The Plays of W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson

Fenwick. Ay, sir, indeed.

Austin. But, sir, it is not to lament the irretrievable that I intrude myself upon your leisure. There is something to be done, to save, at least to spare, that lady. You did not fail to observe the brother?

Fenwick. No, sir, he knows all; and being both intemperate and ignorant —

Austin. Surely. I know. I have to ask you then to find what friends you can among this company; and if you have none, to make them. Let everybody hear the news. Tell it (if I may offer the suggestion) with humour: how Mr. Austin, somewhat upon the wane, but still filled with sufficiency, gloriously presumed and was most ingloriously set down by a young lady from the north: the lady’s name a secret, which you will permit to be divined. The laugh – the position of the hero – will make it circulate; – you perceive I am in earnest; – and in this way I believe our young friend will find himself forestalled.

Fenwick. Mr. Austin, I would not have dared to ask so much of you; I will go further: were the positions changed, I should fear to follow your example.

Austin. Child, child, you could not afford it.

SCENE IV

To there, the Royal Duke, C.; then, immediately, Anthony, L. Fenwick crosses to Miss Foster, R. Austin accosts the Duke, C., in dumb show; the muted strings take up a new air, Mozart’s ‘Anglaise’; couples passing under the limes, and forming a group behind Austin and the Duke. Anthony in front, L., watches Austin, who, as he turns from the Duke, sees him, and comes forward with extended hand

Austin. Dear child, let me present you to his Royal Highness.

Anthony (with necklace). Mr. Austin, do you recognise the bribe you gave my sister’s maid?

Austin. Hush, sir, hush! you forget the presence of the Duke.

Anthony. Mr. Austin, you are a coward and a scoundrel.

Austin. My child, you will regret these words: I refuse your quarrel.

Anthony. You do? Take that. (He strikes Austin on the mouth. At the moment of the blow– )

SCENE V

To these, Dorothy, L. U. E. Dorothy, unseen by Austin, shrieks. Sensation. Music stops. Tableau

Austin (recovering his composure). Your Royal Highness, suffer me to excuse the disrespect of this young gentleman. He has so much apology, and I have, I hope, so good a credit, as incline me to accept this blow. But I must beg of your Highness, and, gentlemen, all of you here present, to bear with me while I will explain what is too capable of misconstruction. I am the rejected suitor of this young gentleman’s sister; of Miss Dorothy Musgrave: a lady whom I singularly honour and esteem; a word from whom (if I could hope that word) would fill my life with happiness. I was not worthy of that lady; when I was defeated in fair field, I presumed to make advances through her maid. See in how laughable a manner fate repaid me! The waiting-girl derided, the mistress denied, and now comes in this very ardent champion who publicly insults me. My vanity is cured; you will judge it right, I am persuaded, all of you, that I should accept my proper punishment in silence; you, my Lord Duke, to pardon this young gentleman; and you, Mr. Musgrave, to spare me further provocation, which I am determined to ignore.

Dorothy (rushing forward, falling at Austin’s knees, and seizing his hand). George, George, it was for me. My hero! take me! What you will!

Austin (in an agony). My dear creature, remember that we are in public. (Raising her.) Your Royal Highness, may I present you Mrs. George Frederick Austin? (The Curtain falls on a few bars of the ‘Lass of Richmond Hill.’)

THE END

ADMIRAL GUINEA

DEDICATED

WITH AFFECTION AND ESTEEM

TO ANDREW LANG BY

THE SURVIVORS OF

THE WALRUS

Savannah, this 27th day of

September 1884

PERSONS REPRESENTED

John Gaunt, called ‘Admiral Guinea,’ once Captain of the Slaver Arethusa.

Arethusa Gaunt, his Daughter.

David Pew, a Blind Beggar, once Boatswain of the Arethusa

Kit French, a Privateersman.

Mrs. Drake, Landlady of the Admiral Benbow Inn.

The Scene is laid in the neighbourhood of Barnstaple.

The Time is about the year 1760.

The action occupies part of a day and night.

Note. —Passages suggested for omission in representation are enclosed in square brackets, thus [ ].

ACT I

The Stage represents a room in the Admiral Guinea’s house: fireplace, arm-chair, and table with Bible, L., towards the front; door C., with window on each side, the window on the R., practicable; doors, R. and L., back; corner cupboard, a brass-strapped sea-chest fixed to the wall and floor, R.; cutlasses, telescopes, sextant, quadrant, a calendar, and several maps upon the wall; a ship clock; three wooden chairs; a dresser against wall, R. C.; on the chimney-piece the model of a brig and several shells. The centre bare of furniture. Through the widows and the door, which is open, green trees and a small field of sea.

SCENE I

Arethusa is discovered, dusting

Arethusa. Ten months and a week to-day! Now for a new mark. Since the last, the sun has set and risen over the fields and the pleasant trees at home, and on Kit’s lone ship and the empty sea. Perhaps it blew; perhaps rained; (at the chart) perhaps he was far up here to the nor’ard, where the icebergs sail; perhaps at anchor among these wild islands of the snakes and buccaneers. O, you big chart, if I could see him sailing on you! North and South Atlantic; such a weary sight of water and no land; never an island for the poor lad to land upon. But still, God’s there. (She takes down the telescope to dust it.) Father’s spy-glass again; and my poor Kit perhaps with such another, sweeping the great deep!

SCENE II

Arethusa; to her, Kit, C. [He enters on tiptoe, and she does not see or hear him]

Arethusa (dusting telescope). At sea they have less dust at least: that’s so much comfort.

Kit. Sweetheart, ahoy!

Arethusa. Kit!

Kit. Arethusa.

Arethusa. My Kit! Home again – O my love! – home again to me!