and never did give a sign of life since! Don't I remember seeing people dodge round corners out of his way when he came along High Street. Seeing him, I tell you. (_Groan_.) He bothered everybody so with his silly talk of his son being sure to come back home--next year--next spring--next month------. What is it by this time, hey? Bessie. Why talk about it? He bothers no one now. Carvil. No. They've grown too fly. You've got only to pass a remark on his sail-cloth coat to make him shut up. All the town knows it. But he's got you to listen to his crazy talk whenever he chooses. Don't I hear you two at it, jabber, jabber, mumble, mumble------ Bessie. What is there so mad in keeping up hope? Carvil (_Scathing scorn_). Not mad! Starving himself to lay money by--for that son. Filling his house with furniture he won't let anyone see--for that son. Advertising in the papers every week, these sixteen years--for that son. Not mad! Boy, he calls him. Boy Harry. His boy Harry. His lost boy Harry. Yah! Let him lose his sight to know what real trouble means. And the boy--the man, I should say--must 've been put away safe in Davy Jones's locker for many a year--drowned--food for fishes--dead.... Stands to reason, or he would have been here before, smelling around the old fool's money. (_Shakes Bessie's arm slightly_.) Hey? Bessie. I don't know. May be. Carvil (_Bursting out_). Damme if I don't think he ever had a son. Bessie. Poor man. Perhaps he never had. Carvil. Ain't that mad enough for you? But I suppose you think it sensible. Bessie. What does it matter? His talk keeps him up. Carvil. Aye! And it pleases you. Anything to get away from your poor blind father.... Jabber, jabber--mumble, mumble--till I begin to think you must be as crazy as he is. What do you find to talk about, you two? What's your game? (_During the scene Carvil and Bessie have crossed stage from L. to R. slowly with stoppages_.) Bessie. It's warm. Will you sit out for a while? Carvil (_Viciously_). Yes, I will sit out. (_Insistent_.) But what can be your game? What are you up to? (_They pass through garden gate_.) Because if it's his money you are after------- Bessie. Father! How can you! Carvil (_Disregarding her_). To make you independent of your poor blind father, then you are a fool. (_Drops heavily on seat_.) He's too much of a miser to ever make a will--even if he weren't mad. Bessie. Oh! It never entered my head. I swear it never did. Carvil. Never did. Hey! Then you are a still bigger fool.... I want to go to sleep! (_Takes off' his hat, drops it on ground, and leans his head back against the wall_.) Bessie. And I have been a good daughter to you. Won't you say that for me? Carvil (_Very distinctly_). I want--to--go--to--sleep. I'm tired. (_Closes his eyes_.) (_During that scene Captain Hagberd has been seen hesitating at the back of stage, then running quickly to the door of his cottage. He puts inside a tin kettle (from under his coat) and comes down to the railing between the two gardens stealthily_). SCENE II. _Carvil seated. Bessie. Captain Hagberd (white beard, sail-cloth jacket_). Bessie (_Knitting_). You've been out this afternoon for quite a long time, haven't you? Capt. Hagberd (_Eager_). Yes, my dear. (_Slily_) Of course you saw me come back. Bessie. Oh, yes. I did see you. You had something under your coat. Capt. H. (_Anxiously_). It was only a kettle, my dear. A tin water-kettle. I am glad I thought of it just in time. (_Winks, nods_.) When a husband gets back from his work he needs a lot of water for a wash. See? (_Dignified_.) Not that Harry'll ever need to do a hand's turn after he comes home... (_Falters--casts stealthy glances on all sides_).... tomorrow. Bessie (_Looks up, grave_). Captain Hagberd, have you ever thought that perhaps your son will not. . . Capt. H. (_Paternally_). I've thought of everything, my dear--of everything a reasonable young couple may need for housekeeping. Why, I can hardly turn about in my room up there, the house is that full. (_Rubs his hands with satisfaction_.) For my son Harry--when he comes home. One day more. Bessie (_Flattering_). Oh, you are a great one for bargains. (_Captain Hagberd delighted_.) But, Captain Hagberd--if--if--you don't know what may happen--if all that home you've got together were to be wasted--for nothing--after all. (_Aside_.) Oh, I can't bring it out. Capt. H. (_Agitated; flings arms up, stamps feet; stuttering_). What? What d'ye mean? What's going to happen to the things? Bessie (_Soothing_). Nothing! Nothing! Dust--or moth--you know. Damp, perhaps. You never let anyone into the house . . . Capt. H. Dust! Damp! (_Has a throaty, gurgling laugh_.) I light the fires and dust the things myself. (_Indignant_.) Let anyone into the house, indeed! What would Harry say! (_Walks up and down his garden hastily with tosses, jings, and jerks of his whole body_.) Bessie (_With authority_.) Now, then, Captain Hagberd! You know I won't put up with your tantrums. (_Shakes finger at him_.) Capt. H. (_Subdued, but still sulky, with his back to her_). You want to see the things. That's what you're after. Well, no, not even you. Not till Harry has had his first look. Bessie. Oh, no! I don't. (_Relenting_.) Not till you're willing. (_Smiles at Capt. H., who has turned half round already!_) You mustn't excite yourself. (_Knits_.) Capt. H. (_Condescending_). And you the only sensible girl for miles and miles around. Can't you trust me? I am a domestic man. Always was, my dear. I hated the sea. People don't know what they let their boys into when they send them to sea. As soon make convicts of them at once. What sort of life is it? Most of your time you don't know what's going on at home. (_Insinuating_.) There's nothing anywhere on earth as good as a home, my dear. (_Pause_.) With a good husband... Carvil (_Heard from his seat fragmentarily_). There they go... jabber, jabber... mumble, mumble. (_With a groaning effort?_) Helpless! Capt. H. (_Mutters_). Extravagant ham and eggs fellow. (_Louder_.) Of course it isn't as if he had a son to make a home ready for. Girls are different, my dear. They don't run away, my dear, my dear. (_Agitated_.) Bessie (_Drops her arms wearily_). No, Captain Hagberd--they don't. Capt. H. (_Slowly_). I wouldn't let my own flesh and blood go to sea. Not I. Bessie. And the boy ran away. Capt. H. (_A little vacantly_). Yes, my only son Harry. (_Rouses himself_.) Coming home to-morrow. Bessie (_Speaks softly_). Sometimes, Captain Hagberd, a hope turns out false. Capt. H. (_Uneasy_). What's that got to do with Harry's coming back? Bessie. It's good to hope for something. But suppose now-------(_Feeling her way_.) Yours is not the only lost son that's never... Capt. H. Never what! You don't believe he's drowned. (_Crouches, glaring and grasping the rails_.) Bessie (_Frightened, drops knitting_). Captain Hagberd--don't. (_Catches hold of his shoulders over the railings?_) Don't--my God! He's going out of his mind! (_Cries_.) I didn't mean it! I don't know. Capt. H. (_Has backed away. An affected burst of laughter_). What nonsense. None of us Hagberds belonged to the sea. All farmers for hundreds of years, (_fraternal and cunning?_) Don't alarm yourself, my dear. The sea can't get us. Look at me! I didn't get drowned. Moreover, Harry ain't a sailor at all. And if he isn't a sailor, he's bound to come back--to-morrow. Bessie (_Has been facing him; murmurs_). No. I give it up. He scares me. (_Aloud, sharply_.) Then I would give up that advertising in the papers. Capt. H. (_Surprised and puzzled_). Why, my dear? Everybody does it. His poor mother and I have been advertising for years and years. But she was an impatient woman. She died. Bessie. If your son's coming, as--as you say--what's the good of that expense? You had better spend that half-crown on yourself. I believe you don't eat enough. Capt. H. (_Confused_). But it's the right thing to do. Look at the Sunday papers. Missing relatives on top page--all proper. (_Looks unhappy_.) Bessie (_Tartly_). Ah, well! I declare I don't know what you live on. Capt. H. Are you getting impatient, my dear? Don't get impatient--like my poor wife. If she'd only been patient she'd be here. Waiting. Only one day more. (_Pleadingly_.) Don't be impatient, my dear. Bessie. I've no patience with you sometimes. Capt. H. (_Flash of lucidity_). Why? What's the matter? (_Sympathetic_.) You're tired out, my dear, that's what it is. Bessie. Yes, I am. Day after day. (_Stands listless, arms hanging down_.) Capt. H. (_Timidly_). House dull? Bessie (_Apathetic_). Yes. Capt. H. (_As before_). H'm. Wash, cook, scrub. Hey? Bessie (_As before_). Yes. Capt. H. (_Pointing stealthily at the sleeping Carvil_). Heavy? Bessie. (_In a dead voice_). Like a millstone. (_A silence_.) Capt. H. (_Burst of indignation_). Why don't that extravagant fellow get you a servant? Bessie. I don't know. Capt. H. (_Cheerily_). Wait till Harry comes home. He'll get you one. Bessie (_Almost hysterical; laughs_). Why, Captain Hagberd, perhaps your son won't even want to look at me--when he comes home. Capt. H. (_In a great voice_). What! (_Quite low_.) The boy wouldn't dare. (_Rising choler_.) Wouldn't dare to refuse the only sensible girl for miles around. That stubborn jackanapes refuse to marry a girl like you! (_Walks about in a fury_.) You trust me, my dear, my dear, my dear. I'll make him. I'll--I'll -------- (_Splutters_.) Cut him off with a shilling. Bessie. Hush! (_Severe_.) You mustn't talk like that. What's this? More of your tantrums? Capt. H. (_Quite humble_). No, no--this isn't my tantrums--when I don't feel quite well in my head. Only I can't stand this... I've grown as fond of you as if you'd been the wife of my Harry already. And to be told-------- (_Cant restrain himself; shouts_.) Jackanapes! Bessie. Sh--------! Don't you worry! (_Wearily_.) I must give that up too, I suppose. (_Aloud_.) I didn't mean it, Captain Hagberd. Capt. H. It's as if I were to have two children to-morrow. My son Harry--and the only sensible girl--------. Why, my dear, I couldn't get on without you. We two are reasonable together. The rest of the people in this town are crazy. The way they stare at you. And the grins--they're all on the grin. It makes me dislike to go out. (_Bewildered_.) It seems as if there was something wrong about--somewhere. My dear, is there anything wrong--you who are sensible.. . Bessie (_Soothingly tender_). No, no, Captain Hagberd. There is nothing wrong about you anywhere. Carvil (_Lying back_). Bessie! (_Sits up_.) Get my hat, Bessie.... Bessie, my hat.... Bessie.... Bessie. ... (_At the first sound Bessie picks up and puts away her knitting. She walks towards him, picks up hat, puts it on his head_). Bessie, my... (_Hat on head; shouting stops_.) Bessie. (_Quietly_). Will you go in, now? Carvil. Help me up. Steady. I'm dizzy. It's the thundery weather. An autumn thunderstorm means a bad gale. Very fierce--and sudden. There will be shipwrecks to-night on our coast. (_Exit Bessie and Carvil through door of their cottage. It has fallen dusk_.) Capt. H. (_Picks up spade_). Extravagant fellow! And all this town is mad--perfectly mad. I found them out years ago. Thank God they don't come this way staring and grinning. I can't bear them. I'll never go again into that High Street. (_Agitated_.) Never, never, never. Won't need to after to-morrow. Never! (_Flings down spade in passion_.) (_While Hagberd speaks, the bow window of the Carvils is lit up, and Bessie is seen settling her father in a big armchair. Pulls down blind. Enter Lamplighter. Capt. H. picks up the spade and leans forward on it with both hands; very still, watching him light the lamp_.) Lamplighter (_Jocular_). There! You will be able to dig by lamplight if the fancy takes you. (_Exit Lamplighter to back_.) Capt. H. (_Disgusted_). Ough! The people here. . . (_Shudders_.) Lamplighter's Voice (_Heard loudly beyond the cottages_). Yes, that's the way. (_Enter Harry from back_.) SCENE III. (_Capt. H. Harry. Later Bessie_). Harry Hagberd (_thirty-one, tall, broad shoulders, shaven face, small moustache. Blue serge suit. Coat open. Grey flannel shirt without collar and tie. No waistcoat. Belt with buckle. Black, soft felt hat, wide-brimmed, worn crushed in the crown and a little on one side. Good nature, recklessness, some swagger in the bearing. Assured, deliberate walk with a heavy tread. Slight roll in the gait. Walks down. Stops, hands in pockets. Looks about. Speaks_.) This must be it. Can't see anything beyond. There's somebody. (_Walks up to Capt. Hagberd's gate?_) Can you tell me... (_Manner changes. Leans elbow on gate?_) Why, you must be Capt. Hagberd himself. Capt. H. (_In garden, both hands on spade, peering, startled_). Yes, I am. Harry (_Slowly_). You've been advertising in the papers for your son, I believe. Capt. H. (_Off his guard, nervous_). Yes. My only boy Harry. He's coming home to-morrow. (_Mumbles_.) For a permanent stay. Harry (_Surprised_). The devil he is! (_Change of tone?_) My word! You've grown a beard like Father Christmas himself. Capt. H. (_Impressively_). Go your way. (_Waves one hand loftily?_) What's that to you. Go your way. (_Agitated?_) Go your way. Harry. There, there. I am not trespassing in the street--where I stand--am I? Tell you what, I fancy there's something wrong about your news. Suppose you let me come in--for a quiet chat, you know. Capt. H. (_Horrified_). Let you--_you_ come in! Harry (_Persuasive_). Because I could give you some real information about your son. The--very--latest--tip. If you care to hear. Capt. H. (_Explodes_). No! I don't care to hear. (_Begins to pace to and fro, spade on shoulder. Gesticulating with his other arm_.) Here's a fellow--a grinning town fellow, who says there's something wrong. (_Fiercely_.) I have got more information than you're aware of. I have all the information I want. I have had it for years--for years--for years--enough to last me till to-morrow! Let you come in, indeed! What would Harry say? (_Bessie Carvil appears at cottage door with a white wrap on her head and stands in her garden trying to see_). Bessie. What's the matter? Capt. H. (_Beside himself_). An information fellow. (_Stumbles_.) Harry (_Putting out arm to steady him, gravely_). Here! Steady a bit! Seems to me somebody's been trying to get at you. (_Change of tone_.) Hullo! What's this rig you've got on?... Storm canvas coat, by George! (_He gives a frig, throaty laugh_.) Well! You _are_ a character! Capt. H. (_Daunted by the allusion, looks at coat_). I--I wear it for--for the time being. Till--till--to-morrow. (_Shrinks away, spade in hand, to door of his cottage_.) Bessie (Advancing). And what may you want, sir? Harry (_Turns to Bessie at once; easy manner_). I'd like to know about this swindle that's going to be sprung on him. I didn't mean to startle the old man. You see, on my way here I dropped into a barber's to get a twopenny shave, and they told me there that he was something of a character. He has been a character all his life. Bessie (_Wondering_). What swindle? Capt. H. A grinning fellow! (_Makes sudden dash indoors with the spade. Door slams. Affected gurgling laugh within_.) SCENE IV. (_Bessie and Harry. Later Capt. H. from window_). Harry (_After a short silence_). What on earth's upset him so? What's the meaning of all this fuss? He isn't always like that, is he? Bessie. I don't know who you are; but I may tell you that his mind has been troubled for years about an only son who ran away from home--a long time ago. Everybody knows that here. Harry (_Thoughtful_). Troubled--for years! (_Suddenly_.) Well, I am the son. Bessie (_Steps back_). You! . .. Harry! Harry (_Amused, dry tone_). Got hold of my name, eh? Been making friends with the old man? Bessie (_Distressed_). Yes... I... sometimes. . . (_Rapidly!_) He's our landlord. Harry (_Scornfully_). Owns both them rabbit hutches, does he? Just a thing he'd be proud of... (_Earnest_.) And now you had better tell me all about that chap who's coming to-morrow. Know anything of him? I reckon there's more than one in that little game. Come! Out with it! (_Chaffing_.) I don't take no... from women. Bessie (_Bewildered_). Oh! It's so difficult... What had I better do?... Harry (_Good-humoured_). Make a clean breast of it. Bessie (_Wildly to herself_). Impossible! (_Starts_.) You don't understand. I must think--see--try to--I, I must have time. Plenty of time. Harry. What for? Come. Two words. And don't be afraid for yourself. I ain't going to make it a police job. But it's the other fellow that'll get upset when he least expects it. There'll be some fun when he shows his mug here to-morrow. (_Snaps fingers_.) I don't care that for the old man's dollars, but right is right. You shall see me put a head on that coon, whoever he is. Bessie (_Wrings hands slightly_). What had I better do? (_Suddenly to Harry_.) It's you--you yourself that we--that he's waiting for. It's _you_ who are to come to-morrow. Harry (_Slowly_). Oh! it's me! (_Perplexed_.) There's something there I can't understand. I haven't written ahead or anything. It was my chum who showed me the advertisement with the old boy's address, this very morning--in London. Bessie (_Anxious_). How can I make it plain to you without... (_Bites her lip, embarrassed_.) Sometimes he talks so strangely. Harry (_Expectant_). Does he? What about? Bessie. Only you. And he will stand no contradicting. Harry. Stubborn. Eh? The old man hasn't changed much from what I can remember. (_They stand looking at each other helplessly_.) Bessie. He's made up his mind you would come back . . . to-morrow. Harry. I can't hang about here till morning. Got no money to get a bed. Not a cent. But why won't to-day do? Bessie. Because you've been too long away. Harry (_With force_). Look here, they fairly drove me out. Poor mother nagged at me for being idle, and the old man said he would cut my soul out of my body rather than let me go to sea. Bessie (_Murmurs_). He can bear no contradicting. Harry (_Continuing_). Well, it looked as tho' he would do it too. So I went. (_Moody_.) It seems to me sometimes I was born to them by a mistake... in that other rabbit hutch of a house. Bessie (_A little mocking_). And where do you think you ought to have been born by rights? Harry. In the open--upon a beach--on a windy night. Bessie (_Faintly_). Ah! Harry. They were characters, both of them, by George! Shall I try the door? Bessie. Wait. I must explain to you why it is to-morrow. Harry. Aye. That you must, or... (_Window in H.'s cottage runs up_.) Capt. H.'s Voice (_Above_). A--grinning--information--fellow coming to worry me in my own garden! What next? (_Window rumbles down_.) Bessie. Yes. I must. (_Lays hand on Harry's sleeve_.) Let's get further off. Nobody ever comes this way after dark. Harry (_Careless laugh_). Aye. A good road for a walk with a girl. (_They turn their backs on audience and move up the stage slowly. Close together. Harry bends his head over Bessie_). Bessie's Voice (_Beginning eagerly_). People here somehow did not take kindly to him. Harry's Voice. Aye. Aye. I understand that. (_They walk slowly back towards the front_.) Bessie. He was almost ready to starve himself for your sake. Harry. And I had to starve more than once for his whim. Bessie. I'm afraid you've a hard heart. (_Remains thoughtful_.) Harry. What for? For running away? (_Indignant_.) Why, he wanted to make a blamed lawyer's clerk of me. (_From here this scene goes on mainly near and about the street lamp_.) Bessie (_Rousing herself_). What are you? A sailor? Harry. Anything you like. (_Proudly_.) Sailor enough to be worth my salt on board any craft that swims the seas. Bessie. He will never, never believe it. He mustn't be contradicted. Harry. Always liked to have his own way. And you've been encouraging him. Bessie (_Earnestly_). No!--not in everything--not really! Harry (_Vexed laugh_). What about that pretty tomorrow notion? I've a hungry chum in London--waiting for me. Bessie (_Defending herself_). Why should I make the poor old friendless man miserable? I thought you were far away. I thought you were dead. I didn't know but you had never been born. I... I... (_Harry turns to her. She desperately_.) It was easier to believe it myself. (_Carried away_.) And after all it's true. It's come to pass. This is the to-morrow we've been waiting for. Harry (_Half perfunctorily_). Aye. Anybody can see that your heart is as soft as your voice. Bessie (_As if unable to keep back the words_). I didn't think you would have noticed my voice. Harry (_Already inattentive_). H'm. Dashed scrape. This is a queer to-morrow, without any sort of today, as far as I can see. (_Resolutely_.) I must try the door. Bessie. Well--try, then. Harry (_From gate looking over shoulder at Bessie_). He ain't likely to fly out at me, is he? I would be afraid of laying my hands on him. The chaps are always telling me I don't know my own strength. Bessie (_In front_). He's the most harmless creature that ever. .. Harry. You wouldn't say so if you had seen him walloping me with a hard leather strap. (_Walking up garden_.) I haven't forgotten it in sixteen long years. (_Rat-tat-tat twice_.) Hullo, Dad. (_Bessie intensely expectant. Rat-tat-tat_.) Hullo, Dad--let me in. I am your own Harry. Straight. Your son Harry come back home--a day too soon. (_Window above rumbles up_.) Capt. H. (_Seen leaning out, aiming with spade_). Aha! Bessie (_Warningly_). Look out, Harry! (_Spade falls_.) Are you hurt? (_Window rumbles down_.) Harry (_In the distance_). Only grazed my hat. Bessie. Thank God! (_Intensely_.) What'll he do now? Harry (_Comes forward, slamming gate behind him_). Just like old times. Nearly licked the life out of me for wanting to go away, and now I come back he shies a confounded old shovel at my head. (_Fumes. Laughs a little_). I wouldn't care, only poor little Ginger--Ginger's my chum up in London--he will starve while I walk back all the way from here. (_Faces Bessie blankly_.) I spent my last twopence on a shave. ... Out of respect for the old man. Bessie. I think, if you let me, I could manage to talk him round in a week, maybe. (_A muffled periodical bellowing had been heard faintly for some time_.) Harry (_On the alert_). What's this? Who's making this row? Hark! Bessie, Bessie. It's in your house, I believe. Bessie (_Without stirring, drearily_). It's for me. Harry (_Discreetly, whispering_). Good voice for a ship's deck in a squall. Your husband? (_Steps out of lamplight_.) Bessie. No. My father. He's blind. (_Pause_). I'm not married. (_Bellowings grow louder_.) Harry. Oh, I say. What's up? Who's murdering him? Bessie (_Calmly_). I expect he's finished his tea. (_Bellowing continues regularly_.) Harry. Hadn't you better see to it? You'll have the whole town coming out here presently. (_Bessie moves off_.) I say! (_Bessie stops_.) Couldn't you scare up some bread and butter for me from that tea? I'm hungry. Had no breakfast. Bessie (_Starts off at the word "hungry," dropping to the ground the white woollen shawl_). I won't be a minute. Don't go away. Harry (_Alone; picks up shawl absently, and, looking at it spread out in his hands, pronounces slowly_). A--dam'--silly--scrape. (_Pause. Throws shawl on arm. Strolls up and down. Mutters._) No money to get back. (_Louder_.) Silly little Ginger'll think I've got hold of the pieces and given an old shipmate the go by. One good shove--(_Makes motion of bursting in door with his shoulders_)--would burst that door in--I bet. (_Looks about_.) I wonder where the nearest bobby is! No. They would want to bundle me neck and crop into chokey. (_Shudders_.) Perhaps. It makes me dog sick to think of being locked up. Haven't got the nerve. Not for prison. (_Leans against lamp-post_.) And not a cent for my fare. I wonder if that girl now... Bessie (Coming hastily forward, plate with bread and meat in hand). I didn't take time to get anything else.... Harry (_Begins to eat_). You're not standing treat to a beggar. My dad is a rich man--you know. Bessie (_Plate in hand_). You resemble your father. Harry. I was the very image of him in face from a boy--(_Eats_)--and that's about as far as it goes. He was always one of your domestic characters. He looked sick when he had to go to sea for a fortnight's trip. (_Laughs_.) He was all for house and home. Bessie. And you? Have you never wished for a home? (_Goes off with empty plate and puts it down hastily on Carvil's bench--out of sight_.) Harry (_Left in front_). Home! If I found myself shut up in what the old man calls a home, I would kick it down about my ears on the third day--or else go to bed and die before the week was out. Die in a house--ough! Bessie (_Returning; stops and speaks from garden railing_). And where is it that you would wish to die? Harry. In the bush, in the sea, on some blamed mountain-top for choice. No such luck, tho', I suppose. Bessie (_From distance_). Would that be luck? Harry. Yes! For them that make the whole world their home. Bessie (_Comes forward shyly_). The world's a cold home--they say. Harry (_A little gloomy_). So it is. When a man's done for. Bessie. You see! (_Taunting_). And a ship's not so very big after all. Harry. No. But the sea is great. And then what of the ship! You love her and leave her, Miss--Bessie's your name--isn't it?... I like that name. Bessie. You like my name! I wonder you remembered it.... That's why, I suppose. Harry (_Slight swagger in voice_). What's the odds! As long as a fellow has lived. And a voyage isn't a marriage--as we sailors say. Bessie. So you're not married--(_Movement of Harry_)--to any ship. Harry (_Soft laugh_). Ship! I've loved and left more of them than I can remember. I've been nearly everything you can think of but a tinker or a soldier; I've been a boundary rider; I've sheared sheep and humped my swag and harpooned a whale; I've rigged ships and skinned dead bullocks and prospected for gold--and turned my back on more money than the old man would have scraped together in his whole life. Bessie (_Thoughtfully_). I could talk him over in a week.. . . Harry (_Negligently_). I dare say you could. (_Joking_.) I don't know but what I could make shift to wait if you only promise to talk to me now and then. I've grown quite fond of your voice. I like a right woman's voice. Bessie (_Averted head_). Quite fond! (_Sharply_.) Talk! Nonsense! Much you'd care. (_Businesslike_.) Of course I would have to sometimes.... (_Thoughtful again_.) Yes. In a week--if--if only I knew you would try to get on with him afterwards. Harry (_Leaning against lamp-post; growls through his teeth_). More humouring. Ah! well, no! (_Hums significantly_) Oh, oh, oh, Rio, . . . And fare thee well My bonnie young girl, We're bound for Rio Grande. Bessie (Shivering). What's this? Harry. Why! The chorus of an up-anchor tune. Kiss and go. A deep-water ship's good-bye.... You are cold. Here's that thing of yours I've picked up and forgot there on my arm. Turn round a bit. So. (_Wraps her up--commanding_.) Hold the ends together in front. Bessie (_Softly_). A week is not so very long. Harry (_Begins violently_). You think that I------- (_Stops with sidelong look at her_.) I can't dodge about in ditches and live on air and water. Can I? I haven't any money--you know. Bessie. He's been scraping and saving up for years. All he has is for you, and perhaps... Harry (_Interrupts_). Yes. If I come to sit on it like a blamed toad in a hole. Thank you. Bessie (_Angrily_). What did you come for, then? Harry (_Promptly_). For five quid--(_Pause_.)--after a jolly good spree. Bessie (_Scathingly_). You and that--that--chum of yours have been drinking. Harry (_Laughs_). Don't fly out, Miss Bessie--dear. Ginger's not a bad little chap. Can't take care of himself, tho'. Blind three days. (_Serious_.) Don't think I am given that way. Nothing and nobody can get over me unless I like. I can be as steady as a rock. Bessie (_Murmurs_). Oh! I don't think you are bad. Harry (_Approvingly_). You're right there. (_Impulsive_.) Ask the girls all over-------(_Checks himself_.) Ginger, he's long-headed, too, in his way--mind you. He sees the paper this morning, and says he to me, 'Hallo! Look at that, Harry--loving parent--that's five quid, sure.' So we scraped all our pockets for the fare.... Bessie (_Unbelieving_). You came here for that. Harry (_Surprised_). What else would I want here? Five quid isn't much to ask for--once in sixteen years. (_Through his teeth with a sidelong look at B._) And now I am ready to go--for my fare. Bessie (_Clasping her hands_). Whoever heard a man talk like this before! I can't believe you mean it? Harry. What? That I would go? You just try and see. Bessie (_Disregarding him_). Don't you care for anyone? Didn't you ever want anyone in the world to care for you? Harry. In the world! (_Boastful_.) There's hardly a place you can go in the world where you wouldn't find somebody that did care for Harry Hagberd. (_Pause_.) I'm not of the sort that go about skulking under false names. Bessie. Somebody--that means a woman. Harry. Well! And if it did. Bessie (_Unsteadily_). Oh, I see how it is. You get round them with your soft speeches, your promises, and then... Harry (_Violently_). Never! Bessie (_Startled, steps back_). Ah--you never. . . Harry (_Calm_). Never yet told a lie to a woman. Bessie. What lie? Harry. Why, the lie that comes glib to a man's tongue. None of that for me. I leave the sneaking off to them soft-spoken chaps you're thinking of. No! If you love me you take me. And if you take me--why, then, the capstan-song of deep-water ships is sure to settle it all some fine day. Bessie (_After a short pause, with effort_). It's like your ships, then. Harry (_Amused_). Exactly, up to now. Or else I wouldn't be here in a silly fix. Bessie (_Assumed indifference_). Perhaps it's because you've never yet met------- (_Voice fails_.) Harry (_Negligently_). Maybe. And perhaps never shall.... What's the odds? It's the looking for a thing.... No matter. I love them all--ships and women. The scrapes they got me into, and the scrapes they got me out of--my word! I say, Miss Bessie, what are you thinking of? Bessie (_Lifts her head_). That you are supposed never to tell a lie. Harry. Never, eh? You wouldn't be that hard on a chap. Bessie (_Recklessly_). Never to a woman, I mean. Harry. Well, no. (_Serious_.) Never anything that matters. (_Aside_.) I don't seem to get any nearer to my railway fare. (_Leans wearily against the lamppost with a far-off look. B. looks at him_.) Bessie. Now what are _you_ thinking of? Harry (_Turns his head; stares at B_.). Well, I was thinking what a fine figure of a girl you are. Bessie (_Looks away a moment_). Is that true, or is it only one of them that don't matter? Harry (_Laughing a little_). No! no! That's true. Haven't you ever been told that before? The men... Bessie. I hardly speak to a soul from year's end to year's end. Father's blind. He don't like strangers, and he can't bear to think of me out of his call. Nobody comes near us much. Harry (_Absent-minded_). Blind--ah! of course. Bessie. For years and years . . . Harry (_Commiserating_). For years and years. In one of them hutches. You are a good daughter. (_Brightening up_.) A fine girl altogether. You seem the sort that makes a good chum to a man in a fix. And there's not a man in this whole town who found you out? I can hardly credit it, Miss Bessie. (_B. shakes her head_.) Man I said! (_Contemptuous_.) A lot of tame rabbits in hutches I call them.... (_Breaks off_.) I say, when's the last train up to London? Can you tell me? Bessie (_Gazes at him steadily_). What for? You've no money. Harry. That's just it. (_Leans back against post again_.) Hard luck. (_Insinuating_.) But there was never a time in all my travels that a woman of the right sort did not turn up to help me out of a fix. I don't know why. It's perhaps because they know without telling that I love them all. (_Playful_.) I've almost fallen in love with you, Miss Bessie. Bessie (_Unsteady laugh_). Why! How you talk! You haven't even seen my face properly. (_One step towards H., as if compelled._) Harry (_Bending forward gallantly_). A little pale. It suits some. (_Puts out his hand, catches hold of B.'s arm. Draws her to him_.) Let's see.... Yes, it suits you. (_It's a moment before B. puts up her hands, palms out, and turns away her head_.) Bessie (_Whispering_). Don't. (_Struggles a little. Released, stands averted_.) Harry. No offence. (_Stands, back to audience, looking at H.'s cottage_.) Bessie (_Alone in front; faces audience; whispers_). My voice--my figure--my heart--my face.... (_A silence. B. 's face gradually lights up. Directly H. speaks, expression of hopeful attention_.) Harry (_From railings_). The old man seems to have gone to sleep waiting for that to-morrow of his. Bessie. Come away. He sleeps very little. Harry (_Strolls down_). He has taken an everlasting jamming hitch round the whole business. (_Vexed_.) Cast it loose who may. (_Contemptuous exclamation_.) To-morrow. Pooh! It'll be just another mad today. Bessie. It's the brooding over his hope that's done it. People teased him so. It's his fondness for you that's troubled his mind. Harry. Aye. A confounded shovel on the head. The old man had always a queer way of showing his fondness for me. Bessie. A hopeful, troubled, expecting old man--left alone--all alone. Harry (_Lower tone_). Did he ever tell you what mother died of? Bessie. Yes. (_A little bitter_.) From impatience. Harry (_Makes a gesture with his arm; speaks vaguely but with feeling_). I believe you have been very good to my old man.... Bessie (_Tentative_). Wouldn't you try to be a son to him? Harry (_Angrily_). No contradicting; is that it? You seem to know my dad pretty well. And so do I. He's dead nuts on having his own way--and I've been used to have my own too long. It's the deuce of a fix. Bessie. How could it hurt you not to contradict him for a while--and perhaps in time you would get used. .. Harry (_Interrupts sulkily_). I ain't accustomed to knuckle under. There's a pair of us. Hagberd's both. I ought to be thinking of my train. Bessie (_Earnestly_). Why? There's no need. Let us get away up the road a little. Harry (_Through his teeth_). And no money for the fare. (_Looks up_.) Sky's come overcast. Black, too. It'll be a wild, windy night... to walk the high road on. But I and wild nights are old friends wherever the free wind blows. Bessie (_Entreating_). No need. No need. (_Looks apprehensively at Hagberd's cottage. Takes a couple of steps up as if to draw Harry further off. Harry follows. Both stop_.) Harry (_After waiting_). What about this tomorrow whim? Bessie. Leave that to me. Of course all his fancies are not mad. They aren't. (_Pause_.) Most people in this town would think what he had set his mind on quite sensible. If he ever talks to you of it, don't contradict him. It would--it would be dangerous. Harry (_Surprised_). What would he do? Bessie. He would--I don't know--something rash. Harry (_Startled_). To himself? Bessie. No. It'd be against you--I fear. Harry (_Sullen_). Let him. Bessie. Never. Don't quarrel. But perhaps he won't even try to talk to you of it. (_Thinking aloud_.) Who knows what I can do with him in a week! I can, I can, I can--I must. Harry. Come--what's this sensible notion of his that I mustn't quarrel about? Bessie (_Turns to Harry, calm, forcible_). If I make him once see that you've come back, he will be as sane as you or I. All his mad notions will be gone. But that other is quite sensible. And you mustn't quarrel over it. (_Moves up to back of stage. Harry follows a little behind, away from audience_.) Harry's Voice (_Calm_). Let's hear what it is. (_Voices cease. Action visible as before. Harry steps back and walks hastily down. Bessie at his elbow, follows with her hands clasped?_) (_Loud burst of voice._) Harry (_Raving to and fro_). No! Expects me--a home. Who wants his home?... What I want is hard work, or an all-fired racket, or more room than there is in the whole of England. Expects me! A man like me--for his rotten money--there ain't enough money in the world to turn me into a blamed tame rabbit in a hutch. (_He stops suddenly before Bessie, arms crossed on breast. Violently_.) Don't you see it? Bessie (_Terrified, stammering faintly_). Yes. Yes. Don't look at me like this. (_Sudden scream_.) Don't quarrel with him. He's mad! Harry (_Headlong utterance_). Mad! Not he. He likes his own way. Tie me up by the neck here. Here! Ha! Ha! Ha! (_Louder_.) And the whole world is not a bit too big for me to spread my elbows in, I can tell you--what's your name--Bessie. (_Rising scorn_). Marry! Wants me to marry and settle.... (_Scathingly_.) And as likely as not he has looked out the girl too--dash my soul. Talked to you about it--did he? And do you happen to know the Judy--may I ask? (_Window in Hagberd's cottage runs up. They start and stand still_.) Capt. H. (_Above, begins slowly_). A grinning information fellow from a crazy town. (_Voice changes_.) Bessie, I see you. . . . Bessie (_Shrill_). Captain Hagberd! Say nothing. You don't understand. For heaven's sake don't. Capt. H. Send him away this minute, or I will tell Harry. They know nothing of Harry in this crazy town. Harry's coming home to-morrow. Do you hear? One day more! (_Silence_.) Harry (_Mutters_). Well!--he _is_ a character. Capt. H. (_Chuckles softly_). Never you fear! The boy shall marry you. (_Sudden anger_.) He'll have to. I'll make him. Or, if not--(_Furious_)--I'll cut him off with a shilling, and leave everything to you. Jackanapes! Let him starve! (_Window rumbles down_.) Harry (_Slowly_). So it's you--the girl. It's you! Now I begin to see.... By heavens, you have a heart as soft as your woman's voice. Bessie (_Half averted, face in hands_). You see! Don't come near me. Harry (_Makes a step towards her_). I must have another look at your pale face. Bessie (_Turns unexpectedly and pushes him with both hands; Harry staggers back and stands still; Bessie, fiercely_). Go away. Harry (_Watching her_). Directly. But women always had to get me out of my scrapes. I am a beggar now, and you must help me out of my scrape. Bessie (_Who at the word "beggar" had begun fumbling in the pocket of her dress, speaks wildly_). Here it is. Take it. Don't look at me. Don't speak to me! Harry (_Swaggers up under the lamp; looks at coin in his palm_). Half-a-quid. . .. My fare! Bessie (_Hands clenched_). Why are you still here? Harry. Well, you _are_ a fine figure of a girl. My word. I've a good mind to stop--for a week. Bessie (_Pain and shame_). Oh!.... What are you waiting for? If I had more money I would give it all, all. I would give everything I have to make you go--to make you forget you had ever heard my voice and seen my face. (_Covers face with hands_.) Harry (_Sombre, watches her_). No fear! I haven't forgotten a single one of you in the world. Some've given me more than money. No matter. You can't buy me in--and you can't buy yourself out. . . (_Strides towards her. Seizes her arms. Short struggle. Bessie gives way. Hair falls loose. H. kisses her forehead, cheeks, lips, then releases her. Bessie staggers against railings_.) (Exit Harry; measured walk without haste) Bessie (_Staring eyes, hair loose, back against railings; calls out_). Harry! (_Gathers up her skirts and runs a little way_) Come back, Harry. (_Staggers forward against lamp-post_) Harry! (_Much lower_) Harry! (_In a whisper_) Take me with you. (_Begins to laugh, at first faintly, then louder._) (_Window rumbles up, and Capt. H.'s chuckle mingles with Bessie's laughter, which abruptly stops_.) Capt. H. (_Goes on chuckling; speaks cautiously_). Is he gone yet, that information fellow? Do you see him anywhere, my dear? Bessie (_Low and stammering_). N-no, no! (_Totters away from lamp-post_) I don't see him. Capt. H. (_Anxious_). A grinning vagabond, my dear. Good girl. It's you who drove him away. Good girl. (_Stage gradually darkens_) Bessie. Go in; be quiet! You have done harm enough. Capt. H. (_Alarmed_). Why. Do you hear him yet, my dear? Bessie (_Sobs, drooping against the railings_). No! No! I don't. I don't hear him any more. Capt. H. (_Triumphant_). Now we shall be all right, my dear, till our Harry comes home to-morrow. (_Affected gurgling laugh_.) Bessie (_Distracted_). Be quiet. Shut yourself in. You will make me mad. (_Losing control of herself, repeats with rising infection_) You make me mad. (_With despair_) There is no to-morrow! (_Sinks to ground near middle railings. Low sobs_) (_Stage darkens perceptibly_.) Capt. H. (_Above, in a voice suddenly dismayed and shrill_). What! What do you say, my dear? No to-morrow? (_Broken, very feebly_.) No--to-morrow? (_Window runs down_) Carvil (_Heard within, muffled bellowing_). Bessie--Bessie--Bessie-- Bessie------ (_At the first call Bessie springs up and begins to stumble blindly towards the door. A faint fash of lightnings followed by a very low rumble of thunder_) You!--Bessie! CURTAIN HERE ENDS ONE DAY MORE A PLAY in One Act by Joseph Conrad the Typography and Binding arranged by Cyril William Beaumont Printed on his Press in London and Published by him at 75 Charing Cross Road in the City of Westminster Completed on the last day of January MDCCCCXIX The cover has been designed by Michel Sevier End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of One Day More, by Joseph Conrad *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ONE DAY MORE *** ***** This file should be named 17621.txt or 17621.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/6/2/17621/ Produced by David Widger Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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