The Penguin Arthur Miller

by Arthur Miller

  DAVID: I was nowhere near the church that night . . . !

  FALK: It couldn’t have been nobody else! When the church burned there never was a sign from God that was so clear.

  AMOS: He was down in the cellar with me when the church burned.

  FALK, looks at Amos: I am not blind. Turns back to David. The man Hester marries is gonna know what he’s about. He’s gonna be a steady man that I can trust with what I brought forth in this world. He’s gonna know his God, he’s gonna know where he came from and where he’s goin’. You ain’t that man. He turns to go.

  DAVID: I’m marryin’ Hester, Mr. Falk. Falk stops, turns. I’m sorry, but we’re going to marry.

  FALK: Beeves, if you ever step onto my land again, I’ll put a bullet through you, may God write my words . . . I don’t fool, Beeves. Don’t go near her again. Points to Shory. No man who could find a friend in that lump of corruption is going to live in my daughter’s house. He starts to go again.

  DAVID: I’m marryin’ Hester, Mr. Falk! We’re gonna do it!

  FALK: You’ll sleep with your shroud first, Beeves. I’m old enough to know what I’ll do. Stay away!

  He goes to the right edge of the stage, and hesitates, looking off right in the direction of his stalled car. David starts doubtfully toward him, looking over his shoulder.

  SHORY, rolling down the ramp: Let him start it himself! Don’t be a damned fool!

  Falk hurries out.

  PAT, pointing right: Maybe you ought to give him a push.

  SHORY: Not on your life! He pushes himself between Dave and the door. Get away from there, go on!

  DAVID, looking off right all the time: Shory . . . he’s going . . . what can I say to him . . . Starts to go right. I’ll help him.

  SHORY, pushes him back: Get away! Calling off right. That’s it, Grandpa, push it . . . push it! Harder, you crazy bastard, it’s only half a mile! Go ahead, harder! Laughs wildly, mockingly.

  DAVID, wrenches the chair around: Stop it!

  SHORY: You can’t talk to that man! You’re through, you damned fool.

  DAVID, suddenly: Come on, Ame, we’ll pick up Hester on the road before he gets home. I’m going to do it tonight, by God . . .

  AMOS, in ecstasy at the thought of action, he wings the ball across the stage: Let’s go!

  PAT, grabs David: No, Dave . . .

  DAVID, furiously: No, I gotta do it, Dad!

  PAT: I forbid it. To Amos: I forbid you to go. To David: She’s his daughter and he’s got a right, David.

  DAVID: What right has he got! She wants me!

  PAT: Then let her break from him. That’s not your province.

  DAVID: She’s scared to death of him! The whole thing is between me and Hester. I don’t understand why I can’t have that girl!

  SHORY, sardonically: Must there be a reason?

  DAVID—he stops for an instant as though a light flashed on him: Yes, there has to be a reason! I did everything a man could do. I didn’t do anything wrong and . . .

  SHORY: You didn’t have to! Dave stares at Shory. A man is a jellyfish. The tide goes in and the tide goes out. About what happens to him, a man has very little to say. When are you going to get used to it?

  David stands staring.

  PAT: You better go home and sleep, Dave. Sleep is a great doctor, you know.

  SHORY, gently: He said it, Dave.

  Enter J.B. in a hurry.

  J.B.: Where is Dan? Where’s the Marmon?

  PAT: He didn’t come here.

  J.B.: That ox! I tell him I’ll drive it over for him. No, Dan Dibble don’t allow anybody behind the wheel but himself. I go into the house to tell Ellie I’m goin’ and when I come out he’s gone. Starts to go right. That seven passenger moron . . .

  DAVID: He probably decided to go back home to Burley.

  J.B.: No, I’m sure he’s tryin’ to get here. Rugged individualist! I’ll find him on some dirt road some place . . . He shuts up abruptly as a door slams outside.

  All look right.

  DAVID, alarmed: Hester!

  He quickly goes off right. For an instant Amos, Pat, and Shory are galvanized. Amos goes off and returns immediately supporting Dan Dibble who is shaking all over and seems about to collapse in distress.

  DIBBLE, on entering: God help me, God in Heaven help me . . .

  Enter David and J.B. helping Hester. She is sobbing on David’s arm and he’s trying to lift her face up.

  DAVID: Stop crying, what’s the matter? Hester, stop it, what happened? J.B.!

  DIBBLE, goes prayerfully to Hester: I couldn’t see him, Miss, how in the world could I see him? His car had no lights . . . Hester’s loud sob cuts him off.

  DAVID, to Dan: What happened? What did you do?

  DIBBLE: Oh, God in Heaven, help me . . .

  J.B., goes to him, pulls his hands down: Dan . . . stop that. . . . For Pete’s sake, what happened?

  DIBBLE: This girl’s father . . . an old man . . . I couldn’t see him . . . He was pushing a car without lights. There were no lights at all, and he walked out from behind just as I came on him.

  But for Hester’s subsiding sobs, there is silence for a moment. She looks at David, who looks once at her, then comes to life.

  DAVID, to Dan: Where is he now?

  DIBBLE, points upstage: I took him to his house . . . she was there. It happened a few feet from his house.

  DAVID, horrified: Well, why didn’t you get a doctor! He starts for the back door.

  HESTER: No . . . he’s dead, Davey.

  Almost at the ramp, David stops as though shot. After an instant he turns quickly. He comes as in a dream a few yards toward her, and, as in a dream, halts, staring at her.

  He’s dead.

  David stares at her. Then turns his head to Pat, Amos, Shory, Dan . . . as though to seek reality. Then looking at her once more he goes to the nail barrel and sits.

  DAVID, whisper: I’ll be darned. Goes to Hester . . . after a moment: I’m so sorry.

  HESTER: It was nobody’s fault. Oh that poor man!

  PAT, goes to David: You better . . . come home, David.

  DAVID—he gets up, goes to Hester, takes her hand: Hess? I really am sorry.

  Hester looks at him, a smile comes to her face. She thankfully throws her arms around him and sobs.

  Don’t, Hess . . . don’t cry anymore. Please, Hess . . . John, take her to your house for tonight, heh?

  J.B.: I was going to do that. Takes Hester’s arm. Come on, baby. I’ll tend to everything.

  DAVID: Goodnight, Hess. You sleep, heh?

  HESTER: You mustn’t feel any fault, Davey.

  DAVID: I could have gotten him started, that’s all. He said . . . A filament of sardonic laughter. . . . don’t touch anything I own.

  HESTER: It wasn’t your fault! You understand? In any way.

  DAVID, nods inconclusively: Go to bed, go ahead.

  J.B., leading Hester off: We’ll get you home, and you’ll sleep.

  DIBBLE—Dan follows them until he gets to the right edge. Turning to David: If there’s any blood on the car will you clean it off? Please, will you?

  Dan goes, David looks after them.

  SHORY: Get me home, will you, Dave?

  DAVID: Huh? No, I’ll stay awhile. I want to look at the car. You take him, will you, Dad?

  PAT, taking hold of the back of Shory’s chair: Sure. Come on, Amos.

  SHORY: Well, wake up, jellyfish. A hundred and ten of the best acres in the valley. Not bad, eh?

  DAVID, stunned: Just like that.

  SHORY: Never happens any other way, brother. Almost intones it: Jellyfish don’t swim. . . . It’s the tide moves him . . . out and in . . . out and in . . . and in. Keep it in mind. To Pat: Let’s go, father.

  They push him out as D
avid stands there lost in a dream.

  CURTAIN

  SCENE II

  The barn near dawn.

  David is lying under the front end of the Marmon. Beside it the hood stands on end on the floor. David is lying under the engine with one light near his head, hurriedly tightening a nut on the pan. There is one other light on, over the bench, but this is shaded. After a moment, David hurriedly slides out from under and eagerly looking at the engine, wipes his hands. He is about to get into the car to start it when a soft knock from offstage right is heard. Startled, he peers through the darkness.

  DAVID: Who’s that? Surprised: Hester . . .

  HESTER—she comes out of the darkness at right: Aren’t you finished yet?

  DAVID, glancing defensively at the car: What are you doing up? What time is it?

  HESTER: It’s almost five. I called your house, I just couldn’t sleep. Belle said you were still here. Can I watch you?

  DAVID: . . . It’s pretty cold in here, you’ll catch cold.

  HESTER—she goes to him, takes his face in her hands, and kisses him: You didn’t kiss me yet.

  DAVID, with growing ill-ease: Please, Hess, I gotta figure something out here. I wish . . . I wish you’d leave me alone for a while. Please.

  HESTER, with quiet astonishment—and compassion: Haven’t you figured it out yet?

  DAVID: Oh, I got it just about, but not . . . Stops. Hess, please leave me alone.

  David walks from her and pretends to study the engine.

  HESTER: Davey.

  DAVID: Ya?

  HESTER: You’re going to be able to fix it, aren’t you?

  DAVID: Don’t you think I can?

  HESTER: I know you can.

  DAVID: Then why do you ask me?

  HESTER: Because . . . in the Burley garage they didn’t know how to fix it.

  DAVID—he straightens. Slight pause: How do you know?

  HESTER: J.B. told me. He’s going to tell you in the morning after you’re finished. He didn’t want to scare you about it.

  DAVID, with growing fear: That can’t be. They got regular trained mechanics in the Burley garage.

  HESTER: But it’s true. Mr. Dibble said they wanted to take the whole thing apart and charge him a hundred and fifty dollars, and he wouldn’t let them because . . .

  DAVID, comes to her anxiously: Why’d they want to take the whole thing apart?

  HESTER, seeing his bewilderment clearer: Well, I don’t know, Davey . . .

  DAVID: Well, what’d they tell him was wrong? Don’t you remember . . . ?

  HESTER, her sob threatening: Well, Davey, don’t shout at me that way, I don’t know anything about cars . . . She begins to cry.

  DAVID, with the pain of guilt: Oh, Hester, don’t cry, please. I’ll fix it, I’ll find out what the matter is, please, stop it, will you? The pain it causes him makes him turn and almost march to the car. On the point of weeping himself.

  I never heard an engine make that sound. I took the pan off, I took the head off, I looked at the valves; I just don’t know what it is, Hess! It’s turning off-center somewhere and I can’t find it, I can’t!

  HESTER—her sobbing vanishes as she senses his loss: That’s all right, Davey, it’ll be all right. Maybe you better go to bed. You look so tired. . . . It really doesn’t matter so much.

  DAVID—she growing taller upon his guilt: Gosh, Hess . . . there never was a girl like you. He goes to her and kisses her. I swear there never was.

  HESTER: Don’t ever try for anything I want, if it worries you too much to get it, Davey.

  DAVID—he kisses her cheek. With swift resolution: You go home and go to bed. I’ll find out what’s the matter. I’ll do it! You go.

  HESTER: All right, Davey, ’cause J.B. was telling Mr. Dibble such great things about you. . . . He’s got a marvelous thing to tell you in the morning.

  DAVID: What?

  HESTER: I can’t tell you till you finish . . .

  DAVID: Please, Hess, what’d he say?

  HESTER: No, fix it first. Pause. J.B. wants to tell you himself. He made me promise. Goodnight.

  DAVID: Goodnight, Hess.

  HESTER, going and waving: And don’t worry . . . about anything, okay?

  DAVID: . . . I won’t.

  He watches her go, then turns to the car, goes and stands over it, tapping his nose with his finger thoughtfully. Then lightly punching his fist into his palm in the heartbeat rhythm, faster, then faster . . . then . . . bursting out in loud whisper.

  God damn!

  The sound of a man walking into the shop rather slowly from offstage right is heard. David turns toward the sound and stands still watching. Gustav Eberson enters. He is a strong man, his suit is pressed but too small for him. He wears a white shirt. A plain brown overcoat. He is smiling warmly, but with the self-effacing manner of an intruder. David says nothing as he approaches.

  GUS, a slight German accent: Excuse me, are you Mr. Beeves?

  DAVID: Yeh. Slight pause.

  GUS: My name is Eberson . . . Gus Eberson . . . With an apologetic nod and smile: Are you very busy? I could of course come back. Four o’clock in the morning is not the best time to visit.

  DAVID: I’m busy . . . but what can I do for you?

  GUS: I moved into town last night. And I couldn’t wait to see my first morning. I noticed your light. I thought we ought to know each other.

  DAVID, taken: I’m glad to know you. I was almost hoping you were a hold-up man and you’d knock me unconscious.

  GUS: I didn’t mean to walk in so invisibly; I am opening a repair garage on the other end of the avenue.

  DAVID: Repair garage? You mean to repair cars?

  GUS, earnestly, worriedly: I want to assure you, Mr. Beeves, that if I didn’t think there is plenty of business here for both of us I would never set up a place in this town.

  DAVID—a faint tightness cramps his voice: Oh, there’s plenty of business for two here. Plenty! Where is your shop?

  GUS: Over there on Poplar Street, right next to the grocery store.

  DAVID: Oh, that place. Gosh, nobody’s been in that building for years. We used to say it was haunted.

  GUS: Maybe it is! Laughs lightly at himself. I have very little machinery. As a matter of fact . . . Quite happily: . . . I have very little money too. So possibly I will not be troubling you very long.

  DAVID, with emphatic assurance: Oh, you’ll make out all right. Vaguely indicates the shop. There’s nothing to it. You come from around here?

  GUS: No, I was with the Ford’s Company, the River Rouge plant for several years. This last year and four months I was by the Hudson Motor people.

  DAVID, breathlessly: Well . . . I guess you oughta know your stuff.

  GUS, sensing . . . extra hearty, therefore: What is there to know? You are probably much better than I am!

  DAVID: No, that’s all right, I just meant . . .

  GUS: I am not in the world to become rich. I was doing very well in Detroit.

  DAVID: Then why’d you come here?

  GUS: It is my nature. I cannot get used, I shall run, run, run, I shall work, work, work, all the time rushing. To tell you the truth, I was five years with Ford’s and not one good friend did I have. Here, I hope, it will be more conducive to such activities as I always enjoy. A small town and so forth. I am Austrian, you understand. . . . Meanwhile I hope you will not object too strongly of my arrival?

  DAVID, entranced: Hell no. Lots of luck to you! I got no right to object. Extends his hand jerkily.

  GUS—shakes hands: Rights is not the question. I want to be welcome. Otherwise I will . . .

  DAVID, softly; Gus holds on to his hand: No. . . . You’re welcome here. . . . You are.

  GUS: Thank you. . . . Thank you.

  Laughs softly, thankfully. The
ir hands part. Gus turns a slow full circle looking at the shop. David watches him like a vision. At last the Austrian faces him again. Quietly.

  How old are you?

  DAVID: Goin’ on twenty-two.

  GUS, indicating the car, the shop . . . everything: How . . . how did you know what to do? You studied somewhere mechanics?

  DAVID, with pride and yet uneasiness. The Austrian has grown very tall in his eyes: Oh no—I just picked it up kinda. Wanders near the Marmon as though to hide it. But I guess I got plenty to learn.

  GUS: No, no! The best mechanics is made in this fashion. You must not feel at all . . . how shall I say . . . at a loss.

  Pause. They hold each other’s gaze in a moment of understanding. Slowly the Austrian’s eyes turn toward the Marmon. David, as though relinquishing it, moves aside now, not screening it any longer.

  What’s his trouble?

  DAVID, still entranced, and yet he must laugh as he confesses: You got me there. I’ve been at it all night . . .

  GUS, sauntering easily to the car: Oh? What he complains of?

  DAVID—for a moment he holds back; then the last shred of resentment fades and he bursts out: She runs with a peculiar kind of a shudder . . . like a rubbing somewhere inside.

  GUS: She misfires?

  DAVID: That’s what’s so funny. She fires on eight and the carburetor’s set right on the button.

  Pause. Gus looks down at the engine. David is bent over watching his face.

  GUS: If you . . . feel like it, you can start the engine.

  DAVID, looks at him in silence: You . . . you know what it is?

  GUS, reaches to him quickly: Look, boy, tell me and I will leave the town, I’ll never come back.

  DAVID: No, no . . . I want it to be . . . just the way it ought to be, the way it . . . happened.

  David goes to the car door, gets in—starts the motor. The Austrian stands listening for five seconds, then snaps his hand for the motor to be switched off. It is quiet again. David comes slowly out of the car and stands beside the Austrian, watching him.

  GUS: It is very rare. In a car so new. It comes sometimes with the Marmon, however.

  DAVID, softly: What is it?

  GUS, turns straight to him: The crankshaft is sprung.