Set in the home of Simon Martel at Hobart Town in 1830, the action of the play runs from early spring to Christmas eve. There are 18 characters.
Caroline and Jeanne Martel, the daughters of the harsh dictatorial Christian, Simon Martel, have returned to Hobart after six years in England. En route, Jeanne has fallen in love with Francis Gillan—a liberal reformer who is opposed to the convict system. The harsh treatment accorded to two good-type convicts causes Gillan to plan an escape from the island.
(...more)Daybreak: A Play in Three Acts
by
Catherine Shepherd
(1938)
CHARACTERS
SIMON MARTEL |
CAROLINE MARTEL |
JEANNE MARTEL |
FRANCIS GILLAN |
MRS. CARMICHAEL |
PHOEBE MOON |
RUFUS BELLAMY |
CAPTAIN NORTH |
CAPTAIN BLAINEY |
LIEUTENANT PRIDEAUX |
MRS. MOSS |
LAURA MOSS |
MRS. TURNER |
SARAH TURNER |
LUCY TURNER |
ELLEN |
BEAM |
MRS. BEAM |
SETTING
The action of the play takes place in the parlour of Simon Martel's house in Hobart Town. The time is 1830.
ACT I.
Scene 1. Morning of a spring day.
Scene 2. Evening a few days later,
ACT II.
Scene 1. Late afternoon, some weeks later.
Scene 2. Night-a fortnight later.
ACT III.
Christmas Eve.
DAYBREAK
ACT I
SCENE I
The parlour of SIMON MARTEL'S house in Hobart Town. It is a large room, furnished in the fashion of 1830. Back stage two french windows open on a pillared verandah from which stone steps descend to the garden. The end of the verandah to the left is screened by a vine, which casts a pleasant green shadow. Through the windows can be seen a glimpse of garden borders, and a group of young gums, against a background of blue water and distant brown shore. A door, down stage left, opens into the hall of the house, and one, up stage right, into another room. In the middle of the wall s.r. is the wide hearth, and above it an oil portrait of a lady in the costume of the late eighteenth century. Back stage left, a little in front of the vine screened window, is a spinet.
When the curtain rises morning sunlight is streaming in, and the room is gay with bowls of wattle. The chairs and couches have been pushed back to allow for the grouping of the household for family prayers. They are arranged thus:
SIMON MARTEL, sombrely dressed and holding a Bible, is in front of the windows, back s.r.
His daughters, CAROLINE and JEANNE MARTEL, and their aunt, MRS. CARMICHAEL, are in a group before the hearth. BEAM and MRS. BEAM, the butler and housekeeper, and ELLEN, maid to the MISSES MARTEL and their aunt, stand near the spinet, s.l. In front of the door, down s.l. stand the small group of assigned servants, amongst whom are PHOEBE MOON and RUFUS BELLAMY. They are in grey uniforms, as required by government regulations.
SIMON MARTEL: I will set no wicked thing before mine eyes: I hate the work of them that turn aside; it shall not cleave to me.
THE OTHERS: (led by the sweet, unintelligent voice of MRS. CARMICHAEL) A forward heart shall depart from me: I will not know a wicked person.
SIMON M.: Whoso privily slandereth his neighbour, him will I cut off: him that hath an high look and a proud heart will I not suffer.
THE OTHERS: Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful in the land that they may dwell with me: he that walketh in a perfect way, he shall serve me.
SIMON M.: He that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house: he that telleth lies shall not tarry in my sight.
THE OTHERS: I will early destroy all the wicked of the land; that I may cut off all wicked doers from the city of the Lord.
SIMON M.: Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost:
THE OTHERS: As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, Amen.
SIMON M.: (closes his Bible and prays with bent head.)
SIMON M.: O Lord, Who for Thy wise purpose hast ordained that by tribulation mankind may be brought to the knowledge of Thy truth, and that through chastisement the stubborn spirit shall learn to walk in Thy ways, grant that those who have transgressed may in this life find due retribution for their sins, and so, through Thy mercy, escape eternal damnation.
THE OTHERS: Amen.
SIMON M.: I trust that the sentiments uttered in these prayers may remain in your minds during the work of the day. Let them not be forgotten. Bellamy!
BELLAMY: (With suggestion of movements to touch his forelock) Sir?
SIMON M.: I shall inspect the stables within the next half hour.
BELLAMY: Very good, sir.
SIMON M.: (to BEAM) I will explain the disposition of the new cuttings, Beam. They should be planted immediately. (BEAM follows SIMON M. out through french windows, backstage.)
MRS. CARMICHAEL: (to MRS.BEAM) I understand that the trunks are being brought from the wharf?
MRS. BEAM: Yes, m'am.
MRS. C: Then, Ellen, as soon as they arrive, I think it would be well to unpack them. The gowns will be sadly crushed, I am afraid.
MRS. B.: You would wish to inspect the hanging closets, ma'am?
MRS. C.: Yes... certainly...
MRS. C., MRS. B. and ELLEN go out, followed by the assigned servants.
JEANNE: (making a tour of the room, inspecting one piece of furniture after another) I had forgotten a great many of these things, you know. At Richmond they seemed bigger, brighter ... different.
CAROLINE: The rooms were smaller, and you were smaller.
JEANNE: Six years. It isn't really a very long time, is it? ... I had forgotten the pattern of the chintz. ... There used to be a stool? ... Yes, there it is. I used to sit on it when mamma read aloud to us. Do you remember?
CAROLINE: Yes.
JEANNE: Now, when I see all these things again, I find it hard to believe that we ever lived with them in that Richmond house...
SIMON M, followed by BEAM, passes along the verandah beyond the window back stage. His voice is heard distinctly.
SIMON M: There must be more supervision, Beam... more supervision. The man must be made to carry out my orders...
JEANNE: But papa is still the same!
CAROLINE: Don't, Jeanne. It is such a lovely morning.
JEANNE: Do you expect me to be amiable and serene just because the sun is shining?
CAROLINE: I really think life may prove very amusing in Hobart Town.
JEANNE: After London? What a sweet nature you have!
CAROLINE: I can see right across to Kangaroo Point. Those must be the masts of the Marie Louise.
JEANNE: Dear Marie Louise! Did you ever think we should pass Cape Raoul safely, Carrie? Of course you were below, looking after poor Aunt Lydia. But I was on deck with Francis. The gale was so strong that he had to hold me, or I assure you, I should have been swept away.... Do you hear, Carrie? Francis had to hold me up!
CAROLINE: I had a feeling that you were a good deal happier than I was!
JEANNE: (reverting to the tour of inspection) Do look at this sampler. I remember doing every stitch of it. That sheep has a face exactly like Miss Winterbottom. Do you remember her? There's your sampler with those funny trees. You cried all the afternoon because Miss Winterbottom made you unpick 'Prepare to meet thy God.'
CAROLINE: You were her favourite. She let you do all pictures and no text.
JEANNE: (looking at the portrait over the hearth) There's grandmother Martel. I wonder what she thinks of Van Diemen's Land. Do you still think I am still like her, Carrie?
CAROLINE: Yes.
JEANNE: Well, grandmother Martel was very attractive, if all the stories about her are true. (going to the spinet) This was hers, wasn't it? (Beginning to play a little tune) Perhaps she could see the roofs of Paris and the bridges, and the river. How different from Kangaroo Point and Sullivan's Cove.
MRS. CARMICHAEL enters s.r., followed by PHOEBE MOON, carrying some polishing things.
MRS C.: You see what I mean, on this cabinet, Phoebe?
PHOEBE MOON: Yes, ma'am.
MRS C.: The marks come from the flowers, where the petals have dropped. A good rubbing will remove them. There, that looks a great deal better, does it not?
PHOEBE M.: Yes, ma'am.
CAROLINE: Aunt Lydia, the garden is delightful. I should like to plant daffodils in clumps under those fruit trees.
JEANNE: (going to the window) Perhaps they won't grow. Phoebe, do you have daffodils in Van Diemen's Land?
PHOEBE M.: I believe some people have planted them, ma'am.
JEANNE: And do they grow?
PHOEBE M.: Yes, ma'am.
MRS C.: My loves, the men have brought the boxes from the hold. I think perhaps it would be well to let Ellen arrange your gowns in the hanging closets.
JEANNE: I doubt if I shall be able to mount the stairs. My legs feel intoxicated.
MRS C.: Pray do not make such a suggestion. We are all no doubt rendered a little unsteady by the motion of the ship.
CAROLINE: Dear Aunt Lydia, I trust you feel recovered this morning.
MRS C.: To some extent - yes. But never shall I forget those terrible hours when it seems that we hovered on the very brink of destruction....
JEANNE: Do you think, aunt, you could persuade dear papa to let us order the carriage for this afternoon? We could then have a view of Hobart Town.
CAROLINE: And the fresh air would disperse all memories of the ship.
JEANNE: And Ellen could iron our sprigged muslins, and we could show the ladies of Hobart Town the latest London fashions!
MRS C.: I hope no such spirit of vanity will show itself in foolish display... and I rather think dear papa will require the carriage himself.
(PHOEBE M. goes quietly out, s.r.)
JEANNE: (looking after her) She seems a strange creature. I cannot get her to talk to me. She has the most beautiful eyes. Have you noticed them - dark grey?
MRS C.: My dears, your papa's wishes are that you avoid all unnecessary speech with the assigned servants. They are men and women of bad character, with whom he wishes you to have no intercourse. Where it is necessary, Beam or Ellen will give them instructions.
JEANNE: Convicts! It is curious to have convicts working in the house and garden. Yesterday, as we came in from the wharf, I saw a gang working on the road. They wore yellow and black uniforms and were chained.
MRS C.: I dare say you will find nothing unusual in the sight of them when you have been in the colony a short time. At all events, those working for papa seem quiet and well behaved.
JEANNE: I wonder if they are happy.
MRS C.: Surely, my love, they are not intended to be happy.
JEANNE: No - I suppose not.
CAROLINE: If papa does want the carriage this afternoon, do you think we might venture to explore the town on foot? There is a fine promenade beside the water, towards the Mulgrave Battery. Lieutenant Prideaux pointed it out as our ship entered Sullivan's Cove.
MRS C.: We must ask papa. He will tell us what is the custom here. Now I must go and see if the boxes are emptied. Caroline, you and Jeanne will come upstairs in a few moments, will you not?
CAROLINE: Yes, aunt.
Exit MRS. Carmichael s.l.
JEANNE: I like to see you so amenable, Carrie. You remind me of a bee, basking in the sunshine, contented and peaceful!
CAROLINE: If you want everything to remain peaceful, you should remove that book from under the cushion of papa's chiar
JEANNE: Carrie, how you notice things!
CAROLINE: So does papa.
JEANNE: It is a volume of Shelley's poetry that Francis lent me.
CAROLINE: Do put it somewhere else. There will be such a fuss if papa finds it. You know he cannot bear to hear Shelley's name mentioned - I suppose because he was an atheist.
JEANNE: Much worse than that, my dear Carrie! He criticized my Lord Castlereagh. Listen to this:
I met Murder on the way;
He had a mask like Castlereagh.
CAROLINE: Don't, I beseech you, let papa read that. Besides it is no more poetry than the lampoons dropped in the streets.
JEANNE: Ah, but listen, Carrie...
From the dust of creeds outworn,
From the tyrant's banner torn
Gathering round me, onward borne,
There was mingled many a cry ---
Freedom! Hope! Death! Victory...
As JEANNE reads, SIMON MARTEL comes in from the garden. He stands in the window, listening to the last lines.
SIMON M.: Reading at this early hour, my dear? Your aunt is, I think, occupied with the unpacking of your trunks.
CAROLINE: We were about to join her, papa. Later on we shall go out to look at the garden. The flowers are lovely.
SIMON M.: I am pleased that you find it attractive. A great deal of work has been put into it - a great deal. It has been found that many English plants grow most luxuriantly here. (To JEANNE) And what is the book in which I find you so deeply interested?
JEANNE: A volume of Shelley's poetry, papa.
SIMON M.: Shelley! I am surprised that you should apply the term 'poetry' to such doggerel verses.
JEANNE: The poems are not doggerel, papa.
SIMON M.: Of that, I fear, you are hardly able to judge. They can hardly be recommended either for their metrical construction or for their nobility of sentiment.
JEANNE: Surely there is nobility in a cry for freedom, in love of humanity and hatred of tyranny?
SIMON M.: Fine sounding phrases, frequently covering no more than a rebellious disposition. May I ask how this volume came into your possession?
JEANNE: It was lent me by a fellow passenger on the Marie Louise, papa.
SIMON M.: Which of your fellow passengers lent you the book, Jeanne?
JEANNE: Mr. Gillan, papa.
SIMON M.: And who is Mr. Gillan, pray?
JEANNE: Mr. Francis Gillan. He is the nephew of a gentleman who owns some property near Hobart Town. He was for some time at Oxford University and has come to Van Diemen's Land....
SIMON M.: Why?
JEANNE: To report to a philanthropic society upon the state of prison discipline.
SIMON M.: There have been a number of such gentlemen of late, obstructing the Government by their ignorant statements.
JEANNE: Is the treatment of the convicts an affair which needs to be hidden, papa?
SIMON M.: I do not choose to discuss these matters with you. The affair of the moment is that I find you perusing a book of which I do not a prove, and which has been lent you by this Mr. Gillan. Kindly give it to me and I will see that it is returned.
JEANNE: May I not return it to him myself, papa?
SIMON M.: No. I have told you my wishes.
JEANNE: (giving him the book) Very well, papa.
SIMON M.: Jeanne, has your conduct throughout this voyage on the Marie Louise been such as I should approve?
JEANNE: My conduct? In what respect, papa?
SIMON M.: In every respect. Be kind enough to look at me directly, and answer my question.
JEANNE: I hope Aunt Lydia has not given you a bad report of me, papa?
SIMON M.: I have as yet had no opportunity for conversation with your aunt. She was too indisposed yesterday, after the arrival of the Marie Louise. The facts in my possession - if they are facts - come from another source.
JEANNE: Mrs. Moss! She had eyes and ears for everything.
SIMON M.: I do not say that Mrs. Moss was my informant....
JEANNE: As soon as she came ashore, she would tell her husband all the gossip of the ship, and he told you, papa, at the meeting last night.
SIMON M.: I am aware that aboard ship every action arouses comment, and that such comment frequently leads to exaggeration.
JEANNE: What have you heard of me, papa?
SIMON M.: I have heard that you have been frequently observed in the society of Mr. Gillan - that while your aunt was most unfortunately confined to her cabin, you walked and talked alone with him.
JEANNE: Alone! Papa, you have observed the dimensions of the Marie Louise! I assure you, it was impossible to get away from our fellow passengers for a moment — even had we desired to do so....
SIMON M.: Nevertheless, you were frequently in the society of Mr. Gillan?
JEANNE: I talked with him sometimes.
SIMON M.: You talked with him frequently? Answer me, if you please.
JEANNE: Yes, papa, I talked with him frequently.
SIMON M.: May I ask if these prolonged conversations were solely concerned with Mr.Gillan's humanitarian principles?
JEANNE: We discussed books and ideas of general interest.
SIMON M.: I am afraid I cannot regard bigoted, subversive doctrines as of general interest.
JEANNE: Papa, do you consider it a subversive doctrine that all men should share in the making of laws that govern them?
SIMON M.: I consider such matters entirely beyond you understanding, and I shall be glad if you will not refer to them again. You will find much to interest you in this new land. Some of the ladies have made very pleasing collections of wild flowers and ferns. You have at hand many delightful subjects for sketches in water colour. No doubt the various ladies who are eagerly waiting to welcome you will suggest other diversions.
JEANNE: It is very beautiful country. Last night, I thought it could be the most beautiful country in the world. And then I saw a group of convicts being brought up from their prison below the hatches—cowed and ragged creatures ... afraid....
SIMON M.: It is regrettable that the prisoners frequently arrive in a state of great squalor and degradation. But, once here, they are speedily reformed, disciplined, and encouraged to improve their manner of life.
JEANNE: It is all so cruel. You are not cruel, papa, and yet you approve of conditions that promote suffering, of punishments that are inhuman.
SIMON M.: Discipline is necessary for the correction of evil. The more hardened the sinner, the more drastic must be the means deployed to reform him. As regards to yourself, I am deeply displeased that your foolish behaviour should have caused unfavourable comment. I shall return this book, together with an intimation that nothing more of the same kind is to your taste. Do you understand me?
JEANNE: Yes, papa.
SIMON M.: I trust you will strive to behave in a seemly and an obedient manner.
Exit SIMON MARTEL, s.l. CAROLINE, who throughout the scene has stood perfectly motionless makes a weary gesture with her hands. JEANNE runs to the spinet and begins to play the 'Marseillaise.'
CAROLINE: Oh, Jeanne, don't. Don't provoke papa. It does no good. It is so hopeless. I feel somehow that you destroy each other.
JEANNE gets up — after a crashing, defiant discord.
JEANNE: (passionately) Dear Carrie, why are you so afraid? Papa can't destroy me; he can't destroy Shelley's poetry. That is perhaps what makes him so angry. There is something in the spirit of that poetry which is much stronger than papa.
CAROLINE: Jeanne, I wish that you had never met Francis Gillan.
JEANNE: Then you may wish that I had never been born.
CAROLINE: Oh, Jeanne!
CURTAIN
SCENE II
The same. It is evening, some days later. Candles are lighted on the mantelpiece, and there are a couple of china sperm-oil lamps in convenient places in the room. A fire is burning on the hearth. The windows stand open, showing the twinkling lights of ships at anchor in Sullivan's Cove, and the trees of the garden black against the sky. On the spinet is a bowl of red roses.
Voices and laughter come from somewhere beyond the verandah steps. JEANNE is seated at the spinet, playing softly, as if her mind is on something else. She is wearing a frilled silk dress, cut low on the shoulders.
After a moment's pause, PHOEBE MOON comes in, carrying a grey cashmere shawl.
PHOEBE M.: Is this the shawl, ma'am?
JEANNE: (absently) I suppose so. It is the only one my aunt usually wears in the evening, is it not?
PHOEBE M.: Yes, ma'am—with her grey taffeta.
JEANNE: (taking the shawl) Thank you, Phoebe. (Pause, white PHOEBE begins snuffing candles) Phoebe . . .
PHOEBE M.: Yes, ma'am?
JEANNE: You come from the country, do you not?
PHOEBE M.: Yes, ma'am.
JEANNE: From what part of the country?
PHOEBE M.: From Sussex, ma'am.
JEANNE: Sussex! When I was a little girl, I remember driving from the sea coast up towards the downs. It must have been at this time of the year, because the beech woods were russet and gold.
PHOEBE M.: (expressionlessly) Yes, it would be at this time of year.
JEANNE: (after a pause) The others are all out in the garden looking at the stars. The sky seems particularly clear to-night. I have never seen such stars. Do you ever look at them, Phoebe?
PHOEBE M.: I saw the Southern Cross when I was coming out—on the convict ship. We were all very ill because of the heat, and one woman died. That night they took the hatches up to give us a little air. The Southern Cross was very beautiful.
JEANNE: Oh,—I'm sorry, Phoebe. It was stupid of me to ask you that. (Pause) That is all, thank you. My aunt wished me to tell you that it would be sufficient if Ellen remained up. You may go to bed.
PHOEBE M.: Thank you, ma'am.
JEANNE: Good-night, Phoebe.
PHOEBE M.: Good-night, ma'am. (Exit s.l.)
Looking towards the windows JEANNE begins playing 'Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes.' FRANCIS GILLAN enters. He is a pale, thin young man, with brilliant eyes and a nervous sensitive manner.
FRANCIS: I couldn't find you. I didn't know what had become of you.
JEANNE: Aunt Lydia sent me to find her shawl.
FRANCIS: I thought you had gone away because you were . . . because I . . .
JEANNE: Because you were sulky and rude to me? No, really, if you had listened, you would have heard Aunt Lydia telling us the dangers of the night air.
FRANCIS: I find it difficult to understand you, Jeanne. I thought . . . you led me to believe that you had understanding, sympathy, sensibility . . .
JEANNE: And now, you find that you were mistaken?
FRANCIS: You seem so different, You are so gay in manner with these people . . .
JEANNE: Would you wish me to look like Sarah Siddons as the Tragic Muse?
FRANCIS: I would wish you to be as you were on the Marie Louise.
JEANNE: I am the same, Francis.
FRANCIS picks up one of the roses from the bowl on the spinet, and begins to tear the petals as he speaks.
FRANCIS: You say that—and yet you can listen to a pompous ass like Captain Blainey, laugh at his preposterous jokes, his cheap witticisms! You appear to enjoy the society of that young fool, Lieutenant Prideaux, these empty-headed females, Captain North . . .
JEANNE: Francis, you are too bitter.
JEANNE rises and takes the rose from him. She walks across to the fire and stands looking down into the flames. She places the rose on the mantelpiece.
FRANCIS: I see. (Pause) I was crazy to believe that you were different-that misery and ,suffering and oppression had power to hurt you.
JEANNE: (turning to face FRANCIS) They do hurt. It is because they hurt that I am afraid.
FRANCIS: I know... I know. It needs so much courage not to escape, not to prevent oneself from seeing,
JEANNE: (passionately) But, Francis, we have a right to happiness. We are not responsible for these things,
FRANCIS: We are responsible if we see suffering and injustice, and do not strive to prevent them. (Pause) Jeanne, on the Marie Louise we seemed to walk in a world of our own.
JEANNE: Yes ... in a world of our own.
FRANCIS: I told you of my plans for an ideal settlement, where crime and punishment should be unknown. You seemed to give me your understanding—your sympathy.
JEANNE: I meant all that I said. I mean it still.
FRANCIS: And yet, amongst these others you appear frivolous, heartless. It is possible for me to be sincere.
JEANNE: What good does it do?
FRANCIS: At least it furnishes amusement to you and your friends. You are no more than a spoilt child, Jeanne—flattered and capricious . . . I imagined you so different—so different!
JEANNE: Francis, you hurt me when you speak like that—as you hurt yourself.
FRANCIS comes to her.
FRANCIS: Hurt you? You are not hurt. You and your sister are as calmly, sleekly contented as two kittens in a silk-lined basket . . .
JEANNE: (passionately) No, that is not true.
FRANCIS: Indeed, I wish it were not so.
JEANNE: Francis, you know . . .
FRANCIS: I know nothing . . . believe nothing. How should I?
JEANNE: (more gently) Those are the same stars that we watched from the deck of the Marie Louise.
FRANCIS: But you, Jeanne? Are you the same?
JEANNE: Yes.
There is a moment of complete understanding, broken by the steps and voices of those entering from the garden.
LIEUTENANT PRIDEAUX comes in, escorting MRS. MOSS and MISS LAURA MOSS,
JEANNE: (quickly) Thank you so much, Mr. Gillan.
(Giving FRANCIS the shawl) My aunt vows that the sea breeze is one of the least delightful components of the climate of Van's Diemen's Land.
MRS. MOSS: Ah, here is Miss Jeanne, expressing her views upon Van Diemen's Land. How do you find our colony, my dear?
JEANNE: My sister and I find it altogether delightful such a wealth of beauty.
MRS. M.: How charming of you! But I am afraid our little shops in Liverpool and Elizabeth Streets must seem very poor after the delights of London.
JEANNE: Oh, no, indeed, I assure you.
LIEUT. PRIDEAUX: Bravo, Miss Jeanne. I see you have a true pioneering spirit!
Enter MRS. TURNER and MRS. CARMICHAEL.
MRS. TURNER: I tell Sarah and Lucy they must solicit your advice as to the cut of sleeves. They are to have new dresses for the Government House Ball, and we are most sadly out of the fashion, I make no doubt.
MRS: C.: Oh, on the contrary . . . (seeing JEANNE) Dear child, I thought you had gone to secure my grey shawl?
JEANNE: There it is, aunt. Mr. Gillan was about to bring it to you.
LIEUTENANT PRIDEAUX takes the shawl from FRANCIS GILLAN and drapes it about MRS, CARMICHAEL'S shoulders.
MRS.C.: Oh, thank you, Lieutenant Prideaux. The wind has turned exceptionally cold. Mrs. Turner, do let us draw up to the fire; you must be quite chilled—and Mrs. Moss, too.
MRS.T.: No, oh, no, though I must admit that the fire is very pleasant even on a summer's night.
MRS. M.: Hardly summer, you know. I am afraid, Mrs. Carmichael, we can hope for little real summer before Christmas.
Enter CAPTAIN BLAINEY, accompanied by LUCY and SARAH TURNER. They are laughing.
LUCY T.: Oh, Captain Blainey, how ridiculous!
SARAH T.: Really, it's too amusing!
LIEUT. P.: Now, Miss Lucy, I hope Captain Blainey isn't telling you any of his absurd stories. I have warned Miss Martel to be away of his fabrications of Van Diemen's Land.
CAPT. BLAINEY: If you slander me to Miss Martel, sir, I shall certainly demand satisfaction. The affair becomes of grave importance!
JEANNE: I had no idea the gentlemen of Van Diemen's Land were such fire-eaters!
MRS.C.: Captain Blainey, will you not exonerate yourself by repeating the entertaining item of news which the others were fortunate enough to hear?
JEANNE: Then we may judge how far Lieutenant Prideaux is justified in assertions.
CAPT.B.: Oh, I assure . . . really, Miss Jeanne, it's not worth repeating.
CAROLINE and CAPTAIN NORTH have come up the steps from the garden.They are seen in silhouette beyond the window as they stand there talking.
SARAH T.: Pray do, Captain Blainey!
LUCY T.: Oh, please . . .
LIEUT. P.: The oracle is about to give utterance!
CAPT.B.: Well, ...er .. .I was just saying . . . er . . . A fellow went into a haberdasher's shop and asked how much for a shoe string that would stretch from one ear to the other.
The MISSES TURNER give anticipatory titters.
Upon the proprietor replying that it would cost a penny, the man indicated that one ear was missing, and said that he had left it pinned to a pillory at York!
Laughter from all except FRANCIS who is watching the scene with critical detachment.
MRS.C.: (to JEANNE) My dear, pray where is Caroline?
MRS. M.: She and Captain North are conversing on the verandah, I think.
MRS. C.: Ah . . . yes . . . We were all so interested to hear your observations on the stars, Captain Blainey.
MRS.T.: Indeed, yes-most entertaining. Captain Blainey has a deal of information about them.
CAPT. B.: Very little I can tell you, I'm sure, ma'am.
MRS. C.: I cannot recall seeing so many and such brilliant stars ever in my life, can you, my love?
JEANNE: (after a moment's pause, as her eyes meet those of FRANCIS GILLAN) I do not think I shall ever see such stars as those I observed from the decks of the Marie Louise.
MRS. M.: I can well believe that, Miss Jeanne. One has such opportunities for observation of them during a sea voyage, has one not?
MRS.T.: A novel and delightful experience for you, my dear, I feel sure.
JEANNE: Certainly we all found something to interest us, did we not, Mrs.Moss? In fact it will be a long time before we have finished talking about . . . our observations.
MRS. C.: I am indeed grateful that the experience is at an end. I prefer to observe the constellations from dry land.
SARAH T.: My birthday is under the sign of Capricorn. Captain Blainey says he can tell all manner of things from it.
CAPT. B.: Miss Jeanne, may I not know the sign which governs your destiny?
JEANNE: No, Captain Blainey, you may not.
CAPT.B.: Mrs.Carmichael, ma'am, I beg you to enlighten me as to the fortunate day in question.
JEANNE: Aunt Lydia, pray do not tell him.
CAPTAIN NORTH and CAROLINE come in from the verandah.
MRS. C.: Caroline, my love, you have no shawl.
CAROLINE: It is such a beautiful night.
MRS. M.: Evidently you do not fear the night air, Miss Martel?
CAPT. NORTH: These courageous ladies, after a hundred and twenty-four days at sea, will hardly feel concern for our faint nocturnal breezes, eh, ma'am?
MRS. C.: Ah, Captain North, I fear I am a sad coward. Never again would I face such an ordeal . . . such dreadful experiences!
CAPT. N.: Then the past hazards cannot be regretted, ma'am, if they ensure the presence of yourself and the Misses Martel permanently in Van Diemen's Land.
MRS. C.: That is really charming, Captain North.
MRS. T.: I am afraid you will find Hobart Town sadly lacking in entertainment.
LUCY T.: Oh, mamma, there are Mr. Dean's concerts, and the balls at Government House.
MRS. B.: Quite right, Miss Lucy, quite right!
MRS. C.: We shall have no fear of ennui, I'm sure. (To CAROLINE) My love, I think it would be well if the curtains were drawn. If you would pull the bell, Beam will . . .
LIEUT. P. :
Permit me, ma'am!
CAPT. B.:
They close the shutters and draw the curtains.
CAPT. N.: I understand that you and your sister are fond of riding, Miss Martel. Perhaps one day I might have the honour to escort you?
CAROLINE: That would be delightful, Captain North.
LIEUT. P.: There is an agreeable ride in the direction of Mount Nelson, Miss Jeanne.
LUCY T.: A picnic! Oh, that is the place for a picnic!
MRS. T.: Pray do not excite yourself, my love.
MRS. C.: Captain Blainey, I wonder if we might ask you to give us a song?
Murmur of approval.
MRS. T.: Pray do, Captain Blainey. You have not as yet hearrd any of Captain Blainey's songs, have you, Miss Martel?
CAROLINE: Not yet, though we have been told much about the quality of his voice, (to JEANNE) have we not?
JEANNE: Indeed we have!
CAPT. B.: Oh, no really . . . (coughing huskily) I can hardly manage a note.
LIEUT. P.: He gave us 'Cherry Ripe' at the last of Mr. Dean's musical evenings, and I vow the horses stampeded in two of the carriages waiting in Macquarie Street!
CAPT. N.: Possibly the applause startled them, eh, Captain Blainey?
MRS. C.: And Laura will accompany Captain Blainey, will you not, my love?
LAURA M.: Oh, no, mamma . . . I . . . perhaps Miss Martel . . .
MRS. C.: Come, Laura, I Have heard that you play quite delightfully.
MRS. M.: My love, pray let Captain Blainey show you his music.
LAURA M.: O, mamma!
CAPT. B.: Will you do me the honour, Miss Laura?
LAURA meets the intimidating glare of her mamma, and rises to turn over some music with CAPT. BLAINEY at the spinet.
MRS. T.: Your papa has been at pains to obtain suitable horses for you, Miss Martel. He was anxious to find a convict who had some knowledge of them and experience as a groom. I do hope he was successful?
CAROLINE: The horses are excellent—most quiet and yet spirited; Bellamy—the assigned servant who has charge of them—seems quite satisfactory.
MRS. T.: I believe Mr. Martel obtained a transfer for him from Edward. We were clearing some land, and the man did not appear strong enough for the work . . . or pretended he was not. You never know how much to believe, Mrs. Carmichael. It doesn't do to be too soft-hearted.
MRS. M.: No, indeed, the convicts will use any trick to evade work.
MRS. T.: And they are so dishonest. One of our men has been flogged three times, on each occasion for theft of tobacco.
MRS. M.: Oh, they expect every luxury!
FRANCIS: (to MRS. TURNER) You do not allow your . . . assigned servants tobacco, ma'am?
MRS. T.: Edward does not think they should have it. However, he gave them each a packet on the King's birthday.
LIEUT. P.: I trust you have read the regulations for assigned servants, Mr. Gillan?
FRANCIS: A most enlightening document!
JEANNE: (taking a pair of candles from the mantelpiece, and pushing them into LIEUT. PRIDEAUX's hands) Would you be so kind as to place these beside Miss Moss? I feel sure the light is not sufficient for her to see the music of Captain Blainey's song.
CAROLINE: Have you chosen your song, Captain Blainey?
CAPT. B.: This is . . . er . . . an Irish . . . er . . . love song.
MRS. C.: How delightful!
MRS. T.: I think Capt. Blaine is at his best in his Irish songs. They are so moving, are they not?
CAPTAIN BLAINEY sings: 'Love's Young Dream,'by Tom Moore.
Oh! the days are gone when Beauty bright
My heart's chain wove:
When my dream of life from morn till night
Was love, still love.
New hope may bloom, and days may come
of milder, calmer beam, But there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream:
No, there's nothing half so sweet in life
As love's young dream.
Though the bard to purer fame may soar
When wold youth's past:
though he win the wise, who frown'd before,
To smile at last;
He'll never meet
A joy so sweet
In all his noon of fame,
As when first he sang to woman's ear
His soul-felt flame,
And, at every close she blush'd to hear
The one loved name.
No—that hallowed form is ne'er forgot
Which first love traced.
Still it lingering haunts the greened spot
On memory's waste.
'Twas odour fled
As soon as shed:
'Twas a light that ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream:
Oh! 'twas light that ne'er can shine again
On life's dull stream.
There is a murmur of applause as the song ends.
MRS. C.: Perfect! Really exquisite, Captain Blainey.
MRS. M.: Most charming!
MRS. T.: That is Lucy's favourite song, is it not, my love?
SARAH T.: No, mine, mamma.
CAPT. B.: You must thank Miss Laura for her inspiring accompaniment. I'm sure no one could fail to respond to such an elegant touch.
LAURA M.: But I fear I played a number of false notes.
CAPT. B.: No, I assure you, Miss Laura, it was perfect.
MRS. T.: Now I'm sure one of the Misses Martel will favour us with a piece.
MRS. C.: Jeanne is very fond of music . . .
JEANNE: But we are so anxious to hear one of Lucy's and Sarah's pretty duets.
LUCY T.: (instantly producing a book of music) Oh no, really . . . we hardly ever . . .
CAROLINE: Please do. We should be so disappointed if we did not hear them.
SARAH T.: Imagine your knowledge that we played duets!
JEANNE: They are the talk of Hobart Town, I assure you.
MRS. T.: Indeed, you must not flatter them. I'm sure you would find very little to divert you in Lucy's and Sarah's little pieces.
JEANNE: But we have been told so much about them. they were the first thing Lieutenant Prideaux mentioned when he was telling us the attractive features of the colony.
Laughter, especially from CAPTAIN BLAINEY
MRS. C.: I love a duet!
With twitters of excitement the MISSES TURNER perch on the long stool, before the spinet. They squeal as their music falls down, and is retrieved by LIEUT. PRIDEAUX.
LUCY T.: You will turn over for us, won't you Lieutenant Prideaux?
SARAH. T.: You won't let it fall down again, will you? Lucy and I would be too upset to go on — I know we should.
MRS. C.: Might we know the name of the piece, my loves?
LUCY T.: 'The Dove's Lament.'
They play the duet, counting audibly. Applause, clapping, and bravoes.
LUCY T.: We know another one, called 'The Mariner's Grave.'
JEANNE: That would be delightful, would it not aunt? We should be reminded of the night before we reached Cape Raoul...
MRS. C.: My love, such a deliverance is not a matter of for jest.
MRS. M.: They play very prettily, I'm sure.
LUCY T.: Captain Blainey has told us a new riddle, mamma.
SARAH T. : Lieutenant Prideaux, so you know when a cheese is like Goliath of the Philistines?
LIEUT. P.: Now... er... I'm afraid you have me, Miss Sarah.
LUCY T.: Captain North, do you know when a cheese is like Goliath of the Philistines?
CAPTAIN N.: When it is strong?
LUCY T.: No!
SARAH T.: Better than that!
LUCY AND SARAH: When it is mighty! (Laughter.)
MRS. C.: (vaguely wondering) When it is mighty?
MRS. M.: Mr. Gillan, you have hardly spoken at all. May we not have your opinion on Van Diemen's Land?
FRANCIS: (after a pause) The conditions here did not surprise me.
LIEUT. P.: May one gather from your tone that you do not find our colony wholly agreeable, Mr. Gillan?
FRANCIS: Does one expect to find a penal settlement agreeable?
CAPT. N.: Van Diemen's Land is more than a penal settlement, Mr. Gillan.
MRS. T.: The colony consists largely of free and prosperous settlers.
FRANCIS: Prosperous settlers — content to employ slave labour!
MRS. M.: Slave labour? Do you mean the convicts?
CAPT. P.: I must tell you, sir, that you speak in entire ignorance of the facts.
LIEUT. P.: And in abominable taste!
FRANCIS: You cannot deny that convict labour is used to clear you land, build your homes and bridges, make your roads.
MRS. M.: Slave labour! And just look at what the government regulations demand for them: 10 1/2 Ibs. meat, 10 1/2 Ibs. flour, 7 oz. sugar, 31/2 oz. soap... and I can assure you, Mr. Gillan, that the convict are the first to complain if the meat is tough!
CAPT. B.: Their rations are rather more than those issued to the soldiers in His Majesty's Army.
FRANCIS: Is that anything to be proud of? The conditions among the lower ranks of the army leave much rrom for improvement, I understand.
LIEUT. P.: That, sir, is grossly untrue.
CAPT. B.: You really mustn't rely on all the information that is scattered about so liberally at the universities, Mr. Gillan.
MRS. C.: Really, gentlemen, this is most distressing.
CAPT. N.: Perhaps, sir, we may renew our discussion on some more suitable occasion?
FRANCIS: What occasion would seem suitable to you, sir?
CAPT. N.: Some occasion when ladies are not present, sir.
Ah, here is Mr. Martel...
Enter SIMON MARTEL.
SIMON M.: (bowing to MRS. TURNER, MRS. MOSS and the younger ladies) Good evening ma'am... good evening. I must apologise... an unprecedented pressure of affairs in connection with the new shipment of convicts by the Maid of Orleans...
MRS. T.: Pray do not apologise. We know how busy you are, Mr. Martel.
MRS. M.: Indeed, such responsible work!
SIMON M.: Good-evening, gentlemen. What subject is under discussion?
CAPT. B.: Mr. Gillan is of the view, sir, that we harbour slaves in our midst!
SIMON M.: Indeed, sir? Well, Mr. Gillan, I can assure you there is no system of slavery here.
FRANCIS: I regret, sir, that I am of a different opinion. The convicts...
SIMON M.: The convicts are well-clothed, well-treated, and offered every inducement to reform.
FRANCIS: If you consider chains and the lash, branding and the gallows, inducements to reform!
SIMON M.: Doubtless, Mr. Gillan, you would prefer thieves and murderers to remain at large, to prey upon the more honest members of society?
FRANCIS: What defence can you make for the conditions existing at Macquarie Harbour — where men are driven like beats, made to haul tree, do the work of oxen?
SIMON M.: The settlement at Macquarie Harbour was designed to segregate the more desperate ciminals, in the interests of safety.
CAPT. N.: His Excellency is at present superintending the construction of a humane and carefully planned prison at Port Arthur.
FRANCIS: Humane! There is nothing in the whole system of government. A section of the community is compelled to live in a condition of poverty and ignorance, watching more fortunate individual enjoying the pleasure of wealth. If these men attempt to remedy their unhappy state even by stealing a loaf, they are termed criminals. Taken from their country, they are compelled to work for masters who inflict every kind of degrading punishment. They learn to hate and fear those who have the power to torture them.
MRS. C: (after a pause) Mr. Gillan, you are quite spoiling the pleasure of the evening.
FRANCIS: I would not care to do that! (He looks at their faces with defiant contempt, and yet with a suggestion of appeal) Mrs. Carmichael, ma'am, I take my leave. (Bowing) Your humble servant, ma'am.
He bows perfunctorily to the others, and goes out. The front door is heard to slam.
MRS. M.: A most peculiar man!
MRS. C.: I don't really understand why he became so angry.
MRS. T.: Quite lacking in good taste!
SIMON M.: It is not merely a matter of taste, ma'am. We cannot allow persons with seditious opinions to roam free in this country. Mr Gillan is a dangerous influence. I must see His Excellency upon the matter.
MRS. C.: Pray do not let the incident spoil the evening. May we not have a little more music? Perhaps Sarah and Lucy...?
MRS. M.: Dear Mrs. Carmichael, I had no idea it was so late. My husband was to call for us and I rather think I heard the carriage some moments ago. Might I trouble you to find out if it has arrived?
MRS. C.: The bell... Oh, thank you, Captain North.
MRS. T.: My carriage should be here too, I think. How quickly the time passes, when one is so delightfully entertained!
MRS. M.: But really one must not be too late, with such distances to go, and the roads in so deplorable a state.
MRS. T.: Indeed, they are sadly in need of repair. During the recent floods, Elizabeth Street was little more than a morass.
Enter BEAM.
MRS. C.: Are the carriages here, Beam?
BEAM: Yes, ma'am.
MRS.C.: Thank you. Send Ellen upstairs, if you please.
BEAM: Yes, ma'am. (Exit.)
There is a general bustle of departure.
MRS.C.: It is fortunate the night is so fine.
MRS.T.: Yes, it is bright moonlight. I assure you we shall have no trouble at all.
LUCY T.: Oh, Miss Martel, we have had such an enjoyable evening!
SARAH T.: It has been quite perfect!
LUCY T.: I assure you, we shall not be satisfied until another is proposed!
MRS. T.: (reprovingly) My dears!
CAPT. B.: But we echo that sentiment ma'am.
SARAH T.: There, you see, mamma, Captain Blainey agrees with us.
LUCY T.; And Lieutenant Prideaux, son't you Lieutenant Prideaux?
LIEUT. P.: Indeed, yes, Miss Lucy.
JEANNE: (giving CAPTAIN BLAINEY his music) The music of your song, Captain Blainey.
CAPT. B.: Ah, thank you, ma'am... thank you.
LIEUT. P.: You are cruel Miss Jeanne!
JEANNE: In what way, Lieutenant Prideaux?
LIEUT. P.: Because Captain Blainey always leaves the music of his songs behind, so that he may pay his compliments at a morning call to retrieve them!
LUCY T.:
Oh, Captain Blainey!
SARAH T.:
CAPT. B.: Indeed Ma'am, I cannot recall having done such a thing in my life.
LUCY T.: But indeed you did!
SARAH T.: Yes... oh, yes, indeed!
MRS. T.: My loves, the horses are waiting. We will bid Mrs. Carmichael and the Misses Martel good-night. Such a delightful evening.
MRS. M.: Dear Mrs. Carmichael, it is so nice to see that you have recovered after your bad experiences on the voyage.
MRS.C.: Indeed, yes.
MRS.M.: It was so unfortunate that you were compelled to remain below the decks for such a large part of the time. (Glancing at JEANNE) Really most unfortunate!
LUCY T.: Have you got your music, Captain Blainey?
SARAH T.: Oh, Lu—cy!
Exeunt THE MISSES TURNER and CAPTAIN BLAINEY, followed by CAROLINE, LAURA MOSS and LIEUTENANT PRIDEAUX.
MRS. M.: A most delightful evening! What a pity poor Mr. Gillan should have left us so abruptly!
CAPT. N.: Allow me to see you to your carriage ma'am.
Exeunt MRS. MOSS and CAPTAIN NORTH.
MRS. T.: I do trust that he will not cause any mischeif by his foolish ideas.
SIMON M.: I hardly think so, ma'am. Steps will be taken to see that Mr. Gillan conducts himself with more discretion. Otherwise he will find himself in very serious trouble.
Exeunt MRS. TURNER and MRS. CARMICHAEL. JEANNE stands by the hearth, watching them go.
SIMON M.: (In the doorway, looks back at JEANNE) Mr. Francis Gillan will not come here again.
JEANNE: Is that just, papa?
SIMON M.: I approve neither of his manner nor of the opinions to which he gave utterance to-night. You understand?
JEANNE: Yes, I understand—
SIMON goes out to the hall.
LUCY T.: (off) The stars are brighter than ever, Captain Blainey!
SARAH T.: (off) Oh, I declare, I can see the Southern Cross!
JEANNE, finding her fingers touching the rose on the mantelpiece, picks it up and presses it against her cheek.
JEANNE: (very softly) I... understand.
CURTAIN
ACT II
SCENE I
The same. Late afternoon of a November day, a few weeks later. the windows are open and outside there is a suggestion of slanting sunlight, fading to dusk. the room has a domestic air, with chairs and embroidery frames arranged in a semi-circle about the tabke, where a volume of 'Paradise Lost' lies open. Beside it an upright chair has been pushed back, presumably by SIMON MARTEL.
When the curtain rises, CAROLINE is sitting alone, occupied with a piece of tapestry. JEANNE enters by the window back stage, and gives a little gasp of relief, as she realises that CAROLINE is alone.
JEANNE: Where are papa and Aunt Lydia? I thought the reading would have begun, and there would be a storm.
CAROLINE: As a matter of fact it was on the point of reading, but Beam came in, and called papa away for something.
JEANNE: That was fortunate...
CAROLINE: I suppose you have been conversing with Mr. Gillan?
JEANNE: A very accurate conjecture, my dear Caroline.
(Pause)
CAROLINE: I suppose Francis was talking to you about Goethe and the melancholy abyss of existence?
JEANNE: Well, so, I don't think he mentioned Goethe!
CAROLINE: Lord Byron, then?
JEANNE: No.
CAROLINE: Has he lent you any more books?
JEANNE: Godwin's Political Justice. I put it in your room, inside your blue bonnet. I think Aunt Lydia has been poking in my drawers. they certainly seem tidier than when I left them.
CAROLINE: I hope, for the sake of my bonnet, that it is not a large book.
JEANNE: You are really lucky, Carrie; the stars are for you.
CAROLINE: Why, Jeanne?
JEANNE: Because captain North does not upset anyone by talking about the brotherhood of man, and rights if the individual.
CAROLINE: Possibly not; but he is greatly respected both by the soldiers and the convicts. He treats them with justice and humanity.
JEANNE: Humanity! But do not let us argue, Carrie. Francis was not talking of political injustice to-night.
CAROLINE: I dare say not! You should not let him come. Beam is always on the watch.
JEANNE: I know. But how otherwise can I see him? Pap won't let him come to the house, and now he is even striving to have him sent away from Van Diemen's Land.
CAROLINE: I know. He has been too rash in his criticism.
JEANNE: He has been very brave.
CAROLINE: Yes, but courage is not everything. Papa thinks he will cause discontent and rebellion among the convicts.
JEANNE: Where is papa? What did Beam want?
CAROLINE: I don't know. There is trouble of some kind among the servants, I think.
JEANNE: I passed Phoebe Moon as I went upstairs. She had been crying. I do hope it is nothing to do with her.
CAROLINE: I think Beam said something to papa about the man Bellamy.
JEANNE: Rufus Bellamy? Then it is Phoebe. Poor things!
CAROLINE: Jeanne, what do you mean? What can you know about it?
JEANNE: I knew that Phoebe and Bellamy were lovers.
CAROLINE: Jeanne!
JEANNE: Dear Carrie, don't look so horrified! I've got eyes in my head. You remember that lovely hat that Phoebe had — made of wood shavings? Bellamy made it to keep the sun off her neck when she was hanging out clothes.
CAROLINE: Did you ask her?
JEANNE: Yes — and it was the only time that Phoebe Moon ever smiled at me. I knew by her eyes.
CAROLINE: But, Jeanne, the assigned servants are not allowed...
JEANNE: Not allowed! Can you stop people loving each other by dressing them in uniform and giving them a number instead of a name?
Enter MRS CARMICHAEL.
MRS. C.: My loves, papa wishes for us to retire for a few minutes.
JEANNE: Why? Does he want to see someone in here?
MRS. C.: Yes. The library is in too much confusion — sheets over the furniture and the wood for the new shelves, and papa's books in piles on the floor...
JEANNE: What is all the fuss about, Aunt Lydia?
MRS. C.: Just some small matter, my love.
JEANNE: Has one of the assigned servants absconded?
Exit CAROLINE s.l. with embroidery.
MRS. C.: Oh, no, dear. It is nothing that need concern you. Only papa wishes us to retire so he may use this room for a few minutes. Pray come at once.
JEANNE: Won't you tell me, please?
MRS. C.: Really, I don't think papa would consider it a matter for your ears, my dear,. He will deal with it.
JEANNE: I suppose it was something that Beam found while he was creeping about the place.
MRS. C.: I don't like to hear you speak so. It is Beam's duty to look after the assigned servants.
Enter SIMON MARTEL, carrying papers. He goes to the table with a frown at JEANNE and MRS. CARMICHAEL.
JEANNE: (in a whisper to MRS> CARMICHAEL) Which of them has got into trouble?
MRS. C.: (at the door) That is enough, my love. Pray be quick.
JEANNE pauses, as if to go back into the room to question her father. A ball of her wool drops.
MRS. C.: Oh, Jeanne, your wool!
Exeunt MRS. CARMICHAEL and JEANNE.
SIMON MARTEL holds some papers which he lays on the table. Having placed the papers in order, he rises and rings the bell. There is a sound of steps in the hall. BEAM enters.
SIMON M.: I will see them now, Beam.
BEAM: They are here sir.
PHOEBE MOON and RUFUS BELLAMY enter. They stand a little way within the room.
SIMON M.: (perfunctorily glancing at the printed forms) I have the particulars of your assignment. 'Moon, Phoebe, 473, female, per brig Joan of Arc to Van Diemen's Land. Conviction for theft... Northwich Assizes, sentence five years...' That is correct, is it not?
PHOEBE M.: Yes, sir.
SIMON M.: 'Bellamy, Rufus, 825... per Admiral Cockburn to Van Diemen's Land. Conviction for theft. Sentence seven years,' of which, I observe, you have served four. Is that so?
BELLAMY: Yes, sir. (He speaks with a wast country accent, his words coming slowly)
SIMON M.: Your conduct up to this time appears to have been satisfactory, except for an instance of insubordination for which you were given a week's solitary confinement.
BELLAMY: That weren't anything, sir. The overseer wanted to make me overload a horse. I couldn't do it. You'd understand, sir, if you'd seen it.
SIMON M.: It is enough that you have once before been guilty of insubordination. Now, I find that last night you absconded from your quarters in company with a female prisoner.
BELLAMY: It weren't Phoebe Moon's doing, sir.
SIMON M.: Have you anything to say — either of you?
BELLAMY: I have served four years of my sentence, sir, and I reckon they'd let me have a ticket-of-leave, if you'd apply for me, sir...
SIMON M.: I believe you approached me in the matter shirtly after you came into my service?
BELLAMY: Yes, that's right, sir. If only I could get a ticket-of-leave, I'd be able to work for wages and we'd be allowed to get married and have a hut to ourselves.
SIMON M.: I must tell you again, as I told you on that former occasion, that when you incurred a sentence of transportation, you forfeited the rights which may be enjoyed by the respectable, God-fearing members of the community.
BELLAMY: (bewildered) When we were brought off the convict ship and taken to the yard at the prisoner's barracks, the Governor spoke to us — Colonel Arthur, it was. He said that good conduct'd be rewarded by a ticket-of-leave. He said that was what we could work for, and may be, if we was honest, and worked well, and was granted a ticket-of-leave, we'd be able to earn wages...
SIMON M.: His Excellency permits an application for such a privilege to be made after the fourth year of a seven years' sentence provided conduct has been unexceptionable.
BELLAMY: God knows, I've worked hard, sir, and iIve been honest. And so's Phoebe. You've nothin' agin her.
SIMON M.: (roused to righteous indignation) You and the female prisoner, Phoebe Moon, have absented yourselves from your quarters without permission, and for a sinful purpose which betrays your state of degradation, your...
BELLAMY: If you would speak for us, sir...
SIMON M.: y your own conduct you have rendered such a thing impossible. (Pause) You, Phoebe Moon, will return to the House of Correction for Female Prisoners, where your case will be dealt with. (He writes something on the paper before him.) You, Rufus Bellamy, will present yourself for sentence before the magistrate, who will authorise the necessary punishment by the flagellator.
PHOEBE: No...no...not that... It's not right. He's done nothing to deserve it.
BELLAMY: Don't, now, Phoebe.
PHOEBE: I will say it. There's nothing can stop me. I've seen too much that's cruel and wicked to care what they do to me.
SIMON M.: To speak like this will do you no good, Moon.
PHOEBE: I tell you, i don't care. I wouldn't try to speak for myself. There's nothing I could say. It's for Rufus Bellamy... He's been good to me, and now you say he's to be flogged. It ain't right. You're doing a wicked thing... a wicked thing...
BELLAMY: Nay, Phoebe, don't take on.
PHOEBE: Do you know what the judge said to me at the assizes? He said: 'May you find a better way of life in this new land.' A better way of life! I never knew what it meant to be bad until they put me on a convict ship. I never knew what it meant to be afraid. I tell you, in the hold of that ship there was the stink of fear, like a black bog!
BELLAMY: Phoebe! Phoebe!
PHOEBE: It was Rufus Bellamy showed me there was still something good in the world. He's kind and good... And you'd have him flogged...
SIMON M.: I do not wish to be anything but just in my treatment of you. But by the system of assignment the responsibility for your conduct rests with me. I should indeed consider myself lacking in a fair, impartial justice, were I to permit your shameful behaviour to go unpunished. You have asked me to apply for a ticket-of-leave for you, when you have proved that you are utterly unworthy of such a privilege. I can only hope that your just punishment will deter you from any repetition of your sinful conduct, and that it will help you towards that reformation of character that is the object of penal servitude. (Pause.) You may go.
PHOEBE MOON goes out, BELLAMY turns at the door.
BELLAMY: You'll pay for what you done to Phoebe and me — I say, you'll pay.
SIMON M.: That is enough. You may go. (Exit BELLAMY) Beam!
BEAM: Yes, sir?
SIMON M.: You will inform the ladies that I am ready to resume our reading.
BEAM: Yes, sir. (Exit s.l.)
SIMON MARTEL sits, looking thoughtfully at the papers. Then he puts them aside. pushes his chair back, and takes up 'Paradise Lost' as CAROLINE and MRS CARMICHAEL enter. They sit down.
SIMON M.: Where is Jeanne?
CAROLINE: She is just coming, papa.
Pause.
SIMON M.: Our reading is regrettably delayed. At what book of Milton's Paradise Lost did we terminate on the last occasion, Caroline?
CAROLINE: At the conclusion of Book nine, papa.
Pause.
SIMON M.: We will continue to Book ten. Man's transgression is known in heaven.
Meanwhile the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan done in Paradise, and how
He, in the Serpent, had perverted Eve,
Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,
Was known in heaven; for what can 'scape the eye
Of God all-seeing, or decieve His heart
Omniscient...
He pauses, looking up in disapproval, as JEANNE enters impetuously.
JEANNE: Papa, why have you sent Phoebe Moon back to the Penitentiary?
SIMON M.: Such a matter is not your concern. How are you aware of it?
JEANNE: I asked Phoebe myself.
SIMON M.: As I have told you before, I do not wish you to have any conversation with the convicts. be good enough to remember that in future.
JEANNE: But, papa, why should Phoebe be sent away?
SIMON M.: Has the woman, Moon, spoken to you about her evil ways?
JEANNE: No, papa. But I like her. I am sorry for her unhappiness. Perhaps things might have become better for her. Now you say she must go back to prison, to those others, more hardened, more evil.
SIMON M.: Her conduct was such as to make her unfit to associate with free servants of a respectable character. that is enough.
JEANNE: What are you going to do with Bellamy?
SIMON M.: The man Bellamy will be flogged.
JEANNE: Papa, you couldn't have a man flogged? — not Bellamy. He is so kind — so gentle.
SIMON M.: Do you take it upon yourself to criticise my decisions?
JEANNE: Papa, you cannot know what it means. One day, as we came back from our drive, we passed the yard of the prisoner's barracks, and the gate was open. there was a man tied to the triangles and they were flogging him. If you had heard it... seen it. Papa, you do not know. You would never do that to Bellamy.
SIMON M.: The man is a criminal, and must be treated in accordance with the law. he has been guilty of a serious offence for which he must pay the penalty.
JEANNE: You cannot know what it is to be beaten — to have your spirit broken, so that you are no longer a man, but a poor frightened creature, terrified, hating, desperate...
SIMON M.: When I was a boy, my father thrashed me. I did not become a coward. I learnt to bear pain. I learnt that where there is sin, there must be punishment.
JEANNE: You learnt to be hard, papa. How have Bellamy and Phoebe Moon sinned? Their love is right and natural. You have compelled them to make it mean and furtive. When your laws make a man a convict, they cannot take away his capacity for love, any more than his pleasure in the sun and the stars, and his need for food and sleep. These things are part of his being — part of his right as a human creature.
SIMON M.: Be silent!
JEANNE: If you punish them so cruelly, all their bitterness will be increased. They have had so few chances. Bellamy has had a good record. If you could apply for a ticket-of-leave for him, he could get permission to marry Phoebe. You could make them so happy.
SIMON M.: To regard sin with easy tolerance is not to make people happy. The object of a penal settlement is to reform the conduct of the prisoners. Those who will not obey the laws through a proper sense of duty, must be taught to do so from fear of punishment.
JEANNE: (wildly) There is too much fear in the world.
SIMON M.: (thundering) It is time that fear taught you how to conduct yourself, Jeanne — fear of the displeasure of your God at your rebellious spirit. Go to your room, and remain there until I give you permission to leave it.
JEANNE: Very well, papa. (Exit, slamming the door.)
CAROLINE jumps up, but is quelled by her father's glance.
SIMON M.: We will resume our reading.
Meanwhile the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan done in Paradise, and how
He, in the Serpent, had perverted Eve,
Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,
Was known in heaven; for what can 'scape the eye
Of God all-seeing, or decieve His heart
Omniscient...
As he reads,
CURTAIN
SCENE II
The same, a fortnight later. It is late in the evening.
CAROLINE and ELLEN are moving about, preparing to shut up for the night, tidying embroidery wools, etc. The french windows are open. On a table within the room is an oil lamp.
ELLEN: (extinguishing candles on the mantelpiece) There'll be rain to-night.
CAROLINE: Do you think so Ellen?
ELLEN: My corns have been telling me so all day. They're as good prophets as anything I know — them, and soot falling down the chimney.
CAROLINE: Perhaps we shall have some thunder. My head feels like it.
ELLEN: I shouldn't wonder.
CAROLINE: Everything is very quiet to-night.
ELLEN: It feel like a death in the house, with your aunt in bed wit a chill, and Miss Jeanne kept to her room. I find myself speaking in a whisper more often than not.
CAROLINE: You must be having a great deal of extra work without Phoebe Moon.
ELLEN: It's not the work I mind.
CAROLINE: I know.
ELLEN: Your papa said, leave a lamp in the hall...
CAROLINE: (at the window) Yes. He thinks the meeting at the Government House may be late. We're to lock up.
ELLEN: Beam has taken the carriage for him, but he'll most likely have to wait.
Faint rumble of thunder.
CAROLINE: That was thunder, wasn't it?
ELLEN: Yes. I hope it won't come to a storm. Miss Jeanne is always so afraid of a thunder storm. (Pause) It's a wonder she's not ill, the way things have been this last fortnight. The whole town is talking, and wondering is she sick?
CAROLINE: Are they? I was afraid they would.
ELLEN: There isn't much that don't get known in Hobart Town.
CAROLINE: I suppose not. (Pause.) Is Bellamy at work again?
ELLEN: Yes, poor wretch. The flogging half killed him. It don't seem right, whatever you may say, though I know he did wrong to have to do with Phoebe Moon.
CAROLINE: Don't talk about it please, Ellen. There is a letter here. Do you think you could see that it is delivered?
ELLEN: Yes, Miss Caroline. (Glancing at the inscription) I can get Bellamy to take it. He's that set on Mr. Gillan now, he'd be glad to do it.
CAROLINE: What does he know of Mr. Gillan?
ELLEN: Oh, he reckons Mr. Gillan is the friend of the convicts, or some such talk. (Pause.) Now I'm going to take a cup of chicken broth up to your aunt, and I don't see why I shouldn't give one to Miss Jeanne. She needs something to put some strength into her.
CAROLINE: You are very good to both of us, Ellen.
ELLEN: Pooh, what's chicken broth!
FRANCIS GILLAN appears in the window, back stage. He is wearing a cloak and riding dress.
CAROLINE: Mr. Gillan!
FRANCIS: (coming into the room) I'm afraid this is very rude of me, Miss Martel, but I most urgently need to see your sister. I caught a glimpse of you at the window...
CAROLINE: You may give me the letter, Ellen. Thank you.
Exit ELLEN.
FRANCIS: You were writing to me, Miss Martel? or is it from Jeanne?
CAROLINE: No, It is not from Jeanne, Mr. Gillan. I was writing to you without her knowledge.
FRANCIS: I must see her.
CAROLINE: No, that is quite impossible. You have caused a great deal of trouble already, Mr. Gillan. My letter was to ask you to give up your attempts to communicate with Jeanne.
FRANCIS: Is it true that she has found courage to defy your father?
CAROLINE: Mr. Gillan, it can do no one any good to resist authority and defy punishment when it is lawfully inflicted. I cannot speak of the harm you may be doing in this colony; that is beyond my knowledge. I only assure you that you have influenced my sister most unhappily.
FRANCIS: Then I have influenced her?
CAROLINE: Jeanne is so young. Do you wish to destroy her happiness?
FRANCIS: You talk of happiness... always the happiness of one person, one family...
CAROLINE: I do not wish to discuss the matter, Mr. Gillan. My concern is for Jeanne.
FRANCIS: (exultantly) She has courage! I felt so confidant that she had courage!
CAROLINE: My sister has never shown any lack of courage. I do not see the necessity to test it by goading her to rebellion.
FRANCIS: You don't understand, Miss Martel. there are vital issues at stake.
CAROLINE: More important than Jeanne's happiness?
FRANCIS: More important than any one person's happiness.
The thunder is heard much nearer, and there is a flicker of lightening.
CAROLINE: Will you please go now, Mr. Gillan?
FRANCIS: I came to see Jeanne. I must see her.
CAROLINE: I assure you that you cannot do so.
FRANCIS: I must. The matter is urgent. Will you give her a letter?
CAROLINE: No. Pray go now, Mr. Gillan. You are aware that it is against papa's wishes that you should be here.
FRANCIS: Miss Martel, does the suffering of your fellow beings mean nothing to you? Are you so secure in your narrow outlook? Can you not see that there must be sacrifices for the attainment of universal happiness?
CAROLINE: Are you sure, Mr. Gillan, that you are not, like so many so-called reformers, demanding sacrifices to your own egotism?
Lightening, instantly followed by a crash of thunder.
FRANCIS: that is unjust, Miss Martel. I am willing to give all that I have to the cause of liberty.
CAROLINE: Must you include Jeanne in all you are prepared to sacrifice?
FRANCIS: I can but maintain what I believe to be the truth. she has free choice.
A door opens off. Steps.
JEANNE: (off) Carrie, where are you? Carrie?
FRANCIS: (quietly) You see, Miss Martel, the fates are against you!
JEANNE: (entering) Carrie... the thunder... (she stops) Francis!
CAROLINE: Jeanne, you must not let Mr. Gillan remain here. There will be such dreadful trouble if papa hears of it.
JEANNE: I must speak to Francis alone, Carrie.
CAROLINE: Oh, Jeanne, it is so unwise... so dangerous.
JEANNE: Please, Carrie...
CAROLINE: Mr. Gillan, if you value my sister's happiness at all, please do not remain more than a few minutes.
FRANCIS: Very well, Miss Martel. I can only thank you. '
CAROLINE goes out.
JEANNE: Well, Francis?
FRANCIS: Jeanne, my dear!
JEANNE: It is so long, Francis. I haven't seen you for so long.
FRANCIS: There has been no word, no message.
JEANNE: I know. I could not contrive to send one. I have been confined to my room, and was not permitted to speak even to Ellen.
FRANCIS: You can trust Rufus Bellamy, Jeanne.
JEANNE: Is he... one of your friends?
FRANCIS: Yes. They have driven him to desperation. Before Phoebe Moon was sent back to the House of Correction, he was afraid to break his good record and lose the chance of a ticket-of-leave. Now he does not care what he does.
JEANNE: And you? You look as though you had achieved something. Your plans are definite?
FRANCIS: Yes. I have achieved something, and only just in time. Your father has influenced His Excellency against me. they have persuaded my uncle that I am not a fit person for this colony, and he has dispatched a letter to my father announcing my return to England by the brig Anne Boelyn, which sails in a week's time.
JEANNE: A week? Oh, Francis.
FRANCIS: They say I have been fostering sedition in Van Diemen's Land.
JEANNE: what are you going to do? What can you do? A week is nothing. I can't believe it. Oh, Francis, give me courage. I don't think I can bear it.
FRANCIS: But even a week will defeat them, Jeanne, because I have secured a ship at last.
JEANNE: A ship?
FRANCIS: The ship that will carry us to freedom. She's not very large — a French whaler, the Belle Esperance. She has been anchored in Sullian's Cove for four days, taking aboard provisions.
JEANNE: You... and... the men... are to sail with her, Francis?
FRANCIS: We shall dare not board her here. She sailed a few hours ago. It was arranged that she should bear due south for a few miles, and then swing about and make northwards, to a creek in the lee of Maria Island. There she will send a boat ashore when she sights our signal.
JEANNE: And you—will go overland?
FRANCIS: Yes.
JEANNE: When?
FRANCIS: To-night.
JEANNE: To-night!
FRANCIS: One of the men — Crawford — has already made his escape, and has horses waiting for us, on the other side of the river. We shall make for the coast in separate parties.
JEANNE: How many are there?
FRANCIS: Five men and two women. It is a beginning — the nucleus of our colony.
JEANNE: Will you make for the islands?
FRANCIS: Yes. The captain of the whaler is hopeful that we shall find one suitable for purpose. There are many still uncharted out of the accustomed trade routes. Jeanne, can you visualize that amazing beginning — a community where all are equal in freedom and responsibility, in labour and in reward? There will be no injustice in the distribution of our possessions, and therefore there will be no crime. Punishments will be unheard of. We shall be occupied, happy, free from fear of tyranny.
JEANNE: Do you remember when you first told me of your plans for this Utopia, Francis? One night on the Marie Louise. The sea was full of fire, and there was moonlight on the ship's sails over our heads. I fancied then that we were setting out to your island, that we were destined to make that great and wonderful beginning.
FRANCIS: Yes, I remember. you gave me faith in my dreams.
JEANNE: I was part of them, Francis. Have you forgotten what we planned — there on the deck of the Marie Louise.
FRANCIS: No. But I have found reality dangerous and difficult. We must not remember those plans, my dear.
JEANNE: Is it possible to forget?
FRANCIS: It must be possible. I came to bid you farewell... to tell you of the ship, that you may wish her godspeed on her high destiny. One day, when our little community has grown to embrace the world — when there are no more wars to cause suffering and poverty, no more persecution to strengthen men in their fear and hatred of one another — the Belle Esperance will be a symbol of deliverance, a ship with sails outspread.
JEANNE: Francis, you do not mean that you sill shut me out of your venture?
FRANCIS: I must. I should not have come to you. I was mad. I should have gone without seeing you. I meant to. But to-day something impelled me to come to you. I had not the strength to go without seeing you. I came against my better judgement.
JEANNE: Why against your judgement, Francis? You are taking women. It is essential that you should have women as part of this community.
FRANCIS: Women! They are no more than bedraggled... Rough, coarse creatures.
JEANNE: They will not remain in a state of degradation when the cause of it is removed. You have said that, Francis. you have said that all men are equal, and will you now deny it? Would you say that these poor creatures are unfit companions for me?
FRANCIS: Jeanne, my dear... you cannot know the awful condition of these people. I... I must not let you see.
JEANNE: Is it not cowardice to refuse to see what is ugly?
FRANCIS: I cannot let you do this, Jeanne.
JEANNE: (passionately) But why not? Can you deny me the right to do this — you who have cried out against those who lack the courage to follow their ideals.
FRANCIS: I love you, Jeanne. I love you too much to let you go.
JEANNE: You must, Francis, You cannot leave me... you cannot... you cannot.
FRANCIS: My dear, there is no priest amongst our numbers. There will be no possibility of marriage.
JEANNE: You have said it is hypocrisy to confuse the outward form with the sacrament of the spirit. You hold that love is the sacrament, and the where there is love, there is no sin. Are you asking others to do what you hold wrong for yourself?
FRANCIS: No — I believe it. I do believe it. But you are so precious, Jeanne — so lovely, so exquisite.
JEANNE: You are going to create beauty and happiness where now is only fear and ugliness.
FRANCIS: For you it is too great a sacrifice. these others have nothing to lose — all to gain. You would lose — everything.
JEANNE: I should lose nothing — because I love you. If you go alone, then, indeed, I shall lose everything. I could not bear it, Francis.
FRANCIS: Jeanne, Jeanne... Is it selfishness that I should let you do this? How can one see the truth, when one loves as I love you. (He kisses her passionately.) When I kiss you, I know that I care for you more than for the happiness of the world — more than freedom, more than beauty. And yet, you are freedom, and beauty, and truth. You are my soul... God help me!
JEANNE: My darling, we can see your ideals through your love. There need be no separation. I am coming...
FRANCIS: Oh, my love, my love.
JEANNE: All the fear and unhappiness, the hatred and injustice will be left behind us.
FRANCIS: You believe that?
JEANNE: I believe it. Quickly! We must go.
The storm breaks with a fierce gust of wind and rain. FRANCIS wraps his cloak about JEANNE. They open the windows and go out into the darkness. Thunder. the wind blows the curtains into the room. the lamp is extinguished. Darkness, a blinding flash of lightening, thunder, and then silence.
CURTAIN
ACT III
The same, nearly three weeks later. It is Christmas Eve, about nine o'clock in the evening. The windows are curtained, the lamps lighted. MRS. CARMICHAEL is sitting doing nothing, though her tapestry frame is near her. as CAROLINE enters, she furtively dabs her eyes with her handkerchief.
MRS. C.: I am afraid I am not going to have enough of the blue wool, Caroline.
CAROLINE: Perhaps we shall be able to match it.
MRS. C.: My dear, it is hardly likely, I'm afraid. It was foolish of me not to purchase sufficient. I remember I spent some time in the shop, considering whether I should get three skeins or four. Now the whole thing will be spoilt.
CAROLINE: (moving towards a work basket) I think Jeanne has some wool exactly the same shade. I will just look.
MRS. C.: Oh, no, Caroline. Do not touch Jeanne's work.
CAROLINE: The wool I mean is among some that she is not using.
MRS. C.: You speak as if she were here. I... I can't bear it.
CAROLINE: Dear Aunt Lydia, do not try to think of Jeanne as if... as if she were... dead. You are making yourself so unhappy... so ill.
MRS. C.: I can't help it. It is impossible to help it. I am thinking of her all the time. You are, too, aren't you?
CAROLINE: Yes.
MRS. C.: If only we knew something...
CAROLINE: There must be news soon.
MRS. C.: It is five days since the others were taken. There is a reward of two hundred pounds offered for the man Crawford. I saw the paper pinned to the old stump at the corner of Macquarie Street. To think that Jeanne is with that terrible, brutal creature.
CAROLINE: She is with Francis Gillan.
MRS. C.: What could he do with a man like Crawford? It is all so terrible... I keep thinking of that poor child... of what she is suffering...
CAROLINE: We can only wait for new, aunt.
MRS. C.: To think of her — riding through that dreadful storm. Even here, within the shelter of the house, i was afraid. A thunderstorm always frightened Jeanne when she was a little girl...
CAROLINE: Don't, please don't, Aunt Lydia.
MRS. C.: But I must speak of it, Caroline. I cannot sit in silence, and think... and think. I keep imagining it all. I see them riding through the storm... and then to find their ship wrecked! indeed, indeed, Providence sought to punish them for their wickedness.
CAROLINE: What good can it o to speak of it? Won't you try to give your thoughts to something else? Let me read to you.
MRS. C.: Why, oh, why did they not turn back when they knew that the soldiers were in pursuit of them, and escape was impossible?
CAROLINE: Francis Gillan knew what it meant for the convicts.
MRS. C.: But after they separated — after some of them were taken... if only they had surrendered! It is too horrible to think of Jeanne...
CAROLINE: Oh, aunt, pray do not talk so. It cannot help Jeanne.
Sound of shuffling, heavy feet outside the french windows.
MRS. C.: What's what? Some men are in the garden... actually on the verandah. Oh, my love, ring for Beam.
CAROLINE: Wait, I'll see what it is.
She moves towards the window. there comes the sound of a carol, sung by men's voices that are harsh, but not untuneful.
CONVICTS: God rest you, merry gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay.
Remember Christ our Saviour,
Was born on Christmas Day
To save us all from Satan's power
When we were gone astray.
MRS. C.: Caroline, pray don't open the window.
CAROLINE: There is nothing to fear, aunt. They are carol-singers.
She draws back the curtain and opens the shutters. The heavy bar drops with a clang. Muffled figures and lanterns are vaguely seen.
CONVICTS: Good King Wenceslas look out
On the feast of Stephen.
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night,
Tho' the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight,
Gathering winter fuel.
CAROLINE: i must give them something.
MRS. C.: I don't think you should give them anything. They must be convicts.
CAROLINE: Oh, yes, I must give them something. I've got some money in my purse.
She feels in her work basket, and produces a small bead bag.
MRS. C.: I don't think papa would like you to give them anything. they are sure to buy rum, or gin, or something dreadful with it.
CAROLINE: They may as well have something to make them happy at Christmas — whatever it is!
MRS. C.: Oh, my love! I feel sure it is against the regulations.
CAROLINE: Never mind!
MRS. C.: How much are you going to give them, Caroline?
CAROLINE: I don't know. I always forget how much a ring-dollar is worth.
MRS. C.: Four and threepence! Dear Caroline, don't, I beg you, give them a ring-dollar.
CAROLINE has opened the window. She hands the money to one of the men, and there is a gruff murmur of thanks.
A CONVICT: Happy Christmas, lady!
CAROLINE: A happy Christmas!
One of the men gives a harsh laugh. the lanterns are raised, and they move off. Some of them break into a ribald sea-shanty, and are suppressed.
CONVICTS: What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor
Early in the morning.
Heave ho, up she rises,
Heave ho, up she rises,
Heave ho, up she rises,
Early in the morning.
Their voices die away in the distance.
MRS. C.: I told you not to give them money, Caroline. I believe that some of them were intoxicated. That was not a carol they were singing.
CAROLINE: I don't think it was, aunt!
Knock on the door, and BEAM enters.
BEAM: I thought I heard those men again, ma'am. I have already sent them away from the front door.
MRS. C.: Yes, Beam, they came here. But they have gone away now.
BEAM: They are not respectable men, ma'am. I had difficulty in sending them from the front steps. Under the cover of the darkness, one of them threw some refuse at me.
MRS. C.: How very rude and disagreeable!
BEAM moves to close the window.
CAROLINE: It is close in here, is it not, aunt? Would you prefer to keep the windows open for a little while?
MRS. C.: Yes, it would be pleasant.
BEAM: My master left orders that the windows were to be closed after dark, ma'am.
MRS. C.: In that case, perhaps, it would be better...
CAROLINE: I think we will leave this one open a little longer to-night, Beam. The heat has made the house very oppressive.
BEAM: Very well, ma'am.
CAROLINE: It is really a lovely night!
BEAM moves towards the door. there is the sound of a galloping horse along the side of the road beyond the garden. It stops. There is a vigorous pealing at the front door bell.
MRS. C.: Oh, it startled me so!
CAROLINE: It is news of Jeanne!
MRS. C.: Oh, my dear... my dear!
CAROLINE: Quickly, Beam...
BEAM goes out into the hall. Sound of heavy bolts and bars being withdrawn, and the murmur of men's voices.
MRS. C.: It is news! Something terrible has happened. Simon has sent someone to tell us.
CAPT. N.: (off) You will see to my horse, Beam?
BEAM: (off) Yes, sir, immediately.
CAROLINE: It is Captain North, aunt.
MRS. C.: Something terrible has happened. That poor child! Poor Jeanne!
CAROLINE: We do not know — (in a whisper) oh, be quick! Be quick!
BEAM: (at the door) It is captain North, ma'am.
MRS. C.: Let him come in. Be quick... oh, pray be quick.
CAPTAIN NORTH enters. He is travel-stained and exhausted.
MRS. C.: Oh, captain North, I'm sure you won't keep us in suspense. We have been so anxious... with no news...
CAPT. N.: Miss Jeanne is perfectly safe, ma'am. She is riding a short distance behind us, accompanied by her father and a posse of soldiers. We rode ahead to give you news
MRS. C.: And is the child well, Captain North? Such terrible experiences... She is not... ill?
CAPT. N.: No, ma'am, I can assure you that she is not...ill.
MRS. C.: Oh, I wonder if the beds are ready. There was such heavy rain last week. Ellen must get the warming-pan at once... and supper... Have they — have you — had any refreshment captain North?
CAPT. N.: They will be exhausted after riding so far without rest. Perhaps some hot milk and a dash of rum for Miss Jeanne. You will know what is best.
MRS. C.: The poor child! the poor child! I must see Mrs. Beam at once... and Ellen. A fire in her room... The milk and a little cold chicken perhaps... At least there ought to be some cold chicken... I don't know. Simon will be very tired, too. If you will excuse me, I will see...
Exit MRS CARMICHAEL.
CAROLINE: Where is Francis Gillan, Captain North?
CAPT. N.: Francis Gillan is dead, Miss Martel.
CAROLINE: Oh, my poor Jeanne.
CAPT. N.: they were overtaken two days ago, just south of Campbell town. As i expect you know, Mr Gillan and Miss Jeanne were with the man Crawford. the soldiers overtook them just at dusk. Crawford began firing at them. the light was poor, and the soldiers would not shoot, for fear of striking your sister. Apparently, Mr Gillan tried to prevent Crawford from firing again. there was a struggle and he shot Mr. Gillan. Mr. Gillan died almost immediately in your sister's arms.
CAROLINE: But Jeanne... She never saw... anyone... dead.
Sounds of tramping horses outside, a shouted command, and heavy knocking on the front door.
CAROLINE: Could that be the others?
CAPT. N.:L Yes. I will bid you good-night, Miss Martel.
CAROLINE: Good-night, Captain North. you have been so kind.
CAPT. N.: If there is any way in which I may be of service to you, Miss Martel...? Perhaps in the morning?
CAROLINE: Thank you, Captain North.
CAPTAIN NORTH goes out. there are distant shouted commands, and the horses are heard moving off.
SIMON MARTEL: (off) You may bolt the door, Beam.
BEAM: (off) Yes, sir.
SIMON M.: (off) Is all in order here — convicts in their quarters?
BEAM: (off) Yes, sir.
SIMON M.: (off) There is a window open. I saw a window open. I gave orders that all windows were to be fastened at dusk.
BEAM: (off) Miss Martel sir...
SIMON M.: (off) You heard my order... you heard my order...
Sound of a blow with a whip.
Enter JEANNE. she moves likes sleep-walker.
JEANNE: Francis is dead... He is dead.
CAROLINE: My dear! You must try to rest now. Let Ellen put you to bed.
JEANNE: Carrie, where is Bellamy?
CAROLINE: Bellamy? I expect in his quarters — Jeanne, my dear...
JEANNE: He is back then?
CAROLINE: Yes, he is working for papa. Don't think of that now, you are tired.
JEANNE: What did they do to him?
CAROLINE: He was flogged.
JEANNE: I was afraid. I thought he could not stand it again. I thought it would kill him. Why is he here?
CAROLINE: After his punishment, the surgeon said he was not strong enough for work on the roads. He is labouring in chains, building a wall at the end of the garden.
JEANNE: I saw him. I saw his face...
CAROLINE: But he is locked in his quarters at night.
JEANNE: I hardly knew him — such a wild, tortured face. What can I do?
CAROLINE: You can do nothing. that is all over now. you must rest.
JEANNE: It is not over. I tell you... I saw his face. what can I do to help him? He must not suffer any more though Francis...
Enter SIMON MARTEL.
SIMON M.: Why is that window open? I gave orders that all windows should be closed at dusk.
CAROLINE: The room was close, after the heat to-day. I asked Beam to leave the window open.
SIMON M.: Lies! You are as accomplished a liar as your sister. Who has been here?
CAROLINE: No one, papa.
SIMON M.: I suppose you are at the same game — lies and deception and secret meetings.
CAROLINE: No one has been here.
SIMON M.: I know better than to trust you. (Raving) But I'll make you tell me. I'll flog you. there'll be no more defiance... no more sly pretences...
CAROLINE: Papa!
SIMON M.: there is some one in the garden now. You try to hide it. Lies! Iniquity!
He rushes out to the verandah.
Hie, Beam, bring a lantern! Beam, fetch a lantern!
As he stands silhouetted against the night sky, there is a clink of chains. BELLAMY is seen crouching in the darkness. There is the sound of a blow, and SIMON MARTEL falls forward, headlong down the steps.
CAROLINE: Papa! Papa!
CAROLINE goes quickly to the window.
JEANNE: Wait! Don't go. Don't go.
CAROLINE: But I must.
Shouts and the sound of footsteps outside. BEAM is seen on the verandah, with another servant holding a lantern.
BEAM: There — look, at the bottom of the steps.
They go down the steps.
CAROLINE: Jeanne, it was Bellamy.
JEANNE: It was not... It was not Bellamy.
CAROLINE: You saw him.
JEANNE: No.
CAROLINE: (at the window) Beam, is papa hurt?
BEAM: (having come up the steps) My master is dead. Ellen must go for the surgeon, but he is dead.
Figures on the verandah — MRS. BEAM, ELLEN, and others. Murmur of voices; movement of lanterns.
CAROLINE: (within the room) It was Rufus Bellamy who struck papa.
JEANNE: You must not say that. Carrie, i beg you... I beg you. Bellamy would not strike anyone. He was so gentle. It was the fear and hate which papa created. Carrie, listen to me. You must listen... you must. You must say that you did not see anyone strike papa.
CAROLINE: Rufus Bellamy killed him.
JEANNE: I tell you, Rufus Bellamy could not kill anyone. They made him into a poor, tortured, fearful creature, by their inhuman treatment. Oh, Carrie, think. If you say you saw Bellamy strike papa, he will be hanged.
CAROLINE: Oh, Jeanne... Jeanne...
JEANNE: How can it help papa that Bellamy should be hanged. Carrie, Francis died through trying to save these men, and he has been responsible for greater suffering. Must the hideous results go on? Help me, oh, help me, Carrie! Don't let more suffering come through Francis. He is dead. He gave his life for something which he thought beautiful, and it has brought so much ugliness and horror. If Bellamy is hanged, it will be through Francis. It mustn't happen. It needn't happen...
CAROLINE: Jeanne, what can i say?
JEANNE: That papa was alone when he fell. he stumbled and fell down the steps. if we both say so, they must take our word.
CAROLINE: Oh, Jeanne, how can I?
JEANNE: You must say it. Oh, Carrie, you will? For my sake, because I beg you... because... I don't think I can bear any more.
Enter BEAM.
BEAM: Miss Martel, you must have seen what happened? Who struck my master?
CAROLINE: Struck him? He fell; no one struck him, Beam.
JEANNE: Papa thought he saw someone at the bottom of the garden. He rushed out, and stumbled at the top of the steps.
BEAM: You didn't catch a glance at the convict Bellamy?
CAROLINE: I have told you — I saw no one on the verandah when papa fell.
BEAM: They have taken Mr.Martel to the library, ma'am.
CAROLINE: I will come.
CAROLINE and BEAM go out together. JEANNE stands at the window, looking out at the shadowy garden. The stage is darkened except for moonlight, which slants through the windows. JEANNE begins to walk about the stage, sobbing wildly. This ceases. She looks up and out to the shadowy night.
JEANNE: One day Francis... one day...
A man's voice is heard speaking these lines :
From the dust of creeds outworn,
From the tyrant's banner torn,
Gathering round me, onward borne,
There was mingled many a cry—
Freedom! Hope! Death! Victory!
Till they faded from the sky;
And one sound, above, around,
Was moving; 'twas the soul of Love...
CURTAIN
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