One Day More | Page 6

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;