MRS. SPRIGGS. Lor’! I’d nearly forgot. George, you promised to look at that kitchen stove for me.
(She hustles him out through the kitchen door.)
MR. PRICE (genially). Every man to his trade. Now I shouldn’t know one end from the other.
ETHEL. Of course you wouldn’t, Uncle. I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen yours.
MR. PRICE. Can’t say I have, my dear. It wouldn’t do for me to go prying about in the kitchen. (Grandly.) The servants wouldn’t like it. Very touchy in Australia, they are. Why, one of my butlers gave me notice because I asked him not to eat peppermint bull’s-eyes when he was waiting at table.
ETHEL. Fancy!
MR. PRICE. It didn’t look well — and it smelt worse.
ETHEL. I suppose you soon got another, Uncle?
MR. PRICE. Yes, my money is good, and I’ve always found you can get anything you want if you pay for it. Besides, it isn’t every butler that has five footmen to help him.
ETHEL. Five? Why, what do they do?
MR. PRICE (shrugging his shoulders). Well, I don’t know as they do much, but they look well about the place. A man in my persition ——
MR. POTTER (nodding). Of course.
MR. PRICE. AS a matter of fact, I don’t want six motor-cars; still, it’s no use having money if you don’t spend it, is it?
(MR. POTTER and ETHEL eye each other in amazement.)
ETHEL (wistfully). It must be wonderful to be so rich, Uncle.
MR. PRICE. Well, well, everybody has their choice. I made my money, and there’s no reason why your young gentleman shouldn’t make his.
MR. POTTER (timidly). Hard work, I suppose, sir?
MR. PRICE. Ye-es.
MR. POTTER. And saving?
MR. PRICE. Ye-es. All very good in its way, but the important thing to ‘ave is brains!
MR. POTTER (despondently). Ah!
MR. PRICE. If you have brains, you use ’em. You might save for hundreds of years and not ‘ave ‘arf what I’ve got. The thing to do is to save a bit to begin with and then use the money to make more. But, if you haven’t got any saved, you can’t begin.
(He eyes them furtively.)
ETHEL. Alfred’s got a little, Uncle.
MR. PRICE (fervently). That’s good. I hope it’s a nice little sum.
MR. POTTER. With what I’ve saved, sir, and what an aunt left me, I’ve got two hundred and eighty pounds.
(MR. PRICE starts and eyes him.)
MR. PRICE. Well, well, that’s a beginning. And what are you going to do with it?
ETHEL. Alfred is going to stay on with Palmer & May’s for another year, and then we shall take a little business of our own.
MR. PRICE. Quite right, quite right. I like to see young people make their own way; it’s good for them. Still — h’mm!
ETHEL (after a pause). Yes, Uncle?
MR. PRICE. Perhaps a little help, or a little advice, wouldn’t hurt.
MR. POTTER. I’m sure it wouldn’t, sir.
MR. PRICE. Well, if it was my money I should use it to make more with. When I was your age I ‘ad saved about half what you’ve got and in five years I was worth twenty thousand pounds.
ETHEL AND MR. POTTER. How?
MR. PRICE (smiling indulgently). By careful but perfectly safe speculation.
(He eyes MR. POTTER.)
But I suppose your little bit is tied up?
MR. POTTER (eagerly). No, sir. Some of it is on deposit in a Building Society, and the other is in the Savings Bank. I could get it all out in a few days.
(MR. PRICE looks thoughtful. MR. POTTER and ETHEL eye him anxiously.)
MR. PRICE (slapping his leg and speaking very slowly). Well, I’ve never done it before, but seeing as how it’s my own niece — in the family, so to speak — (He pauses.)
ETHEL. Yes, Uncle?
MR. PRICE (slowly and impressively). If you like to draw the money out and let me invest it in one of my concerns for you, I don’t think (smiling benevolently) you’d have cause to regret it.
ETHEL. Oh, Uncle!
MR. PRICE. If you’re not worth, say, ten thousand in five years, you can call me anything you like. If you change your mind at any time, you can have the money back by asking for it, with interest.
(ETHEL and MR. POTTER spring to their feet. ETHEL puts her hands on MR. PRICE’S shoulder and kisses his cheek; MR. POTTER takes his outstretched hand.)
(Glancing at the kitchen door.) And not a word of this to your father and mother, mind. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s thanks. It always makes me feel so foolish. If you like to tell him after I’ve gone back to Australia, you can. (He pauses.) His thanks won’t hurt me then.
MR. POTTER. I can never thank you enough, sir. I’ll start getting the money out to-morrow.
MR. PRICE (warmly). That’s right. That’s business! I can see you’re going to get on. (He again looks at the kitchen door.) H’sh! Not a word.
(Enter MR. and MRS. SPRIGGS from the kitchen.)
Made a good job of it, George?
(MR. SPRIGGS grunts.)
If not, you’d better let me give you a new one.
MR. SPRIGGS. When I want a new stove, I’ll buy one. (He turns to ETHEL.) Wot was your uncle telling you to ‘ush about?
ETHEL (glancing at MESSRS. PRICE and POTTER). Nothing.
MR. SPRIGGS (loudly). Wot was it?
ETHEL (uneasily). It’s a secret.
MR. SPRIGGS. I won’t ‘ave no secrets in this house. (He turns to MR. POTTER.) Wot was it?
MR. POTTER (stiffly). It’s a little private business between me and Mr. Price.
MR. SPRIGGS (stammering). Bu-business! You — you haven’t been lending ‘im money, ‘ave you?
ETHEL (laughing scornfully). Don’t be silly, Father. What good would Alfred’s little bit of money be to Uncle Gussie? If you must know, Alfred is drawing it out for Uncle to invest it for him.
MR. POTTER. In his own business.
MR. PRICE (with a threatening glance at MR. SPRIGGS). In Australia.
MR. POTTER. And he didn’t want his generosity to be known.
(MR. SPRIGGS chokes and looks helplessly at his wife. She presses her lips together and frowns at him.)
MR. SPRIGGS (turning to MR. POTTER). I — I didn’t know you had got your money handy.
MR. POTTER (laughing). I’ll get it all right. You don’t get a chance like this every day. It’s like a fairy tale.
(MR. SPRIGGS stands looking from one to the other. He swallows and clears his throat.)
MR. SPRIGGS. I should go careful, Alfred, if I was you. Little and sure is my motter. Every little bit I could manage to put by I took care of.
ETHEL (glancing fondly at MR. PRICE). But you didn’t have an Uncle Gussie!
MR. POTTER (impatiently). There’s two ways of saving, Mr. Spriggs. There’s your way and there’s Mr. Price’s way.
ETHEL. Hear, hear!
MR. POTTER. And look at him now.
(All turn instinctively and look at MR. PRICE. He adopts a modest altitude.)
MR. SPRIGGS (huskily). Have it your own way. Have it your own way.
MR. PRICE. And, now, what about drinking the young couple’s health?
(ETHEL produces bottles of beer and glasses. She fills them.)
(Holding up his glass.) The health of the young couple. My niece, Ethel, and Mr. Alfred Potter, one of the best and smartest young men I ‘ave ever met. A credit to the old country.
(He empties his glass. MRS. SPRIGGS sips at hers, nervously eyeing MR. SPRIGGS, who does not drink.)
(Pointing to the glass.) George!
MR. SPRIGGS. I don’t want any.
ETHEL. Father!
(All stare at him.)
MR. SPRIGGS. I don’t want any, I tell you. I feel it might go the wrong way.
MR. PRICE (softly). Go the wrong way, George? Why, it ought to know the way by this time. (He laughs.)
ETHEL. Anything the matter, Father?
MR. SPRIGGS. Only
the sight of your Uncle Gussie.
(MRS. SPRIGGS makes a half-movement forward.)
(Recovering.) So unexpected, I mean — to see ‘is nice, honest face again. Gave me quite a shock. I don’t want to drink. I just want to sit and look at him. I can’t quite believe he is real.
MR. PRICE (jovially). Well, you can pinch me if you like, just to make sure. Not too ‘ard, mind.
(MR. SPRIGGS eyes him for a moment, then moves stealthily towards him. MR. PRICE, somewhat uneasy, edges away, followed up by MR. SPRIGGS, who, with a sudden movement clutches him with his left hand and pinches vigorously with his right.)
(Calling out.) Oh! Here! Stop it, d’ye hear — stop it! O-o-h! O-o-o-h!
(MR. PRICE limps away and, falling into a chair, rubs himself tenderly. The others gaze in bewilderment.)
ETHEL. Father!
MRS. SPRIGGS. George!
MR. POTTER (solemnly). You don’t know your own strength, Mr. Spriggs.
MR. SPRIGGS. P-hh! I didn’t ‘urt ‘im. (He advances on MR. PRICE.) I just took hold —
(MR. PRICE jumps up and takes refuge behind the astonished ETHEL.)
ETHEL (strenuously). Father! What are you doing?
(MR. SPRIGGS pulls up short. They are all staring at him in amazement. He sits down with his face in his hands.)
MRS. SPRIGGS. George! What is the matter with you?
MR. SPRIGGS (wildly). Oh, I’m ‘arf-crazy.
(They all approach him, MR. PRICE keeping behind, ETHEL.)
MRS. SPRIGGS (nervously). Don’t be silly, George. What’s the matter?
MR. SPRIGGS (desperately). Too — toothache. It’s been coming on all the evening. (He holds his jaw and rocks to and fro.)
ETHEL. I thought he was acting funny.
MR. POTTER (wisely). Ha! When he pinched you, Mr. Price, he was in agony.
MR. PRICE (sourly). So was I.
ETHEL. Which tooth is it, Father?
MR. SPRIGGS. The bad one.
(They all regard him.)
MRS. SPRIGGS (timidly). P’raps you’d better get to bed, George.
MR. SPRIGGS. I’m not going to bed.
MR. POTTER. Have you tried holding whisky in your mouth? I’ve heard —
MR. PRICE (gently). He couldn’t do it — it ‘ud slip down. If you find me a pair of pincers, I’ll take it out for him — with pleasure. I’ve often ‘ad to do it in Australia. I took out six running, once.
ETHEL. Oh, Uncle!
MR. PRICE. That’s nothing — nothing. I ‘ad to take a man’s leg off once. The doctor couldn’t ‘ardly believe his eyes when he saw it! He said it was a miracle.
MR. SPRIGGS (face savagely contorted). So it was.
MR. PRICE (blandly). Tooth still aching, George? Won’t you let me ‘ave a go at it? Open your mouth and shut your eyes and I’ll have it out afore you can say Jack Robinson — or any other words you might ‘ave a fancy for.
ETHEL. DO let him, Father.
(MR. SPRIGGS stares at her.)
MR. POTTER. I’m sure he won’t hurt you!
(MR. SPRIGGS starts up with an inarticulate cry, snatches his hat from, a peg and goes to the street door.)
MRS. SPRIGGS. George! Where are you going?
MR. SPRIGGS (eyeing her wildly). Damntist.
(He goes out.)
MR. PRICE. Poor George! Some people can’t bear pain.
ETHEL. I thought he seemed strange — pinching people and all that. It’s a shame you had to suffer, Uncle.
MR. PRICE (nobly). Better me than anybody else. I don’t mind pain. I’m used to it. If pinching me done your father’s tooth any good, he’s welcome.
MR. POTTER (much impressed). You have a noble disposition, sir.
MR. PRICE. No, no. That’s what you learn in Australia. Ah, I wish you could see it. P’raps —
ETHEL (eagerly). Perhaps what, Uncle?
MR. PRICE (laughing). Well, well, I was thinking, p’raps, that next time I come over the two of you might like to go back with me for a visit. I’m a bit lonely sometimes.
ETHEL (clasping her hands). Oh, Uncle! It sounds like a dream. Isn’t he wonderful, Mother?
MRS. SPRIGGS (slowly). Yes. He was always wonderful. Sometimes I could ‘ardly believe he was my brother. None of us could make him out.
ETHEL (brightly). There! There’s a character for you, Uncle.
MR. POTTER. They must have been proud of you, Mr. Price. You must have been, Mrs. Spriggs.
MRS. SPRIGGS. Proud isn’t the name for it. (Turning to ETHEL.) I hope your father is all right. When you and Alfred go you might keep a look out for him.
ETHEL. Yes, I expect he’s walking up and down. I don’t really think he’s gone to a dentist. Much more likely to wait and give it a chance of going off. Come along, Alf. See you later, Uncle Gussie.
(ETHEL goes into the kitchen, and returns putting on her hat and coat. MR. PRICE assists and, shaking hands with Mr. Potter, sees them off. He looks at MRS. SPRIGGS, who is looking at him, and with a jaunty air takes up a position with his hack to the fireplace.)
MRS. SPRIGGS. Are you going to steal that boy’s money, Gussie?
MR. PRICE (shocked). Steal? No, I’m going to invest it for him. He oughtn’t to ‘ave money; he don’t know ‘ow to use it.
MRS. SPRIGGS. And what are we going to say to him when he finds he ‘as lost it?
MR. PRICE. I don’t know. P’raps he’ll find fault with you for telling ‘im lies about me and Australia. Why not tell ‘im the truth now? And save ‘im his two ‘undred and eighty pounds.
(MRS. SPRIGGS looks down and dabs her eyes with her pocket-handkerchief. )
(Shaking his head and smiling.) Sinful pride, Emma, that’s what it is. Sinful pride. Well, well! We all ‘ave our faults. (He turns to the mantelpiece and, taking a match, lights his pipe.) Even George (puffs) — too careful of money, that’s his trouble. Still — it comes in handy sometimes. It’ll be a pinch for ‘im, getting that gold watch and chain for me. (He stands with legs apart and blows out a cloud of smoke.) I don’t suppose ‘e thought for a moment ‘e was saving up for me. And young Potter didn’t, neither. That’s where brains come in. (He crosses to the table, fills his glass and drinks.) Ha! This is better than quod. Lord! I just came in the nick of time.
(He sinks into an easy-chair with legs apart as MR. SPRIGGS enters from the street.)
‘Ad it out, George?
MR. SPRIGGS. Eh? Oh, the tooth! No, I didn’t ‘ave the toothache, Gussie. It was the sight of your nasty, artful little face wot upset me. But it’s all right now.
(He nods at his wife, then dances one or two clumsy steps.)
MR. PRICE (sourly). Come in for a fortune?
MR. SPRIGGS. NO, I’ve just saved one. I wonder I didn’t think of it myself.
MR. PRICE Think of what?
MR. SPRIGGS. You’ll soon know; and you’ve only got yourself to thank for it.
MRS. SPRIGGS (trembling). George!
MR. SPRIGGS. It’s all right, old gal, I’ve got out of the difficulty. Nobody’ll suffer but Gussie.
MR. PRICE (sharply). Ho?
MR. SPRIGGS (brightly). Just as I got outside the door I ran into Bill White, the policeman. Being a pal o’ mine, I told ‘im all about Gussie.
MR. PRICE (leaping from his chair). What?
MR. SPRIGGS. Acting under his advice, I told ‘im that Augustus Price, ticket-of-leave man, was trying to obtain money under false pretences. I told ‘im to tell the Inspector — as soon as he goes off duty; MR. PRICE. YOU — you —
MR. SPRIGGS (with much enjoyment). The beauty o’ that, as Bill says, is that Gussie’ll ‘ave to set out on ‘is travels again. He’ll have to go into hiding, because if they catch ‘im, he’ll ‘ave to finish ‘is time. And Bill says if he writes letters to any of us it’ll only make it easier to find him. You’d better take the first train to Australia, Gussie.
MR. PRICE (breathlessly). What — what time does he go off duty?
MR. SPRIGGS (glancing at the cl
ock). About ten minutes. I reckon you’ve just got time.
(MR. PRICE snatches up his hat, gives them a poisonous glance, opens the street door, and after carefully looking out closes it noiselessly behind him.)
(To his wife.) Remember: called away to Australia by special telegram. Couldn’t wait to say good-bye.
MRS. SPRIGGS. Oh, George! Is Mr. White really going to tell the Inspector?
MR. SPRIGGS. I wonder!
CURTAIN.
MASTER MARINERS
SCENE. — The cabin of the “Elizabeth Hopkins.”
This is typical of any cabin in a small craft. A doorway right of centre (at the foot of the companion-ladder) and a door left of centre to the Captain’s stateroom are the only entrances to the cabin. There is a stove midway between these doorways. Lockers run along the bulkheads, left and right. In the centre is a small table, with fixed chairs.
When the CURTAIN goes up SMITH, the mate, is discovered sitting on the left locker, painstakingly darning a huge grey sock. The COOK enters from the right doorway with glasses on a tray and places it on table.
SMITH. Halloa! Six glasses! What is it! A mothers’ meeting?
COOK. Skipper’s orders. (He takes up the glasses and inspects them. He then breathes heavily on one and polishes it on the leg of his trousers.) I ‘ad to borrow three of ’em from the “Bull’s Head.”
SMITH. Did you borrow any whisky?
COOK. Skipper’s got a bottle in ‘is state-room — locked up. He told me to tell the ‘ands to stay aboard this evening, but there’s only Bill and Joe left. There’s something in the wind, but what it is I couldn’t tell you.
(Steps are heard descending the companion-ladder. CAPTAIN BRADD enters.)
BRADD. Did you tell the hands to stay aboard, Cook? COOK. Yessir, I told ’em to.
BRADD. Well?
COOK. Bill and Joe’s aboard, sir. Bill’s got a ‘ead-ache, and Joe hasn’t got any money.
BRADD. What about the others?
COOK (aggrieved). Sam gave me one in the jaw, and Ted rumpled my ‘air.
BRADD (sternly). Did you tell ’em it was my orders? COOK. Yessir.
BRADD. What did they say?
COOK. Laughed.
BRADD. H’m! H’m! All right. Well, it’s their loss; they don’t know what they’ve missed. I was going to give ’em an evening’s amusement for nothing.
SMITH (stretching himself). I know what I’d give ’em, if they disobeyed my orders.
Works of W. W. Jacobs Page 298
