AustLit

---

Lawson 

by 

Oriel Gray

(1943)

---

Characters

THE BALLAD SINGER

JOE WILSON

MACQUARIE

LAWSON

BOBBY

MITCHELL

ORACLE

CONSTABLE

SCOTTY

THE LITTLE MAN

SMITH

BOSS

SERVANT GIRL

MRS. ASPINALL

AGENT

BILLY

CHINNY

DRUNK

MARGE

BILL

JIM

Act 2 Scene 1

GENT 1

GENT 2

STEELMAN

MARY WILSON

DORIE SPICER

MRS. SPICER

FLOWER GIRL

JACK MOONLIGHT

BOYS

THE ARMY

OFFICER

LASSIES

HANNAH

MATRON

RATTY WOMAN

CAPTAIN

---

ACT (1) SCENE (1)

(THE HOUSE LIGHTS FADE. THE BALLAD SINGER COMES ON SINGING).

SINGER: "Our Andy's gone with cattle now.

Our hearts are out of order.

With drought he's gone to battle now Across the Queensland border.

He's left us in dejection now Our thoughts with him are roving.

It's sad on our selection now Since Andy's gone a'droving.

(THE FIRE BEGINS TO GLOW. TWO MEN ARE SITTING BESIDE IT SMOKING... JOE WILSON AND MACQUARIE. A BILLY IS SLUNG OVER THE FIRE. DURING THE SONG A DOG BARKS CLOSE AT HAND. BOTH MEN LOOK IN THAT DIRECTION.)

Oh, who will wear a cheerful face When fortune frowns her blackest,

And who will whistle round the place When things are at their slackest?

And who will cheek the squatter now When he comes round us snarling?

His tongue is growing hotter now Since Andy crossed the Darling"

(THE BALLAD SINGER PASSES THE MEN AND GOES OFF. NEITHER MAN SEEMS AWARE OF HIM, BUT MACQUARIE SAYS AS THOUGH ANSWERING A PREVIOUS REMARK.)

MACQUARIE: Talkin' about squatters...

WILSON: Were we?

MACQUARIE: Yeah, You said something about Wall making it bloody hot for McIntyres since young Andy went droving.

WILSON: (Younger, a more thoughtful, sadder, reflective man) Did I...? Must've. It was on my mind.

MACQUARIE: (On sensitive ground) You been back to your old place?

WILSON: Yeah. I'd been shearing in the district and I thought I'd take a look.

MACQUARIE: What was it like?

WILSON: Pretty much like it was before Mary an' me took up the selection. You can hardly see where the house was. The bush comes back quickly - takes back its own. Nothing lasts long in this country but a few memories - and they fade, no matter how hard you try to hang on to them.

(THE DOG BARKS IN THE SILENCE THAT FALLS BETWEEN THE MEN.)

Tally's restless tonight, Mac.

MACQUARIE: (To dog, with surly affection) Wassamatter with you, you old fool. There's no one there. You're pretending you can see Fisher's ghost, so's you can get your picture in the paper. Shut up.

WILSON: He's gone quite grey round the muzzle since I met up with you last. How long've you had him?

MACQUARIE: Old Tally?... Oh, about twelve years... (THE DOG WHINES IN A PLEASED FRIENDLY WAY.) Yeah, I'm talking about you - saying, what a bloody old mongrel you are... (INCONGRUOUSLY A CLOCK IS HEARD CHIMING FAR AWAY - BIG BEN, MACQUARIE HITS HIS EAR VIGOROUSLY WITH HIS OPEN HAND.) I must be getting the ding-bats... I'm hearing chimes...

(WILSON STANDS UP, LOOKING INTO THE SHADOWS)

WILSON: There is someone there.

(LAWSON COMES ON. IN CONTRAST TO THE OTHER MEN, HE WEARS A HEAVY OVERCOAT. HE IS LOST AND FORLORN.)

MACQUARIE: Where'd you come from?

LAWSON: (Vaguely) A long way away. I thought I was still there. (LOOKS AROUND, IN JOYFUL SURPRISE) But I'm not. I'm home.

MACQUARIE: Well, it must've been chilly wherever it was, mate. (INDICATES COAT) You're well rugged up.

(LAWSON LOOKS AT COAT DOUBTFULLY.)

LAWSON: Silly...

(The more perceptive WILSON feels a strangeness about LAWSON. He wants to comfort him.)

WILSON: Come to the fire anyway.

MACQUARIE: What did you do to quiet my dog? He doesn't like strangers.

LAWSON: I get on well with dogs. He let me pat him.

MACQUARIE: You're lucky. Last bloke that patted Tally ended up in hospital and then they couldn't save 'im because Tall'd swallowed the piece! (Laughs happily) Well, sit down. Stand there much longer and the bloody galahs'll roost on you.

(LAWSON SITS DOWN WARILY. HE IS HAPPY IN THE BUSH BUT HE IS AWARE THAT THIS IS NOT REALITY. SOMETIMES HE TOUCHES THE EARTH, SOMETIMES RUBS THE TEXTURE OF THE HEAVY COAT. WILSON SENSES HIS NEED FOR REASSURANCE.)

WILSON: Tea'll be ready in a shake.

LAWSON: Did you put some gum leaves in - for flavour.

( MACQUARIE disdains this poetic thought.)

MACQUARIE: Well, some fell in and I couldn't be bothered fishing 'em out.

LAWSON: (Troubled) I can't seem to smell them. It's as though I'm too far away.

(WILSON AND MACQUARIE GLANCE AT EACH OTHER, BUT THEY SHOW THE NATURAL TACT OF BUSHMEN OF THAT PERIOD.)

MACQUARIE: (STIRRING TEA) Been on the road long?

LAWSON: A long time - on one road or another. It's so easy to get lost.You can see where you want to go, what you want to do. It's getting there - doing it... (He is distressed by memories of his past personal failures.)

WILSON: Don't worry about it, mate. You'll be all right.

LAWSON: Yes, yes. I'm all right here - in the bush. In other places well, I get a bit confused. I run off the rails, don't get home, don't get the work done. And my hearing's not too good these days.

MACQUARIE: Don't let that worry you. Hardly anyone saying anything worth listening to - except meself of course. Preachers and politicians gabbing all the time. Who wants to listen to them? (LAWSON HAS TOUCHED HIS EAR TENTATIVELY. (I KNOW THIS GESTURE COULD BE LAUGHABLE IF NOT PROPERLY HANDLED, BUT APPARENTLY IT WAS A FAMILIAR GESTURE WITH HIM.))

LAWSON: It's hard, you know, when you don't catch what people are saying. In a bar, it's different - all those good fellows making a noise yet somehow you get what they're meaning...

WILSON: Maybe you should see a doctor.

(MACQUARIE HOOTS IN DERISION.)

MACQUARIE: A sawbones! "You'll need a few things taken out, my man' they'll say... We'll start with your wallet!" (THEY LAUGH.) (Then MACQUARIE becomes very judicial and fair.) Mind you, Joe, I'm a fair man. I have run into a couple of quacks who weren't too bad, (HE WINKS) a coupla nurses who were good sorts, too. There was this time when me and Tally - Now I'll tell yuz something about that there dog o' mine - (HE SETTLES HIMSELF, PRODS HIS PIPE, SOMETIMES STIRS THE TEA) 'Bout two years ago, I had a bit of bad luck... went on the booze at a shanty and ended up in a row. I got out of it alive - just - a busted head, three busted ribs an' sundry beautiful bruises. I staggered and limped and felt me way along ten miles to the nearest hospital and Tally followed after me on three legs. He'd had one broken in the fight - and he was sober.

WILSON: You always had a hard head, Mac.

MACQUARIE: You shoulda seen me this time, Joe. The way the doctors fooled and fussed when I got to hospital you'd a'thought I was a walking miracle. They were pretty decent - but when they told me no dogs were allowed on the premises and Tally'd have to go, I held on to me ribs and reached for me swag and I told 'em... (He re-lives it) that there dog that cared whether I lived or fell an' rotted on the bloody track! (He chuckles) You shoulda heard the nurse when I swore! Struth!

LAWSON: (Softly to himself, savouring the words)

"That there dog o'mine..."

WILSON: (Over him) That there dog was pupped on the track. I carried 'im for months in a billy or in me swag when he knocked up. And the old slut, his mother, she'd follow behind quite contented - just sniff the billy now and again, to see if he was, all right. (Softly) She followed me till she was blind - an' a year after that till she couldn't crawl along an' I killed 'er... because I couldn't leave 'er behind.

(PAUSE... MACQUARIE HAS TRAPPED HIMSELF IN HIS OWN STORY. JOE WILSON GIVES HIM BREATHING SPACE.)

WILSON: They're good mates, dogs. Better than we are to them - better than we are to each other often...

(MACQUARIE HAS REGAINED HIS COMPOSURE.)

MACQUARIE: That's what I told 'em. "That there dog's kept me from going mad when I had no mate and no money. He's put up with me when I've been mad with booze - or mad for want of it. An' he stood up and fought for me against that scabby lot of bastards in that shanty". They broke 'is leg, but 'e left his mark on 'em - and by God, so did I!"... An' I makes for the door and Tally limps after me. (Macquarie stops, chuckles reminiscently. The story is really over for him.)

LAWSON: (Urgently) I must know the end of the story.

MACQUARIE: Well, mate, like most dramatic scenes, this one fell flat, and so did I - fainted like a bloody leading lady. And when I came to, I was fixed up in bed, and the nurse - y'know, the one who didn't approve of swearing - she was taking me pulse. "Where's me dog?" I says. And she snorted and snapped "You and your - dog! He's all right. The doctor's setting his leg out in the yard!"

(THE DOG WHINES)

Yeah, I'm talking about you, sayin' whatta bloody old mongrel you are.

(LAWSON AND WILSON ARE BOTH SMILING, NOT DECEIVED BY MACQUARIE'S MANNER TO THE DOG. FAINTLY BUT INSISTENTLY THE CHIMES OF BIG BEN SOUND. LAWSON'S CONTENT DIES.)

LAWSON: What's that?

( MACQUARIE has hit his ear again.)

MACQUARIE: Dunno - thought I was hearing things before -

LAWSON: (Simultaneously) Chimes - cold and far away.

(WILSON LISTENS AS THOUGH HE ALMOST HEARS SOMETHING.)

WILSON: You get some strange echoes...

LAWSON: (Sadly, acknowledging reality) Those are real chimes.

(FROM THIS POINT, HE RETREATS FROM THE CAMPFIRE SCENE.)

MACQUARIE: Don't worry about it, mate. I knew a feller once and he heard bells all the time... 'course, he was a bit punchy. Taylor, 'is name was - "knock-out Taylor* - 'cept he was the one that was always knocked out...

(MACQUARIE GOES ON TELLING HIS STORY IN MIME WITH BOXING GESTURES TO ILLUSTRATE. AS THE CHIMES GROW MORE INSISTENT, THE FIRELIGHT DIES ON THE MEN.)

SINGER: Oh, may the rain in torrents fall

And all the creeks run over

And may the grass grow green and tall

In pathways of the drover.

And may good angels send the rain

On desert stretches sandy-

And when the summer comes again

God grant it brings us Andy.

(LAWSON RETREATS INTO REALITY AS A COLD BLUISH LIGHT COMES UP ON A SECTION OF THE EMBANKMENT WALL. BIG BEN FINISHES CHIMING VERY LOUDLY. LAWSON LOOKS UP AT THE CLOCK)

LAWSON: Big Ben. People in Australia dream of being here, standing on the Thames Embankment, listening to Big Ben striking the hour. Why did I come? How do I know, says the great bell at Bow. For fame...? (Mocking) 'Dear Mr. LAWSON, how clever of a colonial to write stories' - a monkey with a mirror that tries to see its own face...

(A LONDON BOBBY WALKS THROUGH, LOOKS AT LAWSON AS HE TALKS TO HIMSELF.)

BOBBY: You all right, (After a doubtful glance) sir?

LAWSON: (Mocking) Thank you, officer. "Sir" to a colonial. That is tolerance. (He coughs harshly).

BOBBY: Come now, sir... How about putting your coat on in this chill weather. You look like you need to take care of yourself.

LAWSON: That's what the nurse in the hospital said - pretty nurse with the same look as Hannah, pitying and anxious. "What can we do for you, Mr. LAWSON?..." Turn the light down nurse, and leave me while I hold my last review... Sorry, officer, I'm not quite a drunk, not yet. I'm just a poor colonial poet that's gone a bit ratty among all this English culture. If the ORACLE were here, he'd think of something to do with me. He'd know I had an interesting affliction as soon as he looked at me... (LAWSON BEGINS TO TELL THE STORY. AS SOON AS HE BEGINS A YARN HE LOSES ALL SELF CONSCIOUSNESS AND IS IN COMMAND.) His name was Tom Murphy but they called him The ORACLE in every shed he sheared in. I can see him as clearly as I see you... (THE ORACLE COMES ON.) ... He had a reverential pity for anybody with an affliction, although MITCHELL said it was just a love of minding other people's business...

(MITCHELL COMES ON. AS LAWSON GOES ON WITH COMMENTARY, ORACLE AND MITCHELL SET THE SCENE. THE CONSTABLE GOES OFF. THE SCENE IS MAINLY TWO BED FORMS (OR BENCHES)).

The ORACLE's mates had included a blind man, a deaf man (Hesitantly he touches his own ear) a poet and a man who 'had rats' - separate individuals in this particular case. The ORACLE was a good man - and a better fighter - and they were all very grateful to him...

MITCHELL: (AS LIGHTS COME UP ON SCENE) Except that feller who had rats.

ORACLE: He thought I wanted to cut his liver out and use it to bait Darling cod - pore afflicted feller.

(SCOTTY COMES IN LEADING A SMALL PALE WATERY-EYED MAN WHO CRINGES APOLOGETICALLY.)

SCOTTY: Hey, look what I found down along the South boundary!

(MITCHELL AND ORACLE SURVEY THE LITTLE MAN.)

ORACLE: Well... go on.

(SCOTTY IS DEFLATED.)

MITCHELL: What's so special about him, except his swag. Judging from the smell of that it might be something rare... pre- historic.

SCOTTY: This feller's forgot.

MITCHELL: Forgot what?

SCOTTY: Who he is, or anything about him. Go on, mate - tell 'im.

(LITTLE MAN TAKES CENTRE STAGE, TRYING TO HIDE HOW MUCH HE IS ENJOYING THIS. HE WHINES.)

LITTLE MAN: It's quite true. 1 don't know who I am or where I come from. I woke up beside the boundary fence with this swag beside me. I been all through it but I can't find a clue to me identity. It's like a dead weight on me.

MITCHELL: It certainly smells dead, mate, that swag.

(LITTLE MAN CRINGES, LOOKS APPEALINGLY TO ORACLE).

ORACLE: This is nothing to joke about, Jack. This poor feller's got an affliction. He's forgot everything.

MITCHELL: Then he's flaming lucky!

LITTLE MAN: I don't even remember my name.

MITCHELL: That's easy fixed. Hand over that teacup, Scotty, and we'll baptize him in the slops...

(MITCHELL AND SCOTTY READY FOR HORSE-PLAY. LITTLE MAN EDGES AWAY.)

...Stand still, mate, and this'll be over before you know it. What'll we call 'im?

ORACLE: I'd be ashamed to chyack a poor afflicted bloke like that if I was you, Jack. (ORACLE comes forward with resolution. SCOTTY and MITCHELL eye him warily. SCOTTY edges away.)

ORACLE: In fact, if you keep on chyacking this poor afflicted bloke, I'll have to put a stop to it - (FLEXES A FORMIDABLE ARM) I'll have to perform.

MITCHELL: Oh, well, in that case...

(LITTLE MAN DRIFTS BACK TO CENTRE.)

LITTLE MAN: Y'see, me whole mind's a blank.

( MITCHELL MANIFESTS MASSIVE INDIFFERENCE, READS NEWSPAPER. ORACLE LIKES PARTICIPATION.)

You gotta understand, MITCHELL, this is a curious case - a sort of miracle almost. I've heard of such cases before - mind you, they're not common! I daresay some of them big doctors'd be glad to give a thousand or two to get hold of a case like this. It'd get their names in the paper.

SCOTTY: A thousand or two - Ooooeee!

MITCHELL: All right, SCOTTY, stop making a noise like a hungry bagpipe. You can cut me in, ORACLE. We'll form a syndicate to work this miracle.

ORACLE: The money's not so important as the sci-en-tific side of it.

LITTLE MAN: The worst of it is, I might be a lord or a duke and I don't know anything about it. I might be a rich man with lots o' houses and bags of money. I might be a lord!

(SCOTTY laughs.)

MITCHELL: There's nothing unreasonable about that. He might be a lord, as far as looks go. I've seen two of 'em and there's something about him that's very similar.

(THE LITTLE MAN IS MAKING THE MOST OF HIS IMPROVED RECEPTION.)

LITTLE MAN: I don't even know me name or whether I'm married or not. Suppose I got a good wife and little ones.

MITCHELL: Then keep on forgetting, mate! As for a name, that's nothing. I'm not sure of mine, and I've had eight. Plenty of good names knocking about.

SCOTTY: I knew a feller called Jim Smith - died in the D.T.s, It just suits you - he was a funny looking feller - an' he's not likely to call back for it.

LITTLE MAN: (NOW "Smith") Thank you. But it isn't much of a name for a lord.

ORACLE: Forget that, Smith. We're purely interested in the sci-en-tific possibilities.

MITCHELL: We might take a gamble on it, ORACLE. He just might be a lord. Then when he remembers it'd be in the papers, and we'd be in the papers too. We'd go back to England and stay with 'im, and maybe get asked to Buckingham Palace -

(ONLY MITCHELL KNOWS HOW MUCH HE BELIEVES IN THIS FAIRYTALE)

SCOTTY: (Suddenly very Scots) I'll no' stay with no English monarch. (Singing) 'Scots what hae with Wallace bled, Scots whom Bruce has often led...'

ORACLE: Shut up, Scotty! (To MITCHELL) I wouldn't think too much about it if I were you. Jack. A sensible man could go mad over a case like this - and you're ratty enough already! Leave it to me to find out who Smith really is. I'll see the shed Boss and get him a job picking up.

LITTLE MAN: I don't know about me state of 'ealth.

ORACLE: (Firmly) It'll stand picking up. And if it looks like giving out under the strain, your brain might be stirred up to remember quicker. I read about that sort of thing in a magazine while I was waiting to have me poisoned thumb lanced. Now if Scotty'll get that glass pillow filled with brown stuff that 'e keeps at the head of 'is bunk, we'll all have a drink to the syndicate.

(SCOTTY REALIZES HIS PROTEST IS USELESS. LIGHTS FADE AND SINGLE SPOT COMES UP ON LAWSON.)

LAWSON: So Smith stayed. The Oracle did get him a job picking up, and great interest was shown in his case by all hands. Smith conducted himself with the air of a timid but good young man, fully aware of the wickedness of the world around him. Meanwhile he ate, slept, borrowed tobacco and forgot to return it, and drank beer and forgot to shout in return - which was duly noted. Then one day Smith suffered a relapse....

(LIGHTS UP ON MITCHELL, ORACLE, SCOTTY. SMITH IS STANDING IN THE MIDDLE, WEARING HIS BEST PAINED AND PUZZLED LOOK. THE BOSS BURSTS INTO THE GROUP.)

BOSS: Oracle, what's become of this Miracle of yours? (Sees Smith) Why the hell haven't you showed up for work?

LITTLE MAN: (Pathetic) Who am I, sir? Who am I?

ORACLE: (Mournful pride) See - he's forgot again.

MITCHELL: Better give it a rest, Oracle. He's a hopeless case.

SCOTTY: An' he'll never remember he's a lord?

BOSS: A lord!!!!

LITTLE MAN: Oh, sir, can't you please tell me who I am and where I come from?

BOSS: Look here, you...! I don't know who you are and where you come from, except that you're a bloody lunatic! But I can tell you where you're going! You're going straight out of this shed...!

(SMITH APPEARS TO FLOAT BACKWARDS BEFORE THE FLOOD OF WRATH.)

Get your cheque and get out! (Yelling after him.) And take your stinking swag with you!

MITCHELL: (To SCOTTY) I have this feeling the Boss has taken a dislike to Smith.

ORACLE: I said it was a cruel mean way to treat a poor afflicted feller. He can't help being afflicted. I came in unexpected today and there he was, just lying on my bunk, just staring straight ahead. His old swag was half-open beside him, all he can call his own...

MITCHELL: On your bunk, Oracle - with his swag half-open.

(MITCHELL GOES OUT OF SCENE.)

ORACLE: It was a sight to bring tears to anyone's eyes, - if they was human, that is. Now he's out there on the track alone. Only Heaven'll know what'll happen to 'im.

BOSS: I know what'll happen to you if you don't shut up! You're as loony as he is! Isn't he loony? Inee? Inee?

ORACLE: I'm not going to discuss the case with you, BOSS. You can't reason with plain ignorance. Scotty, hold my coat!

BOSS: All right, then Oracle... All right!

(THEY BOTH TAKE STANCE - THE LAST OF THE STRAIGHT-BACKS. MITCHELL SAUNTERS BACK)

MITCHELL: Smith didn't forget to pick up his cheque.

ORACLE: What about it?

MITCHELL: Didn't forget to get a good supply from Cooky either - and took a good bit more when Cooky's back was turned. (Very casually) You keep any valuables about your bunk, Oracle? You said Smith was lying on it when you came in - with his old swag open beside him.

(PAUSE. VERY DELIBERATELY ORACLE GOES OUT OF SPOT, TO INVESTIGATE BUNK... PAUSE... ORACLE RETURNS.)

ORACLE: He hasn't forgot.

MITCHELL: Scotty's bunk is just near Oracle's.

(SCOTTY'S GRIN DIES. HE RUSHES OUT OF SPOT. BOSS IS GRINNING WIDELY. SCOTTY COMES BACK, VERY DISTRAUGHT).

SCOTTY: The bastard! Oh, the bastard!

BOSS: (Gurgling with joy) Now, Scotty, keep calm.

(ORACLE IS PUTTING HIS COAT ON CAREFULLY.)

MITCHELL: (Respectfully) Goin' to catch your horse, Tom?

(The ORACLE nods and keeps moving out.)

You can't borrow the Boss's thoroughbred. (GRIN FADES ON BOSS'S FACE.) Smith was riding her when they saw him go. Must'a forgot she wasn't his.

(IN THE FADING LIGHT THE MEN MOVE THE FORMS BACK (OR WHATEVER SET CHANGES ARE MADE.) BLUE SPOT UP ON LAWSON.)

LAWSON: The ORACLE came up with Smith that night at the nearest shanty. Smith was forgetting again, under the influence of rum and the interest being taken in his case by a drunken Bachelor of Arts. The Oracle examined Smith's swag and found it to be largely composed of valuables belonging to him and his mates. Then the Oracle stirred up Smith's recollections and departed.Smith was about again in a couple of weeks. He was damaged a bit physically, but his memory was no longer impaired.

(HE COMES BACK TO REALITY AS AN IRISH SERVANT GIRL RUNS ON. SHE CARRIES A LETTER AND SHE IS SINGING "WESTERING HOME.)

SERVANT GIRL: (Singing)

"Westering home, with a song in the air

Westering home and it's goodbye to care

Laughter and love and a welcoming there...."

(SHE BUMPS INTO LAWSON. HE CLUTCHES AT HER, SHE DRAWS BACK.)

LAWSON: Memories, dreams... No, you're real, aren't you?

SERVANT GIRL: You listen to me call for a policeman Mister, if you want to be sure of that.

LAWSON: I'm sorry. Often I'm not sure if people are real, or remembered, or imagined. It's often all mixed up with me. Please forgive me.

(AFTER A THOUGHTFUL STARE AT HIM, SHE SMILES.)

SERVANT GIRL: Sure, it's no matter. (BREAKS AWAY) I've got a letter to catch the post... to home. The priest wrote it for me, and the priest'll read it to them, I can almost see them there listening.

(SHE RUNS OFF.)

LAWSON: The exiles - and the sons and daughters of exiles - walking the Embankment and dreaming of home. For her, it's Ireland. For me, it's Australia... all Australia... even Jones Alley...

(LIGHTS UP ON THE OUTLINES OF A KITCHEN SET... A TABLE, TWO CHAIRS ESSENTIALLY. MRS. ASPINALL COMES ON AT SOME POINT IN LAWSON'S NARRATION.)

Mrs. Aspinall lived in Jones' Alley. She was a respectable woman and was recognized as "Missus" Aspinall, even by Mother Brock, who kept "that place" opposite. Missus Aspinall never acknowledged Mother Brock's cheerful 'hello' - in a way, she enjoyed snubbing her in Paddy's Market on Friday night. It left Missus Aspinall with a sense of superiority, and it left Mother Brock unmoved. She was used to it.

(MRS. ASPINALL IS IN HER EARLY FORTIES, BUT BATTERED BY LIFE. SHE WEARS AN OLD COAT, A BATTERED HAT WITH A FEW JET BEADS STILL CLINGING TO IT, ALL WORN WITH THE DESPERATE RESPECTABILITY OF THE POOR. LAWSON LOOKS AT HER SYMPATHETICALLY.)

LAWSON: (cont) It was Mother Brock who came to the rescue of little Johnny Aspinall when a great lump of plaster fell from the ceiling and knocked him unconscious. When Missus Aspinall found this out her indignation cured her fright.

ASPINALL: (Answering LAWSON) I should think so! I told Missus Next-door, "I'll give that woman in charge the instant she dares to put her foot inside my door again!" I'm a respectable woman! (SHE TAKES OFF HER HAT, LOOKS AT IT AS THOUGH NOT SEEING IT, THEN TRIES TO PUSH THE CROWN INTO SHAPE, TUCK IN THE TOM RIBBON.)

LAWSON: And it was that lump of plaster that brought the respectable Missus Aspinall to Court - and home again to Jones' Alley.

ASPINALL: (Still answering LAWSON) I told them in Court. It was the landlord's bounden duty to pay the man to fix the plaster. It was his bounden duty... (She looks around the room, at LAWSON, does not see him) Talkin' to meself now...

(THE LANDLORD'S AGENT COMES IN. HE IS A LITTLE RABBITY MAN, NOT VICIOUS, JUST SCARED TO OFFEND HIS BOSS. HE STEELS HIMSELF.)

AGENT: Thought you'd be home by now.

ASPINALL: You ought to be ashamed to show your face here! How you could stand up in Court and say I'd agreed to pay the Contractor for the new plaster I'll never know. You were standing right at that door (AGENT LOOKS NERVOUSLY BEHIND, AS THOUGH THE DOOR MAY GIVE TESTIMONY - MRS. ASPINALL CAN BE QUITE FORMIDABLE) when you told me the Landlord said I was to go to White and get him in. Right at that door!

AGENT: The BOSS didn't say he'd pay die bill. Missus Aspinall. He was just advising...

ASPINALL: (Over him) And how did he think I was to pay it? It was his fault in the first place that it had to be done, letting the place go to rack-an'-ruin so that the plaster fell and nearly killed my child....

(AGENT TRIES TO INTERVENE)

ASPINALL: (cont) ...And that woman coming in here, giving my house a bad name, touching my things....

AGENT: I was very sorry (about that) -

ASPINALL: Now that Magistrate says I have to pay the Contractor's Bill I saw him and the landlord chatting together before my case, friendly as you please -

AGENT: (A desperate effort) Now Mrs. Aspinall -

(SHE HAS STOPPED, MORE FROM LACK OF BREATH THAN LACK OF INDIGNATION)

I'm not saying you haven't had a bit of bad luck, but what's done is done, and the Law's the law. It's not business how you pay White, or whether you pay him at all. That's the Court's concern now. But the rent is my business, and you're three weeks behind, you know that ...

(UNNOTICED BY EITHER, BILLY ANDERSON COMES INTO LIGHT. "HE WAS ONE OF THOSE SHARP BLUE OR GREY-EYED, SANDY OR FRECKLED COMPLEXIONED BOYS-OF-THE-WORLD... WHO ARE ALWAYS GOING ON TWENTY, YET SEEM TO GET CLEAR OF THEIR TEENS, WHO KNOW MORE THAN MOST OF US HAVE FORGOTTEN, WHO ARE INSTINCTIVELY SYMPATHETIC AND DIPLOMATIC".)

...(Nerved by desperation) You got to pay, Missus Aspinall. People don't build houses to give 'em away for charity, you know. Pay or get out - an' if you get out, don't try to take your furniture! The landlord's got a right to cover 'is rent, you know. If you get out -

(MRS. ASPINALL IS UTTERLY BEATEN. BILLY STEPS INTO THE LIGHT. HE OFFERS HIS OWN PICTURE OF THE LEADER OF THE PUSH, THUMBS HOOKED INTO ARMHOLES OF HIS VEST, ONE BOOT CROSSED NEGLIGENTLY ON THE OTHER.)

BILLY: S'pose you give us a demonstration, old sport.

(AGENT AND ASPINALL STARE AT HIM)

AGENT: What d'ya mean?

BILLY: Scarper.(HE ADVANCES ON AGENT WHO BACKS AWAY.)

AGENT: Now you look here -

BILLY: This way, sir.

(HIS COURTLY WAVE BECOMES A BACK-HANDER CLOSE TO THE AGENT'S FACE. AGENT BACKS TO EXIT.)

AGENT: I got a legal right-

BILLY: You could have a legal funeral

AGENT: That's offering violence, that is... I'll be round next Monday for the rent, Missus Aspinall - all the rent - and if you haven't got it, out you go! An' you can thank this young ruffian here when your furniture's taken for debt!

(BILLY MAKES ANOTHER THREATENING GESTURE. THE AGENT SCUTTLES OUT. BILLY LAUGHS, BUT HIS LAUGHTER DIES AWAY IN SYMPATHETIC SILENCE AS HE TAKES IN MRS. ASPINALL'S DESPAIR.)

ASPINALL: Dear God, what am I going to do? (In hopeless questioning.) Dear God, what have I done?

BILLY: It's red-hot, that's what it is, Missus Aspinall - it's red-blasted-hot!

(IT'S NOT MUCH OF AN ANSWER TO MRS. ASPINALL'S HELPLESS QUESTIONING BUT IT HELPS HER BACK TO NORMAL.)

ASPINALL: How do you know me - know my name?

BILLY: I'm Billy Anderson. Don'cha remember me? I brought round the c'lection when your 'Arvie died. I use'ta work with him at Grinders' Brothers.

ASPINALL: (Shakes her head) I'm sorry. But sit down. I was just going to make a cup of tea when that man came.

(SHE GOES OFF REITERATING.)

He knows it's the landlord's bounden duty....

(IN HER ABSENCE, BILLY GOES TO "DOOR", WHISTLES SHARPLY. HE IS JOINED BY ANOTHER BOY "CHINNY:". LAWSON DESCRIBES HIM AS HAVING NO CHIN WHATSOEVER, WHICH MIGHT PRESENT DIFFICULTIES IN CASTING. BUT IF POSSIBLE, HE SHOULD HAVE SOMETHING QUAINT ABOUT HIM TO JUSTIFY A NICKNAME. CHINNY: SHOWS DEFERENCE TO BILLY.)

CHINNY: Watch'er want Bill?

BILLY: Nothing yet, Chinny. But hang around like I told yuz.

CHINNY: Or'right, if you say so, Bill. But the horse is tired of standin'.

BILLY: Get 'im a chair. (Not bullying but the leader) Just hang around.

CHINNY: Or'right, Bill

(HE LEAVES AS MRS. ASPINALL COMES BACK WITH TEAPOT, CUPS ON TIN TRAY. SHE POURS TEA ETC. DURING DIALOGUE.)

ASPINALL: I haven't even got a biscuit to offer you. Two coppers and two ha'pennies are threepence to me now in Paddy's market, I can tell you. My own grocer that I thought was like a friend is pushing me...

(Looking at him, remembrance checks the recital of her miseries.)

I do remember you now. I should have before, what with you being so kind and giving me that money on the day of poor 'Arvie's funeral.

BILLY: Hey, I just took round the hat - all the blokes threw in. He was a good little chap, your 'Arvie. 'Course, he was younger than me and not so handy at taking care of himself... (The final valedictory). But he was a real good little mate.

ASPINALL: Sometimes I think he's better dead and out of this life. Sometimes I wish that I....

(STRUGGLING WITH HER EMOTIONS, SHE FUMBLES IN THE PURSE FOR A HANDKERCHIEF. BILLY IS EMBARRASSED, BUT PATS HER HAND.)

BILLY: Come on. Missus Aspinall, keep your pecker up! I know you've had a rotten time with that rotten landlord, blast 'im!

ASPINALL: How did you know?

BILLY: Saw yuz in Court this morning. One of my Push had a bit of trouble -

ASPINALL: Oh, I hope you haven't fallen into bad company, Billy. My eldest boy, now-

(SHE LOOKS LIKE WEEPING AGAIN. BILLY HOPS IN.)

BILLY: No - no, everything's on the square, Missus Aspinall. It was a case of (Brings it out with pride) mis-taken identity. Old Kelly, the copper on the beat, spoke up for 'im. Not a bad sort, old Kelly - 'e'll never be Police Commissioner. But that's how I found out about your bit of trouble.

ASPINALL: It's not fair. I've lived in this house nine years last Easter and I've had the rent in my hand every Monday whatever me and the children've gone without. I've dealt with the same grocer for fifteen years and the wood-and-coal man for ten, and never owed a penny before -

BILLY: (Reflectively) Now that's a mistake. I never dealt off nobody more'n twice in my life. It keeps 'em all hopeful. Mind you, it does mean a lot of travellin'.

ASPINALL: And I married again - for the children's sake., And what did that bring me?

BILLY: Heard you got hitched again. Is 'e still alive?

ASPINALL: Yes - though he never shows his face here except to claim what he calls his conzugal rights ... (LAWSON'S spelling!.)

(She stops embarrassed.)

...but it's something a boy like you wouldn't know anything about.

(BILLY LOOKS AT HER, FOR A FLASH. HE'S THE SHREWD STREET BOY - "IS SHE KIDDING?" HE COVERS IT QUICKLY, IN DEFERENCE TO HER RESPECTABILITY.)

BILLY: My old lady upped and married again - for my sake, she says...

BILLY: (cont) An' he ups and leaves me with a bunch a' step- sisters an' stepbrothers to look after' as well as me mum. He's s'posed to be dead. I hope he doesn't resurrect, blast 'im... What're you thinking of doing now, Mrs. Aspinall?

ASPINALL: I don't know, Billy. I just don't know.

BILLY: Haven't you anyone you can go to?

ASPINALL: There's my sister-in-law. She's better to me than my own family've ever been. She's looking after the children now. She's often asked me to come and stay with her till things get better - though she's got a hard enough struggle herself, God knows.

BILLY: (The leader) That's it, then. You do it.

ASPINALL: But if I did, I'd have to give notice. You heard the agent. They'll keep my things.

BILLY: (A tremendous wink) Not if they wasn't here to keep.

(HE GOES TO DOOR, WHISTLES. CHINNY APPEARS.)

Missus Aspinall, this here's Chinny. (A bit of a swagger) One of my Push.

CHINNY: Please tameetcha.

BILLY: Chinny, we're moving Missus Aspinall tonight. (To Mrs. ASPINALL) Chinny's got a horse and cart. He's in the empty bottle line o' business.

CHINNY: I goes into bunnies when me Uncle's got a glut.

BILLY: You square it with your sister-in-law, Missus Aspinall, an' get your things ready.

ASPINALL: I daren't, Billy. I'm afraid of the landlord.

BILLY: 'Ow's 'e goin' to know? You're not going to ask 'im 'ere for tea, are you? And once you're gone, 'e can't do a thing.

ASPINALL: But I can't expect your friend to shift me for nothing. (A big Resolve) Billy, I do have a few shillings put by that I've never touched, not for food or the doctor -

(CHINNY IS LOOKING HOPEFUL, BUT BILLY GIVES HIM ONE LOOK!)

BILLY: Missus Aspinall, I aint that sort of bloke. Neither is Chinny here -

(CHINNY looks resigned to nobility)

neither is the other fellers, 'relse they wouldn't be friends of mine. Now you be ready.

ASPINALL: Suppose we're caught? A policeman stopped a woman in the next street who was trying to move, and the landlord came and took the furniture right off the cart.

BILLY: I told you - old Kelly's on this beat He usedta be a mate of my real dad's. Dad usedta reckon Kelly'd caused landlords a bit of strife himself before he left Ireland. He'll look the other way. We'd better cut off, Chinny. (To Mrs. ASPINALL.) We'll be back tonight.

(CHINNY touches his hat.)

CHINNY: Sorry if the cart smells a bit. I was inter bunnies for me last load.

(CHINNY GOES OUT)

BILLY: You be ready now.

(BILLY turns to go.)

ASPINALL: Billy, why are you doing this for me? You don't even know me.

(BILLY is amazed other obtuseness.)

BILLY: I knowed 'Arvie. I told you - he was a good little mate.

(BILLY GOES OUT. STAGE LIGHTS GO DOWN ON MRS. ASPINALL, SMALL SPOT ON LAWSON. THE IRISH SERVANT GIRL COMES BACK WITHOUT HER LETTER.)

LAWSON: Did you see them? - a worn sad woman and two boys. There was an old horse drawing the cart and a mongrel dog ... yes, I'm sure there was a dog.

(HE LOOKS AT HER HOPEFULLY, HOPING FOR CONFIRMATION. GENTLY SHE SHAKES HER HEAD.)

LAWSON: I've been dreaming again, haven't I - or imagining.

SERVANT GIRL: (Wanting to comfort him.) They might have gone another way - to their homes. This is the time of day when everyone wants to go home.

(LAWSON LOOKS AROUND HIM AND SHUDDERS.)

SERVANT GIRL: Have you no fireside of your own? It's very cold here.

LAWSON: It is very cold - too cold for me. I like warmth, heat - mind you, I've been in places that were too hot. Dead Dingo, for example.

(THE GIRL LAUGHS)

SERVANT GIRL: You're having a joke with me, indeed. No place could be called Dead Dingo - whatever a dingo may be.

(LAWSON WANTS TO HOLD THE GIRL'S ATTENTION, KEEP HER COMPANY FOR JUST A LITTLE TIME - NOT AS A MAN TO A WOMAN, BUT AS STORY-TELLER TO AUDIENCE. HE WINS HER, AND SHE SITS ON THE EMBANKMENT BESIDE HIM.)

LAWSON: This one was, and sometimes called Potted dog - a libellous reference to a meat-packing firm who owned most of the property around there...

(MARGE THE BARMAID, BILL (THE HANDSOME SHEARER), AND JIM (THE LUCKY ONE) TAKE THEIR PLACES AS THE SCENE IS SET, OR AS THEY MOVE THE FURNITURE TO MAKE UP A SUGGESTION OF A BUSH SHANTY... A BAR, THE JONES' ALLEY TABLE AND CHAIRS, A LONG BENCH ON TO WHICH A DRUNKEN SWAGMAN LURCHES AS ONE STILL IN A DEEP INTOXICATED SLEEP. JIM AND BILL PRODUCE CARDS AND TAKE UP WHAT HAS BEEN A LONG GAME. MARGE GOES BEHIND BAR - PERHAPS SHE FETCHES THE NECESSARY BOTTLES ON A TRAY FROM OFFSTAGE.)

...From the front verandah of the pub a road ran right and left to Outback and to Bourke. The rest was blue-grey bush and dust and the heatwaves shimmering and dancing. Inside a drunk was sleeping off a spree, and two shearers were playing cards...

DRUNK: Aaaheeehoooh... Hrmph... (He sinks back into slumber).

(JIM AND BILL CONCENTRATE ON THE CARDS. MARGE IS DISGUSTED.)

MARGE: Reely!

(SHE FANS HERSELF, SHOVES BACK A DRIFTING STRAND OF HER "POMPADOUR" HAIR STYLE, BLOWS DOWN THE NECK OF HER BLOUSE, PATS IT BACK. BILL AND JIM ARE SHOWING CARDS.)

JIM: Queens are no good to you, mate. (HE SHOWS HIS HAND.)

BILL: Butchers and threes. Ah well - (TOSSING IN HIS HAND) I never was lucky with women.

MARGE: (TRYING TO BE SOPHISTICATED AND CYNICAL AND TEASING) Pull the other leg.

BILL: (Lazy flirtatious) Like to, Marjie.

MARGE: (Coy reproof) Reely, Bill Williams!

JIM: 'Nother hand?

MARGE: What's the matter with you two? You've been playing cards since nine o'clock - and the same yesterday and the day before.

(IN DISGUST WITH LIFE (AND BILL IN PARTICULAR) SHE WALKS TO "DOOR" AND LOOKS OUT. AS SHE PASSES THE DRUNK HE ROLLS OVER.)

DRUNK: AaaheeehoOo - Hrmph... (Back to slumber.)

MARGE: Reely. (SHE LOOKS OUT) When I think of the poems they made us learn at school about the tinkling streams and the golden wattle...

(SHE LOOKS OVER HER SHOULDER AT THE MEN CONCENTRATING ON THEIR GAME.)

...Who owns the brown and white cattle dog? He yours, Bill? (SHE SAYS "YOURS, BILL" BECAUSE IT'S BILL'S ATTENTION SHE WANTS.)

BILL: (An indeterminate sound) Mmmmmmm

MARGE: Well, why don't you call him up on the verandah? It's too hot for him out there. Here boy, here boy...

(REALIZING ALL THIS IS GOING UNNOTICED, SHE FLOUNCES BACK TO THE BAR. SHE BEGINS TO READ A WOMAN'S MAGAZINE.)

(BILL FLINGS HIS CARDS ON THE TABLE.)

JIM: Stumped?

BILL: Not a bl- (LOOKS AT MARGE) blanky lurid deener!

("Jim drew his reluctant hands from the cards. His eyes went slowly and hopelessly round the room and out the door." LAWSON)

JIM: Got anything?

BILL: Me confirmation medal

JIM: (After pondering) You got that dog. (NODS TO YARD) I need a dog. Half a quid against the dog. One hand.

BILL: Call it a quid.

JIM: Ned Kelly was a gentleman. Awlright. Call it a quid.

("The drunkard on the sofa stirred, showed signs of waking but died again. Remember this, it might come in useful - LAWSON. NOTE. LAWSON WROTE THIS IN THE STORY. IT COULD BE SPOKEN BY LAWSON TO THE IRISH GIRL IF THE PRODUCER FELT IT WORKED.)

DRUNK: Aaaheehooo...

MARGE: Oh, Reely.

JIM: There y'are. (FOR HIMSELF DEALS.) One.

BILL: Three butchers.

(THEY PLAY OUT HAND.)

Three butchers.

JIM: Small straight from two to six

BILL: (THROWS DOWN CARDS) Dog's luck. I'm out.

(JIM TAKES A PAUSE TO ACCEPT THIS SAD FACT. THEN HE HEAVES HIMSELF TO HIS FEET, SAYING... )

JIM: Might as well move on, then. Nothing left to play for.

BILL: Not unless we play for Marge here.

MARGE: (Tartly) Not with your luck, Bill Williams.

JIM: Drinks on me. Have one, Marjie?

MARGE: Well - just a lemonade - with a drop of port. I never take anything else. It's not refined.

(JIM HAS GONE TO "DOOR". HE WHISTLES DOG. BILL IS LEANING AGAINST BAR, SMILING AT MARGE.)

JIM: That dog doesn't seem too keen to come to me. There's a length of chain in the yard. That his?

BILL: (Non-committal again) Mmmmm.

JIM: I'll put 'im on that.

(OFFSTAGE WE HEAR JIM WHISTLING CALLING "Come on boy, come on...")

MARGE: Oh, you're a fool, Bill Williams...

(OFFSTAGE SOUNDS OF JIM SAYING "Come on, good dog you'll like it," AND INDIGNANT YELPS FADING.)

...You work hard. You're a good hand with the blades, old Henry says. And what've you got to show for it?

BILL: You got nice hair, Marjie. Bet it looks like one of them magazine advertisements when it's let down.

MARGE: You would bet! (But she touches her hair self-consciously and goes on with new resolve.) ...You make good money. If you'd settle down and save it, you could have a nice little home in no time at all...

(Bill looks apprehensive. He knows this approach.)

... and a decent girl in it to look after you.

(BILL IS LOOKING AROUND FOR HIS SWAG.)

BILL: No. I couldn't ask any decent girl to marry me. I couldn't ask her to make the sacrifice.

(HE HAS HIS SWAG.)

BILL: So long, Marjie.

MARGE: Yes you could, Bill ... you could ask ...

BILL: Goodbye, Marjie.

(HE MAKES A QUICK EXIT. MARGE MOVES TO DOOR, STOPS.)

MARGE: Gee, Bill - (SHE STARES ALONG THE ROAD, WAVES SLOWLY, COMES BACK TO BAR.) Oh, gee.

(THE DRUNK HAS BEEN STIRRING. HE GIVES EVERY EVIDENCE OF A PAINFUL AWAKENING. "He staggered up, and leaning on the bar, made desperate distress signals with hands, eyes and mouth." LAWSON.)

DRUNK: Put up a drink?

(MARGE TOSSES HER HEAD, AND GOES BACK TO HER MAGAZINE.)

...Put up a drink?

MARGE: (Unleashing her frustration about Bill) No! And when I say no,I mean no! You've had too many drinks already and the Boss says you aren't to have anymore!

DRUNK: The hell with the Boss.

MARGE: That's what he said, and if you swear again or bother me I'll call him and have you put out. I won't stand for it in my bar!...

(MARJIE'S GROWING UP IS BEGINNING. THE DRUNK GETS HIS SWAG AND GOES TO "DOOR". A QUICK GLANCE BACK TO MARGE THEN HE WHISTLES PIERCINGLY SEVERAL TIMES. HE COMES BACK, WHISTLES UNDER TABLE, SHOULDERS PAST MARGE TO WHISTLE IN HER EAR BEHIND THE BAR.)

...Oh, what the devil, I mean, what the goodness do you want now, stamping all over the place. You're not allowed behind the bar, it's private. I do wish you'd git... leave!

DRUNK: Where's that there dog o' mine? Did you see my dog?

MARGE: Reely, what would I want with your dog?

DRUNK: Now you look here! That there dog was lyin' outside when I went to sleep. He wouldn't stir from me or me swag in a year - not if he wasn't dragged. He's been bloody well touched, and I wouldn't've lost that there dog for a fiver! I would've bet my life on that dog!

(A TERRIBLE IDEA IS DAWNING ON MARGE)

DRUNK: (cont) Where's them two chaps that was playing cards when I went to sleep?

MARGE: A ... dog, you said...?

DRUNK: I didn't say a helephant.

MARGE: What sort of dog was it?

DRUNK: A brown'n'white dog with a bit ear. (Heavy sarcasm) 'E also 'ad four legs.

MARGE: Well, there was a dog out there, but I thought it belonged to Bill Williams. He said it was - well, he didn't exactly say it but it sounded... (In a desperate rush) Anyway they played cards for it and Jim Adams took it away.

DRUNK: (Spectacularly overcome) They bet on my dog. 'Ow much.

MARGE: A quid - a pound.

DRUNK: A pound against my dog. I wouldn't've taken a five pound note against that dog. Now you look here...

(THE TRADITIONAL WAGGING FINGER WITHIN AN INCH OF MARGE'S NOSE)

You've allowed gambling in this bar, you and your Boss. You've got no right to let spielers gamble away a man's dog. Is a customer to lose 'is dog every time he has a doze just to suit your Boss? I'll go straight across to the police camp and put you away, and I don't care if you lose your licence. I aint gonna lose that dog. I wouldn't've taken a ten pound note for that dog! It's like losing a brother. I feel all knocked out.

(HE LEANS AGAINST THE BAR AND "ACCIDENTALLY" PUSHES BOTTLE TOWARDS MARGE)

MARGE: H-here, have a drink.

(SHE REACHES FOR WHISKY GLASS BUT DRUNK PUSHES BEER MUG TOWARDS HER. SHE SLOPS WHISKY INTO MUG.)

MARGE: Maybe that'll stop your row.

(DRUNK TAKES DRINK CARELESSLY AS THOUGH HE HADN'T NOTICED IT)

DRUNK: Which way did them fellers go?

MARGE: The one who got your dog went towards Tinned Dog...

(MARGE REALIZES THAT THIS DOESN'T SOUND COMFORTING.)

DRUNK: Tinned Dog!!...

(SHOCKED BY THIS NEWS HE POURS HIMSELF ANOTHER ABSENT-MINDED DRINK.)

Tinned Dog. That's twenty miles down the road. Now I'll haveta go all that blanky way back after him an' most likely lose me shed. Here - fill that up again!

(MARGE OBEYS BUT HER RESOLUTION IS HARDENING.)

...I'm narked properly, I am, and I'll take twenty four blanky hours to cool down.

(HE DRAINS THE GLASS, SHOULDERS HIS SWAG, COMES BACK TO BAR.)

I wouldn't've lost that dog for twenty quid.

(HE LOOKS AT WHISKY BOTTLE, HALF REACHES FOR IT. MARGE SNAPS IT BACK, SHE HAS GROWN UP A LITTLE. THE DRUNK RECOGNIZES THAT HE'S HAD ALL HE'S LIKELY TO GET HE GOES OUT SAYING...)

You remember, my girl, Honesty is the best policy ... you take it from me!

(STAGE LIGHTS DIM OUT. THE SPOT COMES UP ON LAWSON WITH THE IRISH GIRL)

LAWSON: And you know, my dear, whatever man, woman or girl told me that yarn never got it quite settled who own that dog. (THE GIRL LAUGHS IN PLEASED DELIGHT. BIG BEN STRIKES. SHE IS STARTLED BY THE TIME SHE HAS SPENT WITH LAWSON, RUNS OFF WITH A QUICK WAVE. LAWSON REALIZES HE IS ALONE AGAIN.)

(ACT ONE ENDS)

CURTAIN

ACT (2) SCENE (1)

---

WHEN THE HOUSE LIGHTS GO DOWN, RE-ESTABLISH THE TWO PLAYING AREAS... THE DIMLY GLOWING CAMP-FIRE, LAWSON IMMOBILE IN THE DIM BLUE SPOT. WITHOUT BOTHERING TOO MUCH WHETHER ALL THE AUDIENCE ARE BACK IN THEIR SEATS, MITCHELL AND SCOTTY DRIFT ON TO STAGE. THEY ARE BOTH CARRYING SWAGS (PERHAPS A LITTLE PHRASE OF "WALTZING MATILDA" BEHIND.)

MITCHELL: If I ever do get a job again, I'll stick to it while there's a hand's turn to do, and I'll put a few pounds together. If I'd had some sense a couple of years ago, I wouldn't be tramping through this damn sand and mulga now! (LOOKS ROUND CONTEMPTUOUSLY) What a flamin' country. Even the crows've moved on.

SCOTTY: Times aren't too good, Jack... and you can never keep your mouth shut, what with your arguing and unionizing and earbashing. Supposin' you get the sack?

(MITCHELL PUTS DOWN HIS SWAG PULLS OUT HIS PIPE, OR "THE MAKINGS". THEY BOTH SIT ON THEIR SWAGS.)

MITCHELL: I won't take it.

SCOTTY: S'pose the Boss comes round and says (SCOTTY becomes his idea of a boss) "I won't want you after this week, Mitchell. I haven't got any more work for you to do. Come up to the office an' get your money."

MITCHELL: So I'll go up and get my money; but on Monday I'll be pottering round as usual and come up to the kitchen for my breakfast. Sometime in the day the Boss'll see me...

SCOTTY: (Entering into the spirit of it) Listen, Mitchell, I told you on Saturday that I don't want you any more. I've given you the sack!

(SCOTTY looks at MITCHELL as though that clinches it. MITCHELL smokes for a moment)

MITCHELL: It's no use, Boss. That sort of thing's played out. Taking the sack's been the cause of all my trouble; now I don't believe in it. If I'd never taken the sack I'd be a rich man today. I'm comfortable here and I'm satisfied, and you've no cause to find fault with me. So it's no use trying to sack me, because I just won't take it!

SCOTTY: Well, then I'll say - he'll say - "I just won't pay you and you'd better be off!

(MITCHELL LOOKS AT HIM BLANDLY. THEN HE SHAKES HIS HEAD.)

Go on...

(HE FLAPS HIS HANDS LIKE SOMEONE SHOOING PIGEONS)

Buggar off!"

(MITCHELL CONTINUES TO SHAKE HIS HEAD.)

MITCHELL:"Never mind the money" I'll say."I'm not a greedy man. The bit of tucker I'll eat won't cost you anything, and I'll find something to do round the house till you've got some more work for me".

(SCOTTY IS GRINNING. MITCHELL NODS.)

Yeah, he won't be able to help grinning a bit - like you're doing. So I'll potter round and take things easy and call up to the kitchen at meal times... and bye and bye the Boss'll think to himself "Well, if I've got to feed this chap, I might as well get some work out of him!"

(MITCHELL STANDS UP, STARTS TO ADJUST HIS SWAG.)

So he'll find me something regular to do - a bit of fencing or carpentering... may be the Missus'll say "Well, if you've got him here, get him to paint the kitchen like you're always promising to do..." ... and I'll start calling round for my pay as usual.

(THEY SHOULDER THEIR SWAGS AND SLOPE OFF. LIGHTS UP ON THE EMBANKMENT. TWO GENTLEMEN PASS ACROSS THE STAGE.)

Gent 1: ...and you know old boy, the shares are selling at rock bottom at this moment. Yet if people used their ears, tonight's debate in the House showed how gilt the edges are on that gingerbread!

Gent 2: Oh, you mean there's going to be some... (being discreet) er - punitive action in that direction?

Gent 1: I'm not at liberty to say, ...but if I was looking for a likely investment... I can't do anything of course, being in the Foreign Office...

Gent 2: I'm very grateful. Perhaps we could come to some reciprocal arrangement...

(THEY WALK OFF.)

LAWSON: (Looks after them) Maybe there are only two kinds of people -spielers and mugs. At least that's what Steelman used to say. Oh, Steelman, how would you have done here in London? They say that Australian con men are best in the world. Would you sell the new chum Nelson's column to hang his hat on? Smith couldn't do better than biting the odd half-quid off visitors on the Embankment here - he never had your style. Are you still working round Maoriland, Steelman - or have you gone back to the big smoke of Sydney? Are you educating mugs in the Hotel Australia, or working the bush pubs in the outback...?

(A PHRASE OF WALTZING MATILDA AGAIN. STEELMAN AND SMITH WALK ON. STEELMAN "BIG AND GOOD LOOKING - A SPIELER PURE AND SIMPLE, BUT DID THINGS IN A HUMOROUS STYLE" - SMITH "SMALL AND WEEDY, OF THE SNEAK VARIETY.")

SMITH: Steelman - Steely, stop a minute, Steely. I can't keep up with you.

STEELMAN: And you never will, Smith - not unless you reform. Heaven knows I've tried to teach you - but you can't learn. You're a mug, Smith - a born mug.

SMITH: You know it hurts me, Steely, when you call me a mug. I've tried...

STEELMAN: There are only two classes of people in the world, Smith - spielers and mugs. I'm afraid you're a mug. Still I'll give you one more chance, When you go up to that house over there -

SMITH: (Without enthusiasm) Am I going, Steely?

STEELMAN: Don't thank me. I told you I'd give you one more chance. But if you don't come back with something I've lost my faith in you altogether. Apart from that. I'll have to stoush you. Now I've told you the lay-out off you go.

SMITH: All right, Steely - if you say so.

(STEELMAN SITS ON HIS SWAG AS SMITH PREPARES TO LEAVE)

SMITH: (cont) I remember what you told me. This couple are an old Scotch couple, real good-hearted. I'll bet you anything you like I'll get something. You'll see!

STEELMAN: Here - hold on! What are you going to say to them?

SMITH: Oh - that I've just arrived from Sydney and me mate's waiting for me at the bend in the road, and we'll be out of tucker in a couple of days and could they slip us something -

(STEELMAN PASSES HIS HAND WEARILY ACROSS HIS BROW.)

STEELMAN: I might as well give it best. I can see it's only a waste of time trying to teach you anything. After all the time and trouble and pains I've taken with your education, you're going off - like that! (SHAKES HIS HEAD IN DESPAIR.)

SMITH: (Whining) What've I done, that's all I want to know?

STEELMAN: Don't say another word, old man, it'll only make my head worse. Have a little consideration for my feelings, even if you've got none for your own interests.

SMITH: What've I done, Steely? You can tell me that!

STEELMAN: What use will it be to you. Smith? In the first place - no, no, I'm worn out.

SMITH: Please, Steely.....

STEELMAN: I'm just too good-natured - always been my trouble. I'll give you one more go. I'll stage the business for you. Where are those grease paints we had left over from the time we were travelling as the Classic and Comedy Dramatic Company?

SMITH: You mean the time we got run out of Omaru?

(STEELMAN IS RUMMAGING THROUGH HIS SWAG, PRODUCES GREASEPAINTS.)

STEELMAN: You may have been run out, Smith. I had a difference of theatrical opinion.

SMITH: I'm sorry, Steely. It was just what the police sergeant said about never coming back that made me think we was run out.

STEELMAN: (WORKING WITH GREASE PAINT) Stand still! Only mugs are run out of places, Smith, and while you may be - while you are a mug, I am not. (STANDS BACK) That's not bad. I didn't think anything could make you look more dead than you do normally, Smith, but those circles under your eyes do give a touch. (SMEARING GREASE ON CHEEK BONES). Now for a feverish flush on your cheek bones - keep still, Smith, or I'll put it there with the back of my hand!... There.

SMITH: How - how do I look, Steely?

STEELMAN: Like a man who's passed the last stages of consumption months ago and who's being kept alive artificially in the interests of science. Spit on your hands and make your hair lank. Gawd's sake, don't sweep it back as though you were a masher in Bourke Street on Saturday night!

SMITH: This orlright?

STEELMAN: (AFTER LOOKING AT HIM, IN BRAVE DESPAIR) It'll have to do. I'll concede that you're trying-

SMITH: (A fervent whine) Oh, I am, Steely - I am -

STEELMAN: (OVER HIM) Now listen! You're walking to the hospital in Palmerston. You wouldn't be here now if an old mate didn't find you by the roadside and carry you this far on his back.... that's why he's too worn-out to come up with you. Don't let anybody come down with you out of genuine compassion or idle curiousity. If they insist, cough like blazes and I'll take to the scrub - and stoush you afterwards for being such a fool!

SMITH: (Timidly) I - didn't come from Sydney...?

STEELMAN: I said they were Scots, didn't I? You were born in Aberdeen, but you left too young to remember much about it. You're too ignorant, Smith, to spiel about strange cities.

SMITH: I was born in Aberdeen... Could me father be dead, Steely?

STEELMAN: One look at you, Smith, and he would've passed away in silence, like the girl in the song. (Generously) But you are trying.

SMITH: (Inspired) Me poor old mother's still in Aberdeen. She could be dead, for all I know - I run away from home when I was a kid. Could I've taken her savings, Steely?

STEELMAN: No. It throws too dark a shadow on your character for a respectable Scotch couple. You know you're going to die. Keep your lips dry... No, you damn' fool, don't lick 'em... breathe on 'em! You only want to live long enough to get word to your poor old mother and die in a bed. If you had a drop of spirits of some sort to brace you up along the road, you might get on better ... put that delicately.

SMITH: It isn't that I'm a drinking man ...

STEELMAN: Get that whine out of your voice! You're a brave man brought low, not a professional biter. Breathe with a wheeze - like this.

(STEELMAN DOES IT BEAUTIFULLY. SMITH IS NOT SO CONVINCING.)

SMITH: Like this?

STEELMAN: You sound more like a broken-down cart horse - but it'll have to do. Can't you manage a sort of death-rattle?

(SMITH TRIES.)

STEELMAN: Gawd, that's awful, Smith... oh, what's the use!

SMITH: I'm trying, Steely. I was born in Aberdeen ...

STEELMAN: Don't whine.

(SMITH TRIES TO OBEY ALL THE INSTRUCTIONS.)

SMITH: I'm know I'm going to die ...

STEELMAN: Be brave about it

SMITH: (Valiant) But everyone's got to die sometime. I just want to get word to my poor old mother ...

STEELMAN: Dry lips!

SMITH: (BREATHES ON THEM) ...and die in a bed. I only want a couple of shillings or a bit of tucker ...

STEELMAN: Other way round!

SMITH: ... a bit of tucker or a couple of shillings to help me to Palmerston. I know it's consumption I've got -

STEELMAN: Wheeze!

SMITH: (GIVING IT THE LOT) Galloping consumption! I know the symptoms .. pain at the top of me right lung (CLUTCHES HIS CHEST VAGUELY) .. cough (COUNTS) I sweat something terrible at night. Something tells me I won't see the New Year - and this with Christmas only a week off. But me old mate's waiting for me, and with a bit of help he'll get me through. (Eagerly) How's that, Steely?

STEELMAN: Just don't forget that your old mate's waiting for you - and if you come back empty-handed you won't see Christmas, let alone New Year!... Hop it, Smith.

(SMITH COUNTING WHEEZING BLOWING ON HIS LIPS, MOVES OUT.)

(AFTER HIM) Don't trot like a blasted pacer! Move as though you're gone in the wind. And if you can't manage that, Smith, a stoush in the right place might help. It's the only way with mugs!

(Alone) Mugs! And of all the mugs, I cop him. Maybe that makes me the mug. Ah - I should've stayed in Bourke Street.

(THE BALLAD SINGER STROLLS THROUGH SINGING)

SINGER: Give me old Bourke Street, and give me my girl

Then everything will be all right.

Can anyone point to a better old joint

Than Bourke Street on Saturday Night?

When me and my kleiner are strolling along

The fellers all try to get smart.

Get out of the way! Here's Bill-O, they say

Walkin' out with his fair-dinkum tart.

(STEELMAN MIMES THE DANCE... GIVES HIS ARM TO THE LADY, BENDS OVER HER, DOES THE POLITE, THROWS A THREATENING LOOK OVER HIS SHOULDER AT THE SUPPOSED INTERJECTORS, DIGS AN ENCROACHING FORM WITH HIS ELBOW, THREATENS WITH HIS FIST, WALTZES THE INVISIBLE GIRL. THE BALLAD SINGER EXITS, LIGHTS COME UP FULL AS SMITH RE-ENTERS.

IT WOULD BE QUITE FEASIBLE TO USE A REAL GIRL HERE AND MAKE THIS TIME BRIDGE INTO A SMALL BALLET. THE BALLAD SINGER WOULD GO OFF ONE SIDE, THE GIRL OPPOSITE.

SMITH IS VERY PLEASED WITH HIMSELF. HE CARRIES A SUGAR BAG.)

SMITH: Hey, Steely, I'm back.

(STEELMAN IS HIS OLD PRACTICAL SELF AT ONCE.)

And look at this. A bundle of mixed tucker - half a leg o' mutton - four pounds of real Scotch shortbread- A pretty good set of cast-off tweeds. A pair of boots - new, they are, just out of stock. Two bottles of patent medicine and a bottle of home- made consumption cure. A letter to a hospital committee-man in Palmerston - and six bob! Now am I a mug?

STEELMAN: (AFTER A LONG PAUSE) I did have a better opinion of the Scotch.

SMITH: But Steely...

STEELMAN: When we get to Palmerston, Smith, we'd better part company. I wouldn't like to think I was any man's ruin, and I'm only demoralizing you, coddling you and looking after you the way I do. I thought I could make something of you...

(OPENING MEDICINE BOTTLE AND SNIFFING IT CONTEMPTUOUSLY.)

Just cough medicine. Not even rubbing alcohol! I can't afford to go on with you, Smith. You're enough to disgust any man and dishearten him with the whole world. Walk ahead of me or behind me into Palmerston, Smith - just get out of my sight... and don't come near me until you've reformed.

STEELMAN: (cont) If you do, I'll just have to stoush you - out of regard for your advancement and my own health and feelings.

(AS SMITH BACKS AWAY, STEELMAN BEGINS TO REPACK SUGAR BAG SHAKING HIS HEAD.)

Two classes of people - spielers and mugs. And I get myself mixed up with an irreclaimable unreformable mug!

(STEELMAN PICKS UP SUGAR BAG, HANDS IT TO SMITH. HE SNAPS HIS FINGERS, SMITH LOOKS BEWILDERED. STEELMAN RUBS HIS FINGERS TOGETHER, SMITH HANDS OVER THE MONEY. STEELMAN STARTS OFF AND SMITH FALLS IN BEHIND.

SPOT ON LAWSON.)

LAWSON: But they battled around together for another year or so - Steelman always giving Smith away, then helping him out with an odd quid or two. (He chuckles) One night they were drinking together - at the expense of some mugs that Steelman was educating. When Smith was leaving he borrowed Steelman's overcoat...

SMITH: (HE CAN APPEAR, OR JUST USE HIS VOICE) You won't want it tonight, Steely - not staying in this posh pub. I won't hurt it.

LAWSON: Steelman lent the coat. Smith pawned it, got gloriously drunk on the proceeds and posted the pawn ticket to Steelman. Smith had reformed at last!

(SMITH WALTZES ACROSS STAGE (WITH THE GIRL?))

SMITH: When me and my kleiner are strolling along

The fellers all try to get smart!

Get out of the way, Here's Bill-O, they say

Walkin' out with his fair-dinkum tart!

(LONDON LIGHT FADES RIGHT OUT. THE CAMP-FIRE COMES UP. THE DOG WHINES OR BARKS. MACQUARIE AND WILSON ARE FINISHING THEIR LAST SMOKES FOR THE NIGHT)

MACQUARIE: (To dog) Shut up, you bloody old mongrel! You're like a Bourke Street emporium - all front!

MACQUARIE: (cont) If a possum offered to go three rounds with you, you'd faint! (To Wilson) Y'know, Tally'll run a mile from a nesting magpie - the only thing that's really got 'im scared.

WILSON: He's game all right... Funny about him letting that bloke come up - that bloke that was here a while ago.

MACQUARIE: Yeah - Tally must've taken to 'im not to bark his stranger's bark.

WILSON: (Thoughtful) Tally didn't bark when he left, either. I wonder where he came from.

MACQUARIE: Dunno. Cobb and Co. come over the ridge and go past just down the road. Sometimes they stop to let the passengers water the horses. May be he wanted to stretch his legs, too.

WILSON: Maybe. Something odd about him, Mac - something lost and sad...

MACQUARIE: (Not mournful, just matter-of-fact) Who's happy... oh, except when you're a kid? When you get the first pony that just belongs to you - or when they're cooking something at home that you like...

WILSON: (Smiling) ...When you've got all your clothes off - which is a natural state for a warm climate, as the Abos knew. There used to be a pool under the creek- oaks just down from Dad's old place - a good clear pool with a sandy bottom...

MACQUARIE: I tell you when you're really happy! When sandy blight or measles breaks out at school - or the teacher falls dangerously ill - or dies, it doesn't matter which! Then you start to believe in God!

(They laugh. Joe says quietly.)

WILSON: There is a time when a man's happy. When he finds out that the girl loves him.

MACQUARIE: (Awkwardly) I wouldn't know about that, Joe...

(THE FIRE BEGINS TO FADE OUT. THE BALLAD SINGER COMES ON.)

(Reedy River...)

SINGER: Ten miles down Reedy River

One Sunday afternoon

I rode with Mary Campbell

To that broad and bright lagoon.

We left our horses grazing

Till shadows climbed the peak

And strolled among the she-oaks

On the banks of Rocky Creek

Then home along the river

That night we rode a race

And the moonlight lent a glory

To Mary Campbell's face

I pleaded for our future

All through that moonlight ride

Until our weary horses

Grew closer side by side.

(DURING THE SONG THE STAGE IS SET FOR JOE WILSON'S HUT ON HIS SELECTION (POSSIBLY BY WILSON AND MACQUARIE) ALL THAT IS REQUIRED IS A TABLE, TWO CHAIRS OR BOXES).

Ten miles from Ryan's Crossing

And five below the peak

I built a little homestead

On the banks of Rocky Creek.

I cleared the land and fenced it

And plugged the rich red loam...

And my first crop was golden

When I brought Mary home.

(MARY WILSON ENTERS WITH A BOX OF CHINA, HER WEDDING PRESENTS. SHE IS A PRETTY YOUNG WOMAN, DRESSED IN A FRESH PRINT DRESS WITH SPARKLING-WHITE COLLAR AND CUFFS. THE ORNAMENTS AND FEW BITS OF CRYSTAL WOULD BE INCONGRUOUS IN A SELECTOR'S HUT. MARY LOOKS FROM A DELICATE ORNAMENT TO HER SURROUNDINGS, SHOCKED BY ITS BARENESS, IN SPITE OF HER COURAGE AND RESOLVE. DORIE SPICER COMES IN. SHE IS A GANGLING FOURTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL, LOOKING REMARKABLY LIKE A BOY IN MOLESKIN PANTS AND SHIRT, BARE-FOOTED, HER HAIR HIDDEN UNDER A HAT SHE CARRIES SOMETHING IN A SUGAR BAG SLUNG OVER HER SHOULDERS.)

DORIE: Hey, Missus...

(MARY SWINGS ROUND.)

MARY: Oh, heavens, you gave me such a fright!...

(Apologetically) We've just taken up this selection and I'm trying to get things - straight. (A GLANCE AROUND THE ROOM SHOWS THAT SHE IS JUST BEGINNING TO UNDERSTAND WHAT SHE IS FACING.) I - I don't seem to have enough places to put my wedding presents.

DORIE: (EXAMINING THE ORNAMENT) That looks a bit silly here, doesn't it...? (Comforting) Oh, well, none of 'em 'll last long once you got kids. You're Missus Wilson, aren't you?

MARY: Yes.

DORIE: Me mother told me to ride across an' see if you wanted anything. We killed last night so I fetched a piece of cow.

MARY: Piece of what?

(DORIE HANDS HER THE SUGAR BAG AND MARY NEARLY DROPS IT. SHE LOOKS IN.)

Fresh beef! Oh, how kind of your mother. Tell her I'm much obliged to her, and you're a good boy - why, you're a girl!

(THE GRIN FADES FROM DORIE'S FACE.)

DORIE: Gee, I didn't think you knew. Me name's Spicer - Dorie Spicer. We live over the ridge.

MARY: Do you go to school?

DORIE: Me? Why, I'm going on fourteen. The last teacher finished me.

MARY: Finished - you?

DORIE: Me education. Me brother's only a year older than me, and he's gone to Queensland, droving. Wish't they'd take girls. (GOING) Hope you like the cow.

MARY: Wait a minute...

(SHE TAKES A LITTLE PURSE FROM HER POCKET)

How much did your mother say the meat would be?

DORIE: Y'mean - how much does it weigh? It aint been weighed at all We got no scales. We just kill it, and cook it, and eat it - and go by guess. What won't keep we salt down in a cask. But that bit ... (SHE SHRUGS) Mind you, I reckon it weighs about a ton from the weight of it to carry.

MARY: But - how much am I to send your mother for this?

DORIE: How much what?

MARY: Money...

(SHE STOPS AS DORIE STARES AT HER.)

DORIE: We aint that sort of people, missus. We don't sell meat to new people that come to settle here.

(JERKS HER THUMB BACK CONTEMPTUOUSLY.)

Go over to Wall's, the squatter's, if you want ter buy meat. They sell meat to neighbours.

(DORIE PREPARES TO DEPART.)

MARY: Oh, please don't go, Dorie. I'm sorry. I didn't understand. I haven't lived in the bush before. Thank your mother for me. She is so kind.

DORIE: She'll be calling as soon as you're fixed up. She's out in the buggy now, but she thought you mightn't want anyone comin' yet.

MARY: Oh, do ask her to come in!

DORIE: You want her to? (She yells) Mar-ther! Mar-ther! Mizz Wilson says to come in.

(MARY SMOOTHES HER HAIR, STRAIGHTENS HER COLLAR AND CUFFS. MRS. SPICER COMES INTO THE SPOT. SHE IS A BIG AWKWARD BUSH WOMAN WITH A HARSH VOICE. SHE STARES AT MARY, TONGUE-TIED.

MARY: I'm - I'm Mary Campbell.. Wilson. Mary Wilson. How are you, Mrs. Spicer?

SPICER: Aw-awlright.

MARY: I hope you don't mind calling in the kitchen...

(SHE LOOKS AROUND, REALIZES THIS ONE ROOM IS ALL THEY HAVE)

...in all this confusion. We haven't settled in yet.

SPICER: S'awlright.

MARY: Won't you have a cup of tea. It won't take (long) -

SPICER: I'm not stayin' -

MARY: Oh, don't go yet. It's so nice to talk to another woman. At least sit down.

SPICER: Well, I was just passin'... (Nagging) Dorie, you go outside an' look after the horse. Did'n I tell you not to leave 'im alone... An' did you water them geraniums before we came out.

DORIE: Aw - I forgot.

SPICER: I'm sick'n tired of telling you to water them geraniums. Poor things'll never grow.

DORIE: (Fed up) Gee, Mum - they'll never grow anyhow. Nothin' grows here.

SPICER: Never mind that. You water them when I tell you. You do it the minute we get home. Now go and watch the horse like I said. You know how he trots off!

DORIE: If he trotted, he'd fall to pieces... awlright, I'm goin'...

(SHE GOES OUT. MRS. SPICER SITS DOWN CAUTIOUSLY.)

MARY: Have you lived here long, Mrs. Spicer?

(AS MRS. SPICER TALKS TO MARY, SHE BECOMES MORE VOLUBLE.)

SPICER: Fifteen years... Me husband - Mr. Spicer - had some idea of keepin' sheep at first - but they died. We been keepin' cows for the last ten years - they don't die so easy, but they're an awful trouble, Mizz Wilson We lost nearly all our milkers with the ploorer numonya.

(NOW MRS. SPICER SETTLES BACK COMFORTABLY FOR A CONGENIAL CHAT.)

I remember one day young Dorie came tearing into the house screaming 'Marther, there's another milker down with the ploorer' - (There is a tough saving sense of humour somewhere in her) - jus' as if it was great news! Well, Mizz Wilson, I was deadbeat, and I gave in. I jus' sat down to have a good cry - and me hankerchef was full of holes... (A glance at Mary, hastily) all me others were in the wash. Without seeing what I was doing, I put me finger through one hole and me thumb through another an' poked me fingers into me eyes instead of wiping them. Then I had to laugh.

(MARY IS REALIZING WHAT BUSH LIFE CAN MEAN.)

MARY: I didn't realize - Joe never said...

SPICER: Oh, it's not that bad, Mizz Wilson. You have a bit of luck sometimes - like the time the bush fires come through here an' I beat them out before they got into the wheat. Spicer was away droving then. Bad seasons he mostly always goes.

MARY: You must feel so lonely here when your husband is away.

SPICER: Well - no, Mizz Wilson. I usedter - once. But somehow I seem ter have got past carin'. Spicer's a different man now. He don't talk to me like he usedter, when we was just married.

MARY: How can you go on?

SPICER: S'awlright. But I'd like - something. Them geraniums. I got some plants outside me window but they never seem to do any good. I'd like to be able to look out of me kitchen and see them growing.

(MARY IS CLOSE TO TEARS.)

MARY: Oh, Mrs. SPICER... I wish - I wish -

(SHE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS THE FEELING SHE HAS. BUT MRS. SPICER UNDERSTANDS THAT MARY WOULD LIKE TO CHANGE THINGS... FOR MRS. SPICER, FOR HERSELF, FOR EVERYONE. SHE PATS HER HAND.)

SPICER: You mustn't take too much notice of me, Mizz Wilson. Only I don't have anyone to talk to much - an' I let me worries get out Seein' you so neat and nice makes me worry about Dorie. She was a real pretty baby - everyone said - but she jes' acts like a boy now. I s'pose seeing me puts her off being' a woman. Then there's the little ones. I wisht I could git regular schooling for them...

MARY: Send them over to me, Mrs. Spicer. I was a governess once - I could teach them a little.

SPICER: Could yer? That's real kind, Mizz Wilson. I'd appreciate that.

DORIE: (Off) Stand still, y'old nag! Stand still, damn yer!

(MRS. SPICER LOOKS OFF, THEN BACK TO MARY. DULLY, YET SPEAKING THE THOUGHTS BURIED IN HER MIND, SHE SAYS)

SPICER: Why did 'e bring you here?

(SHE TOUCHES MARY'S CHEEK.)

Y'r only a girl.... I musta been like that myself once...

(MARY CHOKES BACK A SOB. MRS. SPICER COMES BACK TO HER REALITY.)

SPICER: (cont) Don' think too much about me and me mizeries, Mizz Wilson. I get along, y'know. Things don't get me like they useter. I seem to've got past carin'.

(SHE STANDS UP.)

Now I gotta git back an' git the kids' dinner, an' do me ironing... and I gotta make Dorie water them geraniums.

(SHE TURNS BACK IN DOORWAY.)

If you want me - if there's sickness or you'd like a good talk... I'm over the ridge.

(SHE GOES OUT. MARY STANDS QUITE STILL, STARING AFTER HER. THEN SHE BREAKS DOWN.)

MARY: Joe! Joe, Joe...! Take me away from the bush.

(THE LIGHTS FADE.)

Singer: Now still down Reedy River

The grassy she-oaks sigh

And the waterholes still mirror

The pictures in the sky;

The golden sands are drifting

Across those rocky bars

And over all, forever,

Goes sun and moon and stars.

But of the hut I builded

There are no traces now

And many rains have levelled

The furrows of my plough.

The glad bright days have vanished

And sombre branches wave

Their wattle blossoms golden

Above my Mary's grave.

(THE SPOT COMES UP ON LAWSON IN LONDON.)

LAWSON: The gold in the earth of my wide brown land. Do we dig out our gold - or do we bury it? Mary Wilson and young 'Arvie... Mrs. Spicer and Mrs. Aspinall... the lonely resting places of the settlers, and the close companionable graves along the Dardanelles. We have buried our gold deep - deep - deep....

(A FLOWER GIRL WITH HER BASKET COMES ON DURING THIS SPEECH, STOPS TO LISTEN.)

FLOWER G: Gawd, you've had a skinful, you 'ave! What was it - gin? Gin always makes me cry myself.

LAWSON: Was I crying?

FLOWER G: You was on the verge. Hey, you're not English, are you?

LAWSON: I'm Australian.

FLOWER G: Orstralian - all them bleeding big kangaroos! An' don't tell me you put a saddle on 'em and ride 'em. I met an Orstralian before.

(LAWSON IS DIVERTED INTO THE PASSIONATE INTEREST HE FEELS FOR EVERY NEW PERSON HE MEETS.)

LAWSON: Did you like him?

FLOWER G: Thought 'e was prince - till he took me for five quid and then bashed me up later. Mind you, he was generous in 'is way - spent most of the five quid on me, and I had the bashing all to meself. Generous to a fault, 'e was.

LAWSON: And he was an Australian.

FLOWER G: (Reproving his idealism) Wotcha think they are - angels? Just like the rest of us, cocky... takes what they can get...

(SHE LOOKS AT HIM MORE CLOSELY.)

You're not drunk. You're sick.

LAWSON: Homesick perhaps.

FLOWER G: Yes, you go home. That's the best place for you.

(SHE FISHES A BUNCH OF VIOLETS OUT OF HER BASKET.)

Here - violets for luck. They're a bit wilted, and I don't s'pose I could sell 'em, anyway. You go home out of the cold. I been here all my life an' I never been warm - not unless I was sweltering. I've heard it's lovely in Orstralia, but I dunno... I don't fancy a place where nothing happens an' nobody goes.

(SHE GIVES HIM THE VIOLETS, STARTS OFF... COMES BACK.)

You got any money?

(LAWSON THINKS SHE WANTS SOME. HE GROPES IN HIS POCKETS AND BRINGS OUT A HANDFUL OF COINS. SHE DRAWS BACK AS HE TRIES TO PRESS THEM INTO HER HAND.)

FLOWER G: (Angry) I don't want your bleeding money! I thought you might've needed some yourself. Listen, you bleeding Colonial...

LAWSON: I didn't mean to offend you, miss... I thought it was just like passing round the hat...

(THE FLOWER GIRL DROPS BACK OUT OF SPOT SHE PASSES THROUGH THE PEOPLE WHO ARE SETTING THE PLATFORM AND STEPS THAT TYPIFY THE VERANDAH OF WATTY'S PUB IN BOURKE.)

LAWSON: That's an old Australian custom, miss... (HE LOOKS ROUND FOR HER VAGUELY, THEN FORGETS HER IN HIS STORY) When anyone needs help... when they're in trouble - hurt, or needing bail... when they're getting married - now, that's trouble - ... in the shearing shed, and the factory, and the pub you pass round the hat. I remember one time when Mitchell.

(MITCHELL on...)

MITCHELL: Scotty.

(SCOTTY on...)

SCOTTY: And Jack Moonlight.

(JACK MOONLIGHT ON, CARRYING SWAG...)

MOONLIGHT: We're on the verandah of The Traveller's Arms, in Bourke...well, it had the name The Traveller's Arms over the verandah, but it was usually known as Watty's Pub.

(SPOT FADES ON LAWSON. MITCHELL SITS ON "VERANDAH", SCOTTY DROOPS WITH A BAD HANGOVER, JACK MOONLIGHT KNEELS TO MAKE ADJUSTMENTS TO HIS SWAG.)

MITCHELL: ...But where are you going, Jack?

MOONLIGHT: There and back to see how far it is, Mitchell.

MITCHELL: It's always too far, Jack, I can tell you that. You're not broke,are you?

MOONLIGHT: (Busy with swag) No.

MITCHELL: You haven't got to meet a mate anywhere?

MOONLIGHT: No.

MITCHELL: Are you organizing somewhere for the Union?

MOONLIGHT: No.

MITCHELL: That tongue of yours'll run away with you some day, Jack.

(JACK GRINS. SCOTTY MOANS.)

SCOTTY: I wish my tongue'd run away without me. (TESTING HIS TEETH WITH HIS TONGUE) Gawd, which way did that parrot go?

MITCHELL: (Persisting) Then why move on, Jack? Why leave the best pub in Bourke? Look at the reputation it's got.

SCOTTY: It deserves it. (HE GROANS.)

MITCHELL: Just because you get boozed here, Scotty, doesn't say that the Traveller's Arms isn't a pub for gentlemen. It's the centre of the town, this pub. If a horse bolts with a buggy or a cart, where's it stopped? Outside Watty's... which seems to suggest that all the heroes of Bourke drink here. Also it's a Union pub... and that ought to appeal to a Union rep. like you, Jack.

SCOTTY: I appeal to you, Mitchell - Shut up!

(THE ORACLE ENTERS, WITH HIS HAT IN HIS HAND.)

ORACLE: I'm just taking round the hat -

(THE BOYS GROAN).

SCOTTY: If you're looking for a calamity, Oracle ...

(OVERCOME,HE GROANS AGAIN, SMACKS HIS LIPS IN DISTASTE.)

MITCHELL: What's it this time, Oracle?

(JACK STANDS UP, STARTS FEELING IN HIS POCKETS.)

ORACLE: A pore bloke got his hand caught in a wool press.

MOONLIGHT: One of these days, they'll be made to take decent precautions..

ORACLE: I agree, Jack, I agree. But this is almost worth it, it's such an interesting case. They want to send him back to Sydney by th'Express because this case has such unusual aspects. In a way we'd be con-tri-buting to Science.

MITCHELL: I've got you wrung-out, Tom. Everyone says how charitable you are. You're not charitable - you like public life. That's why you're always shoving yourself forward with your collections!

(MITCHELL TURNS TO THE OTHERS AS THOUGH DELIVERING A PUBLIC LECTURE.)

There's nothing the Oracle likes better than pottering round a sick man - and they're pretty scarce out here. Either you're well - or you're dead.

SCOTTY: I'm dead.

MITCHELL: (Unheeding) There's only one thing the Oracle likes better - and that's pottering round a corpse.

(HE LOOKS BACK AT THE UNMOVED ORACLE)

The fact is, Oracle - you're only enjoying yourself with other people's troubles. It's only vulgar curiosity and selfishness. I put it down to your ignorance, the way you were brought up. (MITCHELL TOSSES SOME MONEY INTO THE HAT, MAKING IT A DRAMATIC GESTURE TO FINISH HIS ORATION...

... JACK MOONLIGHT TOSSES IN MONEY (OR NOTE). SCOTTY PAINFULLY DIGS OUT DEBRIS FROM HIS POCKET, SORTS OUT COINS, TOSSES INTO HAT)

ORACLE: I like to help things along ...

(HE FERRETS COINS OUT OF HAT, TOSSES IT BACK TO SCOTTY.)

I've got nothing against Chinese fellers, I prospected with a Chinese feller once and he was a white man - but it's not coin of the realm!

MITCHELL: Why don't you take up a collection for a joss-house, Oracle.

SCOTTY: Like the time you took up a collection and found it was to build a new Catholic Church - and you a Protestant by rights.

ORACLE: Well, I don't suppose it'll matter in the end. I've got nothing against Roman Carflicks. Father Donovan's a very decent sort of cove. He stuck up for the unions in the big strike, anyway.

MOONLIGHT: He wouldn't be Irish if he didn't.

ORACLE: I carried swags for six months with a feller who was a Carflick and he was a straight feller. And a girl I knew turned Carflick to marry a feller who got her into trouble, and she was just the same to me after as she was before...

(MITCHELL YELLS WITH LAUGHTER. JACK MOONLIGHT GRINS, SCOTTY HOLDS HIS HEAD TO LAUGH. ORACLE PUTS THE MONEY FROM HIS HAT TO HIS POCKET.)

...You're about the last.

(HE TURNS HIS ATTENTION TO JACK MOONLIGHT).

ORACLE: (cont) (By way of starting his question) Got your swag rolled, Jack?

(MOONLIGHT IS ROLLING A CIGARETTE.)

MOONLIGHT: (Positive and non-committal) Yes.

ORACLE: Going somewhere?

MOONLIGHT: What's it look like, Tom?

ORACLE: Going alone. Jack?

MOONLIGHT: Yes - damn it - yes! Quite alone, quite free, quite...

(Controlling himself) Listen, Oracle, I appreciate the interest you take in your cases - but I'm not one of them!

ORACLE: (To the empty air) I've often thought - not in relation to anyone in particular, just cases I've observed - I've often thought that when a bloke gets to drinking alone - (To Moonlight) not that you don't always stand your shout... and travelling alone - (To Moonlight) you've always got plenty of mates...

(MOONLIGHT IS LOOKING A BIT FORMIDABLE, WATCHED WITH INTEREST BY MITCHELL AND SCOTTY.)

...That sort of thing can end up in a leaning tree and a bit of clothes line - not you, o' course. But you might tell me what the trouble is and give y'self a bit of relief.

SCOTTY: You might tell all of us!

MITCHELL: ...And give us all a bit of relief!

(ALTHOUGH MITCHELL PLAYS THE FOOL, HE OFTEN SHOWS MATURITY.)

ORACLE: The Salvation Army'll be round soon trying to convert Watty's. Why don't you let them try to lay your ghosts, Jack?

MOONLIGHT: (Repressed violence) Not them! Not bloody... (Stops abruptly)... No thanks.

MITCHELL: There is a ghost, isn't there?

MOONLIGHT: (SHOULDERING SWAG) We've all got our ghosts, Mitchell. I don't go interfering with your ghosts and don't you come haunting mine - not even in the cause of Science, Oracle. It's as bad as kicking another man's dog.

Now I'm hitting the wallaby for a while, Mitchell, if there's a letter for me -

(BOYS SHOW GREAT CURIOSITY AND INTEREST... EVEN SCOTTY LIFTS HIS ACHING HEAD.)

BOYS: Yes...?????

MOONLIGHT: (TO MITCHELL) Mark it 'Not known at this address' and send it back to the Postmaster General. So long...

(A WAVE, AND JACK GOES OFF, FOLLOWED BY "So long, mate.""

Look after yourself" etc...)

(BRIEF PAUSE.)

ORACLE: That bloke has a Secret Sorrow...

MITCHELL: ...and he's going to keep it secret, Oracle, so forget about it.

ORACLE: It's a mistake. I was reading this article in this magazine (Primly) that I found on the floor of the accommodation out the back of the pub. It said that talking about your problems....

(SCOTTY'S AGONY HAS BECOME TOO MUCH FOR HIM TO BEAR. HE LIFTS HIS HEAD AND HOWLS.)

SCOTTY: Mar-jor-ie!

(MARJE APPEARS. SHE IS CHANGED FROM THE LITTLE BARMAID OF "DEAD DINGO". SHE IS NOW A HANDSOME ASSURED WOMAN.)

MARJE: Don't deafen me, Scotty. What's it to be, boys?

SCOTTY: Marje, you've saved me life.

MARJE: Struth, I came too soon.

ORACLE: Watty gave me your donation, Marjie. Thanks.

MARJE: That's all right, Oracle. Knew a feller got his hand caught in a press once. Nice feller, good looking - got blood poisoning.

MITCHELL: What happened?

MARJE: Oh, he's all right - arm's not much good, but he gets around... (She smiles).. He can still deal the cards. What'sit to be?

ORACLE: Pint, thanks...

(MITCHELL HOLDS UP FINGER AND NODS SAME.)

SCOTTY: I'll have a drop of spirits. It might pick me up.

MARJE: We'll pick you up, more likely.

(MARJE GOES INTO BAR.)

MITCHELL: (Drops his voice) That feller Marjie was talking about must be the feller she looks after in Melbourne....

(THE DRUM IS HEARD OFF.)

Shake a leg, Marje... but in a ladylike way! The Army's coming.

(THE ARMY ENTERS THROUGH THE AUDIENCE, LED BY THE OFFICER WITH THE DRUM, THE LASSIES SWINGING TAMBOURINES. THE LASSIES INCLUDE HANNAH ("THE PRETTY GIRL IN THE ARMY) A STOUT MATRON, "A THIN RATTY LITTLE WOMAN". (MEN CAN BE INCLUDED).

(NOTE: THE ARMY ARE FUNNY TO US, BUT NOT LUDICROUS, ESPECIALLY THE OFFICER. BASICALLY HE IS SINCERE. THE ARMY MARCHES THROUGH THE AUDIENCE IF POSSIBLE, SINGING "SHALL WE GATHER AT THE RIVER".

THE ARMY ARRANGES ITSELF IN FRONT OF WATTYS. MARJE BRINGS THE DRINKS DURING SCENE. THE OFFICER FIXES THE BOYS WITH A STERN EYE.)

CAPTAIN: Re-pent! Re-pent! Repent, I say, before it is too late. An awful fate will overtake the unrepentant sinner.

(SCOTTY TAKES GULP OF DRINK AND CHOKES.)

MITCHELL: Struth! Instant damnation!

MATRON: (Glares) Halleluliah!

CAPTAIN: Take courage, brethren, even though we beard the devil in his own house of sin!

(MARJE IS HANDING ROUND DRINKS.)

RATTY WM: Beware the painted Jezebel!

(MARJE LAUGHS GOOD NATUREDLY)

CAPTAIN: (Slight reproof) "Let he who is without sin", sister.

("RATTY" WOMAN GIVES HIM A NASTY LOOK.)

ORACLE: You shouldn't get so upset in this heat, Missus. You could have stroke - your brain might crack. (Generously prepared to hand on knowledge) It's a known scientific fact -

RATTY WM: Oh, you can say I'm cracked - but I'm only cracked on the Lord Jesus Christ, I'm cracked in the right place, aren't I, Captain.

(THIS NATURALLY HAS ITS EFFECT ON THE BOYS, MARJE HAS SUDDEN NEED FOR A HANDKERCHIEF OVER HER MOUTH; DOES THE CAPTAIN HAVE TO STIFLE A GRIN? ANYWAY HE STARTS AGAIN WITH RENEWED FERVOUR).

CAPTAIN: Oh, you can laugh - you can sneer! I tell you this. The publicans, boozers, gamblers here may think that Bourke is hot. But Hell is a thousand times hotter than Bourke!

MITCHELL: Now that won't wash, mate. When Bourke people die they send back for their blankets.

SCOTTY: (Laughing) How's that, eh?

CAPTAIN: There speaks the scoffer and the free-thinker. Show me the face of a free-thinker and I'll show you an unhappy man!

SCOTTY: Here's the face of a free-thinker... and here's the fist, too.

(SCOTTY SHAPES UP).

See if you can fight as well as you can pi-jaw, I bet you turn tail!

CAPTAIN: It is against my nature, brother, but if I am challenged to fight for the Lord...

(OFFICER HANDS DRUM TO MATRON. HE SHAPES UP. LASSIES SHRIEK PROTESTS.)

MATRON: I'm with you, Captain!

MITCHELL: Hit 'em with the drum, Missus.

ORACLE: (Thoughtfully) That Captain doesn't shape up too badly. Reminds me of a little feller I knew in Wollongong -

(AMID LAUGHTER FROM THE BOYS, SHRIEKS FROM THE LASSIES, HANNAH STEPS FORWARD.)

HANNAH: Stop it! Stop it, I say. Stop it!

(EVERYONE LOOKS OTHER, INCLUDING THE BATTLERS.)

You ought to be ashamed! Great grown men going on this way. Captain, you're not fighting for the Lord! You're fighting from wicked pride!

(CAPTAIN LOOKS SHAME FACED AND DRIFTS BACK TO HIS DRUM. HANNAH TURNS HER ATTENTION TO THE BOYS.)

As for you men...! If you were ignorant or poor; if you knew nothing but dirt and slums and loneliness as they do in the cities, there might be some excuse for you!

(SHE IS LOOKING DIRECTLY AT THE ORACLE. THE ORACLE CONTEMPLATES THE SKY AS THOUGH AN INTERESTING SCIENTIFIC PROBLEM IS TO BE SOLVED THERE.)

HANNAH: (cont)... But you have work and a great wide country, and friends by your side. And what sort of a life do you choose to lead - drinking and gambling and fighting your lives away? Look at that man's face -

(SHE POINTS AT SCOTTY.)

The marks of drink are on him, and yet you encourage him to fight... when he's incapable, when God has set his face against violence! I joined the Salvation Army because they offer a better way to peace and happiness... a way where there is no fighting and enmity and strikes... a way some people - even good people - won't follow.

(SHE REALIZES SHE IS THE OBJECT OF CONCENTRATED ATTENTION. SHE CHOKES, DRIES UP, RETREATS BEHIND LARGE MATRON)

CAPTAIN: Glory Halleluliah!

(THE LASSIES SHAKE THE TAMBOURINES.)

MITCHELL: Glory Halleluliah!

(MITCHELL TOSSES A HANDFUL OF SILVER INTO THE MATRON'S TAMBOURINE. IT IS A PERSONAL TRIBUTE TO THE GIRL'S COURAGE AND GOOD LOOKS.... AND MITCHELL'S USUAL APPRECIATION OF A DIVERSION. ORACLE THOUGHTFULLY CONTRIBUTES A DONATION.)

ORACLE: I read this article on hype-nosis -

(MARJE HAS TAKEN SCOTTY'S FLORIN FOR THE ROUND. SHE, TOO, IS AMUSED AND ADMIRES THE GIRL'S COURAGE.)

MARJE: Just what this town needs. Glory, lovey.

(SHE TOSSES SCOTTY'S FLORIN INTO TAMBOURINE. SCOTTY FOLLOWS ITS FLIGHT OPEN-MOUTHED.)

SCOTTY: Hey...!

(HANNAH COMES FROM BEHIND THE MATRON)

HANNAH: Oh, forgive me if I've been too hard. You're all good fellows -I can see that. I had a - a friend - once, and he told me how good you were to each other, you bushmen.

(SHE GIVES SCOTTY A LOVELY SMILE. SCOTTY SEARCHES FEVERISHLY THROUGH HIS POCKETS, THROWS MONEY INTO TAMBOURINE)

CAPTAIN: Glory, glory!

(LASSIES SHAKE TAMBOURINES, CAPTAIN BANGS DRUM. MARJE DEFTLY TAKES FLORIN FROM SCOTTY'S HAND BEFORE HE THROWS IT INTO COLLECTION.)

MARJE: Your shout - remember?

(MITCHELL SEES THIS. HE GRINS.)

MITCHELL: Business is business.

(NOTE: ALL THIS BUSINESS HAS TO BE PLAYED VERY FAST WITH LOTS OF COLOUR, TAMBOURINES SHAKING, DRUM BEAT, HALLELULIAHS.)

(HANNAH PRESSES A "WAR CRY" ON SCOTTY.)

HANNAH: (A special smile again for Scotty) Read this when the temptation to drink is on you.

(SCOTTY IS GAZING AT HER.)

MATRON: (Rumbles) A sinner repenteth!

LASSIE: There is joy in Paradise!

RATTY WM: (With dark misgivings) May he stay on the true path!

(THE ARMY MARCHES OUT TRIUMPHANTLY THROUGH THE AUDIENCE SINGING "SHALL WE GATHER AT THE RIVER".

SCOTTY SLUMPS TO VERANDAH

THE ORACLE HAS TAKEN THE WAR CRY AND IS READING IT)

MARJE: Whose round? (SHE NODS TO SCOTTY) And his round still to be settled.

(MITCHELL LOOKS AT HIS MATE, GRINS, FISHES IN HIS POCKET.)

SCOTTY: (In reverie) Jeez, she's lovely.

ORACLE: There's a very in-ter-esting article here about a feller with one leg.....

(ORACLE GOES BACK TO MAGAZINE.)

MITCHELL: The Army'd say the sinner pays. (Counting money.)

(THE LIGHT FADES... BIG BEN CHIMES. THE LONDON LIGHT COMES UP ON LAWSON.)

LAWSON: It was Christmas morning, and there was peace in Bourke and goodwill to all men. There hadn't been a fight since yesterday evening, that had only been a friendly one to settle an argument concerning the past ownership and to decide the future possession of, a yellow dog...

(CHRISTMAS BELLS, CAROLS SOUND BRIEFLY AROUND THE AUDIENCE.)

(NOTE: I HAVE THOUGHT THAT THE BALLAD OF THE THREE DROVERS MIGHT FIT IN HERE, BUT I HAVE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO GET THE WORDS. O.G.)

(THE LIGHT IS BEGINNING TO COME UP ON WATTY'S PUB. MITCHELL, SCOTTY, THE ORACLE STILL IN POSITION, BUT FROZEN IN POSITION. AS LAWSON IS TALKING MARJE BEGINS TO HANG SOME TINSEL AND PAPER CHAINS FROM THE VERANDAH.)

... As I sat up from where I had tried to sleep on that hot close night, I caught sight of a swagman coming along the white dusty road. I knew that swagman's walk. It was Jack Moonlight....

(LONDON LIGHT FADES OUT COMPLETELY ON LAWSON, COMES UP ON THE VERANDAH OF WATTY'S PUB. MITCHELL, SCOTTY, THE ORACLE COME TO LIFE. THEY SIP THEIR DRINKS LANGUIDLY.)

SCOTTY: I wouldn't've fought for that dog. It was a yeller dog. I never could fancy yeller meself - except in hair.

MITCHELL: What do you think that dog had on him - feathers?

ORACLE: You're picking on Scotty there, Jack. Y'see, a bloke like Scotty's got the kind of very narrow little mind (ORACLE INDICATES VERY NARROW SPACE WITH HIS FINGERS) that can't take in too much at one time.

(SCOTTY IS ABOUT TO PROTEST: MITCHELL CUTS IN.)

MITCHELL: (Benign) I know, Oracle. It's a kind of affliction. Tell me more, I'm everybody's man today - even yours, Oracle, in spite of being plagued with that damn hat of yours. How did the last collection go the one to pay One-eyed Bogan's fine?

SCOTTY: I don't remember that one. Did you miss me out?

ORACLE: No. You was dead drunk, so we took ten bob out of your trousers. It was fair and square, Scotty. The whole bar stood round and watched.

SCOTTY: Oh, did they!

MITCHELL: You've got no cause to grumble, Scotty. One-eyed Bogan was fined for assaulting the police. That's a more deserving cause than the Salvation Army - which is where all your money's been going lately.

SCOTTY: You've been putting in a bit yourself, Mitchell - and buying the War Cry.

MITCHELL: I admit it. That girl has certainly been sent here for business reasons. She reminds me of things I though I'd forgotten. She reminds me, too, of a barmaid I met in Sydney who roped me in when I was young and foolish.

ORACLE: Everyone knows that Barcoo Rod's the meanest man in Bourke. (Impressively) Yet he was seen - by independent witnesses - to drop in a three-penny bit.

SCOTTY: Maybe. But it's not true that I'm going to shave me beard and try to join the Army as a lassie...

SCOTTY: (cont) ...And I know who started that story, Mitchell.

MITCHELL: Do you, Scotty? Well, it's a wise man who knows his own story, I always say.

ORACLE: Just the same - I've been observing that girl.It's my belief that she's got some kind of an affliction -

(SCOTTY, MITCHELL GROAN).

MITCHELL: Here we go again!

SCOTTY: Oh, struth! Marje... Ma-a-rje!

(MARJE comes on.)

MARJE: How I love that call... Marje, Marje. The dirty old barge! What do you want?

SCOTTY: Oh, Marje, don't cut up rough! It's Christmas morning.

MARJE: What do you expect me to do? Fill your stockings!

MITCHELL: You do pretty well by your own....

(SHE FREEZES HIM.)

MITCHELL: Did I say anything? Yes, I did. Have a drink on me.

MARJE: Port and lemon - when I'm ready.

(OFFSTAGE THE DRUM IS HEARD.)

MARJE: Here comes the Army.

ORACLE: (Seeing a new audience in Marje) I was just saying, Marjie...I've been observing that pretty girl in the Army. It's my belief that she's got some kind of affliction...

(THEY ARE SURPRISED WHEN MARJE RESPONDS TO HIM.)

MARJE: You're right, you know, Tom... she's been looking very peaky lately - tired and listless -

ORACLE: (This is inspiration) Yes, yes, Marjorie - that's my observation too!

MARJE: I was going into the post office one morning and she was coming out, she looked as though she'd been crying... or was going to cry.

ORACLE: (Quite excited as he adds in evidence) And there's a funny look in her eyes when she takes up collections now... almost as though she's ashamed!

MITCHELL: Maybe that's because she's got more conscience than you have, Oracle, about taking other people's money.

(MARJE EXITS. THE ARMY MARCHES ON. THE BOYS LOOK AT EACH OTHER. THEY HAVE SET THIS ONE UP. THE OFFICER STEPS FORWARD, OPENS HIS MOUTH ...)

SCOTTY, ORACLE & MITCHELL: Re-pent!

(THE CAPTAIN IS VERY NONPLUSSED. THEY REGARD HIM BLANDLY. LITTLE BIT OF FUNNY BUSINESS WITH THE OFFICER OPENING HIS MOUTH, THE BOYS OPENING THEIRS. THE CAPTAIN'S NEXT TRY AT "REPENT" IS VERY TENTATIVE, BUT THE BOYS HAVE HAD THEIR JOKE.)

CAPTAIN: Re...pent...?

(Watching the boys cautiously.)

Re-pent....

(Reassured he lets his fervour go.)

Re-pent! Yes, repent, poor sinners! You may mock and you may sneer but the time will come when you will parch in Hell's fire... when you will beg in vain for a drop of water to quench your thirst!

Ratty Wmn: (Viciously pleased at the prospect) Halleluliah!

(Simultaneously)

SCOTTY: Hey, Mar-rge! Hurry up, Marje!

CAPTAIN: Stop now and think! Think of your parents grieving for your wild ways...

MITCHELL: My old grandmother used to pray for me every night - and extra for Christmas - but I reckon the old lady couldn't've had much influence. I just got worse every year.

(THE CAPTAIN LOOKS DIRECTLY AT MITCHELL)

CAPTAIN: Today is Christmas Day. Let your grandmother's prayers be answered today then. Oh, I know you... you're a man well thought of here, a man with many friends. But the day will come when your pride is brought low and your friends desert you. Then you will need the Lord Jesus Christ, then you will need the Army. That day will come for all of you. Tell them, Sister Hannah... Show these misguided men the way of truth.

(HANNAH SHRINKS AWAY FROM THE CHALLENGE.)

MATRON: Speak up. Sister Hannah...

(HANNAH STEPS FORWARD.)

HANNAH: It is Christmas Day... (She falters)

RATTY WM: (A sharp reproof to Hannah) Halleluliah.

HANNAH: The truth... (SHE LOOKS AT THE CAPTAIN.)

The truth is that they don't need the Army here. Oh, they may need the Lord Jesus Christ, but I can't tell them how find him. I'm sorry. Captain... (She looks back to the men) You don't need the Army here... If there's sickness or an accident or someone in trouble with the police, you pass round the hat.

(SHE LOOKS AT THE ORACLE AND SMILES. ORACLE IS DELIGHTED AND OVERCOME.)

ORACLE: (Deprecating) Oh - you know - you get to observe some very interesting cases....

HANNAH: Oh, you men swear too much and drink too much and fight each other because of it. But I've seen you fight together in a bushfire or - yes, Captain, a shearing strike...

(JACK MOONLIGHT HAS COME ON DURING HANNAH'S SPEECH.)

...I cannot believe the Lord Jesus Christ wasn't with them then!

MOONLIGHT: Hannah!

("She started as if she was shot, gave him a wild look and stumbled forward: The next moment she was in his arms" Lawson)

(GENERAL REACTION)

HANNAH: Oh, Jack, Jack... why did you go away and leave me like that.

MOONLIGHT: You told me to go, Hannah.

HANNAH: That shouldn't've made any difference! Why didn't you write?

MOONLIGHT: You never wrote to me, Hannah.

HANNAH: That was no excuse.

MITCHELL: The logic of women.

(MARJE COMES PAST HIM, SMELLING SALTS IN HAND.)

MARJE: (To MOONLIGHT) Take her into the Private Bar, you idiot. D'you want the whole of Bourke standing round?

(AS MOONLIGHT TAKES HANNAH OFF, MARJE TURNS BACK.)

...and the logic of women works better than the logic of men, Jack Mitchell - and without the bar-room brawls.

Maybe it's because they know that the only thing that's eally important is to keep life going.

(MITCHELL TOUCHES HIS HAT OR BOWS TO MARJE AS AN INDICATION THAT HE GIVES HER BEST. ORACLE HAS BEEN RECALLED TO HIS PUBLIC DUTIES. HE PUNCHES DOWN THE CROWN OF HIS HAT.)

ORACLE: There's a young couple con-templating matrimony. I'm just taking round the hat...

(THE CAPTAIN IS ABOUT TO REFUSE INDIGNANTLY THEN HE REALIZES THAT THE TABLES HAVE BEEN TURNED. WITH A SMALL GRIN HE FETCHES OUT A WORN LEATHER PURSE AND CONTRIBUTES. THE YOUNG LASSIE DROPS IN A COIN, SO DOES THE MATRON WITH A RUMBLED...)

MATRON: May His eye be ever upon them!

(THE "RATTY" WOMAN JUST LOOKS CROSS. THE BOYS TURN BACK TO WATTY'S, THE ARMY MARCHES OUT BUT THEIR MUSIC FADES SLOWLY IN BACKGROUND. A CLOCK CHIMES - ALTHOUGH IT IS BIG BEN, MITCHELL TAKES IT AS A TOWN CLOCK AND SAYS...)

MITCHELL: "Ding Dong, so long. One man gone wrong..."

MARJE: Do you ever take anything seriously, Jack?

MITCHELL: Yes, Marjie... meself sometimes. But only at three o'clock in the mornings when I'm broke and alone and even the dog's gone about his own affairs. (He grins at her)

Otherwise I consider other people. They don't want my troubles. They're usually well supplied with their own.

(THE LIGHT HAS BEEN DYING ON WATTY'S VERANDAH AND COMING UP ON LAWSON. BIG BEN FINISHES STRIKING.)

LAWSON: Mitchell - Jack Mitchell ... Scotty - The Oracle - Marje...

(THE ARMY COMES ON, STILL MARCHING TO "SHALL WE GATHER AT THE RIVER". LAWSON GRABS THE CAPTAIN'S ARM.)

...Don't you remember me. We met in Bourke - and in Jones' Alley - and before you joined the Salvation Army, you used to drink in a shanty at Dead Dingo....

(THE CAPTAIN FALTERS.)

CAPTAIN: I - I think I remember you...

LAWSON: Lawson's the name - Henry Lawson...

MATRON: (Rumbling) Captain....

CAPTAIN: I'm sorry. I missed the beat.

(THEY MARCH OFF. LAWSON IS ALONE AGAIN. THE POLICEMAN COMES ON. HE WATCHES LAWSON, TRYING TO BE TACTFUL.)

LAWSON: Oh, God, I'm alone - I'm so alone.

(THE BOBBY COMES UP.)

BOBBY: You're still here, sir.

LAWSON: I'll be here forever - trapped in the cold - and the gloom

(HE LOOKS TOWARDS BIG BEN) ...and the passing hours that never lead me anywhere.

BOBBY: You must have friends, sir.

LAWSON: I've lost them, I think I'm not a - a responsible man, Constable. I always mean to be but somehow things get in the way... (He grins at the recollection) ...other friends, sometimes. I don't blame them for forgetting me.

BOBBY: But you haven't forgotten them, sir - and that's half of being a friend. I'll bet you can remember half a dozen, if you just put your mind to it.

LAWSON: If I put my mind to it -

(STEELMAN AND SMITH PASS THROUGH. LAWSON CAN SEE THEM, NOT THE POLICE CONSTABLE.

STEELMAN: You're a mug - you're a born mug!

(LAWSON SWINGS AS THOUGH TO ANSWER HIM, THEN REALIZES THAT STEELMAN IS TALKING TO SMITH AND THEY ARE IN HIS MIND.)

There are two classes of people in this world - spielers and mugs. And you're a mug.

SMITH: (Whining) But, Steely, I can still sell a brummy.

STEELMAN: That's because people are always hopeful. Often they're lonely and they're happy to hear a voice... even yours, Smith, which is anathema to me.

SMITH: I try to keep up with you, Steely....

STEELMAN: You never will. There are two classes of people in the world...

(STEELMAN LOOKS STRAIGHT AT LAWSON.)

..well, there might be a third class, the people who know what it's like to be a spieler - and a mug. But you're not one of them, Smith. You're just an irreclaimable mug.

(THEY ARE OFFSTAGE. MRS. ASPINALL COMES ON, TALKING TO HERSELF.)

ASPINALL: Someone ought to be ashamed. I been a decent woman all my life... everyone calls me "Missus Aspinall" even that woman, "Mother" Brock that keeps th' place opposite. My husband was carried home dead from his work - an' then a letter from the factory to say they was sorry. Sorry.....!

LAWSON: I wonder would the apathy of wealthy men endure,

Were all their windows level with the faces of the poor....

ASPINALL: (Moving offstage) Times are hard enough, Heaven knows. Twopennies an' two ha-pennies mean threepence to me in Paddy's market. I couldn't even offer Billy a biscuit ...

ASPINALL: (cont) ...and there's 'Arvie gone before 'is time. The landlord ought to be ashamed...

(SHE TURNS AND SAYS CLEARLY TO LAWSON)

Someone ought to be ashamed.

(MRS. ASPINALL GOES OFF. MRS. SPICER WALKS ON.)

SPICER: (She, too, is thinking aloud) I useter feel lonely when Spicer went drovin'... The first time 'e 'ad to go away from home, I nearly fretted my eyes out - (A dry laugh at herself) an' then he was only going shearing for a month. I must a been a fool. But then we were only just married. Now I don't seem to mind, I seem to 'ave got past carin'....

(LAWSON PUTS OUT HIS HAND TO HER, BUT SHE PASSES BY HIM AND OFF)

LAWSON: But I did pity haggard women... wrote for them with all my heart...

(HE HAS AIMED TO THE BOBBY. THE POLICEMAN DOESN'T UNDERSTAND, BUT HE WANTS TO BE COMFORTING.)

BOBBY: I'm sure you have, sir. And you'll find you've got more friends than you knew you had, once you're home again.

LAWSON: Once I'm home again...

(THE LIGHTS COME UP ON THE VERANDAH AT WATTY'S, THE CAMPFIRE. SO FAR AS PRACTICAL THE EFFECT SHOULD BE OF THE STAGE FILLING WITH LAWSON'S CHARACTERS.... LAWSON LOOKS AT THEM, REALIZING SOMETHING OF WHAT HE HAS ACCOMPLISHED. HE TURNS BACK TO THE POLICEMAN, SHAKES HANDS.)

...If ever you come to Australia, constable, ask for me.

(THE CONSTABLE IS AMUSED BY THIS.)

BOBBY: I'll do that sir. I'll write it in my notebook. "Australia" - and what name?

LAWSON: Henry Lawson - Australia. I - think that will always find me.

(HE LOOKS BACK AT HIS CHARACTERS, SAYS WITH MORE CONFIDENCE.)

...Yes. "Henry Lawson, Australia". That'll find me.

(BRIEF SNATCH OF WALTZING MATILDA AS THE LIGHTS FADE OUT.)

 

CURTAIN