by C. S. Lewis
‘Come on,’ whispered Bar. ‘Its our only chance to get away before morning.’
‘Board her?’
‘Yes.’
They stood waiting till a conveniently low truck passed, and, at the right moment, caught the edge firmly, and, with a terrifing sensation of heaving ground, swung themselves up and sank down breathless among the coals.
They had hardly accomplished this difficult, not to say dangerous feet, when there was a squealing of brakes and the long train came to a standstill. Bar, peering over the edge with intense caution saw a knot of dark figures, who were presently joined by the engineers of his own train. Each man was armed with a heavy club, and from the stealth of the meeting and the midnight hour, the bear could argue only some desparate purpose. At first the consultation was held in whispers, whose purport was none the less terrible because it was half hidden. At last, the foremost villain, who held a lamp, which revealed his fierce and bearded face, exclaimed, ‘Ah, have done with your talkin’ an’ pother! Come to something! Do you mean to strike or do yer nut?’
‘We do,’ cried a chorus of hoarse voices.
‘Aye, an’ its right ye are! In the old days, the raily men did what work they liked, & none more. Were they any better than we?’
‘No!’ came the chorus.
‘No,’ repeated the speaker, refreshing himself from a heavy jug. ‘A thousan’ times – No! An’ we will nut do it, either. This new stashun master, has a wrong noshun. He takes his men fer beasts of the field! An’ will we stan’ it?’
‘No!’ thundered the others.
‘Then strike! Let him know he cant do without us! Do we mind work?’ – the chorus seemed disposed to return an affirmative but the orator continued – ‘No! But we mind tyrranny!! What is our passwerd?’
An indistinct murmer came from the crowd, who seemed hazy on this point.
‘Yes!’ cried the scandalist. ‘“Danphabel, with its thousand colored copulas.” Do nut ferget it. ‘Now, leave the train, an’ come. No more work! No more tyranny!’
This cheerful prospect was greeted by the crowd with loud huzzahs, and they rapidly dispersed, waving their cudgels above the heads, and elevating the orator to their shoulders, where that worthy was fully acquainted with the penalties of fame.
‘Good gracious,’ cried Bar, turning to the cat. ‘A strike on the railway! We cannot get away!’
Chapter XIV
THE PRODIGALS’ RETURN
* * * * * * *
Commodore Murray awoke next morning with an uneasy feeling that something disagreeable had happened over night, whose exact nature he could not remember. The feeling so grew upon him as he dressed that, when he entered the saloon for breakfast, he no longer wondered if a catastrophe had occured but merely wished to know what it was.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ he said cheerfully, and then added, glancing round, ‘Bar not here?’ The occupants of the room suddenly became very much more interested than usual in their cofee, but no word was spoken. The Commodore was annoyed, and silently took his seat and tried to read the paper: but he could not fix his attention on the lurid headings, and as the meal went on he became even more restless.
‘Where is Bar?’ he asked at length, turning to Macphail. ‘And Cottle isnt here either?’
‘I didnt see them last night at all, after we came on board,’ returned the engineer.
‘What! Did they not come on board?’
‘I didn’t see them.’
‘Well,’ exclaimed Murray, now thoroughly roused. ‘Why the devil didn’t you tell me?’
‘Commodore,’ said the old enginner, ‘we’ve sailed together for seven years now, and I have always been your friend: you have always been mine. But how was this brought about? Not by my bearing through to you every secret of my fellows! And now, even for a friend, I shall not turn informer.’
The grizzled cynic of the engine-room had shown more feeling than was his wont, and the other was passified: still, however, restless and annoyed, he left the room and paced the quarter deck. Bar and Cottle, if found, must be shown up and pay the penalty: it was no use, even had he wished it, to try and shield them: and he would lose two officers whom he had always liked, and it would not redound to the ship’s credit. As he was thus ruminating a rowing boat drew up alongside and the portly person of the harbour master stepped on board. The worthy official was somewhat perturbed and explained in lurid terms how a railway strike had occurred on shore: Murray listened with polite attention, inwardly wondering why he was favoured with this confidence; at last he said ‘Thank you, Harbour-master, for your news. Can I help you in any way?’
‘No: but I fancy I can be of use to you.’
‘How?’
‘Two of your officers –’
‘Yes!’
‘– Mr Bar and Mr Cottle, I believe, missed the sailing of your pinnace.’
‘Quite right.’
‘They are at present in my office, and they have asked me to speak to you. It was by no means their fault in being late: on the contrary they suffered, like many others, from the strike. The 2 gentlemen had passed their afternoon in going for a trip to the next station down the line, and, owing to the suspension of traffic were unable to return.’
‘Thank you,’ said Murray heartily, and in his heart he thanked his stars both then and that afternoon when the two deserters came onboard under cover of an obvious lie, yet one which Murray was ready to accept for the good of the ship. And so it befell that our two friends had reason to bless that strike which a few hours before had seemed to sound the death knell of their hopes. They have since been good friends if not good officers and they manage to hit off a golden mean between Bar’s desparate exploits and Cottle’s absurd idealism.
CHARACTERS
– – – – – – – – – –
Lord John Big …… A grumbler
General Quicksteppe …… A rake
Mr Bar …… A puppy
King Benjamen …… An idler
Rajah Hawki …… Another
Viscount Puddiphat …… A knut
Mr Vant …… A worker
Gladys Green …… A hussy
Miss Puddiphat …… An idler
A Butler …… } A walking
A Footman …… } gentleman
A Maid …… A walking lady
Ladies and Gentleman
ACT I A room in Bar’s house
ACT II A room in Riverside Palace
ACT III Lord John Big’s cabinet
ACT IV Same as the first Act
TIME – The present
ACT I
– – – – – – – – – –
A small sitting room in Mr Bar’s flat in Bloom Street. It is furnished in a smart, ultra-modern style, the walls being scarlet and gold; the woodwork is white. In the centre of the stage at the back is a table bearing cofee, sandwages etc. Behind this stands the BUTLER, a plump, whiskered individual. The greater part of the left wall is occupied by two folding doors, which open into the drawing-room. Above them hangs a picture of Daisy Leroy in the ‘Three Loonies’, and on either side cartoons of Lord Big and Lord Vant. On the right there are two doors, that at the back leading into the hall, while the nearer gives entrance into the dining room. Between them is a writing table. One wall has been removed for the benefit of the audience. The fireplace, which is supposed to be in the centre of this, sheds a glow across the room. Two very old and worn, but comfortable charis are drawn up to it. They look ridiculously out of place in their smart surroundings. On either side of the table at the back are curtained windows. It is half past eight in the evening.
MR BAR, in evening dress, is standing in the open dining room doorway, with his back to the stage. He is a stout, cheerful little fellow, who carries an atmosphere of impudence and unpaid bills.
GLADYS GREEN, a good looking woman of about twenty-three, is fussing about in the centre of the stage. She is dressed in exagerated evening dress.
BAR: (without
turning) One – two – three – six – nine – ten – fifteen: We need another place at this table, dear.
GLADYS: (coming to the door) No we don’t, Jimmy. We’re having Quicksteppe and Miss Chutney, and the boys and their partners here.
BAR: (turns, and comes into the room) Yes, but we want a seat for Lord John, and his lady.
GLALYS: For whom?
BAR: Lord John Big, the Little-Master.
GLADYS: But my dear! You don’t mean to say you’ve asked that?
BAR: (laughs) Well you see, I had no idea he’d accept, and I was sure it would annoy him –
GLADYS: You’ll try his patience too far, one of these days.
BAR: We’ll have to risk that. The general must have persuaded him to come.
GLADYS: (savagely) The general had better wait till I get him alone!! He’s getting too officious.
BAR: The dear old general would gladly wait all night. It’s nearly time that old man was settling down.
GLADYS: It would be good-bye to Murry society for us, if he did. I like the general.
BAR: Yes, I know you do. (There is a commotion in the hall)
GLADYS: There’s some-one coming. Shut the door, Jimmy. (He shuts the door and comes into the room. Enter the FOOTMAN from hall)
FOOTMAN: Viscount and Miss Puddiphat, Mr Vant, Colonel and Miss Chutney, Mr Putney, Their Majesties. (These people enter as announced)
GLADYS: Good evening Viscount. How are the – yes, very cold wasn’t it? (general buzz of conversation)
VANT: (in another part of the room) No, Your Majesty, I wasn’t there. I believe it was real funny though.
BENJAMIN: I assure you it was. No cofee, thanks. Are you going to Puddiphat’s to morrow?
VANT: Oh, of course. Hullo, Miss Puddiphat, we want you.
MISS PUDDIPHAT: Good evening.
HAWKI: What’s happening at the Viscount’s to morrow?
MISS PUDDIPHAT: Ah, that’s a secret.
BENJAMIN: I fancy I know. (says something aside to Miss P.)
MISS PUDDIPHAT: I shan’t say if you’re right. Vant, hand me the sandwages and stop chattering. (he obeys)
BAR: (in another group) No, it wasn’t very good fun: But we’re looking forward to something to-morrow, Puddiphat.
PUDDIPHAT: It’s going to be something nice and lazy and comfortable, anyhow – except for one person.
GLADYS: Ah! Puddiphat! You’ve given it away now! But where’s the general?
PUDDIPHAT: I don’t know. He’s going, I hope?
GLADYS: He accepted, anyway.
CHUTNEY: (concerned) What’s all this? Isn’t the general coming?
BAR: Where is he?
FOOTMAN: (re-entering) General Quicksteppe, and Lord John Big (They enter. QUICKSTEPPE is a tall handsome old man with a venerable white beard, the effect of which is quite spoiled by a rakish manner and expression. BIG is a fine, imposing character, with a voice like a cathedral bell. His manner shows that he is here under protest.)
QUICKSTEPPE: (breezily) How are you, Bar?
BIG: (to GLADYS, showly and with laboured cordiality) Mrs Bar, allow me to confess that this is an event to which I have long been looking forward with feelings of pleasure.
GLADYS: (after an appealing glance to BAR) I am sure we’re very pleased to see you, my Lord.
BIG: (with a keen glance at her) The satisfaction Mrs Bar is mutual. (He dissolves into the crowd, whence his voice is heard pealing forth on a new book about Strategy. After a few moments a band is heard striking up in the drawing-room, and most of the guests dissapear with their partners.)
BAR: How are you, Big?
BIG: (who prefers to be addressed as ‘My Lord’, replies stiffly) I am in the enjoyment of excellent health, thank you, Mr Bar.
BAR:(undaunted) Not a dancing man, I suppose?
BIG: No, Mr Bar, my dancing days are over.
BAR: (pushes one of the comfortable chairs towards him) Well then, won’t you sit down? And, let me offer you a cigar.
BIG: That’s very good of you, Mr Bar, (cuts and lights the weed) No, I won’t sit down: and pray don’t let me keep you off the floor.
BAR: Thats all right. I never dance for the first two or three waltzes. I let the cofee settle down.
BIG: (glances at the clock, and sighs inaudibly) You’re a wiser man than I was at your age, Mr Bar.
BAR: (after critically examining his companion) Yes, Big, I think you’re right.
(BIG glares for a moment as if his eyes would drop out of his his head. The situation is saved by the stopping of the music, and the return of the guests. QUICKSTEPPE has been dancing with GLADYS, BENJAMIN with MISS CHUTNEY, HAWKI with MISS PUDDIPHAT.)
BAR: Well, Sir, I must go and look for my partner. There are cigars and cigarettes on the table. (He dissapears among the guests. Some of these have gone through the door leading into the hall, on the search for sitting-out places, others scatter about the room in couples. BIG prowls about, talking to those he knows. Suddenly he halts before the writing table and stares at a photograph which stands on it. He turns away, but comes back again in great perturbation. Then walks to the cofee table.)
BUTLER: Can I give you anything, M’Lord?
BIG: (in an excited voice) A glass of port if you please. Thank you! (He gulps it down. The music has struck up and everyone begins to trail back to the drawing room. QUICKSTEPPE is not dancing this time. He approaches BIG jauntily, and sits down in one of the easy chairs. The BUTLER goes into the dining-room to get more ices. BIG shuts the door as soon as he has gone.)
BIG: (coming back to the fire) Frederic!
QUICKSTEPPE: (cheerily) Its a long time since you’ve called me that, old man. What is it?
BIG:(takes the photograph and hands it to the other) Look at that.
QUICKSTEPPE: Good God! (He pours out a tumbler-ful of whiskey and water at the table. Drinking it off:–) What the devil is that doing here?
BIG: I confess I don’t know. Couldn’t you get hold of that creature Bar, and try and find out?
QUICKSTEPPE: (who, as his first shock wears off, is recovering his coolness) No, Big, I can’t. It isn’t the game. As well, I don’t see how it matters to me.
BIG: (angrily) No! I daresay it doesn’t matter to YOU. But have you no regard or anxiety for anyone else? Yes, that’s your style: to go through life an idle, selfish, immoral, self-indulgent –
QUICESTEPPE: S-Sh!
(The BUTLER enters with a discreet cough and takes up his position behind the table.)
BIG: (in a tone of authority) Now, come on, Quicksteppe, its time we were getting out of this.
QUICKSTEPPE: (now thoroughly cheerful again) Rubbish, Big, the best part of the evening is still to come.
BIG: (impatiently) It’ll be all like this. You’ve seen enough of it, for a man of your age, who looks merely ludicrous in a ball-room. Come on.
QUICKSTEPPE: (taking a cigar) No fear! I’m not going to dissapoint all my partners.
BIG: I’m sure the poor girls will be only too pleased to get rid of the duty of dancing with an octoginarian.
QUICKSTEPPE: (quietly) I think not, Big. Hullo, that dance is over.
(The crowd pours in again. BIG, with an effort composes himself, and approaches BAR.)
BIG: Mr Bar, I am very sorry to say good-bye to you, but I find that at my age I am forced to retire at a very early hour. I need hardly say how I have enjoyed your company.
BAR: (to GLADYS, who is walking past) I say, dear, Lord John is talking about going.
GLADYS: Oh, my Lord! It’s only ten o’clock.
BIG: Er – my age you know – cold weather – early rising – (it dissolves into apologetic nothingness)
GLADYS: (gravely) Well, if you must, you must. But let me get you some hot soup in the dining room before you start. It is freezing hard outside.
BIG: Oh no thank you, Mrs Bar. I have had a glass of your husband’s excellent port, which will keep me warm for some time. (GLADYS looks up quickly)
GLADYS: Whose? I beg your pardon?
BIG: Your husband’s port, Mr Bar’s port.
GLADYS: Oh, of course – to be sure. Good evening, My Lord.
BIG: Good-night Mrs Bar, and many thanks.
(He goes out. The band starts again.)
CURTAIN
ACT II
– – – – – – – – – –
A morning-room in Riverside palace. Lord John Big, who is the most important statesman in Boxen, lives here with their two Majesties. He used to be their tutor and consequently exercises over them a paternal influence, and, in private, drops all the ceremony due to their rank. The back wall is filled up by two large windows, through which we look out onto the river. Between these is a large roller-top desk, at which is an office chair. The walls are clothed in a sober, brown paper, with an oak wainscoting running as high as a man’s waist. In the right hand wall is a door leading into the main gallery of the palace. Between it and the other wall is a fine old book-case stocked with heavy volumes. The left wall is occupied by a large open fire place, in which a cheery fire of wood is burning. Above the oak mantleshelf hangs an oil painting by Therence. Five deep chairs, upholstered in red leather are drawn up to the fire. In two of these the Kings are seated, with papers. Benjamin looks sleepy and sulky, and Hawki is irritable. A general ‘next morning’ atmosphere hangs over the scene. They are dressed in lounge suits and bedroom slippers. There is a short pause of perhaps a minute, and then the door on the right opens and the General enters. He is clad in morning-coat trousers and a smoking jacket.
