Chapter III: 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.