id stringclasses 10
values | pid stringlengths 6 7 | input stringclasses 10
values | output stringlengths 5 91 | document_start_index int64 174 174 | document_end_index int64 47.4k 470k | query_start_index int64 47.4k 470k | query_end_index int64 47.5k 470k | truncation_seperator stringclasses 1
value |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
3858 | 3858_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mary, by Mary Wollstonecraft
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Mary
A Fiction
Author: Mary Wollstonecraft
Release Date: July 24, 2005 [eBook #16357]
Language: English
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY***
E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Janet Blenkinship, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
Transcriber's note: The author is Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797).
MARY,
A Fiction
L'exercice des plus sublimes vertus éleve et nourrit le génie.
ROUSSEAU.
London,
Printed for J. Johnson, St. Paul's Church-Yard.
MDCCLXXXVIII
ADVERTISEMENT.
In delineating the Heroine of this Fiction, the Author attempts to
develop a character different from those generally portrayed. This woman
is neither a Clarissa, a Lady G----, nor a[A] Sophie.--It would be vain
to mention the various modifications of these models, as it would to
remark, how widely artists wander from nature, when they copy the
originals of great masters. They catch the gross parts; but the subtile
spirit evaporates; and not having the just ties, affectation disgusts,
when grace was expected to charm.
Those compositions only have power to delight, and carry us willing
captives, where the soul of the author is exhibited, and animates the
hidden springs. Lost in a pleasing enthusiasm, they live in the scenes
they represent; and do not measure their steps in a beaten track,
solicitous to gather expected flowers, and bind them in a wreath,
according to the prescribed rules of art.
These chosen few, wish to speak for themselves, and not to be an
echo--even of the sweetest sounds--or the reflector of the most sublime
beams. The[B] paradise they ramble in, must be of their own creating--or
the prospect soon grows insipid, and not varied by a vivifying
principle, fades and dies.
In an artless tale, without episodes, the mind of a woman, who has
thinking powers is displayed. The female organs have been thought too
weak for this arduous employment; and experience seems to justify the
assertion. Without arguing physically about _possibilities_--in a
fiction, such a being may be allowed to exist; whose grandeur is derived
from the operations of its own faculties, not subjugated to opinion; but
drawn by the individual from the original source.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: Rousseau.]
[Footnote B: I here give the Reviewers an opportunity of being very
witty about the Paradise of Fools, &c.]
MARY
CHAP. I.
Mary, the heroine of this fiction, was the daughter of Edward, who
married Eliza, a gentle, fashionable girl, with a kind of indolence in
her temper, which might be termed negative good-nature: her virtues,
indeed, were all of that stamp. She carefully attended to the _shews_ of
things, and her opinions, I should have said prejudices, were such as
the generality approved of. She was educated with the expectation of a
large fortune, of course became a mere machine: the homage of her
attendants made a great part of her puerile amusements, and she never
imagined there were any relative duties for her to fulfil: notions of
her own consequence, by these means, were interwoven in her mind, and
the years of youth spent in acquiring a few superficial accomplishments,
without having any taste for them. When she was first introduced into
the polite circle, she danced with an officer, whom she faintly wished
to be united to; but her father soon after recommending another in a
more distinguished rank of life, she readily submitted to his will, and
promised to love, honour, and obey, (a vicious fool,) as in duty bound.
While they resided in London, they lived in the usual fashionable style,
and seldom saw each other; nor were they much more sociable when they
wooed rural felicity for more than half the year, in a delightful
country, where Nature, with lavish hand, had scattered beauties around;
for the master, with brute, unconscious gaze, passed them by unobserved,
and sought amusement in country sports. He hunted in the morning, and
after eating an immoderate dinner, generally fell asleep: this
seasonable rest enabled him to digest the cumbrous load; he would then
visit some of his pretty tenants; and when he compared their ruddy glow
of health with his wife's countenance, which even rouge could not
enliven, it is not necessary to say which a _gourmand_ would give the
preference to. Their vulgar dance of spirits were infinitely more
agreeable to his fancy than her sickly, die-away languor. Her voice was
but the shadow of a sound, and she had, to complete her delicacy, so
relaxed her nerves, that she became a mere nothing.
Many such noughts are there in the female world! yet she had a good
opinion of her own merit,--truly, she said long prayers,--and sometimes
read her Week's Preparation: she dreaded that horrid place vulgarly
called _hell_, the regions below; but whether her's was a mounting
spirit, I cannot pretend to determine; or what sort of a planet would
have been proper for her, when she left her _material_ part in this
world, let metaphysicians settle; I have nothing to say to her unclothed
spirit.
As she was sometimes obliged to be alone, or only with her French
waiting-maid, she sent to the metropolis for all the new publications,
and while she was dressing her hair, and she could turn her eyes from
the glass, she ran over those most delightful substitutes for bodily
dissipation, novels. I say bodily, or the animal soul, for a rational
one can find no employment in polite circles. The glare of lights, the
studied inelegancies of dress, and the compliments offered up at the
shrine of false beauty, are all equally addressed to the senses.
When she could not any longer indulge the caprices of fancy one way, she
tried another. The Platonic Marriage, Eliza Warwick, and some other
interesting tales were perused with eagerness. Nothing could be more
natural than the developement of the passions, nor more striking than
the views of the human heart. What delicate struggles! and uncommonly
pretty turns of thought! The picture that was found on a bramble-bush,
the new sensitive-plant, or tree, which caught the swain by the
upper-garment, and presented to his ravished eyes a portrait.--Fatal
image!--It planted a thorn in a till then insensible heart, and sent a
new kind of a knight-errant into the world. But even this was nothing to
the catastrophe, and the circumstance on which it hung, the hornet
settling on the sleeping lover's face. What a _heart-rending_ accident!
She planted, in imitation of those susceptible souls, a rose bush; but
there was not a lover to weep in concert with her, when she watered it
with her tears.--Alas! Alas!
If my readers would excuse the sportiveness of fancy, and give me credit
for genius, I would go on and tell them such tales as would force the
sweet tears of sensibility to flow in copious showers down beautiful
cheeks, to the discomposure of rouge, &c. &c. Nay, I would make it so
interesting, that the fair peruser should beg the hair-dresser to
settle the curls himself, and not interrupt her.
She had besides another resource, two most beautiful dogs, who shared
her bed, and reclined on cushions near her all the day. These she
watched with the most assiduous care, and bestowed on them the warmest
caresses. This fondness for animals was not that kind of
_attendrissement_ which makes a person take pleasure in providing for
the subsistence and comfort of a living creature; but it proceeded from
vanity, it gave her an opportunity of lisping out the prettiest French
expressions of ecstatic fondness, in accents that had never been attuned
by tenderness.
She was chaste, according to the vulgar acceptation of the word, that
is, she did not make any actual _faux pas_; she feared the world, and
was indolent; but then, to make amends for this seeming self-denial, she
read all the sentimental novels, dwelt on the love-scenes, and, had she
thought while she read, her mind would have been contaminated; as she
accompanied the lovers to the lonely arbors, and would walk with them by
the clear light of the moon. She wondered her husband did not stay at
home. She was jealous--why did he not love her, sit by her side, squeeze
her hand, and look unutterable things? Gentle reader, I will tell thee;
they neither of them felt what they could not utter. I will not pretend
to say that they always annexed an idea to a word; but they had none of
those feelings which are not easily analyzed.
CHAP. II.
In due time she brought forth a son, a feeble babe; and the following
year a daughter. After the mother's throes she felt very few sentiments
of maternal tenderness: the children were given to nurses, and she
played with her dogs. Want of exercise prevented the least chance of her
recovering strength; and two or three milk-fevers brought on a
consumption, to which her constitution tended. Her children all died in
their infancy, except the two first, and she began to grow fond of the
son, as he was remarkably handsome. For years she divided her time
between the sofa, and the card-table. She thought not of death, though
on the borders of the grave; nor did any of the duties of her station
occur to her as necessary. Her children were left in the nursery; and
when Mary, the little blushing girl, appeared, she would send the
awkward thing away. To own the truth, she was awkward enough, in a house
without any play-mates; for her brother had been sent to school, and she
scarcely knew how to employ herself; she would ramble about the garden,
admire the flowers, and play with the dogs. An old house-keeper told her
stories, read to her, and, at last, taught her to read. Her mother
talked of enquiring for a governess when her health would permit; and,
in the interim desired her own maid to teach her French. As she had
learned to read, she perused with avidity every book that came in her
way. Neglected in every respect, and left to the operations of her own
mind, she considered every thing that came under her inspection, and
learned to think. She had heard of a separate state, and that angels
sometimes visited this earth. She would sit in a thick wood in the park,
and talk to them; make little songs addressed to them, and sing them to
tunes of her own composing; and her native wood notes wild were sweet
and touching.
Her father always exclaimed against female acquirements, and was glad
that his wife's indolence and ill health made her not trouble herself
about them. She had besides another reason, she did not wish to have a
fine tall girl brought forward into notice as her daughter; she still
expected to recover, and figure away in the gay world. Her husband was
very tyrannical and passionate; indeed so very easily irritated when
inebriated, that Mary was continually in dread lest he should frighten
her mother to death; her sickness called forth all Mary's tenderness,
and exercised her compassion so continually, that it became more than a
match for self-love, and was the governing propensity of her heart
through life. She was violent in her temper; but she saw her father's
faults, and would weep when obliged to compare his temper with her
own.--She did more; artless prayers rose to Heaven for pardon, when she
was conscious of having erred; and her contrition was so exceedingly
painful, that she watched diligently the first movements of anger and
impatience, to save herself this cruel remorse.
Sublime ideas filled her young mind--always connected with devotional
sentiments; extemporary effusions of gratitude, and rhapsodies of
praise would burst often from her, when she listened to the birds, or
pursued the deer. She would gaze on the moon, and ramble through the
gloomy path, observing the various shapes the clouds assumed, and listen
to the sea that was not far distant. The wandering spirits, which she
imagined inhabited every part of nature, were her constant friends and
confidants. She began to consider the Great First Cause, formed just
notions of his attributes, and, in particular, dwelt on his wisdom and
goodness. Could she have loved her father or mother, had they returned
her affection, she would not so soon, perhaps, have sought out a new
world.
Her sensibility prompted her to search for an object to love; on earth
it was not to be found: her mother had often disappointed her, and the
apparent partiality she shewed to her brother gave her exquisite
pain--produced a kind of habitual melancholy, led her into a fondness
for reading tales of woe, and made her almost realize the fictitious
distress.
She had not any notion of death till a little chicken expired at her
feet; and her father had a dog hung in a passion. She then concluded
animals had souls, or they would not have been subjected to the caprice
of man; but what was the soul of man or beast? In this style year after
year rolled on, her mother still vegetating.
A little girl who attended in the nursery fell sick. Mary paid her great
attention; contrary to her wish, she was sent out of the house to her
mother, a poor woman, whom necessity obliged to leave her sick child
while she earned her daily bread. The poor wretch, in a fit of delirium
stabbed herself, and Mary saw her dead body, and heard the dismal
account; and so strongly did it impress her imagination, that every
night of her life the bleeding corpse presented itself to her when the
first began to slumber. Tortured by it, she at last made a vow, that if
she was ever mistress of a family she would herself watch over every
part of it. The impression that this accident made was indelible.
As her mother grew imperceptibly worse and worse, her father, who did
not understand such a lingering complaint, imagined his wife was only
grown still more whimsical, and that if she could be prevailed on to
exert herself, her health would soon be re-established. In general he
treated her with indifference; but when her illness at all interfered
with his pleasures, he expostulated in the most cruel manner, and
visibly harassed the invalid. Mary would then assiduously try to turn
his attention to something else; and when sent out of the room, would
watch at the door, until the storm was over, for unless it was, she
could not rest. Other causes also contributed to disturb her repose: her
mother's luke-warm manner of performing her religious duties, filled her
with anguish; and when she observed her father's vices, the unbidden
tears would flow. She was miserable when beggars were driven from the
gate without being relieved; if she could do it unperceived, she would
give them her own breakfast, and feel gratified, when, in consequence of
it, she was pinched by hunger.
She had once, or twice, told her little secrets to her mother; they were
laughed at, and she determined never to do it again. In this manner was
she left to reflect on her own feelings; and so strengthened were they
by being meditated on, that her character early became singular and
permanent. Her understanding was strong and clear, when not clouded by
her feelings; but she was too much the creature of impulse, and the
slave of compassion.
CHAP. III.
Near her father's house lived a poor widow, who had been brought up in
affluence, but reduced to great distress by the extravagance of her
husband; he had destroyed his constitution while he spent his fortune;
and dying, left his wife, and five small children, to live on a very
scanty pittance. The eldest daughter was for some years educated by a
distant relation, a Clergyman. While she was with him a young gentleman,
son to a man of property in the neighbourhood, took particular notice of
her. It is true, he never talked of love; but then they played and sung
in concert; drew landscapes together, and while she worked he read to
her, cultivated her taste, and stole imperceptibly her heart. Just at
this juncture, when smiling, unanalyzed hope made every prospect bright,
and gay expectation danced in her eyes, her benefactor died. She
returned to her mother--the companion of her youth forgot her, they took
no more sweet counsel together. This disappointment spread a sadness
over her countenance, and made it interesting. She grew fond of
solitude, and her character appeared similar to Mary's, though her
natural disposition was very different.
She was several years older than Mary, yet her refinement, her taste,
caught her eye, and she eagerly sought her friendship: before her return
she had assisted the family, which was almost reduced to the last ebb;
and now she had another motive to actuate her.
As she had often occasion to send messages to Ann, her new friend,
mistakes were frequently made; Ann proposed that in future they should
be written ones, to obviate this difficulty, and render their
intercourse more agreeable. Young people are mostly fond of scribbling;
Mary had had very little instruction; but by copying her friend's
letters, whose hand she admired, she soon became a proficient; a little
practice made her write with tolerable correctness, and her genius gave
force to it. In conversation, and in writing, when she felt, she was
pathetic, tender and persuasive; and she expressed contempt with such
energy, that few could stand the flash of her eyes.
As she grew more intimate with Ann, her manners were softened, and she
acquired a degree of equality in her behaviour: yet still her spirits
were fluctuating, and her movements rapid. She felt less pain on
account of her mother's partiality to her brother, as she hoped now to
experience the pleasure of being beloved; but this hope led her into new
sorrows, and, as usual, paved the way for disappointment. Ann only felt
gratitude; her heart was entirely engrossed by one object, and
friendship could not serve as a substitute; memory officiously retraced
past scenes, and unavailing wishes made time loiter.
Mary was often hurt by the involuntary indifference which these
consequences produced. When her friend was all the world to her, she
found she was not as necessary to her happiness; and her delicate mind
could not bear to obtrude her affection, or receive love as an alms, the
offspring of pity. Very frequently has she ran to her with delight, and
not perceiving any thing of the same kind in Ann's countenance, she has
shrunk back; and, falling from one extreme into the other, instead of a
warm greeting that was just slipping from her tongue, her expressions
seemed to be dictated by the most chilling insensibility.
She would then imagine that she looked sickly or unhappy, and then all
her tenderness would return like a torrent, and bear away all
reflection. In this manner was her sensibility called forth, and
exercised, by her mother's illness, her friend's misfortunes, and her
own unsettled mind.
CHAP. IV.
Near to her father's house was a range of mountains; some of them were,
literally speaking, cloud-capt, for on them clouds continually rested,
and gave grandeur to the prospect; and down many of their sides the
little bubbling cascades ran till they swelled a beautiful river.
Through the straggling trees and bushes the wind whistled, and on them
the birds sung, particularly the robins; they also found shelter in the
ivy of an old castle, a haunted one, as the story went; it was situated
on the brow of one of the mountains, and commanded a view of the sea.
This castle had been inhabited by some of her ancestors; and many tales
had the old house-keeper told her of the worthies who had resided there.
When her mother frowned, and her friend looked cool, she would steal to
this retirement, where human foot seldom trod--gaze on the sea, observe
the grey clouds, or listen to the wind which struggled to free itself
from the only thing that impeded its course. When more cheerful, she
admired the various dispositions of light and shade, the beautiful tints
the gleams of sunshine gave to the distant hills; then she rejoiced in
existence, and darted into futurity.
One way home was through the cavity of a rock covered with a thin layer
of earth, just sufficient to afford nourishment to a few stunted shrubs
and wild plants, which grew on its sides, and nodded over the summit. A
clear stream broke out of it, and ran amongst the pieces of rocks
fallen into it. Here twilight always reigned--it seemed the Temple of
Solitude; yet, paradoxical as the assertion may appear, when the foot
sounded on the rock, it terrified the intruder, and inspired a strange
feeling, as if the rightful sovereign was dislodged. In this retreat she
read Thomson's Seasons, Young's Night-Thoughts, and Paradise Lost.
At a little distance from it were the huts of a few poor fishermen, who
supported their numerous children by their precarious labour. In these
little huts she frequently rested, and denied herself every childish
gratification, in order to relieve the necessities of the inhabitants.
Her heart yearned for them, and would dance with joy when she had
relieved their wants, or afforded them pleasure.
In these pursuits she learned the luxury of doing good; and the sweet
tears of benevolence frequently moistened her eyes, and gave them a
sparkle which, exclusive of that, they had not; on the contrary, they
were rather fixed, and would never have been observed if her soul had
not animated them. They were not at all like those brilliant ones which
look like polished diamonds, and dart from every superfice, giving more
light to the beholders than they receive themselves.
Her benevolence, indeed, knew no bounds; the distress of others carried
her out of herself; and she rested not till she had relieved or
comforted them. The warmth of her compassion often made her so diligent,
that many things occurred to her, which might have escaped a less
interested observer.
In like manner, she entered with such spirit into whatever she read,
and the emotions thereby raised were so strong, that it soon became a
part of her mind.
Enthusiastic sentiments of devotion at this period actuated her; her
Creator was almost apparent to her senses in his works; but they were
mostly the grand or solemn features of Nature which she delighted to
contemplate. She would stand and behold the waves rolling, and think of
the voice that could still the tumultuous deep.
These propensities gave the colour to her mind, before the passions
began to exercise their tyrannic sway, and particularly pointed out
those which the soil would have a tendency to nurse.
Years after, when wandering through the same scenes, her imagination has
strayed back, to trace the first placid sentiments they inspired, and
she would earnestly desire to regain the same peaceful tranquillity.
Many nights she sat up, if I may be allowed the expression, _conversing_
with the Author of Nature, making verses, and singing hymns of her own
composing. She considered also, and tried to discern what end her
various faculties were destined to pursue; and had a glimpse of a truth,
which afterwards more fully unfolded itself.
She thought that only an infinite being could fill the human soul, and
that when other objects were followed as a means of happiness, the
delusion led to misery, the consequence of disappointment. Under the
influence of ardent affections, how often has she forgot this
conviction, and as often returned to it again, when it struck her with
redoubled force. Often did she taste unmixed delight; her joys, her
ecstacies arose from genius.
She was now fifteen, and she wished to receive the holy sacrament; and
perusing the scriptures, and discussing some points of doctrine which
puzzled her, she would sit up half the night, her favourite time for
employing her mind; she too plainly perceived that she saw through a
glass darkly; and that the bounds set to stop our intellectual
researches, is one of the trials of a probationary state.
But her affections were roused by the display of divine mercy; and she
eagerly desired to commemorate the dying love of her great benefactor.
The night before the important day, when she was to take on herself her
baptismal vow, she could not go to bed; the sun broke in on her
meditations, and found her not exhausted by her watching.
The orient pearls were strewed around--she hailed the morn, and sung
with wild delight, Glory to God on high, good will towards men. She was
indeed so much affected when she joined in the prayer for her eternal
preservation, that she could hardly conceal her violent emotions; and
the recollection never failed to wake her dormant piety when earthly
passions made it grow languid.
These various movements of her mind were not commented on, nor were the
luxuriant shoots restrained by culture. The servants and the poor adored
her.
In order to be enabled to gratify herself in the highest degree, she
practiced the most rigid oeconomy, and had such power over her
appetites and whims, that without any great effort she conquered them
so entirely, that when her understanding or affections had an object,
she almost forgot she had a body which required nourishment.
This habit of thinking, this kind of absorption, gave strength to the
passions.
We will now enter on the more active field of life.
CHAP. V.
A few months after Mary was turned of seventeen, her brother was
attacked by a violent fever, and died before his father could reach the
school.
She was now an heiress, and her mother began to think her of
consequence, and did not call her _the child_. Proper masters were sent
for; she was taught to dance, and an extraordinary master procured to
perfect her in that most necessary of all accomplishments.
A part of the estate she was to inherit had been litigated, and the heir
of the person who still carried on a Chancery suit, was only two years
younger than our heroine. The fathers, spite of the dispute, frequently
met, and, in order to settle it amicably, they one day, over a bottle,
determined to quash it by a marriage, and, by uniting the two estates,
to preclude all farther enquiries into the merits of their different
claims.
While this important matter was settling, Mary was otherwise employed.
Ann's mother's resources were failing; and the ghastly phantom, poverty,
made hasty strides to catch them in his clutches. Ann had not fortitude
enough to brave such accumulated misery; besides, the canker-worm was
lodged in her heart, and preyed on her health. She denied herself every
little comfort; things that would be no sacrifice when a person is well,
are absolutely necessary to alleviate bodily pain, and support the
animal functions.
There were many elegant amusements, that she had acquired a relish for,
which might have taken her mind off from its most destructive bent; but
these her indigence would not allow her to enjoy: forced then, by way of
relaxation, to play the tunes her lover admired, and handle the pencil
he taught her to hold, no wonder his image floated on her imagination,
and that taste invigorated love.
Poverty, and all its inelegant attendants, were in her mother's abode;
and she, though a good sort of a woman, was not calculated to banish, by
her trivial, uninteresting chat, the delirium in which her daughter was
lost.
This ill-fated love had given a bewitching softness to her manners, a
delicacy so truly feminine, that a man of any feeling could not behold
her without wishing to chase her sorrows away. She was timid and
irresolute, and rather fond of dissipation; grief only had power to make
her reflect.
In every thing it was not the great, but the beautiful, or the pretty,
that caught her attention. And in composition, the polish of style, and
harmony of numbers, interested her much more than the flights of genius,
or abstracted speculations.
She often wondered at the books Mary chose, who, though she had a lively
imagination, would frequently study authors whose works were addressed
to the understanding. This liking taught her to arrange her thoughts,
and argue with herself, even when under the influence of the most
violent passions.
Ann's misfortunes and ill health were strong ties to bind Mary to her;
she wished so continually to have a home to receive her in, that it
drove every other desire out of her mind; and, dwelling on the tender
schemes which compassion and friendship dictated, she longed most
ardently to put them in practice.
Fondly as she loved her friend, she did not forget her mother, whose
decline was so imperceptible, that they were not aware of her
approaching dissolution. The physician, however, observing the most
alarming symptoms; her husband was apprised of her immediate danger; and
then first mentioned to her his designs with respect to his daughter.
She approved of them; Mary was sent for; she was not at home; she had
rambled to visit Ann, and found her in an hysteric fit. The landlord of
her little farm had sent his agent for the rent, which had long been due
to him; and he threatened to seize the stock that still remained, and
turn them out, if they did not very shortly discharge the arrears.
As this man made a private fortune by harassing the tenants of the
person to whom he was deputy, little was to be expected from his
forbearance.
All this was told to Mary--and the mother added, she had many other
creditors who would, in all probability, take the alarm, and snatch from
them all that had been saved out of the wreck. "I could bear all," she
cried; "but what will become of my children? Of this child," pointing to
the fainting Ann, "whose constitution is already undermined by care and
grief--where will she go?"--Mary's heart ceased to beat while she asked
the question--She attempted to speak; but the inarticulate sounds died
away. Before she had recovered herself, her father called himself to
enquire for her; and desired her instantly to accompany him home.
Engrossed by the scene of misery she had been witness to, she walked
silently by his side, when he roused her out of her reverie by telling
her that in all likelihood her mother had not many hours to live; and
before she could return him any answer, informed her that they had both
determined to marry her to Charles, his friend's son; he added, the
ceremony was to be performed directly, that her mother might be witness
of it; for such a desire she had expressed with childish eagerness.
Overwhelmed by this intelligence, Mary rolled her eyes about, then, with
a vacant stare, fixed them on her father's face; but they were no longer
a sense; they conveyed no ideas to the brain. As she drew near the
house, her wonted presence of mind returned: after this suspension of
thought, a thousand darted into her mind,--her dying mother,--her
friend's miserable situation,--and an extreme horror at taking--at being
forced to take, such a hasty step; but she did not feel the disgust, the
reluctance, which arises from a prior attachment.
She loved Ann better than any one in the world--to snatch her from the
very jaws of destruction--she would have encountered a lion. To have
this friend constantly with her; to make her mind easy with respect to
her family, would it not be superlative bliss?
Full of these thoughts she entered her mother's chamber, but they then
fled at the sight of a dying parent. She went to her, took her hand; it
feebly pressed her's. "My child," said the languid mother: the words
reached her heart; she had seldom heard them pronounced with accents
denoting affection; "My child, I have not always treated you with
kindness--God forgive me! do you?"--Mary's tears strayed in a
disregarded stream; on her bosom the big drops fell, but did not relieve
the fluttering tenant. "I forgive you!" said she, in a tone of
astonishment.
The clergyman came in to read the service for the sick, and afterwards
the marriage ceremony was performed. Mary stood like a statue of
Despair, and pronounced the awful vow without thinking of it; and then
ran to support her mother, who expired the same night in her arms.
Her husband set off for the continent the same day, with a tutor, to
finish his studies at one of the foreign universities.
Ann was sent for to console her, not on account of the departure of her
new relation, a boy she seldom took any notice of, but to reconcile her
to her fate; besides, it was necessary she should have a female
companion, and there was not any maiden aunt in the family, or cousin of
the same class.
CHAP. VI.
Mary was allowed to pay the rent which gave her so much uneasiness, and
she exerted every nerve to prevail on her father effectually to succour
the family; but the utmost she could obtain was a small sum very
inadequate to the purpose, to enable the poor woman to carry into
execution a little scheme of industry near the metropolis.
Her intention of leaving that part of the country, had much more weight
with him, than Mary's arguments, drawn from motives of philanthropy and
friendship; this was a language he did not understand; expressive of
occult qualities he never thought of, as they could not be seen or
felt.
After the departure of her mother, Ann still continued to languish,
though she had a nurse who was entirely engrossed by the desire of
amusing her. Had her health been re-established, the time would have
passed in a tranquil, improving manner.
During the year of mourning they lived in retirement; music, drawing,
and reading, filled up the time; and Mary's taste and judgment were both
improved by contracting a habit of observation, and permitting the
simple beauties of Nature to occupy her thoughts.
She had a wonderful quickness in discerning distinctions and combining
ideas, that at the first glance did not appear to be similar. But these
various pursuits did not banish all her cares, or carry off all her
constitutional black bile. Before she enjoyed Ann's society, she
imagined it would have made her completely happy: she was disappointed,
and yet knew not what to complain of.
As her friend could not accompany her in her walks, and wished to be
alone, for a very obvious reason, she would return to her old haunts,
retrace her anticipated pleasures--and wonder how they changed their
colour in possession, and proved so futile.
She had not yet found the companion she looked for. Ann and she were not
congenial minds, nor did she contribute to her comfort in the degree she
expected. She shielded her from poverty; but this was only a negative
blessing; when under the pressure it was very grievous, and still more
so were the apprehensions; but when exempt from them, she was not
contented.
Such is human nature, its laws were not to be inverted to gratify our
heroine, and stop the progress of her understanding, happiness only
flourished in paradise--we cannot taste and live.
Another year passed away with increasing apprehensions. Ann had a hectic
cough, and many unfavourable prognostics: Mary then forgot every thing
but the fear of losing her, and even imagined that her recovery would
have made her happy.
Her anxiety led her to study physic, and for some time she only read
books of that cast; and this knowledge, literally speaking, ended in
vanity and vexation of spirit, as it enabled her to foresee what she
could not prevent.
As her mind expanded, her marriage appeared a dreadful misfortune; she
was sometimes reminded of the heavy yoke, and bitter was the
recollection!
In one thing there seemed to be a sympathy between them, for she wrote
formal answers to his as formal letters. An extreme dislike took root in
her mind; the found of his name made her turn sick; but she forgot all,
listening to Ann's cough, and supporting her languid frame. She would
then catch her to her bosom with convulsive eagerness, as if to save her
from sinking into an opening grave.
CHAP. VII.
It was the will of Providence that Mary should experience almost every
species of sorrow. Her father was thrown from his horse, when his blood
was in a very inflammatory state, and the bruises were very dangerous;
his recovery was not expected by the physical tribe.
Terrified at seeing him so near death, and yet so ill prepared for it,
his daughter sat by his bed, oppressed by the keenest anguish, which her
piety increased.
Her grief had nothing selfish in it; he was not a friend or protector;
but he was her father, an unhappy wretch, going into eternity, depraved
and thoughtless. Could a life of sensuality be a preparation for a
peaceful death? Thus meditating, she passed the still midnight hour by
his bedside.
The nurse fell asleep, nor did a violent thunder storm interrupt her
repose, though it made the night appear still more terrific to Mary. Her
father's unequal breathing alarmed her, when she heard a long drawn
breath, she feared it was his last, and watching for another, a dreadful
peal of thunder struck her ears. Considering the separation of the soul
and body, this night seemed sadly solemn, and the hours long.
Death is indeed a king of terrors when he attacks the vicious man! The
compassionate heart finds not any comfort; but dreads an eternal
separation. No transporting greetings are anticipated, when the
survivors also shall have finished their course; but all is black!--the
grave may truly be said to receive the departed--this is the sting of
death!
Night after night Mary watched, and this excessive fatigue impaired her
own health, but had a worse effect on Ann; though she constantly went to
bed, she could not rest; a number of uneasy thoughts obtruded
themselves; and apprehensions about Mary, whom she loved as well as her
exhausted heart could love, harassed her mind. After a sleepless,
feverish night she had a violent fit of coughing, and burst a
blood-vessel. The physician, who was in the house, was sent for, and
when he left the patient, Mary, with an authoritative voice, insisted on
knowing his real opinion. Reluctantly he gave it, that her friend was in
a critical state; and if she passed the approaching winter in England,
he imagined she would die in the spring; a season fatal to consumptive
disorders. The spring!--Her husband was then expected.--Gracious Heaven,
could she bear all this.
In a few days her father breathed his last. The horrid sensations his
death occasioned were too poignant to be durable: and Ann's danger, and
her own situation, made Mary deliberate what mode of conduct she should
pursue. She feared this event might hasten the return of her husband,
and prevent her putting into execution a plan she had determined on. It
was to accompany Ann to a more salubrious climate.
CHAP. VIII.
I mentioned before, that Mary had never had any particular attachment,
to give rise to the disgust that daily gained ground. Her friendship for
Ann occupied her heart, and resembled a passion. She had had, indeed,
several transient likings; but they did not amount to love. The society
of men of genius delighted her, and improved her faculties. With beings
of this class she did not often meet; it is a rare genus; her first
favourites were men past the meridian of life, and of a philosophic
turn.
Determined on going to the South of France, or Lisbon; she wrote to the
man she had promised to obey. The physicians had said change of air was
necessary for her as well as her friend. She mentioned this, and added,
"Her comfort, almost her existence, depended on the recovery of the
invalid she wished to attend; and that should she neglect to follow the
medical advice she had received, she should never forgive herself, or
those who endeavoured to prevent her." Full of her design, she wrote
with more than usual freedom; and this letter was like most of her
others, a transcript of her heart.
"This dear friend," she exclaimed, "I love for her agreeable qualities,
and substantial virtues. Continual attention to her health, and the
tender office of a nurse, have created an affection very like a maternal
one--I am her only support, she leans on me--could I forsake the
forsaken, and break the bruised reed--No--I would die first! I must--I
will go."
She would have added, "you would very much oblige me by consenting;" but
her heart revolted--and irresolutely she wrote something about wishing
him happy.--"Do I not wish all the world well?" she cried, as she
subscribed her name--It was blotted, the letter sealed in a hurry, and
sent out of her sight; and she began to prepare for her journey.
By the return of the post she received an answer; it contained some
common-place remarks on her romantic friendship, as he termed it; "But
as the physicians advised change of air, he had no objection."
CHAP. IX.
There was nothing now to retard their journey; and Mary chose Lisbon
rather than France, on account of its being further removed from the
only person she wished not to see.
They set off accordingly for Falmouth, in their way to that city. The
journey was of use to Ann, and Mary's spirits were raised by her
recovered looks--She had been in despair--now she gave way to hope, and
was intoxicated with it. On ship-board Ann always remained in the cabin;
the sight of the water terrified her: on the contrary, Mary, after she
was gone to bed, or when she fell asleep in the day, went on deck,
conversed with the sailors, and surveyed the boundless expanse before
her with delight. One instant she would regard the ocean, the next the
beings who braved its fury. Their insensibility and want of fear, she
could not name courage; their thoughtless mirth was quite of an animal
kind, and their feelings as impetuous and uncertain as the element they
plowed.
They had only been a week at sea when they hailed the rock of Lisbon,
and the next morning anchored at the castle. After the customary visits,
they were permitted to go on shore, about three miles from the city; and
while one of the crew, who understood the language, went to procure them
one of the ugly carriages peculiar to the country, they waited in the
Irish convent, which is situated close to the Tagus.
Some of the people offered to conduct them into the church, where there
was a fine organ playing; Mary followed them, but Ann preferred staying
with a nun she had entered into conversation with.
One of the nuns, who had a sweet voice, was singing; Mary was struck
with awe; her heart joined in the devotion; and tears of gratitude and
tenderness flowed from her eyes. My Father, I thank thee! burst from
her--words were inadequate to express her feelings. Silently, she
surveyed the lofty dome; heard unaccustomed sounds; and saw faces,
strange ones, that she could not yet greet with fraternal love.
In an unknown land, she considered that the Being she adored inhabited
eternity, was ever present in unnumbered worlds. When she had not any
one she loved near her, she was particularly sensible of the presence
of her Almighty Friend.
The arrival of the carriage put a stop to her speculations; it was to
conduct them to an hotel, fitted up for the reception of invalids.
Unfortunately, before they could reach it there was a violent shower of
rain; and as the wind was very high, it beat against the leather
curtains, which they drew along the front of the vehicle, to shelter
themselves from it; but it availed not, some of the rain forced its way,
and Ann felt the effects of it, for she caught cold, spite of Mary's
precautions.
As is the custom, the rest of the invalids, or lodgers, sent to enquire
after their health; and as soon as Ann left her chamber, in which her
complaints seldom confined her the whole day, they came in person to pay
their compliments. Three fashionable females, and two gentlemen; the
one a brother of the eldest of the young ladies, and the other an
invalid, who came, like themselves, for the benefit of the air. They
entered into conversation immediately.
People who meet in a strange country, and are all together in a house,
soon get acquainted, without the formalities which attend visiting in
separate houses, where they are surrounded by domestic friends. Ann was
particularly delighted at meeting with agreeable society; a little
hectic fever generally made her low-spirited in the morning, and lively
in the evening, when she wished for company. Mary, who only thought of
her, determined to cultivate their acquaintance, as she knew, that if
her mind could be diverted, her body might gain strength.
They were all musical, and proposed having little concerts. One of the
gentlemen played on the violin, and the other on the german-flute. The
instruments were brought in, with all the eagerness that attends putting
a new scheme in execution.
Mary had not said much, for she was diffident; she seldom joined in
general conversations; though her quickness of penetration enabled her
soon to enter into the characters of those she conversed with; and her
sensibility made her desirous of pleasing every human creature. Besides,
if her mind was not occupied by any particular sorrow, or study, she
caught reflected pleasure, and was glad to see others happy, though
their mirth did not interest her.
This day she was continually thinking of Ann's recovery, and encouraging
the cheerful hopes, which though they dissipated the spirits that had
been condensed by melancholy, yet made her wish to be silent. The music,
more than the conversation, disturbed her reflections; but not at first.
The gentleman who played on the german-flute, was a handsome, well-bred,
sensible man; and his observations, if not original, were pertinent.
The other, who had not said much, began to touch the violin, and played
a little Scotch ballad; he brought such a thrilling sound out of the
instrument, that Mary started, and looking at him with more attention
than she had done before, and saw, in a face rather ugly, strong lines
of genius. His manners were awkward, that kind of awkwardness which is
often found in literary men: he seemed a thinker, and delivered his
opinions in elegant expressions, and musical tones of voice.
When the concert was over, they all retired to their apartments. Mary
always slept with Ann, as she was subject to terrifying dreams; and
frequently in the night was obliged to be supported, to avoid
suffocation. They chatted about their new acquaintance in their own
apartment, and, with respect to the gentlemen, differed in opinion.
CHAP. X.
Every day almost they saw their new acquaintance; and civility produced
intimacy. Mary sometimes left her friend with them; while she indulged
herself in viewing new modes of life, and searching out the causes which
produced them. She had a metaphysical turn, which inclined her to
reflect on every object that passed by her; and her mind was not like a
mirror, which receives every floating image, but does not retain them:
she had not any prejudices, for every opinion was examined before it was
adopted.
The Roman Catholic ceremonies attracted her attention, and gave rise to
conversations when they all met; and one of the gentlemen continually
introduced deistical notions, when he ridiculed the pageantry they all
were surprised at observing. Mary thought of both the subjects, the
Romish tenets, and the deistical doubts; and though not a sceptic,
thought it right to examine the evidence on which her faith was built.
She read Butler's Analogy, and some other authors: and these researches
made her a christian from conviction, and she learned charity,
particularly with respect to sectaries; saw that apparently good and
solid arguments might take their rise from different points of view; and
she rejoiced to find that those she should not concur with had some
reason on their side.
CHAP. XI.
When I mentioned the three ladies, I said they were fashionable women;
and it was all the praise, as a faithful historian, I could bestow on
them; the only thing in which they were consistent. I forgot to mention
that they were all of one family, a mother, her daughter, and niece. The
daughter was sent by her physician, to avoid a northerly winter; the
mother, her niece, and nephew, accompanied her.
They were people of rank; but unfortunately, though of an ancient
family, the title had descended to a very remote branch--a branch they
took care to be intimate with; and servilely copied the Countess's
airs. Their minds were shackled with a set of notions concerning
propriety, the fitness of things for the world's eye, trammels which
always hamper weak people. What will the world say? was the first thing
that was thought of, when they intended doing any thing they had not
done before. Or what would the Countess do on such an occasion? And when
this question was answered, the right or wrong was discovered without
the trouble of their having any idea of the matter in their own heads.
This same Countess was a fine planet, and the satellites observed a most
harmonic dance around her.
After this account it is scarcely necessary to add, that their minds had
received very little cultivation. They were taught French, Italian, and
Spanish; English was their vulgar tongue. And what did they learn?
Hamlet will tell you--words--words. But let me not forget that they
squalled Italian songs in the true _gusto_. Without having any seeds
sown in their understanding, or the affections of the heart set to work,
they were brought out of their nursery, or the place they were secluded
in, to prevent their faces being common; like blazing stars, to
captivate Lords.
They were pretty, and hurrying from one party of pleasure to another,
occasioned the disorder which required change of air. The mother, if we
except her being near twenty years older, was just the same creature;
and these additional years only served to make her more tenaciously
adhere to her habits of folly, and decide with stupid gravity, some
trivial points of ceremony, as a matter of the last importance; of
which she was a competent judge, from having lived in the fashionable
world so long: that world to which the ignorant look up as we do to the
sun.
It appears to me that every creature has some notion--or rather relish,
of the sublime. Riches, and the consequent state, are the sublime of
weak minds:--These images fill, nay, are too big for their narrow souls.
One afternoon, which they had engaged to spend together, Ann was so ill,
that Mary was obliged to send an apology for not attending the
tea-table. The apology brought them on the carpet; and the mother, with
a look of solemn importance, turned to the sick man, whose name was
Henry, and said;
"Though people of the first fashion are frequently at places of this
kind, intimate with they know not who; yet I do not choose that my
daughter, whose family is so respectable, should be intimate with any
one she would blush to know elsewhere. It is only on that account, for I
never suffer her to be with any one but in my company," added she,
sitting more erect; and a smile of self-complacency dressed her
countenance.
"I have enquired concerning these strangers, and find that the one who
has the most dignity in her manners, is really a woman of fortune."
"Lord, mamma, how ill she dresses:" mamma went on; "She is a romantic
creature, you must not copy her, miss; yet she is an heiress of the
large fortune in ----shire, of which you may remember to have heard the
Countess speak the night you had on the dancing-dress that was so much
admired; but she is married."
She then told them the whole story as she heard it from her maid, who
picked it out of Mary's servant. "She is a foolish creature, and this
friend that she pays as much attention to as if she was a lady of
quality, is a beggar." "Well, how strange!" cried the girls.
"She is, however, a charming creature," said her nephew. Henry sighed,
and strode across the room once or twice; then took up his violin, and
played the air which first struck Mary; he had often heard her praise
it.
The music was uncommonly melodious, "And came stealing on the senses
like the sweet south." The well-known sounds reached Mary as she sat by
her friend--she listened without knowing that she did--and shed tears
almost without being conscious of it. Ann soon fell asleep, as she had
taken an opiate. Mary, then brooding over her fears, began to imagine
she had deceived herself--Ann was still very ill; hope had beguiled many
heavy hours; yet she was displeased with herself for admitting this
welcome guest.--And she worked up her mind to such a degree of anxiety,
that she determined, once more, to seek medical aid.
No sooner did she determine, than she ran down with a discomposed look,
to enquire of the ladies who she should send for. When she entered the
room she could not articulate her fears--it appeared like pronouncing
Ann's sentence of death; her faultering tongue dropped some broken
words, and she remained silent. The ladies wondered that a person of her
sense should be so little mistress of herself; and began to administer
some common-place comfort, as, that it was our duty to submit to the
will of Heaven, and the like trite consolations, which Mary did not
answer; but waving her hand, with an air of impatience, she exclaimed,
"I cannot live without her!--I have no other friend; if I lose her, what
a desart will the world be to me." "No other friend," re-echoed they,
"have you not a husband?"
Mary shrunk back, and was alternately pale and red. A delicate sense of
propriety prevented her replying; and recalled her bewildered
reason.--Assuming, in consequence of her recollection, a more composed
manner, she made the intended enquiry, and left the room. Henry's eyes
followed her while the females very freely animadverted on her strange
behaviour.
CHAP. XII.
The physician was sent for; his prescription afforded Ann a little
temporary relief; and they again joined the circle. Unfortunately, the
weather happened to be constantly wet for more than a week, and confined
them to the house. Ann then found the ladies not so agreeable; when they
sat whole hours together, the thread-bare topics were exhausted; and,
but for cards or music, the long evenings would have been yawned away in
listless indolence.
The bad weather had had as ill an effect on Henry as on Ann. He was
frequently very thoughtful, or rather melancholy; this melancholy would
of itself have attracted Mary's notice, if she had not found his
conversation so infinitely superior to the rest of the group. When she
conversed with him, all the faculties of her soul unfolded themselves;
genius animated her expressive countenance and the most graceful,
unaffected gestures gave energy to her discourse.
They frequently discussed very important subjects, while the rest were
singing or playing cards, nor were they observed for doing so, as Henry,
whom they all were pleased with, in the way of gallantry shewed them all
more attention than her. Besides, as there was nothing alluring in her
dress or manner, they never dreamt of her being preferred to them.
Henry was a man of learning; he had also studied mankind, and knew many
of the intricacies of the human heart, from having felt the infirmities
of his own. His taste was just, as it had a standard--Nature, which he
observed with a critical eye. Mary could not help thinking that in his
company her mind expanded, as he always went below the surface. She
increased her stock of ideas, and her taste was improved.
He was also a pious man; his rational religious sentiments received
warmth from his sensibility; and, except on very particular occasions,
kept it in proper bounds; these sentiments had likewise formed his
temper; he was gentle, and easily to be intreated. The ridiculous
ceremonies they were every day witness to, led them into what are termed
grave subjects, and made him explain his opinions, which, at other
times, he was neither ashamed of, nor unnecessarily brought forward to
notice.
CHAP. XIII.
When the weather began to clear up, Mary sometimes rode out alone,
purposely to view the ruins that still remained of the earthquake: or
she would ride to the banks of the Tagus, to feast her eyes with the
sight of that magnificent river. At other times she would visit the
churches, as she was particularly fond of seeing historical paintings.
One of these visits gave rise to the subject, and the whole party
descanted on it; but as the ladies could not handle it well, they soon
adverted to portraits; and talked of the attitudes and characters in
which they should wish to be drawn. Mary did not fix on one--when
Henry, with more apparent warmth than usual, said, "I would give the
world for your picture, with the expression I have seen in your face,
when you have been supporting your friend."
This delicate compliment did not gratify her vanity, but it reached her
heart. She then recollected that she had once sat for her picture--for
whom was it designed? For a boy! Her cheeks flushed with indignation, so
strongly did she feel an emotion of contempt at having been thrown
away--given in with an estate.
As Mary again gave way to hope, her mind was more disengaged; and her
thoughts were employed about the objects around her.
She visited several convents, and found that solitude only eradicates
some passions, to give strength to others; the most baneful ones. She
saw that religion does not consist in ceremonies; and that many prayers
may fall from the lips without purifying the heart.
They who imagine they can be religious without governing their tempers,
or exercising benevolence in its most extensive sense, must certainly
allow, that their religious duties are only practiced from selfish
principles; how then can they be called good? The pattern of all
goodness went about _doing_ good. Wrapped up in themselves, the nuns
only thought of inferior gratifications. And a number of intrigues were
carried on to accelerate certain points on which their hearts were
fixed:
Such as obtaining offices of trust or authority; or avoiding those that
were servile or laborious. In short, when they could be neither wives
nor mothers, they aimed at being superiors, and became the most selfish
creatures in the world: the passions that were curbed gave strength to
the appetites, or to those mean passions which only tend to provide for
the gratification of them. Was this seclusion from the world? or did
they conquer its vanities or avoid its vexations?
In these abodes the unhappy individual, who, in the first paroxysm of
grief flies to them for refuge, finds too late she took a wrong step.
The same warmth which determined her will make her repent; and sorrow,
the rust of the mind, will never have a chance of being rubbed off by
sensible conversation, or new-born affections of the heart.
She will find that those affections that have once been called forth and
strengthened by exercise, are only smothered, not killed, by
disappointment; and that in one form or other discontent will corrode
the heart, and produce those maladies of the imagination, for which
there is no specific.
The community at large Mary disliked; but pitied many of them whose
private distresses she was informed of; and to pity and relieve were the
same things with her.
The exercise of her various virtues gave vigor to her genius, and
dignity to her mind; she was sometimes inconsiderate, and violent; but
never mean or cunning.
CHAP. XIV.
The Portuguese are certainly the most uncivilized nation in Europe. Dr.
Johnson would have said, "They have the least mind.". And can such serve
their Creator in spirit and in truth? No, the gross ritual of Romish
ceremonies is all they can comprehend: they can do penance, but not
conquer their revenge, or lust. Religion, or love, has never humanized
their hearts; they want the vital part; the mere body worships. Taste is
unknown; Gothic finery, and unnatural decorations, which they term
ornaments, are conspicuous in their churches and dress. Reverence for
mental excellence is only to be found in a polished nation.
Could the contemplation of such a people gratify Mary's heart? No: she
turned disgusted from the prospects--turned to a man of refinement.
Henry had been some time ill and low-spirited; Mary would have been
attentive to any one in that situation; but to him she was particularly
so; she thought herself bound in gratitude, on account of his constant
endeavours to amuse Ann, and prevent her dwelling on the dreary prospect
before her, which sometimes she could not help anticipating with a kind
of quiet despair.
She found some excuse for going more frequently into the room they all
met in; nay, she avowed her desire to amuse him: offered to read to him,
and tried to draw him into amusing conversations; and when she was full
of these little schemes, she looked at him with a degree of tenderness
that she was not conscious of. This divided attention was of use to her,
and prevented her continually thinking of Ann, whose fluctuating
disorder often gave rise to false hopes.
A trifling thing occurred now which occasioned Mary some uneasiness. Her
maid, a well-looking girl, had captivated the clerk of a neighbouring
compting-house. As the match was an advantageous one, Mary could not
raise any objection to it, though at this juncture it was very
disagreeable to her to have a stranger about her person. However, the
girl consented to delay the marriage, as she had some affection for her
mistress; and, besides, looked forward to Ann's death as a time of
harvest.
Henry's illness was not alarming, it was rather pleasing, as it gave
Mary an excuse to herself for shewing him how much she was interested
about him; and giving little artless proofs of affection, which the
purity of her heart made her never wish to restrain.
The only visible return he made was not obvious to common observers. He
would sometimes fix his eyes on her, and take them off with a sigh that
was coughed away; or when he was leisurely walking into the room, and
did not expect to see her, he would quicken his steps, and come up to
her with eagerness to ask some trivial question. In the same style, he
would try to detain her when he had nothing to say--or said nothing.
Ann did not take notice of either his or Mary's behaviour, nor did she
suspect that he was a favourite, on any other account than his
appearing neither well nor happy. She had often seen that when a person
was unfortunate, Mary's pity might easily be mistaken for love, and,
indeed, it was a temporary sensation of that kind. Such it was--why it
was so, let others define, I cannot argue against instincts. As reason
is cultivated in man, they are supposed to grow weaker, and this may
have given rise to the assertion, "That as judgment improves, genius
evaporates."
CHAP. XV.
One morning they set out to visit the aqueduct; though the day was very
fine when they left home, a very heavy shower fell before they reached
it; they lengthened their ride, the clouds dispersed, and the sun came
from behind them uncommonly bright.
Mary would fain have persuaded Ann not to have left the carriage; but
she was in spirits, and obviated all her objections, and insisted on
walking, tho' the ground was damp. But her strength was not equal to her
spirits; she was soon obliged to return to the carriage so much
fatigued, that she fainted, and remained insensible a long time.
Henry would have supported her; but Mary would not permit him; her
recollection was instantaneous, and she feared sitting on the damp
ground might do him a material injury: she was on that account positive,
though the company did not guess the cause of her being so. As to
herself, she did not fear bodily pain; and, when her mind was agitated,
she could endure the greatest fatigue without appearing sensible of it.
When Ann recovered, they returned slowly home; she was carried to bed,
and the next morning Mary thought she observed a visible change for the
worse. The physician was sent for, who pronounced her to be in the most
imminent danger.
All Mary's former fears now returned like a torrent, and carried every
other care away; she even added to her present anguish by upbraiding
herself for her late tranquillity--it haunted her in the form of a
crime.
The disorder made the most rapid advances--there was no hope!--Bereft of
it, Mary again was tranquil; but it was a very different kind of
tranquillity. She stood to brave the approaching storm, conscious she
only could be overwhelmed by it.
She did not think of Henry, or if her thoughts glanced towards him, it
was only to find fault with herself for suffering a thought to have
strayed from Ann.--Ann!--this dear friend was soon torn from her--she
died suddenly as Mary was assisting her to walk across the room.--The
first string was severed from her heart--and this "slow, sudden-death"
disturbed her reasoning faculties; she seemed stunned by it; unable to
reflect, or even to feel her misery.
The body was stolen out of the house the second night, and Mary refused
to see her former companions. She desired her maid to conclude her
marriage, and request her intended husband to inform her when the first
merchantman was to leave the port, as the packet had just sailed, and
she determined not to stay in that hated place any longer than was
absolutely necessary.
She then sent to request the ladies to visit her; she wished to avoid a
parade of grief--her sorrows were her own, and appeared to her not to
admit of increase or softening. She was right; the sight of them did not
affect her, or turn the stream of her sullen sorrow; the black wave
rolled along in the same course, it was equal to her where she cast her
eyes; all was impenetrable gloom.
CHAP. XVI.
Soon after the ladies left her, she received a message from Henry,
requesting, as she saw company, to be permitted to visit her: she
consented, and he entered immediately, with an unassured pace. She ran
eagerly up to him--saw the tear trembling in his eye, and his
countenance softened by the tenderest compassion; the hand which pressed
hers seemed that of a fellow-creature. She burst into tears; and, unable
to restrain them, she hid her face with both her hands; these tears
relieved her, (she had before had a difficulty in breathing,) and she
sat down by him more composed than she had appeared since Ann's death;
but her conversation was incoherent.
She called herself "a poor disconsolate creature!"--"Mine is a selfish
grief," she exclaimed--"Yet; Heaven is my witness, I do not wish her
back now she has reached those peaceful mansions, where the weary rest.
Her pure spirit is happy; but what a wretch am I!"
Henry forgot his cautious reserve. "Would you allow me to call you
friend?" said he in a hesitating voice. "I feel, dear girl, the tendered
interest in whatever concerns thee." His eyes spoke the rest. They were
both silent a few moments; then Henry resumed the conversation. "I have
also been acquainted with grief! I mourn the loss of a woman who was not
worthy of my regard. Let me give thee some account of the man who now
solicits thy friendship; and who, from motives of the purest
benevolence, wishes to give comfort to thy wounded heart."
"I have myself," said he, mournfully, "shaken hands with happiness, and
am dead to the world; I wait patiently for my dissolution; but, for
thee, Mary, there may be many bright days in store."
"Impossible," replied she, in a peevish tone, as if he had insulted her
by the supposition; her feelings were so much in unison with his, that
she was in love with misery.
He smiled at her impatience, and went on. "My father died before I knew
him, and my mother was so attached to my eldest brother, that she took
very little pains to fit me for the profession to which I was destined:
and, may I tell thee, I left my family, and, in many different stations,
rambled about the world; saw mankind in every rank of life; and, in
order to be independent, exerted those talents Nature has given me:
these exertions improved my understanding; and the miseries I was
witness to, gave a keener edge to my sensibility. My constitution is
naturally weak; and, perhaps, two or three lingering disorders in my
youth, first gave me a habit of reflecting, and enabled me to obtain
some dominion over my passions. At least," added he, stifling a sigh,
"over the violent ones, though I fear, refinement and reflection only
renders the tender ones more tyrannic.
"I have told you already I have been in love, and disappointed--the
object is now no more; let her faults sleep with her! Yet this passion
has pervaded my whole soul, and mixed itself with all my affections and
pursuits.--I am not peacefully indifferent; yet it is only to my violin
I tell the sorrows I now confide with thee. The object I loved forfeited
my esteem; yet, true to the sentiment, my fancy has too frequently
delighted to form a creature that I could love, that could convey to my
soul sensations which the gross part of mankind have not any conception
of."
He stopped, as Mary seemed lost in thought; but as she was still in a
listening attitude, continued his little narrative. "I kept up an
irregular correspondence with my mother; my brother's extravagance and
ingratitude had almost broken her heart, and made her feel something
like a pang of remorse, on account of her behaviour to me. I hastened to
comfort her--and was a comfort to her.
"My declining health prevented my taking orders, as I had intended; but
I with warmth entered into literary pursuits; perhaps my heart, not
having an object, made me embrace the substitute with more eagerness.
But, do not imagine I have always been a die-away swain. No: I have
frequented the cheerful haunts of men, and wit!--enchanting wit! has
made many moments fly free from care. I am too fond of the elegant arts;
and woman--lovely woman! thou hast charmed me, though, perhaps, it would
not be easy to find one to whom my reason would allow me to be constant.
"I have now only to tell you, that my mother insisted on my spending
this winter in a warmer climate; and I fixed on Lisbon, as I had before
visited the Continent." He then looked Mary full in the face; and, with
the most insinuating accents, asked "if he might hope for her
friendship? If she would rely on him as if he was her father; and that
the tenderest father could not more anxiously interest himself in the
fate of a darling child, than he did in her's."
Such a crowd of thoughts all at once rushed into Mary's mind, that she
in vain attempted to express the sentiments which were most predominant.
Her heart longed to receive a new guest; there was a void in it:
accustomed to have some one to love, she was alone, and comfortless, if
not engrossed by a particular affection.
Henry saw her distress, and not to increase it, left the room. He had
exerted himself to turn her thoughts into a new channel, and had
succeeded; she thought of him till she began to chide herself for
defrauding the dead, and, determining to grieve for Ann, she dwelt on
Henry's misfortunes and ill health; and the interest he took in her fate
was a balm to her sick mind. She did not reason on the subject; but she
felt he was attached to her: lost in this delirium, she never asked
herself what kind of an affection she had for him, or what it tended to;
nor did she know that love and friendship are very distinct; she thought
with rapture, that there was one person in the world who had an
affection for her, and that person she admired--had a friendship for.
He had called her his dear girl; the words might have fallen from him by
accident; but they did not fall to the ground. My child! His child,
what an association of ideas! If I had had a father, such a father!--She
could not dwell on the thoughts, the wishes which obtruded themselves.
Her mind was unhinged, and passion unperceived filled her whole soul.
Lost, in waking dreams, she considered and reconsidered Henry's account
of himself; till she actually thought she would tell Ann--a bitter
recollection then roused her out of her reverie; and aloud she begged
forgiveness of her.
By these kind of conflicts the day was lengthened; and when she went to
bed, the night passed away in feverish slumbers; though they did not
refresh her, she was spared the labour of thinking, of restraining her
imagination; it sported uncontrouled; but took its colour from her
waking train of thoughts. One instant she was supporting her dying
mother; then Ann was breathing her last, and Henry was comforting her.
The unwelcome light visited her languid eyes; yet, I must tell the
truth, she thought she should see Henry, and this hope set her spirits
in motion: but they were quickly depressed by her maid, who came to tell
her that she had heard of a vessel on board of which she could be
accommodated, and that there was to be another female passenger on
board, a vulgar one; but perhaps she would be more useful on that
account--Mary did not want a companion.
As she had given orders for her passage to be engaged in the first
vessel that sailed, she could not now retract; and must prepare for the
lonely voyage, as the Captain intended taking advantage of the first
fair wind. She had too much strength of mind to waver in her
determination but to determine wrung her very heart, opened all her old
wounds, and made them bleed afresh. What was she to do? where go? Could
she set a seal to a hasty vow, and tell a deliberate lie; promise to
love one man, when the image of another was ever present to her--her
soul revolted. "I might gain the applause of the world by such mock
heroism; but should I not forfeit my own? forfeit thine, my father!"
There is a solemnity in the shortest ejaculation, which, for a while,
stills the tumult of passion. Mary's mind had been thrown off its poise;
her devotion had been, perhaps, more fervent for some time past; but
less regular. She forgot that happiness was not to be found on earth,
and built a terrestrial paradise liable to be destroyed by the first
serious thought: when, she reasoned she became inexpressibly sad, to
render life bearable she gave way to fancy--this was madness.
In a few days she must again go to sea; the weather was very
tempestuous--what of that, the tempest in her soul rendered every other
trifling--it was not the contending elements, but _herself_ she feared!
CHAP. XVII.
In order to gain strength to support the expected interview, she went
out in a carriage. The day was fine; but all nature was to her a
universal blank; she could neither enjoy it, nor weep that she could
not. She passed by the ruins of an old monastery on a very high hill she
got out to walk amongst the ruins; the wind blew violently, she did not
avoid its fury, on the contrary, wildly bid it blow on, and seemed glad
to contend with it, or rather walk against it. Exhausted she returned to
the carriage was soon at home, and in the old room.
Henry started at the sight of her altered appearance; the day before her
complexion had been of the most pallid hue; but now her cheeks were
flushed, and her eyes enlivened with a false vivacity, an unusual fire.
He was not well, his illness was apparent in his countenance, and he
owned he had not closed his eyes all night; this roused her dormant
tenderness, she forgot they were so soon to part-engrossed by the
present happiness of seeing, of hearing him.
Once or twice she essayed to tell him that she was, in a few days, to
depart; but she could not; she was irresolute; it will do to-morrow;
should the wind change they could not sail in such a hurry; thus she
thought, and insensibly grew more calm. The Ladies prevailed on her to
spend the evening with them; but she retired very early to rest, and sat
on the side of her bed several hours, then threw herself on it, and
waited for the dreaded to-morrow.
CHAP. XVIII.
The ladies heard that her servant was to be married that day, and that
she was to sail in the vessel which was then clearing out at the
Custom-house. Henry heard, but did not make any remarks; and Mary called
up all her fortitude to support her, and enable her to hide from the
females her internal struggles. She durst not encounter Henry's glances
when she found he had been informed of her intention; and, trying to
draw a veil over her wretched state of mind, she talked incessantly, she
knew not what; flashes of wit burst from her, and when she began to
laugh she could not stop herself.
Henry smiled at some of her sallies, and looked at her with such
benignity and compassion, that he recalled her scattered thoughts; and,
the ladies going to dress for dinner, they were left alone; and remained
silent a few moments: after the noisy conversation it appeared solemn.
Henry began. "You are going, Mary, and going by yourself; your mind is
not in a state to be left to its own operations--yet I cannot, dissuade
you; if I attempted to do it, I should ill deserve the title I wish to
merit. I only think of your happiness; could I obey the strongest
impulse of my heart, I should accompany thee to England; but such a step
might endanger your future peace."
Mary, then, with all the frankness which marked her character, explained
her situation to him and mentioned her fatal tie with such disgust that
he trembled for her. "I cannot see him; he is not the man formed for me
to love!" Her delicacy did not restrain her, for her dislike to her
husband had taken root in her mind long before she knew Henry. Did she
not fix on Lisbon rather than France on purpose to avoid him? and if Ann
had been in tolerable health she would have flown with her to some
remote corner to have escaped from him.
"I intend," said Henry, "to follow you in the next packet; where shall I
hear of your health?" "Oh! let me hear of thine," replied Mary. "I am
well, very well; but thou art very ill--thy health is in the most
precarious state." She then mentioned her intention of going to Ann's
relations. "I am her representative, I have duties to fulfil for her:
during my voyage I have time enough for reflection; though I think I
have already determined."
"Be not too hasty, my child," interrupted Henry; "far be it from me to
persuade thee to do violence to thy feelings--but consider that all thy
future life may probably take its colour from thy present mode of
conduct. Our affections as well as our sentiments are fluctuating; you
will not perhaps always either think or feel as you do at present: the
object you now shun may appear in a different light." He paused. "In
advising thee in this style, I have only thy good at heart, Mary."
She only answered to expostulate. "My affections are involuntary--yet
they can only be fixed by reflection, and when they are they make quite
a part of my soul, are interwoven in it, animate my actions, and form
my taste: certain qualities are calculated to call forth my sympathies,
and make me all I am capable of being. The governing affection gives its
stamp to the rest--because I am capable of loving one, I have that kind
of charity to all my fellow-creatures which is not easily provoked.
Milton has asserted, That earthly love is the scale by which to heavenly
we may ascend."
She went on with eagerness. "My opinions on some subjects are not
wavering; my pursuit through life has ever been the same: in solitude
were my sentiments formed; they are indelible, and nothing can efface
them but death--No, death itself cannot efface them, or my soul must be
created afresh, and not improved. Yet a little while am I parted from
my Ann--I could not exist without the hope of seeing her again--I could
not bear to think that time could wear away an affection that was
founded on what is not liable to perish; you might as well attempt to
persuade me that my soul is matter, and that its feelings arose from
certain modifications of it."
"Dear enthusiastic creature," whispered Henry, "how you steal into my
soul." She still continued. "The same turn of mind which leads me to
adore the Author of all Perfection--which leads me to conclude that he
only can fill my soul; forces me to admire the faint image-the shadows
of his attributes here below; and my imagination gives still bolder
strokes to them. I knew I am in some degree under the influence of a
delusion--but does not this strong delusion prove that I myself 'am _of
subtiler essence than the trodden clod_' these flights of the
imagination point to futurity; I cannot banish them. Every cause in
nature produces an effect; and am I an exception to the general rule?
have I desires implanted in me only to make me miserable? will they
never be gratified? shall I never be happy? My feelings do not accord
with the notion of solitary happiness. In a state of bliss, it will be
the society of beings we can love, without the alloy that earthly
infirmities mix with our best affections, that will constitute great
part of our happiness.
"With these notions can I conform to the maxims of worldly wisdom? can
I listen to the cold dictates of worldly prudence and bid my tumultuous
passions cease to vex me, be still, find content in grovelling pursuits,
and the admiration of the misjudging crowd, when it is only one I wish
to please--one who could be all the world to me. Argue not with me, I am
bound by human ties; but did my spirit ever promise to love, or could I
consider when forced to bind myself--to take a vow, that at the awful
day of judgment I must give an account of. My conscience does not smite
me, and that Being who is greater than the internal monitor, may approve
of what the world condemns; sensible that in Him I live, could I brave
His presence, or hope in solitude to find peace, if I acted contrary to
conviction, that the world might approve of my conduct--what could the
world give to compensate for my own esteem? it is ever hostile and armed
against the feeling heart!
"Riches and honours await me, and the cold moralist might desire me to
sit down and enjoy them--I cannot conquer my feelings, and till I do,
what are these baubles to me? you may tell me I follow a fleeting good,
an _ignis fatuus_; but this chase, these struggles prepare me for
eternity--when I no longer see through a glass darkly I shall not reason
about, but _feel_ in what happiness consists."
Henry had not attempted to interrupt her; he saw she was determined, and
that these sentiments were not the effusion of the moment, but well
digested ones, the result of strong affections, a high sense of honour,
and respect for the source of all virtue and truth. He was startled, if
not entirely convinced by her arguments; indeed her voice, her gestures
were all persuasive.
Some one now entered the room; he looked an answer to her long harangue;
it was fortunate for him, or he might have been led to say what in a
cooler moment he had determined to conceal; but were words necessary to
reveal it? He wished not to influence her conduct--vain precaution; she
knew she was beloved; and could she forget that such a man loved her, or
rest satisfied with any inferior gratification. When passion first
enters the heart, it is only a return of affection that is sought after,
and every other remembrance and wish is blotted out.
CHAP. XIX.
Two days passed away without any particular conversation; Henry, trying
to be indifferent, or to appear so, was more assiduous than ever. The
conflict was too violent for his present state of health; the spirit was
willing, but the body suffered; he lost his appetite, and looked
wretchedly; his spirits were calmly low--the world seemed to fade
away--what was that world to him that Mary did not inhabit; she lived
not for him.
He was mistaken; his affection was her only support; without this dear
prop she had sunk into the grave of her lost--long-loved friend;--his
attention snatched her from despair. Inscrutable are the ways of
Heaven!
The third day Mary was desired to prepare herself; for if the wind
continued in the same point, they should set sail the next evening. She
tried to prepare her mind, and her efforts were not useless she appeared
less agitated than could have been expected, and talked of her voyage
with composure. On great occasions she was generally calm and collected,
her resolution would brace her unstrung nerves; but after the victory
she had no triumph; she would sink into a state of moping melancholy,
and feel ten-fold misery when the heroic enthusiasm was over.
The morning of the day fixed on for her departure she was alone with
Henry only a few moments, and an awkward kind of formality made them
slip away without their having said much to each other. Henry was
afraid to discover his passion, or give any other name to his regard but
friendship; yet his anxious solicitude for her welfare was ever breaking
out-while she as artlessly expressed again and again, her fears with
respect to his declining health.
"We shall soon meet," said he, with a faint smile; Mary smiled too; she
caught the sickly beam; it was still fainter by being reflected, and not
knowing what she wished to do, started up and left the room. When she
was alone she regretted she had left him so precipitately. "The few
precious moments I have thus thrown away may never return," she
thought-the reflection led to misery.
She waited for, nay, almost wished for the summons to depart. She could
not avoid spending the intermediate time with the ladies and Henry; and
the trivial conversations she was obliged to bear a part in harassed her
more than can be well conceived.
The summons came, and the whole party attended her to the vessel. For a
while the remembrance of Ann banished her regret at parting with Henry,
though his pale figure pressed on her sight; it may seem a paradox, but
he was more present to her when she sailed; her tears then were all his
own.
"My poor Ann!" thought Mary, "along this road we came, and near this
spot you called me your guardian angel--and now I leave thee here! ah!
no, I do not--thy spirit is not confined to its mouldering tenement!
Tell me, thou soul of her I love, tell me, ah! whither art thou fled?"
Ann occupied her until they reached the ship.
The anchor was weighed. Nothing can be more irksome than waiting to say
farewel. As the day was serene, they accompanied her a little way, and
then got into the boat; Henry was the last; he pressed her hand, it had
not any life in it; she leaned over the side of the ship without looking
at the boat, till it was so far distant, that she could not see the
countenances of those that were in it: a mist spread itself over her
sight--she longed to exchange one look--tried to recollect the
last;--the universe contained no being but Henry!--The grief of parting
with him had swept all others clean away. Her eyes followed the keel of
the boat, and when she could no longer perceive its traces: she looked
round on the wide waste of waters, thought of the precious moments
which had been stolen from the waste of murdered time.
She then descended into the cabin, regardless of the surrounding
beauties of nature, and throwing herself on her bed in the little hole
which was called the state-room--she wished to forget her existence. On
this bed she remained two days, listening to the dashing waves, unable
to close her eyes. A small taper made the darkness visible; and the
third night, by its glimmering light, she wrote the following fragment.
"Poor solitary wretch that I am; here alone do I listen to the whistling
winds and dashing waves;--on no human support can I rest--when not lost
to hope I found pleasure in the society of those rough beings; but now
they appear not like my fellow creatures; no social ties draw me to
them. How long, how dreary has this day been; yet I scarcely wish it
over--for what will to-morrow bring--to-morrow, and to-morrow will only
be marked with unvaried characters of wretchedness.--Yet surely, I am
not alone!"
Her moistened eyes were lifted up to heaven; a crowd of thoughts darted
into her mind, and pressing her hand against her forehead, as if to bear
the intellectual weight, she tried, but tried in vain, to arrange them.
"Father of Mercies, compose this troubled spirit: do I indeed wish it to
be composed--to forget my Henry?" the _my_, the pen was directly drawn
across in an agony.
CHAP. XX.
The mate of the ship, who heard her stir, came to offer her some
refreshment; and she, who formerly received every offer of kindness or
civility with pleasure, now shrunk away disgusted: peevishly she desired
him not to disturb her; but the words were hardly articulated when her
heart smote her, she called him back, and requested something to drink.
After drinking it, fatigued by her mental exertions, she fell into a
death-like slumber, which lasted some hours; but did not refresh her, on
the contrary, she awoke languid and stupid.
The wind still continued contrary; a week, a dismal week, had she
struggled with her sorrows; and the struggle brought on a slow fever,
which sometimes gave her false spirits.
The winds then became very tempestuous, the Great Deep was troubled, and
all the passengers appalled. Mary then left her bed, and went on deck,
to survey the contending elements: the scene accorded with the present
state of her soul; she thought in a few hours I may go home; the
prisoner may be released. The vessel rose on a wave and descended into a
yawning gulph--Not slower did her mounting soul return to earth,
for--Ah! her treasure and her heart was there. The squalls rattled
amongst the sails, which were quickly taken down; the wind would then
die away, and the wild undirected waves rushed on every side with a
tremendous roar. In a little vessel in the midst of such a storm she
was not dismayed; she felt herself independent.
Just then one of the crew perceived a signal of distress; by the help of
a glass he could plainly discover a small vessel dismasted, drifted
about, for the rudder had been broken by the violence of the storm.
Mary's thoughts were now all engrossed by the crew on the brink of
destruction. They bore down to the wreck; they reached it, and hailed
the trembling wretches; at the sound of the friendly greeting, loud
cries of tumultuous joy were mixed with the roaring of the waves, and
with ecstatic transport they leaped on the shattered deck, launched
their boat in a moment, and committed themselves to the mercy of the
sea. Stowed between two casks, and leaning on a sail, she watched the
boat, and when a wave intercepted it from her view--she ceased to
breathe, or rather held her breath until it rose again.
At last the boat arrived safe along-side the ship, and Mary caught the
poor trembling wretches as they stumbled into it, and joined them in
thanking that gracious Being, who though He had not thought fit to still
the raging of the sea, had afforded them unexpected succour.
Amongst the wretched crew was one poor woman, who fainted when she was
hauled on board: Mary undressed her, and when she had recovered, and
soothed her, left her to enjoy the rest she required to recruit her
strength, which fear had quite exhausted. She returned again to view the
angry deep; and when she gazed on its perturbed state, she thought of
the Being who rode on the wings of the wind, and stilled the noise of
the sea; and the madness of the people--He only could speak peace to
her troubled spirit! she grew more calm; the late transaction had
gratified her benevolence, and stole her out of herself.
One of the sailors, happening to say to another, "that he believed the
world was going to be at an end;" this observation led her into a new
train of thoughts: some of Handel's sublime compositions occurred to
her, and she sung them to the grand accompaniment. The Lord God
Omnipotent reigned, and would reign for ever, and ever!--Why then did
she fear the sorrows that were passing away, when she knew that He would
bind up the broken-hearted, and receive those who came out of great
tribulation. She retired to her cabin; and wrote in the little book that
was now her only confident. It was after midnight.
"At this solemn hour, the great day of judgment fills my thoughts; the
day of retribution, when the secrets of all hearts will be revealed;
when all worldly distinctions will fade away, and be no more seen. I
have not words to express the sublime images which the bare
contemplation of this awful day raises in my mind. Then, indeed, the
Lord Omnipotent will reign, and He will wipe the tearful eye, and
support the trembling heart--yet a little while He hideth his face, and
the dun shades of sorrow, and the thick clouds of folly separate us from
our God; but when the glad dawn of an eternal day breaks, we shall know
even as we are known. Here we walk by faith, and not by sight; and we
have this alternative, either to enjoy the pleasures of life which are
but for a season, or look forward to the prize of our high calling, and
with fortitude, and that wisdom which is from above, endeavour to bear
the warfare of life. We know that many run the race; but he that
striveth obtaineth the crown of victory. Our race is an arduous one! How
many are betrayed by traitors lodged in their own breasts, who wear the
garb of Virtue, and are so near akin; we sigh to think they should ever
lead into folly, and slide imperceptibly into vice. Surely any thing
like happiness is madness! Shall probationers of an hour presume to
pluck the fruit of immortality, before they have conquered death? it is
guarded, when the great day, to which I allude, arrives, the way will
again be opened. Ye dear delusions, gay deceits, farewel! and yet I
cannot banish ye for ever; still does my panting soul push forward, and
live in futurity, in the deep shades o'er which darkness hangs.--I try
to pierce the gloom, and find a resting-place, where my thirst of
knowledge will be gratified, and my ardent affections find an object to
fix them. Every thing material must change; happiness and this
fluctating principle is not compatible. Eternity, immateriality, and
happiness,--what are ye? How shall I grasp the mighty and fleeting
conceptions ye create?"
After writing, serenely she delivered her soul into the hands of the
Father of Spirits; and slept in peace.
CHAP. XXI.
Mary rose early, refreshed by the seasonable rest, and went to visit the
poor woman, whom she found quite recovered: and, on enquiry, heard that
she had lately buried her husband, a common sailor; and that her only
surviving child had been washed over-board the day before. Full of her
own danger, she scarcely thought of her child till that was over; and
then she gave way to boisterous emotions.
Mary endeavoured to calm her at first, by sympathizing with her; and she
tried to point out the only solid source of comfort but in doing this
she encountered many difficulties; she found her grossly ignorant, yet
she did not despair: and as the poor creature could not receive comfort
from the operations of her own mind, she laboured to beguile the hours,
which grief made heavy, by adapting her conversation to her capacity.
There are many minds that only receive impressions through the medium of
the senses: to them did Mary address herself; she made her some
presents, and promised to assist her when they should arrive in England.
This employment roused her out of her late stupor, and again set the
faculties of her soul in motion; made the understanding contend with the
imagination, and the heart throbbed not so irregularly during the
contention. How short-lived was the calm! when the English coast was
descried, her sorrows returned with redoubled vigor.--She was to visit
and comfort the mother of her lost friend--And where then should she
take up her residence? These thoughts suspended the exertions of her
understanding; abstracted reflections gave way to alarming
apprehensions; and tenderness undermined fortitude.
CHAP. XXII.
In England then landed the forlorn wanderer. She looked round for some
few moments--her affections were not attracted to any particular part of
the Island. She knew none of the inhabitants of the vast city to which
she was going: the mass of buildings appeared to her a huge body without
an informing soul. As she passed through the streets in an
hackney-coach, disgust and horror alternately filled her mind. She met
some women drunk; and the manners of those who attacked the sailors,
made her shrink into herself, and exclaim, are these my fellow
creatures!
Detained by a number of carts near the water-side, for she came up the
river in the vessel, not having reason to hasten on shore, she saw
vulgarity, dirt, and vice--her soul sickened; this was the first time
such complicated misery obtruded itself on her sight.--Forgetting her
own griefs, she gave the world a much indebted tear; mourned for a world
in ruins. She then perceived, that great part of her comfort must arise
from viewing the smiling face of nature, and be reflected from the view
of innocent enjoyments: she was fond of seeing animals play, and could
not bear to see her own species sink below them.
In a little dwelling in one of the villages near London, lived the
mother of Ann; two of her children still remained with her; but they did
not resemble Ann. To her house Mary directed the coach, and told the
unfortunate mother of her loss. The poor woman, oppressed by it, and her
many other cares, after an inundation of tears, began to enumerate all
her past misfortunes, and present cares. The heavy tale lasted until
midnight, and the impression it made on Mary's mind was so strong, that
it banished sleep till towards morning; when tired nature sought
forgetfulness, and the soul ceased to ruminate about many things.
She sent for the poor woman they took up at sea, provided her a lodging,
and relieved her present necessities. A few days were spent in a kind of
listless way; then the mother of Ann began to enquire when she thought
of returning home. She had hitherto treated her with the greatest
respect, and concealed her wonder at Mary's choosing a remote room in
the house near the garden, and ordering some alterations to be made, as
if she intended living in it.
Mary did not choose to explain herself; had Ann lived, it is probable
she would never have loved Henry so fondly; but if she had, she could
not have talked of her passion to any human creature. She deliberated,
and at last informed the family, that she had a reason for not living
with her husband, which must some time remain a secret--they stared--Not
live with him! how will you live then? This was a question she could not
answer; she had only about eighty pounds remaining, of the money she
took with her to Lisbon; when it was exhausted where could she get more?
I will work, she cried, do any thing rather than be a slave.
CHAP. XXIII.
Unhappy, she wandered about the village, and relieved the poor; it was
the only employment that eased her aching heart; she became more
intimate with misery--the misery that rises from poverty and the want of
education. She was in the vicinity of a great city; the vicious poor in
and about it must ever grieve a benevolent contemplative mind.
One evening a man who stood weeping in a little lane, near the house she
resided in, caught her eye. She accosted him; in a confused manner, he
informed her, that his wife was dying, and his children crying for the
bread he could not earn. Mary desired to be conducted to his
habitation; it was not very distant, and was the upper room in an old
mansion-house, which had been once the abode of luxury. Some tattered
shreds of rich hangings still remained, covered with cobwebs and filth;
round the ceiling, through which the rain drop'd, was a beautiful
cornice mouldering; and a spacious gallery was rendered dark by the
broken windows being blocked up; through the apertures the wind forced
its way in hollow sounds, and reverberated along the former scene of
festivity.
It was crowded with inhabitants: som were scolding, others swearing, or
singing indecent songs. What a sight for Mary! Her blood ran cold; yet
she had sufficient resolution to mount to the top of the house. On the
floor, in one corner of a very small room, lay an emaciated figure of a
woman; a window over her head scarcely admitted any light, for the
broken panes were stuffed with dirty rags. Near her were five children,
all young, and covered with dirt; their sallow cheeks, and languid eyes,
exhibited none of the charms of childhood. Some were fighting, and
others crying for food; their yells were mixed with their mother's
groans, and the wind which rushed through the passage. Mary was
petrified; but soon assuming more courage, approached the bed, and,
regardless of the surrounding nastiness, knelt down by the poor wretch,
and breathed the most poisonous air; for the unfortunate creature was
dying of a putrid fever, the consequence of dirt and want.
Their state did not require much explanation. Mary sent the husband for
a poor neighbour, whom she hired to nurse the woman, and take care of
the children; and then went herself to buy them some necessaries at a
shop not far distant. Her knowledge of physic had enabled her to
prescribe for the woman; and she left the house, with a mixture of
horror and satisfaction.
She visited them every day, and procured them every comfort; contrary to
her expectation, the woman began to recover; cleanliness and wholesome
food had a wonderful effect; and Mary saw her rising as it were from the
grave. Not aware of the danger she ran into, she did not think of it
till she perceived she had caught the fever. It made such an alarming
progress, that she was prevailed on to send for a physician; but the
disorder was so violent, that for some days it baffled his skill; and
Mary felt not her danger, as she was delirious. After the crisis, the
symptoms were more favourable, and she slowly recovered, without
regaining much strength or spirits; indeed they were intolerably low:
she wanted a tender nurse.
For some time she had observed, that she was not treated with the same
respect as formerly; her favors were forgotten when no more were
expected. This ingratitude hurt her, as did a similar instance in the
woman who came out of the ship. Mary had hitherto supported her; as her
finances were growing low, she hinted to her, that she ought to try to
earn her own subsistence: the woman in return loaded her with abuse.
Two months were elapsed; she had not seen, or heard from Henry. He was
sick--nay, perhaps had forgotten her; all the world was dreary, and all
the people ungrateful.
She sunk into apathy, and endeavouring to rouse herself out of it, she
wrote in her book another fragment:
"Surely life is a dream, a frightful one! and after those rude,
disjointed images are fled, will light ever break in? Shall I ever feel
joy? Do all suffer like me; or am I framed so as to be particularly
susceptible of misery? It is true, I have experienced the most rapturous
emotions--short-lived delight!--ethereal beam, which only serves to shew
my present misery--yet lie still, my throbbing heart, or burst; and my
brain--why dost thou whirl about at such a terrifying rate? why do
thoughts so rapidly rush into my mind, and yet when they disappear
leave such deep traces? I could almost wish for the madman's happiness,
and in a strong imagination lose a sense of woe.
"Oh! reason, thou boasted guide, why desert me, like the world, when I
most need thy assistance! Canst thou not calm this internal tumult, and
drive away the death-like sadness which presses so sorely on me,--a
sadness surely very nearly allied to despair. I am now the prey of
apathy--I could wish for the former storms! a ray of hope sometimes
illumined my path; I had a pursuit; but now _it visits not my haunts
forlorn_. Too well have I loved my fellow creatures! I have been wounded
by ingratitude; from every one it has something of the serpent's tooth.
"When overwhelmed by sorrow, I have met unkindness; I looked for some
one to have pity on me; but found none!--The healing balm of sympathy is
denied; I weep, a solitary wretch, and the hot tears scald my cheeks. I
have not the medicine of life, the dear chimera I have so often chased,
a friend. Shade of my loved Ann! dost thou ever visit thy poor Mary?
Refined spirit, thou wouldst weep, could angels weep, to see her
struggling with passions she cannot subdue; and feelings which corrode
her small portion of comfort!"
She could not write any more; she wished herself far distant from all
human society; a thick gloom spread itself over her mind: but did not
make her forget the very beings she wished to fly from. She sent for the
poor woman she found in the garret; gave her money to clothe herself
and children, and buy some furniture for a little hut, in a large
garden, the master of which agreed to employ her husband, who had been
bred a gardener. Mary promised to visit the family, and see their new
abode when she was able to go out.
CHAP. XXIV.
Mary still continued weak and low, though it was spring, and all nature
began to look gay; with more than usual brightness the sun shone, and a
little robin which she had cherished during the winter sung one of his
best songs. The family were particularly civil this fine morning, and
tried to prevail on her to walk out. Any thing like kindness melted her;
she consented.
Softer emotions banished her melancholy, and she directed her steps to
the habitation she had rendered comfortable.
Emerging out of a dreary chamber, all nature looked cheerful; when she
had last walked out, snow covered the ground, and bleak winds pierced
her through and through: now the hedges were green, the blossoms adorned
the trees, and the birds sung. She reached the dwelling, without being
much exhausted and while she rested there, observed the children
sporting on the grass, with improved complexions. The mother with tears
thanked her deliverer, and pointed out her comforts. Mary's tears flowed
not only from sympathy, but a complication of feelings and recollections
the affections which bound her to her fellow creatures began again to
play, and reanimated nature. She observed the change in herself, tried
to account for it, and wrote with her pencil a rhapsody on sensibility.
"Sensibility is the most exquisite feeling of which the human soul is
susceptible: when it pervades us, we feel happy; and could it last
unmixed, we might form some conjecture of the bliss of those
paradisiacal days, when the obedient passions were under the dominion of
reason, and the impulses of the heart did not need correction.
"It is this quickness, this delicacy of feeling, which enables us to
relish the sublime touches of the poet, and the painter; it is this,
which expands the soul, gives an enthusiastic greatness, mixed with
tenderness, when we view the magnificent objects of nature; or hear of a
good action. The same effect we experience in the spring, when we hail
the returning sun, and the consequent renovation of nature; when the
flowers unfold themselves, and exhale their sweets, and the voice of
music is heard in the land. Softened by tenderness; the soul is
disposed to be virtuous. Is any sensual gratification to be compared to
that of feelings the eves moistened after having comforted the
unfortunate?
"Sensibility is indeed the foundation of all our happiness; but these
raptures are unknown to the depraved sensualist, who is only moved by
what strikes his gross senses; the delicate embellishments of nature
escape his notice; as do the gentle and interesting affections.--But it
is only to be felt; it escapes discussion."
She then returned home, and partook of the family meal, which was
rendered more cheerful by the presence of a man, past the meridian of
life, of polished manners, and dazzling wit. He endeavoured to draw Mary
out, and succeeded; she entered into conversation, and some of her
artless flights of genius struck him with surprise; he found she had a
capacious mind, and that her reason was as profound as her imagination
was lively. She glanced from earth to heaven, and caught the light of
truth. Her expressive countenance shewed what passed in her mind, and
her tongue was ever the faithful interpreter of her heart; duplicity
never threw a shade over her words or actions. Mary found him a man of
learning; and the exercise of her understanding would frequently make
her forget her griefs, when nothing else could, except benevolence.
This man had known the mistress of the house in her youth; good nature
induced him to visit her; but when he saw Mary he had another
inducement. Her appearance, and above all, her genius, and cultivation
of mind, roused his curiosity; but her dignified manners had such an
effect on him, he was obliged to suppress it. He knew men, as well as
books; his conversation was entertaining and improving. In Mary's
company he doubted whether heaven was peopled with spirits masculine;
and almost forgot that he had called the sex "the pretty play things
that render life tolerable."
He had been the slave of beauty, the captive of sense; love he ne'er had
felt; the mind never rivetted the chain, nor had the purity of it made
the body appear lovely in his eyes. He was humane, despised meanness;
but was vain of his abilities, and by no means a useful member of
society. He talked often of the beauty of virtue; but not having any
solid foundation to build the practice on, he was only a shining, or
rather a sparkling character: and though his fortune enabled him to
hunt down pleasure, he was discontented.
Mary observed his character, and wrote down a train of reflections,
which these observations led her to make; these reflections received a
tinge from her mind; the present state of it, was that kind of painful
quietness which arises from reason clouded by disgust; she had not yet
learned to be resigned; vague hopes agitated her.
"There are some subjects that are so enveloped in clouds, as you
dissipate one, another overspreads it. Of this kind are our reasonings
concerning happiness; till we are obliged to cry out with the Apostle,
_That it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive in what it
could consist_, or how satiety could be prevented. Man seems formed for
action, though the passions are seldom properly managed; they are
either so languid as not to serve as a spur, or else so violent, as to
overleap all bounds.
"Every individual has its own peculiar trials; and anguish, in one shape
or other, visits every heart. Sensibility produces flights of virtue;
and not curbed by reason, is on the brink of vice talking, and even
thinking of virtue.
"Christianity can only afford just principles to govern the wayward
feelings and impulses of the heart: every good disposition runs wild, if
not transplanted into this soil; but how hard is it to keep the heart
diligently, though convinced that the issues of life depend on it.
"It is very difficult to discipline the mind of a thinker, or reconcile
him to the weakness, the inconsistency of his understanding; and a
still more laborious task for him to conquer his passions, and learn to
seek content, instead of happiness. Good dispositions, and virtuous
propensities, without the light of the Gospel, produce eccentric
characters: comet-like, they are always in extremes; while revelation
resembles the laws of attraction, and produces uniformity; but too often
is the attraction feeble; and the light so obscured by passion, as to
force the bewildered soul to fly into void space, and wander in
confusion."
CHAP. XXV.
A few mornings after, as Mary was sitting ruminating, harassed by
perplexing thoughts, and fears, a letter was delivered to her: the
servant waited for an answer. Her heart palpitated; it was from Henry;
she held it some time in her hand, then tore it open; it was not a long
one; and only contained an account of a relapse, which prevented his
sailing in the first packet, as he had intended. Some tender enquiries
were added, concerning her health, and state of mind; but they were
expressed in rather a formal style: it vexed her, and the more so, as it
stopped the current of affection, which the account of his arrival and
illness had made flow to her heart--it ceased to beat for a moment--she
read the passage over again; but could not tell what she was hurt
by--only that it did not answer the expectations of her affection. She
wrote a laconic, incoherent note in return, allowing him to call on her
the next day--he had requested permission at the conclusion of his
letter.
Her mind was then painfully active; she could not read or walk; she
tried to fly from herself, to forget the long hours that were yet to run
before to-morrow could arrive: she knew not what time he would come;
certainly in the morning, she concluded; the morning then was anxiously
wished for; and every wish produced a sigh, that arose from expectation
on the stretch, damped by fear and vain regret.
To beguile the tedious time, Henry's favorite tunes were sung; the books
they read together turned over; and the short epistle read at least a
hundred times.--Any one who had seen her, would have supposed that she
was trying to decypher Chinese characters.
After a sleepless night, she hailed the tardy day, watched the rising
sun, and then listened for every footstep, and started if she heard the
street door opened. At last he came, and she who had been counting the
hours, and doubting whether the earth moved, would gladly have escaped
the approaching interview.
With an unequal, irresolute pace, she went to meet him; but when she
beheld his emaciated countenance, all the tenderness, which the
formality of his letter had damped, returned, and a mournful
presentiment stilled the internal conflict. She caught his hand, and
looking wistfully at him, exclaimed, "Indeed, you are not well!"
"I am very far from well; but it matters not," added he with a smile of
resignation; "my native air may work wonders, and besides, my mother is
a tender nurse, and I shall sometimes see thee."
Mary felt for the first time in her life, envy; she wished
involuntarily, that all the comfort he received should be from her. She
enquired about the symptoms of his disorder; and heard that he had been
very ill; she hastily drove away the fears, that former dear bought
experience suggested: and again and again did she repeat, that she was
sure he would soon recover. She would then look in his face, to see if
he assented, and ask more questions to the same purport. She tried to
avoid speaking of herself, and Henry left her, with, a promise of
visiting her the next day.
Her mind was now engrossed by one fear--yet she would not allow herself
to think that she feared an event she could not name. She still saw his
pale face; the sound of his voice still vibrated on her ears; she tried
to retain it; she listened, looked round, wept, and prayed.
Henry had enlightened the desolate scene: was this charm of life to fade
away, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck
behind? These thoughts disturbed her reason, she shook her head, as if
to drive them out of it; a weight, a heavy one, was on her heart; all
was not well there.
Out of this reverie she was soon woke to keener anguish, by the arrival
of a letter from her husband; it came to Lisbon after her departure:
Henry had forwarded it to her, but did not choose to deliver it
himself, for a very obvious reason; it might have produced a
conversation he wished for some time to avoid; and his precaution took
its rise almost equally from benevolence and love.
She could not muster up sufficient resolution to break the seal: her
fears were not prophetic, for the contents gave her comfort. He informed
her that he intended prolonging his tour, as he was now his own master,
and wished to remain some time on the continent, and in particular to
visit Italy without any restraint: but his reasons for it appeared
childish; it was not to cultivate his taste, or tread on classic ground,
where poets and philosophers caught their lore; but to join in the
masquerades, and such burlesque amusements.
These instances of folly relieved Mary, in some degree reconciled her
to herself added fuel to the devouring flame--and silenced something
like a pang, which reason and conscience made her feel, when she
reflected, that it is the office of Religion to reconcile us to the
seemingly hard dispensations of providence; and that no inclination,
however strong, should oblige us to desert the post assigned us, or
force us to forget that virtue should be an active principle; and that
the most desirable station, is the one that exercises our faculties,
refines our affections, and enables us to be useful.
One reflection continually wounded her repose; she feared not poverty;
her wants were few; but in giving up a fortune, she gave up the power of
comforting the miserable, and making the sad heart sing for joy.
Heaven had endowed her with uncommon humanity, to render her one of His
benevolent agents, a messenger of peace; and should she attend to her
own inclinations?
These suggestions, though they could not subdue a violent passion,
increased her misery. One moment she was a heroine, half determined to
bear whatever fate should inflict; the next, her mind would recoil--and
tenderness possessed her whole soul. Some instances of Henry's
affection, his worth and genius, were remembered: and the earth was only
a vale of tears, because he was not to sojourn with her.
CHAP. XXVI.
Henry came the next day, and once or twice in the course of the
following week; but still Mary kept up some little formality, a certain
consciousness restrained her; and Henry did not enter on the subject
which he found she wished to avoid. In the course of conversation,
however, she mentioned to him, that she earnestly desired to obtain a
place in one of the public offices for Ann's brother, as the family were
again in a declining way.
Henry attended, made a few enquiries, and dropped the subject; but the
following week, she heard him enter with unusual haste; it was to inform
her, that he had made interest with a person of some consequence, whom
he had once obliged in a very disagreeable exigency, in a foreign
country; and that he had procured a place for her friend, which would
infallibly lead to something better, if he behaved with propriety. Mary
could not speak to thank him; emotions of gratitude and love suffused
her face; her blood eloquently spoke. She delighted to receive benefits
through the medium of her fellow creatures; but to receive them from
Henry was exquisite pleasure.
As the summer advanced, Henry grew worse; the closeness of the air, in
the metropolis, affected his breath; and his mother insisted on his
fixing on some place in the country, where she would accompany him. He
could not think of going far off, but chose a little village on the
banks of the Thames, near Mary's dwelling: he then introduced her to his
mother.
They frequently went down the river in a boat; Henry would take his
violin, and Mary would sometimes sing, or read, to them. She pleased his
mother; she inchanted him. It was an advantage to Mary that friendship
first possessed her heart; it opened it to all the softer sentiments of
humanity:--and when this first affection was torn away, a similar one
sprung up, with a still tenderer sentiment added to it.
The last evening they were on the water, the clouds grew suddenly black,
and broke in violent showers, which interrupted the solemn stillness
that had prevailed previous to it. The thunder roared; and the oars
plying quickly, in order to reach the shore, occasioned a not
unpleasing sound. Mary drew still nearer Henry; she wished to have
sought with him a watry grave; to have escaped the horror of surviving
him.--She spoke not, but Henry saw the workings of her mind--he felt
them; threw his arm round her waist--and they enjoyed the luxury of
wretchedness.--As they touched the shore, Mary perceived that Henry was
wet; with eager anxiety she cried, What shall I do!--this day will kill
thee, and I shall not die with thee!
This accident put a stop to their pleasurable excursions; it had injured
him, and brought on the spitting of blood he was subject to--perhaps it
was not the cold that he caught, that occasioned it. In vain did Mary
try to shut her eyes; her fate pursued her! Henry every day grew worse
and worse.
CHAP. XXVII.
Oppressed by her foreboding fears, her sore mind was hurt by new
instances of ingratitude: disgusted with the family, whose misfortunes
had often disturbed her repose, and lost in anticipated sorrow, she
rambled she knew not where; when turning down a shady walk, she
discovered her feet had taken the path they delighted to tread. She saw
Henry sitting in his garden alone; he quickly opened the garden-gate,
and she sat down by him.
"I did not," said he, "expect to see thee this evening, my dearest Mary;
but I was thinking of thee. Heaven has endowed thee with an uncommon
portion of fortitude, to support one of the most affectionate hearts in
the world. This is not a time for disguise; I know I am dear to
thee--and my affection for thee is twisted with every fibre of my
heart.--I loved thee ever since I have been acquainted with thine: thou
art the being my fancy has delighted to form; but which I imagined
existed only there! In a little while the shades of death will encompass
me--ill-fated love perhaps added strength to my disease, and smoothed
the rugged path. Try, my love, to fulfil thy destined course--try to add
to thy other virtues patience. I could have wished, for thy sake, that
we could have died together--or that I could live to shield thee from
the assaults of an unfeeling world! Could I but offer thee an asylum in
these arms--a faithful bosom, in which thou couldst repose all thy
griefs--" He pressed her to it, and she returned the pressure--he felt her
throbbing heart. A mournful silence ensued! when he resumed the
conversation. "I wished to prepare thee for the blow--too surely do I
feel that it will not be long delayed! The passion I have nursed is so
pure, that death cannot extinguish it--or tear away the impression thy
virtues have made on my soul. I would fain comfort thee--"
"Talk not of comfort," interrupted Mary, "it will be in heaven with thee
and Ann--while I shall remain on earth the veriest wretch!"--She grasped
his hand.
"There we shall meet, my love, my Mary, in our Father's--" His voice
faultered; he could not finish the sentence; he was almost
suffocated--they both wept, their tears relieved them; they walked
slowly to the garden-gate (Mary would not go into the house); they could
not say farewel when they reached it--and Mary hurried down the lane; to
spare Henry the pain of witnessing her emotions.
When she lost sight of the house she sat down on the ground, till it
grew late, thinking of all that had passed. Full of these thoughts, she
crept along, regardless of the descending rain; when lifting up her eyes
to heaven, and then turning them wildly on the prospects around, without
marking them; she only felt that the scene accorded with her present
state of mind. It was the last glimmering of twilight, with a full moon,
over which clouds continually flitted. Where am I wandering, God of
Mercy! she thought; she alluded to the wanderings of her mind. In what a
labyrinth am I lost! What miseries have I already encountered--and what
a number lie still before me.
Her thoughts flew rapidly to something. I could be happy listening to
him, soothing his cares.--Would he not smile upon me--call me his own
Mary? I am not his--said she with fierceness--I am a wretch! and she
heaved a sigh that almost broke her heart, while the big tears rolled
down her burning cheeks; but still her exercised mind, accustomed to
think, began to observe its operation, though the barrier of reason was
almost carried away, and all the faculties not restrained by her, were
running into confusion. Wherefore am I made thus? Vain are my
efforts--I cannot live without loving--and love leads to madness.--Yet
I will not weep; and her eyes were now fixed by despair, dry and
motionless; and then quickly whirled about with a look of distraction.
She looked for hope; but found none--all was troubled waters.--No where
could she find rest. I have already paced to and fro in the earth; it is
not my abiding place--may I not too go home! Ah! no. Is this complying
with my Henry's request, could a spirit thus disengaged expect to
associate with his? Tears of tenderness strayed down her relaxed
countenance, and her softened heart heaved more regularly. She felt the
rain, and turned to her solitary home.
Fatigued by the tumultuous emotions she had endured, when she entered
the house she ran to her own room, sunk on the bed; and exhausted
nature soon closed her eyes; but active fancy was still awake, and a
thousand fearful dreams interrupted her slumbers.
Feverish and languid, she opened her eyes, and saw the unwelcome sun
dart his rays through a window, the curtains of which she had forgotten
to draw. The dew hung on the adjacent trees, and added to the lustre;
the little robin began his song, and distant birds joined. She looked;
her countenance was still vacant--her sensibility was absorbed by one
object.
Did I ever admire the rising sun, she slightly thought, turning from the
Window, and shutting her eyes: she recalled to view the last night's
scene. His faltering voice, lingering step, and the look of tender woe,
were all graven on her heart; as were the words "Could these arms
shield thee from sorrow--afford thee an asylum from an unfeeling world."
The pressure to his bosom was not forgot. For a moment she was happy;
but in a long-drawn sigh every delightful sensation evaporated.
Soon--yes, very soon, will the grave again receive all I love! and the
remnant of my days--she could not proceed--Were there then days to come
after that?
CHAP. XXVIII.
Just as she was going to quit her room, to visit Henry, his mother
called on her.
"My son is worse to-day," said she, "I come to request you to spend not
only this day, but a week or two with me.--Why should I conceal any
thing from you? Last night my child made his mother his confident, and,
in the anguish of his heart, requested me to be thy friend--when I shall
be childless. I will not attempt to describe what I felt when he talked
thus to me. If I am to lose the support of my age, and be again a
widow--may I call her Child whom my Henry wishes me to adopt?"
This new instance of Henry's disinterested affection, Mary felt most
forcibly; and striving to restrain the complicated emotions, and sooth
the wretched mother, she almost fainted: when the unhappy parent forced
tears from her, by saying, "I deserve this blow; my partial fondness
made me neglect him, when most he wanted a mother's care; this neglect,
perhaps, first injured his constitution: righteous Heaven has made my
crime its own punishment; and now I am indeed a mother, I shall loss my
child--my only child!"
When they were a little more composed they hastened to the invalide; but
during the short ride, the mother related several instances of Henry's
goodness of heart. Mary's tears were not those of unmixed anguish; the
display of his virtues gave her extreme delight--yet human nature
prevailed; she trembled to think they would soon unfold themselves in a
more genial clime.
CHAP. XXIX.
She found Henry very ill. The physician had some weeks before declared
he never knew a person with a similar pulse recover. Henry was certain
he could not live long; all the rest he could obtain, was procured by
opiates. Mary now enjoyed the melancholy pleasure of nursing him, and
softened by her tenderness the pains she could not remove. Every sigh
did she stifle, every tear restrain, when he could see or hear them. She
would boast of her resignation--yet catch eagerly at the least ray of
hope. While he slept she would support his pillow, and rest her head
where she could feel his breath. She loved him better than herself--she
could not pray for his recovery; she could only say, The will of Heaven
be done.
While she was in this state, she labored to acquire fortitude; but one
tender look destroyed it all--she rather labored, indeed, to make him
believe he was resigned, than really to be so.
She wished to receive the sacrament with him, as a bond of union which
was to extend beyond the grave. She did so, and received comfort from
it; she rose above her misery.
His end was now approaching. Mary sat on the side of the bed. His eyes
appeared fixed--no longer agitated by passion, he only felt that it was
a fearful thing to die. The soul retired to the citadel; but it was not
now solely filled by the image of her who in silent despair watched for
his last breath. Collected, a frightful calmness stilled every turbulent
emotion.
The mother's grief was more audible. Henry had for some time only
attended to Mary--Mary pitied the parent, whose stings of conscience
increased her sorrow; she whispered him, "Thy mother weeps, disregarded
by thee; oh! comfort her!--My mother, thy son blesses thee.--" The
oppressed parent left the room. And Mary _waited_ to see him die.
She pressed with trembling eagerness his parched lips--he opened his
eyes again; the spreading film retired, and love returned them--he gave
a look--it was never forgotten. My Mary, will you be comforted?
Yes, yes, she exclaimed in a firm voice; you go to be happy--I am not a
complete wretch! The words almost choked her.
He was a long time silent; the opiate produced a kind of stupor. At
last, in an agony, he cried, It is dark; I cannot see thee; raise me up.
Where is Mary? did she not say she delighted to support me? let me die
in her arms.
Her arms were opened to receive him; they trembled not. Again he was
obliged to lie down, resting on her: as the agonies increased he leaned
towards her: the soul seemed flying to her, as it escaped out of its
prison. The breathing was interrupted; she heard distinctly the last
sigh--and lifting up to Heaven her eyes, Father, receive his spirit, she
calmly cried.
The attendants gathered round; she moved not, nor heard the clamor; the
hand seemed yet to press hers; it still was warm. A ray of light from
an opened window discovered the pale face.
She left the room, and retired to one very near it; and sitting down on
the floor, fixed her eyes on the door of the apartment which contained
the body. Every event of her life rushed across her mind with wonderful
rapidity--yet all was still--fate had given the finishing stroke. She
sat till midnight.--Then rose in a phrensy, went into the apartment, and
desired those who watched the body to retire.
She knelt by the bed side;--an enthusiastic devotion overcame the
dictates of despair.--She prayed most ardently to be supported, and
dedicated herself to the service of that Being into whose hands, she had
committed the spirit she almost adored--again--and again,--she prayed
wildly--and fervently--but attempting to touch the lifeless hand--her
head swum--she sunk--
CHAP. XXX.
Three months after, her only friend, the mother of her lost Henry began
to be alarmed, at observing her altered appearance; and made her own
health a pretext for travelling. These complaints roused Mary out of her
torpid state; she imagined a new duty now forced her to exert herself--a
duty love made sacred!--
They went to Bath, from that to Bristol; but the latter place they
quickly left; the sight of the sick that resort there, they neither of
them could bear. From Bristol they flew to Southampton. The road was
pleasant--yet Mary shut her eyes;--or if they were open, green fields
and commons, passed in quick succession, and left no more traces behind
than if they had been waves of the sea.
Some time after they were settled at Southampton, they met the man who
took so much notice of Mary, soon after her return to England. He
renewed his acquaintance; he was really interested in her fate, as he
had heard her uncommon story; besides, he knew her husband; knew him to
be a good-natured, weak man. He saw him soon after his arrival in his
native country, and prevented his hastening to enquire into the reasons
of Mary's strange conduct. He desired him not to be too precipitate, if
he ever wished to possess an invaluable treasure. He was guided by him,
and allowed him to follow Mary to Southampton, and speak first to her
friend.
This friend determined to trust to her native strength of mind, and
informed her of the circumstance; but she overrated it: Mary was not
able, for a few days after the intelligence, to fix on the mode of
conduct she ought now to pursue. But at last she conquered her disgust,
and wrote her _husband_ an account of what had passed since she had
dropped his correspondence.
He came in person to answer the letter. Mary fainted when he approached
her unexpectedly. Her disgust returned with additional force, in spite
of previous reasonings, whenever he appeared; yet she was prevailed on
to promise to live with him, if he would permit her to pass one year,
travelling from place to place; he was not to accompany her.
The time too quickly elapsed, and she gave him her hand--the struggle
was almost more than she could endure. She tried to appear calm; time
mellowed her grief, and mitigated her torments; but when her husband
would take her hand, or mention any thing like love, she would instantly
feel a sickness, a faintness at her heart, and wish, involuntarily, that
the earth would open and swallow her.
CHAP. XXXI.
Mary visited the continent, and sought health in different climates; but
her nerves were not to be restored to their former state. She then
retired to her house in the country, established manufactories, threw
the estate into small farms; and continually employed herself this way
to dissipate care, and banish unavailing regret. She visited the sick,
supported the old, and educated the young.
These occupations engrossed her mind; but there were hours when all her
former woes would return and haunt her.--Whenever she did, or said, any
thing she thought Henry would have approved of--she could not avoid
thinking with anguish, of the rapture his approbation ever conveyed to
her heart--a heart in which there was a void, that even benevolence and
religion could not fill. The latter taught her to struggle for
resignation; and the former rendered life supportable.
Her delicate state of health did not promise long life. In moments of
solitary sadness, a gleam of joy would dart across her mind--She thought
she was hastening to that world _where there is neither marrying_, nor
giving in marriage.
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY***
******* This file should be named 16357-8.txt or 16357-8.zip *******
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/3/5/16357
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit:
https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
What does Charles do immediately after he and Mary are wed?
Answer:
| He leaves for the Continent. | 174 | 153,585 | 153,587 | 153,656 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
3858 | 3858_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mary, by Mary Wollstonecraft
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Mary
A Fiction
Author: Mary Wollstonecraft
Release Date: July 24, 2005 [eBook #16357]
Language: English
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY***
E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Janet Blenkinship, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/)
Transcriber's note: The author is Mary Wollstonecraft (1759-1797).
MARY,
A Fiction
L'exercice des plus sublimes vertus éleve et nourrit le génie.
ROUSSEAU.
London,
Printed for J. Johnson, St. Paul's Church-Yard.
MDCCLXXXVIII
ADVERTISEMENT.
In delineating the Heroine of this Fiction, the Author attempts to
develop a character different from those generally portrayed. This woman
is neither a Clarissa, a Lady G----, nor a[A] Sophie.--It would be vain
to mention the various modifications of these models, as it would to
remark, how widely artists wander from nature, when they copy the
originals of great masters. They catch the gross parts; but the subtile
spirit evaporates; and not having the just ties, affectation disgusts,
when grace was expected to charm.
Those compositions only have power to delight, and carry us willing
captives, where the soul of the author is exhibited, and animates the
hidden springs. Lost in a pleasing enthusiasm, they live in the scenes
they represent; and do not measure their steps in a beaten track,
solicitous to gather expected flowers, and bind them in a wreath,
according to the prescribed rules of art.
These chosen few, wish to speak for themselves, and not to be an
echo--even of the sweetest sounds--or the reflector of the most sublime
beams. The[B] paradise they ramble in, must be of their own creating--or
the prospect soon grows insipid, and not varied by a vivifying
principle, fades and dies.
In an artless tale, without episodes, the mind of a woman, who has
thinking powers is displayed. The female organs have been thought too
weak for this arduous employment; and experience seems to justify the
assertion. Without arguing physically about _possibilities_--in a
fiction, such a being may be allowed to exist; whose grandeur is derived
from the operations of its own faculties, not subjugated to opinion; but
drawn by the individual from the original source.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: Rousseau.]
[Footnote B: I here give the Reviewers an opportunity of being very
witty about the Paradise of Fools, &c.]
MARY
CHAP. I.
Mary, the heroine of this fiction, was the daughter of Edward, who
married Eliza, a gentle, fashionable girl, with a kind of indolence in
her temper, which might be termed negative good-nature: her virtues,
indeed, were all of that stamp. She carefully attended to the _shews_ of
things, and her opinions, I should have said prejudices, were such as
the generality approved of. She was educated with the expectation of a
large fortune, of course became a mere machine: the homage of her
attendants made a great part of her puerile amusements, and she never
imagined there were any relative duties for her to fulfil: notions of
her own consequence, by these means, were interwoven in her mind, and
the years of youth spent in acquiring a few superficial accomplishments,
without having any taste for them. When she was first introduced into
the polite circle, she danced with an officer, whom she faintly wished
to be united to; but her father soon after recommending another in a
more distinguished rank of life, she readily submitted to his will, and
promised to love, honour, and obey, (a vicious fool,) as in duty bound.
While they resided in London, they lived in the usual fashionable style,
and seldom saw each other; nor were they much more sociable when they
wooed rural felicity for more than half the year, in a delightful
country, where Nature, with lavish hand, had scattered beauties around;
for the master, with brute, unconscious gaze, passed them by unobserved,
and sought amusement in country sports. He hunted in the morning, and
after eating an immoderate dinner, generally fell asleep: this
seasonable rest enabled him to digest the cumbrous load; he would then
visit some of his pretty tenants; and when he compared their ruddy glow
of health with his wife's countenance, which even rouge could not
enliven, it is not necessary to say which a _gourmand_ would give the
preference to. Their vulgar dance of spirits were infinitely more
agreeable to his fancy than her sickly, die-away languor. Her voice was
but the shadow of a sound, and she had, to complete her delicacy, so
relaxed her nerves, that she became a mere nothing.
Many such noughts are there in the female world! yet she had a good
opinion of her own merit,--truly, she said long prayers,--and sometimes
read her Week's Preparation: she dreaded that horrid place vulgarly
called _hell_, the regions below; but whether her's was a mounting
spirit, I cannot pretend to determine; or what sort of a planet would
have been proper for her, when she left her _material_ part in this
world, let metaphysicians settle; I have nothing to say to her unclothed
spirit.
As she was sometimes obliged to be alone, or only with her French
waiting-maid, she sent to the metropolis for all the new publications,
and while she was dressing her hair, and she could turn her eyes from
the glass, she ran over those most delightful substitutes for bodily
dissipation, novels. I say bodily, or the animal soul, for a rational
one can find no employment in polite circles. The glare of lights, the
studied inelegancies of dress, and the compliments offered up at the
shrine of false beauty, are all equally addressed to the senses.
When she could not any longer indulge the caprices of fancy one way, she
tried another. The Platonic Marriage, Eliza Warwick, and some other
interesting tales were perused with eagerness. Nothing could be more
natural than the developement of the passions, nor more striking than
the views of the human heart. What delicate struggles! and uncommonly
pretty turns of thought! The picture that was found on a bramble-bush,
the new sensitive-plant, or tree, which caught the swain by the
upper-garment, and presented to his ravished eyes a portrait.--Fatal
image!--It planted a thorn in a till then insensible heart, and sent a
new kind of a knight-errant into the world. But even this was nothing to
the catastrophe, and the circumstance on which it hung, the hornet
settling on the sleeping lover's face. What a _heart-rending_ accident!
She planted, in imitation of those susceptible souls, a rose bush; but
there was not a lover to weep in concert with her, when she watered it
with her tears.--Alas! Alas!
If my readers would excuse the sportiveness of fancy, and give me credit
for genius, I would go on and tell them such tales as would force the
sweet tears of sensibility to flow in copious showers down beautiful
cheeks, to the discomposure of rouge, &c. &c. Nay, I would make it so
interesting, that the fair peruser should beg the hair-dresser to
settle the curls himself, and not interrupt her.
She had besides another resource, two most beautiful dogs, who shared
her bed, and reclined on cushions near her all the day. These she
watched with the most assiduous care, and bestowed on them the warmest
caresses. This fondness for animals was not that kind of
_attendrissement_ which makes a person take pleasure in providing for
the subsistence and comfort of a living creature; but it proceeded from
vanity, it gave her an opportunity of lisping out the prettiest French
expressions of ecstatic fondness, in accents that had never been attuned
by tenderness.
She was chaste, according to the vulgar acceptation of the word, that
is, she did not make any actual _faux pas_; she feared the world, and
was indolent; but then, to make amends for this seeming self-denial, she
read all the sentimental novels, dwelt on the love-scenes, and, had she
thought while she read, her mind would have been contaminated; as she
accompanied the lovers to the lonely arbors, and would walk with them by
the clear light of the moon. She wondered her husband did not stay at
home. She was jealous--why did he not love her, sit by her side, squeeze
her hand, and look unutterable things? Gentle reader, I will tell thee;
they neither of them felt what they could not utter. I will not pretend
to say that they always annexed an idea to a word; but they had none of
those feelings which are not easily analyzed.
CHAP. II.
In due time she brought forth a son, a feeble babe; and the following
year a daughter. After the mother's throes she felt very few sentiments
of maternal tenderness: the children were given to nurses, and she
played with her dogs. Want of exercise prevented the least chance of her
recovering strength; and two or three milk-fevers brought on a
consumption, to which her constitution tended. Her children all died in
their infancy, except the two first, and she began to grow fond of the
son, as he was remarkably handsome. For years she divided her time
between the sofa, and the card-table. She thought not of death, though
on the borders of the grave; nor did any of the duties of her station
occur to her as necessary. Her children were left in the nursery; and
when Mary, the little blushing girl, appeared, she would send the
awkward thing away. To own the truth, she was awkward enough, in a house
without any play-mates; for her brother had been sent to school, and she
scarcely knew how to employ herself; she would ramble about the garden,
admire the flowers, and play with the dogs. An old house-keeper told her
stories, read to her, and, at last, taught her to read. Her mother
talked of enquiring for a governess when her health would permit; and,
in the interim desired her own maid to teach her French. As she had
learned to read, she perused with avidity every book that came in her
way. Neglected in every respect, and left to the operations of her own
mind, she considered every thing that came under her inspection, and
learned to think. She had heard of a separate state, and that angels
sometimes visited this earth. She would sit in a thick wood in the park,
and talk to them; make little songs addressed to them, and sing them to
tunes of her own composing; and her native wood notes wild were sweet
and touching.
Her father always exclaimed against female acquirements, and was glad
that his wife's indolence and ill health made her not trouble herself
about them. She had besides another reason, she did not wish to have a
fine tall girl brought forward into notice as her daughter; she still
expected to recover, and figure away in the gay world. Her husband was
very tyrannical and passionate; indeed so very easily irritated when
inebriated, that Mary was continually in dread lest he should frighten
her mother to death; her sickness called forth all Mary's tenderness,
and exercised her compassion so continually, that it became more than a
match for self-love, and was the governing propensity of her heart
through life. She was violent in her temper; but she saw her father's
faults, and would weep when obliged to compare his temper with her
own.--She did more; artless prayers rose to Heaven for pardon, when she
was conscious of having erred; and her contrition was so exceedingly
painful, that she watched diligently the first movements of anger and
impatience, to save herself this cruel remorse.
Sublime ideas filled her young mind--always connected with devotional
sentiments; extemporary effusions of gratitude, and rhapsodies of
praise would burst often from her, when she listened to the birds, or
pursued the deer. She would gaze on the moon, and ramble through the
gloomy path, observing the various shapes the clouds assumed, and listen
to the sea that was not far distant. The wandering spirits, which she
imagined inhabited every part of nature, were her constant friends and
confidants. She began to consider the Great First Cause, formed just
notions of his attributes, and, in particular, dwelt on his wisdom and
goodness. Could she have loved her father or mother, had they returned
her affection, she would not so soon, perhaps, have sought out a new
world.
Her sensibility prompted her to search for an object to love; on earth
it was not to be found: her mother had often disappointed her, and the
apparent partiality she shewed to her brother gave her exquisite
pain--produced a kind of habitual melancholy, led her into a fondness
for reading tales of woe, and made her almost realize the fictitious
distress.
She had not any notion of death till a little chicken expired at her
feet; and her father had a dog hung in a passion. She then concluded
animals had souls, or they would not have been subjected to the caprice
of man; but what was the soul of man or beast? In this style year after
year rolled on, her mother still vegetating.
A little girl who attended in the nursery fell sick. Mary paid her great
attention; contrary to her wish, she was sent out of the house to her
mother, a poor woman, whom necessity obliged to leave her sick child
while she earned her daily bread. The poor wretch, in a fit of delirium
stabbed herself, and Mary saw her dead body, and heard the dismal
account; and so strongly did it impress her imagination, that every
night of her life the bleeding corpse presented itself to her when the
first began to slumber. Tortured by it, she at last made a vow, that if
she was ever mistress of a family she would herself watch over every
part of it. The impression that this accident made was indelible.
As her mother grew imperceptibly worse and worse, her father, who did
not understand such a lingering complaint, imagined his wife was only
grown still more whimsical, and that if she could be prevailed on to
exert herself, her health would soon be re-established. In general he
treated her with indifference; but when her illness at all interfered
with his pleasures, he expostulated in the most cruel manner, and
visibly harassed the invalid. Mary would then assiduously try to turn
his attention to something else; and when sent out of the room, would
watch at the door, until the storm was over, for unless it was, she
could not rest. Other causes also contributed to disturb her repose: her
mother's luke-warm manner of performing her religious duties, filled her
with anguish; and when she observed her father's vices, the unbidden
tears would flow. She was miserable when beggars were driven from the
gate without being relieved; if she could do it unperceived, she would
give them her own breakfast, and feel gratified, when, in consequence of
it, she was pinched by hunger.
She had once, or twice, told her little secrets to her mother; they were
laughed at, and she determined never to do it again. In this manner was
she left to reflect on her own feelings; and so strengthened were they
by being meditated on, that her character early became singular and
permanent. Her understanding was strong and clear, when not clouded by
her feelings; but she was too much the creature of impulse, and the
slave of compassion.
CHAP. III.
Near her father's house lived a poor widow, who had been brought up in
affluence, but reduced to great distress by the extravagance of her
husband; he had destroyed his constitution while he spent his fortune;
and dying, left his wife, and five small children, to live on a very
scanty pittance. The eldest daughter was for some years educated by a
distant relation, a Clergyman. While she was with him a young gentleman,
son to a man of property in the neighbourhood, took particular notice of
her. It is true, he never talked of love; but then they played and sung
in concert; drew landscapes together, and while she worked he read to
her, cultivated her taste, and stole imperceptibly her heart. Just at
this juncture, when smiling, unanalyzed hope made every prospect bright,
and gay expectation danced in her eyes, her benefactor died. She
returned to her mother--the companion of her youth forgot her, they took
no more sweet counsel together. This disappointment spread a sadness
over her countenance, and made it interesting. She grew fond of
solitude, and her character appeared similar to Mary's, though her
natural disposition was very different.
She was several years older than Mary, yet her refinement, her taste,
caught her eye, and she eagerly sought her friendship: before her return
she had assisted the family, which was almost reduced to the last ebb;
and now she had another motive to actuate her.
As she had often occasion to send messages to Ann, her new friend,
mistakes were frequently made; Ann proposed that in future they should
be written ones, to obviate this difficulty, and render their
intercourse more agreeable. Young people are mostly fond of scribbling;
Mary had had very little instruction; but by copying her friend's
letters, whose hand she admired, she soon became a proficient; a little
practice made her write with tolerable correctness, and her genius gave
force to it. In conversation, and in writing, when she felt, she was
pathetic, tender and persuasive; and she expressed contempt with such
energy, that few could stand the flash of her eyes.
As she grew more intimate with Ann, her manners were softened, and she
acquired a degree of equality in her behaviour: yet still her spirits
were fluctuating, and her movements rapid. She felt less pain on
account of her mother's partiality to her brother, as she hoped now to
experience the pleasure of being beloved; but this hope led her into new
sorrows, and, as usual, paved the way for disappointment. Ann only felt
gratitude; her heart was entirely engrossed by one object, and
friendship could not serve as a substitute; memory officiously retraced
past scenes, and unavailing wishes made time loiter.
Mary was often hurt by the involuntary indifference which these
consequences produced. When her friend was all the world to her, she
found she was not as necessary to her happiness; and her delicate mind
could not bear to obtrude her affection, or receive love as an alms, the
offspring of pity. Very frequently has she ran to her with delight, and
not perceiving any thing of the same kind in Ann's countenance, she has
shrunk back; and, falling from one extreme into the other, instead of a
warm greeting that was just slipping from her tongue, her expressions
seemed to be dictated by the most chilling insensibility.
She would then imagine that she looked sickly or unhappy, and then all
her tenderness would return like a torrent, and bear away all
reflection. In this manner was her sensibility called forth, and
exercised, by her mother's illness, her friend's misfortunes, and her
own unsettled mind.
CHAP. IV.
Near to her father's house was a range of mountains; some of them were,
literally speaking, cloud-capt, for on them clouds continually rested,
and gave grandeur to the prospect; and down many of their sides the
little bubbling cascades ran till they swelled a beautiful river.
Through the straggling trees and bushes the wind whistled, and on them
the birds sung, particularly the robins; they also found shelter in the
ivy of an old castle, a haunted one, as the story went; it was situated
on the brow of one of the mountains, and commanded a view of the sea.
This castle had been inhabited by some of her ancestors; and many tales
had the old house-keeper told her of the worthies who had resided there.
When her mother frowned, and her friend looked cool, she would steal to
this retirement, where human foot seldom trod--gaze on the sea, observe
the grey clouds, or listen to the wind which struggled to free itself
from the only thing that impeded its course. When more cheerful, she
admired the various dispositions of light and shade, the beautiful tints
the gleams of sunshine gave to the distant hills; then she rejoiced in
existence, and darted into futurity.
One way home was through the cavity of a rock covered with a thin layer
of earth, just sufficient to afford nourishment to a few stunted shrubs
and wild plants, which grew on its sides, and nodded over the summit. A
clear stream broke out of it, and ran amongst the pieces of rocks
fallen into it. Here twilight always reigned--it seemed the Temple of
Solitude; yet, paradoxical as the assertion may appear, when the foot
sounded on the rock, it terrified the intruder, and inspired a strange
feeling, as if the rightful sovereign was dislodged. In this retreat she
read Thomson's Seasons, Young's Night-Thoughts, and Paradise Lost.
At a little distance from it were the huts of a few poor fishermen, who
supported their numerous children by their precarious labour. In these
little huts she frequently rested, and denied herself every childish
gratification, in order to relieve the necessities of the inhabitants.
Her heart yearned for them, and would dance with joy when she had
relieved their wants, or afforded them pleasure.
In these pursuits she learned the luxury of doing good; and the sweet
tears of benevolence frequently moistened her eyes, and gave them a
sparkle which, exclusive of that, they had not; on the contrary, they
were rather fixed, and would never have been observed if her soul had
not animated them. They were not at all like those brilliant ones which
look like polished diamonds, and dart from every superfice, giving more
light to the beholders than they receive themselves.
Her benevolence, indeed, knew no bounds; the distress of others carried
her out of herself; and she rested not till she had relieved or
comforted them. The warmth of her compassion often made her so diligent,
that many things occurred to her, which might have escaped a less
interested observer.
In like manner, she entered with such spirit into whatever she read,
and the emotions thereby raised were so strong, that it soon became a
part of her mind.
Enthusiastic sentiments of devotion at this period actuated her; her
Creator was almost apparent to her senses in his works; but they were
mostly the grand or solemn features of Nature which she delighted to
contemplate. She would stand and behold the waves rolling, and think of
the voice that could still the tumultuous deep.
These propensities gave the colour to her mind, before the passions
began to exercise their tyrannic sway, and particularly pointed out
those which the soil would have a tendency to nurse.
Years after, when wandering through the same scenes, her imagination has
strayed back, to trace the first placid sentiments they inspired, and
she would earnestly desire to regain the same peaceful tranquillity.
Many nights she sat up, if I may be allowed the expression, _conversing_
with the Author of Nature, making verses, and singing hymns of her own
composing. She considered also, and tried to discern what end her
various faculties were destined to pursue; and had a glimpse of a truth,
which afterwards more fully unfolded itself.
She thought that only an infinite being could fill the human soul, and
that when other objects were followed as a means of happiness, the
delusion led to misery, the consequence of disappointment. Under the
influence of ardent affections, how often has she forgot this
conviction, and as often returned to it again, when it struck her with
redoubled force. Often did she taste unmixed delight; her joys, her
ecstacies arose from genius.
She was now fifteen, and she wished to receive the holy sacrament; and
perusing the scriptures, and discussing some points of doctrine which
puzzled her, she would sit up half the night, her favourite time for
employing her mind; she too plainly perceived that she saw through a
glass darkly; and that the bounds set to stop our intellectual
researches, is one of the trials of a probationary state.
But her affections were roused by the display of divine mercy; and she
eagerly desired to commemorate the dying love of her great benefactor.
The night before the important day, when she was to take on herself her
baptismal vow, she could not go to bed; the sun broke in on her
meditations, and found her not exhausted by her watching.
The orient pearls were strewed around--she hailed the morn, and sung
with wild delight, Glory to God on high, good will towards men. She was
indeed so much affected when she joined in the prayer for her eternal
preservation, that she could hardly conceal her violent emotions; and
the recollection never failed to wake her dormant piety when earthly
passions made it grow languid.
These various movements of her mind were not commented on, nor were the
luxuriant shoots restrained by culture. The servants and the poor adored
her.
In order to be enabled to gratify herself in the highest degree, she
practiced the most rigid oeconomy, and had such power over her
appetites and whims, that without any great effort she conquered them
so entirely, that when her understanding or affections had an object,
she almost forgot she had a body which required nourishment.
This habit of thinking, this kind of absorption, gave strength to the
passions.
We will now enter on the more active field of life.
CHAP. V.
A few months after Mary was turned of seventeen, her brother was
attacked by a violent fever, and died before his father could reach the
school.
She was now an heiress, and her mother began to think her of
consequence, and did not call her _the child_. Proper masters were sent
for; she was taught to dance, and an extraordinary master procured to
perfect her in that most necessary of all accomplishments.
A part of the estate she was to inherit had been litigated, and the heir
of the person who still carried on a Chancery suit, was only two years
younger than our heroine. The fathers, spite of the dispute, frequently
met, and, in order to settle it amicably, they one day, over a bottle,
determined to quash it by a marriage, and, by uniting the two estates,
to preclude all farther enquiries into the merits of their different
claims.
While this important matter was settling, Mary was otherwise employed.
Ann's mother's resources were failing; and the ghastly phantom, poverty,
made hasty strides to catch them in his clutches. Ann had not fortitude
enough to brave such accumulated misery; besides, the canker-worm was
lodged in her heart, and preyed on her health. She denied herself every
little comfort; things that would be no sacrifice when a person is well,
are absolutely necessary to alleviate bodily pain, and support the
animal functions.
There were many elegant amusements, that she had acquired a relish for,
which might have taken her mind off from its most destructive bent; but
these her indigence would not allow her to enjoy: forced then, by way of
relaxation, to play the tunes her lover admired, and handle the pencil
he taught her to hold, no wonder his image floated on her imagination,
and that taste invigorated love.
Poverty, and all its inelegant attendants, were in her mother's abode;
and she, though a good sort of a woman, was not calculated to banish, by
her trivial, uninteresting chat, the delirium in which her daughter was
lost.
This ill-fated love had given a bewitching softness to her manners, a
delicacy so truly feminine, that a man of any feeling could not behold
her without wishing to chase her sorrows away. She was timid and
irresolute, and rather fond of dissipation; grief only had power to make
her reflect.
In every thing it was not the great, but the beautiful, or the pretty,
that caught her attention. And in composition, the polish of style, and
harmony of numbers, interested her much more than the flights of genius,
or abstracted speculations.
She often wondered at the books Mary chose, who, though she had a lively
imagination, would frequently study authors whose works were addressed
to the understanding. This liking taught her to arrange her thoughts,
and argue with herself, even when under the influence of the most
violent passions.
Ann's misfortunes and ill health were strong ties to bind Mary to her;
she wished so continually to have a home to receive her in, that it
drove every other desire out of her mind; and, dwelling on the tender
schemes which compassion and friendship dictated, she longed most
ardently to put them in practice.
Fondly as she loved her friend, she did not forget her mother, whose
decline was so imperceptible, that they were not aware of her
approaching dissolution. The physician, however, observing the most
alarming symptoms; her husband was apprised of her immediate danger; and
then first mentioned to her his designs with respect to his daughter.
She approved of them; Mary was sent for; she was not at home; she had
rambled to visit Ann, and found her in an hysteric fit. The landlord of
her little farm had sent his agent for the rent, which had long been due
to him; and he threatened to seize the stock that still remained, and
turn them out, if they did not very shortly discharge the arrears.
As this man made a private fortune by harassing the tenants of the
person to whom he was deputy, little was to be expected from his
forbearance.
All this was told to Mary--and the mother added, she had many other
creditors who would, in all probability, take the alarm, and snatch from
them all that had been saved out of the wreck. "I could bear all," she
cried; "but what will become of my children? Of this child," pointing to
the fainting Ann, "whose constitution is already undermined by care and
grief--where will she go?"--Mary's heart ceased to beat while she asked
the question--She attempted to speak; but the inarticulate sounds died
away. Before she had recovered herself, her father called himself to
enquire for her; and desired her instantly to accompany him home.
Engrossed by the scene of misery she had been witness to, she walked
silently by his side, when he roused her out of her reverie by telling
her that in all likelihood her mother had not many hours to live; and
before she could return him any answer, informed her that they had both
determined to marry her to Charles, his friend's son; he added, the
ceremony was to be performed directly, that her mother might be witness
of it; for such a desire she had expressed with childish eagerness.
Overwhelmed by this intelligence, Mary rolled her eyes about, then, with
a vacant stare, fixed them on her father's face; but they were no longer
a sense; they conveyed no ideas to the brain. As she drew near the
house, her wonted presence of mind returned: after this suspension of
thought, a thousand darted into her mind,--her dying mother,--her
friend's miserable situation,--and an extreme horror at taking--at being
forced to take, such a hasty step; but she did not feel the disgust, the
reluctance, which arises from a prior attachment.
She loved Ann better than any one in the world--to snatch her from the
very jaws of destruction--she would have encountered a lion. To have
this friend constantly with her; to make her mind easy with respect to
her family, would it not be superlative bliss?
Full of these thoughts she entered her mother's chamber, but they then
fled at the sight of a dying parent. She went to her, took her hand; it
feebly pressed her's. "My child," said the languid mother: the words
reached her heart; she had seldom heard them pronounced with accents
denoting affection; "My child, I have not always treated you with
kindness--God forgive me! do you?"--Mary's tears strayed in a
disregarded stream; on her bosom the big drops fell, but did not relieve
the fluttering tenant. "I forgive you!" said she, in a tone of
astonishment.
The clergyman came in to read the service for the sick, and afterwards
the marriage ceremony was performed. Mary stood like a statue of
Despair, and pronounced the awful vow without thinking of it; and then
ran to support her mother, who expired the same night in her arms.
Her husband set off for the continent the same day, with a tutor, to
finish his studies at one of the foreign universities.
Ann was sent for to console her, not on account of the departure of her
new relation, a boy she seldom took any notice of, but to reconcile her
to her fate; besides, it was necessary she should have a female
companion, and there was not any maiden aunt in the family, or cousin of
the same class.
CHAP. VI.
Mary was allowed to pay the rent which gave her so much uneasiness, and
she exerted every nerve to prevail on her father effectually to succour
the family; but the utmost she could obtain was a small sum very
inadequate to the purpose, to enable the poor woman to carry into
execution a little scheme of industry near the metropolis.
Her intention of leaving that part of the country, had much more weight
with him, than Mary's arguments, drawn from motives of philanthropy and
friendship; this was a language he did not understand; expressive of
occult qualities he never thought of, as they could not be seen or
felt.
After the departure of her mother, Ann still continued to languish,
though she had a nurse who was entirely engrossed by the desire of
amusing her. Had her health been re-established, the time would have
passed in a tranquil, improving manner.
During the year of mourning they lived in retirement; music, drawing,
and reading, filled up the time; and Mary's taste and judgment were both
improved by contracting a habit of observation, and permitting the
simple beauties of Nature to occupy her thoughts.
She had a wonderful quickness in discerning distinctions and combining
ideas, that at the first glance did not appear to be similar. But these
various pursuits did not banish all her cares, or carry off all her
constitutional black bile. Before she enjoyed Ann's society, she
imagined it would have made her completely happy: she was disappointed,
and yet knew not what to complain of.
As her friend could not accompany her in her walks, and wished to be
alone, for a very obvious reason, she would return to her old haunts,
retrace her anticipated pleasures--and wonder how they changed their
colour in possession, and proved so futile.
She had not yet found the companion she looked for. Ann and she were not
congenial minds, nor did she contribute to her comfort in the degree she
expected. She shielded her from poverty; but this was only a negative
blessing; when under the pressure it was very grievous, and still more
so were the apprehensions; but when exempt from them, she was not
contented.
Such is human nature, its laws were not to be inverted to gratify our
heroine, and stop the progress of her understanding, happiness only
flourished in paradise--we cannot taste and live.
Another year passed away with increasing apprehensions. Ann had a hectic
cough, and many unfavourable prognostics: Mary then forgot every thing
but the fear of losing her, and even imagined that her recovery would
have made her happy.
Her anxiety led her to study physic, and for some time she only read
books of that cast; and this knowledge, literally speaking, ended in
vanity and vexation of spirit, as it enabled her to foresee what she
could not prevent.
As her mind expanded, her marriage appeared a dreadful misfortune; she
was sometimes reminded of the heavy yoke, and bitter was the
recollection!
In one thing there seemed to be a sympathy between them, for she wrote
formal answers to his as formal letters. An extreme dislike took root in
her mind; the found of his name made her turn sick; but she forgot all,
listening to Ann's cough, and supporting her languid frame. She would
then catch her to her bosom with convulsive eagerness, as if to save her
from sinking into an opening grave.
CHAP. VII.
It was the will of Providence that Mary should experience almost every
species of sorrow. Her father was thrown from his horse, when his blood
was in a very inflammatory state, and the bruises were very dangerous;
his recovery was not expected by the physical tribe.
Terrified at seeing him so near death, and yet so ill prepared for it,
his daughter sat by his bed, oppressed by the keenest anguish, which her
piety increased.
Her grief had nothing selfish in it; he was not a friend or protector;
but he was her father, an unhappy wretch, going into eternity, depraved
and thoughtless. Could a life of sensuality be a preparation for a
peaceful death? Thus meditating, she passed the still midnight hour by
his bedside.
The nurse fell asleep, nor did a violent thunder storm interrupt her
repose, though it made the night appear still more terrific to Mary. Her
father's unequal breathing alarmed her, when she heard a long drawn
breath, she feared it was his last, and watching for another, a dreadful
peal of thunder struck her ears. Considering the separation of the soul
and body, this night seemed sadly solemn, and the hours long.
Death is indeed a king of terrors when he attacks the vicious man! The
compassionate heart finds not any comfort; but dreads an eternal
separation. No transporting greetings are anticipated, when the
survivors also shall have finished their course; but all is black!--the
grave may truly be said to receive the departed--this is the sting of
death!
Night after night Mary watched, and this excessive fatigue impaired her
own health, but had a worse effect on Ann; though she constantly went to
bed, she could not rest; a number of uneasy thoughts obtruded
themselves; and apprehensions about Mary, whom she loved as well as her
exhausted heart could love, harassed her mind. After a sleepless,
feverish night she had a violent fit of coughing, and burst a
blood-vessel. The physician, who was in the house, was sent for, and
when he left the patient, Mary, with an authoritative voice, insisted on
knowing his real opinion. Reluctantly he gave it, that her friend was in
a critical state; and if she passed the approaching winter in England,
he imagined she would die in the spring; a season fatal to consumptive
disorders. The spring!--Her husband was then expected.--Gracious Heaven,
could she bear all this.
In a few days her father breathed his last. The horrid sensations his
death occasioned were too poignant to be durable: and Ann's danger, and
her own situation, made Mary deliberate what mode of conduct she should
pursue. She feared this event might hasten the return of her husband,
and prevent her putting into execution a plan she had determined on. It
was to accompany Ann to a more salubrious climate.
CHAP. VIII.
I mentioned before, that Mary had never had any particular attachment,
to give rise to the disgust that daily gained ground. Her friendship for
Ann occupied her heart, and resembled a passion. She had had, indeed,
several transient likings; but they did not amount to love. The society
of men of genius delighted her, and improved her faculties. With beings
of this class she did not often meet; it is a rare genus; her first
favourites were men past the meridian of life, and of a philosophic
turn.
Determined on going to the South of France, or Lisbon; she wrote to the
man she had promised to obey. The physicians had said change of air was
necessary for her as well as her friend. She mentioned this, and added,
"Her comfort, almost her existence, depended on the recovery of the
invalid she wished to attend; and that should she neglect to follow the
medical advice she had received, she should never forgive herself, or
those who endeavoured to prevent her." Full of her design, she wrote
with more than usual freedom; and this letter was like most of her
others, a transcript of her heart.
"This dear friend," she exclaimed, "I love for her agreeable qualities,
and substantial virtues. Continual attention to her health, and the
tender office of a nurse, have created an affection very like a maternal
one--I am her only support, she leans on me--could I forsake the
forsaken, and break the bruised reed--No--I would die first! I must--I
will go."
She would have added, "you would very much oblige me by consenting;" but
her heart revolted--and irresolutely she wrote something about wishing
him happy.--"Do I not wish all the world well?" she cried, as she
subscribed her name--It was blotted, the letter sealed in a hurry, and
sent out of her sight; and she began to prepare for her journey.
By the return of the post she received an answer; it contained some
common-place remarks on her romantic friendship, as he termed it; "But
as the physicians advised change of air, he had no objection."
CHAP. IX.
There was nothing now to retard their journey; and Mary chose Lisbon
rather than France, on account of its being further removed from the
only person she wished not to see.
They set off accordingly for Falmouth, in their way to that city. The
journey was of use to Ann, and Mary's spirits were raised by her
recovered looks--She had been in despair--now she gave way to hope, and
was intoxicated with it. On ship-board Ann always remained in the cabin;
the sight of the water terrified her: on the contrary, Mary, after she
was gone to bed, or when she fell asleep in the day, went on deck,
conversed with the sailors, and surveyed the boundless expanse before
her with delight. One instant she would regard the ocean, the next the
beings who braved its fury. Their insensibility and want of fear, she
could not name courage; their thoughtless mirth was quite of an animal
kind, and their feelings as impetuous and uncertain as the element they
plowed.
They had only been a week at sea when they hailed the rock of Lisbon,
and the next morning anchored at the castle. After the customary visits,
they were permitted to go on shore, about three miles from the city; and
while one of the crew, who understood the language, went to procure them
one of the ugly carriages peculiar to the country, they waited in the
Irish convent, which is situated close to the Tagus.
Some of the people offered to conduct them into the church, where there
was a fine organ playing; Mary followed them, but Ann preferred staying
with a nun she had entered into conversation with.
One of the nuns, who had a sweet voice, was singing; Mary was struck
with awe; her heart joined in the devotion; and tears of gratitude and
tenderness flowed from her eyes. My Father, I thank thee! burst from
her--words were inadequate to express her feelings. Silently, she
surveyed the lofty dome; heard unaccustomed sounds; and saw faces,
strange ones, that she could not yet greet with fraternal love.
In an unknown land, she considered that the Being she adored inhabited
eternity, was ever present in unnumbered worlds. When she had not any
one she loved near her, she was particularly sensible of the presence
of her Almighty Friend.
The arrival of the carriage put a stop to her speculations; it was to
conduct them to an hotel, fitted up for the reception of invalids.
Unfortunately, before they could reach it there was a violent shower of
rain; and as the wind was very high, it beat against the leather
curtains, which they drew along the front of the vehicle, to shelter
themselves from it; but it availed not, some of the rain forced its way,
and Ann felt the effects of it, for she caught cold, spite of Mary's
precautions.
As is the custom, the rest of the invalids, or lodgers, sent to enquire
after their health; and as soon as Ann left her chamber, in which her
complaints seldom confined her the whole day, they came in person to pay
their compliments. Three fashionable females, and two gentlemen; the
one a brother of the eldest of the young ladies, and the other an
invalid, who came, like themselves, for the benefit of the air. They
entered into conversation immediately.
People who meet in a strange country, and are all together in a house,
soon get acquainted, without the formalities which attend visiting in
separate houses, where they are surrounded by domestic friends. Ann was
particularly delighted at meeting with agreeable society; a little
hectic fever generally made her low-spirited in the morning, and lively
in the evening, when she wished for company. Mary, who only thought of
her, determined to cultivate their acquaintance, as she knew, that if
her mind could be diverted, her body might gain strength.
They were all musical, and proposed having little concerts. One of the
gentlemen played on the violin, and the other on the german-flute. The
instruments were brought in, with all the eagerness that attends putting
a new scheme in execution.
Mary had not said much, for she was diffident; she seldom joined in
general conversations; though her quickness of penetration enabled her
soon to enter into the characters of those she conversed with; and her
sensibility made her desirous of pleasing every human creature. Besides,
if her mind was not occupied by any particular sorrow, or study, she
caught reflected pleasure, and was glad to see others happy, though
their mirth did not interest her.
This day she was continually thinking of Ann's recovery, and encouraging
the cheerful hopes, which though they dissipated the spirits that had
been condensed by melancholy, yet made her wish to be silent. The music,
more than the conversation, disturbed her reflections; but not at first.
The gentleman who played on the german-flute, was a handsome, well-bred,
sensible man; and his observations, if not original, were pertinent.
The other, who had not said much, began to touch the violin, and played
a little Scotch ballad; he brought such a thrilling sound out of the
instrument, that Mary started, and looking at him with more attention
than she had done before, and saw, in a face rather ugly, strong lines
of genius. His manners were awkward, that kind of awkwardness which is
often found in literary men: he seemed a thinker, and delivered his
opinions in elegant expressions, and musical tones of voice.
When the concert was over, they all retired to their apartments. Mary
always slept with Ann, as she was subject to terrifying dreams; and
frequently in the night was obliged to be supported, to avoid
suffocation. They chatted about their new acquaintance in their own
apartment, and, with respect to the gentlemen, differed in opinion.
CHAP. X.
Every day almost they saw their new acquaintance; and civility produced
intimacy. Mary sometimes left her friend with them; while she indulged
herself in viewing new modes of life, and searching out the causes which
produced them. She had a metaphysical turn, which inclined her to
reflect on every object that passed by her; and her mind was not like a
mirror, which receives every floating image, but does not retain them:
she had not any prejudices, for every opinion was examined before it was
adopted.
The Roman Catholic ceremonies attracted her attention, and gave rise to
conversations when they all met; and one of the gentlemen continually
introduced deistical notions, when he ridiculed the pageantry they all
were surprised at observing. Mary thought of both the subjects, the
Romish tenets, and the deistical doubts; and though not a sceptic,
thought it right to examine the evidence on which her faith was built.
She read Butler's Analogy, and some other authors: and these researches
made her a christian from conviction, and she learned charity,
particularly with respect to sectaries; saw that apparently good and
solid arguments might take their rise from different points of view; and
she rejoiced to find that those she should not concur with had some
reason on their side.
CHAP. XI.
When I mentioned the three ladies, I said they were fashionable women;
and it was all the praise, as a faithful historian, I could bestow on
them; the only thing in which they were consistent. I forgot to mention
that they were all of one family, a mother, her daughter, and niece. The
daughter was sent by her physician, to avoid a northerly winter; the
mother, her niece, and nephew, accompanied her.
They were people of rank; but unfortunately, though of an ancient
family, the title had descended to a very remote branch--a branch they
took care to be intimate with; and servilely copied the Countess's
airs. Their minds were shackled with a set of notions concerning
propriety, the fitness of things for the world's eye, trammels which
always hamper weak people. What will the world say? was the first thing
that was thought of, when they intended doing any thing they had not
done before. Or what would the Countess do on such an occasion? And when
this question was answered, the right or wrong was discovered without
the trouble of their having any idea of the matter in their own heads.
This same Countess was a fine planet, and the satellites observed a most
harmonic dance around her.
After this account it is scarcely necessary to add, that their minds had
received very little cultivation. They were taught French, Italian, and
Spanish; English was their vulgar tongue. And what did they learn?
Hamlet will tell you--words--words. But let me not forget that they
squalled Italian songs in the true _gusto_. Without having any seeds
sown in their understanding, or the affections of the heart set to work,
they were brought out of their nursery, or the place they were secluded
in, to prevent their faces being common; like blazing stars, to
captivate Lords.
They were pretty, and hurrying from one party of pleasure to another,
occasioned the disorder which required change of air. The mother, if we
except her being near twenty years older, was just the same creature;
and these additional years only served to make her more tenaciously
adhere to her habits of folly, and decide with stupid gravity, some
trivial points of ceremony, as a matter of the last importance; of
which she was a competent judge, from having lived in the fashionable
world so long: that world to which the ignorant look up as we do to the
sun.
It appears to me that every creature has some notion--or rather relish,
of the sublime. Riches, and the consequent state, are the sublime of
weak minds:--These images fill, nay, are too big for their narrow souls.
One afternoon, which they had engaged to spend together, Ann was so ill,
that Mary was obliged to send an apology for not attending the
tea-table. The apology brought them on the carpet; and the mother, with
a look of solemn importance, turned to the sick man, whose name was
Henry, and said;
"Though people of the first fashion are frequently at places of this
kind, intimate with they know not who; yet I do not choose that my
daughter, whose family is so respectable, should be intimate with any
one she would blush to know elsewhere. It is only on that account, for I
never suffer her to be with any one but in my company," added she,
sitting more erect; and a smile of self-complacency dressed her
countenance.
"I have enquired concerning these strangers, and find that the one who
has the most dignity in her manners, is really a woman of fortune."
"Lord, mamma, how ill she dresses:" mamma went on; "She is a romantic
creature, you must not copy her, miss; yet she is an heiress of the
large fortune in ----shire, of which you may remember to have heard the
Countess speak the night you had on the dancing-dress that was so much
admired; but she is married."
She then told them the whole story as she heard it from her maid, who
picked it out of Mary's servant. "She is a foolish creature, and this
friend that she pays as much attention to as if she was a lady of
quality, is a beggar." "Well, how strange!" cried the girls.
"She is, however, a charming creature," said her nephew. Henry sighed,
and strode across the room once or twice; then took up his violin, and
played the air which first struck Mary; he had often heard her praise
it.
The music was uncommonly melodious, "And came stealing on the senses
like the sweet south." The well-known sounds reached Mary as she sat by
her friend--she listened without knowing that she did--and shed tears
almost without being conscious of it. Ann soon fell asleep, as she had
taken an opiate. Mary, then brooding over her fears, began to imagine
she had deceived herself--Ann was still very ill; hope had beguiled many
heavy hours; yet she was displeased with herself for admitting this
welcome guest.--And she worked up her mind to such a degree of anxiety,
that she determined, once more, to seek medical aid.
No sooner did she determine, than she ran down with a discomposed look,
to enquire of the ladies who she should send for. When she entered the
room she could not articulate her fears--it appeared like pronouncing
Ann's sentence of death; her faultering tongue dropped some broken
words, and she remained silent. The ladies wondered that a person of her
sense should be so little mistress of herself; and began to administer
some common-place comfort, as, that it was our duty to submit to the
will of Heaven, and the like trite consolations, which Mary did not
answer; but waving her hand, with an air of impatience, she exclaimed,
"I cannot live without her!--I have no other friend; if I lose her, what
a desart will the world be to me." "No other friend," re-echoed they,
"have you not a husband?"
Mary shrunk back, and was alternately pale and red. A delicate sense of
propriety prevented her replying; and recalled her bewildered
reason.--Assuming, in consequence of her recollection, a more composed
manner, she made the intended enquiry, and left the room. Henry's eyes
followed her while the females very freely animadverted on her strange
behaviour.
CHAP. XII.
The physician was sent for; his prescription afforded Ann a little
temporary relief; and they again joined the circle. Unfortunately, the
weather happened to be constantly wet for more than a week, and confined
them to the house. Ann then found the ladies not so agreeable; when they
sat whole hours together, the thread-bare topics were exhausted; and,
but for cards or music, the long evenings would have been yawned away in
listless indolence.
The bad weather had had as ill an effect on Henry as on Ann. He was
frequently very thoughtful, or rather melancholy; this melancholy would
of itself have attracted Mary's notice, if she had not found his
conversation so infinitely superior to the rest of the group. When she
conversed with him, all the faculties of her soul unfolded themselves;
genius animated her expressive countenance and the most graceful,
unaffected gestures gave energy to her discourse.
They frequently discussed very important subjects, while the rest were
singing or playing cards, nor were they observed for doing so, as Henry,
whom they all were pleased with, in the way of gallantry shewed them all
more attention than her. Besides, as there was nothing alluring in her
dress or manner, they never dreamt of her being preferred to them.
Henry was a man of learning; he had also studied mankind, and knew many
of the intricacies of the human heart, from having felt the infirmities
of his own. His taste was just, as it had a standard--Nature, which he
observed with a critical eye. Mary could not help thinking that in his
company her mind expanded, as he always went below the surface. She
increased her stock of ideas, and her taste was improved.
He was also a pious man; his rational religious sentiments received
warmth from his sensibility; and, except on very particular occasions,
kept it in proper bounds; these sentiments had likewise formed his
temper; he was gentle, and easily to be intreated. The ridiculous
ceremonies they were every day witness to, led them into what are termed
grave subjects, and made him explain his opinions, which, at other
times, he was neither ashamed of, nor unnecessarily brought forward to
notice.
CHAP. XIII.
When the weather began to clear up, Mary sometimes rode out alone,
purposely to view the ruins that still remained of the earthquake: or
she would ride to the banks of the Tagus, to feast her eyes with the
sight of that magnificent river. At other times she would visit the
churches, as she was particularly fond of seeing historical paintings.
One of these visits gave rise to the subject, and the whole party
descanted on it; but as the ladies could not handle it well, they soon
adverted to portraits; and talked of the attitudes and characters in
which they should wish to be drawn. Mary did not fix on one--when
Henry, with more apparent warmth than usual, said, "I would give the
world for your picture, with the expression I have seen in your face,
when you have been supporting your friend."
This delicate compliment did not gratify her vanity, but it reached her
heart. She then recollected that she had once sat for her picture--for
whom was it designed? For a boy! Her cheeks flushed with indignation, so
strongly did she feel an emotion of contempt at having been thrown
away--given in with an estate.
As Mary again gave way to hope, her mind was more disengaged; and her
thoughts were employed about the objects around her.
She visited several convents, and found that solitude only eradicates
some passions, to give strength to others; the most baneful ones. She
saw that religion does not consist in ceremonies; and that many prayers
may fall from the lips without purifying the heart.
They who imagine they can be religious without governing their tempers,
or exercising benevolence in its most extensive sense, must certainly
allow, that their religious duties are only practiced from selfish
principles; how then can they be called good? The pattern of all
goodness went about _doing_ good. Wrapped up in themselves, the nuns
only thought of inferior gratifications. And a number of intrigues were
carried on to accelerate certain points on which their hearts were
fixed:
Such as obtaining offices of trust or authority; or avoiding those that
were servile or laborious. In short, when they could be neither wives
nor mothers, they aimed at being superiors, and became the most selfish
creatures in the world: the passions that were curbed gave strength to
the appetites, or to those mean passions which only tend to provide for
the gratification of them. Was this seclusion from the world? or did
they conquer its vanities or avoid its vexations?
In these abodes the unhappy individual, who, in the first paroxysm of
grief flies to them for refuge, finds too late she took a wrong step.
The same warmth which determined her will make her repent; and sorrow,
the rust of the mind, will never have a chance of being rubbed off by
sensible conversation, or new-born affections of the heart.
She will find that those affections that have once been called forth and
strengthened by exercise, are only smothered, not killed, by
disappointment; and that in one form or other discontent will corrode
the heart, and produce those maladies of the imagination, for which
there is no specific.
The community at large Mary disliked; but pitied many of them whose
private distresses she was informed of; and to pity and relieve were the
same things with her.
The exercise of her various virtues gave vigor to her genius, and
dignity to her mind; she was sometimes inconsiderate, and violent; but
never mean or cunning.
CHAP. XIV.
The Portuguese are certainly the most uncivilized nation in Europe. Dr.
Johnson would have said, "They have the least mind.". And can such serve
their Creator in spirit and in truth? No, the gross ritual of Romish
ceremonies is all they can comprehend: they can do penance, but not
conquer their revenge, or lust. Religion, or love, has never humanized
their hearts; they want the vital part; the mere body worships. Taste is
unknown; Gothic finery, and unnatural decorations, which they term
ornaments, are conspicuous in their churches and dress. Reverence for
mental excellence is only to be found in a polished nation.
Could the contemplation of such a people gratify Mary's heart? No: she
turned disgusted from the prospects--turned to a man of refinement.
Henry had been some time ill and low-spirited; Mary would have been
attentive to any one in that situation; but to him she was particularly
so; she thought herself bound in gratitude, on account of his constant
endeavours to amuse Ann, and prevent her dwelling on the dreary prospect
before her, which sometimes she could not help anticipating with a kind
of quiet despair.
She found some excuse for going more frequently into the room they all
met in; nay, she avowed her desire to amuse him: offered to read to him,
and tried to draw him into amusing conversations; and when she was full
of these little schemes, she looked at him with a degree of tenderness
that she was not conscious of. This divided attention was of use to her,
and prevented her continually thinking of Ann, whose fluctuating
disorder often gave rise to false hopes.
A trifling thing occurred now which occasioned Mary some uneasiness. Her
maid, a well-looking girl, had captivated the clerk of a neighbouring
compting-house. As the match was an advantageous one, Mary could not
raise any objection to it, though at this juncture it was very
disagreeable to her to have a stranger about her person. However, the
girl consented to delay the marriage, as she had some affection for her
mistress; and, besides, looked forward to Ann's death as a time of
harvest.
Henry's illness was not alarming, it was rather pleasing, as it gave
Mary an excuse to herself for shewing him how much she was interested
about him; and giving little artless proofs of affection, which the
purity of her heart made her never wish to restrain.
The only visible return he made was not obvious to common observers. He
would sometimes fix his eyes on her, and take them off with a sigh that
was coughed away; or when he was leisurely walking into the room, and
did not expect to see her, he would quicken his steps, and come up to
her with eagerness to ask some trivial question. In the same style, he
would try to detain her when he had nothing to say--or said nothing.
Ann did not take notice of either his or Mary's behaviour, nor did she
suspect that he was a favourite, on any other account than his
appearing neither well nor happy. She had often seen that when a person
was unfortunate, Mary's pity might easily be mistaken for love, and,
indeed, it was a temporary sensation of that kind. Such it was--why it
was so, let others define, I cannot argue against instincts. As reason
is cultivated in man, they are supposed to grow weaker, and this may
have given rise to the assertion, "That as judgment improves, genius
evaporates."
CHAP. XV.
One morning they set out to visit the aqueduct; though the day was very
fine when they left home, a very heavy shower fell before they reached
it; they lengthened their ride, the clouds dispersed, and the sun came
from behind them uncommonly bright.
Mary would fain have persuaded Ann not to have left the carriage; but
she was in spirits, and obviated all her objections, and insisted on
walking, tho' the ground was damp. But her strength was not equal to her
spirits; she was soon obliged to return to the carriage so much
fatigued, that she fainted, and remained insensible a long time.
Henry would have supported her; but Mary would not permit him; her
recollection was instantaneous, and she feared sitting on the damp
ground might do him a material injury: she was on that account positive,
though the company did not guess the cause of her being so. As to
herself, she did not fear bodily pain; and, when her mind was agitated,
she could endure the greatest fatigue without appearing sensible of it.
When Ann recovered, they returned slowly home; she was carried to bed,
and the next morning Mary thought she observed a visible change for the
worse. The physician was sent for, who pronounced her to be in the most
imminent danger.
All Mary's former fears now returned like a torrent, and carried every
other care away; she even added to her present anguish by upbraiding
herself for her late tranquillity--it haunted her in the form of a
crime.
The disorder made the most rapid advances--there was no hope!--Bereft of
it, Mary again was tranquil; but it was a very different kind of
tranquillity. She stood to brave the approaching storm, conscious she
only could be overwhelmed by it.
She did not think of Henry, or if her thoughts glanced towards him, it
was only to find fault with herself for suffering a thought to have
strayed from Ann.--Ann!--this dear friend was soon torn from her--she
died suddenly as Mary was assisting her to walk across the room.--The
first string was severed from her heart--and this "slow, sudden-death"
disturbed her reasoning faculties; she seemed stunned by it; unable to
reflect, or even to feel her misery.
The body was stolen out of the house the second night, and Mary refused
to see her former companions. She desired her maid to conclude her
marriage, and request her intended husband to inform her when the first
merchantman was to leave the port, as the packet had just sailed, and
she determined not to stay in that hated place any longer than was
absolutely necessary.
She then sent to request the ladies to visit her; she wished to avoid a
parade of grief--her sorrows were her own, and appeared to her not to
admit of increase or softening. She was right; the sight of them did not
affect her, or turn the stream of her sullen sorrow; the black wave
rolled along in the same course, it was equal to her where she cast her
eyes; all was impenetrable gloom.
CHAP. XVI.
Soon after the ladies left her, she received a message from Henry,
requesting, as she saw company, to be permitted to visit her: she
consented, and he entered immediately, with an unassured pace. She ran
eagerly up to him--saw the tear trembling in his eye, and his
countenance softened by the tenderest compassion; the hand which pressed
hers seemed that of a fellow-creature. She burst into tears; and, unable
to restrain them, she hid her face with both her hands; these tears
relieved her, (she had before had a difficulty in breathing,) and she
sat down by him more composed than she had appeared since Ann's death;
but her conversation was incoherent.
She called herself "a poor disconsolate creature!"--"Mine is a selfish
grief," she exclaimed--"Yet; Heaven is my witness, I do not wish her
back now she has reached those peaceful mansions, where the weary rest.
Her pure spirit is happy; but what a wretch am I!"
Henry forgot his cautious reserve. "Would you allow me to call you
friend?" said he in a hesitating voice. "I feel, dear girl, the tendered
interest in whatever concerns thee." His eyes spoke the rest. They were
both silent a few moments; then Henry resumed the conversation. "I have
also been acquainted with grief! I mourn the loss of a woman who was not
worthy of my regard. Let me give thee some account of the man who now
solicits thy friendship; and who, from motives of the purest
benevolence, wishes to give comfort to thy wounded heart."
"I have myself," said he, mournfully, "shaken hands with happiness, and
am dead to the world; I wait patiently for my dissolution; but, for
thee, Mary, there may be many bright days in store."
"Impossible," replied she, in a peevish tone, as if he had insulted her
by the supposition; her feelings were so much in unison with his, that
she was in love with misery.
He smiled at her impatience, and went on. "My father died before I knew
him, and my mother was so attached to my eldest brother, that she took
very little pains to fit me for the profession to which I was destined:
and, may I tell thee, I left my family, and, in many different stations,
rambled about the world; saw mankind in every rank of life; and, in
order to be independent, exerted those talents Nature has given me:
these exertions improved my understanding; and the miseries I was
witness to, gave a keener edge to my sensibility. My constitution is
naturally weak; and, perhaps, two or three lingering disorders in my
youth, first gave me a habit of reflecting, and enabled me to obtain
some dominion over my passions. At least," added he, stifling a sigh,
"over the violent ones, though I fear, refinement and reflection only
renders the tender ones more tyrannic.
"I have told you already I have been in love, and disappointed--the
object is now no more; let her faults sleep with her! Yet this passion
has pervaded my whole soul, and mixed itself with all my affections and
pursuits.--I am not peacefully indifferent; yet it is only to my violin
I tell the sorrows I now confide with thee. The object I loved forfeited
my esteem; yet, true to the sentiment, my fancy has too frequently
delighted to form a creature that I could love, that could convey to my
soul sensations which the gross part of mankind have not any conception
of."
He stopped, as Mary seemed lost in thought; but as she was still in a
listening attitude, continued his little narrative. "I kept up an
irregular correspondence with my mother; my brother's extravagance and
ingratitude had almost broken her heart, and made her feel something
like a pang of remorse, on account of her behaviour to me. I hastened to
comfort her--and was a comfort to her.
"My declining health prevented my taking orders, as I had intended; but
I with warmth entered into literary pursuits; perhaps my heart, not
having an object, made me embrace the substitute with more eagerness.
But, do not imagine I have always been a die-away swain. No: I have
frequented the cheerful haunts of men, and wit!--enchanting wit! has
made many moments fly free from care. I am too fond of the elegant arts;
and woman--lovely woman! thou hast charmed me, though, perhaps, it would
not be easy to find one to whom my reason would allow me to be constant.
"I have now only to tell you, that my mother insisted on my spending
this winter in a warmer climate; and I fixed on Lisbon, as I had before
visited the Continent." He then looked Mary full in the face; and, with
the most insinuating accents, asked "if he might hope for her
friendship? If she would rely on him as if he was her father; and that
the tenderest father could not more anxiously interest himself in the
fate of a darling child, than he did in her's."
Such a crowd of thoughts all at once rushed into Mary's mind, that she
in vain attempted to express the sentiments which were most predominant.
Her heart longed to receive a new guest; there was a void in it:
accustomed to have some one to love, she was alone, and comfortless, if
not engrossed by a particular affection.
Henry saw her distress, and not to increase it, left the room. He had
exerted himself to turn her thoughts into a new channel, and had
succeeded; she thought of him till she began to chide herself for
defrauding the dead, and, determining to grieve for Ann, she dwelt on
Henry's misfortunes and ill health; and the interest he took in her fate
was a balm to her sick mind. She did not reason on the subject; but she
felt he was attached to her: lost in this delirium, she never asked
herself what kind of an affection she had for him, or what it tended to;
nor did she know that love and friendship are very distinct; she thought
with rapture, that there was one person in the world who had an
affection for her, and that person she admired--had a friendship for.
He had called her his dear girl; the words might have fallen from him by
accident; but they did not fall to the ground. My child! His child,
what an association of ideas! If I had had a father, such a father!--She
could not dwell on the thoughts, the wishes which obtruded themselves.
Her mind was unhinged, and passion unperceived filled her whole soul.
Lost, in waking dreams, she considered and reconsidered Henry's account
of himself; till she actually thought she would tell Ann--a bitter
recollection then roused her out of her reverie; and aloud she begged
forgiveness of her.
By these kind of conflicts the day was lengthened; and when she went to
bed, the night passed away in feverish slumbers; though they did not
refresh her, she was spared the labour of thinking, of restraining her
imagination; it sported uncontrouled; but took its colour from her
waking train of thoughts. One instant she was supporting her dying
mother; then Ann was breathing her last, and Henry was comforting her.
The unwelcome light visited her languid eyes; yet, I must tell the
truth, she thought she should see Henry, and this hope set her spirits
in motion: but they were quickly depressed by her maid, who came to tell
her that she had heard of a vessel on board of which she could be
accommodated, and that there was to be another female passenger on
board, a vulgar one; but perhaps she would be more useful on that
account--Mary did not want a companion.
As she had given orders for her passage to be engaged in the first
vessel that sailed, she could not now retract; and must prepare for the
lonely voyage, as the Captain intended taking advantage of the first
fair wind. She had too much strength of mind to waver in her
determination but to determine wrung her very heart, opened all her old
wounds, and made them bleed afresh. What was she to do? where go? Could
she set a seal to a hasty vow, and tell a deliberate lie; promise to
love one man, when the image of another was ever present to her--her
soul revolted. "I might gain the applause of the world by such mock
heroism; but should I not forfeit my own? forfeit thine, my father!"
There is a solemnity in the shortest ejaculation, which, for a while,
stills the tumult of passion. Mary's mind had been thrown off its poise;
her devotion had been, perhaps, more fervent for some time past; but
less regular. She forgot that happiness was not to be found on earth,
and built a terrestrial paradise liable to be destroyed by the first
serious thought: when, she reasoned she became inexpressibly sad, to
render life bearable she gave way to fancy--this was madness.
In a few days she must again go to sea; the weather was very
tempestuous--what of that, the tempest in her soul rendered every other
trifling--it was not the contending elements, but _herself_ she feared!
CHAP. XVII.
In order to gain strength to support the expected interview, she went
out in a carriage. The day was fine; but all nature was to her a
universal blank; she could neither enjoy it, nor weep that she could
not. She passed by the ruins of an old monastery on a very high hill she
got out to walk amongst the ruins; the wind blew violently, she did not
avoid its fury, on the contrary, wildly bid it blow on, and seemed glad
to contend with it, or rather walk against it. Exhausted she returned to
the carriage was soon at home, and in the old room.
Henry started at the sight of her altered appearance; the day before her
complexion had been of the most pallid hue; but now her cheeks were
flushed, and her eyes enlivened with a false vivacity, an unusual fire.
He was not well, his illness was apparent in his countenance, and he
owned he had not closed his eyes all night; this roused her dormant
tenderness, she forgot they were so soon to part-engrossed by the
present happiness of seeing, of hearing him.
Once or twice she essayed to tell him that she was, in a few days, to
depart; but she could not; she was irresolute; it will do to-morrow;
should the wind change they could not sail in such a hurry; thus she
thought, and insensibly grew more calm. The Ladies prevailed on her to
spend the evening with them; but she retired very early to rest, and sat
on the side of her bed several hours, then threw herself on it, and
waited for the dreaded to-morrow.
CHAP. XVIII.
The ladies heard that her servant was to be married that day, and that
she was to sail in the vessel which was then clearing out at the
Custom-house. Henry heard, but did not make any remarks; and Mary called
up all her fortitude to support her, and enable her to hide from the
females her internal struggles. She durst not encounter Henry's glances
when she found he had been informed of her intention; and, trying to
draw a veil over her wretched state of mind, she talked incessantly, she
knew not what; flashes of wit burst from her, and when she began to
laugh she could not stop herself.
Henry smiled at some of her sallies, and looked at her with such
benignity and compassion, that he recalled her scattered thoughts; and,
the ladies going to dress for dinner, they were left alone; and remained
silent a few moments: after the noisy conversation it appeared solemn.
Henry began. "You are going, Mary, and going by yourself; your mind is
not in a state to be left to its own operations--yet I cannot, dissuade
you; if I attempted to do it, I should ill deserve the title I wish to
merit. I only think of your happiness; could I obey the strongest
impulse of my heart, I should accompany thee to England; but such a step
might endanger your future peace."
Mary, then, with all the frankness which marked her character, explained
her situation to him and mentioned her fatal tie with such disgust that
he trembled for her. "I cannot see him; he is not the man formed for me
to love!" Her delicacy did not restrain her, for her dislike to her
husband had taken root in her mind long before she knew Henry. Did she
not fix on Lisbon rather than France on purpose to avoid him? and if Ann
had been in tolerable health she would have flown with her to some
remote corner to have escaped from him.
"I intend," said Henry, "to follow you in the next packet; where shall I
hear of your health?" "Oh! let me hear of thine," replied Mary. "I am
well, very well; but thou art very ill--thy health is in the most
precarious state." She then mentioned her intention of going to Ann's
relations. "I am her representative, I have duties to fulfil for her:
during my voyage I have time enough for reflection; though I think I
have already determined."
"Be not too hasty, my child," interrupted Henry; "far be it from me to
persuade thee to do violence to thy feelings--but consider that all thy
future life may probably take its colour from thy present mode of
conduct. Our affections as well as our sentiments are fluctuating; you
will not perhaps always either think or feel as you do at present: the
object you now shun may appear in a different light." He paused. "In
advising thee in this style, I have only thy good at heart, Mary."
She only answered to expostulate. "My affections are involuntary--yet
they can only be fixed by reflection, and when they are they make quite
a part of my soul, are interwoven in it, animate my actions, and form
my taste: certain qualities are calculated to call forth my sympathies,
and make me all I am capable of being. The governing affection gives its
stamp to the rest--because I am capable of loving one, I have that kind
of charity to all my fellow-creatures which is not easily provoked.
Milton has asserted, That earthly love is the scale by which to heavenly
we may ascend."
She went on with eagerness. "My opinions on some subjects are not
wavering; my pursuit through life has ever been the same: in solitude
were my sentiments formed; they are indelible, and nothing can efface
them but death--No, death itself cannot efface them, or my soul must be
created afresh, and not improved. Yet a little while am I parted from
my Ann--I could not exist without the hope of seeing her again--I could
not bear to think that time could wear away an affection that was
founded on what is not liable to perish; you might as well attempt to
persuade me that my soul is matter, and that its feelings arose from
certain modifications of it."
"Dear enthusiastic creature," whispered Henry, "how you steal into my
soul." She still continued. "The same turn of mind which leads me to
adore the Author of all Perfection--which leads me to conclude that he
only can fill my soul; forces me to admire the faint image-the shadows
of his attributes here below; and my imagination gives still bolder
strokes to them. I knew I am in some degree under the influence of a
delusion--but does not this strong delusion prove that I myself 'am _of
subtiler essence than the trodden clod_' these flights of the
imagination point to futurity; I cannot banish them. Every cause in
nature produces an effect; and am I an exception to the general rule?
have I desires implanted in me only to make me miserable? will they
never be gratified? shall I never be happy? My feelings do not accord
with the notion of solitary happiness. In a state of bliss, it will be
the society of beings we can love, without the alloy that earthly
infirmities mix with our best affections, that will constitute great
part of our happiness.
"With these notions can I conform to the maxims of worldly wisdom? can
I listen to the cold dictates of worldly prudence and bid my tumultuous
passions cease to vex me, be still, find content in grovelling pursuits,
and the admiration of the misjudging crowd, when it is only one I wish
to please--one who could be all the world to me. Argue not with me, I am
bound by human ties; but did my spirit ever promise to love, or could I
consider when forced to bind myself--to take a vow, that at the awful
day of judgment I must give an account of. My conscience does not smite
me, and that Being who is greater than the internal monitor, may approve
of what the world condemns; sensible that in Him I live, could I brave
His presence, or hope in solitude to find peace, if I acted contrary to
conviction, that the world might approve of my conduct--what could the
world give to compensate for my own esteem? it is ever hostile and armed
against the feeling heart!
"Riches and honours await me, and the cold moralist might desire me to
sit down and enjoy them--I cannot conquer my feelings, and till I do,
what are these baubles to me? you may tell me I follow a fleeting good,
an _ignis fatuus_; but this chase, these struggles prepare me for
eternity--when I no longer see through a glass darkly I shall not reason
about, but _feel_ in what happiness consists."
Henry had not attempted to interrupt her; he saw she was determined, and
that these sentiments were not the effusion of the moment, but well
digested ones, the result of strong affections, a high sense of honour,
and respect for the source of all virtue and truth. He was startled, if
not entirely convinced by her arguments; indeed her voice, her gestures
were all persuasive.
Some one now entered the room; he looked an answer to her long harangue;
it was fortunate for him, or he might have been led to say what in a
cooler moment he had determined to conceal; but were words necessary to
reveal it? He wished not to influence her conduct--vain precaution; she
knew she was beloved; and could she forget that such a man loved her, or
rest satisfied with any inferior gratification. When passion first
enters the heart, it is only a return of affection that is sought after,
and every other remembrance and wish is blotted out.
CHAP. XIX.
Two days passed away without any particular conversation; Henry, trying
to be indifferent, or to appear so, was more assiduous than ever. The
conflict was too violent for his present state of health; the spirit was
willing, but the body suffered; he lost his appetite, and looked
wretchedly; his spirits were calmly low--the world seemed to fade
away--what was that world to him that Mary did not inhabit; she lived
not for him.
He was mistaken; his affection was her only support; without this dear
prop she had sunk into the grave of her lost--long-loved friend;--his
attention snatched her from despair. Inscrutable are the ways of
Heaven!
The third day Mary was desired to prepare herself; for if the wind
continued in the same point, they should set sail the next evening. She
tried to prepare her mind, and her efforts were not useless she appeared
less agitated than could have been expected, and talked of her voyage
with composure. On great occasions she was generally calm and collected,
her resolution would brace her unstrung nerves; but after the victory
she had no triumph; she would sink into a state of moping melancholy,
and feel ten-fold misery when the heroic enthusiasm was over.
The morning of the day fixed on for her departure she was alone with
Henry only a few moments, and an awkward kind of formality made them
slip away without their having said much to each other. Henry was
afraid to discover his passion, or give any other name to his regard but
friendship; yet his anxious solicitude for her welfare was ever breaking
out-while she as artlessly expressed again and again, her fears with
respect to his declining health.
"We shall soon meet," said he, with a faint smile; Mary smiled too; she
caught the sickly beam; it was still fainter by being reflected, and not
knowing what she wished to do, started up and left the room. When she
was alone she regretted she had left him so precipitately. "The few
precious moments I have thus thrown away may never return," she
thought-the reflection led to misery.
She waited for, nay, almost wished for the summons to depart. She could
not avoid spending the intermediate time with the ladies and Henry; and
the trivial conversations she was obliged to bear a part in harassed her
more than can be well conceived.
The summons came, and the whole party attended her to the vessel. For a
while the remembrance of Ann banished her regret at parting with Henry,
though his pale figure pressed on her sight; it may seem a paradox, but
he was more present to her when she sailed; her tears then were all his
own.
"My poor Ann!" thought Mary, "along this road we came, and near this
spot you called me your guardian angel--and now I leave thee here! ah!
no, I do not--thy spirit is not confined to its mouldering tenement!
Tell me, thou soul of her I love, tell me, ah! whither art thou fled?"
Ann occupied her until they reached the ship.
The anchor was weighed. Nothing can be more irksome than waiting to say
farewel. As the day was serene, they accompanied her a little way, and
then got into the boat; Henry was the last; he pressed her hand, it had
not any life in it; she leaned over the side of the ship without looking
at the boat, till it was so far distant, that she could not see the
countenances of those that were in it: a mist spread itself over her
sight--she longed to exchange one look--tried to recollect the
last;--the universe contained no being but Henry!--The grief of parting
with him had swept all others clean away. Her eyes followed the keel of
the boat, and when she could no longer perceive its traces: she looked
round on the wide waste of waters, thought of the precious moments
which had been stolen from the waste of murdered time.
She then descended into the cabin, regardless of the surrounding
beauties of nature, and throwing herself on her bed in the little hole
which was called the state-room--she wished to forget her existence. On
this bed she remained two days, listening to the dashing waves, unable
to close her eyes. A small taper made the darkness visible; and the
third night, by its glimmering light, she wrote the following fragment.
"Poor solitary wretch that I am; here alone do I listen to the whistling
winds and dashing waves;--on no human support can I rest--when not lost
to hope I found pleasure in the society of those rough beings; but now
they appear not like my fellow creatures; no social ties draw me to
them. How long, how dreary has this day been; yet I scarcely wish it
over--for what will to-morrow bring--to-morrow, and to-morrow will only
be marked with unvaried characters of wretchedness.--Yet surely, I am
not alone!"
Her moistened eyes were lifted up to heaven; a crowd of thoughts darted
into her mind, and pressing her hand against her forehead, as if to bear
the intellectual weight, she tried, but tried in vain, to arrange them.
"Father of Mercies, compose this troubled spirit: do I indeed wish it to
be composed--to forget my Henry?" the _my_, the pen was directly drawn
across in an agony.
CHAP. XX.
The mate of the ship, who heard her stir, came to offer her some
refreshment; and she, who formerly received every offer of kindness or
civility with pleasure, now shrunk away disgusted: peevishly she desired
him not to disturb her; but the words were hardly articulated when her
heart smote her, she called him back, and requested something to drink.
After drinking it, fatigued by her mental exertions, she fell into a
death-like slumber, which lasted some hours; but did not refresh her, on
the contrary, she awoke languid and stupid.
The wind still continued contrary; a week, a dismal week, had she
struggled with her sorrows; and the struggle brought on a slow fever,
which sometimes gave her false spirits.
The winds then became very tempestuous, the Great Deep was troubled, and
all the passengers appalled. Mary then left her bed, and went on deck,
to survey the contending elements: the scene accorded with the present
state of her soul; she thought in a few hours I may go home; the
prisoner may be released. The vessel rose on a wave and descended into a
yawning gulph--Not slower did her mounting soul return to earth,
for--Ah! her treasure and her heart was there. The squalls rattled
amongst the sails, which were quickly taken down; the wind would then
die away, and the wild undirected waves rushed on every side with a
tremendous roar. In a little vessel in the midst of such a storm she
was not dismayed; she felt herself independent.
Just then one of the crew perceived a signal of distress; by the help of
a glass he could plainly discover a small vessel dismasted, drifted
about, for the rudder had been broken by the violence of the storm.
Mary's thoughts were now all engrossed by the crew on the brink of
destruction. They bore down to the wreck; they reached it, and hailed
the trembling wretches; at the sound of the friendly greeting, loud
cries of tumultuous joy were mixed with the roaring of the waves, and
with ecstatic transport they leaped on the shattered deck, launched
their boat in a moment, and committed themselves to the mercy of the
sea. Stowed between two casks, and leaning on a sail, she watched the
boat, and when a wave intercepted it from her view--she ceased to
breathe, or rather held her breath until it rose again.
At last the boat arrived safe along-side the ship, and Mary caught the
poor trembling wretches as they stumbled into it, and joined them in
thanking that gracious Being, who though He had not thought fit to still
the raging of the sea, had afforded them unexpected succour.
Amongst the wretched crew was one poor woman, who fainted when she was
hauled on board: Mary undressed her, and when she had recovered, and
soothed her, left her to enjoy the rest she required to recruit her
strength, which fear had quite exhausted. She returned again to view the
angry deep; and when she gazed on its perturbed state, she thought of
the Being who rode on the wings of the wind, and stilled the noise of
the sea; and the madness of the people--He only could speak peace to
her troubled spirit! she grew more calm; the late transaction had
gratified her benevolence, and stole her out of herself.
One of the sailors, happening to say to another, "that he believed the
world was going to be at an end;" this observation led her into a new
train of thoughts: some of Handel's sublime compositions occurred to
her, and she sung them to the grand accompaniment. The Lord God
Omnipotent reigned, and would reign for ever, and ever!--Why then did
she fear the sorrows that were passing away, when she knew that He would
bind up the broken-hearted, and receive those who came out of great
tribulation. She retired to her cabin; and wrote in the little book that
was now her only confident. It was after midnight.
"At this solemn hour, the great day of judgment fills my thoughts; the
day of retribution, when the secrets of all hearts will be revealed;
when all worldly distinctions will fade away, and be no more seen. I
have not words to express the sublime images which the bare
contemplation of this awful day raises in my mind. Then, indeed, the
Lord Omnipotent will reign, and He will wipe the tearful eye, and
support the trembling heart--yet a little while He hideth his face, and
the dun shades of sorrow, and the thick clouds of folly separate us from
our God; but when the glad dawn of an eternal day breaks, we shall know
even as we are known. Here we walk by faith, and not by sight; and we
have this alternative, either to enjoy the pleasures of life which are
but for a season, or look forward to the prize of our high calling, and
with fortitude, and that wisdom which is from above, endeavour to bear
the warfare of life. We know that many run the race; but he that
striveth obtaineth the crown of victory. Our race is an arduous one! How
many are betrayed by traitors lodged in their own breasts, who wear the
garb of Virtue, and are so near akin; we sigh to think they should ever
lead into folly, and slide imperceptibly into vice. Surely any thing
like happiness is madness! Shall probationers of an hour presume to
pluck the fruit of immortality, before they have conquered death? it is
guarded, when the great day, to which I allude, arrives, the way will
again be opened. Ye dear delusions, gay deceits, farewel! and yet I
cannot banish ye for ever; still does my panting soul push forward, and
live in futurity, in the deep shades o'er which darkness hangs.--I try
to pierce the gloom, and find a resting-place, where my thirst of
knowledge will be gratified, and my ardent affections find an object to
fix them. Every thing material must change; happiness and this
fluctating principle is not compatible. Eternity, immateriality, and
happiness,--what are ye? How shall I grasp the mighty and fleeting
conceptions ye create?"
After writing, serenely she delivered her soul into the hands of the
Father of Spirits; and slept in peace.
CHAP. XXI.
Mary rose early, refreshed by the seasonable rest, and went to visit the
poor woman, whom she found quite recovered: and, on enquiry, heard that
she had lately buried her husband, a common sailor; and that her only
surviving child had been washed over-board the day before. Full of her
own danger, she scarcely thought of her child till that was over; and
then she gave way to boisterous emotions.
Mary endeavoured to calm her at first, by sympathizing with her; and she
tried to point out the only solid source of comfort but in doing this
she encountered many difficulties; she found her grossly ignorant, yet
she did not despair: and as the poor creature could not receive comfort
from the operations of her own mind, she laboured to beguile the hours,
which grief made heavy, by adapting her conversation to her capacity.
There are many minds that only receive impressions through the medium of
the senses: to them did Mary address herself; she made her some
presents, and promised to assist her when they should arrive in England.
This employment roused her out of her late stupor, and again set the
faculties of her soul in motion; made the understanding contend with the
imagination, and the heart throbbed not so irregularly during the
contention. How short-lived was the calm! when the English coast was
descried, her sorrows returned with redoubled vigor.--She was to visit
and comfort the mother of her lost friend--And where then should she
take up her residence? These thoughts suspended the exertions of her
understanding; abstracted reflections gave way to alarming
apprehensions; and tenderness undermined fortitude.
CHAP. XXII.
In England then landed the forlorn wanderer. She looked round for some
few moments--her affections were not attracted to any particular part of
the Island. She knew none of the inhabitants of the vast city to which
she was going: the mass of buildings appeared to her a huge body without
an informing soul. As she passed through the streets in an
hackney-coach, disgust and horror alternately filled her mind. She met
some women drunk; and the manners of those who attacked the sailors,
made her shrink into herself, and exclaim, are these my fellow
creatures!
Detained by a number of carts near the water-side, for she came up the
river in the vessel, not having reason to hasten on shore, she saw
vulgarity, dirt, and vice--her soul sickened; this was the first time
such complicated misery obtruded itself on her sight.--Forgetting her
own griefs, she gave the world a much indebted tear; mourned for a world
in ruins. She then perceived, that great part of her comfort must arise
from viewing the smiling face of nature, and be reflected from the view
of innocent enjoyments: she was fond of seeing animals play, and could
not bear to see her own species sink below them.
In a little dwelling in one of the villages near London, lived the
mother of Ann; two of her children still remained with her; but they did
not resemble Ann. To her house Mary directed the coach, and told the
unfortunate mother of her loss. The poor woman, oppressed by it, and her
many other cares, after an inundation of tears, began to enumerate all
her past misfortunes, and present cares. The heavy tale lasted until
midnight, and the impression it made on Mary's mind was so strong, that
it banished sleep till towards morning; when tired nature sought
forgetfulness, and the soul ceased to ruminate about many things.
She sent for the poor woman they took up at sea, provided her a lodging,
and relieved her present necessities. A few days were spent in a kind of
listless way; then the mother of Ann began to enquire when she thought
of returning home. She had hitherto treated her with the greatest
respect, and concealed her wonder at Mary's choosing a remote room in
the house near the garden, and ordering some alterations to be made, as
if she intended living in it.
Mary did not choose to explain herself; had Ann lived, it is probable
she would never have loved Henry so fondly; but if she had, she could
not have talked of her passion to any human creature. She deliberated,
and at last informed the family, that she had a reason for not living
with her husband, which must some time remain a secret--they stared--Not
live with him! how will you live then? This was a question she could not
answer; she had only about eighty pounds remaining, of the money she
took with her to Lisbon; when it was exhausted where could she get more?
I will work, she cried, do any thing rather than be a slave.
CHAP. XXIII.
Unhappy, she wandered about the village, and relieved the poor; it was
the only employment that eased her aching heart; she became more
intimate with misery--the misery that rises from poverty and the want of
education. She was in the vicinity of a great city; the vicious poor in
and about it must ever grieve a benevolent contemplative mind.
One evening a man who stood weeping in a little lane, near the house she
resided in, caught her eye. She accosted him; in a confused manner, he
informed her, that his wife was dying, and his children crying for the
bread he could not earn. Mary desired to be conducted to his
habitation; it was not very distant, and was the upper room in an old
mansion-house, which had been once the abode of luxury. Some tattered
shreds of rich hangings still remained, covered with cobwebs and filth;
round the ceiling, through which the rain drop'd, was a beautiful
cornice mouldering; and a spacious gallery was rendered dark by the
broken windows being blocked up; through the apertures the wind forced
its way in hollow sounds, and reverberated along the former scene of
festivity.
It was crowded with inhabitants: som were scolding, others swearing, or
singing indecent songs. What a sight for Mary! Her blood ran cold; yet
she had sufficient resolution to mount to the top of the house. On the
floor, in one corner of a very small room, lay an emaciated figure of a
woman; a window over her head scarcely admitted any light, for the
broken panes were stuffed with dirty rags. Near her were five children,
all young, and covered with dirt; their sallow cheeks, and languid eyes,
exhibited none of the charms of childhood. Some were fighting, and
others crying for food; their yells were mixed with their mother's
groans, and the wind which rushed through the passage. Mary was
petrified; but soon assuming more courage, approached the bed, and,
regardless of the surrounding nastiness, knelt down by the poor wretch,
and breathed the most poisonous air; for the unfortunate creature was
dying of a putrid fever, the consequence of dirt and want.
Their state did not require much explanation. Mary sent the husband for
a poor neighbour, whom she hired to nurse the woman, and take care of
the children; and then went herself to buy them some necessaries at a
shop not far distant. Her knowledge of physic had enabled her to
prescribe for the woman; and she left the house, with a mixture of
horror and satisfaction.
She visited them every day, and procured them every comfort; contrary to
her expectation, the woman began to recover; cleanliness and wholesome
food had a wonderful effect; and Mary saw her rising as it were from the
grave. Not aware of the danger she ran into, she did not think of it
till she perceived she had caught the fever. It made such an alarming
progress, that she was prevailed on to send for a physician; but the
disorder was so violent, that for some days it baffled his skill; and
Mary felt not her danger, as she was delirious. After the crisis, the
symptoms were more favourable, and she slowly recovered, without
regaining much strength or spirits; indeed they were intolerably low:
she wanted a tender nurse.
For some time she had observed, that she was not treated with the same
respect as formerly; her favors were forgotten when no more were
expected. This ingratitude hurt her, as did a similar instance in the
woman who came out of the ship. Mary had hitherto supported her; as her
finances were growing low, she hinted to her, that she ought to try to
earn her own subsistence: the woman in return loaded her with abuse.
Two months were elapsed; she had not seen, or heard from Henry. He was
sick--nay, perhaps had forgotten her; all the world was dreary, and all
the people ungrateful.
She sunk into apathy, and endeavouring to rouse herself out of it, she
wrote in her book another fragment:
"Surely life is a dream, a frightful one! and after those rude,
disjointed images are fled, will light ever break in? Shall I ever feel
joy? Do all suffer like me; or am I framed so as to be particularly
susceptible of misery? It is true, I have experienced the most rapturous
emotions--short-lived delight!--ethereal beam, which only serves to shew
my present misery--yet lie still, my throbbing heart, or burst; and my
brain--why dost thou whirl about at such a terrifying rate? why do
thoughts so rapidly rush into my mind, and yet when they disappear
leave such deep traces? I could almost wish for the madman's happiness,
and in a strong imagination lose a sense of woe.
"Oh! reason, thou boasted guide, why desert me, like the world, when I
most need thy assistance! Canst thou not calm this internal tumult, and
drive away the death-like sadness which presses so sorely on me,--a
sadness surely very nearly allied to despair. I am now the prey of
apathy--I could wish for the former storms! a ray of hope sometimes
illumined my path; I had a pursuit; but now _it visits not my haunts
forlorn_. Too well have I loved my fellow creatures! I have been wounded
by ingratitude; from every one it has something of the serpent's tooth.
"When overwhelmed by sorrow, I have met unkindness; I looked for some
one to have pity on me; but found none!--The healing balm of sympathy is
denied; I weep, a solitary wretch, and the hot tears scald my cheeks. I
have not the medicine of life, the dear chimera I have so often chased,
a friend. Shade of my loved Ann! dost thou ever visit thy poor Mary?
Refined spirit, thou wouldst weep, could angels weep, to see her
struggling with passions she cannot subdue; and feelings which corrode
her small portion of comfort!"
She could not write any more; she wished herself far distant from all
human society; a thick gloom spread itself over her mind: but did not
make her forget the very beings she wished to fly from. She sent for the
poor woman she found in the garret; gave her money to clothe herself
and children, and buy some furniture for a little hut, in a large
garden, the master of which agreed to employ her husband, who had been
bred a gardener. Mary promised to visit the family, and see their new
abode when she was able to go out.
CHAP. XXIV.
Mary still continued weak and low, though it was spring, and all nature
began to look gay; with more than usual brightness the sun shone, and a
little robin which she had cherished during the winter sung one of his
best songs. The family were particularly civil this fine morning, and
tried to prevail on her to walk out. Any thing like kindness melted her;
she consented.
Softer emotions banished her melancholy, and she directed her steps to
the habitation she had rendered comfortable.
Emerging out of a dreary chamber, all nature looked cheerful; when she
had last walked out, snow covered the ground, and bleak winds pierced
her through and through: now the hedges were green, the blossoms adorned
the trees, and the birds sung. She reached the dwelling, without being
much exhausted and while she rested there, observed the children
sporting on the grass, with improved complexions. The mother with tears
thanked her deliverer, and pointed out her comforts. Mary's tears flowed
not only from sympathy, but a complication of feelings and recollections
the affections which bound her to her fellow creatures began again to
play, and reanimated nature. She observed the change in herself, tried
to account for it, and wrote with her pencil a rhapsody on sensibility.
"Sensibility is the most exquisite feeling of which the human soul is
susceptible: when it pervades us, we feel happy; and could it last
unmixed, we might form some conjecture of the bliss of those
paradisiacal days, when the obedient passions were under the dominion of
reason, and the impulses of the heart did not need correction.
"It is this quickness, this delicacy of feeling, which enables us to
relish the sublime touches of the poet, and the painter; it is this,
which expands the soul, gives an enthusiastic greatness, mixed with
tenderness, when we view the magnificent objects of nature; or hear of a
good action. The same effect we experience in the spring, when we hail
the returning sun, and the consequent renovation of nature; when the
flowers unfold themselves, and exhale their sweets, and the voice of
music is heard in the land. Softened by tenderness; the soul is
disposed to be virtuous. Is any sensual gratification to be compared to
that of feelings the eves moistened after having comforted the
unfortunate?
"Sensibility is indeed the foundation of all our happiness; but these
raptures are unknown to the depraved sensualist, who is only moved by
what strikes his gross senses; the delicate embellishments of nature
escape his notice; as do the gentle and interesting affections.--But it
is only to be felt; it escapes discussion."
She then returned home, and partook of the family meal, which was
rendered more cheerful by the presence of a man, past the meridian of
life, of polished manners, and dazzling wit. He endeavoured to draw Mary
out, and succeeded; she entered into conversation, and some of her
artless flights of genius struck him with surprise; he found she had a
capacious mind, and that her reason was as profound as her imagination
was lively. She glanced from earth to heaven, and caught the light of
truth. Her expressive countenance shewed what passed in her mind, and
her tongue was ever the faithful interpreter of her heart; duplicity
never threw a shade over her words or actions. Mary found him a man of
learning; and the exercise of her understanding would frequently make
her forget her griefs, when nothing else could, except benevolence.
This man had known the mistress of the house in her youth; good nature
induced him to visit her; but when he saw Mary he had another
inducement. Her appearance, and above all, her genius, and cultivation
of mind, roused his curiosity; but her dignified manners had such an
effect on him, he was obliged to suppress it. He knew men, as well as
books; his conversation was entertaining and improving. In Mary's
company he doubted whether heaven was peopled with spirits masculine;
and almost forgot that he had called the sex "the pretty play things
that render life tolerable."
He had been the slave of beauty, the captive of sense; love he ne'er had
felt; the mind never rivetted the chain, nor had the purity of it made
the body appear lovely in his eyes. He was humane, despised meanness;
but was vain of his abilities, and by no means a useful member of
society. He talked often of the beauty of virtue; but not having any
solid foundation to build the practice on, he was only a shining, or
rather a sparkling character: and though his fortune enabled him to
hunt down pleasure, he was discontented.
Mary observed his character, and wrote down a train of reflections,
which these observations led her to make; these reflections received a
tinge from her mind; the present state of it, was that kind of painful
quietness which arises from reason clouded by disgust; she had not yet
learned to be resigned; vague hopes agitated her.
"There are some subjects that are so enveloped in clouds, as you
dissipate one, another overspreads it. Of this kind are our reasonings
concerning happiness; till we are obliged to cry out with the Apostle,
_That it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive in what it
could consist_, or how satiety could be prevented. Man seems formed for
action, though the passions are seldom properly managed; they are
either so languid as not to serve as a spur, or else so violent, as to
overleap all bounds.
"Every individual has its own peculiar trials; and anguish, in one shape
or other, visits every heart. Sensibility produces flights of virtue;
and not curbed by reason, is on the brink of vice talking, and even
thinking of virtue.
"Christianity can only afford just principles to govern the wayward
feelings and impulses of the heart: every good disposition runs wild, if
not transplanted into this soil; but how hard is it to keep the heart
diligently, though convinced that the issues of life depend on it.
"It is very difficult to discipline the mind of a thinker, or reconcile
him to the weakness, the inconsistency of his understanding; and a
still more laborious task for him to conquer his passions, and learn to
seek content, instead of happiness. Good dispositions, and virtuous
propensities, without the light of the Gospel, produce eccentric
characters: comet-like, they are always in extremes; while revelation
resembles the laws of attraction, and produces uniformity; but too often
is the attraction feeble; and the light so obscured by passion, as to
force the bewildered soul to fly into void space, and wander in
confusion."
CHAP. XXV.
A few mornings after, as Mary was sitting ruminating, harassed by
perplexing thoughts, and fears, a letter was delivered to her: the
servant waited for an answer. Her heart palpitated; it was from Henry;
she held it some time in her hand, then tore it open; it was not a long
one; and only contained an account of a relapse, which prevented his
sailing in the first packet, as he had intended. Some tender enquiries
were added, concerning her health, and state of mind; but they were
expressed in rather a formal style: it vexed her, and the more so, as it
stopped the current of affection, which the account of his arrival and
illness had made flow to her heart--it ceased to beat for a moment--she
read the passage over again; but could not tell what she was hurt
by--only that it did not answer the expectations of her affection. She
wrote a laconic, incoherent note in return, allowing him to call on her
the next day--he had requested permission at the conclusion of his
letter.
Her mind was then painfully active; she could not read or walk; she
tried to fly from herself, to forget the long hours that were yet to run
before to-morrow could arrive: she knew not what time he would come;
certainly in the morning, she concluded; the morning then was anxiously
wished for; and every wish produced a sigh, that arose from expectation
on the stretch, damped by fear and vain regret.
To beguile the tedious time, Henry's favorite tunes were sung; the books
they read together turned over; and the short epistle read at least a
hundred times.--Any one who had seen her, would have supposed that she
was trying to decypher Chinese characters.
After a sleepless night, she hailed the tardy day, watched the rising
sun, and then listened for every footstep, and started if she heard the
street door opened. At last he came, and she who had been counting the
hours, and doubting whether the earth moved, would gladly have escaped
the approaching interview.
With an unequal, irresolute pace, she went to meet him; but when she
beheld his emaciated countenance, all the tenderness, which the
formality of his letter had damped, returned, and a mournful
presentiment stilled the internal conflict. She caught his hand, and
looking wistfully at him, exclaimed, "Indeed, you are not well!"
"I am very far from well; but it matters not," added he with a smile of
resignation; "my native air may work wonders, and besides, my mother is
a tender nurse, and I shall sometimes see thee."
Mary felt for the first time in her life, envy; she wished
involuntarily, that all the comfort he received should be from her. She
enquired about the symptoms of his disorder; and heard that he had been
very ill; she hastily drove away the fears, that former dear bought
experience suggested: and again and again did she repeat, that she was
sure he would soon recover. She would then look in his face, to see if
he assented, and ask more questions to the same purport. She tried to
avoid speaking of herself, and Henry left her, with, a promise of
visiting her the next day.
Her mind was now engrossed by one fear--yet she would not allow herself
to think that she feared an event she could not name. She still saw his
pale face; the sound of his voice still vibrated on her ears; she tried
to retain it; she listened, looked round, wept, and prayed.
Henry had enlightened the desolate scene: was this charm of life to fade
away, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck
behind? These thoughts disturbed her reason, she shook her head, as if
to drive them out of it; a weight, a heavy one, was on her heart; all
was not well there.
Out of this reverie she was soon woke to keener anguish, by the arrival
of a letter from her husband; it came to Lisbon after her departure:
Henry had forwarded it to her, but did not choose to deliver it
himself, for a very obvious reason; it might have produced a
conversation he wished for some time to avoid; and his precaution took
its rise almost equally from benevolence and love.
She could not muster up sufficient resolution to break the seal: her
fears were not prophetic, for the contents gave her comfort. He informed
her that he intended prolonging his tour, as he was now his own master,
and wished to remain some time on the continent, and in particular to
visit Italy without any restraint: but his reasons for it appeared
childish; it was not to cultivate his taste, or tread on classic ground,
where poets and philosophers caught their lore; but to join in the
masquerades, and such burlesque amusements.
These instances of folly relieved Mary, in some degree reconciled her
to herself added fuel to the devouring flame--and silenced something
like a pang, which reason and conscience made her feel, when she
reflected, that it is the office of Religion to reconcile us to the
seemingly hard dispensations of providence; and that no inclination,
however strong, should oblige us to desert the post assigned us, or
force us to forget that virtue should be an active principle; and that
the most desirable station, is the one that exercises our faculties,
refines our affections, and enables us to be useful.
One reflection continually wounded her repose; she feared not poverty;
her wants were few; but in giving up a fortune, she gave up the power of
comforting the miserable, and making the sad heart sing for joy.
Heaven had endowed her with uncommon humanity, to render her one of His
benevolent agents, a messenger of peace; and should she attend to her
own inclinations?
These suggestions, though they could not subdue a violent passion,
increased her misery. One moment she was a heroine, half determined to
bear whatever fate should inflict; the next, her mind would recoil--and
tenderness possessed her whole soul. Some instances of Henry's
affection, his worth and genius, were remembered: and the earth was only
a vale of tears, because he was not to sojourn with her.
CHAP. XXVI.
Henry came the next day, and once or twice in the course of the
following week; but still Mary kept up some little formality, a certain
consciousness restrained her; and Henry did not enter on the subject
which he found she wished to avoid. In the course of conversation,
however, she mentioned to him, that she earnestly desired to obtain a
place in one of the public offices for Ann's brother, as the family were
again in a declining way.
Henry attended, made a few enquiries, and dropped the subject; but the
following week, she heard him enter with unusual haste; it was to inform
her, that he had made interest with a person of some consequence, whom
he had once obliged in a very disagreeable exigency, in a foreign
country; and that he had procured a place for her friend, which would
infallibly lead to something better, if he behaved with propriety. Mary
could not speak to thank him; emotions of gratitude and love suffused
her face; her blood eloquently spoke. She delighted to receive benefits
through the medium of her fellow creatures; but to receive them from
Henry was exquisite pleasure.
As the summer advanced, Henry grew worse; the closeness of the air, in
the metropolis, affected his breath; and his mother insisted on his
fixing on some place in the country, where she would accompany him. He
could not think of going far off, but chose a little village on the
banks of the Thames, near Mary's dwelling: he then introduced her to his
mother.
They frequently went down the river in a boat; Henry would take his
violin, and Mary would sometimes sing, or read, to them. She pleased his
mother; she inchanted him. It was an advantage to Mary that friendship
first possessed her heart; it opened it to all the softer sentiments of
humanity:--and when this first affection was torn away, a similar one
sprung up, with a still tenderer sentiment added to it.
The last evening they were on the water, the clouds grew suddenly black,
and broke in violent showers, which interrupted the solemn stillness
that had prevailed previous to it. The thunder roared; and the oars
plying quickly, in order to reach the shore, occasioned a not
unpleasing sound. Mary drew still nearer Henry; she wished to have
sought with him a watry grave; to have escaped the horror of surviving
him.--She spoke not, but Henry saw the workings of her mind--he felt
them; threw his arm round her waist--and they enjoyed the luxury of
wretchedness.--As they touched the shore, Mary perceived that Henry was
wet; with eager anxiety she cried, What shall I do!--this day will kill
thee, and I shall not die with thee!
This accident put a stop to their pleasurable excursions; it had injured
him, and brought on the spitting of blood he was subject to--perhaps it
was not the cold that he caught, that occasioned it. In vain did Mary
try to shut her eyes; her fate pursued her! Henry every day grew worse
and worse.
CHAP. XXVII.
Oppressed by her foreboding fears, her sore mind was hurt by new
instances of ingratitude: disgusted with the family, whose misfortunes
had often disturbed her repose, and lost in anticipated sorrow, she
rambled she knew not where; when turning down a shady walk, she
discovered her feet had taken the path they delighted to tread. She saw
Henry sitting in his garden alone; he quickly opened the garden-gate,
and she sat down by him.
"I did not," said he, "expect to see thee this evening, my dearest Mary;
but I was thinking of thee. Heaven has endowed thee with an uncommon
portion of fortitude, to support one of the most affectionate hearts in
the world. This is not a time for disguise; I know I am dear to
thee--and my affection for thee is twisted with every fibre of my
heart.--I loved thee ever since I have been acquainted with thine: thou
art the being my fancy has delighted to form; but which I imagined
existed only there! In a little while the shades of death will encompass
me--ill-fated love perhaps added strength to my disease, and smoothed
the rugged path. Try, my love, to fulfil thy destined course--try to add
to thy other virtues patience. I could have wished, for thy sake, that
we could have died together--or that I could live to shield thee from
the assaults of an unfeeling world! Could I but offer thee an asylum in
these arms--a faithful bosom, in which thou couldst repose all thy
griefs--" He pressed her to it, and she returned the pressure--he felt her
throbbing heart. A mournful silence ensued! when he resumed the
conversation. "I wished to prepare thee for the blow--too surely do I
feel that it will not be long delayed! The passion I have nursed is so
pure, that death cannot extinguish it--or tear away the impression thy
virtues have made on my soul. I would fain comfort thee--"
"Talk not of comfort," interrupted Mary, "it will be in heaven with thee
and Ann--while I shall remain on earth the veriest wretch!"--She grasped
his hand.
"There we shall meet, my love, my Mary, in our Father's--" His voice
faultered; he could not finish the sentence; he was almost
suffocated--they both wept, their tears relieved them; they walked
slowly to the garden-gate (Mary would not go into the house); they could
not say farewel when they reached it--and Mary hurried down the lane; to
spare Henry the pain of witnessing her emotions.
When she lost sight of the house she sat down on the ground, till it
grew late, thinking of all that had passed. Full of these thoughts, she
crept along, regardless of the descending rain; when lifting up her eyes
to heaven, and then turning them wildly on the prospects around, without
marking them; she only felt that the scene accorded with her present
state of mind. It was the last glimmering of twilight, with a full moon,
over which clouds continually flitted. Where am I wandering, God of
Mercy! she thought; she alluded to the wanderings of her mind. In what a
labyrinth am I lost! What miseries have I already encountered--and what
a number lie still before me.
Her thoughts flew rapidly to something. I could be happy listening to
him, soothing his cares.--Would he not smile upon me--call me his own
Mary? I am not his--said she with fierceness--I am a wretch! and she
heaved a sigh that almost broke her heart, while the big tears rolled
down her burning cheeks; but still her exercised mind, accustomed to
think, began to observe its operation, though the barrier of reason was
almost carried away, and all the faculties not restrained by her, were
running into confusion. Wherefore am I made thus? Vain are my
efforts--I cannot live without loving--and love leads to madness.--Yet
I will not weep; and her eyes were now fixed by despair, dry and
motionless; and then quickly whirled about with a look of distraction.
She looked for hope; but found none--all was troubled waters.--No where
could she find rest. I have already paced to and fro in the earth; it is
not my abiding place--may I not too go home! Ah! no. Is this complying
with my Henry's request, could a spirit thus disengaged expect to
associate with his? Tears of tenderness strayed down her relaxed
countenance, and her softened heart heaved more regularly. She felt the
rain, and turned to her solitary home.
Fatigued by the tumultuous emotions she had endured, when she entered
the house she ran to her own room, sunk on the bed; and exhausted
nature soon closed her eyes; but active fancy was still awake, and a
thousand fearful dreams interrupted her slumbers.
Feverish and languid, she opened her eyes, and saw the unwelcome sun
dart his rays through a window, the curtains of which she had forgotten
to draw. The dew hung on the adjacent trees, and added to the lustre;
the little robin began his song, and distant birds joined. She looked;
her countenance was still vacant--her sensibility was absorbed by one
object.
Did I ever admire the rising sun, she slightly thought, turning from the
Window, and shutting her eyes: she recalled to view the last night's
scene. His faltering voice, lingering step, and the look of tender woe,
were all graven on her heart; as were the words "Could these arms
shield thee from sorrow--afford thee an asylum from an unfeeling world."
The pressure to his bosom was not forgot. For a moment she was happy;
but in a long-drawn sigh every delightful sensation evaporated.
Soon--yes, very soon, will the grave again receive all I love! and the
remnant of my days--she could not proceed--Were there then days to come
after that?
CHAP. XXVIII.
Just as she was going to quit her room, to visit Henry, his mother
called on her.
"My son is worse to-day," said she, "I come to request you to spend not
only this day, but a week or two with me.--Why should I conceal any
thing from you? Last night my child made his mother his confident, and,
in the anguish of his heart, requested me to be thy friend--when I shall
be childless. I will not attempt to describe what I felt when he talked
thus to me. If I am to lose the support of my age, and be again a
widow--may I call her Child whom my Henry wishes me to adopt?"
This new instance of Henry's disinterested affection, Mary felt most
forcibly; and striving to restrain the complicated emotions, and sooth
the wretched mother, she almost fainted: when the unhappy parent forced
tears from her, by saying, "I deserve this blow; my partial fondness
made me neglect him, when most he wanted a mother's care; this neglect,
perhaps, first injured his constitution: righteous Heaven has made my
crime its own punishment; and now I am indeed a mother, I shall loss my
child--my only child!"
When they were a little more composed they hastened to the invalide; but
during the short ride, the mother related several instances of Henry's
goodness of heart. Mary's tears were not those of unmixed anguish; the
display of his virtues gave her extreme delight--yet human nature
prevailed; she trembled to think they would soon unfold themselves in a
more genial clime.
CHAP. XXIX.
She found Henry very ill. The physician had some weeks before declared
he never knew a person with a similar pulse recover. Henry was certain
he could not live long; all the rest he could obtain, was procured by
opiates. Mary now enjoyed the melancholy pleasure of nursing him, and
softened by her tenderness the pains she could not remove. Every sigh
did she stifle, every tear restrain, when he could see or hear them. She
would boast of her resignation--yet catch eagerly at the least ray of
hope. While he slept she would support his pillow, and rest her head
where she could feel his breath. She loved him better than herself--she
could not pray for his recovery; she could only say, The will of Heaven
be done.
While she was in this state, she labored to acquire fortitude; but one
tender look destroyed it all--she rather labored, indeed, to make him
believe he was resigned, than really to be so.
She wished to receive the sacrament with him, as a bond of union which
was to extend beyond the grave. She did so, and received comfort from
it; she rose above her misery.
His end was now approaching. Mary sat on the side of the bed. His eyes
appeared fixed--no longer agitated by passion, he only felt that it was
a fearful thing to die. The soul retired to the citadel; but it was not
now solely filled by the image of her who in silent despair watched for
his last breath. Collected, a frightful calmness stilled every turbulent
emotion.
The mother's grief was more audible. Henry had for some time only
attended to Mary--Mary pitied the parent, whose stings of conscience
increased her sorrow; she whispered him, "Thy mother weeps, disregarded
by thee; oh! comfort her!--My mother, thy son blesses thee.--" The
oppressed parent left the room. And Mary _waited_ to see him die.
She pressed with trembling eagerness his parched lips--he opened his
eyes again; the spreading film retired, and love returned them--he gave
a look--it was never forgotten. My Mary, will you be comforted?
Yes, yes, she exclaimed in a firm voice; you go to be happy--I am not a
complete wretch! The words almost choked her.
He was a long time silent; the opiate produced a kind of stupor. At
last, in an agony, he cried, It is dark; I cannot see thee; raise me up.
Where is Mary? did she not say she delighted to support me? let me die
in her arms.
Her arms were opened to receive him; they trembled not. Again he was
obliged to lie down, resting on her: as the agonies increased he leaned
towards her: the soul seemed flying to her, as it escaped out of its
prison. The breathing was interrupted; she heard distinctly the last
sigh--and lifting up to Heaven her eyes, Father, receive his spirit, she
calmly cried.
The attendants gathered round; she moved not, nor heard the clamor; the
hand seemed yet to press hers; it still was warm. A ray of light from
an opened window discovered the pale face.
She left the room, and retired to one very near it; and sitting down on
the floor, fixed her eyes on the door of the apartment which contained
the body. Every event of her life rushed across her mind with wonderful
rapidity--yet all was still--fate had given the finishing stroke. She
sat till midnight.--Then rose in a phrensy, went into the apartment, and
desired those who watched the body to retire.
She knelt by the bed side;--an enthusiastic devotion overcame the
dictates of despair.--She prayed most ardently to be supported, and
dedicated herself to the service of that Being into whose hands, she had
committed the spirit she almost adored--again--and again,--she prayed
wildly--and fervently--but attempting to touch the lifeless hand--her
head swum--she sunk--
CHAP. XXX.
Three months after, her only friend, the mother of her lost Henry began
to be alarmed, at observing her altered appearance; and made her own
health a pretext for travelling. These complaints roused Mary out of her
torpid state; she imagined a new duty now forced her to exert herself--a
duty love made sacred!--
They went to Bath, from that to Bristol; but the latter place they
quickly left; the sight of the sick that resort there, they neither of
them could bear. From Bristol they flew to Southampton. The road was
pleasant--yet Mary shut her eyes;--or if they were open, green fields
and commons, passed in quick succession, and left no more traces behind
than if they had been waves of the sea.
Some time after they were settled at Southampton, they met the man who
took so much notice of Mary, soon after her return to England. He
renewed his acquaintance; he was really interested in her fate, as he
had heard her uncommon story; besides, he knew her husband; knew him to
be a good-natured, weak man. He saw him soon after his arrival in his
native country, and prevented his hastening to enquire into the reasons
of Mary's strange conduct. He desired him not to be too precipitate, if
he ever wished to possess an invaluable treasure. He was guided by him,
and allowed him to follow Mary to Southampton, and speak first to her
friend.
This friend determined to trust to her native strength of mind, and
informed her of the circumstance; but she overrated it: Mary was not
able, for a few days after the intelligence, to fix on the mode of
conduct she ought now to pursue. But at last she conquered her disgust,
and wrote her _husband_ an account of what had passed since she had
dropped his correspondence.
He came in person to answer the letter. Mary fainted when he approached
her unexpectedly. Her disgust returned with additional force, in spite
of previous reasonings, whenever he appeared; yet she was prevailed on
to promise to live with him, if he would permit her to pass one year,
travelling from place to place; he was not to accompany her.
The time too quickly elapsed, and she gave him her hand--the struggle
was almost more than she could endure. She tried to appear calm; time
mellowed her grief, and mitigated her torments; but when her husband
would take her hand, or mention any thing like love, she would instantly
feel a sickness, a faintness at her heart, and wish, involuntarily, that
the earth would open and swallow her.
CHAP. XXXI.
Mary visited the continent, and sought health in different climates; but
her nerves were not to be restored to their former state. She then
retired to her house in the country, established manufactories, threw
the estate into small farms; and continually employed herself this way
to dissipate care, and banish unavailing regret. She visited the sick,
supported the old, and educated the young.
These occupations engrossed her mind; but there were hours when all her
former woes would return and haunt her.--Whenever she did, or said, any
thing she thought Henry would have approved of--she could not avoid
thinking with anguish, of the rapture his approbation ever conveyed to
her heart--a heart in which there was a void, that even benevolence and
religion could not fill. The latter taught her to struggle for
resignation; and the former rendered life supportable.
Her delicate state of health did not promise long life. In moments of
solitary sadness, a gleam of joy would dart across her mind--She thought
she was hastening to that world _where there is neither marrying_, nor
giving in marriage.
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARY***
******* This file should be named 16357-8.txt or 16357-8.zip *******
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/3/5/16357
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit:
https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
What does Charles do immediately after he and Mary are wed?
Answer:
| He leaves for the Continent. | 174 | 153,585 | 153,587 | 153,656 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
5947 | 5947_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
Project Gutenberg's Tom Swift and his Photo Telephone, by Victor Appleton
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Tom Swift and his Photo Telephone
Author: Victor Appleton
Posting Date: January 16, 2009 [EBook #4532]
Release Date: October, 2003
[Last updated: June 17, 2012]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE ***
Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team
TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE
OR THE PICTURE THAT SAVED A FORTUNE
BY VICTOR APPLETON
AUTHOR OF "TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE," "TOM SWIFT AND HIS
GIANT CANNON," "THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS," "THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS
IN THE JUNGLE," "THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS' FIRST VENTURE," ETC.
CONTENTS
I. A MAN ON THE ROOF
II. BAD NEWS
III. TOM'S FAILURE
IV. RUN DOWN
V. SHARP WORDS
VI. A WARNING
VII. SOFT WORDS
VIII. TOM IS BAFFLED
IX. A GLEAM OF HOPE
X. MIDNIGHT VISITORS
XI. THE AIRSHIP IS TAKEN
XII. A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE
XIII. THE TELEPHONE PICTURE
XIV. MAKING IMPROVEMENTS
XV. THE AIRSHIP CLUE
XVI. SUCCESS
XVII. THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE
XVIII. ANOTHER CALL
XIX. THE BUZZING SOUND
XX. SETTING THE TRAP
XXI. THE PHOTO TELEPHONE
XXII. THE ESCAPE
XXIII. ON THE TRAIL
XXIV. THE LONELY HOUSE
XXV. THE AIRSHIP CAPTURE
TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE
CHAPTER I
A MAN ON THE ROOF
"Tom, I don't believe it can be done!"
"But, Dad, I'm sure it can!"
Tom Swift looked over at his father, who was seated in an easy
chair in the library. The elderly gentleman--his hair was quite
white now--slowly shook his head, as he murmured again:
"It can't be done, Tom! It can't be done! I admit that you've made
a lot of wonderful things--things I never dreamed of--but this is
too much. To transmit pictures over a telephone wire, so that
persons cannot only see to whom they are talking, as well as hear
them--well, to be frank with you, Tom, I should be sorry to see
you waste your time trying to invent such a thing."
"I don't agree with you. Not only do I think it can be done, but
I'm going to do it. In fact, I've already started on it. As for
wasting my time, well, I haven't anything in particular to do, now
that my giant cannon has been perfected, so I might as well be
working on my new photo telephone instead of sitting around idle."
"Yes, Tom, I agree with you there," said Mr. Swift. "Sitting
around idle isn't good for anyone--man or boy, young or old. So
don't think I'm finding fault because you're busy."
"It's only that I don't want to see you throw away your efforts,
only to be disappointed in the end. It can't be done, Tom, it
can't be done," and the aged inventor shook his head in pitying
doubt.
Tom only smiled confidently, and went on:
"Well, Dad, all you'll have to do will be to wait and see. It
isn't going to be easy--I grant that. In fact, I've run up against
more snags, the little way I've gone so far, than I like to admit.
But I'm going to stick at it, and before this year is out I'll
guarantee, Father, that you can be at one end of the telephone
wire, talking to me, at the other, and I'll see you and you'll see
me--if not as plainly as we see each other now, at least plainly
enough to make sure of each other."
Mr. Swift chuckled silently, gradually breaking into a louder
laugh. Instead of being angry, Tom only regarded his father with
an indulgent smile, and continued:
"All right, Dad. Go ahead, laugh!"
"Well, Tom, I'm not exactly laughing at YOU--it's more at the
idea than anything else. The idea of talking over a wire and, at
the same time, having light waves, as well as electrical waves
passing on the same conductor!"
"All right, Dad, go ahead and laugh. I don't mind," said Tom,
good-naturedly. "Folks laughed at Bell, when he said he could send
a human voice over a copper spring; but Bell went ahead and to-day
we can talk over a thousand miles by wire. That was the telephone."
"Folks laughed at Morse when he said he could send a message over
the wire. He let 'em laugh, but we have the telegraph. Folks
laughed at Edison, when he said he could take the human voice--or
any other sound--and fix it on a wax cylinder or a hard-rubber
plate--but he did it, and we have the phonograph. And folks
laughed at Santos Dumont, at the Wrights, and at all the other
fellows, who said they could take a heavier-than-air machine, and
skim above the clouds like a bird; but we do it--I've done it--you've
done it."
"Hold on, Tom!" protested Mr. Swift. "I give up! Don't rub it in
on your old dad. I admit that folks did laugh at those inventors,
with their seemingly impossible schemes, but they made good. And
you've made good lots of times where I thought you wouldn't. But
just stop to consider for a moment. This thing of sending a
picture over a telephone wire is totally out of the question, and
entirely opposed to all the principles of science."
"What do I care for principles of science?" cried Tom, and he
strode about the room so rapidly that Eradicate, the old colored
servant, who came in with the mail, skipped out of the library
with the remark:
"Deed, an' Massa Tom must be pow'fully preragitated dis mawnin'!"
"Some of the scientists said it was totally opposed to all natural
laws when I planned my electric rifle," went on Tom. "But I made
it, and it shot. They said my air glider would never stay up, but
she did."
"But, Tom, this is different. You are talking of sending light
waves--one of the most delicate forms of motion in the world--over
a material wire. It can't be done!"
"Look here, Dad!" exclaimed Tom, coming to a halt in front of his
parent. "What is light, anyhow? Merely another form of motion;
isn't it?"
"Well, yes, Tom, I suppose it is."
"Of course it is," said Tom. "With vibrations of a certain length
and rapidity we get sound--the faster the vibration per second the
higher the sound note. Now, then, we have sound waves, or
vibrations, traveling at the rate of a mile in a little less than
five seconds; that is, with the air at a temperature of sixty
degrees. With each increase of a degree of temperature we get an
increase of about a foot per second in the rapidity with which
sound travels."
"Now, then, light shoots along at the rate of 186,000,000 miles a
second. That is more than many times around the earth in a second
of time. So we have sound, one kind of wave motion, or energy; we
have light, a higher degree of vibration or wave motion, and then
we come to electricity--and nobody has ever yet exactly measured
the intensity or speed of the electric vibrations."
"But what I'm getting at is this--that electricity must travel
pretty nearly as fast as light--if not faster. So I believe that
electricity and light have about the same kind of vibrations, or
wave motion."
"Now, then, if they do have--and I admit it's up to me to prove
it," went on Tom, earnestly--"why can't I send light-waves over a
wire, as well as electrical waves?"
Mr. Swift was silent for a moment. Then he said, slowly:
"Well, Tom, I never heard it argued just that way before. Maybe
there's something in your photo telephone after all. But it never
has been done. You can't deny that!"
He looked at his son triumphantly. It was not because he wanted to
get the better of him in argument, that Mr. Swift held to his own
views; but he wanted to bring out the best that was in his
offspring. Tom accepted the challenge instantly.
"Yes, Dad, it has been done, in a way!" he said, earnestly. "No
one has sent a picture over a telephone wire, as far as I know,
but during the recent hydroplane tests at Monte Carlo, photographs
taken of some of the events in the morning, and afternoon, were
developed in the evening, and transmitted over five hundred miles
of wire to Paris, and those same photographs were published in the
Paris newspapers the next morning."
"Is that right, Tom?"
"It certainly is. The photographs weren't so very clear, but you
could make out what they were. Of course that is a different
system than the one I'm thinking of. In that case they took a
photograph, and made a copper plate of it, as they would for a
half-tone illustration. This gave them a picture with ridges and
depressions in copper, little hills and valleys, so to speak,
according to whether there were light or dark tints in the
picture. The dark places meant that the copper lines stood up
higher there than where there were light colors."
"Now, by putting this copper plate on a wooden drum, and revolving
this drum, with an electrical needle pressing lightly on the
ridges of copper, they got a varying degree of electrical current.
Where the needle touched a high place in the copper plate the
contact was good, and there was a strong current. When the needle
got to a light place in the copper--a depression, so to speak--the
contact was not so good, and there was only a weak current."
"At the receiving end of the apparatus there was a sensitized film
placed on a similar wooden drum. This was to receive the image
that came over the five hundred miles of wire. Now then, as the
electrical needle, moving across the copper plate, made electrical
contacts of different degrees of strength, it worked a delicate
galvanometer on the receiving end. The galvanometer caused a beam
of light to vary--to grow brighter or dimmer, according as the
electrical current was stronger or weaker. And this light, falling
on the sensitive plate, made a picture, just like the one on the
copper plate in Monte Carlo."
"In other words, where the copper plate was black, showing that
considerable printing ink was needed, the negative on the other
end was made light. Then when that negative was printed it would
come out black, because more light comes through the light places
on a photograph negative than through the dark places. And so,
with the galvanometer making light flashes on the sensitive plate,
the galvanometer being governed by the electrical contacts five
hundred miles away, they transmitted a photograph by wire."
"But not a telephone wire, Tom."
"That doesn't make any difference, Dad. It was a wire just the
same. But I'm not going into that just now, though later I may
want to send photographs by wire. What I'm aiming at is to make an
apparatus so that when you go into a telephone booth to talk to a
friend, you can see him and he can see you, on a specially
prepared plate that will be attached to the telephone."
"You mean see him as in a looking-glass, Tom?"
"Somewhat, yes. Though I shall probably use a metal plate instead
of glass. It will be just as if you were talking over a telephone
in an open field, where you could see the other party and he could
see you."
"But how are you going to do it, Tom?"
"Well, I haven't quite decided. I shall probably have to use the
metal called selenium, which is very sensitive to light, and which
makes a good or a poor electrical conductor according as more or
less light falls on it. After all, a photograph is only lights and
shadows, fixed on sensitive paper or films."
"Well, Tom, maybe you can do it, and maybe you can't. I admit
you've used some good arguments," said Mr. Swift. "But then, it
all comes down to this: What good will it be if you can succeed in
sending a picture over a telephone wire?"
"What good, Dad? Why, lots of good. Just think how important it
will be in business, if you can make sure that you are talking to
the party you think you are. As it is now, unless you know the
person's voice, you can't tell that the man on the other end of
the wire is the person he says he is. And even a voice can be
imitated."
"But if you know the person yourself, he can't be imitated. If you
see him, as well as hear his voice, you are sure of what you are
doing. Why, think of the big business deals that could be made
over the telephone if the two parties could not only hear but see
each other. It would be a dead sure thing then. And Mr. Brown
wouldn't have to take Mr. Smith's word that it was he who was
talking. He could even get witnesses to look at the wire-image if
he wanted to, and so clinch the thing. It will prevent a lot of
frauds."
"Well, Tom, maybe you're right. Go ahead. I'll say no more against
your plans. I wish you all success, and if I can help you, call on
me."
"Thanks, Dad. I knew you'd feel that way when you understood. Now
I'm going--"
But what Tom Swift was going to do he did not say just then, for
above the heads of father and son sounded a rattling, crashing
noise, and the whole house seemed to shake. Then the voice of
Eradicate was heard yelling:
"Good land! Good land ob massy! Come out yeah, Massa Tom! Come
right out yeah! Dere's a man on de roof an' he am all tangled up
suthin' scandalous! Come right out yeah befo' he falls and
translocates his neck! Come on!"
CHAPTER II
BAD NEWS
With startled glances at each other, Tom and his father rushed
from the library to the side of the house, whence came the cries
of Eradicate.
"What is it, Rad! what is it?" questioned Tom.
"Is someone hurt?" Mr. Swift wanted to know.
"He mighty soon will be!" exclaimed the colored man. "Look where
he am holdin' on! Lucky fo' him he grabbed dat chimbley!"
Tom and his father looked to where Eradicate pointed, and saw a
strange sight. A small biplane-airship had become entangled in
some of the aerials of Tom's wireless apparatus, and the craft had
turned turtle, being held from falling by some of the wire braces.
The birdman had fallen out, but had managed to cling to the
chimney, so that he had not reached the ground, and there he
clung, while the motor of his airship was banging away, and
revolving the propeller blades dangerously close to his head.
"Are you hurt?" cried Tom, to the unknown birdman.
"No, but I'm likely to be unless I get out of here!" was the
gasped-out answer.
"Hold fast!" cried Tom. "We'll have you down in a jiffy. Here,
Rad, you get the long ladder. Where's Koku? That giant is never
around when he's wanted. Find Koku, Rad, and send him here."
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom; directly, sah!" and the colored man hastened
off as fast as his aged legs would take him.
And while preparations are thus under way to rescue the birdman
from the roof, I will take just a few minutes to tell you a little
something more about Tom Swift and his numerous inventions, as set
forth in the previous books of this series.
"Tom Swift and His Motor Cycle" was the first book, and in that I
related how Tom made the acquaintance of a Mr. Wakefield Damon, of
the neighboring town of Waterford, and how Tom bought that
gentleman's motor cycle, after it had tried to climb a tree with
its rider in the saddle. Mr. Wakefield Damon was an odd man, whose
favorite expression was "Bless my shoelaces!" or something equally
absurd. Waterford was not far from Shopton, where Tom and his
father made their home.
Mr. Swift was also an inventor of note, and Tom soon followed in
his father's footsteps. They lived in a large house, with many
shops about it, for their work at times required much machinery.
Mrs. Baggert was the housekeeper who looked after Tom and his
father, and got their meals, when they consented to take enough
time from their inventive work to eat. Another member of the
household was Eradicate Sampson, a genial old colored man, who
said he was named Eradicate because he used to eradicate the dirt
about the place.
Koku, just referred to by Tom, was an immense man, a veritable
giant, whom Tom had brought back with him from one of his trips,
after escaping from captivity. The young inventor really brought
two giants, brothers they were, but one had gone to a museum, and
the other took service with our hero, making himself very useful
when it came to lifting heavy machinery.
Tom had a close friend in Ned Newton, who was employed in the
Shopton bank. Another friend was Miss Mary Nestor, a young lady
whose life Tom had once saved. He had many other friends, and some
enemies, whom you will meet from time to time in this story.
After Tom had had many adventures on his motor cycle he acquired a
motor boat, and in that he and Ned went through some strenuous
times on Lake Carlopa, near Tom's home. Then followed an airship,
for Tom got that craze, and in the book concerning that machine I
related some of the things that happened to him. He had even more
wonderful adventures in his submarine, and with his electric
runabout our hero was instrumental in saving a bank from ruin by
making a trip in the speediest car on the road.
After Tom Swift had sent his wireless message, and saved the
castaways of Earthquake Island, he thought he would give up his
inventive work for a time, and settle down to a life of ease and
quiet.
But the call of the spirit of adventure was still too strong for
him to resist. That was why he sought out the diamond makers, and
learned the secret of Phantom Mountain. And when he went to the
Caves of Ice, and there saw his airship wrecked, Tom was well-nigh
discouraged, But he managed to get back to civilization, and later
undertook a journey to elephant land, with his powerful electric
rifle.
Marvelous adventures underground did Tom Swift have when he went
to the City of Gold, and I have set down some of them in the book
bearing the latter title. Later on he sought the platinum treasure
in his air glider. And when Tom was taken captive, in giant land,
only his speedy airship saved him from a hard fate.
By this time moving pictures were beginning to occupy a large
place in the scientific, as well as the amusement world, and Tom
invented a Wizard Camera which did excellent work. Then came the
need of a powerful light, to enable Uncle Sam's custom officers on
the border to detect the smugglers, and Tom was successful in
making his apparatus.
He thought he would take a rest after that, but with the opening
of the Panama Canal came the need of powerful guns to protect that
important waterway, and Tom made a Giant Cannon, which enabled the
longest shots on record to be fired.
Now, some months had passed, after the successful trial of the big
weapon, and Tom longed for new activities. He found them in the
idea of a photo telephone, and he and his father were just talking
of this when interrupted by the accident to the birdman on the
roof of the Swift home.
"Have you got that ladder, Rad?" cried the young inventor,
anxiously, as he saw the dangerous position of the man from the
airship.
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom! I'se a-camin' wif it!"
"And where's Koku? We'll need him!"
"He's a-camin', too!"
"Here Koku!" exclaimed a deep voice, and a big man came running
around the corner of the house. "What is it, Master?"
"We must get him down, Koku!" said Tom, simply. "I will go up on
the roof. You had better come, too. Rad, go in the house and get a
mattress from the bed. Put it down on the ground where he's likely
to fall. Lively now!"
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom!"
"Me git my own ladder--dat one not strong 'nuff!" grunted Koku,
who did not speak very good English. He had a very strong ladder,
of his own make, built to hold his enormous bulk, and this he soon
brought and placed against the side of the house.
Meanwhile Tom and his father had raised the one Eradicate had
brought, though Tom did most of the lifting, for his father was
elderly, and had once suffered from heart trouble.
"We're coming for you!" cried the young inventor as he began to
ascend the ladder, at the same time observing that the giant was
coming with his. "Can you hold on a little longer?"
"Yes, I guess so. But I dare not move for fear the propellers will
strike me."
"I see. I'll soon shut off the motor," said Tom. "What happened,
anyhow?"
"Well, I was flying over your house. I was on my way to pay you a
visit, but I didn't intend to do it in just this way," and the
birdman smiled grimly. "I didn't see your wireless aerials until I
was plumb into them, and then it was too late. I hope I haven't
damaged them any."
"Oh, they are easily fixed," said Tom. "I hope you and your
biplane are not damaged. This way, Koku!" he called to the giant.
"Say, is--is he real, or am I seeing things?" asked the aviator,
as he looked at the big man.
"Oh, he's real, all right," laughed Tom. "Now, then, I'm going to
shut off your motor, and then you can quit hugging that chimney,
and come down."
"I'll be real glad to," said the birdman.
Making his way cautiously along the gutters of the roof, Tom
managed to reach the motor controls. He pulled out the electrical
switch, and with a sort of cough and groan the motor stopped. The
big propellers ceased revolving, and the aviator could leave his
perch in safety.
This he did, edging along until he could climb down and meet Tom,
who stood near the ladder.
"Much obliged," said the birdman, as he shook hands with Tom. "My
name is Grant Halling. I'm a newcomer in Mansburg," he added,
naming a town not far from Shopton. "I know you by reputation, so
you don't need to introduce yourself."
"Glad to meet you," said the young inventor, cordially. "Rather a
queer place to meet a friend," he went on with a laugh and a
glance down to the ground. "Can you climb?"
"Oh, yes, I'm used to that. The next thing will be to get my
machine down."
"Oh, we can manage that with Koku's help," spoke Tom. "Koku, get
some ropes, and see what you and Rad can do toward getting the
aeroplane down," he added to the giant. "Let me know if you need
any help."
"Me can do!" exclaimed the big man. "Me fix him!"
Tom and Mr. Halling made their way down the ladder, while the
giant proceeded to study out a plan for getting the airship off
the roof.
"You say you were coming over to see me, when you ran into my
wireless aerials?" asked Tom, curiously, when he had introduced
his father to the birdman.
"Yes," went on Mr. Halling. "I have been having some trouble with
my motor, and I thought perhaps you could tell me what was wrong.
My friend, Mr. Wakefield Damon, sent me to you."
"What! Do you know Mr. Damon?" cried Tom.
"I've known' him for some years. I met him in the West, but I
hadn't seen him lately, until I came East. He sent me to see you,
and said you would help me."
"Well, any friend of Mr. Damon's is a friend of mine!" exclaimed
Tom, genially. "I'll have a look at your machine as soon as Koku
gets it down. How is Mr. Damon, anyhow? I haven't seen him in over
two weeks."
"I'm sorry to say he isn't very well, Mr. Swift."
"Is he ill? What is the trouble?"
"He isn't exactly ill," went on Mr. Halling, "but he is fretting
himself into a sickness, worrying over his lost fortune."
"His lost fortune!" cried Tom, in surprise at the bad news
concerning his friend. "I didn't know he had lost his money!"
"He hasn't yet, but he's in a fair way to, he says. It's something
about bad investments, and he did speak of the trickery of one
man, I didn't get the particulars. But he certainly feels very
badly over it."
"I should think he would," put in Mr. Swift. "Tom, we must look
into this. If we can help Mr. Damon--"
"We certainly will," interrupted Tom. "Now come in the house, Mr.
Halling. I'm sure you must be quite shaken up by your upset."
"I am, to tell you the truth, though it isn't the first accident
I've had in my airship."
They were proceeding toward the house, when there came a cry from
Koku, who had fastened a rope about the airship to lower it.
"Master! Master!" cried the giant. "The rope am slippin'. Grab the
end of it!"
CHAPTER III
TOM'S FAILURE
"Come on!" cried Tom, quickly, as, turning, he saw the accident
about to happen. "Your craft will surely be smashed if she slips
to the ground, Mr. Halling!"
"You're right! This seems to be my unlucky day!" The birdman,
limping slightly from his fall, hurried with Tom to where a rope
trailed on the ground. Koku had fastened one end to the airship,
and had taken a turn of the cable about the chimney. He had been
lowering the biplane to the ground, but he had not allowed for its
great weight, and the rope had slipped from his big hands.
But Tom and Mr. Halling were just in time. They grabbed the
slipping hempen strands, and thus checked the falling craft until
Koku could get a better grip.
"All right now," said the giant, when he had made fast the rope.
"Me fix now. Master can go."
"Think he can lower it?" asked Mr. Halling, doubtfully.
"Oh, surely," said Tom. "Koku's as strong as a horse. You needn't
worry. He'll get it down all right. But you are limping."
"Yes, I jammed my leg a little."
"Don't you want a doctor?"
"Oh, no, not for a little thing like that."
But Tom insisted on looking at his new friend's wound, and found
quite a cut on the thigh, which the young inventor insisted on
binding up.
"That feels better," said the birdman, as he stretched out on a
couch. "Now if you can look my machine over, and tell me what's
the matter with it, I'll be much obliged to you, and I'll get on
my way."
"Not quite so fast as that!" laughed Tom. "I wouldn't want to see
you start off with your lame leg, and certainly I would not want
to see you use your aircraft after what she's gone through, until
we've given her a test. You can't tell what part you might have
strained."
"Well, I suppose you are right. But I think I'd better go to a
hotel, or send for an auto and go home."
"Now you needn't do anything of the kind," spoke Tom, hospitably.
"We've got lots of room here, and for that matter we have plenty
of autos and airships, too, as well as a motor boat. You just rest
yourself here. Later we'll look over your craft."
After dinner, when Mr. Halling said he felt much better, Tom
agreed to go out with him and look at the airship. As he feared,
he found several things the matter with it, in addition to the
motor trouble which had been the cause for Mr. Halling's call on
the young inventor.
"Can she be fixed?" asked the birdman, who explained that, as yet,
he was only an amateur in the practice of flying.
"Oh, yes, we can fix her up for you," said Tom. "But it will take
several days. You'll have to leave it here."
"Well, I'll be glad to do that, for I know she will be all the
better when you get through with her. But I think I am able to go
on home now, and I really ought to. There is some business I must
attend to."
"Speaking of business," remarked Tom, "can you tell me anything
more of Mr. Damon's financial troubles?"
"No, not much. All I know is that when I called on him the other
day I found him with his check book out, and he was doing a lot of
figuring. He looked pretty blue and downcast, I can tell you."
"I'm sorry about that," spoke Tom, musingly. "Mr. Damon is a very
good friend of mine, and I'd do anything to help him. I certainly
wouldn't like to see him lose his fortune. Bad investments, you
say it was?"
"Partly so, and yet I'm inclined to think if he does lose his
money it will be due to some trickery. Mr. Damon is not the man to
make bad investments by himself."
"Indeed he is not," agreed Tom. "You say he spoke of some man?"
"Yes, but not definitely. He did not mention any name. But Mr.
Damon was certainly quite blue."
"That's unlike him," remarked Tom. "He is usually very jolly. He
must be feeling quite badly. I'll go over and have a talk with
him, as soon as I can."
"Do. I think he would appreciate it. And now I must see about
getting home."
"I'll take you in one of my cars," said Tom, who had several
automobiles. "I don't want to see you strain that injured leg of
yours."
"You're very good--especially after I tangled up your wireless
aerials; but I didn't see them until I was right into them,"
apologized Mr. Halling.
"They're a new kind of wire," said Tom, "and are not very plain to
see. I must put up some warning signs. But don't worry about
damaging them. They were only up temporarily anyhow, and I was
going to take them down to arrange for my photo telephone."
"Photo telephone, eh? Is that something new?"
"It will be--if I can get it working," said Tom, with a smile.
A little later Tom had taken Mr. Halling home, and then he set
about making arrangements for repairing the damaged airship. This
took him the better part of a week, but he did not regret the
time, for while he was working he was busy making plans for his
newest invention--the photo telephone.
One afternoon, when Tom had completed the repairs to the airship,
and had spent some time setting up an experimental telephone line,
the young inventor received a call from his chum, Ned Newton.
"Well, well, what are you up to now?" asked Ned, as he saw his
chum seated in a booth, with a telephone receiver to his ear,
meanwhile looking steadily at a polished metal plate in front of
him. "Trying to hypnotize yourself, Tom?"
"Not exactly. Quiet, Ned, please. I'm trying to listen."
Ned was too familiar with his chum's work to take offense at this.
The young banker took a seat on a box, and silently watched Tom.
The inventor shifted several switches, pressed one button after
another, and tilted the polished metal plate at different angles.
Then he closed the door of the little telephone booth, and Ned,
through the ground glass door, saw a light shining.
"I wonder what new game Tom is up to?" Ned mused.
Presently the door opened, and Tom stuck out his head.
"Ned, come here," he invited. "Look at that metal plate and see if
you can notice anything on it. I've been staring at it so steadily
that my eyes are full of sticks. See what you can make out."
"What is this?" asked Ned. "No trick; is it? I won't be blown up,
or get my eyes full of pepper; will I?"
"Nonsense! Of course not. I'm trying to make a photo telephone. I
have the telephone part down pat, but I can't see anything of the
photo image. See if you can."
Ned stared at the polished plate, while Tom did things to it,
making electrical connections, and tilting it at various angles.
"See anything, Ned?" asked Tom.
The other shook his head.
"Whom am I supposed to see?" he asked.
"Why, Koku is at the other end of the wire. I'm having him help
me."
Ned gazed from the polished plate out of a side window of the
shop, into the yard.
"Well, that Koku is certainly a wonderful giant," said Ned, with a
laugh.
"How so?" asked Tom.
"Why he can not be in two places at once. You say he ought to be
at the other end of this wire, and there he is out there, spading
up the garden."
Tom stared for a second and then exclaimed:
"Well, if that isn't the limit! I put him in the telephone booth
in the machine shop, and told him to stay there until I was
through. What in the world is he doing out there?"
"Koku!" he called to the giant, "why didn't you stay at the
telephone where I put you? Why did you run away?"
"Ha!" exclaimed the giant, who, for all his great size was a
simple chap, "little thing go 'tick-tick' and then 'clap-clap!'
Koku no like--Koku t'ink bad spirit in telumfoam--Koku come out!"
"Well, no wonder I couldn't see any image on the plate!" exclaimed
Tom. "There was nobody there. Now, Ned, you try it; will you,
please?"
"Sure. Anything to oblige!"
"Then go in the other telephone booth. You can talk to me on the
wire. Say anything you like--the telephone part is all right. Then
you just stand so that the light in the booth shines on your face.
The machine will do the rest--if it works."
Ned hurried off and was soon talking to his chum over the wire
from the branch telephone in the machine shop. Ned stood in the
glare of an electric light, and looked at a polished plate similar
to the one in the other booth.
"Are you there, Ned?" asked Tom.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Is the light on?"
"Yes."
"And you're looking at the plate?"
"Sure. Can you see any reflection in your plate?"
"No, not a thing," answered Tom, and there was great
discouragement in his voice. "The thing is a failure, Ned. Come on
back," and the young banker could hear his chum hang up the
telephone receiver at the other end.
"That's too bad," murmured Ned, knowing how Tom must feel. "I'll
have to cheer him up a bit."
CHAPTER IV
RUN DOWN
When Ned Newton got back to where Tom sat in the small telephone
booth, the young banker found his chum staring rather moodily at
the polished metal plate on the shelf that held the talking
instrument.
"So it was no go; eh, Tom?"
"No go at all, Ned, and I thought sure I had it right this time."
"Then this isn't your first experiment?"
"Land no! I've been at it, off and on, for over a month, and I
can't seem to get any farther. I'm up against a snag now, good and
hard."
"Then there wasn't any image on your plate?"
"Not a thing, Ned. I don't suppose you caught any glimpse of me in
your plate?" asked Tom, half hopefully.
"No. I couldn't see a thing. So you are going to try and make this
thing work both ways, are you?"
"That's my intention, But I can fix it so that a person can
control the apparatus at his end, and only see the person he is
talking to, not being seen himself, unless he wishes it. That is,
I hope to do that. Just now nobody can see anybody," and Tom
sighed.
"Give it up," advised Ned. "It's too hard a nut to crack, Tom!"
"Indeed, I'll not give it up, Ned! I'm going to work along a new
line. I must try a different solution of selenium on the metal
plate. Perhaps I may have to try using a sensitized plate, and
develop it later, though I do want to get the machine down so you
can see a perfect image without the need of developing. And I
will, too!" cried Tom. "I'll get some new selenium."
Eradicate, who came into the shop just then, heard the end of
Tom's remarks. A strange look came over his honest black face, and
he exclaimed:
"What all am dat, Massa Tom? Yo'ah gwine t' bring de new millenium
heah? Dat's de end of de world, ain't it-dat millenium? Golly!
Dish yeah coon neber 'spected t' lib t' see dat. De millenium! Oh
mah landy!"
"No, Rad!" laughed Tom. "I was speaking about selenium, a sort of
metallic combination that is a peculiar conductor of electricity.
The more light that shines on it the better conductor it is, and
the less light, the poorer."
"It must be queer stuff," said Ned.
"It is," declared Tom. "I think it is the only thing to use in
this photo telephone experiment, though I might try the metal
plate method, as they did between Monte Carlo and Paris. But I am
not trying to make newspaper pictures."
"What is selenium, anyhow?" asked Ned. "Remember, Tom, I'm not up
on this scientific stuff as you are."
"Selenium," went on Tom, "was discovered in 1817, by J. J.
Berzelius, and he gave it that name from the Greek word for moon,
on account of selenium being so similar, in some ways, to
tellurium. That last is named after the Latin word tellus, the
earth."
"Do they dig it?" Ned wanted to know.
"Well, sometimes selenium is found in combination with metals, in
the form of selenides, the more important minerals of that kind
being eucharite, crooksite, clausthalite, naumannite and zorgite--"
"Good night!" interrupted Ned, with a laugh, holding up his hands.
"Stop it, Tom!" he pleaded. "You'll give me a headache with all
those big words."
"Oh, they're easy, once you get used to them," said the young
inventor, with a smile. "Perhaps it will be easier if I say that
sometimes selenium is found in native sulphur. Selenium is usually
obtained from the flue-dust or chamber deposits of some factory
where sulphuric acid is made. They take this dust and treat it
with acids until they get the pure selenium. Sometimes selenium
comes in crystal forms, and again it is combined with various
metals for different uses."
"There's one good thing about it. There are several varieties, and
I'll try them all before I give up."
"That's the way to talk!" cried Ned. "Never say die! Don't give up
the ship, and all that. But, Tom, what you need now is a little
fun. You've been poking away at this too long. Come on out on the
lake, and have a ride in the motor boat. It will do you good. It
will do me good. I'm a bit rusty myself--been working hard lately.
Come on--let's go out on the lake."
"I believe I will!" exclaimed Tom, after thinking it over for a
moment. "I need a little fresh air. Sitting in that telephone
booth, trying to get an image on a plate, and not succeeding, has
gotten on my nerves. I want to write out an order for Koku to take
to town, though. I want to get some fresh selenium, and then I'm
going to make new plates."
Tom made some memoranda, and then, giving Koku the order for the
chemist, the young inventor closed up his shop, and went with Ned
down to Lake Carlopa, where the motor boat was moored.
This was not the same boat Tom had first purchased, some years
ago, but a comparatively new and powerful craft.
"It sure is one grand little day for a ride," remarked Ned, as he
got in the craft, while Tom looked over the engine.
"Yes, I'm glad you came over, and routed me out," said the young
inventor. "When I get going on a thing I don't know enough to
stop. Oh, I forgot something!"
"What?" asked Ned.
"I forgot to leave word about Mr. Railing's airship. It's all
fixed and ready for him, but I put on a new control, and I wanted
to explain to him about it. He might not know how to work it. I
left word with father, though, that if he came for it he must not
try it until he had seen me. I guess it will be all right. I don't
want to go back to the house now."
"No, it's too far," agreed Ned.
"I have it!" exclaimed Tom. "I'll telephone to dad from here, not
to let Halling go up until I come back. He may not come for his
machine; but, if he does, it's best to be on the safe side Ned."
"Oh, sure."
Accordingly, Tom 'phoned from his boat-house, and Mr. Swift
promised to see the bird-man if he called. Then Ned and Tom gave
themselves up to the delights of a trip on the water.
The Kilo, which name Tom had selected for his new craft, was a
powerful boat, and comfortable. It swept on down the lake, and
many other persons, in their pleasure craft, turned to look at
Tom's fine one.
"Lots of folks out to-day," observed Ned, as they went around a
point of the shore.
"Yes, quite a number," agreed Tom, leaning forward to adjust the
motor. "I wonder what's got into her?" he said, in some annoyance,
as he made various adjustments. "One of the cylinders is missing."
"Maybe it needs a new spark plug," suggested Ned.
"Maybe. Guess I'll stop and put one in."
Tom slowed down the motor, and headed his boat over toward shore,
intending to tie up there for a while.
As he shifted the wheel he heard a cry behind him, and at the same
time a hoarse, domineering voice called out:
"Here, what do you mean, changing your course that way? Look out,
or I'll run you down! Get out of my way, you land-lubber, you!"
Startled, Ned and Tom turned. They saw, rushing up on them from
astern, a powerful red motor boat, at the wheel of which sat a
stout man, with a very florid face and a commanding air.
"Get out of my way!" he cried. "I can't stop so short! Look out,
or I'll run you down!"
Tom, with a fierce feeling of resentment at the fellow, was about
to shift the course of the Kilo, but he was too late.
A moment later there came a smashing blow on the stern port
quarter and the Kilo heeled over at a dangerous angle, while, with
a rending, splintering sound of wood, the big red motorboat swept
on past Tom and Ned, her rubstreak grinding along the side of the
Kilo.
CHAPTER V
SHARP WORDS
"Great Scott, Tom! What happened?"
"I know as much as you, Ned. That fellow ran us down, that's all."
"Are we leaking?" and with this question Ned sprang from his place
near the bow, and looked toward the stern, where the heaviest blow
had been struck.
The Kilo had swung back to an even keel again, but was still
bobbing about on the water.
"Any hole there?" cried Tom, as he swung the wheel over to point
his craft toward shore, in case she showed a tendency to sink.
"I can't see any hole," answered Ned. "But water is coming in
here."
"Then there's a leak all right! Probably some of the seams are
opened, or it may be coming in around the shaft stuffing-box.
Here, Ned, take the wheel, and I'll start up the engine again,"
for with the blow the motor had stopped.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ned, as he again made his way
forward.
"Take her to shore, of course. It's deep out here and I don't want
her to go down at this point."
"Say, what do you think of that fellow, anyhow, Tom?"
"I wouldn't like to tell you. Look, he's coming back."
This was so, for, as the boys watched, the big red motor boat had
swung about in a circle and was headed for them.
"I'll tell him what I think of him, at any rate," murmured Tom, as
he bent over his motor. "And, later on, I'll let the lawyers talk
to him."
"You mean you'll sue him, Tom?"
"Well, I'm certainly not going to let him run into me and spring a
leak, for nothing. That won't go with me!"
By this time Tom had the motor started, but he throttled it down
so that it just turned the propeller. With it running at full
speed there was considerable vibration, and this would further
open the leaking seams. So much water might thus be let in that
the craft could not be gotten ashore.
"Head her over, Ned," cried Tom, when he found he had sufficient
headway. "Steer for Ramsey's dock. There's a marine railway next
to him, and I can haul her out for repairs."
"That's the talk, Tom!" cried his chum.
By this time the big, red motor boat was close beside Tom's craft.
The man at the wheel, a stout-bodied and stout-faced man, with a
complexion nearly the color of his boat, glared at the two young
men.
"What do you fellows mean?" called out the man, in deep booming
tones--tones that he tried to make imposing, but which, to the
trained ears of Tom and Ned, sounded only like the enraged bellow
of some bully. "What do you mean, I say? Getting on my course like
that!"
Ned could see Tom biting his lips, and clenching his hands to keep
down his temper. But it was too much. To be run into, and then
insulted, was more than Tom could stand.
"Look here!" he cried, standing up and facing the red-faced man,
"I don't know who you are, and I don't care. But I'll tell you one
thing--you'll pay for the damage you did to my boat!"
"I'll pay for it? Come, that's pretty good! Ha! Ha!" laughed the
self-important man. "Why, I was thinking of making a complaint
against you for crossing my course that way. If I find my boat is
damaged I shall certainly do so anyhow. Have we suffered any
damage, Snuffin?" and he looked back at a grimy-faced mechinician
who was oiling the big, throbbing motor, which was now running
with the clutch out.
"No, sir, I don't think we're damaged, sir," answered the man,
deferentially.
"Well, it's a lucky thing for these land-lubbers that we aren't. I
should certainly sue them. The idea of crossing my course the way
they did. Weren't they in the wrong, Snuffin?"
The man hesitated for a moment, and glanced at Tom and Ned, as
though asking their indulgence.
"Well, I asked you a question, Snuffin!" exclaimed the red-faced
man sharply.
"Yes--yes, sir, they shouldn't have turned the way they did,"
answered the man, in a low voice.
"Well, of all the nerve!" murmured Tom, and stopped his motor.
Then, stepping to the side of his disabled and leaking boat, he
exclaimed:
"Look here! Either you folks don't know anything about navigation
rules, or you aren't heeding them. I had a perfect right to turn
and go ashore when I did, for I found my engine was out of order,
and I wanted to fix it. I blew the usual signal on the whistle,
showing my intention to turn off my course, and if you had been
listening you would have heard it."
"If you had even been watching you would have seen me shift, and
then, coming on at the speed you did, it was your place to warn me
by a whistle, so that I could keep straight on until you had
passed me."
"But you did not. You kept right on and ran into me, and the only
wonder is that you didn't sink me. Talk about me getting in your
way! Why, you deliberately ran me down after I had given the right
signal. I'll make a complaint against you, that's what I will."
If possible the red-faced man got even more rosy than usual. He
fairly puffed up, he was so angry.
"Listen to that, will you, Snuffin!" he cried. "Listen to that! He
says he blew his whistle to tell us he was going to turn in."
"That's what I did!" said Tom, calmly.
"Preposterous! Did you hear it, Snuffin?" puffed the important
man.
"Yes--yes, I think I did, sir," answered the machinist, in a
hesitating voice.
"You did? What! You mean to tell me you heard their whistle?"
"Yes--yes, sir!"
"Why--why--er--I--" the big man puffed and blew, but seemed to
find no words in which to express himself. "Snuffin, I'll have a
talk with you when we get home," he finally said, most significantly.
"The idea of saying you heard a whistle blown! There was nothing of
the kind! I shall make a complaint against these land-lubbers myself.
Do you know who they are, Snuffin?"
"Yes--yes, sir," was the answer, as the man glanced at Tom. "At
least I know one of them, sir."
"Very good. Give me his name. I'll attend to the rest."
Tom looked at the big man sharply. He had never seen him before,
as far as he could recall. As for the machinist, the young
inventor had a dim recollection that once the man might have
worked in his shop.
"Go ahead, Snuffin!" said the big man, mopping his face with a
large silk handkerchief, which, even at that distance, gave out a
powerful perfume. "Go ahead, Snuffin, and we will settle this
matter later," and, adjusting a large rose in his buttonhole, the
self-important individual took his place on the cushioned seat at
the wheel, while the big red motor boat drew off down the river.
"Well, of all the nerve!" gasped Ned. "Isn't he the limit?"
"Never mind," spoke Tom, with a little laugh. "I'm sorry I lost my
temper, and even bothered to answer him. We'll let the lawyers do
the rest of the talking. Take the wheel, Ned."
"But are you going to let him get away like this, Tom? Without
asking him to pay for the damage to your boat, when he was clearly
in the wrong?"
"Oh, I'll ask him to pay all right; but I'll do it the proper way.
Now come on. If we stay here chinning much longer the Kilo will go
down. I must find out who he is. I think I know Snuffin--he used
to work for me, I now recall."
"Don't you know who that big man is?" asked Ned, as he took the
wheel, while Tom again started the motor. The water was now almost
up to the lower rim of the fly wheel.
"No; who is he?" asked Tom.
"Shallock Peters."
"Well, I know as much as I did before," laughed Tom. "That doesn't
tell me anything."
"Why, I thought everybody in the town knew Shallock Peters," went
on Ned. "He tried to do some business with our bank, but was
turned down. I hear he's gone to the other one, though. He's what
we call a get-rich-quick schemer, Tom--a promoter."
"I thought he acted like that sort of a character."
"Well, that's what he is. He's got half a dozen schemes under way,
and he hasn't been in town over a month. I wonder you haven't seen
or heard of him."
"I've been too busy over my photo telephone."
"I suppose so. Well, this fellow Peters struck Shopton about a
month ago. He bought the old Wardell homestead, and began to show
off at once. He's got two autos, and this big motor boat. He
always goes around with a silk hat and a flower in his buttonhole.
A big bluff--that's what he is."
"He acted so to me," was Tom's comment. "Well, he isn't going to
scare me. The idea! Why, he seemed to think we were in the wrong;
whereas he was, and his man knew it, too."
"Yes, but the poor fellow was afraid to say so. I felt sorry for
him."
"So did I," added Tom. "Well, Kilo is out of commission for the
present. Guess we'll have to finish our outing by walking, Ned."
"Oh, I don't mind. But it makes me mad to have a fellow act the
way he did."
"Well, there's no good in getting mad," was Tom's smiling
rejoinder. "We'll take it out of him legally. That's the best way
in the end. But I can't help saying I don't like Mr. Shallock
Peters."
"And I don't either," added Ned.
CHAPTER VI
A WARNING
"There, she's about right now, Ned. Hold her there!"
"Aye, aye, Captain Tom!"
"Jove, she's leaking like a sieve! We only got her here just in
time!"
"That's right," agreed Ned.
Tom and his chum had managed to get the Kilo to Ramsey's dock, and
over the ways of the inclined marine railway that led from the
shop on shore down into the river. Then, poling the craft along,
until she was in the "cradle," Ned held her there while Tom went
on shore to wind up the windlass that pulled the car, containing
the boat, up the incline.
"I'll give you a hand, as soon as I find she sets level," called
Ned, from his place in the boat.
"All right--don't worry. There are good gears on this windlass,
and she works easy," replied Tom.
In a short time the boat was out of the water, but, as Tom grimly
remarked, "the water was not out of her," for a stream poured from
the stuffing-box, through which the propeller shaft entered, and
water also ran out through the seams that had been opened by the
collision.
"Quite a smash, Tom," observed the boat repairer, when he had come
out to look over the Kilo. "How'd it happen?"
"Oh, Shallock Peters, with his big red boat, ran into us!" said
Ned, sharply.
"Ha, Peters; eh?" exclaimed the boatman. "That's the second craft
he's damaged inside a week with his speed mania. There's Bert
Johnson's little speeder over there," and he pointed to one over
which some men were working. "Had to put a whole new stern in her,
and what do you think that man Peters did?"
"What?" asked Tom, as he bent down to see how much damage his
craft had sustained.
"He wouldn't pay young Johnson a cent of money for the repairs,"
went on Mr. Houston, the boatman. "It was all Peters's fault,
too."
"Couldn't he make him pay?" asked Tom.
"Well, young Johnson asked for it--no more than right, too; but
Peters only sneered and laughed at him."
"Why didn't he sue?" asked Ned.
"Costs too much money to hire lawyers, I reckon. So he played you
the same trick; eh, Tom?"
"Pretty much, yes. But he won't get off so easily, I can tell you
that!" and there was a grim and determined look on the face of the
young inventor. "How long will it take to fix my boat, Mr.
Houston?"
"Nigh onto two weeks, Tom. I'm terrible rushed now."
Tom whistled ruefully.
"I could do it myself quicker, if I could get her back to my
shop," he said. "But she'd sink on the home trip. All right, do
the best you can, Mr. Houston."
"I will that, Tom."
The two chums walked out of the boat-repair place.
"What are you going to do, Tom?" asked Ned, as they strolled
along.
"Well, since we can't go motor boating, I guess I may as well go
back and see if that new supply of selenium has come. I do want to
get my photo telephone working, Ned."
"And that's all the outing you're going to take--less than an
hour!" exclaimed Ned, reproachfully.
"Oh, well, all you wanted to do was to get me out of a rut, as you
called it," laughed Tom. "And you've done it--you and Mr. Peters
together. It jolted up my brain, and I guess I can think better
now. Come on back and watch me tinker away, Ned."
"Not much! I'm going to stay out and get some fresh air while I
can. You'd better, too."
"I will, later."
So Tom turned back to his workshop, and Ned strolled on into the
country, for his day's work at the bank was over. And for some
time after that--until far into the night--Tom Swift worked at the
knotty problem of the photo telephone.
But the young inventor was baffled. Try as he might, he could not
get the image to show on the metal plate, nor could he get any
results by using a regular photographic plate, and developing it
afterward.
"There is something wrong with the transmission of the light waves
over the wire," Tom confessed to his father.
"You'll never do it, Tom," said the aged inventor. "You are only
wasting a whole lot of time."
"Well, as I haven't anything else to do now, it isn't much loss,"
spoke Tom, ruefully. "But I'm going to make this work, Dad!"
"All right, son. It's up to you. Only I tell you it can't be
done."
Tom, himself, was almost ready to admit this, when, a week later,
he seemed to be no nearer a solution of the problem than he was at
first. He had tried everything he could think of, and he had
Eradicate and Koku, the giant, almost distracted, by making them
stay in small telephone booths for hours at a time, while the
young inventor tried to get some reflection of one face or the
other to come over the wire.
Koku finally got so nervous over the matter, that he flatly
refused to "pose" any longer, so Tom was forced to use Eradicate.
As for that elderly man of all work, after many trials, all
unsuccessful, he remarked:
"Massa Tom, I reckon I knows what's wrong."
"Yes, Rad? Well, what is it?"
"Mah face am too black--dat's de trouble. You done want a
white-complected gen'man to stand in dat booth an' look at dat lookin'
glass plate. I'se too black! I suah is!"
"No, that isn't it, Rad," laughed Tom, hopelessly. "If the thing
works at all it will send a black man's face over the wire as well
as a white man's. I guess the truth of it is that you're like
Koku. You're getting tired. I don't know as I blame you. I'm
getting a bit weary myself. I'm going to take a rest. I'll send
for another kind of selenium crystals I've heard of, and we'll try
them. In the meanwhile--I'll take a little vacation."
"Get out my small airship, Rad, and I'll take a little flight."
"Dat's de way to talk, Massa Tom," was the glad rejoinder.
"I'm going over to see Mr. Damon, Father," announced Tom to Mr.
Swift a little later, when his speedy monoplane was waiting for
him. "I haven't seen him in some time, and I'd like to get at the
truth of what Mr. Halling said about Mr. Damon's fortune being in
danger. I'll be back soon."
"All right, Tom. And say--"
"Yes, Dad, what is it?" asked Tom, as he paused in the act of
getting in the seat.
"If he wants any ready cash, you know we've got plenty."
"Oh, sure. I was going to tell him we'd help him out."
Then, as Koku spun the propeller blades, Tom grasped the steering
wheel, and, tilting the elevating rudder, he was soon soaring into
the air, he and his craft becoming smaller and smaller as they
were lost to sight in the distance, while the rattle and roar of
the powerful motor became fainter.
In a comparatively short time Tom had made a successful landing in
the big yard in front of Mr. Damon's house, and, walking up the
path, kept a lookout for his friend.
"I wonder why he didn't come out to meet me?" mused Tom, for
usually when the eccentric man heard the throbbing of Tom's motor,
he was out waiting for the young inventor. But this time it was
not the case.
"Is Mr. Damon in?" Tom asked of the maid who answered his ring.
"Yes, Mr. Swift. You'll find him in the library," and she ushered
him in.
"Oh, hello, Tom," greeted Mr. Damon, but the tone was so listless,
and his friend's manner so gloomy that the young inventor was
quite embarrassed.
"Have a chair," went on Mr. Damon. "I'll talk to you in a minute,
Tom. I've got to finish this letter, and it's a hard one to write,
let me tell you."
Now Tom was more astonished than ever. Not once had Mr. Damon
"blessed," anything, and when this did not happen Tom was sure
something was wrong. He waited until his friend had sealed the
letter, and turned to him with a sigh. Then Tom said boldly:
"Mr. Damon, is it true that you're having hard luck--in money
matters?"
"Why, yes, Tom, I'm afraid I am," was the quick answer. "But who
told you?"
"Grant Halling. He was over to get me to fix his airship," and Tom
briefly related what had happened.
"Oh, yes, I did mention the matter to him," went on Mr. Damon, and
his tone was still listless. "So he told you; did he? Well,
matters aren't any better, Tom. In fact, they're worse. I just had
to write to a man who was asking for help, and I had to refuse
him, though he needs it very much. The truth is I hadn't the
money. Tom, I'm afraid I'm going to be a very poor man soon."
"Impossible, Mr. Damon! Why, I thought your investments--"
"I've made some bad ones of late, Tom. I've been pretty foolish,
I'm afraid. I drew out some money I had in government bonds, and
invested in certain stocks sold by a Mr. Shallock Peters."
"Shallock Peters!" cried Tom, almost jumping out of his chair.
"Why, I know him--I mean I've met him."
"Have you, Tom? Well, then, all I've got to say is to steer clear
of him, my boy. Don't have anything to do with him," and, with
something of a return of his usual energy Mr. Damon banged his
fist down on his desk. "Give him a wide berth, Tom, and if you see
him coming, turn your back. He'd talk a miser into giving him his
last cent. Keep away from Shallock Peters, Tom. Bless my necktie,
he's a scoundrel, that's what he is!" and again Mr. Damon banged
his desk forcibly.
CHAPTER VII
SOFT WORDS
"Well, I'm glad of one thing!" exclaimed Tom, when the ink bottle
and the paper cutter on Mr. Damon's desk had ceased rattling,
because of the violence of the blow. "I'm glad of one thing."
"What's that, Tom?" asked his friend.
"I heard you bless something at last--the first time since I came
in."
"Oh!" and Mr. Damon laughed. "Well, Tom, I haven't been blessing
things lately--that's a fact. I haven't had the heart for it.
There are too many business complications. I wish I'd never met
this Peters."
"So do I," said Tom. "My motor boat would not have been damaged
then."
"Did he do that, Tom?"
"He certainly did, and then he accused me of being at fault."
"That would be just like him. Tell me about it, Tom."
When the young inventor finished the story of the collision Mr.
Damon sat silent for a moment. Then he remarked slowly:
"That's just like Peters. A big bluff--that's what he is. I wish
I'd discovered that fact sooner--I'd be money in pocket. But I
allowed myself to be deceived by his talk about big profits. At
first he seemed like a smart business man, and he certainly had
fine recommendations. But I am inclined to believe, now, that the
recommendations were forged."
"What did he do to you, Mr. Damon?" asked Tom, with ready
sympathy.
"It's too complicated to go into details over, Tom, but to make a
long story short, he got me to invest nearly all my fortune in
some enterprises that, I fear, are doomed to failure. And if they
do fail, I'll be a ruined man."
"No, you won't!" exclaimed Tom. "That's one reason why I came here
to-day. Father told me to offer you all the ready money you needed
to get out of your trouble. How much do you need, Mr. Damon?"
"Bless my collar button! That's like your father, Tom," and now
Mr. Damon seemed more like his old self. "Bless my shoes, a man
never knows who his real friends are until trouble comes. I can't
say how I thank you and your father, Tom. But I'm not going to
take advantage of him."
"It wouldn't be taking any advantage of him, Mr. Damon. He has
money lying idle, and he'd like to have you use it."
"Well, Tom, I might use it, if I had only myself to think about.
But there's no use in throwing good money after bad. If I took
yours now this fellow Peters would only get it, and that would be
the last of it."
"No, Tom, thank you and your father just the same, but I'll try to
weather the storm a bit longer myself. Then, if I do go down I
won't drag anybody else with me. I'll hang on to the wreck a bit
longer. The storm may blow over, or--or something may happen to
this fellow Peters."
"Has he really got you in his grip, Mr. Damon?"
"He has, and, to a certain extent, it's my own fault. I should
have been suspicious of him. And now, Tom, let me give you a
further word of warning. You heard me say to steer clear of this
Peters?"
"Yes, and I'm going to. But I'm going to make him pay for damaging
my boat, if I possibly can."
"Maybe it would be wiser not to try that, Tom. I tell you he's a
tricky man. And one thing more. I have heard that this man Peters
makes a specialty of organizing companies to take up new
inventions."
"Is that so?" asked Tom, interestedly.
"Yes, but that's as far as it goes. Peters gets the invention, and
the man, out of whose brain it came, gets nothing."
"In other words, he swindles them?"
"That's it, Tom. If not in one way, then in another. He cheats
them out of the profits of their inventions. So I want to warn you
to be on the lookout."
"Don't worry," said Tom. "Peters will get nothing from my father
or me. We'll be on our guard. Not that I think he will try it, but
it's just as well to be warned. I didn't like him from the moment
he ran into me, and, now that I know what he has done to you, I
like him still less. He won't get anything from me!"
"I'm glad to hear you say so, Tom. I wish he'd gotten nothing out
of me."
"Are you sure you won't let my father help you, financially, Mr.
Damon?"
"No, Tom, at least not for the present. I'm going to make another
fight to hold on to my fortune. If I find I can't do it alone,
then I'll call on you. I'm real glad you called. Bless my
shoestring! I feel better now."
"I'm glad of it," laughed Tom, and he saw that his friend was in a
better state of mind, as his "blessings" showed.
Tom remained for a little longer, talking to Mr. Damon, and then
took his leave, flying back home in the airship.
"Gen'man t' see yo', Massa Tom," announced Eradicate, as he helped
Tom wheel the monoplane back into the shed.
"Is that so, Rad? Where is he?"
"Settin' in th' library. Yo' father am out, so I asted him in
dere."
"That's right, Rad. Who is he, do you know?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom, I doan't. He shore does use a pow'ful nice
perfume on his pocket hanky, though. Yum-yum!"
"Perfume!" exclaimed Tom, his mind going back to the day he had
had the trouble with Mr. Peters. "Is he a big, red-faced man,
Rad?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom. He's a white-faced, skinny man."
"Then it can't be Peters," mused Tom. "I guess perhaps it's that
lawyer I wrote to about bringing suit to get back what it cost me
to have the Kilo fixed. I'll see him at once. Oh, by the way, it
isn't Mr. Grant Halling; is it? The gentleman who got tangled up
in our aerials with his airship? Is it he?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom. 'Tain't him."
"I thought perhaps he had gotten into more trouble," mused Tom, as
he took off his airship "togs," and started for the house. For Mr.
Halling had called for his repaired airship some time ago, and had
promised to pay Tom another and more conventional visit, some
future day.
Tom did not know the visitor whom he greeted in the library a
little later. The man, as Eradicate had said, was rather pale of
face, and certainly he was not very fleshy.
"Mr. Tom Swift, I think?" said the man, rising and holding out his
hand.
"That's my name. I don't believe I know you, though."
"No, I haven't your reputation," said the man, with a laugh that
Tom did not like. "We can't all be great inventors like you," and,
somehow, Tom liked the man less than before, for he detected an
undertone of sneering patronage in the words. Tom disliked praise,
and he felt that this was not sincere.
"I have called on a little matter of business," went on the man.
"My name is Harrison Boylan, and I represent Mr. Shallock Peters."
Instinctively Tom stiffened. Receiving a call from a
representative of the man against whom Mr. Damon had warned him
only a short time before was a strange coincidence, Tom thought.
"You had some little accident, when your motor boat and that of
Mr. Peters collided, a brief time ago; did you not?" went on Mr.
Boylan.
"I did," said Tom, and, as he motioned the caller to be seated Tom
saw, with a start, that some of the drawings of his photo
telephone were lying on a desk in plain sight. They were within
easy reach of the man, and Tom thought the sheets looked as though
they had been recently handled. They were not in the orderly array
Tom had made of them before going out.
"If he is a spy, and has been looking at them," mused Tom, "he may
steal my invention." Then he calmed himself, as he realized that
he, himself, had not yet perfected his latest idea. "I guess he
couldn't make much of the drawings," Tom thought.
"Yes, the collision was most unfortunate," went on Mr. Boylan,
"and Mr. Peters has instructed me to say--"
"If he's told you to say that it was my fault, you may as well
save your time," cut in Tom. "I don't want to be impolite, but I
have my own opinion of the affair. And I might add that I have
instructed a lawyer to begin a suit against Mr. Peters--"
"No necessity for that at all!" interrupted the man, in soft
accents. "No necessity at all. I am sorry you did that, for there
was no need. Mr. Peters has instructed me to say that he realizes
the accident was entirely his own fault, and he is very willing--nay,
anxious, to pay all damages. In fact, that is why I am here,
and I am empowered, my dear Mr. Swift, to offer you five hundred
dollars, to pay for the repairs to your motor boat. If that is not
enough--"
The man paused, and drew a thick wallet from his pocket. Tom felt
a little embarrassed over what he had said.
"Oh," spoke the young inventor, "the repair bill is only about
three hundred dollars. I'm sorry--"
"Now that's all right, Mr. Swift! It's all right," and the man,
with his soft words, raised a white, restraining hand. "Not
another word. Mr. Peters did not know who you were that day he so
unfortunately ran into you. If he had, he would not have spoken as
he did. He supposed you were some amateur motor-boatist, and he
was--well, he admits it--he was provoked."
"Since then he has made inquiries, and, learning who you were, he
at once authorized me to make a settlement in full. So if five
hundred dollars--"
"The repair bill," said Tom, and his voice was not very cordial,
in spite of the other's persuasive smile, "the bill came to three
hundred forty-seven dollars. Here is the receipted bill. I paid
it, and, to be frank with you, I intended bringing suit against
Mr. Peters for that sum."
"No need, no need at all, I assure you!" interrupted Mr. Boylan,
as he counted off some bills. "There you are, and I regret that
you and Mr. Peters had such a misunderstanding. It was all his
fault, and he wants to apologize to you."
"The apology is accepted," said Tom, and he smiled a trifle. "Also
the money. I take it merely as a matter of justice, for I assure
you that Mr. Peters's own machinist will say the accident was his
employer's fault."
"No doubt of it, not the least in the world," said the caller.
"And now that I have this disagreeable business over, let me speak
of something more pleasant."
Instinctively Tom felt that now the real object of the man's call
would be made plain--that the matter of paying the damages was
only a blind. Tom steeled himself for what was to come.
"You know, I suppose," went on Mr. Boylan, smiling at Tom, "that
Mr. Peters is a man of many and large interests."
"I have heard something like that," said Tom, cautiously.
"Yes. Well, he is an organizer--a promoter, if you like. He
supplies the money for large enterprises, and is, therefore, a
benefactor of the human race. Where persons have no cash with
which to exploit their--well, say their inventions. Mr. Peters
takes them, and makes money out of them."
"No doubt," thought Tom, grimly.
"In other cases, where an inventor is working at a handicap, say
with too many interests, Mr. Peters takes hold of one of his
ideas, and makes it pay much better than the inventor has been
able to do."
"Now, Mr. Peters has heard of you, and he would like to do you
good."
"Yes, I guess he would," thought Tom. "He would like to do me--and
do me good and brown. Here's where I've got to play a game
myself."
"And so," went on Mr. Boylan, "Mr. Peters has sent me to you to
ask you to allow him to exploit one, or several, of your
inventions. He will form a large stock company, put one of your
inventions on the market, and make you a rich man. Now what do you
say?" and he looked at Tom and smiled--smiled, the young inventor
could not help thinking, like a cat looking at a mouse. "What do
you say, Mr. Swift?"
For a moment Tom did not answer. Then getting up and opening the
library door, to indicate that the interview was at an end, the
young inventor smiled, and said:
"Tell Mr. Peters that I thank him, but that I have nothing for him
to exploit, or with which to form a company to market."
"Wha--what!" faltered the visitor. "Do you mean to say you will
not take advantage of his remarkable offer?"
"That's just what I mean to say," replied Tom, with a smile.
"You won't do business with Mr. Peters? You won't let him do you
good?"
"No," said Tom, quietly.
"Why--why, that's the strangest--the most preposterous thing I
ever heard of!" protested Mr. Boylan. "What--what shall I say to
Mr. Peters?"
"Tell him," said Tom, "tell him, from me, and excuse the slang, if
you like, but tell him there is--nothing doing!"
CHAPTER VIII
TOM IS BAFFLED
Amazement held Mr. Boylan silent for a moment, and then, staring
at Tom, as though he could not believe what he had heard the young
inventor say, the representative of Mr. Peters exclaimed:
"Nothing doing?"
"That's what I said," repeated Tom, calmly.
"But--but you don't understand, I'm afraid."
"Oh, but indeed I do."
"Then you refuse to let my friend, Mr. Peters, exploit some of
your inventions?"
"I refuse absolutely."
"Oh, come now. Take an invention that hasn't been very
successful."
"Well, I don't like to boast," said Tom with a smile, "but all of
my inventions have been successful. They don't need any aid from
Mr. Peters, thank you."
"But this one!" went on the visitor eagerly, "this one about some
new kind of telephone," and he motioned to the drawings on the
table. "Has that been a success? Excuse me for having looked at
the plans, but I did not think you would mind. Has that telephone
been a success? If it has not perhaps Mr. Peters could form a
company to--"
"How did you know those drawings referred to a telephone?" asked
Tom, suspiciously, for the papers did not make it clear just what
the invention was.
"Why, I understood--I heard, in fact, that you were working on a
new photo telephone, and--"
"Who told you?" asked Tom quickly.
"Oh, no one in particular. The colored man who sent me here
mentioned--"
"Eradicate!" thought Tom. "He must have been talking. That isn't
like him. I must look into this."
Then to his caller he said:
"Really, you must excuse me, Mr. Boylan, but I don't care to do
any business with Mr. Peters. Tell him, with my thanks, that there
is really nothing doing in his line. I prefer to exploit my own
inventions."
"That is your last word?"
"Yes," returned Tom, as he gathered up the drawings.
"Well," said Mr. Boylan, and Tom could not help thinking there was
a veiled threat in his tones, "you will regret this. You will be
sorry for not having accepted this offer."
"I think not," replied Tom, confidently. "Good-day."
The young inventor sat for some time thinking deeply, when his
visitor had gone. He called Eradicate to him, and gently
questioned the old colored man, for Eradicate was ageing fast of
late, and Tom did not want him to feel badly.
It developed that the servant had been closely cross-questioned by
Mr. Boylan, while he was waiting for Tom, and it was small wonder
that the old colored man had let slip a reference to the photo
telephone. But he really knew nothing of the details of the
invention, so he could have given out no secrets.
"But at the same time," mused Tom, "I must be on guard against
these fellows. That Boylan seems a pretty slick sort of a chap. As
for Peters, he's a big 'bluff,' to be perfectly frank. I'm glad I
had Mr. Damon's warning in mind, or I might have been tempted to
do business with him."
"Now to get busy at this photo telephone again. I'm going to try a
totally different system of transmission. I'll use an alternating
current on the third wire, and see if that makes it any better.
And I'll put in the most sensitive selenium plate I can make. I'm
going to have this thing a success."
Tom carefully examined the drawings of his invention, at which
papers Mr. Boylan had confessed to looking. As far as the young
inventor could tell none was missing, and as they were not
completed it would be hard work for anyone not familiar with them
to have gotten any of Tom's ideas.
"But at the same time I'm going to be on my guard," mused Tom.
"And now for another trial."
Tom Swift worked hard during the following week, and so closely
did he stick to his home and workshop that he did not even pay a
visit to Mr. Damon, so he did not learn in what condition that
gentleman's affairs were. Tom even denied himself to his chum Ned,
so taken up was the young inventor with working out the telephone
problem, until Ned fairly forced himself into the shop one day,
and insisted on Tom coming out.
"You need some fresh air!" exclaimed Ned. "Come on out in the
motor boat again. She's all fixed now; isn't she?"
"Yes," answered Tom, "but--"
"Oh, 'but me no buts,' as Mr. Shakespeare would say. Come on, Tom.
It will do you good. I want a spin myself."
"All right, I will go for a little while," agreed Tom. "I am
feeling a bit rusty, and my head seems filled with cobwebs."
"Can't get the old thing to come out properly; eh?"
"No. I guess dad was more than half right when he said it couldn't
be done. But I haven't given up. Maybe I'll think of some new plan
if I take a little run. Come along."
They went down to the boat house, and soon were out on the lake in
the Kilo.
"She runs better since you had her fixed," remarked Ned.
"Yes, they did a good job."
"Did you sue Peters?"
"Didn't have to. He sent the money," and Tom told of his interview
with Mr. Boylan. This was news to Ned, as was also the financial
trouble of Mr. Damon.
"Well," said the young banker, "that bears out what I had heard of
Peters--that he was a get-rich-quick chap, and a good one to steer
clear of."
"Speaking of steering clear," laughed Tom, "there he is now, in
his big boat," and he pointed to a red blur coming up the lake.
"I'll give him a wide enough berth this time."
But though Mr. Peters, in his powerful motor boat, passed close to
Tom's more modest craft, the big man did not glance toward our
hero and his chum. Nor did Mr. Boylan, who was with his friend,
look over.
"I guess they've had enough of you," chuckled Ned.
"Probably he wishes he hadn't paid me that money," said Tom. "Very
likely he thought, after he handed it over, that I'd be only too
willing to let him manage one of my inventions. But he has another
guess coming."
Tom and Ned rode on for some distance, thoroughly enjoying the
spin on the lake that fine Summer day. They stopped for lunch at a
picnic resort, and coming back in the cool of the evening they
found themselves in the midst of a little flotilla of pleasure
craft, all decorated with Japanese lanterns.
"Better slow down a bit," Ned advised Tom, for many of the
pleasure craft were canoes and light row boats. "Our wash may
upset some of them."
"Guess you're right, old man," agreed Tom, as he closed the
gasoline throttle, to reduce speed. Hardly had he done so than
there broke in upon the merry shouts and singing of the pleasure-seekers
the staccato exhaust of a powerful motor boat, coming directly
behind Tom's craft.
Then came the shrill warning of an electrical siren horn.
"Somebody's in a hurry," observed Tom.
"Yes," answered Ned. "It sounds like Peters's boat, too."
"It is!" exclaimed Tom. "Here he comes. He ought to know better
than to cut through this raft of boats at that speed."
"Is he headed toward us?"
"No, I guess he's had enough of that. But look at him!"
With undiminished speed the burly promoter was driving his boat
on. The big vibrating horn kept up its clamor, and a powerful
searchlight in front dazzled the eyes.
"Look out! Look out!" cried several.
Many of the rowers and paddlers made haste to clear a lane for the
big, speedy motor craft, and Peters and his friends (for there
were several men in his boat now) seemed to accept this as a
matter of course, and their right.
"Somebody'll be swamped!" exclaimed Ned.
Hardly had he spoken than, as the big red boat dashed past in a
smother of foam, there came a startled cry in girls' voices.
"Look!" cried Tom. "That canoe's upset! Speed her up, Ned! We've
got to get 'em!"
CHAPTER IX
A GLEAM OF HOPE
"Where are they?"
"Who are they?"
"Over this way! There's their canoe!"
"Look out for that motor boat!"
"Who was it ran them down? They ought to be arrested!"
These were only a few of the cries that followed the upsetting of
the frail canoe by the wash from the powerful red boat. On Tom's
Kilo there was a small, electrical searchlight which he had not
yet switched on. But, with his call to Ned Newton to speed up the
motor, that had been slowed down, Tom, with one turn of his
fingers, set the lamp aglow, while, with the other hand, he
whirled the wheel over to head his craft for the spot where he saw
two figures struggling in the water.
Fortunately the lanterns on the various canoes and row-boats, as
well as the light on the bow of Tom's Kilo, made an illumination
that gave the rescuers a good chance to work. Many other boats
besides Tom's had headed for the scene, but his was the more
practical, since the others--all quite small ones--were pretty
well filled.
"There they are, Ned!" Tom suddenly cried. "Throw out the clutch!
I'll get 'em!"
"Want any help?"
"No, you stay at the engine, and mind what I say. Reverse now!
We're going to pass them!"
Ned threw in the backing gear, and the screw churned the water to
foam under the stern of the Kilo.
Tom leaned over the bow, and made a grab for the gasping,
struggling figure of a girl in the water. At the same time he had
tossed overboard a cork life ring, attached to a rope which, in
turn, was made fast to the forward deck-cleat. "Grab that!" cried
Tom. "Hold on, and I'll have you out in a second! That's enough,
Ned! Shut her off!"
The Kilo came to a standstill, and, a second later, Tom had pulled
into his boat one of the girls. She would have collapsed, and
fallen in a heap on the bottom boards, had not Ned, who had come
forward from the engine, caught her.
Then Tom, again leaning over the side, pulled in the other girl,
who was clinging to the life ring.
"You're all right," Tom assured her, as she came up, gasping,
choking and crying hysterically. "You're all right!"
"Is--is Minnie saved?" she sobbed.
"Yes, Grace! I'm here," answered the one Ned was supporting.
"Oh, wasn't it terrible!" cried the second girl Tom had saved.
"I thought we would be drowned, even though we can swim."
"Yes, it--it was so--so sudden!" gasped her companion. "What
happened?"
"The wash from that big boat upset you," explained Tom. "That
fellow ought to be ashamed of himself, rushing along the way he
did. Now, can I take you girls anywhere? Your canoe seems to have
drifted off."
"I have it!" someone called. "It's turned over, but I can tow it
to shore."
"And I'll take the girls home," offered a gentleman in a large
rowboat. "My wife will look after them. They live near us," and he
mentioned his own name and the names of the two girls Tom had
saved. The young inventor did not know them, but he introduced
himself and Ned.
"This is the annual moonlight outing of our little boat club,"
explained the man who had offered to look after the girls, "and it
is the first time we ever had an accident. This was not our fault,
though."
"Indeed it was not," agreed Tom, after he had helped the two
dripping young ladies into the rowboat. "It was due to Mr.
Peters's speed mania."
"I shall make a complaint against him to the navigation
authorities," said Mr. Ralston, who was looking after the girls.
"He must think he, alone, has any rights on this lake."
With renewed thanks to Tom and Ned, the rescued girls were rowed
off to their homes, while the interrupted water carnival was
continued.
"Some little excitement; eh, Tom?" remarked Ned, when they were
once more under way.
"Yes. We seem to run into that fellow Peters, or some of his
doings, quite often lately."
"And it isn't a good sign, either," murmured Ned.
For some minutes after that Tom did not speak. In fact he was so
silent that Ned at last inquired:
"What's the matter, Tom--in love?"
"Far from it. But, Ned, I've got an idea."
"And I've got a wet suit of clothes where that nice young lady
fainted in my arms. I'm soaked."
"That's what gave me the idea--the water, I mean. I noticed how
everything was reflected in it, and, do you know, Ned, I believe I
have been working on the wrong principle for my photo telephone."
"Wrong, Tom, how is that?"
"Why, I've been using a dry plate, and I think I should have used
a wet one. You know how even in a little puddle of water on the
sidewalk you can see yourself reflected?"
"Yes, I've often seen that."
"Well then, 'bless my watch chain!' as Mr. Damon would say, I
think I've got just what I want. I'm going to try a wet plate now,
and I think it will work. Come on now. Speed up! I'm in a great
big hurry to get home and try it!"
"Well, Tom, I sure will be glad if you've got the right idea,"
laughed Ned. "It will be worth getting wet through for, if you
strike something. Good luck!"
Tom could hardly wait to fasten up his boat for the night, so
eager was he to get to his shop laboratory and try the new idea. A
gleam of hope had come to him.
It was still early evening, and Tom, when enticed out by Ned, had
left his photo telephone apparatus in readiness to go on with his
trials as soon as he should have come back.
"Now for it, Ned!" exclaimed the young inventor, as he took off
his coat. "First I'll sensitize a selenium plate, and then I'll
wet it. Water is always a good conductor of electricity, and it's
a wonder that I forgot that when I was planning this photo
telephone. But seeing the sparkle of lights, and the reflection of
ourselves in the lake to-night, brought it back to me. Now then,
you haven't anything special to do; have you?"
"Not a thing, Tom."
"That's good. Then you get in this other telephone closet--the one
in the casting shop. I'll put a prepared plate in there, and one
in the booth where I'm to sit. Then I'll switch on the current,
and we'll see if I can make you out, and you notice whether my
image appears on your plate."
It took some little time to make ready for this new test. Tom was
filled with enthusiasm, and he was sure it was going to be
successful this time. Ned watched him prepare the selenium
plates--plates that were so sensitive to illumination that, in the
dark, the metal would hardly transmit a current of electricity, but
in the light would do so readily, its conductivity depending on the
amount of light it received.
"There, I guess we're all ready, Ned," announced Tom, at last.
"Now you go to your little coop, and I'll shut myself up in mine.
We can talk over the telephone."
Seated in the little booth in one of the smaller of Tom's shops,
Ned proceeded with his part in the new experiment. A small shelf
had been fitted up in the booth, or closet, and on this was the
apparatus, consisting of a portable telephone set, and a small
box, in which was set a selenium plate. This plate had been wet by
a spray of water in order to test Tom's new theory.
In a similar booth, several hundred feet away, and in another
building, Tom took his place. The two booths were connected by
wires, and in each one was an electric light.
"All ready, Ned?" asked Tom, through the telephone.
"All ready," came the answer.
"Now then, turn on your switch--the one I showed you--and look
right at the sensitized plate. Then turn out your light, and
slowly turn it on. It's a new kind, and the light comes up
gradually, like gas or an oil lamp. Turn it on easily."
"I get you, Tom."
Ned did as requested. Slowly the illumination in the booth
increased.
"Do you get anything, Tom?" asked Ned, over the wire.
"Not yet," was the somewhat discouraged answer. "Go ahead, turn on
more light, and keep your face close to the plate."
Ned did so.
"How about it now?" he asked, a moment later.
"Nothing--yet," was the answer. And then suddenly Tom's voice rose
to a scream over the wire.
"Ned--Ned! Quick!" he called. "Come here--I--I--"
The voice died off into a meaningless gurgle.
CHAPTER X
MIDNIGHT VISITORS
Ned Newton never knew exactly how he got out of the telephone
booth. He seemed to give but one jump, tearing the clamped
receiver from his ear, and almost upsetting the photo apparatus in
his mad rush to help Tom. Certain it is, however, that he did get
out, and a few seconds later he was speeding toward the shop where
Tom had taken his position in a booth.
Ned burst in, crying out:
"Tom! What is it? What happened? What's the matter?"
There was no answer. Fearing the worst, Ned hurried to the small
booth, in one corner of the big, dimly lighted shop. He could see
Tom's lamp burning in the telephone compartment.
"Tom! Tom!" called the young banker.
Still there was no answer, and Ned, springing forward, threw open
the double, sound-proof door of the booth. Then he saw Tom lying
unconscious, with his head and arms on the table in front of him,
while the low buzzing of the electrical apparatus in the
transmitting box told that the current had not been shut off.
"Tom! Tom!" cried Ned in his chum's ear. He shook him by the
shoulder.
"Are you hurt? What is the matter?"
The young inventor seemed unconscious, and for a moment Ned had a
wild idea that Tom had been shocked to death, possibly by some
crossed live wire coming in contact with the telephone circuit.
"But that couldn't have happened, or I'd have been shocked
myself," mused Ned.
Then he became aware of a curious, sweet, sickish odor in the
booth. It was overpowering. Ned felt himself growing dizzy.
"I have it--chloroform!" he gasped. "In some way Tom has been
overcome by chloroform. I've got to get him to the fresh air."
Once he had solved the puzzle of Tom's unconsciousness, Ned was
quick to act. He caught Tom under the arms, and dragged him out of
the booth, and to the outer door of the shop. Almost before Ned
had reached there with his limp burden, Tom began to revive, and
soon the fresh, cool night air completed the work.
"I--I," began the young inventor. "Ned, I--I--"
"Now take it easy, Tom," advised his chum. "You'll be all right in
a few minutes. What happened? Shall I call your father, or Koku?"
"No--don't. It would only--only alarm dad," faltered Tom. "I'm
getting all right now. But he--he nearly had me, Ned!"
"He had you? What do you mean, Tom? Who had you?"
"I don't know who it was, but when I was talking to you over the
wire, all of a sudden I felt a hand behind me. It slipped over my
mouth and nose, and I smelled chloroform. I knew right away
something was wrong, and I called to you. That's all I remember. I
guess I must have gone off."
"You did," spoke Ned. "You were unconscious when I got to you. I
couldn't imagine what had happened. First I thought it was an
electrical shock. Then I smelled that chloroform. But who could it
have been, Tom?"
"Give it up, Ned! I haven't the slightest idea."
"Could they have been going to rob you?"
"I haven't a thing but a nickel watch on me," went on Tom. "I left
all my cash in the house. If it was robbery, it wasn't me,
personally, they were after."
"What then? Some of your inventions?"
"That's my idea now, Ned. You remember some years ago Jake Burke
and his gang held me up and took one of dad's patents away from
me?"
"Yes, I've heard you mention that. It was when you first got your
motor cycle; wasn't it?"
"That's right. Well, what I was going to say was that they used
chloroform on me then, and--"
"You think this is the same crowd? Why, I thought they were
captured."
"No, they got away, but I haven't heard anything of them in years.
Now it may be they have come back for revenge, for you know we got
back the stolen property."
"That's right. Say, Tom, it might be so. What are you going to do
about it?"
"I hardly know. If it was Jake Burke, alias Happy Harry, and his
crowd, including Appleson, Morse and Featherton, they're a bad
lot. I wouldn't want father to know they were around, for he'd be
sure to worry himself sick. He never really got over the time they
attacked me, and got the patent away. Dad sure thought he was
ruined then."
"Now if I tell him I was chloroformed again to-night, and that I
think it was Burke and his crowd, he'd be sure to get ill over it.
So I'm just going to keep mum."
"Well, perhaps it's the best plan. But you ought to do something."
"Oh, I will, Ned, don't worry about that. I feel much better now."
"How did it happen?" asked Ned, his curiosity not yet satisfied.
"I don't know, exactly. I was in the booth, talking to you, and
not paying much attention to anything else. I was adjusting and
readjusting the current, trying to get that image to appear on the
plate. All at once, I felt someone back of me, and, before I could
turn, that hand, with the chloroform sponge, was over my mouth and
nose. I struggled, and called out, but it wasn't much use."
"But they didn't do anything else--they didn't take anything; did
they, Tom?"
"I don't know, Ned. We'll have to look around. They must have
sneaked into the shop. I left the door open, you see. It would
have been easy enough."
"How many were there?"
"I couldn't tell. I only felt one fellow at me; but he may have
had others with him."
"What particular invention were they after, Tom?"
"I'm sure I don't know. There are several models in here that
would be valuable. I know one thing, though, they couldn't have
been after my photo telephone," and Tom laughed grimly.
"Why not?" Ned wanted to know.
"Because it's a failure--that's what! It's a dead, sure failure,
Ned, and I'm going to give it up!" and Tom spoke bitterly.
"Oh, don't say that!" urged his chum. "You may be right on the
verge of perfecting it, Tom. Didn't you see any image at all on
the plate?"
"Not a shadow. I must be on the wrong track. Well, never mind
about that now. I'm going to look around, and see if those fellows
took anything."
Tom was feeling more like himself again, the effects of the
chloroform having passed away. He had breathed the fumes of it for
only a little while, so no harm had been done. He and Ned made an
examination of the shop, but found nothing missing.
There were no traces of the intruders, however, though the two
chums looked carefully about outside the building.
"You were too quick for them, Ned," said Tom. "You came as soon as
I called. They heard me speaking, and must have known that I had
given the alarm."
"Yes, I didn't lose any time," admitted Ned, "but I didn't see a
sign of anyone as I ran up."
"They must have been pretty quick at getting away. Well, now to
decide what's best to do to-night."
After some consultation and consideration it was decided to set
the burglar alarms in every building of the Swift plant. Some time
previous, when he had been working on a number of valuable
inventions, unscrupulous men had tried to steal his ideas and
models. To prevent this Tom had arranged a system of burglar
alarms, and had also fitted up a wizard camera that would take
moving pictures of anyone coming within its focus. The camera
could be set to work at night, in connection with the burglar
alarms.
The apparatus was effective, and thus an end was put to the
efforts of the criminals. But now it seemed Tom would have to take
new precautionary measures. His camera, however, was not
available, as he had loaned it to a scientific society for
exhibition.
"But we'll attach the burglar wires," decided Tom, "and see what
happens."
"It might be a good plan to have Koku on guard," said Tom's chum.
"That giant could handle four or five of the chaps as easily as
you and I could tackle one."
"That's right," agreed Tom. "I'll put him on guard. Whew! That
chloroform is giving me a headache. Guess I'll go to bed. I wish
you'd stay over to-night, Ned, if you haven't anything else to do.
I may need you."
"Then of course I'll stay, Tom. I'll telephone home that I won't
be in."
A little later Tom had put away his new photo telephone apparatus,
and had prepared for the warm reception of any unbidden callers.
"I wish I hadn't started on this new invention," said Tom, half
bitterly, as he locked up the main parts of his machine, "I know
it will never work."
"Oh, yes it will," spoke Ned, cheerfully. "You never failed yet,
Tom Swift, in anything you undertook, and you're not going to
now."
"Well, that's good of you to say, Ned, but I think you're wrong
this time. But I'm not going to think any more about it to-night,
anyhow. Now to find Koku and put him on watch."
The giant listened carefully to Tom's simple instructions.
"If any bad men come in the night, Koku," said the young inventor,
"you catch them!"
"Yes, master, me catch!" said Koku, grimly. "Me catch!" and he
stretched out his powerful arms, and clenched his big hands in a
way that boded no good to evildoers.
Nothing was said to Mr. Swift, to Mrs. Baggert, or to Eradicate
about what had happened, for Tom did not want to worry them. The
burglar alarms were set, Koku took his place where he could watch
the signals, and at the same time be ready to rush out, for,
somehow, Tom had an idea that the men who had attacked him would
come back.
Tom and Ned occupied adjoining rooms, and soon were ready for bed.
But, somehow, Tom could not sleep. He lay awake, tossing from side
to side, and, in spite of his resolution not to think about his
photo telephone invention, his mind ran on nothing but that.
"I can't see what next to do to make it work," he told himself,
over and over again. "Something is wrong--but what?"
At length he fell into a fitful doze, and he had a wild dream that
he was sliding down hill on a big mirror in which all sorts of
reflections were seen--reflections that he could not get to show
in the selenium plates.
Then Tom felt the mirror bobbing up and down like a motor boat in
a storm. He felt the vibration, and he heard a voice calling in
his ear:
"Get up, Tom! Get up!"
"Yes! What is it?" he sleepily exclaimed,
"Hush!" was the caution he heard, and then he realized that his
dream had been caused by Ned shaking him.
"Well?" whispered Tom, in tense tones.
"Midnight visitors!" answered his chum "The burglar alarm has just
gone off! The airship hangar drop fell. Koku has gone out. Come
on!"
CHAPTER XI
THE AIRSHIP IS TAKEN
Tom leaped silently out of bed, and stood for a moment half
dazed, so soundly had he been sleeping.
"Come on!" urged Ned softly, realizing that his chum had not fully
comprehended. "Koku will hold them until we get there. I haven't
roused anyone else."
"That's right," whispered Tom, as he began putting on his clothes.
"I don't want father to know. When did it happen?"
"Just a little while ago. I couldn't sleep very well, but I fell
into a doze, and then I heard the buzzer of the alarm go off. I
saw that the drop, showing that the hangar had been entered, had
fallen. I got to the window in time to see Koku going toward the
shed from his little coop. Then I came to you."
"Glad you did," answered Tom. "I didn't think I was sleeping so
soundly."
Together the two chums made their way from their rooms down the
dimly-lighted hall to a side door, whence they could reach the
airship hangar, or shed.
"Won't we need something--a gun or--" began Ned.
"Clubs are better--especially at night when you can't see to aim
very well," whispered back Tom. "I've got a couple of good ones
downstairs. I could use my electric rifle, and set it merely to
disable temporarily whoever the charge hit, but it's a little too
risky. Koku has a habit of getting in the way at the most
unexpected times. He's so big, you know. I think clubs will be
best."
"All right, Tom, just as you say," agreed Ned. "But who do you
think it can be?"
"I haven't the least idea. Probably the same fellows who were
after me before, though. This time I'll find out what their game
is, and what they're after."
The chums reached the lower hall, and there Tom picked out two
African war clubs which he had brought back with him from one of
his many trips into wild lands.
"These are just the thing!" exclaimed Ned, swinging his about.
"Careful," cautioned Tom, "If you hit something you'll rouse the
house, and I don't want my father and Mrs. Baggert, to say nothing
of Eradicate, awakened."
"Excuse me," murmured Ned. "But we'd better be getting a move on."
"That's right," agreed Tom. He dropped into a side pocket a small
but powerful electric flash lamp, and then he and Ned let
themselves out.
There had been a bright moon, but it was now overcast by clouds.
However, there was sufficient light to enable the two lads to see
objects quite clearly. All about them were the various buildings
that made up the manufacturing and experimental plant of Tom Swift
and his father. Farthest away from the house was the big shed
where once Tom had kept a balloon, but which was now given over to
his several airships. In front of it was a big, level grassy
space, needed to enable the aircraft to get a "running start"
before they could mount into the clouds.
"See anything of Koku?" whispered Ned.
"No," answered Tom, in the same cautious voice. "I guess he must
be hiding--"
"There he goes now!" hissed Ned, pointing to a big figure that was
approaching the hangar. It was undoubtedly that of the giant, and
he could be seen, in the dim light, stalking cautiously along.
"I wonder where the uninvited guests are?" asked Tom.
"Probably in the airship shed," answered Ned. "Koku was after them
as soon as the alarm went off, and they couldn't have gotten away.
They must be inside there yet. But what can their game be?"
"It's hard to say," admitted Tom. "They may be trying to get
something belonging to me, or they may imagine they can pick up
some valuable secrets. Or they may--" He stopped suddenly, and
then exclaimed:
"Come on, Ned! They're after one of the airships! That's it! My
big biplane is all ready to start, and they can get it in motion
inside of a few seconds. Oh, why didn't I hurry?" he added,
bitterly.
But the hangar was still some distance away, and it would take two
or three minutes of running to reach it.
Meanwhile, and at the instant Tom had his thought of the possible
theft of his biggest aircraft, something happened.
The doors of the shed were suddenly thrown open, and the two boys
could see the large airship being wheeled out. The hazy light of
the moon behind the clouds shone on the expanse of white planes,
and on the fish-tail rudder, one of Tom's latest ideas.
"Hey, there!" cried Tom, warningly.
"Leave that alone!" yelled Ned.
"Koku! Koku!" shouted Tom, shrilly. "Get after those fellows!"
"Me get!" boomed out the giant, in his deep voice.
He had been standing near the entrance to the hangar, probably
waiting for developments, and watching for the arrival of Tom and
Ned. The big form was seen to leap forward, and then several dark
shadows swarmed from around the airship, and were seen to fling
themselves upon the giant.
"That's a fight!" cried Ned. "They're attacking him!"
"Koku can take care of himself!" murmured Tom. "But come on. I
don't see what their game is."
He understood a moment later, however, for while several of the
midnight visitors were engaged in a hand-to-hand tussle with the
giant there came a sharp, throbbing roar of the airship motor in
motion. The propellers were being whirled rapidly about.
"Koku! Koku!" cried Tom, for he was still some distance off.
"Never mind them! Don't let the airship be taken!"
But Koku could only grunt. Big and strong as he was, half a dozen
men attacking him at once hampered him. He threw them from him,
one after another, and was gradually making his way toward the now
slowly-moving airship. But would he be in time?
Tom and Ned could not hope to reach the machine before Koku,
though they were running at top speed.
"Koku! Koku!" yelled Tom. "Don't let them get away!"
But Koku could only grunt--harder this time--for he fell heavily,
being tripped by a stick thrust between his legs. He lay for a
moment stunned.
"They're going to get away!" panted Tom, making an effort to
increase his speed.
"That's what!" agreed Ned.
Even as they spoke the roar of the airship motor increased.
Several of the dark forms which had been engaged in the struggle
with Koku were seen to pick themselves up, and run toward the
airship, that was now in motion, moving on the bicycle wheels over
the grass plot, preparatory to mounting upward in the sky.
"Stop! Stop!" commanded Tom. But it was all in vain.
The men leaped aboard the airship, which could carry six persons,
and a moment later, with a deafening roar, as the engine opened up
full, the big craft shot upward, taking away all but two of the
midnight visitors. These, who had seemingly been stunned by Koku,
now arose from the ground, and staggered off in the darkness.
"Get them!" cried Tom.
"We must see to Koku!" added Ned, "Look, there goes your airship,
Tom!"
"Yes, I know. But we can't stop that now. Let's see if we can get
a clue in these fellows!"
He pointed toward the two who had run off in the dark underbrush
surrounding the hangar plaza, and he and Ned trailed them as well
as they could. But from the first they knew it would be useless,
for there were many hiding places, and, a little way beyond, was a
clump of trees.
After a short search Tom gave up reluctantly, and came back to
where Koku was now sitting on the ground.
"Are you hurt?" he asked of the giant.
"My mind hurt--that all," said the big man.
"I guess he means his feelings are hurt," Tom explained. "Do you
know who they were, Koku?"
"No, master."
"But we must do something!" cried Ned. "They've got your airship,
Tom."
"I know it," said the young inventor, calmly. "But we can't do
anything now. You can hardly hear her, let alone see her. She's
moving fast!"
He pointed upward to the darkness. Like some black bird of prey
the airship was already lost to sight, though it would have seemed
as if her white planes might render her visible. But she had moved
so swiftly that, during the short search, she had already
disappeared.
"Aren't you going to do anything?" asked Ned.
"Certainly," spoke Tom. "I'm going to telephone an alarm to all
the nearby towns. This is certainly a queer game, Ned."
CHAPTER XII
A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE
Disappointed and puzzled, Tom and Ned went to where Koku was
standing in rather a dazed attitude. The giant, like all large
bodies, moved slowly, not only bodily but mentally. He could
understand exactly what had happened, except that he had not
prevailed over the "pygmies" who had attacked him. They had been
too many for him.
"Let's take a look inside," suggested Tom, when, by another glance
upward, he had made sure that all trace of his big airship was
gone. "Maybe we can get a clue. Then, Koku, you tell us what
happened."
"It all happened to me," said the giant, simply. "Me no make
anything happen to them."
"That's about right," laughed Tom, ruefully. "It all happened to
us."
The lights in the hangar were switched on, but a careful search
revealed little. The men, half a dozen or more, had come evidently
well prepared for the taking away of Tom Swift's airship, and they
had done so.
Entrance had been effected by forcing a small side door. True, the
burglar alarm had given notice of the presence of the men, but Tom
and Ned had not acted quite quickly enough. Koku had been at the
hangar almost as soon as the men themselves, but he had watched
and waited for orders, instead of going in at once, and this had
given the intruders time to wheel out the craft and start the
motor.
"Why didn't you jump right in on them when you saw what they were
up to, Koku?" asked Tom.
"Me wait for master. Me think master want to see who men were. Me
go in--they run."
"Well, of course that's so, in a way," admitted Tom. "They
probably would have run, but they'd have run WITHOUT my airship
instead of WITH it, if they hadn't had time to get it outside the
hangar. However, there's no use in crying over lost biplanes. The
next thing is how to get her back. Did you know any of the men,
Koku?"
"No, master."
"Then we haven't any clue that way. They laid their plans well.
They just let you tangle yourself up with them, Koku, while the
head ones got the motor going; an easy matter, since it was all
ready to start. Then they tripped you, Koku, and as many of them
as could, made a jump for the machine. Then they were off."
"Well, what's the next thing to do?" asked Ned, when another look
about the shed had shown that not the slightest clue was
available.
"I'm going to do some telephoning," Tom stated. "A big airship
like mine can't go scooting around the country without being
noticed. And those fellows can't go on forever. They've got to
have gasoline and oil, and to get them they'll have to come down.
I'll get it back, sooner or later; but the question is: Why did
they take her?"
"To sell," suggested Ned.
"I think not," Tom said. "A big airship like mine isn't easy to
sell. People who would buy it would ask questions that might not
easily be answered. I'm inclined to think that some other reason
made them take her, and it's up to us to find out what it was.
Let's go into the house."
"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Ned, holding up his hand for silence.
They all heard footsteps outside the hangar.
Tom sprang to the door, flashing his electric light, and a voice
exclaimed:
"Golly! Chicken thieves!"
"Oh, is it you, Eradicate?" asked the young inventor, with a
laugh. "No, it isn't chicken thieves--they were after bigger game
this time."
"Suffin happen?" asked the colored man. "Massa Swift he heah a
noise, an' see a light, an' he sent me out yeah t' see what all am
gwine on."
"Yes, something happened," admitted Tom. "They got the Eagle,
Rad."
"What! Yo' big airship?"
"Yes."
"Huh! Dat's too bad, Massa Tom. I suah am sorry t' heah dat. Who
done it?"
"We don't know, Rad."
"Maybe it was dat low-down cousin ob mine what tried t' git mah
chickens, onct!"
"No, Rad, it wasn't your cousin. But I'll telephone the alarm to
the police. They may be able to help me get the Eagle back."
Within the next hour several messages were sent to the authorities
of nearby towns, asking them to be on the watch for the stolen
airship. This was about all that could be done, and after Mr.
Swift had been told the story of the night's happenings, everyone
went back to bed again.
Further search the next morning brought forth no clues, though
Tom, Ned and the others beat about in the bushes where the men had
disappeared.
One or two reports were heard from surrounding towns, to the
effect that several persons had heard a strange throbbing sound in
the night, that, possibly, was caused by the passage of the
airship overhead. One such report came from Waterford, the home
town of Mr. Damon.
"Let's go over there," suggested Ned, to his chum. "I'd like to
see our friend, and maybe we can get some other clues by
circulating around there."
"Oh, I don't know," spoke Tom, rather listlessly.
"Why not?" Ned wanted to know.
"Well, I ought to be working on my photo telephone," was the
answer. "I've got a new idea now. I'm going to try a different
kind of current, and use a more sensitive plate. And I'll use a
tungsten filament lamp in the sending booth."
"Oh, let your experiments go for a little while, Tom," suggested
Ned. "Come on over to Mr. Damon's. The trouble with you is that
you keep too long at a thing, once you start."
"That's the only way to succeed," remarked Tom. "Really, Ned,
while I feel sorry about the airship, of course, I ought to be
working on my telephone. I'll get the Eagle back sooner or later."
"That's not the way to talk, Tom. Let's follow up this clue."
"Well, if you insist on it I suppose I may as well go. We'll take
the little monoplane. I've fixed her up to carry double. I guess--"
Tom Swift broke off suddenly, as the telephone at his elbow rang.
"Hello," he said, taking off the receiver. "Yes, this is Tom
Swift. Oh, good morning, Mrs. Damon! Eh! What's that? Mr. Damon
has disappeared? You don't tell me! Disappeared! Yes, yes, I can
come right over. Be there in a few minutes. Eh? You don't know
what to make of it? Oh, well, maybe it can easily be explained.
Yes, Ned Newton and I will be right over. Don't worry."
Tom hung up the receiver and turned to his chum.
"What do you think of that?" he asked.
"What is it?"
"Why, Mr. Damon mysteriously vanished last night, and this morning
word came from his bankers that every cent of his fortune had
disappeared! He's lost everything!"
"Maybe--maybe--" hesitated Ned.
"No, Mr. Damon isn't that kind of a man," said Tom, stoutly. "He
hasn't made away with himself."
"But something is wrong!"
"Evidently, and it's up to us to find out what it is. I shouldn't
be surprised but that he knew of this coming trouble and started
out to prevent it if he could."
"But he wouldn't disappear and make his wife worry."
"No, that's so. Well, we'll have to go over there and find out all
about it."
"Say, Tom!" exclaimed Ned, as they were getting the small, but
swift monoplane ready for the flight, "could there be any
connection with the disappearance of Mr. Damon and the taking of
the Eagle?"
Tom started in surprise.
"How could there be?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know," answered Ned. "It was only an idea."
"Well, we'll see what Mrs. Damon has to say," spoke the young
inventor, as he took his seat beside Ned, and motioned to Koku to
twirl the propeller.
CHAPTER XIII
THE TELEPHONE PICTURE
"Oh, Tom Swift! I'm so glad to see you!"
Mrs. Damon clasped her arms, in motherly fashion, about the young
inventor. He held her close, and his own eyes were not free from
tears as he witnessed the grief of his best friend's wife.
"Now, don't worry, Mrs. Damon," said Tom, sympathetically.
"Everything will be all right," and he led her to a chair.
"All right, Tom! How can it be?" and the lady raised a tear-stained
face. "My husband has disappeared, without a word! It's just as
if the earth had opened and swallowed him up! I can't find a trace
of him! How can it be all right?"
"Well, we'll find him, Mrs. Damon. Don't worry. Ned and I will get
right to work, and I'll have all the police and detectives within
fifty miles on the search--if we have to go that far."
"Oh, it's awfully good of you, Tom. I--I didn't know who else to
turn to in my trouble but you."
"And why shouldn't you come to me? I'd do anything for you and Mr.
Damon. Now tell me all about it."
Tom and Ned had just arrived at the Damon home in the airship, to
find the wife of the eccentric man almost distracted over her
husband's strange disappearance.
"It happened last night," Mrs. Damon said, when she was somewhat
composed. "Last night about twelve o'clock."
"Twelve o'clock!" cried Tom, in surprise "Why that's about the
time--"
He stopped suddenly.
"What were you going to say?" asked Mrs. Damon.
"Oh--nothing," answered Tom. "I--I'll tell you later. Go on,
please."
"It is all so confusing," proceeded Mrs. Damon. "You know my
husband has been in trouble of late--financial trouble?"
"Yes," responded Tom, "he mentioned it to me."
"I don't know any of the details," sighed Mrs. Damon, "but I know
he was mixed up with a man named Peters."
"I know him, too," spoke Tom, grimly.
"My husband has been very gloomy of late," went on Mrs. Damon. "He
foolishly entrusted almost his entire fortune to that man, and
last night he told me it was probably all gone. He said he saw
only the barest chance to save it, but that he was going to take
that chance."
"Did he go into details?" asked Tom.
"No, that was all he said. That was about ten o'clock. He didn't
want to go to bed. He just sat about, and he kept saying over and
over again: 'Bless my tombstone!' 'Bless the cemetery!' and all
such stuff as that. You know how he was," and she smiled through
her tears.
"Yes," said Tom. "I know. Only it wasn't like him to bless such
grewsome things. He was more jolly."
"He hasn't been, of late," sighed his wife. "Well, he sat about
all the evening, and he kept figuring away, trying, I suppose, to
find some way out of his trouble."
"Why didn't he come to my father?" cried Tom. "I told him he could
have all the money he needed to tide him over."
"Well, Mr. Damon was queer that way," said his wife. "He wanted to
be independent. I urged him to call you up, but he said he'd fight
it out alone."
"As I said, we sat there, and he kept feeling more and more blue,
and blessing his funeral, and the hearse and all such things as
that. He kept looking at the clock, too, and I wondered at that."
"'Are you expecting someone?' I asked him. He said he wasn't,
exactly, but I made sure he was, and finally, about half-past
eleven, he put on his hat and went out."
"'Where are you going?' I asked him."
"'Oh, just to get a breath of air. I can't sleep,' he said. I
didn't think much of that, as he often used to go out and walk
about a bit before going to bed. So he went out, and I began to
see about locking up, for I never trust the servants."
"It must have been about an hour later when I heard voices out in
front. I looked, and I saw Mr. Damon talking to a man."
"Who was he?" asked Tom, eagerly, on the alert for the slightest
clue.
"I thought at the time," said Mrs. Damon, "that it was one of the
neighbors. I have learned since, however, that it was not. Anyhow,
this man and Mr. Damon stood talking for a little while, and then
they went off together. I didn't think it strange at the time,
supposing he was merely strolling up and down in front with Mr.
Blackson, who lives next door, He often had done that before."
"Well, I saw that the house was locked up, and then I sat down in
a chair to wait for Mr. Damon to come back. I was getting sleepy,
for we don't usually stay up so late. I suppose I must have dozed
off, but I was suddenly awakened by hearing a peculiar noise. I
sat up in alarm, and then I realized that Mr. Damon had not come
in."
"I was frightened then, and I called my maid. It was nearly one
o'clock, and my husband never stays out as late as that. We went
next door, and found that Mr. Blackson had not been out of his
house that evening. So it could not have been he to whom Mr. Damon
was speaking."
"We roused up other neighbors, and they searched all about the
grounds, thinking he might have been overcome by a sudden faint.
But we could not find him. My husband had disappeared--mysteriously
disappeared!" and the lady broke into sobs.
"Now don't worry," said Tom, soothingly, as he put his arms about
her as he would have done to his own mother, had she been alive,
"We'll get him back!"
"But how can you? No one knows where he is."
"Oh, yes!" said Tom, confidently, "Mr. Damon himself knows where
he is, and unless he has gone away voluntarily, I think you will
soon hear from him."
"What do you mean by--voluntarily?" asked the wife.
"First let me ask you a question," came from Tom. "You said you
were awakened by a peculiar noise. What sort of a sound was it?"
"Why, a whirring, throbbing noise, like--like--"
She paused for a comparison.
"Like an airship?" asked Tom, with a good deal of eagerness.
"That was it!" cried Mrs. Damon. "I was trying to think where I
had heard the sound before. It was just like the noise your
airship makes, Tom!"
"That settles it!" exclaimed the young inventor.
"Settles what?" asked Ned.
"The manner of Mr. Damon's disappearance. He was taken away--or
went away--in my airship--the airship that was stolen from my shed
last night!"
Mrs. Damon stared at Tom in amazement.
"Why--why--how could that be?" she asked.
Quickly Tom told of what had happened at his place.
"I begin to see through it," he said. "There is some plot here,
and we've got to get to the bottom of it. Mr. Damon either went
with these men in the airship willingly, or he was taken away by
force. I'm inclined to think he went of his own accord, or you
would have heard some outcry, Mrs. Damon."
"Well, perhaps so," she admitted. "But would he go away in that
manner without telling me?"
"He might," said Tom, willing to test his theory on all sides. "He
might not have wanted you to worry, for you know you dislike him
to go up an airships."
"Yes, I do. Oh, if I only thought he did go away of his own
accord, I could understand it. He went, if he did, to try and save
his fortune."
"It does look as though he had an appointment with someone, Tom,"
suggested Ned. "His looking at the clock, and then going out, and all
that."
"Yes," admitted the young inventor, "and now I'm inclined to
change my theory a bit. It may have been some other airship than
mine that was used."
"How so?" asked Ned.
"Because the men who took mine were unprincipled fellows. Mr.
Damon would not have gone away with men who would steal an
airship."
"Not if he knew it," admitted Ned. "Well, then, let's consider two
airships--yours and the other that came to keep the appointment
with Mr. Damon. If the last is true, why should he want to go away
in an airship at midnight? Why couldn't he take a train, or an
auto?"
"Well, we don't know all the ins and outs," admitted Tom. "Taking
a midnight airship ride is rather strange, but that may have been
the only course open. We'll have to let the explanation go until
later. At any rate, Mrs. Damon, I feel sure that your husband did
go off through the air--either in my Eagle or in some other
craft."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so, Tom Swift, though it sounds a
dreadful thing to say. But if he did go off of his own accord, I
know he did it for the best. And he may not have told me, for fear
I would worry. I can understand that. But why isn't he back now?"
Tom had been rather dreading that question. It was one he had
asked himself, and he had found no good answer for it. If there
had been such need of haste, that an airship had to be used, why
had not Mr. Damon come back ere this? Unless, as Tom feared to
admit, even to himself, there had been some accident.
Half a dozen theories flashed through his mind, but he could not
select a good, working one,--particularly as there were no clues.
Disappearing in an airship was the one best means of not leaving a
trace behind. An auto, a motor boat, a train, a horse and
carriage--all these could be more or less easily traced. But an
airship--
If Mr. Damon wanted to cover up his tracks, or if he had been
taken away, and his captors wanted to baffle pursuit, the best
means had been adopted.
"Now don't you worry," advised Tom to Mrs. Damon. "I know it looks
funny, but I think it will come out all right. Ned and I will do
all we can. Mr. Damon must have known what he was about. But, to
be on the safe side, we'll send out a general alarm through the
police."
"Oh, I don't know what I'd done if you hadn't come to help me!"
exclaimed Mrs. Damon.
"Just you leave it to me!" said the young inventor, cheerfully.
"I'll find Mr. Damon!"
But, though he spoke thus confidently, Tom Swift had not the
slightest notion, just then, of how to set about his difficult
task. He had had hard problems to solve before, so he was not
going to give up this one. First he wanted to think matters out,
and arrange a plan of action.
He and Ned made a careful examination of the grounds of the Damon
homestead. There was little they could learn, though they did find
where an airship had landed in a meadow, not far away, and where
it had made a flying start off again.
Carefully Tom looked at the marks made by the wheels of the
airship.
"They're the same distance apart as those on the Eagle," he said
to his chum, "and the tires are the same. But that isn't saying
anything, as lots of airships have the same equipment. So we won't
jump to any conclusions that way."
Tom and Ned interviewed several of the neighbors, but beyond
learning that some of them had heard the throbbing of the midnight
airship, that was as far as they got on that line.
There was nothing more they could do in Waterford, and, leaving
Mrs. Damon, who had summoned a relative to stay with her, the two
chums made a quick trip back through the air to Shopton. As
Eradicate came out to help put away the monoplane Tom noticed that
the colored man was holding one hand as though it hurt him.
"What's the matter, Rad?" asked the young investor.
"Oh, nuffin--jest natcherly nuffin, Massa Tom."
But Eradicate spoke evasively and in a manner that roused Tom's
suspicions.
"Boomerang, your mule, didn't kick you; did he?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom, no sah. 'Twern't nuffin laik dat."
"But what was it? Your hand is hurt!"
"Well, Massa Tom, I s'pose I done bettah tell yo' all. I'se had a
shock!"
"A shock?"
"Yas, sah. A shock. A lickrish shock."
"Oh, you mean an electrical shock. That's too bad. I suppose you
must have touched a live wire."
"No, sah. 'Twern't dat way."
"How was it, then?"
"Well, yo' see, Massa Tom, I were playin' a joke on Koku."
"Oh, you were; eh? Then I suppose Koku shocked you," laughed Tom.
"No, sah. I--I'll tell you. Dat giant man he were in de telefoam
boof in de pattern shop--you know--de one where yo' all been
tryin' to make pishures."
"Yes, I know. Go on!" exclaimed Tom, impatiently.
"Well, he were in dere, Massa Tom, an' I slipped into de boof in
de next shop--de odder place where yo' all been 'speermentin'. I
called out on de telefoam, loud laik de Angel Gabriel gwine t'
holler at de last trump: 'Look out, yo' ole sinnah!' I yell it
jest t' scare Koku."
"I see," said Tom, a bit severely, for he did not like Eradicate
interfering with the instruments. "And did you scare Koku?"
"Oh, yas, sah, Massa Tom. I skeered him all right; but suffin else
done happen. When I put down de telefoam I got a terrible shock.
It hurts yit!"
"Well," remarked Tom, "I suppose I ought to feel sorry for you,
but I can't. You should let things alone. Now I've got to see if
you did any damage. Come along, Ned."
Tom was the first to enter the telephone booth where Eradicate had
played the part of the Angel Gabriel. He looked at the wires and
apparatus, but could see nothing wrong.
Then he glanced at the selenium plate, on which he hoped, some
day, to imprint an image from over the wire. And, as he saw the
smooth surface he started, and cried.
"Ned! Ned, come here quick!"
"What is it?" asked his chum, crowding into the booth.
"Look at that plate! Tell me what you see!"
Ned looked.
"Why--why it's Koku's picture!" he gasped.
"Exactly!" cried Tom. "In some way my experiment has succeeded
when I was away. Eradicate must have made some new connection by
his monkeying. Ned, it's a success! I've got my first photo
telephone picture! Hurray!"
CHAPTER XIV
MAKING IMPROVEMENTS
Tom Swift was so overjoyed and excited that for a few moments he
capered about, inside the booth, and outside, knocking against his
chum Ned, clapping him on the back, and doing all manner of boyish
"stunts."
"It's a success, Ned! I've struck it!" cried Tom, in delight.
"Ouch! You struck ME, you mean!" replied Ned, rubbing his
shoulder, where the young inventor had imparted a resounding blow
of joy.
"What of it?" exclaimed Tom. "My apparatus works! I can send a
picture by telephone! It's great, Ned!"
"But I don't exactly understand how it happened," said Ned, in
some bewilderment, as he gazed at the selenium plate.
"Neither do I," admitted Tom, when he had somewhat calmed down.
"That is, I don't exactly understand what made the thing succeed
now, when it wouldn't work for me a little while ago. But I've got
to go into that. I'll have to interview that rascal Eradicate, and
learn what he did when he played that trick on Koku. Yes, and I'll
have to see Koku, too. We've got to get at the bottom of this,
Ned."
"I suppose so. You've got your hands full, Tom, with your photo
telephone, and the disappearance of Mr. Damon."
"Yes, and my own airship, too. I must get after that. Whew! A lot
of things to do! But I like work, Ned. The more the better."
"Yes, that's like you, Tom. But what are you going to get at
first?"
"Let me see; the telephone, I think. I'll have Rad and Koku in
here and talk to them. I say, you Eradicate!" he called out of the
door of the shop, as he saw the colored man going past, holding
his shocked arm tenderly.
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom, I'se comin'! What is it yo' all wants, Massa
Tom?"
"I want you to show me exactly what you did to the wires, and
other things in here, when you played that Angel Gabriel trick on
your partner Koku."
"Partner! He ain't mah partner!" exclaimed Eradicate with a scowl,
for there was not the best of feeling between the two. Eradicate
had served in the Swift family many years, and he rather resented
the coming of the giant, who performed many services formerly the
province of the colored man.
"Well, never mind what he is, Rad," laughed Tom. "You just show me
what you did. Come now, something happened in here, and I want to
find out what it was."
"Oh, suffin done happened all right, Massa Tom. Yas, sah! Suffin
done happened!" cried Eradicate, with such odd emphasis that Tom
and Ned both laughed.
"An' suffin happened to me," went on the colored man, rubbing his
shocked arm.
"Well, tell us about it," suggested Tom.
"It was dish yeah way," proceeded Eradicate. And he told more in
detail how, seeing Koku cleaning and sweeping out the other
telephone booth, he had thought of the trick to play on him. Both
telephones had what are called "amplifiers" attached, that could
be switched on when needed. These amplifiers were somewhat like
the horn of a phonograph--they increased, or magnified the sound,
so that one could hear a voice from any part of the shop, and need
not necessarily have the telephone receiver at his ear.
Seeing Koku near the instrument, Eradicate had switched on the
amplifier, and had called into his instrument, trying to scare the
giant. And he did startle Koku, for the loud voice, coming so
suddenly, sent the giant out of the booth on the run.
"But you must have done something else," insisted Tom. "Look here,
Rad," and the young inventor pointed to the picture on the plate.
"Mah gracious sakes!" gasped the colored man. "Why dat's Koku
hisse'f!" and he looked in awe at the likeness.
"That's what you did, Rad!"
"Me? I done dat? No, sah, Massa Tom. I neber did! No, sah!"
Eradicate spoke emphatically.
"Yes you did, Rad. You took that picture of Koku over my photo
telephone, and I want you to show me exactly what you did--what
wires and switches you touched and changed, and all that."
"Yo--yo' done say I tuck dat pishure, Massa Tom?"
"You sure did, Rad."
"Well--well, good land o' massy! An' I done dat!"
Eradicate stared in wonder at the image of the giant on the plate,
and shook his head doubtingly.
"I--I didn't know I could do it. I never knowed I had it in me!"
he murmured.
Tom and Ned laughed long and loud, and then the young inventor
said:
"Now look here, Rad. You've done me a mighty big service, though
you didn't know it, and I want to thank you. I'm sorry about your
arm, and I'll have the doctor look at it. But now I want you to
show me all the things you touched when you played that joke on
Koku. In some way you did what I haven't been able to do, You took
the picture. There's probably just one little thing I've
overlooked, and you stumbled on it by accident. Now go ahead and
show me."
Eradicate thought for a moment, and then said:
"Well, I done turned on de current, laik I seen you done, Massa
Tom."
"Yes, go on. You connected the telephone."
"Yas, sah. Den I switched on that flyer thing yo' all has rigged
up."
"You switched on the amplifier, yes. Go on."
"An'--an' den I plugged in dish year wire," and the colored man
pointed to one near the top of the booth.
"You switched on that wire, Rad! Why, great Scott, man! That's
connected to the arc light circuit--it carries over a thousand
volts. And you switched that into the telephone circuit?"
"Dat's what I done did, Massa Tom; yas, sah!"
"What for?"
"Why, I done want t' make mah voice good an' loud t' skeer dat
rascal Koku!"
Tom stared at the colored man in amazement.
"No wonder you got a shock!" exclaimed the young inventor. "You
didn't get all the thousand volts, for part of it was shunted off;
but you got a good charge, all right. So that's what did the
business; eh? It was the combination of the two electrical
circuits that sent the photograph over the wire."
"I understand it now, Rad; but you did more than I've been able to
do. I never, in a hundred years, would have thought of switching
on that current. It never occurred to me. But you, doing it by
accident, brought out the truth. It's often that way in
discoveries. And Koku was standing in the other telephone booth,
near the plate there, when you switched in this current, Rad?"
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom. He were. An' yo' ought t' see him hop when
he heard mah voice yellin' at him. Ha! ha! ha!"
Eradicate chuckled at the thought. Then a pain in his shocked arm
made him wince. A wry look passed over his face.
"Yas, sah, Koku done jump about ten feet," he said. "An'--an' den
I jump too. Ain't no use in denyin' dat fact. I done jump when I
got dat shock!"
"All right, Rad. You may go now. I think I'm on the right track!"
exclaimed Tom. "Come on, Ned, we'll try some experiments, and
we'll see what we can do."
"No shocks though--cut out the shocks, Tom," stipulated his chum.
"Oh, sure! No shocks! Now crowding busy and improve on
Eradicate's Angel Gabriel system."
Tom made a quick examination of the apparatus.
"I understand it, I think," he said. "Koku was near the plate in
the other booth when Rad put on the double current. There was a
light there, and in an instant his likeness was sent over the
wire, and imprinted on this plate. Now let's see what we can do.
You go to that other booth, Ned. I'll see if I can get your
picture, and send you mine. Here, take some extra selenium plates
along. You know how to connect them."
"I think so," answered Ned.
"This image is really too faint to be of much use," went on Tom,
as he looked at the one of Koku. "I think I can improve on it. But
we're on the right track."
A little later Ned stood in the other booth, while Tom arranged
the wires, and made the connections in the way accidently
discovered by Eradicate. The young inventor had put in a new
plate, carefully putting away the one with the picture of the
giant, This plate could be used again, when the film, into which
the image was imprinted, had been washed off.
"All ready, Ned," called Tom, over the wire, when he was about to
turn the switch. "Stand still, and I'll get you."
The connection was made, and Tom uttered a cry of joy. For there,
staring at him from the plate in front of him was the face of Ned.
It was somewhat reduced in size, of course, and was not extra
clear, but anyone who knew Ned could have told he was at the other
end of the wire.
"Do you get me, Tom?" called Ned, over the telephone.
"I sure do! Now see if you can get me."
Tom made other connections, and then looked at the sending plate
of his instrument, there being both a sending and receiving plate
in each booth, just as there was a receiver and a transmitter to
the telephone.
"Hurray! I see you, Tom!" cried Ned, over the wire. "Say, this is
great!"
"It isn't as good as I want it," went on Tom. "But it proves that
I'm right. The photo telephone is a fact, and now persons using
the wire can be sure of the other person they are conversing with.
I must tell dad. He wouldn't believe I could do it!"
And indeed Mr. Swift was surprised when Tom proved, by actual
demonstration, that a picture could be sent over the wire.
"Tom, I congratulate you!" declared the aged inventor. "It is good
news!"
"Yes, but we have bad news of Mr. Damon," said Tom, and he told
his father of the disappearance of the eccentric man. Mr. Swift at
once telephoned his sympathy to Mrs. Damon, and offered to do
anything he could for her.
"But Tom can help you more than I can," he said. "You can depend
on Tom."
"I know that," replied Mrs. Damon, over the wire.
And certainly Tom Swift had many things to do now. He hardly knew
at what to begin first, but now, since he was on the right road in
regard to his photo telephone, he would work at improving it.
And to this end he devoted himself, after he had sent out a
general alarm to the police of nearby towns, in regard to the
disappearance of Mr. Damon. The airship clue, he believed, as did
the police, would be a good one to work on.
For several days after this nothing of moment occurred. Mr. Damon
could not be located, and Tom's airship might still be sailing
above the clouds as far as getting any trace of it was concerned.
Meanwhile the young inventor, with the help of Ned, who was given
a leave of absence from the bank, worked hard to improve the photo
telephone.
CHAPTER XV
THE AIRSHIP CLUE
"Now Ned, we'll try again. I'm going to use a still stronger
current, and this is the most sensitive selenium plate I've turned
out yet. We'll see if we can't get a better likeness of you--one
that will be plainer."
It was Tom Swift who was speaking, and he and his chum had just
completed some hard work on the new photo telephone. Though the
apparatus did what Tom had claimed for it, still he was far from
satisfied. He could transmit over the wire the picture of a person
talking at the telephone, but the likeness was too faint to make
the apparatus commercially profitable.
"It's like the first moving pictures," said Tom. "They moved, but
that was about all they did."
"I say," remarked Ned, as he was about to take his place in the
booth where the telephone and apparatus were located, "this
double-strength electrical current you're speaking of won't shock
me; will it? I don't want what happened to Eradicate to happen to
me, Tom."
"Don't worry. Nothing will happen. The trouble with Rad was that
he didn't have the wires insulated when he turned that arc current
switch by mistake--or, rather, to play his joke. But he's all
right now."
"Yes, but I'm not going to take any chances," insisted Ned. "I
want to be insulated myself."
"I'll see to that," promised Tom. "Now get to your booth."
For the purpose of experiments Tom had strung a new line between
two of his shops, They were both within sight, and the line was
not very long; but, as I have said, Tom knew that if his apparatus
would work over a short distance, it would also be successful over
a long one, provided he could maintain the proper force of
current, which he was sure could be accomplished.
"And if they can send pictures from Monte Carlo to Paris I can do
the same," declared Tom, though his system of photo telephony was
different from sending by a telegraph system--a reproduction of a
picture on a copper plate. Tom's apparatus transmitted the
likeness of the living person.
It took some little time for the young inventor, and Ned working
with him, to fix up the new wires and switch on the current. But
at last it was complete, and Ned took his place at one telephone,
with the two sensitive plates before him. Tom did the same, and
they proceeded to talk over the wire, first making sure that the
vocal connection was perfect.
"All ready now, Ned! We'll try it," called Tom to his chum, over
the wire. "Look straight at the plate. I want to get your image
first, and then I'll send mine, if it's a success."
Ned did as requested, and in a few minutes he could hear Tom
exclaim, joyfully:
"It's better, Ned! It's coming out real clear. I can see you
almost as plainly as if you were right in the booth with me. But
turn on your light a little stronger."
Tom could hear, through the telephone, his chum moving about, and
then he caught a startled exclamation.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom anxiously.
"I got a shock!" cried Ned. "I thought you said you had this thing
fixed. Great Scott, Tom! It nearly yanked the arm off me! Is this
a joke?"
"No, old man. No, of course not! Something must be wrong. I didn't
mean that. Wait, I'll take a look. Say, it does seem as if
everything was going wrong with this invention. But I'm on the
right track, and soon I'll have it all right. Wait a second. I'll
be right over."
Tom found that it was only a simple displacement of a wire that
had given Ned a shock, and he soon had this remedied.
"Now we'll try again," he said. This time nothing wrong occurred,
and soon Tom saw the clearest image he had yet observed on his
telephone photo plate.
"Switch me on now, Ned," he called to his chum, and Ned reported
that he could see Tom very plainly.
"So far--so good," observed Tom, as he came from the booth. "But
there are several things I want yet to do."
"Such as what?" questioned Ned.
"Well, I want to arrange to have two kinds of pictures come over
the wire. I want it so that a person can go into a booth, call up
a friend, and then switch on the picture plate, so he can see his
friend as well as talk to him. I want this plate to be like a
mirror, so that any number of images can be made to appear on it.
In that way it can be used over and over again. In fact it will be
exactly like a mirror, or a telescope. No matter how far two
persons may be apart they can both see and talk to one another."
"That's a big contract, Tom."
"Yes, but you've seen that it can be done. Then another thing I
want to do is to have it arranged so that I can make a photograph
of a person over a wire."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that if a certain person talks to me over the wire, I can
turn my switch, and get a picture of him here at my apparatus
connected with my telephone. To do that I'll merely need a sending
apparatus at the other end of the telephone line--not a receiving
machine."
"Could you arrange it so that the person who was talking to you
would have his picture taken whether he wanted it or not?" asked
Ned.
"Yes, it might be done," spoke Tom, thoughtfully. "I could conceal
the sending plate somewhere in the telephone booth, and arrange
the proper light, I suppose."
"That might be a good way in which to catch a criminal," went on
Ned. "Often crooks call up on the telephone, but they know they
are safe. The authorities can't see them--they can only hear them.
Now if you could get a photograph of them while they were
telephoning--"
"I see!" cried Tom, excitedly. "That's a great idea! I'll work on
that, Ned."
And, all enthusiasm, Tom began to plan new schemes with his photo
telephone.
The young inventor did not forget his promise to help Mrs. Damon.
But he could get absolutely no clue to her husband's whereabouts.
Mr. Damon had completely and mysteriously disappeared. His
fortune, too, seemed to have been swallowed up by the sharpers,
though lawyers engaged by Tom could fasten no criminal acts on Mr.
Peters, who indignantly denied that he had done anything unlawful.
If he had, he had done it in such a way that he could not be
brought to justice. The promoter was still about Shopton, as well
groomed as ever, with his rose in his buttonhole, and wearing his
silk hat. He still speeded up and down Lake Carlopa in his
powerful motor boat. But he gave Tom Swift a wide berth.
Late one night, when Tom and Ned had been working at the new photo
telephone, after all the rest of the household had retired, Tom
suddenly looked up from his drawings and exclaimed:
"What's that?"
"What's what?" inquired Ned.
"That sound? Don't you hear it? Listen!"
"It's an airship--maybe yours coming back!" cried the young
banker.
As he spoke Ned did hear, seemingly in the air above the house, a
curious, throbbing, pulsating sound.
"That's so! It is an airship motor!" exclaimed Tom. "Come on out!"
Together they rushed from the house, but, ere they reached the
yard, the sound had ceased. They looked up into the sky, but could
see nothing, though the night was light from a full moon.
"I certainly heard it," said Tom.
"So did I," asserted Ned. "But where is it now?"
They advanced toward the group of work-buildings. Something
showing white in the moonlight, before the hangar, caught Ned's
eyes.
"Look!" he exclaimed. "There's an airship, Tom!"
The two rushed over to the level landing place before the big
shed. And there, as if she had just been run out for a flight, was
the Eagle. She had come back in the night, as mysteriously as she
had been taken away.
CHAPTER XVI
SUCCESS
"Well, this gets me!" exclaimed Tom.
"It sure is strange," agreed Ned. "How did she come here?"
"She didn't come alone--that's sure," went on Tom. "Someone
brought her here, made a landing, and got away before we could get
out."
The two chums were standing near the Eagle, which had come back so
mysteriously.
"Just a couple of seconds sooner and we'd have seen who brought
her here," went on Tom. "But they must have shut off the motor
some distance up, and then they volplaned down. That's why we
didn't hear them."
Ned went over and put his hand on the motor.
"Ouch!" he cried, jumping back. "It's hot!"
"Showing that she's been running up to within a few minutes ago,"
said Tom. "Well, as I said before, this sure does get me. First
these mysterious men take my airship, and then they bring her back
again, without so much as thanking me for the use of her."
"Who in the world can they be?" asked Ned.
"I haven't the least idea. But I'm going to find out, if it's at
all possible. We'll look the machine over in the morning, and see
if we can get any clues. No use in doing that now. Come on, we'll
put her back in the hangar."
"Say!" exclaimed Ned, as a sudden idea came to him. "It couldn't
be Mr. Damon who had your airship; could it, Tom?"
"I don't know. Why do you ask that?"
"Well, he might have wanted to get away from his enemies for a
while, and he might have taken your Eagle, and--"
"Mr. Damon wouldn't trail along with a crowd like the one that
took away my airship," said Tom, decidedly. "You've got another
guess coming, Ned. Mr. Damon had nothing to do with this."
"And yet the night he disappeared an airship was heard near his
house."
"That's so. Well, I give up. This is sure a mystery. We'll have a
look at it in the morning. One thing I'll do, though, I'll
telephone over to Mr. Damon's house and see if his wife has heard
any news. I've been doing that quite often of late, so she won't
think anything of it. In that way we can find out if he had
anything to do with my airship. But let's run her into the shed
first."
This was done, and Koku, the giant, was sent to sleep in the
hangar to guard against another theft. But it was not likely that
the mysterious men, once having brought the airship back, would
come for it again.
Tom called up Mrs. Damon on the telephone, but there was no news
of the missing man. He expressed his sympathy, and said he would
come and see her soon. He told Mrs. Damon not to get discouraged,
adding that he, and others, were doing all that was possible. But,
in spite of this, Mrs. Damon, naturally, did worry.
The next morning the two chums inspected the airship, so
mysteriously returned to them. Part after part they went over, and
found nothing wrong. The motor ran perfectly, and there was not so
much as a bent spoke in the landing wheels. For all that could be
told by an inspection of the craft she might never have been out
of the hangar.
"Hello, here's something!" cried Tom, as he got up from the
operator's seat, where he had taken his place to test the various
controls.
"What is it?" asked Ned.
"A button. A queer sort of a button. I never had any like that on
my clothes, and I'm sure you didn't. Look!" and Tom held out a
large, metal button of curious design.
"It must have come off the coat of one of the men who had your
airship, Tom," said his chum. "Save it. You may find that it's a
clue."
"I will. No telling what it may lead to. Well, I guess that's all
we can find."
And it was. But Tom little realized what a clue the button was
going to be. Nothing more could be learned by staring at the
returned airship, so he and Ned went back to the house.
Tom Swift had many things to do, but his chief concern was for the
photo telephone. Now that he was near the goal of success he
worked harder than ever. The idea Ned had given him of being able
to take the picture of a person at the instrument--without the
knowledge of that person--appealed strongly to Tom.
"That's going to be a valuable invention!" he declared, but little
he knew how valuable it would prove to him and to others.
It was about a week later when Tom was ready to try the new
apparatus. Meanwhile he had prepared different plates, and had
changed his wiring system. In the days that had passed nothing new
had been learned concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Damon, nor of
the men who had so mysteriously taken away Tom's airship.
All was in readiness for the trial. Tom sent Ned to the booth that
he had constructed in the airship hangar, some distance away from
the house. The other booth Tom had placed in his library, an
entirely new system of wires being used.
"Now Ned," explained Tom, "the idea is this! You go into that
booth, just as if it were a public one, and ring me up in the
regular way. Of course we haven't a central here, but that doesn't
matter. Now while I'm talking to you I want to see you. You don't
know that, of course."
"The point is to see if I can get your picture while you're
talking to me, and not let you know a thing about it."
"Think you can do it, Tom?"
"I'm going to try. We'll soon know. Go ahead."
A little later Ned was calling up his chum, as casually as he
could, under the circumstances.
"All right!" called Tom to his chum. "Start in and talk. Say
anything you like--it doesn't matter. I want to see if I can get
your picture. Is the light burning in your booth?"
"Yes, Tom."
"All right then. Go ahead."
Ned talked of the weather--of anything. Meanwhile Tom was busy.
Concealed in the booth occupied by Ned was a sending plate. It
could not be seen unless one knew just where to look for it. In
Tom's booth was a receiving plate.
The experiment did not take long. Presently Tom called to Ned that
he need stay there no longer.
"Come on to the house," invited the young inventor, "and we'll
develope this plate." For in this system it was necessary to
develope the receiving plate, as is done with an ordinary
photographic one. Tom wanted a permanent record.
Eagerly the chums in the dark room looked down into the tray
containing the plate and the developing solution.
"Something's coming out!" cried Ned, eagerly.
"Yes! And it's you!" exclaimed Tom. "See, Ned, I got your picture
over the telephone. Success! I've struck it! This is the best
yet!"
At that moment, as the picture came out more and more plainly,
someone knocked on the door of the dark room.
"Who is it?" asked Tom.
"Gen'man t' see you," said Eradicate. "He say he come from Mistah
Peters!"
"Mr. Peters--that rascally promoter!" whispered Tom to his chum.
"What does this mean?"
CHAPTER XVII
THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE
Tom Swift and his chum looked at one another strangely for a
moment in the dim, red light of the dark room. Then the young
inventor spoke:
"I'm not going to see him. Tell him so, Rad!"
"Hold on a second," suggested Ned. "Maybe you had better see him,
Tom. It may have something to with Mr. Damon's lost fortune."
"That's so! I didn't think of that. And I may get a clue to his
disappearance, though I don't imagine Peters had anything to do
with that. Wait, Rad. Tell the gentleman I'll see him. Did he give
any name, Rad?"
"Yas, sah. Him done say him Mistah Boylan."
"The same man who called to see me once before, trying to get me
to do some business with Peters," murmured Tom. "Very well, I'll
see him as soon as this picture is fixed. Tell him to wait, Rad."
A little later Tom went to where his caller awaited in the
library. This time there were no plans to be looked at, the young
inventor having made a practice of keeping all his valuable papers
locked in a safe.
"You go into the next room, Ned," Tom had said to his chum. "Leave
the door open, so you can hear what is said."
"Why, do you think there'll be trouble? Maybe we'd better have
Koku on hand to--"
"Oh, no, nothing like that," laughed Tom. "I just want you to
listen to what's said so, if need be, you can be a witness later.
I don't know what their game is, but I don't trust Peters and his
crowd. They may want to get control of some of my patents, and
they may try some underhanded work. If they do I want to be in a
position to stop them."
"All right," agreed Ned, and he took his place.
But Mr. Boylan's errand was not at all sensational, it would seem.
He bowed to Tom, perhaps a little distantly, for they had not
parted the best of friends on a former occasion.
"I suppose you are surprised to see me," began Mr. Boylan.
"Well, I am, to tell the truth," Tom said, calmly.
"I am here at the request of my employer, Mr. Peters," went on the
caller. "He says he is forming a new and very powerful company to
exploit airships, and he wants to know whether you would not
reconsider your determination not to let him do some business for
you."
"No, I'm afraid I don't care to go into anything like that," said
Tom.
"It would be a good thing for you," proceeded Mr. Boylan, eagerly.
"Mr. Peters is able to command large capital, and if you would
permit the use of your airships--or one of them--as a model, and
would supervise the construction of others, we could confidently
expect large sales. Thus you would profit, and I am frank to admit
that the company, and Mr. Peters, also, would make money. Mr.
Peters is perfectly free to confess that he is in business to make
money, but he is also willing to let others share with him. Come
now, what do you say?"
"I am sorry, but I shall have to say the same thing I said
before," replied Tom. "Nothing doing!"
Mr. Boylan glanced rather angrily at the young inventor, and then,
with a shrug of his shoulders, remarked:
"Well, you have the say, of course. But I would like to remind you
that this is going to be a very large airship company, and if your
inventions are not exploited some others will be. And Mr. Peters
also desired me to say that this is the last offer he would make
you."
"Tell him," said Tom, "that I am much obliged, but that I have no
business that I can entrust to him. If he wishes to make some
other type of airship, that is his affair. Good-day."
As Mr. Boylan was going out Tom noticed a button dangling from the
back of his caller's coat. It hung by a thread, being one of the
pair usually sewed on the back of a cutaway garment.
"I think you had better take off that button before it falls,"
suggested Tom. "You may lose it, and perhaps it would be hard to
match."
"That's so. Thank you!" said Mr. Boylan. He tried to reach around
and get it, but he was too stout to turn easily, especially as the
coat was tight-fitting.
"I'll get it for you," offered Tom, as he pulled it off. "There is
one missing, though," he said, as he handed the button to the man.
And then Tom started as he saw the pattern of the one in his hand.
"One gone? That's too bad," murmured Mr. Boylan. "Those buttons
were imported, and I doubt if I can replace them. They are rather
odd."
"Yes," agreed Tom, gazing as if fascinated at the one he still
held. "They are rather odd."
And then, as he passed it over, like a flash it came to him where
he had seen a button like that before. He had found it in his
airship, which had been so mysteriously taken away and returned.
Tom could hardly restrain his impatience until Mr. Boylan had
gone. The young inventor had half a notion to produce the other
button, matching the one he had just pulled off his visitor's
coat, and tell where he had found it. But he held himself back. He
wanted to talk first to Ned.
And, when his chum came in, Tom cried:
"Ned, what do you think? I know who had my airship!"
"How?" asked Ned, in wonder.
"By that button clue! Yes, it's the same kind--they're as alike as
twins!" and Tom brought out the button which he had put away in
his desk. "See, Boylan had one just like this on the back of his
coat. The other was missing. Here it is--it was in the seat of my
airship, where it was probably pulled off as he moved about. Ned,
I think I've got the right clue at last."
Ned said nothing for several seconds. Then he remarked slowly:
"Well, Tom, it proves one thing; but not the other."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it may be perfectly true that the button came off Mr.
Boylan's coat, but that doesn't prove that he wore it. You can be
reasonably sure that the coat was having a ride in your Eagle, but
was Boylan in the coat? That's the question."
"In the coat? Of course he was in it!" cried Tom.
"You can't be sure. Someone may have borrowed his coat to take a
midnight ride in the airship."
"Mr. Boylan doesn't look to be the kind of a man who would lend
his clothes," remarked Tom.
"You never can tell. Someone may have borrowed it without his
knowledge. You'd better go a bit slow, Tom."
"Well, maybe I had. But it's a clue, anyhow."
Ned agreed to this.
"And all I've got to do is to find out who was in the coat when it
was riding about in my airship," went on Tom.
"Yes," said Ned, "and then maybe you'll have some clue to the
disappearance of Mr. Damon."
"Right you are! Come on, let's get busy!"
"As if we hadn't been busy all the while!" laughed Ned. "I'll lose
my place at the bank if I don't get back soon."
"Oh, stay a little longer--a few days," urged Tom. "I'm sure that
something is going to happen soon. Anyhow my photo telephone is
about perfected. But I've just thought of another improvement."
"What is it?"
"I'm going to arrange a sort of dictaphone, or phonograph, so I
can get a permanent record of what a person says over the wire, as
well as get a picture of him saying it. Then everything will be
complete. This last won't be hard to do, as there are several
machines on the market now, for preserving a record of telephone
conversations. I'll make mine a bit different, though."
"Tom, is there any limit to what you're going to do?" asked Ned,
admiringly.
"Oh, yes, I'm going to stop soon, and retire," laughed the young
inventor.
After talking the matter over, Tom and his chum decided to wait a
day or so before taking any action in regard to the button clue to
the takers of the airship. After all, no great harm had been done,
and Tom was more anxious to locate Mr. Damon, and try to get back
his fortune, as well as to perfect his photo telephone, than he
was to discover those who had helped themselves to the Eagle.
Tom and Ned put in some busy days, arranging the phonograph
attachment. It was easy, compared to the hard work of sending a
picture over the wire. They paid several visits to Mrs. Damon, but
she had no news of her missing husband, and, as the days went by,
she suffered more and more under the strain.
Finally Tom's new invention was fully completed. It was a great
success, and he not only secured pictures of Ned and others over
the wire, as he talked to them, but he imprinted on wax cylinders,
to be reproduced later, the very things they said.
It was a day or so after he had demonstrated his new attachment
for the first time, that Tom received a most urgent message from
Mrs. Damon.
"Tom," she said, over the telephone, "I wish you would call.
Something very mysterious has happened."
"Mr. Damon hasn't come back; has he?" asked Tom eagerly.
"No--but I wish I could say he had. This concerns him, however.
Can you come?"
"I'll be there right away."
In his speedy monoplane Tom soon reached Waterford. Ned did not
accompany him this time.
"Now what is it, Mrs. Damon?" asked the young inventor.
"About half an hour before I called you," she said, "I received a
mysterious message."
"Who brought it?" asked Tom quickly.
"No one. It came over the telephone. Someone, whose voice I did
not know, said to me: 'Sign the land papers, and send them to us,
and your husband will be released.'"
"That message came over the wire?" cried Tom, excitedly.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Damon. "Oh, I am so frightened! I don't know
what to do!" and the lady burst into tears.
CHAPTER XVIII
ANOTHER CALL
Tom Swift, for the moment, did not know what to do. It was a
strange situation, and one he had never thought of. What did the
mysterious message mean? He must think it all out, and plan some
line of action. Clearly Mrs. Damon was not able to do so.
"Now let's get at this in some kind of order," suggested the
youth, when Mrs. Damon had calmed herself. It was his habit to
have a method about doing things. "And don't worry," he advised.
"I am certain some good will come of this. It proves one thing,
that's sure."
"What is it, Tom?"
"That Mr. Damon is alive and well. Otherwise the message would not
have said he would be 'released.' It wasn't from anyone you know;
was it?"
"No, I'm sure I never heard the voice before."
Tom paused a moment to think how useful his photo telephone and
phonograph arrangement might have been in this case.
"How did the telephone call come in?" inquired the young inventor.
"In the usual way," answered Mrs. Damon. "The bell rang, and, as I
happened to be near the instrument, I answered it, as I often do,
when the maid is busy. A voice asked if I was Mrs. Damon, and of
course I said I was. Then I heard this: 'Sign the land papers, and
send them to us, and your husband will be released.'"
"Was that all?" Tom asked.
"I think so--I made a note of it at the time." Mrs. Damon looked
into a small red book. "No, that wasn't all," she said, quickly.
"I was so astonished, at hearing those strange words about my
husband, that I didn't know what to say. Before I could ask any
questions the voice went on to say, rather abruptly: 'We will call
you again.'"
"That's good!" cried Tom. "I only hope they do it while I am here.
Perhaps I can get some clue as to who it was called you. But was
this all you heard?"
"Yes, I'm sure that was all. I had forgotten about the last words,
but I see I have them written down in my note book."
"Did you ask any questions?" inquired Tom.
"Oh, indeed I did! As soon as I got over being stunned by what I
heard, I asked all sorts of questions. I demanded to know who was
speaking, what they meant, where they were, and all that. I begged
them to tell me something of my husband."
"And what did they say?"
"Not a thing. There wasn't a sound in the telephone. The receiver
was hung up, breaking the connection after that message to me--that
mysterious message."
"Yes, it was mysterious," agreed Tom, thoughtfully. "I can't
understand it. But didn't you try to learn from the central
operator where the call had come from?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, Tom! As soon as I found out the person speaking
to me had rung off, I got the girl in the exchange."
"And what did she say?"
"That the call came from an automatic pay station in a drug store
in town. I have the address. It was one of those telephones where
you put your money for the call in a slot."
"I see. Well, the first thing to do is for me to go to that drug
store and find out, if I can, who used the telephone about that
time. It's a slim chance, but we'll have to take it. Was it a
man's voice, or a woman's?"
"Oh, a man's, I'm sure. It was very deep and heavy. No woman could
speak like that."
"So much is settled, anyhow. Now about the land papers--what was
meant?"
"I'll tell you," said Mrs. Damon. "You know part of our
property--considerable land and some buildings--is in my name. Mr. Damon
had it fixed so a number of years ago, in order to protect me. No one
could get this property, and land, unless I signed the deeds, or
agreed to sign them. Now all of Mr. Damon's fortune is tied up in
some of Mr. Peters's companies. That is why my husband has
disappeared."
"He didn't disappear--he was taken away against his will; I'm
positive of that!" exclaimed Tom.
"Perhaps so," agreed Mrs. Damon, sadly. "But those are the papers
referred to, I'm sure."
"Probably," assented Tom. "The rascals want to get control of
everything--even your possessions. Not satisfied with ruining Mr.
Damon, they want to make you a beggar, too. So they are playing on
your fears. They promise to release your husband if you will give
them the land."
"Yes, that must be it, Tom. What would you advise me to do? I am
so frightened over this!"
"Do? Don't you do anything!" cried Tom. "We'll fool these rascals
yet. If they got those papers they might release Mr. Damon, or
they might not--fearing he would cause their arrest later. But
we'll have him released anyhow, and we'll save what is left of
your fortune. Put those land papers in a safe-deposit box, and let
me do the rest. I'm going to catch those fellows!"
"But how, Tom? You don't know who they are. And a mere message
over a telephone won't give you a clue to where they are."
"Perhaps not an ordinary message," agreed Tom. "But I'm going to
try some of my new inventions. You said they told you they were
going to call again?"
"That's what they said, Tom."
"Well, when they do, I want to be here. I want to listen to that
message. If you will allow me, I'll take up my residence here for
a while, Mrs. Damon."
"Allow you? I'll be only too glad if you will, Tom. But I thought
you were going to try to get some clue from the drug store where
the mysterious message came from."
"I'll let Ned Newton do that. I want to stay here."
Tom telephoned to Ned to meet him at Mrs. Damon's house, and also
to bring with him certain things from the laboratory. And when Ned
arrived in an auto, with various bits of apparatus, Tom put in
some busy hours.
Meanwhile Ned was sent to the drug store, to see if any clues
could be obtained there as to who had sent the message. As Tom had
feared, nothing could be learned. There were several automatic
'phones in the place, and they were used very often during the day
by the public. The drug clerks took little or no notice of the
persons entering or leaving the booths, since the dropping of a
coin in the slot was all that was necessary to be connected with
central.
"Well, we've got to wait for the second call here," said Tom, who
had been busy during Ned's absence. He had fitted to Mrs. Damon's
telephone a recording wax phonograph cylinder, to get a record of
the speaker's voice. And he had also put in an extension
telephone, so that he could listen while Mrs. Damon talked to the
unknown.
"There, I guess we're ready for them," said Tom, late that
afternoon. But no queer call came in that day. It was the next
morning, about ten o'clock, after Mrs. Damon had passed a restless
night, that the telephone bell rang. Tom, who was on the alert,
was at his auxiliary instrument in a flash. He motioned to Mrs.
Damon to answer on the main wire.
"Hello," she spoke into the transmitter. "Who is this?"
"Are you Mrs. Damon?" Tom heard come over the wire in a deep
voice, and by the manner in which Mrs. Damon signalled the young
inventor knew that, at the other end of the line, was the
mysterious man who had spoken before.
CHAPTER XIX
THE BUZZING SOUND
"Are you Mrs. Damon?" came the question again--rather more
impatiently this time, Tom thought.
"Yes," answered the lady, glancing over at Tom. The extension
telephone was in the same room. Softly Tom switched on the
phonograph attachment. The little wax cylinder began to revolve
noiselessly, ready to record the faintest word that came over the
wire.
"You got a message from me yesterday," went on the hoarse voice.
In vain Tom tried to recall whether or not he had heard it before.
He could not place it.
"Who are you?" asked Mrs. Damon. She and Tom had previously agreed
on a line of talk. "Tell me your name, please."
"There's no need for any names to be used," went on the unknown at
the other end of the wire. "You heard what I said yesterday. Are
you willing to send me those land title papers, if we release your
husband?"
"But where shall I send them?" asked Mrs. Damon, to gain time.
"You'll be told where. And listen--no tricks! You needn't try to
find out who I am, nor where I am. Just send those papers if you
want to see your husband again."
"Oh, how is he? Tell me about him! You are cruel to keep him a
prisoner like this! I demand that you release him!"
Tom had not told Mrs. Damon to say this. It came out of her own
heart--she could not prevent the agonized outburst.
"Never mind about that, now," came the gruff voice over the wire.
"Are you willing to send the papers?"
Mrs. Damon looked over to Tom for silent instructions. He nodded
his head in assent.
"Yes, I--I will send them if you tell me where to get them to you--if
you will release Mr. Damon," said the anxious wife. "But tell
me who you are--and where you are!" she begged.
"None of that! I'm not looking to be arrested. You get the papers
ready, and I'll let you know to-morrow, about this time, where to
send them."
"Wait a minute!" called Mrs. Damon, to gain more time. "I must
know just what papers you want."
"All right, I'll tell you," and he began to describe the different
ones.
It took a little time for the unknown to give this information to
Mrs. Damon. The man was very particular about the papers. There
were trust deeds, among other things, and he probably thought that
once he had possession of them, with Mrs. Damon's signature, even
though it had been obtained under a threat, he could claim the
property. Later it was learned that such was not the case, for
Mrs. Damon, with Tom's aid, could have proved the fraud, had the
scoundrels tried to get the remainder of the Damon fortune.
But at the time it seemed to the helpless woman that everything
she owned would be taken from her. Though she said she did not
care, as long as Mr. Damon was restored to her.
As I have said, the telephoning of the instructions about the
papers took some time. Tom had counted on this, and had made his
plans accordingly.
As soon as the telephone call had come in, Tom had communicated
with a private detective who was in waiting, and this man had gone
to the drug store whence the first call had come. He was going to
try to make the arrest of the man telephoning.
But for fear the scoundrel would go to a different instrument, Tom
took another precaution. This was to have one of the operators in
the central exchange on the watch. As soon as Mrs. Damon's house
was in connection with another telephone, the location of the
latter would be noted, and another private detective would be sent
there. Thus Tom hoped to catch the man at the 'phone.
Meanwhile Tom listened to the hoarse voice at the other end of the
wire, giving the directions to Mrs. Damon. Tom hoped that soon
there would be an arrest made.
Meanwhile the talk was being faithfully recorded on the phonograph
cylinder. And, as the man talked on, Tom became aware of a curious
undercurrent of sound. It was a buzzing noise, that Tom knew did
not come from the instrument itself. It was not the peculiar
tapping, singing noise heard in a telephone receiver, caused by
induced electrical currents, or by wire trouble.
"This is certainly different," mused Tom. He was trying to recall
where he had heard the noise before. Sometimes it was faint, and
then it would gradually increase, droning off into faintness once
more. Occasionally it was so loud that Mrs. Damon could not hear
the talk about the papers, and the man would have to repeat.
But finally he came to an end.
"This is all now," he said, sharply. Tom heard the words above the
queer, buzzing, humming sound. "You are keeping me too long. I
think you are up to some game, but it won't do you any good, Mrs.
Damon. I'll 'phone you to-morrow where to send the papers. And if
you don't send them--if you try any tricks--it will be the worse
for you and Mr. Damon!"
There was a click, that told of a receiver being placed back on
the hook, and the voice ceased. So, also, did the queer, buzzing
sound over which Tom puzzled.
"What can it have been?" he asked. "Did you hear it, Mrs. Damon?"
"What, Tom?"
"That buzzing sound."
"Yes, I heard, but I didn't know what it was. Oh, Tom, what shall
I do?"
"Don't worry. We'll see if anything happened. They may have caught
that fellow. If not I'll plan another scheme."
Tom's first act was to call up the telephone exchange to learn
where the second call had come from. He got the information at
once. The address was in the suburbs. The man had not gone to the
drug store this time.
"Did the detective get out to that address?" asked Tom eagerly of
the manager.
"Yes. As soon as we were certain that he was the party you wanted,
your man got right after him, Mr. Swift."
"That's good, I hope he catches him!" cried the young inventor. "We'll
have to wait and find out."
"He said he'd call up and let you know as soon as he reached the
place," the telephone manager informed Tom.
There was nothing to do but wait, and meanwhile Tom did what he
could to comfort Mrs. Damon. She was quite nervous and inclined to
be hysterical, and the youth thought it wise to have a cousin, who
had come to stay with her, summon the doctor.
"But, Tom, what shall I do about those papers?" Mrs. Damon asked
him. "Shall I send them?"
"Indeed not!"
"But I want Mr. Damon restored to me," she pleaded. "I don't care
about the money. He can make more."
"Well, we'll not give those scoundrels the satisfaction of getting
any money out of you. Just wait now, I'll work this thing out, and
find a way to catch that fellow. If I could only think what that
buzzing sound was--"
Then, in a flash, it came to Tom.
"A sawmill! A planing mill!" he cried. "That's what it was! That
fellow was telephoning from some place near a sawmill!"
The telephone rang in the midst of Tom's excited comments.
"Yes--yes!" he called eagerly. "Who is it--what is it?"
"This is Larsen--the private detective you sent."
"Oh, yes, you were at the drug store."
"Yes, Mr. Swift. Well, that party didn't call up from here."
"I know, Larsen. It was from another station. We're after him.
Much obliged to you. Come on back."
Tom was sure his theory was right. The man had called up the Damon
house from some telephone near a sawmill. And a little later Tom's
theory was proved to be true. He got a report from the second
detective. Unfortunately the man had not been able to reach the
telephone station before the unknown speaker had departed.
"Was the place near a sawmill?" asked Tom, eagerly.
"It was," answered the detective over the wire. "The telephone is
right next door to one. It's an automatic pay station and no one
seems to have noticed who the man was who telephoned. I couldn't
get a single clue. I'm sorry."
"Never mind," said Tom, as cheerfully as he could. "I think I'm on
the right track now. I'm going to lay a trap for this fellow."
CHAPTER XX
SETTING THE TRAP
Troublesome problems seemed to be multiplying for Tom Swift. He
admitted as much himself after the failure to capture the man who
had telephoned to Mrs. Damon. He had hoped that his plan of
sending detectives to the location of the telephones would
succeed. Since it had not the youth must try other means.
"Now, Ned," he said to his chum, when they were on their way from
Mrs. Damon's, it being impossible to do anything further there.
"Now, Ned, we've got to think this thing out together."
"I'm willing, Tom. I'll do what I can."
"I know you will. Now the thing to do is to go at this thing
systematically. Otherwise we'll be working around in a circle, and
won't get anywhere. In the first place, let's set down what we do
know. Then we'll put down what we don't know, and go after that."
"Put down what you don't know?" exclaimed Ned. "How are you going
to put down a thing when you don't know it?"
"I mean we can put a question mark after it, so to speak. For
instance we don't know where Mr. Damon is, but we want to find
out."
"Oh, I see. Well, let's start off with the things we do know."
The two friends were at Tom's house by now, having come from
Waterford in Tom's airship. After thinking over all the exciting
happenings of the past few days, Tom remarked: "Now, Ned, for the
things we do know. In the first place Mr. Damon is missing, and
his fortune is about gone. There is considerable left to Mrs.
Damon, however, but those scoundrels may get that away from her,
if we don't watch out. Secondly, my airship was taken and brought
back, with a button more than it had when it went away. Said
button exactly matched one off Mr. Boylan's coat."
"Thirdly, Mr. Damon was either taken away or went away, in an
airship--either in mine or someone else's. Fourthly, Mrs. Damon
has received telephonic communications from the man, or men, who
have her husband. Fifthly, Mr. Peters, either legally or
illegally, is responsible for the loss of Mr. Damon's fortune.
Now: there you are--for the things we do know."
"Now for the things we don't know. We don't know who has taken
Mr. Damon away, nor where he is, to begin with the most important."
"Hold on, Tom, I think you're wrong," broke in Ned.
"In what way?"
"About not knowing who is responsible for the taking away of Mr.
Damon. I think it's as plain as the nose on your face that Peters
is responsible."
"I can't see it that way," said Tom, quickly. "I will admit that
it looks as though Boylan had been in my airship, but as for
Peters taking Mr. Damon away--why, Peters is around town all the
while, and if he had a hand in the disappearance of Mr. Damon, do
you think he'd stay here, when he knows we are working on the
case? And would he send Boylan to see me if Boylan had been one of
those who had a hand in it? They wouldn't dare, especially as they
know I'm working on the case."
"Peters is a bad lot. I'll grant you, though, he was fair enough
to pay for my motor boat. I don't believe he had anything to do
with taking Mr. Damon away."
"Do you think he was the person who was talking to Mrs. Damon
about the papers?"
"No, Ned. I don't. I listened to that fellow's voice carefully. It
wasn't like Peters's. I'm going to put it in the phonograph, too,
and let you listen to it. Then see what you say."
Tom did this, a little later. The record of the voice, as it came
over the wire, was listened to from the wax cylinder, and Ned had
to admit that it was not much like that of the promoter.
"Well, what's next to be done?" asked the young banker.
"I'm going to set a trap," replied Tom, with a grin.
"Set a trap?"
"Yes, a sort of mouse-trap. I'm glad my photo telephone is now
perfected, Ned."
"What has that got to do with it?"
"That's going to be my trap, Ned. Here is my game. You know this
fellow--this strange unknown--is going to call up Mrs. Damon
to-morrow. Well, I'll be ready for him. I'm going to put in the booth
where he will telephone from, one of my photo telephones--that is, the
sending apparatus. In Mrs. Damon's house, attached to her telephone,
will be the receiving plate, as well as the phonograph cylinder."
"When this fellow starts to talk he'll be sending us his picture,
though he won't know it, and we'll be getting a record of his
voice. Then we'll have him just where we want him."
"Good!" cried Ned. "But, Tom, there's a weak spot in your mouse-trap."
"What is it?"
"How are you going to know which telephone the unknown will call
up from? He may go to any of a hundred, more or less."
"He might--yes. But that's a chance we've got to take. It isn't so
much of a chance, though when you stop to think that he will
probably go to some public telephone in an isolated spot, and,
unless I'm much mistaken he will go to a telephone near where he
was to-day. He knows that was safe, since we didn't capture him,
and he's very likely to come back."
"But to make the thing as sure as possible, I'm going to attach my
apparatus to a number of public telephones in the vicinity of the
one near the sawmill. So if the fellow doesn't get caught in one,
he will in another. I admit it's taking a chance; but what else
can we do?"
"I suppose you're right, Tom. It's like setting a number of
traps."
"Exactly. A trapper can't be sure where he is going to get his
catch, so he picks out the place, or run-way, where the game has
been in the habit of coming. He hides his traps about that place,
and trusts to luck that the animal will blunder into one of them."
"Criminals, to my way of thinking, are a good bit like animals.
They seem to come back to their old haunts. Nearly any police
story proves this. And it's that on which I am counting to capture
this criminal. So I'm going to fit up as many telephones with my
photo and phonograph outfit, as I can in the time we have. You'll
have to help me. Luckily I've got plenty of selenium plates for
the sending end. I'll only need one at the receiving end. Now
we'll have to go and have a talk with the telephone manager, after
which we'll get busy."
"You've overlooked one thing, Tom."
"What's that, Ned?"
"Why, if you know about which telephone this fellow is going to
use, why can't you have police stationed near it to capture him as
soon as he begins to talk?"
"Well, I did think of that, Ned; but it won't work."
"Why not?"
"Because, in the first place this man, or some of his friends,
will be on the watch. When he goes into the place to telephone
there'll be a look-out, I'm sure, and he'd either put off talking
to Mrs. Damon, or he'd escape before we had any evidence against
him."
"You see I've got to get evidence that will stand in the courts to
convict this fellow, and if he's scared off before we get that,
the game will be up."
"That's what my photo telephone will do--it will get the evidence,
just as a dictaphone does. In fact, I'm thinking of working it out
on those lines, after I clear up this business."
"Just suppose we had detectives stationed at all the telephones
near the sawmill, where this fellow would be likely to go. In the
first place no one has seen him, as far as we know, so there's no
telling what sort of a chap he is. And you can't go up to a
perfect stranger and arrest him because you think he is the man
who has spirited away Mr. Damon."
"Another thing. Until this fellow has talked, and made his offer
to Mrs. Damon, to restore her husband, in exchange for certain
papers, we have no hold over him."
"But he has done that, Tom. You heard him, and you have his voice
down on the wax cylinder."
"Yes, but I haven't had a glimpse of his face. That's what I want,
and what I'm going to get. Suppose he does go into the telephone
booth, and tell Mrs. Damon an address where she is to send the
papers. Even if a detective was near at hand he might not catch
what was said. Or, if he did, on what ground could he arrest a man
who, very likely, would be a perfect stranger to him? The
detective couldn't say: 'I take you into custody for telephoning
an address to Mrs. Damon.' That, in itself, is no crime."
"No, I suppose not," admitted Ned. "You've got this all thought
out, Tom."
"I hope I have. You see it takes quite a combination to get
evidence against a criminal--evidence that will convict him.
That's why I have to be so careful in setting my trap."
"I see, Tom. Well, it's about time for us to get busy; isn't it?"
"It sure is. There's lots to do. First we'll go see the telephone
people."
Tom explained to the 'phone manager the necessity for what he was
about to do. The manager at once agreed to let the young inventor
have a free hand. He was much interested in the photo telephone,
and Tom promised to give his company a chance to use it on their
lines, later.
The telephone near the sawmill was easily located. It was in a
general store, and the instrument was in a booth. To this
instrument Tom attached his sending plate, and he also substituted
for the ordinary incandescent light, a powerful tungsten one, that
would give illumination enough to cause the likeness to be
transmitted over the wire.
The same thing was done to a number of the public telephones in
that vicinity, each one being fitted up so that the picture of
whoever talked would be transmitted over the wire when Tom turned
the switch. To help the plan further the telephone manager marked
a number of other 'phones, "Out of Order," for the time being.
"Now, I think we're done!" exclaimed the young inventor, with a
sigh, late that night. He and Ned and the line manager had worked
hard.
"Yes," answered the young banker, "the traps are set. The question
is: Will our rat be caught?"
CHAPTER XXI
THE PHOTO TELEPHONE
Tom Swift was taking, as he afterward confessed, "a mighty big
chance." But it seemed the only way. He was working against
cunning men, and had to be as cunning as they.
True, the man he hoped to capture, through the combination of his
photo telephone and the phonograph, might go to some other
instrument than one of those Tom had adjusted. But this could not
be helped. In all he had put his new attachment on eight 'phones
in the vicinity of the sawmill. So he had eight chances in his
favor, and as many against him as there were other telephones in
use.
"It's a mighty small margin in our favor," sighed Tom.
"It sure is," agreed Ned. They were at Mrs. Damon's house,
waiting for the call to come in.
"But we couldn't do anything else," went on Tom.
"No," spoke Ned, "and I have a great deal of hope in the
proverbial Swift luck, Tom."
"Well, I only hope it holds good this time!" laughed the young
inventor.
"There are a good many things that can go wrong," observed Ned.
"The least little slip-up may spoil your traps, Tom."
"I know it, Ned. But I've got to take the chance. We've just got
to do something for Mrs. Damon. She's wearing herself out by
worrying," he added in a low voice, for indeed the wife of his
friend felt the absence of her husband greatly. She had lost
flesh, she ate scarcely anything, and her nights were wakeful ones
of terror.
"What if this fails?" asked Ned.
"Then I'm going to work that button clue to the limit," replied
Tom. "I'll go to Boylan and see what he and Peters have to say."
"If you'd done as I suggested you'd have gone to them first,"
spoke Ned. "You'll find they're mixed up in this."
"Maybe; but I doubt it. I tell you there isn't a clue leading to
Peters--as yet."
"But there will be," insisted Ned. "You'll see that that I'm right
this time."
"I can't see it, Ned. As a matter of fact, I would have gone to
Boylan about that button I found in my airship only I've been so
busy on this photo telephone, and in arranging the trap, that I
haven't had time. But if this fails--and I'm hoping it won't--I'll
get after him," and there was a grim look on the young inventor's
face.
It was wearying and nervous work--this waiting. Tom and Ned felt
the strain as they sat there in Mrs. Damon's library, near the
telephone. It had been fitted up in readiness. Attached to the
receiving wires was a sensitive plate, on which Tom hoped would be
imprinted the image of the man at the other end of the wire--the
criminal who, in exchange for the valuable land papers, would give
Mr. Damon his liberty.
There was also the phonograph cylinder to record the man's voice.
Several times, while waiting for the call to come in, Tom got up
to test the apparatus. It was in perfect working order.
As before, there was an extension telephone, so that Mrs. Damon
could talk to the unknown, while Tom could hear as well. But he
planned to take no part in the conversation unless something
unforeseen occurred.
Mr. Damon was an enthusiastic photographer, and he had a dark room
adjoining his library. It was in this dark room that Tom planned
to develop the photo telephone plate.
On this occasion he was not going to use the metal plate in which,
ordinarily, the image of the person talking appeared. That record
was but a fleeting one, as in a mirror. This time Tom wanted a
permanent picture that could, if necessary, be used in a court of
justice.
Tom's plan was this: If the person who had demanded the papers
came to one of the photo telephones, and spoke to Mrs. Damon, Tom
would switch on the receiving apparatus. Thus, while the man was
talking, his picture would be taken, though he would not know of
the thing being done.
His voice would also be recorded on the wax cylinder, and he would
be equally unaware of this.
When Tom had imprinted the fellow's image on the prepared plate,
he would go quickly to the dark room and develop it. A wet print
could be made, and with this as evidence, and to use in
identification, a quick trip could be made to the place whence the
man had telephoned. Tom hoped thus to capture him.
To this end he had his airship in waiting, and as soon as he had
developed the picture he planned to rush off to the vicinity of
the sawmill, and make a prisoner of the man whose features would
be revealed to him over the wire.
It was a hazardous plan--a risky one--but it was the best that he
could evolve. Tom had instructed Mrs. Damon to keep the man in
conversation as long as possible, in order to give the young
inventor himself time to rush off in his airship. But of course
the man might get suspicious and leave. That was another chance
that had to be taken.
"If I had thought of it in time," said Tom, musingly, as he paced
up and down in the library waiting for the 'phone to ring, "if I
had thought of it in time I would have rigged up two plates--one
for a temporary, or looking-glass, picture, and the other for a
permanent one. In that way I could rush off as soon as I got a
glimpse of the fellow. But it's too late to do that now. I'll have
to develop this plate."
Waiting is the most wearisome work there is. Tom and Ned found
this to be the case, as they sat there, hoping each moment that
the telephone bell would ring, and that the man at the other end
of the wire would be the mysterious stranger. Mrs. Damon, too,
felt the nervous strain.
"This is about the hour he called up yesterday," said Tom, in a
low voice, after coming back from a trip to the window to see that
his airship was in readiness. He had brought Koku over to help in
starting it, for he was using his most powerful and speedy craft,
and the propellers were hard to turn.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Damon. "It was just about this hour, Tom. Oh,
I do hope--"
She was interrupted by the jingle of the telephone bell. With a
jump Tom was at the auxiliary instrument, while Mrs. Damon lifted
off the receiver of her own telephone.
"Yes; what is it?" she asked, in a voice that she tried to make
calm.
"Do you know who this is?" Tom heard come over the wire.
"Are you the--er--the person who was to give me an address where I
am to send certain papers?"
"Yes. I'm the same one. I'm glad to see that you have acted
sensibly. If I get the papers all right, you'll soon have your
husband back. Now do as I say. Take down this address."
"Very well," assented Mrs. Damon. She looked over at Tom. He was
intently listening, and he, too, would note the address given. The
trap was about to be sprung. The game had walked into it. Just
which telephone was being used Tom could not as yet tell. It was
evidently not the one nearest the planing mill, for Tom could not
hear the buzzing sound. It was well he had put his attachment on
several instruments.
"One moment, please," said Mrs. Damon, to the unknown at the other
end of the wire. This was in accordance with the pre-arranged
plan.
"Well, what is it?" asked the man, impatiently. "I have no time to
waste."
Tom heard again the same gruff tones, and he tried in vain to
recognize them.
"I want you take down a message to Mr. Damon," said his wife.
"This is very important. It can do you no harm to give him this
message; but I want you to get it exact. If you do not promise to
deliver it I shall call all negotiations off."
"Oh, all right I'll take the message; but be quick about it. Then
I'll give you the address where you are to send the papers."
"This is the message," went on Mrs. Damon. "Please write it down.
It is very important to me. Have you a pencil?"
"Yes, I have one. Wait until I get a bit of paper. It's so dark in
this booth--wait until I turn on the light."
Tom could not repress a pleased and joyful exclamation. It was
just what he had hoped the man would do--turn on the light in the
booth. Indeed, it was necessary for the success of the trap that
the light be switched on. Otherwise no picture could be
transmitted over the wire. And the plan of having the man write
down a message to Mr. Damon was arranged with that end in view.
The man would need a light to see to write, and Tom's apparatus
must be lighted in order to make it work. The plot was coming
along finely.
"There!" exclaimed the man at the other end of the wire. "I have a
light now. Go ahead with your message, Mrs. Damon. But make it
short. I can't stay here long."
Then Mrs. Damon began dictating the message she and Tom had agreed
upon. It was as long as they dared make it, for they wanted to
keep the man in the booth to the last second.
"Dear Husband," began Mrs. Damon. What the message was does not
matter. It has nothing to do with this story. Sufficient to say
that the moment the man began writing it down, as Tom could tell
over the sensitive wire, by the scratching of the pencil--at that
moment Tom, knowing the light was on in the distant telephone
booth, switched on the picture-taking apparatus. His receiving
apparatus at once indicated that the image was being made on the
sensitive plate.
It took only a few seconds of time, and with the plate in the
holder Tom hastened to the dark room to develop it. Ned took his
chum's place at the telephone, to see that all worked smoothly.
The photo telephone had done it's work. Whose image would be found
imprinted on the sensitive plate? Tom's hands trembled so that he
could scarcely put it in the developing solution.
CHAPTER XXII
THE ESCAPE
Ned Newton, listening at the auxiliary telephone heard the man, to
whom Mrs. Damon was dictating her message to her husband, utter an
exclamation of impatience.
"I'm afraid I can't take down any more," he called. "That is
enough. Now you listen. I want you to send me those papers."
"And I am willing to," went on Mrs. Damon, while Ned listened to
the talk, the phonograph faithfully recording it.
"I wonder whose picture Tom will find," mused Ned.
The unknown, at the other end of the wire, began giving Mrs. Damon
a description of just what papers he wanted, and how to mail them
to him. He gave an address that Ned recognized as that of a cigar
store, where many persons received their mail under assumed names.
The postal authorities had, for a long time, tried to get evidence
against it.
"That's going to make it hard to get him, when he comes for the
papers," thought Ned. "He's a foxy criminal, all right. But I
guess Tom will turn the trick."
Mrs. Damon was carefully noting down the address. She really
intended to send the papers, if it proved that there was no other
way in which she could secure the release of her husband. But she
did not count on all of Tom's plans. "Why doesn't he develop that
plate?" thought Ned. "He'll be too late, in spite of his airship.
That fellow will skip."
It was at that moment that Tom came into the library. He moved
cautiously, for he realized that a loud sound in the room would
carry to the man at the other end of the wire. Tom motioned for
Ned to come to him. He held out a dripping photographic plate.
"It's Peters!" said Tom, in a hoarse whisper.
"Peters?" gasped Ned. "How could it be? His voice--"
"I know. It didn't sound a bit like Peters over the 'phone, but
there's his picture, all right!"
Tom held up the plate. There, imprinted on it by the wonderful
power of the young inventor's latest appliance, was the image of
the rascally promoter. As plainly as in life he was shown, even to
his silk hat and the flower in his button-hole. He was in a
telephone booth--that much could be told from the photograph that
had been transmitted over the wire, but which booth could not be
said--they were nearly all alike.
"Peters!" gasped Ned. "I thought he was the fellow, Tom."
"Yes, I know. You were right, and I was wrong. But I did not
recognize his voice. It was very hoarse. He must have a bad cold."
Later this was learned to have been the case. "There's no time to
lose," whispered Tom, while Mrs. Damon was doing her best to
prolong the conversation in order to hold the man at the other end
of the wire. "Ned, get central on the other telephone, and see
where this call came from. Then we'll get there as fast as the
airship will take us."
A second and temporary telephone line had been installed in the
Damon home, and on this Ned was soon talking, while Tom, putting
the photographic plate away for future use, rushed out to get his
airship in shape for a quick flight. He had modified his plans.
Instead of having a detective take a print of the photo telephone
image, and make the arrest, Tom was going to try to capture Peters
himself. He believed he could do it. One look at the wet plate was
enough. He knew Peters, though it upset some of his theories to
learn that it was the promoter who was responsible for Mr. Damon's
disappearance.
The man at the other end of the wire was evidently getting
impatient. Possibly he suspected some trick. "I've got to go now,"
he called to Mrs. Damon. "If I don't get those papers in the
morning it will be the worse for Mr. Damon."
"Oh, I'll send you the papers," she said.
By this time Ned had gotten into communication with the manager of
the central telephone exchange, and had learned the location of
the instrument Peters was using. It was about a mile from the one
near the sawmill.
"Come on!" called Tom to his chum, as the latter gave him this
information. "The Firefly is tuned up for a hundred miles an hour!
We'll be there in ten minutes! We must catch him red-handed, if
possible!"
"He's gone!" gasped Mrs. Damon as she came to the outer door, and
watched Tom and Ned taking their places in the airship, while Koku
prepared to twirl the propellers.
"Gone!" echoed Tom, blankly.
"Yes, he hung up the receiver."
"See if you can't get him back," suggested the young inventor.
"Ask Central to ring that number again. We'll be there in a jiffy.
Maybe he'll come to the telephone again. Or he may even call up
his partners and tell them the game is working his way. Try to get
him back, Mrs. Damon."
"I will," she said.
And, as she hurried back to the instrument, Tom and Ned shot up
toward the blue sky in an endeavor to capture the man at the other
telephone.
"And to think it was Peters!" cried Tom into Ned's ear, shouting
to be heard above the roar of the motor exhaust.
"I thought he'd turn out to be mixed up in the affair," said Ned.
"Well, you were right. I was off, that time," admitted Tom, as he
guided his powerful craft above the trees. "I was willing to admit
that he had something to do with Mr. Damon's financial trouble,
but as for kidnapping him--well, you never can tell."
They drove on at a breath-catching pace, and it seemed hardly a
minute after leaving Mrs. Damon's house before Tom called:
"There's the building where the telephone is located."
"And now for that rascal Peters!" cried Ned.
The airship swooped down, to the great astonishment of some
workmen nearby.
Hardly had the wheels ceased revolving on the ground, as Tom made
a quick landing, than he was out of his seat, and running toward
the telephone. He knew the place at once from having heard Ned's
description, and besides, this was one of the places where he had
installed his apparatus.
Into the store Tom burst, and made a rush for the 'phone booth. He
threw open the door. The place was empty!
"The man--the man who was telephoning!" Tom called to the
proprietor of the place.
"You mean that big man, with the tall hat, who was in there so
long?"
"Yes, where is he?"
"Gone. About two minutes ago."
"Which way?"
"Over toward Shopton, and in one of the fastest autos that ever
scattered dust in this section."
"He's escaped us!" said Tom to Ned. "But we'll get him yet! Come
on!"
"I'm with you. Say, do you know what this looks like to me?"
"What?"
"It looks as if Peters was scared and was going to run away to
stay!"
CHAPTER XXIII
ON THE TRAIL
Such a crowd had quickly gathered about Tom's airship that it was
impossible to start it. Men and boys, and even some girls and
women, coming from no one knew where, stood about the machine,
making wondering remarks about it.
"Stand back, if you please!" cried Tom, good-naturedly. "We've
got to get after the fellow in the auto."
"You'll have hard work catching him, friend, in that rig,"
remarked a man. "He was fracturing all the speed laws ever passed.
I reckon he was going nigh onto sixty miles an hour."
"We can make a hundred," spoke Ned, quietly.
"A hundred! Get out!" cried the man. "Nothing can go as fast as
that!"
"We'll show you, if we once get started," said Tom. "I guess we'll
have to get one of these fellows to twirl the propellers for us,
Ned," he added. "I didn't think, or I'd have brought the self-starting
machine," for this one of Tom's had to be started by someone
turning over the propellers, once or twice, to enable the motor
to begin to speed. On some of his aircraft the young inventor had
attached a starter, something like the ones on the newest autos.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ned, as Tom looked to the
priming of the cylinders.
"I'm going to get on the trail of Peters," he said. "He's at the
bottom of the whole business; and it's a surprise to me. I'm going
to trail him right down to the ground now, and make him give up
Mr. Damon and his fortune."
"But you don't know where he is, Tom."
"I'll find out. He isn't such an easy man to miss--he's too
conspicuous. Besides, if he's just left in his auto we may catch
him before he gets to Shopton."
"Do you think he's going there?"
"I think so. And I think, Ned, that he's become suspicious and
will light out. Something must have happened, while he was
telephoning, and he got frightened, as big a bluff as he is. But
we'll get him. Come on! Will you turn over the propellers, please?
I'll show you how to do it," Tom went on to a big, strong man
standing close to the blades.
"Sure I'll do it," was the answer. "I was a helper once at an
airship meet, and I know how."
"Get back out of the way in time," the young inventor warned him.
"They start very suddenly, sometimes."
"All right, friend, I'll watch out," was the reply, and with Tom
and Ned in their seats, the former at the steering wheel, the
craft of the air was soon throbbing and trembling under the first
turn, for the cylinders were still warm from the run from Mrs.
Damon's house.
The telephone was in an outlying section of Waterford--a section
devoted in the main to shops and factories, and the homes of those
employed in various lines of manufacture. Peters had chosen his
place well, for there were many roads leading to and from this
section, and he could easily make his escape.
"But we'll get after him," thought Tom, grimly, as he let the
airship run down the straight road a short distance on the bicycle
wheels, to give it momentum enough so that it would rise.
Then, with the tilting of the elevation rudder, the craft rose
gracefully, amid admiring cheers from the crowd. Tom did not go up
very far, as he wanted to hover near the ground, to pick out the
speeding auto containing Peters.
But this time luck was not with Tom. He and Ned did sight a number
of cars speeding along the highway toward Shopton, but when they
got near enough to observe the occupants they were disappointed
not to behold the man they sought. Tom circled about for some
time, but it was of no use, and then he headed his craft back
toward Waterford.
"Where are you going?" asked Ned, yelling the words into the ear
of his chum.
"Back to Mrs. Damon's," answered Tom, in equally loud tones.
It was impossible to talk above the roaring and throbbing of the
motor, so the two lads kept silent until the airship had landed
near Mrs. Damon's home.
"I want to see if Mrs. Damon is all right," Tom explained, as he
jumped from the still moving machine. "Then we'll go to Shopton,
and cause Peters's arrest. I can make a charge against him now,
and the evidence of the photo telephone will convict him, I'm
sure. And I also want to see if Mrs. Damon has had any other
word."
She had not, however, though she was more nervous and worried than
ever.
"Oh, Tom, what shall I do?" she exclaimed. "I am so frightened!
What do you suppose they will do to Mr. Damon?"
"Nothing at all!" Tom assured her. "He will be all right. I think
matters are coming to a crisis now, and very likely he'll be with
you inside of twenty-four hours. The game is up, and I guess
Peters knows it. I'm going to have him arrested at once."
"Shall I send those land papers, Tom?"
"Indeed you must not! But I'll talk to you about that later. Just
put away that phonograph record of Peters's talk. I'll take along
the photo telephone negative, and have some prints made--or, I
guess, since we're going in the airship, that I'd better leave it
here for the present. We'll use it as evidence against Peters.
Come on, Ned."
"Where to now?"
"Peters's house. He's probably there, arranging to cover up his
tracks when he lights out."
But Shallock Peters did better than merely cover up his tracks. He
covered himself up, so to speak. For when Ned and Tom, after a
quick flight in the airship, reached his house, the promoter had
left, and the servants, who were quite excited, did not know where
he had gone.
"He just packed up a few clothes and ran out," said one of the
maids. "He didn't say anything about our wages, either, and he
owes me over a month."
"Me too," said another.
"Well, if he doesn't pay me some of my back wages soon, I'll sue
him!" declared the gardener. "He owes me more than three months,
but he kept putting me off."
And, so it seemed, Peters had done with several of his employes.
When the promoter came to Shopton he had taken an elaborate house
and engaged a staff of servants. Peters was not married, but he
gave a number of entertainments to which the wealthy men of
Shopton and their wives came. Later it was found that the bills
for these had never been paid. In short, Peters was a "bluff" in
more ways than one.
Tom told enough of his story to the servants to get them on his
side. Indeed, now that their employer had gone, and under such
queer circumstances, they had no sympathy for him. They were only
concerned about their own money, and Tom was given admittance to
the house.
Tom made a casual search, hoping to find some clue to the
whereabouts of Mr. Damon, or to get some papers that would save
his fortune. But the search was unsuccessful.
There was a safe in the room Peters used for an office, but when
Tom got there the strong box was open, and only some worthless
documents remained.
"He smelled a rat, all right," said Tom, grimly. "After he
telephoned to Mrs. Damon something happened that gave him an
intimation that someone was after him. So he got away as soon as
he could."
"But what are you going to do about it, Tom?"
"Get right after him. He can't have gotten very far. I want him
and I want Boylan. We're getting close to the end of the trail,
Ned."
"Yes, but we haven't found Mr. Damon yet, and his fortune seems to
have vanished."
"Well, we'll do the best we can," said Tom, grimly. "Now I'm going
to get a warrant for the arrest of Peters, and one for Boylan, and
I'm going to get myself appointed a special officer with power to
serve them. We've got our work cut out for us, Ned."
"Well, I'm with you to the end."
"I know you are!" cried Tom.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE LONELY HOUSE
The young inventor had little difficulty in getting the warrants
he sought. In the case of Boylan, who seemed to be Peters's
right-hand man, when it came to criminal work, Tom made a charge of
unlawfully taking the airship. This would be enough to hold the
man on until other evidence could be obtained against him.
As for Peters, he was accused of taking certain valuable bonds and
stocks belonging to Mr. Damon. Mrs. Damon gave the necessary
evidence in this case, and the authorities were told that later,
when Peters should have been arrested, other evidence so
skillfully gotten by Tom's photo telephone, would be brought
before the court.
"It's a new way of convicting a man--by a photo telephone--but I
guess it's a good one," said the judge who signed the warrants.
"Well, now that we've got what we want, the next thing to do is to
get the men--Peters, and the others," said Tom, as he and Ned sat
in Tom's library after several hours of strenuous work.
"How are you going to start?" the young banker wanted to know. "It
seems a strange thing that a man like Mr. Damon could be made away
with, and kept in hiding so long without something being heard of
him. I'm afraid, Tom, that something must have happened to him."
"I think so too, Ned. Nothing serious, though," Tom added,
quickly, as he saw the look of alarm on his chum's face. "I think
Mr. Damon at first went away of his own accord."
"Of his own accord?"
"Yes. I think Peters induced him to go with him, on the pretense
that he could recover his fortune. After getting Mr. Damon in
their power they kept him, probably to get the rest of his fortune
away from him."
"But you stopped that, Tom," said Ned, proud of his chum's
abilities.
"Well, I hope so," admitted the young inventor. "But I've still
got plenty to do."
"Have you a starting point?"
"For one thing," Tom answered, "I'm going to have Mrs. Damon mail
a fake package to the address Peters gave. If he, or any of his
men, call for it, we'll have a detective on the watch, and arrest
them."
"Good!"
"Of course it may not work," spoke Tom; "but it's something to
try, and we can't miss any chances."
Accordingly, the next day, a package containing only blank paper,
made up to represent the documents demanded by Peters as the price
of releasing Mr. Damon, was mailed to the address Mrs. Damon had
received over the wire from the rascally promoter. Then a private
detective was engaged to be on the watch, to take into custody
whoever called for the bundle. Tom, though, had not much hope of
anything coming of this, as it was evident that Peters had taken
the alarm, and left.
"And now," said Tom, when he had safely put away the wax record,
containing the incriminating talk of Peters, and had printed
several photographs, so wonderfully taken over the wire, "now to
get on the trail again."
It was not an easy one to follow. Tom began at the deserted home
of the alleged financier. The establishment was broken up, for
many tradesmen came with bills that had not been paid, and some of
them levied on what little personal property there was to satisfy
their claims. The servants left, sorrowful enough over their
missing wages. The place was closed up under the sheriff's orders.
But of Peters and his men not a trace could be found. Tom and Ned
traveled all over the surrounding country, looking for clues, but
in vain. They made several trips in the airship, but finally
decided that an automobile was more practical for their work, and
kept to that.
They did find some traces of Peters. As Tom had said, the man was
too prominent not to be noticed. He might have disguised himself,
though it seemed that the promoter was a proud man, and liked to
be seen in flashy clothes, a silk hat, and with a buttonhole
bouquet.
This made it easy to get the first trace of him. He had been seen
to take a train at the Shopton station, though he had not bought a
ticket. The promoter had paid his fare to Branchford, a junction
point, but there all trace of him was lost. It was not even
certain that he went there.
"He may have done that to throw us off," said Tom. "Just because
he paid his way to Branchford, doesn't say he went there. He may
have gotten off at the next station beyond Shopton."
"Do you think he's still lingering around here?" asked Ned.
"I shouldn't be surprised," was Tom's answer. "He knows that there
is still some of the Damon property left, and he is probably
hungry for that. We'll get him yet, Ned."
But at the end of several days Tom's hopes did not seem in a fair
way to be realized. He and Ned followed one useless clue after
another. All the trails seemed blind ones. But Tom never gave up.
He was devoting all his time now to the finding of his friend Mr.
Damon, and to the recovery of his fortune. In fact the latter was
not so important to Tom as was the former. For Mrs. Damon was on
the verge of a nervous collapse on account of the absence of her
husband.
"If I could only have some word from him, Tom!" she cried,
helplessly.
To Tom the matter was very puzzling. It seemed utterly impossible
that Mr. Damon could be kept so close a prisoner that he could not
manage to get some word to his friends. It was not as if he was a
child. He was a man of more than ordinary abilities. Surely he
might find a way to outwit his enemies.
But the days passed, and no word came. A number of detectives had
been employed, but they were no more successful than Tom. The
latter had given up his inventive work, for the time being, to
devote all his time to the solution of the mystery.
Tom and Ned had been away from Shopton for three days, following
the most promising clue they had yet received. But it had failed
at the end, and one afternoon they found themselves in a small
town, about a hundred miles from Shopton. They had been motoring.
"I think I'll call up the house," said Tom. "Dad may have received
some news, or Mrs. Damon may have sent him some word. I'll get my
father on the wire."
Connection to Tom's house was soon made, and Ned, who was
listening to his chum's remarks, was startled to hear him cry out:
"What's that you say? My airship taken again? When did it happen?
Yes, I'm listening. Go on, Father!"
Then followed a silence while Tom listened, breaking in now and
then with an excited remark, Suddenly he called:
"Good-by, Dad! I'm coming right home!"
Tom hung up the receiver with a bang, and turned to his chum.
"What do you think!" he cried. "The Eagle was taken again last
night! The same way as before. Nobody got a glimpse of the
thieves, though. Dad has been trying to get in communication with
me ever since. I'm glad I called up. Now we'll get right back to
Shopton, and see what we can do. This is the limit! Peters and his
crowd will be kidnapping us, next."
"That's right," agreed Ned.
He and Tom were soon off again, speeding in the auto toward
Shopton. But the roads were bad, after a heavy rain, and they did
not make fast time.
The coming of dusk found them with more than thirty miles to go.
They were in an almost deserted section of the country when
suddenly, as they were running slowly up a hill, there was a
sudden crack, the auto gave a lurch to one side of the roadway and
then settled heavily. Tom clapped on both brakes quickly, and gave
a cry of dismay.
"Broken front axle!" he said. "We're dished, Ned!"
They got out, being no more harmed than by the jolting. The car
was out of commission. The two chums looked around. Except for a
lonely house, that bore every mark of being deserted, not a
dwelling was in sight where they might ask for aid or shelter.
And, as they looked, from that lonely house came a strange cry--a
cry as though for help!
CHAPTER XXV
THE AIRSHIP CAPTURE
"Did you hear that?" cried Ned.
"I certainly did," answered Tom. "What was it."
"Sounded to me like a cry of some sort."
"It was. An animal, I'd say."
The two chums moved away from the broken auto, and looked at each
other. Then, by a common impulse, they started toward the lonely
house, which was set back some distance from the road.
"Let's see who it was," suggested Tom, "After all, though it looks
deserted, there may be someone in the house, and we've got to have
some kind of help. I don't want to leave my car on the road all
night, though it will have to be repaired before I can use it
again."
"It sure is a bad break," agreed Ned.
As they walked toward the deserted House they heard the strange
cry again. It was louder this time, and following it the boys
heard a sound as if a blow had been struck.
"Someone is being attacked!" cried Tom. "Maybe some poor tramp has
taken shelter in there and a dog is after them. Come on, Ned,
we've got to help!"
They started on a run for the lonely house, but while still some
distance away a curious thing happened.
There was a sudden cry--an appeal for help it seemed--but this
time in the open. And, as Tom and Ned looked, they saw several men
running from the rear of the old house. Between them they carried
an inert form.
"Something's wrong!" exclaimed Tom, "There's crooked work going on
here, Ned."
"You're right! It's up to us to stop it! Come on!"
But before the boys had taken half a dozen more steps they heard
that which caused them great surprise. For from a shed behind the
house came the unmistakable throb and roar of a motor.
"They're going off in an auto!" cried Ned.
"And they're carrying someone with them!" exclaimed Tom.
By this time they had gotten to a point where they could see the
shed, and what was their astonishment to see being rolled from it
a big biplane. At the sight of it Tom cried:
"It's the Eagle! That's my airship, Ned!"
"You're right! How did it get here?"
"That's for us to find out. I shouldn't wonder, Ned, but what
we're at last on the trail of Peters and his crowd!"
The men--there were four or five of them, Ned guessed--now broke
into a run, still carrying among them the inert form of another.
The cries for help had ceased, and it seemed as if the unfortunate
one was unconscious.
A moment later, and before the boys could do anything, had they
the power, the men fairly jumped aboard Tom Swift's biggest
airship. The unconscious one was carried with them.
Then the motor was speeded up. The roar and throbbing were almost
deafening.
"Stop that! Hold on! That's my machine!" yelled Tom.
He might as well have spoken to the wind. With a rush and a roar
the big Eagle shot away and upward, carrying the men and their
mysterious, unconscious companion. It was getting too dark for Tom
and Ned to make out the forms or features of the strangers.
"We're too late!" said Ned, hopelessly.
"Yes, they got away," agreed Tom. "Oh, if only I had my speedy
little monoplane!"
"But who can they be? How did your airship get here? And who is
that man they carried out of the house?" cried Ned.
"I don't know the last--maybe one of their crowd who was injured
in a fight."
"What crowd?"
"The Peters gang, of course. Can't you see it, Ned?"
Unable to do anything, the two youths watched the flight of the
Eagle. She did not move at her usual speed, for she was carrying
too heavy a load.
Presently from the air overhead, and slightly behind them, the
boys heard the sound of another motor. They turned quickly.
"Look!" cried Ned. "Another airship, by all that's wonderful!"
"If we could only stop them!" exclaimed Tom. "That's a big
machine, and they could take us aboard. Then we could chase the
Eagle. We could catch her, too, for she's overloaded!"
Frantically he and Tom waved their caps at the man who was now
almost overhead in his airship. The boys did not call. They well
knew, with the noise of the motor, the occupant of the airship
could not hear them. But they waved and pointed to the slowly-moving
Eagle.
To their surprise and delight the man above them shut off his
engine, and seemed about to come down. Then Tom cried, knowing he
could be heard:
"Help us capture that airship? It's mine and they've stolen it!"
"All right! Be with you in a minute!" came back the answer from
above.
The second biplane came down to earth, and as it ceased running
along on its bicycle wheels, the occupant jumped out.
"Hello, Tom Swift!" he called, as he took off his goggles.
"Why--why it's Mr. Halling!" cried the young inventor, in delight,
recognizing the birdman who had brought him the first news of Mr.
Damon's trouble, the day the airship became entangled in the
aerials of the wireless on Tom's house.
"What are you doing here, Tom?" asked Mr. Hailing. "What has
happened?"
"We're looking for Mr. Damon. That's a bad crowd there," and he
pointed toward the other aircraft. "They have my Eagle. Can you
help me catch them?"
"I certainly can--and will! Get aboard! I can carry four."
"Then you have a new machine?"
"Yes, and a dandy! All the latest improvements--self-starter and
all! I'm glad of a chance to show it to you."
"And I'm glad, too!" cried Tom. "It was providential that you
happened along. What were you doing here?"
"Just out on a trial spin. But come on, if we're going to catch
those fellows!"
Quickly Tom, Ned, and Mr. Halling climbed into the seats of the
new airship. It was started from a switch, and in a few seconds it
was on the wing, chasing after the Eagle.
Then began a strange race, a race in the air after the unknown
strangers who had Tom's machine. Had the Eagle not been so heavily
laden it might have escaped, for Tom's craft was a speedy one. But
this time it had to give the palm to Mr. Grant Halling's. Faster
and faster in pursuit flew the Star, as the new craft was called.
Faster and faster, until at last, coming directly over the Eagle,
Mr. Halling sent his craft down in such a manner as to "blanket"
the other. In an instant she began to sink, and with cries of
alarm the men shut off the motor and started to volplane to the
earth.
But they made an unskillful landing. The Eagle tilted to one side,
and came down with a crash. There were cries of pain, then
silence, and a few seconds later two men ran away from the
disabled airship. But there were three senseless forms on the
ground beside the craft when Tom, Ned and Mr. Halling ran up. In
the fading light Tom saw a face he knew--three faces in fact.
"Mr. Damon!" he cried. "We've found him, Ned!"
"But--too late--maybe!" answered Ned, in a low voice, as he, too,
recognized the man who had been missing so long.
Mr. Halling was bending over the unconscious form of his friend.
"He's alive!" he cried, joyfully. "And not much hurt, either. But
he has been ill, and looks half starved. Who are these men?"
Tom gave a hasty look.
"Shallock Peters and Harrison Boylan!" he cried. "Ned, at last
we've caught the scoundrels!"
It was true. Chance had played into the hands of Tom Swift. While
Mr. Halling was looking after Mr. Damon, reviving him, the young
inventor and Ned quickly bound the hands and feet of the two
plotters with pieces of wire from the broken airship.
Presently Mr. Damon opened his eyes.
"Where am I? What happened? Oh, bless my watch chain--it's Tom
Swift! Bless my cigar case, I--"
"He's all right!" cried Tom, joyfully. "When Mr. Damon blesses
something beside his tombstone he's all right."
Peters and Boylan soon revived, both being merely stunned, as was
Mr. Damon. They looked about in wonder, and then, feeling that
they were prisoners, resigned themselves to their fate. Both men
were shabbily dressed, and Tom would hardly have known the once
spick and span Mr. Peters. He had no rose in his buttonhole now.
"Well, you have me, I see," he said, coolly. "I was afraid we were
playing for too high a stake."
"Yes, we've got you," replied Tom,
"But you can't prove much against me," went on Peters. "I'll deny
everything."
"We'll see about that," added the young inventor, grimly, and
thought of the picture in the plate and the record on the wax
cylinder.
"We've got to get Mr. Damon to some place where he can be looked
after," broke in Mr. Halling. "Then we'll hear the story."
A passing farmer was prevailed on to take the party in his big
wagon to the nearest town, Mr. Hailing going on ahead in his
airship. Tom's craft could not be moved, being badly damaged.
Once in town Peters and Boylan were put in jail, on the charges
for which Tom carried warrants. Mr. Damon was taken to a hotel and
a doctor summoned. It was as Mr. Halling had guessed. His friend
had been ill, and so weak that he could not get out of bed. It was
this that enabled the plotters to so easily keep him a prisoner.
By degrees Mr. Damon told his story. He had rashly allowed Peters
to get control of most of his fortune, and, in a vain hope of
getting back some of his losses, had, one night--the night he
disappeared, in fact--agreed to meet Peters and some of his men to
talk matters over. Of this Mr. Damon said nothing to his wife.
He went out that night to meet Peters in the garden, but the
plotters had changed their plans. They boldly kidnapped their
victim, chloroformed him and took him away in Tom's airship, which
Boylan and some of his tools daringly stole a short time
previously. Later they returned it, as they had no use for it at
the lonely house.
Mr. Damon was taken to the house, and there kept a prisoner. The
men hoped to prevail on the fears of his wife to make her give up
the valuable property. But we have seen how Tom foiled Peters.
The experience of Mr. Damon, coupled with rough treatment he
received, and lack of good food, soon made him ill. He was so weak
that he could not help himself, and with that he was kept under
guard. So he had no chance to escape or send his wife or friends
any word.
"But I'm all right now, Tom, thanks to you!" said he. "Bless my
pocketbook, I don't care if my fortune is lost, as long as I'm
alive and can get back to my wife."
"But I don't believe your fortune will be lost," said Tom. "I
think I have the picture and other evidence that will save it,"
and he told of his photo telephone, and of what it had accomplished.
"Bless my eyelashes!" cried Mr. Damon. "What a young man you are,
Tom Swift!"
Tom smiled gladly. He knew now that his old friend was himself
once more.
There is little left to tell. Chance had aided Tom in a most
wonderful way--chance and the presence of Mr. Halling with his
airship at just the right moment.
Tom made a diligent effort to find out who it was that had
chloroformed him in the telephone booth that time, but learned
nothing definite. Peters and Boylan were both examined as to this
on their trials, but denied it, and the young inventor was forced
to conclude that it must have been some of the unscrupulous men
who had taken his father's patent some time before.
"They may have heard of your prosperity, and thought it a good
chance to rob you," suggested Ned.
"Maybe," agreed Tom. "Well, we'll let it go at that. Only I hope
they don't come again."
Mr. Damon was soon home with his wife again, and Peters and Boylan
were held in heavy bail. They had secreted most of Mr. Damon's
wealth, falsely telling him it was lost, and they were forced to
give back his fortune. The evidence against them was clear and
conclusive. When Tom went into court with his phonograph record of
the talk of Peters, even though the man's voice was hoarse from a
cold when he talked, and when his picture was shown, in the
telephone booth, the jury at once convicted him.
Boylan, when he learned of the missing button in Tom's possession,
confessed that he and some of his men who were birdmen had taken
Tom's airship. They wanted a means of getting Mr. Damon to the
lonely house without being traced, and they accomplished it.
As Tom had surmised, Peters had become suspicious after his last
talk with Mrs. Damon, and had fled. He disguised himself and went
into hiding with the others at the lonely house. Then he learned
that the authorities of another city, where he had swindled many,
were on his trail, and he decided to decamp with his gang, taking
Mr. Damon with them. For this purpose Tom's airship was taken the
second time, and a wholesale escape, with Mr. Damon a prisoner,
was planned.
But fate was against the plotters. Two of them did manage to get
away, but they were not really wanted. The big fish were Peters
and Boylan, and they were securely caught in the net of the law.
Peters was greatly surprised when he learned of Tom's trap, and of
the photo telephone. He had no idea he had been incriminating
himself when he talked over the wire.
"Well, it's all over," remarked Ned to Tom, one day, when the
disabled auto and the airship had been brought home and repaired.
"The plotters are in prison for long terms, and Mr. Damon is
found, together with his fortune. The photo telephone did it,
Tom."
"Not all of it--but a good bit," admitted the young inventor, with
a smile.
"What are you going to do next, Tom?"
"I hardly know. I think--"
Before Tom could finish, a voice was heard in the hall outside the
library.
"Bless my overshoes! Where's Tom? I want to thank him again for
what he did for me," and Mr. Damon, now fully recovered, came in.
"Bless my suspender button, but it's good to be alive, Tom!" he
cried.
"It certainly is," agreed Tom. "And the next time you go for a
conference with such men as Peters, look out for airships."
"I will, Tom, I will!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Bless my watch chain,
I will!"
And now, for a time, we will say good-bye to Tom Swift, leaving
him to perfect his other inventions.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tom Swift and his Photo Telephone, by
Victor Appleton
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE ***
***** This file should be named 4532.txt or 4532.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/3/4532/
Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
Who becomes infuriated with Tom when he will not sell some of his inventions?
Answer:
| Mr. Shallock Peters. | 174 | 244,687 | 244,689 | 244,776 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
5947 | 5947_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
Project Gutenberg's Tom Swift and his Photo Telephone, by Victor Appleton
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Tom Swift and his Photo Telephone
Author: Victor Appleton
Posting Date: January 16, 2009 [EBook #4532]
Release Date: October, 2003
[Last updated: June 17, 2012]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE ***
Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team
TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE
OR THE PICTURE THAT SAVED A FORTUNE
BY VICTOR APPLETON
AUTHOR OF "TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR CYCLE," "TOM SWIFT AND HIS
GIANT CANNON," "THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS," "THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS
IN THE JUNGLE," "THE MOTION PICTURE CHUMS' FIRST VENTURE," ETC.
CONTENTS
I. A MAN ON THE ROOF
II. BAD NEWS
III. TOM'S FAILURE
IV. RUN DOWN
V. SHARP WORDS
VI. A WARNING
VII. SOFT WORDS
VIII. TOM IS BAFFLED
IX. A GLEAM OF HOPE
X. MIDNIGHT VISITORS
XI. THE AIRSHIP IS TAKEN
XII. A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE
XIII. THE TELEPHONE PICTURE
XIV. MAKING IMPROVEMENTS
XV. THE AIRSHIP CLUE
XVI. SUCCESS
XVII. THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE
XVIII. ANOTHER CALL
XIX. THE BUZZING SOUND
XX. SETTING THE TRAP
XXI. THE PHOTO TELEPHONE
XXII. THE ESCAPE
XXIII. ON THE TRAIL
XXIV. THE LONELY HOUSE
XXV. THE AIRSHIP CAPTURE
TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE
CHAPTER I
A MAN ON THE ROOF
"Tom, I don't believe it can be done!"
"But, Dad, I'm sure it can!"
Tom Swift looked over at his father, who was seated in an easy
chair in the library. The elderly gentleman--his hair was quite
white now--slowly shook his head, as he murmured again:
"It can't be done, Tom! It can't be done! I admit that you've made
a lot of wonderful things--things I never dreamed of--but this is
too much. To transmit pictures over a telephone wire, so that
persons cannot only see to whom they are talking, as well as hear
them--well, to be frank with you, Tom, I should be sorry to see
you waste your time trying to invent such a thing."
"I don't agree with you. Not only do I think it can be done, but
I'm going to do it. In fact, I've already started on it. As for
wasting my time, well, I haven't anything in particular to do, now
that my giant cannon has been perfected, so I might as well be
working on my new photo telephone instead of sitting around idle."
"Yes, Tom, I agree with you there," said Mr. Swift. "Sitting
around idle isn't good for anyone--man or boy, young or old. So
don't think I'm finding fault because you're busy."
"It's only that I don't want to see you throw away your efforts,
only to be disappointed in the end. It can't be done, Tom, it
can't be done," and the aged inventor shook his head in pitying
doubt.
Tom only smiled confidently, and went on:
"Well, Dad, all you'll have to do will be to wait and see. It
isn't going to be easy--I grant that. In fact, I've run up against
more snags, the little way I've gone so far, than I like to admit.
But I'm going to stick at it, and before this year is out I'll
guarantee, Father, that you can be at one end of the telephone
wire, talking to me, at the other, and I'll see you and you'll see
me--if not as plainly as we see each other now, at least plainly
enough to make sure of each other."
Mr. Swift chuckled silently, gradually breaking into a louder
laugh. Instead of being angry, Tom only regarded his father with
an indulgent smile, and continued:
"All right, Dad. Go ahead, laugh!"
"Well, Tom, I'm not exactly laughing at YOU--it's more at the
idea than anything else. The idea of talking over a wire and, at
the same time, having light waves, as well as electrical waves
passing on the same conductor!"
"All right, Dad, go ahead and laugh. I don't mind," said Tom,
good-naturedly. "Folks laughed at Bell, when he said he could send
a human voice over a copper spring; but Bell went ahead and to-day
we can talk over a thousand miles by wire. That was the telephone."
"Folks laughed at Morse when he said he could send a message over
the wire. He let 'em laugh, but we have the telegraph. Folks
laughed at Edison, when he said he could take the human voice--or
any other sound--and fix it on a wax cylinder or a hard-rubber
plate--but he did it, and we have the phonograph. And folks
laughed at Santos Dumont, at the Wrights, and at all the other
fellows, who said they could take a heavier-than-air machine, and
skim above the clouds like a bird; but we do it--I've done it--you've
done it."
"Hold on, Tom!" protested Mr. Swift. "I give up! Don't rub it in
on your old dad. I admit that folks did laugh at those inventors,
with their seemingly impossible schemes, but they made good. And
you've made good lots of times where I thought you wouldn't. But
just stop to consider for a moment. This thing of sending a
picture over a telephone wire is totally out of the question, and
entirely opposed to all the principles of science."
"What do I care for principles of science?" cried Tom, and he
strode about the room so rapidly that Eradicate, the old colored
servant, who came in with the mail, skipped out of the library
with the remark:
"Deed, an' Massa Tom must be pow'fully preragitated dis mawnin'!"
"Some of the scientists said it was totally opposed to all natural
laws when I planned my electric rifle," went on Tom. "But I made
it, and it shot. They said my air glider would never stay up, but
she did."
"But, Tom, this is different. You are talking of sending light
waves--one of the most delicate forms of motion in the world--over
a material wire. It can't be done!"
"Look here, Dad!" exclaimed Tom, coming to a halt in front of his
parent. "What is light, anyhow? Merely another form of motion;
isn't it?"
"Well, yes, Tom, I suppose it is."
"Of course it is," said Tom. "With vibrations of a certain length
and rapidity we get sound--the faster the vibration per second the
higher the sound note. Now, then, we have sound waves, or
vibrations, traveling at the rate of a mile in a little less than
five seconds; that is, with the air at a temperature of sixty
degrees. With each increase of a degree of temperature we get an
increase of about a foot per second in the rapidity with which
sound travels."
"Now, then, light shoots along at the rate of 186,000,000 miles a
second. That is more than many times around the earth in a second
of time. So we have sound, one kind of wave motion, or energy; we
have light, a higher degree of vibration or wave motion, and then
we come to electricity--and nobody has ever yet exactly measured
the intensity or speed of the electric vibrations."
"But what I'm getting at is this--that electricity must travel
pretty nearly as fast as light--if not faster. So I believe that
electricity and light have about the same kind of vibrations, or
wave motion."
"Now, then, if they do have--and I admit it's up to me to prove
it," went on Tom, earnestly--"why can't I send light-waves over a
wire, as well as electrical waves?"
Mr. Swift was silent for a moment. Then he said, slowly:
"Well, Tom, I never heard it argued just that way before. Maybe
there's something in your photo telephone after all. But it never
has been done. You can't deny that!"
He looked at his son triumphantly. It was not because he wanted to
get the better of him in argument, that Mr. Swift held to his own
views; but he wanted to bring out the best that was in his
offspring. Tom accepted the challenge instantly.
"Yes, Dad, it has been done, in a way!" he said, earnestly. "No
one has sent a picture over a telephone wire, as far as I know,
but during the recent hydroplane tests at Monte Carlo, photographs
taken of some of the events in the morning, and afternoon, were
developed in the evening, and transmitted over five hundred miles
of wire to Paris, and those same photographs were published in the
Paris newspapers the next morning."
"Is that right, Tom?"
"It certainly is. The photographs weren't so very clear, but you
could make out what they were. Of course that is a different
system than the one I'm thinking of. In that case they took a
photograph, and made a copper plate of it, as they would for a
half-tone illustration. This gave them a picture with ridges and
depressions in copper, little hills and valleys, so to speak,
according to whether there were light or dark tints in the
picture. The dark places meant that the copper lines stood up
higher there than where there were light colors."
"Now, by putting this copper plate on a wooden drum, and revolving
this drum, with an electrical needle pressing lightly on the
ridges of copper, they got a varying degree of electrical current.
Where the needle touched a high place in the copper plate the
contact was good, and there was a strong current. When the needle
got to a light place in the copper--a depression, so to speak--the
contact was not so good, and there was only a weak current."
"At the receiving end of the apparatus there was a sensitized film
placed on a similar wooden drum. This was to receive the image
that came over the five hundred miles of wire. Now then, as the
electrical needle, moving across the copper plate, made electrical
contacts of different degrees of strength, it worked a delicate
galvanometer on the receiving end. The galvanometer caused a beam
of light to vary--to grow brighter or dimmer, according as the
electrical current was stronger or weaker. And this light, falling
on the sensitive plate, made a picture, just like the one on the
copper plate in Monte Carlo."
"In other words, where the copper plate was black, showing that
considerable printing ink was needed, the negative on the other
end was made light. Then when that negative was printed it would
come out black, because more light comes through the light places
on a photograph negative than through the dark places. And so,
with the galvanometer making light flashes on the sensitive plate,
the galvanometer being governed by the electrical contacts five
hundred miles away, they transmitted a photograph by wire."
"But not a telephone wire, Tom."
"That doesn't make any difference, Dad. It was a wire just the
same. But I'm not going into that just now, though later I may
want to send photographs by wire. What I'm aiming at is to make an
apparatus so that when you go into a telephone booth to talk to a
friend, you can see him and he can see you, on a specially
prepared plate that will be attached to the telephone."
"You mean see him as in a looking-glass, Tom?"
"Somewhat, yes. Though I shall probably use a metal plate instead
of glass. It will be just as if you were talking over a telephone
in an open field, where you could see the other party and he could
see you."
"But how are you going to do it, Tom?"
"Well, I haven't quite decided. I shall probably have to use the
metal called selenium, which is very sensitive to light, and which
makes a good or a poor electrical conductor according as more or
less light falls on it. After all, a photograph is only lights and
shadows, fixed on sensitive paper or films."
"Well, Tom, maybe you can do it, and maybe you can't. I admit
you've used some good arguments," said Mr. Swift. "But then, it
all comes down to this: What good will it be if you can succeed in
sending a picture over a telephone wire?"
"What good, Dad? Why, lots of good. Just think how important it
will be in business, if you can make sure that you are talking to
the party you think you are. As it is now, unless you know the
person's voice, you can't tell that the man on the other end of
the wire is the person he says he is. And even a voice can be
imitated."
"But if you know the person yourself, he can't be imitated. If you
see him, as well as hear his voice, you are sure of what you are
doing. Why, think of the big business deals that could be made
over the telephone if the two parties could not only hear but see
each other. It would be a dead sure thing then. And Mr. Brown
wouldn't have to take Mr. Smith's word that it was he who was
talking. He could even get witnesses to look at the wire-image if
he wanted to, and so clinch the thing. It will prevent a lot of
frauds."
"Well, Tom, maybe you're right. Go ahead. I'll say no more against
your plans. I wish you all success, and if I can help you, call on
me."
"Thanks, Dad. I knew you'd feel that way when you understood. Now
I'm going--"
But what Tom Swift was going to do he did not say just then, for
above the heads of father and son sounded a rattling, crashing
noise, and the whole house seemed to shake. Then the voice of
Eradicate was heard yelling:
"Good land! Good land ob massy! Come out yeah, Massa Tom! Come
right out yeah! Dere's a man on de roof an' he am all tangled up
suthin' scandalous! Come right out yeah befo' he falls and
translocates his neck! Come on!"
CHAPTER II
BAD NEWS
With startled glances at each other, Tom and his father rushed
from the library to the side of the house, whence came the cries
of Eradicate.
"What is it, Rad! what is it?" questioned Tom.
"Is someone hurt?" Mr. Swift wanted to know.
"He mighty soon will be!" exclaimed the colored man. "Look where
he am holdin' on! Lucky fo' him he grabbed dat chimbley!"
Tom and his father looked to where Eradicate pointed, and saw a
strange sight. A small biplane-airship had become entangled in
some of the aerials of Tom's wireless apparatus, and the craft had
turned turtle, being held from falling by some of the wire braces.
The birdman had fallen out, but had managed to cling to the
chimney, so that he had not reached the ground, and there he
clung, while the motor of his airship was banging away, and
revolving the propeller blades dangerously close to his head.
"Are you hurt?" cried Tom, to the unknown birdman.
"No, but I'm likely to be unless I get out of here!" was the
gasped-out answer.
"Hold fast!" cried Tom. "We'll have you down in a jiffy. Here,
Rad, you get the long ladder. Where's Koku? That giant is never
around when he's wanted. Find Koku, Rad, and send him here."
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom; directly, sah!" and the colored man hastened
off as fast as his aged legs would take him.
And while preparations are thus under way to rescue the birdman
from the roof, I will take just a few minutes to tell you a little
something more about Tom Swift and his numerous inventions, as set
forth in the previous books of this series.
"Tom Swift and His Motor Cycle" was the first book, and in that I
related how Tom made the acquaintance of a Mr. Wakefield Damon, of
the neighboring town of Waterford, and how Tom bought that
gentleman's motor cycle, after it had tried to climb a tree with
its rider in the saddle. Mr. Wakefield Damon was an odd man, whose
favorite expression was "Bless my shoelaces!" or something equally
absurd. Waterford was not far from Shopton, where Tom and his
father made their home.
Mr. Swift was also an inventor of note, and Tom soon followed in
his father's footsteps. They lived in a large house, with many
shops about it, for their work at times required much machinery.
Mrs. Baggert was the housekeeper who looked after Tom and his
father, and got their meals, when they consented to take enough
time from their inventive work to eat. Another member of the
household was Eradicate Sampson, a genial old colored man, who
said he was named Eradicate because he used to eradicate the dirt
about the place.
Koku, just referred to by Tom, was an immense man, a veritable
giant, whom Tom had brought back with him from one of his trips,
after escaping from captivity. The young inventor really brought
two giants, brothers they were, but one had gone to a museum, and
the other took service with our hero, making himself very useful
when it came to lifting heavy machinery.
Tom had a close friend in Ned Newton, who was employed in the
Shopton bank. Another friend was Miss Mary Nestor, a young lady
whose life Tom had once saved. He had many other friends, and some
enemies, whom you will meet from time to time in this story.
After Tom had had many adventures on his motor cycle he acquired a
motor boat, and in that he and Ned went through some strenuous
times on Lake Carlopa, near Tom's home. Then followed an airship,
for Tom got that craze, and in the book concerning that machine I
related some of the things that happened to him. He had even more
wonderful adventures in his submarine, and with his electric
runabout our hero was instrumental in saving a bank from ruin by
making a trip in the speediest car on the road.
After Tom Swift had sent his wireless message, and saved the
castaways of Earthquake Island, he thought he would give up his
inventive work for a time, and settle down to a life of ease and
quiet.
But the call of the spirit of adventure was still too strong for
him to resist. That was why he sought out the diamond makers, and
learned the secret of Phantom Mountain. And when he went to the
Caves of Ice, and there saw his airship wrecked, Tom was well-nigh
discouraged, But he managed to get back to civilization, and later
undertook a journey to elephant land, with his powerful electric
rifle.
Marvelous adventures underground did Tom Swift have when he went
to the City of Gold, and I have set down some of them in the book
bearing the latter title. Later on he sought the platinum treasure
in his air glider. And when Tom was taken captive, in giant land,
only his speedy airship saved him from a hard fate.
By this time moving pictures were beginning to occupy a large
place in the scientific, as well as the amusement world, and Tom
invented a Wizard Camera which did excellent work. Then came the
need of a powerful light, to enable Uncle Sam's custom officers on
the border to detect the smugglers, and Tom was successful in
making his apparatus.
He thought he would take a rest after that, but with the opening
of the Panama Canal came the need of powerful guns to protect that
important waterway, and Tom made a Giant Cannon, which enabled the
longest shots on record to be fired.
Now, some months had passed, after the successful trial of the big
weapon, and Tom longed for new activities. He found them in the
idea of a photo telephone, and he and his father were just talking
of this when interrupted by the accident to the birdman on the
roof of the Swift home.
"Have you got that ladder, Rad?" cried the young inventor,
anxiously, as he saw the dangerous position of the man from the
airship.
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom! I'se a-camin' wif it!"
"And where's Koku? We'll need him!"
"He's a-camin', too!"
"Here Koku!" exclaimed a deep voice, and a big man came running
around the corner of the house. "What is it, Master?"
"We must get him down, Koku!" said Tom, simply. "I will go up on
the roof. You had better come, too. Rad, go in the house and get a
mattress from the bed. Put it down on the ground where he's likely
to fall. Lively now!"
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom!"
"Me git my own ladder--dat one not strong 'nuff!" grunted Koku,
who did not speak very good English. He had a very strong ladder,
of his own make, built to hold his enormous bulk, and this he soon
brought and placed against the side of the house.
Meanwhile Tom and his father had raised the one Eradicate had
brought, though Tom did most of the lifting, for his father was
elderly, and had once suffered from heart trouble.
"We're coming for you!" cried the young inventor as he began to
ascend the ladder, at the same time observing that the giant was
coming with his. "Can you hold on a little longer?"
"Yes, I guess so. But I dare not move for fear the propellers will
strike me."
"I see. I'll soon shut off the motor," said Tom. "What happened,
anyhow?"
"Well, I was flying over your house. I was on my way to pay you a
visit, but I didn't intend to do it in just this way," and the
birdman smiled grimly. "I didn't see your wireless aerials until I
was plumb into them, and then it was too late. I hope I haven't
damaged them any."
"Oh, they are easily fixed," said Tom. "I hope you and your
biplane are not damaged. This way, Koku!" he called to the giant.
"Say, is--is he real, or am I seeing things?" asked the aviator,
as he looked at the big man.
"Oh, he's real, all right," laughed Tom. "Now, then, I'm going to
shut off your motor, and then you can quit hugging that chimney,
and come down."
"I'll be real glad to," said the birdman.
Making his way cautiously along the gutters of the roof, Tom
managed to reach the motor controls. He pulled out the electrical
switch, and with a sort of cough and groan the motor stopped. The
big propellers ceased revolving, and the aviator could leave his
perch in safety.
This he did, edging along until he could climb down and meet Tom,
who stood near the ladder.
"Much obliged," said the birdman, as he shook hands with Tom. "My
name is Grant Halling. I'm a newcomer in Mansburg," he added,
naming a town not far from Shopton. "I know you by reputation, so
you don't need to introduce yourself."
"Glad to meet you," said the young inventor, cordially. "Rather a
queer place to meet a friend," he went on with a laugh and a
glance down to the ground. "Can you climb?"
"Oh, yes, I'm used to that. The next thing will be to get my
machine down."
"Oh, we can manage that with Koku's help," spoke Tom. "Koku, get
some ropes, and see what you and Rad can do toward getting the
aeroplane down," he added to the giant. "Let me know if you need
any help."
"Me can do!" exclaimed the big man. "Me fix him!"
Tom and Mr. Halling made their way down the ladder, while the
giant proceeded to study out a plan for getting the airship off
the roof.
"You say you were coming over to see me, when you ran into my
wireless aerials?" asked Tom, curiously, when he had introduced
his father to the birdman.
"Yes," went on Mr. Halling. "I have been having some trouble with
my motor, and I thought perhaps you could tell me what was wrong.
My friend, Mr. Wakefield Damon, sent me to you."
"What! Do you know Mr. Damon?" cried Tom.
"I've known' him for some years. I met him in the West, but I
hadn't seen him lately, until I came East. He sent me to see you,
and said you would help me."
"Well, any friend of Mr. Damon's is a friend of mine!" exclaimed
Tom, genially. "I'll have a look at your machine as soon as Koku
gets it down. How is Mr. Damon, anyhow? I haven't seen him in over
two weeks."
"I'm sorry to say he isn't very well, Mr. Swift."
"Is he ill? What is the trouble?"
"He isn't exactly ill," went on Mr. Halling, "but he is fretting
himself into a sickness, worrying over his lost fortune."
"His lost fortune!" cried Tom, in surprise at the bad news
concerning his friend. "I didn't know he had lost his money!"
"He hasn't yet, but he's in a fair way to, he says. It's something
about bad investments, and he did speak of the trickery of one
man, I didn't get the particulars. But he certainly feels very
badly over it."
"I should think he would," put in Mr. Swift. "Tom, we must look
into this. If we can help Mr. Damon--"
"We certainly will," interrupted Tom. "Now come in the house, Mr.
Halling. I'm sure you must be quite shaken up by your upset."
"I am, to tell you the truth, though it isn't the first accident
I've had in my airship."
They were proceeding toward the house, when there came a cry from
Koku, who had fastened a rope about the airship to lower it.
"Master! Master!" cried the giant. "The rope am slippin'. Grab the
end of it!"
CHAPTER III
TOM'S FAILURE
"Come on!" cried Tom, quickly, as, turning, he saw the accident
about to happen. "Your craft will surely be smashed if she slips
to the ground, Mr. Halling!"
"You're right! This seems to be my unlucky day!" The birdman,
limping slightly from his fall, hurried with Tom to where a rope
trailed on the ground. Koku had fastened one end to the airship,
and had taken a turn of the cable about the chimney. He had been
lowering the biplane to the ground, but he had not allowed for its
great weight, and the rope had slipped from his big hands.
But Tom and Mr. Halling were just in time. They grabbed the
slipping hempen strands, and thus checked the falling craft until
Koku could get a better grip.
"All right now," said the giant, when he had made fast the rope.
"Me fix now. Master can go."
"Think he can lower it?" asked Mr. Halling, doubtfully.
"Oh, surely," said Tom. "Koku's as strong as a horse. You needn't
worry. He'll get it down all right. But you are limping."
"Yes, I jammed my leg a little."
"Don't you want a doctor?"
"Oh, no, not for a little thing like that."
But Tom insisted on looking at his new friend's wound, and found
quite a cut on the thigh, which the young inventor insisted on
binding up.
"That feels better," said the birdman, as he stretched out on a
couch. "Now if you can look my machine over, and tell me what's
the matter with it, I'll be much obliged to you, and I'll get on
my way."
"Not quite so fast as that!" laughed Tom. "I wouldn't want to see
you start off with your lame leg, and certainly I would not want
to see you use your aircraft after what she's gone through, until
we've given her a test. You can't tell what part you might have
strained."
"Well, I suppose you are right. But I think I'd better go to a
hotel, or send for an auto and go home."
"Now you needn't do anything of the kind," spoke Tom, hospitably.
"We've got lots of room here, and for that matter we have plenty
of autos and airships, too, as well as a motor boat. You just rest
yourself here. Later we'll look over your craft."
After dinner, when Mr. Halling said he felt much better, Tom
agreed to go out with him and look at the airship. As he feared,
he found several things the matter with it, in addition to the
motor trouble which had been the cause for Mr. Halling's call on
the young inventor.
"Can she be fixed?" asked the birdman, who explained that, as yet,
he was only an amateur in the practice of flying.
"Oh, yes, we can fix her up for you," said Tom. "But it will take
several days. You'll have to leave it here."
"Well, I'll be glad to do that, for I know she will be all the
better when you get through with her. But I think I am able to go
on home now, and I really ought to. There is some business I must
attend to."
"Speaking of business," remarked Tom, "can you tell me anything
more of Mr. Damon's financial troubles?"
"No, not much. All I know is that when I called on him the other
day I found him with his check book out, and he was doing a lot of
figuring. He looked pretty blue and downcast, I can tell you."
"I'm sorry about that," spoke Tom, musingly. "Mr. Damon is a very
good friend of mine, and I'd do anything to help him. I certainly
wouldn't like to see him lose his fortune. Bad investments, you
say it was?"
"Partly so, and yet I'm inclined to think if he does lose his
money it will be due to some trickery. Mr. Damon is not the man to
make bad investments by himself."
"Indeed he is not," agreed Tom. "You say he spoke of some man?"
"Yes, but not definitely. He did not mention any name. But Mr.
Damon was certainly quite blue."
"That's unlike him," remarked Tom. "He is usually very jolly. He
must be feeling quite badly. I'll go over and have a talk with
him, as soon as I can."
"Do. I think he would appreciate it. And now I must see about
getting home."
"I'll take you in one of my cars," said Tom, who had several
automobiles. "I don't want to see you strain that injured leg of
yours."
"You're very good--especially after I tangled up your wireless
aerials; but I didn't see them until I was right into them,"
apologized Mr. Halling.
"They're a new kind of wire," said Tom, "and are not very plain to
see. I must put up some warning signs. But don't worry about
damaging them. They were only up temporarily anyhow, and I was
going to take them down to arrange for my photo telephone."
"Photo telephone, eh? Is that something new?"
"It will be--if I can get it working," said Tom, with a smile.
A little later Tom had taken Mr. Halling home, and then he set
about making arrangements for repairing the damaged airship. This
took him the better part of a week, but he did not regret the
time, for while he was working he was busy making plans for his
newest invention--the photo telephone.
One afternoon, when Tom had completed the repairs to the airship,
and had spent some time setting up an experimental telephone line,
the young inventor received a call from his chum, Ned Newton.
"Well, well, what are you up to now?" asked Ned, as he saw his
chum seated in a booth, with a telephone receiver to his ear,
meanwhile looking steadily at a polished metal plate in front of
him. "Trying to hypnotize yourself, Tom?"
"Not exactly. Quiet, Ned, please. I'm trying to listen."
Ned was too familiar with his chum's work to take offense at this.
The young banker took a seat on a box, and silently watched Tom.
The inventor shifted several switches, pressed one button after
another, and tilted the polished metal plate at different angles.
Then he closed the door of the little telephone booth, and Ned,
through the ground glass door, saw a light shining.
"I wonder what new game Tom is up to?" Ned mused.
Presently the door opened, and Tom stuck out his head.
"Ned, come here," he invited. "Look at that metal plate and see if
you can notice anything on it. I've been staring at it so steadily
that my eyes are full of sticks. See what you can make out."
"What is this?" asked Ned. "No trick; is it? I won't be blown up,
or get my eyes full of pepper; will I?"
"Nonsense! Of course not. I'm trying to make a photo telephone. I
have the telephone part down pat, but I can't see anything of the
photo image. See if you can."
Ned stared at the polished plate, while Tom did things to it,
making electrical connections, and tilting it at various angles.
"See anything, Ned?" asked Tom.
The other shook his head.
"Whom am I supposed to see?" he asked.
"Why, Koku is at the other end of the wire. I'm having him help
me."
Ned gazed from the polished plate out of a side window of the
shop, into the yard.
"Well, that Koku is certainly a wonderful giant," said Ned, with a
laugh.
"How so?" asked Tom.
"Why he can not be in two places at once. You say he ought to be
at the other end of this wire, and there he is out there, spading
up the garden."
Tom stared for a second and then exclaimed:
"Well, if that isn't the limit! I put him in the telephone booth
in the machine shop, and told him to stay there until I was
through. What in the world is he doing out there?"
"Koku!" he called to the giant, "why didn't you stay at the
telephone where I put you? Why did you run away?"
"Ha!" exclaimed the giant, who, for all his great size was a
simple chap, "little thing go 'tick-tick' and then 'clap-clap!'
Koku no like--Koku t'ink bad spirit in telumfoam--Koku come out!"
"Well, no wonder I couldn't see any image on the plate!" exclaimed
Tom. "There was nobody there. Now, Ned, you try it; will you,
please?"
"Sure. Anything to oblige!"
"Then go in the other telephone booth. You can talk to me on the
wire. Say anything you like--the telephone part is all right. Then
you just stand so that the light in the booth shines on your face.
The machine will do the rest--if it works."
Ned hurried off and was soon talking to his chum over the wire
from the branch telephone in the machine shop. Ned stood in the
glare of an electric light, and looked at a polished plate similar
to the one in the other booth.
"Are you there, Ned?" asked Tom.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Is the light on?"
"Yes."
"And you're looking at the plate?"
"Sure. Can you see any reflection in your plate?"
"No, not a thing," answered Tom, and there was great
discouragement in his voice. "The thing is a failure, Ned. Come on
back," and the young banker could hear his chum hang up the
telephone receiver at the other end.
"That's too bad," murmured Ned, knowing how Tom must feel. "I'll
have to cheer him up a bit."
CHAPTER IV
RUN DOWN
When Ned Newton got back to where Tom sat in the small telephone
booth, the young banker found his chum staring rather moodily at
the polished metal plate on the shelf that held the talking
instrument.
"So it was no go; eh, Tom?"
"No go at all, Ned, and I thought sure I had it right this time."
"Then this isn't your first experiment?"
"Land no! I've been at it, off and on, for over a month, and I
can't seem to get any farther. I'm up against a snag now, good and
hard."
"Then there wasn't any image on your plate?"
"Not a thing, Ned. I don't suppose you caught any glimpse of me in
your plate?" asked Tom, half hopefully.
"No. I couldn't see a thing. So you are going to try and make this
thing work both ways, are you?"
"That's my intention, But I can fix it so that a person can
control the apparatus at his end, and only see the person he is
talking to, not being seen himself, unless he wishes it. That is,
I hope to do that. Just now nobody can see anybody," and Tom
sighed.
"Give it up," advised Ned. "It's too hard a nut to crack, Tom!"
"Indeed, I'll not give it up, Ned! I'm going to work along a new
line. I must try a different solution of selenium on the metal
plate. Perhaps I may have to try using a sensitized plate, and
develop it later, though I do want to get the machine down so you
can see a perfect image without the need of developing. And I
will, too!" cried Tom. "I'll get some new selenium."
Eradicate, who came into the shop just then, heard the end of
Tom's remarks. A strange look came over his honest black face, and
he exclaimed:
"What all am dat, Massa Tom? Yo'ah gwine t' bring de new millenium
heah? Dat's de end of de world, ain't it-dat millenium? Golly!
Dish yeah coon neber 'spected t' lib t' see dat. De millenium! Oh
mah landy!"
"No, Rad!" laughed Tom. "I was speaking about selenium, a sort of
metallic combination that is a peculiar conductor of electricity.
The more light that shines on it the better conductor it is, and
the less light, the poorer."
"It must be queer stuff," said Ned.
"It is," declared Tom. "I think it is the only thing to use in
this photo telephone experiment, though I might try the metal
plate method, as they did between Monte Carlo and Paris. But I am
not trying to make newspaper pictures."
"What is selenium, anyhow?" asked Ned. "Remember, Tom, I'm not up
on this scientific stuff as you are."
"Selenium," went on Tom, "was discovered in 1817, by J. J.
Berzelius, and he gave it that name from the Greek word for moon,
on account of selenium being so similar, in some ways, to
tellurium. That last is named after the Latin word tellus, the
earth."
"Do they dig it?" Ned wanted to know.
"Well, sometimes selenium is found in combination with metals, in
the form of selenides, the more important minerals of that kind
being eucharite, crooksite, clausthalite, naumannite and zorgite--"
"Good night!" interrupted Ned, with a laugh, holding up his hands.
"Stop it, Tom!" he pleaded. "You'll give me a headache with all
those big words."
"Oh, they're easy, once you get used to them," said the young
inventor, with a smile. "Perhaps it will be easier if I say that
sometimes selenium is found in native sulphur. Selenium is usually
obtained from the flue-dust or chamber deposits of some factory
where sulphuric acid is made. They take this dust and treat it
with acids until they get the pure selenium. Sometimes selenium
comes in crystal forms, and again it is combined with various
metals for different uses."
"There's one good thing about it. There are several varieties, and
I'll try them all before I give up."
"That's the way to talk!" cried Ned. "Never say die! Don't give up
the ship, and all that. But, Tom, what you need now is a little
fun. You've been poking away at this too long. Come on out on the
lake, and have a ride in the motor boat. It will do you good. It
will do me good. I'm a bit rusty myself--been working hard lately.
Come on--let's go out on the lake."
"I believe I will!" exclaimed Tom, after thinking it over for a
moment. "I need a little fresh air. Sitting in that telephone
booth, trying to get an image on a plate, and not succeeding, has
gotten on my nerves. I want to write out an order for Koku to take
to town, though. I want to get some fresh selenium, and then I'm
going to make new plates."
Tom made some memoranda, and then, giving Koku the order for the
chemist, the young inventor closed up his shop, and went with Ned
down to Lake Carlopa, where the motor boat was moored.
This was not the same boat Tom had first purchased, some years
ago, but a comparatively new and powerful craft.
"It sure is one grand little day for a ride," remarked Ned, as he
got in the craft, while Tom looked over the engine.
"Yes, I'm glad you came over, and routed me out," said the young
inventor. "When I get going on a thing I don't know enough to
stop. Oh, I forgot something!"
"What?" asked Ned.
"I forgot to leave word about Mr. Railing's airship. It's all
fixed and ready for him, but I put on a new control, and I wanted
to explain to him about it. He might not know how to work it. I
left word with father, though, that if he came for it he must not
try it until he had seen me. I guess it will be all right. I don't
want to go back to the house now."
"No, it's too far," agreed Ned.
"I have it!" exclaimed Tom. "I'll telephone to dad from here, not
to let Halling go up until I come back. He may not come for his
machine; but, if he does, it's best to be on the safe side Ned."
"Oh, sure."
Accordingly, Tom 'phoned from his boat-house, and Mr. Swift
promised to see the bird-man if he called. Then Ned and Tom gave
themselves up to the delights of a trip on the water.
The Kilo, which name Tom had selected for his new craft, was a
powerful boat, and comfortable. It swept on down the lake, and
many other persons, in their pleasure craft, turned to look at
Tom's fine one.
"Lots of folks out to-day," observed Ned, as they went around a
point of the shore.
"Yes, quite a number," agreed Tom, leaning forward to adjust the
motor. "I wonder what's got into her?" he said, in some annoyance,
as he made various adjustments. "One of the cylinders is missing."
"Maybe it needs a new spark plug," suggested Ned.
"Maybe. Guess I'll stop and put one in."
Tom slowed down the motor, and headed his boat over toward shore,
intending to tie up there for a while.
As he shifted the wheel he heard a cry behind him, and at the same
time a hoarse, domineering voice called out:
"Here, what do you mean, changing your course that way? Look out,
or I'll run you down! Get out of my way, you land-lubber, you!"
Startled, Ned and Tom turned. They saw, rushing up on them from
astern, a powerful red motor boat, at the wheel of which sat a
stout man, with a very florid face and a commanding air.
"Get out of my way!" he cried. "I can't stop so short! Look out,
or I'll run you down!"
Tom, with a fierce feeling of resentment at the fellow, was about
to shift the course of the Kilo, but he was too late.
A moment later there came a smashing blow on the stern port
quarter and the Kilo heeled over at a dangerous angle, while, with
a rending, splintering sound of wood, the big red motorboat swept
on past Tom and Ned, her rubstreak grinding along the side of the
Kilo.
CHAPTER V
SHARP WORDS
"Great Scott, Tom! What happened?"
"I know as much as you, Ned. That fellow ran us down, that's all."
"Are we leaking?" and with this question Ned sprang from his place
near the bow, and looked toward the stern, where the heaviest blow
had been struck.
The Kilo had swung back to an even keel again, but was still
bobbing about on the water.
"Any hole there?" cried Tom, as he swung the wheel over to point
his craft toward shore, in case she showed a tendency to sink.
"I can't see any hole," answered Ned. "But water is coming in
here."
"Then there's a leak all right! Probably some of the seams are
opened, or it may be coming in around the shaft stuffing-box.
Here, Ned, take the wheel, and I'll start up the engine again,"
for with the blow the motor had stopped.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ned, as he again made his way
forward.
"Take her to shore, of course. It's deep out here and I don't want
her to go down at this point."
"Say, what do you think of that fellow, anyhow, Tom?"
"I wouldn't like to tell you. Look, he's coming back."
This was so, for, as the boys watched, the big red motor boat had
swung about in a circle and was headed for them.
"I'll tell him what I think of him, at any rate," murmured Tom, as
he bent over his motor. "And, later on, I'll let the lawyers talk
to him."
"You mean you'll sue him, Tom?"
"Well, I'm certainly not going to let him run into me and spring a
leak, for nothing. That won't go with me!"
By this time Tom had the motor started, but he throttled it down
so that it just turned the propeller. With it running at full
speed there was considerable vibration, and this would further
open the leaking seams. So much water might thus be let in that
the craft could not be gotten ashore.
"Head her over, Ned," cried Tom, when he found he had sufficient
headway. "Steer for Ramsey's dock. There's a marine railway next
to him, and I can haul her out for repairs."
"That's the talk, Tom!" cried his chum.
By this time the big, red motor boat was close beside Tom's craft.
The man at the wheel, a stout-bodied and stout-faced man, with a
complexion nearly the color of his boat, glared at the two young
men.
"What do you fellows mean?" called out the man, in deep booming
tones--tones that he tried to make imposing, but which, to the
trained ears of Tom and Ned, sounded only like the enraged bellow
of some bully. "What do you mean, I say? Getting on my course like
that!"
Ned could see Tom biting his lips, and clenching his hands to keep
down his temper. But it was too much. To be run into, and then
insulted, was more than Tom could stand.
"Look here!" he cried, standing up and facing the red-faced man,
"I don't know who you are, and I don't care. But I'll tell you one
thing--you'll pay for the damage you did to my boat!"
"I'll pay for it? Come, that's pretty good! Ha! Ha!" laughed the
self-important man. "Why, I was thinking of making a complaint
against you for crossing my course that way. If I find my boat is
damaged I shall certainly do so anyhow. Have we suffered any
damage, Snuffin?" and he looked back at a grimy-faced mechinician
who was oiling the big, throbbing motor, which was now running
with the clutch out.
"No, sir, I don't think we're damaged, sir," answered the man,
deferentially.
"Well, it's a lucky thing for these land-lubbers that we aren't. I
should certainly sue them. The idea of crossing my course the way
they did. Weren't they in the wrong, Snuffin?"
The man hesitated for a moment, and glanced at Tom and Ned, as
though asking their indulgence.
"Well, I asked you a question, Snuffin!" exclaimed the red-faced
man sharply.
"Yes--yes, sir, they shouldn't have turned the way they did,"
answered the man, in a low voice.
"Well, of all the nerve!" murmured Tom, and stopped his motor.
Then, stepping to the side of his disabled and leaking boat, he
exclaimed:
"Look here! Either you folks don't know anything about navigation
rules, or you aren't heeding them. I had a perfect right to turn
and go ashore when I did, for I found my engine was out of order,
and I wanted to fix it. I blew the usual signal on the whistle,
showing my intention to turn off my course, and if you had been
listening you would have heard it."
"If you had even been watching you would have seen me shift, and
then, coming on at the speed you did, it was your place to warn me
by a whistle, so that I could keep straight on until you had
passed me."
"But you did not. You kept right on and ran into me, and the only
wonder is that you didn't sink me. Talk about me getting in your
way! Why, you deliberately ran me down after I had given the right
signal. I'll make a complaint against you, that's what I will."
If possible the red-faced man got even more rosy than usual. He
fairly puffed up, he was so angry.
"Listen to that, will you, Snuffin!" he cried. "Listen to that! He
says he blew his whistle to tell us he was going to turn in."
"That's what I did!" said Tom, calmly.
"Preposterous! Did you hear it, Snuffin?" puffed the important
man.
"Yes--yes, I think I did, sir," answered the machinist, in a
hesitating voice.
"You did? What! You mean to tell me you heard their whistle?"
"Yes--yes, sir!"
"Why--why--er--I--" the big man puffed and blew, but seemed to
find no words in which to express himself. "Snuffin, I'll have a
talk with you when we get home," he finally said, most significantly.
"The idea of saying you heard a whistle blown! There was nothing of
the kind! I shall make a complaint against these land-lubbers myself.
Do you know who they are, Snuffin?"
"Yes--yes, sir," was the answer, as the man glanced at Tom. "At
least I know one of them, sir."
"Very good. Give me his name. I'll attend to the rest."
Tom looked at the big man sharply. He had never seen him before,
as far as he could recall. As for the machinist, the young
inventor had a dim recollection that once the man might have
worked in his shop.
"Go ahead, Snuffin!" said the big man, mopping his face with a
large silk handkerchief, which, even at that distance, gave out a
powerful perfume. "Go ahead, Snuffin, and we will settle this
matter later," and, adjusting a large rose in his buttonhole, the
self-important individual took his place on the cushioned seat at
the wheel, while the big red motor boat drew off down the river.
"Well, of all the nerve!" gasped Ned. "Isn't he the limit?"
"Never mind," spoke Tom, with a little laugh. "I'm sorry I lost my
temper, and even bothered to answer him. We'll let the lawyers do
the rest of the talking. Take the wheel, Ned."
"But are you going to let him get away like this, Tom? Without
asking him to pay for the damage to your boat, when he was clearly
in the wrong?"
"Oh, I'll ask him to pay all right; but I'll do it the proper way.
Now come on. If we stay here chinning much longer the Kilo will go
down. I must find out who he is. I think I know Snuffin--he used
to work for me, I now recall."
"Don't you know who that big man is?" asked Ned, as he took the
wheel, while Tom again started the motor. The water was now almost
up to the lower rim of the fly wheel.
"No; who is he?" asked Tom.
"Shallock Peters."
"Well, I know as much as I did before," laughed Tom. "That doesn't
tell me anything."
"Why, I thought everybody in the town knew Shallock Peters," went
on Ned. "He tried to do some business with our bank, but was
turned down. I hear he's gone to the other one, though. He's what
we call a get-rich-quick schemer, Tom--a promoter."
"I thought he acted like that sort of a character."
"Well, that's what he is. He's got half a dozen schemes under way,
and he hasn't been in town over a month. I wonder you haven't seen
or heard of him."
"I've been too busy over my photo telephone."
"I suppose so. Well, this fellow Peters struck Shopton about a
month ago. He bought the old Wardell homestead, and began to show
off at once. He's got two autos, and this big motor boat. He
always goes around with a silk hat and a flower in his buttonhole.
A big bluff--that's what he is."
"He acted so to me," was Tom's comment. "Well, he isn't going to
scare me. The idea! Why, he seemed to think we were in the wrong;
whereas he was, and his man knew it, too."
"Yes, but the poor fellow was afraid to say so. I felt sorry for
him."
"So did I," added Tom. "Well, Kilo is out of commission for the
present. Guess we'll have to finish our outing by walking, Ned."
"Oh, I don't mind. But it makes me mad to have a fellow act the
way he did."
"Well, there's no good in getting mad," was Tom's smiling
rejoinder. "We'll take it out of him legally. That's the best way
in the end. But I can't help saying I don't like Mr. Shallock
Peters."
"And I don't either," added Ned.
CHAPTER VI
A WARNING
"There, she's about right now, Ned. Hold her there!"
"Aye, aye, Captain Tom!"
"Jove, she's leaking like a sieve! We only got her here just in
time!"
"That's right," agreed Ned.
Tom and his chum had managed to get the Kilo to Ramsey's dock, and
over the ways of the inclined marine railway that led from the
shop on shore down into the river. Then, poling the craft along,
until she was in the "cradle," Ned held her there while Tom went
on shore to wind up the windlass that pulled the car, containing
the boat, up the incline.
"I'll give you a hand, as soon as I find she sets level," called
Ned, from his place in the boat.
"All right--don't worry. There are good gears on this windlass,
and she works easy," replied Tom.
In a short time the boat was out of the water, but, as Tom grimly
remarked, "the water was not out of her," for a stream poured from
the stuffing-box, through which the propeller shaft entered, and
water also ran out through the seams that had been opened by the
collision.
"Quite a smash, Tom," observed the boat repairer, when he had come
out to look over the Kilo. "How'd it happen?"
"Oh, Shallock Peters, with his big red boat, ran into us!" said
Ned, sharply.
"Ha, Peters; eh?" exclaimed the boatman. "That's the second craft
he's damaged inside a week with his speed mania. There's Bert
Johnson's little speeder over there," and he pointed to one over
which some men were working. "Had to put a whole new stern in her,
and what do you think that man Peters did?"
"What?" asked Tom, as he bent down to see how much damage his
craft had sustained.
"He wouldn't pay young Johnson a cent of money for the repairs,"
went on Mr. Houston, the boatman. "It was all Peters's fault,
too."
"Couldn't he make him pay?" asked Tom.
"Well, young Johnson asked for it--no more than right, too; but
Peters only sneered and laughed at him."
"Why didn't he sue?" asked Ned.
"Costs too much money to hire lawyers, I reckon. So he played you
the same trick; eh, Tom?"
"Pretty much, yes. But he won't get off so easily, I can tell you
that!" and there was a grim and determined look on the face of the
young inventor. "How long will it take to fix my boat, Mr.
Houston?"
"Nigh onto two weeks, Tom. I'm terrible rushed now."
Tom whistled ruefully.
"I could do it myself quicker, if I could get her back to my
shop," he said. "But she'd sink on the home trip. All right, do
the best you can, Mr. Houston."
"I will that, Tom."
The two chums walked out of the boat-repair place.
"What are you going to do, Tom?" asked Ned, as they strolled
along.
"Well, since we can't go motor boating, I guess I may as well go
back and see if that new supply of selenium has come. I do want to
get my photo telephone working, Ned."
"And that's all the outing you're going to take--less than an
hour!" exclaimed Ned, reproachfully.
"Oh, well, all you wanted to do was to get me out of a rut, as you
called it," laughed Tom. "And you've done it--you and Mr. Peters
together. It jolted up my brain, and I guess I can think better
now. Come on back and watch me tinker away, Ned."
"Not much! I'm going to stay out and get some fresh air while I
can. You'd better, too."
"I will, later."
So Tom turned back to his workshop, and Ned strolled on into the
country, for his day's work at the bank was over. And for some
time after that--until far into the night--Tom Swift worked at the
knotty problem of the photo telephone.
But the young inventor was baffled. Try as he might, he could not
get the image to show on the metal plate, nor could he get any
results by using a regular photographic plate, and developing it
afterward.
"There is something wrong with the transmission of the light waves
over the wire," Tom confessed to his father.
"You'll never do it, Tom," said the aged inventor. "You are only
wasting a whole lot of time."
"Well, as I haven't anything else to do now, it isn't much loss,"
spoke Tom, ruefully. "But I'm going to make this work, Dad!"
"All right, son. It's up to you. Only I tell you it can't be
done."
Tom, himself, was almost ready to admit this, when, a week later,
he seemed to be no nearer a solution of the problem than he was at
first. He had tried everything he could think of, and he had
Eradicate and Koku, the giant, almost distracted, by making them
stay in small telephone booths for hours at a time, while the
young inventor tried to get some reflection of one face or the
other to come over the wire.
Koku finally got so nervous over the matter, that he flatly
refused to "pose" any longer, so Tom was forced to use Eradicate.
As for that elderly man of all work, after many trials, all
unsuccessful, he remarked:
"Massa Tom, I reckon I knows what's wrong."
"Yes, Rad? Well, what is it?"
"Mah face am too black--dat's de trouble. You done want a
white-complected gen'man to stand in dat booth an' look at dat lookin'
glass plate. I'se too black! I suah is!"
"No, that isn't it, Rad," laughed Tom, hopelessly. "If the thing
works at all it will send a black man's face over the wire as well
as a white man's. I guess the truth of it is that you're like
Koku. You're getting tired. I don't know as I blame you. I'm
getting a bit weary myself. I'm going to take a rest. I'll send
for another kind of selenium crystals I've heard of, and we'll try
them. In the meanwhile--I'll take a little vacation."
"Get out my small airship, Rad, and I'll take a little flight."
"Dat's de way to talk, Massa Tom," was the glad rejoinder.
"I'm going over to see Mr. Damon, Father," announced Tom to Mr.
Swift a little later, when his speedy monoplane was waiting for
him. "I haven't seen him in some time, and I'd like to get at the
truth of what Mr. Halling said about Mr. Damon's fortune being in
danger. I'll be back soon."
"All right, Tom. And say--"
"Yes, Dad, what is it?" asked Tom, as he paused in the act of
getting in the seat.
"If he wants any ready cash, you know we've got plenty."
"Oh, sure. I was going to tell him we'd help him out."
Then, as Koku spun the propeller blades, Tom grasped the steering
wheel, and, tilting the elevating rudder, he was soon soaring into
the air, he and his craft becoming smaller and smaller as they
were lost to sight in the distance, while the rattle and roar of
the powerful motor became fainter.
In a comparatively short time Tom had made a successful landing in
the big yard in front of Mr. Damon's house, and, walking up the
path, kept a lookout for his friend.
"I wonder why he didn't come out to meet me?" mused Tom, for
usually when the eccentric man heard the throbbing of Tom's motor,
he was out waiting for the young inventor. But this time it was
not the case.
"Is Mr. Damon in?" Tom asked of the maid who answered his ring.
"Yes, Mr. Swift. You'll find him in the library," and she ushered
him in.
"Oh, hello, Tom," greeted Mr. Damon, but the tone was so listless,
and his friend's manner so gloomy that the young inventor was
quite embarrassed.
"Have a chair," went on Mr. Damon. "I'll talk to you in a minute,
Tom. I've got to finish this letter, and it's a hard one to write,
let me tell you."
Now Tom was more astonished than ever. Not once had Mr. Damon
"blessed," anything, and when this did not happen Tom was sure
something was wrong. He waited until his friend had sealed the
letter, and turned to him with a sigh. Then Tom said boldly:
"Mr. Damon, is it true that you're having hard luck--in money
matters?"
"Why, yes, Tom, I'm afraid I am," was the quick answer. "But who
told you?"
"Grant Halling. He was over to get me to fix his airship," and Tom
briefly related what had happened.
"Oh, yes, I did mention the matter to him," went on Mr. Damon, and
his tone was still listless. "So he told you; did he? Well,
matters aren't any better, Tom. In fact, they're worse. I just had
to write to a man who was asking for help, and I had to refuse
him, though he needs it very much. The truth is I hadn't the
money. Tom, I'm afraid I'm going to be a very poor man soon."
"Impossible, Mr. Damon! Why, I thought your investments--"
"I've made some bad ones of late, Tom. I've been pretty foolish,
I'm afraid. I drew out some money I had in government bonds, and
invested in certain stocks sold by a Mr. Shallock Peters."
"Shallock Peters!" cried Tom, almost jumping out of his chair.
"Why, I know him--I mean I've met him."
"Have you, Tom? Well, then, all I've got to say is to steer clear
of him, my boy. Don't have anything to do with him," and, with
something of a return of his usual energy Mr. Damon banged his
fist down on his desk. "Give him a wide berth, Tom, and if you see
him coming, turn your back. He'd talk a miser into giving him his
last cent. Keep away from Shallock Peters, Tom. Bless my necktie,
he's a scoundrel, that's what he is!" and again Mr. Damon banged
his desk forcibly.
CHAPTER VII
SOFT WORDS
"Well, I'm glad of one thing!" exclaimed Tom, when the ink bottle
and the paper cutter on Mr. Damon's desk had ceased rattling,
because of the violence of the blow. "I'm glad of one thing."
"What's that, Tom?" asked his friend.
"I heard you bless something at last--the first time since I came
in."
"Oh!" and Mr. Damon laughed. "Well, Tom, I haven't been blessing
things lately--that's a fact. I haven't had the heart for it.
There are too many business complications. I wish I'd never met
this Peters."
"So do I," said Tom. "My motor boat would not have been damaged
then."
"Did he do that, Tom?"
"He certainly did, and then he accused me of being at fault."
"That would be just like him. Tell me about it, Tom."
When the young inventor finished the story of the collision Mr.
Damon sat silent for a moment. Then he remarked slowly:
"That's just like Peters. A big bluff--that's what he is. I wish
I'd discovered that fact sooner--I'd be money in pocket. But I
allowed myself to be deceived by his talk about big profits. At
first he seemed like a smart business man, and he certainly had
fine recommendations. But I am inclined to believe, now, that the
recommendations were forged."
"What did he do to you, Mr. Damon?" asked Tom, with ready
sympathy.
"It's too complicated to go into details over, Tom, but to make a
long story short, he got me to invest nearly all my fortune in
some enterprises that, I fear, are doomed to failure. And if they
do fail, I'll be a ruined man."
"No, you won't!" exclaimed Tom. "That's one reason why I came here
to-day. Father told me to offer you all the ready money you needed
to get out of your trouble. How much do you need, Mr. Damon?"
"Bless my collar button! That's like your father, Tom," and now
Mr. Damon seemed more like his old self. "Bless my shoes, a man
never knows who his real friends are until trouble comes. I can't
say how I thank you and your father, Tom. But I'm not going to
take advantage of him."
"It wouldn't be taking any advantage of him, Mr. Damon. He has
money lying idle, and he'd like to have you use it."
"Well, Tom, I might use it, if I had only myself to think about.
But there's no use in throwing good money after bad. If I took
yours now this fellow Peters would only get it, and that would be
the last of it."
"No, Tom, thank you and your father just the same, but I'll try to
weather the storm a bit longer myself. Then, if I do go down I
won't drag anybody else with me. I'll hang on to the wreck a bit
longer. The storm may blow over, or--or something may happen to
this fellow Peters."
"Has he really got you in his grip, Mr. Damon?"
"He has, and, to a certain extent, it's my own fault. I should
have been suspicious of him. And now, Tom, let me give you a
further word of warning. You heard me say to steer clear of this
Peters?"
"Yes, and I'm going to. But I'm going to make him pay for damaging
my boat, if I possibly can."
"Maybe it would be wiser not to try that, Tom. I tell you he's a
tricky man. And one thing more. I have heard that this man Peters
makes a specialty of organizing companies to take up new
inventions."
"Is that so?" asked Tom, interestedly.
"Yes, but that's as far as it goes. Peters gets the invention, and
the man, out of whose brain it came, gets nothing."
"In other words, he swindles them?"
"That's it, Tom. If not in one way, then in another. He cheats
them out of the profits of their inventions. So I want to warn you
to be on the lookout."
"Don't worry," said Tom. "Peters will get nothing from my father
or me. We'll be on our guard. Not that I think he will try it, but
it's just as well to be warned. I didn't like him from the moment
he ran into me, and, now that I know what he has done to you, I
like him still less. He won't get anything from me!"
"I'm glad to hear you say so, Tom. I wish he'd gotten nothing out
of me."
"Are you sure you won't let my father help you, financially, Mr.
Damon?"
"No, Tom, at least not for the present. I'm going to make another
fight to hold on to my fortune. If I find I can't do it alone,
then I'll call on you. I'm real glad you called. Bless my
shoestring! I feel better now."
"I'm glad of it," laughed Tom, and he saw that his friend was in a
better state of mind, as his "blessings" showed.
Tom remained for a little longer, talking to Mr. Damon, and then
took his leave, flying back home in the airship.
"Gen'man t' see yo', Massa Tom," announced Eradicate, as he helped
Tom wheel the monoplane back into the shed.
"Is that so, Rad? Where is he?"
"Settin' in th' library. Yo' father am out, so I asted him in
dere."
"That's right, Rad. Who is he, do you know?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom, I doan't. He shore does use a pow'ful nice
perfume on his pocket hanky, though. Yum-yum!"
"Perfume!" exclaimed Tom, his mind going back to the day he had
had the trouble with Mr. Peters. "Is he a big, red-faced man,
Rad?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom. He's a white-faced, skinny man."
"Then it can't be Peters," mused Tom. "I guess perhaps it's that
lawyer I wrote to about bringing suit to get back what it cost me
to have the Kilo fixed. I'll see him at once. Oh, by the way, it
isn't Mr. Grant Halling; is it? The gentleman who got tangled up
in our aerials with his airship? Is it he?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom. 'Tain't him."
"I thought perhaps he had gotten into more trouble," mused Tom, as
he took off his airship "togs," and started for the house. For Mr.
Halling had called for his repaired airship some time ago, and had
promised to pay Tom another and more conventional visit, some
future day.
Tom did not know the visitor whom he greeted in the library a
little later. The man, as Eradicate had said, was rather pale of
face, and certainly he was not very fleshy.
"Mr. Tom Swift, I think?" said the man, rising and holding out his
hand.
"That's my name. I don't believe I know you, though."
"No, I haven't your reputation," said the man, with a laugh that
Tom did not like. "We can't all be great inventors like you," and,
somehow, Tom liked the man less than before, for he detected an
undertone of sneering patronage in the words. Tom disliked praise,
and he felt that this was not sincere.
"I have called on a little matter of business," went on the man.
"My name is Harrison Boylan, and I represent Mr. Shallock Peters."
Instinctively Tom stiffened. Receiving a call from a
representative of the man against whom Mr. Damon had warned him
only a short time before was a strange coincidence, Tom thought.
"You had some little accident, when your motor boat and that of
Mr. Peters collided, a brief time ago; did you not?" went on Mr.
Boylan.
"I did," said Tom, and, as he motioned the caller to be seated Tom
saw, with a start, that some of the drawings of his photo
telephone were lying on a desk in plain sight. They were within
easy reach of the man, and Tom thought the sheets looked as though
they had been recently handled. They were not in the orderly array
Tom had made of them before going out.
"If he is a spy, and has been looking at them," mused Tom, "he may
steal my invention." Then he calmed himself, as he realized that
he, himself, had not yet perfected his latest idea. "I guess he
couldn't make much of the drawings," Tom thought.
"Yes, the collision was most unfortunate," went on Mr. Boylan,
"and Mr. Peters has instructed me to say--"
"If he's told you to say that it was my fault, you may as well
save your time," cut in Tom. "I don't want to be impolite, but I
have my own opinion of the affair. And I might add that I have
instructed a lawyer to begin a suit against Mr. Peters--"
"No necessity for that at all!" interrupted the man, in soft
accents. "No necessity at all. I am sorry you did that, for there
was no need. Mr. Peters has instructed me to say that he realizes
the accident was entirely his own fault, and he is very willing--nay,
anxious, to pay all damages. In fact, that is why I am here,
and I am empowered, my dear Mr. Swift, to offer you five hundred
dollars, to pay for the repairs to your motor boat. If that is not
enough--"
The man paused, and drew a thick wallet from his pocket. Tom felt
a little embarrassed over what he had said.
"Oh," spoke the young inventor, "the repair bill is only about
three hundred dollars. I'm sorry--"
"Now that's all right, Mr. Swift! It's all right," and the man,
with his soft words, raised a white, restraining hand. "Not
another word. Mr. Peters did not know who you were that day he so
unfortunately ran into you. If he had, he would not have spoken as
he did. He supposed you were some amateur motor-boatist, and he
was--well, he admits it--he was provoked."
"Since then he has made inquiries, and, learning who you were, he
at once authorized me to make a settlement in full. So if five
hundred dollars--"
"The repair bill," said Tom, and his voice was not very cordial,
in spite of the other's persuasive smile, "the bill came to three
hundred forty-seven dollars. Here is the receipted bill. I paid
it, and, to be frank with you, I intended bringing suit against
Mr. Peters for that sum."
"No need, no need at all, I assure you!" interrupted Mr. Boylan,
as he counted off some bills. "There you are, and I regret that
you and Mr. Peters had such a misunderstanding. It was all his
fault, and he wants to apologize to you."
"The apology is accepted," said Tom, and he smiled a trifle. "Also
the money. I take it merely as a matter of justice, for I assure
you that Mr. Peters's own machinist will say the accident was his
employer's fault."
"No doubt of it, not the least in the world," said the caller.
"And now that I have this disagreeable business over, let me speak
of something more pleasant."
Instinctively Tom felt that now the real object of the man's call
would be made plain--that the matter of paying the damages was
only a blind. Tom steeled himself for what was to come.
"You know, I suppose," went on Mr. Boylan, smiling at Tom, "that
Mr. Peters is a man of many and large interests."
"I have heard something like that," said Tom, cautiously.
"Yes. Well, he is an organizer--a promoter, if you like. He
supplies the money for large enterprises, and is, therefore, a
benefactor of the human race. Where persons have no cash with
which to exploit their--well, say their inventions. Mr. Peters
takes them, and makes money out of them."
"No doubt," thought Tom, grimly.
"In other cases, where an inventor is working at a handicap, say
with too many interests, Mr. Peters takes hold of one of his
ideas, and makes it pay much better than the inventor has been
able to do."
"Now, Mr. Peters has heard of you, and he would like to do you
good."
"Yes, I guess he would," thought Tom. "He would like to do me--and
do me good and brown. Here's where I've got to play a game
myself."
"And so," went on Mr. Boylan, "Mr. Peters has sent me to you to
ask you to allow him to exploit one, or several, of your
inventions. He will form a large stock company, put one of your
inventions on the market, and make you a rich man. Now what do you
say?" and he looked at Tom and smiled--smiled, the young inventor
could not help thinking, like a cat looking at a mouse. "What do
you say, Mr. Swift?"
For a moment Tom did not answer. Then getting up and opening the
library door, to indicate that the interview was at an end, the
young inventor smiled, and said:
"Tell Mr. Peters that I thank him, but that I have nothing for him
to exploit, or with which to form a company to market."
"Wha--what!" faltered the visitor. "Do you mean to say you will
not take advantage of his remarkable offer?"
"That's just what I mean to say," replied Tom, with a smile.
"You won't do business with Mr. Peters? You won't let him do you
good?"
"No," said Tom, quietly.
"Why--why, that's the strangest--the most preposterous thing I
ever heard of!" protested Mr. Boylan. "What--what shall I say to
Mr. Peters?"
"Tell him," said Tom, "tell him, from me, and excuse the slang, if
you like, but tell him there is--nothing doing!"
CHAPTER VIII
TOM IS BAFFLED
Amazement held Mr. Boylan silent for a moment, and then, staring
at Tom, as though he could not believe what he had heard the young
inventor say, the representative of Mr. Peters exclaimed:
"Nothing doing?"
"That's what I said," repeated Tom, calmly.
"But--but you don't understand, I'm afraid."
"Oh, but indeed I do."
"Then you refuse to let my friend, Mr. Peters, exploit some of
your inventions?"
"I refuse absolutely."
"Oh, come now. Take an invention that hasn't been very
successful."
"Well, I don't like to boast," said Tom with a smile, "but all of
my inventions have been successful. They don't need any aid from
Mr. Peters, thank you."
"But this one!" went on the visitor eagerly, "this one about some
new kind of telephone," and he motioned to the drawings on the
table. "Has that been a success? Excuse me for having looked at
the plans, but I did not think you would mind. Has that telephone
been a success? If it has not perhaps Mr. Peters could form a
company to--"
"How did you know those drawings referred to a telephone?" asked
Tom, suspiciously, for the papers did not make it clear just what
the invention was.
"Why, I understood--I heard, in fact, that you were working on a
new photo telephone, and--"
"Who told you?" asked Tom quickly.
"Oh, no one in particular. The colored man who sent me here
mentioned--"
"Eradicate!" thought Tom. "He must have been talking. That isn't
like him. I must look into this."
Then to his caller he said:
"Really, you must excuse me, Mr. Boylan, but I don't care to do
any business with Mr. Peters. Tell him, with my thanks, that there
is really nothing doing in his line. I prefer to exploit my own
inventions."
"That is your last word?"
"Yes," returned Tom, as he gathered up the drawings.
"Well," said Mr. Boylan, and Tom could not help thinking there was
a veiled threat in his tones, "you will regret this. You will be
sorry for not having accepted this offer."
"I think not," replied Tom, confidently. "Good-day."
The young inventor sat for some time thinking deeply, when his
visitor had gone. He called Eradicate to him, and gently
questioned the old colored man, for Eradicate was ageing fast of
late, and Tom did not want him to feel badly.
It developed that the servant had been closely cross-questioned by
Mr. Boylan, while he was waiting for Tom, and it was small wonder
that the old colored man had let slip a reference to the photo
telephone. But he really knew nothing of the details of the
invention, so he could have given out no secrets.
"But at the same time," mused Tom, "I must be on guard against
these fellows. That Boylan seems a pretty slick sort of a chap. As
for Peters, he's a big 'bluff,' to be perfectly frank. I'm glad I
had Mr. Damon's warning in mind, or I might have been tempted to
do business with him."
"Now to get busy at this photo telephone again. I'm going to try a
totally different system of transmission. I'll use an alternating
current on the third wire, and see if that makes it any better.
And I'll put in the most sensitive selenium plate I can make. I'm
going to have this thing a success."
Tom carefully examined the drawings of his invention, at which
papers Mr. Boylan had confessed to looking. As far as the young
inventor could tell none was missing, and as they were not
completed it would be hard work for anyone not familiar with them
to have gotten any of Tom's ideas.
"But at the same time I'm going to be on my guard," mused Tom.
"And now for another trial."
Tom Swift worked hard during the following week, and so closely
did he stick to his home and workshop that he did not even pay a
visit to Mr. Damon, so he did not learn in what condition that
gentleman's affairs were. Tom even denied himself to his chum Ned,
so taken up was the young inventor with working out the telephone
problem, until Ned fairly forced himself into the shop one day,
and insisted on Tom coming out.
"You need some fresh air!" exclaimed Ned. "Come on out in the
motor boat again. She's all fixed now; isn't she?"
"Yes," answered Tom, "but--"
"Oh, 'but me no buts,' as Mr. Shakespeare would say. Come on, Tom.
It will do you good. I want a spin myself."
"All right, I will go for a little while," agreed Tom. "I am
feeling a bit rusty, and my head seems filled with cobwebs."
"Can't get the old thing to come out properly; eh?"
"No. I guess dad was more than half right when he said it couldn't
be done. But I haven't given up. Maybe I'll think of some new plan
if I take a little run. Come along."
They went down to the boat house, and soon were out on the lake in
the Kilo.
"She runs better since you had her fixed," remarked Ned.
"Yes, they did a good job."
"Did you sue Peters?"
"Didn't have to. He sent the money," and Tom told of his interview
with Mr. Boylan. This was news to Ned, as was also the financial
trouble of Mr. Damon.
"Well," said the young banker, "that bears out what I had heard of
Peters--that he was a get-rich-quick chap, and a good one to steer
clear of."
"Speaking of steering clear," laughed Tom, "there he is now, in
his big boat," and he pointed to a red blur coming up the lake.
"I'll give him a wide enough berth this time."
But though Mr. Peters, in his powerful motor boat, passed close to
Tom's more modest craft, the big man did not glance toward our
hero and his chum. Nor did Mr. Boylan, who was with his friend,
look over.
"I guess they've had enough of you," chuckled Ned.
"Probably he wishes he hadn't paid me that money," said Tom. "Very
likely he thought, after he handed it over, that I'd be only too
willing to let him manage one of my inventions. But he has another
guess coming."
Tom and Ned rode on for some distance, thoroughly enjoying the
spin on the lake that fine Summer day. They stopped for lunch at a
picnic resort, and coming back in the cool of the evening they
found themselves in the midst of a little flotilla of pleasure
craft, all decorated with Japanese lanterns.
"Better slow down a bit," Ned advised Tom, for many of the
pleasure craft were canoes and light row boats. "Our wash may
upset some of them."
"Guess you're right, old man," agreed Tom, as he closed the
gasoline throttle, to reduce speed. Hardly had he done so than
there broke in upon the merry shouts and singing of the pleasure-seekers
the staccato exhaust of a powerful motor boat, coming directly
behind Tom's craft.
Then came the shrill warning of an electrical siren horn.
"Somebody's in a hurry," observed Tom.
"Yes," answered Ned. "It sounds like Peters's boat, too."
"It is!" exclaimed Tom. "Here he comes. He ought to know better
than to cut through this raft of boats at that speed."
"Is he headed toward us?"
"No, I guess he's had enough of that. But look at him!"
With undiminished speed the burly promoter was driving his boat
on. The big vibrating horn kept up its clamor, and a powerful
searchlight in front dazzled the eyes.
"Look out! Look out!" cried several.
Many of the rowers and paddlers made haste to clear a lane for the
big, speedy motor craft, and Peters and his friends (for there
were several men in his boat now) seemed to accept this as a
matter of course, and their right.
"Somebody'll be swamped!" exclaimed Ned.
Hardly had he spoken than, as the big red boat dashed past in a
smother of foam, there came a startled cry in girls' voices.
"Look!" cried Tom. "That canoe's upset! Speed her up, Ned! We've
got to get 'em!"
CHAPTER IX
A GLEAM OF HOPE
"Where are they?"
"Who are they?"
"Over this way! There's their canoe!"
"Look out for that motor boat!"
"Who was it ran them down? They ought to be arrested!"
These were only a few of the cries that followed the upsetting of
the frail canoe by the wash from the powerful red boat. On Tom's
Kilo there was a small, electrical searchlight which he had not
yet switched on. But, with his call to Ned Newton to speed up the
motor, that had been slowed down, Tom, with one turn of his
fingers, set the lamp aglow, while, with the other hand, he
whirled the wheel over to head his craft for the spot where he saw
two figures struggling in the water.
Fortunately the lanterns on the various canoes and row-boats, as
well as the light on the bow of Tom's Kilo, made an illumination
that gave the rescuers a good chance to work. Many other boats
besides Tom's had headed for the scene, but his was the more
practical, since the others--all quite small ones--were pretty
well filled.
"There they are, Ned!" Tom suddenly cried. "Throw out the clutch!
I'll get 'em!"
"Want any help?"
"No, you stay at the engine, and mind what I say. Reverse now!
We're going to pass them!"
Ned threw in the backing gear, and the screw churned the water to
foam under the stern of the Kilo.
Tom leaned over the bow, and made a grab for the gasping,
struggling figure of a girl in the water. At the same time he had
tossed overboard a cork life ring, attached to a rope which, in
turn, was made fast to the forward deck-cleat. "Grab that!" cried
Tom. "Hold on, and I'll have you out in a second! That's enough,
Ned! Shut her off!"
The Kilo came to a standstill, and, a second later, Tom had pulled
into his boat one of the girls. She would have collapsed, and
fallen in a heap on the bottom boards, had not Ned, who had come
forward from the engine, caught her.
Then Tom, again leaning over the side, pulled in the other girl,
who was clinging to the life ring.
"You're all right," Tom assured her, as she came up, gasping,
choking and crying hysterically. "You're all right!"
"Is--is Minnie saved?" she sobbed.
"Yes, Grace! I'm here," answered the one Ned was supporting.
"Oh, wasn't it terrible!" cried the second girl Tom had saved.
"I thought we would be drowned, even though we can swim."
"Yes, it--it was so--so sudden!" gasped her companion. "What
happened?"
"The wash from that big boat upset you," explained Tom. "That
fellow ought to be ashamed of himself, rushing along the way he
did. Now, can I take you girls anywhere? Your canoe seems to have
drifted off."
"I have it!" someone called. "It's turned over, but I can tow it
to shore."
"And I'll take the girls home," offered a gentleman in a large
rowboat. "My wife will look after them. They live near us," and he
mentioned his own name and the names of the two girls Tom had
saved. The young inventor did not know them, but he introduced
himself and Ned.
"This is the annual moonlight outing of our little boat club,"
explained the man who had offered to look after the girls, "and it
is the first time we ever had an accident. This was not our fault,
though."
"Indeed it was not," agreed Tom, after he had helped the two
dripping young ladies into the rowboat. "It was due to Mr.
Peters's speed mania."
"I shall make a complaint against him to the navigation
authorities," said Mr. Ralston, who was looking after the girls.
"He must think he, alone, has any rights on this lake."
With renewed thanks to Tom and Ned, the rescued girls were rowed
off to their homes, while the interrupted water carnival was
continued.
"Some little excitement; eh, Tom?" remarked Ned, when they were
once more under way.
"Yes. We seem to run into that fellow Peters, or some of his
doings, quite often lately."
"And it isn't a good sign, either," murmured Ned.
For some minutes after that Tom did not speak. In fact he was so
silent that Ned at last inquired:
"What's the matter, Tom--in love?"
"Far from it. But, Ned, I've got an idea."
"And I've got a wet suit of clothes where that nice young lady
fainted in my arms. I'm soaked."
"That's what gave me the idea--the water, I mean. I noticed how
everything was reflected in it, and, do you know, Ned, I believe I
have been working on the wrong principle for my photo telephone."
"Wrong, Tom, how is that?"
"Why, I've been using a dry plate, and I think I should have used
a wet one. You know how even in a little puddle of water on the
sidewalk you can see yourself reflected?"
"Yes, I've often seen that."
"Well then, 'bless my watch chain!' as Mr. Damon would say, I
think I've got just what I want. I'm going to try a wet plate now,
and I think it will work. Come on now. Speed up! I'm in a great
big hurry to get home and try it!"
"Well, Tom, I sure will be glad if you've got the right idea,"
laughed Ned. "It will be worth getting wet through for, if you
strike something. Good luck!"
Tom could hardly wait to fasten up his boat for the night, so
eager was he to get to his shop laboratory and try the new idea. A
gleam of hope had come to him.
It was still early evening, and Tom, when enticed out by Ned, had
left his photo telephone apparatus in readiness to go on with his
trials as soon as he should have come back.
"Now for it, Ned!" exclaimed the young inventor, as he took off
his coat. "First I'll sensitize a selenium plate, and then I'll
wet it. Water is always a good conductor of electricity, and it's
a wonder that I forgot that when I was planning this photo
telephone. But seeing the sparkle of lights, and the reflection of
ourselves in the lake to-night, brought it back to me. Now then,
you haven't anything special to do; have you?"
"Not a thing, Tom."
"That's good. Then you get in this other telephone closet--the one
in the casting shop. I'll put a prepared plate in there, and one
in the booth where I'm to sit. Then I'll switch on the current,
and we'll see if I can make you out, and you notice whether my
image appears on your plate."
It took some little time to make ready for this new test. Tom was
filled with enthusiasm, and he was sure it was going to be
successful this time. Ned watched him prepare the selenium
plates--plates that were so sensitive to illumination that, in the
dark, the metal would hardly transmit a current of electricity, but
in the light would do so readily, its conductivity depending on the
amount of light it received.
"There, I guess we're all ready, Ned," announced Tom, at last.
"Now you go to your little coop, and I'll shut myself up in mine.
We can talk over the telephone."
Seated in the little booth in one of the smaller of Tom's shops,
Ned proceeded with his part in the new experiment. A small shelf
had been fitted up in the booth, or closet, and on this was the
apparatus, consisting of a portable telephone set, and a small
box, in which was set a selenium plate. This plate had been wet by
a spray of water in order to test Tom's new theory.
In a similar booth, several hundred feet away, and in another
building, Tom took his place. The two booths were connected by
wires, and in each one was an electric light.
"All ready, Ned?" asked Tom, through the telephone.
"All ready," came the answer.
"Now then, turn on your switch--the one I showed you--and look
right at the sensitized plate. Then turn out your light, and
slowly turn it on. It's a new kind, and the light comes up
gradually, like gas or an oil lamp. Turn it on easily."
"I get you, Tom."
Ned did as requested. Slowly the illumination in the booth
increased.
"Do you get anything, Tom?" asked Ned, over the wire.
"Not yet," was the somewhat discouraged answer. "Go ahead, turn on
more light, and keep your face close to the plate."
Ned did so.
"How about it now?" he asked, a moment later.
"Nothing--yet," was the answer. And then suddenly Tom's voice rose
to a scream over the wire.
"Ned--Ned! Quick!" he called. "Come here--I--I--"
The voice died off into a meaningless gurgle.
CHAPTER X
MIDNIGHT VISITORS
Ned Newton never knew exactly how he got out of the telephone
booth. He seemed to give but one jump, tearing the clamped
receiver from his ear, and almost upsetting the photo apparatus in
his mad rush to help Tom. Certain it is, however, that he did get
out, and a few seconds later he was speeding toward the shop where
Tom had taken his position in a booth.
Ned burst in, crying out:
"Tom! What is it? What happened? What's the matter?"
There was no answer. Fearing the worst, Ned hurried to the small
booth, in one corner of the big, dimly lighted shop. He could see
Tom's lamp burning in the telephone compartment.
"Tom! Tom!" called the young banker.
Still there was no answer, and Ned, springing forward, threw open
the double, sound-proof door of the booth. Then he saw Tom lying
unconscious, with his head and arms on the table in front of him,
while the low buzzing of the electrical apparatus in the
transmitting box told that the current had not been shut off.
"Tom! Tom!" cried Ned in his chum's ear. He shook him by the
shoulder.
"Are you hurt? What is the matter?"
The young inventor seemed unconscious, and for a moment Ned had a
wild idea that Tom had been shocked to death, possibly by some
crossed live wire coming in contact with the telephone circuit.
"But that couldn't have happened, or I'd have been shocked
myself," mused Ned.
Then he became aware of a curious, sweet, sickish odor in the
booth. It was overpowering. Ned felt himself growing dizzy.
"I have it--chloroform!" he gasped. "In some way Tom has been
overcome by chloroform. I've got to get him to the fresh air."
Once he had solved the puzzle of Tom's unconsciousness, Ned was
quick to act. He caught Tom under the arms, and dragged him out of
the booth, and to the outer door of the shop. Almost before Ned
had reached there with his limp burden, Tom began to revive, and
soon the fresh, cool night air completed the work.
"I--I," began the young inventor. "Ned, I--I--"
"Now take it easy, Tom," advised his chum. "You'll be all right in
a few minutes. What happened? Shall I call your father, or Koku?"
"No--don't. It would only--only alarm dad," faltered Tom. "I'm
getting all right now. But he--he nearly had me, Ned!"
"He had you? What do you mean, Tom? Who had you?"
"I don't know who it was, but when I was talking to you over the
wire, all of a sudden I felt a hand behind me. It slipped over my
mouth and nose, and I smelled chloroform. I knew right away
something was wrong, and I called to you. That's all I remember. I
guess I must have gone off."
"You did," spoke Ned. "You were unconscious when I got to you. I
couldn't imagine what had happened. First I thought it was an
electrical shock. Then I smelled that chloroform. But who could it
have been, Tom?"
"Give it up, Ned! I haven't the slightest idea."
"Could they have been going to rob you?"
"I haven't a thing but a nickel watch on me," went on Tom. "I left
all my cash in the house. If it was robbery, it wasn't me,
personally, they were after."
"What then? Some of your inventions?"
"That's my idea now, Ned. You remember some years ago Jake Burke
and his gang held me up and took one of dad's patents away from
me?"
"Yes, I've heard you mention that. It was when you first got your
motor cycle; wasn't it?"
"That's right. Well, what I was going to say was that they used
chloroform on me then, and--"
"You think this is the same crowd? Why, I thought they were
captured."
"No, they got away, but I haven't heard anything of them in years.
Now it may be they have come back for revenge, for you know we got
back the stolen property."
"That's right. Say, Tom, it might be so. What are you going to do
about it?"
"I hardly know. If it was Jake Burke, alias Happy Harry, and his
crowd, including Appleson, Morse and Featherton, they're a bad
lot. I wouldn't want father to know they were around, for he'd be
sure to worry himself sick. He never really got over the time they
attacked me, and got the patent away. Dad sure thought he was
ruined then."
"Now if I tell him I was chloroformed again to-night, and that I
think it was Burke and his crowd, he'd be sure to get ill over it.
So I'm just going to keep mum."
"Well, perhaps it's the best plan. But you ought to do something."
"Oh, I will, Ned, don't worry about that. I feel much better now."
"How did it happen?" asked Ned, his curiosity not yet satisfied.
"I don't know, exactly. I was in the booth, talking to you, and
not paying much attention to anything else. I was adjusting and
readjusting the current, trying to get that image to appear on the
plate. All at once, I felt someone back of me, and, before I could
turn, that hand, with the chloroform sponge, was over my mouth and
nose. I struggled, and called out, but it wasn't much use."
"But they didn't do anything else--they didn't take anything; did
they, Tom?"
"I don't know, Ned. We'll have to look around. They must have
sneaked into the shop. I left the door open, you see. It would
have been easy enough."
"How many were there?"
"I couldn't tell. I only felt one fellow at me; but he may have
had others with him."
"What particular invention were they after, Tom?"
"I'm sure I don't know. There are several models in here that
would be valuable. I know one thing, though, they couldn't have
been after my photo telephone," and Tom laughed grimly.
"Why not?" Ned wanted to know.
"Because it's a failure--that's what! It's a dead, sure failure,
Ned, and I'm going to give it up!" and Tom spoke bitterly.
"Oh, don't say that!" urged his chum. "You may be right on the
verge of perfecting it, Tom. Didn't you see any image at all on
the plate?"
"Not a shadow. I must be on the wrong track. Well, never mind
about that now. I'm going to look around, and see if those fellows
took anything."
Tom was feeling more like himself again, the effects of the
chloroform having passed away. He had breathed the fumes of it for
only a little while, so no harm had been done. He and Ned made an
examination of the shop, but found nothing missing.
There were no traces of the intruders, however, though the two
chums looked carefully about outside the building.
"You were too quick for them, Ned," said Tom. "You came as soon as
I called. They heard me speaking, and must have known that I had
given the alarm."
"Yes, I didn't lose any time," admitted Ned, "but I didn't see a
sign of anyone as I ran up."
"They must have been pretty quick at getting away. Well, now to
decide what's best to do to-night."
After some consultation and consideration it was decided to set
the burglar alarms in every building of the Swift plant. Some time
previous, when he had been working on a number of valuable
inventions, unscrupulous men had tried to steal his ideas and
models. To prevent this Tom had arranged a system of burglar
alarms, and had also fitted up a wizard camera that would take
moving pictures of anyone coming within its focus. The camera
could be set to work at night, in connection with the burglar
alarms.
The apparatus was effective, and thus an end was put to the
efforts of the criminals. But now it seemed Tom would have to take
new precautionary measures. His camera, however, was not
available, as he had loaned it to a scientific society for
exhibition.
"But we'll attach the burglar wires," decided Tom, "and see what
happens."
"It might be a good plan to have Koku on guard," said Tom's chum.
"That giant could handle four or five of the chaps as easily as
you and I could tackle one."
"That's right," agreed Tom. "I'll put him on guard. Whew! That
chloroform is giving me a headache. Guess I'll go to bed. I wish
you'd stay over to-night, Ned, if you haven't anything else to do.
I may need you."
"Then of course I'll stay, Tom. I'll telephone home that I won't
be in."
A little later Tom had put away his new photo telephone apparatus,
and had prepared for the warm reception of any unbidden callers.
"I wish I hadn't started on this new invention," said Tom, half
bitterly, as he locked up the main parts of his machine, "I know
it will never work."
"Oh, yes it will," spoke Ned, cheerfully. "You never failed yet,
Tom Swift, in anything you undertook, and you're not going to
now."
"Well, that's good of you to say, Ned, but I think you're wrong
this time. But I'm not going to think any more about it to-night,
anyhow. Now to find Koku and put him on watch."
The giant listened carefully to Tom's simple instructions.
"If any bad men come in the night, Koku," said the young inventor,
"you catch them!"
"Yes, master, me catch!" said Koku, grimly. "Me catch!" and he
stretched out his powerful arms, and clenched his big hands in a
way that boded no good to evildoers.
Nothing was said to Mr. Swift, to Mrs. Baggert, or to Eradicate
about what had happened, for Tom did not want to worry them. The
burglar alarms were set, Koku took his place where he could watch
the signals, and at the same time be ready to rush out, for,
somehow, Tom had an idea that the men who had attacked him would
come back.
Tom and Ned occupied adjoining rooms, and soon were ready for bed.
But, somehow, Tom could not sleep. He lay awake, tossing from side
to side, and, in spite of his resolution not to think about his
photo telephone invention, his mind ran on nothing but that.
"I can't see what next to do to make it work," he told himself,
over and over again. "Something is wrong--but what?"
At length he fell into a fitful doze, and he had a wild dream that
he was sliding down hill on a big mirror in which all sorts of
reflections were seen--reflections that he could not get to show
in the selenium plates.
Then Tom felt the mirror bobbing up and down like a motor boat in
a storm. He felt the vibration, and he heard a voice calling in
his ear:
"Get up, Tom! Get up!"
"Yes! What is it?" he sleepily exclaimed,
"Hush!" was the caution he heard, and then he realized that his
dream had been caused by Ned shaking him.
"Well?" whispered Tom, in tense tones.
"Midnight visitors!" answered his chum "The burglar alarm has just
gone off! The airship hangar drop fell. Koku has gone out. Come
on!"
CHAPTER XI
THE AIRSHIP IS TAKEN
Tom leaped silently out of bed, and stood for a moment half
dazed, so soundly had he been sleeping.
"Come on!" urged Ned softly, realizing that his chum had not fully
comprehended. "Koku will hold them until we get there. I haven't
roused anyone else."
"That's right," whispered Tom, as he began putting on his clothes.
"I don't want father to know. When did it happen?"
"Just a little while ago. I couldn't sleep very well, but I fell
into a doze, and then I heard the buzzer of the alarm go off. I
saw that the drop, showing that the hangar had been entered, had
fallen. I got to the window in time to see Koku going toward the
shed from his little coop. Then I came to you."
"Glad you did," answered Tom. "I didn't think I was sleeping so
soundly."
Together the two chums made their way from their rooms down the
dimly-lighted hall to a side door, whence they could reach the
airship hangar, or shed.
"Won't we need something--a gun or--" began Ned.
"Clubs are better--especially at night when you can't see to aim
very well," whispered back Tom. "I've got a couple of good ones
downstairs. I could use my electric rifle, and set it merely to
disable temporarily whoever the charge hit, but it's a little too
risky. Koku has a habit of getting in the way at the most
unexpected times. He's so big, you know. I think clubs will be
best."
"All right, Tom, just as you say," agreed Ned. "But who do you
think it can be?"
"I haven't the least idea. Probably the same fellows who were
after me before, though. This time I'll find out what their game
is, and what they're after."
The chums reached the lower hall, and there Tom picked out two
African war clubs which he had brought back with him from one of
his many trips into wild lands.
"These are just the thing!" exclaimed Ned, swinging his about.
"Careful," cautioned Tom, "If you hit something you'll rouse the
house, and I don't want my father and Mrs. Baggert, to say nothing
of Eradicate, awakened."
"Excuse me," murmured Ned. "But we'd better be getting a move on."
"That's right," agreed Tom. He dropped into a side pocket a small
but powerful electric flash lamp, and then he and Ned let
themselves out.
There had been a bright moon, but it was now overcast by clouds.
However, there was sufficient light to enable the two lads to see
objects quite clearly. All about them were the various buildings
that made up the manufacturing and experimental plant of Tom Swift
and his father. Farthest away from the house was the big shed
where once Tom had kept a balloon, but which was now given over to
his several airships. In front of it was a big, level grassy
space, needed to enable the aircraft to get a "running start"
before they could mount into the clouds.
"See anything of Koku?" whispered Ned.
"No," answered Tom, in the same cautious voice. "I guess he must
be hiding--"
"There he goes now!" hissed Ned, pointing to a big figure that was
approaching the hangar. It was undoubtedly that of the giant, and
he could be seen, in the dim light, stalking cautiously along.
"I wonder where the uninvited guests are?" asked Tom.
"Probably in the airship shed," answered Ned. "Koku was after them
as soon as the alarm went off, and they couldn't have gotten away.
They must be inside there yet. But what can their game be?"
"It's hard to say," admitted Tom. "They may be trying to get
something belonging to me, or they may imagine they can pick up
some valuable secrets. Or they may--" He stopped suddenly, and
then exclaimed:
"Come on, Ned! They're after one of the airships! That's it! My
big biplane is all ready to start, and they can get it in motion
inside of a few seconds. Oh, why didn't I hurry?" he added,
bitterly.
But the hangar was still some distance away, and it would take two
or three minutes of running to reach it.
Meanwhile, and at the instant Tom had his thought of the possible
theft of his biggest aircraft, something happened.
The doors of the shed were suddenly thrown open, and the two boys
could see the large airship being wheeled out. The hazy light of
the moon behind the clouds shone on the expanse of white planes,
and on the fish-tail rudder, one of Tom's latest ideas.
"Hey, there!" cried Tom, warningly.
"Leave that alone!" yelled Ned.
"Koku! Koku!" shouted Tom, shrilly. "Get after those fellows!"
"Me get!" boomed out the giant, in his deep voice.
He had been standing near the entrance to the hangar, probably
waiting for developments, and watching for the arrival of Tom and
Ned. The big form was seen to leap forward, and then several dark
shadows swarmed from around the airship, and were seen to fling
themselves upon the giant.
"That's a fight!" cried Ned. "They're attacking him!"
"Koku can take care of himself!" murmured Tom. "But come on. I
don't see what their game is."
He understood a moment later, however, for while several of the
midnight visitors were engaged in a hand-to-hand tussle with the
giant there came a sharp, throbbing roar of the airship motor in
motion. The propellers were being whirled rapidly about.
"Koku! Koku!" cried Tom, for he was still some distance off.
"Never mind them! Don't let the airship be taken!"
But Koku could only grunt. Big and strong as he was, half a dozen
men attacking him at once hampered him. He threw them from him,
one after another, and was gradually making his way toward the now
slowly-moving airship. But would he be in time?
Tom and Ned could not hope to reach the machine before Koku,
though they were running at top speed.
"Koku! Koku!" yelled Tom. "Don't let them get away!"
But Koku could only grunt--harder this time--for he fell heavily,
being tripped by a stick thrust between his legs. He lay for a
moment stunned.
"They're going to get away!" panted Tom, making an effort to
increase his speed.
"That's what!" agreed Ned.
Even as they spoke the roar of the airship motor increased.
Several of the dark forms which had been engaged in the struggle
with Koku were seen to pick themselves up, and run toward the
airship, that was now in motion, moving on the bicycle wheels over
the grass plot, preparatory to mounting upward in the sky.
"Stop! Stop!" commanded Tom. But it was all in vain.
The men leaped aboard the airship, which could carry six persons,
and a moment later, with a deafening roar, as the engine opened up
full, the big craft shot upward, taking away all but two of the
midnight visitors. These, who had seemingly been stunned by Koku,
now arose from the ground, and staggered off in the darkness.
"Get them!" cried Tom.
"We must see to Koku!" added Ned, "Look, there goes your airship,
Tom!"
"Yes, I know. But we can't stop that now. Let's see if we can get
a clue in these fellows!"
He pointed toward the two who had run off in the dark underbrush
surrounding the hangar plaza, and he and Ned trailed them as well
as they could. But from the first they knew it would be useless,
for there were many hiding places, and, a little way beyond, was a
clump of trees.
After a short search Tom gave up reluctantly, and came back to
where Koku was now sitting on the ground.
"Are you hurt?" he asked of the giant.
"My mind hurt--that all," said the big man.
"I guess he means his feelings are hurt," Tom explained. "Do you
know who they were, Koku?"
"No, master."
"But we must do something!" cried Ned. "They've got your airship,
Tom."
"I know it," said the young inventor, calmly. "But we can't do
anything now. You can hardly hear her, let alone see her. She's
moving fast!"
He pointed upward to the darkness. Like some black bird of prey
the airship was already lost to sight, though it would have seemed
as if her white planes might render her visible. But she had moved
so swiftly that, during the short search, she had already
disappeared.
"Aren't you going to do anything?" asked Ned.
"Certainly," spoke Tom. "I'm going to telephone an alarm to all
the nearby towns. This is certainly a queer game, Ned."
CHAPTER XII
A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE
Disappointed and puzzled, Tom and Ned went to where Koku was
standing in rather a dazed attitude. The giant, like all large
bodies, moved slowly, not only bodily but mentally. He could
understand exactly what had happened, except that he had not
prevailed over the "pygmies" who had attacked him. They had been
too many for him.
"Let's take a look inside," suggested Tom, when, by another glance
upward, he had made sure that all trace of his big airship was
gone. "Maybe we can get a clue. Then, Koku, you tell us what
happened."
"It all happened to me," said the giant, simply. "Me no make
anything happen to them."
"That's about right," laughed Tom, ruefully. "It all happened to
us."
The lights in the hangar were switched on, but a careful search
revealed little. The men, half a dozen or more, had come evidently
well prepared for the taking away of Tom Swift's airship, and they
had done so.
Entrance had been effected by forcing a small side door. True, the
burglar alarm had given notice of the presence of the men, but Tom
and Ned had not acted quite quickly enough. Koku had been at the
hangar almost as soon as the men themselves, but he had watched
and waited for orders, instead of going in at once, and this had
given the intruders time to wheel out the craft and start the
motor.
"Why didn't you jump right in on them when you saw what they were
up to, Koku?" asked Tom.
"Me wait for master. Me think master want to see who men were. Me
go in--they run."
"Well, of course that's so, in a way," admitted Tom. "They
probably would have run, but they'd have run WITHOUT my airship
instead of WITH it, if they hadn't had time to get it outside the
hangar. However, there's no use in crying over lost biplanes. The
next thing is how to get her back. Did you know any of the men,
Koku?"
"No, master."
"Then we haven't any clue that way. They laid their plans well.
They just let you tangle yourself up with them, Koku, while the
head ones got the motor going; an easy matter, since it was all
ready to start. Then they tripped you, Koku, and as many of them
as could, made a jump for the machine. Then they were off."
"Well, what's the next thing to do?" asked Ned, when another look
about the shed had shown that not the slightest clue was
available.
"I'm going to do some telephoning," Tom stated. "A big airship
like mine can't go scooting around the country without being
noticed. And those fellows can't go on forever. They've got to
have gasoline and oil, and to get them they'll have to come down.
I'll get it back, sooner or later; but the question is: Why did
they take her?"
"To sell," suggested Ned.
"I think not," Tom said. "A big airship like mine isn't easy to
sell. People who would buy it would ask questions that might not
easily be answered. I'm inclined to think that some other reason
made them take her, and it's up to us to find out what it was.
Let's go into the house."
"Hark!" suddenly exclaimed Ned, holding up his hand for silence.
They all heard footsteps outside the hangar.
Tom sprang to the door, flashing his electric light, and a voice
exclaimed:
"Golly! Chicken thieves!"
"Oh, is it you, Eradicate?" asked the young inventor, with a
laugh. "No, it isn't chicken thieves--they were after bigger game
this time."
"Suffin happen?" asked the colored man. "Massa Swift he heah a
noise, an' see a light, an' he sent me out yeah t' see what all am
gwine on."
"Yes, something happened," admitted Tom. "They got the Eagle,
Rad."
"What! Yo' big airship?"
"Yes."
"Huh! Dat's too bad, Massa Tom. I suah am sorry t' heah dat. Who
done it?"
"We don't know, Rad."
"Maybe it was dat low-down cousin ob mine what tried t' git mah
chickens, onct!"
"No, Rad, it wasn't your cousin. But I'll telephone the alarm to
the police. They may be able to help me get the Eagle back."
Within the next hour several messages were sent to the authorities
of nearby towns, asking them to be on the watch for the stolen
airship. This was about all that could be done, and after Mr.
Swift had been told the story of the night's happenings, everyone
went back to bed again.
Further search the next morning brought forth no clues, though
Tom, Ned and the others beat about in the bushes where the men had
disappeared.
One or two reports were heard from surrounding towns, to the
effect that several persons had heard a strange throbbing sound in
the night, that, possibly, was caused by the passage of the
airship overhead. One such report came from Waterford, the home
town of Mr. Damon.
"Let's go over there," suggested Ned, to his chum. "I'd like to
see our friend, and maybe we can get some other clues by
circulating around there."
"Oh, I don't know," spoke Tom, rather listlessly.
"Why not?" Ned wanted to know.
"Well, I ought to be working on my photo telephone," was the
answer. "I've got a new idea now. I'm going to try a different
kind of current, and use a more sensitive plate. And I'll use a
tungsten filament lamp in the sending booth."
"Oh, let your experiments go for a little while, Tom," suggested
Ned. "Come on over to Mr. Damon's. The trouble with you is that
you keep too long at a thing, once you start."
"That's the only way to succeed," remarked Tom. "Really, Ned,
while I feel sorry about the airship, of course, I ought to be
working on my telephone. I'll get the Eagle back sooner or later."
"That's not the way to talk, Tom. Let's follow up this clue."
"Well, if you insist on it I suppose I may as well go. We'll take
the little monoplane. I've fixed her up to carry double. I guess--"
Tom Swift broke off suddenly, as the telephone at his elbow rang.
"Hello," he said, taking off the receiver. "Yes, this is Tom
Swift. Oh, good morning, Mrs. Damon! Eh! What's that? Mr. Damon
has disappeared? You don't tell me! Disappeared! Yes, yes, I can
come right over. Be there in a few minutes. Eh? You don't know
what to make of it? Oh, well, maybe it can easily be explained.
Yes, Ned Newton and I will be right over. Don't worry."
Tom hung up the receiver and turned to his chum.
"What do you think of that?" he asked.
"What is it?"
"Why, Mr. Damon mysteriously vanished last night, and this morning
word came from his bankers that every cent of his fortune had
disappeared! He's lost everything!"
"Maybe--maybe--" hesitated Ned.
"No, Mr. Damon isn't that kind of a man," said Tom, stoutly. "He
hasn't made away with himself."
"But something is wrong!"
"Evidently, and it's up to us to find out what it is. I shouldn't
be surprised but that he knew of this coming trouble and started
out to prevent it if he could."
"But he wouldn't disappear and make his wife worry."
"No, that's so. Well, we'll have to go over there and find out all
about it."
"Say, Tom!" exclaimed Ned, as they were getting the small, but
swift monoplane ready for the flight, "could there be any
connection with the disappearance of Mr. Damon and the taking of
the Eagle?"
Tom started in surprise.
"How could there be?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know," answered Ned. "It was only an idea."
"Well, we'll see what Mrs. Damon has to say," spoke the young
inventor, as he took his seat beside Ned, and motioned to Koku to
twirl the propeller.
CHAPTER XIII
THE TELEPHONE PICTURE
"Oh, Tom Swift! I'm so glad to see you!"
Mrs. Damon clasped her arms, in motherly fashion, about the young
inventor. He held her close, and his own eyes were not free from
tears as he witnessed the grief of his best friend's wife.
"Now, don't worry, Mrs. Damon," said Tom, sympathetically.
"Everything will be all right," and he led her to a chair.
"All right, Tom! How can it be?" and the lady raised a tear-stained
face. "My husband has disappeared, without a word! It's just as
if the earth had opened and swallowed him up! I can't find a trace
of him! How can it be all right?"
"Well, we'll find him, Mrs. Damon. Don't worry. Ned and I will get
right to work, and I'll have all the police and detectives within
fifty miles on the search--if we have to go that far."
"Oh, it's awfully good of you, Tom. I--I didn't know who else to
turn to in my trouble but you."
"And why shouldn't you come to me? I'd do anything for you and Mr.
Damon. Now tell me all about it."
Tom and Ned had just arrived at the Damon home in the airship, to
find the wife of the eccentric man almost distracted over her
husband's strange disappearance.
"It happened last night," Mrs. Damon said, when she was somewhat
composed. "Last night about twelve o'clock."
"Twelve o'clock!" cried Tom, in surprise "Why that's about the
time--"
He stopped suddenly.
"What were you going to say?" asked Mrs. Damon.
"Oh--nothing," answered Tom. "I--I'll tell you later. Go on,
please."
"It is all so confusing," proceeded Mrs. Damon. "You know my
husband has been in trouble of late--financial trouble?"
"Yes," responded Tom, "he mentioned it to me."
"I don't know any of the details," sighed Mrs. Damon, "but I know
he was mixed up with a man named Peters."
"I know him, too," spoke Tom, grimly.
"My husband has been very gloomy of late," went on Mrs. Damon. "He
foolishly entrusted almost his entire fortune to that man, and
last night he told me it was probably all gone. He said he saw
only the barest chance to save it, but that he was going to take
that chance."
"Did he go into details?" asked Tom.
"No, that was all he said. That was about ten o'clock. He didn't
want to go to bed. He just sat about, and he kept saying over and
over again: 'Bless my tombstone!' 'Bless the cemetery!' and all
such stuff as that. You know how he was," and she smiled through
her tears.
"Yes," said Tom. "I know. Only it wasn't like him to bless such
grewsome things. He was more jolly."
"He hasn't been, of late," sighed his wife. "Well, he sat about
all the evening, and he kept figuring away, trying, I suppose, to
find some way out of his trouble."
"Why didn't he come to my father?" cried Tom. "I told him he could
have all the money he needed to tide him over."
"Well, Mr. Damon was queer that way," said his wife. "He wanted to
be independent. I urged him to call you up, but he said he'd fight
it out alone."
"As I said, we sat there, and he kept feeling more and more blue,
and blessing his funeral, and the hearse and all such things as
that. He kept looking at the clock, too, and I wondered at that."
"'Are you expecting someone?' I asked him. He said he wasn't,
exactly, but I made sure he was, and finally, about half-past
eleven, he put on his hat and went out."
"'Where are you going?' I asked him."
"'Oh, just to get a breath of air. I can't sleep,' he said. I
didn't think much of that, as he often used to go out and walk
about a bit before going to bed. So he went out, and I began to
see about locking up, for I never trust the servants."
"It must have been about an hour later when I heard voices out in
front. I looked, and I saw Mr. Damon talking to a man."
"Who was he?" asked Tom, eagerly, on the alert for the slightest
clue.
"I thought at the time," said Mrs. Damon, "that it was one of the
neighbors. I have learned since, however, that it was not. Anyhow,
this man and Mr. Damon stood talking for a little while, and then
they went off together. I didn't think it strange at the time,
supposing he was merely strolling up and down in front with Mr.
Blackson, who lives next door, He often had done that before."
"Well, I saw that the house was locked up, and then I sat down in
a chair to wait for Mr. Damon to come back. I was getting sleepy,
for we don't usually stay up so late. I suppose I must have dozed
off, but I was suddenly awakened by hearing a peculiar noise. I
sat up in alarm, and then I realized that Mr. Damon had not come
in."
"I was frightened then, and I called my maid. It was nearly one
o'clock, and my husband never stays out as late as that. We went
next door, and found that Mr. Blackson had not been out of his
house that evening. So it could not have been he to whom Mr. Damon
was speaking."
"We roused up other neighbors, and they searched all about the
grounds, thinking he might have been overcome by a sudden faint.
But we could not find him. My husband had disappeared--mysteriously
disappeared!" and the lady broke into sobs.
"Now don't worry," said Tom, soothingly, as he put his arms about
her as he would have done to his own mother, had she been alive,
"We'll get him back!"
"But how can you? No one knows where he is."
"Oh, yes!" said Tom, confidently, "Mr. Damon himself knows where
he is, and unless he has gone away voluntarily, I think you will
soon hear from him."
"What do you mean by--voluntarily?" asked the wife.
"First let me ask you a question," came from Tom. "You said you
were awakened by a peculiar noise. What sort of a sound was it?"
"Why, a whirring, throbbing noise, like--like--"
She paused for a comparison.
"Like an airship?" asked Tom, with a good deal of eagerness.
"That was it!" cried Mrs. Damon. "I was trying to think where I
had heard the sound before. It was just like the noise your
airship makes, Tom!"
"That settles it!" exclaimed the young inventor.
"Settles what?" asked Ned.
"The manner of Mr. Damon's disappearance. He was taken away--or
went away--in my airship--the airship that was stolen from my shed
last night!"
Mrs. Damon stared at Tom in amazement.
"Why--why--how could that be?" she asked.
Quickly Tom told of what had happened at his place.
"I begin to see through it," he said. "There is some plot here,
and we've got to get to the bottom of it. Mr. Damon either went
with these men in the airship willingly, or he was taken away by
force. I'm inclined to think he went of his own accord, or you
would have heard some outcry, Mrs. Damon."
"Well, perhaps so," she admitted. "But would he go away in that
manner without telling me?"
"He might," said Tom, willing to test his theory on all sides. "He
might not have wanted you to worry, for you know you dislike him
to go up an airships."
"Yes, I do. Oh, if I only thought he did go away of his own
accord, I could understand it. He went, if he did, to try and save
his fortune."
"It does look as though he had an appointment with someone, Tom,"
suggested Ned. "His looking at the clock, and then going out, and all
that."
"Yes," admitted the young inventor, "and now I'm inclined to
change my theory a bit. It may have been some other airship than
mine that was used."
"How so?" asked Ned.
"Because the men who took mine were unprincipled fellows. Mr.
Damon would not have gone away with men who would steal an
airship."
"Not if he knew it," admitted Ned. "Well, then, let's consider two
airships--yours and the other that came to keep the appointment
with Mr. Damon. If the last is true, why should he want to go away
in an airship at midnight? Why couldn't he take a train, or an
auto?"
"Well, we don't know all the ins and outs," admitted Tom. "Taking
a midnight airship ride is rather strange, but that may have been
the only course open. We'll have to let the explanation go until
later. At any rate, Mrs. Damon, I feel sure that your husband did
go off through the air--either in my Eagle or in some other
craft."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so, Tom Swift, though it sounds a
dreadful thing to say. But if he did go off of his own accord, I
know he did it for the best. And he may not have told me, for fear
I would worry. I can understand that. But why isn't he back now?"
Tom had been rather dreading that question. It was one he had
asked himself, and he had found no good answer for it. If there
had been such need of haste, that an airship had to be used, why
had not Mr. Damon come back ere this? Unless, as Tom feared to
admit, even to himself, there had been some accident.
Half a dozen theories flashed through his mind, but he could not
select a good, working one,--particularly as there were no clues.
Disappearing in an airship was the one best means of not leaving a
trace behind. An auto, a motor boat, a train, a horse and
carriage--all these could be more or less easily traced. But an
airship--
If Mr. Damon wanted to cover up his tracks, or if he had been
taken away, and his captors wanted to baffle pursuit, the best
means had been adopted.
"Now don't you worry," advised Tom to Mrs. Damon. "I know it looks
funny, but I think it will come out all right. Ned and I will do
all we can. Mr. Damon must have known what he was about. But, to
be on the safe side, we'll send out a general alarm through the
police."
"Oh, I don't know what I'd done if you hadn't come to help me!"
exclaimed Mrs. Damon.
"Just you leave it to me!" said the young inventor, cheerfully.
"I'll find Mr. Damon!"
But, though he spoke thus confidently, Tom Swift had not the
slightest notion, just then, of how to set about his difficult
task. He had had hard problems to solve before, so he was not
going to give up this one. First he wanted to think matters out,
and arrange a plan of action.
He and Ned made a careful examination of the grounds of the Damon
homestead. There was little they could learn, though they did find
where an airship had landed in a meadow, not far away, and where
it had made a flying start off again.
Carefully Tom looked at the marks made by the wheels of the
airship.
"They're the same distance apart as those on the Eagle," he said
to his chum, "and the tires are the same. But that isn't saying
anything, as lots of airships have the same equipment. So we won't
jump to any conclusions that way."
Tom and Ned interviewed several of the neighbors, but beyond
learning that some of them had heard the throbbing of the midnight
airship, that was as far as they got on that line.
There was nothing more they could do in Waterford, and, leaving
Mrs. Damon, who had summoned a relative to stay with her, the two
chums made a quick trip back through the air to Shopton. As
Eradicate came out to help put away the monoplane Tom noticed that
the colored man was holding one hand as though it hurt him.
"What's the matter, Rad?" asked the young investor.
"Oh, nuffin--jest natcherly nuffin, Massa Tom."
But Eradicate spoke evasively and in a manner that roused Tom's
suspicions.
"Boomerang, your mule, didn't kick you; did he?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom, no sah. 'Twern't nuffin laik dat."
"But what was it? Your hand is hurt!"
"Well, Massa Tom, I s'pose I done bettah tell yo' all. I'se had a
shock!"
"A shock?"
"Yas, sah. A shock. A lickrish shock."
"Oh, you mean an electrical shock. That's too bad. I suppose you
must have touched a live wire."
"No, sah. 'Twern't dat way."
"How was it, then?"
"Well, yo' see, Massa Tom, I were playin' a joke on Koku."
"Oh, you were; eh? Then I suppose Koku shocked you," laughed Tom.
"No, sah. I--I'll tell you. Dat giant man he were in de telefoam
boof in de pattern shop--you know--de one where yo' all been
tryin' to make pishures."
"Yes, I know. Go on!" exclaimed Tom, impatiently.
"Well, he were in dere, Massa Tom, an' I slipped into de boof in
de next shop--de odder place where yo' all been 'speermentin'. I
called out on de telefoam, loud laik de Angel Gabriel gwine t'
holler at de last trump: 'Look out, yo' ole sinnah!' I yell it
jest t' scare Koku."
"I see," said Tom, a bit severely, for he did not like Eradicate
interfering with the instruments. "And did you scare Koku?"
"Oh, yas, sah, Massa Tom. I skeered him all right; but suffin else
done happen. When I put down de telefoam I got a terrible shock.
It hurts yit!"
"Well," remarked Tom, "I suppose I ought to feel sorry for you,
but I can't. You should let things alone. Now I've got to see if
you did any damage. Come along, Ned."
Tom was the first to enter the telephone booth where Eradicate had
played the part of the Angel Gabriel. He looked at the wires and
apparatus, but could see nothing wrong.
Then he glanced at the selenium plate, on which he hoped, some
day, to imprint an image from over the wire. And, as he saw the
smooth surface he started, and cried.
"Ned! Ned, come here quick!"
"What is it?" asked his chum, crowding into the booth.
"Look at that plate! Tell me what you see!"
Ned looked.
"Why--why it's Koku's picture!" he gasped.
"Exactly!" cried Tom. "In some way my experiment has succeeded
when I was away. Eradicate must have made some new connection by
his monkeying. Ned, it's a success! I've got my first photo
telephone picture! Hurray!"
CHAPTER XIV
MAKING IMPROVEMENTS
Tom Swift was so overjoyed and excited that for a few moments he
capered about, inside the booth, and outside, knocking against his
chum Ned, clapping him on the back, and doing all manner of boyish
"stunts."
"It's a success, Ned! I've struck it!" cried Tom, in delight.
"Ouch! You struck ME, you mean!" replied Ned, rubbing his
shoulder, where the young inventor had imparted a resounding blow
of joy.
"What of it?" exclaimed Tom. "My apparatus works! I can send a
picture by telephone! It's great, Ned!"
"But I don't exactly understand how it happened," said Ned, in
some bewilderment, as he gazed at the selenium plate.
"Neither do I," admitted Tom, when he had somewhat calmed down.
"That is, I don't exactly understand what made the thing succeed
now, when it wouldn't work for me a little while ago. But I've got
to go into that. I'll have to interview that rascal Eradicate, and
learn what he did when he played that trick on Koku. Yes, and I'll
have to see Koku, too. We've got to get at the bottom of this,
Ned."
"I suppose so. You've got your hands full, Tom, with your photo
telephone, and the disappearance of Mr. Damon."
"Yes, and my own airship, too. I must get after that. Whew! A lot
of things to do! But I like work, Ned. The more the better."
"Yes, that's like you, Tom. But what are you going to get at
first?"
"Let me see; the telephone, I think. I'll have Rad and Koku in
here and talk to them. I say, you Eradicate!" he called out of the
door of the shop, as he saw the colored man going past, holding
his shocked arm tenderly.
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom, I'se comin'! What is it yo' all wants, Massa
Tom?"
"I want you to show me exactly what you did to the wires, and
other things in here, when you played that Angel Gabriel trick on
your partner Koku."
"Partner! He ain't mah partner!" exclaimed Eradicate with a scowl,
for there was not the best of feeling between the two. Eradicate
had served in the Swift family many years, and he rather resented
the coming of the giant, who performed many services formerly the
province of the colored man.
"Well, never mind what he is, Rad," laughed Tom. "You just show me
what you did. Come now, something happened in here, and I want to
find out what it was."
"Oh, suffin done happened all right, Massa Tom. Yas, sah! Suffin
done happened!" cried Eradicate, with such odd emphasis that Tom
and Ned both laughed.
"An' suffin happened to me," went on the colored man, rubbing his
shocked arm.
"Well, tell us about it," suggested Tom.
"It was dish yeah way," proceeded Eradicate. And he told more in
detail how, seeing Koku cleaning and sweeping out the other
telephone booth, he had thought of the trick to play on him. Both
telephones had what are called "amplifiers" attached, that could
be switched on when needed. These amplifiers were somewhat like
the horn of a phonograph--they increased, or magnified the sound,
so that one could hear a voice from any part of the shop, and need
not necessarily have the telephone receiver at his ear.
Seeing Koku near the instrument, Eradicate had switched on the
amplifier, and had called into his instrument, trying to scare the
giant. And he did startle Koku, for the loud voice, coming so
suddenly, sent the giant out of the booth on the run.
"But you must have done something else," insisted Tom. "Look here,
Rad," and the young inventor pointed to the picture on the plate.
"Mah gracious sakes!" gasped the colored man. "Why dat's Koku
hisse'f!" and he looked in awe at the likeness.
"That's what you did, Rad!"
"Me? I done dat? No, sah, Massa Tom. I neber did! No, sah!"
Eradicate spoke emphatically.
"Yes you did, Rad. You took that picture of Koku over my photo
telephone, and I want you to show me exactly what you did--what
wires and switches you touched and changed, and all that."
"Yo--yo' done say I tuck dat pishure, Massa Tom?"
"You sure did, Rad."
"Well--well, good land o' massy! An' I done dat!"
Eradicate stared in wonder at the image of the giant on the plate,
and shook his head doubtingly.
"I--I didn't know I could do it. I never knowed I had it in me!"
he murmured.
Tom and Ned laughed long and loud, and then the young inventor
said:
"Now look here, Rad. You've done me a mighty big service, though
you didn't know it, and I want to thank you. I'm sorry about your
arm, and I'll have the doctor look at it. But now I want you to
show me all the things you touched when you played that joke on
Koku. In some way you did what I haven't been able to do, You took
the picture. There's probably just one little thing I've
overlooked, and you stumbled on it by accident. Now go ahead and
show me."
Eradicate thought for a moment, and then said:
"Well, I done turned on de current, laik I seen you done, Massa
Tom."
"Yes, go on. You connected the telephone."
"Yas, sah. Den I switched on that flyer thing yo' all has rigged
up."
"You switched on the amplifier, yes. Go on."
"An'--an' den I plugged in dish year wire," and the colored man
pointed to one near the top of the booth.
"You switched on that wire, Rad! Why, great Scott, man! That's
connected to the arc light circuit--it carries over a thousand
volts. And you switched that into the telephone circuit?"
"Dat's what I done did, Massa Tom; yas, sah!"
"What for?"
"Why, I done want t' make mah voice good an' loud t' skeer dat
rascal Koku!"
Tom stared at the colored man in amazement.
"No wonder you got a shock!" exclaimed the young inventor. "You
didn't get all the thousand volts, for part of it was shunted off;
but you got a good charge, all right. So that's what did the
business; eh? It was the combination of the two electrical
circuits that sent the photograph over the wire."
"I understand it now, Rad; but you did more than I've been able to
do. I never, in a hundred years, would have thought of switching
on that current. It never occurred to me. But you, doing it by
accident, brought out the truth. It's often that way in
discoveries. And Koku was standing in the other telephone booth,
near the plate there, when you switched in this current, Rad?"
"Yas, sah, Massa Tom. He were. An' yo' ought t' see him hop when
he heard mah voice yellin' at him. Ha! ha! ha!"
Eradicate chuckled at the thought. Then a pain in his shocked arm
made him wince. A wry look passed over his face.
"Yas, sah, Koku done jump about ten feet," he said. "An'--an' den
I jump too. Ain't no use in denyin' dat fact. I done jump when I
got dat shock!"
"All right, Rad. You may go now. I think I'm on the right track!"
exclaimed Tom. "Come on, Ned, we'll try some experiments, and
we'll see what we can do."
"No shocks though--cut out the shocks, Tom," stipulated his chum.
"Oh, sure! No shocks! Now crowding busy and improve on
Eradicate's Angel Gabriel system."
Tom made a quick examination of the apparatus.
"I understand it, I think," he said. "Koku was near the plate in
the other booth when Rad put on the double current. There was a
light there, and in an instant his likeness was sent over the
wire, and imprinted on this plate. Now let's see what we can do.
You go to that other booth, Ned. I'll see if I can get your
picture, and send you mine. Here, take some extra selenium plates
along. You know how to connect them."
"I think so," answered Ned.
"This image is really too faint to be of much use," went on Tom,
as he looked at the one of Koku. "I think I can improve on it. But
we're on the right track."
A little later Ned stood in the other booth, while Tom arranged
the wires, and made the connections in the way accidently
discovered by Eradicate. The young inventor had put in a new
plate, carefully putting away the one with the picture of the
giant, This plate could be used again, when the film, into which
the image was imprinted, had been washed off.
"All ready, Ned," called Tom, over the wire, when he was about to
turn the switch. "Stand still, and I'll get you."
The connection was made, and Tom uttered a cry of joy. For there,
staring at him from the plate in front of him was the face of Ned.
It was somewhat reduced in size, of course, and was not extra
clear, but anyone who knew Ned could have told he was at the other
end of the wire.
"Do you get me, Tom?" called Ned, over the telephone.
"I sure do! Now see if you can get me."
Tom made other connections, and then looked at the sending plate
of his instrument, there being both a sending and receiving plate
in each booth, just as there was a receiver and a transmitter to
the telephone.
"Hurray! I see you, Tom!" cried Ned, over the wire. "Say, this is
great!"
"It isn't as good as I want it," went on Tom. "But it proves that
I'm right. The photo telephone is a fact, and now persons using
the wire can be sure of the other person they are conversing with.
I must tell dad. He wouldn't believe I could do it!"
And indeed Mr. Swift was surprised when Tom proved, by actual
demonstration, that a picture could be sent over the wire.
"Tom, I congratulate you!" declared the aged inventor. "It is good
news!"
"Yes, but we have bad news of Mr. Damon," said Tom, and he told
his father of the disappearance of the eccentric man. Mr. Swift at
once telephoned his sympathy to Mrs. Damon, and offered to do
anything he could for her.
"But Tom can help you more than I can," he said. "You can depend
on Tom."
"I know that," replied Mrs. Damon, over the wire.
And certainly Tom Swift had many things to do now. He hardly knew
at what to begin first, but now, since he was on the right road in
regard to his photo telephone, he would work at improving it.
And to this end he devoted himself, after he had sent out a
general alarm to the police of nearby towns, in regard to the
disappearance of Mr. Damon. The airship clue, he believed, as did
the police, would be a good one to work on.
For several days after this nothing of moment occurred. Mr. Damon
could not be located, and Tom's airship might still be sailing
above the clouds as far as getting any trace of it was concerned.
Meanwhile the young inventor, with the help of Ned, who was given
a leave of absence from the bank, worked hard to improve the photo
telephone.
CHAPTER XV
THE AIRSHIP CLUE
"Now Ned, we'll try again. I'm going to use a still stronger
current, and this is the most sensitive selenium plate I've turned
out yet. We'll see if we can't get a better likeness of you--one
that will be plainer."
It was Tom Swift who was speaking, and he and his chum had just
completed some hard work on the new photo telephone. Though the
apparatus did what Tom had claimed for it, still he was far from
satisfied. He could transmit over the wire the picture of a person
talking at the telephone, but the likeness was too faint to make
the apparatus commercially profitable.
"It's like the first moving pictures," said Tom. "They moved, but
that was about all they did."
"I say," remarked Ned, as he was about to take his place in the
booth where the telephone and apparatus were located, "this
double-strength electrical current you're speaking of won't shock
me; will it? I don't want what happened to Eradicate to happen to
me, Tom."
"Don't worry. Nothing will happen. The trouble with Rad was that
he didn't have the wires insulated when he turned that arc current
switch by mistake--or, rather, to play his joke. But he's all
right now."
"Yes, but I'm not going to take any chances," insisted Ned. "I
want to be insulated myself."
"I'll see to that," promised Tom. "Now get to your booth."
For the purpose of experiments Tom had strung a new line between
two of his shops, They were both within sight, and the line was
not very long; but, as I have said, Tom knew that if his apparatus
would work over a short distance, it would also be successful over
a long one, provided he could maintain the proper force of
current, which he was sure could be accomplished.
"And if they can send pictures from Monte Carlo to Paris I can do
the same," declared Tom, though his system of photo telephony was
different from sending by a telegraph system--a reproduction of a
picture on a copper plate. Tom's apparatus transmitted the
likeness of the living person.
It took some little time for the young inventor, and Ned working
with him, to fix up the new wires and switch on the current. But
at last it was complete, and Ned took his place at one telephone,
with the two sensitive plates before him. Tom did the same, and
they proceeded to talk over the wire, first making sure that the
vocal connection was perfect.
"All ready now, Ned! We'll try it," called Tom to his chum, over
the wire. "Look straight at the plate. I want to get your image
first, and then I'll send mine, if it's a success."
Ned did as requested, and in a few minutes he could hear Tom
exclaim, joyfully:
"It's better, Ned! It's coming out real clear. I can see you
almost as plainly as if you were right in the booth with me. But
turn on your light a little stronger."
Tom could hear, through the telephone, his chum moving about, and
then he caught a startled exclamation.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom anxiously.
"I got a shock!" cried Ned. "I thought you said you had this thing
fixed. Great Scott, Tom! It nearly yanked the arm off me! Is this
a joke?"
"No, old man. No, of course not! Something must be wrong. I didn't
mean that. Wait, I'll take a look. Say, it does seem as if
everything was going wrong with this invention. But I'm on the
right track, and soon I'll have it all right. Wait a second. I'll
be right over."
Tom found that it was only a simple displacement of a wire that
had given Ned a shock, and he soon had this remedied.
"Now we'll try again," he said. This time nothing wrong occurred,
and soon Tom saw the clearest image he had yet observed on his
telephone photo plate.
"Switch me on now, Ned," he called to his chum, and Ned reported
that he could see Tom very plainly.
"So far--so good," observed Tom, as he came from the booth. "But
there are several things I want yet to do."
"Such as what?" questioned Ned.
"Well, I want to arrange to have two kinds of pictures come over
the wire. I want it so that a person can go into a booth, call up
a friend, and then switch on the picture plate, so he can see his
friend as well as talk to him. I want this plate to be like a
mirror, so that any number of images can be made to appear on it.
In that way it can be used over and over again. In fact it will be
exactly like a mirror, or a telescope. No matter how far two
persons may be apart they can both see and talk to one another."
"That's a big contract, Tom."
"Yes, but you've seen that it can be done. Then another thing I
want to do is to have it arranged so that I can make a photograph
of a person over a wire."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that if a certain person talks to me over the wire, I can
turn my switch, and get a picture of him here at my apparatus
connected with my telephone. To do that I'll merely need a sending
apparatus at the other end of the telephone line--not a receiving
machine."
"Could you arrange it so that the person who was talking to you
would have his picture taken whether he wanted it or not?" asked
Ned.
"Yes, it might be done," spoke Tom, thoughtfully. "I could conceal
the sending plate somewhere in the telephone booth, and arrange
the proper light, I suppose."
"That might be a good way in which to catch a criminal," went on
Ned. "Often crooks call up on the telephone, but they know they
are safe. The authorities can't see them--they can only hear them.
Now if you could get a photograph of them while they were
telephoning--"
"I see!" cried Tom, excitedly. "That's a great idea! I'll work on
that, Ned."
And, all enthusiasm, Tom began to plan new schemes with his photo
telephone.
The young inventor did not forget his promise to help Mrs. Damon.
But he could get absolutely no clue to her husband's whereabouts.
Mr. Damon had completely and mysteriously disappeared. His
fortune, too, seemed to have been swallowed up by the sharpers,
though lawyers engaged by Tom could fasten no criminal acts on Mr.
Peters, who indignantly denied that he had done anything unlawful.
If he had, he had done it in such a way that he could not be
brought to justice. The promoter was still about Shopton, as well
groomed as ever, with his rose in his buttonhole, and wearing his
silk hat. He still speeded up and down Lake Carlopa in his
powerful motor boat. But he gave Tom Swift a wide berth.
Late one night, when Tom and Ned had been working at the new photo
telephone, after all the rest of the household had retired, Tom
suddenly looked up from his drawings and exclaimed:
"What's that?"
"What's what?" inquired Ned.
"That sound? Don't you hear it? Listen!"
"It's an airship--maybe yours coming back!" cried the young
banker.
As he spoke Ned did hear, seemingly in the air above the house, a
curious, throbbing, pulsating sound.
"That's so! It is an airship motor!" exclaimed Tom. "Come on out!"
Together they rushed from the house, but, ere they reached the
yard, the sound had ceased. They looked up into the sky, but could
see nothing, though the night was light from a full moon.
"I certainly heard it," said Tom.
"So did I," asserted Ned. "But where is it now?"
They advanced toward the group of work-buildings. Something
showing white in the moonlight, before the hangar, caught Ned's
eyes.
"Look!" he exclaimed. "There's an airship, Tom!"
The two rushed over to the level landing place before the big
shed. And there, as if she had just been run out for a flight, was
the Eagle. She had come back in the night, as mysteriously as she
had been taken away.
CHAPTER XVI
SUCCESS
"Well, this gets me!" exclaimed Tom.
"It sure is strange," agreed Ned. "How did she come here?"
"She didn't come alone--that's sure," went on Tom. "Someone
brought her here, made a landing, and got away before we could get
out."
The two chums were standing near the Eagle, which had come back so
mysteriously.
"Just a couple of seconds sooner and we'd have seen who brought
her here," went on Tom. "But they must have shut off the motor
some distance up, and then they volplaned down. That's why we
didn't hear them."
Ned went over and put his hand on the motor.
"Ouch!" he cried, jumping back. "It's hot!"
"Showing that she's been running up to within a few minutes ago,"
said Tom. "Well, as I said before, this sure does get me. First
these mysterious men take my airship, and then they bring her back
again, without so much as thanking me for the use of her."
"Who in the world can they be?" asked Ned.
"I haven't the least idea. But I'm going to find out, if it's at
all possible. We'll look the machine over in the morning, and see
if we can get any clues. No use in doing that now. Come on, we'll
put her back in the hangar."
"Say!" exclaimed Ned, as a sudden idea came to him. "It couldn't
be Mr. Damon who had your airship; could it, Tom?"
"I don't know. Why do you ask that?"
"Well, he might have wanted to get away from his enemies for a
while, and he might have taken your Eagle, and--"
"Mr. Damon wouldn't trail along with a crowd like the one that
took away my airship," said Tom, decidedly. "You've got another
guess coming, Ned. Mr. Damon had nothing to do with this."
"And yet the night he disappeared an airship was heard near his
house."
"That's so. Well, I give up. This is sure a mystery. We'll have a
look at it in the morning. One thing I'll do, though, I'll
telephone over to Mr. Damon's house and see if his wife has heard
any news. I've been doing that quite often of late, so she won't
think anything of it. In that way we can find out if he had
anything to do with my airship. But let's run her into the shed
first."
This was done, and Koku, the giant, was sent to sleep in the
hangar to guard against another theft. But it was not likely that
the mysterious men, once having brought the airship back, would
come for it again.
Tom called up Mrs. Damon on the telephone, but there was no news
of the missing man. He expressed his sympathy, and said he would
come and see her soon. He told Mrs. Damon not to get discouraged,
adding that he, and others, were doing all that was possible. But,
in spite of this, Mrs. Damon, naturally, did worry.
The next morning the two chums inspected the airship, so
mysteriously returned to them. Part after part they went over, and
found nothing wrong. The motor ran perfectly, and there was not so
much as a bent spoke in the landing wheels. For all that could be
told by an inspection of the craft she might never have been out
of the hangar.
"Hello, here's something!" cried Tom, as he got up from the
operator's seat, where he had taken his place to test the various
controls.
"What is it?" asked Ned.
"A button. A queer sort of a button. I never had any like that on
my clothes, and I'm sure you didn't. Look!" and Tom held out a
large, metal button of curious design.
"It must have come off the coat of one of the men who had your
airship, Tom," said his chum. "Save it. You may find that it's a
clue."
"I will. No telling what it may lead to. Well, I guess that's all
we can find."
And it was. But Tom little realized what a clue the button was
going to be. Nothing more could be learned by staring at the
returned airship, so he and Ned went back to the house.
Tom Swift had many things to do, but his chief concern was for the
photo telephone. Now that he was near the goal of success he
worked harder than ever. The idea Ned had given him of being able
to take the picture of a person at the instrument--without the
knowledge of that person--appealed strongly to Tom.
"That's going to be a valuable invention!" he declared, but little
he knew how valuable it would prove to him and to others.
It was about a week later when Tom was ready to try the new
apparatus. Meanwhile he had prepared different plates, and had
changed his wiring system. In the days that had passed nothing new
had been learned concerning the whereabouts of Mr. Damon, nor of
the men who had so mysteriously taken away Tom's airship.
All was in readiness for the trial. Tom sent Ned to the booth that
he had constructed in the airship hangar, some distance away from
the house. The other booth Tom had placed in his library, an
entirely new system of wires being used.
"Now Ned," explained Tom, "the idea is this! You go into that
booth, just as if it were a public one, and ring me up in the
regular way. Of course we haven't a central here, but that doesn't
matter. Now while I'm talking to you I want to see you. You don't
know that, of course."
"The point is to see if I can get your picture while you're
talking to me, and not let you know a thing about it."
"Think you can do it, Tom?"
"I'm going to try. We'll soon know. Go ahead."
A little later Ned was calling up his chum, as casually as he
could, under the circumstances.
"All right!" called Tom to his chum. "Start in and talk. Say
anything you like--it doesn't matter. I want to see if I can get
your picture. Is the light burning in your booth?"
"Yes, Tom."
"All right then. Go ahead."
Ned talked of the weather--of anything. Meanwhile Tom was busy.
Concealed in the booth occupied by Ned was a sending plate. It
could not be seen unless one knew just where to look for it. In
Tom's booth was a receiving plate.
The experiment did not take long. Presently Tom called to Ned that
he need stay there no longer.
"Come on to the house," invited the young inventor, "and we'll
develope this plate." For in this system it was necessary to
develope the receiving plate, as is done with an ordinary
photographic one. Tom wanted a permanent record.
Eagerly the chums in the dark room looked down into the tray
containing the plate and the developing solution.
"Something's coming out!" cried Ned, eagerly.
"Yes! And it's you!" exclaimed Tom. "See, Ned, I got your picture
over the telephone. Success! I've struck it! This is the best
yet!"
At that moment, as the picture came out more and more plainly,
someone knocked on the door of the dark room.
"Who is it?" asked Tom.
"Gen'man t' see you," said Eradicate. "He say he come from Mistah
Peters!"
"Mr. Peters--that rascally promoter!" whispered Tom to his chum.
"What does this mean?"
CHAPTER XVII
THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE
Tom Swift and his chum looked at one another strangely for a
moment in the dim, red light of the dark room. Then the young
inventor spoke:
"I'm not going to see him. Tell him so, Rad!"
"Hold on a second," suggested Ned. "Maybe you had better see him,
Tom. It may have something to with Mr. Damon's lost fortune."
"That's so! I didn't think of that. And I may get a clue to his
disappearance, though I don't imagine Peters had anything to do
with that. Wait, Rad. Tell the gentleman I'll see him. Did he give
any name, Rad?"
"Yas, sah. Him done say him Mistah Boylan."
"The same man who called to see me once before, trying to get me
to do some business with Peters," murmured Tom. "Very well, I'll
see him as soon as this picture is fixed. Tell him to wait, Rad."
A little later Tom went to where his caller awaited in the
library. This time there were no plans to be looked at, the young
inventor having made a practice of keeping all his valuable papers
locked in a safe.
"You go into the next room, Ned," Tom had said to his chum. "Leave
the door open, so you can hear what is said."
"Why, do you think there'll be trouble? Maybe we'd better have
Koku on hand to--"
"Oh, no, nothing like that," laughed Tom. "I just want you to
listen to what's said so, if need be, you can be a witness later.
I don't know what their game is, but I don't trust Peters and his
crowd. They may want to get control of some of my patents, and
they may try some underhanded work. If they do I want to be in a
position to stop them."
"All right," agreed Ned, and he took his place.
But Mr. Boylan's errand was not at all sensational, it would seem.
He bowed to Tom, perhaps a little distantly, for they had not
parted the best of friends on a former occasion.
"I suppose you are surprised to see me," began Mr. Boylan.
"Well, I am, to tell the truth," Tom said, calmly.
"I am here at the request of my employer, Mr. Peters," went on the
caller. "He says he is forming a new and very powerful company to
exploit airships, and he wants to know whether you would not
reconsider your determination not to let him do some business for
you."
"No, I'm afraid I don't care to go into anything like that," said
Tom.
"It would be a good thing for you," proceeded Mr. Boylan, eagerly.
"Mr. Peters is able to command large capital, and if you would
permit the use of your airships--or one of them--as a model, and
would supervise the construction of others, we could confidently
expect large sales. Thus you would profit, and I am frank to admit
that the company, and Mr. Peters, also, would make money. Mr.
Peters is perfectly free to confess that he is in business to make
money, but he is also willing to let others share with him. Come
now, what do you say?"
"I am sorry, but I shall have to say the same thing I said
before," replied Tom. "Nothing doing!"
Mr. Boylan glanced rather angrily at the young inventor, and then,
with a shrug of his shoulders, remarked:
"Well, you have the say, of course. But I would like to remind you
that this is going to be a very large airship company, and if your
inventions are not exploited some others will be. And Mr. Peters
also desired me to say that this is the last offer he would make
you."
"Tell him," said Tom, "that I am much obliged, but that I have no
business that I can entrust to him. If he wishes to make some
other type of airship, that is his affair. Good-day."
As Mr. Boylan was going out Tom noticed a button dangling from the
back of his caller's coat. It hung by a thread, being one of the
pair usually sewed on the back of a cutaway garment.
"I think you had better take off that button before it falls,"
suggested Tom. "You may lose it, and perhaps it would be hard to
match."
"That's so. Thank you!" said Mr. Boylan. He tried to reach around
and get it, but he was too stout to turn easily, especially as the
coat was tight-fitting.
"I'll get it for you," offered Tom, as he pulled it off. "There is
one missing, though," he said, as he handed the button to the man.
And then Tom started as he saw the pattern of the one in his hand.
"One gone? That's too bad," murmured Mr. Boylan. "Those buttons
were imported, and I doubt if I can replace them. They are rather
odd."
"Yes," agreed Tom, gazing as if fascinated at the one he still
held. "They are rather odd."
And then, as he passed it over, like a flash it came to him where
he had seen a button like that before. He had found it in his
airship, which had been so mysteriously taken away and returned.
Tom could hardly restrain his impatience until Mr. Boylan had
gone. The young inventor had half a notion to produce the other
button, matching the one he had just pulled off his visitor's
coat, and tell where he had found it. But he held himself back. He
wanted to talk first to Ned.
And, when his chum came in, Tom cried:
"Ned, what do you think? I know who had my airship!"
"How?" asked Ned, in wonder.
"By that button clue! Yes, it's the same kind--they're as alike as
twins!" and Tom brought out the button which he had put away in
his desk. "See, Boylan had one just like this on the back of his
coat. The other was missing. Here it is--it was in the seat of my
airship, where it was probably pulled off as he moved about. Ned,
I think I've got the right clue at last."
Ned said nothing for several seconds. Then he remarked slowly:
"Well, Tom, it proves one thing; but not the other."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it may be perfectly true that the button came off Mr.
Boylan's coat, but that doesn't prove that he wore it. You can be
reasonably sure that the coat was having a ride in your Eagle, but
was Boylan in the coat? That's the question."
"In the coat? Of course he was in it!" cried Tom.
"You can't be sure. Someone may have borrowed his coat to take a
midnight ride in the airship."
"Mr. Boylan doesn't look to be the kind of a man who would lend
his clothes," remarked Tom.
"You never can tell. Someone may have borrowed it without his
knowledge. You'd better go a bit slow, Tom."
"Well, maybe I had. But it's a clue, anyhow."
Ned agreed to this.
"And all I've got to do is to find out who was in the coat when it
was riding about in my airship," went on Tom.
"Yes," said Ned, "and then maybe you'll have some clue to the
disappearance of Mr. Damon."
"Right you are! Come on, let's get busy!"
"As if we hadn't been busy all the while!" laughed Ned. "I'll lose
my place at the bank if I don't get back soon."
"Oh, stay a little longer--a few days," urged Tom. "I'm sure that
something is going to happen soon. Anyhow my photo telephone is
about perfected. But I've just thought of another improvement."
"What is it?"
"I'm going to arrange a sort of dictaphone, or phonograph, so I
can get a permanent record of what a person says over the wire, as
well as get a picture of him saying it. Then everything will be
complete. This last won't be hard to do, as there are several
machines on the market now, for preserving a record of telephone
conversations. I'll make mine a bit different, though."
"Tom, is there any limit to what you're going to do?" asked Ned,
admiringly.
"Oh, yes, I'm going to stop soon, and retire," laughed the young
inventor.
After talking the matter over, Tom and his chum decided to wait a
day or so before taking any action in regard to the button clue to
the takers of the airship. After all, no great harm had been done,
and Tom was more anxious to locate Mr. Damon, and try to get back
his fortune, as well as to perfect his photo telephone, than he
was to discover those who had helped themselves to the Eagle.
Tom and Ned put in some busy days, arranging the phonograph
attachment. It was easy, compared to the hard work of sending a
picture over the wire. They paid several visits to Mrs. Damon, but
she had no news of her missing husband, and, as the days went by,
she suffered more and more under the strain.
Finally Tom's new invention was fully completed. It was a great
success, and he not only secured pictures of Ned and others over
the wire, as he talked to them, but he imprinted on wax cylinders,
to be reproduced later, the very things they said.
It was a day or so after he had demonstrated his new attachment
for the first time, that Tom received a most urgent message from
Mrs. Damon.
"Tom," she said, over the telephone, "I wish you would call.
Something very mysterious has happened."
"Mr. Damon hasn't come back; has he?" asked Tom eagerly.
"No--but I wish I could say he had. This concerns him, however.
Can you come?"
"I'll be there right away."
In his speedy monoplane Tom soon reached Waterford. Ned did not
accompany him this time.
"Now what is it, Mrs. Damon?" asked the young inventor.
"About half an hour before I called you," she said, "I received a
mysterious message."
"Who brought it?" asked Tom quickly.
"No one. It came over the telephone. Someone, whose voice I did
not know, said to me: 'Sign the land papers, and send them to us,
and your husband will be released.'"
"That message came over the wire?" cried Tom, excitedly.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Damon. "Oh, I am so frightened! I don't know
what to do!" and the lady burst into tears.
CHAPTER XVIII
ANOTHER CALL
Tom Swift, for the moment, did not know what to do. It was a
strange situation, and one he had never thought of. What did the
mysterious message mean? He must think it all out, and plan some
line of action. Clearly Mrs. Damon was not able to do so.
"Now let's get at this in some kind of order," suggested the
youth, when Mrs. Damon had calmed herself. It was his habit to
have a method about doing things. "And don't worry," he advised.
"I am certain some good will come of this. It proves one thing,
that's sure."
"What is it, Tom?"
"That Mr. Damon is alive and well. Otherwise the message would not
have said he would be 'released.' It wasn't from anyone you know;
was it?"
"No, I'm sure I never heard the voice before."
Tom paused a moment to think how useful his photo telephone and
phonograph arrangement might have been in this case.
"How did the telephone call come in?" inquired the young inventor.
"In the usual way," answered Mrs. Damon. "The bell rang, and, as I
happened to be near the instrument, I answered it, as I often do,
when the maid is busy. A voice asked if I was Mrs. Damon, and of
course I said I was. Then I heard this: 'Sign the land papers, and
send them to us, and your husband will be released.'"
"Was that all?" Tom asked.
"I think so--I made a note of it at the time." Mrs. Damon looked
into a small red book. "No, that wasn't all," she said, quickly.
"I was so astonished, at hearing those strange words about my
husband, that I didn't know what to say. Before I could ask any
questions the voice went on to say, rather abruptly: 'We will call
you again.'"
"That's good!" cried Tom. "I only hope they do it while I am here.
Perhaps I can get some clue as to who it was called you. But was
this all you heard?"
"Yes, I'm sure that was all. I had forgotten about the last words,
but I see I have them written down in my note book."
"Did you ask any questions?" inquired Tom.
"Oh, indeed I did! As soon as I got over being stunned by what I
heard, I asked all sorts of questions. I demanded to know who was
speaking, what they meant, where they were, and all that. I begged
them to tell me something of my husband."
"And what did they say?"
"Not a thing. There wasn't a sound in the telephone. The receiver
was hung up, breaking the connection after that message to me--that
mysterious message."
"Yes, it was mysterious," agreed Tom, thoughtfully. "I can't
understand it. But didn't you try to learn from the central
operator where the call had come from?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, Tom! As soon as I found out the person speaking
to me had rung off, I got the girl in the exchange."
"And what did she say?"
"That the call came from an automatic pay station in a drug store
in town. I have the address. It was one of those telephones where
you put your money for the call in a slot."
"I see. Well, the first thing to do is for me to go to that drug
store and find out, if I can, who used the telephone about that
time. It's a slim chance, but we'll have to take it. Was it a
man's voice, or a woman's?"
"Oh, a man's, I'm sure. It was very deep and heavy. No woman could
speak like that."
"So much is settled, anyhow. Now about the land papers--what was
meant?"
"I'll tell you," said Mrs. Damon. "You know part of our
property--considerable land and some buildings--is in my name. Mr. Damon
had it fixed so a number of years ago, in order to protect me. No one
could get this property, and land, unless I signed the deeds, or
agreed to sign them. Now all of Mr. Damon's fortune is tied up in
some of Mr. Peters's companies. That is why my husband has
disappeared."
"He didn't disappear--he was taken away against his will; I'm
positive of that!" exclaimed Tom.
"Perhaps so," agreed Mrs. Damon, sadly. "But those are the papers
referred to, I'm sure."
"Probably," assented Tom. "The rascals want to get control of
everything--even your possessions. Not satisfied with ruining Mr.
Damon, they want to make you a beggar, too. So they are playing on
your fears. They promise to release your husband if you will give
them the land."
"Yes, that must be it, Tom. What would you advise me to do? I am
so frightened over this!"
"Do? Don't you do anything!" cried Tom. "We'll fool these rascals
yet. If they got those papers they might release Mr. Damon, or
they might not--fearing he would cause their arrest later. But
we'll have him released anyhow, and we'll save what is left of
your fortune. Put those land papers in a safe-deposit box, and let
me do the rest. I'm going to catch those fellows!"
"But how, Tom? You don't know who they are. And a mere message
over a telephone won't give you a clue to where they are."
"Perhaps not an ordinary message," agreed Tom. "But I'm going to
try some of my new inventions. You said they told you they were
going to call again?"
"That's what they said, Tom."
"Well, when they do, I want to be here. I want to listen to that
message. If you will allow me, I'll take up my residence here for
a while, Mrs. Damon."
"Allow you? I'll be only too glad if you will, Tom. But I thought
you were going to try to get some clue from the drug store where
the mysterious message came from."
"I'll let Ned Newton do that. I want to stay here."
Tom telephoned to Ned to meet him at Mrs. Damon's house, and also
to bring with him certain things from the laboratory. And when Ned
arrived in an auto, with various bits of apparatus, Tom put in
some busy hours.
Meanwhile Ned was sent to the drug store, to see if any clues
could be obtained there as to who had sent the message. As Tom had
feared, nothing could be learned. There were several automatic
'phones in the place, and they were used very often during the day
by the public. The drug clerks took little or no notice of the
persons entering or leaving the booths, since the dropping of a
coin in the slot was all that was necessary to be connected with
central.
"Well, we've got to wait for the second call here," said Tom, who
had been busy during Ned's absence. He had fitted to Mrs. Damon's
telephone a recording wax phonograph cylinder, to get a record of
the speaker's voice. And he had also put in an extension
telephone, so that he could listen while Mrs. Damon talked to the
unknown.
"There, I guess we're ready for them," said Tom, late that
afternoon. But no queer call came in that day. It was the next
morning, about ten o'clock, after Mrs. Damon had passed a restless
night, that the telephone bell rang. Tom, who was on the alert,
was at his auxiliary instrument in a flash. He motioned to Mrs.
Damon to answer on the main wire.
"Hello," she spoke into the transmitter. "Who is this?"
"Are you Mrs. Damon?" Tom heard come over the wire in a deep
voice, and by the manner in which Mrs. Damon signalled the young
inventor knew that, at the other end of the line, was the
mysterious man who had spoken before.
CHAPTER XIX
THE BUZZING SOUND
"Are you Mrs. Damon?" came the question again--rather more
impatiently this time, Tom thought.
"Yes," answered the lady, glancing over at Tom. The extension
telephone was in the same room. Softly Tom switched on the
phonograph attachment. The little wax cylinder began to revolve
noiselessly, ready to record the faintest word that came over the
wire.
"You got a message from me yesterday," went on the hoarse voice.
In vain Tom tried to recall whether or not he had heard it before.
He could not place it.
"Who are you?" asked Mrs. Damon. She and Tom had previously agreed
on a line of talk. "Tell me your name, please."
"There's no need for any names to be used," went on the unknown at
the other end of the wire. "You heard what I said yesterday. Are
you willing to send me those land title papers, if we release your
husband?"
"But where shall I send them?" asked Mrs. Damon, to gain time.
"You'll be told where. And listen--no tricks! You needn't try to
find out who I am, nor where I am. Just send those papers if you
want to see your husband again."
"Oh, how is he? Tell me about him! You are cruel to keep him a
prisoner like this! I demand that you release him!"
Tom had not told Mrs. Damon to say this. It came out of her own
heart--she could not prevent the agonized outburst.
"Never mind about that, now," came the gruff voice over the wire.
"Are you willing to send the papers?"
Mrs. Damon looked over to Tom for silent instructions. He nodded
his head in assent.
"Yes, I--I will send them if you tell me where to get them to you--if
you will release Mr. Damon," said the anxious wife. "But tell
me who you are--and where you are!" she begged.
"None of that! I'm not looking to be arrested. You get the papers
ready, and I'll let you know to-morrow, about this time, where to
send them."
"Wait a minute!" called Mrs. Damon, to gain more time. "I must
know just what papers you want."
"All right, I'll tell you," and he began to describe the different
ones.
It took a little time for the unknown to give this information to
Mrs. Damon. The man was very particular about the papers. There
were trust deeds, among other things, and he probably thought that
once he had possession of them, with Mrs. Damon's signature, even
though it had been obtained under a threat, he could claim the
property. Later it was learned that such was not the case, for
Mrs. Damon, with Tom's aid, could have proved the fraud, had the
scoundrels tried to get the remainder of the Damon fortune.
But at the time it seemed to the helpless woman that everything
she owned would be taken from her. Though she said she did not
care, as long as Mr. Damon was restored to her.
As I have said, the telephoning of the instructions about the
papers took some time. Tom had counted on this, and had made his
plans accordingly.
As soon as the telephone call had come in, Tom had communicated
with a private detective who was in waiting, and this man had gone
to the drug store whence the first call had come. He was going to
try to make the arrest of the man telephoning.
But for fear the scoundrel would go to a different instrument, Tom
took another precaution. This was to have one of the operators in
the central exchange on the watch. As soon as Mrs. Damon's house
was in connection with another telephone, the location of the
latter would be noted, and another private detective would be sent
there. Thus Tom hoped to catch the man at the 'phone.
Meanwhile Tom listened to the hoarse voice at the other end of the
wire, giving the directions to Mrs. Damon. Tom hoped that soon
there would be an arrest made.
Meanwhile the talk was being faithfully recorded on the phonograph
cylinder. And, as the man talked on, Tom became aware of a curious
undercurrent of sound. It was a buzzing noise, that Tom knew did
not come from the instrument itself. It was not the peculiar
tapping, singing noise heard in a telephone receiver, caused by
induced electrical currents, or by wire trouble.
"This is certainly different," mused Tom. He was trying to recall
where he had heard the noise before. Sometimes it was faint, and
then it would gradually increase, droning off into faintness once
more. Occasionally it was so loud that Mrs. Damon could not hear
the talk about the papers, and the man would have to repeat.
But finally he came to an end.
"This is all now," he said, sharply. Tom heard the words above the
queer, buzzing, humming sound. "You are keeping me too long. I
think you are up to some game, but it won't do you any good, Mrs.
Damon. I'll 'phone you to-morrow where to send the papers. And if
you don't send them--if you try any tricks--it will be the worse
for you and Mr. Damon!"
There was a click, that told of a receiver being placed back on
the hook, and the voice ceased. So, also, did the queer, buzzing
sound over which Tom puzzled.
"What can it have been?" he asked. "Did you hear it, Mrs. Damon?"
"What, Tom?"
"That buzzing sound."
"Yes, I heard, but I didn't know what it was. Oh, Tom, what shall
I do?"
"Don't worry. We'll see if anything happened. They may have caught
that fellow. If not I'll plan another scheme."
Tom's first act was to call up the telephone exchange to learn
where the second call had come from. He got the information at
once. The address was in the suburbs. The man had not gone to the
drug store this time.
"Did the detective get out to that address?" asked Tom eagerly of
the manager.
"Yes. As soon as we were certain that he was the party you wanted,
your man got right after him, Mr. Swift."
"That's good, I hope he catches him!" cried the young inventor. "We'll
have to wait and find out."
"He said he'd call up and let you know as soon as he reached the
place," the telephone manager informed Tom.
There was nothing to do but wait, and meanwhile Tom did what he
could to comfort Mrs. Damon. She was quite nervous and inclined to
be hysterical, and the youth thought it wise to have a cousin, who
had come to stay with her, summon the doctor.
"But, Tom, what shall I do about those papers?" Mrs. Damon asked
him. "Shall I send them?"
"Indeed not!"
"But I want Mr. Damon restored to me," she pleaded. "I don't care
about the money. He can make more."
"Well, we'll not give those scoundrels the satisfaction of getting
any money out of you. Just wait now, I'll work this thing out, and
find a way to catch that fellow. If I could only think what that
buzzing sound was--"
Then, in a flash, it came to Tom.
"A sawmill! A planing mill!" he cried. "That's what it was! That
fellow was telephoning from some place near a sawmill!"
The telephone rang in the midst of Tom's excited comments.
"Yes--yes!" he called eagerly. "Who is it--what is it?"
"This is Larsen--the private detective you sent."
"Oh, yes, you were at the drug store."
"Yes, Mr. Swift. Well, that party didn't call up from here."
"I know, Larsen. It was from another station. We're after him.
Much obliged to you. Come on back."
Tom was sure his theory was right. The man had called up the Damon
house from some telephone near a sawmill. And a little later Tom's
theory was proved to be true. He got a report from the second
detective. Unfortunately the man had not been able to reach the
telephone station before the unknown speaker had departed.
"Was the place near a sawmill?" asked Tom, eagerly.
"It was," answered the detective over the wire. "The telephone is
right next door to one. It's an automatic pay station and no one
seems to have noticed who the man was who telephoned. I couldn't
get a single clue. I'm sorry."
"Never mind," said Tom, as cheerfully as he could. "I think I'm on
the right track now. I'm going to lay a trap for this fellow."
CHAPTER XX
SETTING THE TRAP
Troublesome problems seemed to be multiplying for Tom Swift. He
admitted as much himself after the failure to capture the man who
had telephoned to Mrs. Damon. He had hoped that his plan of
sending detectives to the location of the telephones would
succeed. Since it had not the youth must try other means.
"Now, Ned," he said to his chum, when they were on their way from
Mrs. Damon's, it being impossible to do anything further there.
"Now, Ned, we've got to think this thing out together."
"I'm willing, Tom. I'll do what I can."
"I know you will. Now the thing to do is to go at this thing
systematically. Otherwise we'll be working around in a circle, and
won't get anywhere. In the first place, let's set down what we do
know. Then we'll put down what we don't know, and go after that."
"Put down what you don't know?" exclaimed Ned. "How are you going
to put down a thing when you don't know it?"
"I mean we can put a question mark after it, so to speak. For
instance we don't know where Mr. Damon is, but we want to find
out."
"Oh, I see. Well, let's start off with the things we do know."
The two friends were at Tom's house by now, having come from
Waterford in Tom's airship. After thinking over all the exciting
happenings of the past few days, Tom remarked: "Now, Ned, for the
things we do know. In the first place Mr. Damon is missing, and
his fortune is about gone. There is considerable left to Mrs.
Damon, however, but those scoundrels may get that away from her,
if we don't watch out. Secondly, my airship was taken and brought
back, with a button more than it had when it went away. Said
button exactly matched one off Mr. Boylan's coat."
"Thirdly, Mr. Damon was either taken away or went away, in an
airship--either in mine or someone else's. Fourthly, Mrs. Damon
has received telephonic communications from the man, or men, who
have her husband. Fifthly, Mr. Peters, either legally or
illegally, is responsible for the loss of Mr. Damon's fortune.
Now: there you are--for the things we do know."
"Now for the things we don't know. We don't know who has taken
Mr. Damon away, nor where he is, to begin with the most important."
"Hold on, Tom, I think you're wrong," broke in Ned.
"In what way?"
"About not knowing who is responsible for the taking away of Mr.
Damon. I think it's as plain as the nose on your face that Peters
is responsible."
"I can't see it that way," said Tom, quickly. "I will admit that
it looks as though Boylan had been in my airship, but as for
Peters taking Mr. Damon away--why, Peters is around town all the
while, and if he had a hand in the disappearance of Mr. Damon, do
you think he'd stay here, when he knows we are working on the
case? And would he send Boylan to see me if Boylan had been one of
those who had a hand in it? They wouldn't dare, especially as they
know I'm working on the case."
"Peters is a bad lot. I'll grant you, though, he was fair enough
to pay for my motor boat. I don't believe he had anything to do
with taking Mr. Damon away."
"Do you think he was the person who was talking to Mrs. Damon
about the papers?"
"No, Ned. I don't. I listened to that fellow's voice carefully. It
wasn't like Peters's. I'm going to put it in the phonograph, too,
and let you listen to it. Then see what you say."
Tom did this, a little later. The record of the voice, as it came
over the wire, was listened to from the wax cylinder, and Ned had
to admit that it was not much like that of the promoter.
"Well, what's next to be done?" asked the young banker.
"I'm going to set a trap," replied Tom, with a grin.
"Set a trap?"
"Yes, a sort of mouse-trap. I'm glad my photo telephone is now
perfected, Ned."
"What has that got to do with it?"
"That's going to be my trap, Ned. Here is my game. You know this
fellow--this strange unknown--is going to call up Mrs. Damon
to-morrow. Well, I'll be ready for him. I'm going to put in the booth
where he will telephone from, one of my photo telephones--that is, the
sending apparatus. In Mrs. Damon's house, attached to her telephone,
will be the receiving plate, as well as the phonograph cylinder."
"When this fellow starts to talk he'll be sending us his picture,
though he won't know it, and we'll be getting a record of his
voice. Then we'll have him just where we want him."
"Good!" cried Ned. "But, Tom, there's a weak spot in your mouse-trap."
"What is it?"
"How are you going to know which telephone the unknown will call
up from? He may go to any of a hundred, more or less."
"He might--yes. But that's a chance we've got to take. It isn't so
much of a chance, though when you stop to think that he will
probably go to some public telephone in an isolated spot, and,
unless I'm much mistaken he will go to a telephone near where he
was to-day. He knows that was safe, since we didn't capture him,
and he's very likely to come back."
"But to make the thing as sure as possible, I'm going to attach my
apparatus to a number of public telephones in the vicinity of the
one near the sawmill. So if the fellow doesn't get caught in one,
he will in another. I admit it's taking a chance; but what else
can we do?"
"I suppose you're right, Tom. It's like setting a number of
traps."
"Exactly. A trapper can't be sure where he is going to get his
catch, so he picks out the place, or run-way, where the game has
been in the habit of coming. He hides his traps about that place,
and trusts to luck that the animal will blunder into one of them."
"Criminals, to my way of thinking, are a good bit like animals.
They seem to come back to their old haunts. Nearly any police
story proves this. And it's that on which I am counting to capture
this criminal. So I'm going to fit up as many telephones with my
photo and phonograph outfit, as I can in the time we have. You'll
have to help me. Luckily I've got plenty of selenium plates for
the sending end. I'll only need one at the receiving end. Now
we'll have to go and have a talk with the telephone manager, after
which we'll get busy."
"You've overlooked one thing, Tom."
"What's that, Ned?"
"Why, if you know about which telephone this fellow is going to
use, why can't you have police stationed near it to capture him as
soon as he begins to talk?"
"Well, I did think of that, Ned; but it won't work."
"Why not?"
"Because, in the first place this man, or some of his friends,
will be on the watch. When he goes into the place to telephone
there'll be a look-out, I'm sure, and he'd either put off talking
to Mrs. Damon, or he'd escape before we had any evidence against
him."
"You see I've got to get evidence that will stand in the courts to
convict this fellow, and if he's scared off before we get that,
the game will be up."
"That's what my photo telephone will do--it will get the evidence,
just as a dictaphone does. In fact, I'm thinking of working it out
on those lines, after I clear up this business."
"Just suppose we had detectives stationed at all the telephones
near the sawmill, where this fellow would be likely to go. In the
first place no one has seen him, as far as we know, so there's no
telling what sort of a chap he is. And you can't go up to a
perfect stranger and arrest him because you think he is the man
who has spirited away Mr. Damon."
"Another thing. Until this fellow has talked, and made his offer
to Mrs. Damon, to restore her husband, in exchange for certain
papers, we have no hold over him."
"But he has done that, Tom. You heard him, and you have his voice
down on the wax cylinder."
"Yes, but I haven't had a glimpse of his face. That's what I want,
and what I'm going to get. Suppose he does go into the telephone
booth, and tell Mrs. Damon an address where she is to send the
papers. Even if a detective was near at hand he might not catch
what was said. Or, if he did, on what ground could he arrest a man
who, very likely, would be a perfect stranger to him? The
detective couldn't say: 'I take you into custody for telephoning
an address to Mrs. Damon.' That, in itself, is no crime."
"No, I suppose not," admitted Ned. "You've got this all thought
out, Tom."
"I hope I have. You see it takes quite a combination to get
evidence against a criminal--evidence that will convict him.
That's why I have to be so careful in setting my trap."
"I see, Tom. Well, it's about time for us to get busy; isn't it?"
"It sure is. There's lots to do. First we'll go see the telephone
people."
Tom explained to the 'phone manager the necessity for what he was
about to do. The manager at once agreed to let the young inventor
have a free hand. He was much interested in the photo telephone,
and Tom promised to give his company a chance to use it on their
lines, later.
The telephone near the sawmill was easily located. It was in a
general store, and the instrument was in a booth. To this
instrument Tom attached his sending plate, and he also substituted
for the ordinary incandescent light, a powerful tungsten one, that
would give illumination enough to cause the likeness to be
transmitted over the wire.
The same thing was done to a number of the public telephones in
that vicinity, each one being fitted up so that the picture of
whoever talked would be transmitted over the wire when Tom turned
the switch. To help the plan further the telephone manager marked
a number of other 'phones, "Out of Order," for the time being.
"Now, I think we're done!" exclaimed the young inventor, with a
sigh, late that night. He and Ned and the line manager had worked
hard.
"Yes," answered the young banker, "the traps are set. The question
is: Will our rat be caught?"
CHAPTER XXI
THE PHOTO TELEPHONE
Tom Swift was taking, as he afterward confessed, "a mighty big
chance." But it seemed the only way. He was working against
cunning men, and had to be as cunning as they.
True, the man he hoped to capture, through the combination of his
photo telephone and the phonograph, might go to some other
instrument than one of those Tom had adjusted. But this could not
be helped. In all he had put his new attachment on eight 'phones
in the vicinity of the sawmill. So he had eight chances in his
favor, and as many against him as there were other telephones in
use.
"It's a mighty small margin in our favor," sighed Tom.
"It sure is," agreed Ned. They were at Mrs. Damon's house,
waiting for the call to come in.
"But we couldn't do anything else," went on Tom.
"No," spoke Ned, "and I have a great deal of hope in the
proverbial Swift luck, Tom."
"Well, I only hope it holds good this time!" laughed the young
inventor.
"There are a good many things that can go wrong," observed Ned.
"The least little slip-up may spoil your traps, Tom."
"I know it, Ned. But I've got to take the chance. We've just got
to do something for Mrs. Damon. She's wearing herself out by
worrying," he added in a low voice, for indeed the wife of his
friend felt the absence of her husband greatly. She had lost
flesh, she ate scarcely anything, and her nights were wakeful ones
of terror.
"What if this fails?" asked Ned.
"Then I'm going to work that button clue to the limit," replied
Tom. "I'll go to Boylan and see what he and Peters have to say."
"If you'd done as I suggested you'd have gone to them first,"
spoke Ned. "You'll find they're mixed up in this."
"Maybe; but I doubt it. I tell you there isn't a clue leading to
Peters--as yet."
"But there will be," insisted Ned. "You'll see that that I'm right
this time."
"I can't see it, Ned. As a matter of fact, I would have gone to
Boylan about that button I found in my airship only I've been so
busy on this photo telephone, and in arranging the trap, that I
haven't had time. But if this fails--and I'm hoping it won't--I'll
get after him," and there was a grim look on the young inventor's
face.
It was wearying and nervous work--this waiting. Tom and Ned felt
the strain as they sat there in Mrs. Damon's library, near the
telephone. It had been fitted up in readiness. Attached to the
receiving wires was a sensitive plate, on which Tom hoped would be
imprinted the image of the man at the other end of the wire--the
criminal who, in exchange for the valuable land papers, would give
Mr. Damon his liberty.
There was also the phonograph cylinder to record the man's voice.
Several times, while waiting for the call to come in, Tom got up
to test the apparatus. It was in perfect working order.
As before, there was an extension telephone, so that Mrs. Damon
could talk to the unknown, while Tom could hear as well. But he
planned to take no part in the conversation unless something
unforeseen occurred.
Mr. Damon was an enthusiastic photographer, and he had a dark room
adjoining his library. It was in this dark room that Tom planned
to develop the photo telephone plate.
On this occasion he was not going to use the metal plate in which,
ordinarily, the image of the person talking appeared. That record
was but a fleeting one, as in a mirror. This time Tom wanted a
permanent picture that could, if necessary, be used in a court of
justice.
Tom's plan was this: If the person who had demanded the papers
came to one of the photo telephones, and spoke to Mrs. Damon, Tom
would switch on the receiving apparatus. Thus, while the man was
talking, his picture would be taken, though he would not know of
the thing being done.
His voice would also be recorded on the wax cylinder, and he would
be equally unaware of this.
When Tom had imprinted the fellow's image on the prepared plate,
he would go quickly to the dark room and develop it. A wet print
could be made, and with this as evidence, and to use in
identification, a quick trip could be made to the place whence the
man had telephoned. Tom hoped thus to capture him.
To this end he had his airship in waiting, and as soon as he had
developed the picture he planned to rush off to the vicinity of
the sawmill, and make a prisoner of the man whose features would
be revealed to him over the wire.
It was a hazardous plan--a risky one--but it was the best that he
could evolve. Tom had instructed Mrs. Damon to keep the man in
conversation as long as possible, in order to give the young
inventor himself time to rush off in his airship. But of course
the man might get suspicious and leave. That was another chance
that had to be taken.
"If I had thought of it in time," said Tom, musingly, as he paced
up and down in the library waiting for the 'phone to ring, "if I
had thought of it in time I would have rigged up two plates--one
for a temporary, or looking-glass, picture, and the other for a
permanent one. In that way I could rush off as soon as I got a
glimpse of the fellow. But it's too late to do that now. I'll have
to develop this plate."
Waiting is the most wearisome work there is. Tom and Ned found
this to be the case, as they sat there, hoping each moment that
the telephone bell would ring, and that the man at the other end
of the wire would be the mysterious stranger. Mrs. Damon, too,
felt the nervous strain.
"This is about the hour he called up yesterday," said Tom, in a
low voice, after coming back from a trip to the window to see that
his airship was in readiness. He had brought Koku over to help in
starting it, for he was using his most powerful and speedy craft,
and the propellers were hard to turn.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Damon. "It was just about this hour, Tom. Oh,
I do hope--"
She was interrupted by the jingle of the telephone bell. With a
jump Tom was at the auxiliary instrument, while Mrs. Damon lifted
off the receiver of her own telephone.
"Yes; what is it?" she asked, in a voice that she tried to make
calm.
"Do you know who this is?" Tom heard come over the wire.
"Are you the--er--the person who was to give me an address where I
am to send certain papers?"
"Yes. I'm the same one. I'm glad to see that you have acted
sensibly. If I get the papers all right, you'll soon have your
husband back. Now do as I say. Take down this address."
"Very well," assented Mrs. Damon. She looked over at Tom. He was
intently listening, and he, too, would note the address given. The
trap was about to be sprung. The game had walked into it. Just
which telephone was being used Tom could not as yet tell. It was
evidently not the one nearest the planing mill, for Tom could not
hear the buzzing sound. It was well he had put his attachment on
several instruments.
"One moment, please," said Mrs. Damon, to the unknown at the other
end of the wire. This was in accordance with the pre-arranged
plan.
"Well, what is it?" asked the man, impatiently. "I have no time to
waste."
Tom heard again the same gruff tones, and he tried in vain to
recognize them.
"I want you take down a message to Mr. Damon," said his wife.
"This is very important. It can do you no harm to give him this
message; but I want you to get it exact. If you do not promise to
deliver it I shall call all negotiations off."
"Oh, all right I'll take the message; but be quick about it. Then
I'll give you the address where you are to send the papers."
"This is the message," went on Mrs. Damon. "Please write it down.
It is very important to me. Have you a pencil?"
"Yes, I have one. Wait until I get a bit of paper. It's so dark in
this booth--wait until I turn on the light."
Tom could not repress a pleased and joyful exclamation. It was
just what he had hoped the man would do--turn on the light in the
booth. Indeed, it was necessary for the success of the trap that
the light be switched on. Otherwise no picture could be
transmitted over the wire. And the plan of having the man write
down a message to Mr. Damon was arranged with that end in view.
The man would need a light to see to write, and Tom's apparatus
must be lighted in order to make it work. The plot was coming
along finely.
"There!" exclaimed the man at the other end of the wire. "I have a
light now. Go ahead with your message, Mrs. Damon. But make it
short. I can't stay here long."
Then Mrs. Damon began dictating the message she and Tom had agreed
upon. It was as long as they dared make it, for they wanted to
keep the man in the booth to the last second.
"Dear Husband," began Mrs. Damon. What the message was does not
matter. It has nothing to do with this story. Sufficient to say
that the moment the man began writing it down, as Tom could tell
over the sensitive wire, by the scratching of the pencil--at that
moment Tom, knowing the light was on in the distant telephone
booth, switched on the picture-taking apparatus. His receiving
apparatus at once indicated that the image was being made on the
sensitive plate.
It took only a few seconds of time, and with the plate in the
holder Tom hastened to the dark room to develop it. Ned took his
chum's place at the telephone, to see that all worked smoothly.
The photo telephone had done it's work. Whose image would be found
imprinted on the sensitive plate? Tom's hands trembled so that he
could scarcely put it in the developing solution.
CHAPTER XXII
THE ESCAPE
Ned Newton, listening at the auxiliary telephone heard the man, to
whom Mrs. Damon was dictating her message to her husband, utter an
exclamation of impatience.
"I'm afraid I can't take down any more," he called. "That is
enough. Now you listen. I want you to send me those papers."
"And I am willing to," went on Mrs. Damon, while Ned listened to
the talk, the phonograph faithfully recording it.
"I wonder whose picture Tom will find," mused Ned.
The unknown, at the other end of the wire, began giving Mrs. Damon
a description of just what papers he wanted, and how to mail them
to him. He gave an address that Ned recognized as that of a cigar
store, where many persons received their mail under assumed names.
The postal authorities had, for a long time, tried to get evidence
against it.
"That's going to make it hard to get him, when he comes for the
papers," thought Ned. "He's a foxy criminal, all right. But I
guess Tom will turn the trick."
Mrs. Damon was carefully noting down the address. She really
intended to send the papers, if it proved that there was no other
way in which she could secure the release of her husband. But she
did not count on all of Tom's plans. "Why doesn't he develop that
plate?" thought Ned. "He'll be too late, in spite of his airship.
That fellow will skip."
It was at that moment that Tom came into the library. He moved
cautiously, for he realized that a loud sound in the room would
carry to the man at the other end of the wire. Tom motioned for
Ned to come to him. He held out a dripping photographic plate.
"It's Peters!" said Tom, in a hoarse whisper.
"Peters?" gasped Ned. "How could it be? His voice--"
"I know. It didn't sound a bit like Peters over the 'phone, but
there's his picture, all right!"
Tom held up the plate. There, imprinted on it by the wonderful
power of the young inventor's latest appliance, was the image of
the rascally promoter. As plainly as in life he was shown, even to
his silk hat and the flower in his button-hole. He was in a
telephone booth--that much could be told from the photograph that
had been transmitted over the wire, but which booth could not be
said--they were nearly all alike.
"Peters!" gasped Ned. "I thought he was the fellow, Tom."
"Yes, I know. You were right, and I was wrong. But I did not
recognize his voice. It was very hoarse. He must have a bad cold."
Later this was learned to have been the case. "There's no time to
lose," whispered Tom, while Mrs. Damon was doing her best to
prolong the conversation in order to hold the man at the other end
of the wire. "Ned, get central on the other telephone, and see
where this call came from. Then we'll get there as fast as the
airship will take us."
A second and temporary telephone line had been installed in the
Damon home, and on this Ned was soon talking, while Tom, putting
the photographic plate away for future use, rushed out to get his
airship in shape for a quick flight. He had modified his plans.
Instead of having a detective take a print of the photo telephone
image, and make the arrest, Tom was going to try to capture Peters
himself. He believed he could do it. One look at the wet plate was
enough. He knew Peters, though it upset some of his theories to
learn that it was the promoter who was responsible for Mr. Damon's
disappearance.
The man at the other end of the wire was evidently getting
impatient. Possibly he suspected some trick. "I've got to go now,"
he called to Mrs. Damon. "If I don't get those papers in the
morning it will be the worse for Mr. Damon."
"Oh, I'll send you the papers," she said.
By this time Ned had gotten into communication with the manager of
the central telephone exchange, and had learned the location of
the instrument Peters was using. It was about a mile from the one
near the sawmill.
"Come on!" called Tom to his chum, as the latter gave him this
information. "The Firefly is tuned up for a hundred miles an hour!
We'll be there in ten minutes! We must catch him red-handed, if
possible!"
"He's gone!" gasped Mrs. Damon as she came to the outer door, and
watched Tom and Ned taking their places in the airship, while Koku
prepared to twirl the propellers.
"Gone!" echoed Tom, blankly.
"Yes, he hung up the receiver."
"See if you can't get him back," suggested the young inventor.
"Ask Central to ring that number again. We'll be there in a jiffy.
Maybe he'll come to the telephone again. Or he may even call up
his partners and tell them the game is working his way. Try to get
him back, Mrs. Damon."
"I will," she said.
And, as she hurried back to the instrument, Tom and Ned shot up
toward the blue sky in an endeavor to capture the man at the other
telephone.
"And to think it was Peters!" cried Tom into Ned's ear, shouting
to be heard above the roar of the motor exhaust.
"I thought he'd turn out to be mixed up in the affair," said Ned.
"Well, you were right. I was off, that time," admitted Tom, as he
guided his powerful craft above the trees. "I was willing to admit
that he had something to do with Mr. Damon's financial trouble,
but as for kidnapping him--well, you never can tell."
They drove on at a breath-catching pace, and it seemed hardly a
minute after leaving Mrs. Damon's house before Tom called:
"There's the building where the telephone is located."
"And now for that rascal Peters!" cried Ned.
The airship swooped down, to the great astonishment of some
workmen nearby.
Hardly had the wheels ceased revolving on the ground, as Tom made
a quick landing, than he was out of his seat, and running toward
the telephone. He knew the place at once from having heard Ned's
description, and besides, this was one of the places where he had
installed his apparatus.
Into the store Tom burst, and made a rush for the 'phone booth. He
threw open the door. The place was empty!
"The man--the man who was telephoning!" Tom called to the
proprietor of the place.
"You mean that big man, with the tall hat, who was in there so
long?"
"Yes, where is he?"
"Gone. About two minutes ago."
"Which way?"
"Over toward Shopton, and in one of the fastest autos that ever
scattered dust in this section."
"He's escaped us!" said Tom to Ned. "But we'll get him yet! Come
on!"
"I'm with you. Say, do you know what this looks like to me?"
"What?"
"It looks as if Peters was scared and was going to run away to
stay!"
CHAPTER XXIII
ON THE TRAIL
Such a crowd had quickly gathered about Tom's airship that it was
impossible to start it. Men and boys, and even some girls and
women, coming from no one knew where, stood about the machine,
making wondering remarks about it.
"Stand back, if you please!" cried Tom, good-naturedly. "We've
got to get after the fellow in the auto."
"You'll have hard work catching him, friend, in that rig,"
remarked a man. "He was fracturing all the speed laws ever passed.
I reckon he was going nigh onto sixty miles an hour."
"We can make a hundred," spoke Ned, quietly.
"A hundred! Get out!" cried the man. "Nothing can go as fast as
that!"
"We'll show you, if we once get started," said Tom. "I guess we'll
have to get one of these fellows to twirl the propellers for us,
Ned," he added. "I didn't think, or I'd have brought the self-starting
machine," for this one of Tom's had to be started by someone
turning over the propellers, once or twice, to enable the motor
to begin to speed. On some of his aircraft the young inventor had
attached a starter, something like the ones on the newest autos.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ned, as Tom looked to the
priming of the cylinders.
"I'm going to get on the trail of Peters," he said. "He's at the
bottom of the whole business; and it's a surprise to me. I'm going
to trail him right down to the ground now, and make him give up
Mr. Damon and his fortune."
"But you don't know where he is, Tom."
"I'll find out. He isn't such an easy man to miss--he's too
conspicuous. Besides, if he's just left in his auto we may catch
him before he gets to Shopton."
"Do you think he's going there?"
"I think so. And I think, Ned, that he's become suspicious and
will light out. Something must have happened, while he was
telephoning, and he got frightened, as big a bluff as he is. But
we'll get him. Come on! Will you turn over the propellers, please?
I'll show you how to do it," Tom went on to a big, strong man
standing close to the blades.
"Sure I'll do it," was the answer. "I was a helper once at an
airship meet, and I know how."
"Get back out of the way in time," the young inventor warned him.
"They start very suddenly, sometimes."
"All right, friend, I'll watch out," was the reply, and with Tom
and Ned in their seats, the former at the steering wheel, the
craft of the air was soon throbbing and trembling under the first
turn, for the cylinders were still warm from the run from Mrs.
Damon's house.
The telephone was in an outlying section of Waterford--a section
devoted in the main to shops and factories, and the homes of those
employed in various lines of manufacture. Peters had chosen his
place well, for there were many roads leading to and from this
section, and he could easily make his escape.
"But we'll get after him," thought Tom, grimly, as he let the
airship run down the straight road a short distance on the bicycle
wheels, to give it momentum enough so that it would rise.
Then, with the tilting of the elevation rudder, the craft rose
gracefully, amid admiring cheers from the crowd. Tom did not go up
very far, as he wanted to hover near the ground, to pick out the
speeding auto containing Peters.
But this time luck was not with Tom. He and Ned did sight a number
of cars speeding along the highway toward Shopton, but when they
got near enough to observe the occupants they were disappointed
not to behold the man they sought. Tom circled about for some
time, but it was of no use, and then he headed his craft back
toward Waterford.
"Where are you going?" asked Ned, yelling the words into the ear
of his chum.
"Back to Mrs. Damon's," answered Tom, in equally loud tones.
It was impossible to talk above the roaring and throbbing of the
motor, so the two lads kept silent until the airship had landed
near Mrs. Damon's home.
"I want to see if Mrs. Damon is all right," Tom explained, as he
jumped from the still moving machine. "Then we'll go to Shopton,
and cause Peters's arrest. I can make a charge against him now,
and the evidence of the photo telephone will convict him, I'm
sure. And I also want to see if Mrs. Damon has had any other
word."
She had not, however, though she was more nervous and worried than
ever.
"Oh, Tom, what shall I do?" she exclaimed. "I am so frightened!
What do you suppose they will do to Mr. Damon?"
"Nothing at all!" Tom assured her. "He will be all right. I think
matters are coming to a crisis now, and very likely he'll be with
you inside of twenty-four hours. The game is up, and I guess
Peters knows it. I'm going to have him arrested at once."
"Shall I send those land papers, Tom?"
"Indeed you must not! But I'll talk to you about that later. Just
put away that phonograph record of Peters's talk. I'll take along
the photo telephone negative, and have some prints made--or, I
guess, since we're going in the airship, that I'd better leave it
here for the present. We'll use it as evidence against Peters.
Come on, Ned."
"Where to now?"
"Peters's house. He's probably there, arranging to cover up his
tracks when he lights out."
But Shallock Peters did better than merely cover up his tracks. He
covered himself up, so to speak. For when Ned and Tom, after a
quick flight in the airship, reached his house, the promoter had
left, and the servants, who were quite excited, did not know where
he had gone.
"He just packed up a few clothes and ran out," said one of the
maids. "He didn't say anything about our wages, either, and he
owes me over a month."
"Me too," said another.
"Well, if he doesn't pay me some of my back wages soon, I'll sue
him!" declared the gardener. "He owes me more than three months,
but he kept putting me off."
And, so it seemed, Peters had done with several of his employes.
When the promoter came to Shopton he had taken an elaborate house
and engaged a staff of servants. Peters was not married, but he
gave a number of entertainments to which the wealthy men of
Shopton and their wives came. Later it was found that the bills
for these had never been paid. In short, Peters was a "bluff" in
more ways than one.
Tom told enough of his story to the servants to get them on his
side. Indeed, now that their employer had gone, and under such
queer circumstances, they had no sympathy for him. They were only
concerned about their own money, and Tom was given admittance to
the house.
Tom made a casual search, hoping to find some clue to the
whereabouts of Mr. Damon, or to get some papers that would save
his fortune. But the search was unsuccessful.
There was a safe in the room Peters used for an office, but when
Tom got there the strong box was open, and only some worthless
documents remained.
"He smelled a rat, all right," said Tom, grimly. "After he
telephoned to Mrs. Damon something happened that gave him an
intimation that someone was after him. So he got away as soon as
he could."
"But what are you going to do about it, Tom?"
"Get right after him. He can't have gotten very far. I want him
and I want Boylan. We're getting close to the end of the trail,
Ned."
"Yes, but we haven't found Mr. Damon yet, and his fortune seems to
have vanished."
"Well, we'll do the best we can," said Tom, grimly. "Now I'm going
to get a warrant for the arrest of Peters, and one for Boylan, and
I'm going to get myself appointed a special officer with power to
serve them. We've got our work cut out for us, Ned."
"Well, I'm with you to the end."
"I know you are!" cried Tom.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE LONELY HOUSE
The young inventor had little difficulty in getting the warrants
he sought. In the case of Boylan, who seemed to be Peters's
right-hand man, when it came to criminal work, Tom made a charge of
unlawfully taking the airship. This would be enough to hold the
man on until other evidence could be obtained against him.
As for Peters, he was accused of taking certain valuable bonds and
stocks belonging to Mr. Damon. Mrs. Damon gave the necessary
evidence in this case, and the authorities were told that later,
when Peters should have been arrested, other evidence so
skillfully gotten by Tom's photo telephone, would be brought
before the court.
"It's a new way of convicting a man--by a photo telephone--but I
guess it's a good one," said the judge who signed the warrants.
"Well, now that we've got what we want, the next thing to do is to
get the men--Peters, and the others," said Tom, as he and Ned sat
in Tom's library after several hours of strenuous work.
"How are you going to start?" the young banker wanted to know. "It
seems a strange thing that a man like Mr. Damon could be made away
with, and kept in hiding so long without something being heard of
him. I'm afraid, Tom, that something must have happened to him."
"I think so too, Ned. Nothing serious, though," Tom added,
quickly, as he saw the look of alarm on his chum's face. "I think
Mr. Damon at first went away of his own accord."
"Of his own accord?"
"Yes. I think Peters induced him to go with him, on the pretense
that he could recover his fortune. After getting Mr. Damon in
their power they kept him, probably to get the rest of his fortune
away from him."
"But you stopped that, Tom," said Ned, proud of his chum's
abilities.
"Well, I hope so," admitted the young inventor. "But I've still
got plenty to do."
"Have you a starting point?"
"For one thing," Tom answered, "I'm going to have Mrs. Damon mail
a fake package to the address Peters gave. If he, or any of his
men, call for it, we'll have a detective on the watch, and arrest
them."
"Good!"
"Of course it may not work," spoke Tom; "but it's something to
try, and we can't miss any chances."
Accordingly, the next day, a package containing only blank paper,
made up to represent the documents demanded by Peters as the price
of releasing Mr. Damon, was mailed to the address Mrs. Damon had
received over the wire from the rascally promoter. Then a private
detective was engaged to be on the watch, to take into custody
whoever called for the bundle. Tom, though, had not much hope of
anything coming of this, as it was evident that Peters had taken
the alarm, and left.
"And now," said Tom, when he had safely put away the wax record,
containing the incriminating talk of Peters, and had printed
several photographs, so wonderfully taken over the wire, "now to
get on the trail again."
It was not an easy one to follow. Tom began at the deserted home
of the alleged financier. The establishment was broken up, for
many tradesmen came with bills that had not been paid, and some of
them levied on what little personal property there was to satisfy
their claims. The servants left, sorrowful enough over their
missing wages. The place was closed up under the sheriff's orders.
But of Peters and his men not a trace could be found. Tom and Ned
traveled all over the surrounding country, looking for clues, but
in vain. They made several trips in the airship, but finally
decided that an automobile was more practical for their work, and
kept to that.
They did find some traces of Peters. As Tom had said, the man was
too prominent not to be noticed. He might have disguised himself,
though it seemed that the promoter was a proud man, and liked to
be seen in flashy clothes, a silk hat, and with a buttonhole
bouquet.
This made it easy to get the first trace of him. He had been seen
to take a train at the Shopton station, though he had not bought a
ticket. The promoter had paid his fare to Branchford, a junction
point, but there all trace of him was lost. It was not even
certain that he went there.
"He may have done that to throw us off," said Tom. "Just because
he paid his way to Branchford, doesn't say he went there. He may
have gotten off at the next station beyond Shopton."
"Do you think he's still lingering around here?" asked Ned.
"I shouldn't be surprised," was Tom's answer. "He knows that there
is still some of the Damon property left, and he is probably
hungry for that. We'll get him yet, Ned."
But at the end of several days Tom's hopes did not seem in a fair
way to be realized. He and Ned followed one useless clue after
another. All the trails seemed blind ones. But Tom never gave up.
He was devoting all his time now to the finding of his friend Mr.
Damon, and to the recovery of his fortune. In fact the latter was
not so important to Tom as was the former. For Mrs. Damon was on
the verge of a nervous collapse on account of the absence of her
husband.
"If I could only have some word from him, Tom!" she cried,
helplessly.
To Tom the matter was very puzzling. It seemed utterly impossible
that Mr. Damon could be kept so close a prisoner that he could not
manage to get some word to his friends. It was not as if he was a
child. He was a man of more than ordinary abilities. Surely he
might find a way to outwit his enemies.
But the days passed, and no word came. A number of detectives had
been employed, but they were no more successful than Tom. The
latter had given up his inventive work, for the time being, to
devote all his time to the solution of the mystery.
Tom and Ned had been away from Shopton for three days, following
the most promising clue they had yet received. But it had failed
at the end, and one afternoon they found themselves in a small
town, about a hundred miles from Shopton. They had been motoring.
"I think I'll call up the house," said Tom. "Dad may have received
some news, or Mrs. Damon may have sent him some word. I'll get my
father on the wire."
Connection to Tom's house was soon made, and Ned, who was
listening to his chum's remarks, was startled to hear him cry out:
"What's that you say? My airship taken again? When did it happen?
Yes, I'm listening. Go on, Father!"
Then followed a silence while Tom listened, breaking in now and
then with an excited remark, Suddenly he called:
"Good-by, Dad! I'm coming right home!"
Tom hung up the receiver with a bang, and turned to his chum.
"What do you think!" he cried. "The Eagle was taken again last
night! The same way as before. Nobody got a glimpse of the
thieves, though. Dad has been trying to get in communication with
me ever since. I'm glad I called up. Now we'll get right back to
Shopton, and see what we can do. This is the limit! Peters and his
crowd will be kidnapping us, next."
"That's right," agreed Ned.
He and Tom were soon off again, speeding in the auto toward
Shopton. But the roads were bad, after a heavy rain, and they did
not make fast time.
The coming of dusk found them with more than thirty miles to go.
They were in an almost deserted section of the country when
suddenly, as they were running slowly up a hill, there was a
sudden crack, the auto gave a lurch to one side of the roadway and
then settled heavily. Tom clapped on both brakes quickly, and gave
a cry of dismay.
"Broken front axle!" he said. "We're dished, Ned!"
They got out, being no more harmed than by the jolting. The car
was out of commission. The two chums looked around. Except for a
lonely house, that bore every mark of being deserted, not a
dwelling was in sight where they might ask for aid or shelter.
And, as they looked, from that lonely house came a strange cry--a
cry as though for help!
CHAPTER XXV
THE AIRSHIP CAPTURE
"Did you hear that?" cried Ned.
"I certainly did," answered Tom. "What was it."
"Sounded to me like a cry of some sort."
"It was. An animal, I'd say."
The two chums moved away from the broken auto, and looked at each
other. Then, by a common impulse, they started toward the lonely
house, which was set back some distance from the road.
"Let's see who it was," suggested Tom, "After all, though it looks
deserted, there may be someone in the house, and we've got to have
some kind of help. I don't want to leave my car on the road all
night, though it will have to be repaired before I can use it
again."
"It sure is a bad break," agreed Ned.
As they walked toward the deserted House they heard the strange
cry again. It was louder this time, and following it the boys
heard a sound as if a blow had been struck.
"Someone is being attacked!" cried Tom. "Maybe some poor tramp has
taken shelter in there and a dog is after them. Come on, Ned,
we've got to help!"
They started on a run for the lonely house, but while still some
distance away a curious thing happened.
There was a sudden cry--an appeal for help it seemed--but this
time in the open. And, as Tom and Ned looked, they saw several men
running from the rear of the old house. Between them they carried
an inert form.
"Something's wrong!" exclaimed Tom, "There's crooked work going on
here, Ned."
"You're right! It's up to us to stop it! Come on!"
But before the boys had taken half a dozen more steps they heard
that which caused them great surprise. For from a shed behind the
house came the unmistakable throb and roar of a motor.
"They're going off in an auto!" cried Ned.
"And they're carrying someone with them!" exclaimed Tom.
By this time they had gotten to a point where they could see the
shed, and what was their astonishment to see being rolled from it
a big biplane. At the sight of it Tom cried:
"It's the Eagle! That's my airship, Ned!"
"You're right! How did it get here?"
"That's for us to find out. I shouldn't wonder, Ned, but what
we're at last on the trail of Peters and his crowd!"
The men--there were four or five of them, Ned guessed--now broke
into a run, still carrying among them the inert form of another.
The cries for help had ceased, and it seemed as if the unfortunate
one was unconscious.
A moment later, and before the boys could do anything, had they
the power, the men fairly jumped aboard Tom Swift's biggest
airship. The unconscious one was carried with them.
Then the motor was speeded up. The roar and throbbing were almost
deafening.
"Stop that! Hold on! That's my machine!" yelled Tom.
He might as well have spoken to the wind. With a rush and a roar
the big Eagle shot away and upward, carrying the men and their
mysterious, unconscious companion. It was getting too dark for Tom
and Ned to make out the forms or features of the strangers.
"We're too late!" said Ned, hopelessly.
"Yes, they got away," agreed Tom. "Oh, if only I had my speedy
little monoplane!"
"But who can they be? How did your airship get here? And who is
that man they carried out of the house?" cried Ned.
"I don't know the last--maybe one of their crowd who was injured
in a fight."
"What crowd?"
"The Peters gang, of course. Can't you see it, Ned?"
Unable to do anything, the two youths watched the flight of the
Eagle. She did not move at her usual speed, for she was carrying
too heavy a load.
Presently from the air overhead, and slightly behind them, the
boys heard the sound of another motor. They turned quickly.
"Look!" cried Ned. "Another airship, by all that's wonderful!"
"If we could only stop them!" exclaimed Tom. "That's a big
machine, and they could take us aboard. Then we could chase the
Eagle. We could catch her, too, for she's overloaded!"
Frantically he and Tom waved their caps at the man who was now
almost overhead in his airship. The boys did not call. They well
knew, with the noise of the motor, the occupant of the airship
could not hear them. But they waved and pointed to the slowly-moving
Eagle.
To their surprise and delight the man above them shut off his
engine, and seemed about to come down. Then Tom cried, knowing he
could be heard:
"Help us capture that airship? It's mine and they've stolen it!"
"All right! Be with you in a minute!" came back the answer from
above.
The second biplane came down to earth, and as it ceased running
along on its bicycle wheels, the occupant jumped out.
"Hello, Tom Swift!" he called, as he took off his goggles.
"Why--why it's Mr. Halling!" cried the young inventor, in delight,
recognizing the birdman who had brought him the first news of Mr.
Damon's trouble, the day the airship became entangled in the
aerials of the wireless on Tom's house.
"What are you doing here, Tom?" asked Mr. Hailing. "What has
happened?"
"We're looking for Mr. Damon. That's a bad crowd there," and he
pointed toward the other aircraft. "They have my Eagle. Can you
help me catch them?"
"I certainly can--and will! Get aboard! I can carry four."
"Then you have a new machine?"
"Yes, and a dandy! All the latest improvements--self-starter and
all! I'm glad of a chance to show it to you."
"And I'm glad, too!" cried Tom. "It was providential that you
happened along. What were you doing here?"
"Just out on a trial spin. But come on, if we're going to catch
those fellows!"
Quickly Tom, Ned, and Mr. Halling climbed into the seats of the
new airship. It was started from a switch, and in a few seconds it
was on the wing, chasing after the Eagle.
Then began a strange race, a race in the air after the unknown
strangers who had Tom's machine. Had the Eagle not been so heavily
laden it might have escaped, for Tom's craft was a speedy one. But
this time it had to give the palm to Mr. Grant Halling's. Faster
and faster in pursuit flew the Star, as the new craft was called.
Faster and faster, until at last, coming directly over the Eagle,
Mr. Halling sent his craft down in such a manner as to "blanket"
the other. In an instant she began to sink, and with cries of
alarm the men shut off the motor and started to volplane to the
earth.
But they made an unskillful landing. The Eagle tilted to one side,
and came down with a crash. There were cries of pain, then
silence, and a few seconds later two men ran away from the
disabled airship. But there were three senseless forms on the
ground beside the craft when Tom, Ned and Mr. Halling ran up. In
the fading light Tom saw a face he knew--three faces in fact.
"Mr. Damon!" he cried. "We've found him, Ned!"
"But--too late--maybe!" answered Ned, in a low voice, as he, too,
recognized the man who had been missing so long.
Mr. Halling was bending over the unconscious form of his friend.
"He's alive!" he cried, joyfully. "And not much hurt, either. But
he has been ill, and looks half starved. Who are these men?"
Tom gave a hasty look.
"Shallock Peters and Harrison Boylan!" he cried. "Ned, at last
we've caught the scoundrels!"
It was true. Chance had played into the hands of Tom Swift. While
Mr. Halling was looking after Mr. Damon, reviving him, the young
inventor and Ned quickly bound the hands and feet of the two
plotters with pieces of wire from the broken airship.
Presently Mr. Damon opened his eyes.
"Where am I? What happened? Oh, bless my watch chain--it's Tom
Swift! Bless my cigar case, I--"
"He's all right!" cried Tom, joyfully. "When Mr. Damon blesses
something beside his tombstone he's all right."
Peters and Boylan soon revived, both being merely stunned, as was
Mr. Damon. They looked about in wonder, and then, feeling that
they were prisoners, resigned themselves to their fate. Both men
were shabbily dressed, and Tom would hardly have known the once
spick and span Mr. Peters. He had no rose in his buttonhole now.
"Well, you have me, I see," he said, coolly. "I was afraid we were
playing for too high a stake."
"Yes, we've got you," replied Tom,
"But you can't prove much against me," went on Peters. "I'll deny
everything."
"We'll see about that," added the young inventor, grimly, and
thought of the picture in the plate and the record on the wax
cylinder.
"We've got to get Mr. Damon to some place where he can be looked
after," broke in Mr. Halling. "Then we'll hear the story."
A passing farmer was prevailed on to take the party in his big
wagon to the nearest town, Mr. Hailing going on ahead in his
airship. Tom's craft could not be moved, being badly damaged.
Once in town Peters and Boylan were put in jail, on the charges
for which Tom carried warrants. Mr. Damon was taken to a hotel and
a doctor summoned. It was as Mr. Halling had guessed. His friend
had been ill, and so weak that he could not get out of bed. It was
this that enabled the plotters to so easily keep him a prisoner.
By degrees Mr. Damon told his story. He had rashly allowed Peters
to get control of most of his fortune, and, in a vain hope of
getting back some of his losses, had, one night--the night he
disappeared, in fact--agreed to meet Peters and some of his men to
talk matters over. Of this Mr. Damon said nothing to his wife.
He went out that night to meet Peters in the garden, but the
plotters had changed their plans. They boldly kidnapped their
victim, chloroformed him and took him away in Tom's airship, which
Boylan and some of his tools daringly stole a short time
previously. Later they returned it, as they had no use for it at
the lonely house.
Mr. Damon was taken to the house, and there kept a prisoner. The
men hoped to prevail on the fears of his wife to make her give up
the valuable property. But we have seen how Tom foiled Peters.
The experience of Mr. Damon, coupled with rough treatment he
received, and lack of good food, soon made him ill. He was so weak
that he could not help himself, and with that he was kept under
guard. So he had no chance to escape or send his wife or friends
any word.
"But I'm all right now, Tom, thanks to you!" said he. "Bless my
pocketbook, I don't care if my fortune is lost, as long as I'm
alive and can get back to my wife."
"But I don't believe your fortune will be lost," said Tom. "I
think I have the picture and other evidence that will save it,"
and he told of his photo telephone, and of what it had accomplished.
"Bless my eyelashes!" cried Mr. Damon. "What a young man you are,
Tom Swift!"
Tom smiled gladly. He knew now that his old friend was himself
once more.
There is little left to tell. Chance had aided Tom in a most
wonderful way--chance and the presence of Mr. Halling with his
airship at just the right moment.
Tom made a diligent effort to find out who it was that had
chloroformed him in the telephone booth that time, but learned
nothing definite. Peters and Boylan were both examined as to this
on their trials, but denied it, and the young inventor was forced
to conclude that it must have been some of the unscrupulous men
who had taken his father's patent some time before.
"They may have heard of your prosperity, and thought it a good
chance to rob you," suggested Ned.
"Maybe," agreed Tom. "Well, we'll let it go at that. Only I hope
they don't come again."
Mr. Damon was soon home with his wife again, and Peters and Boylan
were held in heavy bail. They had secreted most of Mr. Damon's
wealth, falsely telling him it was lost, and they were forced to
give back his fortune. The evidence against them was clear and
conclusive. When Tom went into court with his phonograph record of
the talk of Peters, even though the man's voice was hoarse from a
cold when he talked, and when his picture was shown, in the
telephone booth, the jury at once convicted him.
Boylan, when he learned of the missing button in Tom's possession,
confessed that he and some of his men who were birdmen had taken
Tom's airship. They wanted a means of getting Mr. Damon to the
lonely house without being traced, and they accomplished it.
As Tom had surmised, Peters had become suspicious after his last
talk with Mrs. Damon, and had fled. He disguised himself and went
into hiding with the others at the lonely house. Then he learned
that the authorities of another city, where he had swindled many,
were on his trail, and he decided to decamp with his gang, taking
Mr. Damon with them. For this purpose Tom's airship was taken the
second time, and a wholesale escape, with Mr. Damon a prisoner,
was planned.
But fate was against the plotters. Two of them did manage to get
away, but they were not really wanted. The big fish were Peters
and Boylan, and they were securely caught in the net of the law.
Peters was greatly surprised when he learned of Tom's trap, and of
the photo telephone. He had no idea he had been incriminating
himself when he talked over the wire.
"Well, it's all over," remarked Ned to Tom, one day, when the
disabled auto and the airship had been brought home and repaired.
"The plotters are in prison for long terms, and Mr. Damon is
found, together with his fortune. The photo telephone did it,
Tom."
"Not all of it--but a good bit," admitted the young inventor, with
a smile.
"What are you going to do next, Tom?"
"I hardly know. I think--"
Before Tom could finish, a voice was heard in the hall outside the
library.
"Bless my overshoes! Where's Tom? I want to thank him again for
what he did for me," and Mr. Damon, now fully recovered, came in.
"Bless my suspender button, but it's good to be alive, Tom!" he
cried.
"It certainly is," agreed Tom. "And the next time you go for a
conference with such men as Peters, look out for airships."
"I will, Tom, I will!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Bless my watch chain,
I will!"
And now, for a time, we will say good-bye to Tom Swift, leaving
him to perfect his other inventions.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tom Swift and his Photo Telephone, by
Victor Appleton
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SWIFT AND HIS PHOTO TELEPHONE ***
***** This file should be named 4532.txt or 4532.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/3/4532/
Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
Who becomes infuriated with Tom when he will not sell some of his inventions?
Answer:
| Shallock Peters | 174 | 244,687 | 244,689 | 244,776 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
12164 | 12164_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg eBook, The House of the Wolfings, by William Morris
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The House of the Wolfings
A Tale of the House of the Wolfings and All the Kindreds of the Mark Written in Prose and in Verse
Author: William Morris
Release Date: May 4, 2005 [eBook #2885]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS***
Transcribed from the 1904 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David
Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS
A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS AND ALL THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK
WRITTEN IN PROSE AND IN VERSE
by William Morris
Whiles in the early Winter eve
We pass amid the gathering night
Some homestead that we had to leave
Years past; and see its candles bright
Shine in the room beside the door
Where we were merry years agone
But now must never enter more,
As still the dark road drives us on.
E'en so the world of men may turn
At even of some hurried day
And see the ancient glimmer burn
Across the waste that hath no way;
Then with that faint light in its eyes
A while I bid it linger near
And nurse in wavering memories
The bitter-sweet of days that were.
CHAPTER I--THE DWELLINGS OF MID-MARK
The tale tells that in times long past there was a dwelling of men beside
a great wood. Before it lay a plain, not very great, but which was, as
it were, an isle in the sea of woodland, since even when you stood on the
flat ground, you could see trees everywhere in the offing, though as for
hills, you could scarce say that there were any; only swellings-up of the
earth here and there, like the upheavings of the water that one sees at
whiles going on amidst the eddies of a swift but deep stream.
On either side, to right and left the tree-girdle reached out toward the
blue distance, thick close and unsundered, save where it and the plain
which it begirdled was cleft amidmost by a river about as wide as the
Thames at Sheene when the flood-tide is at its highest, but so swift and
full of eddies, that it gave token of mountains not so far distant,
though they were hidden. On each side moreover of the stream of this
river was a wide space of stones, great and little, and in most places
above this stony waste were banks of a few feet high, showing where the
yearly winter flood was most commonly stayed.
You must know that this great clearing in the woodland was not a matter
of haphazard; though the river had driven a road whereby men might fare
on each side of its hurrying stream. It was men who had made that Isle
in the woodland.
For many generations the folk that now dwelt there had learned the craft
of iron-founding, so that they had no lack of wares of iron and steel,
whether they were tools of handicraft or weapons for hunting and for war.
It was the men of the Folk, who coming adown by the river-side had made
that clearing. The tale tells not whence they came, but belike from the
dales of the distant mountains, and from dales and mountains and plains
further aloof and yet further.
Anyhow they came adown the river; on its waters on rafts, by its shores
in wains or bestriding their horses or their kine, or afoot, till they
had a mind to abide; and there as it fell they stayed their travel, and
spread from each side of the river, and fought with the wood and its wild
things, that they might make to themselves a dwelling-place on the face
of the earth.
So they cut down the trees, and burned their stumps that the grass might
grow sweet for their kine and sheep and horses; and they diked the river
where need was all through the plain, and far up into the wild-wood to
bridle the winter floods: and they made them boats to ferry them over,
and to float down stream and track up-stream: they fished the river's
eddies also with net and with line; and drew drift from out of it of far-
travelled wood and other matters; and the gravel of its shallows they
washed for gold; and it became their friend, and they loved it, and gave
it a name, and called it the Dusky, and the Glassy, and the
Mirkwood-water; for the names of it changed with the generations of man.
There then in the clearing of the wood that for many years grew greater
yearly they drave their beasts to pasture in the new-made meadows, where
year by year the grass grew sweeter as the sun shone on it and the
standing waters went from it; and now in the year whereof the tale
telleth it was a fair and smiling plain, and no folk might have a better
meadow.
But long before that had they learned the craft of tillage and taken heed
to the acres and begun to grow wheat and rye thereon round about their
roofs; the spade came into their hands, and they bethought them of the
plough-share, and the tillage spread and grew, and there was no lack of
bread.
In such wise that Folk had made an island amidst of the Mirkwood, and
established a home there, and upheld it with manifold toil too long to
tell of. And from the beginning this clearing in the wood they called
the Mid-mark: for you shall know that men might journey up and down the
Mirkwood-water, and half a day's ride up or down they would come on
another clearing or island in the woods, and these were the Upper-mark
and the Nether-mark: and all these three were inhabited by men of one
folk and one kindred, which was called the Mark-men, though of many
branches was that stem of folk, who bore divers signs in battle and at
the council whereby they might be known.
Now in the Mid-mark itself were many Houses of men; for by that word had
they called for generations those who dwelt together under one token of
kinship. The river ran from South to North, and both on the East side
and on the West were there Houses of the Folk, and their habitations were
shouldered up nigh unto the wood, so that ever betwixt them and the river
was there a space of tillage and pasture.
Tells the tale of one such House, whose habitations were on the west side
of the water, on a gentle slope of land, so that no flood higher than
common might reach them. It was straight down to the river mostly that
the land fell off, and on its downward-reaching slopes was the tillage,
"the Acres," as the men of that time always called tilled land; and
beyond that was the meadow going fair and smooth, though with here and
there a rising in it, down to the lips of the stony waste of the winter
river.
Now the name of this House was the Wolfings, and they bore a Wolf on
their banners, and their warriors were marked on the breast with the
image of the Wolf, that they might be known for what they were if they
fell in battle, and were stripped.
The house, that is to say the Roof, of the Wolfings of the Mid-mark stood
on the topmost of the slope aforesaid with its back to the wild-wood and
its face to the acres and the water. But you must know that in those
days the men of one branch of kindred dwelt under one roof together, and
had therein their place and dignity; nor were there many degrees amongst
them as hath befallen afterwards, but all they of one blood were brethren
and of equal dignity. Howbeit they had servants or thralls, men taken in
battle, men of alien blood, though true it is that from time to time were
some of such men taken into the House, and hailed as brethren of the
blood.
Also (to make an end at once of these matters of kinship and affinity)
the men of one House might not wed the women of their own House: to the
Wolfing men all Wolfing women were as sisters: they must needs wed with
the Hartings or the Elkings or the Bearings, or other such Houses of the
Mark as were not so close akin to the blood of the Wolf; and this was a
law that none dreamed of breaking. Thus then dwelt this Folk and such
was their Custom.
As to the Roof of the Wolfings, it was a great hall and goodly, after the
fashion of their folk and their day; not built of stone and lime, but
framed of the goodliest trees of the wild-wood squared with the adze, and
betwixt the framing filled with clay wattled with reeds. Long was that
house, and at one end anigh the gable was the Man's-door, not so high
that a man might stand on the threshold and his helmcrest clear the
lintel; for such was the custom, that a tall man must bow himself as he
came into the hall; which custom maybe was a memory of the days of
onslaught when the foemen were mostly wont to beset the hall; whereas in
the days whereof the tale tells they drew out into the fields and fought
unfenced; unless at whiles when the odds were over great, and then they
drew their wains about them and were fenced by the wain-burg. At least
it was from no niggardry that the door was made thus low, as might be
seen by the fair and manifold carving of knots and dragons that was
wrought above the lintel of the door for some three foot's space. But a
like door was there anigh the other gable-end, whereby the women entered,
and it was called the Woman's-door.
Near to the house on all sides except toward the wood were there many
bowers and cots round about the penfolds and the byres: and these were
booths for the stowage of wares, and for crafts and smithying that were
unhandy to do in the house; and withal they were the dwelling-places of
the thralls. And the lads and young men often abode there many days and
were cherished there of the thralls that loved them, since at whiles they
shunned the Great Roof that they might be the freer to come and go at
their pleasure, and deal as they would. Thus was there a clustering on
the slopes and bents betwixt the acres of the Wolfings and the wild-wood
wherein dwelt the wolves.
As to the house within, two rows of pillars went down it endlong,
fashioned of the mightiest trees that might be found, and each one fairly
wrought with base and chapiter, and wreaths and knots, and fighting men
and dragons; so that it was like a church of later days that has a nave
and aisles: windows there were above the aisles, and a passage underneath
the said windows in their roofs. In the aisles were the sleeping-places
of the Folk, and down the nave under the crown of the roof were three
hearths for the fires, and above each hearth a luffer or smoke-bearer to
draw the smoke up when the fires were lighted. Forsooth on a bright
winter afternoon it was strange to see the three columns of smoke going
wavering up to the dimness of the mighty roof, and one maybe smitten
athwart by the sunbeams. As for the timber of the roof itself and its
framing, so exceeding great and high it was, that the tale tells how that
none might see the fashion of it from the hall-floor unless he were to
raise aloft a blazing faggot on a long pole: since no lack of timber was
there among the men of the Mark.
At the end of the hall anigh the Man's-door was the dais, and a table
thereon set thwartwise of the hall; and in front of the dais was the
noblest and greatest of the hearths; (but of the others one was in the
very midmost, and another in the Woman's-Chamber) and round about the
dais, along the gable-wall, and hung from pillar to pillar were woven
cloths pictured with images of ancient tales and the deeds of the
Wolfings, and the deeds of the Gods from whence they came. And this was
the fairest place of all the house and the best-beloved of the Folk, and
especially of the older and the mightier men: and there were tales told,
and songs sung, especially if they were new: and thereto also were
messengers brought if any tidings were abroad: there also would the
elders talk together about matters concerning the House or the Mid-mark
or the whole Folk of the Markmen.
Yet you must not think that their solemn councils were held there, the
folk-motes whereat it must be determined what to do and what to forbear
doing; for according as such councils, (which they called Things) were of
the House or of the Mid-mark or of the whole Folk, were they held each at
the due Thing-steads in the Wood aloof from either acre or meadow, (as
was the custom of our forefathers for long after) and at such Things
would all the men of the House or the Mid-mark or the Folk be present man
by man. And in each of these steads was there a Doomring wherein Doom
was given by the neighbours chosen, (whom now we call the Jury) in
matters between man and man; and no such doom of neighbours was given,
and no such voice of the Folk proclaimed in any house or under any roof,
nor even as aforesaid on the tilled acres or the depastured meadows. This
was the custom of our forefathers, in memory, belike, of the days when as
yet there was neither house nor tillage, nor flocks and herds, but the
Earth's face only and what freely grew thereon.
But over the dais there hung by chains and pulleys fastened to a tie-beam
of the roof high aloft a wondrous lamp fashioned of glass; yet of no such
glass as the folk made then and there, but of a fair and clear green like
an emerald, and all done with figures and knots in gold, and strange
beasts, and a warrior slaying a dragon, and the sun rising on the earth:
nor did any tale tell whence this lamp came, but it was held as an
ancient and holy thing by all the Markmen, and the kindred of the Wolf
had it in charge to keep a light burning in it night and day for ever;
and they appointed a maiden of their own kindred to that office; which
damsel must needs be unwedded, since no wedded woman dwelling under that
roof could be a Wolfing woman, but would needs be of the houses wherein
the Wolfings wedded.
This lamp which burned ever was called the Hall-Sun, and the woman who
had charge of it, and who was the fairest that might be found was called
after it the Hall-Sun also.
At the other end of the hall was the Woman's-Chamber, and therein were
the looms and other gear for the carding and spinning of wool and the
weaving of cloth.
Such was the Roof under which dwelt the kindred of the Wolfings; and the
other kindreds of the Mid-mark had roofs like to it; and of these the
chiefest were the Elkings, the Vallings, the Alftings, the Beamings, the
Galtings, and the Bearings; who bore on their banners the Elk, the
Falcon, the Swan, the Tree, the Boar, and the Bear. But other lesser and
newer kindreds there were than these: as for the Hartings above named,
they were a kindred of the Upper-mark.
CHAPTER II--THE FLITTING OF THE WAR-ARROW
Tells the tale that it was an evening of summer, when the wheat was in
the ear, but yet green; and the neat-herds were done driving the milch-
kine to the byre, and the horseherds and the shepherds had made the night-
shift, and the out-goers were riding two by two and one by one through
the lanes between the wheat and the rye towards the meadow. Round the
cots of the thralls were gathered knots of men and women both thralls and
freemen, some talking together, some hearkening a song or a tale, some
singing and some dancing together; and the children gambolling about from
group to group with their shrill and tuneless voices, like young
throstles who have not yet learned the song of their race. With these
were mingled dogs, dun of colour, long of limb, sharp-nosed, gaunt and
great; they took little heed of the children as they pulled them about in
their play, but lay down, or loitered about, as though they had forgotten
the chase and the wild-wood.
Merry was the folk with that fair tide, and the promise of the harvest,
and the joy of life, and there was no weapon among them so close to the
houses, save here and there the boar-spear of some herdman or herd-woman
late come from the meadow.
Tall and for the most part comely were both men and women; the most of
them light-haired and grey-eyed, with cheek-bones somewhat high; white of
skin but for the sun's burning, and the wind's parching, and whereas they
were tanned of a very ruddy and cheerful hue. But the thralls were some
of them of a shorter and darker breed, black-haired also and dark-eyed,
lighter of limb; sometimes better knit, but sometimes crookeder of leg
and knottier of arm. But some also were of build and hue not much unlike
to the freemen; and these doubtless came of some other Folk of the Goths
which had given way in battle before the Men of the Mark, either they or
their fathers.
Moreover some of the freemen were unlike their fellows and kindred, being
slenderer and closer-knit, and black-haired, but grey-eyed withal; and
amongst these were one or two who exceeded in beauty all others of the
House.
Now the sun was set and the glooming was at point to begin and the
shadowless twilight lay upon the earth. The nightingales on the borders
of the wood sang ceaselessly from the scattered hazel-trees above the
greensward where the grass was cropped down close by the nibbling of the
rabbits; but in spite of their song and the divers voices of the men-folk
about the houses, it was an evening on which sounds from aloof can be
well heard, since noises carry far at such tides.
Suddenly they who were on the edges of those throngs and were the less
noisy, held themselves as if to listen; and a group that had gathered
about a minstrel to hear his story fell hearkening also round about the
silenced and hearkening tale-teller: some of the dancers and singers
noted them and in their turn stayed the dance and kept silence to
hearken; and so from group to group spread the change, till all were
straining their ears to hearken the tidings. Already the men of the
night-shift had heard it, and the shepherds of them had turned about, and
were trotting smartly back through the lanes of the tall wheat: but the
horse-herds were now scarce seen on the darkening meadow, as they
galloped on fast toward their herds to drive home the stallions. For
what they had heard was the tidings of war.
There was a sound in the air as of a humble-bee close to the ear of one
lying on a grassy bank; or whiles as of a cow afar in the meadow lowing
in the afternoon when milking-time draws nigh: but it was ever shriller
than the one, and fuller than the other; for it changed at whiles, though
after the first sound of it, it did not rise or fall, because the eve was
windless. You might hear at once that for all it was afar, it was a
great and mighty sound; nor did any that hearkened doubt what it was, but
all knew it for the blast of the great war-horn of the Elkings, whose
Roof lay up Mirkwood-water next to the Roof of the Wolfings.
So those little throngs broke up at once; and all the freemen, and of the
thralls a good many, flocked, both men and women, to the Man's-door of
the hall, and streamed in quietly and with little talk, as men knowing
that they should hear all in due season.
Within under the Hall-Sun, amidst the woven stories of time past, sat the
elders and chief warriors on the dais, and amidst of all a big strong man
of forty winters, his dark beard a little grizzled, his eyes big and
grey. Before him on the board lay the great War-horn of the Wolfings
carved out of the tusk of a sea-whale of the North and with many devices
on it and the Wolf amidst them all; its golden mouth-piece and rim
wrought finely with flowers. There it abode the blowing, until the
spoken word of some messenger should set forth the tidings borne on the
air by the horn of the Elkings.
But the name of the dark-haired chief was Thiodolf (to wit Folk-wolf) and
he was deemed the wisest man of the Wolfings, and the best man of his
hands, and of heart most dauntless. Beside him sat the fair woman called
the Hall-Sun; for she was his foster-daughter before men's eyes; and she
was black-haired and grey-eyed like to her fosterer, and never was woman
fashioned fairer: she was young of years, scarce twenty winters old.
There sat the chiefs and elders on the dais, and round about stood the
kindred intermingled with the thralls, and no man spake, for they were
awaiting sure and certain tidings: and when all were come in who had a
mind to, there was so great a silence in the hall, that the song of the
nightingales on the wood-edge sounded clear and loud therein, and even
the chink of the bats about the upper windows could be heard. Then
amidst the hush of men-folk, and the sounds of the life of the earth came
another sound that made all turn their eyes toward the door; and this was
the pad-pad of one running on the trodden and summer-dried ground anigh
the hall: it stopped for a moment at the Man's-door, and the door opened,
and the throng parted, making way for the man that entered and came
hastily up to the midst of the table that stood on the dais athwart the
hall, and stood there panting, holding forth in his outstretched hand
something which not all could see in the dimness of the hall-twilight,
but which all knew nevertheless. The man was young, lithe and slender,
and had no raiment but linen breeches round his middle, and skin shoes on
his feet. As he stood there gathering his breath for speech, Thiodolf
stood up, and poured mead into a drinking horn and held it out towards
the new-comer, and spake, but in rhyme and measure:
"Welcome, thou evening-farer, and holy be thine head,
Since thou hast sought unto us in the heart of the Wolfings' stead;
Drink now of the horn of the mighty, and call a health if thou wilt
O'er the eddies of the mead-horn to the washing out of guilt.
For thou com'st to the peace of the Wolfings, and our very guest thou
art,
And meseems as I behold thee, that I look on a child of the Hart."
But the man put the horn from him with a hasty hand, and none said
another word to him until he had gotten his breath again; and then he
said:
"All hail ye Wood-Wolfs' children! nought may I drink the wine,
For the mouth and the maw that I carry this eve are nought of mine;
And my feet are the feet of the people, since the word went forth that
tide,
'O Elf here of the Hartings, no longer shalt thou bide
In any house of the Markmen than to speak the word and wend,
Till all men know the tidings and thine errand hath an end.'
Behold, O Wolves, the token and say if it be true!
I bear the shaft of battle that is four-wise cloven through,
And its each end dipped in the blood-stream, both the iron and the
horn,
And its midmost scathed with the fire; and the word that I have borne
Along with this war-token is, 'Wolfings of the Mark
Whenso ye see the war-shaft, by the daylight or the dark,
Busk ye to battle faring, and leave all work undone
Save the gathering for the handplay at the rising of the sun.
Three days hence is the hosting, and thither bear along
Your wains and your kine for the slaughter lest the journey should be
long.
For great is the Folk, saith the tidings, that against the Markmen
come;
In a far off land is their dwelling, whenso they sit at home,
And Welsh {1} is their tongue, and we wot not of the word that is in
their mouth,
As they march a many together from the cities of the South.'"
Therewith he held up yet for a minute the token of the war-arrow ragged
and burnt and bloody; and turning about with it in his hand went his ways
through the open door, none hindering; and when he was gone, it was as if
the token were still in the air there against the heads of the living
men, and the heads of the woven warriors, so intently had all gazed at
it; and none doubted the tidings or the token. Then said Thiodolf:
"Forth will we Wolfing children, and cast a sound abroad:
The mouth of the sea-beast's weapon shall speak the battle-word;
And ye warriors hearken and hasten, and dight the weed of war,
And then to acre and meadow wend ye adown no more,
For this work shall be for the women to drive our neat from the mead,
And to yoke the wains, and to load them as the men of war have need."
Out then they streamed from the hall, and no man was left therein save
the fair Hall-Sun sitting under the lamp whose name she bore. But to the
highest of the slope they went, where was a mound made higher by man's
handiwork; thereon stood Thiodolf and handled the horn, turning his face
toward the downward course of Mirkwood-water; and he set the horn to his
lips, and blew a long blast, and then again, and yet again the third
time; and all the sounds of the gathering night were hushed under the
sound of the roaring of the war-horn of the Wolfings; and the Kin of the
Beamings heard it as they sat in their hall, and they gat them ready to
hearken to the bearer of the tidings who should follow on the sound of
the war-blast.
But when the last sound of the horn had died away, then said Thiodolf:
"Now Wolfing children hearken, what the splintered War-shaft saith,
The fire scathed blood-stained aspen! we shall ride for life or death,
We warriors, a long journey with the herd and with the wain;
But unto this our homestead shall we wend us back again,
All the gleanings of the battle; and here for them that live
Shall stand the Roof of the Wolfings, and for them shall the meadow
thrive,
And the acres give their increase in the harvest of the year;
Now is no long departing since the Hall-Sun bideth here
'Neath the holy Roof of the Fathers, and the place of the Wolfing kin,
And the feast of our glad returning shall yet be held therein.
Hear the bidding of the War-shaft! All men, both thralls and free,
'Twixt twenty winters and sixty, beneath the shield shall be,
And the hosting is at the Thing-stead, the Upper-mark anigh;
And we wend away to-morrow ere the Sun is noon-tide high."
Therewith he stepped down from the mound, and went his way back to the
hall; and manifold talk arose among the folk; and of the warriors some
were already dight for the journey, but most not, and a many went their
ways to see to their weapons and horses, and the rest back again into the
hall.
By this time night had fallen, and between then and the dawning would be
no darker hour, for the moon was just rising; a many of the horse-herds
had done their business, and were now making their way back again through
the lanes of the wheat, driving the stallions before them, who played
together kicking, biting and squealing, paying but little heed to the
standing corn on either side. Lights began to glitter now in the cots of
the thralls, and brighter still in the stithies where already you might
hear the hammers clinking on the anvils, as men fell to looking to their
battle gear.
But the chief men and the women sat under their Roof on the eve of
departure: and the tuns of mead were broached, and the horns filled and
borne round by young maidens, and men ate and drank and were merry; and
from time to time as some one of the warriors had done with giving heed
to his weapons, he entered into the hall and fell into the company of
those whom he loved most and by whom he was best beloved; and whiles they
talked, and whiles they sang to the harp up and down that long house; and
the moon risen high shone in at the windows, and there was much laughter
and merriment, and talk of deeds of arms of the old days on the eve of
that departure: till little by little weariness fell on them, and they
went their ways to slumber, and the hall was fallen silent.
CHAPTER III--THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN
But yet sat Thiodolf under the Hall-Sun for a while as one in deep
thought; till at last as he stirred, his sword clattered on him; and then
he lifted up his eyes and looked down the hall and saw no man stirring,
so he stood up and settled his raiment on him, and went forth, and so
took his ways through the hall-door, as one who hath an errand.
The moonlight lay in a great flood on the grass without, and the dew was
falling in the coldest hour of the night, and the earth smelled sweetly:
the whole habitation was asleep now, and there was no sound to be known
as the sound of any creature, save that from the distant meadow came the
lowing of a cow that had lost her calf, and that a white owl was flitting
about near the eaves of the Roof with her wild cry that sounded like the
mocking of merriment now silent.
Thiodolf turned toward the wood, and walked steadily through the
scattered hazel-trees, and thereby into the thick of the beech-trees,
whose boles grew smooth and silver-grey, high and close-set: and so on
and on he went as one going by a well-known path, though there was no
path, till all the moonlight was quenched under the close roof of the
beech-leaves, though yet for all the darkness, no man could go there and
not feel that the roof was green above him. Still he went on in despite
of the darkness, till at last there was a glimmer before him, that grew
greater till he came unto a small wood-lawn whereon the turf grew again,
though the grass was but thin, because little sunlight got to it, so
close and thick were the tall trees round about it. In the heavens above
it by now there was a light that was not all of the moon, though it might
scarce be told whether that light were the memory of yesterday or the
promise of to-morrow, since little of the heavens could be seen thence,
save the crown of them, because of the tall tree-tops.
Nought looked Thiodolf either at the heavens above, or the trees, as he
strode from off the husk-strewn floor of the beech wood on to the scanty
grass of the lawn, but his eyes looked straight before him at that which
was amidmost of the lawn: and little wonder was that; for there on a
stone chair sat a woman exceeding fair, clad in glittering raiment, her
hair lying as pale in the moonlight on the grey stone as the barley acres
in the August night before the reaping-hook goes in amongst them. She
sat there as though she were awaiting someone, and he made no stop nor
stay, but went straight up to her, and took her in his arms, and kissed
her mouth and her eyes, and she him again; and then he sat himself down
beside her. But her eyes looked kindly on him as she said:
"O Thiodolf, hardy art thou, that thou hast no fear to take me in thine
arms and to kiss me, as though thou hadst met in the meadow with a maiden
of the Elkings: and I, who am a daughter of the Gods of thy kindred, and
a Chooser of the Slain! Yea, and that upon the eve of battle and the
dawn of thy departure to the stricken field!"
"O Wood-Sun," he said "thou art the treasure of life that I found when I
was young, and the love of life that I hold, now that my beard is
grizzling. Since when did I fear thee, Wood-Sun? Did I fear thee when
first I saw thee, and we stood amidst the hazelled field, we twain living
amongst the slain? But my sword was red with the blood of the foe, and
my raiment with mine own blood; and I was a-weary with the day's work,
and sick with many strokes, and methought I was fainting into death. And
there thou wert before me, full of life and ruddy and smiling both lips
and eyes; thy raiment clean and clear, thine hands stained with blood:
then didst thou take me by my bloody and weary hand, and didst kiss my
lips grown ashen pale, and thou saidst 'Come with me.' And I strove to
go, and might not; so many and sore were my hurts. Then amidst my
sickness and my weariness was I merry; for I said to myself, This is the
death of the warrior, and it is exceeding sweet. What meaneth it? Folk
said of me; he is over young to meet the foeman; yet am I not over young
to die?"
Therewith he laughed out amid the wild-wood, and his speech became song,
and he said:
"We wrought in the ring of the hazels, and the wine of war we drank:
From the tide when the sun stood highest to the hour wherein she sank:
And three kings came against me, the mightiest of the Huns,
The evil-eyed in battle, the swift-foot wily ones;
And they gnashed their teeth against me, and they gnawed on the shield-
rims there,
On that afternoon of summer, in the high-tide of the year.
Keen-eyed I gazed about me, and I saw the clouds draw up
Till the heavens were dark as the hollow of a wine-stained iron cup,
And the wild-deer lay unfeeding on the grass of the forest glades,
And all earth was scared with the thunder above our clashing blades.
"Then sank a King before me, and on fell the other twain,
And I tossed up the reddened sword-blade in the gathered rush of the
rain
And the blood and the water blended, and fragrant grew the earth.
"There long I turned and twisted within the battle-girth
Before those bears of onset: while out from the grey world streamed
The broad red lash of the lightening and in our byrnies gleamed.
And long I leapt and laboured in that garland of the fight
'Mid the blue blades and the lightening; but ere the sky grew light
The second of the Hun-kings on the rain-drenched daisies lay;
And we twain with the battle blinded a little while made stay,
And leaning on our sword-hilts each on the other gazed.
"Then the rain grew less, and one corner of the veil of clouds was
raised,
And as from the broidered covering gleams out the shoulder white
Of the bed-mate of the warrior when on his wedding night
He layeth his hand to the linen; so, down there in the west
Gleamed out the naked heaven: but the wrath rose up in my breast,
And the sword in my hand rose with it, and I leaped and hewed at the
Hun;
And from him too flared the war-flame, and the blades danced bright in
the sun
Come back to the earth for a little before the ending of day.
"There then with all that was in him did the Hun play out the play,
Till he fell, and left me tottering, and I turned my feet to wend
To the place of the mound of the mighty, the gate of the way without
end.
And there thou wert. How was it, thou Chooser of the Slain,
Did I die in thine arms, and thereafter did thy mouth-kiss wake me
again?"
Ere the last sound of his voice was done she turned and kissed him; and
then she said; "Never hadst thou a fear and thine heart is full of
hardihood."
Then he said:
"'Tis the hardy heart, beloved, that keepeth me alive,
As the king-leek in the garden by the rain and the sun doth thrive,
So I thrive by the praise of the people; it is blent with my drink and
my meat;
As I slumber in the night-tide it laps me soft and sweet;
And through the chamber window when I waken in the morn
With the wind of the sun's arising from the meadow is it borne
And biddeth me remember that yet I live on earth:
Then I rise and my might is with me, and fills my heart with mirth,
As I think of the praise of the people; and all this joy I win
By the deeds that my heart commandeth and the hope that lieth
therein."
"Yea," she said, "but day runneth ever on the heels of day, and there are
many and many days; and betwixt them do they carry eld."
"Yet art thou no older than in days bygone," said he. "Is it so, O
Daughter of the Gods, that thou wert never born, but wert from before the
framing of the mountains, from the beginning of all things?"
But she said:
"Nay, nay; I began, I was born; although it may be indeed
That not on the hills of the earth I sprang from the godhead's seed.
And e'en as my birth and my waxing shall be my waning and end.
But thou on many an errand, to many a field dost wend
Where the bow at adventure bended, or the fleeing dastard's spear
Oft lulleth the mirth of the mighty. Now me thou dost not fear,
Yet fear with me, beloved, for the mighty Maid I fear;
And Doom is her name, and full often she maketh me afraid
And even now meseemeth on my life her hand is laid."
But he laughed and said:
"In what land is she abiding? Is she near or far away?
Will she draw up close beside me in the press of the battle play?
And if then I may not smite her 'midst the warriors of the field
With the pale blade of my fathers, will she bide the shove of my
shield?"
But sadly she sang in answer:
"In many a stead Doom dwelleth, nor sleepeth day nor night:
The rim of the bowl she kisseth, and beareth the chambering light
When the kings of men wend happy to the bride-bed from the board.
It is little to say that she wendeth the edge of the grinded sword,
When about the house half builded she hangeth many a day;
The ship from the strand she shoveth, and on his wonted way
By the mountain-hunter fareth where his foot ne'er failed before:
She is where the high bank crumbles at last on the river's shore:
The mower's scythe she whetteth; and lulleth the shepherd to sleep
Where the deadly ling-worm wakeneth in the desert of the sheep.
Now we that come of the God-kin of her redes for ourselves we wot,
But her will with the lives of men-folk and their ending know we not.
So therefore I bid thee not fear for thyself of Doom and her deed,
But for me: and I bid thee hearken to the helping of my need.
Or else--Art thou happy in life, or lusteth thou to die
In the flower of thy days, when thy glory and thy longing bloom on
high?"
But Thiodolf answered her:
"I have deemed, and long have I deemed that this is my second life,
That my first one waned with my wounding when thou cam'st to the ring
of strife.
For when in thine arms I wakened on the hazelled field of yore,
Meseemed I had newly arisen to a world I knew no more,
So much had all things brightened on that dewy dawn of day.
It was dark dull death that I looked for when my thought had died
away.
It was lovely life that I woke to; and from that day henceforth
My joy of the life of man-folk was manifolded of worth.
Far fairer the fields of the morning than I had known them erst,
And the acres where I wended, and the corn with its half-slaked
thirst;
And the noble Roof of the Wolfings, and the hawks that sat thereon;
And the bodies of my kindred whose deliverance I had won;
And the glimmering of the Hall-Sun in the dusky house of old;
And my name in the mouth of the maidens, and the praises of the bold,
As I sat in my battle-raiment, and the ruddy spear well steeled
Leaned 'gainst my side war-battered, and the wounds thine hand had
healed.
Yea, from that morn thenceforward has my life been good indeed,
The gain of to-day was goodly, and good to-morrow's need,
And good the whirl of the battle, and the broil I wielded there,
Till I fashioned the ordered onset, and the unhoped victory fair.
And good were the days thereafter of utter deedless rest
And the prattle of thy daughter, and her hands on my unmailed breast.
Ah good is the life thou hast given, the life that mine hands have
won.
And where shall be the ending till the world is all undone?
Here sit we twain together, and both we in Godhead clad,
We twain of the Wolfing kindred, and each of the other glad."
But she answered, and her face grew darker withal:
"O mighty man and joyous, art thou of the Wolfing kin?
'Twas no evil deed when we mingled, nor lieth doom therein.
Thou lovely man, thou black-haired, thou shalt die and have done no
ill.
Fame-crowned are the deeds of thy doing, and the mouths of men they
fill.
Thou betterer of the Godfolk, enduring is thy fame:
Yet as a painted image of a dream is thy dreaded name.
Of an alien folk thou comest, that we twain might be one indeed.
Thou shalt die one day. So hearken, to help me at my need."
His face grew troubled and he said: "What is this word that I am no chief
of the Wolfings?"
"Nay," she said, "but better than they. Look thou on the face of our
daughter the Hall-Sun, thy daughter and mine: favoureth she at all of
me?"
He laughed: "Yea, whereas she is fair, but not otherwise. This is a hard
saying, that I dwell among an alien kindred, and it wotteth not thereof.
Why hast thou not told me hereof before?"
She said: "It needed not to tell thee because thy day was waxing, as now
it waneth. Once more I bid thee hearken and do my bidding though it be
hard to thee."
He answered: "Even so will I as much as I may; and thus wise must thou
look upon it, that I love life, and fear not death."
Then she spake, and again her words fell into rhyme:
"In forty fights hast thou foughten, and been worsted but in four;
And I looked on and was merry; and ever more and more
Wert thou dear to the heart of the Wood-Sun, and the Chooser of the
Slain.
But now whereas ye are wending with slaughter-herd and wain
To meet a folk that ye know not, a wonder, a peerless foe,
I fear for thy glory's waning, and I see thee lying alow."
Then he brake in: "Herein is little shame to be worsted by the might of
the mightiest: if this so mighty folk sheareth a limb off the tree of my
fame, yet shall it wax again."
But she sang:
"In forty fights hast thou foughten, and beside thee who but I
Beheld the wind-tossed banners, and saw the aspen fly?
But to-day to thy war I wend not, for Weird withholdeth me
And sore my heart forebodeth for the battle that shall be.
To-day with thee I wend not; so I feared, and lo my feet,
That are wont to the woodland girdle of the acres of the wheat,
For thee among strange people and the foeman's throng have trod,
And I tell thee their banner of battle is a wise and a mighty God.
For these are the folk of the cities, and in wondrous wise they dwell
'Mid confusion of heaped houses, dim and black as the face of hell;
Though therefrom rise roofs most goodly, where their captains and
their kings
Dwell amidst the walls of marble in abundance of fair things;
And 'mid these, nor worser nor better, but builded otherwise
Stand the Houses of the Fathers, and the hidden mysteries.
And as close as are the tree-trunks that within the beech-wood thrive
E'en so many are their pillars; and therein like men alive
Stand the images of god-folk in such raiment as they wore
In the years before the cities and the hidden days of yore.
Ah for the gold that I gazed on! and their store of battle gear,
And strange engines that I knew not, or the end for which they were.
Ah for the ordered wisdom of the war-array of these,
And the folks that are sitting about them in dumb down-trodden peace!
So I thought now fareth war-ward my well-beloved friend,
And the weird of the Gods hath doomed it that no more with him may I
wend!
Woe's me for the war of the Wolfings wherefrom I am sundered apart,
And the fruitless death of the war-wise, and the doom of the hardy
heart!"
Then he answered, and his eyes grew kind as he looked on her:
"For thy fair love I thank thee, and thy faithful word, O friend!
But how might it otherwise happen but we twain must meet in the end,
The God of this mighty people and the Markmen and their kin?
Lo, this is the weird of the world, and what may we do herein?"
Then mirth came into her face again as she said:
"Who wotteth of Weird, and what she is till the weird is accomplished?
Long hath it been my weird to love thee and to fashion deeds for thee as
I may; nor will I depart from it now." And she sang:
"Keen-edged is the sword of the city, and bitter is its spear,
But thy breast in the battle, beloved, hath a wall of the stithy's
gear.
What now is thy wont in the handplay with the helm and the hauberk of
rings?
Farest thou as the thrall and the cot-carle, or clad in the raiment of
kings?"
He started, and his face reddened as he answered:
"O Wood-Sun thou wottest our battle and the way wherein we fare:
That oft at the battle's beginning the helm and the hauberk we bear;
Lest the shaft of the fleeing coward or the bow at adventure bent
Should slay us ere the need be, ere our might be given and spent.
Yet oft ere the fight is over, and Doom hath scattered the foe,
No leader of the people by his war-gear shall ye know,
But by his hurts the rather, from the cot-carle and the thrall:
For when all is done that a man may, 'tis the hour for a man to fall."
She yet smiled as she said in answer:
"O Folk-wolf, heed and hearken; for when shall thy life be spent
And the Folk wherein thou dwellest with thy death be well content?
Whenso folk need the fire, do they hew the apple-tree,
And burn the Mother of Blossom and the fruit that is to be?
Or me wilt thou bid to thy grave-mound because thy battle-wrath
May nothing more be bridled than the whirl wind on his path?
So hearken and do my bidding, for the hauberk shalt thou bear
E'en when the other warriors cast off their battle-gear.
So come thou, come unwounded from the war-field of the south,
And sit with me in the beech-wood, and kiss me, eyes and mouth."
And she kissed him in very deed, and made much of him, and fawned on him,
and laid her hand on his breast, and he was soft and blithe with her, but
at last he laughed and said:
"God's Daughter, long hast thou lived, and many a matter seen,
And men full often grieving for the deed that might have been;
But here my heart thou wheedlest as a maid of tender years
When first in the arms of her darling the horn of war she hears.
Thou knowest the axe to be heavy, and the sword, how keen it is;
But that Doom of which thou hast spoken, wilt thou not tell of this,
God's Daughter, how it sheareth, and how it breaketh through
Each wall that the warrior buildeth, yea all deeds that he may do?
What might in the hammer's leavings, in the fire's thrall shall abide
To turn that Folks' o'erwhelmer from the fated warrior's side?"
Then she laughed in her turn, and loudly; but so sweetly that the sound
of her voice mingled with the first song of a newly awakened wood-thrush
sitting on a rowan twig on the edge of the Wood-lawn. But she said:
"Yea, I that am God's Daughter may tell thee never a whit
From what land cometh the hauberk nor what smith smithied it,
That thou shalt wear in the handplay from the first stroke to the
last;
But this thereof I tell thee, that it holdeth firm and fast
The life of the body it lappeth, if the gift of the Godfolk it be.
Lo this is the yoke-mate of doom, and the gift of me unto thee."
Then she leaned down from the stone whereon they sat, and her hand was in
the dewy grass for a little, and then it lifted up a dark grey rippling
coat of rings; and she straightened herself in the seat again, and laid
that hauberk on the knees of Thiodolf, and he put his hand to it, and
turned it about, while he pondered long: then at last he said:
"What evil thing abideth with this warder of the strife,
This burg and treasure chamber for the hoarding of my life?
For this is the work of the dwarfs, and no kindly kin of the earth;
And all we fear the dwarf-kin and their anger and sorrow and mirth."
She cast her arms about him and fondled him, and her voice grew sweeter
than the voice of any mortal thing as she answered:
"No ill for thee, beloved, or for me in the hauberk lies;
No sundering grief is in it, no lonely miseries.
But we shall abide together, and that new life I gave,
For a long while yet henceforward we twain its joy shall have.
Yea, if thou dost my bidding to wear my gift in the fight
No hunter of the wild-wood at the changing of the night
Shall see my shape on thy grave-mound or my tears in the morning find
With the dew of the morning mingled; nor with the evening wind
Shall my body pass the shepherd as he wandereth in the mead
And fill him with forebodings on the eve of the Wolfings' need.
Nor the horse-herd wake in the midnight and hear my fateful cry;
Nor yet shall the Wolfing women hear words on the wind go by
As they weave and spin the night down when the House is gone to the
war,
And weep for the swains they wedded and the children that they bore.
Yea do my bidding, O Folk-wolf, lest a grief of the Gods should weigh
On the ancient House of the Wolfings and my death o'ercloud its day."
And still she clung about him, while he spake no word of yea or nay: but
at the last he let himself glide wholly into her arms, and the
dwarf-wrought hauberk fell from his knees and lay on the grass.
So they abode together in that wood-lawn till the twilight was long gone,
and the sun arisen for some while. And when Thiodolf stepped out of the
beech-wood into the broad sunshine dappled with the shadow of the leaves
of the hazels moving gently in the fresh morning air, he was covered from
the neck to the knee by a hauberk of rings dark and grey and gleaming,
fashioned by the dwarfs of ancient days.
CHAPTER IV--THE HOUSE FARETH TO THE WAR
Now when Thiodolf came back to the habitations of the kindred the whole
House was astir, both thrall-men and women, and free women hurrying from
cot to stithy, and from stithy to hall bearing the last of the war-gear
or raiment for the fighting-men. But they for their part were some
standing about anigh the Man's-door, some sitting gravely within the
hall, some watching the hurry of the thralls and women from the midmost
of the open space amidst of the habitations, whereon there stood yet
certain wains which were belated: for the most of the wains were now
standing with the oxen already yoked to them down in the meadow past the
acres, encircled by a confused throng of kine and horses and thrall-folk,
for thither had all the beasts for the slaughter, and the horses for the
warriors been brought; and there were the horses tethered or held by the
thralls; some indeed were already saddled and bridled, and on others were
the thralls doing the harness.
But as for the wains of the Markmen, they were stoutly framed of ash-tree
with panels of aspen, and they were broad-wheeled so that they might go
over rough and smooth. They had high tilts over them well framed of
willow-poles covered over with squares of black felt over-lapping like
shingles; which felt they made of the rough of their fleeces, for they
had many sheep. And these wains were to them for houses upon the way if
need were, and therein as now were stored their meal and their war-store
and after fight they would flit their wounded men in them, such as were
too sorely hurt to back a horse: nor must it be hidden that whiles they
looked to bring back with them the treasure of the south. Moreover the
folk if they were worsted in any battle, instead of fleeing without more
done, would often draw back fighting into a garth made by these wains,
and guarded by some of their thralls; and there would abide the onset of
those who had thrust them back in the field. And this garth they called
the Wain-burg.
So now stood three of these wains aforesaid belated amidst of the
habitations of the House, their yoke-beasts standing or lying down
unharnessed as yet to them: but in the very midst of that place was a
wain unlike to them; smaller than they but higher; square of shape as to
the floor of it; built lighter than they, yet far stronger; as the
warrior is stronger than the big carle and trencher-licker that loiters
about the hall; and from the midst of this wain arose a mast made of a
tall straight fir-tree, and thereon hung the banner of the Wolfings,
wherein was wrought the image of the Wolf, but red of hue as a token of
war, and with his mouth open and gaping upon the foemen. Also whereas
the other wains were drawn by mere oxen, and those of divers colours, as
chance would have it, the wain of the banner was drawn by ten black bulls
of the mightiest of the herd, deep-dewlapped, high-crested and
curly-browed; and their harness was decked with gold, and so was the wain
itself, and the woodwork of it painted red with vermilion. There then
stood the Banner of the House of the Wolfings awaiting the departure of
the warriors to the hosting.
So Thiodolf stood on the top of the bent beside that same mound wherefrom
he had blown the War-horn yester-eve, and which was called the Hill of
Speech, and he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked around him; and
even therewith the carles fell to yoking the beasts to the belated wains,
and the warriors gathered together from out of the mixed throngs, and
came from the Roof and the Man's-door and all set their faces toward the
Hill of Speech.
So Thiodolf knew that all was ready for departure, and it wanted but an
hour of high-noon; so he turned about and went into the Hall, and there
found his shield and his spear hanging in his sleeping place beside the
hauberk he was wont to wear; then he looked, as one striving with
thought, at his empty hauberk and his own body covered with the dwarf-
wrought rings; nor did his face change as he took his shield and his
spear and turned away. Then he went to the dais and there sat his foster-
daughter (as men deemed her) sitting amidst of it as yester-eve, and now
arrayed in a garment of fine white wool, on the breast whereof were
wrought in gold two beasts ramping up against a fire-altar whereon a
flame flickered; and on the skirts and the hems were other devices, of
wolves chasing deer, and men shooting with the bow; and that garment was
an ancient treasure; but she had a broad girdle of gold and gems about
her middle, and on her arms and neck she wore great gold rings wrought
delicately. By then there were few save the Hall-Sun under the Roof, and
they but the oldest of the women, or a few very old men, and some who
were ailing and might not go abroad. But before her on the thwart table
lay the Great War-horn awaiting the coming of Thiodolf to give signal of
departure.
Then went Thiodolf to the Hall-Sun and kissed and embraced her fondly,
and she gave the horn into his hands, and he went forth and up on to the
Hill of Speech, and blew thence a short blast on the horn, and then came
all the Warriors flocking to the Hill of Speech, each man stark in his
harness, alert and joyous.
Then presently through the Man's-door came the Hall-Sun in that ancient
garment, which fell straight and stiff down to her ancles as she stepped
lightly and slowly along, her head crowned with a garland of eglantine.
In her right hand also she held a great torch of wax lighted, whose flame
amidst the bright sunlight looked like a wavering leaf of vermilion.
The warriors saw her, and made a lane for her, and she made her way
through it up to the Hill of Speech, and she went up to the top of it and
stood there holding the lighted candle in her hand, so that all might see
it. Then suddenly was there as great a silence as there may be on a
forenoon of summer; for even the thralls down in the meadow had noted
what was toward, and ceased their talking and shouting, for as far off as
they were, since they could see that the Hall-Sun stood on the Hill of
Speech, for the wood was dark behind her; so they knew the Farewell Flame
was lighted, and that the maiden would speak; and to all men her speech
was a boding of good or of ill.
So she began in a sweet voice yet clear and far-reaching:
"O Warriors of the Wolfings by the token of the flame
That here in my right hand flickers, come aback to the House of the
Name!
For there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing roof,
And this flame is litten from it, nor as now shall it fare aloof
Till again it seeth the mighty and the men to be gleaned from the
fight.
So wend ye as weird willeth and let your hearts be light;
For through your days of battle all the deeds of our days shall be
fair.
To-morrow beginneth the haysel, as if every carle were here;
And who knoweth ere your returning but the hook shall smite the corn?
But the kine shall go down to the meadow as their wont is every morn,
And each eve shall come back to the byre; and the mares and foals
afield
Shall ever be heeded duly; and all things shall their increase yield.
And if it shall befal us that hither cometh a foe
Here have we swains of the shepherds good players with the bow,
And old men battle-crafty whose might is nowise spent,
And women fell and fearless well wont to tread the bent
Amid the sheep and the oxen; and their hands are hard with the spear
And their arms are strong and stalwart the battle shield to bear;
And store of weapons have we and the mighty walls of the stead;
And the Roof shall abide you steadfast with the Hall-Sun overhead.
Lo here I quench this candle that is lit from the Hall-Sun's flame
Which unto the Wild-wood clearing with the kin of the Wolfings came
And shall wend with their departure to the limits of the earth;
Nor again shall the torch be lighted till in sorrow or in mirth,
Overthrown or overthrowing, ye come aback once more,
And bid me bear the candle before the Wolf of War."
As she spake the word she turned the candle downward, and thrust it
against the grass and quenched it indeed; but the whole throng of
warriors turned about, for the bulls of the banner-wain lowered their
heads in the yokes and began to draw, lowing mightily; and the wain
creaked and moved on, and all the men-at-arms followed after, and down
they went through the lanes of the corn, and a many women and children
and old men went down into the mead with them.
In their hearts they all wondered what the Hall-Sun's words might
signify; for she had told them nought about the battles to be, saving
that some should come back to the Mid-mark; whereas aforetime somewhat
would she foretell to them concerning the fortune of the fight, and now
had she said to them nothing but what their own hearts told them.
Nevertheless they bore their crests high as they followed the Wolf down
into the meadow, where all was now ready for departure. There they
arrayed themselves and went down to the lip of Mirkwood-water; and such
was their array that the banner went first, save that a band of fully
armed men went before it; and behind it and about were the others as well
arrayed as they. Then went the wains that bore their munition, with
armed carles of the thrall-folk about them, who were ever the guard of
the wains, and should never leave them night or day; and lastly went the
great band of the warriors and the rest of the thralls with them.
As to their war-gear, all the freemen had helms of some kind, but not all
of iron or steel; for some bore helms fashioned of horse-hide and bull-
hide covered over with the similitude of a Wolf's muzzle; nor were these
ill-defence against a sword-stroke. Shields they all had, and all these
had the image of the Wolf marked on them, but for many their thralls bore
them on the journey. As to their body-armour some carried long byrnies
of ring-mail, some coats of leather covered with splinters of horn laid
like the shingles of a roof, and some skin-coats only: whereof indeed
there were some of which tales went that they were better than the
smith's hammer-work, because they had had spells sung over them to keep
out steel or iron.
But for their weapons, they bore spears with shafts not very long, some
eight feet of our measure; and axes heavy and long-shafted; and bills
with great and broad heads; and some few, but not many of the kindred
were bowmen, and every freeman was girt with a sword; but of the swords
some were long and two-edged, some short and heavy, cutting on one edge,
and these were of the kind which they and our forefathers long after
called 'sax.' Thus were the freemen arrayed.
But for the thralls, there were many bows among them, especially among
those who were of blood alien from the Goths; the others bore short
spears, and feathered broad arrows, and clubs bound with iron, and knives
and axes, but not every man of them had a sword. Few iron helms they had
and no ringed byrnies, but most had a buckler at their backs with no sign
or symbol on it.
Thus then set forth the fighting men of the House of the Wolf toward the
Thing-stead of the Upper-mark where the hosting was to be, and by then
they were moving up along the side of Mirkwood-water it was somewhat past
high-noon.
But the stay-at-home people who had come down with them to the meadow
lingered long in that place; and much foreboding there was among them of
evil to come; and of the old folk, some remembered tales of the past days
of the Markmen, and how they had come from the ends of the earth, and the
mountains where none dwell now but the Gods of their kindreds; and many
of these tales told of their woes and their wars as they went from river
to river and from wild-wood to wild-wood before they had established
their Houses in the Mark, and fallen to dwelling there season by season
and year by year whether the days were good or ill. And it fell into
their hearts that now at last mayhappen was their abiding wearing out to
an end, and that the day should soon be when they should have to bear the
Hall-Sun through the wild-wood, and seek a new dwelling-place afar from
the troubling of these newly arisen Welsh foemen.
And so those of them who could not rid themselves of this foreboding were
somewhat heavier of heart than their wont was when the House went to the
War. For long had they abided there in the Mark, and the life was sweet
to them which they knew, and the life which they knew not was bitter to
them: and Mirkwood-water was become as a God to them no less than to
their fathers of old time; nor lesser was the mead where fed the horses
that they loved and the kine that they had reared, and the sheep that
they guarded from the Wolf of the Wild-wood: and they worshipped the kind
acres which they themselves and their fathers had made fruitful, wedding
them to the seasons of seed-time and harvest, that the birth that came
from them might become a part of the kindred of the Wolf, and the joy and
might of past springs and summers might run in the blood of the Wolfing
children. And a dear God indeed to them was the Roof of the Kindred,
that their fathers had built and that they yet warded against the fire
and the lightening and the wind and the snow, and the passing of the days
that devour and the years that heap the dust over the work of men. They
thought of how it had stood, and seen so many generations of men come and
go; how often it had welcomed the new-born babe, and given farewell to
the old man: how many secrets of the past it knew; how many tales which
men of the present had forgotten, but which yet mayhap men of times to
come should learn of it; for to them yet living it had spoken time and
again, and had told them what their fathers had not told them, and it
held the memories of the generations and the very life of the Wolfings
and their hopes for the days to be.
Thus these poor people thought of the Gods whom they worshipped, and the
friends whom they loved, and could not choose but be heavy-hearted when
they thought that the wild-wood was awaiting them to swallow all up, and
take away from them their Gods and their friends and the mirth of their
life, and burden them with hunger and thirst and weariness, that their
children might begin once more to build the House and establish the
dwelling, and call new places by old names, and worship new Gods with the
ancient worship.
Such imaginations of trouble then were in the hearts of the stay-at-homes
of the Wolfings; the tale tells not indeed that all had such forebodings,
but chiefly the old folk who were nursing the end of their life-days
amidst the cherishing Kindred of the House.
But now they were beginning to turn them back again to the habitations,
and a thin stream was flowing through the acres, when they heard a
confused sound drawing near blended of horns and the lowing of beasts and
the shouting of men; and they looked and saw a throng of brightly clad
men coming up stream alongside of Mirkwood-water; and they were not
afraid, for they knew that it must be some other company of the Markmen
journeying to the hosting of the Folk: and presently they saw that it was
the House of the Beamings following their banner on the way to the Thing-
stead. But when the new-comers saw the throng out in the meads, some of
their young men pricked on their horses and galloped on past the women
and old men, to whom they threw a greeting, as they ran past to catch up
with the bands of the Wolfings; for between the two houses was there
affinity, and much good liking lay between them; and the stay-at-homes,
many of them, lingered yet till the main body of the Beamings came with
their banner: and their array was much like to that of the Wolfings, but
gayer; for whereas it pleased the latter to darken all their war-gear to
the colour of the grey Wolf, the Beamings polished all their gear as
bright as might be, and their raiment also was mostly bright green of hue
and much beflowered; and the sign on their banner was a green leafy tree,
and the wain was drawn by great white bulls.
So when their company drew anear to the throng of the stay-at-homes they
went to meet and greet each other, and tell tidings to each other; but
their banner held steadily onward amidst their converse, and in a little
while they followed it, for the way was long to the Thing-stead of the
Upper-mark.
So passed away the fighting men by the side of Mirkwood-water, and the
throng of the stay-at-homes melted slowly from the meadow and trickled
along through the acres to the habitations of the Wolfings, and there
they fell to doing whatso of work or play came to their hands.
CHAPTER V--CONCERNING THE HALL-SUN
When the warriors and the others had gone down to the mead, the Hall-Sun
was left standing on the Hill of Speech, and she stood there till she saw
the host in due array going on its ways dark and bright and beautiful;
then she made as if to turn aback to the Great Roof; but all at once it
seemed to her as if something held her back, as if her will to move had
departed from her, and that she could not put one foot before the other.
So she lingered on the Hill, and the quenched candle fell from her hand,
and presently she sank adown on the grass and sat there with the face of
one thinking intently. Yet was it with her that a thousand thoughts were
in her mind at once and no one of them uppermost, and images of what had
been and what then was flickered about in her brain, and betwixt them
were engendered images of things to be, but unstable and not to be trowed
in. So sat the Hall-Sun on the Hill of Speech lost in a dream of the
day, whose stories were as little clear as those of a night-dream.
But as she sat musing thus, came to her a woman exceeding old to look on,
whom she knew not as one of the kindred or a thrall; and this carline
greeted her by the name of Hall-Sun and said:
"Hail, Hall-Sun of the Markmen! how fares it now with thee
When the whelps of the Woodbeast wander with the Leafage of the Tree
All up the Mirkwood-water to seek what they shall find,
The oak-boles of the battle and the war-wood stark and blind?"
Then answered the maiden:
"It fares with me, O mother, that my soul would fain go forth
To behold the ways of the battle, and the praise of the warriors'
worth.
But yet is it held entangled in a maze of many a thing,
As the low-grown bramble holdeth the brake-shoots of the Spring.
I think of the thing that hath been, but no shape is in my thought;
I think of the day that passeth, and its story comes to nought.
I think of the days that shall be, nor shape I any tale.
I will hearken thee, O mother, if hearkening may avail."
The Carline gazed at her with dark eyes that shone brightly from amidst
her brown wrinkled face: then she sat herself down beside her and spake:
"From a far folk have I wandered and I come of an alien blood,
But I know all tales of the Wolfings and their evil and their good;
And when I heard of thy fairness, thereof I heard it said,
That for thee should be never a bridal nor a place in the warrior's
bed."
The maiden neither reddened nor paled, but looking with calm steady eyes
into the Carline's face she answered:
"Yea true it is, I am wedded to the mighty ones of old,
And the fathers of the Wolfings ere the days of field and fold."
Then a smile came into the eyes of the old woman and she said.
"How glad shall be thy mother of thy worship and thy worth,
And the father that begat thee if yet they dwell on earth!"
But the Hall-Sun answered in the same steady manner as before:
"None knoweth who is my mother, nor my very father's name;
But when to the House of the Wolfings a wild-wood waif I came,
They gave me a foster-mother an ancient dame and good,
And a glorious foster-father the best of all the blood."
Spake the Carline.
"Yea, I have heard the story, but scarce therein might I trow
That thou with all thy beauty wert born 'neath the oaken bough,
And hast crawled a naked baby o'er the rain-drenched autumn-grass;
Wilt thou tell the wandering woman what wise it cometh to pass
That thou art the Mid-mark's Hall-Sun, and the sign of the Wolfings'
gain?
Thou shalt pleasure me much by the telling, and there of shalt thou be
fain."
Then answered the Hall-Sun.
"Yea; thus much I remember for the first of my memories;
That I lay on the grass in the morning and above were the boughs of
the trees.
But nought naked was I as the wood-whelp, but clad in linen white,
And adown the glades of the oakwood the morning sun lay bright.
Then a hind came out of the thicket and stood on the sunlit glade,
And turned her head toward the oak tree and a step on toward me made.
Then stopped, and bounded aback, and away as if in fear,
That I saw her no more; then I wondered, though sitting close anear
Was a she-wolf great and grisly. But with her was I wont to play,
And pull her ears, and belabour her rugged sides and grey,
And hold her jaws together, while she whimpered, slobbering
For the love of my love; and nowise I deemed her a fearsome thing.
There she sat as though she were watching, and o'er head a blue-winged
jay
Shrieked out from the topmost oak-twigs, and a squirrel ran his way
Two tree-trunks off. But the she-wolf arose up suddenly
And growled with her neck-fell bristling, as if danger drew anigh;
And therewith I heard a footstep, for nice was my ear to catch
All the noises of the wild-wood; so there did we sit at watch
While the sound of feet grew nigher: then I clapped hand on hand
And crowed for joy and gladness, for there out in the sun did stand
A man, a glorious creature with a gleaming helm on his head,
And gold rings on his arms, in raiment gold-broidered crimson-red.
Straightway he strode up toward us nor heeded the wolf of the wood
But sang as he went in the oak-glade, as a man whose thought is good,
And nought she heeded the warrior, but tame as a sheep was grown,
And trotted away through the wild-wood with her crest all laid adown.
Then came the man and sat down by the oak-bole close unto me
And took me up nought fearful and set me on his knee.
And his face was kind and lovely, so my cheek to his cheek I laid
And touched his cold bright war-helm and with his gold rings played,
And hearkened his words, though I knew not what tale they had to tell,
Yet fain was my heart of their music, and meseemed I loved him well.
So we fared for a while and were fain, till he set down my feet on the
grass,
And kissed me and stood up himself, and away through the wood did he
pass.
And then came back the she-wolf and with her I played and was fain.
Lo the first thing I remember: wilt thou have me babble again?"
Spake the Carline and her face was soft and kind:
"Nay damsel, long would I hearken to thy voice this summer day.
But how didst thou leave the wild-wood, what people brought thee
away?"
Then said the Hall-Sun:
"I awoke on a time in the even, and voices I heard as I woke;
And there was I in the wild-wood by the bole of the ancient oak,
And a ring of men was around me, and glad was I indeed
As I looked upon their faces and the fashion of their weed.
For I gazed on the red and the scarlet and the beaten silver and gold,
And blithe were their noble faces and kindly to behold,
And nought had I seen of such-like since that hour of the other day
When that warrior came to the oak glade with the little child to play.
And forth now he came, with the face that my hands had fondled before,
And a battle shield wrought fairly upon his arm he bore,
And thereon the wood-wolf's image in ruddy gold was done.
Then I stretched out my little arms towards the glorious shining one
And he took me up and set me on his shoulder for a while
And turned about to his fellows with a blithe and joyous smile;
And they shouted aloud about me and drew forth gleaming swords
And clashed them on their bucklers; but nought I knew of the words
Of their shouting and rejoicing. So thereafter was I laid
And borne forth on the warrior's warshield, and our way through the
wood we made
'Midst the mirth and great contentment of those fair-clad shielded
men.
"But no tale of the wolf and the wild-wood abides with me since then,
And the next thing I remember is a huge and dusky hall,
A world for my little body from ancient wall to wall;
A world of many doings, and nought for me to do,
A world of many noises, and known to me were few.
"Time wore, and I spoke with the Wolfings and knew the speech of the
kin,
And was strange 'neath the roof no longer, as a lonely waif therein;
And I wrought as a child with my playmates and every hour looked on
Unto the next hour's joyance till the happy day was done.
And going and coming amidst us was a woman tall and thin
With hair like the hoary barley and silver streaks therein.
And kind and sad of visage, as now I remember me,
And she sat and told us stories when we were aweary with glee,
And many of us she fondled, but me the most of all.
And once from my sleep she waked me and bore me down the hall,
In the hush of the very midnight, and I was feared thereat.
But she brought me unto the dais, and there the warrior sat,
Who took me up and kissed me, as erst within the wood;
And meseems in his arms I slumbered: but I wakened again and stood
Alone with the kindly woman, and gone was the goodly man,
And athwart the hush of the Folk-hall the moon shone bright and wan,
And the woman dealt with a lamp hung up by a chain aloft,
And she trimmed it and fed it with oil, while she chanted sweet and
soft
A song whose words I knew not: then she ran it up again,
And up in the darkness above us died the length of its wavering
chain."
"Yea," said the carline, "this woman will have been the Hall-Sun that
came before thee. What next dost thou remember?"
Said the maiden:
"Next I mind me of the hazels behind the People's Roof,
And the children running thither and the magpie flitting aloof,
And my hand in the hand of the Hall-Sun, as after the others we went,
And she soberly hearkening my prattle and the words of my intent.
And now would I call her 'Mother,' and indeed I loved her well.
"So I waxed; and now of my memories the tale were long to tell;
But as the days passed over, and I fared to field and wood,
Alone or with my playmates, still the days were fair and good.
But the sad and kindly Hall-Sun for my fosterer now I knew,
And the great and glorious warrior that my heart clung sorely to
Was but my foster-father; and I knew that I had no kin
In the ancient House of the Wolfings, though love was warm therein."
Then smiled the carline and said: "Yea, he is thy foster-father, and yet
a fond one."
"Sooth is that," said the Hall-Sun. "But wise art thou by seeming. Hast
thou come to tell me of what kindred I am, and who is my father and who
is my mother?"
Said the carline: "Art thou not also wise? Is it not so that the Hall-
Sun of the Wolfings seeth things that are to come?"
"Yea," she said, "yet have I seen waking or sleeping no other father save
my foster-father; yet my very mother I have seen, as one who should meet
her in the flesh one day."
"And good is that," said the carline; and as she spoke her face waxed
kinder, and she said:
"Tell us more of thy days in the House of the Wolfings and how thou
faredst there."
Said the Hall-Sun:
"I waxed 'neath the Roof of the Wolfings, till now to look upon
I was of sixteen winters, and the love of the Folk I won,
And in lovely weed they clad me like the image of a God:
And lonely now full often the wild-wood ways I trod,
And I feared no wild-wood creature, and my presence scared them
nought;
And I fell to know of wisdom, and within me stirred my thought,
So that oft anights would I wander through the mead and far away,
And swim the Mirkwood-water, and amidst his eddies play
When earth was dark in the dawn-tide; and over all the folk
I knew of the beasts' desires, as though in words they spoke.
"So I saw of things that should be, were they mighty things or small,
And upon a day as it happened came the war-word to the hall,
And the House must wend to the warfield, and as they sang, and played
With the strings of the harp that even, and the mirth of the war-eve
made,
Came the sight of the field to my eyes, and the words waxed hot in me,
And I needs must show the picture of the end of the fight to be.
Then I showed them the Red Wolf bristling o'er the broken fleeing foe;
And the war-gear of the fleers, and their banner did I show,
To wit the Ling-worm's image with the maiden in his mouth;
There I saw my foster-father 'mid the pale blades of the South,
Till aloof swept all the handplay and the hurry of the chase,
And he lay along by an ash-tree, no helm about his face,
No byrny on his body; and an arrow in his thigh,
And a broken spear in his shoulder. Then I saw myself draw nigh
To sing the song blood-staying. Then saw I how we twain
Went 'midst of the host triumphant in the Wolfings' banner-wain,
The black bulls lowing before us athwart the warriors' song,
As up from Mirkwood-water we went our ways along
To the Great Roof of the Wolfings, whence streamed the women out
And the sound of their rejoicing blent with the warriors' shout.
"They heard me and saw the picture, and they wotted how wise I was
grown,
And they loved me, and glad were their hearts at the tale my lips had
shown;
And my body clad as an image of a God to the field they bore,
And I held by the mast of the banner as I looked upon their war,
And endured to see unblenching on the wind-swept sunny plain
All the picture of my vision by the men-folk done again.
And over my Foster-father I sang the staunching-song,
Till the life-blood that was ebbing flowed back to his heart the
strong,
And we wended back in the war-wain 'midst the gleanings of the fight
Unto the ancient dwelling and the Hall-Sun's glimmering light.
"So from that day henceforward folk hung upon my words,
For the battle of the autumn, and the harvest of the swords;
And e'en more was I loved than aforetime. So wore a year away,
And heavy was the burden of the lore that on me lay.
"But my fosterer the Hall-Sun took sick at the birth of the year,
And changed her life as the year changed, as summer drew anear.
But she knew that her life was waning, and lying in her bed
She taught me the lore of the Hall-Sun, and every word to be said
At the trimming in the midnight and the feeding in the morn,
And she laid her hands upon me ere unto the howe she was borne
With the kindred gathered about us; and they wotted her weird and her
will,
And hailed me for the Hall-Sun when at last she lay there still.
And they did on me the garment, the holy cloth of old,
And the neck-chain wrought for the goddess, and the rings of the
hallowed gold.
So here am I abiding, and of things to be I tell,
Yet know not what shall befall me nor why with the Wolfings I dwell."
Then said the carline:
"What seest thou, O daughter, of the journey of to-day?
And why wendest thou not with the war-host on the battle-echoing way?"
Said the Hall-Sun.
"O mother, here dwelleth the Hall-Sun while the kin hath a dwelling-
place,
Nor ever again shall I look on the onset or the chase,
Till the day when the Roof of the Wolfings looketh down on the girdle
of foes,
And the arrow singeth over the grass of the kindred's close;
Till the pillars shake with the shouting and quivers the roof-tree
dear,
When the Hall of the Wolfings garners the harvest of the spear."
Therewith she stood on her feet and turned her face to the Great Roof,
and gazed long at it, not heeding the crone by her side; and she muttered
words of whose signification the other knew not, though she listened
intently, and gazed ever at her as closely as might be.
Then fell the Hall-Sun utterly silent, and the lids closed over her eyes,
and her hands were clenched, and her feet pressed hard on the daisies:
her bosom heaved with sore sighs, and great tear-drops oozed from under
her eyelids and fell on to her raiment and her feet and on to the flowery
summer grass; and at the last her mouth opened and she spake, but in a
voice that was marvellously changed from that she spake in before:
"Why went ye forth, O Wolfings, from the garth your fathers built,
And the House where sorrow dieth, and all unloosed is guilt?
Turn back, turn back, and behold it! lest your feet be over slow
When your shields are heavy-burdened with the arrows of the foe;
How ye totter, how ye stumble on the rough and corpse-strewn way!
And lo, how the eve is eating the afternoon of day!
O why are ye abiding till the sun is sunk in night
And the forest trees are ruddy with the battle-kindled light?
O rest not yet, ye Wolfings, lest void be your resting-place,
And into lands that ye know not the Wolf must turn his face,
And ye wander and ye wander till the land in the ocean cease,
And your battle bring no safety and your labour no increase."
Then was she silent for a while, and her tears ceased to flow; but
presently her eyes opened once more, and she lifted up her voice and
cried aloud--
"I see, I see! O Godfolk behold it from aloof,
How the little flames steal flickering along the ridge of the Roof!
They are small and red 'gainst the heavens in the summer afternoon;
But when the day is dusking, white, high shall they wave to the moon.
Lo, the fire plays now on the windows like strips of scarlet cloth
Wind-waved! but look in the night-tide on the onset of its wrath,
How it wraps round the ancient timbers and hides the mighty roof
But lighteth little crannies, so lost and far aloof,
That no man yet of the kindred hath seen them ere to-night,
Since first the builder builded in loving and delight!"
Then again she stayed her speech with weeping and sobbing, but after a
while was still again, and then she spoke pointing toward the roof with
her right hand.
"I see the fire-raisers and iron-helmed they are,
Brown-faced about the banners that their hands have borne afar.
And who in the garth of the kindred shall bear adown their shield
Since the onrush of the Wolfings they caught in the open field,
As the might of the mountain lion falls dead in the hempen net?
O Wolfings, long have ye tarried, but the hour abideth yet.
What life for the life of the people shall be given once for all,
What sorrow shall stay sorrow in the half-burnt Wolfing Hall?
There is nought shall quench the fire save the tears of the Godfolk's
kin,
And the heart of the life-delighter, and the life-blood cast therein."
Then once again she fell silent, and her eyes closed again, and the slow
tears gushed out from them, and she sank down sobbing on the grass, and
little by little the storm of grief sank and her head fell back, and she
was as one quietly asleep. Then the carline hung over her and kissed her
and embraced her; and then through her closed eyes and her slumber did
the Hall-Sun see a marvel; for she who was kissing her was young in
semblance and unwrinkled, and lovely to look on, with plenteous long hair
of the hue of ripe barley, and clad in glistening raiment such as has
been woven in no loom on earth.
And indeed it was the Wood-Sun in the semblance of a crone, who had come
to gather wisdom of the coming time from the foreseeing of the Hall-Sun;
since now at last she herself foresaw nothing of it, though she was of
the kindred of the Gods and the Fathers of the Goths. So when she had
heard the Hall-Sun she deemed that she knew but too well what her words
meant, and what for love, what for sorrow, she grew sick at heart as she
heard them.
So at last she arose and turned to look at the Great Roof; and strong and
straight, and cool and dark grey showed its ridge against the pale sky of
the summer afternoon all quivering with the heat of many hours' sun: dark
showed its windows as she gazed on it, and stark and stiff she knew were
its pillars within.
Then she said aloud, but to herself: "What then if a merry and mighty
life be given for it, and the sorrow of the people be redeemed; yet will
not I give the life which is his; nay rather let him give the bliss which
is mine. But oh! how may it be that he shall die joyous and I shall live
unhappy!"
Then she went slowly down from the Hill of Speech, and whoso saw her
deemed her but a gangrel carline. So she went her ways and let the wood
cover her.
But in a little while the Hall-Sun awoke alone, and sat up with a sigh,
and she remembered nothing concerning her sight of the flickering flame
along the hall-roof, and the fire-tongues like strips of scarlet cloth
blown by the wind, nor had she any memory of her words concerning the
coming day. But the rest of her talk with the carline she remembered,
and also the vision of the beautiful woman who had kissed and embraced
her; and she knew that it was her very mother. Also she perceived that
she had been weeping, therefore she knew that she had uttered words of
wisdom. For so it fared with her at whiles, that she knew not her own
words of foretelling, but spoke them out as if in a dream.
So now she went down from the Hill of Speech soberly, and turned toward
the Woman's door of the hall, and on her way she met the women and old
men and youths coming back from the meadow with little mirth: and there
were many of them who looked shyly at her as though they would gladly
have asked her somewhat, and yet durst not. But for her, her sadness
passed away when she came among them, and she looked kindly on this and
that one of them, and entered with them into the Woman's Chamber, and did
what came to her hand to do.
CHAPTER VI--THEY TALK ON THE WAY TO THE FOLK-THING
All day long one standing on the Speech-hill of the Wolfings might have
seen men in their war-array streaming along the side of Mirkwood-water,
on both sides thereof; and the last comers from the Nether-mark came
hastening all they might; for they would not be late at the
trysting-place. But these were of a kindred called the Laxings, who bore
a salmon on their banner; and they were somewhat few in number, for they
had but of late years become a House of the Markmen. Their banner-wain
was drawn by white horses, fleet and strong, and they were no great band,
for they had but few thralls with them, and all, free men and thralls,
were a-horseback; so they rode by hastily with their banner-wain, their
few munition-wains following as they might.
Now tells the tale of the men-at-arms of the Wolfings and the Beamings,
that soon they fell in with the Elking host, which was journeying but
leisurely, so that the Wolfings might catch up with them: they were a
very great kindred, the most numerous of all Mid-mark, and at this time
they had affinity with the Wolfings. But old men of the House remembered
how they had heard their grandsires and very old men tell that there had
been a time when the Elking House had been established by men from out of
the Wolfing kindred, and how they had wandered away from the Mark in the
days when it had been first settled, and had abided aloof for many
generations of men; and so at last had come back again to the Mark, and
had taken up their habitation at a place in Mid-mark where was dwelling
but a remnant of a House called the Thyrings, who had once been exceeding
mighty, but had by that time almost utterly perished in a great sickness
which befel in those days. So then these two Houses, the wanderers come
back and the remnant left by the sickness of the Gods, made one House
together, and increased and throve after their coming together, and
wedded with the Wolfings, and became a very great House.
Gallant and glorious was their array now, as they marched along with
their banner of the Elk, which was drawn by the very beasts themselves
tamed to draught to that end through many generations; they were fatter
and sleeker than their wild-wood brethren, but not so mighty.
So were the men of the three kindreds somewhat mingled together on the
way. The Wolfings were the tallest and the biggest made; but of those
dark-haired men aforesaid, were there fewest amongst the Beamings, and
most among the Elkings, as though they had drawn to them more men of
alien blood during their wanderings aforesaid. So they talked together
and made each other good cheer, as is the wont of companions in arms on
the eve of battle; and the talk ran, as may be deemed, on that journey
and what was likely to come of it: and spake an Elking warrior to a
Wolfing by whom he rode:
"O Wolfkettle, hath the Hall-Sun had any foresight of the day of battle?"
"Nay," said the other, "when she lighted the farewell candle, she bade us
come back again, and spoke of the day of our return; but that methinks,
as thou and I would talk of it, thinking what would be likely to befal.
Since we are a great host of valiant men, and these Welshmen {2} most
valiant, and as the rumour runneth bigger-bodied men than the Hun-folk,
and so well ordered as never folk have been. So then if we overthrow
them we shall come back again; and if they overthrow us, the remnant of
us shall fall back before them till we come to our habitations; for it is
not to be looked for that they will fall in upon our rear and prevent us,
since we have the thicket of the wild-wood on our flanks."
"Sooth is that," said the Elking; "and as to the mightiness of this folk
and their customs, ye may gather somewhat from the songs which our House
yet singeth, and which ye have heard wide about in the Mark; for this is
the same folk of which a many of them tell, making up that story-lay
which is called the South-Welsh Lay; which telleth how we have met this
folk in times past when we were in fellowship with a folk of the Welsh of
like customs to ourselves: for we of the Elkings were then but a feeble
folk. So we marched with this folk of the Kymry and met the men of the
cities, and whiles we overthrew and whiles were overthrown, but at last
in a great battle were overthrown with so great a slaughter, that the red
blood rose over the wheels of the wains, and the city-folk fainted with
the work of the slaughter, as men who mow a match in the meadows when the
swathes are dry and heavy and the afternoon of midsummer is hot; and
there they stood and stared on the field of the slain, and knew not
whether they were in Home or Hell, so fierce the fight had been."
Therewith a man of the Beamings, who was riding on the other side of the
Elking, reached out over his horse's neck and said:
"Yea friend, but is there not some telling of a tale concerning how ye
and your fellowship took the great city of the Welshmen of the South, and
dwelt there long."
"Yea," said the Elking, "Hearken how it is told in the South-Welsh Lay:
"'Have ye not heard
Of the ways of Weird?
How the folk fared forth
Far away from the North?
And as light as one wendeth
Whereas the wood endeth,
When of nought is our need,
And none telleth our deed,
So Rodgeir unwearied and Reidfari wan
The town where none tarried the shield-shaking man.
All lonely the street there, and void was the way
And nought hindered our feet but the dead men that lay
Under shield in the lanes of the houses heavens-high,
All the ring-bearing swains that abode there to die.'
"Tells the Lay, that none abode the Goths and their fellowship, but such
as were mighty enough to fall before them, and the rest, both man and
woman, fled away before our folk and before the folk of the Kymry, and
left their town for us to dwell in; as saith the Lay:
"'Glistening of gold
Did men's eyen behold;
Shook the pale sword
O'er the unspoken word,
No man drew nigh us
With weapon to try us,
For the Welsh-wrought shield
Lay low on the field.
By man's hand unbuilded all seemed there to be,
The walls ruddy gilded, the pearls of the sea:
Yea all things were dead there save pillar and wall,
But _they_ lived and _they_ said us the song of the hall;
The dear hall left to perish by men of the land,
For the Goth-folk to cherish with gold gaining hand.'
"See ye how the Lay tells that the hall was bolder than the men, who fled
from it, and left all for our fellowship to deal with in the days gone
by?"
Said the Wolfing man:
"And as it was once, so shall it be again. Maybe we shall go far on this
journey, and see at least one of the garths of the Southlands, even those
which they call cities. For I have heard it said that they have more
cities than one only, and that so great are their kindreds, that each
liveth in a garth full of mighty houses, with a wall of stone and lime
around it; and that in every one of these garths lieth wealth untold
heaped up. And wherefore should not all this fall to the Markmen and
their valiancy?"
Said the Elking:
"As to their many cities and the wealth of them, that is sooth; but as to
each city being the habitation of each kindred, it is otherwise: for
rather it may be said of them that they have forgotten kindred, and have
none, nor do they heed whom they wed, and great is the confusion amongst
them. And mighty men among them ordain where they shall dwell, and what
shall be their meat, and how long they shall labour after they are weary,
and in all wise what manner of life shall be amongst them; and though
they be called free men who suffer this, yet may no house or kindred
gainsay this rule and order. In sooth they are a people mighty, but
unhappy."
Said Wolfkettle:
"And hast thou learned all this from the ancient story lays, O Hiarandi?
For some of them I know, though not all, and therein have I noted nothing
of all this. Is there some new minstrel arisen in thine House of a
memory excelling all those that have gone before? If that be so, I bid
him to the Roof of the Wolfings as soon as may be; for we lack new
tales."
"Nay," said Hiarandi, "This that I tell thee is not a tale of past days,
but a tale of to-day. For there came to us a man from out of the wild-
wood, and prayed us peace, and we gave it him; and he told us that he was
of a House of the Gael, and that his House had been in a great battle
against these Welshmen, whom he calleth the Romans; and that he was taken
in the battle, and sold as a thrall in one of their garths; and howbeit,
it was not their master-garth, yet there he learned of their customs: and
sore was the lesson! Hard was his life amongst them, for their thralls
be not so well entreated as their draught-beasts, so many do they take in
battle; for they are a mighty folk; and these thralls and those aforesaid
unhappy freemen do all tilling and herding and all deeds of
craftsmanship: and above these are men whom they call masters and lords
who do nought, nay not so much as smithy their own edge-weapons, but
linger out their days in their dwellings and out of their dwellings,
lying about in the sun or the hall-cinders, like cur-dogs who have fallen
away from kind.
"So this man made a shift to flee away from out of that garth, since it
was not far from the great river; and being a valiant man, and young and
mighty of body, he escaped all perils and came to us through the
Mirkwood. But we saw that he was no liar, and had been very evilly
handled, for upon his body was the mark of many a stripe, and of the
shackles that had been soldered on to his limbs; also it was more than
one of these accursed people whom he had slain when he fled. So he
became our guest and we loved him, and he dwelt among us and yet
dwelleth, for we have taken him into our House. But yesterday he was
sick and might not ride with us; but may be he will follow on and catch
up with us in a day or two. And if he come not, then will I bring him
over to the Wolfings when the battle is done."
Then laughed the Beaming man, and spake:
"How then if ye come not back, nor Wolfkettle, nor the Welsh Guest, nor I
myself? Meseemeth no one of these Southland Cities shall we behold, and
no more of the Southlanders than their war-array."
"These are evil words," said Wolfkettle, "though such an outcome must be
thought on. But why deemest thou this?"
Said the Beaming: "There is no Hall-Sun sitting under our Roof at home to
tell true tales concerning the Kindred every day. Yet forsooth from time
to time is a word said in our Folk-hall for good or for evil; and who can
choose but hearken thereto? And yestereve was a woeful word spoken, and
that by a man-child of ten winters."
Said the Elking: "Now that thou hast told us thus much, thou must tell us
more, yea, all the word which was spoken; else belike we shall deem of it
as worse than it was."
Said the Beaming: "Thus it was; this little lad brake out weeping
yestereve, when the Hall was full and feasting; and he wailed, and roared
out, as children do, and would not be pacified, and when he was asked why
he made that to do, he said: 'Well away! Raven hath promised to make me
a clay horse and to bake it in the kiln with the pots next week; and now
he goeth to the war, and he shall never come back, and never shall my
horse be made.' Thereat we all laughed as ye may well deem. But the lad
made a sour countenance on us and said, 'why do ye laugh? look yonder,
what see ye?' 'Nay,' said one, 'nought but the Feast-hall wall and the
hangings of the High-tide thereon.' Then said the lad sobbing: 'Ye see
ill: further afield see I: I see a little plain, on a hill top, and fells
beyond it far bigger than our speech-hill: and there on the plain lieth
Raven as white as parchment; and none hath such hue save the dead.' Then
said Raven, (and he was a young man, and was standing thereby). 'And
well is that, swain, to die in harness! Yet hold up thine heart; here is
Gunbert who shall come back and bake thine horse for thee.' 'Nay never
more,' quoth the child, 'For I see his pale head lying at Raven's feet;
but his body with the green gold-broidered kirtle I see not.' Then was
the laughter stilled, and man after man drew near to the child, and
questioned him, and asked, 'dost thou see me?' 'dost thou see me?' And
he failed to see but few of those that asked him. Therefore now
meseemeth that not many of us shall see the cities of the South, and
those few belike shall look on their own shackles therewithal."
"Nay," said Hiarandi, "What is all this? heard ye ever of a company of
fighting men that fared afield, and found the foe, and came back home
leaving none behind them?"
Said the Beaming: "Yet seldom have I heard a child foretell the death of
warriors. I tell thee that hadst thou been there, thou wouldst have
thought of it as if the world were coming to an end."
"Well," said Wolfkettle, "let it be as it may! Yet at least I will not
be led away from the field by the foemen. Oft may a man be hindered of
victory, but never of death if he willeth it."
Therewith he handled a knife that hung about his neck, and went on to
say: "But indeed, I do much marvel that no word came into the mouth of
the Hall-Sun yestereven or this morning, but such as any woman of the
kindred might say."
Therewith fell their talk awhile, and as they rode they came to where the
wood drew nigher to the river, and thus the Mid-mark had an end; for
there was no House had a dwelling in the Mid-mark higher up the water
than the Elkings, save one only, not right great, who mostly fared to war
along with the Elkings: and this was the Oselings, whose banner bore the
image of the Wood-ousel, the black bird with the yellow neb; and they had
just fallen into the company of the greater House.
So now Mid-mark was over and past, and the serried trees of the wood came
down like a wall but a little way from the lip of the water; and
scattered trees, mostly quicken-trees grew here and there on the very
water side. But Mirkwood-water ran deep swift and narrow between high
clean-cloven banks, so that none could dream of fording, and not so many
of swimming its dark green dangerous waters. And the day wore on towards
evening and the glory of the western sky was unseen because of the wall
of high trees. And still the host made on, and because of the narrowness
of the space between river and wood it was strung out longer and looked a
very great company of men. And moreover the men of the eastern-lying
part of Mid-mark, were now marching thick and close on the other side of
the river but a little way from the Wolfings and their fellows; for
nothing but the narrow river sundered them.
So night fell, and the stars shone, and the moon rose, and yet the
Wolfings and their fellows stayed not, since they wotted that behind them
followed a many of the men of the Mark, both the Mid and the Nether, and
they would by no means hinder their march.
So wended the Markmen between wood and stream on either side of Mirkwood-
water, till now at last the night grew deep and the moon set, and it was
hard on midnight, and they had kindled many torches to light them on
either side of the water. So whereas they had come to a place where the
trees gave back somewhat from the river, which was well-grassed for their
horses and neat, and was called Baitmead, the companies on the western
side made stay there till morning. And they drew the wains right up to
the thick of the wood, and all men turned aside into the mead from the
beaten road, so that those who were following after might hold on their
way if so they would. There then they appointed watchers of the night,
while the rest of them lay upon the sward by the side of the trees, and
slept through the short summer night.
The tale tells not that any man dreamed of the fight to come in such wise
that there was much to tell of his dream on the morrow; many dreamed of
no fight or faring to war, but of matters little, and often laughable,
mere mingled memories of bygone time that had no waking wits to marshal
them.
But that man of the Beamings dreamed that he was at home watching a
potter, a man of the thralls of the House working at his wheel, and
fashioning bowls and ewers: and he had a mind to take of his clay and
fashion a horse for the lad that had bemoaned the promise of his toy. And
he tried long and failed to fashion anything; for the clay fell to pieces
in his hands; till at last it held together and grew suddenly, not into
an image of a horse, but of the Great Yule Boar, the similitude of the
Holy Beast of Frey. So he laughed in his sleep and was glad, and leaped
up and drew his sword with his clay-stained hands that he might wave it
over the Earth Boar, and swear a great oath of a doughty deed. And
therewith he found himself standing on his feet indeed, just awakened in
the cold dawn, and holding by his right hand to an ash-sapling that grew
beside him. So he laughed again, and laid him down, and leaned back and
slept his sleep out till the sun and the voices of his fellows stirring
awakened him.
CHAPTER VII--THEY GATHER TO THE FOLK-MOTE
When it was the morning, all the host of the Markmen was astir on either
side of the water, and when they had broken their fast, they got speedily
into array, and were presently on the road again; and the host was now
strung out longer yet, for the space between water and wood once more
diminished till at last it was no wider than ten men might go abreast,
and looking ahead it was as if the wild-wood swallowed up both river and
road.
But the fighting-men hastened on merrily with their hearts raised high,
since they knew that they would soon be falling in with more of their
people, and the coming fight was growing a clearer picture to their eyes;
so from side to side of the river they shouted out the cries of their
Houses, or friend called to friend across the eddies of Mirkwood-water,
and there was game and glee enough.
So they fared till the wood gave way before them, and lo, the beginning
of another plain, somewhat like the Mid-mark. There also the water
widened out before them, and there were eyots in it with stony shores
crowned with willow or with alder, and aspens rising from the midst of
them.
But as for the plain, it was thus much different from Mid-mark, that the
wood which begirt it rose on the south into low hills, and away beyond
them were other hills blue in the distance, for the most bare of wood,
and not right high, the pastures of the wild-bull and the bison, whereas
now dwelt a folk somewhat scattered and feeble; hunters and herdsmen,
with little tillage about their abodes, a folk akin to the Markmen and
allied to them. They had come into those parts later than the Markmen,
as the old tales told; which said moreover that in days gone by a folk
dwelt among those hills who were alien from the Goths, and great foes to
the Markmen; and how that on a time they came down from their hills with
a great host, together with new-comers of their own blood, and made their
way through the wild-wood, and fell upon the Upper-mark; and how that
there befel a fearful battle that endured for three days; and the first
day the Aliens worsted the Markmen, who were but a few, since they were
they of the Upper-mark only. So the Aliens burned their houses and slew
their old men, and drave off many of their women and children; and the
remnant of the men of the Upper-mark with all that they had, which was
now but little, took refuge in an island of Mirkwood-water, where they
fenced themselves as well as they could for that night; for they expected
the succour of their kindred of the Mid-mark and the Nether-mark, unto
whom they had sped the war-arrow when they first had tidings of the onset
of the Aliens.
So at the sun-rising they sacrificed to the Gods twenty chieftains of the
Aliens whom they had taken, and therewithal a maiden of their own
kindred, the daughter of their war-duke, that she might lead that mighty
company to the House of the Gods; and thereto was she nothing loth, but
went right willingly.
There then they awaited the onset. But the men of Mid-mark came up in
the morning, when the battle was but just joined, and fell on so fiercely
that the aliens gave back, and then they of the Upper-mark stormed out of
their eyot, and fell on over the ford, and fought till the water ran red
with their blood, and the blood of the foemen. So the Aliens gave back
before the onset of the Markmen all over the meads; but when they came to
the hillocks and the tofts of the half-burned habitations, and the wood
was on their flank, they made a stand again, and once more the battle
waxed hot, for they were very many, and had many bowmen: there fell the
War-duke of the Markmen, whose daughter had been offered up for victory,
and his name was Agni, so that the tofts where he fell have since been
called Agni's Tofts. So that day they fought all over the plain, and a
great many died, both of the Aliens and the Markmen, and though these
last were victorious, yet when the sun went down there still were the
Aliens abiding in the Upper-mark, fenced by their wain-burg, beaten, and
much diminished in number, but still a host of men: while of the Markmen
many had fallen, and many more were hurt, because the Aliens were good
bowmen.
But on the morrow again, as the old tale told, came up the men of the
Nether-mark fresh and unwounded; and so the battle began again on the
southern limit of the Upper-mark where the Aliens had made their wain-
burg. But not long did it endure; for the Markmen fell on so fiercely,
that they stormed over the wain-burg, and slew all before them, and there
was a very great slaughter of the Aliens; so great, tells the old tale,
that never again durst they meet the Markmen in war.
Thus went forth the host of the Markmen, faring along both sides of the
water into the Upper-mark; and on the west side, where went the Wolfings,
the ground now rose by a long slope into a low hill, and when they came
unto the brow thereof, they beheld before them the whole plain of the
Upper-mark, and the dwellings of the kindred therein all girdled about by
the wild-wood; and beyond, the blue hills of the herdsmen, and beyond
them still, a long way aloof, lying like a white cloud on the verge of
the heavens, the snowy tops of the great mountains. And as they looked
down on to the plain they saw it embroidered, as it were, round about the
habitations which lay within ken by crowds of many people, and the
banners of the kindreds and the arms of men; and many a place they saw
named after the ancient battle and that great slaughter of the Aliens.
On their left hand lay the river, and as it now fairly entered with them
into the Upper-mark, it spread out into wide rippling shallows beset with
yet more sandy eyots, amongst which was one much greater, rising amidmost
into a low hill, grassy and bare of tree or bush; and this was the island
whereon the Markmen stood on the first day of the Great Battle, and it
was now called the Island of the Gods.
Thereby was the ford, which was firm and good and changed little from
year to year, so that all Markmen knew it well and it was called
Battleford: thereover now crossed all the eastern companies, footmen and
horsemen, freemen and thralls, wains and banners, with shouting and
laughter, and the noise of horns and the lowing of neat, till all that
plain's end was flooded with the host of the Markmen.
But when the eastern-abiders had crossed, they made no stay, but went
duly ordered about their banners, winding on toward the first of the
abodes on the western side of the water; because it was but a little way
southwest of this that the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark lay; and the
whole Folk was summoned thither when war threatened from the South, just
as it was called to the Thing-stead of the Nether-mark, when the threat
of war came from the North. But the western companies stayed on the brow
of that low hill till all the eastern men were over the river, and on
their way to the Thing-stead, and then they moved on.
So came the Wolfings and their fellows up to the dwellings of the
northernmost kindred, who were called the Daylings, and bore on their
banner the image of the rising sun. Thereabout was the Mark somewhat
more hilly and broken than in the Mid-mark, so that the Great Roof of the
Daylings, which was a very big house, stood on a hillock whose sides had
been cleft down sheer on all sides save one (which was left as a bridge)
by the labour of men, and it was a very defensible place.
Thereon were now gathered round about the Roof all the stay-at-homes of
the kindred, who greeted with joyous cries the men-at-arms as they
passed. Albeit one very old man, who sat in a chair near to the edge of
the sheer hill looking on the war array, when he saw the Wolfing banner
draw near, stood up to gaze on it, and then shook his head sadly, and
sank back again into his chair, and covered his face with his hands: and
when the folk saw that, a silence bred of the coldness of fear fell on
them, for that elder was deemed a foreseeing man.
But as those three fellows, of whose talk of yesterday the tale has told,
drew near and beheld what the old carle did (for they were riding
together this day also) the Beaming man laid his hand on Wolfkettle's
rein and said:
"Lo you, neighbour, if thy Vala hath seen nought, yet hath this old man
seen somewhat, and that somewhat even as the little lad saw it. Many a
mother's son shall fall before the Welshmen."
But Wolfkettle shook his rein free, and his face reddened as of one who
is angry, yet he kept silence, while the Elking said:
"Let be, Toti! for he that lives shall tell the tale to the foreseers,
and shall make them wiser than they are to-day."
Then laughed Toti, as one who would not be thought to be too heedful of
the morrow. But Wolfkettle brake out into speech and rhyme, and said:
"O warriors, the Wolfing kindred shall live or it shall die;
And alive it shall be as the oak-tree when the summer storm goes by;
But dead it shall be as its bole, that they hew for the corner-post
Of some fair and mighty folk-hall, and the roof of a war-fain host."
So therewith they rode their ways past the abode of the Daylings.
Straight to the wood went all the host, and so into it by a wide way
cleft through the thicket, and in some thirty minutes they came thereby
into a great wood-lawn cleared amidst of it by the work of men's hands.
There already was much of the host gathered, sitting or standing in a
great ring round about a space bare of men, where amidmost rose a great
mound raised by men's hands and wrought into steps to be the
sitting-places of the chosen elders and chief men of the kindred; and
atop the mound was flat and smooth save for a turf bench or seat that
went athwart it whereon ten men might sit.
All the wains save the banner-wains had been left behind at the Dayling
abode, nor was any beast there save the holy beasts who drew the banner-
wains and twenty white horses, that stood wreathed about with flowers
within the ring of warriors, and these were for the burnt offering to be
given to the Gods for a happy day of battle. Even the war-horses of the
host they must leave in the wood without the wood-lawn, and all men were
afoot who were there.
For this was the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark, and the holiest place of
the Markmen, and no beast, either neat, sheep, or horse might pasture
there, but was straightway slain and burned if he wandered there; nor
might any man eat therein save at the holy feasts when offerings were
made to the Gods.
So the Wolfings took their place there in the ring of men with the
Elkings on their right hand and the Beamings on their left. And in the
midst of the Wolfing array stood Thiodolf clad in the dwarf-wrought
hauberk: but his head was bare; for he had sworn over the Cup of Renown
that he would fight unhelmed throughout all that trouble, and would bear
no shield in any battle thereof however fierce the onset might be.
Short, and curling close to his head was his black hair, a little
grizzled, so that it looked like rings of hard dark iron: his forehead
was high and smooth, his lips full and red, his eyes steady and
wide-open, and all his face joyous with the thought of the fame of his
deeds, and the coming battle with a foeman whom the Markmen knew not yet.
He was tall and wide-shouldered, but so exceeding well fashioned of all
his limbs and body that he looked no huge man. He was a man well beloved
of women, and children would mostly run to him gladly and play with him.
A most fell warrior was he, whose deeds no man of the Mark could equal,
but blithe of speech even when he was sorrowful of mood, a man that knew
not bitterness of heart: and for all his exceeding might and valiancy, he
was proud and high to no man; so that the very thralls loved him.
He was not abounding in words in the field; nor did he use much the
custom of those days in reviling and defying with words the foe that was
to be smitten with swords.
There were those who had seen him in the field for the first time who
deemed him slack at the work: for he would not always press on with the
foremost, but would hold him a little aback, and while the battle was
young he forbore to smite, and would do nothing but help a kinsman who
was hard pressed, or succour the wounded. So that if men were dealing
with no very hard matter, and their hearts were high and overweening, he
would come home at whiles with unbloodied blade. But no man blamed him
save those who knew him not: for his intent was that the younger men
should win themselves fame, and so raise their courage, and become high-
hearted and stout.
But when the stour was hard, and the battle was broken, and the hearts of
men began to fail them, and doubt fell upon the Markmen, then was he
another man to see: wise, but swift and dangerous, rushing on as if shot
out by some mighty engine: heedful of all, on either side and in front;
running hither and thither as the fight failed and the fire of battle
faltered; his sword so swift and deadly that it was as if he wielded the
very lightening of the heavens: for with the sword it was ever his wont
to fight.
But it must be said that when the foemen turned their backs, and the
chase began, then Thiodolf would nowise withhold his might as in the
early battle, but ever led the chase, and smote on the right hand and on
the left, sparing none, and crying out to the men of the kindred not to
weary in their work, but to fulfil all the hours of their day.
For thuswise would he say and this was a word of his:
"Let us rest to-morrow, fellows, since to-day we have fought amain!
Let not these men we have smitten come aback on our hands again,
And say 'Ye Wolfing warriors, ye have done your work but ill,
Fall to now and do it again, like the craftsman who learneth his
skill.'"
Such then was Thiodolf, and ever was he the chosen leader of the Wolfings
and often the War-duke of the whole Folk.
By his side stood the other chosen leader, whose name was Heriulf; a man
well stricken in years, but very mighty and valiant; wise in war and well
renowned; of few words save in battle, and therein a singer of songs, a
laugher, a joyous man, a merry companion. He was a much bigger man than
Thiodolf; and indeed so huge was his stature, that he seemed to be of the
kindred of the Mountain Giants; and his bodily might went with his
stature, so that no one man might deal with him body to body. His face
was big; his cheek-bones high; his nose like an eagle's neb, his mouth
wide, his chin square and big; his eyes light-grey and fierce under
shaggy eyebrows: his hair white and long.
Such were his raiment and weapons, that he wore a coat of fence of dark
iron scales sewn on to horse-hide, and a dark iron helm fashioned above
his brow into the similitude of the Wolf's head with gaping jaws; and
this he had wrought for himself with his own hands, for he was a good
smith. A round buckler he bore and a huge twibill, which no man of the
kindred could well wield save himself; and it was done both blade and
shaft with knots and runes in gold; and he loved that twibill well, and
called it the Wolf's Sister.
There then stood Heriulf, looking no less than one of the forefathers of
the kindred come back again to the battle of the Wolfings.
He was well-beloved for his wondrous might, and he was no hard man,
though so fell a warrior, and though of few words, as aforesaid, was a
blithe companion to old and young. In numberless battles had he fought,
and men deemed it a wonder that Odin had not taken to him a man so much
after his own heart; and they said it was neighbourly done of the Father
of the Slain to forbear his company so long, and showed how well he loved
the Wolfing House.
For a good while yet came other bands of Markmen into the Thing-stead;
but at last there was an end of their coming. Then the ring of men
opened, and ten warriors of the Daylings made their way through it, and
one of them, the oldest, bore in his hand the War-horn of the Daylings;
for this kindred had charge of the Thing-stead, and of all appertaining
to it. So while his nine fellows stood round about the Speech-Hill, the
old warrior clomb up to the topmost of it, and blew a blast on the horn.
Thereon they who were sitting rose up, and they who were talking each to
each held their peace, and the whole ring drew nigher to the hill, so
that there was a clear space behind them 'twixt them and the wood, and a
space before them between them and the hill, wherein were those nine
warriors, and the horses for the burnt-offering, and the altar of the
Gods; and now were all well within ear-shot of a man speaking amidst the
silence in a clear voice.
But there were gathered of the Markmen to that place some four thousand
men, all chosen warriors and doughty men; and of the thralls and aliens
dwelling with them they were leading two thousand. But not all of the
freemen of the Upper-mark could be at the Thing; for needs must there be
some guard to the passes of the wood toward the south and the hills of
the herdsmen, whereas it was no wise impassable to a wisely led host: so
five hundred men, what of freemen, what of thralls, abode there to guard
the wild-wood; and these looked to have some helping from the hill-men.
Now came an ancient warrior into the space between the men and the wild-
wood holding in his hand a kindled torch; and first he faced due south by
the sun, then, turning, he slowly paced the whole circle going from east
to west, and so on till he had reached the place he started from: then he
dashed the torch to the ground and quenched the fire, and so went his
ways to his own company again.
Then the old Dayling warrior on the mound-top drew his sword, and waved
it flashing in the sun toward the four quarters of the heavens; and
thereafter blew again a blast on the War-horn. Then fell utter silence
on the whole assembly, and the wood was still around them, save here and
there the stamping of a war-horse or the sound of his tugging at the
woodland grass; for there was little resort of birds to the depths of the
thicket, and the summer morning was windless.
CHAPTER VIII--THE FOLK-MOTE OF THE MARKMEN
So the Dayling warrior lifted up his voice and said:
"O kindreds of the Markmen, hearken the words I say;
For no chancehap assembly is gathered here to-day.
The fire hath gone around us in the hands of our very kin,
And twice the horn hath sounded, and the Thing is hallowed in.
Will ye hear or forbear to hearken the tale there is to tell?
There are many mouths to tell it, and a many know it well.
And the tale is this, that the foemen against our kindreds fare
Who eat the meadows desert, and burn the desert bare."
Then sat he down on the turf seat; but there arose a murmur in the
assembly as of men eager to hearken; and without more ado came a man out
of a company of the Upper-mark, and clomb up to the top of the Speech-
Hill, and spoke in a loud voice:
"I am Bork, a man of the Geirings of the Upper-mark: two days ago I and
five others were in the wild-wood a-hunting, and we wended through the
thicket, and came into the land of the hill-folk; and after we had gone a
while we came to a long dale with a brook running through it, and yew-
trees scattered about it and a hazel copse at one end; and by the copse
was a band of men who had women and children with them, and a few neat,
and fewer horses; but sheep were feeding up and down the dale; and they
had made them booths of turf and boughs, and were making ready their
cooking fires, for it was evening. So when they saw us, they ran to
their arms, but we cried out to them in the tongue of the Goths and bade
them peace. Then they came up the bent to us and spake to us in the
Gothic tongue, albeit a little diversely from us; and when we had told
them what and whence we were, they were glad of us, and bade us to them,
and we went, and they entreated us kindly, and made us such cheer as they
might, and gave us mutton to eat, and we gave them venison of the wild-
wood which we had taken, and we abode with them there that night.
"But they told us that they were a house of the folk of the herdsmen, and
that there was war in the land, and that the people thereof were fleeing
before the cruelty of a host of warriors, men of a mighty folk, such as
the earth hath not heard of, who dwell in great cities far to the south;
and how that this host had crossed the mountains, and the Great Water
that runneth from them, and had fallen upon their kindred, and overcome
their fighting-men, and burned their dwellings, slain their elders, and
driven their neat and their sheep, yea, and their women and children in
no better wise than their neat and sheep.
"And they said that they had fled away thus far from their old
habitations, which were a long way to the south, and were now at point to
build them dwellings there in that Dale of the Hazels, and to trust to it
that these Welshmen, whom they called Romans, would not follow so far,
and that if they did, they might betake them to the wild-wood, and let
the thicket cover them, they being so nigh to it.
"Thus they told us; wherefore we sent back one of our fellowship, Birsti
of the Geirings, to tell the tale; and one of the herdsmen folk went with
him, but we ourselves went onward to hear more of these Romans; for the
folk when we asked them, said that they had been in battle against them,
but had fled away for fear of their rumour only. Therefore we went on,
and a young man of this kindred, who named themselves the Hrutings of the
Fell-folk, went along with us. But the others were sore afeard, for all
they had weapons.
"So as we went up the land we found they had told us the very sooth, and
we met divers Houses, and bands, and broken men, who were fleeing from
this trouble, and many of them poor and in misery, having lost their
flocks and herds as well as their roofs; and this last be but little loss
to them, as their dwellings are but poor, and for the most part they have
no tillage. Now of these men, we met not a few who had been in battle
with the Roman host, and much they told us of their might not to be dealt
with, and their mishandling of those whom they took, both men and women;
and at the last we heard true tidings how they had raised them a garth,
and made a stronghold in the midst of the land, as men who meant abiding
there, so that neither might the winter drive them aback, and that they
might be succoured by their people on the other side of the Great River;
to which end they have made other garths, though not so great, on the
road to that water, and all these well and wisely warded by tried men.
For as to the Folks on the other side of the Water, all these lie under
their hand already, what by fraud what by force, and their warriors go
with them to the battle and help them; of whom we met bands now and
again, and fought with them, and took men of them, who told us all this
and much more, over long to tell of here."
He paused and turned about to look on the mighty assembly, and his ears
drank in the long murmur that followed his speaking, and when it had died
out he spake again, but in rhyme:
"Lo thus much of my tidings! But this too it behoveth to tell,
That these masterful men of the cities of the Markmen know full well:
And they wot of the well-grassed meadows, and the acres of the Mark,
And our life amidst of the wild-wood like a candle in the dark;
And they know of our young men's valour and our women's loveliness,
And our tree would they spoil with destruction if its fruit they may
never possess.
For their lust is without a limit, and nought may satiate
Their ravening maw; and their hunger if ye check it turneth to hate,
And the blood-fever burns in their bosoms, and torment and anguish and
woe
O'er the wide field ploughed by the sword-blade for the coming years
they sow;
And ruth is a thing forgotten and all hopes they trample down;
And whatso thing is steadfast, whatso of good renown,
Whatso is fair and lovely, whatso is ancient sooth
In the bloody marl shall they mingle as they laugh for lack of ruth.
Lo the curse of the world cometh hither; for the men that we took in
the land
Said thus, that their host is gathering with many an ordered band
To fall on the wild-wood passes and flood the lovely Mark,
As the river over the meadows upriseth in the dark.
Look to it, O ye kindred! availeth now no word
But the voice of the clashing of iron, and the sword-blade on the
sword."
Therewith he made an end, and deeper and longer was the murmur of the
host of freemen, amidst which Bork gat him down from the Speech-Hill, his
weapons clattering about him, and mingled with the men of his kindred.
Then came forth a man of the kin of the Shieldings of the Upper-mark, and
clomb the mound; and he spake in rhyme from beginning to end; for he was
a minstrel of renown:
"Lo I am a man of the Shieldings and Geirmund is my name;
A half-moon back from the wild-wood out into the hills I came,
And I went alone in my war-gear; for we have affinity
With the Hundings of the Fell-folk, and with them I fain would be;
For I loved a maid of their kindred. Now their dwelling was not far
From the outermost bounds of the Fell-folk, and bold in the battle
they are,
And have met a many people, and held their own abode.
Gay then was the heart within me, as over the hills I rode
And thought of the mirth of to-morrow and the sweet-mouthed Hunding
maid
And their old men wise and merry and their young men unafraid,
And the hall-glee of the Hundings and the healths o'er the guesting
cup.
But as I rode the valley, I saw a smoke go up
O'er the crest of the last of the grass-hills 'twixt me and the
Hunding roof,
And that smoke was black and heavy: so a while I bided aloof,
And drew my girths the tighter, and looked to the arms I bore
And handled my spear for the casting; for my heart misgave me sore,
For nought was that pillar of smoke like the guest-fain cooking-fire.
I lingered in thought for a minute, then turned me to ride up higher,
And as a man most wary up over the bent I rode,
And nigh hid peered o'er the hill-crest adown on the Hunding abode;
And forsooth 'twas the fire wavering all o'er the roof of old,
And all in the garth and about it lay the bodies of the bold;
And bound to a rope amidmost were the women fair and young,
And youths and little children, like the fish on a withy strung
As they lie on the grass for the angler before the beginning of night.
Then the rush of the wrath within me for a while nigh blinded my
sight;
Yet about the cowering war-thralls, short dark-faced men I saw,
Men clad in iron armour, this way and that way draw,
As warriors after the battle are ever wont to do.
Then I knew them for the foemen and their deeds to be I knew,
And I gathered the reins together to ride down the hill amain,
To die with a good stroke stricken and slay ere I was slain.
When lo, on the bent before me rose the head of a brown-faced man,
Well helmed and iron-shielded, who some Welsh speech began
And a short sword brandished against me; then my sight cleared and I
saw
Five others armed in likewise up hill and toward me draw,
And I shook the spear and sped it and clattering on his shield
He fell and rolled o'er smitten toward the garth and the Fell-folk's
field.
"But my heart changed with his falling and the speeding of my stroke,
And I turned my horse; for within me the love of life awoke,
And I spurred, nor heeded the hill-side, but o'er rough and smooth I
rode
Till I heard no chase behind me; then I drew rein and abode.
And down in a dell was I gotten with a thorn-brake in its throat,
And heard but the plover's whistle and the blackbird's broken note
'Mid the thorns; when lo! from a thorn-twig away the blackbird swept,
And out from the brake and towards me a naked man there crept,
And straight I rode up towards him, and knew his face for one
I had seen in the hall of the Hundings ere its happy days were done.
I asked him his tale, but he bade me forthright to bear him away;
So I took him up behind me, and we rode till late in the day,
Toward the cover of the wild-wood, and as swiftly as we might.
But when yet aloof was the thicket and it now was moonless night,
We stayed perforce for a little, and he told me all the tale:
How the aliens came against them, and they fought without avail
Till the Roof o'er their heads was burning and they burst forth on the
foe,
And were hewn down there together; nor yet was the slaughter slow.
But some they saved for thralldom, yea, e'en of the fighting men,
Or to quell them with pains; so they stripped them; and this man
espying just then
Some chance, I mind not whatwise, from the garth fled out and away.
"Now many a thing noteworthy of these aliens did he say,
But this I bid you hearken, lest I wear the time for nought,
That still upon the Markmen and the Mark they set their thought;
For they questioned this man and others through a go-between in words
Of us, and our lands and our chattels, and the number of our swords;
Of the way and the wild-wood passes and the winter and his ways.
Now look to see them shortly; for worn are fifteen days
Since in the garth of the Hundings I saw them dight for war,
And a hardy folk and ready and a swift-foot host they are."
Therewith Geirmund went down clattering from the Hill and stood with his
company. But a man came forth from the other side of the ring, and clomb
the Hill: he was a red-haired man, rather big, clad in a skin coat, and
bearing a bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows at his back, and a
little axe hung by his side. He said:
"I dwell in the House of the Hrossings of the Mid-mark, and I am now made
a man of the kindred: howbeit I was not born into it; for I am the son of
a fair and mighty woman of a folk of the Kymry, who was taken in war
while she went big with me; I am called Fox the Red.
"These Romans have I seen, and have not died: so hearken! for my tale
shall be short for what there is in it.
"I am, as many know, a hunter of Mirkwood, and I know all its ways and
the passes through the thicket somewhat better than most.
"A moon ago I fared afoot from Mid-mark through Upper-mark into the
thicket of the south, and through it into the heath country; and I went
over a neck and came in the early dawn into a little dale when somewhat
of mist still hung over it. At the dale's end I saw a man lying asleep
on the grass under a quicken tree, and his shield and sword hanging over
his head to a bough thereof, and his horse feeding hoppled higher up the
dale.
"I crept up softly to him with a shaft nocked on the string, but when I
drew near I saw him to be of the sons of the Goths. So I doubted
nothing, but laid down my bow, and stood upright, and went to him and
roused him, and he leapt up, and was wroth.
"I said to him, 'Wilt thou be wroth with a brother of the kindred meeting
him in unpeopled parts?'
"But he reached out for his weapons; but ere he could handle them I ran
in on him so that he gat not his sword, and had scant time to smite at me
with a knife which he drew from his waist.
"I gave way before him for he was a very big man, and he rushed past me,
and I dealt him a blow on the side of the head with my little axe which
is called the War-babe, and gave him a great wound: and he fell on the
grass, and as it happened that was his bane.
"I was sorry that I had slain him, since he was a man of the Goths:
albeit otherwise he had slain me, for he was very wroth and dazed with
slumber.
"He died not for a while; and he bade me fetch him water; and there was a
well hard by on the other side of the tree; so I fetched it him in a
great shell that I carry, and he drank. I would have sung the
blood-staunching song over him, for I know it well. But he said, 'It
availeth nought: I have enough: what man art thou?'
"I said, 'I am a fosterling of the Hrossings, and my mother was taken in
war: my name is Fox.'
"Said he; 'O Fox, I have my due at thy hands, for I am a Markman of the
Elkings, but a guest of the Burgundians beyond the Great River; and the
Romans are their masters and they do their bidding: even so did I who was
but their guest: and I a Markman to fight against the Markmen, and all
for fear and for gold! And thou an alien-born hast slain their traitor
and their dastard! This is my due. Give me to drink again.'
"So did I; and he said; 'Wilt thou do an errand for me to thine own
house?' 'Yea,' said I.
"Said he, 'I am a messenger to the garth of the Romans, that I may tell
the road to the Mark, and lead them through the thicket; and other guides
are coming after me: but not yet for three days or four. So till they
come there will be no man in the Roman garth to know thee that thou art
not even I myself. If thou art doughty, strip me when I am dead and do
my raiment on thee, and take this ring from my neck, for that is my
token, and when they ask thee for a word say, "_No limit_"; for that is
the token-word. Go south-east over the dales keeping Broadshield-fell
square with thy right hand, and let thy wisdom, O Fox, lead thee to the
Garth of the Romans, and so back to thy kindred with all tidings thou
hast gathered--for indeed they come--a many of them. Give me to drink.'
"So he drank again, and said, 'The bearer of this token is called
Hrosstyr of the River Goths. He hath that name among dastards. Thou
shalt lay a turf upon my head. Let my death pay for my life.'
"Therewith he fell back and died. So I did as he bade me and took his
gear, worth six kine, and did it on me; I laid turf upon him in that
dale, and hid my bow and my gear in a blackthorn brake hard by, and then
took his horse and rode away.
"Day and night I rode till I came to the garth of the Romans; there I
gave myself up to their watchers, and they brought me to their Duke, a
grim man and hard. He said in a terrible voice, 'Thy name?' I said,
'Hrosstyr of the River Goths.' He said, 'What limit?' I answered, '_No
limit_.' 'The token!' said he, and held out his hand. I gave him the
ring. 'Thou art the man,' said he.
"I thought in my heart, 'thou liest, lord,' and my heart danced for joy.
"Then he fell to asking me questions a many, and I answered every one
glibly enough, and told him what I would, but no word of truth save for
his hurt, and my soul laughed within me at my lies; thought I, the
others, the traitors, shall come, and they shall tell him the truth, and
he will not trow it, or at the worst he will doubt them. But me he
doubted nothing, else had he called in the tormentors to have the truth
of me by pains; as I well saw afterwards, when they questioned with
torments a man and a woman of the hill-folk whom they had brought in
captive.
"I went from him and went all about that garth espying everything,
fearing nothing; albeit there were divers woful captives of the Goths,
who cursed me for a dastard, when they saw by my attire that I was of
their blood.
"I abode there three days, and learned all that I might of the garth and
the host of them, and the fourth day in the morning I went out as if to
hunt, and none hindered me, for they doubted me not.
"So I came my ways home to the Upper-mark, and was guested with the
Geirings. Will ye that I tell you somewhat of the ways of these Romans
of the garth? The time presses, and my tale runneth longer than I would.
What will ye?"
Then there arose a murmur, "Tell all, tell all." "Nay," said the Fox,
"All I may not tell; so much did I behold there during the three days'
stay; but this much it behoveth you to know: that these men have no other
thought save to win the Mark and waste it, and slay the fighting men and
the old carles, and enthrall such as they will, that is, all that be fair
and young, and they long sorely for our women either to have or to sell.
"As for their garth, it is strongly walled about with a dyke newly dug;
on the top thereof are they building a wall made of clay, and burned like
pots into ashlar stones hard and red, and these are laid in lime.
"It is now the toil of the thralls of our blood whom they have taken,
both men and women, to dig that clay and to work it, and bear it to
kilns, and to have for reward scant meat and many stripes. For it is a
grim folk, that laugheth to see others weep.
"Their men-at-arms are well dight and for the most part in one way: they
are helmed with iron, and have iron on their breasts and reins, and bear
long shields that cover them to the knees. They are girt with a sax and
have a heavy casting-spear. They are dark-skinned and ugly of aspect,
surly and of few words: they drink little, and eat not much.
"They have captains of tens and of hundreds over them, and that war-duke
over all; he goeth to and fro with gold on his head and his breast, and
commonly hath a cloak cast over him of the colour of the crane's-bill
blossom.
"They have an altar in the midst of their burg, and thereon they
sacrifice to their God, who is none other than their banner of war, which
is an image of the ravening eagle with outspread wings; but yet another
God they have, and look you! it is a wolf, as if they were of the kin of
our brethren; a she-wolf and two man-children at her dugs; wonderful is
this.
"I tell you that they are grim; and know it by this token: those captains
of tens, and of hundreds, spare not to smite the warriors with staves
even before all men, when all goeth not as they would; and yet, though
they be free men, and mighty warriors, they endure it and smite not in
turn. They are a most evil folk.
"As to their numbers, they of the burg are hard on three thousand footmen
of the best; and of horsemen five hundred, nowise good; and of bowmen and
slingers six hundred or more: their bows weak; their slingers cunning
beyond measure. And the talk is that when they come upon us they shall
have with them some five hundred warriors of the Over River Goths, and
others of their own folk."
Then he said:
"O men of the Mark, will ye meet them in the meadows and the field,
Or will ye flee before them and have the wood for a shield?
Or will ye wend to their war-burg with weapons cast away,
With your women and your children, a peace of them to pray?
So doing, not all shall perish; but most shall long to die
Ere in the garths of the Southland two moons have loitered by."
Then rose the rumour loud and angry mingled with the rattle of swords and
the clash of spears on shields; but Fox said:
"Needs must ye follow one of these three ways. Nay, what say I? there
are but two ways and not three; for if ye flee they shall follow you to
the confines of the earth. Either these Welsh shall take all, and our
lives to boot, or we shall hold to all that is ours, and live merrily.
The sword doometh; and in three days it may be the courts shall be
hallowed: small is the space between us."
Therewith he also got him down from the Hill, and joined his own house:
and men said that he had spoken well and wisely. But there arose a noise
of men talking together on these tidings; and amidst it an old warrior of
the Nether-mark strode forth and up to the Hill-top. Gaunt and stark he
was to look on; and all men knew him and he was well-beloved, so all held
their peace as he said:
"I am Otter of the Laxings: now needeth but few words till the War-duke
is chosen, and we get ready to wend our ways in arms. Here have ye heard
three good men and true tell of our foes, and this last, Fox the Red,
hath seen them and hath more to tell when we are on the way; nor is the
way hard to find. It were scarce well to fall upon these men in their
garth and war-burg; for hard is a wall to slay. Better it were to meet
them in the Wild-wood, which may well be a friend to us and a wall, but
to them a net. O Agni of the Daylings, thou warder of the Thing-stead,
bid men choose a War-duke if none gainsay it."
And without more words he clattered down the Hill, and went and stood
with the Laxing band. But the old Dayling arose and blew the horn, and
there was at once a great silence, amidst which he said:
"Children of Slains-father, doth the Folk go to the war?"
There was no voice but shouted "yea," and the white swords sprang aloft,
and the westering sun swept along a half of them as they tossed to and
fro, and the others showed dead-white and fireless against the dark wood.
Then again spake Agni:
"Will ye choose the War-duke now and once, or shall it be in a while,
after others have spoken?"
And the voice of the Folk went up, "Choose! Choose!"
Said Agni: "Sayeth any aught against it?" But no voice of a gainsayer
was heard, and Agni said:
"Children of Tyr, what man will ye have for a leader and a duke of war?"
Then a great shout sprang up from amidst the swords: "We will have
Thiodolf; Thiodolf the Wolfing!"
Said Agni: "I hear no other name; are ye of one mind? hath any aught to
say against it? If that be so, let him speak now, and not forbear to
follow in the wheatfield of the spears. Speak, ye that will not follow
Thiodolf!"
No voice gainsaid him: then said the Dayling: "Come forth thou War-duke
of the Markmen! take up the gold ring from the horns of the altar, set it
on thine arm and come up hither!"
Then came forth Thiodolf into the sun, and took up the gold ring from
where it lay, and did it on his arm. And this was the ring of the leader
of the folk whenso one should be chosen: it was ancient and daintily
wrought, but not very heavy: so ancient it was that men said it had been
wrought by the dwarfs.
So Thiodolf went up on to the hill, and all men cried out on him for joy,
for they knew his wisdom in war. Many wondered to see him unhelmed, but
they had a deeming that he must have made oath to the Gods thereof and
their hearts were glad of it. They took note of the dwarf-wrought
hauberk, and even from a good way off they could see what a treasure of
smith's work it was, and they deemed it like enough that spells had been
sung over it to make it sure against point and edge: for they knew that
Thiodolf was well beloved of the Gods.
But when Thiodolf was on the Hill of Speech, he said:
"Men of the kindreds, I am your War-duke to-day; but it is oftenest the
custom when ye go to war to choose you two dukes, and I would it were so
now. No child's play is the work that lies before us; and if one leader
chance to fall let there be another to take his place without stop or
stay. Thou Agni of the Daylings, bid the Folk choose them another duke
if so they will."
Said Agni: "Good is this which our War-duke hath spoken; say then, men of
the Mark, who shall stand with Thiodolf to lead you against the aliens?"
Then was there a noise and a crying of names, and more than two names
seemed to be cried out; but by far the greater part named either Otter of
the Laxings, or Heriulf of the Wolfings. True it is that Otter was a
very wise warrior, and well known to all the men of the Mark; yet so dear
was Heriulf to them, that none would have named Otter had it not been
mostly their custom not to choose both War-dukes from one House.
Now spake Agni: "Children of Tyr, I hear you name more than one name: now
let each man cry out clearly the name he nameth."
So the Folk cried the names once more, but this time it was clear that
none was named save Otter and Heriulf; so the Dayling was at point to
speak again, but or ever a word left his lips, Heriulf the mighty, the
ancient of days, stood forth: and when men saw that he would take up the
word there was a great silence. So he spake:
"Hearken, children! I am old and war-wise; but my wisdom is the wisdom
of the sword of the mighty warrior, that knoweth which way it should
wend, and hath no thought of turning back till it lieth broken in the
field. Such wisdom is good against Folks that we have met heretofore; as
when we have fought with the Huns, who would sweep us away from the face
of the earth, or with the Franks or the Burgundians, who would quell us
into being something worser than they be. But here is a new foe, and new
wisdom, and that right shifty, do we need to meet them. One wise duke
have ye gotten, Thiodolf to wit; and he is young beside me and beside
Otter of the Laxings. And now if ye must needs have an older man to
stand beside him, (and that is not ill) take ye Otter; for old though his
body be, the thought within him is keen and supple like the best of Welsh-
wrought blades, and it liveth in the days that now are: whereas for me,
meseemeth, my thoughts are in the days bygone. Yet look to it, that I
shall not fail to lead as the sword of the valiant leadeth, or the shaft
shot by the cunning archer. Choose ye Otter; I have spoken over long."
Then spoke Agni the Dayling, and laughed withal: "One man of the Folk
hath spoken for Otter and against Heriulf--now let others speak if they
will!"
So the cry came forth, "Otter let it be, we will have Otter!"
"Speaketh any against Otter?" said Agni. But there was no voice raised
against him.
Then Agni said: "Come forth, Otter of the Laxings, and hold the ring with
Thiodolf."
Then Otter went up on to the hill and stood by Thiodolf, and they held
the ring together; and then each thrust his hand and arm through the ring
and clasped hands together, and stood thus awhile, and all the Folk
shouted together.
Then spake Agni: "Now shall we hew the horses and give the gifts to the
Gods."
Therewith he and the two War-dukes came down from the hill; and stood
before the altar; and the nine warriors of the Daylings stood forth with
axes to hew the horses and with copper bowls wherein to catch the blood
of them, and each hewed down his horse to the Gods, but the two War-dukes
slew the tenth and fairest: and the blood was caught in the bowls, and
Agni took a sprinkler and went round about the ring of men, and cast the
blood of the Gods'-gifts over the Folk, as was the custom of those days.
Then they cut up the carcases and burned on the altar the share of the
Gods, and Agni and the War-dukes tasted thereof, and the rest they bore
off to the Daylings' abode for the feast to be holden that night.
Then Otter and Thiodolf spake apart together for awhile, and presently
went up again on to the Speech-Hill, and Thiodolf said:
"O kindreds of the Markmen; to-morrow with the day
We shall wend up Mirkwood-water to bar our foes the way;
And there shall we make our wain-burg on the edges of the wood,
Where in the days past over at last the aliens stood,
The Slaughter Tofts ye call it. There tidings shall we get
If the curse of the world is awakened, and the serpent crawleth yet
Amidst the Mirkwood thicket; and when the sooth we know,
Then bearing battle with us through the thicket shall we go,
The ancient Wood-wolf's children, and the People of the Shield,
And the Spear-kin and the Horse-kin, while the others keep the field
About the warded wain-burg; for not many need we there
Where amidst of the thickets' tangle and the woodland net they fare,
And the hearts of the aliens falter and they curse the fight ne'er
done,
And wonder who is fighting and which way is the sun."
Thus he spoke; then Agni took up the war-horn again, and blew a blast,
and then he cried out:
"Now sunder we the Folk-mote! and the feast is for to-night,
And to-morrow the Wayfaring; But unnamed is the day of the fight;
O warriors, look ye to it that not long we need abide
'Twixt the hour of the word we have spoken, and our fair-fame's
blooming tide!
For then 'midst the toil and the turmoil shall we sow the seeds of
peace,
And the Kindreds' long endurance, and the Goth-folk's great increase."
Then arose the last great shout, and soberly and in due order, kindred by
kindred, they turned and departed from the Thing-stead and went their way
through the wood to the abode of the Daylings.
CHAPTER IX--THE ANCIENT MAN OF THE DAYLINGS
There still hung the more part of the stay-at-homes round about the Roof.
But on the plain beneath the tofts were all the wains of the host drawn
up round about a square like the streets about a market-place; all these
now had their tilts rigged over them, some white, some black, some red,
some tawny of hue; and some, which were of the Beamings, green like the
leafy tree.
The warriors of the host went down into this wain-town, which they had
not fenced in any way, since they in no wise looked for any onset there;
and there were their thralls dighting the feast for them, and a many of
the Dayling kindred, both men and women, went with them; but some men did
the Daylings bring into their Roof, for there was room for a good many
besides their own folk. So they went over the Bridge of turf into the
garth and into the Great Roof of the Daylings; and amongst these were the
two War-dukes.
So when they came to the dais it was as fair all round about there as
might well be; and there sat elders and ancient warriors to welcome the
guests; and among them was the old carle who had sat on the edge of the
burg to watch the faring of the host, and had shuddered back at the sight
of the Wolfing Banner.
And when the old carle saw the guests, he fixed his eyes on Thiodolf, and
presently came up and stood before him; and Thiodolf looked on the old
man, and greeted him kindly and smiled on him; but the carle spake not
till he had looked on him a while; and at last he fell a-trembling, and
reached his hands out to Thiodolf's bare head, and handled his curls and
caressed them, as a mother does with her son, even if he be a grizzled-
haired man, when there is none by: and at last he said:
"How dear is the head of the mighty, and the apple of the tree
That blooms with the life of the people which is and yet shall be!
It is helmed with ancient wisdom, and the long remembered thought,
That liveth when dead is the iron, and its very rust but nought.
Ah! were I but young as aforetime, I would fare to the battle-stead
And stand amidst of the spear-hail for the praise of the hand and the
head!"
Then his hands left Thiodolf's head, and strayed down to his shoulders
and his breast, and he felt the cold rings of the hauberk, and let his
hands fall down to his side again; and the tears gushed out of his old
eyes and again he spake:
"O house of the heart of the mighty, O breast of the battle-lord
Why art thou coldly hidden from the flickering flame of the sword?
I know thee not, nor see thee; thou art as the fells afar
Where the Fathers have their dwelling, and the halls of Godhome are:
The wind blows wild betwixt us, and the cloud-rack flies along,
And high aloft enfoldeth the dwelling of the strong;
They are, as of old they have been, but their hearths flame not for
me;
And the kindness of their feast-halls mine eyes shall never see."
Thiodolf's lips still smiled on the old man, but a shadow had come over
his eyes and his brow; and the chief of the Daylings and their mighty
guests stood by listening intently with the knit brows of anxious men;
nor did any speak till the ancient man again betook him to words:
"I came to the house of the foeman when hunger made me a fool;
And the foeman said, 'Thou art weary, lo, set thy foot on the stool;'
And I stretched out my feet,--and was shackled: and he spake with a
dastard's smile,
'O guest, thine hands are heavy; now rest them for a while!'
So I stretched out my hands, and the hand-gyves lay cold on either
wrist:
And the wood of the wolf had been better than that feast-hall, had I
wist
That this was the ancient pit-fall, and the long expected trap,
And that now for my heart's desire I had sold the world's goodhap."
Therewith the ancient man turned slowly away from Thiodolf, and departed
sadly to his own place. Thiodolf changed countenance but little, albeit
those about him looked strangely on him, as though if they durst they
would ask him what these words might be, and if he from his hidden
knowledge might fit a meaning to them. For to many there was a word of
warning in them, and to some an evil omen of the days soon to be; and
scarce anyone heard those words but he had a misgiving in his heart, for
the ancient man was known to be foreseeing, and wild and strange his
words seemed to them.
But Agni would make light of it, and he said: "Asmund the Old is of good
will, and wise he is; but he hath great longings for the deeds of men,
when he hath tidings of battle; for a great warrior and a red-hand hewer
he hath been in times past; he loves the Kindred, and deems it ill if he
may not fare afield with them; for the thought of dying in the straw is
hateful to him."
"Yea," said another, "and moreover he hath seen sons whom he loved slain
in battle; and when he seeth a warrior in his prime he becometh dear to
him, and he feareth for him."
"Yet," said a third, "Asmund is foreseeing; and may be, Thiodolf, thou
wilt wot of the drift of these words, and tell us thereof."
But Thiodolf spake nought of the matter, though in his heart he pondered
it.
So the guests were led to table, and the feast began, within the hall and
without it, and wide about the plain; and the Dayling maidens went in
bands trimly decked out throughout all the host and served the warriors
with meat and drink, and sang the overword to their lays, and smote the
harp, and drew the bow over the fiddle till it laughed and wailed and
chuckled, and were blithe and merry with all, and great was the glee on
the eve of battle. And if Thiodolf's heart were overcast, his face
showed it not, but he passed from hall to wain-burg and from wain-burg to
hall again blithe and joyous with all men. And thereby he raised the
hearts of men, and they deemed it good that they had gotten such a War-
duke, meet to uphold all hearts of men both at the feast and in the fray.
CHAPTER X--THAT CARLINE COMETH TO THE ROOF OF THE WOLFINGS
Now it was three days after this that the women were gathering to the
Women's-Chamber of the Roof of the Wolfings a little before the afternoon
changes into evening. The hearts of most were somewhat heavy, for the
doubt wherewith they had watched the departure of the fighting-men still
hung about them; nor had they any tidings from the host (nor was it like
that they should have). And as they were somewhat down-hearted, so it
seemed by the aspect of all things that afternoon. It was not yet the
evening, as is aforesaid, but the day was worn and worsened, and all
things looked weary. The sky was a little clouded, but not much; yet was
it murky down in the south-east, and there was a threat of storm in it,
and in the air close round each man's head, and in the very waving of the
leafy boughs. There was by this time little doing in field and fold (for
the kine were milked), and the women were coming up from the acres and
the meadow and over the open ground anigh the Roof; there was the grass
worn and dusty, and the women that trod it, their feet were tanned and
worn, and dusty also; skin-dry and weary they looked, with the sweat
dried upon them; their girt-up gowns grey and lightless, their
half-unbound hair blowing about them in the dry wind, which had in it no
morning freshness, and no evening coolness.
It was a time when toil was well-nigh done, but had left its aching
behind it; a time for folk to sleep and forget for a little while, till
the low sun should make it evening, and make all things fair with his
level rays; no time for anxious thoughts concerning deeds doing, wherein
the anxious ones could do nought to help. Yet such thoughts those stay-
at-homes needs must have in the hour of their toil scarce over, their
rest and mirth not begun.
Slowly one by one the women went in by the Women's-door, and the Hall-Sun
sat on a stone hard by, and watched them as they passed; and she looked
keenly at all persons and all things. She had been working in the acres,
and her hand was yet on the hoe she had been using, and but for her face
her body was as of one resting after toil: her dark blue gown was
ungirded, her dark hair loose and floating, the flowers that had wreathed
it, now faded, lying strewn upon the grass before her: her feet bare for
coolness' sake, her left hand lying loose and open upon her knee.
Yet though her body otherwise looked thus listless, in her face was no
listlessness, nor rest: her eyes were alert and clear, shining like two
stars in the heavens of dawn-tide; her lips were set close, her brow
knit, as of one striving to shape thoughts hard to understand into words
that all might understand.
So she sat noting all things, as woman by woman went past her into the
hall, till at last she slowly rose to her feet; for there came two young
women leading between them that same old carline with whom she had talked
on the Hill-of-Speech. She looked on the carline steadfastly, but gave
no token of knowing her; but the ancient woman spoke when she came near
to the Hall-Sun, and old as her semblance was, yet did her speech sound
sweet to the Hall-Sun, and indeed to all those that heard it and she
said:
"May we be here to-night, O Hall-Sun, thou lovely Seeress of the mighty
Wolfings? may a wandering woman sit amongst you and eat the meat of the
Wolfings?"
Then spake the Hall-Sun in a sweet measured voice: "Surely mother: all
men who bring peace with them are welcome guests to the Wolfings: nor
will any ask thine errand, but we will let thy tidings flow from thee as
thou wilt. This is the custom of the kindred, and no word of mine own; I
speak to thee because thou hast spoken to me, but I have no authority
here, being myself but an alien. Albeit I serve the House of the
Wolfings, and I love it as the hound loveth his master who feedeth him,
and his master's children who play with him. Enter, mother, and be glad
of heart, and put away care from thee."
Then the old woman drew nigher to her and sat down in the dust at her
feet, for she was now sitting down again, and took her hand and kissed it
and fondled it, and seemed loth to leave handling the beauty of the Hall-
Sun; but she looked kindly on the carline, and smiled on her, and leaned
down to her, and kissed her mouth, and said:
"Damsels, take care of this poor woman, and make her good cheer; for she
is wise of wit, and a friend of the Wolfings; and I have seen her before,
and spoken with her; and she loveth us. But as for me I must needs be
alone in the meads for a while; and it may be that when I come to you
again, I shall have a word to tell you."
Now indeed it was in a manner true that the Hall-Sun had no authority in
the Wolfing House; yet was she so well beloved for her wisdom and beauty
and her sweet speech, that all hastened to do her will in small matters
and in great, and now as they looked at her after the old woman had
caressed her, it seemed to them that her fairness grew under their eyes,
and that they had never seen her so fair; and the sight of her seemed so
good to them, that the outworn day and its weariness changed to them, and
it grew as pleasant as the first hours of the sunlight, when men arise
happy from their rest, and look on the day that lieth hopeful before them
with all its deeds to be.
So they grew merry, and they led the carline into the Hall with them, and
set her down in the Women's-Chamber, and washed her feet, and gave her
meat and drink, and bade her rest and think of nothing troublous, and in
all wise made her good cheer; and she was merry with them, and praised
their fairness and their deftness, and asked them many questions about
their weaving and spinning and carding; (howbeit the looms were idle as
then because it was midsummer, and the men gone to the war). And this
they deemed strange, as it seemed to them that all women should know of
such things; but they thought it was a token that she came from far away.
But afterwards she sat among them, and told them pleasant tales of past
times and far countries, and was blithe to them and they to her and the
time wore on toward nightfall in the Women's-Chamber.
CHAPTER XI--THE HALL-SUN SPEAKETH
But for the Hall-Sun; she sat long on that stone by the Women's-door; but
when the evening was now come, she arose and went down through the
cornfields and into the meadow, and wandered away as her feet took her.
Night was falling by then she reached that pool of Mirkwood-water, whose
eddies she knew so well. There she let the water cover her in the deep
stream, and she floated down and sported with the ripples where the river
left that deep to race over the shallows; and the moon was casting
shadows by then she came up the bank again by the shallow end bearing in
her arms a bundle of the blue-flowering mouse-ear. Then she clad herself
at once, and went straight as one with a set purpose toward the Great
Roof, and entered by the Man's-door; and there were few men within and
they but old and heavy with the burden of years and the coming of night-
tide; but they wondered and looked to each other and nodded their heads
as she passed them by, as men who would say, There is something toward.
So she went to her sleeping-place, and did on fresh raiment, and came
forth presently clad in white and shod with gold and having her hair
wreathed about with the herb of wonder, the blue-flowering mouse-ear of
Mirkwood-water. Thus she passed through the Hall, and those elders were
stirred in their hearts when they beheld her beauty. But she opened the
door of the Women's-Chamber, and stood on the threshold; and lo, there
sat the carline amidst a ring of the Wolfing women, and she telling them
tales of old time such as they had not yet heard; and her eyes were
glittering, and the sweet words were flowing from her mouth; but she sat
straight up like a young woman; and at whiles it seemed to those who
hearkened, that she was no old and outworn woman, but fair and strong,
and of much avail. But when she heard the Hall-Sun she turned and saw
her on the threshold, and her speech fell suddenly, and all that might
and briskness faded from her, and she fixed her eyes on the Hall-Sun and
looked wistfully and anxiously on her.
Then spake the Hall-Sun standing in the doorway:
"Hear ye a matter, maidens, and ye Wolfing women all,
And thou alien guest of the Wolfings! But come ye up the hall,
That the ancient men may hearken: for methinks I have a word
Of the battle of the Kindreds, and the harvest of the sword."
Then all arose up with great joy, for they knew that the tidings were
good, when they looked on the face of the Hall-Sun and beheld the pride
of her beauty unmarred by doubt or pain.
She led them forth to the dais, and there were the sick and the elders
gathered and some ancient men of the thralls: so she stepped lightly up
to her place, and stood under her namesake, the wondrous lamp of ancient
days. And thus she spake:
"On my soul there lies no burden, and no tangle of the fight
In plain or dale or wild-wood enmeshes now my sight.
I see the Markmen's wain-burg, and I see their warriors go
As men who wait for battle and the coming of the foe.
And they pass 'twixt the wood and the wain-burg within earshot of the
horn,
But over the windy meadows no sound thereof is borne,
And all is well amongst them. To the burg I draw anigh
And I see all battle-banners in the breeze of morning fly,
But no Wolfings round their banner and no warrior of the Shield,
No Geiring and no Hrossing in the burg or on the field."
She held her peace for a little while, and no one dared to speak; then
she lifted up her head and spake:
"Now I go by the lip of the wild-wood and a sound withal I hear,
As of men in the paths of the thicket, and a many drawing anear.
Then, muffled yet by the tree-boles, I hear the Shielding song,
And warriors blithe and merry with the battle of the strong.
Give back a little, Markmen, make way for men to pass
To your ordered battle-dwelling o'er the trodden meadow-grass,
For alive with men is the wild-wood and shineth with the steel,
And hath a voice most merry to tell of the Kindreds' weal,
'Twixt each tree a warrior standeth come back from the spear-strewn
way,
And forth they come from the wild-wood and a little band are they."
Then again was she silent; but her head sank not, as of one thinking, as
before it did, but she looked straight forward with bright eyes and
smiling, as she said:
"Lo, now the guests they are bringing that ye have not seen before;
Yet guests but ill-entreated; for they lack their shields of war,
No spear in the hand they carry and with no sax are girt.
Lo, these are the dreaded foemen, these once so strong to hurt;
The men that all folk fled from, the swift to drive the spoil,
The men that fashioned nothing but the trap to make men toil.
They drew the sword in the cities, they came and struck the stroke
And smote the shield of the Markmen, and point and edge they broke.
They drew the sword in the war-garth, they swore to bring aback
God's gifts from the Markmen houses where the tables never lack.
O Markmen, take the God-gifts that came on their own feet
O'er the hills through the Mirkwood thicket the Stone of Tyr to meet!"
Again she stayed her song, which had been loud and joyous, and they who
heard her knew that the Kindreds had gained the day, and whilst the Hall-
Sun was silent they fell to talking of this fair day of battle and the
taking of captives. But presently she spread out her hands again and
they held their peace, and she said:
"I see, O Wolfing women, and many a thing I see,
But not all things, O elders, this eve shall ye learn of me,
For another mouth there cometh: the thicket I behold
And the Sons of Tyr amidst it, and I see the oak-trees old,
And the war-shout ringing round them; and I see the battle-lord
Unhelmed amidst of the mighty; and I see his leaping sword;
Strokes struck and warriors falling, and the streaks of spears I see,
But hereof shall the other tell you who speaketh after me.
For none other than the Shieldings from out the wood have come,
And they shift the turn with the Daylings to drive the folk-spear
home,
And to follow with the Wolfings and thrust the war-beast forth.
And so good men deem the tidings that they bid them journey north
On the feet of a Shielding runner, that Gisli hath to name;
And west of the water he wendeth by the way that the Wolfings came;
Now for sleep he tarries never, and no meat is in his mouth
Till the first of the Houses hearkeneth the tidings of the south;
Lo, he speaks, and the mead-sea sippeth, and the bread by the way doth
eat,
And over the Geiring threshold and outward pass his feet;
And he breasts the Burg of the Daylings and saith his happy word,
And stayeth to drink for a minute of the waves of Battleford.
Lone then by the stream he runneth, and wendeth the wild-wood road,
And dasheth through the hazels of the Oselings' fair abode,
And the Elking women know it, and their hearts are glad once more,
And ye--yea, hearken, Wolfings, for his feet are at the door."
CHAPTER XII--TIDINGS OF THE BATTLE IN MIRKWOOD
As the Hall-Sun made an end they heard in good sooth the feet of the
runner on the hard ground without the hall, and presently the door opened
and he came leaping over the threshold, and up to the table, and stood
leaning on it with one hand, his breast heaving with his last swift run.
Then he spake presently:
"I am Gisli of the Shieldings: Otter sendeth me to the Hall-Sun; but on
the way I was to tell tidings to the Houses west of the Water: so have I
done. Now is my journey ended; for Otter saith: 'Let the Hall-Sun note
the tidings and send word of them by four of the lightest limbed of the
women, or by lads a-horseback, both west and east of the Water; let her
send the word as it seemeth to her, whether she hath seen it or not. I
will drink a short draught since my running is over."
Then a damsel brought him a horn of mead and let it come into his hand,
and he drank sighing with pleasure, while the damsel for pleasure of him
and his tidings laid her hand on his shoulder. Then he set down the horn
and spake:
"We, the Shieldings, with the Geirings, the Hrossings, and the Wolfings,
three hundred warriors and more, were led into the Wood by Thiodolf the
War-duke, beside whom went Fox, who hath seen the Romans. We were all
afoot; for there is no wide way through the Wood, nor would we have it
otherwise, lest the foe find the thicket easy. But many of us know the
thicket and its ways; so we made not the easy hard. I was near the War-
duke, for I know the thicket and am light-foot: I am a bowman. I saw
Thiodolf that he was unhelmed and bore no shield, nor had he any coat of
fence; nought but a deer-skin frock."
As he said that word, the carline, who had drawn very near to him and was
looking hard at his face, turned and looked on the Hall-Sun and stared at
her till she reddened under those keen eyes: for in her heart began to
gather some knowledge of the tale of her mother and what her will was.
But Gisli went on: "Yet by his side was his mighty sword, and we all knew
it for Throng-plough, and were glad of it and of him and the unfenced
breast of the dauntless. Six hours we went spreading wide through the
thicket, not always seeing one another, but knowing one another to be
nigh; those that knew the thicket best led, the others followed on. So
we went till it was high noon on the plain and glimmering dusk in the
thicket, and we saw nought, save here and there a roe, and here and there
a sounder of swine, and coneys where it was opener, and the sun shone and
the grass grew for a little space. So came we unto where the thicket
ended suddenly, and there was a long glade of the wild-wood, all set
about with great oak-trees and grass thereunder, which I knew well; and
thereof the tale tells that it was a holy place of the folk who abided in
these parts before the Sons of the Goths. Now will I drink."
So he drank of the horn and said: "It seemeth that Fox had a deeming of
the way the Romans should come; so now we abided in the thicket without
that glade and lay quiet and hidden, spreading ourselves as much about
that lawn of the oak-trees as we might, the while Fox and three others
crept through the wood to espy what might be toward: not long had they
been gone ere we heard a war-horn blow, and it was none of our horns: it
was a long way off, but we looked to our weapons: for men are eager for
the foe and the death that cometh, when they lie hidden in the thicket. A
while passed, and again we heard the horn, and it was nigher and had a
marvellous voice; then in a while was a little noise of men, not their
voices, but footsteps going warily through the brake to the south, and
twelve men came slowly and warily into that oak-lawn, and lo, one of them
was Fox; but he was clad in the raiment of the dastard of the Goths whom
he had slain. I tell you my heart beat, for I saw that the others were
Roman men, and one of them seemed to be a man of authority, and he held
Fox by the shoulder, and pointed to the thicket where we lay, and
something he said to him, as we saw by his gesture and face, but his
voice we heard not, for he spake soft.
"Then of those ten men of his he sent back two, and Fox going between
them, as though he should be slain if he misled them; and he and the
eight abided there wisely and warily, standing silently some six feet
from each other, moving scarce at all, but looking like images fashioned
of brown copper and iron; holding their casting-spears (which be
marvellous heavy weapons) and girt with the sax.
"As they stood there, not out of earshot of a man speaking in his wonted
voice, our War-duke made a sign to those about him, and we spread very
quietly to the right hand and the left of him once more, and we drew as
close as might be to the thicket's edge, and those who had bows the
nighest thereto. Thus then we abided a while again; and again came the
horn's voice; for belike they had no mind to come their ways covertly
because of their pride.
"Soon therewithal comes Fox creeping back to us, and I saw him whisper
into the ear of the War-duke, but heard not the word he said. I saw that
he had hanging to him two Roman saxes, so I deemed he had slain those
two, and so escaped the Romans. Maidens, it were well that ye gave me to
drink again, for I am weary and my journey is done."
So again they brought him the horn, and made much of him; and he drank,
and then spake on.
"Now heard we the horn's voice again quite close, and it was sharp and
shrill, and nothing like to the roar of our battle-horns: still was the
wood and no wind abroad, not even down the oak-lawn; and we heard now the
tramp of many men as they thrashed through the small wood and bracken of
the thicket-way; and those eight men and their leader came forward,
moving like one, close up to the thicket where I lay, just where the path
passed into the thicket beset by the Sons of the Goths: so near they were
that I could see the dints upon their armour, and the strands of the wire
on their sax-handles. Down then bowed the tall bracken on the further
side of the wood-lawn, the thicket crashed before the march of men, and
on they strode into the lawn, a goodly band, wary, alert, and silent of
cries.
"But when they came into the lawn they spread out somewhat to their left
hands, that is to say on the west side, for that way was the clear glade;
but on the east the thicket came close up to them and edged them away.
Therein lay the Goths.
"There they stayed awhile, and spread out but a little, as men marching,
not as men fighting. A while we let them be; and we saw their captain,
no big man, but dight with very fair armour and weapons; and there drew
up to him certain Goths armed, the dastards of the folk, and another
unarmed, an old man bound and bleeding. With these Goths had the captain
some converse, and presently he cried out two or three words of Welsh in
a loud voice, and the nine men who were ahead shifted them somewhat away
from us to lead down the glade westward.
"The prey had come into the net, but they had turned their faces toward
the mouth of it.
"Then turned Thiodolf swiftly to the man behind him who carried the war-
horn, and every man handled his weapons: but that man understood, and set
the little end to his mouth, and loud roared the horn of the Markmen, and
neither friend nor foe misdoubted the tale thereof. Then leaped every
man to his feet, all bow-strings twanged and the cast-spears flew; no man
forebore to shout; each as he might leapt out of the thicket and fell on
with sword and axe and spear, for it was from the bowmen but one shaft
and no more.
"Then might you have seen Thiodolf as he bounded forward like the wild-
cat on the hare, how he had no eyes for any save the Roman captain.
Foemen enough he had round about him after the two first bounds from the
thicket; for the Romans were doing their best to spread, that they might
handle those heavy cast-spears, though they might scarce do it, just come
out of the thicket as they were, and thrust together by that onslaught of
the kindreds falling on from two sides and even somewhat from behind. To
right and left flashed Throng-plough, while Thiodolf himself scarce
seemed to guide it: men fell before him at once, and close at his heels
poured the Wolfing kindred into the gap, and in a minute of time was he
amidst of the throng and face to face with the gold-dight captain.
"What with the sweep of Throng-plough and the Wolfing onrush, there was
space about him for a great stroke; he gave a side-long stroke to his
right and hewed down a tall Burgundian, and then up sprang the white
blade, but ere its edge fell he turned his wrist, and drove the point
through that Captain's throat just above the ending of his hauberk, so
that he fell dead amidst of his folk.
"All the four kindreds were on them now, and amidst them, and needs must
they give way: but stoutly they fought; for surely no other warriors
might have withstood that onslaught of the Markmen for the twinkling of
an eye: but had the Romans had but the space to have spread themselves
out there, so as to handle their shot-weapons, many a woman's son of us
had fallen; for no man shielded himself in his eagerness, but let the
swiftness of the Onset of point-and-edge shield him; which, sooth to say,
is often a good shield, as here was found.
"So those that were unslain and unhurt fled west along the glade, but not
as dastards, and had not Thiodolf followed hard in the chase according to
his wont, they might even yet have made a fresh stand and spread from oak-
tree to oak-tree across the glade: but as it befel, they might not get a
fair offing so as to disentangle themselves and array themselves in good
order side by side; and whereas the Markmen were fleet of foot, and in
the woods they knew, there were a many aliens slain in the chase or taken
alive unhurt or little hurt: but the rest fled this way and that way into
the thicket, with whom were some of the Burgundians; so there they abide
now as outcasts and men unholy, to be slain as wild-beasts one by one as
we meet them.
"Such then was the battle in Mirkwood. Give me the mead-horn that I may
drink to the living and the dead, and the memory of the dead, and the
deeds of the living that are to be."
So they brought him the horn, and he waved it over his head and drank
again and spake:
"Sixty and three dead men of the Romans we counted there up and down that
oak-glade; and we cast earth over them; and three dead dastards of the
Goths, and we left them for the wolves to deal with. And twenty-five men
of the Romans we took alive to be for hostages if need should be, and
these did we Shielding men, who are not very many, bring aback to the
wain-burg; and the Daylings, who are a great company, were appointed to
enter the wood and be with Thiodolf; and me did Otter bid to bear the
tidings, even as I have told you. And I have not loitered by the way."
Great then was the joy in the Hall; and they took Gisli, and made much of
him, and led him to the bath, and clad him in fine raiment taken from the
coffer which was but seldom opened, because the cloths it held were
precious; and they set a garland of green wheat-ears on his head. Then
they fell to and spread the feast in the hall; and they ate and drank and
were merry.
But as for speeding the tidings, the Hall-Sun sent two women and two
lads, all a-horseback, to bear the words: the women to remember the words
which she taught them carefully, the lads to be handy with the horses, or
in the ford, or the swimming of the deeps, or in the thicket. So they
went their ways, down the water: one pair went on the western side, and
the other crossed Mirkwood-water at the shallows (for being Midsummer the
water was but small), and went along the east side, so that all the
kindred might know of the tidings and rejoice.
Great was the glee in the Hall, though the warriors of the House were
away, and many a song and lay they sang: but amidst the first of the
singing they bethought them of the old woman, and would have bidden her
tell them some tale of times past, since she was so wise in the ancient
lore. But when they sought for her on all sides she was not to be found,
nor could anyone remember seeing her depart from the Hall. But this had
they no call to heed, and the feast ended, as it began, in great glee.
Albeit the Hall-Sun was troubled about the carline, both that she had
come, and that she had gone: and she determined that the next time she
met her she would strive to have of her a true tale of what she was, and
of all that was toward.
CHAPTER XIII--THE HALL-SUN SAITH ANOTHER WORD
It was no later than the next night, and a many of what thralls were not
with the host were about in the feast-hall with the elders and lads and
weaklings of the House; for last night's tidings had drawn them thither.
Gisli had gone back to his kindred and the wain-burg in the Upper-mark,
and the women were sitting, most of them, in the Women's-Chamber, some of
them doing what little summer work needed doing about the looms, but more
resting from their work in field and acre.
Then came the Hall-Sun forth from her room clad in glittering raiment,
and summoned no one, but went straight to her place on the dais under her
namesake the Lamp, and stood there a little without speaking. Her face
was pale now, her lips a little open, her eyes set and staring as if they
saw nothing of all that was round about her.
Now went the word through the Hall and the Women's-Chamber that the Hall-
Sun would speak again, and that great tidings were toward; so all folk
came flock-meal to the dais, both thralls and free; and scarce were all
gathered there, ere the Hall-Sun began speaking, and said:
"The days of the world thrust onward, and men are born therein
A many and a many, and divers deeds they win
In the fashioning of stories for the kindreds of the earth,
A garland interwoven of sorrow and of mirth.
To the world a warrior cometh; from the world he passeth away,
And no man then may sunder his good from his evil day.
By the Gods hath he been tormented, and been smitten by the foe:
He hath seen his maiden perish, he hath seen his speech-friend go:
His heart hath conceived a joyance and hath brought it unto birth:
But he hath not carried with him his sorrow or his mirth.
He hath lived, and his life hath fashioned the outcome of the deed,
For the blossom of the people, and the coming kindreds' seed.
"Thus-wise the world is fashioned, and the new sun of the morn
Where earth last night was desert beholds a kindred born,
That to-morrow and to-morrow blossoms all gloriously
With many a man and maiden for the kindreds yet to be,
And fair the Goth-folk groweth. And yet the story saith
That the deeds that make the summer make too the winter's death,
That summer-tides unceasing from out the grave may grow
And the spring rise up unblemished from the bosom of the snow.
"Thus as to every kindred the day comes once for all
When yesterday it was not, and to-day it builds the hall,
So every kindred bideth the night-tide of the day,
Whereof it knoweth nothing, e'en when noon is past away.
E'en thus the House of the Wolfings 'twixt dusk and dark doth stand,
And narrow is the pathway with the deep on either hand.
On the left are the days forgotten, on the right the days to come,
And another folk and their story in the stead of the Wolfing home.
Do the shadows darken about it, is the even here at last?
Or is this but a storm of the noon-tide that the wind is driving past?
"Unscathed as yet it standeth; it bears the stormy drift,
Nor bows to the lightening flashing adown from the cloudy lift.
I see the hail of battle and the onslaught of the strong,
And they go adown to the folk-mote that shall bide there over long.
I see the slain-heaps rising and the alien folk prevail,
And the Goths give back before them on the ridge o'er the treeless
vale.
I see the ancient fallen, and the young man smitten dead,
And yet I see the War-duke shake Throng-plough o'er his head,
And stand unhelmed, unbyrnied before the alien host,
And the hurt men rise around him to win back battle lost;
And the wood yield up her warriors, and the whole host rushing on,
And the swaying lines of battle until the lost is won.
Then forth goes the cry of triumph, as they ring the captives round
And cheat the crow of her portion and heap the warriors' mound.
There are faces gone from our feast-hall not the least beloved nor
worst,
But the wane of the House of the Wolfings not yet the world hath
cursed.
The sun shall rise to-morrow on our cold and dewy roof,
For they that longed for slaughter were slaughtered far aloof."
She ceased for a little, but her countenance, which had not changed
during her song, changed not at all now: so they all kept silence
although they were rejoicing in this new tale of victory; for they deemed
that she was not yet at the end of her speaking. And in good sooth she
spake again presently, and said:
"I wot not what hath befallen nor where my soul may be,
For confusion is within me and but dimly do I see,
As if the thing that I look on had happed a while ago.
They stand by the tofts of a war-garth, a captain of the foe,
And a man that is of the Goth-folk, and as friend and friend they
speak,
But I hear no word they are saying, though for every word I seek.
And now the mist flows round me and blind I come aback
To the House-roof of the Wolfings and the hearth that hath no lack."
Her voice grew weaker as she spake the last words, and she sank backward
on to her chair: her clenched hands opened, the lids fell down over her
bright eyes, her breast heaved no more as it had done, and presently she
fell asleep.
The folk were doubtful and somewhat heavy-hearted because of those last
words of hers; but they would not ask her more, or rouse her from her
sleep, lest they should grieve her; so they departed to their beds and
slept for what was yet left of the night.
CHAPTER XIV--THE HALL-SUN IS CAREFUL CONCERNING THE PASSES OF THE WOOD
In the morning early folk arose; and the lads and women who were not of
the night-shift got them ready to go to the mead and the acres; for the
sunshine had been plenty these last days and the wheat was done
blossoming, and all must be got ready for harvest. So they broke their
fast, and got their tools into their hands: but they were somewhat heavy-
hearted because of those last words of the Hall-Sun, and the doubt of
last night still hung about them, and they were scarcely as merry as men
are wont to be in the morning.
As for the Hall-Sun, she was afoot with the earliest, and was no less,
but mayhap more merry than her wont was, and was blithe with all, both
old and young.
But as they were at the point of going she called to them, and said:
"Tarry a little, come ye all to the dais and hearken to me."
So they all gathered thereto, and she stood in her place and spake.
"Women and elders of the Wolfings, is it so that I spake somewhat of
tidings last night?"
"Yea," said they all.
She said, "And was it a word of victory?"
They answered "yea" again.
"Good is that," she said; "doubt ye not! there is nought to unsay. But
hearken! I am nothing wise in war like Thiodolf or Otter of the Laxings,
or as Heriulf the Ancient was, though he was nought so wise as they be.
Nevertheless ye shall do well to take me for your captain, while this
House is bare of warriors."
"Yea, yea," they said, "so will we."
And an old warrior, hight Sorli, who sat in his chair, no longer quite
way-worthy, said:
"Hall-Sun, this we looked for of thee; since thy wisdom is not wholly the
wisdom of a spae-wife, but rather is of the children of warriors: and we
know thine heart to be high and proud, and that thy death seemeth to thee
a small matter beside the life of the Wolfing House."
Then she smiled and said, "Will ye all do my bidding?"
And they all cried out heartily, "Yea, Hall-Sun, that will we."
She said: "Hearken then; ye all know that east of Mirkwood-water, when ye
come to the tofts of the Bearings, and their Great Roof, the thicket
behind them is close, but that there is a wide way cut through it; and
often have I gone there: if ye go by that way, in a while ye come to the
thicket's end and to bare places where the rocks crop up through the
gravel and the woodland loam. There breed the coneys without number; and
wild-cats haunt the place for that sake, and foxes; and the wood-wolf
walketh there in summer-tide, and hard by the she-wolf hath her litter of
whelps, and all these have enough; and the bald-head erne hangeth over it
and the kite, and also the kestril, for shrews and mice abound there. Of
these things there is none that feareth me, and none that maketh me
afraid. Beyond this place for a long way the wood is nowise thick, for
first grow ash-trees about the clefts of the rock and also quicken-trees,
but not many of either; and here and there a hazel brake easy to thrust
through; then comes a space of oak-trees scattered about the lovely wood-
lawn, and then at last the beech-wood close above but clear beneath. This
I know well, because I myself have gone so far and further; and by this
easy way have I gone so far to the south, that I have come out into the
fell country, and seen afar off the snowy mountains beyond the Great
Water.
"Now fear ye not, but pluck up a heart! For either I have seen it or
dreamed it, or thought it, that by this road easy to wend the Romans
should come into the Mark. For shall not those dastards and traitors
that wear the raiment and bodies of the Goths over the hearts and the
lives of foemen, tell them hereof? And will they not have heard of our
Thiodolf, and this my holy namesake?
"Will they not therefore be saying to themselves, 'Go to now, why should
we wrench the hinges off the door with plenteous labour, when another
door to the same chamber standeth open before us? This House of the
Wolfings is the door to the treasure chamber of the Markmen; let us fall
on that at once rather than have many battles for other lesser matters,
and then at last have to fight for this also: for having this we have
all, and they shall be our thralls, and we may slaughter what we will,
and torment what we will and deflower what we will, and make our souls
glad with their grief and anguish, and take aback with us to the cities
what we will of the thralls, that their anguish and our joy may endure
the longer.' Thus will they say: therefore is it my rede that the
strongest and hardiest of you women take horse, a ten of you and one to
lead besides, and ride the shallows to the Bearing House, and tell them
of our rede; which is to watch diligently the ways of the wood; the
outgate to the Mark, and the places where the wood is thin and easy to
travel on: and ye shall bid them give you of their folk as many as they
deem fittest thereto to join your company, so that ye may have a chain of
watchers stretching far into the wilds; but two shall lie without the
wood, their horses ready for them to leap on and ride on the spur to the
wain-burg in the Upper-mark if any tidings befal.
"Now of these eleven I ordain Hrosshild to be the leader and captain, and
to choose for her fellows the stoutest-limbed and heaviest-handed of all
the maidens here: art thou content Hrosshild?"
Then stood Hrosshild forth and said nought, but nodded yea; and soon was
her choice made amid jests and laughter, for this seemed no hard matter
to them.
So the ten got together, and the others fell off from them, and there
stood the ten maidens with Hrosshild, well nigh as strong as men, clean-
limbed and tall, tanned with sun and wind; for all these were unwearied
afield, and oft would lie out a-nights, since they loved the lark's song
better than the mouse's squeak; but as their kirtles shifted at neck and
wrist, you might see their skins as white as privet-flower where they
were wont to be covered.
Then said the Hall-Sun: "Ye have heard the word, see ye to it, Hrosshild,
and take this other word also: Bid the Bearing stay-at-homes bide not the
sword and the torch at home if the Romans come, but hie them over hither,
to hold the Hall or live in the wild-wood with us, as need may be; for
might bides with many.
"But ye maidens, take this counsel for yourselves; do ye each bear with
you a little keen knife, and if ye be taken, and it seem to you that ye
may not bear the smart of the Roman torments (for they be wise in
tormenting), but will speak and bewray us under them, then thrust this
little edge tool into the place of your bodies where the life lieth
closest, and so go to the Gods with a good tale in your mouths: so may
the Almighty God of Earth speed you, and the fathers of the kindred!"
So she spoke; and they made no delay but each one took what axe or spear
or sword she liked best, and two had their bows and quivers of arrows;
and so all folk went forth from the Hall.
Soon were the horses saddled and bridled, and the maidens bestrode them
joyously and set forth on their way, going down the lanes of the wheat,
and rode down speedily toward the shallows of the water, and all cried
good speed after them. But the others would turn to their day's work,
and would go about their divers errands. But even as they were at point
to sunder, they saw a swift runner passing by those maidens just where
the acres joined the meadow, and he waved his hand aloft and shouted to
them, but stayed not his running for them, but came up the lanes of the
wheat at his swiftest: so they knew at once that this was again a
messenger from the host, and they stood together and awaited his coming;
and as he drew near they knew him for Egil, the swiftest-footed of the
Wolfings; and he gave a great shout as he came among them; and he was
dusty and way-worn, but eager; and they received him with all love, and
would have brought him to the Hall to wash him and give him meat and
drink, and cherish him in all ways.
But he cried out, "To the Speech-Hill first, to the Speech-Hill first!
But even before that, one word to thee, Hall-Sun! Saith Thiodolf, Send
ye watchers to look to the entrance into Mid-mark, which is by the
Bearing dwelling; and if aught untoward befalleth let one ride on the
spur with the tidings to the Wain-burg. For by that way also may peril
come."
Then smiled some of the bystanders, and the Hall-Sun said: "Good is it
when the thought of a friend stirreth betimes in one's own breast. The
thing is done, Egil; or sawest thou not those ten women, and Hrosshild
the eleventh, as thou camest up into the acres?"
Said Egil; "Fair fall thine hand, Hall-Sun! thou art the Wolfings'
Ransom. Wend we now to the Speech-Hill."
So did they, and every thrall that was about the dwellings, man, woman,
and child fared with them, and stood about the Speech-Hill: and the dogs
went round about the edge of that assembly, wandering in and out, and
sometimes looking hard on some one whom they knew best, if he cried out
aloud.
But the men-folk gave all their ears to hearkening, and stood as close as
they might.
Then Egil clomb the Speech-Hill, and said.
CHAPTER XV--THEY HEAR TELL OF THE BATTLE ON THE RIDGE
"Ye have heard how the Daylings were appointed to go to help Thiodolf in
driving the folk-spear home to the heart of the Roman host. So they
went; but six hours thereafter comes one to Otter bidding him send a
great part of the kindreds to him; for that he had had tidings that a
great host of Romans were drawing near the wood-edge, but were not
entered therein, and that fain would he meet them in the open field.
"So the kindreds drew lots, and the lot fell first to the Elkings, who
are a great company, as ye know; and then to the Hartings, the Beamings,
the Alftings, the Vallings (also a great company), the Galtings, (and
they no lesser) each in their turn; and last of all to the Laxings; and
the Oselings prayed to go with the Elkings, and this Otter deemed good,
whereas a many of them be bowmen.
"All these then to the number of a thousand or more entered the wood; and
I was with them, for in sooth I was the messenger.
"No delay made we in the wood, nor went we over warily, trusting to the
warding of the wood by Thiodolf; and there were men with us who knew the
paths well, whereof I was one; so we speedily came through into the open
country.
"Shortly we came upon our folk and the War-duke lying at the foot of a
little hill that went up as a buttress to a long ridge high above us,
whereon we set a watch; and a little brook came down the dale for our
drink.
"Night fell as we came thither; so we slept for a while, but abode not
the morning, and we were afoot (for we had no horses with us) before the
moon grew white. We took the road in good order, albeit our folk-banners
we had left behind in the burg; so each kindred raised aloft a shield of
its token to be for a banner. So we went forth, and some swift footmen,
with Fox, who hath seen the Roman war-garth, had been sent on before to
spy out the ways of the foemen.
"Two hours after sunrise cometh one of these, and telleth how he hath
seen the Romans, and how that they are but a short mile hence breaking
their fast, not looking for any onslaught; 'but,' saith he, 'they are on
a high ridge whence they can see wide about, and be in no danger of
ambush, because the place is bare for the most part, nor is there any
cover except here and there down in the dales a few hazels and blackthorn
bushes, and the rushes of the becks in the marshy bottoms, wherein a
snipe may hide, or a hare, but scarce a man; and note that there is no
way up to that ridge but by a spur thereof as bare as my hand; so ye will
be well seen as ye wend up thereto.'
"So spake he in my hearing. But Thiodolf bade him lead on to that spur,
and old Heriulf, who was standing nigh, laughed merrily and said: 'Yea,
lead on, and speedily, lest the day wane and nothing done save the
hunting of snipes.'
"So on we went, and coming to the hither side of that spur beheld those
others and Fox with them; and he held in his hand an arrow of the aliens,
and his face was all astir with half-hidden laughter, and he breathed
hard, and pointed to the ridge, and somewhat low down on it we saw a
steel cap and three spear-heads showing white from out a little hollow in
its side, but the men hidden by the hollow: so we knew that Fox had been
chased, and that the Romans were warned and wary.
"No delay made the War-duke, but led us up that spur, which was somewhat
steep; and as we rose higher we saw a band of men on the ridge, a little
way down it, not a many; archers and slingers mostly, who abode us till
we were within shot, and then sent a few shots at us, and so fled. But
two men were hurt with the sling-plummets, and one, and he not
grievously, with an arrow, and not one slain.
"Thus we came up on to the ridge, so that there was nothing between us
and the bare heavens; thence we looked south-east and saw the Romans
wisely posted on the ridge not far from where it fell down steeply to the
north; but on the south, that is to say on their left hands, and all
along the ridge past where we were stayed, the ground sloped gently to
the south-west for a good way, before it fell, somewhat steeply, into
another long dale. Looking north we saw the outer edge of Mirkwood but a
little way from us, and we were glad thereof; because ere we left our
sleeping-place that morn Thiodolf had sent to Otter another messenger
bidding him send yet more men on to us in case we should be hard-pressed
in the battle; for he had had a late rumour that the Romans were many.
And now when he had looked on the Roman array and noted how wise it was,
he sent three swift-foot ones to take stand on a high knoll which we had
passed on the way, that they might take heed where our folk came out from
the wood and give signal to them by the horn, and lead them to where the
battle should be.
"So we stood awhile and breathed us, and handled our weapons some half a
furlong from the alien host. They had no earth rampart around them, for
that ridge is waterless, and they could not abide there long, but they
had pitched sharp pales in front of them and they stood in very good
order, as if abiding an onslaught, and moved not when they saw us; for
that band of shooters had joined themselves to them already. Taken one
with another we deemed them to be more than we were; but their hauberked
footmen with the heavy cast-spears not so many as we by a good deal.
"Now we were of mind to fall on them ere they should fall on us; so all
such of us as had shot-weapons spread out from our company and went forth
a little; and of the others Heriulf stood foremost along with the leaders
of the Beamings and the Elkings; but as yet Thiodolf held aback and led
the midmost company, as his wont was, and the more part of the Wolfings
were with him.
"Thus we ordered ourselves, and awaited a little while yet what the
aliens should do; and presently a war-horn blew amongst them, and from
each flank of their mailed footmen came forth a many bowmen and slingers
and a band of horsemen; and drew within bowshot, the shooters in open
array yet wisely, and so fell to on us, and the horsemen hung aback a
little as yet.
"Their arrow-shot was of little avail, their bowmen fell fast before
ours; but deadly was their sling-shot, and hurt and slew many and some
even in our main battle; for they slung round leaden balls and not
stones, and they aimed true and shot quick; and the men withal were so
light and lithe, never still, but crouching and creeping and bounding
here and there, that they were no easier to hit than coneys amidst of the
fern, unless they were very nigh.
"Howbeit when this storm had endured a while, and we moved but little,
and not an inch aback, and gave them shot for shot, then was another horn
winded from amongst the aliens; and thereat the bowmen cast down their
bows, and the slingers wound their slings about their heads, and they all
came on with swords and short spears and feathered darts, running and
leaping lustily, making for our flanks, and the horsemen set spurs to
their horses and fell on in the very front of our folk like good and
valiant men-at-arms.
"That saw Heriulf and his men, and they set up the war-whoop, and ran
forth to meet them, axe and sword aloft, terribly yet maybe somewhat
unwarily. The archers and slingers never came within sword-stroke of
them, but fell away before them on all sides; but the slingers fled not
far, but began again with their shot, and slew a many. Then was a horn
winded, as if to call back the horsemen, who, if they heard, heeded not,
but rode hard on our kindred like valiant warriors who feared not death.
Sooth to say, neither were the horses big or good, nor the men fit for
the work, saving for their hardihood; and their spears were short withal
and their bucklers unhandy to wield.
"Now could it be seen how the Goths gave way before them to let them into
the trap, and then closed around again, and the axes and edge weapons
went awork hewing as in a wood; and Heriulf towered over all the press,
and the Wolf's-sister flashed over his head in the summer morning.
"Soon was that storm over, and we saw the Goths tossing up their spears
over the slain, and horses running loose and masterless adown over the
westward-lying slopes, and a few with their riders still clinging to
them. Yet some, sore hurt by seeming, galloping toward the main battle
of the Romans.
"Unwarily then fared the children of Tyr that were with Heriulf; for by
this time they were well nigh within shot of the spears of those mighty
footmen of the Romans: and on their flanks were the slingers, and the
bowmen, who had now gotten their bows again; and our bowmen, though they
shot well and strong, were too few to quell them; and indeed some of them
had cast by their bows to join in Heriulf's storm. Also the lie of the
ground was against us, for it sloped up toward the Roman array at first
very gently, but afterwards steeply enough to breathe a short-winded man.
Also behind them were we of the other kindreds, whom Thiodolf had ordered
into the wedge-array; and we were all ready to move forward, so that had
they abided somewhat, all had been well and better.
"So did they not, but straightway set up the Victory-whoop and ran
forward on the Roman host. And these were so ordered that, as aforesaid,
they had before them sharp piles stuck into the earth and pointed against
us, as we found afterwards to our cost; and within these piles stood the
men some way apart from each other, so as to handle their casting spears,
and in three ranks were they ordered and many spears could be cast at
once, and if any in the front were slain, his fellow behind him took his
place.
"So now the storm of war fell at once upon our folk, and swift and fierce
as was their onslaught yet were a many slain and hurt or ever they came
to the piles aforesaid. Then saw they death before them and heeded it
nought, but tore up the piles and dashed through them, and fell in on
those valiant footmen. Short is the tale to tell: wheresoever a sword or
spear of the Goths was upraised there were three upon him, and saith Toti
of the Beamings, who was hurt and crawled away and yet lives, that on
Heriulf there were six at first and then more; and he took no thought of
shielding himself, but raised up the Wolf's-sister and hewed as the
woodman in the thicket, when night cometh and hunger is on him. There
fell Heriulf the Ancient and many a man of the Beamings and the Elkings
with him, and many a Roman.
"But amidst the slain and the hurt our wedge-array moved forward slowly
now, warily shielded against the plummets and shafts on either side; and
when the Romans saw our unbroken array, and Thiodolf the first with
Throng-plough naked in his hand, they chased not such men of ours unhurt
or little hurt, as drew aback from before them: so these we took amongst
us, and when we had gotten all we might, and held a grim face to the foe,
we drew aback little by little, still facing them till we were out of
shot of their spears, though the shot of the arrows and the
sling-plummets ceased not wholly from us. Thus ended Heriulf's Storm."
Then he rested from his speaking for a while, and none said aught, but
they gazed on him as if he bore with him a picture of the battle, and
many of the women wept silently for Heriulf, and yet more of the younger
ones were wounded to the heart when they thought of the young men of the
Elkings, and the Beamings, since with both those houses they had
affinity; and they lamented the loves that they had lost, and would have
asked concerning their own speech-friends had they durst. But they held
their peace till the tale was told out to an end.
Then Egil spake again:
"No long while had worn by in Heriulf's Storm, and though men's hearts
were nothing daunted, but rather angered by what had befallen, yet would
Thiodolf wear away the time somewhat more, since he hoped for succour
from the Wain-burg and the Wood; and he would not that any of these
Romans should escape us, but would give them all to Tyr, and to be a
following to Heriulf the Old and the Great.
"So there we abided a while moving nought, and Thiodolf stood with Throng-
plough on his shoulder, unhelmed, unbyrnied, as though he trusted to the
kindred for all defence. Nor for their part did the Romans dare to leave
their vantage-ground, when they beheld what grim countenance we made
them.
"Albeit, when we had thrice made as if we would fall on, and yet they
moved not, whereas it trieth a man sorely to stand long before the
foeman, and do nought but endure, and whereas many of our bowmen were
slain or hurt, and the rest too few to make head against the shot-weapons
of the aliens, then at last we began to draw nearer and a little nearer,
not breaking the wedge-array; and at last, just before we were within
shot of the cast-spears of their main battle, loud roared our war-horn:
then indeed we broke the wedge-array, but orderly as we knew how,
spreading out from right and left of the War-duke till we were facing
them in a long line: one minute we abode thus, and then ran forth through
the spear-storm: and even therewith we heard, as it were, the echo of our
own horn, and whoso had time to think betwixt the first of the storm and
the handstrokes of the Romans deemed that now would be coming fresh
kindreds for our helping.
"Not long endured the spear-rain, so swift we were, neither were we in
one throng as betid in Heriulf's Storm, but spread abroad, each trusting
in the other that none thought of the backward way.
"Though we had the ground against us we dashed like fresh men at their
pales, and were under the weapons at once. Then was the battle grim;
they could not thrust us back, nor did we break their array with our
first storm; man hewed at man as if there were no foes in the world but
they two: sword met sword, and sax met sax; it was thrusting and hewing
with point and edge, and no long-shafted weapons were of any avail; there
we fought hand to hand and no man knew by eyesight how the battle went
two yards from where he fought, and each one put all his heart in the
stroke he was then striking, and thought of nothing else.
"Yet at the last we felt that they were faltering and that our work was
easier and our hope higher; then we cried our cries and pressed on
harder, and in that very nick of time there arose close behind us the
roar of the Markmen's horn and the cries of the kindreds answering ours.
Then such of the Romans as were not in the very act of smiting, or
thrusting, or clinging or shielding, turned and fled, and the whoop of
victory rang around us, and the earth shook, and past the place of the
slaughter rushed the riders of the Goths; for they had sent horsemen to
us, and the paths were grown easier for our much treading of them. Then
I beheld Thiodolf, that he had just slain a foe, and clear was the space
around him, and he rushed sideways and caught hold of the stirrup of
Angantyr of the Bearings, and ran ten strides beside him, and then
bounded on afoot swifter than the red horses of the Bearings, urging on
the chase, as his wont was.
"But we who were wearier, when we had done our work, stood still between
the living and the dead, between the freemen of the Mark and their war-
thralls. And in no long while there came back to us Thiodolf and the
chasers, and we made a great ring on the field of the slain, and sang the
Song of Triumph; and it was the Wolfing Song that we sang.
"Thus then ended Thiodolf's Storm."
When he held his peace there was but little noise among the
stay-at-homes, for still were they thinking about the deaths of their
kindred and their lovers. But Egil spoke again.
"Yet within that ring lay the sorrow of our hearts; for Odin had called a
many home, and there lay their bodies; and the mightiest was Heriulf; and
the Romans had taken him up from where he fell, and cast him down out of
the way, but they had not stripped him, and his hand still gripped the
Wolf's-sister. His shield was full of shafts of arrows and spears; his
byrny was rent in many places, his helm battered out of form. He had
been grievously hurt in the side and in the thigh by cast-spears or ever
he came to hand-blows with the Romans, but moreover he had three great
wounds from the point of the sax, in the throat, in the side, in the
belly, each enough for his bane. His face was yet fair to look on, and
we deemed that he had died smiling.
"At his feet lay a young man of the Beamings in a gay green coat, and
beside him was the head of another of his House, but his green-clad body
lay some yards aloof. There lay of the Elkings a many. Well may ye
weep, maidens, for them that loved you. Now fare they to the Gods a
goodly company, but a goodly company is with them.
"Seventy and seven of the Sons of the Goths lay dead within the Roman
battle, and fifty-four on the slope before it; and to boot there were
twenty-four of us slain by the arrows and plummets of the shooters, and a
many hurt withal.
"But there were no hurt men inside the Roman array or before it. All
were slain outright, for the hurt men either dragged themselves back to
our folk, or onward to the Roman ranks, that they might die with one more
stroke smitten.
"Now of the aliens the dead lay in heaps in that place, for grim was the
slaughter when the riders of the Bearings and the Wormings fell on the
aliens; and a many of the foemen scorned to flee, but died where they
stood, craving no peace; and to few of them was peace given. There fell
of the Roman footmen five hundred and eighty and five, and the remnant
that fled was but little: but of the slingers and bowmen but eighty and
six were slain, for they were there to shoot and not to stand; and they
were nimble and fleet of foot, men round of limb, very dark-skinned, but
not foul of favour."
Then he said:
"There are men through the dusk a-faring, our speech-fiends and our
kin,
No more shall they crave our helping, nor ask what work to win;
They have done their deeds and departed when they had holpen the
House,
So high their heads are holden, and their hurts are glorious
With the story of strokes stricken, and new weapons to be met,
And new scowling of foes' faces, and new curses unknown yet.
Lo, they dight the feast in Godhome, and fair are the tables spread,
Late come, but well-beloved is every war-worn head,
And the God-folk and the Fathers, as these cross the tinkling bridge,
Crowd round and crave for stories of the Battle on the Ridge."
Therewith he came down from the Speech-Hill and the women-folk came round
about him, and they brought him to the Hall, and washed him, and gave him
meat and drink; and then would he sleep, for he was weary.
Howbeit some of the women could not refrain themselves, but must needs
ask after their speech-friends who had been in the battle; and he
answered as he could, and some he made glad, and some sorry; and as to
some, he could not tell them whether their friends were alive or dead. So
he went to his place and fell asleep and slept long, while the women went
down to acre and meadow, or saw to the baking of bread or the sewing of
garments, or went far afield to tend the neat and the sheep.
Howbeit the Hall-Sun went not with them; but she talked with that old
warrior, Sorli, who was now halt and grown unmeet for the road, but was a
wise man; and she and he together with some old carlines and a few young
lads fell to work, and saw to many matters about the Hall and the garth
that day; and they got together what weapons there were both for shot and
for the handplay, and laid them where they were handy to come at, and
they saw to the meal in the hall that there was provision for many days;
and they carried up to a loft above the Women's-Chamber many great
vessels of water, lest the fire should take the Hall; and they looked
everywhere to the entrances and windows and had fastenings and bolts and
bars fashioned and fitted to them; and saw that all things were trim and
stout. And so they abided the issue.
CHAPTER XVI--HOW THE DWARF-WROUGHT HAUBERK WAS BROUGHT AWAY FROM THE HALL
OF THE DAYLINGS
Now it must be told that early in the morning, after the night when Gisli
had brought to the Wolfing Stead the tidings of the Battle in the Wood, a
man came riding from the south to the Dayling abode. It was just before
sunrise, and but few folk were stirring about the dwellings. He rode up
to the Hall and got off his black horse, and tied it to a ring in the
wall by the Man's-door, and went in clashing, for he was in his battle-
gear, and had a great wide-rimmed helm on his head.
Folk were but just astir in the Hall, and there came an old woman to him,
and looked on him and saw by his attire that he was a man of the Goths
and of the Wolfing kindred; so she greeted him kindly: but he said:
"Mother, I am come hither on an errand, and time presses."
Said she: "Yea, my son, or what tidings bearest thou from the south? for
by seeming thou art new-come from the host."
Said he: "The tidings are as yesterday, save that Thiodolf will lead the
host through the wild-wood to look for the Romans beyond it: therefore
will there soon be battle again. See ye, Mother, hast thou here one that
knoweth this ring of Thiodolf's, if perchance men doubt me when I say
that I am sent on my errand by him?"
"Yea," she said, "Agni will know it; since he knoweth all the chief men
of the Mark; but what is thine errand, and what is thy name?"
"It is soon told," said he, "I am a Wolfing hight Thorkettle, and I come
to have away for Thiodolf the treasure of the world, the Dwarf-wrought
Hauberk, which he left with you when we fared hence to the south three
days ago. Now let Agni come, that I may have it, for time presses
sorely."
There were three or four gathered about them now, and a maiden of them
said: "Shall I bring Agni hither, mother?"
"What needeth it?" said the carline, "he sleepeth, and shall be hard to
awaken; and he is old, so let him sleep. I shall go fetch the hauberk,
for I know where it is, and my hand may come on it as easily as on mine
own girdle."
So she went her ways to the treasury where were the precious things of
the kindred; the woven cloths were put away in fair coffers to keep them
clean from the whirl of the Hall-dust and the reek; and the vessels of
gold and some of silver were standing on the shelves of a cupboard before
which hung a veil of needlework: but the weapons and war-gear hung upon
pins along the wall, and many of them had much fair work on them, and
were dight with gold and gems: but amidst them all was the wondrous
hauberk clear to see, dark grey and thin, for it was so wondrously
wrought that it hung in small compass. So the carline took it down from
the pin, and handled it, and marvelled at it, and said:
"Strange are the hands that have passed over thee, sword-rampart, and in
strange places of the earth have they dwelt! For no smith of the
kindreds hath fashioned thee, unless he had for his friend either a God
or a foe of the Gods. Well shalt thou wot of the tale of sword and spear
ere thou comest back hither! For Thiodolf shall bring thee where the
work is wild."
Then she went with the hauberk to the new-come warrior, and made no
delay, but gave it to him, and said:
"When Agni awaketh, I shall tell him that Thorkettle of the Wolfings hath
borne aback to Thiodolf the Treasure of the World, the Dwarf-wrought
Hauberk."
Then Thorkettle took it and turned to go; but even therewith came old
Asmund from out of his sleeping-place, and gazed around the Hall, and his
eyes fell on the shape of the Wolfing as he was going out of the door,
and he asked the carline.
"What doeth he here? What tidings is there from the host? For my soul
was nought unquiet last night."
"It is a little matter," she said; "the War-duke hath sent for the
wondrous Byrny that he left in our treasury when he departed to meet the
Romans. Belike there shall be a perilous battle, and few hearts need a
stout sword-wall more than Thiodolf's."
As she spoke, Thorkettle had passed the door, and got into his saddle,
and sat his black horse like a mighty man as he slowly rode down the turf
bridge that led into the plain. And Asmund went to the door and stood
watching him till he set spurs to his horse, and departed a great gallop
to the south. Then said Asmund:
"What then are the Gods devising, what wonders do they will?
What mighty need is on them to work the kindreds ill,
That the seed of the Ancient Fathers and a woman of their kin
With her all unfading beauty must blend herself therein?
Are they fearing lest the kindreds should grow too fair and great,
And climb the stairs of God-home, and fashion all their fate,
And make all earth so merry that it never wax the worse,
Nor need a gift from any, nor prayers to quench the curse?
Fear they that the Folk-wolf, growing as the fire from out the spark
Into a very folk-god, shall lead the weaponed Mark
From wood to field and mountain, to stand between the earth
And the wrights that forge its thraldom and the sword to slay its
mirth?
Fear they that the sons of the wild-wood the Loathly Folk shall quell,
And grow into Gods thereafter, and aloof in God-home dwell?"
Therewith he turned back into the Hall, and was heavy-hearted and dreary
of aspect; for he was somewhat foreseeing; and it may not be hidden that
this seeming Thorkettle was no warrior of the Wolfings, but the Wood-Sun
in his likeness; for she had the power and craft of shape-changing.
CHAPTER XVII--THE WOOD-SUN SPEAKETH WITH THIODOLF
Now the Markmen laid Heriulf in howe on the ridge-crest where he had
fallen, and heaped a mighty howe over him that could be seen from far,
and round about him they laid the other warriors of the kindreds. For
they deemed it was fittest that they should lie on the place whose story
they had fashioned. But they cast earth on the foemen lower down on the
westward-lying bents.
The sun set amidst their work, and night came on; and Thiodolf was weary
and would fain rest him and sleep: but he had many thoughts, and pondered
whitherward he should lead the folk, so as to smite the Romans once
again, and he had a mind to go apart and be alone for rest and slumber;
so he spoke to a man of the kindred named Solvi in whom he put all trust,
and then he went down from the ridge, and into a little dale on the
southwest side thereof, a furlong from the place of the battle. A beck
ran down that dale, and the further end of it was closed by a little wood
of yew trees, low, but growing thick together, and great grey stones were
scattered up and down on the short grass of the dale. Thiodolf went down
to the brook-side, and to a place where it trickled into a pool, whence
it ran again in a thin thread down the dale, turning aside before it
reached the yew-wood to run its ways under low ledges of rock into a
wider dale. He looked at the pool and smiled to himself as if he had
thought of something that pleased him; then he drew a broad knife from
his side, and fell to cutting up turfs till he had what he wanted; and
then he brought stones to the place, and built a dam across the mouth of
the pool, and sat by on a great stone to watch it filling.
As he sat he strove to think about the Roman host and how he should deal
with it; but despite himself his thoughts wandered, and made for him
pictures of his life that should be when this time of battle was over; so
that he saw nothing of the troubles that were upon his hands that night,
but rather he saw himself partaking in the deeds of the life of man.
There he was between the plough-stilts in the acres of the kindred when
the west wind was blowing over the promise of early spring; or smiting
down the ripe wheat in the hot afternoon amidst the laughter and merry
talk of man and maid; or far away over Mirkwood-water watching the edges
of the wood against the prowling wolf and lynx, the stars just beginning
to shine over his head, as now they were; or wending the windless woods
in the first frosts before the snow came, the hunter's bow or javelin in
hand: or coming back from the wood with the quarry on the sledge across
the snow, when winter was deep, through the biting icy wind and the whirl
of the drifting snow, to the lights and music of the Great Roof, and the
merry talk therein and the smiling of the faces glad to see the hunting-
carles come back; and the full draughts of mead, and the sweet rest a
night-tide when the north wind was moaning round the ancient home.
All seemed good and fair to him, and whiles he looked around him, and saw
the long dale lying on his left hand and the dark yews in its jaws
pressing up against the rock-ledges of the brook, and on his right its
windings as the ground rose up to the buttresses of the great ridge. The
moon was rising over it, and he heard the voice of the brook as it
tinkled over the stones above him; and the whistle of the plover and the
laugh of the whimbrel came down the dale sharp and clear in the calm
evening; and sounding far away, because the great hill muffled them, were
the voices of his fellows on the ridge, and the songs of the warriors and
the high-pitched cries of the watch. And this also was a part of the
sweet life which was, and was to be; and he smiled and was happy and
loved the days that were coming, and longed for them, as the young man
longs for the feet of his maiden at the trysting-place.
So as he sat there, the dreams wrapping him up from troublous thoughts,
at last slumber overtook him, and the great warrior of the Wolfings sat
nodding like an old carle in the chimney ingle, and he fell asleep, his
dreams going with him, but all changed and turned to folly and emptiness.
He woke with a start in no long time; the night was deep, the wind had
fallen utterly, and all sounds were stilled save the voice of the brook,
and now and again the cry of the watchers of the Goths. The moon was
high and bright, and the little pool beside him glittered with it in all
its ripples; for it was full now and trickling over the lip of his dam.
So he arose from the stone and did off his war-gear, casting
Throng-plough down into the grass beside him, for he had been minded to
bathe him, but the slumber was still on him, and he stood musing while
the stream grew stronger and pushed off first one of his turfs and then
another, and rolled two or three of the stones over, and then softly
thrust all away and ran with a gush down the dale, filling all the little
bights by the way for a minute or two; he laughed softly thereat, and
stayed the undoing of his kirtle, and so laid himself down on the grass
beside the stone looking down the dale, and fell at once into a dreamless
sleep.
When he awoke again, it was yet night, but the moon was getting lower and
the first beginnings of dawn were showing in the sky over the ridge; he
lay still a moment gathering his thoughts and striving to remember where
he was, as is the wont of men waking from deep sleep; then he leapt to
his feet, and lo, he was face to face with a woman, and she who but the
Wood-Sun? and he wondered not, but reached out his hand to touch her,
though he had not yet wholly cast off the heaviness of slumber or
remembered the tidings of yesterday.
She drew aback a little from him, and his eyes cleared of the slumber,
and he saw her that she was scantily clad in black raiment, barefoot,
with no gold ring on her arms or necklace on her neck, or crown about her
head. But she looked so fair and lovely even in that end of the night-
tide, that he remembered all her beauty of the day and the sunshine, and
he laughed aloud for joy of the sight of her, and said:
"What aileth thee, O Wood-Sun, and is this a new custom of thy kindred
and the folk of God-home that their brides array themselves like thralls
new-taken, and as women who have lost their kindred and are outcast? Who
then hath won the Burg of the Anses, and clomb the rampart of God-home?"
But she spoke from where she stood in a voice so sweet, that it thrilled
to the very marrow of his bones.
"I have dwelt a while with sorrow since we met, we twain, in the wood:
I have mourned, while thou hast been merry, who deemest the war-play
good.
For I know the heart of the wilful and how thou wouldst cast away
The rampart of thy life-days, and the wall of my happy day.
Yea I am the thrall of Sorrow; she hath stripped my raiment off
And laid sore stripes upon me with many a bitter scoff.
Still bidding me remember that I come of the God-folk's kin,
And yet for all my godhead no love of thee may win."
Then she looked longingly at him a while and at last could no longer
refrain her, but drew nigh him and took his hands in hers, and kissed his
mouth, and said as she caressed him:
"O where are thy wounds, beloved? how turned the spear from thy
breast,
When the storm of war blew strongest, and the best men met the best?
Lo, this is the tale of to-day: but what shall to-morrow tell?
That Thiodolf the Mighty in the fight's beginning fell;
That there came a stroke ill-stricken, there came an aimless thrust,
And the life of the people's helper lay quenched in the summer dust."
He answered nothing, but smiled as though the sound of her voice and the
touch of her hand were pleasant to him, for so much love there was in
her, that her very grief was scarcely grievous. But she said again:
"Thou sayest it: I am outcast; for a God that lacketh mirth
Hath no more place in God-home and never a place on earth.
A man grieves, and he gladdens, or he dies and his grief is gone;
But what of the grief of the Gods, and the sorrow never undone?
Yea verily I am the outcast. When first in thine arms I lay
On the blossoms of the woodland my godhead passed away;
Thenceforth unto thee was I looking for the light and the glory of
life
And the Gods' doors shut behind me till the day of the uttermost
strife.
And now thou hast taken my soul, thou wilt cast it into the night,
And cover thine head with the darkness, and turn thine eyes from the
light.
Thou wouldst go to the empty country where never a seed is sown
And never a deed is fashioned, and the place where each is alone;
But I thy thrall shall follow, I shall come where thou seemest to lie,
I shall sit on the howe that hides thee, and thou so dear and nigh!
A few bones white in their war-gear that have no help or thought,
Shall be Thiodolf the Mighty, so nigh, so dear--and nought."
His hands strayed over her shoulders and arms, caressing them, and he
said softly and lovingly:
"I am Thiodolf the Mighty: but as wise as I may be
No story of that grave-night mine eyes can ever see,
But rather the tale of the Wolfings through the coming days of earth,
And the young men in their triumph and the maidens in their mirth;
And morn's promise every evening, and each day the promised morn,
And I amidst it ever reborn and yet reborn.
This tale I know, who have seen it, who have felt the joy and pain,
Each fleeing, each pursuing, like the links of the draw-well's chain:
But that deedless tide of the grave-mound, and the dayless nightless
day,
E'en as I strive to see it, its image wanes away.
What say'st thou of the grave-mound? shall I be there at all
When they lift the Horn of Remembrance, and the shout goes down the
hall,
And they drink the Mighty War-duke and Thiodolf the old?
Nay rather; there where the youngling that longeth to be bold
Sits gazing through the hall-reek and sees across the board
A vision of the reaping of the harvest of the sword,
There shall Thiodolf be sitting; e'en there shall the youngling be
That once in the ring of the hazels gave up his life to thee."
She laughed as he ended, and her voice was sweet, but bitter was her
laugh. Then she said:
"Nay thou shalt be dead, O warrior, thou shalt not see the Hall
Nor the children of thy people 'twixt the dais and the wall.
And I, and I shall be living; still on thee shall waste my thought:
I shall long and lack thy longing; I shall pine for what is nought."
But he smiled again, and said:
"Not on earth shall I learn this wisdom; and how shall I learn it then
When I lie alone in the grave-mound, and have no speech with men?
But for thee,--O doubt it nothing that my life shall live in thee,
And so shall we twain be loving in the days that yet shall be."
It was as if she heard him not; and she fell aback from him a little and
stood silently for a while as one in deep thought; and then turned and
went a few paces from him, and stooped down and came back again with
something in her arms (and it was the hauberk once more), and said
suddenly:
"O Thiodolf, now tell me for what cause thou wouldst not bear
This grey wall of the hammer in the tempest of the spear?
Didst thou doubt my faith, O Folk-wolf, or the counsel of the Gods,
That thou needs must cast thee naked midst the flashing battle-rods,
Or is thy pride so mighty that it seemed to thee indeed
That death was a better guerdon than the love of the Godhead's seed?"
But Thiodolf said: "O Wood-Sun, this thou hast a right to ask of me, why
I have not worn in the battle thy gift, the Treasure of the World, the
Dwarf-wrought Hauberk! And what is this that thou sayest? I doubt not
thy faith towards me and thine abundant love: and as for the rede of the
Gods, I know it not, nor may I know it, nor turn it this way nor that:
and as for thy love and that I would choose death sooner, I know not what
thou meanest; I will not say that I love thy love better than life
itself; for these two, my life and my love, are blended together and may
not be sundered.
"Hearken therefore as to the Hauberk: I wot well that it is for no light
matter that thou wouldst have me bear thy gift, the wondrous hauberk,
into battle; I deem that some doom is wrapped up in it; maybe that I
shall fall before the foe if I wear it not; and that if I wear it,
somewhat may betide me which is unmeet to betide a warrior of the
Wolfings. Therefore will I tell thee why I have fought in two battles
with the Romans with unmailed body, and why I left the hauberk, (which I
see that thou bearest in thine arms) in the Roof of the Daylings. For
when I entered therein, clad in the hauberk, there came to meet me an
ancient man, one of the very valiant of days past, and he looked on me
with the eyes of love, as though he had been the very father of our folk,
and I the man that was to come after him to carry on the life thereof.
But when he saw the hauberk and touched it, then was his love smitten
cold with sadness and he spoke words of evil omen; so that putting this
together with thy words about the gift, and that thou didst in a manner
compel me to wear it, I could not but deem that this mail is for the
ransom of a man and the ruin of a folk.
"Wilt thou say that it is not so? then will I wear the hauberk, and live
and die happy. But if thou sayest that I have deemed aright, and that a
curse goeth with the hauberk, then either for the sake of the folk I will
not wear the gift and the curse, and I shall die in great glory, and
because of me the House shall live; or else for thy sake I shall bear it
and live, and the House shall live or die as may be, but I not helping,
nay I no longer of the House nor in it. How sayest thou?"
Then she said:
"Hail be thy mouth, beloved, for that last word of thine,
And the hope that thine heart conceiveth and the hope that is born in
mine.
Yea, for a man's delivrance was the hauberk born indeed
That once more the mighty warrior might help the folk at need.
And where is the curse's dwelling if thy life be saved to dwell
Amidst the Wolfing warriors and the folk that loves thee well
And the house where the high Gods left thee to be cherished well
therein?
"Yea more: I have told thee, beloved, that thou art not of the kin;
The blood in thy body is blended of the wandering Elking race,
And one that I may not tell of, who in God-home hath his place,
And who changed his shape to beget thee in the wild-wood's leafy roof.
How then shall the doom of the Wolfings be woven in the woof
Which the Norns for thee have shuttled? or shall one man of war
Cast down the tree of the Wolfings on the roots that spread so far?
O friend, thou art wise and mighty, but other men have lived
Beneath the Wolfing roof-tree whereby the folk has thrived."
He reddened at her word; but his eyes looked eagerly on her. She cast
down the hauberk, and drew one step nigher to him. She knitted her
brows, her face waxed terrible, and her stature seemed to grow greater,
as she lifted up her gleaming right arm, and cried out in a great voice.
"Thou Thiodolf the Mighty! Hadst thou will to cast the net
And tangle the House in thy trouble, it is I would slay thee yet;
For 'tis I and I that love them, and my sorrow would I give,
And thy life, thou God of battle, that the Wolfing House might live."
Therewith she rushed forward, and cast herself upon him, and threw her
arms about him, and strained him to her bosom, and kissed his face, and
he her in likewise, for there was none to behold them, and nought but the
naked heaven was the roof above their heads.
And now it was as if the touch of her face and her body, and the
murmuring of her voice changed and soft close to his ear, as she murmured
mere words of love to him, drew him away from the life of deeds and
doubts and made a new world for him, wherein he beheld all those fair
pictures of the happy days that had been in his musings when first he
left the field of the dead.
So they sat down on the grey stone together hand in hand, her head laid
upon his shoulder, no otherwise than if they had been two lovers, young
and without renown in days of deep peace.
So as they sat, her foot smote on the cold hilts of the sword, which
Thiodolf had laid down in the grass; and she stooped and took it up, and
laid it across her knees and his as they sat there; and she looked on
Throng-plough as he lay still in the sheath, and smiled on him, and saw
that the peace-strings were not yet wound about his hilts. So she drew
him forth and raised him up in her hand, and he gleamed white and fearful
in the growing dawn, for all things had now gotten their colours again,
whereas amidst their talking had the night worn, and the moon low down
was grown white and pale.
But she leaned aside, and laid her cheek against Thiodolf's, and he took
the sword out of her hand and set it on his knees again, and laid his
right hand on it, and said:
"Two things by these blue edges in the face of the dawning I swear;
And first this warrior's ransom in the coming fight to bear,
And evermore to love thee who hast given me second birth.
And by the sword I swear it, and by the Holy Earth,
To live for the House of the Wolfings, and at last to die for their
need.
For though I trow thy saying that I am not one of their seed,
Nor yet by the hand have been taken and unto the Father shown
As a very son of the Fathers, yet mid them hath my body grown;
And I am the guest of their Folk-Hall, and each one there is my
friend.
So with them is my joy and sorrow, and my life, and my death in the
end.
Now whatso doom hereafter my coming days shall bide,
Thou speech-friend, thou deliverer, thine is this dawning-tide."
She spoke no word to him; but they rose up and went hand in hand down the
dale, he still bearing his naked sword over his shoulder, and thus they
went together into the yew-copse at the dale's end. There they abode
till after the rising of the sun, and each to each spake many loving
words at their departure; and the Wood-Sun went her ways at her will.
But Thiodolf went up the dale again, and set Throng-plough in his sheath,
and wound the peace-strings round him. Then he took up the hauberk from
the grass whereas the Wood-Sun had cast it, and did it on him, as it were
of the attire he was wont to carry daily. So he girt Throng-plough to
him, and went soberly up to the ridge-top to the folk, who were just
stirring in the early morning.
CHAPTER XVIII--TIDINGS BROUGHT TO THE WAIN-BURG
Now it must be told of Otter and they of the Wain-burg how they had the
tidings of the overthrow of the Romans on the Ridge, and that Egil had
left them on his way to Wolf-stead. They were joyful of the tale, as was
like to be, but eager also to strike their stroke at the foemen, and in
that mood they abode fresh tidings.
It has been told how Otter had sent the Bearings and the Wormings to the
aid of Thiodolf and his folk, and these two were great kindreds, and they
being gone, there abode with Otter, one man with another, thralls and
freemen, scant three thousand men: of these many were bowmen good to
fight from behind a wall or fence, or some such cover, but scarce meet to
withstand a shock in the open field. However it was deemed at this time
in the Wain-burg that Thiodolf and his men would soon return to them; and
in any case, they said, he lay between the Romans and the Mark, so that
they had but little doubt; or rather they feared that the Romans might
draw aback from the Mark before they could be met in battle again, for as
aforesaid they were eager for the fray.
Now it was in the cool of the evening two days after the Battle on the
Ridge, that the men, both freemen and thralls, had been disporting
themselves in the plain ground without the Burg in casting the spear and
putting the stone, and running races a-foot and a-horseback, and now
close on sunset three young men, two of the Laxings and one of the
Shieldings, and a grey old thrall of that same House, were shooting a
match with the bow, driving their shafts at a rushen roundel hung on a
pole which the old thrall had dight. Men were peaceful and happy, for
the time was fair and calm, and, as aforesaid, they dreaded not the Roman
Host any more than if they were Gods dwelling in God-home. The shooters
were deft men, and they of the Burg were curious to note their deftness,
and many were breathed with the games wherein they had striven, and
thought it good to rest, and look on the new sport: so they sat and stood
on the grass about the shooters on three sides, and the mead-horn went
briskly from man to man; for there was no lack of meat and drink in the
Burg, whereas the kindreds that lay nighest to it had brought in abundant
provision, and women of the kindreds had come to them, and not a few were
there scattered up and down among the carles.
Now the Shielding man, Geirbald by name, had just loosed at the mark, and
had shot straight and smitten the roundel in the midst, and a shout went
up from the onlookers thereat; but that shout was, as it were, lined with
another, and a cry that a messenger was riding toward the Burg: thereat
most men looked round toward the wood, because their minds were set on
fresh tidings from Thiodolf's company, but as it happened it was from the
north and the side toward Mid-mark that they on the outside of the throng
had seen the rider coming; and presently the word went from man to man
that so it was, and that the new comer was a young man on a grey horse,
and would speedily be amongst them; so they wondered what the tidings
might be, but yet they did not break up the throng, but abode in their
places that they might receive the messenger more orderly; and as the
rider drew near, those who were nighest to him perceived that it was a
woman.
So men made way before the grey horse, and its rider, and the horse was
much spent and travel-worn. So the woman rode right into the ring of
warriors, and drew rein there, and lighted down slowly and painfully, and
when she was on the ground could scarce stand for stiffness; and two or
three of the swains drew near her to help her, and knew her at once for
Hrosshild of the Wolfings, for she was well-known as a doughty woman.
Then she said: "Bring me to Otter the War-duke; or bring him hither to
me, which were best, since so many men are gathered together; and
meanwhile give me to drink; for I am thirsty and weary."
So while one went for Otter, another reached to her the mead-horn, and
she had scarce done her draught, ere Otter was there, for they had found
him at the gate of the Burg. He had many a time been in the Wolfing
Hall, so he knew her at once and said:
"Hail, Hrosshild! how farest thou?"
She said: "I fare as the bearer of evil tidings. Bid thy folk do on
their war-gear and saddle their horses, and make no delay; for now
presently shall the Roman host be in Mid-mark!"
Then cried Otter: "Blow up the war-horn! get ye all to your weapons and
be ready to leap on your horses, and come ye to the Thing in good order
kindred by kindred: later on ye shall hear Hrosshild's story as she shall
tell it to me!"
Therewith he led her to a grassy knoll that was hard by, and set her down
thereon and himself beside her, and said:
"Speak now, damsel, and fear not! For now shall one fate go over us all,
either to live together or die together as the free children of Tyr, and
friends of the Almighty God of the Earth. How camest thou to meet the
Romans and know of their ways and to live thereafter?"
She said: "Thus it was: the Hall-Sun bethought her how that the eastern
ways into Mid-mark that bring a man to the thicket behind the Roof of the
Bearings are nowise hard, even for an host; so she sent ten women, and me
the eleventh to the Bearing dwelling and the road through the thicket
aforesaid; and we were to take of the Bearing stay-at-homes whomso we
would that were handy, and then all we to watch the ways for fear of the
Romans. And methinks she has had some vision of their ways, though
mayhap not altogether clear.
"Anyhow we came to the Bearing dwellings, and they gave us of their folk
eight doughty women and two light-foot lads, and so we were twenty and
one in all.
"So then we did as the Hall-Sun bade us, and ordained a chain of watchers
far up into the waste; and these were to sound a point of war upon their
horns each to each till the sound thereof should come to us who lay with
our horses hoppled ready beside us in the fair plain of the Mark outside
the thicket.
"To be short, the horns waked us up in the midst of yesternight, and of
the watches also came to us the last, which had heard the sound amidst
the thicket, and said that it was certainly the sound of the Goths' horn,
and the note agreed on. Therefore I sent a messenger at once to the
Wolfing Roof to say what was toward; but to thee I would not ride until I
had made surer of the tidings; so I waited awhile, and then rode into the
wild-wood; and a long tale I might make both of the waiting and the
riding, had I time thereto; but this is the end of it; that going warily
a little past where the thicket thinneth and the road endeth, I came on
three of those watches or links in the chain we had made, and half of
another watch or link; that is to say six women, who were come together
after having blown their horns and fled (though they should rather have
abided in some lurking-place to espy whatever might come that way) and
one other woman, who had been one of the watch much further off, and had
spoken with the furthest of all, which one had seen the faring of the
Roman Host, and that it was very great, and no mere band of pillagers or
of scouts. And, said this fleer (who was indeed half wild with fear),
that while they were talking together, came the Romans upon them, and saw
them; and a band of Romans beat the wood for them when they fled, and
she, the fleer, was at point to be taken, and saw two taken indeed, and
haled off by the Roman scourers of the wood. But she escaped and so came
to the others on the skirts of the thicket, having left of her skin and
blood on many a thornbush and rock by the way.
"Now when I heard this, I bade this fleer get her home to the Bearings as
swiftly as she might, and tell her tale; and she went away trembling, and
scarce knowing whether her feet were on earth or on water or on fire; but
belike failed not to come there, as no Romans were before her.
"But for the others, I sent one to go straight to Wolf-stead on the heels
of the first messenger, to tell the Hall-Sun what had befallen, and other
five I set to lurk in the thicket, whereas none could lightly lay hands
on them, and when they had new tidings, to flee to Wolf-stead as occasion
might serve them; and for myself I tarried not, but rode on the spur to
tell thee hereof.
"But my last word to thee, Otter, is that by the Hall-sun's bidding the
Bearings will not abide fire and steel at their own stead, but when they
hear true tidings of the Romans being hard at hand, will take with them
all that is not too hot or too heavy to carry, and go their ways unto
Wolf-stead: and the tidings will go up and down the Mark on both sides of
the water, so that whatever is of avail for defence will gather there at
our dwelling, and if we fall, goodly shall be the howe heaped over us,
even if ye come not in time.
"Now have I told thee what I needs must and there is no need to question
me more, for thou hast it all--do thou what thou hast to do!"
With that word she cast herself down on the grass by the mound-side, and
was presently asleep, for she was very weary.
But all the time she had been telling her tale had the horn been
sounding, and there were now a many warriors gathered and more coming in
every moment: so Otter stood up on the mound after he had bidden a man of
his House to bring him his horse and war-gear, and abided a little, till,
as might be said, the whole host was gathered: then he bade cry silence,
and spake:
"Sons of Tyr, now hath an Host of the Romans gotten into the Mark; a
mighty host, but not so mighty that it may not be met. Few words are
best: let the Steerings, who are not many, but are men well-tried in war
and wisdom abide in the Burg along with the fighting thralls: but let the
Burg be broken up and moved from the place, and let its warders wend
towards Mid-mark, but warily and without haste, and each night let them
make the wain-garth and keep good watch.
"But know ye that the Romans shall fall with all their power on the
Wolfing dwellings, deeming that when they have that, they shall have all
that is ours with ourselves also. For there is the Hall-Sun under the
Great Roof, and there hath Thiodolf, our War-duke, his dwelling-place;
therefore shall all of us, save those that abide with the wains, take
horse, and ride without delay, and cross the water at Battleford, so that
we may fall upon the foe before they come west of the water; for as ye
know there is but one ford whereby a man wending straight from the
Bearings may cross Mirkwood-water, and it is like that the foe will tarry
at the Bearing stead long enough to burn and pillage it.
"So do ye order yourselves according to your kindreds, and let the
Shieldings lead. Make no more delay! But for me I will now send a
messenger to Thiodolf to tell him of the tidings, and then speedily shall
he be with us. Geirbald, I see thee; come hither!"
Now Geirbald stood amidst the Shieldings, and when Otter had spoken, he
came forth bestriding a white horse, and with his bow slung at his back.
Said Otter: "Geirbald, thou shalt ride at once through the wood, and find
Thiodolf; and tell him the tidings, and that in nowise he follow the
Roman fleers away from the Mark, nor to heed anything but the trail of
the foemen through the south-eastern heaths of Mirkwood, whether other
Romans follow him or not: whatever happens let him lead the Goths by that
road, which for him is the shortest, towards the defence of the Wolfing
dwellings. Lo thou, my ring for a token! Take it and depart in haste.
Yet first take thy fellow Viglund the Woodman with thee, lest if
perchance one fall, the other may bear the message. Tarry not, nor rest
till thy word be said!"
Then turned Geirbald to find Viglund who was anigh to him, and he took
the ring, and the twain went their ways without more ado, and rode into
the wild-wood.
But about the wain-burg was there plenteous stir of men till all was
ordered for the departure of the host, which was no long while, for there
was nothing to do but on with the war-gear and up on to the horse.
Forth then they went duly ordered in their kindreds towards the head of
the Upper-mark, riding as swiftly as they might without breaking their
array.
CHAPTER XIX--THOSE MESSENGERS COME TO THIODOLF
Of Geirbald and Viglund the tale tells that they rode the woodland paths
as speedily as they might. They had not gone far, and were winding
through a path amidst of a thicket mingled of the hornbeam and holly,
betwixt the openings of which the bracken grew exceeding tall, when
Viglund, who was very fine-eared, deemed that he heard a horse coming to
meet them: so they lay as close as they might, and drew back their horses
behind a great holly-bush lest it should be some one or more of the foes
who had fled into the wood when the Romans were scattered in that first
fight. But as the sound drew nearer, and it was clearly the footsteps of
a great horse, they deemed it would be some messenger from Thiodolf, as
indeed it turned out: for as the new-comer fared on, somewhat unwarily,
they saw a bright helm after the fashion of the Goths amidst of the
trees, and then presently they knew by his attire that he was of the
Bearings, and so at last they knew him to be Asbiorn of the said House, a
doughty man; so they came forth to meet him and he drew rein when he saw
armed men, but presently beholding their faces he knew them and laughed
on them, and said:
"Hail fellows! what tidings are toward?"
"These," said Viglund, "that thou art well met, since now shalt thou turn
back and bring us to Thiodolf as speedily as may be."
But Asbiorn laughed and said: "Nay rather turn about with me; or why are
ye so grim of countenance?"
"Our errand is no light one," said Geirbald, "but thou, why art thou so
merry?"
"I have seen the Romans fall," said he, "and belike shall soon see more
of that game: for I am on an errand to Otter from Thiodolf: the War-duke,
when he had questioned some of those whom we took on the Day of the
Ridge, began to have a deeming that the Romans had beguiled us, and will
fall on the Mark by the way of the south-east heaths: so now is he
hastening to fetch a compass and follow that road either to overtake them
or prevent them; and he biddeth Otter tarry not, but ride hard along the
water to meet them if he may, or ever they have set their hands to the
dwellings of my House. And belike when I have done mine errand to Otter
I shall ride with him to look on these burners and slayers once more;
therefore am I merry. Now for your tidings, fellows."
Said Geirbald: "Our tidings are that both our errands are prevented, and
come to nought: for Otter hath not tarried, but hath ridden with all his
folk toward the stead of thine House. So shalt thou indeed see these
burners and slayers if thou ridest hard; since we have tidings that the
Romans will by now be in Mid-mark. And as for our errand, it is to bid
Thiodolf do even as he hath done. Hereby may we see how good a pair of
War-dukes we have gotten, since each thinketh of the same wisdom. Now
take we counsel together as to what we shall do; whether we shall go back
to Otter with thee, or thou go back to Thiodolf with us; or else each go
the road ordained for us."
Said Asbiorn: "To Otter will I ride as I was bidden, that I may look on
the burning of our roof, and avenge me of the Romans afterwards; and I
bid you, fellows, ride with me, since fewer men there are with Otter, and
he must be the first to bide the brunt of battle."
"Nay," said Geirbald, "as for me ye must even lose a man's aid; for to
Thiodolf was I sent, and to Thiodolf will I go: and bethink thee if this
be not best, since Thiodolf hath but a deeming of the ways of the Romans
and we wot surely of them. Our coming shall make him the speedier, and
the less like to turn back if any alien band shall follow after him. What
sayest thou, Viglund?"
Said Viglund: "Even as thou, Geirbald: but for myself I deem I may well
turn back with Asbiorn. For I would serve the House in battle as soon as
may be; and maybe we shall slaughter these kites of the cities, so that
Thiodolf shall have no work to do when he cometh."
Said Asbiorn; "Geirbald, knowest thou right well the ways through the
wood and on the other side thereof, to the place where Thiodolf abideth?
for ye see that night is at hand."
"Nay, not over well," said Geirbald.
Said Asbiorn: "Then I rede thee take Viglund with thee; for he knoweth
them yard by yard, and where they be hard and where they be soft.
Moreover it were best indeed that ye meet Thiodolf betimes; for I deem
not but that he wendeth leisurely, though always warily, because he
deemeth not that Otter will ride before to-morrow morning. Hearken,
Viglund! Thiodolf will rest to-night on the other side of the water,
nigh to where the hills break off into the sheer cliffs that are called
the Kites' Nest, and the water runneth under them, coming from the east:
and before him lieth the easy ground of the eastern heaths where he is
minded to wend to-morrow betimes in the morning: and if ye do your best
ye shall be there before he is upon the road, and sure it is that your
tidings shall hasten him."
"Thou sayest sooth," saith Geirbald, "tarry we no longer; here sunder our
ways; farewell!"
"Farewell," said he, "and thou, Viglund, take this word in parting, that
belike thou shalt yet see the Romans, and strike a stroke, and maybe be
smitten. For indeed they be most mighty warriors."
Then made they no delay but rode their ways either side. And Geirbald
and Viglund rode over rough and smooth all night, and were out of the
thick wood by day-dawn: and whereas they rode hard, and Viglund knew the
ways well, they came to Mirkwood-water before the day was old, and saw
that the host was stirring, but not yet on the way. And or ever they
came to the water's edge, they were met by Wolfkettle of the Wolfings,
and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and three others who were but just come from
the place where the hurt men lay down in a dale near the Great Ridge;
there had Wolfkettle and Hiarandi been tending Toti of the Beamings,
their fellow-in-arms, who had been sorely hurt in the battle, but was
doing well, and was like to live. So when they saw the messengers, they
came up to them and hailed them, and asked them if the tidings were good
or evil.
"That is as it may be," said Geirbald, "but they are short to tell; the
Romans are in Mid-mark, and Otter rideth on the spur to meet them, and
sendeth us to bid Thiodolf wend the heaths to fall in on them also. Nor
may we tarry one minute ere we have seen Thiodolf."
Said Wolfkettle, "We will lead you to him; he is on the east side of the
water, with all his host, and they are hard on departing."
So they went down the ford, which was not very deep; and Wolfkettle rode
the ford behind Geirbald, and another man behind Viglund; but Hiarandi
went afoot with the others beside the horses, for he was a very tall man.
But as they rode amidst the clear water Wolfkettle lifted up his voice
and sang:
"White horse, with what are ye laden as ye wade the shallows warm,
But with tidings of the battle, and the fear of the fateful storm?
What loureth now behind us, what pileth clouds before,
On either hand what gathereth save the stormy tide of war?
Now grows midsummer mirky, and fallow falls the morn,
And dusketh the Moon's Sister, and the trees look overworn;
God's Ash tree shakes and shivers, and the sheer cliff standeth white
As the bones of the giants' father when the Gods first fared to
fight."
And indeed the morning had grown mirky and grey and threatening, and from
far away the thunder growled, and the face of the Kite's Nest showed pale
and awful against a dark steely cloud; and a few drops of rain pattered
into the smooth water before them from a rag of the cloud-flock right
over head. They were in mid stream now, for the water was wide there; on
the eastern bank were the warriors gathering, for they had beheld the
faring of those men, and the voice of Wolfkettle came to them across the
water, so they deemed that great tidings were toward, and would fain know
on what errand those were come.
Then the waters of the ford deepened till Hiarandi was wading more than
waist-deep, and the water flowed over Geirbald's saddle; then Wolfkettle
laughed, and turning as he sat, dragged out his sword, and waved it from
east to west and sang:
"O sun, pale up in heaven, shrink from us if thou wilt,
And turn thy face from beholding the shock of guilt with guilt!
Stand still, O blood of summer! and let the harvest fade,
Till there be nought but fallow where once was bloom and blade!
O day, give out but a glimmer of all thy flood of light,
If it be but enough for our eyen to see the road of fight!
Forget all else and slumber, if still ye let us wake,
And our mouths shall make the thunder, and our swords shall the
lightening make,
And we shall be the storm-wind and drive the ruddy rain,
Till the joy of our hearts in battle bring back the day again."
As he spake that word they came up through the shallow water dripping on
to the bank, and they and the men who abode them on the bank shouted
together for joy of fellowship, and all tossed aloft their weapons. The
man who had ridden behind Viglund slipped off on to the ground; but
Wolfkettle abode in his place behind Geirbald.
So the messengers passed on, and the others closed up round about them,
and all the throng went up to where Thiodolf was sitting on a rock
beneath a sole ash-tree, the face of the Kite's Nest rising behind him on
the other side of a bight of the river. There he sat unhelmed with the
dwarf-wrought hauberk about him, holding Throng-plough in its sheath
across his knees, while he gave word to this and that man concerning the
order of the host.
So when they were come thither, the throng opened that the messengers
might come forward; for by this time had many more drawn near to hearken
what was toward. There they sat on their horses, the white and the grey,
and Wolfkettle stood by Geirbald's bridle rein, for he had now lighted
down; and a little behind him, his head towering over the others, stood
Hiarandi great and gaunt. The ragged cloud had drifted down south-east
now and the rain fell no more, but the sun was still pale and clouded.
Then Thiodolf looked gravely on them, and spake:
"What do ye sons of the War-shield? what tale is there to tell?
Is the kindred fallen tangled in the grasp of the fallow Hell?
Crows the red cock over the homesteads, have we met the foe too late?
For meseems your brows are heavy with the shadowing o'er of fate."
But Geirbald answered:
"Still cold with dew in the morning the Shielding Roof-ridge stands,
Nor yet hath grey Hell bounden the Shielding warriors' hands;
But lo, the swords, O War-duke, how thick in the wind they shake,
Because we bear the message that the battle-road ye take,
Nor tarry for the thunder or the coming on of rain,
Or the windy cloudy night-tide, lest your battle be but vain.
And this is the word that Otter yestre'en hath set in my mouth;
Seek thou the trail of the Aliens of the Cities of the South,
And thou shalt find it leading o'er the heaths to the beechen-wood,
And thence to the stony places where the foxes find their food;
And thence to the tangled thicket where the folkway cleaves it
through,
To the eastern edge of Mid-mark where the Bearings deal and do."
Then said Thiodolf in a cold voice, "What then hath befallen Otter?"
Said Geirbald:
"When last I looked upon Otter, all armed he rode the plain,
With his whole host clattering round him like the rush of the summer
rain;
To the right or the left they looked not but they rode through the
dusk and the dark
Beholding nought before them but the dream of the foes in the Mark.
So he went; but his word fled from him and on my horse it rode,
And again it saith, O War-duke seek thou the Bear's abode,
And tarry never a moment for ought that seems of worth,
For there shall ye find the sword-edge and the flame of the foes of
the earth.
"Tarry not, Thiodolf, nor turn aback though a new foe followeth on thine
heels. No need to question me more; I have no more to tell, save that a
woman brought these tidings to us, whom the Hall-Sun had sent with others
to watch the ways: and some of them had seen the Romans, who are a great
host and no band stealing forth to lift the herds."
Now all those round about him heard his words, for he spake with a loud
voice; and they knew what the bidding of the War-duke would be; so they
loitered not, but each man went about his business of looking to his war-
gear and gathering to the appointed place of his kindred. And even while
Geirbald had been speaking, had Hiarandi brought up the man who bore the
great horn, who when Thiodolf leapt to his feet to find him, was close at
hand. So he bade him blow the war-blast, and all men knew the meaning of
that voice of the horn, and every man armed him in haste, and they who
had horses (and these were but the Bearings and the Warnings), saddled
them, and mounted, and from mouth to mouth went the word that the Romans
were gotten into Mid-mark, and were burning the Bearing abodes. So
speedily was the whole host ready for the way, the Wolfings at the head
of all. Then came forth Thiodolf from the midst of his kindred, and they
raised him upon a great war-shield upheld by many men, and he stood
thereon and spake:
"O sons of Tyr, ye have vanquished, and sore hath been your pain;
But he that smiteth in battle must ever smite again;
And thus with you it fareth, and the day abideth yet
When ye shall hold the Aliens as the fishes in the net.
On the Ridge ye slew a many; but there came a many more
From their strongholds by the water to their new-built garth of war,
And all these have been led by dastards o'er the way our feet must
tread
Through the eastern heaths and the beech-wood to the door of the
Bearing stead,
Now e'en yesterday I deemed it, but I durst not haste away
Ere the word was borne to Otter and 'tis he bids haste to-day;
So now by day and by night-tide it behoveth us to wend
And wind the reel of battle and weave its web to end.
Had ye deemed my eyes foreseeing, I would tell you of my sight,
How I see the folk delivered and the Aliens turned to flight,
While my own feet wend them onwards to the ancient Father's Home.
But belike these are but the visions that to many a man shall come
When he goeth adown to the battle, and before him riseth high
The wall of valiant foemen to hide all things anigh.
But indeed I know full surely that no work that we may win
To-morrow or the next day shall quench the Markmen's kin.
On many a day hereafter shall their warriors carry shield;
On many a day their maidens shall drive the kine afield,
On many a day their reapers bear sickle in the wheat
When the golden wind-wrought ripple stirs round the feast-hall's feet.
Lo, now is the day's work easy--to live and overcome,
Or to die and yet to conquer on the threshold of the Home."
And therewith he gat him down and went a-foot to the head of the Wolfing
band, a great shout going with him, which was mingled with the voice of
the war-horn that bade away.
So fell the whole host into due array, and they were somewhat over three
thousand warriors, all good and tried men and meet to face the uttermost
of battle in the open field; so they went their ways with all the speed
that footmen may, and in fair order; and the sky cleared above their
heads, but the distant thunder still growled about the world. Geirbald
and Viglund joined themselves to the Wolfings and went a-foot along with
Wolfkettle; but Hiarandi went with his kindred who were second in the
array.
CHAPTER XX--OTTER AND HIS FOLK COME INTO MID-MARK
Otter and his folk rode their ways along Mirkwood-water, and made no
stay, except now and again to breathe their horses, till they came to
Battleford in the early morning; there they baited their horses, for the
grass was good in the meadow, and the water easy to come at.
So after they had rested there a short hour, and had eaten what was easy
for them to get, they crossed the ford, and wended along Mirkwood-water
between the wood and the river, but went slower than before lest they
should weary their horses; so that it was high-noon before they had come
out of the woodland way into Mid-mark; and at once as soon as the whole
plain of the Mark opened out before them, they saw what most of them
looked to see (since none doubted Hrosshild's tale), and that was a
column of smoke rising high and straight up into the air, for the
afternoon was hot and windless. Great wrath rose in their hearts
thereat, and many a strong man trembled for anger, though none for fear,
as Otter raised his right hand and stretched it out towards that token of
wrack and ruin; yet they made no stay, nor did they quicken their pace
much; because they knew that they should come to Bearham before night-
fall, and they would not meet the Romans way-worn and haggard; but they
rode on steadily, a terrible company of wrathful men.
They passed by the dwellings of the kindreds, though save for the
Galtings the houses on the east side of the water between the Bearings
and the wild-wood road were but small; for the thicket came somewhat near
to the water and pinched the meadows. But the Galtings were great
hunters and trackers of the wild-wood, and they of the Geddings, the
Erings and the Withings, which were smaller Houses, lived somewhat on the
take of fish from Mirkwood-water (as did the Laxings also of the Nether-
mark), for thereabout were there goodly pools and eddies, and sun-warmed
shallows therewithal for the spawning of the trouts; as there were eyots
in the water, most of which tailed off into a gravelly shallow at their
lower ends.
Now as the riders of the Goths came over against the dwellings of the
Withings, they saw people, mostly women, driving up the beasts from the
meadow towards the garth; but upon the tofts about their dwellings were
gathered many folk, who had their eyes turned toward the token of ravage
that hung in the sky above the fair plain; but when these beheld the
riding of the host, they tossed up their arms to them and whatever they
bore in them, and the sound of their shrill cry (for they were all women
and young lads) came down the wind to the ears of the riders. But down
by the river on a swell of the ground were some swains and a few thralls,
and among them some men armed and a-horseback; and these, when they
perceived the host coming on turned and rode to meet them; and as they
drew near they shouted as men overjoyed to meet their kindred; and indeed
the fighting-men of their own House were riding in the host. And the
armed men were three old men, and one very old with marvellous long white
hair, and four long lads of some fifteen winters, and four stout carles
of the thralls bearing bows and bucklers, and these rode behind the
swains; so they found their own kindred and rode amongst them.
But when they were all jingling and clashing on together, the dust
arising from the sun-dried turf, the earth shaking with the thunder of
the horse-hoofs, then the heart of the long-hoary one stirred within him
as he bethought him of the days of his youth, and to his old nostrils
came the smell of the horses and the savour of the sweat of warriors
riding close together knee to knee adown the meadow. So he lifted up his
voice and sang:
"Rideth lovely along
The strong by the strong;
Soft under his breath
Singeth sword in the sheath,
And shield babbleth oft
Unto helm-crest aloft;
How soon shall their words rise mid wrath of the battle
Into wrangle unheeded of clanging and rattle,
And no man shall note then the gold on the sword
When the runes have no meaning, the mouth-cry no word,
When all mingled together, the war-sea of men
Shall toss up the steel-spray round fourscore and ten.
"Now as maids burn the weed
Betwixt acre and mead,
So the Bearings' Roof
Burneth little aloof,
And red gloweth the hall
Betwixt wall and fair wall,
Where often the mead-sea we sipped in old days,
When our feet were a-weary with wending the ways;
When the love of the lovely at even was born,
And our hands felt fair hands as they fell on the horn.
There round about standeth the ring of the foe
Tossing babes on their spears like the weeds o'er the low.
"Ride, ride then! nor spare
The red steeds as ye fare!
Yet if daylight shall fail,
By the fire-light of bale
Shall we see the bleared eyes
Of the war-learned, the wise.
In the acre of battle the work is to win,
Let us live by the labour, sheaf-smiting therein;
And as oft o'er the sickle we sang in time past
When the crake that long mocked us fled light at the last,
So sing o'er the sword, and the sword-hardened hand
Bearing down to the reaping the wrath of the land."
So he sang; and a great shout went up from his kindred and those around
him, and it was taken up all along the host, though many knew not why
they shouted, and the whole host quickened its pace, and went a great
trot over the smooth meadow.
So in no long while were they come over against the stead of the Erings,
and thereabouts were no beasts afield, and no women, for all the neat
were driven into the garth of the House; but all they who were not war-
fit were standing without doors looking down the Mark towards the reek of
the Bearing dwellings, and these also sent a cry of welcome toward the
host of their kindred. But along the river-bank came to meet the host an
armed band of two old men, two youths who were their sons, and twelve
thralls who were armed with long spears; and all these were a-horseback:
so they fell in with their kindred and the host made no stay for them,
but pressed on over-running the meadow. And still went up that column of
smoke, and thicker and blacker it grew a-top, and ruddier amidmost.
So came they by the abode of the Geddings, and there also the neat and
sheep were close in the home-garth: but armed men were lying or standing
about the river bank, talking or singing merrily none otherwise than
though deep peace were on the land; and when they saw the faring of the
host they sprang to their feet with a shout and gat to their horses at
once: they were more than the other bands had been, for the Geddings were
a greater House; they were seven old men, and ten swains, and ten thralls
bearing long spears like to those of the Erings; and no sooner had they
fallen in with their kindred, than the men of the host espied a greater
company yet coming to meet them: and these were of the folk of the
Galtings; and amongst them were ten warriors in their prime, because they
had but of late come back from the hunting in the wood and had been
belated from the muster of the kindreds; and with them were eight old men
and fifteen lads, and eighteen thralls; and the swains and thralls all
bore bows besides the swords that they were girt withal, and not all of
them had horses, but they who had none rode behind the others: so they
joined themselves to the host, shouting aloud; and they had with them a
great horn that they blew on till they had taken their place in the
array; and whereas their kindred was with Thiodolf, they followed along
with the hinder men of the Shieldings.
So now all the host went on together, and when they had passed the
Galting abodes, there was nothing between them and Bearham, nor need they
look for any further help of men; there were no beasts afield nor any to
herd them, and the stay-at-homes were within doors dighting them for
departure into the wild-wood if need should be: but a little while after
they had passed these dwellings came into the host two swains of about
twenty winters, and a doughty maid, their sister, and they bare no
weapons save short spears and knives; they were wet and dripping with the
water, for they had just swum Mirkwood-water. They were of the Wolfing
House, and had been shepherding a few sheep on the west side of the
water, when they saw the host faring to battle, and might not refrain
them, but swam their horses across the swift deeps to join their kindred
to live and die with them. The tale tells that they three fought in the
battles that followed after, and were not slain there, though they
entered them unarmed, but lived long years afterwards: of them need no
more be said.
Now, when the host was but a little past the Galting dwellings men began
to see the flames mingled with the smoke of the burning, and the smoke
itself growing thinner, as though the fire had over-mastered everything
and was consuming itself with its own violence; and somewhat afterwards,
the ground rising, they could see the Bearing meadow and the foemen
thereon: yet a little further, and from the height of another swelling of
the earth they could see the burning houses themselves and the array of
the Romans; so there they stayed and breathed their horses a while. And
they beheld how of the Romans a great company was gathered together in
close array betwixt the ford and the Bearing Hall, but nigher unto the
ford, and these were a short mile from them; but others they saw
streaming out from the burning dwellings, as if their work were done
there, and they could not see that they had any captives with them. Other
Romans there were, and amongst them men in the attire of the Goths,
busied about the river banks, as though they were going to try the ford.
But a little while abode Otter in that place, and then waved his arm and
rode on and all the host followed; and as they drew nigher, Otter, who
was wise in war, beheld the Romans and deemed them a great host, and the
very kernel and main body of them many more than all his company; and
moreover they were duly and well arrayed as men waiting a foe; so he knew
that he must be wary or he would lose himself and all his men.
So he stayed his company when they were about two furlongs from them, and
the main body of the foe stirred not, but horsemen and slingers came
forth from its sides and made on toward the Goths, and in three or four
minutes were within bowshot of them. Then the bowmen of the Goths
slipped down from their horses and bent their bows and nocked their
arrows and let fly, and slew and hurt many of the horsemen, who endured
their shot but for a minute or two and then turned rein and rode back
slowly to their folk, and the slingers came not on very eagerly whereas
they were dealing with men a-horseback, and the bowmen of the Goths also
held them still.
Now turned Otter to his folk and made them a sign, which they knew well,
that they should get down from their horses; and when they were afoot the
leaders of tens and hundreds arrayed them, into the wedge-array, with the
bowmen on either flank: and Otter smiled as he beheld this adoing and
that the Romans meddled not with them, belike because they looked to have
them good cheap, since they were but a few wild men.
But when they were all arrayed he sat still on his horse and spake to
them short and sharply, saying:
"Men of the Goths, will ye mount your horses again and ride into the wood
and let it cover you, or will ye fight these Romans?" They answered him
with a great shout and the clashing of their weapons on their shields.
"That is well," quoth Otter, "since we have come so far; for I perceive
that the foe will come to meet us, so that we must either abide their
shock or turn our backs. Yet must we fight wisely or we are undone, and
Thiodolf in risk of undoing; this have we to do if we may, to thrust in
between them and the ford, and if we may do that, there let us fight it
out, till we fall one over another. But if we may not do it, then will
we not throw our lives away but do the foemen what hurt we may without
mingling ourselves amongst them, and so abide the coming of Thiodolf; for
if we get not betwixt them and the ford we may in no case hinder them
from crossing. And all this I tell you that ye may follow me wisely, and
refrain your wrath that ye may live yet to give it the rein when the time
comes."
So he spake and got down from his horse and drew his sword and went to
the head of the wedge-array and began slowly to lead forth; but the
thralls and swains had heed of the horses, and they drew aback with them
towards the wood which was but a little way from them.
But for Otter he led his men down towards the ford, and when the Romans
saw that, their main body began to move forward, faring slant-wise, as a
crab, down toward the ford; then Otter hastened somewhat, as he well
might, since his men were well learned in war and did not break their
array; but now by this time were those burners of the Romans come up with
the main battle, and the Roman captain sent them at once against the
Goths, and they advanced boldly enough, a great cloud of men in loose
array who fell to with arrows and slings on the wedge-array and slew and
hurt many: yet did not Otter stay his folk; but it was ill going for
them, for their unshielded sides were turned to the Romans, nor durst
Otter scatter his bowmen out from the wedge-array, lest the Romans, who
were more than they, should enter in amongst them. Ever he gazed
earnestly on the main battle of the Romans, and what they were doing, and
presently it became clear to him that they would outgo him and come to
the ford, and then he wotted well that they would set on him just when
their light-armed were on his flank and his rearward, and then it would
go hard but they would break their array and all would be lost: therefore
he slacked his pace and went very slowly and the Romans went none the
slower for that; but their light-armed grew bolder and drew more together
as they came nigher to the Goths, as though they would give them an
onset; but just at that nick of time Otter passed the word down the
ranks, and, waving his sword, turned sharply to the right and fell with
all the wedge-array on the clustering throng of the light-armed, and his
bowmen spread out now from the right flank of the wedge-array, and shot
sharp and swift and the bowmen on the left flank ran forward swiftly till
they had cleared the wedge-array and were on the flank of the light-armed
Romans; and they, what between the onset of the swordsmen and spearmen of
the Goths, and their sharp arrows, knew not which way to turn, and a
great slaughter befell amongst them, and they of them were the happiest
who might save themselves by their feet.
Now after this storm, and after these men had been thrust away, Otter
stayed not, but swept round about the field toward the horses; and indeed
he looked to it that the main-battle of the Romans should follow him, but
they did not, but stayed still to receive the fleers of their
light-armed. And this indeed was the goodhap of the Goths; for they were
somewhat disordered by their chase of the light-armed, and they smote and
spared not, their hearts being full of bitter wrath, as might well be;
for even as they turned on the Romans, they beheld the great roof of the
Bearings fall in over the burned hall, and a great shower of sparks burst
up from its fall, and there were the ragged gables left standing, licked
by little tongues of flame which could not take hold of them because of
the clay which filled the spaces between the great timbers and was daubed
over them. And they saw that all the other houses were either alight or
smouldering, down to the smallest cot of a thrall, and even the barns and
booths both great and little.
Therefore, whereas the Markmen were far fewer in all than the Roman main-
battle, and whereas this same host was in very good array, no doubt there
was that the Markmen would have been grievously handled had the Romans
fallen on; but the Roman Captain would not have it so: for though he was
a bold man, yet was his boldness that of the wolf, that falleth on when
he is hungry and skulketh when he is full. He was both young and very
rich, and a mighty man among his townsmen, and well had he learned that
ginger is hot in the mouth, and though he had come forth to the war for
the increasing of his fame, he had no will to die among the Markmen,
either for the sake of the city of Rome, or of any folk whatsoever, but
was liefer to live for his own sake. Therefore was he come out to
vanquish easily, that by his fame won he might win more riches and
dominion in Rome; and he was well content also to have for his own
whatever was choice amongst the plunder of these wild-men (as he deemed
them), if it were but a fair woman or two. So this man thought, It is my
business to cross the ford and come to Wolfstead, and there take the
treasure of the tribe, and have a stronghold there, whence we may slay so
many of these beasts with little loss to us that we may march away easily
and with our hands full, even if Maenius with his men come not to our
aid, as full surely he will: therefore as to these angry men, who be not
without might and conduct in battle, let us remember the old saw that
saith 'a bridge of gold to a fleeing foe,' and let them depart with no
more hurt of Romans, and seek us afterwards when we are fenced into their
stead, which shall then be our stronghold: even so spake he to his
Captains about him.
For it must be told that he had no tidings of the overthrow of the Romans
on the Ridge; nor did he know surely how many fighting-men the Markmen
might muster, except by the report of those dastards of the Goths; and
though he had taken those two women in the wastes, yet had he got no word
from them, for they did as the Hall-Sun bade them, when they knew that
they would be questioned with torments, and smiting themselves each with
a little sharp knife, so went their ways to the Gods.
Thus then the Roman Captain let the Markmen go their ways, and turned
toward the ford, and the Markmen went slowly now toward their horses.
Howbeit there were many of them who murmured against Otter, saying that
it was ill done to have come so far and ridden so hard, and then to have
done so little, and that were to-morrow come, they would not be led away
so easily: but now they said it was ill; for the Romans would cross the
water, and make their ways to Wolfstead, none hindering them, and would
burn the dwellings and slay the old men and thralls, and have away the
women and children and the Hall-Sun the treasure of the Markmen. In
sooth, they knew not that a band of the Roman light-armed had already
crossed the water, and had fallen upon the dwellings of the Wolfings; but
that the old men and younglings and thralls of the House had come upon
them as they were entangled amidst the tofts and the garths, and had
overcome them and slain many.
Thus went Otter and his men to their horses when it was now drawing
toward sunset (for all this was some while adoing), and betook them to a
rising ground not far from the wood-side, and there made what sort of a
garth they might, with their horses and the limbs of trees and
long-shafted spears; and they set a watch and abode in the garth right
warily, and lighted no fires when night fell, but ate what meat they had
with them, which was but little, and so sleeping and watching abode the
morning. But the main body of the Romans did not cross the ford that
night, for they feared lest they might go astray therein, for it was an
ill ford to those that knew not the water: so they abode on the bank nigh
to the water's edge, with the mind to cross as soon as it was fairly
daylight.
Now Otter had lost of his men some hundred and twenty slain or grievously
hurt, and they had away with them the hurt men and the bodies of the
slain. The tale tells not how many of the Romans were slain, but a many
of their light-armed had fallen, since the Markmen had turned so hastily
upon them, and they had with them many of the best bowmen of the Mark.
CHAPTER XXI--THEY BICKER ABOUT THE FORD
In the grey of the morning was Otter afoot with the watchers, and
presently he got on his horse and peered over the plain, but the mist yet
hung low on it, so that he might see nought for a while; but at last he
seemed to note something coming toward the host from the upper water
above the ford, so he rode forward to meet it, and lo, it was a lad of
fifteen winters, naked save his breeches, and wet from the river; and
Otter drew rein, and the lad said to him: "Art thou the War-duke?" "Yea,"
said Otter.
Said the lad, "I am Ali, the son of Grey, and the Hall-Sun hath sent me
to thee with this word: 'Are ye coming? Is Thiodolf at hand? For I have
seen the Roof-ridge red in the sunlight as if it were painted with
cinnabar.'"
Said Otter, "Art thou going back to Wolfstead, son?"
"Yea, at once, my father," said Ali.
"Then tell her," said Otter, "that Thiodolf is at hand, and when he
cometh we shall both together fall upon the Romans either in crossing the
ford or in the Wolfing meadow; but tell her also that I am not strong
enough to hinder the Romans from crossing."
"Father," said Ali, "the Hall-Sun saith: Thou art wise in war; now tell
us, shall we hold the Hall against the Romans that ye may find us there?
For we have discomfited their vanguard already, and we have folk who can
fight; but belike the main battle of the Romans shall get the upper hand
of us ere ye come to our helping: belike it were better to leave the
hall, and let the wood cover us."
"Now is this well asked," said Otter; "get thee back, my son, and bid the
Hall-Sun trust not to warding of the Hall, for the Romans are a mighty
host: and this day, even when Thiodolf cometh hither, shall be hard for
the Goth-folk: let her hasten lest these thieves come upon her hastily;
let her take the Hall-Sun her namesake, and the old men and children and
the women, and let those fighting folk she hath be a guard to all this in
the wood. And hearken moreover; it will, maybe, be six hours ere
Thiodolf cometh; tell her I will cast the dice for life or death, and
stir up these Romans now at once, that they may have other things to
think of than burning old men and women and children in their dwellings;
thus may she reach the wood unhindered. Hast thou all this in thine
head? Then go thy ways."
But the lad lingered, and he reddened and looked on the ground and then
he said: "My father, I swam the deeps, and when I reached this bank, I
crept along by the mist and the reeds toward where the Romans are, and I
came near to them, and noted what they were doing; and I tell thee that
they are already stirring to take the water at the ford. Now then do
what thou wilt."
Therewith he turned about, and went his way at once, running like a colt
which has never felt halter or bit.
But Otter rode back hastily and roused certain men in whom he trusted,
and bid them rouse the captains and all the host and bid men get to horse
speedily and with as little noise as might be. So did they, and there
was little delay, for men were sleeping with one eye open, as folk say,
and many were already astir. So in a little while they were all in the
saddle, and the mist yet stretched low over the meadow; for the morning
was cool and without wind. Then Otter bade the word be carried down the
ranks that they should ride as quietly as may be and fare through the
mist to do the Romans some hurt, but in nowise to get entangled in their
ranks, and all men to heed well the signal of turning and drawing aback;
and therewith they rode off down the meadow led by men who could have led
them through the dark night.
But for the Romans, they were indeed getting ready to cross the ford when
the mist should have risen; and on the bank it was thinning already and
melting away; for a little air of wind was beginning to breathe from the
north-east and the sunrise, which was just at hand; and the bank,
moreover, was stonier and higher than the meadow's face, which fell away
from it as a shallow dish from its rim: thereon yet lay the mist like a
white wall.
So the Romans and their friends the dastards of the Goths had well nigh
got all ready, and had driven stakes into the water from bank to bank to
mark out the safe ford, and some of their light-armed and most of their
Goths were by now in the water or up on the Wolfing meadow with the more
part of their baggage and wains; and the rest of the host was drawn up in
good order, band by band, waiting the word to take the water, and the
captain was standing nigh to the river bank beside their God the chief
banner of the Host.
Of a sudden one of the dastards of the Goths who was close to the Captain
cried out that he heard horse coming; but because he spake in the Gothic
tongue, few heeded; but even therewith an old leader of a hundred cried
out the same tidings in the Roman tongue, and all men fell to handling
their weapons; but before they could face duly toward the meadow, came
rushing from out of the mist a storm of shafts that smote many men, and
therewithal burst forth the sound of the Markmen's war-horn, like the
roaring of a hundred bulls mingled with the thunder of horses at the
gallop; and then dark over the wall of mist showed the crests of the
riders of the Mark, though scarce were their horses seen till their whole
war-rank came dark and glittering into the space of the rising-ground
where the mist was but a haze now, and now at last smitten athwart by the
low sun just arisen.
Therewith came another storm of shafts, wherein javelins and spears cast
by the hand were mingled with the arrows: but the Roman ranks had faced
the meadow and the storm which it yielded, swiftly and steadily, and they
stood fast and threw their spears, albeit not with such good aim as might
have been, because of their haste, so that few were slain by them. And
the Roman Captain still loth to fight with the Goths in earnest for no
reward, and still more and more believing that this was the only band of
them that he had to look to, bade those who were nighest the ford not to
tarry for the onset of a few wild riders, but to go their ways into the
water; else by a sudden onrush might the Romans have entangled Otter's
band in their ranks, and so destroyed all. As it was the horsemen fell
not on the Roman ranks full in face, but passing like a storm athwart the
ranks to the right, fell on there where they were in thinnest array (for
they were gathered to the ford as aforesaid), and slew some and drave
some into the deeps and troubled the whole Roman host.
So now the Roman Captain was forced to take new order, and gather all his
men together, and array his men for a hard fight; and by now the mist was
rolling off from the face of the whole meadow and the sun was bright and
hot. His men serried their ranks, and the front rank cast their spears,
and slew both men and horses of the Goths as those rode along their front
casting their javelins, and shooting here and there from behind their
horses if occasion served, or making a shift to send an arrow even as
they sat a-horseback; then the second rank of the Romans would take the
place of the first, and cast in their turn, and they who had taken the
water turned back and took their place behind the others, and many of the
light-armed came with them, and all the mass of them flowed forward
together, looking as if it might never be broken. But Otter would not
abide the shock, since he had lost men and horses, and had no mind to be
caught in the sweep of their net; so he made the sign, and his Company
drew off to right and left, yet keeping within bowshot, so that the
bowmen still loosed at the Romans.
But they for their part might not follow afoot men on untired horses, and
their own horse was on the west side with the baggage, and had it been
there would have been but of little avail, as the Roman Captain knew. So
they stood awhile making grim countenance, and then slowly drew back to
the ford under cover of their light-armed who shot at the Goths as they
rode forward, but abode not their shock.
But Otter and his folk followed after the Romans again, and again did
them some hurt, and at last drew so nigh, that once more the Romans
stormed forth, and once more smote a stroke in the air; nor even so would
the Markmen cease to meddle with them, though never would Otter suffer
his men to be mingled with them. At the last the Romans, seeing that
Otter would not walk into the open trap, and growing weary of this
bickering, began to take the water little by little, while a strong
Company kept face to the Markmen; and now Otter saw that they would not
be hindered any longer, and he had lost many men, and even now feared
lest he should be caught in the trap, and so lose all. And on the other
hand it was high noon by now, so that he had given respite to the stay-at-
homes of the Wolfings, so that they might get them into the wood. So he
drew out of bowshot and bade his men breathe their horses and rest
themselves and eat something; and they did so gladly, since they saw that
they might not fall upon the Romans to live and die for it until Thiodolf
was come, or until they knew that he was not coming. But the Romans
crossed the ford in good earnest and were soon all gathered together on
the western bank making them ready for the march to Wolfstead. And it
must be told that the Roman Captain was the more deliberate about this
because after the overthrow of his light-armed there the morning before,
he thought that the Roof was held by warriors of the kindreds, and not by
a few old men, and women, and lads. Therefore he had no fear of their
escaping him. Moreover it was this imagination of his, to wit that a
strong band of warriors was holding Wolf-stead, that made him deem there
were no more worth thinking about of the warriors of the Mark save
Otter's Company and the men in the Hall of the Wolfings.
CHAPTER XXII--OTTER FALLS ON AGAINST HIS WILL
It was with the same imagination working in him belike that the Roman
Captain set none to guard the ford on the westward side of
Mirkwood-water. The Romans tarried there but a little hour, and then
went their ways; but Otter sent a man on a swift horse to watch them, and
when they were clean gone for half an hour, he bade his folk to horse,
and they departed, all save a handful of the swains and elders, who were
left to tell the tidings to Thiodolf when he should come into Mid-mark.
So Otter and his folk crossed the ford, and drew up in good order on the
westward bank, and it was then somewhat more than three hours after noon.
He had been there but a little while before he noted a stir in the
Bearing meadow, and lo, it was the first of Thiodolf's folk, who had
gotten out of the wood and had fallen in with the men whom he had left
behind. And these first were the riders of the Bearings, and the
Wormings, (for they had out-gone the others who were afoot). It may well
be thought how fearful was their anger when they set eyes on the
smouldering ashes of the dwellings; nor even when those folk of Otter had
told them all they had to tell could some of them refrain them from
riding off to the burnt houses to seek for the bodies of their kindred.
But when they came there, and amidst the ashes could find no bones, their
hearts were lightened, and yet so mad wroth they were, that some could
scarce sit their horses, and great tears gushed from the eyes of some,
and pattered down like hail-stones, so eager were they to see the blood
of the Romans. So they rode back to where they had left their folk
talking with them of Otter; and the Bearings were sitting grim upon their
horses and somewhat scowling on Otter's men. Then the foremost of those
who had come back from the houses waved his hand toward the ford, but
could say nought for a while; but the captain and chief of the Bearings,
a grizzled man very big of body, whose name was Arinbiorn, spake to that
man and said; "What aileth thee Sweinbiorn the Black? What hast thou
seen?"
He said:
"Now red and grey is the pavement of the Bearings' house of old:
Red yet is the floor of the dais, but the hearth all grey and cold.
I knew not the house of my fathers; I could not call to mind
The fashion of the building of that Warder of the Wind.
O wide were grown the windows, and the roof exceeding high!
For nought there was to look on 'twixt the pavement and the sky.
But the tie-beam lay on the dais, and methought its staining fair;
For rings of smoothest charcoal were round it here and there,
And the red flame flickered o'er it, and never a staining wight
Hath red earth in his coffer so clear and glittering bright,
And still the little smoke-wreaths curled o'er it pale and blue.
Yea, fair is our hall's adorning for a feast that is strange and new."
Said Arinbiorn: "What sawest thou therein, O Sweinbiorn, where sat thy
grandsire at the feast? Where were the bones of thy mother lying?"
Said Sweinbiorn:
"We sought the feast-hall over, and nought we found therein
Of the bones of the ancient mothers, or the younglings of the kin.
The men are greedy, doubtless, to lose no whit of the prey,
And will try if the hoary elders may yet outlive the way
That leads to the southland cities, till at last they come to stand
With the younglings in the market to be sold in an alien land."
Arinbiorn's brow lightened somewhat; but ere he could speak again an
ancient thrall of the Galtings spake and said:
"True it is, O warriors of the Bearings, that we might not see any war-
thralls being led away by the Romans when they came away from the burning
dwellings; and we deem it certain that they crossed the water before the
coming of the Romans, and that they are now with the stay-at-homes of the
Wolfings in the wild-wood behind the Wolfing dwellings, for we hear tell
that the War-duke would not that the Hall-Sun should hold the Hall
against the whole Roman host."
Then Sweinbiorn tossed up his sword into the air and caught it by the
hilts as it fell, and cried out: "On, on to the meadow, where these
thieves abide us!" Arinbiorn spake no word, but turned his horse and
rode down to the ford, and all men followed him; and of the Bearings
there were an hundred warriors save one, and of the Wormings eighty and
seven.
So rode they over the meadow and into the ford and over it, and Otter's
company stood on the bank to meet them, and shouted to see them; but the
others made but little noise as they crossed the water.
So when they were on the western bank Arinbiorn came among them of Otter,
and cried out: "Where then is Otter, where is the War-duke, is he alive
or dead?"
And the throng opened to him and Otter stood facing him; and Arinbiorn
spake and said: "Thou art alive and unhurt, War-duke, when many have been
hurt and slain; and methinks thy company is little minished though the
kindred of the Bearings lacketh a roof; and its elders and women and
children are gone into captivity. What is this? Was it a light thing
that gangrel thieves should burn and waste in Mid-mark and depart unhurt,
that ye stand here with clean blades and cold bodies?"
Said Otter: "Thou grievest for the hurt of thine House, Arinbiorn; but
this at least is good, that though ye have lost the timber of your house
ye have not lost its flesh and blood; the shell is gone, but the kernel
is saved: for thy folk are by this time in the wood with the Wolfing stay-
at-homes, and among these are many who may fight on occasion, so they are
safe as for this time: the Romans may not come at them to hurt them."
Said Arinbiorn: "Had ye time to learn all this, Otter, when ye fled so
fast before the Romans, that the father tarried not for the son, nor the
son for the father?"
He spoke in a loud voice so that many heard him, and some deemed it evil;
for anger and dissension between friends seemed abroad; but some were so
eager for battle, that the word of Arinbiorn seemed good to them, and
they laughed for pride and anger.
Then Otter answered meekly, for he was a wise man and a bold: "We fled
not, Arinbiorn, but as the sword fleeth, when it springeth up from the
iron helm to fall on the woollen coat. Are we not now of more avail to
you, O men of the Bearings, than our dead corpses would have been?"
Arinbiorn answered not, but his face waxed red, as if he were struggling
with a weight hard to lift: then said Otter:
"But when will Thiodolf and the main battle be with us?"
Arinbiorn answered calmly: "Maybe in a little hour from now, or somewhat
more."
Said Otter: "My rede is that we abide him here, and when we are all met
and well ordered together, fall on the Romans at once: for then shall we
be more than they; whereas now we are far fewer, and moreover we shall
have to set on them in their ground of vantage."
Arinbiorn answered nothing; but an old man of the Bearings, one
Thorbiorn, came up and spake:
"Warriors, here are we talking and taking counsel, though this is no
Hallowed Thing to bid us what we shall do, and what we shall forbear; and
to talk thus is less like warriors than old women wrangling over the why
and wherefore of a broken crock. Let the War-duke rule here, as is but
meet and right. Yet if I might speak and not break the peace of the
Goths, then would I say this, that it might be better for us to fall on
these Romans at once before they have cast up a dike about them, as Fox
telleth is their wont, and that even in an hour they may do much."
As he spake there was a murmur of assent about him, but Otter spake
sharply, for he was grieved.
"Thorbiorn, thou art old, and shouldest not be void of prudence. Now it
had been better for thee to have been in the wood to-day to order the
women and the swains according to thine ancient wisdom than to egg on my
young warriors to fare unwarily. Here will I abide Thiodolf."
Then Thorbiorn reddened and was wroth; but Arinbiorn spake:
"What is this to-do? Let the War-duke rule as is but right: but I am now
become a man of Thiodolf's company; and he bade me haste on before to
help all I might. Do thou as thou wilt, Otter: for Thiodolf shall be
here in an hour's space, and if much diking shall be done in an hour, yet
little slaying, forsooth, shall be done, and that especially if the foe
is all armed and slayeth women and children. Yea if the Bearing women be
all slain, yet shall not Tyr make us new ones out of the stones of the
waste to wed with the Galtings and the fish-eating Houses?--this is easy
to be done forsooth. Yea, easier than fighting the Romans and overcoming
them!"
And he was very wrath, and turned away; and again there was a murmur and
a hum about him. But while these had been speaking aloud, Sweinbiorn had
been talking softly to some of the younger men, and now he shook his
naked sword in the air and spake aloud and sang:
"Ye tarry, Bears of Battle! ye linger, Sons of the Worm!
Ye crouch adown, O kindreds, from the gathering of the storm!
Ye say, it shall soon pass over and we shall fare afield
And reap the wheat with the war-sword and winnow in the shield.
But where shall be the corner wherein ye then shall abide,
And where shall be the woodland where the whelps of the bears shall
hide
When 'twixt the snowy mountains and the edges of the sea
These men have swept the wild-wood and the fields where men may be
Of every living sword-blade, and every quivering spear,
And in the southland cities the yoke of slaves ye bear?
Lo ye! whoever follows I fare to sow the seed
Of the days to be hereafter and the deed that comes of deed."
Therewith he waved his sword over his head, and made as if he would spur
onward. But Arinbiorn thrust through the press and outwent him and cried
out:
"None goeth before Arinbiorn the Old when the battle is pitched in the
meadows of the kindred. Come, ye sons of the Bear, ye children of the
Worm! And come ye, whosoever hath a will to see stout men die!"
Then on he rode nor looked behind him, and the riders of the Bearings and
the Wormings drew themselves out of the throng, and followed him, and
rode clattering over the meadow towards Wolfstead. A few of the others
rode with them, and yet but a few. For they remembered the holy Folk-
mote and the oath of the War-duke, and how they had chosen Otter to be
their leader. Howbeit, man looked askance at man, as if in shame to be
left behind.
But Otter bethought him in the flash of a moment, "If these men ride
alone, they shall die and do nothing; and if we ride with them it may be
that we shall overthrow the Romans, and if we be vanquished, it shall go
hard but we shall slay many of them, so that it shall be the easier for
Thiodolf to deal with them."
Then he spake hastily, and bade certain men abide at the ford for a
guard; then he drew his sword and rode to the front of his folk, and
cried out aloud to them:
"Now at last has come the time to die, and let them of the Markmen who
live hereafter lay us in howe. Set on, Sons of Tyr, and give not your
lives away, but let them be dearly earned of our foemen."
Then all shouted loudly and gladly; nor were they otherwise than
exceeding glad; for now had they forgotten all other joys of life save
the joy of fighting for the kindred and the days to be.
So Otter led them forth, and when he heard the whole company clattering
and thundering on the earth behind him and felt their might enter into
him, his brow cleared, and the anxious lines in the face of the old man
smoothed themselves out, and as he rode along the soul so stirred within
him that he sang out aloud:
"Time was when hot was the summer and I was young on the earth,
And I grudged me every moment that lacked its share of mirth.
I woke in the morn and was merry and all the world methought
For me and my heart's deliverance that hour was newly wrought.
I have passed through the halls of manhood, I have reached the doors
of eld,
And I have been glad and sorry, but ever have upheld
My heart against all trouble that none might call me sad,
But ne'er came such remembrance of how my heart was glad
In the afternoon of summer 'neath the still unwearied sun
Of the days when I was little and all deeds were hopes to be won,
As now at last it cometh when e'en in such-like tide,
For the freeing of my trouble o'er the fathers' field I ride."
Many men perceived that he sang, and saw that he was merry, howbeit few
heard his very words, and yet all were glad of him.
Fast they rode, being wishful to catch up with the Bearings and the
Wormings, and soon they came anigh them, and they, hearing the thunder of
the horse-hoofs, looked and saw that it was the company of Otter, and so
slacked their speed till they were all joined together with joyous
shouting and laughter. So then they ordered the ranks anew and so set
forward in great joy without haste or turmoil toward Wolfstead and the
Romans. For now the bitterness of their fury and the sourness of their
abiding wrath were turned into the mere joy of battle; even as the clear
red and sweet wine comes of the ugly ferment and rough trouble of the
must.
CHAPTER XXIII--THIODOLF MEETETH THE ROMANS IN THE WOLFING MEADOW
It was scarce an hour after this that the footmen of Thiodolf came out of
the thicket road on to the meadow of the Bearings; there saw they men
gathered on a rising ground, and they came up to them and saw how some of
them were looking with troubled faces towards the ford and what lay
beyond it, and some toward the wood and the coming of Thiodolf. But
these were they whom Otter had bidden abide Thiodolf there, and he had
sent two messengers to them for Thiodolf's behoof that he might have due
tidings so soon as he came out of the thicket: the first told how Otter
had been compelled in a manner to fall on the Romans along with the
riders of the Bearings and the Wormings, and the second who had but just
then come, told how the Markmen had been worsted by the Romans, and had
given back from the Wolfing dwellings, and were making a stand against
the foemen in the meadow betwixt the ford and Wolfstead.
Now when Thiodolf heard of these tidings he stayed not to ask long
questions, but led the whole host straightway down to the ford, lest the
remnant of Otter's men should be driven down there, and the Romans should
hold the western bank against him.
At the ford there was none to withstand them, nor indeed any man at all;
for the men whom Otter had set there, when they heard that the battle had
gone against their kindred, had ridden their ways to join them. So
Thiodolf crossed over the ford, he and his in good order all afoot, he
like to the others; but for him he was clad in the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk,
but was unhelmeted and bare no shield. Throng-plough was naked in his
hand as he came up all dripping on to the bank and stood in the meadow of
the Wolfings; his face was stern and set as he gazed straight onward to
the place of the fray, but he did not look as joyous as his wont was in
going down to the battle.
Now they had gone but a short way from the ford before the noise of the
fight and the blowing of horns came down the wind to them, but it was a
little way further before they saw the fray with their eyes; because the
ground fell away from the river somewhat at first, and then rose and fell
again before it went up in one slope toward the Wolfing dwellings.
But when they were come to the top of the next swelling of the ground,
they beheld from thence what they had to deal with; for there round about
a ground of vantage was the field black with the Roman host, and in the
midst of it was a tangle of struggling men and tossing spears, and
glittering swords.
So when they beheld the battle of their kindred they gave a great shout
and hastened onward the faster; and they were ordered into the
wedge-array and Thiodolf led them, as meet it was. And now even as they
who were on the outward edge of the array and could see what was toward
were looking on the battle with eager eyes, there came an answering shout
down the wind, which they knew for the voice of the Goths amid the
foemen, and then they saw how the ring of the Romans shook and parted,
and their array fell back, and lo the company of the Markmen standing
stoutly together, though sorely minished; and sure it was that they had
not fled or been scattered, but were ready to fall one over another in
one band, for there were no men straggling towards the ford, though many
masterless horses ran here and there about the meadow. Now, therefore,
none doubted but that they would deliver their friends from the Romans,
and overthrow the foemen.
But now befel a wonder, a strange thing to tell of. The Romans soon
perceived what was adoing, whereupon the half of them turned about to
face the new comers, while the other half still withstood the company of
Otter: the wedge-array of Thiodolf drew nearer and nearer till it was
hard on the place where it should spread itself out to storm down on the
foe, and the Goths beset by the Romans made them ready to fall on from
their side. There was Thiodolf leading his host, and all men looking for
the token and sign to fall on; but even as he lifted up Throng-plough to
give that sign, a cloud came over his eyes and he saw nought of all that
was before him, and he staggered back as one who hath gotten a deadly
stroke, and so fell swooning to the earth, though none had smitten him.
Then stayed was the wedge-array even at the very point of onset, and the
hearts of the Goths sank, for they deemed that their leader was slain,
and those who were nearest to him raised him up and bore him hastily
aback out of the battle; and the Romans also had beheld him fall, and
they also deemed him dead or sore hurt, and shouted for joy and loitered
not, but stormed forth on the wedge-array like valiant men; for it must
be told that they, who erst out-numbered the company of Otter, were now
much out-numbered, but they deemed it might well be that they could
dismay the Goths since they had been stayed by the fall of their leader;
and Otter's company were wearied with sore fighting against a great host.
Nevertheless these last, who had not seen the fall of Thiodolf (for the
Romans were thick between him and them) fell on with such exceeding fury
that they drove the Romans who faced them back on those who had set on
the wedge-array, which also stood fast undismayed; for he who stood next
to Thiodolf, a man big of body, and stout of heart, hight Thorolf, hove
up a great axe and cried out aloud:
"Here is the next man to Thiodolf! here is one who will not fall till
some one thrusts him over, here is Thorolf of the Wolfings! Stand fast
and shield you, and smite, though Thiodolf be gone untimely to the Gods!"
So none gave back a foot, and fierce was the fight about the wedge-array;
and the men of Otter--but there was no Otter there, and many another man
was gone, and Arinbiorn the Old led them--these stormed on so fiercely
that they cleft their way through all and joined themselves to their
kindred, and the battle was renewed in the Wolfing meadow. But the
Romans had this gain, that Thiodolf's men had let go their occasion for
falling on the Romans with their line spread out so that every man might
use his weapons; yet were the Goths strong both in valiancy and in
numbers, nor might the Romans break into their array, and as aforesaid
the Romans were the fewer, for it was less than half of their host that
had pursued the Goths when they had been thrust back from their fierce
onset: nor did more than the half seem needed, so many of them had fallen
along with Otter the War-duke and Sweinbiorn of the Bearings, that they
seemed to the Romans but a feeble band easy to overcome.
So fought they in the Wolfing meadow in the fifth hour after high-noon,
and neither yielded to the other: but while these things were a-doing,
men laid Thiodolf adown aloof from the battle under a doddered oak half a
furlong from where the fight was a-doing, round whose bole clung flocks
of wool from the sheep that drew around it in the hot summer-tide and
rubbed themselves against it, and the ground was trodden bare of grass
round the bole, and close to the trunk was worn into a kind of trench.
There then they laid Thiodolf, and they wondered that no blood came from
him, and that there was no sign of a shot-weapon in his body.
But as for him, when he fell, all memory of the battle and what had gone
before it faded from his mind, and he passed into sweet and pleasant
dreams wherein he was a lad again in the days before he had fought with
the three Hun-Kings in the hazelled field. And in these dreams he was
doing after the manner of young lads, sporting in the meadows, backing
unbroken colts, swimming in the river, going a-hunting with the elder
carles. And especially he deemed that he was in the company of one old
man who had taught him both wood-craft and the handling of weapons: and
fair at first was his dream of his doings with this man; he was with him
in the forge smithying a sword-blade, and hammering into its steel the
thin golden wires; and fishing with an angle along with him by the eddies
of Mirkwood-water; and sitting with him in an ingle of the Hall, the old
man telling a tale of an ancient warrior of the Wolfings hight Thiodolf
also: then suddenly and without going there, they were in a little
clearing of the woods resting after hunting, a roe-deer with an arrow in
her lying at their feet, and the old man was talking, and telling
Thiodolf in what wise it was best to go about to get the wind of a hart;
but all the while there was going on the thunder of a great gale of wind
through the woodland boughs, even as the drone of a bag-pipe cleaves to
the tune. Presently Thiodolf arose and would go about his hunting again,
and stooped to take up his spear, and even therewith the old man's speech
stayed, and Thiodolf looked up, and lo, his face was white like stone,
and he touched him, and he was hard as flint, and like the image of an
ancient god as to his face and hands, though the wind stirred his hair
and his raiment, as they did before. Therewith a great pang smote
Thiodolf in his dream, and he felt as if he also were stiffening into
stone, and he strove and struggled, and lo, the wild-wood was gone, and a
white light empty of all vision was before him, and as he moved his head
this became the Wolfing meadow, as he had known it so long, and thereat a
soft pleasure and joy took hold of him, till again he looked, and saw
there no longer the kine and sheep, and the herd-women tending them, but
the rush and turmoil of that fierce battle, the confused thundering noise
of which was going up to the heavens; for indeed he was now fully awake
again.
So he stood up and looked about; and around him was a ring of the
sorrowful faces of the warriors, who had deemed that he was hurt deadly,
though no hurt could they find upon him. But the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk
lay upon the ground beside him; for they had taken it off him to look for
his hurts.
So he looked into their faces and said: "What aileth you, ye men? I am
alive and unhurt; what hath betided?"
And one said: "Art thou verily alive, or a man come back from the dead?
We saw thee fall as thou wentest leading us against the foe as if thou
hadst been smitten by a thunder-bolt, and we deemed thee dead or
grievously hurt. Now the carles are fighting stoutly, and all is well
since thou livest yet."
So he said: "Give me the point and edges that I know, that I may smite
myself therewith and not the foemen; for I have feared and blenched from
the battle."
Said an old warrior: "If that be so, Thiodolf, wilt thou blench twice? Is
not once enough? Now let us go back to the hard handplay, and if thou
wilt, smite thyself after the battle, when we have once more had a man's
help of thee."
Therewith he held out Throng-plough to him by the point, and Thiodolf
took hold of the hilts and handled it and said: "Let us hasten, while the
Gods will have it so, and while they are still suffering me to strike a
stroke for the kindred."
And therewith he brandished Throng-plough, and went forth toward the
battle, and the heart grew hot within him, and the joy of waking life
came back to him, the joy which but erewhile he had given to a mere
dream.
But the old man who had rebuked him stooped down and lifted the Hauberk
from the ground, and cried out after him, "O Thiodolf, and wilt thou go
naked into so strong a fight? and thou with this so goodly
sword-rampart?"
Thiodolf stayed a moment, and even therewith they looked, and lo! the
Romans giving back before the Goths and the Goths following up the chase,
but slowly and steadily. Then Thiodolf heeded nothing save the battle,
but ran forward hastily, and those warriors followed him, the old man
last of all holding the Hauberk in his hand, and muttering:
"So fares hot blood to the glooming and the world beneath the grass;
And the fruit of the Wolfings' orchard in a flash from the world must
pass.
Men say that the tree shall blossom in the garden of the folk,
And the new twig thrust him forward from the place where the old one
broke,
And all be well as aforetime: but old and old I grow,
And I doubt me if such another the folk to come shall know."
And he still hurried forward as fast as his old body might go, so that he
might wrap the safeguard of the Hauberk round Thiodolf's body.
CHAPTER XXIV--THE GOTHS ARE OVERTHROWN BY THE ROMANS
Now rose up a mighty shout when Thiodolf came back to the battle of the
kindreds, for many thought he had been slain; and they gathered round
about him, and cried out to him joyously out of their hearts of
good-fellowship, and the old man who had rebuked Thiodolf, and who was
Jorund of the Wolfings, came up to him and reached out to him the
Hauberk, and he did it on scarce heeding; for all his heart and soul was
turned toward the battle of the Romans and what they were a-doing; and he
saw that they were falling back in good order, as men out-numbered, but
undismayed. So he gathered all his men together and ordered them afresh;
for they were somewhat disarrayed with the fray and the chase: and now he
no longer ordered them in the wedge array, but in a line here three deep,
here five deep, or more, for the foes were hard at hand, and outnumbered,
and so far overcome, that he and all men deemed it a little matter to
give these their last overthrow, and then onward to Wolf-stead to storm
on what was left there and purge the house of the foemen. Howbeit
Thiodolf bethought him that succour might come to the Romans from their
main-battle, as they needed not many men there, since there was nought to
fear behind them: but the thought was dim within him, for once more since
he had gotten the Hauberk on him the earth was wavering and dream-like:
he looked about him, and nowise was he as in past days of battle when he
saw nought but the foe before him, and hoped for nothing save the
victory. But now indeed the Wood-Sun seemed to him to be beside him, and
not against his will, as one besetting and hindering him, but as though
his own longing had drawn her thither and would not let her depart; and
whiles it seemed to him that her beauty was clearer to be seen than the
bodies of the warriors round about him. For the rest he seemed to be in
a dream indeed, and, as men do in dreams, to be for ever striving to be
doing something of more moment than anything which he did, but which he
must ever leave undone. And as the dream gathered and thickened about
him the foe before him changed to his eyes, and seemed no longer the
stern brown-skinned smooth-faced men under their crested iron helms with
their iron-covered shields before them, but rather, big-headed men, small
of stature, long-bearded, swart, crooked of body, exceeding foul of
aspect. And he looked on and did nothing for a while, and his head
whirled as though he had been grievously smitten.
Thus tarried the kindreds awhile, and they were bewildered and their
hearts fell because Thiodolf did not fly on the foemen like a falcon on
the quarry, as his wont was. But as for the Romans, they had now stayed,
and were facing their foes again, and that on a vantage-ground, since the
field sloped up toward the Wolfing dwelling; and they gathered heart when
they saw that the Goths tarried and forbore them. But the sun was
sinking, and the evening was hard at hand.
So at last Thiodolf led forward with Throng-plough held aloft in his
right hand; but his left hand he held out by his side, as though he were
leading someone along. And as he went, he muttered: "When will these
accursed sons of the nether earth leave the way clear to us, that we may
be alone and take pleasure each in each amidst of the flowers and the
sun?"
Now as the two hosts drew near to one another, again came the sound of
trumpets afar off, and men knew that this would be succour coming to the
Romans from their main-battle, and the Romans thereon shouted for joy,
and the host of the kindreds might no longer forbear, but rushed on
fiercely against them; and for Thiodolf it was now come to this, that so
entangled was he in his dream that he rather went with his men than led
them. Yet had he Throng-plough in his right hand, and he muttered in his
beard as he went, "Smite before! smite behind! and smite on the right
hand! but never on the left!"
Thus then they met, and as before, neither might the Goths sweep the
Romans away, nor the Romans break the Goths into flight; yet were many of
the kindred anxious and troubled, since they knew that aid was coming to
the Romans, and they heard the trumpets sounding nearer and more joyous;
and at last, as the men of the kindreds were growing a-wearied with
fighting, they heard those horns as it were in their very ears, and the
thunder of the tramp of footmen, and they knew that a fresh host of men
was upon them; then those they had been fighting with opened before them,
falling aside to the right and the left, and the fresh men passing
between them, fell on the Goths like the waters of a river when a sluice-
gate is opened. They came on in very good order, never breaking their
ranks, but swift withal, smiting and pushing before them, and so brake
through the array of the Goth-folk, and drave them this way and that way
down the slopes.
Yet still fought the warriors of the kindred most valiantly, making stand
and facing the foe again and again in knots of a score or two score, or
maybe ten score; and though many a man was slain, yet scarce any one
before he had slain or hurt a Roman; and some there were, and they the
oldest, who fought as if they and the few about them were all the host
that was left to the folk, and heeded not that others were driven back,
or that the Romans gathered about them, cutting them off from all succour
and aid, but went on smiting till they were felled with many strokes.
Howbeit the array of the Goths was broken and many were slain, and
perforce they must give back, and it seemed as if they would be driven
into the river and all be lost.
But for Thiodolf, this befell him: that at first, when those fresh men
fell on, he seemed, as it were, to wake unto himself again, and he cried
aloud the cry of the Wolf, and thrust into the thickest of the fray, and
slew many and was hurt of none, and for a moment of time there was an
empty space round about him, such fear he cast even into the valiant
hearts of the foemen. But those who had time to see him as they stood by
him noted that he was as pale as a dead man, and his eyes set and
staring; and so of a sudden, while he stood thus threatening the ring of
doubtful foemen, the weakness took him again, Throng-plough tumbled from
his hand, and he fell to earth as one dead.
Then of those who saw him some deemed that he had been striving against
some secret hurt till he could do no more; and some that there was a
curse abroad that had fallen upon him and upon all the kindreds of the
Mark; some thought him dead and some swooning. But, dead or alive, the
warriors would not leave their War-duke among the foemen, so they lifted
him, and gathered about him a goodly band that held its own against all
comers, and fought through the turmoil stoutly and steadily; and others
gathered to them, till they began to be something like a host again, and
the Romans might not break them into knots of desperate men any more.
Thus they fought their way, Arinbiorn of the Bearings leading them now,
with a mind to make a stand for life or death on some vantage-ground; and
so, often turning upon the Romans, they came in array ever growing more
solid to the rising ground looking one way over the ford and the other to
the slopes where the battle had just been. There they faced the foe as
men who may be slain, but will be driven no further; and what bowmen they
had got spread out from their flanks and shot on the Romans, who had with
them no light-armed, or slingers or bowmen, for they had left them at
Wolf-stead. So the Romans stood a while, and gave breathing-space to the
Markmen, which indeed was the saving of them: for if they had fallen on
hotly and held to it steadily, it is like that they would have passed
over all the bodies of the Markmen: for these had lost their leader,
either slain, as some thought, or, as others thought, banned from
leadership by the Gods; and their host was heavy-hearted; and though it
is like that they would have stood there till each had fallen over other,
yet was their hope grown dim, and the whole folk brought to a perilous
and fearful pass, for if these were slain or scattered there were no more
but they, and nought between fire and the sword and the people of the
Mark.
But once again the faint-heart folly of the Roman Captain saved his foes:
for whereas he once thought that the whole power of the Markmen lay in
Otter and his company, and deemed them too little to meddle with, so now
he ran his head into the other hedge, and deemed that Thiodolf's company
was but a part of the succour that was at hand for the Goths, and that
they were over-big for him to meddle with.
True it is also that now dark night was coming on, and the land was
unknown to the Romans, who moreover trusted not wholly to the dastards of
the Goths who were their guides and scouts: furthermore the wood was at
hand, and they knew not what it held; and with all this and above it all,
it is to be said that over them also had fallen a dread of some doom
anear; for those habitations amidst of the wild-woods were terrible to
them as they were dear to the Goths; and the Gods of their foemen seemed
to be lying in wait to fall upon them, even if they should slay every man
of the kindreds.
So now having driven back the Goths to that height over the ford, which
indeed was no stronghold, no mountain, scarce a hill even, nought but a
gentle swelling of the earth, they forebore them; and raising up the
whoop of victory drew slowly aback, picking up their own dead and
wounded, and slaying the wounded Markmen. They had with them also some
few captives, but not many; for the fighting had been to the death
between man and man on the Wolfing Meadow.
CHAPTER XXV--THE HOST OF THE MARKMEN COMETH INTO THE WILD-WOOD
Yet though the Romans were gone, the Goth-folk were very hard bested.
They had been overthrown, not sorely maybe if they had been in an alien
land, and free to come and go as they would; yet sorely as things were,
because the foeman was sitting in their own House, and they must needs
drag him out of it or perish: and to many the days seemed evil, and the
Gods fighting against them, and both the Wolfings and the other kindreds
bethought them of the Hall-Sun and her wisdom and longed to hear of
tidings concerning her.
But now the word ran through the host that Thiodolf was certainly not
slain. Slowly he had come to himself, and yet was not himself, for he
sat among his men gloomy and silent, clean contrary to his wont; for
hitherto he had been a merry man, and a joyous fellow.
Amidst of the ridge whereon the Markmen now abode, there was a ring made
of the chief warriors and captains and wise men who had not been slain or
grievously hurt in the fray, and amidst them all sat Thiodolf on the
ground, his chin sunken on his breast, looking more like a captive than
the leader of a host amidst of his men; and that the more as his scabbard
was empty; for when Throng-plough had fallen from his hand, it had been
trodden under foot, and lost in the turmoil. There he sat, and the
others in that ring of men looked sadly upon him; such as Arinbiorn of
the Bearings, and Wolfkettle and Thorolf of his own House, and Hiarandi
of the Elkings, and Geirbald the Shielding, the messenger of the woods,
and Fox who had seen the Roman Garth, and many others. It was night now,
and men had lighted fires about the host, for they said that the Romans
knew where to find them if they listed to seek; and about those fires
were men eating and drinking what they might come at, but amidmost of
that ring was the biggest fire, and men turned them towards it for
counsel and help, for elsewhere none said, "What do we?" for they were
heavy-hearted and redeless, since the Gods had taken the victory out of
their hands just when they seemed at point to win it.
But amidst all this there was a little stir outside that biggest ring,
and men parted, and through them came a swain amongst the chiefs, and
said, "Who will lead me to the War-duke?"
Thiodolf, who was close beside the lad, answered never a word; but
Arinbiorn said; "This man here sitting is the War-duke: speak to him, for
he may hearken to thee: but first who art thou?"
Said the lad; "My name is Ali the son of Grey, and I come with a message
from the Hall-Sun and the stay-at-homes who are in the Woodland."
Now when he named the Hall-Sun Thiodolf started and looked up, and
turning to his left-hand said, "And what sayeth thy daughter?"
Men did not heed that he said _thy_ daughter, but deemed that he said
_my_ daughter, since he was wont as her would-be foster-father to call
her so. But Ali spake:
"War-duke and ye chieftains, thus saith the Hall-Sun: 'I know that by
this time Otter hath been slain and many another, and ye have been
overthrown and chased by the Romans, and that now there is little counsel
in you except to abide the foe where ye are and there to die valiantly.
But now do my bidding and as I am bidden, and then whosoever dieth or
liveth, the kindreds shall vanquish that they may live and grow greater.
Do ye thus: the Romans think no otherwise but to find you here to-morrow
or else departed across the water as broken men, and they will fall upon
you with their whole host, and then make a war-garth after their manner
at Wolf-stead and carry fire and the sword and the chains of thralldom
into every House of the Mark. Now therefore fetch a compass and come
into the wood on the north-west of the houses and make your way to the
Thing-stead of the Mid-mark. For who knoweth but that to-morrow we may
fall upon these thieves again? Of this shall ye hear more when we may
speak together and take counsel face to face; for we stay-at-homes know
somewhat closely of the ways of these Romans. Haste then! let not the
grass grow over your feet!
"'But to thee, Thiodolf, have I a word to say when we meet; for I wot
that as now thou canst not hearken to my word.' Thus saith the
Hall-Sun."
"Wilt thou speak, War-duke?" said Arinbiorn. But Thiodolf shook his
head. Then said Arinbiorn; "Shall I speak for thee?" and Thiodolf nodded
yea. Then said Arinbiorn: "Ali son of Grey, art thou going back to her
that sent thee?"
"Yea," said the lad, "but in your company, for ye will be coming
straightway and I know all the ways closely; and there is need for a
guide through the dark night as ye will see presently."
Then stood up Arinbiorn and said: "Chiefs and captains, go ye speedily
and array your men for departure: bid them leave all the fires burning
and come their ways as silently as maybe; for now will we wend this same
hour before moonrise into the Wild-wood and the Thing-stead of Mid-mark;
thus saith the War-duke."
But when they were gone, and Arinbiorn and Thiodolf were left alone,
Thiodolf lifted up his head and spake slowly and painfully:
"Arinbiorn, I thank thee: and thou dost well to lead this folk: since as
for me that is somewhat that weighs me down, and I know not whether it be
life or death; therefore I may no longer be your captain, for twice now
have I blenched from the battle. Yet command me, and I will obey, set a
sword in my hand and I will smite, till the God snatches it out of my
hand, as he did Throng-plough to-day."
"And that is well," said Arinbiorn, "it may be that ye shall meet that
God to-morrow, and heave up sword against him, and either overcome him or
go to thy fathers a proud and valiant man."
So they spake, and Thiodolf stood up and seemed of better cheer. But
presently the whole host was afoot, and they went their ways warily with
little noise, and wound little by little about the Wolfing meadow and
about the acres towards the wood at the back of the Houses; and they met
nothing by the way except an out-guard of the Romans, whom they slew
there nigh silently, and bore away their bodies, twelve in number, lest
the Romans when they sent to change the guard, should find the slain and
have an inkling of the way the Goths were gone; but now they deemed that
the Romans might think their guard fled, or perchance that they had been
carried away by the Gods of the woodland folk.
So came they into the wood, and Arinbiorn and the chiefs were for
striking the All-men's road to the Thing-stead and so coming thither; but
the lad Ali when he heard it laughed and said:
"If ye would sleep to-night ye shall wend another way. For the Hall-Sun
hath had us at work cumbering it against the foe with great trees felled
with limbs, branches, and all. And indeed ye shall find the Thing-stead
fenced like a castle, and the in-gate hard to find; yet will I bring you
thither."
So did he without delay, and presently they came anigh the Thing-stead;
and the place was fenced cunningly, so that if men would enter they must
go by a narrow way that had a fence of tree-trunks on each side wending
inward like the maze in a pleasance. Thereby now wended the host all
afoot, since it was a holy place and no beast must set foot therein, so
that the horses were left without it: so slowly and right quietly once
more they came into the garth of the Thing-stead; and lo, a many folk
there, of the Wolfings and the Bearings and other kindreds, who had
gathered thereto; and albeit these were not warriors in their prime, yet
were there none save the young children and the weaker of the women but
had weapons of some kind; and they were well ordered, standing or sitting
in ranks like folk awaiting battle. There were booths of boughs and
rushes set up for shelter of the feebler women and the old men and
children along the edges of the fence, for the Hall-Sun had bidden them
keep the space clear round about the Doom-ring and the Hill-of-Speech as
if for a mighty folk-mote, so that the warriors might have room to muster
there and order their array. There were some cooking-fires lighted about
the aforesaid booths, but neither many nor great, and they were screened
with wattle from the side that lay toward the Romans; for the Hall-Sun
would not that they should hold up lanterns for their foemen to find them
by. Little noise there was in that stronghold, moreover, for the hearts
of all who knew their right hands from their left were set on battle and
the destruction of the foe that would destroy the kindreds.
Anigh the Speech-Hill, on its eastern side, had the bole of a slender
beech tree been set up, and at the top of it a cross-beam was nailed on,
and therefrom hung the wondrous lamp, the Hall-Sun, glimmering from on
high, and though its light was but a glimmer amongst the mighty wood, yet
was it also screened on three sides from the sight of the chance wanderer
by wings of thin plank. But beneath her namesake as beforetime in the
Hall sat the Hall-Sun, the maiden, on a heap of faggots, and she was
wrapped in a dark blue cloak from under which gleamed the folds of the
fair golden-broidered gown she was wont to wear at folk-motes, and her
right hand rested on a naked sword that lay across her knees: beside her
sat the old man Sorli, the Wise in War, and about her were slim lads and
sturdy maidens and old carles of the thralls or freedmen ready to bear
the commands that came from her mouth; for she and Sorli were the
captains of the stay-at-homes.
Now came Thiodolf and Arinbiorn and other leaders into the ring of men
before her, and she greeted them kindly and said:
"Hail, Sons of Tyr! now that I behold you again it seemeth to me as if
all were already won: the time of waiting hath been weary, and we have
borne the burden of fear every day from morn till even, and in the waking
hour we presently remembered it. But now ye are come, even if this Thing-
stead were lighted by the flames of the Wolfing Roof instead of by these
moonbeams; even if we had to begin again and seek new dwellings, and
another water and other meadows, yet great should grow the kindreds of
the Men who have dwelt in the Mark, and nought should overshadow them:
and though the beasts and the Romans were dwelling in their old places,
yet should these kindreds make new clearings in the Wild-wood; and they
with their deeds should cause other waters to be famous, that as yet have
known no deeds of man; and they should compel the Earth to bear increase
round about their dwelling-places for the welfare of the kindreds. O
Sons of Tyr, friendly are your faces, and undismayed, and the Terror of
the Nations has not made you afraid any more than would the onrush of the
bisons that feed adown the grass hills. Happy is the eve, O children of
the Goths, yet shall to-morrow morn be happier."
Many heard what she spake, and a murmur of joy ran through the ranks of
men: for they deemed her words to forecast victory.
And now amidst her speaking, the moon, which had arisen on Mid-mark, when
the host first entered into the wood, had overtopped the tall trees that
stood like a green wall round about the Thing-stead, and shone down on
that assembly, and flashed coldly back from the arms of the warriors. And
the Hall-Sun cast off her dark blue cloak and stood up in her
golden-broidered raiment, which flashed back the grey light like as it
had been an icicle hanging from the roof of some hall in the midnight of
Yule, when the feast is high within, and without the world is silent with
the night of the ten-weeks' frost.
Then she spake again: "O War-duke, thy mouth is silent; speak to this
warrior of the Bearings that he bid the host what to do; for wise are ye
both, and dear are the minutes of this night and should not be wasted;
since they bring about the salvation of the Wolfings, and the vengeance
of the Bearings, and the hope renewed of all the kindreds."
Then Thiodolf abode a while with his head down cast; his bosom heaved,
and he set his left hand to his swordless scabbard, and his right to his
throat, as though he were sore troubled with something he might not tell
of: but at last he lifted up his head and spoke to Arinbiorn, but slowly
and painfully, as he had spoken before:
"Chief of the Bearings, go up on to the Hill of Speech, and speak to the
folk out of thy wisdom, and let them know that to-morrow early before the
sun-rising those that may, and are not bound by the Gods against it,
shall do deeds according to their might, and win rest for themselves, and
new days of deeds for the kindreds."
Therewith he ceased, and let his head fall again, and the Hall-Sun looked
at him askance. But Arinbiorn clomb the Speech-Hill and said:
"Men of the kindreds, it is now a few days since we first met the Romans
and fought with them; and whiles we have had the better, and whiles the
worse in our dealings, as oft in war befalleth: for they are men, and we
no less than men. But now look to it what ye will do; for we may no
longer endure these outlanders in our houses, and we must either die or
get our own again: and that is not merely a few wares stored up for use,
nor a few head of neat, nor certain timbers piled up into a dwelling, but
the life we have made in the land we have made. I show you no choice,
for no choice there is. Here are we bare of everything in the wild-wood:
for the most part our children are crying for us at home, our wives are
longing for us in our houses, and if we come not to them in kindness, the
Romans shall come to them in grimness. Down yonder in the plain,
moreover, is our wain-burg slowly drawing near to us, and with it is much
livelihood of ours, which is a little thing, for we may get more; but
also there are our banners of battle and the tokens of the kindred, which
is a great thing. And between all this and us there lieth but little;
nought but a band of valiant men, and a few swords and spears, and a few
wounds, and the hope of death amidst the praise of the people; and this
ye have to set out to wend across within two or three hours. I will not
ask if ye will do so, for I wot that even so ye will; therefore when I
have done, shout not, nor clash sword on shield, for we are no great way
off that house of ours wherein dwells the foe that would destroy us. Let
each man rest as he may, and sleep if he may with his war-gear on him and
his weapons by his side, and when he is next awakened by the captains and
the leaders of hundreds and scores, let him not think that it is night,
but let him betake himself to his place among his kindred and be ready to
go through the wood with as little noise as may be. Now all is said that
the War-duke would have me say, and to-morrow shall those see him who are
foremost in falling upon the foemen, for he longeth sorely for his seat
on the days of the Wolfing Hall."
So he spake, and even as he bade them, they made no sound save a joyous
murmur; and straightway the more part of them betook themselves to sleep
as men who must busy themselves about a weighty matter; for they were
wise in the ways of war. So sank all the host to the ground save those
who were appointed as watchers of the night, and Arinbiorn and Thiodolf
and the Hall-Sun; they three yet stood together; and Arinbiorn said:
"Now it seems to me not so much as if we had vanquished the foe and were
safe and at rest, but rather as if we had no foemen and never have had.
Deep peace is on me, though hitherto I have been deemed a wrathful man,
and it is to me as if the kindreds that I love had filled the whole
earth, and left no room for foemen: even so it may really be one day. To-
night it is well, yet to-morrow it shall be better. What thine errand
may be, Thiodolf, I scarce know; for something hath changed in thee, and
thou art become strange to us. But as for mine errand, I will tell it
thee; it is that I am seeking Otter of the Laxings, my friend and fellow,
whose wisdom my foolishness drave under the point and edge of the Romans,
so that he is no longer here; I am seeking him, and to-morrow I think I
shall find him, for he hath not had time to travel far, and we shall be
blithe and merry together. And now will I sleep; for I have bidden the
watchers awaken me if any need be. Sleep thou also, Thiodolf! and wake
up thine old self when the moon is low." Therewith he laid himself down
under the lee of the pile of faggots, and was presently asleep.
CHAPTER XXVI--THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN
Now were Thiodolf and the Hall-Sun left alone together standing by the
Speech-Hill; and the moon was risen high in the heavens above the tree-
tops of the wild-wood. Thiodolf scarce stirred, and he still held his
head bent down as one lost in thought.
Then said the Hall-Sun, speaking softly amidst the hush of the camp:
"I have said that the minutes of this night are dear, and they are
passing swiftly; and it may be that thou wilt have much to say and to do
before the host is astir with the dawning. So come thou with me a little
way, that thou mayst hear of new tidings, and think what were best to do
amidst them."
And without more ado she took him by the hand and led him forth, and he
went as he was led, not saying a word. They passed out of the camp into
the wood, none hindering, and went a long way where under the
beech-leaves there was but a glimmer of the moonlight, and presently
Thiodolf's feet went as it were of themselves; for they had hit a path
that he knew well and over-well.
So came they to that little wood-lawn where first in this tale Thiodolf
met the Wood-Sun; and the stone seat there was not empty now any more
than it was then; for thereon sat the Wood-Sun, clad once more in her
glittering raiment. Her head was sunken down, her face hidden by her
hands; neither did she look up when she heard their feet on the grass,
for she knew who they were.
Thiodolf lingered not; for a moment it was to him as if all that past
time had never been, and its battles and hurry and hopes and fears but
mere shows, and the unspoken words of a dream. He went straight up to
her and sat down by her side and put his arm about her shoulders, and
strove to take her hand to caress it; but she moved but little, and it
was as if she heeded him not. And the Hall-Sun stood before them and
looked at them for a little while; and then she fell to speech; but at
the first sound of her voice, it seemed that the Wood-Sun trembled, but
still she hid her face. Said the Hall-Sun:
"Two griefs I see before me in mighty hearts grown great;
And to change both these into gladness out-goes the power of fate.
Yet I, a lonely maiden, have might to vanquish one
Till it melt as the mist of the morning before the summer sun.
O Wood-Sun, thou hast borne me, and I were fain indeed
To give thee back thy gladness; but thou com'st of the Godhead's seed,
And herein my might avails not; because I can but show
Unto these wedded sorrows the truth that the heart should know
Ere the will hath wielded the hand; and for thee, I can tell thee
nought
That thou hast not known this long while; thy will and thine hand have
wrought,
And the man that thou lovest shall live in despite of Gods and of men,
If yet thy will endureth. But what shall it profit thee then
That after the fashion of Godhead thou hast gotten thee a thrall
To be thine and never another's, whatso in the world may befall?
Lo! yesterday this was a man, and to-morrow it might have been
The very joy of the people, though never again it were seen;
Yet a part of all they hoped for through all the lapse of years,
To make their laughter happy and dull the sting of tears;
To quicken all remembrance of deeds that never die,
And death that maketh eager to live as the days go by.
Yea, many a deed had he done as he lay in the dark of the mound;
As the seed-wheat plotteth of spring, laid under the face of the
ground
That the foot of the husbandman treadeth, that the wind of the winter
wears,
That the turbid cold flood hideth from the constant hope of the years.
This man that should leave in his death his life unto many an one
Wilt thou make him a God of the fearful who live lone under the sun?
And then shalt thou have what thou wouldedst when amidst of the
hazelled field
Thou kissed'st the mouth of the helper, and the hand of the people's
shield,
Shalt thou have the thing that thou wouldedst when thou broughtest me
to birth,
And I, the soul of the Wolfings, began to look on earth?
Wilt thou play the God, O mother, and make a man anew,
A joyless thing and a fearful? Then I betwixt you two,
'Twixt your longing and your sorrow will cast the sundering word,
And tell out all the story of that rampart of the sword!
I shall bid my mighty father make choice of death in life,
Or life in death victorious and the crowned end of strife."
Ere she had ended, the Wood-Sun let her hands fall down, and showed her
face, which for all its unpaled beauty looked wearied and anxious; and
she took Thiodolf's hand in hers, while she looked with eyes of love upon
the Hall-Sun, and Thiodolf laid his cheek to her cheek, and though he
smiled not, yet he seemed as one who is happy. At last the Wood-Sun
spoke and said:
"Thou sayest sooth, O daughter: I am no God of might,
Yet I am of their race, and I think with their thoughts and see with
their sight,
And the threat of the doom did I know of, and yet spared not to lie:
For I thought that the fate foreboded might touch and pass us by,
As the sword that heweth the war-helm and cleaveth a cantle away,
And the cunning smith shall mend it and it goeth again to the fray;
If my hand might have held for a moment, yea, even against his will,
The life of my beloved! But Weird is the master still:
And this man's love of my body and his love of the ancient kin
Were matters o'er mighty to deal with and the game withal to win.
Woe's me for the waning of all things, and my hope that needs must
fade
As the fruitless sun of summer on the waste where nought is made!
And now farewell, O daughter, thou mayst not see the kiss
Of the hapless and the death-doomed when I have told of this;
Yet once again shalt thou see him, though I no more again,
Fair with the joy that hopeth and dieth not in vain."
Then came the Hall-Sun close to her, and knelt down by her, and laid her
head upon her knees and wept for love of her mother, who kissed her oft
and caressed her; and Thiodolf's hand strayed, as it were, on to his
daughter's head, and he looked kindly on her, though scarce now as if he
knew her. Then she arose when she had kissed her mother once more, and
went her ways from that wood-lawn into the woods again, and so to the
Folk-mote of her people.
But when those twain were all alone again, the Wood-Sun spoke: "O
Thiodolf canst thou hear me and understand?"
"Yea," he said, "when thou speakest of certain matters, as of our love
together, and of our daughter that came of our love."
"Thiodolf," she said, "How long shall our love last?"
"As long as our life," he said.
"And if thou diest to-day, where then shall our love be?" said the Wood-
Sun.
He said, "I must now say, I wot not; though time was I had said, It shall
abide with the soul of the Wolfing Kindred."
She said: "And when that soul dieth, and the kindred is no more?"
"Time agone," quoth he, "I had said, it shall abide with the Kindreds of
the Earth; but now again I say, I wot not."
"Will the Earth hide it," said she, "when thou diest and art borne to
mound?"
"Even so didst thou say when we spake together that other night," said
he; "and now I may say nought against thy word."
"Art thou happy, O Folk-Wolf?" she said.
"Why dost thou ask me?" said he; "I know not; we were sundered and I
longed for thee; thou art here; it is enough."
"And the people of thy Kindred?" she said, "dost thou not long for them?"
He said; "Didst thou not say that I was not of them? Yet were they my
friends, and needed me, and I loved them: but by this evening they will
need me no more, or but little; for they will be victorious over their
foes: so hath the Hall-Sun foretold. What then! shall I take all from
thee to give little to them?"
"Thou art wise," she said; "Wilt thou go to battle to-day?"
"So it seemeth," said he.
She said: "And wilt thou bear the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk? for if thou
dost, thou wilt live, and if thou dost not, thou wilt die."
"I will bear it," said he, "that I may live to love thee."
"Thinkest thou that any evil goes with it?" said she.
There came into his face a flash of his ancient boldness as he answered:
"So it seemed to me yesterday, when I fought clad in it the first time;
and I fell unsmitten on the meadow, and was shamed, and would have slain
myself but for thee. And yet it is not so that any evil goes with it;
for thou thyself didst say that past night that there was no evil weird
in it."
She said: "How then if I lied that night?"
Said he; "It is the wont of the Gods to lie, and be unashamed, and men-
folk must bear with it."
"Ah! how wise thou art!" she said; and was silent for a while, and drew
away from him a little, and clasped her hands together and wrung them for
grief and anger. Then she grew calm again, and said:
"Wouldest thou die at my bidding?"
"Yea," said he, "not because thou art of the Gods, but because thou hast
become a woman to me, and I love thee."
Then was she silent some while, and at last she said, "Thiodolf, wilt
thou do off the Hauberk if I bid thee?"
"Yea, yea," said he, "and let us depart from the Wolfings, and their
strife, for they need us not."
She was silent once more for a longer while still, and at last she said
in a cold voice; "Thiodolf, I bid thee arise, and put off the Hauberk
from thee."
He looked at her wondering, not at her words, but at the voice wherewith
she spake them; but he arose from the stone nevertheless, and stood stark
in the moonlight; he set his hand to the collar of the war-coat, and
undid its clasps, which were of gold and blue stones, and presently he
did the coat from off him and let it slide to the ground where it lay in
a little grey heap that looked but a handful. Then he sat down on the
stone again, and took her hand and kissed her and caressed her fondly,
and she him again, and they spake no word for a while: but at the last he
spake in measure and rhyme in a low voice, but so sweet and clear that it
might have been heard far in the hush of the last hour of the night:
"Dear now are this dawn-dusk's moments as is the last of the light
When the foemen's ranks are wavering, and the victory feareth night;
And of all the time I have loved thee of these am I most fain,
When I know not what shall betide me, nor what shall be my gain.
But dear as they are, they are waning, and at last the time is come
When no more shall I behold thee till I wend to Odin's Home.
Now is the time so little that once hath been so long
That I fain would ask thee pardon wherein I have done thee wrong,
That thy longing might be softer, and thy love more sweet to have.
But in nothing have I wronged thee, there is nought that I may crave.
Strange too! as the minutes fail me, so do my speech-words fail,
Yet strong is the joy within me for this hour that crowns the tale."
Therewith he clipped her and caressed her, and she spake nothing for a
while; and he said; "Thy face is fair and bright; art thou not joyous of
these minutes?"
She said: "Thy words are sweet; but they pierce my heart like a sharp
knife; for they tell me of thy death and the ending of our love."
Said he; "I tell thee nothing, beloved, that thou hast not known: is it
not for this that we have met here once more?"
She answered after a while; "Yea, yea; yet mightest thou have lived."
He laughed, but not scornfully or bitterly and said:
"So thought I in time past: but hearken, beloved; If I fall to-day, shall
there not yet be a minute after the stroke hath fallen on me, wherein I
shall know that the day is won and see the foemen fleeing, and wherein I
shall once again deem I shall never die, whatever may betide afterwards,
and though the sword lieth deep in my breast? And shall I not see then
and know that our love hath no end?"
Bitter grief was in her face as she heard him. But she spake and said:
"Lo here the Hauberk which thou hast done off thee, that thy breast might
be the nearer to mine! Wilt thou not wear it in the fight for my sake?"
He knit his brows somewhat, and said:
"Nay, it may not be: true it is that thou saidest that no evil weird went
with it, but hearken! Yesterday I bore it in the fight, and ere I
mingled with the foe, before I might give the token of onset, a cloud
came before my eyes and thick darkness wrapped me around, and I fell to
the earth unsmitten; and so was I borne out of the fight, and evil dreams
beset me of evil things, and the dwarfs that hate mankind. Then I came
to myself, and the Hauberk was off me, and I rose up and beheld the
battle, that the kindreds were pressing on the foe, and I thought not
then of any past time, but of the minutes that were passing; and I ran
into the fight straightway: but one followed me with that Hauberk, and I
did it on, thinking of nought but the battle. Fierce then was the fray,
yet I faltered in it; till the fresh men of the Romans came in upon us
and broke up our array. Then my heart almost broke within me, and I
faltered no more, but rushed on as of old, and smote great strokes all
round about: no hurt I got, but once more came that ugly mist over my
eyes, and again I fell unsmitten, and they bore me out of battle: then
the men of our folk gave back and were overcome; and when I awoke from my
evil dreams, we had gotten away from the fight and the Wolfing dwellings,
and were on the mounds above the ford cowering down like beaten men.
There then I sat shamed among the men who had chosen me for their best
man at the Holy Thing, and lo I was their worst! Then befell that which
never till then had befallen me, that life seemed empty and worthless and
I longed to die and be done with it, and but for the thought of thy love
I had slain myself then and there.
"Thereafter I went with the host to the assembly of the stay-at-homes and
fleers, and sat before the Hall-Sun our daughter, and said the words
which were put into my mouth. But now must I tell thee a hard and evil
thing; that I loved them not, and was not of them, and outside myself
there was nothing: within me was the world and nought without me. Nay,
as for thee, I was not sundered from thee, but thou wert a part of me;
whereas for the others, yea, even for our daughter, thine and mine, they
were but images and shows of men, and I longed to depart from them, and
to see thy body and to feel thine heart beating. And by then so evil was
I grown that my very shame had fallen from me, and my will to die: nay, I
longed to live, thou and I, and death seemed hateful to me, and the deeds
before death vain and foolish.
"Where then was my glory and my happy life, and the hope of the days
fresh born every day, though never dying? Where then was life, and
Thiodolf that once had lived?
"But now all is changed once more; I loved thee never so well as now, and
great is my grief that we must sunder, and the pain of farewell wrings my
heart. Yet since I am once more Thiodolf the Mighty, in my heart there
is room for joy also. Look at me, O Wood-Sun, look at me, O beloved!
tell me, am I not fair with the fairness of the warrior and the helper of
the folk? Is not my voice kind, do not my lips smile, and mine eyes
shine? See how steady is mine hand, the friend of the folk! For mine
eyes are cleared again, and I can see the kindreds as they are, and their
desire of life and scorn of death, and this is what they have made me
myself. Now therefore shall they and I together earn the merry days to
come, the winter hunting and the spring sowing, the summer haysel, the
ingathering of harvest, the happy rest of midwinter, and Yuletide with
the memory of the Fathers, wedded to the hope of the days to be. Well
may they bid me help them who have holpen me! Well may they bid me die
who have made me live!
"For whereas thou sayest that I am not of their blood, nor of their
adoption, once more I heed it not. For I have lived with them, and eaten
and drunken with them, and toiled with them, and led them in battle and
the place of wounds and slaughter; they are mine and I am theirs; and
through them am I of the whole earth, and all the kindreds of it; yea,
even of the foemen, whom this day the edges in mine hand shall smite.
"Therefore I will bear the Hauberk no more in battle; and belike my body
but once more: so shall I have lived and death shall not have undone me.
"Lo thou, is not this the Thiodolf whom thou hast loved? no changeling of
the Gods, but the man in whom men have trusted, the friend of Earth, the
giver of life, the vanquisher of death?"
And he cast himself upon her, and strained her to his bosom and kissed
her, and caressed her, and awoke the bitter-sweet joy within her, as he
cried out:
"O remember this, and this, when at last I am gone from thee!"
But when they sundered her face was bright, but the tears were on it, and
she said: "O Thiodolf, thou wert fain hadst thou done a wrong to me so
that I might forgive thee; now wilt thou forgive me the wrong I have done
thee?"
"Yea," he said, "Even so would I do, were we both to live, and how much
more if this be the dawn of our sundering day! What hast thou done?"
She said: "I lied to thee concerning the Hauberk when I said that no evil
weird went with it: and this I did for the saving of thy life."
He laid his hand fondly on her head, and spake smiling: "Such is the wont
of the God-kin, because they know not the hearts of men. Tell me all the
truth of it now at last."
She said:
"Hear then the tale of the Hauberk and the truth there is to tell:
There was a maid of the God-kin, and she loved a man right well,
Who unto the battle was wending; and she of her wisdom knew
That thence to the folk-hall threshold should come back but a very
few;
And she feared for her love, for she doubted that of these he should
not be;
So she wended the wilds lamenting, as I have lamented for thee;
And many wise she pondered, how to bring her will to pass
(E'en as I for thee have pondered), as her feet led over the grass,
Till she lifted her eyes in the wild-wood, and lo! she stood before
The Hall of the Hollow-places; and the Dwarf-lord stood in the door
And held in his hand the Hauberk, whereon the hammer's blow
The last of all had been smitten, and the sword should be hammer now.
Then the Dwarf beheld her fairness, and the wild-wood many-leaved
Before his eyes was reeling at the hope his heart conceived;
So sorely he longed for her body; and he laughed before her and cried,
'O Lady of the Disir, thou farest wandering wide
Lamenting thy beloved and the folk-mote of the spear,
But if amidst of the battle this child of the hammer he bear
He shall laugh at the foemen's edges and come back to thy lily breast
And of all the days of his life-time shall his coming years be best.'
Then she bowed adown her godhead and sore for the Hauberk she prayed;
But his greedy eyes devoured her as he stood in the door and said;
'Come lie in mine arms! Come hither, and we twain the night to wake!
And then as a gift of the morning the Hauberk shall ye take.'
So she humbled herself before him, and entered into the cave,
The dusky, the deep-gleaming, the gem-strewn golden grave.
But he saw not her girdle loosened, or her bosom gleam on his love,
For she set the sleep-thorn in him, that he saw, but might not move,
Though the bitter salt tears burned him for the anguish of his greed;
And she took the hammer's offspring, her unearned morning meed,
And went her ways from the rock-hall and was glad for her warrior's
sake.
But behind her dull speech followed, and the voice of the hollow
spake:
'Thou hast left me bound in anguish, and hast gained thine heart's
desire;
Now I would that the dewy night-grass might be to thy feet as the
fire,
And shrivel thy raiment about thee, and leave thee bare to the flame,
And no way but a fiery furnace for the road whereby ye came!
But since the folk of God-home we may not slay nor smite,
And that fool of the folk that thou lovest, thou hast saved in my
despite,
Take with thee, thief of God-home, this other word I say:
Since the safeguard wrought in the ring-mail I may not do away
I lay this curse upon it, that whoso weareth the same,
Shall save his life in the battle, and have the battle's shame;
He shall live through wrack and ruin, and ever have the worse,
And drag adown his kindred, and bear the people's curse.'
"Lo, this the tale of the Hauberk, and I knew it for the truth:
And little I thought of the kindreds; of their day I had no ruth;
For I said, They are doomed to departure; in a little while must they
wane,
And nought it helpeth or hindreth if I hold my hand or refrain.
Yea, thou wert become the kindred, both thine and mine; and thy birth
To me was the roofing of heaven, and the building up of earth.
I have loved, and I must sorrow; thou hast lived, and thou must die;
Ah, wherefore were there others in the world than thou and I?"
He turned round to her and clasped her strongly in his arms again, and
kissed her many times and said:
"Lo, here art thou forgiven; and here I say farewell!
Here the token of my wonder which my words may never tell;
The wonder past all thinking, that my love and thine should blend;
That thus our lives should mingle, and sunder in the end!
Lo, this, for the last remembrance of the mighty man I was,
Of thy love and thy forbearing, and all that came to pass!
Night wanes, and heaven dights her for the kiss of sun and earth;
Look up, look last upon me on this morn of the kindreds' mirth!"
Therewith he arose and lingered no minute longer, but departed, going as
straight towards the Thing-stead and the Folk-mote of his kindred as the
swallow goes to her nest in the hall-porch. He looked not once behind
him, though a bitter wailing rang through the woods and filled his heart
with the bitterness of her woe and the anguish of the hour of sundering.
CHAPTER XXVII--THEY WEND TO THE MORNING BATTLE
Now when Thiodolf came back to the camp the signs of dawn were plain in
the sky, the moon was low and sinking behind the trees, and he saw at
once that the men were stirring and getting ready for departure. He
looked gladly and blithely at the men he fell in with, and they at him,
and scarce could they refrain a shout when they beheld his face and the
brightness of it. He went straight up to where the Hall-Sun was yet
sitting under her namesake, with Arinbiorn standing before her amidst of
a ring of leaders of hundreds and scores: but old Sorli sat by her side
clad in all his war-gear.
When Thiodolf first came into that ring of men they looked doubtfully at
him, as if they dreaded somewhat, but when they had well beheld him their
faces cleared, and they became joyous.
He went straight up to Arinbiorn and kissed the old warrior, and said to
him, "I give thee good morrow, O leader of the Bearings! Here now is
come the War-duke! and meseems that we should get to work as speedily as
may be, for lo the dawning!"
"Hail to thine hand, War-duke!" said Arinbiorn joyously; "there is no
more to do but to take thy word concerning the order wherein we shall
wend; for all men are armed and ready."
Said Thiodolf; "Lo ye, I lack war-gear and weapons! Is there a good
sword hereby, a helm, a byrny and a shield? For hard will be the battle,
and we must fence ourselves all we may."
"Hard by," said Arinbiorn, "is the war-gear of Ivar of our House, who is
dead in the night of his hurts gotten in yesterday's battle: thou and he
are alike in stature, and with a good will doth he give them to thee, and
they are goodly things, for he comes of smithying blood. Yet is it a
pity of Throng-plough that he lieth on the field of the slain."
But Thiodolf smiled and said: "Nay, Ivar's blade shall serve my turn to-
day; and thereafter shall it be seen to, for then will be time for many
things."
So they went to fetch him the weapons; but he said to Arinbiorn, "Hast
thou numbered the host? What are the gleanings of the Roman sword?"
Said Arinbiorn: "Here have we more than three thousand three hundred
warriors of the host fit for battle: and besides this here are gathered
eighteen hundred of the Wolfings and the Bearings, and of the other
Houses, mostly from over the water, and of these nigh upon seven hundred
may bear sword or shoot shaft; neither shall ye hinder them from so doing
if the battle be joined."
Then said Thiodolf: "We shall order us into three battles; the Wolfings
and the Bearings to lead the first, for this is our business; but others
of the smaller Houses this side the water to be with us; and the Elkings
and Galtings and the other Houses of the Mid-mark on the further side of
the water to be in the second, and with them the more part of the Nether-
mark; but the men of Up-mark to be in the third, and the stay-at-homes to
follow on with them: and this third battle to let the wood cover them
till they be needed, which may not be till the day of fight draws to an
end, when all shall be needed: for no Roman man must be left alive or
untaken by this even, or else must we all go to the Gods together.
Hearken, Arinbiorn. I am not called fore-sighted, and yet meseems I see
somewhat how this day shall go; and it is not to be hidden that I shall
not see another battle until the last of all battles is at hand. But be
of good cheer, for I shall not die till the end of the fight, and once
more I shall be a man's help unto you. Now the first of the Romans we
meet shall not be able to stand before us, for they shall be unready, and
when their men are gotten ready and are fighting with us grimly, ye of
the second battle shall hear the war-token, and shall fall on, and they
shall be dismayed when they see so many fresh men come into the fight;
yet shall they stand stoutly; for they are valiant men, and shall not all
be taken unawares. Then, if they withstand us long enough, shall the
third battle come forth from the wood, and fall on either flank of them,
and the day shall be won. But I think not that they shall withstand us
so long, but that the men of Up-mark and the stay-at-homes shall have the
chasing of them. Now get me my war-gear, and let the first battle get
them to the outgate of the garth."
So they brought him his arms; and meanwhile the Hall-Sun spake to one of
the Captains, and he turned and went away a little space, and then came
back, having with him three strong warriors of the Wolfings, and he
brought them before the Hall-Sun, who said to them:
"Ye three, Steinulf, Athalulf, and Grani the Grey, I have sent for you
because ye are men both mighty in battle and deft wood-wrights and house-
smiths; ye shall follow Thiodolf closely, when he winneth into the Roman
garth, yet shall ye fight wisely, so that ye be not slain, or at least
not all; ye shall enter the Hall with Thiodolf, and when ye are therein,
if need be, ye shall run down the Hall at your swiftest, and mount up
into the loft betwixt the Middle-hearth and the Women's-Chamber, and
there shall ye find good store of water in vats and tubs, and this ye
shall use for quenching the fire of the Hall if the foemen fire it, as is
not unlike to be."
Then Grani spoke for the others and said he would pay all heed to her
words, and they departed to join their company.
Now was Thiodolf armed; and Arinbiorn, turning about before he went to
his place, beheld him and knit his brow, and said: "What is this,
Thiodolf? Didst thou not swear to the Gods not to bear helm or shield in
the battles of this strife? yet hast thou Ivar's helm on thine head and
his shield ready beside thee: wilt thou forswear thyself? so doing shalt
thou bring woe upon the House."
"Arinbiorn," said Thiodolf, "where didst thou hear tell of me that I had
made myself the thrall of the Gods? The oath that I sware was sworn when
mine heart was not whole towards our people; and now will I break it that
I may keep what of good intent there was in it, and cast away the rest.
Long is the story; but if we journey together to-night I will tell it
thee. Likewise I will tell it to the Gods if they look sourly upon me
when I see them, and all shall be well."
He smiled as he spoke, and Arinbiorn smiled on him in turn and went his
ways to array the host. But when he was gone Thiodolf was alone in that
place with the Hall-Sun, and he turned to her, and kissed her, and
caressed her fondly, and spake and said:
"So fare we, O my daughter, to the sundering of the ways;
Short is my journey henceforth to the door that ends my days,
And long the road that lieth as yet before thy feet.
How fain were I that thy journey from day to day were sweet
With peace to thee and pleasure; that a noble warrior's hand
In its early days might lead thee adown the flowery land,
And thy children in its noon-tide cling round about thy gown,
And the wise that thy womb has carried when the sun is going down,
Be thy happy fellow-farers to tell the tale of Earth,
But I wot that for no such sweetness did we bring thee unto birth,
But to be the soul of the Wolfings till the other days should come,
And the fruit of the kindreds' harvest with thee is garnered home.
Yet if for no blithe faring thy life-day is ordained,
Yet peace that long endureth maybe thy soul hath gained;
And thy sorrow of this even thy latest grief shall be,
The grief wherewith thou singest the death-song over me."
She looked up at him and smiled, though the tears were on her face; then
she said:
"Though to-day the grief beginneth yet the bitterness is done.
Though my body wendeth barren 'neath the beams of the quickening sun,
Yet remembrance still abideth, and long after the days of my life
Shall I live in the tale of the morning, when they tell of the ending
of strife;
And the deeds of this little hand, and the thought conceived in my
heart,
And never again henceforward from the folk shall I fare apart.
And if of the Earth, my father, thou hast tidings in thy place
Thou shalt hear how they call me the Ransom and the Mother of happy
days."
Then she wept outright for a brief space, and thereafter she said:
"Keep this in thine heart, O father, that I shall remember all
Since thou liftedst the she-wolf's nursling in the oak-tree's leafy
hall.
Yea, every time I remember when hand in hand we went
Amidst the shafts of the beech-trees, and down to the youngling bent
The Folk-wolf in his glory when the eve of fight drew nigh;
And every time I remember when we wandered joyfully
Adown the sunny meadow and lived a while of life
'Midst the herbs and the beasts and the waters so free from fear and
strife,
That thy years and thy might and thy wisdom, I had no part therein;
But thou wert as the twin-born brother of the maiden slim and thin,
The maiden shy in the feast-hall and blithe in wood and field.
Thus have we fared, my father; and e'en now when thou bearest shield,
On the last of thy days of mid-earth, twixt us 'tis even so
That the heart of my like-aged brother is the heart of thee that I
know."
Then the bitterness of tears stayed her speech, and he spake no word
more, but took her in his arms a while and soothed her and fondled her,
and then they parted, and he went with great strides towards the outgoing
of the Thing-stead.
There he found the warriors of his House and of the Bearings and the
lesser Houses of Mid-mark, all duly ordered for wending through the wood.
The dawn was coming on apace, but the wood was yet dark. But whereas the
Wolfings led, and each man of them knew the wood like his own hand, there
was no straying or disarray, and in less than a half-hour's space
Thiodolf and the first battle were come to the wood behind the
hazel-trees at the back of the hall, and before them was the dawning
round about the Roof of the Kindred; the eastern heavens were
brightening, and they could see all things clear without the wood.
CHAPTER XXVIII--OF THE STORM OF DAWNING
Then Thiodolf bade Fox and two others steal forward, and see what of
foemen was before them; so they fell to creeping on towards the open: but
scarcely had they started, before all men could hear the tramp of men
drawing nigh; then Thiodolf himself took with him a score of his House
and went quietly toward the wood-edge till they were barely within the
shadow of the beech-wood; and he looked forth and saw men coming straight
towards their lurking-place. And those he saw were a good many, and they
were mostly of the dastards of the Goths; but with them was a Captain of
an Hundred of the Romans, and some others of his kindred; and Thiodolf
deemed that the Goths had been bidden to gather up some of the
night-watchers and enter the wood and fall on the stay-at-homes. So he
bade his men get them aback, and he himself abode still at the very
wood's edge listening intently with his sword bare in his hand. And he
noted that those men of the foe stayed in the daylight outside the wood,
but a few yards from it, and, by command as it seemed, fell silent and
spake no word; and the morn was very still, and when the sound of their
tramp over the grass had ceased, Thiodolf could hear the tramp of more
men behind them. And then he had another thought, to wit that the Romans
had sent scouts to see if the Goths yet abided on the vantage-ground by
the ford, and that when they had found them gone, they were minded to
fall on them unawares in the refuge of the Thing-stead and were about to
do so by the counsel and leading of the dastard Goths; and that this was
one body of the host led by those dastards, who knew somewhat of the
woods. So he drew aback speedily, and catching hold of Fox by the
shoulder (for he had taken him alone with him) he bade him creep along
through the wood toward the Thing-stead, and bring back speedy word
whether there were any more foemen near the wood thereaway; and he
himself came to his men, and ordered them for onset, drawing them up in a
shallow half moon, with the bowmen at the horns thereof, with the word to
loose at the Romans as soon as they heard the war-horn blow: and all this
was done speedily and with little noise, for they were well nigh so
arrayed already.
Thus then they waited, and there was more than a glimmer of light even
under the beechen leaves, and the eastern sky was yellowing to sunrise.
The other warriors were like hounds in the leash eager to be slipped; but
Thiodolf stood calm and high-hearted turning over the memory of past
days, and the time he thought of seemed long to him, but happy.
Scarce had a score of minutes passed, and the Romans before them, who
were now gathered thick behind those dastards of the Goths, had not
moved, when back comes Fox and tells how he has come upon a great company
of the Romans led by their thralls of the Goths who were just entering
the wood, away there towards the Thing-stead.
"But, War-duke," says he, "I came also across our own folk of the second
battle duly ordered in the wood ready to meet them; and they shall be
well dealt with, and the sun shall rise for us and not for them."
Then turns Thiodolf round to those nighest to him and says, but still
softly:
"Hear ye a word, O people, of the wisdom of the foe!
Before us thick they gather, and unto the death they go.
They fare as lads with their cur-dogs who have stopped a fox's earth,
And standing round the spinny, now chuckle in their mirth,
Till one puts by the leafage and trembling stands astare
At the sight of the Wood wolf's father arising in his lair--
They have come for our wives and our children, and our sword-edge
shall they meet;
And which of them is happy save he of the swiftest feet?"
Speedily then went that word along the ranks of the Kindred, and men were
merry with the restless joy of battle: but scarce had two minutes passed
ere suddenly the stillness of the dawn was broken by clamour and uproar;
by shouts and shrieks, and the clashing of weapons from the wood on their
left hand; and over all arose the roar of the Markmen's horn, for the
battle was joined with the second company of the Kindreds. But a rumour
and murmur went from the foemen before Thiodolf's men; and then sprang
forth the loud sharp word of the captains commanding and rebuking, as if
the men were doubtful which way they should take.
Amidst all which Thiodolf brandished his sword, and cried out in a great
voice:
"Now, now, ye War-sons!
Now the Wolf waketh!
Lo how the Wood-beast
Wendeth in onset.
E'en as his feet fare
Fall on and follow!"
And he led forth joyously, and terrible rang the long refrained gathered
shout of his battle as his folk rushed on together devouring the little
space between their ambush and the hazel-beset greensward.
In the twinkling of an eye the half-moon had lapped around the
Roman-Goths and those that were with them; and the dastards made no stand
but turned about at once, crying out that the Gods of the Kindreds were
come to aid and none could withstand them. But these fleers thrust
against the band of Romans who were next to them, and bore them aback,
and great was the turmoil; and when Thiodolf's storm fell full upon them,
as it failed not to do, so close were they driven together that scarce
could any man raise his hand for a stroke. For behind them stood a great
company of those valiant spearmen of the Romans, who would not give way
if anywise they might hold it out: and their ranks were closely serried,
shield nigh touching shield, and their faces turned toward the foe; and
so arrayed, though they might die, they scarce knew how to flee. As they
might these thrust and hewed at the fleers, and gave fierce words but few
to the Roman-Goths, driving them back against their foemen: but the
fleers had lost the cunning of their right hands, and they had cast away
their shields and could not defend their very bodies against the wrath of
the kindreds; and when they strove to flee to the right hand or to the
left, they were met by the horns of the half-moon, and the arrows began
to rain in upon them, and from so close were they shot at that no shaft
failed to smite home.
There then were the dastards slain; and their bodies served for a rampart
against the onrush of the Markmen to those Romans who had stood fast. To
them were gathering more and more every minute, and they faced the Goths
steadily with their hard brown visages and gleaming eyes above their iron-
plated shields; not casting their spears, but standing closely together,
silent, but fierce. The light was spread now over all the earth; the
eastern heavens were grown golden-red, flecked here and there with little
crimson clouds: this battle was fallen near silent, but to the North was
great uproar of shouts and cries, and the roaring of the war-horns, and
the shrill blasts of the brazen trumpets.
Now Thiodolf, as his wont was when he saw that all was going well, had
refrained himself of hand-strokes, but was here and there and everywhere
giving heart to his folk, and keeping them in due order, and close array,
lest the Romans should yet come among them. But he watched the ranks of
the foe, and saw how presently they began to spread out beyond his, and
might, if it were not looked to, take them in flank; and he was about to
order his men anew to meet them, when he looked on his left hand and saw
how Roman men were pouring thick from the wood out of all array, followed
by a close throng of the kindreds: for on this side the Romans were
outnumbered and had stumbled unawares into the ambush of the Markmen, who
had fallen on them straightway and disarrayed them from the first. This
flight of their folk the Romans saw also, and held their men together,
refraining from the onset, as men who deem that they will have enough to
do to stand fast.
But the second battle of the Markmen, (who were of the Nether-mark,
mingled with the Mid-mark) fought wisely, for they swept those fleers
from before them, slaying many and driving the rest scattering, yet held
the chase for no long way, but wheeling about came sidelong on toward the
battle of the Romans and Thiodolf. And when Thiodolf saw that, he set up
the whoop of victory, he and his, and fell fiercely on the Romans,
casting everything that would fly, as they rushed on to the handplay; so
that there was many a Roman slain with the Roman spears that those who
had fallen had left among their foemen.
Now the Roman captains perceived that it availed not to tarry till the
men of the Mid and Nether-marks fell upon their flank; so they gave
command, and their ranks gave back little by little, facing their foes,
and striving to draw themselves within the dike and garth, which, after
their custom, they had already cast up about the Wolfing Roof, their
stronghold.
Now as fierce as was the onset of the Markmen, the main body of the
Romans could not be hindered from doing this much before the men of the
second battle were upon them; but Thiodolf and Arinbiorn with some of the
mightiest brake their array in two places and entered in amongst them.
And wrath so seized upon the soul of Arinbiorn for the slaying of Otter,
and his own fault towards him, that he cast away his shield, and heeding
no strokes, first brake his sword in the press, and then, getting hold of
a great axe, smote at all before him as though none smote at him in turn;
yea, as though he were smiting down tree-boles for a match against some
other mighty man; and all the while amidst the hurry, strokes of swords
and spears rained on him, some falling flatwise and some glancing
sideways, but some true and square, so that his helm was smitten off and
his hauberk rent adown, and point and edge reached his living flesh; and
he had thrust himself so far amidst the foe that none could follow to
shield him, so that at last he fell shattered and rent at the foot of the
new clayey wall cast up by the Romans, even as Thiodolf and a band with
him came cleaving the press, and the Romans closed the barriers against
friend and foe, and cast great beams adown, and masses of iron and lead
and copper taken from the smithying-booths of the Wolfings, to stay them
if it were but a little.
Then Thiodolf bestrode the fallen warrior, and men of his House were
close behind him, for wisely had he fought, cleaving the press like a
wedge, helping his friends that they might help him, so that they all
went forward together. But when he saw Arinbiorn fall he cried out:
"Woe's me, Arinbiorn! that thou wouldest not wait for me; for the day is
young yet, and over-young!"
There then they cleared the space outside the gate, and lifted up the
Bearing Warrior, and bare him back from the rampart. For so fierce had
been the fight and so eager the storm of those that had followed after
him that they must needs order their battle afresh, since Thiodolf's
wedge which he had driven into the Roman host was but of a few and the
foe had been many and the rampart and the shot-weapons were close anigh.
Wise therefore it seemed to abide them of the second battle and join with
them to swarm over the new-built slippery wall in the teeth of the Roman
shot.
In this, the first onset of the Morning Battle, some of the Markmen had
fallen, but not many, since but a few had entered outright into the Roman
ranks; and when they first rushed on from the wood but three of them were
slain, and the slaughter was all of the dastards and the Romans; and
afterwards not a few of the Romans were slain, what by Arinbiorn, what by
the others; for they were fighting fleeing, and before their eyes was the
image of the garth-gate which was behind them; and they stumbled against
each other as they were driven sideways against the onrush of the Goths,
nor were they now standing fair and square to them, and they were hurried
and confused with the dread of the onset of them of the two Marks.
As yet Thiodolf had gotten no great hurt, so that when he heard that
Arinbiorn's soul had passed away he smiled and said:
"Yea, yea, Arinbiorn might have abided the end, for ere then shall the
battle be hard."
So now the Wolfings and the Bearings met joyously the kindreds of the
Nether Mark and the others of the second battle, and they sang the song
of victory arrayed in good order hard by the Roman rampart, while
bowstrings twanged and arrows whistled, and sling-stones hummed from this
side and from that.
And of their song of victory thus much the tale telleth:
"Now hearken and hear
Of the day-dawn of fear,
And how up rose the sun
On the battle begun.
All night lay a-hiding,
Our anger abiding,
Dark down in the wood
The sharp seekers of blood;
But ere red grew the heaven we bore them all bare,
For against us undriven the foemen must fare;
They sought and they found us, and sorrowed to find,
For the tree-boles around us the story shall mind,
How fast from the glooming they fled to the light,
Yeasaying the dooming of Tyr of the fight.
"Hearken yet and again
How the night gan to wane,
And the twilight stole on
Till the world was well won!
E'en in such wise was wending
A great host for our ending;
On our life-days e'en so
Stole the host of the foe;
Till the heavens grew lighter, and light grew the world,
And the storm of the fighter upon them was hurled,
Then some fled the stroke, and some died and some stood,
Till the worst of the storm broke right out from the wood,
And the war-shafts were singing the carol of fear,
The tale of the bringing the sharp swords anear.
"Come gather we now,
For the day doth grow.
Come, gather, ye bold,
Lest the day wax old;
Lest not till to-morrow
We slake our sorrow,
And heap the ground
With many a mound.
Come, war-children, gather, and clear we the land!
In the tide of War-father the deed is to hand.
Clad in gear that we gilded they shrink from our sword;
In the House that we builded they sit at the board;
Come, war-children, gather, come swarm o'er the wall
For the feast of War-father to sweep out the Hall!"
Now amidst of their singing the sun rose upon the earth, and gleamed in
the arms of men, and lit the faces of the singing warriors as they stood
turned toward the east.
In this first onset of battle but twenty and three Markmen were slain in
all, besides Arinbiorn; for, as aforesaid, they had the foe at a
disadvantage. And this onset is called in the tale the Storm of Dawning.
CHAPTER XXI--OF THIODOLF'S STORM
The Goths tarried not over their victory; they shot with all the bowmen
that they had against the Romans on the wall, and therewith arrayed
themselves to fall on once more. And Thiodolf, now that the foe were
covered by a wall, though it was but a little one, sent a message to the
men of the third battle, them of Up-mark to wit, to come forward in good
array and help to make a ring around the Wolfing Stead, wherein they
should now take the Romans as a beast is taken in a trap. Meanwhile,
until they came, he sent other men to the wood to bring tree-boles to
batter the gate, and to make bridges whereby to swarm over the wall,
which was but breast-high on the Roman side, though they had worked at it
ceaselessly since yesterday morning.
In a long half-hour, therefore, the horns of the men of Up-mark sounded,
and they came forth from the wood a very great company, for with them
also were the men of the stay-at-homes and the homeless, such of them as
were fit to bear arms. Amongst these went the Hall-Sun surrounded by a
band of the warriors of Up-mark; and before her was borne her namesake
the Lamp as a sign of assured victory. But these stay-at-homes with the
Hall-Sun were stayed by the command of Thiodolf on the crown of the slope
above the dwellings, and stood round about the Speech-Hill, on the
topmost of which stood the Hall-Sun, and the wondrous Lamp, and the men
who warded her and it.
When the Romans saw the new host come forth from the wood, they might
well think that they would have work enough to do that day; but when they
saw the Hall-Sun take her stand on the Speech-Hill with the men-at-arms
about her, and the Lamp before her, then dread of the Gods fell upon
them, and they knew that the doom had gone forth against them.
Nevertheless they were not men to faint and die because the Gods were
become their foes, but they were resolved rather to fight it out to the
end against whatsoever might come against them, as was well seen
afterwards.
Now they had made four gates to their garth according to their custom,
and at each gate within was there a company of their mightiest men, and
each was beset by the best of the Markmen. Thiodolf and his men beset
the western gate where they had made that fierce onset. And the northern
gate was beset by the Elkings and some of the kindreds of the
Nether-mark; and the eastern gate by the rest of the men of Nether-mark;
and the southern gate by the kindreds of Up-mark.
All this the Romans noted, and they saw how that the Markmen were now
very many, and they knew that they were men no less valiant than
themselves, and they perceived that Thiodolf was a wise Captain; and in
less than two hours' space from the Storm of Dawning they saw those men
coming from the wood with plenteous store of tree-trunks to bridge their
ditch and rampart; and they considered how the day was yet very young, so
that they might look for no shelter from the night-tide; and as for any
aid from their own folk at the war-garth aforesaid, they hoped not for
it, nor had they sent any messenger to the Captain of the garth; nor did
they know as yet of his overthrow on the Ridge.
Now therefore there seemed to be but two choices before them; either to
abide within the rampart they had cast up, or to break out like valiant
men, and either die in the storm, or cleave a way through, whereby they
might come to their kindred and their stronghold south-east of the Mark.
This last way then they chose; or, to say the truth, it was their chief
captain who chose it for them, though they were nothing loth thereto: for
this man was a mocker, yet hot-headed, unstable, and nought wise in war,
and heretofore had his greed minished his courage; yet now, being driven
into a corner, he had courage enough and to spare, but utterly lacked
patience; for it had been better for the Romans to have abided one or two
onsets from the Goths, whereby they who should make the onslaught would
at the least have lost more men than they on whom they should fall,
before they within stormed forth on them; but their pride took away from
the Romans their last chance. But their captain, now that he perceived,
as he thought, that the game was lost and his life come to its last hour
wherein he would have to leave his treasure and pleasure behind him, grew
desperate and therewith most fierce and cruel. So all the captives whom
they had taken (they were but two score and two, for the wounded men they
had slain) he caused to be bound on the chairs of the high-seat clad in
their war-gear with their swords or spears made fast to their right
hands, and their shields to their left hands; and he said that the Goths
should now hold a Thing wherein they should at last take counsel wisely,
and abstain from folly. For he caused store of faggots and small wood
smeared with grease and oil to be cast into the hall that it might be
fired, so that it and the captives should burn up altogether; "So," said
he, "shall we have a fair torch for our funeral fire;" for it was the
custom of the Romans to burn their dead.
Thus, then, he did; and then he caused men to do away the barriers and
open all the four gates of the new-made garth, after he had manned the
wall with the slingers and bowmen, and slain the horses, so that the
woodland folk should have no gain of them. Then he arrayed his men at
the gates and about them duly and wisely, and bade those valiant footmen
fall on the Goths who were getting ready to fall on them, and to do their
best. But he himself armed at all points took his stand at the Man's-
door of the Hall, and swore by all the Gods of his kindred that he would
not move a foot's length from thence either for fire or for steel.
So fiercely on that fair morning burned the hatred of men about the
dwellings of the children of the Wolf of the Goths, wherein the children
of the Wolf of Rome were shut up as in a penfold of slaughter.
Meanwhile the Hall-Sun standing on the Hill of Speech beheld it all,
looking down into the garth of war; for the new wall was no hindrance to
her sight, because the Speech-Hill was high and but a little way from the
Great Roof; and indeed she was within shot of the Roman bowmen, though
they were not very deft in shooting.
So now she lifted up her voice and sang so that many heard her; for at
this moment of time there was a lull in the clamour of battle both within
the garth and without; even as it happens when the thunder-storm is just
about to break on the world, that the wind drops dead, and the voice of
the leaves is hushed before the first great and near flash of lightening
glares over the fields.
So she sang:
"Now the latest hour cometh and the ending of the strife;
And to-morrow and to-morrow shall we take the hand of life,
And wend adown the meadows, and skirt the darkling wood,
And reap the waving acres, and gather in the good.
I see a wall before me built up of steel and fire,
And hurts and heart-sick striving, and the war-wright's fierce desire;
But there-amidst a door is, and windows are therein;
And the fair sun-litten meadows and the Houses of the kin
Smile on me through the terror my trembling life to stay,
That at my mouth now flutters, as fain to flee away.
Lo e'en as the little hammer and the blow-pipe of the wright
About the flickering fire deals with the silver white,
And the cup and its beauty groweth that shall be for the people's
feast,
And all men are glad to see it from the greatest to the least;
E'en so is the tale now fashioned, that many a time and oft
Shall be told on the acre's edges, when the summer eve is soft;
Shall be hearkened round the hall-blaze when the mid-winter night
The kindreds' mirth besetteth, and quickeneth man's delight,
And we that have lived in the story shall be born again and again
As men feast on the bread of our earning, and praise the grief-born
grain."
As she made an end of singing, those about her understood her words, that
she was foretelling victory, and the peace of the Mark, and for joy they
raised a shrill cry; and the warriors who were nighest to her took it up,
and it spread through the whole host round about the garth, and went up
into the breath of the summer morning and went down the wind along the
meadow of the Wolfings, so that they of the wain-burg, who were now
drawing somewhat near to Wolf-stead heard it and were glad.
But the Romans when they heard it knew that the heart of the battle was
reached, and they cast back that shout wrathfully and fiercely, and made
toward the foe.
Therewithal those mighty men fell on each other in the narrow passes of
the garth; for fear was dead and buried in that Battle of the Morning.
On the North gate Hiarandi of the Elkings was the point of the Markmen's
wedge, and first clave the Roman press. In the Eastern gate it was
Valtyr, Otter's brother's son, a young man and most mighty. In the South
gate it was Geirbald of the Shieldings, the Messenger.
In the west gate Thiodolf the War-duke gave one mighty cry like the roar
of an angry lion, and cleared a space before him for the wielding of
Ivar's blade; for at that moment he had looked up to the Roof of the
Kindred and had beheld a little stream of smoke curling blue out of a
window thereof, and he knew what had betided, and how short was the time
before them. But his wrathful cry was taken up by some who had beheld
that same sight, and by others who saw nought but the Roman press, and
terribly it rang over the swaying struggling crowd.
Then fell the first rank of the Romans before those stark men and mighty
warriors; and they fell even where they stood, for on neither side could
any give back but for a little space, so close the press was, and the men
so eager to smite. Neither did any crave peace if he were hurt or
disarmed; for to the Goths it was but a little thing to fall in hot blood
in that hour of love of the kindred, and longing for the days to be. And
for the Romans, they had had no mercy, and now looked for none: and they
remembered their dealings with the Goths, and saw before them, as it
were, once more, yea, as in a picture, their slayings and quellings, and
lashings, and cold mockings which they had dealt out to the conquered
foemen without mercy, and now they longed sore for the quiet of the dark,
when their hard lives should be over, and all these deeds forgotten, and
they and their bitter foes should be at rest for ever.
Most valiantly they fought; but the fury of their despair could not deal
with the fearless hope of the Goths, and as rank after rank of them took
the place of those who were hewn down by Thiodolf and the Kindred, they
fell in their turn, and slowly the Goths cleared a space within the
gates, and then began to spread along the wall within, and grew thicker
and thicker. Nor did they fight only at the gates; but made them bridges
of those tree-trunks, and fell to swarming over the rampart, till they
had cleared it of the bowmen and slingers, and then they leaped down and
fell upon the flanks of the Romans; and the host of the dead grew, and
the host of the living lessened.
Moreover the stay-at-homes round about the Speech-Hill, and that band of
the warriors of Up-mark who were with them, beheld the Great Roof and saw
the smoke come gushing out of the windows, and at last saw the red flames
creep out amidst it and waver round the window jambs like little banners
of scarlet cloth. Then they could no longer refrain themselves, but ran
down from the Speech-Hill and the slope about it with great and fierce
cries, and clomb the wall where it was unmanned, helping each other with
hand and back, both stark warriors, and old men and lads and women: and
thus they gat them into the garth and fell upon the lessening band of the
Romans, who now began to give way hither and thither about the garth, as
they best might.
Thus it befell at the West-gate, but at the other gates it was no worser,
for there was no diversity of valour between the Houses; nay, whereas the
more part and the best part of the Romans faced the onset of Thiodolf,
which seemed to them the main onset, they were somewhat easier to deal
with elsewhere than at the West gate; and at the East gate was the place
first won, so that Valtyr and his folk were the first to clear a space
within the gate, and to tell the tale shortly (for can this that and the
other sword-stroke be told of in such a medley?) they drew the death-ring
around the Romans that were before them, and slew them all to the last
man, and then fell fiercely on the rearward of them of the North gate,
who still stood before Hiarandi's onset. There again was no long tale to
tell of, for Hiarandi was just winning the gate, and the wall was cleared
of the Roman shot-fighters, and the Markmen were standing on the top
thereof, and casting down on the Romans spears and baulks of wood and
whatsoever would fly. There again were the Romans all slain or put out
of the fight, and the two bands of the kindred joined together, and with
what voices the battle-rage had left them cried out for joy and fared on
together to help to bind the sheaves of war which Thiodolf's sickle had
reaped. And now it was mere slaying, and the Romans, though they still
fought in knots of less than a score, yet fought on and hewed and thrust
without more thought or will than the stone has when it leaps adown the
hill-side after it has first been set agoing.
But now the garth was fairly won and Thiodolf saw that there was no hope
for the Romans drawing together again; so while the kindreds were busied
in hewing down those knots of desperate men, he gathered to him some of
the wisest of his warriors, amongst whom were Steinulf and Grani the
Grey, the deft wood-wrights (but Athalulf had been grievously hurt by a
spear and was out of the battle), and drave a way through the confused
turmoil which still boiled in the garth there, and made straight for the
Man's-door of the Hall. Soon he was close thereto, having hewn away all
fleers that hindered him, and the doorway was before him. But on the
threshold, the fire and flames of the kindled hall behind him, stood the
Roman Captain clad in gold-adorned armour and surcoat of sea-born purple;
the man was cool and calm and proud, and a mocking smile was on his face:
and he bore his bright blade unbloodied in his hand.
Thiodolf stayed a moment of time, and their eyes met; it had gone hard
with the War-duke, and those eyes glittered in his pale face, and his
teeth were close set together; though he had fought wisely, and for life,
as he who is most valiant ever will do, till he is driven to bay like the
lone wood-wolf by the hounds, yet had he been sore mishandled. His helm
and shield were gone, his hauberk rent; for it was no dwarf-wrought coat,
but the work of Ivar's hand: the blood was running down from his left
arm, and he was hurt in many places: he had broken Ivar's sword in the
medley, and now bore in his hand a strong Roman short-sword, and his feet
stood bloody on the worn earth anigh the Man's-door.
He looked into the scornful eyes of the Roman lord for a little minute
and then laughed aloud, and therewithal, leaping on him with one spring,
turned sideways, and dealt him a great buffet on his ear with his unarmed
left hand, just as the Roman thrust at him with his sword, so that the
Captain staggered forward on to the next man following, which was
Wolfkettle the eager warrior, who thrust him through with his sword and
shoved him aside as they all strode into the hall together. Howbeit no
sword fell from the Roman Captain as he fell, for Thiodolf's side bore it
into the Hall of the Wolfings.
Most wrathful were those men, and went hastily, for their Roof was full
of smoke, and the flames flickered about the pillars and the wall here
and there, and crept up to the windows aloft; yet was it not wholly or
fiercely burning; for the Roman fire-raisers had been hurried and hasty
in their work. Straightway then Steinulf and Grani led the others off at
a run towards the loft and the water; but Thiodolf, who went slowly and
painfully, looked and beheld on the dais those men bound for the burning,
and he went quietly, and as a man who has been sick, and is weak, up on
to the dais, and said:
"Be of good cheer, O brothers, for the kindreds have vanquished the
foemen, and the end of strife is come."
His voice sounded strange and sweet to them amidst the turmoil of the
fight without; he laid down his sword on the table, and drew a little
sharp knife from his girdle and cut their bonds one by one and loosed
them with his blood-stained hands; and each one as he loosed him he
kissed and said to him, "Brother, go help those who are quenching the
fire; this is the bidding of the War-duke."
But as he loosed one after other he was longer and longer about it, and
his words were slower. At last he came to the man who was bound in his
own high-seat close under the place of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun,
and he was the only one left bound; that man was of the Wormings and was
named Elfric; he loosed him and was long about it; and when he was done
he smiled on him and kissed him, and said to him:
"Arise, brother! go help the quenchers of the fire, and leave to me this
my chair, for I am weary: and if thou wilt, thou mayst bring me of that
water to drink, for this morning men have forgotten the mead of the
reapers!"
Then Elfric arose, and Thiodolf sat in his chair, and leaned back his
head; but Elfric looked at him for a moment as one scared, and then ran
his ways down the hall, which now was growing noisy with the hurry and
bustle of the quenchers of the fire, to whom had divers others joined
themselves.
There then from a bucket which was still for a moment he filled a wooden
bowl, which he caught up from the base of one of the hall-pillars, and
hastened up the Hall again; and there was no man nigh the dais, and
Thiodolf yet sat in his chair, and the hall was dim with the rolling
smoke, and Elfric saw not well what the War-duke was doing. So he
hastened on, and when he was close to Thiodolf he trod in something wet,
and his heart sank for he knew that it was blood; his foot slipped
therewith and as he put out his hand to save himself the more part of the
water was spilled, and mingled with the blood. But he went up to
Thiodolf and said to him, "Drink, War-duke! here hath come a mouthful of
water."
But Thiodolf moved not for his word, and Elfric touched him, and he moved
none the more.
Then Elfric's heart failed him and he laid his hand on the War-duke's
hand, and looked closely into his face; and the hand was cold and the
face ashen-pale; and Elfric laid his hand on his side, and he felt the
short-sword of the Roman leader thrust deep therein, besides his many
other hurts.
So Elfric knew that he was dead, and he cast the bowl to the earth, and
lifted up his hands and wailed out aloud, like a woman who hath come
suddenly on her dead child, and cried out in a great voice:
"Hither, hither, O men in this hall, for the War-duke of the Markmen is
dead! O ye people, Hearken! Thiodolf the Mighty, the Wolfing is dead!"
And he was a young man, and weak with the binding and the waiting for
death, and he bowed himself adown and crouched on the ground and wept
aloud.
But even as he cried that cry, the sunlight outside the Man's-door was
darkened, and the Hall-Sun came over the threshold in her ancient gold-
embroidered raiment, holding in her hand her namesake the wondrous Lamp;
and the spears and the war-gear of warriors gleamed behind her; but the
men tarried on the threshold till she turned about and beckoned to them,
and then they poured in through the Man's-door, their war-gear rent and
they all befouled and disarrayed with the battle, but with proud and
happy faces: as they entered she waved her hand to them to bid them go
join the quenchers of the fire; so they went their ways.
But she went with unfaltering steps up to the dais, and the place where
the chain of the Lamp hung down from amidst the smoke-cloud wavering a
little in the gusts of the hall. Straightway she made the Lamp fast to
its chain, and dealt with its pulleys with a deft hand often practised
therein, and then let it run up toward the smoke-hidden Roof till it
gleamed in its due place once more, a token of the salvation of the
Wolfings and the welfare of all the kindreds.
Then she turned toward Thiodolf with a calm and solemn face, though it
was very pale and looked as if she would not smile again. Elfric had
risen up and was standing by the board speechless and the passion of sobs
still struggling in his bosom. She put him aside gently, and went up to
Thiodolf and stood above him, and looked down on his face a while: then
she put forth her hand and closed his eyes, and stooped down and kissed
his face. Then she stood up again and faced the Hall and looked and saw
that many were streaming in, and that though the smoke was still eddying
overhead, the fire was well nigh quenched within; and without the sound
of battle had sunk and died away. For indeed the Markmen had ended their
day's work before noon-tide that day, and the more part of the Romans
were slain, and to the rest they had given peace till the Folk-mote
should give Doom concerning them; for pity of these valiant men was
growing in the hearts of the valiant men who had vanquished them, now
that they feared them no more.
And this second part of the Morning Battle is called Thiodolf's Storm.
So now when the Hall-Sun looked and beheld that the battle was done and
the fire quenched, and when she saw how every man that came into the Hall
looked up and beheld the wondrous Lamp and his face quickened into joy at
the sight of it; and how most looked up at the high-seat and Thiodolf
lying leaned back therein, her heart nigh broke between the thought of
her grief and of the grief of the Folk that their mighty friend was dead,
and the thought of the joy of the days to be and all the glory that his
latter days had won. But she gathered heart, and casting back the dark
tresses of her hair, she lifted up her voice and cried out till its clear
shrillness sounded throughout all the Roof:
"O men in this Hall the War-duke is dead! O people hearken! for Thiodolf
the Mighty hath changed his life: Come hither, O men, Come hither, for
this is true, that Thiodolf is dead!"
CHAPTER XXX--THIODOLF IS BORNE OUT OF THE HALL AND OTTER IS LAID BESIDE
HIM
So when they heard her voice they came thither flockmeal, and a great
throng mingled of many kindreds was in the Hall, but with one consent
they made way for the Children of the Wolf to stand nearest to the dais.
So there they stood, the warriors mingled with the women, the swains with
the old men, the freemen with the thralls: for now the stay-at-homes of
the House were all gotten into the garth, and the more part of them had
flowed into the feast-hall when they knew that the fire was slackening.
All these now had heard the clear voice of the Hall-Sun, or others had
told them what had befallen; and the wave of grief had swept coldly over
them amidst their joy of the recoverance of their dwelling-place; yet
they would not wail nor cry aloud, even to ease their sorrow, till they
had heard the words of the Hall-Sun, as she stood facing them beside
their dead War-duke.
Then she spake: "O Sorli the Old, come up hither! thou hast been my
fellow in arms this long while."
So the old man came forth, and went slowly in his clashing war-gear up on
to the dais. But his attire gleamed and glittered, since over-old was he
to thrust deep into the press that day, howbeit he was wise in war. So
he stood beside her on the dais holding his head high, and proud he
looked, for all his thin white locks and sunken eyes.
But again said the Hall-Sun: "Canst thou hear me, Wolfkettle, when I bid
thee stand beside me, or art thou, too, gone on the road to Valhall?"
Forth then strode that mighty warrior and went toward the dais: nought
fair was his array to look on; for point and edge had rent it and stained
it red, and the flaring of the hall-flames had blackened it; his face was
streaked with black withal, and his hands were as the hands of a smith
among the thralls who hath wrought unwashen in the haste and hurry when
men look to see the war-arrow abroad. But he went up on to the dais and
held up his head proudly, and looked forth on to the hall-crowd with eyes
that gleamed fiercely from his stained and blackened face.
Again the Hall-Sun said: "Art thou also alive, O Egil the messenger?
Swift are thy feet, but not to flee from the foe: Come up and stand with
us!"
Therewith Egil clave the throng; he was not so roughly dealt with as was
Wolfkettle, for he was a bowman, and had this while past shot down on the
Romans from aloof; and he yet held his bended bow in his hand. He also
came up on to the dais and stood beside Wolfkettle glancing down on the
hall-crowd, looking eagerly from side to side.
Yet again the Hall-Sun spake: "No aliens now are dwelling in the Mark;
come hither, ye men of the kindreds! Come thou, our brother Hiarandi of
the Elkings, for thy sisters, our wives, are fain of thee. Come thou,
Valtyr of the Laxings, brother's son of Otter; do thou for the War-duke
what thy father's brother had done, had he not been faring afar. Come
thou, Geirbald of the Shieldings the messenger! Now know we the deeds of
others and thy deeds. Come, stand beside us for a little!"
Forth then they came in their rent and battered war-gear: and the tall
Hiarandi bore but the broken truncheon of his sword; and Valtyr a
woodman's axe notched and dull with work; and Geirbald a Roman
cast-spear, for his own weapons had been broken in the medley; and he
came the last of the three, going as a belated reaper from the acres.
There they stood by the others and gazed adown the hall-throng.
But the Hall-Sun spake again: "Agni of the Daylings, I see thee now. How
camest thou into the hard handplay, old man? Come hither and stand with
us, for we love thee. Angantyr of the Bearings, fair was thy riding on
the day of the Battle on the Ridge! Come thou, be with us. Shall the
Beamings whose daughters we marry fail the House of the Wolf to-day?
Geirodd, thou hast no longer a weapon, but the fight is over, and this
hour thou needest it not. Come to us, brother! Gunbald of the Vallings,
the Falcon on thy shield is dim with the dint of point and edge, but it
hath done its work to ward thy valiant heart: Come hither, friend! Come
all ye and stand with us!"
As she named them so they came, and they went up on to the dais and stood
altogether; and a terrible band of warriors they looked had the fight
been to begin over again, and they to meet death once more. And again
spake the Hall-Sun:
"Steinulf and Grani, deft are your hands! Take ye the stalks of the war
blossoms, the spears of the kindreds, and knit them together to make a
bier for our War-duke, for he is weary and may not go afoot. Thou Ali,
son of Grey; thou hast gone errands for me before; go forth now from the
garth, and wend thy ways toward the water, and tell me when thou comest
back what thou hast seen of the coming of the wain-burg. For by this
time it should be drawing anigh."
So Ali went forth, and there was silence of words for a while in the
Hall; but there arose the sound of the wood-wrights busy with the wimble
and the hammer about the bier. No long space had gone by when Ali came
back into the hall panting with his swift running; and he cried out:
"O Hall-Sun, they are coming; the last wain hath crossed the ford, and
the first is hard at hand: bright are their banners in the sun."
Then said the Hall-Sun: "O warriors, it is fitting that we go to meet our
banners returning from the field, and that we do the Gods to wit what
deeds we have done; fitting is it also that Thiodolf our War-duke wend
with us. Now get ye into your ordered bands, and go we forth from the
fire-scorched hall, and out into the sunlight, that the very earth and
the heavens may look upon the face of our War-duke, and bear witness that
he hath played his part as a man."
Then without more words the folk began to stream out of the Hall, and
within the garth which the Romans had made they arrayed their companies.
But when they were all gone from the Hall save they who were on the dais,
the Hall-Sun took the waxen torch which she had litten and quenched at
the departure of the host to battle, and now she once more kindled it at
the flame of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun. But the wood-wrights
brought the bier which they had made of the spear-shafts of the kindred,
and they laid thereon a purple cloak gold-embroidered of the treasure of
the Wolfings, and thereon was Thiodolf laid.
Then those men took him up; to wit, Sorli the Old, and Wolfkettle and
Egil, all these were of the Wolfing House; Hiarandi of the Elkings also,
and Valtyr of the Laxings, Geirbald of the Shieldings, Agni of the
Daylings, Angantyr of the Bearings, Geirodd of the Beamings, Gunbald of
the Vallings: all these, with the two valiant wood-wrights, Steinulf and
Grani, laid hand to the bier.
So they bore it down from the dais, and out at the Man's-door into the
sunlight, and the Hall-Sun followed close after it, holding in her hand
the Candle of Returning. It was an hour after high-noon of a bright
midsummer day when she came out into the garth; and the smoke from the
fire-scorched hall yet hung about the trees of the wood-edge. She looked
neither down towards her feet nor on the right side or the left, but
straight before her. The ordered companies of the kindreds hid the sight
of many fearful things from her eyes; though indeed the thralls and women
had mostly gleaned the dead from the living both of friend and foe, and
were tending the hurt of either host. Through an opening in the ranks
moreover could they by the bier behold the scanty band of Roman captives,
some standing up, looking dully around them, some sitting or lying on the
grass talking quietly together, and it seemed by their faces that for
them the bitterness of death was passed.
Forth then fared the host by the West gate, where Thiodolf had done so
valiantly that day, and out on to the green amidst the booths and lesser
dwellings. Sore then was the heart of the Hall-Sun, as she looked forth
over dwelling, and acre, and meadow, and the blue line of the woods
beyond the water, and bethought her of all the familiar things that were
within the compass of her eyesight, and remembered the many days of her
father's loving-kindness, and the fair words wherewith he had solaced her
life-days. But of the sorrow that wrung her heart nothing showed in her
face, nor was she paler now than her wont was. For high was her courage,
and she would in no wise mar that fair day and victory of the kindreds
with grief for what was gone, whereas so much of what once was, yet
abided and should abide for ever.
Then fared they down through the acres, where what was yet left of the
wheat was yellowing toward harvest, and the rye hung grey and heavy; for
bright and hot had the weather been all through these tidings. Howbeit
much of the corn was spoiled by the trampling of the Roman bands.
So came they into the fair open meadow and saw before them the wains
coming to meet them with their folk; to wit a throng of stout carles of
the thrall-folk led by the war-wise and ripe men of the Steerings. Bright
was the gleaming of the banner-wains, though for the lack of wind the
banners hung down about their staves; the sound of the lowing of the
bulls and the oxen, the neighing of horses and bleating of the flocks
came up to the ears of the host as they wended over the meadow.
They made stay at last on the rising ground, all trampled and in parts
bloody, where yesterday Thiodolf had come on the fight between the
remnant of Otter's men and the Romans: there they opened their ranks, and
made a ring round about a space, amidmost of which was a little mound
whereon was set the bier of Thiodolf. The wains and their warders came
up with them and drew a garth of the wains round about the ring of men
with the banners of the kindreds in their due places.
There was the Wolf and the Elk, the Falcon, the Swan, the Boar, the Bear,
and the Green-tree: the Willow-bush, the Gedd, the Water-bank and the
Wood-Ousel, the Steer, the Mallard and the Roe-deer: all these were of
the Mid-mark. But of the Upper-mark were the Horse and the Spear, and
the Shield, and the Daybreak, and the Dale, and the Mountain, and the
Brook, and the Weasel, and the Cloud, and the Hart.
Of the Nether-mark were the Salmon, and the Lynx, and the Ling worm, the
Seal, the Stone, and the Sea-mew; the Buck-goat, the Apple-tree, the
Bull, the Adder, and the Crane.
There they stood in the hot sunshine three hours after noon; and a little
wind came out of the west and raised the pictured cloths upon the banner-
staves, so that the men could now see the images of the tokens of their
Houses and the Fathers of old time.
Now was there silence in the ring of men; but it opened presently and
through it came all-armed warriors bearing another bier, and lo, Otter
upon it, dead in his war-gear with many a grievous wound upon his body.
For men had found him in an ingle of the wall of the Great Roof, where he
had been laid yesterday by the Romans when his company and the Bearings
with the Wormings made their onset: for the Romans had noted his
exceeding valour, and when they had driven off the Goths some of them
brought him dead inside their garth, for they would know the name and
dignity of so valorous a man.
So now they bore him to the mound where Thiodolf lay and set the bier
down beside Thiodolf's, and the two War-dukes of the Markmen lay there
together: and when the warriors beheld that sight, they could not
forbear, but some groaned aloud, and some wept great tears, and they
clashed their swords on their shields and the sound of their sorrow and
their praise went up to the summer heavens.
Now the Hall-Sun holding aloft the waxen torch lifted up her voice and
said:
"O warriors of the Wolfings, by the token of the flame
That here in my right hand flickers, ye are back at the House of the
Name,
And there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing Roof,
And the flame that the foemen quickened hath died out far aloof.
Ye gleanings of the battle, lift up your hearts on high,
For the House of the War-wise Wolfings and the Folk undoomed to die.
But ye kindreds of the Markmen, the Wolfing guests are ye,
And to-night we hold the high-tide, and great shall the feasting be,
For to-day by the road that we know not a many wend their ways
To the Gods and the ancient Fathers, and the hope of the latter days.
And how shall their feet be cumbered if we tangle them with woe,
And the heavy rain of sorrow drift o'er the road they go?
They have toiled, and their toil was troublous to make the days to
come;
Use ye their gifts in gladness, lest they grieve for the Ancient Home!
Now are our maids arraying that fire-scorched Hall of ours
With the treasure of the Wolfings and the wealth of summer flowers,
And this eve the work before you will be the Hall to throng
And purge its walls of sorrow and quench its scathe and wrong."
She looked on the dead Thiodolf a moment, and then glanced from him to
Otter and spake again:
"O kindreds, here before you two mighty bodies lie;
Henceforth no man shall see them in house and field go by
As we were used to behold them, familiar to us then
As the wind beneath the heavens and the sun that shines on men;
Now soon shall there be nothing of their dwelling-place to tell,
Save the billow of the meadows, the flower-grown grassy swell!
Now therefore, O ye kindreds, if amidst you there be one
Who hath known the heart of the War-dukes, and the deeds their hands
have done,
Will not the word be with him, while yet your hearts are hot,
Of our praise and long remembrance, and our love that dieth not?
Then let him come up hither and speak the latest word
O'er the limbs of the battle-weary and the hearts outworn with the
sword."
She held her peace, and there was a stir in the ring of men: for they who
were anigh the Dayling banner saw an old warrior sitting on a great black
horse and fully armed. He got slowly off his horse and walked toward the
ring of warriors, which opened before him; for all knew him for Asmund
the old, the war-wise warrior of the Daylings, even he who had lamented
over the Hauberk of Thiodolf. He had taken horse the day before, and had
ridden toward the battle, but was belated, and had come up with them of
the wain-burg just as they had crossed the water.
CHAPTER XXXI--OLD ASMUND SPEAKETH OVER THE WAR-DUKES: THE DEAD ARE LAID
IN MOUND
Now while all looked on, he went to the place where lay the bodies of the
War-dukes, and looked down on the face of Otter and said:
"O Otter, there thou liest! and thou that I knew of old,
When my beard began to whiten, as the best of the keen and the bold,
And thou wert as my youngest brother, and thou didst lead my sons
When we fared forth over the mountains to meet the arrowy Huns,
And I smiled to see thee teaching the lore that I learned thee erst.
O Otter, dost thou remember how the Goth-folk came by the worst,
And with thee in mine arms I waded the wide shaft-harrowed flood
That lapped the feet of the mountains with its water blent with blood;
And how in the hollow places of the mountains hidden away
We abode the kindreds' coming as the wet night bideth day?
Dost thou remember, Otter, how many a joy we had,
How many a grief remembered has made our high-tide glad?
O fellow of the hall-glee! O fellow of the field!
Why then hast thou departed and left me under shield?
I the ancient, I the childless, while yet in the Laxing hall
Are thy brother's sons abiding and their children on thee call.
"O kindreds of the people! the soul that dwelt herein,
This goodly way-worn body, was keen for you to win
Good days and long endurance. Who knoweth of his deed
What things for you it hath fashioned from the flame of the fire of
need?
But of this at least well wot we, that forth from your hearts it came
And back to your hearts returneth for the seed of thriving and fame.
In the ground wherein ye lay it, the body of this man,
No deed of his abideth, no glory that he wan,
But evermore the Markmen shall bear his deeds o'er earth,
With the joy of the deeds that are coming, the garland of his worth."
He was silent a little as he stood looking down on Otter's face with
grievous sorrow, for all that his words were stout. For indeed, as he
had said, Otter had been his battle-fellow and his hall-fellow, though he
was much younger than Asmund; and they had been standing foot to foot in
that battle wherein old Asmund's sons were slain by his side.
After a while he turned slowly from looking at Otter to gaze upon
Thiodolf, and his body trembled as he looked, and he opened his mouth to
speak; but no word came from it; and he sat down upon the edge of the
bier, and the tears began to gush out of his old eyes, and he wept aloud.
Then they that saw him wondered; for all knew the stoutness of his heart,
and how he had borne more burdens than that of eld, and had not cowered
down under them. But at last he arose again, and stood firmly on his
feet, and faced the folk-mote, and in a voice more like the voice of a
man in his prime than of an old man, he sang:
"Wild the storm is abroad
Of the edge of the sword!
Far on runneth the path
Of the war-stride of wrath!
The Gods hearken and hear
The long rumour of fear
From the meadows beneath
Running fierce o'er the heath,
Till it beats round their dwelling-place builded aloof
And at last all up-swelling breaks wild o'er their roof,
And quencheth their laughter and crieth on all,
As it rolleth round rafter and beam of the Hall,
Like the speech of the thunder-cloud tangled on high,
When the mountain-halls sunder as dread goeth by.
"So they throw the door wide
Of the Hall where they bide,
And to murmuring song
Turns that voice of the wrong,
And the Gods wait a-gaze
For that Wearer of Ways:
For they know he hath gone
A long journey alone.
Now his feet are they hearkening, and now is he come,
With his battle-wounds darkening the door of his home,
Unbyrnied, unshielded, and lonely he stands,
And the sword that he wielded is gone from his hands--
Hands outstretched and bearing no spoil of the fight,
As speechless, unfearing, he stands in their sight.
"War-father gleams
Where the white light streams
Round kings of old
All red with gold,
And the Gods of the name
With joy aflame.
All the ancient of men
Grown glorious again:
Till the Slains-father crieth aloud at the last:
'Here is one that belieth no hope of the past!
No weapon, no treasure of earth doth he bear,
No gift for the pleasure of Godhome to share;
But life his hand bringeth, well cherished, most sweet;
And hark! the Hall singeth the Folk-wolf to greet!'
"As the rain of May
On earth's happiest day,
So the fair flowers fall
On the sun-bright Hall
As the Gods rise up
With the greeting-cup,
And the welcoming crowd
Falls to murmur aloud.
Then the God of Earth speaketh; sweet-worded he saith,
'Lo, the Sun ever seeketh Life fashioned of death;
And to-day as he turneth the wide world about
On Wolf-stead he yearneth; for there without doubt
Dwells the death-fashioned story, the flower of all fame.
Come hither new Glory, come Crown of the Name!'"
All men's hearts rose high as he sang, and when he had ended arose the
clang of sword and shield and went ringing down the meadow, and the
mighty shout of the Markmen's joy rent the heavens: for in sooth at that
moment they saw Thiodolf, their champion, sitting among the Gods on his
golden chair, sweet savours around him, and sweet sound of singing, and
he himself bright-faced and merry as no man on earth had seen him, for as
joyous a man as he was.
But when the sound of their exultation sank down, the Hall-Sun spake
again:
"Now wendeth the sun westward, and weary grows the Earth
Of all the long day's doings in sorrow and in mirth;
And as the great sun waneth, so doth my candle wane,
And its flickering flame desireth to rest and die again.
Therefore across the meadows wend we aback once more
To the holy Roof of the Wolfings, the shrine of peace and war.
And these that once have loved us, these warriors images,
Shall sit amidst our feasting, and see, as the Father sees
The works that men-folk fashion and the rest of toiling hands,
When his eyes look down from the mountains and the heavens above all
lands,
And up from the flowery meadows and the rolling deeps of the sea.
There then at the feast with our champions familiar shall we be
As oft we are with the Godfolk, when in story-rhymes and lays
We laugh as we tell of their laughter, and their deeds of other days.
"Come then, ye sons of the kindreds who hither bore these twain!
Take up their beds of glory, and fare we home again,
And feast as men delivered from toil unmeet to bear,
Who through the night are looking to the dawn-tide fresh and fair
And the morn and the noon to follow, and the eve and its morrow morn,
All the life of our deliv'rance and the fair days yet unborn."
So she spoke, and a murmur arose as those valiant men came forth again.
But lo, now were they dight in fresh and fair raiment and gleaming war-
array. For while all this was a-doing and a-saying, they had gotten them
by the Hall-Sun's bidding unto the wains of their Houses, and had arrayed
them from the store therein.
So now they took up the biers, and the Hall-Sun led them, and they went
over the meadow before the throng of the kindreds, who followed them duly
ordered, each House about its banner; and when they were come through the
garth which the Romans had made to the Man's-door of the Hall, there were
the women of the House freshly attired, who cast flowers on the living
men of the host, and on the dead War-dukes, while they wept for pity of
them. So went the freemen of the Houses into the Hall, following the
Hall-Sun, and the bearers of the War-dukes; but the banners abode without
in the garth made by the Romans; and the thralls arrayed a feast for
themselves about the wains of the kindreds in the open place before their
cots and the smithying booths and the byres.
And as the Hall-Sun went into the Hall, she thrust down the candle
against the threshold of the Man's-door, and so quenched it.
Long were the kindreds entering, and when they were under the Roof of the
Wolfings, they looked and beheld Thiodolf set in his chair once more, and
Otter set beside him; and the chiefs and leaders of the House took their
places on the dais, those to whom it was due, and the Hall-Sun sat under
the wondrous Lamp her namesake.
Now was the glooming falling upon the earth; but the Hall was bright
within even as the Hall-Sun had promised. Therein was set forth the
Treasure of the Wolfings; fair cloths were hung on the walls, goodly
broidered garments on the pillars: goodly brazen cauldrons and
fair-carven chests were set down in nooks where men could see them well,
and vessels of gold and silver were set all up and down the tables of the
feast. The pillars also were wreathed with flowers, and flowers hung
garlanded from the walls over the precious hangings; sweet gums and
spices were burning in fair-wrought censers of brass, and so many candles
were alight under the Roof, that scarce had it looked more ablaze when
the Romans had litten the faggots therein for its burning amidst the
hurry of the Morning Battle.
There then they fell to feasting, hallowing in the high-tide of their
return with victory in their hands: and the dead corpses of Thiodolf and
Otter, clad in precious glistering raiment, looked down on them from the
High-seat, and the kindreds worshipped them and were glad; and they drank
the Cup to them before any others, were they Gods or men.
But before the feast was hallowed in, came Ali the son of Grey up to the
High-seat, bearing something in his hand: and lo! it was Throng-plough,
which he had sought all over the field where the Markmen had been
overcome by the Romans, and had found it at last. All men saw him how he
held it in his hand now as he went up to the Hall-Sun and spake to her.
But she kissed the lad on the forehead, and took Throng-plough, and wound
the peace-strings round him and laid him on the board before Thiodolf;
and then she spake softly as if to herself, yet so that some heard her:
"O father, no more shalt thou draw Throng-plough from the sheath till the
battle is pitched in the last field of fight, and the sons of the
fruitful Earth and the sons of Day meet Swart and his children at last,
when the change of the World is at hand. Maybe I shall be with thee
then: but now and in meanwhile, farewell, O mighty hand of my father!"
Thus then the Houses of the Mark held their High-tide of Returning under
the Wolfing Roof with none to blame them or make them afraid: and the
moon rose and the summer night wore on towards dawn, and within the Roof
and without was there feasting and singing and harping and the voice of
abundant joyance: for without the Roof feasted the thralls and the
strangers, and the Roman war-captives.
But on the morrow the kindreds laid their dead men in mound betwixt the
Great Roof and the Wild-wood. In one mound they laid them with the War-
dukes in their midst, and Arinbiorn by Otter's right side; and Thiodolf
bore Throng-plough to mound with him.
But a little way from the mound of their own dead, toward the south they
laid the Romans, a great company, with their Captain in the midst: and
they heaped a long mound over them not right high; so that as years wore,
and the feet of men and beasts trod it down, it seemed a mere swelling of
the earth not made by men's hands; and belike men knew not how many bones
of valiant men lay beneath; yet it had a name which endured for long, to
wit, the Battle-toft.
But the mound whereunder the Markmen were laid was called Thiodolf's Howe
for many generations of men, and many are the tales told of him; for men
were loth to lose him and forget him: and in the latter days men deemed
of him that he sits in that Howe not dead but sleeping, with
Throng-plough laid before him on the board; and that when the sons of the
Goths are at their sorest need and the falcons cease to sit on the ridge
of the Great Roof of the Wolfings, he will wake and come forth from the
Howe for their helping. But none have dared to break open that Howe and
behold what is therein.
But that swelling of the meadow where the Goths had their overthrow at
the hands of the Romans, and Thiodolf fell to earth unwounded, got a name
also, and was called the Swooning Knowe; and it kept that name long after
men had forgotten wherefore it was so called.
Now when all this was done, and the warriors of the kindreds were
departed each to his own stead, the Wolfings gathered in wheat-harvest,
and set themselves to make good all that the Romans had undone; and they
cleansed and mended their Great Roof and made it fairer than before, and
took from it all signs of the burning, save that they left the charring
and marks of the flames on one tie-beam, the second from the dais, for a
token of the past tidings. Also when Harvest was over the Wolfings, the
Beamings, the Galtings, and the Elkings, set to work with the Bearings to
rebuild their Great Roof and the other dwellings and booths which the
Romans had burned; and right fair was that house.
But the Wolfings throve in field and fold, and they begat children who
grew up to be mighty men and deft of hand, and the House grew more
glorious year by year.
The tale tells not that the Romans ever fell on the Mark again; for about
this time they began to stay the spreading of their dominion, or even to
draw in its boundaries somewhat.
AND THIS IS ALL THAT THE TALE HAS TO TELL CONCERNING THE HOUSE OF THE
WOLFINGS AND THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK.
FOOTNOTES
{1} Welsh with these men means Foreign, and is used for all people of
Europe who are not of Gothic or Teutonic blood.
{2} i.e. Foreigners: see note {1}
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS***
******* This file should be named 2885.txt or 2885.zip *******
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/8/2885
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit:
https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
How many sections was the Mark divided into?
Answer:
| Three. | 174 | 469,663 | 469,665 | 469,719 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
12164 | 12164_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg eBook, The House of the Wolfings, by William Morris
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The House of the Wolfings
A Tale of the House of the Wolfings and All the Kindreds of the Mark Written in Prose and in Verse
Author: William Morris
Release Date: May 4, 2005 [eBook #2885]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS***
Transcribed from the 1904 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David
Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS
A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS AND ALL THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK
WRITTEN IN PROSE AND IN VERSE
by William Morris
Whiles in the early Winter eve
We pass amid the gathering night
Some homestead that we had to leave
Years past; and see its candles bright
Shine in the room beside the door
Where we were merry years agone
But now must never enter more,
As still the dark road drives us on.
E'en so the world of men may turn
At even of some hurried day
And see the ancient glimmer burn
Across the waste that hath no way;
Then with that faint light in its eyes
A while I bid it linger near
And nurse in wavering memories
The bitter-sweet of days that were.
CHAPTER I--THE DWELLINGS OF MID-MARK
The tale tells that in times long past there was a dwelling of men beside
a great wood. Before it lay a plain, not very great, but which was, as
it were, an isle in the sea of woodland, since even when you stood on the
flat ground, you could see trees everywhere in the offing, though as for
hills, you could scarce say that there were any; only swellings-up of the
earth here and there, like the upheavings of the water that one sees at
whiles going on amidst the eddies of a swift but deep stream.
On either side, to right and left the tree-girdle reached out toward the
blue distance, thick close and unsundered, save where it and the plain
which it begirdled was cleft amidmost by a river about as wide as the
Thames at Sheene when the flood-tide is at its highest, but so swift and
full of eddies, that it gave token of mountains not so far distant,
though they were hidden. On each side moreover of the stream of this
river was a wide space of stones, great and little, and in most places
above this stony waste were banks of a few feet high, showing where the
yearly winter flood was most commonly stayed.
You must know that this great clearing in the woodland was not a matter
of haphazard; though the river had driven a road whereby men might fare
on each side of its hurrying stream. It was men who had made that Isle
in the woodland.
For many generations the folk that now dwelt there had learned the craft
of iron-founding, so that they had no lack of wares of iron and steel,
whether they were tools of handicraft or weapons for hunting and for war.
It was the men of the Folk, who coming adown by the river-side had made
that clearing. The tale tells not whence they came, but belike from the
dales of the distant mountains, and from dales and mountains and plains
further aloof and yet further.
Anyhow they came adown the river; on its waters on rafts, by its shores
in wains or bestriding their horses or their kine, or afoot, till they
had a mind to abide; and there as it fell they stayed their travel, and
spread from each side of the river, and fought with the wood and its wild
things, that they might make to themselves a dwelling-place on the face
of the earth.
So they cut down the trees, and burned their stumps that the grass might
grow sweet for their kine and sheep and horses; and they diked the river
where need was all through the plain, and far up into the wild-wood to
bridle the winter floods: and they made them boats to ferry them over,
and to float down stream and track up-stream: they fished the river's
eddies also with net and with line; and drew drift from out of it of far-
travelled wood and other matters; and the gravel of its shallows they
washed for gold; and it became their friend, and they loved it, and gave
it a name, and called it the Dusky, and the Glassy, and the
Mirkwood-water; for the names of it changed with the generations of man.
There then in the clearing of the wood that for many years grew greater
yearly they drave their beasts to pasture in the new-made meadows, where
year by year the grass grew sweeter as the sun shone on it and the
standing waters went from it; and now in the year whereof the tale
telleth it was a fair and smiling plain, and no folk might have a better
meadow.
But long before that had they learned the craft of tillage and taken heed
to the acres and begun to grow wheat and rye thereon round about their
roofs; the spade came into their hands, and they bethought them of the
plough-share, and the tillage spread and grew, and there was no lack of
bread.
In such wise that Folk had made an island amidst of the Mirkwood, and
established a home there, and upheld it with manifold toil too long to
tell of. And from the beginning this clearing in the wood they called
the Mid-mark: for you shall know that men might journey up and down the
Mirkwood-water, and half a day's ride up or down they would come on
another clearing or island in the woods, and these were the Upper-mark
and the Nether-mark: and all these three were inhabited by men of one
folk and one kindred, which was called the Mark-men, though of many
branches was that stem of folk, who bore divers signs in battle and at
the council whereby they might be known.
Now in the Mid-mark itself were many Houses of men; for by that word had
they called for generations those who dwelt together under one token of
kinship. The river ran from South to North, and both on the East side
and on the West were there Houses of the Folk, and their habitations were
shouldered up nigh unto the wood, so that ever betwixt them and the river
was there a space of tillage and pasture.
Tells the tale of one such House, whose habitations were on the west side
of the water, on a gentle slope of land, so that no flood higher than
common might reach them. It was straight down to the river mostly that
the land fell off, and on its downward-reaching slopes was the tillage,
"the Acres," as the men of that time always called tilled land; and
beyond that was the meadow going fair and smooth, though with here and
there a rising in it, down to the lips of the stony waste of the winter
river.
Now the name of this House was the Wolfings, and they bore a Wolf on
their banners, and their warriors were marked on the breast with the
image of the Wolf, that they might be known for what they were if they
fell in battle, and were stripped.
The house, that is to say the Roof, of the Wolfings of the Mid-mark stood
on the topmost of the slope aforesaid with its back to the wild-wood and
its face to the acres and the water. But you must know that in those
days the men of one branch of kindred dwelt under one roof together, and
had therein their place and dignity; nor were there many degrees amongst
them as hath befallen afterwards, but all they of one blood were brethren
and of equal dignity. Howbeit they had servants or thralls, men taken in
battle, men of alien blood, though true it is that from time to time were
some of such men taken into the House, and hailed as brethren of the
blood.
Also (to make an end at once of these matters of kinship and affinity)
the men of one House might not wed the women of their own House: to the
Wolfing men all Wolfing women were as sisters: they must needs wed with
the Hartings or the Elkings or the Bearings, or other such Houses of the
Mark as were not so close akin to the blood of the Wolf; and this was a
law that none dreamed of breaking. Thus then dwelt this Folk and such
was their Custom.
As to the Roof of the Wolfings, it was a great hall and goodly, after the
fashion of their folk and their day; not built of stone and lime, but
framed of the goodliest trees of the wild-wood squared with the adze, and
betwixt the framing filled with clay wattled with reeds. Long was that
house, and at one end anigh the gable was the Man's-door, not so high
that a man might stand on the threshold and his helmcrest clear the
lintel; for such was the custom, that a tall man must bow himself as he
came into the hall; which custom maybe was a memory of the days of
onslaught when the foemen were mostly wont to beset the hall; whereas in
the days whereof the tale tells they drew out into the fields and fought
unfenced; unless at whiles when the odds were over great, and then they
drew their wains about them and were fenced by the wain-burg. At least
it was from no niggardry that the door was made thus low, as might be
seen by the fair and manifold carving of knots and dragons that was
wrought above the lintel of the door for some three foot's space. But a
like door was there anigh the other gable-end, whereby the women entered,
and it was called the Woman's-door.
Near to the house on all sides except toward the wood were there many
bowers and cots round about the penfolds and the byres: and these were
booths for the stowage of wares, and for crafts and smithying that were
unhandy to do in the house; and withal they were the dwelling-places of
the thralls. And the lads and young men often abode there many days and
were cherished there of the thralls that loved them, since at whiles they
shunned the Great Roof that they might be the freer to come and go at
their pleasure, and deal as they would. Thus was there a clustering on
the slopes and bents betwixt the acres of the Wolfings and the wild-wood
wherein dwelt the wolves.
As to the house within, two rows of pillars went down it endlong,
fashioned of the mightiest trees that might be found, and each one fairly
wrought with base and chapiter, and wreaths and knots, and fighting men
and dragons; so that it was like a church of later days that has a nave
and aisles: windows there were above the aisles, and a passage underneath
the said windows in their roofs. In the aisles were the sleeping-places
of the Folk, and down the nave under the crown of the roof were three
hearths for the fires, and above each hearth a luffer or smoke-bearer to
draw the smoke up when the fires were lighted. Forsooth on a bright
winter afternoon it was strange to see the three columns of smoke going
wavering up to the dimness of the mighty roof, and one maybe smitten
athwart by the sunbeams. As for the timber of the roof itself and its
framing, so exceeding great and high it was, that the tale tells how that
none might see the fashion of it from the hall-floor unless he were to
raise aloft a blazing faggot on a long pole: since no lack of timber was
there among the men of the Mark.
At the end of the hall anigh the Man's-door was the dais, and a table
thereon set thwartwise of the hall; and in front of the dais was the
noblest and greatest of the hearths; (but of the others one was in the
very midmost, and another in the Woman's-Chamber) and round about the
dais, along the gable-wall, and hung from pillar to pillar were woven
cloths pictured with images of ancient tales and the deeds of the
Wolfings, and the deeds of the Gods from whence they came. And this was
the fairest place of all the house and the best-beloved of the Folk, and
especially of the older and the mightier men: and there were tales told,
and songs sung, especially if they were new: and thereto also were
messengers brought if any tidings were abroad: there also would the
elders talk together about matters concerning the House or the Mid-mark
or the whole Folk of the Markmen.
Yet you must not think that their solemn councils were held there, the
folk-motes whereat it must be determined what to do and what to forbear
doing; for according as such councils, (which they called Things) were of
the House or of the Mid-mark or of the whole Folk, were they held each at
the due Thing-steads in the Wood aloof from either acre or meadow, (as
was the custom of our forefathers for long after) and at such Things
would all the men of the House or the Mid-mark or the Folk be present man
by man. And in each of these steads was there a Doomring wherein Doom
was given by the neighbours chosen, (whom now we call the Jury) in
matters between man and man; and no such doom of neighbours was given,
and no such voice of the Folk proclaimed in any house or under any roof,
nor even as aforesaid on the tilled acres or the depastured meadows. This
was the custom of our forefathers, in memory, belike, of the days when as
yet there was neither house nor tillage, nor flocks and herds, but the
Earth's face only and what freely grew thereon.
But over the dais there hung by chains and pulleys fastened to a tie-beam
of the roof high aloft a wondrous lamp fashioned of glass; yet of no such
glass as the folk made then and there, but of a fair and clear green like
an emerald, and all done with figures and knots in gold, and strange
beasts, and a warrior slaying a dragon, and the sun rising on the earth:
nor did any tale tell whence this lamp came, but it was held as an
ancient and holy thing by all the Markmen, and the kindred of the Wolf
had it in charge to keep a light burning in it night and day for ever;
and they appointed a maiden of their own kindred to that office; which
damsel must needs be unwedded, since no wedded woman dwelling under that
roof could be a Wolfing woman, but would needs be of the houses wherein
the Wolfings wedded.
This lamp which burned ever was called the Hall-Sun, and the woman who
had charge of it, and who was the fairest that might be found was called
after it the Hall-Sun also.
At the other end of the hall was the Woman's-Chamber, and therein were
the looms and other gear for the carding and spinning of wool and the
weaving of cloth.
Such was the Roof under which dwelt the kindred of the Wolfings; and the
other kindreds of the Mid-mark had roofs like to it; and of these the
chiefest were the Elkings, the Vallings, the Alftings, the Beamings, the
Galtings, and the Bearings; who bore on their banners the Elk, the
Falcon, the Swan, the Tree, the Boar, and the Bear. But other lesser and
newer kindreds there were than these: as for the Hartings above named,
they were a kindred of the Upper-mark.
CHAPTER II--THE FLITTING OF THE WAR-ARROW
Tells the tale that it was an evening of summer, when the wheat was in
the ear, but yet green; and the neat-herds were done driving the milch-
kine to the byre, and the horseherds and the shepherds had made the night-
shift, and the out-goers were riding two by two and one by one through
the lanes between the wheat and the rye towards the meadow. Round the
cots of the thralls were gathered knots of men and women both thralls and
freemen, some talking together, some hearkening a song or a tale, some
singing and some dancing together; and the children gambolling about from
group to group with their shrill and tuneless voices, like young
throstles who have not yet learned the song of their race. With these
were mingled dogs, dun of colour, long of limb, sharp-nosed, gaunt and
great; they took little heed of the children as they pulled them about in
their play, but lay down, or loitered about, as though they had forgotten
the chase and the wild-wood.
Merry was the folk with that fair tide, and the promise of the harvest,
and the joy of life, and there was no weapon among them so close to the
houses, save here and there the boar-spear of some herdman or herd-woman
late come from the meadow.
Tall and for the most part comely were both men and women; the most of
them light-haired and grey-eyed, with cheek-bones somewhat high; white of
skin but for the sun's burning, and the wind's parching, and whereas they
were tanned of a very ruddy and cheerful hue. But the thralls were some
of them of a shorter and darker breed, black-haired also and dark-eyed,
lighter of limb; sometimes better knit, but sometimes crookeder of leg
and knottier of arm. But some also were of build and hue not much unlike
to the freemen; and these doubtless came of some other Folk of the Goths
which had given way in battle before the Men of the Mark, either they or
their fathers.
Moreover some of the freemen were unlike their fellows and kindred, being
slenderer and closer-knit, and black-haired, but grey-eyed withal; and
amongst these were one or two who exceeded in beauty all others of the
House.
Now the sun was set and the glooming was at point to begin and the
shadowless twilight lay upon the earth. The nightingales on the borders
of the wood sang ceaselessly from the scattered hazel-trees above the
greensward where the grass was cropped down close by the nibbling of the
rabbits; but in spite of their song and the divers voices of the men-folk
about the houses, it was an evening on which sounds from aloof can be
well heard, since noises carry far at such tides.
Suddenly they who were on the edges of those throngs and were the less
noisy, held themselves as if to listen; and a group that had gathered
about a minstrel to hear his story fell hearkening also round about the
silenced and hearkening tale-teller: some of the dancers and singers
noted them and in their turn stayed the dance and kept silence to
hearken; and so from group to group spread the change, till all were
straining their ears to hearken the tidings. Already the men of the
night-shift had heard it, and the shepherds of them had turned about, and
were trotting smartly back through the lanes of the tall wheat: but the
horse-herds were now scarce seen on the darkening meadow, as they
galloped on fast toward their herds to drive home the stallions. For
what they had heard was the tidings of war.
There was a sound in the air as of a humble-bee close to the ear of one
lying on a grassy bank; or whiles as of a cow afar in the meadow lowing
in the afternoon when milking-time draws nigh: but it was ever shriller
than the one, and fuller than the other; for it changed at whiles, though
after the first sound of it, it did not rise or fall, because the eve was
windless. You might hear at once that for all it was afar, it was a
great and mighty sound; nor did any that hearkened doubt what it was, but
all knew it for the blast of the great war-horn of the Elkings, whose
Roof lay up Mirkwood-water next to the Roof of the Wolfings.
So those little throngs broke up at once; and all the freemen, and of the
thralls a good many, flocked, both men and women, to the Man's-door of
the hall, and streamed in quietly and with little talk, as men knowing
that they should hear all in due season.
Within under the Hall-Sun, amidst the woven stories of time past, sat the
elders and chief warriors on the dais, and amidst of all a big strong man
of forty winters, his dark beard a little grizzled, his eyes big and
grey. Before him on the board lay the great War-horn of the Wolfings
carved out of the tusk of a sea-whale of the North and with many devices
on it and the Wolf amidst them all; its golden mouth-piece and rim
wrought finely with flowers. There it abode the blowing, until the
spoken word of some messenger should set forth the tidings borne on the
air by the horn of the Elkings.
But the name of the dark-haired chief was Thiodolf (to wit Folk-wolf) and
he was deemed the wisest man of the Wolfings, and the best man of his
hands, and of heart most dauntless. Beside him sat the fair woman called
the Hall-Sun; for she was his foster-daughter before men's eyes; and she
was black-haired and grey-eyed like to her fosterer, and never was woman
fashioned fairer: she was young of years, scarce twenty winters old.
There sat the chiefs and elders on the dais, and round about stood the
kindred intermingled with the thralls, and no man spake, for they were
awaiting sure and certain tidings: and when all were come in who had a
mind to, there was so great a silence in the hall, that the song of the
nightingales on the wood-edge sounded clear and loud therein, and even
the chink of the bats about the upper windows could be heard. Then
amidst the hush of men-folk, and the sounds of the life of the earth came
another sound that made all turn their eyes toward the door; and this was
the pad-pad of one running on the trodden and summer-dried ground anigh
the hall: it stopped for a moment at the Man's-door, and the door opened,
and the throng parted, making way for the man that entered and came
hastily up to the midst of the table that stood on the dais athwart the
hall, and stood there panting, holding forth in his outstretched hand
something which not all could see in the dimness of the hall-twilight,
but which all knew nevertheless. The man was young, lithe and slender,
and had no raiment but linen breeches round his middle, and skin shoes on
his feet. As he stood there gathering his breath for speech, Thiodolf
stood up, and poured mead into a drinking horn and held it out towards
the new-comer, and spake, but in rhyme and measure:
"Welcome, thou evening-farer, and holy be thine head,
Since thou hast sought unto us in the heart of the Wolfings' stead;
Drink now of the horn of the mighty, and call a health if thou wilt
O'er the eddies of the mead-horn to the washing out of guilt.
For thou com'st to the peace of the Wolfings, and our very guest thou
art,
And meseems as I behold thee, that I look on a child of the Hart."
But the man put the horn from him with a hasty hand, and none said
another word to him until he had gotten his breath again; and then he
said:
"All hail ye Wood-Wolfs' children! nought may I drink the wine,
For the mouth and the maw that I carry this eve are nought of mine;
And my feet are the feet of the people, since the word went forth that
tide,
'O Elf here of the Hartings, no longer shalt thou bide
In any house of the Markmen than to speak the word and wend,
Till all men know the tidings and thine errand hath an end.'
Behold, O Wolves, the token and say if it be true!
I bear the shaft of battle that is four-wise cloven through,
And its each end dipped in the blood-stream, both the iron and the
horn,
And its midmost scathed with the fire; and the word that I have borne
Along with this war-token is, 'Wolfings of the Mark
Whenso ye see the war-shaft, by the daylight or the dark,
Busk ye to battle faring, and leave all work undone
Save the gathering for the handplay at the rising of the sun.
Three days hence is the hosting, and thither bear along
Your wains and your kine for the slaughter lest the journey should be
long.
For great is the Folk, saith the tidings, that against the Markmen
come;
In a far off land is their dwelling, whenso they sit at home,
And Welsh {1} is their tongue, and we wot not of the word that is in
their mouth,
As they march a many together from the cities of the South.'"
Therewith he held up yet for a minute the token of the war-arrow ragged
and burnt and bloody; and turning about with it in his hand went his ways
through the open door, none hindering; and when he was gone, it was as if
the token were still in the air there against the heads of the living
men, and the heads of the woven warriors, so intently had all gazed at
it; and none doubted the tidings or the token. Then said Thiodolf:
"Forth will we Wolfing children, and cast a sound abroad:
The mouth of the sea-beast's weapon shall speak the battle-word;
And ye warriors hearken and hasten, and dight the weed of war,
And then to acre and meadow wend ye adown no more,
For this work shall be for the women to drive our neat from the mead,
And to yoke the wains, and to load them as the men of war have need."
Out then they streamed from the hall, and no man was left therein save
the fair Hall-Sun sitting under the lamp whose name she bore. But to the
highest of the slope they went, where was a mound made higher by man's
handiwork; thereon stood Thiodolf and handled the horn, turning his face
toward the downward course of Mirkwood-water; and he set the horn to his
lips, and blew a long blast, and then again, and yet again the third
time; and all the sounds of the gathering night were hushed under the
sound of the roaring of the war-horn of the Wolfings; and the Kin of the
Beamings heard it as they sat in their hall, and they gat them ready to
hearken to the bearer of the tidings who should follow on the sound of
the war-blast.
But when the last sound of the horn had died away, then said Thiodolf:
"Now Wolfing children hearken, what the splintered War-shaft saith,
The fire scathed blood-stained aspen! we shall ride for life or death,
We warriors, a long journey with the herd and with the wain;
But unto this our homestead shall we wend us back again,
All the gleanings of the battle; and here for them that live
Shall stand the Roof of the Wolfings, and for them shall the meadow
thrive,
And the acres give their increase in the harvest of the year;
Now is no long departing since the Hall-Sun bideth here
'Neath the holy Roof of the Fathers, and the place of the Wolfing kin,
And the feast of our glad returning shall yet be held therein.
Hear the bidding of the War-shaft! All men, both thralls and free,
'Twixt twenty winters and sixty, beneath the shield shall be,
And the hosting is at the Thing-stead, the Upper-mark anigh;
And we wend away to-morrow ere the Sun is noon-tide high."
Therewith he stepped down from the mound, and went his way back to the
hall; and manifold talk arose among the folk; and of the warriors some
were already dight for the journey, but most not, and a many went their
ways to see to their weapons and horses, and the rest back again into the
hall.
By this time night had fallen, and between then and the dawning would be
no darker hour, for the moon was just rising; a many of the horse-herds
had done their business, and were now making their way back again through
the lanes of the wheat, driving the stallions before them, who played
together kicking, biting and squealing, paying but little heed to the
standing corn on either side. Lights began to glitter now in the cots of
the thralls, and brighter still in the stithies where already you might
hear the hammers clinking on the anvils, as men fell to looking to their
battle gear.
But the chief men and the women sat under their Roof on the eve of
departure: and the tuns of mead were broached, and the horns filled and
borne round by young maidens, and men ate and drank and were merry; and
from time to time as some one of the warriors had done with giving heed
to his weapons, he entered into the hall and fell into the company of
those whom he loved most and by whom he was best beloved; and whiles they
talked, and whiles they sang to the harp up and down that long house; and
the moon risen high shone in at the windows, and there was much laughter
and merriment, and talk of deeds of arms of the old days on the eve of
that departure: till little by little weariness fell on them, and they
went their ways to slumber, and the hall was fallen silent.
CHAPTER III--THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN
But yet sat Thiodolf under the Hall-Sun for a while as one in deep
thought; till at last as he stirred, his sword clattered on him; and then
he lifted up his eyes and looked down the hall and saw no man stirring,
so he stood up and settled his raiment on him, and went forth, and so
took his ways through the hall-door, as one who hath an errand.
The moonlight lay in a great flood on the grass without, and the dew was
falling in the coldest hour of the night, and the earth smelled sweetly:
the whole habitation was asleep now, and there was no sound to be known
as the sound of any creature, save that from the distant meadow came the
lowing of a cow that had lost her calf, and that a white owl was flitting
about near the eaves of the Roof with her wild cry that sounded like the
mocking of merriment now silent.
Thiodolf turned toward the wood, and walked steadily through the
scattered hazel-trees, and thereby into the thick of the beech-trees,
whose boles grew smooth and silver-grey, high and close-set: and so on
and on he went as one going by a well-known path, though there was no
path, till all the moonlight was quenched under the close roof of the
beech-leaves, though yet for all the darkness, no man could go there and
not feel that the roof was green above him. Still he went on in despite
of the darkness, till at last there was a glimmer before him, that grew
greater till he came unto a small wood-lawn whereon the turf grew again,
though the grass was but thin, because little sunlight got to it, so
close and thick were the tall trees round about it. In the heavens above
it by now there was a light that was not all of the moon, though it might
scarce be told whether that light were the memory of yesterday or the
promise of to-morrow, since little of the heavens could be seen thence,
save the crown of them, because of the tall tree-tops.
Nought looked Thiodolf either at the heavens above, or the trees, as he
strode from off the husk-strewn floor of the beech wood on to the scanty
grass of the lawn, but his eyes looked straight before him at that which
was amidmost of the lawn: and little wonder was that; for there on a
stone chair sat a woman exceeding fair, clad in glittering raiment, her
hair lying as pale in the moonlight on the grey stone as the barley acres
in the August night before the reaping-hook goes in amongst them. She
sat there as though she were awaiting someone, and he made no stop nor
stay, but went straight up to her, and took her in his arms, and kissed
her mouth and her eyes, and she him again; and then he sat himself down
beside her. But her eyes looked kindly on him as she said:
"O Thiodolf, hardy art thou, that thou hast no fear to take me in thine
arms and to kiss me, as though thou hadst met in the meadow with a maiden
of the Elkings: and I, who am a daughter of the Gods of thy kindred, and
a Chooser of the Slain! Yea, and that upon the eve of battle and the
dawn of thy departure to the stricken field!"
"O Wood-Sun," he said "thou art the treasure of life that I found when I
was young, and the love of life that I hold, now that my beard is
grizzling. Since when did I fear thee, Wood-Sun? Did I fear thee when
first I saw thee, and we stood amidst the hazelled field, we twain living
amongst the slain? But my sword was red with the blood of the foe, and
my raiment with mine own blood; and I was a-weary with the day's work,
and sick with many strokes, and methought I was fainting into death. And
there thou wert before me, full of life and ruddy and smiling both lips
and eyes; thy raiment clean and clear, thine hands stained with blood:
then didst thou take me by my bloody and weary hand, and didst kiss my
lips grown ashen pale, and thou saidst 'Come with me.' And I strove to
go, and might not; so many and sore were my hurts. Then amidst my
sickness and my weariness was I merry; for I said to myself, This is the
death of the warrior, and it is exceeding sweet. What meaneth it? Folk
said of me; he is over young to meet the foeman; yet am I not over young
to die?"
Therewith he laughed out amid the wild-wood, and his speech became song,
and he said:
"We wrought in the ring of the hazels, and the wine of war we drank:
From the tide when the sun stood highest to the hour wherein she sank:
And three kings came against me, the mightiest of the Huns,
The evil-eyed in battle, the swift-foot wily ones;
And they gnashed their teeth against me, and they gnawed on the shield-
rims there,
On that afternoon of summer, in the high-tide of the year.
Keen-eyed I gazed about me, and I saw the clouds draw up
Till the heavens were dark as the hollow of a wine-stained iron cup,
And the wild-deer lay unfeeding on the grass of the forest glades,
And all earth was scared with the thunder above our clashing blades.
"Then sank a King before me, and on fell the other twain,
And I tossed up the reddened sword-blade in the gathered rush of the
rain
And the blood and the water blended, and fragrant grew the earth.
"There long I turned and twisted within the battle-girth
Before those bears of onset: while out from the grey world streamed
The broad red lash of the lightening and in our byrnies gleamed.
And long I leapt and laboured in that garland of the fight
'Mid the blue blades and the lightening; but ere the sky grew light
The second of the Hun-kings on the rain-drenched daisies lay;
And we twain with the battle blinded a little while made stay,
And leaning on our sword-hilts each on the other gazed.
"Then the rain grew less, and one corner of the veil of clouds was
raised,
And as from the broidered covering gleams out the shoulder white
Of the bed-mate of the warrior when on his wedding night
He layeth his hand to the linen; so, down there in the west
Gleamed out the naked heaven: but the wrath rose up in my breast,
And the sword in my hand rose with it, and I leaped and hewed at the
Hun;
And from him too flared the war-flame, and the blades danced bright in
the sun
Come back to the earth for a little before the ending of day.
"There then with all that was in him did the Hun play out the play,
Till he fell, and left me tottering, and I turned my feet to wend
To the place of the mound of the mighty, the gate of the way without
end.
And there thou wert. How was it, thou Chooser of the Slain,
Did I die in thine arms, and thereafter did thy mouth-kiss wake me
again?"
Ere the last sound of his voice was done she turned and kissed him; and
then she said; "Never hadst thou a fear and thine heart is full of
hardihood."
Then he said:
"'Tis the hardy heart, beloved, that keepeth me alive,
As the king-leek in the garden by the rain and the sun doth thrive,
So I thrive by the praise of the people; it is blent with my drink and
my meat;
As I slumber in the night-tide it laps me soft and sweet;
And through the chamber window when I waken in the morn
With the wind of the sun's arising from the meadow is it borne
And biddeth me remember that yet I live on earth:
Then I rise and my might is with me, and fills my heart with mirth,
As I think of the praise of the people; and all this joy I win
By the deeds that my heart commandeth and the hope that lieth
therein."
"Yea," she said, "but day runneth ever on the heels of day, and there are
many and many days; and betwixt them do they carry eld."
"Yet art thou no older than in days bygone," said he. "Is it so, O
Daughter of the Gods, that thou wert never born, but wert from before the
framing of the mountains, from the beginning of all things?"
But she said:
"Nay, nay; I began, I was born; although it may be indeed
That not on the hills of the earth I sprang from the godhead's seed.
And e'en as my birth and my waxing shall be my waning and end.
But thou on many an errand, to many a field dost wend
Where the bow at adventure bended, or the fleeing dastard's spear
Oft lulleth the mirth of the mighty. Now me thou dost not fear,
Yet fear with me, beloved, for the mighty Maid I fear;
And Doom is her name, and full often she maketh me afraid
And even now meseemeth on my life her hand is laid."
But he laughed and said:
"In what land is she abiding? Is she near or far away?
Will she draw up close beside me in the press of the battle play?
And if then I may not smite her 'midst the warriors of the field
With the pale blade of my fathers, will she bide the shove of my
shield?"
But sadly she sang in answer:
"In many a stead Doom dwelleth, nor sleepeth day nor night:
The rim of the bowl she kisseth, and beareth the chambering light
When the kings of men wend happy to the bride-bed from the board.
It is little to say that she wendeth the edge of the grinded sword,
When about the house half builded she hangeth many a day;
The ship from the strand she shoveth, and on his wonted way
By the mountain-hunter fareth where his foot ne'er failed before:
She is where the high bank crumbles at last on the river's shore:
The mower's scythe she whetteth; and lulleth the shepherd to sleep
Where the deadly ling-worm wakeneth in the desert of the sheep.
Now we that come of the God-kin of her redes for ourselves we wot,
But her will with the lives of men-folk and their ending know we not.
So therefore I bid thee not fear for thyself of Doom and her deed,
But for me: and I bid thee hearken to the helping of my need.
Or else--Art thou happy in life, or lusteth thou to die
In the flower of thy days, when thy glory and thy longing bloom on
high?"
But Thiodolf answered her:
"I have deemed, and long have I deemed that this is my second life,
That my first one waned with my wounding when thou cam'st to the ring
of strife.
For when in thine arms I wakened on the hazelled field of yore,
Meseemed I had newly arisen to a world I knew no more,
So much had all things brightened on that dewy dawn of day.
It was dark dull death that I looked for when my thought had died
away.
It was lovely life that I woke to; and from that day henceforth
My joy of the life of man-folk was manifolded of worth.
Far fairer the fields of the morning than I had known them erst,
And the acres where I wended, and the corn with its half-slaked
thirst;
And the noble Roof of the Wolfings, and the hawks that sat thereon;
And the bodies of my kindred whose deliverance I had won;
And the glimmering of the Hall-Sun in the dusky house of old;
And my name in the mouth of the maidens, and the praises of the bold,
As I sat in my battle-raiment, and the ruddy spear well steeled
Leaned 'gainst my side war-battered, and the wounds thine hand had
healed.
Yea, from that morn thenceforward has my life been good indeed,
The gain of to-day was goodly, and good to-morrow's need,
And good the whirl of the battle, and the broil I wielded there,
Till I fashioned the ordered onset, and the unhoped victory fair.
And good were the days thereafter of utter deedless rest
And the prattle of thy daughter, and her hands on my unmailed breast.
Ah good is the life thou hast given, the life that mine hands have
won.
And where shall be the ending till the world is all undone?
Here sit we twain together, and both we in Godhead clad,
We twain of the Wolfing kindred, and each of the other glad."
But she answered, and her face grew darker withal:
"O mighty man and joyous, art thou of the Wolfing kin?
'Twas no evil deed when we mingled, nor lieth doom therein.
Thou lovely man, thou black-haired, thou shalt die and have done no
ill.
Fame-crowned are the deeds of thy doing, and the mouths of men they
fill.
Thou betterer of the Godfolk, enduring is thy fame:
Yet as a painted image of a dream is thy dreaded name.
Of an alien folk thou comest, that we twain might be one indeed.
Thou shalt die one day. So hearken, to help me at my need."
His face grew troubled and he said: "What is this word that I am no chief
of the Wolfings?"
"Nay," she said, "but better than they. Look thou on the face of our
daughter the Hall-Sun, thy daughter and mine: favoureth she at all of
me?"
He laughed: "Yea, whereas she is fair, but not otherwise. This is a hard
saying, that I dwell among an alien kindred, and it wotteth not thereof.
Why hast thou not told me hereof before?"
She said: "It needed not to tell thee because thy day was waxing, as now
it waneth. Once more I bid thee hearken and do my bidding though it be
hard to thee."
He answered: "Even so will I as much as I may; and thus wise must thou
look upon it, that I love life, and fear not death."
Then she spake, and again her words fell into rhyme:
"In forty fights hast thou foughten, and been worsted but in four;
And I looked on and was merry; and ever more and more
Wert thou dear to the heart of the Wood-Sun, and the Chooser of the
Slain.
But now whereas ye are wending with slaughter-herd and wain
To meet a folk that ye know not, a wonder, a peerless foe,
I fear for thy glory's waning, and I see thee lying alow."
Then he brake in: "Herein is little shame to be worsted by the might of
the mightiest: if this so mighty folk sheareth a limb off the tree of my
fame, yet shall it wax again."
But she sang:
"In forty fights hast thou foughten, and beside thee who but I
Beheld the wind-tossed banners, and saw the aspen fly?
But to-day to thy war I wend not, for Weird withholdeth me
And sore my heart forebodeth for the battle that shall be.
To-day with thee I wend not; so I feared, and lo my feet,
That are wont to the woodland girdle of the acres of the wheat,
For thee among strange people and the foeman's throng have trod,
And I tell thee their banner of battle is a wise and a mighty God.
For these are the folk of the cities, and in wondrous wise they dwell
'Mid confusion of heaped houses, dim and black as the face of hell;
Though therefrom rise roofs most goodly, where their captains and
their kings
Dwell amidst the walls of marble in abundance of fair things;
And 'mid these, nor worser nor better, but builded otherwise
Stand the Houses of the Fathers, and the hidden mysteries.
And as close as are the tree-trunks that within the beech-wood thrive
E'en so many are their pillars; and therein like men alive
Stand the images of god-folk in such raiment as they wore
In the years before the cities and the hidden days of yore.
Ah for the gold that I gazed on! and their store of battle gear,
And strange engines that I knew not, or the end for which they were.
Ah for the ordered wisdom of the war-array of these,
And the folks that are sitting about them in dumb down-trodden peace!
So I thought now fareth war-ward my well-beloved friend,
And the weird of the Gods hath doomed it that no more with him may I
wend!
Woe's me for the war of the Wolfings wherefrom I am sundered apart,
And the fruitless death of the war-wise, and the doom of the hardy
heart!"
Then he answered, and his eyes grew kind as he looked on her:
"For thy fair love I thank thee, and thy faithful word, O friend!
But how might it otherwise happen but we twain must meet in the end,
The God of this mighty people and the Markmen and their kin?
Lo, this is the weird of the world, and what may we do herein?"
Then mirth came into her face again as she said:
"Who wotteth of Weird, and what she is till the weird is accomplished?
Long hath it been my weird to love thee and to fashion deeds for thee as
I may; nor will I depart from it now." And she sang:
"Keen-edged is the sword of the city, and bitter is its spear,
But thy breast in the battle, beloved, hath a wall of the stithy's
gear.
What now is thy wont in the handplay with the helm and the hauberk of
rings?
Farest thou as the thrall and the cot-carle, or clad in the raiment of
kings?"
He started, and his face reddened as he answered:
"O Wood-Sun thou wottest our battle and the way wherein we fare:
That oft at the battle's beginning the helm and the hauberk we bear;
Lest the shaft of the fleeing coward or the bow at adventure bent
Should slay us ere the need be, ere our might be given and spent.
Yet oft ere the fight is over, and Doom hath scattered the foe,
No leader of the people by his war-gear shall ye know,
But by his hurts the rather, from the cot-carle and the thrall:
For when all is done that a man may, 'tis the hour for a man to fall."
She yet smiled as she said in answer:
"O Folk-wolf, heed and hearken; for when shall thy life be spent
And the Folk wherein thou dwellest with thy death be well content?
Whenso folk need the fire, do they hew the apple-tree,
And burn the Mother of Blossom and the fruit that is to be?
Or me wilt thou bid to thy grave-mound because thy battle-wrath
May nothing more be bridled than the whirl wind on his path?
So hearken and do my bidding, for the hauberk shalt thou bear
E'en when the other warriors cast off their battle-gear.
So come thou, come unwounded from the war-field of the south,
And sit with me in the beech-wood, and kiss me, eyes and mouth."
And she kissed him in very deed, and made much of him, and fawned on him,
and laid her hand on his breast, and he was soft and blithe with her, but
at last he laughed and said:
"God's Daughter, long hast thou lived, and many a matter seen,
And men full often grieving for the deed that might have been;
But here my heart thou wheedlest as a maid of tender years
When first in the arms of her darling the horn of war she hears.
Thou knowest the axe to be heavy, and the sword, how keen it is;
But that Doom of which thou hast spoken, wilt thou not tell of this,
God's Daughter, how it sheareth, and how it breaketh through
Each wall that the warrior buildeth, yea all deeds that he may do?
What might in the hammer's leavings, in the fire's thrall shall abide
To turn that Folks' o'erwhelmer from the fated warrior's side?"
Then she laughed in her turn, and loudly; but so sweetly that the sound
of her voice mingled with the first song of a newly awakened wood-thrush
sitting on a rowan twig on the edge of the Wood-lawn. But she said:
"Yea, I that am God's Daughter may tell thee never a whit
From what land cometh the hauberk nor what smith smithied it,
That thou shalt wear in the handplay from the first stroke to the
last;
But this thereof I tell thee, that it holdeth firm and fast
The life of the body it lappeth, if the gift of the Godfolk it be.
Lo this is the yoke-mate of doom, and the gift of me unto thee."
Then she leaned down from the stone whereon they sat, and her hand was in
the dewy grass for a little, and then it lifted up a dark grey rippling
coat of rings; and she straightened herself in the seat again, and laid
that hauberk on the knees of Thiodolf, and he put his hand to it, and
turned it about, while he pondered long: then at last he said:
"What evil thing abideth with this warder of the strife,
This burg and treasure chamber for the hoarding of my life?
For this is the work of the dwarfs, and no kindly kin of the earth;
And all we fear the dwarf-kin and their anger and sorrow and mirth."
She cast her arms about him and fondled him, and her voice grew sweeter
than the voice of any mortal thing as she answered:
"No ill for thee, beloved, or for me in the hauberk lies;
No sundering grief is in it, no lonely miseries.
But we shall abide together, and that new life I gave,
For a long while yet henceforward we twain its joy shall have.
Yea, if thou dost my bidding to wear my gift in the fight
No hunter of the wild-wood at the changing of the night
Shall see my shape on thy grave-mound or my tears in the morning find
With the dew of the morning mingled; nor with the evening wind
Shall my body pass the shepherd as he wandereth in the mead
And fill him with forebodings on the eve of the Wolfings' need.
Nor the horse-herd wake in the midnight and hear my fateful cry;
Nor yet shall the Wolfing women hear words on the wind go by
As they weave and spin the night down when the House is gone to the
war,
And weep for the swains they wedded and the children that they bore.
Yea do my bidding, O Folk-wolf, lest a grief of the Gods should weigh
On the ancient House of the Wolfings and my death o'ercloud its day."
And still she clung about him, while he spake no word of yea or nay: but
at the last he let himself glide wholly into her arms, and the
dwarf-wrought hauberk fell from his knees and lay on the grass.
So they abode together in that wood-lawn till the twilight was long gone,
and the sun arisen for some while. And when Thiodolf stepped out of the
beech-wood into the broad sunshine dappled with the shadow of the leaves
of the hazels moving gently in the fresh morning air, he was covered from
the neck to the knee by a hauberk of rings dark and grey and gleaming,
fashioned by the dwarfs of ancient days.
CHAPTER IV--THE HOUSE FARETH TO THE WAR
Now when Thiodolf came back to the habitations of the kindred the whole
House was astir, both thrall-men and women, and free women hurrying from
cot to stithy, and from stithy to hall bearing the last of the war-gear
or raiment for the fighting-men. But they for their part were some
standing about anigh the Man's-door, some sitting gravely within the
hall, some watching the hurry of the thralls and women from the midmost
of the open space amidst of the habitations, whereon there stood yet
certain wains which were belated: for the most of the wains were now
standing with the oxen already yoked to them down in the meadow past the
acres, encircled by a confused throng of kine and horses and thrall-folk,
for thither had all the beasts for the slaughter, and the horses for the
warriors been brought; and there were the horses tethered or held by the
thralls; some indeed were already saddled and bridled, and on others were
the thralls doing the harness.
But as for the wains of the Markmen, they were stoutly framed of ash-tree
with panels of aspen, and they were broad-wheeled so that they might go
over rough and smooth. They had high tilts over them well framed of
willow-poles covered over with squares of black felt over-lapping like
shingles; which felt they made of the rough of their fleeces, for they
had many sheep. And these wains were to them for houses upon the way if
need were, and therein as now were stored their meal and their war-store
and after fight they would flit their wounded men in them, such as were
too sorely hurt to back a horse: nor must it be hidden that whiles they
looked to bring back with them the treasure of the south. Moreover the
folk if they were worsted in any battle, instead of fleeing without more
done, would often draw back fighting into a garth made by these wains,
and guarded by some of their thralls; and there would abide the onset of
those who had thrust them back in the field. And this garth they called
the Wain-burg.
So now stood three of these wains aforesaid belated amidst of the
habitations of the House, their yoke-beasts standing or lying down
unharnessed as yet to them: but in the very midst of that place was a
wain unlike to them; smaller than they but higher; square of shape as to
the floor of it; built lighter than they, yet far stronger; as the
warrior is stronger than the big carle and trencher-licker that loiters
about the hall; and from the midst of this wain arose a mast made of a
tall straight fir-tree, and thereon hung the banner of the Wolfings,
wherein was wrought the image of the Wolf, but red of hue as a token of
war, and with his mouth open and gaping upon the foemen. Also whereas
the other wains were drawn by mere oxen, and those of divers colours, as
chance would have it, the wain of the banner was drawn by ten black bulls
of the mightiest of the herd, deep-dewlapped, high-crested and
curly-browed; and their harness was decked with gold, and so was the wain
itself, and the woodwork of it painted red with vermilion. There then
stood the Banner of the House of the Wolfings awaiting the departure of
the warriors to the hosting.
So Thiodolf stood on the top of the bent beside that same mound wherefrom
he had blown the War-horn yester-eve, and which was called the Hill of
Speech, and he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked around him; and
even therewith the carles fell to yoking the beasts to the belated wains,
and the warriors gathered together from out of the mixed throngs, and
came from the Roof and the Man's-door and all set their faces toward the
Hill of Speech.
So Thiodolf knew that all was ready for departure, and it wanted but an
hour of high-noon; so he turned about and went into the Hall, and there
found his shield and his spear hanging in his sleeping place beside the
hauberk he was wont to wear; then he looked, as one striving with
thought, at his empty hauberk and his own body covered with the dwarf-
wrought rings; nor did his face change as he took his shield and his
spear and turned away. Then he went to the dais and there sat his foster-
daughter (as men deemed her) sitting amidst of it as yester-eve, and now
arrayed in a garment of fine white wool, on the breast whereof were
wrought in gold two beasts ramping up against a fire-altar whereon a
flame flickered; and on the skirts and the hems were other devices, of
wolves chasing deer, and men shooting with the bow; and that garment was
an ancient treasure; but she had a broad girdle of gold and gems about
her middle, and on her arms and neck she wore great gold rings wrought
delicately. By then there were few save the Hall-Sun under the Roof, and
they but the oldest of the women, or a few very old men, and some who
were ailing and might not go abroad. But before her on the thwart table
lay the Great War-horn awaiting the coming of Thiodolf to give signal of
departure.
Then went Thiodolf to the Hall-Sun and kissed and embraced her fondly,
and she gave the horn into his hands, and he went forth and up on to the
Hill of Speech, and blew thence a short blast on the horn, and then came
all the Warriors flocking to the Hill of Speech, each man stark in his
harness, alert and joyous.
Then presently through the Man's-door came the Hall-Sun in that ancient
garment, which fell straight and stiff down to her ancles as she stepped
lightly and slowly along, her head crowned with a garland of eglantine.
In her right hand also she held a great torch of wax lighted, whose flame
amidst the bright sunlight looked like a wavering leaf of vermilion.
The warriors saw her, and made a lane for her, and she made her way
through it up to the Hill of Speech, and she went up to the top of it and
stood there holding the lighted candle in her hand, so that all might see
it. Then suddenly was there as great a silence as there may be on a
forenoon of summer; for even the thralls down in the meadow had noted
what was toward, and ceased their talking and shouting, for as far off as
they were, since they could see that the Hall-Sun stood on the Hill of
Speech, for the wood was dark behind her; so they knew the Farewell Flame
was lighted, and that the maiden would speak; and to all men her speech
was a boding of good or of ill.
So she began in a sweet voice yet clear and far-reaching:
"O Warriors of the Wolfings by the token of the flame
That here in my right hand flickers, come aback to the House of the
Name!
For there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing roof,
And this flame is litten from it, nor as now shall it fare aloof
Till again it seeth the mighty and the men to be gleaned from the
fight.
So wend ye as weird willeth and let your hearts be light;
For through your days of battle all the deeds of our days shall be
fair.
To-morrow beginneth the haysel, as if every carle were here;
And who knoweth ere your returning but the hook shall smite the corn?
But the kine shall go down to the meadow as their wont is every morn,
And each eve shall come back to the byre; and the mares and foals
afield
Shall ever be heeded duly; and all things shall their increase yield.
And if it shall befal us that hither cometh a foe
Here have we swains of the shepherds good players with the bow,
And old men battle-crafty whose might is nowise spent,
And women fell and fearless well wont to tread the bent
Amid the sheep and the oxen; and their hands are hard with the spear
And their arms are strong and stalwart the battle shield to bear;
And store of weapons have we and the mighty walls of the stead;
And the Roof shall abide you steadfast with the Hall-Sun overhead.
Lo here I quench this candle that is lit from the Hall-Sun's flame
Which unto the Wild-wood clearing with the kin of the Wolfings came
And shall wend with their departure to the limits of the earth;
Nor again shall the torch be lighted till in sorrow or in mirth,
Overthrown or overthrowing, ye come aback once more,
And bid me bear the candle before the Wolf of War."
As she spake the word she turned the candle downward, and thrust it
against the grass and quenched it indeed; but the whole throng of
warriors turned about, for the bulls of the banner-wain lowered their
heads in the yokes and began to draw, lowing mightily; and the wain
creaked and moved on, and all the men-at-arms followed after, and down
they went through the lanes of the corn, and a many women and children
and old men went down into the mead with them.
In their hearts they all wondered what the Hall-Sun's words might
signify; for she had told them nought about the battles to be, saving
that some should come back to the Mid-mark; whereas aforetime somewhat
would she foretell to them concerning the fortune of the fight, and now
had she said to them nothing but what their own hearts told them.
Nevertheless they bore their crests high as they followed the Wolf down
into the meadow, where all was now ready for departure. There they
arrayed themselves and went down to the lip of Mirkwood-water; and such
was their array that the banner went first, save that a band of fully
armed men went before it; and behind it and about were the others as well
arrayed as they. Then went the wains that bore their munition, with
armed carles of the thrall-folk about them, who were ever the guard of
the wains, and should never leave them night or day; and lastly went the
great band of the warriors and the rest of the thralls with them.
As to their war-gear, all the freemen had helms of some kind, but not all
of iron or steel; for some bore helms fashioned of horse-hide and bull-
hide covered over with the similitude of a Wolf's muzzle; nor were these
ill-defence against a sword-stroke. Shields they all had, and all these
had the image of the Wolf marked on them, but for many their thralls bore
them on the journey. As to their body-armour some carried long byrnies
of ring-mail, some coats of leather covered with splinters of horn laid
like the shingles of a roof, and some skin-coats only: whereof indeed
there were some of which tales went that they were better than the
smith's hammer-work, because they had had spells sung over them to keep
out steel or iron.
But for their weapons, they bore spears with shafts not very long, some
eight feet of our measure; and axes heavy and long-shafted; and bills
with great and broad heads; and some few, but not many of the kindred
were bowmen, and every freeman was girt with a sword; but of the swords
some were long and two-edged, some short and heavy, cutting on one edge,
and these were of the kind which they and our forefathers long after
called 'sax.' Thus were the freemen arrayed.
But for the thralls, there were many bows among them, especially among
those who were of blood alien from the Goths; the others bore short
spears, and feathered broad arrows, and clubs bound with iron, and knives
and axes, but not every man of them had a sword. Few iron helms they had
and no ringed byrnies, but most had a buckler at their backs with no sign
or symbol on it.
Thus then set forth the fighting men of the House of the Wolf toward the
Thing-stead of the Upper-mark where the hosting was to be, and by then
they were moving up along the side of Mirkwood-water it was somewhat past
high-noon.
But the stay-at-home people who had come down with them to the meadow
lingered long in that place; and much foreboding there was among them of
evil to come; and of the old folk, some remembered tales of the past days
of the Markmen, and how they had come from the ends of the earth, and the
mountains where none dwell now but the Gods of their kindreds; and many
of these tales told of their woes and their wars as they went from river
to river and from wild-wood to wild-wood before they had established
their Houses in the Mark, and fallen to dwelling there season by season
and year by year whether the days were good or ill. And it fell into
their hearts that now at last mayhappen was their abiding wearing out to
an end, and that the day should soon be when they should have to bear the
Hall-Sun through the wild-wood, and seek a new dwelling-place afar from
the troubling of these newly arisen Welsh foemen.
And so those of them who could not rid themselves of this foreboding were
somewhat heavier of heart than their wont was when the House went to the
War. For long had they abided there in the Mark, and the life was sweet
to them which they knew, and the life which they knew not was bitter to
them: and Mirkwood-water was become as a God to them no less than to
their fathers of old time; nor lesser was the mead where fed the horses
that they loved and the kine that they had reared, and the sheep that
they guarded from the Wolf of the Wild-wood: and they worshipped the kind
acres which they themselves and their fathers had made fruitful, wedding
them to the seasons of seed-time and harvest, that the birth that came
from them might become a part of the kindred of the Wolf, and the joy and
might of past springs and summers might run in the blood of the Wolfing
children. And a dear God indeed to them was the Roof of the Kindred,
that their fathers had built and that they yet warded against the fire
and the lightening and the wind and the snow, and the passing of the days
that devour and the years that heap the dust over the work of men. They
thought of how it had stood, and seen so many generations of men come and
go; how often it had welcomed the new-born babe, and given farewell to
the old man: how many secrets of the past it knew; how many tales which
men of the present had forgotten, but which yet mayhap men of times to
come should learn of it; for to them yet living it had spoken time and
again, and had told them what their fathers had not told them, and it
held the memories of the generations and the very life of the Wolfings
and their hopes for the days to be.
Thus these poor people thought of the Gods whom they worshipped, and the
friends whom they loved, and could not choose but be heavy-hearted when
they thought that the wild-wood was awaiting them to swallow all up, and
take away from them their Gods and their friends and the mirth of their
life, and burden them with hunger and thirst and weariness, that their
children might begin once more to build the House and establish the
dwelling, and call new places by old names, and worship new Gods with the
ancient worship.
Such imaginations of trouble then were in the hearts of the stay-at-homes
of the Wolfings; the tale tells not indeed that all had such forebodings,
but chiefly the old folk who were nursing the end of their life-days
amidst the cherishing Kindred of the House.
But now they were beginning to turn them back again to the habitations,
and a thin stream was flowing through the acres, when they heard a
confused sound drawing near blended of horns and the lowing of beasts and
the shouting of men; and they looked and saw a throng of brightly clad
men coming up stream alongside of Mirkwood-water; and they were not
afraid, for they knew that it must be some other company of the Markmen
journeying to the hosting of the Folk: and presently they saw that it was
the House of the Beamings following their banner on the way to the Thing-
stead. But when the new-comers saw the throng out in the meads, some of
their young men pricked on their horses and galloped on past the women
and old men, to whom they threw a greeting, as they ran past to catch up
with the bands of the Wolfings; for between the two houses was there
affinity, and much good liking lay between them; and the stay-at-homes,
many of them, lingered yet till the main body of the Beamings came with
their banner: and their array was much like to that of the Wolfings, but
gayer; for whereas it pleased the latter to darken all their war-gear to
the colour of the grey Wolf, the Beamings polished all their gear as
bright as might be, and their raiment also was mostly bright green of hue
and much beflowered; and the sign on their banner was a green leafy tree,
and the wain was drawn by great white bulls.
So when their company drew anear to the throng of the stay-at-homes they
went to meet and greet each other, and tell tidings to each other; but
their banner held steadily onward amidst their converse, and in a little
while they followed it, for the way was long to the Thing-stead of the
Upper-mark.
So passed away the fighting men by the side of Mirkwood-water, and the
throng of the stay-at-homes melted slowly from the meadow and trickled
along through the acres to the habitations of the Wolfings, and there
they fell to doing whatso of work or play came to their hands.
CHAPTER V--CONCERNING THE HALL-SUN
When the warriors and the others had gone down to the mead, the Hall-Sun
was left standing on the Hill of Speech, and she stood there till she saw
the host in due array going on its ways dark and bright and beautiful;
then she made as if to turn aback to the Great Roof; but all at once it
seemed to her as if something held her back, as if her will to move had
departed from her, and that she could not put one foot before the other.
So she lingered on the Hill, and the quenched candle fell from her hand,
and presently she sank adown on the grass and sat there with the face of
one thinking intently. Yet was it with her that a thousand thoughts were
in her mind at once and no one of them uppermost, and images of what had
been and what then was flickered about in her brain, and betwixt them
were engendered images of things to be, but unstable and not to be trowed
in. So sat the Hall-Sun on the Hill of Speech lost in a dream of the
day, whose stories were as little clear as those of a night-dream.
But as she sat musing thus, came to her a woman exceeding old to look on,
whom she knew not as one of the kindred or a thrall; and this carline
greeted her by the name of Hall-Sun and said:
"Hail, Hall-Sun of the Markmen! how fares it now with thee
When the whelps of the Woodbeast wander with the Leafage of the Tree
All up the Mirkwood-water to seek what they shall find,
The oak-boles of the battle and the war-wood stark and blind?"
Then answered the maiden:
"It fares with me, O mother, that my soul would fain go forth
To behold the ways of the battle, and the praise of the warriors'
worth.
But yet is it held entangled in a maze of many a thing,
As the low-grown bramble holdeth the brake-shoots of the Spring.
I think of the thing that hath been, but no shape is in my thought;
I think of the day that passeth, and its story comes to nought.
I think of the days that shall be, nor shape I any tale.
I will hearken thee, O mother, if hearkening may avail."
The Carline gazed at her with dark eyes that shone brightly from amidst
her brown wrinkled face: then she sat herself down beside her and spake:
"From a far folk have I wandered and I come of an alien blood,
But I know all tales of the Wolfings and their evil and their good;
And when I heard of thy fairness, thereof I heard it said,
That for thee should be never a bridal nor a place in the warrior's
bed."
The maiden neither reddened nor paled, but looking with calm steady eyes
into the Carline's face she answered:
"Yea true it is, I am wedded to the mighty ones of old,
And the fathers of the Wolfings ere the days of field and fold."
Then a smile came into the eyes of the old woman and she said.
"How glad shall be thy mother of thy worship and thy worth,
And the father that begat thee if yet they dwell on earth!"
But the Hall-Sun answered in the same steady manner as before:
"None knoweth who is my mother, nor my very father's name;
But when to the House of the Wolfings a wild-wood waif I came,
They gave me a foster-mother an ancient dame and good,
And a glorious foster-father the best of all the blood."
Spake the Carline.
"Yea, I have heard the story, but scarce therein might I trow
That thou with all thy beauty wert born 'neath the oaken bough,
And hast crawled a naked baby o'er the rain-drenched autumn-grass;
Wilt thou tell the wandering woman what wise it cometh to pass
That thou art the Mid-mark's Hall-Sun, and the sign of the Wolfings'
gain?
Thou shalt pleasure me much by the telling, and there of shalt thou be
fain."
Then answered the Hall-Sun.
"Yea; thus much I remember for the first of my memories;
That I lay on the grass in the morning and above were the boughs of
the trees.
But nought naked was I as the wood-whelp, but clad in linen white,
And adown the glades of the oakwood the morning sun lay bright.
Then a hind came out of the thicket and stood on the sunlit glade,
And turned her head toward the oak tree and a step on toward me made.
Then stopped, and bounded aback, and away as if in fear,
That I saw her no more; then I wondered, though sitting close anear
Was a she-wolf great and grisly. But with her was I wont to play,
And pull her ears, and belabour her rugged sides and grey,
And hold her jaws together, while she whimpered, slobbering
For the love of my love; and nowise I deemed her a fearsome thing.
There she sat as though she were watching, and o'er head a blue-winged
jay
Shrieked out from the topmost oak-twigs, and a squirrel ran his way
Two tree-trunks off. But the she-wolf arose up suddenly
And growled with her neck-fell bristling, as if danger drew anigh;
And therewith I heard a footstep, for nice was my ear to catch
All the noises of the wild-wood; so there did we sit at watch
While the sound of feet grew nigher: then I clapped hand on hand
And crowed for joy and gladness, for there out in the sun did stand
A man, a glorious creature with a gleaming helm on his head,
And gold rings on his arms, in raiment gold-broidered crimson-red.
Straightway he strode up toward us nor heeded the wolf of the wood
But sang as he went in the oak-glade, as a man whose thought is good,
And nought she heeded the warrior, but tame as a sheep was grown,
And trotted away through the wild-wood with her crest all laid adown.
Then came the man and sat down by the oak-bole close unto me
And took me up nought fearful and set me on his knee.
And his face was kind and lovely, so my cheek to his cheek I laid
And touched his cold bright war-helm and with his gold rings played,
And hearkened his words, though I knew not what tale they had to tell,
Yet fain was my heart of their music, and meseemed I loved him well.
So we fared for a while and were fain, till he set down my feet on the
grass,
And kissed me and stood up himself, and away through the wood did he
pass.
And then came back the she-wolf and with her I played and was fain.
Lo the first thing I remember: wilt thou have me babble again?"
Spake the Carline and her face was soft and kind:
"Nay damsel, long would I hearken to thy voice this summer day.
But how didst thou leave the wild-wood, what people brought thee
away?"
Then said the Hall-Sun:
"I awoke on a time in the even, and voices I heard as I woke;
And there was I in the wild-wood by the bole of the ancient oak,
And a ring of men was around me, and glad was I indeed
As I looked upon their faces and the fashion of their weed.
For I gazed on the red and the scarlet and the beaten silver and gold,
And blithe were their noble faces and kindly to behold,
And nought had I seen of such-like since that hour of the other day
When that warrior came to the oak glade with the little child to play.
And forth now he came, with the face that my hands had fondled before,
And a battle shield wrought fairly upon his arm he bore,
And thereon the wood-wolf's image in ruddy gold was done.
Then I stretched out my little arms towards the glorious shining one
And he took me up and set me on his shoulder for a while
And turned about to his fellows with a blithe and joyous smile;
And they shouted aloud about me and drew forth gleaming swords
And clashed them on their bucklers; but nought I knew of the words
Of their shouting and rejoicing. So thereafter was I laid
And borne forth on the warrior's warshield, and our way through the
wood we made
'Midst the mirth and great contentment of those fair-clad shielded
men.
"But no tale of the wolf and the wild-wood abides with me since then,
And the next thing I remember is a huge and dusky hall,
A world for my little body from ancient wall to wall;
A world of many doings, and nought for me to do,
A world of many noises, and known to me were few.
"Time wore, and I spoke with the Wolfings and knew the speech of the
kin,
And was strange 'neath the roof no longer, as a lonely waif therein;
And I wrought as a child with my playmates and every hour looked on
Unto the next hour's joyance till the happy day was done.
And going and coming amidst us was a woman tall and thin
With hair like the hoary barley and silver streaks therein.
And kind and sad of visage, as now I remember me,
And she sat and told us stories when we were aweary with glee,
And many of us she fondled, but me the most of all.
And once from my sleep she waked me and bore me down the hall,
In the hush of the very midnight, and I was feared thereat.
But she brought me unto the dais, and there the warrior sat,
Who took me up and kissed me, as erst within the wood;
And meseems in his arms I slumbered: but I wakened again and stood
Alone with the kindly woman, and gone was the goodly man,
And athwart the hush of the Folk-hall the moon shone bright and wan,
And the woman dealt with a lamp hung up by a chain aloft,
And she trimmed it and fed it with oil, while she chanted sweet and
soft
A song whose words I knew not: then she ran it up again,
And up in the darkness above us died the length of its wavering
chain."
"Yea," said the carline, "this woman will have been the Hall-Sun that
came before thee. What next dost thou remember?"
Said the maiden:
"Next I mind me of the hazels behind the People's Roof,
And the children running thither and the magpie flitting aloof,
And my hand in the hand of the Hall-Sun, as after the others we went,
And she soberly hearkening my prattle and the words of my intent.
And now would I call her 'Mother,' and indeed I loved her well.
"So I waxed; and now of my memories the tale were long to tell;
But as the days passed over, and I fared to field and wood,
Alone or with my playmates, still the days were fair and good.
But the sad and kindly Hall-Sun for my fosterer now I knew,
And the great and glorious warrior that my heart clung sorely to
Was but my foster-father; and I knew that I had no kin
In the ancient House of the Wolfings, though love was warm therein."
Then smiled the carline and said: "Yea, he is thy foster-father, and yet
a fond one."
"Sooth is that," said the Hall-Sun. "But wise art thou by seeming. Hast
thou come to tell me of what kindred I am, and who is my father and who
is my mother?"
Said the carline: "Art thou not also wise? Is it not so that the Hall-
Sun of the Wolfings seeth things that are to come?"
"Yea," she said, "yet have I seen waking or sleeping no other father save
my foster-father; yet my very mother I have seen, as one who should meet
her in the flesh one day."
"And good is that," said the carline; and as she spoke her face waxed
kinder, and she said:
"Tell us more of thy days in the House of the Wolfings and how thou
faredst there."
Said the Hall-Sun:
"I waxed 'neath the Roof of the Wolfings, till now to look upon
I was of sixteen winters, and the love of the Folk I won,
And in lovely weed they clad me like the image of a God:
And lonely now full often the wild-wood ways I trod,
And I feared no wild-wood creature, and my presence scared them
nought;
And I fell to know of wisdom, and within me stirred my thought,
So that oft anights would I wander through the mead and far away,
And swim the Mirkwood-water, and amidst his eddies play
When earth was dark in the dawn-tide; and over all the folk
I knew of the beasts' desires, as though in words they spoke.
"So I saw of things that should be, were they mighty things or small,
And upon a day as it happened came the war-word to the hall,
And the House must wend to the warfield, and as they sang, and played
With the strings of the harp that even, and the mirth of the war-eve
made,
Came the sight of the field to my eyes, and the words waxed hot in me,
And I needs must show the picture of the end of the fight to be.
Then I showed them the Red Wolf bristling o'er the broken fleeing foe;
And the war-gear of the fleers, and their banner did I show,
To wit the Ling-worm's image with the maiden in his mouth;
There I saw my foster-father 'mid the pale blades of the South,
Till aloof swept all the handplay and the hurry of the chase,
And he lay along by an ash-tree, no helm about his face,
No byrny on his body; and an arrow in his thigh,
And a broken spear in his shoulder. Then I saw myself draw nigh
To sing the song blood-staying. Then saw I how we twain
Went 'midst of the host triumphant in the Wolfings' banner-wain,
The black bulls lowing before us athwart the warriors' song,
As up from Mirkwood-water we went our ways along
To the Great Roof of the Wolfings, whence streamed the women out
And the sound of their rejoicing blent with the warriors' shout.
"They heard me and saw the picture, and they wotted how wise I was
grown,
And they loved me, and glad were their hearts at the tale my lips had
shown;
And my body clad as an image of a God to the field they bore,
And I held by the mast of the banner as I looked upon their war,
And endured to see unblenching on the wind-swept sunny plain
All the picture of my vision by the men-folk done again.
And over my Foster-father I sang the staunching-song,
Till the life-blood that was ebbing flowed back to his heart the
strong,
And we wended back in the war-wain 'midst the gleanings of the fight
Unto the ancient dwelling and the Hall-Sun's glimmering light.
"So from that day henceforward folk hung upon my words,
For the battle of the autumn, and the harvest of the swords;
And e'en more was I loved than aforetime. So wore a year away,
And heavy was the burden of the lore that on me lay.
"But my fosterer the Hall-Sun took sick at the birth of the year,
And changed her life as the year changed, as summer drew anear.
But she knew that her life was waning, and lying in her bed
She taught me the lore of the Hall-Sun, and every word to be said
At the trimming in the midnight and the feeding in the morn,
And she laid her hands upon me ere unto the howe she was borne
With the kindred gathered about us; and they wotted her weird and her
will,
And hailed me for the Hall-Sun when at last she lay there still.
And they did on me the garment, the holy cloth of old,
And the neck-chain wrought for the goddess, and the rings of the
hallowed gold.
So here am I abiding, and of things to be I tell,
Yet know not what shall befall me nor why with the Wolfings I dwell."
Then said the carline:
"What seest thou, O daughter, of the journey of to-day?
And why wendest thou not with the war-host on the battle-echoing way?"
Said the Hall-Sun.
"O mother, here dwelleth the Hall-Sun while the kin hath a dwelling-
place,
Nor ever again shall I look on the onset or the chase,
Till the day when the Roof of the Wolfings looketh down on the girdle
of foes,
And the arrow singeth over the grass of the kindred's close;
Till the pillars shake with the shouting and quivers the roof-tree
dear,
When the Hall of the Wolfings garners the harvest of the spear."
Therewith she stood on her feet and turned her face to the Great Roof,
and gazed long at it, not heeding the crone by her side; and she muttered
words of whose signification the other knew not, though she listened
intently, and gazed ever at her as closely as might be.
Then fell the Hall-Sun utterly silent, and the lids closed over her eyes,
and her hands were clenched, and her feet pressed hard on the daisies:
her bosom heaved with sore sighs, and great tear-drops oozed from under
her eyelids and fell on to her raiment and her feet and on to the flowery
summer grass; and at the last her mouth opened and she spake, but in a
voice that was marvellously changed from that she spake in before:
"Why went ye forth, O Wolfings, from the garth your fathers built,
And the House where sorrow dieth, and all unloosed is guilt?
Turn back, turn back, and behold it! lest your feet be over slow
When your shields are heavy-burdened with the arrows of the foe;
How ye totter, how ye stumble on the rough and corpse-strewn way!
And lo, how the eve is eating the afternoon of day!
O why are ye abiding till the sun is sunk in night
And the forest trees are ruddy with the battle-kindled light?
O rest not yet, ye Wolfings, lest void be your resting-place,
And into lands that ye know not the Wolf must turn his face,
And ye wander and ye wander till the land in the ocean cease,
And your battle bring no safety and your labour no increase."
Then was she silent for a while, and her tears ceased to flow; but
presently her eyes opened once more, and she lifted up her voice and
cried aloud--
"I see, I see! O Godfolk behold it from aloof,
How the little flames steal flickering along the ridge of the Roof!
They are small and red 'gainst the heavens in the summer afternoon;
But when the day is dusking, white, high shall they wave to the moon.
Lo, the fire plays now on the windows like strips of scarlet cloth
Wind-waved! but look in the night-tide on the onset of its wrath,
How it wraps round the ancient timbers and hides the mighty roof
But lighteth little crannies, so lost and far aloof,
That no man yet of the kindred hath seen them ere to-night,
Since first the builder builded in loving and delight!"
Then again she stayed her speech with weeping and sobbing, but after a
while was still again, and then she spoke pointing toward the roof with
her right hand.
"I see the fire-raisers and iron-helmed they are,
Brown-faced about the banners that their hands have borne afar.
And who in the garth of the kindred shall bear adown their shield
Since the onrush of the Wolfings they caught in the open field,
As the might of the mountain lion falls dead in the hempen net?
O Wolfings, long have ye tarried, but the hour abideth yet.
What life for the life of the people shall be given once for all,
What sorrow shall stay sorrow in the half-burnt Wolfing Hall?
There is nought shall quench the fire save the tears of the Godfolk's
kin,
And the heart of the life-delighter, and the life-blood cast therein."
Then once again she fell silent, and her eyes closed again, and the slow
tears gushed out from them, and she sank down sobbing on the grass, and
little by little the storm of grief sank and her head fell back, and she
was as one quietly asleep. Then the carline hung over her and kissed her
and embraced her; and then through her closed eyes and her slumber did
the Hall-Sun see a marvel; for she who was kissing her was young in
semblance and unwrinkled, and lovely to look on, with plenteous long hair
of the hue of ripe barley, and clad in glistening raiment such as has
been woven in no loom on earth.
And indeed it was the Wood-Sun in the semblance of a crone, who had come
to gather wisdom of the coming time from the foreseeing of the Hall-Sun;
since now at last she herself foresaw nothing of it, though she was of
the kindred of the Gods and the Fathers of the Goths. So when she had
heard the Hall-Sun she deemed that she knew but too well what her words
meant, and what for love, what for sorrow, she grew sick at heart as she
heard them.
So at last she arose and turned to look at the Great Roof; and strong and
straight, and cool and dark grey showed its ridge against the pale sky of
the summer afternoon all quivering with the heat of many hours' sun: dark
showed its windows as she gazed on it, and stark and stiff she knew were
its pillars within.
Then she said aloud, but to herself: "What then if a merry and mighty
life be given for it, and the sorrow of the people be redeemed; yet will
not I give the life which is his; nay rather let him give the bliss which
is mine. But oh! how may it be that he shall die joyous and I shall live
unhappy!"
Then she went slowly down from the Hill of Speech, and whoso saw her
deemed her but a gangrel carline. So she went her ways and let the wood
cover her.
But in a little while the Hall-Sun awoke alone, and sat up with a sigh,
and she remembered nothing concerning her sight of the flickering flame
along the hall-roof, and the fire-tongues like strips of scarlet cloth
blown by the wind, nor had she any memory of her words concerning the
coming day. But the rest of her talk with the carline she remembered,
and also the vision of the beautiful woman who had kissed and embraced
her; and she knew that it was her very mother. Also she perceived that
she had been weeping, therefore she knew that she had uttered words of
wisdom. For so it fared with her at whiles, that she knew not her own
words of foretelling, but spoke them out as if in a dream.
So now she went down from the Hill of Speech soberly, and turned toward
the Woman's door of the hall, and on her way she met the women and old
men and youths coming back from the meadow with little mirth: and there
were many of them who looked shyly at her as though they would gladly
have asked her somewhat, and yet durst not. But for her, her sadness
passed away when she came among them, and she looked kindly on this and
that one of them, and entered with them into the Woman's Chamber, and did
what came to her hand to do.
CHAPTER VI--THEY TALK ON THE WAY TO THE FOLK-THING
All day long one standing on the Speech-hill of the Wolfings might have
seen men in their war-array streaming along the side of Mirkwood-water,
on both sides thereof; and the last comers from the Nether-mark came
hastening all they might; for they would not be late at the
trysting-place. But these were of a kindred called the Laxings, who bore
a salmon on their banner; and they were somewhat few in number, for they
had but of late years become a House of the Markmen. Their banner-wain
was drawn by white horses, fleet and strong, and they were no great band,
for they had but few thralls with them, and all, free men and thralls,
were a-horseback; so they rode by hastily with their banner-wain, their
few munition-wains following as they might.
Now tells the tale of the men-at-arms of the Wolfings and the Beamings,
that soon they fell in with the Elking host, which was journeying but
leisurely, so that the Wolfings might catch up with them: they were a
very great kindred, the most numerous of all Mid-mark, and at this time
they had affinity with the Wolfings. But old men of the House remembered
how they had heard their grandsires and very old men tell that there had
been a time when the Elking House had been established by men from out of
the Wolfing kindred, and how they had wandered away from the Mark in the
days when it had been first settled, and had abided aloof for many
generations of men; and so at last had come back again to the Mark, and
had taken up their habitation at a place in Mid-mark where was dwelling
but a remnant of a House called the Thyrings, who had once been exceeding
mighty, but had by that time almost utterly perished in a great sickness
which befel in those days. So then these two Houses, the wanderers come
back and the remnant left by the sickness of the Gods, made one House
together, and increased and throve after their coming together, and
wedded with the Wolfings, and became a very great House.
Gallant and glorious was their array now, as they marched along with
their banner of the Elk, which was drawn by the very beasts themselves
tamed to draught to that end through many generations; they were fatter
and sleeker than their wild-wood brethren, but not so mighty.
So were the men of the three kindreds somewhat mingled together on the
way. The Wolfings were the tallest and the biggest made; but of those
dark-haired men aforesaid, were there fewest amongst the Beamings, and
most among the Elkings, as though they had drawn to them more men of
alien blood during their wanderings aforesaid. So they talked together
and made each other good cheer, as is the wont of companions in arms on
the eve of battle; and the talk ran, as may be deemed, on that journey
and what was likely to come of it: and spake an Elking warrior to a
Wolfing by whom he rode:
"O Wolfkettle, hath the Hall-Sun had any foresight of the day of battle?"
"Nay," said the other, "when she lighted the farewell candle, she bade us
come back again, and spoke of the day of our return; but that methinks,
as thou and I would talk of it, thinking what would be likely to befal.
Since we are a great host of valiant men, and these Welshmen {2} most
valiant, and as the rumour runneth bigger-bodied men than the Hun-folk,
and so well ordered as never folk have been. So then if we overthrow
them we shall come back again; and if they overthrow us, the remnant of
us shall fall back before them till we come to our habitations; for it is
not to be looked for that they will fall in upon our rear and prevent us,
since we have the thicket of the wild-wood on our flanks."
"Sooth is that," said the Elking; "and as to the mightiness of this folk
and their customs, ye may gather somewhat from the songs which our House
yet singeth, and which ye have heard wide about in the Mark; for this is
the same folk of which a many of them tell, making up that story-lay
which is called the South-Welsh Lay; which telleth how we have met this
folk in times past when we were in fellowship with a folk of the Welsh of
like customs to ourselves: for we of the Elkings were then but a feeble
folk. So we marched with this folk of the Kymry and met the men of the
cities, and whiles we overthrew and whiles were overthrown, but at last
in a great battle were overthrown with so great a slaughter, that the red
blood rose over the wheels of the wains, and the city-folk fainted with
the work of the slaughter, as men who mow a match in the meadows when the
swathes are dry and heavy and the afternoon of midsummer is hot; and
there they stood and stared on the field of the slain, and knew not
whether they were in Home or Hell, so fierce the fight had been."
Therewith a man of the Beamings, who was riding on the other side of the
Elking, reached out over his horse's neck and said:
"Yea friend, but is there not some telling of a tale concerning how ye
and your fellowship took the great city of the Welshmen of the South, and
dwelt there long."
"Yea," said the Elking, "Hearken how it is told in the South-Welsh Lay:
"'Have ye not heard
Of the ways of Weird?
How the folk fared forth
Far away from the North?
And as light as one wendeth
Whereas the wood endeth,
When of nought is our need,
And none telleth our deed,
So Rodgeir unwearied and Reidfari wan
The town where none tarried the shield-shaking man.
All lonely the street there, and void was the way
And nought hindered our feet but the dead men that lay
Under shield in the lanes of the houses heavens-high,
All the ring-bearing swains that abode there to die.'
"Tells the Lay, that none abode the Goths and their fellowship, but such
as were mighty enough to fall before them, and the rest, both man and
woman, fled away before our folk and before the folk of the Kymry, and
left their town for us to dwell in; as saith the Lay:
"'Glistening of gold
Did men's eyen behold;
Shook the pale sword
O'er the unspoken word,
No man drew nigh us
With weapon to try us,
For the Welsh-wrought shield
Lay low on the field.
By man's hand unbuilded all seemed there to be,
The walls ruddy gilded, the pearls of the sea:
Yea all things were dead there save pillar and wall,
But _they_ lived and _they_ said us the song of the hall;
The dear hall left to perish by men of the land,
For the Goth-folk to cherish with gold gaining hand.'
"See ye how the Lay tells that the hall was bolder than the men, who fled
from it, and left all for our fellowship to deal with in the days gone
by?"
Said the Wolfing man:
"And as it was once, so shall it be again. Maybe we shall go far on this
journey, and see at least one of the garths of the Southlands, even those
which they call cities. For I have heard it said that they have more
cities than one only, and that so great are their kindreds, that each
liveth in a garth full of mighty houses, with a wall of stone and lime
around it; and that in every one of these garths lieth wealth untold
heaped up. And wherefore should not all this fall to the Markmen and
their valiancy?"
Said the Elking:
"As to their many cities and the wealth of them, that is sooth; but as to
each city being the habitation of each kindred, it is otherwise: for
rather it may be said of them that they have forgotten kindred, and have
none, nor do they heed whom they wed, and great is the confusion amongst
them. And mighty men among them ordain where they shall dwell, and what
shall be their meat, and how long they shall labour after they are weary,
and in all wise what manner of life shall be amongst them; and though
they be called free men who suffer this, yet may no house or kindred
gainsay this rule and order. In sooth they are a people mighty, but
unhappy."
Said Wolfkettle:
"And hast thou learned all this from the ancient story lays, O Hiarandi?
For some of them I know, though not all, and therein have I noted nothing
of all this. Is there some new minstrel arisen in thine House of a
memory excelling all those that have gone before? If that be so, I bid
him to the Roof of the Wolfings as soon as may be; for we lack new
tales."
"Nay," said Hiarandi, "This that I tell thee is not a tale of past days,
but a tale of to-day. For there came to us a man from out of the wild-
wood, and prayed us peace, and we gave it him; and he told us that he was
of a House of the Gael, and that his House had been in a great battle
against these Welshmen, whom he calleth the Romans; and that he was taken
in the battle, and sold as a thrall in one of their garths; and howbeit,
it was not their master-garth, yet there he learned of their customs: and
sore was the lesson! Hard was his life amongst them, for their thralls
be not so well entreated as their draught-beasts, so many do they take in
battle; for they are a mighty folk; and these thralls and those aforesaid
unhappy freemen do all tilling and herding and all deeds of
craftsmanship: and above these are men whom they call masters and lords
who do nought, nay not so much as smithy their own edge-weapons, but
linger out their days in their dwellings and out of their dwellings,
lying about in the sun or the hall-cinders, like cur-dogs who have fallen
away from kind.
"So this man made a shift to flee away from out of that garth, since it
was not far from the great river; and being a valiant man, and young and
mighty of body, he escaped all perils and came to us through the
Mirkwood. But we saw that he was no liar, and had been very evilly
handled, for upon his body was the mark of many a stripe, and of the
shackles that had been soldered on to his limbs; also it was more than
one of these accursed people whom he had slain when he fled. So he
became our guest and we loved him, and he dwelt among us and yet
dwelleth, for we have taken him into our House. But yesterday he was
sick and might not ride with us; but may be he will follow on and catch
up with us in a day or two. And if he come not, then will I bring him
over to the Wolfings when the battle is done."
Then laughed the Beaming man, and spake:
"How then if ye come not back, nor Wolfkettle, nor the Welsh Guest, nor I
myself? Meseemeth no one of these Southland Cities shall we behold, and
no more of the Southlanders than their war-array."
"These are evil words," said Wolfkettle, "though such an outcome must be
thought on. But why deemest thou this?"
Said the Beaming: "There is no Hall-Sun sitting under our Roof at home to
tell true tales concerning the Kindred every day. Yet forsooth from time
to time is a word said in our Folk-hall for good or for evil; and who can
choose but hearken thereto? And yestereve was a woeful word spoken, and
that by a man-child of ten winters."
Said the Elking: "Now that thou hast told us thus much, thou must tell us
more, yea, all the word which was spoken; else belike we shall deem of it
as worse than it was."
Said the Beaming: "Thus it was; this little lad brake out weeping
yestereve, when the Hall was full and feasting; and he wailed, and roared
out, as children do, and would not be pacified, and when he was asked why
he made that to do, he said: 'Well away! Raven hath promised to make me
a clay horse and to bake it in the kiln with the pots next week; and now
he goeth to the war, and he shall never come back, and never shall my
horse be made.' Thereat we all laughed as ye may well deem. But the lad
made a sour countenance on us and said, 'why do ye laugh? look yonder,
what see ye?' 'Nay,' said one, 'nought but the Feast-hall wall and the
hangings of the High-tide thereon.' Then said the lad sobbing: 'Ye see
ill: further afield see I: I see a little plain, on a hill top, and fells
beyond it far bigger than our speech-hill: and there on the plain lieth
Raven as white as parchment; and none hath such hue save the dead.' Then
said Raven, (and he was a young man, and was standing thereby). 'And
well is that, swain, to die in harness! Yet hold up thine heart; here is
Gunbert who shall come back and bake thine horse for thee.' 'Nay never
more,' quoth the child, 'For I see his pale head lying at Raven's feet;
but his body with the green gold-broidered kirtle I see not.' Then was
the laughter stilled, and man after man drew near to the child, and
questioned him, and asked, 'dost thou see me?' 'dost thou see me?' And
he failed to see but few of those that asked him. Therefore now
meseemeth that not many of us shall see the cities of the South, and
those few belike shall look on their own shackles therewithal."
"Nay," said Hiarandi, "What is all this? heard ye ever of a company of
fighting men that fared afield, and found the foe, and came back home
leaving none behind them?"
Said the Beaming: "Yet seldom have I heard a child foretell the death of
warriors. I tell thee that hadst thou been there, thou wouldst have
thought of it as if the world were coming to an end."
"Well," said Wolfkettle, "let it be as it may! Yet at least I will not
be led away from the field by the foemen. Oft may a man be hindered of
victory, but never of death if he willeth it."
Therewith he handled a knife that hung about his neck, and went on to
say: "But indeed, I do much marvel that no word came into the mouth of
the Hall-Sun yestereven or this morning, but such as any woman of the
kindred might say."
Therewith fell their talk awhile, and as they rode they came to where the
wood drew nigher to the river, and thus the Mid-mark had an end; for
there was no House had a dwelling in the Mid-mark higher up the water
than the Elkings, save one only, not right great, who mostly fared to war
along with the Elkings: and this was the Oselings, whose banner bore the
image of the Wood-ousel, the black bird with the yellow neb; and they had
just fallen into the company of the greater House.
So now Mid-mark was over and past, and the serried trees of the wood came
down like a wall but a little way from the lip of the water; and
scattered trees, mostly quicken-trees grew here and there on the very
water side. But Mirkwood-water ran deep swift and narrow between high
clean-cloven banks, so that none could dream of fording, and not so many
of swimming its dark green dangerous waters. And the day wore on towards
evening and the glory of the western sky was unseen because of the wall
of high trees. And still the host made on, and because of the narrowness
of the space between river and wood it was strung out longer and looked a
very great company of men. And moreover the men of the eastern-lying
part of Mid-mark, were now marching thick and close on the other side of
the river but a little way from the Wolfings and their fellows; for
nothing but the narrow river sundered them.
So night fell, and the stars shone, and the moon rose, and yet the
Wolfings and their fellows stayed not, since they wotted that behind them
followed a many of the men of the Mark, both the Mid and the Nether, and
they would by no means hinder their march.
So wended the Markmen between wood and stream on either side of Mirkwood-
water, till now at last the night grew deep and the moon set, and it was
hard on midnight, and they had kindled many torches to light them on
either side of the water. So whereas they had come to a place where the
trees gave back somewhat from the river, which was well-grassed for their
horses and neat, and was called Baitmead, the companies on the western
side made stay there till morning. And they drew the wains right up to
the thick of the wood, and all men turned aside into the mead from the
beaten road, so that those who were following after might hold on their
way if so they would. There then they appointed watchers of the night,
while the rest of them lay upon the sward by the side of the trees, and
slept through the short summer night.
The tale tells not that any man dreamed of the fight to come in such wise
that there was much to tell of his dream on the morrow; many dreamed of
no fight or faring to war, but of matters little, and often laughable,
mere mingled memories of bygone time that had no waking wits to marshal
them.
But that man of the Beamings dreamed that he was at home watching a
potter, a man of the thralls of the House working at his wheel, and
fashioning bowls and ewers: and he had a mind to take of his clay and
fashion a horse for the lad that had bemoaned the promise of his toy. And
he tried long and failed to fashion anything; for the clay fell to pieces
in his hands; till at last it held together and grew suddenly, not into
an image of a horse, but of the Great Yule Boar, the similitude of the
Holy Beast of Frey. So he laughed in his sleep and was glad, and leaped
up and drew his sword with his clay-stained hands that he might wave it
over the Earth Boar, and swear a great oath of a doughty deed. And
therewith he found himself standing on his feet indeed, just awakened in
the cold dawn, and holding by his right hand to an ash-sapling that grew
beside him. So he laughed again, and laid him down, and leaned back and
slept his sleep out till the sun and the voices of his fellows stirring
awakened him.
CHAPTER VII--THEY GATHER TO THE FOLK-MOTE
When it was the morning, all the host of the Markmen was astir on either
side of the water, and when they had broken their fast, they got speedily
into array, and were presently on the road again; and the host was now
strung out longer yet, for the space between water and wood once more
diminished till at last it was no wider than ten men might go abreast,
and looking ahead it was as if the wild-wood swallowed up both river and
road.
But the fighting-men hastened on merrily with their hearts raised high,
since they knew that they would soon be falling in with more of their
people, and the coming fight was growing a clearer picture to their eyes;
so from side to side of the river they shouted out the cries of their
Houses, or friend called to friend across the eddies of Mirkwood-water,
and there was game and glee enough.
So they fared till the wood gave way before them, and lo, the beginning
of another plain, somewhat like the Mid-mark. There also the water
widened out before them, and there were eyots in it with stony shores
crowned with willow or with alder, and aspens rising from the midst of
them.
But as for the plain, it was thus much different from Mid-mark, that the
wood which begirt it rose on the south into low hills, and away beyond
them were other hills blue in the distance, for the most bare of wood,
and not right high, the pastures of the wild-bull and the bison, whereas
now dwelt a folk somewhat scattered and feeble; hunters and herdsmen,
with little tillage about their abodes, a folk akin to the Markmen and
allied to them. They had come into those parts later than the Markmen,
as the old tales told; which said moreover that in days gone by a folk
dwelt among those hills who were alien from the Goths, and great foes to
the Markmen; and how that on a time they came down from their hills with
a great host, together with new-comers of their own blood, and made their
way through the wild-wood, and fell upon the Upper-mark; and how that
there befel a fearful battle that endured for three days; and the first
day the Aliens worsted the Markmen, who were but a few, since they were
they of the Upper-mark only. So the Aliens burned their houses and slew
their old men, and drave off many of their women and children; and the
remnant of the men of the Upper-mark with all that they had, which was
now but little, took refuge in an island of Mirkwood-water, where they
fenced themselves as well as they could for that night; for they expected
the succour of their kindred of the Mid-mark and the Nether-mark, unto
whom they had sped the war-arrow when they first had tidings of the onset
of the Aliens.
So at the sun-rising they sacrificed to the Gods twenty chieftains of the
Aliens whom they had taken, and therewithal a maiden of their own
kindred, the daughter of their war-duke, that she might lead that mighty
company to the House of the Gods; and thereto was she nothing loth, but
went right willingly.
There then they awaited the onset. But the men of Mid-mark came up in
the morning, when the battle was but just joined, and fell on so fiercely
that the aliens gave back, and then they of the Upper-mark stormed out of
their eyot, and fell on over the ford, and fought till the water ran red
with their blood, and the blood of the foemen. So the Aliens gave back
before the onset of the Markmen all over the meads; but when they came to
the hillocks and the tofts of the half-burned habitations, and the wood
was on their flank, they made a stand again, and once more the battle
waxed hot, for they were very many, and had many bowmen: there fell the
War-duke of the Markmen, whose daughter had been offered up for victory,
and his name was Agni, so that the tofts where he fell have since been
called Agni's Tofts. So that day they fought all over the plain, and a
great many died, both of the Aliens and the Markmen, and though these
last were victorious, yet when the sun went down there still were the
Aliens abiding in the Upper-mark, fenced by their wain-burg, beaten, and
much diminished in number, but still a host of men: while of the Markmen
many had fallen, and many more were hurt, because the Aliens were good
bowmen.
But on the morrow again, as the old tale told, came up the men of the
Nether-mark fresh and unwounded; and so the battle began again on the
southern limit of the Upper-mark where the Aliens had made their wain-
burg. But not long did it endure; for the Markmen fell on so fiercely,
that they stormed over the wain-burg, and slew all before them, and there
was a very great slaughter of the Aliens; so great, tells the old tale,
that never again durst they meet the Markmen in war.
Thus went forth the host of the Markmen, faring along both sides of the
water into the Upper-mark; and on the west side, where went the Wolfings,
the ground now rose by a long slope into a low hill, and when they came
unto the brow thereof, they beheld before them the whole plain of the
Upper-mark, and the dwellings of the kindred therein all girdled about by
the wild-wood; and beyond, the blue hills of the herdsmen, and beyond
them still, a long way aloof, lying like a white cloud on the verge of
the heavens, the snowy tops of the great mountains. And as they looked
down on to the plain they saw it embroidered, as it were, round about the
habitations which lay within ken by crowds of many people, and the
banners of the kindreds and the arms of men; and many a place they saw
named after the ancient battle and that great slaughter of the Aliens.
On their left hand lay the river, and as it now fairly entered with them
into the Upper-mark, it spread out into wide rippling shallows beset with
yet more sandy eyots, amongst which was one much greater, rising amidmost
into a low hill, grassy and bare of tree or bush; and this was the island
whereon the Markmen stood on the first day of the Great Battle, and it
was now called the Island of the Gods.
Thereby was the ford, which was firm and good and changed little from
year to year, so that all Markmen knew it well and it was called
Battleford: thereover now crossed all the eastern companies, footmen and
horsemen, freemen and thralls, wains and banners, with shouting and
laughter, and the noise of horns and the lowing of neat, till all that
plain's end was flooded with the host of the Markmen.
But when the eastern-abiders had crossed, they made no stay, but went
duly ordered about their banners, winding on toward the first of the
abodes on the western side of the water; because it was but a little way
southwest of this that the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark lay; and the
whole Folk was summoned thither when war threatened from the South, just
as it was called to the Thing-stead of the Nether-mark, when the threat
of war came from the North. But the western companies stayed on the brow
of that low hill till all the eastern men were over the river, and on
their way to the Thing-stead, and then they moved on.
So came the Wolfings and their fellows up to the dwellings of the
northernmost kindred, who were called the Daylings, and bore on their
banner the image of the rising sun. Thereabout was the Mark somewhat
more hilly and broken than in the Mid-mark, so that the Great Roof of the
Daylings, which was a very big house, stood on a hillock whose sides had
been cleft down sheer on all sides save one (which was left as a bridge)
by the labour of men, and it was a very defensible place.
Thereon were now gathered round about the Roof all the stay-at-homes of
the kindred, who greeted with joyous cries the men-at-arms as they
passed. Albeit one very old man, who sat in a chair near to the edge of
the sheer hill looking on the war array, when he saw the Wolfing banner
draw near, stood up to gaze on it, and then shook his head sadly, and
sank back again into his chair, and covered his face with his hands: and
when the folk saw that, a silence bred of the coldness of fear fell on
them, for that elder was deemed a foreseeing man.
But as those three fellows, of whose talk of yesterday the tale has told,
drew near and beheld what the old carle did (for they were riding
together this day also) the Beaming man laid his hand on Wolfkettle's
rein and said:
"Lo you, neighbour, if thy Vala hath seen nought, yet hath this old man
seen somewhat, and that somewhat even as the little lad saw it. Many a
mother's son shall fall before the Welshmen."
But Wolfkettle shook his rein free, and his face reddened as of one who
is angry, yet he kept silence, while the Elking said:
"Let be, Toti! for he that lives shall tell the tale to the foreseers,
and shall make them wiser than they are to-day."
Then laughed Toti, as one who would not be thought to be too heedful of
the morrow. But Wolfkettle brake out into speech and rhyme, and said:
"O warriors, the Wolfing kindred shall live or it shall die;
And alive it shall be as the oak-tree when the summer storm goes by;
But dead it shall be as its bole, that they hew for the corner-post
Of some fair and mighty folk-hall, and the roof of a war-fain host."
So therewith they rode their ways past the abode of the Daylings.
Straight to the wood went all the host, and so into it by a wide way
cleft through the thicket, and in some thirty minutes they came thereby
into a great wood-lawn cleared amidst of it by the work of men's hands.
There already was much of the host gathered, sitting or standing in a
great ring round about a space bare of men, where amidmost rose a great
mound raised by men's hands and wrought into steps to be the
sitting-places of the chosen elders and chief men of the kindred; and
atop the mound was flat and smooth save for a turf bench or seat that
went athwart it whereon ten men might sit.
All the wains save the banner-wains had been left behind at the Dayling
abode, nor was any beast there save the holy beasts who drew the banner-
wains and twenty white horses, that stood wreathed about with flowers
within the ring of warriors, and these were for the burnt offering to be
given to the Gods for a happy day of battle. Even the war-horses of the
host they must leave in the wood without the wood-lawn, and all men were
afoot who were there.
For this was the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark, and the holiest place of
the Markmen, and no beast, either neat, sheep, or horse might pasture
there, but was straightway slain and burned if he wandered there; nor
might any man eat therein save at the holy feasts when offerings were
made to the Gods.
So the Wolfings took their place there in the ring of men with the
Elkings on their right hand and the Beamings on their left. And in the
midst of the Wolfing array stood Thiodolf clad in the dwarf-wrought
hauberk: but his head was bare; for he had sworn over the Cup of Renown
that he would fight unhelmed throughout all that trouble, and would bear
no shield in any battle thereof however fierce the onset might be.
Short, and curling close to his head was his black hair, a little
grizzled, so that it looked like rings of hard dark iron: his forehead
was high and smooth, his lips full and red, his eyes steady and
wide-open, and all his face joyous with the thought of the fame of his
deeds, and the coming battle with a foeman whom the Markmen knew not yet.
He was tall and wide-shouldered, but so exceeding well fashioned of all
his limbs and body that he looked no huge man. He was a man well beloved
of women, and children would mostly run to him gladly and play with him.
A most fell warrior was he, whose deeds no man of the Mark could equal,
but blithe of speech even when he was sorrowful of mood, a man that knew
not bitterness of heart: and for all his exceeding might and valiancy, he
was proud and high to no man; so that the very thralls loved him.
He was not abounding in words in the field; nor did he use much the
custom of those days in reviling and defying with words the foe that was
to be smitten with swords.
There were those who had seen him in the field for the first time who
deemed him slack at the work: for he would not always press on with the
foremost, but would hold him a little aback, and while the battle was
young he forbore to smite, and would do nothing but help a kinsman who
was hard pressed, or succour the wounded. So that if men were dealing
with no very hard matter, and their hearts were high and overweening, he
would come home at whiles with unbloodied blade. But no man blamed him
save those who knew him not: for his intent was that the younger men
should win themselves fame, and so raise their courage, and become high-
hearted and stout.
But when the stour was hard, and the battle was broken, and the hearts of
men began to fail them, and doubt fell upon the Markmen, then was he
another man to see: wise, but swift and dangerous, rushing on as if shot
out by some mighty engine: heedful of all, on either side and in front;
running hither and thither as the fight failed and the fire of battle
faltered; his sword so swift and deadly that it was as if he wielded the
very lightening of the heavens: for with the sword it was ever his wont
to fight.
But it must be said that when the foemen turned their backs, and the
chase began, then Thiodolf would nowise withhold his might as in the
early battle, but ever led the chase, and smote on the right hand and on
the left, sparing none, and crying out to the men of the kindred not to
weary in their work, but to fulfil all the hours of their day.
For thuswise would he say and this was a word of his:
"Let us rest to-morrow, fellows, since to-day we have fought amain!
Let not these men we have smitten come aback on our hands again,
And say 'Ye Wolfing warriors, ye have done your work but ill,
Fall to now and do it again, like the craftsman who learneth his
skill.'"
Such then was Thiodolf, and ever was he the chosen leader of the Wolfings
and often the War-duke of the whole Folk.
By his side stood the other chosen leader, whose name was Heriulf; a man
well stricken in years, but very mighty and valiant; wise in war and well
renowned; of few words save in battle, and therein a singer of songs, a
laugher, a joyous man, a merry companion. He was a much bigger man than
Thiodolf; and indeed so huge was his stature, that he seemed to be of the
kindred of the Mountain Giants; and his bodily might went with his
stature, so that no one man might deal with him body to body. His face
was big; his cheek-bones high; his nose like an eagle's neb, his mouth
wide, his chin square and big; his eyes light-grey and fierce under
shaggy eyebrows: his hair white and long.
Such were his raiment and weapons, that he wore a coat of fence of dark
iron scales sewn on to horse-hide, and a dark iron helm fashioned above
his brow into the similitude of the Wolf's head with gaping jaws; and
this he had wrought for himself with his own hands, for he was a good
smith. A round buckler he bore and a huge twibill, which no man of the
kindred could well wield save himself; and it was done both blade and
shaft with knots and runes in gold; and he loved that twibill well, and
called it the Wolf's Sister.
There then stood Heriulf, looking no less than one of the forefathers of
the kindred come back again to the battle of the Wolfings.
He was well-beloved for his wondrous might, and he was no hard man,
though so fell a warrior, and though of few words, as aforesaid, was a
blithe companion to old and young. In numberless battles had he fought,
and men deemed it a wonder that Odin had not taken to him a man so much
after his own heart; and they said it was neighbourly done of the Father
of the Slain to forbear his company so long, and showed how well he loved
the Wolfing House.
For a good while yet came other bands of Markmen into the Thing-stead;
but at last there was an end of their coming. Then the ring of men
opened, and ten warriors of the Daylings made their way through it, and
one of them, the oldest, bore in his hand the War-horn of the Daylings;
for this kindred had charge of the Thing-stead, and of all appertaining
to it. So while his nine fellows stood round about the Speech-Hill, the
old warrior clomb up to the topmost of it, and blew a blast on the horn.
Thereon they who were sitting rose up, and they who were talking each to
each held their peace, and the whole ring drew nigher to the hill, so
that there was a clear space behind them 'twixt them and the wood, and a
space before them between them and the hill, wherein were those nine
warriors, and the horses for the burnt-offering, and the altar of the
Gods; and now were all well within ear-shot of a man speaking amidst the
silence in a clear voice.
But there were gathered of the Markmen to that place some four thousand
men, all chosen warriors and doughty men; and of the thralls and aliens
dwelling with them they were leading two thousand. But not all of the
freemen of the Upper-mark could be at the Thing; for needs must there be
some guard to the passes of the wood toward the south and the hills of
the herdsmen, whereas it was no wise impassable to a wisely led host: so
five hundred men, what of freemen, what of thralls, abode there to guard
the wild-wood; and these looked to have some helping from the hill-men.
Now came an ancient warrior into the space between the men and the wild-
wood holding in his hand a kindled torch; and first he faced due south by
the sun, then, turning, he slowly paced the whole circle going from east
to west, and so on till he had reached the place he started from: then he
dashed the torch to the ground and quenched the fire, and so went his
ways to his own company again.
Then the old Dayling warrior on the mound-top drew his sword, and waved
it flashing in the sun toward the four quarters of the heavens; and
thereafter blew again a blast on the War-horn. Then fell utter silence
on the whole assembly, and the wood was still around them, save here and
there the stamping of a war-horse or the sound of his tugging at the
woodland grass; for there was little resort of birds to the depths of the
thicket, and the summer morning was windless.
CHAPTER VIII--THE FOLK-MOTE OF THE MARKMEN
So the Dayling warrior lifted up his voice and said:
"O kindreds of the Markmen, hearken the words I say;
For no chancehap assembly is gathered here to-day.
The fire hath gone around us in the hands of our very kin,
And twice the horn hath sounded, and the Thing is hallowed in.
Will ye hear or forbear to hearken the tale there is to tell?
There are many mouths to tell it, and a many know it well.
And the tale is this, that the foemen against our kindreds fare
Who eat the meadows desert, and burn the desert bare."
Then sat he down on the turf seat; but there arose a murmur in the
assembly as of men eager to hearken; and without more ado came a man out
of a company of the Upper-mark, and clomb up to the top of the Speech-
Hill, and spoke in a loud voice:
"I am Bork, a man of the Geirings of the Upper-mark: two days ago I and
five others were in the wild-wood a-hunting, and we wended through the
thicket, and came into the land of the hill-folk; and after we had gone a
while we came to a long dale with a brook running through it, and yew-
trees scattered about it and a hazel copse at one end; and by the copse
was a band of men who had women and children with them, and a few neat,
and fewer horses; but sheep were feeding up and down the dale; and they
had made them booths of turf and boughs, and were making ready their
cooking fires, for it was evening. So when they saw us, they ran to
their arms, but we cried out to them in the tongue of the Goths and bade
them peace. Then they came up the bent to us and spake to us in the
Gothic tongue, albeit a little diversely from us; and when we had told
them what and whence we were, they were glad of us, and bade us to them,
and we went, and they entreated us kindly, and made us such cheer as they
might, and gave us mutton to eat, and we gave them venison of the wild-
wood which we had taken, and we abode with them there that night.
"But they told us that they were a house of the folk of the herdsmen, and
that there was war in the land, and that the people thereof were fleeing
before the cruelty of a host of warriors, men of a mighty folk, such as
the earth hath not heard of, who dwell in great cities far to the south;
and how that this host had crossed the mountains, and the Great Water
that runneth from them, and had fallen upon their kindred, and overcome
their fighting-men, and burned their dwellings, slain their elders, and
driven their neat and their sheep, yea, and their women and children in
no better wise than their neat and sheep.
"And they said that they had fled away thus far from their old
habitations, which were a long way to the south, and were now at point to
build them dwellings there in that Dale of the Hazels, and to trust to it
that these Welshmen, whom they called Romans, would not follow so far,
and that if they did, they might betake them to the wild-wood, and let
the thicket cover them, they being so nigh to it.
"Thus they told us; wherefore we sent back one of our fellowship, Birsti
of the Geirings, to tell the tale; and one of the herdsmen folk went with
him, but we ourselves went onward to hear more of these Romans; for the
folk when we asked them, said that they had been in battle against them,
but had fled away for fear of their rumour only. Therefore we went on,
and a young man of this kindred, who named themselves the Hrutings of the
Fell-folk, went along with us. But the others were sore afeard, for all
they had weapons.
"So as we went up the land we found they had told us the very sooth, and
we met divers Houses, and bands, and broken men, who were fleeing from
this trouble, and many of them poor and in misery, having lost their
flocks and herds as well as their roofs; and this last be but little loss
to them, as their dwellings are but poor, and for the most part they have
no tillage. Now of these men, we met not a few who had been in battle
with the Roman host, and much they told us of their might not to be dealt
with, and their mishandling of those whom they took, both men and women;
and at the last we heard true tidings how they had raised them a garth,
and made a stronghold in the midst of the land, as men who meant abiding
there, so that neither might the winter drive them aback, and that they
might be succoured by their people on the other side of the Great River;
to which end they have made other garths, though not so great, on the
road to that water, and all these well and wisely warded by tried men.
For as to the Folks on the other side of the Water, all these lie under
their hand already, what by fraud what by force, and their warriors go
with them to the battle and help them; of whom we met bands now and
again, and fought with them, and took men of them, who told us all this
and much more, over long to tell of here."
He paused and turned about to look on the mighty assembly, and his ears
drank in the long murmur that followed his speaking, and when it had died
out he spake again, but in rhyme:
"Lo thus much of my tidings! But this too it behoveth to tell,
That these masterful men of the cities of the Markmen know full well:
And they wot of the well-grassed meadows, and the acres of the Mark,
And our life amidst of the wild-wood like a candle in the dark;
And they know of our young men's valour and our women's loveliness,
And our tree would they spoil with destruction if its fruit they may
never possess.
For their lust is without a limit, and nought may satiate
Their ravening maw; and their hunger if ye check it turneth to hate,
And the blood-fever burns in their bosoms, and torment and anguish and
woe
O'er the wide field ploughed by the sword-blade for the coming years
they sow;
And ruth is a thing forgotten and all hopes they trample down;
And whatso thing is steadfast, whatso of good renown,
Whatso is fair and lovely, whatso is ancient sooth
In the bloody marl shall they mingle as they laugh for lack of ruth.
Lo the curse of the world cometh hither; for the men that we took in
the land
Said thus, that their host is gathering with many an ordered band
To fall on the wild-wood passes and flood the lovely Mark,
As the river over the meadows upriseth in the dark.
Look to it, O ye kindred! availeth now no word
But the voice of the clashing of iron, and the sword-blade on the
sword."
Therewith he made an end, and deeper and longer was the murmur of the
host of freemen, amidst which Bork gat him down from the Speech-Hill, his
weapons clattering about him, and mingled with the men of his kindred.
Then came forth a man of the kin of the Shieldings of the Upper-mark, and
clomb the mound; and he spake in rhyme from beginning to end; for he was
a minstrel of renown:
"Lo I am a man of the Shieldings and Geirmund is my name;
A half-moon back from the wild-wood out into the hills I came,
And I went alone in my war-gear; for we have affinity
With the Hundings of the Fell-folk, and with them I fain would be;
For I loved a maid of their kindred. Now their dwelling was not far
From the outermost bounds of the Fell-folk, and bold in the battle
they are,
And have met a many people, and held their own abode.
Gay then was the heart within me, as over the hills I rode
And thought of the mirth of to-morrow and the sweet-mouthed Hunding
maid
And their old men wise and merry and their young men unafraid,
And the hall-glee of the Hundings and the healths o'er the guesting
cup.
But as I rode the valley, I saw a smoke go up
O'er the crest of the last of the grass-hills 'twixt me and the
Hunding roof,
And that smoke was black and heavy: so a while I bided aloof,
And drew my girths the tighter, and looked to the arms I bore
And handled my spear for the casting; for my heart misgave me sore,
For nought was that pillar of smoke like the guest-fain cooking-fire.
I lingered in thought for a minute, then turned me to ride up higher,
And as a man most wary up over the bent I rode,
And nigh hid peered o'er the hill-crest adown on the Hunding abode;
And forsooth 'twas the fire wavering all o'er the roof of old,
And all in the garth and about it lay the bodies of the bold;
And bound to a rope amidmost were the women fair and young,
And youths and little children, like the fish on a withy strung
As they lie on the grass for the angler before the beginning of night.
Then the rush of the wrath within me for a while nigh blinded my
sight;
Yet about the cowering war-thralls, short dark-faced men I saw,
Men clad in iron armour, this way and that way draw,
As warriors after the battle are ever wont to do.
Then I knew them for the foemen and their deeds to be I knew,
And I gathered the reins together to ride down the hill amain,
To die with a good stroke stricken and slay ere I was slain.
When lo, on the bent before me rose the head of a brown-faced man,
Well helmed and iron-shielded, who some Welsh speech began
And a short sword brandished against me; then my sight cleared and I
saw
Five others armed in likewise up hill and toward me draw,
And I shook the spear and sped it and clattering on his shield
He fell and rolled o'er smitten toward the garth and the Fell-folk's
field.
"But my heart changed with his falling and the speeding of my stroke,
And I turned my horse; for within me the love of life awoke,
And I spurred, nor heeded the hill-side, but o'er rough and smooth I
rode
Till I heard no chase behind me; then I drew rein and abode.
And down in a dell was I gotten with a thorn-brake in its throat,
And heard but the plover's whistle and the blackbird's broken note
'Mid the thorns; when lo! from a thorn-twig away the blackbird swept,
And out from the brake and towards me a naked man there crept,
And straight I rode up towards him, and knew his face for one
I had seen in the hall of the Hundings ere its happy days were done.
I asked him his tale, but he bade me forthright to bear him away;
So I took him up behind me, and we rode till late in the day,
Toward the cover of the wild-wood, and as swiftly as we might.
But when yet aloof was the thicket and it now was moonless night,
We stayed perforce for a little, and he told me all the tale:
How the aliens came against them, and they fought without avail
Till the Roof o'er their heads was burning and they burst forth on the
foe,
And were hewn down there together; nor yet was the slaughter slow.
But some they saved for thralldom, yea, e'en of the fighting men,
Or to quell them with pains; so they stripped them; and this man
espying just then
Some chance, I mind not whatwise, from the garth fled out and away.
"Now many a thing noteworthy of these aliens did he say,
But this I bid you hearken, lest I wear the time for nought,
That still upon the Markmen and the Mark they set their thought;
For they questioned this man and others through a go-between in words
Of us, and our lands and our chattels, and the number of our swords;
Of the way and the wild-wood passes and the winter and his ways.
Now look to see them shortly; for worn are fifteen days
Since in the garth of the Hundings I saw them dight for war,
And a hardy folk and ready and a swift-foot host they are."
Therewith Geirmund went down clattering from the Hill and stood with his
company. But a man came forth from the other side of the ring, and clomb
the Hill: he was a red-haired man, rather big, clad in a skin coat, and
bearing a bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows at his back, and a
little axe hung by his side. He said:
"I dwell in the House of the Hrossings of the Mid-mark, and I am now made
a man of the kindred: howbeit I was not born into it; for I am the son of
a fair and mighty woman of a folk of the Kymry, who was taken in war
while she went big with me; I am called Fox the Red.
"These Romans have I seen, and have not died: so hearken! for my tale
shall be short for what there is in it.
"I am, as many know, a hunter of Mirkwood, and I know all its ways and
the passes through the thicket somewhat better than most.
"A moon ago I fared afoot from Mid-mark through Upper-mark into the
thicket of the south, and through it into the heath country; and I went
over a neck and came in the early dawn into a little dale when somewhat
of mist still hung over it. At the dale's end I saw a man lying asleep
on the grass under a quicken tree, and his shield and sword hanging over
his head to a bough thereof, and his horse feeding hoppled higher up the
dale.
"I crept up softly to him with a shaft nocked on the string, but when I
drew near I saw him to be of the sons of the Goths. So I doubted
nothing, but laid down my bow, and stood upright, and went to him and
roused him, and he leapt up, and was wroth.
"I said to him, 'Wilt thou be wroth with a brother of the kindred meeting
him in unpeopled parts?'
"But he reached out for his weapons; but ere he could handle them I ran
in on him so that he gat not his sword, and had scant time to smite at me
with a knife which he drew from his waist.
"I gave way before him for he was a very big man, and he rushed past me,
and I dealt him a blow on the side of the head with my little axe which
is called the War-babe, and gave him a great wound: and he fell on the
grass, and as it happened that was his bane.
"I was sorry that I had slain him, since he was a man of the Goths:
albeit otherwise he had slain me, for he was very wroth and dazed with
slumber.
"He died not for a while; and he bade me fetch him water; and there was a
well hard by on the other side of the tree; so I fetched it him in a
great shell that I carry, and he drank. I would have sung the
blood-staunching song over him, for I know it well. But he said, 'It
availeth nought: I have enough: what man art thou?'
"I said, 'I am a fosterling of the Hrossings, and my mother was taken in
war: my name is Fox.'
"Said he; 'O Fox, I have my due at thy hands, for I am a Markman of the
Elkings, but a guest of the Burgundians beyond the Great River; and the
Romans are their masters and they do their bidding: even so did I who was
but their guest: and I a Markman to fight against the Markmen, and all
for fear and for gold! And thou an alien-born hast slain their traitor
and their dastard! This is my due. Give me to drink again.'
"So did I; and he said; 'Wilt thou do an errand for me to thine own
house?' 'Yea,' said I.
"Said he, 'I am a messenger to the garth of the Romans, that I may tell
the road to the Mark, and lead them through the thicket; and other guides
are coming after me: but not yet for three days or four. So till they
come there will be no man in the Roman garth to know thee that thou art
not even I myself. If thou art doughty, strip me when I am dead and do
my raiment on thee, and take this ring from my neck, for that is my
token, and when they ask thee for a word say, "_No limit_"; for that is
the token-word. Go south-east over the dales keeping Broadshield-fell
square with thy right hand, and let thy wisdom, O Fox, lead thee to the
Garth of the Romans, and so back to thy kindred with all tidings thou
hast gathered--for indeed they come--a many of them. Give me to drink.'
"So he drank again, and said, 'The bearer of this token is called
Hrosstyr of the River Goths. He hath that name among dastards. Thou
shalt lay a turf upon my head. Let my death pay for my life.'
"Therewith he fell back and died. So I did as he bade me and took his
gear, worth six kine, and did it on me; I laid turf upon him in that
dale, and hid my bow and my gear in a blackthorn brake hard by, and then
took his horse and rode away.
"Day and night I rode till I came to the garth of the Romans; there I
gave myself up to their watchers, and they brought me to their Duke, a
grim man and hard. He said in a terrible voice, 'Thy name?' I said,
'Hrosstyr of the River Goths.' He said, 'What limit?' I answered, '_No
limit_.' 'The token!' said he, and held out his hand. I gave him the
ring. 'Thou art the man,' said he.
"I thought in my heart, 'thou liest, lord,' and my heart danced for joy.
"Then he fell to asking me questions a many, and I answered every one
glibly enough, and told him what I would, but no word of truth save for
his hurt, and my soul laughed within me at my lies; thought I, the
others, the traitors, shall come, and they shall tell him the truth, and
he will not trow it, or at the worst he will doubt them. But me he
doubted nothing, else had he called in the tormentors to have the truth
of me by pains; as I well saw afterwards, when they questioned with
torments a man and a woman of the hill-folk whom they had brought in
captive.
"I went from him and went all about that garth espying everything,
fearing nothing; albeit there were divers woful captives of the Goths,
who cursed me for a dastard, when they saw by my attire that I was of
their blood.
"I abode there three days, and learned all that I might of the garth and
the host of them, and the fourth day in the morning I went out as if to
hunt, and none hindered me, for they doubted me not.
"So I came my ways home to the Upper-mark, and was guested with the
Geirings. Will ye that I tell you somewhat of the ways of these Romans
of the garth? The time presses, and my tale runneth longer than I would.
What will ye?"
Then there arose a murmur, "Tell all, tell all." "Nay," said the Fox,
"All I may not tell; so much did I behold there during the three days'
stay; but this much it behoveth you to know: that these men have no other
thought save to win the Mark and waste it, and slay the fighting men and
the old carles, and enthrall such as they will, that is, all that be fair
and young, and they long sorely for our women either to have or to sell.
"As for their garth, it is strongly walled about with a dyke newly dug;
on the top thereof are they building a wall made of clay, and burned like
pots into ashlar stones hard and red, and these are laid in lime.
"It is now the toil of the thralls of our blood whom they have taken,
both men and women, to dig that clay and to work it, and bear it to
kilns, and to have for reward scant meat and many stripes. For it is a
grim folk, that laugheth to see others weep.
"Their men-at-arms are well dight and for the most part in one way: they
are helmed with iron, and have iron on their breasts and reins, and bear
long shields that cover them to the knees. They are girt with a sax and
have a heavy casting-spear. They are dark-skinned and ugly of aspect,
surly and of few words: they drink little, and eat not much.
"They have captains of tens and of hundreds over them, and that war-duke
over all; he goeth to and fro with gold on his head and his breast, and
commonly hath a cloak cast over him of the colour of the crane's-bill
blossom.
"They have an altar in the midst of their burg, and thereon they
sacrifice to their God, who is none other than their banner of war, which
is an image of the ravening eagle with outspread wings; but yet another
God they have, and look you! it is a wolf, as if they were of the kin of
our brethren; a she-wolf and two man-children at her dugs; wonderful is
this.
"I tell you that they are grim; and know it by this token: those captains
of tens, and of hundreds, spare not to smite the warriors with staves
even before all men, when all goeth not as they would; and yet, though
they be free men, and mighty warriors, they endure it and smite not in
turn. They are a most evil folk.
"As to their numbers, they of the burg are hard on three thousand footmen
of the best; and of horsemen five hundred, nowise good; and of bowmen and
slingers six hundred or more: their bows weak; their slingers cunning
beyond measure. And the talk is that when they come upon us they shall
have with them some five hundred warriors of the Over River Goths, and
others of their own folk."
Then he said:
"O men of the Mark, will ye meet them in the meadows and the field,
Or will ye flee before them and have the wood for a shield?
Or will ye wend to their war-burg with weapons cast away,
With your women and your children, a peace of them to pray?
So doing, not all shall perish; but most shall long to die
Ere in the garths of the Southland two moons have loitered by."
Then rose the rumour loud and angry mingled with the rattle of swords and
the clash of spears on shields; but Fox said:
"Needs must ye follow one of these three ways. Nay, what say I? there
are but two ways and not three; for if ye flee they shall follow you to
the confines of the earth. Either these Welsh shall take all, and our
lives to boot, or we shall hold to all that is ours, and live merrily.
The sword doometh; and in three days it may be the courts shall be
hallowed: small is the space between us."
Therewith he also got him down from the Hill, and joined his own house:
and men said that he had spoken well and wisely. But there arose a noise
of men talking together on these tidings; and amidst it an old warrior of
the Nether-mark strode forth and up to the Hill-top. Gaunt and stark he
was to look on; and all men knew him and he was well-beloved, so all held
their peace as he said:
"I am Otter of the Laxings: now needeth but few words till the War-duke
is chosen, and we get ready to wend our ways in arms. Here have ye heard
three good men and true tell of our foes, and this last, Fox the Red,
hath seen them and hath more to tell when we are on the way; nor is the
way hard to find. It were scarce well to fall upon these men in their
garth and war-burg; for hard is a wall to slay. Better it were to meet
them in the Wild-wood, which may well be a friend to us and a wall, but
to them a net. O Agni of the Daylings, thou warder of the Thing-stead,
bid men choose a War-duke if none gainsay it."
And without more words he clattered down the Hill, and went and stood
with the Laxing band. But the old Dayling arose and blew the horn, and
there was at once a great silence, amidst which he said:
"Children of Slains-father, doth the Folk go to the war?"
There was no voice but shouted "yea," and the white swords sprang aloft,
and the westering sun swept along a half of them as they tossed to and
fro, and the others showed dead-white and fireless against the dark wood.
Then again spake Agni:
"Will ye choose the War-duke now and once, or shall it be in a while,
after others have spoken?"
And the voice of the Folk went up, "Choose! Choose!"
Said Agni: "Sayeth any aught against it?" But no voice of a gainsayer
was heard, and Agni said:
"Children of Tyr, what man will ye have for a leader and a duke of war?"
Then a great shout sprang up from amidst the swords: "We will have
Thiodolf; Thiodolf the Wolfing!"
Said Agni: "I hear no other name; are ye of one mind? hath any aught to
say against it? If that be so, let him speak now, and not forbear to
follow in the wheatfield of the spears. Speak, ye that will not follow
Thiodolf!"
No voice gainsaid him: then said the Dayling: "Come forth thou War-duke
of the Markmen! take up the gold ring from the horns of the altar, set it
on thine arm and come up hither!"
Then came forth Thiodolf into the sun, and took up the gold ring from
where it lay, and did it on his arm. And this was the ring of the leader
of the folk whenso one should be chosen: it was ancient and daintily
wrought, but not very heavy: so ancient it was that men said it had been
wrought by the dwarfs.
So Thiodolf went up on to the hill, and all men cried out on him for joy,
for they knew his wisdom in war. Many wondered to see him unhelmed, but
they had a deeming that he must have made oath to the Gods thereof and
their hearts were glad of it. They took note of the dwarf-wrought
hauberk, and even from a good way off they could see what a treasure of
smith's work it was, and they deemed it like enough that spells had been
sung over it to make it sure against point and edge: for they knew that
Thiodolf was well beloved of the Gods.
But when Thiodolf was on the Hill of Speech, he said:
"Men of the kindreds, I am your War-duke to-day; but it is oftenest the
custom when ye go to war to choose you two dukes, and I would it were so
now. No child's play is the work that lies before us; and if one leader
chance to fall let there be another to take his place without stop or
stay. Thou Agni of the Daylings, bid the Folk choose them another duke
if so they will."
Said Agni: "Good is this which our War-duke hath spoken; say then, men of
the Mark, who shall stand with Thiodolf to lead you against the aliens?"
Then was there a noise and a crying of names, and more than two names
seemed to be cried out; but by far the greater part named either Otter of
the Laxings, or Heriulf of the Wolfings. True it is that Otter was a
very wise warrior, and well known to all the men of the Mark; yet so dear
was Heriulf to them, that none would have named Otter had it not been
mostly their custom not to choose both War-dukes from one House.
Now spake Agni: "Children of Tyr, I hear you name more than one name: now
let each man cry out clearly the name he nameth."
So the Folk cried the names once more, but this time it was clear that
none was named save Otter and Heriulf; so the Dayling was at point to
speak again, but or ever a word left his lips, Heriulf the mighty, the
ancient of days, stood forth: and when men saw that he would take up the
word there was a great silence. So he spake:
"Hearken, children! I am old and war-wise; but my wisdom is the wisdom
of the sword of the mighty warrior, that knoweth which way it should
wend, and hath no thought of turning back till it lieth broken in the
field. Such wisdom is good against Folks that we have met heretofore; as
when we have fought with the Huns, who would sweep us away from the face
of the earth, or with the Franks or the Burgundians, who would quell us
into being something worser than they be. But here is a new foe, and new
wisdom, and that right shifty, do we need to meet them. One wise duke
have ye gotten, Thiodolf to wit; and he is young beside me and beside
Otter of the Laxings. And now if ye must needs have an older man to
stand beside him, (and that is not ill) take ye Otter; for old though his
body be, the thought within him is keen and supple like the best of Welsh-
wrought blades, and it liveth in the days that now are: whereas for me,
meseemeth, my thoughts are in the days bygone. Yet look to it, that I
shall not fail to lead as the sword of the valiant leadeth, or the shaft
shot by the cunning archer. Choose ye Otter; I have spoken over long."
Then spoke Agni the Dayling, and laughed withal: "One man of the Folk
hath spoken for Otter and against Heriulf--now let others speak if they
will!"
So the cry came forth, "Otter let it be, we will have Otter!"
"Speaketh any against Otter?" said Agni. But there was no voice raised
against him.
Then Agni said: "Come forth, Otter of the Laxings, and hold the ring with
Thiodolf."
Then Otter went up on to the hill and stood by Thiodolf, and they held
the ring together; and then each thrust his hand and arm through the ring
and clasped hands together, and stood thus awhile, and all the Folk
shouted together.
Then spake Agni: "Now shall we hew the horses and give the gifts to the
Gods."
Therewith he and the two War-dukes came down from the hill; and stood
before the altar; and the nine warriors of the Daylings stood forth with
axes to hew the horses and with copper bowls wherein to catch the blood
of them, and each hewed down his horse to the Gods, but the two War-dukes
slew the tenth and fairest: and the blood was caught in the bowls, and
Agni took a sprinkler and went round about the ring of men, and cast the
blood of the Gods'-gifts over the Folk, as was the custom of those days.
Then they cut up the carcases and burned on the altar the share of the
Gods, and Agni and the War-dukes tasted thereof, and the rest they bore
off to the Daylings' abode for the feast to be holden that night.
Then Otter and Thiodolf spake apart together for awhile, and presently
went up again on to the Speech-Hill, and Thiodolf said:
"O kindreds of the Markmen; to-morrow with the day
We shall wend up Mirkwood-water to bar our foes the way;
And there shall we make our wain-burg on the edges of the wood,
Where in the days past over at last the aliens stood,
The Slaughter Tofts ye call it. There tidings shall we get
If the curse of the world is awakened, and the serpent crawleth yet
Amidst the Mirkwood thicket; and when the sooth we know,
Then bearing battle with us through the thicket shall we go,
The ancient Wood-wolf's children, and the People of the Shield,
And the Spear-kin and the Horse-kin, while the others keep the field
About the warded wain-burg; for not many need we there
Where amidst of the thickets' tangle and the woodland net they fare,
And the hearts of the aliens falter and they curse the fight ne'er
done,
And wonder who is fighting and which way is the sun."
Thus he spoke; then Agni took up the war-horn again, and blew a blast,
and then he cried out:
"Now sunder we the Folk-mote! and the feast is for to-night,
And to-morrow the Wayfaring; But unnamed is the day of the fight;
O warriors, look ye to it that not long we need abide
'Twixt the hour of the word we have spoken, and our fair-fame's
blooming tide!
For then 'midst the toil and the turmoil shall we sow the seeds of
peace,
And the Kindreds' long endurance, and the Goth-folk's great increase."
Then arose the last great shout, and soberly and in due order, kindred by
kindred, they turned and departed from the Thing-stead and went their way
through the wood to the abode of the Daylings.
CHAPTER IX--THE ANCIENT MAN OF THE DAYLINGS
There still hung the more part of the stay-at-homes round about the Roof.
But on the plain beneath the tofts were all the wains of the host drawn
up round about a square like the streets about a market-place; all these
now had their tilts rigged over them, some white, some black, some red,
some tawny of hue; and some, which were of the Beamings, green like the
leafy tree.
The warriors of the host went down into this wain-town, which they had
not fenced in any way, since they in no wise looked for any onset there;
and there were their thralls dighting the feast for them, and a many of
the Dayling kindred, both men and women, went with them; but some men did
the Daylings bring into their Roof, for there was room for a good many
besides their own folk. So they went over the Bridge of turf into the
garth and into the Great Roof of the Daylings; and amongst these were the
two War-dukes.
So when they came to the dais it was as fair all round about there as
might well be; and there sat elders and ancient warriors to welcome the
guests; and among them was the old carle who had sat on the edge of the
burg to watch the faring of the host, and had shuddered back at the sight
of the Wolfing Banner.
And when the old carle saw the guests, he fixed his eyes on Thiodolf, and
presently came up and stood before him; and Thiodolf looked on the old
man, and greeted him kindly and smiled on him; but the carle spake not
till he had looked on him a while; and at last he fell a-trembling, and
reached his hands out to Thiodolf's bare head, and handled his curls and
caressed them, as a mother does with her son, even if he be a grizzled-
haired man, when there is none by: and at last he said:
"How dear is the head of the mighty, and the apple of the tree
That blooms with the life of the people which is and yet shall be!
It is helmed with ancient wisdom, and the long remembered thought,
That liveth when dead is the iron, and its very rust but nought.
Ah! were I but young as aforetime, I would fare to the battle-stead
And stand amidst of the spear-hail for the praise of the hand and the
head!"
Then his hands left Thiodolf's head, and strayed down to his shoulders
and his breast, and he felt the cold rings of the hauberk, and let his
hands fall down to his side again; and the tears gushed out of his old
eyes and again he spake:
"O house of the heart of the mighty, O breast of the battle-lord
Why art thou coldly hidden from the flickering flame of the sword?
I know thee not, nor see thee; thou art as the fells afar
Where the Fathers have their dwelling, and the halls of Godhome are:
The wind blows wild betwixt us, and the cloud-rack flies along,
And high aloft enfoldeth the dwelling of the strong;
They are, as of old they have been, but their hearths flame not for
me;
And the kindness of their feast-halls mine eyes shall never see."
Thiodolf's lips still smiled on the old man, but a shadow had come over
his eyes and his brow; and the chief of the Daylings and their mighty
guests stood by listening intently with the knit brows of anxious men;
nor did any speak till the ancient man again betook him to words:
"I came to the house of the foeman when hunger made me a fool;
And the foeman said, 'Thou art weary, lo, set thy foot on the stool;'
And I stretched out my feet,--and was shackled: and he spake with a
dastard's smile,
'O guest, thine hands are heavy; now rest them for a while!'
So I stretched out my hands, and the hand-gyves lay cold on either
wrist:
And the wood of the wolf had been better than that feast-hall, had I
wist
That this was the ancient pit-fall, and the long expected trap,
And that now for my heart's desire I had sold the world's goodhap."
Therewith the ancient man turned slowly away from Thiodolf, and departed
sadly to his own place. Thiodolf changed countenance but little, albeit
those about him looked strangely on him, as though if they durst they
would ask him what these words might be, and if he from his hidden
knowledge might fit a meaning to them. For to many there was a word of
warning in them, and to some an evil omen of the days soon to be; and
scarce anyone heard those words but he had a misgiving in his heart, for
the ancient man was known to be foreseeing, and wild and strange his
words seemed to them.
But Agni would make light of it, and he said: "Asmund the Old is of good
will, and wise he is; but he hath great longings for the deeds of men,
when he hath tidings of battle; for a great warrior and a red-hand hewer
he hath been in times past; he loves the Kindred, and deems it ill if he
may not fare afield with them; for the thought of dying in the straw is
hateful to him."
"Yea," said another, "and moreover he hath seen sons whom he loved slain
in battle; and when he seeth a warrior in his prime he becometh dear to
him, and he feareth for him."
"Yet," said a third, "Asmund is foreseeing; and may be, Thiodolf, thou
wilt wot of the drift of these words, and tell us thereof."
But Thiodolf spake nought of the matter, though in his heart he pondered
it.
So the guests were led to table, and the feast began, within the hall and
without it, and wide about the plain; and the Dayling maidens went in
bands trimly decked out throughout all the host and served the warriors
with meat and drink, and sang the overword to their lays, and smote the
harp, and drew the bow over the fiddle till it laughed and wailed and
chuckled, and were blithe and merry with all, and great was the glee on
the eve of battle. And if Thiodolf's heart were overcast, his face
showed it not, but he passed from hall to wain-burg and from wain-burg to
hall again blithe and joyous with all men. And thereby he raised the
hearts of men, and they deemed it good that they had gotten such a War-
duke, meet to uphold all hearts of men both at the feast and in the fray.
CHAPTER X--THAT CARLINE COMETH TO THE ROOF OF THE WOLFINGS
Now it was three days after this that the women were gathering to the
Women's-Chamber of the Roof of the Wolfings a little before the afternoon
changes into evening. The hearts of most were somewhat heavy, for the
doubt wherewith they had watched the departure of the fighting-men still
hung about them; nor had they any tidings from the host (nor was it like
that they should have). And as they were somewhat down-hearted, so it
seemed by the aspect of all things that afternoon. It was not yet the
evening, as is aforesaid, but the day was worn and worsened, and all
things looked weary. The sky was a little clouded, but not much; yet was
it murky down in the south-east, and there was a threat of storm in it,
and in the air close round each man's head, and in the very waving of the
leafy boughs. There was by this time little doing in field and fold (for
the kine were milked), and the women were coming up from the acres and
the meadow and over the open ground anigh the Roof; there was the grass
worn and dusty, and the women that trod it, their feet were tanned and
worn, and dusty also; skin-dry and weary they looked, with the sweat
dried upon them; their girt-up gowns grey and lightless, their
half-unbound hair blowing about them in the dry wind, which had in it no
morning freshness, and no evening coolness.
It was a time when toil was well-nigh done, but had left its aching
behind it; a time for folk to sleep and forget for a little while, till
the low sun should make it evening, and make all things fair with his
level rays; no time for anxious thoughts concerning deeds doing, wherein
the anxious ones could do nought to help. Yet such thoughts those stay-
at-homes needs must have in the hour of their toil scarce over, their
rest and mirth not begun.
Slowly one by one the women went in by the Women's-door, and the Hall-Sun
sat on a stone hard by, and watched them as they passed; and she looked
keenly at all persons and all things. She had been working in the acres,
and her hand was yet on the hoe she had been using, and but for her face
her body was as of one resting after toil: her dark blue gown was
ungirded, her dark hair loose and floating, the flowers that had wreathed
it, now faded, lying strewn upon the grass before her: her feet bare for
coolness' sake, her left hand lying loose and open upon her knee.
Yet though her body otherwise looked thus listless, in her face was no
listlessness, nor rest: her eyes were alert and clear, shining like two
stars in the heavens of dawn-tide; her lips were set close, her brow
knit, as of one striving to shape thoughts hard to understand into words
that all might understand.
So she sat noting all things, as woman by woman went past her into the
hall, till at last she slowly rose to her feet; for there came two young
women leading between them that same old carline with whom she had talked
on the Hill-of-Speech. She looked on the carline steadfastly, but gave
no token of knowing her; but the ancient woman spoke when she came near
to the Hall-Sun, and old as her semblance was, yet did her speech sound
sweet to the Hall-Sun, and indeed to all those that heard it and she
said:
"May we be here to-night, O Hall-Sun, thou lovely Seeress of the mighty
Wolfings? may a wandering woman sit amongst you and eat the meat of the
Wolfings?"
Then spake the Hall-Sun in a sweet measured voice: "Surely mother: all
men who bring peace with them are welcome guests to the Wolfings: nor
will any ask thine errand, but we will let thy tidings flow from thee as
thou wilt. This is the custom of the kindred, and no word of mine own; I
speak to thee because thou hast spoken to me, but I have no authority
here, being myself but an alien. Albeit I serve the House of the
Wolfings, and I love it as the hound loveth his master who feedeth him,
and his master's children who play with him. Enter, mother, and be glad
of heart, and put away care from thee."
Then the old woman drew nigher to her and sat down in the dust at her
feet, for she was now sitting down again, and took her hand and kissed it
and fondled it, and seemed loth to leave handling the beauty of the Hall-
Sun; but she looked kindly on the carline, and smiled on her, and leaned
down to her, and kissed her mouth, and said:
"Damsels, take care of this poor woman, and make her good cheer; for she
is wise of wit, and a friend of the Wolfings; and I have seen her before,
and spoken with her; and she loveth us. But as for me I must needs be
alone in the meads for a while; and it may be that when I come to you
again, I shall have a word to tell you."
Now indeed it was in a manner true that the Hall-Sun had no authority in
the Wolfing House; yet was she so well beloved for her wisdom and beauty
and her sweet speech, that all hastened to do her will in small matters
and in great, and now as they looked at her after the old woman had
caressed her, it seemed to them that her fairness grew under their eyes,
and that they had never seen her so fair; and the sight of her seemed so
good to them, that the outworn day and its weariness changed to them, and
it grew as pleasant as the first hours of the sunlight, when men arise
happy from their rest, and look on the day that lieth hopeful before them
with all its deeds to be.
So they grew merry, and they led the carline into the Hall with them, and
set her down in the Women's-Chamber, and washed her feet, and gave her
meat and drink, and bade her rest and think of nothing troublous, and in
all wise made her good cheer; and she was merry with them, and praised
their fairness and their deftness, and asked them many questions about
their weaving and spinning and carding; (howbeit the looms were idle as
then because it was midsummer, and the men gone to the war). And this
they deemed strange, as it seemed to them that all women should know of
such things; but they thought it was a token that she came from far away.
But afterwards she sat among them, and told them pleasant tales of past
times and far countries, and was blithe to them and they to her and the
time wore on toward nightfall in the Women's-Chamber.
CHAPTER XI--THE HALL-SUN SPEAKETH
But for the Hall-Sun; she sat long on that stone by the Women's-door; but
when the evening was now come, she arose and went down through the
cornfields and into the meadow, and wandered away as her feet took her.
Night was falling by then she reached that pool of Mirkwood-water, whose
eddies she knew so well. There she let the water cover her in the deep
stream, and she floated down and sported with the ripples where the river
left that deep to race over the shallows; and the moon was casting
shadows by then she came up the bank again by the shallow end bearing in
her arms a bundle of the blue-flowering mouse-ear. Then she clad herself
at once, and went straight as one with a set purpose toward the Great
Roof, and entered by the Man's-door; and there were few men within and
they but old and heavy with the burden of years and the coming of night-
tide; but they wondered and looked to each other and nodded their heads
as she passed them by, as men who would say, There is something toward.
So she went to her sleeping-place, and did on fresh raiment, and came
forth presently clad in white and shod with gold and having her hair
wreathed about with the herb of wonder, the blue-flowering mouse-ear of
Mirkwood-water. Thus she passed through the Hall, and those elders were
stirred in their hearts when they beheld her beauty. But she opened the
door of the Women's-Chamber, and stood on the threshold; and lo, there
sat the carline amidst a ring of the Wolfing women, and she telling them
tales of old time such as they had not yet heard; and her eyes were
glittering, and the sweet words were flowing from her mouth; but she sat
straight up like a young woman; and at whiles it seemed to those who
hearkened, that she was no old and outworn woman, but fair and strong,
and of much avail. But when she heard the Hall-Sun she turned and saw
her on the threshold, and her speech fell suddenly, and all that might
and briskness faded from her, and she fixed her eyes on the Hall-Sun and
looked wistfully and anxiously on her.
Then spake the Hall-Sun standing in the doorway:
"Hear ye a matter, maidens, and ye Wolfing women all,
And thou alien guest of the Wolfings! But come ye up the hall,
That the ancient men may hearken: for methinks I have a word
Of the battle of the Kindreds, and the harvest of the sword."
Then all arose up with great joy, for they knew that the tidings were
good, when they looked on the face of the Hall-Sun and beheld the pride
of her beauty unmarred by doubt or pain.
She led them forth to the dais, and there were the sick and the elders
gathered and some ancient men of the thralls: so she stepped lightly up
to her place, and stood under her namesake, the wondrous lamp of ancient
days. And thus she spake:
"On my soul there lies no burden, and no tangle of the fight
In plain or dale or wild-wood enmeshes now my sight.
I see the Markmen's wain-burg, and I see their warriors go
As men who wait for battle and the coming of the foe.
And they pass 'twixt the wood and the wain-burg within earshot of the
horn,
But over the windy meadows no sound thereof is borne,
And all is well amongst them. To the burg I draw anigh
And I see all battle-banners in the breeze of morning fly,
But no Wolfings round their banner and no warrior of the Shield,
No Geiring and no Hrossing in the burg or on the field."
She held her peace for a little while, and no one dared to speak; then
she lifted up her head and spake:
"Now I go by the lip of the wild-wood and a sound withal I hear,
As of men in the paths of the thicket, and a many drawing anear.
Then, muffled yet by the tree-boles, I hear the Shielding song,
And warriors blithe and merry with the battle of the strong.
Give back a little, Markmen, make way for men to pass
To your ordered battle-dwelling o'er the trodden meadow-grass,
For alive with men is the wild-wood and shineth with the steel,
And hath a voice most merry to tell of the Kindreds' weal,
'Twixt each tree a warrior standeth come back from the spear-strewn
way,
And forth they come from the wild-wood and a little band are they."
Then again was she silent; but her head sank not, as of one thinking, as
before it did, but she looked straight forward with bright eyes and
smiling, as she said:
"Lo, now the guests they are bringing that ye have not seen before;
Yet guests but ill-entreated; for they lack their shields of war,
No spear in the hand they carry and with no sax are girt.
Lo, these are the dreaded foemen, these once so strong to hurt;
The men that all folk fled from, the swift to drive the spoil,
The men that fashioned nothing but the trap to make men toil.
They drew the sword in the cities, they came and struck the stroke
And smote the shield of the Markmen, and point and edge they broke.
They drew the sword in the war-garth, they swore to bring aback
God's gifts from the Markmen houses where the tables never lack.
O Markmen, take the God-gifts that came on their own feet
O'er the hills through the Mirkwood thicket the Stone of Tyr to meet!"
Again she stayed her song, which had been loud and joyous, and they who
heard her knew that the Kindreds had gained the day, and whilst the Hall-
Sun was silent they fell to talking of this fair day of battle and the
taking of captives. But presently she spread out her hands again and
they held their peace, and she said:
"I see, O Wolfing women, and many a thing I see,
But not all things, O elders, this eve shall ye learn of me,
For another mouth there cometh: the thicket I behold
And the Sons of Tyr amidst it, and I see the oak-trees old,
And the war-shout ringing round them; and I see the battle-lord
Unhelmed amidst of the mighty; and I see his leaping sword;
Strokes struck and warriors falling, and the streaks of spears I see,
But hereof shall the other tell you who speaketh after me.
For none other than the Shieldings from out the wood have come,
And they shift the turn with the Daylings to drive the folk-spear
home,
And to follow with the Wolfings and thrust the war-beast forth.
And so good men deem the tidings that they bid them journey north
On the feet of a Shielding runner, that Gisli hath to name;
And west of the water he wendeth by the way that the Wolfings came;
Now for sleep he tarries never, and no meat is in his mouth
Till the first of the Houses hearkeneth the tidings of the south;
Lo, he speaks, and the mead-sea sippeth, and the bread by the way doth
eat,
And over the Geiring threshold and outward pass his feet;
And he breasts the Burg of the Daylings and saith his happy word,
And stayeth to drink for a minute of the waves of Battleford.
Lone then by the stream he runneth, and wendeth the wild-wood road,
And dasheth through the hazels of the Oselings' fair abode,
And the Elking women know it, and their hearts are glad once more,
And ye--yea, hearken, Wolfings, for his feet are at the door."
CHAPTER XII--TIDINGS OF THE BATTLE IN MIRKWOOD
As the Hall-Sun made an end they heard in good sooth the feet of the
runner on the hard ground without the hall, and presently the door opened
and he came leaping over the threshold, and up to the table, and stood
leaning on it with one hand, his breast heaving with his last swift run.
Then he spake presently:
"I am Gisli of the Shieldings: Otter sendeth me to the Hall-Sun; but on
the way I was to tell tidings to the Houses west of the Water: so have I
done. Now is my journey ended; for Otter saith: 'Let the Hall-Sun note
the tidings and send word of them by four of the lightest limbed of the
women, or by lads a-horseback, both west and east of the Water; let her
send the word as it seemeth to her, whether she hath seen it or not. I
will drink a short draught since my running is over."
Then a damsel brought him a horn of mead and let it come into his hand,
and he drank sighing with pleasure, while the damsel for pleasure of him
and his tidings laid her hand on his shoulder. Then he set down the horn
and spake:
"We, the Shieldings, with the Geirings, the Hrossings, and the Wolfings,
three hundred warriors and more, were led into the Wood by Thiodolf the
War-duke, beside whom went Fox, who hath seen the Romans. We were all
afoot; for there is no wide way through the Wood, nor would we have it
otherwise, lest the foe find the thicket easy. But many of us know the
thicket and its ways; so we made not the easy hard. I was near the War-
duke, for I know the thicket and am light-foot: I am a bowman. I saw
Thiodolf that he was unhelmed and bore no shield, nor had he any coat of
fence; nought but a deer-skin frock."
As he said that word, the carline, who had drawn very near to him and was
looking hard at his face, turned and looked on the Hall-Sun and stared at
her till she reddened under those keen eyes: for in her heart began to
gather some knowledge of the tale of her mother and what her will was.
But Gisli went on: "Yet by his side was his mighty sword, and we all knew
it for Throng-plough, and were glad of it and of him and the unfenced
breast of the dauntless. Six hours we went spreading wide through the
thicket, not always seeing one another, but knowing one another to be
nigh; those that knew the thicket best led, the others followed on. So
we went till it was high noon on the plain and glimmering dusk in the
thicket, and we saw nought, save here and there a roe, and here and there
a sounder of swine, and coneys where it was opener, and the sun shone and
the grass grew for a little space. So came we unto where the thicket
ended suddenly, and there was a long glade of the wild-wood, all set
about with great oak-trees and grass thereunder, which I knew well; and
thereof the tale tells that it was a holy place of the folk who abided in
these parts before the Sons of the Goths. Now will I drink."
So he drank of the horn and said: "It seemeth that Fox had a deeming of
the way the Romans should come; so now we abided in the thicket without
that glade and lay quiet and hidden, spreading ourselves as much about
that lawn of the oak-trees as we might, the while Fox and three others
crept through the wood to espy what might be toward: not long had they
been gone ere we heard a war-horn blow, and it was none of our horns: it
was a long way off, but we looked to our weapons: for men are eager for
the foe and the death that cometh, when they lie hidden in the thicket. A
while passed, and again we heard the horn, and it was nigher and had a
marvellous voice; then in a while was a little noise of men, not their
voices, but footsteps going warily through the brake to the south, and
twelve men came slowly and warily into that oak-lawn, and lo, one of them
was Fox; but he was clad in the raiment of the dastard of the Goths whom
he had slain. I tell you my heart beat, for I saw that the others were
Roman men, and one of them seemed to be a man of authority, and he held
Fox by the shoulder, and pointed to the thicket where we lay, and
something he said to him, as we saw by his gesture and face, but his
voice we heard not, for he spake soft.
"Then of those ten men of his he sent back two, and Fox going between
them, as though he should be slain if he misled them; and he and the
eight abided there wisely and warily, standing silently some six feet
from each other, moving scarce at all, but looking like images fashioned
of brown copper and iron; holding their casting-spears (which be
marvellous heavy weapons) and girt with the sax.
"As they stood there, not out of earshot of a man speaking in his wonted
voice, our War-duke made a sign to those about him, and we spread very
quietly to the right hand and the left of him once more, and we drew as
close as might be to the thicket's edge, and those who had bows the
nighest thereto. Thus then we abided a while again; and again came the
horn's voice; for belike they had no mind to come their ways covertly
because of their pride.
"Soon therewithal comes Fox creeping back to us, and I saw him whisper
into the ear of the War-duke, but heard not the word he said. I saw that
he had hanging to him two Roman saxes, so I deemed he had slain those
two, and so escaped the Romans. Maidens, it were well that ye gave me to
drink again, for I am weary and my journey is done."
So again they brought him the horn, and made much of him; and he drank,
and then spake on.
"Now heard we the horn's voice again quite close, and it was sharp and
shrill, and nothing like to the roar of our battle-horns: still was the
wood and no wind abroad, not even down the oak-lawn; and we heard now the
tramp of many men as they thrashed through the small wood and bracken of
the thicket-way; and those eight men and their leader came forward,
moving like one, close up to the thicket where I lay, just where the path
passed into the thicket beset by the Sons of the Goths: so near they were
that I could see the dints upon their armour, and the strands of the wire
on their sax-handles. Down then bowed the tall bracken on the further
side of the wood-lawn, the thicket crashed before the march of men, and
on they strode into the lawn, a goodly band, wary, alert, and silent of
cries.
"But when they came into the lawn they spread out somewhat to their left
hands, that is to say on the west side, for that way was the clear glade;
but on the east the thicket came close up to them and edged them away.
Therein lay the Goths.
"There they stayed awhile, and spread out but a little, as men marching,
not as men fighting. A while we let them be; and we saw their captain,
no big man, but dight with very fair armour and weapons; and there drew
up to him certain Goths armed, the dastards of the folk, and another
unarmed, an old man bound and bleeding. With these Goths had the captain
some converse, and presently he cried out two or three words of Welsh in
a loud voice, and the nine men who were ahead shifted them somewhat away
from us to lead down the glade westward.
"The prey had come into the net, but they had turned their faces toward
the mouth of it.
"Then turned Thiodolf swiftly to the man behind him who carried the war-
horn, and every man handled his weapons: but that man understood, and set
the little end to his mouth, and loud roared the horn of the Markmen, and
neither friend nor foe misdoubted the tale thereof. Then leaped every
man to his feet, all bow-strings twanged and the cast-spears flew; no man
forebore to shout; each as he might leapt out of the thicket and fell on
with sword and axe and spear, for it was from the bowmen but one shaft
and no more.
"Then might you have seen Thiodolf as he bounded forward like the wild-
cat on the hare, how he had no eyes for any save the Roman captain.
Foemen enough he had round about him after the two first bounds from the
thicket; for the Romans were doing their best to spread, that they might
handle those heavy cast-spears, though they might scarce do it, just come
out of the thicket as they were, and thrust together by that onslaught of
the kindreds falling on from two sides and even somewhat from behind. To
right and left flashed Throng-plough, while Thiodolf himself scarce
seemed to guide it: men fell before him at once, and close at his heels
poured the Wolfing kindred into the gap, and in a minute of time was he
amidst of the throng and face to face with the gold-dight captain.
"What with the sweep of Throng-plough and the Wolfing onrush, there was
space about him for a great stroke; he gave a side-long stroke to his
right and hewed down a tall Burgundian, and then up sprang the white
blade, but ere its edge fell he turned his wrist, and drove the point
through that Captain's throat just above the ending of his hauberk, so
that he fell dead amidst of his folk.
"All the four kindreds were on them now, and amidst them, and needs must
they give way: but stoutly they fought; for surely no other warriors
might have withstood that onslaught of the Markmen for the twinkling of
an eye: but had the Romans had but the space to have spread themselves
out there, so as to handle their shot-weapons, many a woman's son of us
had fallen; for no man shielded himself in his eagerness, but let the
swiftness of the Onset of point-and-edge shield him; which, sooth to say,
is often a good shield, as here was found.
"So those that were unslain and unhurt fled west along the glade, but not
as dastards, and had not Thiodolf followed hard in the chase according to
his wont, they might even yet have made a fresh stand and spread from oak-
tree to oak-tree across the glade: but as it befel, they might not get a
fair offing so as to disentangle themselves and array themselves in good
order side by side; and whereas the Markmen were fleet of foot, and in
the woods they knew, there were a many aliens slain in the chase or taken
alive unhurt or little hurt: but the rest fled this way and that way into
the thicket, with whom were some of the Burgundians; so there they abide
now as outcasts and men unholy, to be slain as wild-beasts one by one as
we meet them.
"Such then was the battle in Mirkwood. Give me the mead-horn that I may
drink to the living and the dead, and the memory of the dead, and the
deeds of the living that are to be."
So they brought him the horn, and he waved it over his head and drank
again and spake:
"Sixty and three dead men of the Romans we counted there up and down that
oak-glade; and we cast earth over them; and three dead dastards of the
Goths, and we left them for the wolves to deal with. And twenty-five men
of the Romans we took alive to be for hostages if need should be, and
these did we Shielding men, who are not very many, bring aback to the
wain-burg; and the Daylings, who are a great company, were appointed to
enter the wood and be with Thiodolf; and me did Otter bid to bear the
tidings, even as I have told you. And I have not loitered by the way."
Great then was the joy in the Hall; and they took Gisli, and made much of
him, and led him to the bath, and clad him in fine raiment taken from the
coffer which was but seldom opened, because the cloths it held were
precious; and they set a garland of green wheat-ears on his head. Then
they fell to and spread the feast in the hall; and they ate and drank and
were merry.
But as for speeding the tidings, the Hall-Sun sent two women and two
lads, all a-horseback, to bear the words: the women to remember the words
which she taught them carefully, the lads to be handy with the horses, or
in the ford, or the swimming of the deeps, or in the thicket. So they
went their ways, down the water: one pair went on the western side, and
the other crossed Mirkwood-water at the shallows (for being Midsummer the
water was but small), and went along the east side, so that all the
kindred might know of the tidings and rejoice.
Great was the glee in the Hall, though the warriors of the House were
away, and many a song and lay they sang: but amidst the first of the
singing they bethought them of the old woman, and would have bidden her
tell them some tale of times past, since she was so wise in the ancient
lore. But when they sought for her on all sides she was not to be found,
nor could anyone remember seeing her depart from the Hall. But this had
they no call to heed, and the feast ended, as it began, in great glee.
Albeit the Hall-Sun was troubled about the carline, both that she had
come, and that she had gone: and she determined that the next time she
met her she would strive to have of her a true tale of what she was, and
of all that was toward.
CHAPTER XIII--THE HALL-SUN SAITH ANOTHER WORD
It was no later than the next night, and a many of what thralls were not
with the host were about in the feast-hall with the elders and lads and
weaklings of the House; for last night's tidings had drawn them thither.
Gisli had gone back to his kindred and the wain-burg in the Upper-mark,
and the women were sitting, most of them, in the Women's-Chamber, some of
them doing what little summer work needed doing about the looms, but more
resting from their work in field and acre.
Then came the Hall-Sun forth from her room clad in glittering raiment,
and summoned no one, but went straight to her place on the dais under her
namesake the Lamp, and stood there a little without speaking. Her face
was pale now, her lips a little open, her eyes set and staring as if they
saw nothing of all that was round about her.
Now went the word through the Hall and the Women's-Chamber that the Hall-
Sun would speak again, and that great tidings were toward; so all folk
came flock-meal to the dais, both thralls and free; and scarce were all
gathered there, ere the Hall-Sun began speaking, and said:
"The days of the world thrust onward, and men are born therein
A many and a many, and divers deeds they win
In the fashioning of stories for the kindreds of the earth,
A garland interwoven of sorrow and of mirth.
To the world a warrior cometh; from the world he passeth away,
And no man then may sunder his good from his evil day.
By the Gods hath he been tormented, and been smitten by the foe:
He hath seen his maiden perish, he hath seen his speech-friend go:
His heart hath conceived a joyance and hath brought it unto birth:
But he hath not carried with him his sorrow or his mirth.
He hath lived, and his life hath fashioned the outcome of the deed,
For the blossom of the people, and the coming kindreds' seed.
"Thus-wise the world is fashioned, and the new sun of the morn
Where earth last night was desert beholds a kindred born,
That to-morrow and to-morrow blossoms all gloriously
With many a man and maiden for the kindreds yet to be,
And fair the Goth-folk groweth. And yet the story saith
That the deeds that make the summer make too the winter's death,
That summer-tides unceasing from out the grave may grow
And the spring rise up unblemished from the bosom of the snow.
"Thus as to every kindred the day comes once for all
When yesterday it was not, and to-day it builds the hall,
So every kindred bideth the night-tide of the day,
Whereof it knoweth nothing, e'en when noon is past away.
E'en thus the House of the Wolfings 'twixt dusk and dark doth stand,
And narrow is the pathway with the deep on either hand.
On the left are the days forgotten, on the right the days to come,
And another folk and their story in the stead of the Wolfing home.
Do the shadows darken about it, is the even here at last?
Or is this but a storm of the noon-tide that the wind is driving past?
"Unscathed as yet it standeth; it bears the stormy drift,
Nor bows to the lightening flashing adown from the cloudy lift.
I see the hail of battle and the onslaught of the strong,
And they go adown to the folk-mote that shall bide there over long.
I see the slain-heaps rising and the alien folk prevail,
And the Goths give back before them on the ridge o'er the treeless
vale.
I see the ancient fallen, and the young man smitten dead,
And yet I see the War-duke shake Throng-plough o'er his head,
And stand unhelmed, unbyrnied before the alien host,
And the hurt men rise around him to win back battle lost;
And the wood yield up her warriors, and the whole host rushing on,
And the swaying lines of battle until the lost is won.
Then forth goes the cry of triumph, as they ring the captives round
And cheat the crow of her portion and heap the warriors' mound.
There are faces gone from our feast-hall not the least beloved nor
worst,
But the wane of the House of the Wolfings not yet the world hath
cursed.
The sun shall rise to-morrow on our cold and dewy roof,
For they that longed for slaughter were slaughtered far aloof."
She ceased for a little, but her countenance, which had not changed
during her song, changed not at all now: so they all kept silence
although they were rejoicing in this new tale of victory; for they deemed
that she was not yet at the end of her speaking. And in good sooth she
spake again presently, and said:
"I wot not what hath befallen nor where my soul may be,
For confusion is within me and but dimly do I see,
As if the thing that I look on had happed a while ago.
They stand by the tofts of a war-garth, a captain of the foe,
And a man that is of the Goth-folk, and as friend and friend they
speak,
But I hear no word they are saying, though for every word I seek.
And now the mist flows round me and blind I come aback
To the House-roof of the Wolfings and the hearth that hath no lack."
Her voice grew weaker as she spake the last words, and she sank backward
on to her chair: her clenched hands opened, the lids fell down over her
bright eyes, her breast heaved no more as it had done, and presently she
fell asleep.
The folk were doubtful and somewhat heavy-hearted because of those last
words of hers; but they would not ask her more, or rouse her from her
sleep, lest they should grieve her; so they departed to their beds and
slept for what was yet left of the night.
CHAPTER XIV--THE HALL-SUN IS CAREFUL CONCERNING THE PASSES OF THE WOOD
In the morning early folk arose; and the lads and women who were not of
the night-shift got them ready to go to the mead and the acres; for the
sunshine had been plenty these last days and the wheat was done
blossoming, and all must be got ready for harvest. So they broke their
fast, and got their tools into their hands: but they were somewhat heavy-
hearted because of those last words of the Hall-Sun, and the doubt of
last night still hung about them, and they were scarcely as merry as men
are wont to be in the morning.
As for the Hall-Sun, she was afoot with the earliest, and was no less,
but mayhap more merry than her wont was, and was blithe with all, both
old and young.
But as they were at the point of going she called to them, and said:
"Tarry a little, come ye all to the dais and hearken to me."
So they all gathered thereto, and she stood in her place and spake.
"Women and elders of the Wolfings, is it so that I spake somewhat of
tidings last night?"
"Yea," said they all.
She said, "And was it a word of victory?"
They answered "yea" again.
"Good is that," she said; "doubt ye not! there is nought to unsay. But
hearken! I am nothing wise in war like Thiodolf or Otter of the Laxings,
or as Heriulf the Ancient was, though he was nought so wise as they be.
Nevertheless ye shall do well to take me for your captain, while this
House is bare of warriors."
"Yea, yea," they said, "so will we."
And an old warrior, hight Sorli, who sat in his chair, no longer quite
way-worthy, said:
"Hall-Sun, this we looked for of thee; since thy wisdom is not wholly the
wisdom of a spae-wife, but rather is of the children of warriors: and we
know thine heart to be high and proud, and that thy death seemeth to thee
a small matter beside the life of the Wolfing House."
Then she smiled and said, "Will ye all do my bidding?"
And they all cried out heartily, "Yea, Hall-Sun, that will we."
She said: "Hearken then; ye all know that east of Mirkwood-water, when ye
come to the tofts of the Bearings, and their Great Roof, the thicket
behind them is close, but that there is a wide way cut through it; and
often have I gone there: if ye go by that way, in a while ye come to the
thicket's end and to bare places where the rocks crop up through the
gravel and the woodland loam. There breed the coneys without number; and
wild-cats haunt the place for that sake, and foxes; and the wood-wolf
walketh there in summer-tide, and hard by the she-wolf hath her litter of
whelps, and all these have enough; and the bald-head erne hangeth over it
and the kite, and also the kestril, for shrews and mice abound there. Of
these things there is none that feareth me, and none that maketh me
afraid. Beyond this place for a long way the wood is nowise thick, for
first grow ash-trees about the clefts of the rock and also quicken-trees,
but not many of either; and here and there a hazel brake easy to thrust
through; then comes a space of oak-trees scattered about the lovely wood-
lawn, and then at last the beech-wood close above but clear beneath. This
I know well, because I myself have gone so far and further; and by this
easy way have I gone so far to the south, that I have come out into the
fell country, and seen afar off the snowy mountains beyond the Great
Water.
"Now fear ye not, but pluck up a heart! For either I have seen it or
dreamed it, or thought it, that by this road easy to wend the Romans
should come into the Mark. For shall not those dastards and traitors
that wear the raiment and bodies of the Goths over the hearts and the
lives of foemen, tell them hereof? And will they not have heard of our
Thiodolf, and this my holy namesake?
"Will they not therefore be saying to themselves, 'Go to now, why should
we wrench the hinges off the door with plenteous labour, when another
door to the same chamber standeth open before us? This House of the
Wolfings is the door to the treasure chamber of the Markmen; let us fall
on that at once rather than have many battles for other lesser matters,
and then at last have to fight for this also: for having this we have
all, and they shall be our thralls, and we may slaughter what we will,
and torment what we will and deflower what we will, and make our souls
glad with their grief and anguish, and take aback with us to the cities
what we will of the thralls, that their anguish and our joy may endure
the longer.' Thus will they say: therefore is it my rede that the
strongest and hardiest of you women take horse, a ten of you and one to
lead besides, and ride the shallows to the Bearing House, and tell them
of our rede; which is to watch diligently the ways of the wood; the
outgate to the Mark, and the places where the wood is thin and easy to
travel on: and ye shall bid them give you of their folk as many as they
deem fittest thereto to join your company, so that ye may have a chain of
watchers stretching far into the wilds; but two shall lie without the
wood, their horses ready for them to leap on and ride on the spur to the
wain-burg in the Upper-mark if any tidings befal.
"Now of these eleven I ordain Hrosshild to be the leader and captain, and
to choose for her fellows the stoutest-limbed and heaviest-handed of all
the maidens here: art thou content Hrosshild?"
Then stood Hrosshild forth and said nought, but nodded yea; and soon was
her choice made amid jests and laughter, for this seemed no hard matter
to them.
So the ten got together, and the others fell off from them, and there
stood the ten maidens with Hrosshild, well nigh as strong as men, clean-
limbed and tall, tanned with sun and wind; for all these were unwearied
afield, and oft would lie out a-nights, since they loved the lark's song
better than the mouse's squeak; but as their kirtles shifted at neck and
wrist, you might see their skins as white as privet-flower where they
were wont to be covered.
Then said the Hall-Sun: "Ye have heard the word, see ye to it, Hrosshild,
and take this other word also: Bid the Bearing stay-at-homes bide not the
sword and the torch at home if the Romans come, but hie them over hither,
to hold the Hall or live in the wild-wood with us, as need may be; for
might bides with many.
"But ye maidens, take this counsel for yourselves; do ye each bear with
you a little keen knife, and if ye be taken, and it seem to you that ye
may not bear the smart of the Roman torments (for they be wise in
tormenting), but will speak and bewray us under them, then thrust this
little edge tool into the place of your bodies where the life lieth
closest, and so go to the Gods with a good tale in your mouths: so may
the Almighty God of Earth speed you, and the fathers of the kindred!"
So she spoke; and they made no delay but each one took what axe or spear
or sword she liked best, and two had their bows and quivers of arrows;
and so all folk went forth from the Hall.
Soon were the horses saddled and bridled, and the maidens bestrode them
joyously and set forth on their way, going down the lanes of the wheat,
and rode down speedily toward the shallows of the water, and all cried
good speed after them. But the others would turn to their day's work,
and would go about their divers errands. But even as they were at point
to sunder, they saw a swift runner passing by those maidens just where
the acres joined the meadow, and he waved his hand aloft and shouted to
them, but stayed not his running for them, but came up the lanes of the
wheat at his swiftest: so they knew at once that this was again a
messenger from the host, and they stood together and awaited his coming;
and as he drew near they knew him for Egil, the swiftest-footed of the
Wolfings; and he gave a great shout as he came among them; and he was
dusty and way-worn, but eager; and they received him with all love, and
would have brought him to the Hall to wash him and give him meat and
drink, and cherish him in all ways.
But he cried out, "To the Speech-Hill first, to the Speech-Hill first!
But even before that, one word to thee, Hall-Sun! Saith Thiodolf, Send
ye watchers to look to the entrance into Mid-mark, which is by the
Bearing dwelling; and if aught untoward befalleth let one ride on the
spur with the tidings to the Wain-burg. For by that way also may peril
come."
Then smiled some of the bystanders, and the Hall-Sun said: "Good is it
when the thought of a friend stirreth betimes in one's own breast. The
thing is done, Egil; or sawest thou not those ten women, and Hrosshild
the eleventh, as thou camest up into the acres?"
Said Egil; "Fair fall thine hand, Hall-Sun! thou art the Wolfings'
Ransom. Wend we now to the Speech-Hill."
So did they, and every thrall that was about the dwellings, man, woman,
and child fared with them, and stood about the Speech-Hill: and the dogs
went round about the edge of that assembly, wandering in and out, and
sometimes looking hard on some one whom they knew best, if he cried out
aloud.
But the men-folk gave all their ears to hearkening, and stood as close as
they might.
Then Egil clomb the Speech-Hill, and said.
CHAPTER XV--THEY HEAR TELL OF THE BATTLE ON THE RIDGE
"Ye have heard how the Daylings were appointed to go to help Thiodolf in
driving the folk-spear home to the heart of the Roman host. So they
went; but six hours thereafter comes one to Otter bidding him send a
great part of the kindreds to him; for that he had had tidings that a
great host of Romans were drawing near the wood-edge, but were not
entered therein, and that fain would he meet them in the open field.
"So the kindreds drew lots, and the lot fell first to the Elkings, who
are a great company, as ye know; and then to the Hartings, the Beamings,
the Alftings, the Vallings (also a great company), the Galtings, (and
they no lesser) each in their turn; and last of all to the Laxings; and
the Oselings prayed to go with the Elkings, and this Otter deemed good,
whereas a many of them be bowmen.
"All these then to the number of a thousand or more entered the wood; and
I was with them, for in sooth I was the messenger.
"No delay made we in the wood, nor went we over warily, trusting to the
warding of the wood by Thiodolf; and there were men with us who knew the
paths well, whereof I was one; so we speedily came through into the open
country.
"Shortly we came upon our folk and the War-duke lying at the foot of a
little hill that went up as a buttress to a long ridge high above us,
whereon we set a watch; and a little brook came down the dale for our
drink.
"Night fell as we came thither; so we slept for a while, but abode not
the morning, and we were afoot (for we had no horses with us) before the
moon grew white. We took the road in good order, albeit our folk-banners
we had left behind in the burg; so each kindred raised aloft a shield of
its token to be for a banner. So we went forth, and some swift footmen,
with Fox, who hath seen the Roman war-garth, had been sent on before to
spy out the ways of the foemen.
"Two hours after sunrise cometh one of these, and telleth how he hath
seen the Romans, and how that they are but a short mile hence breaking
their fast, not looking for any onslaught; 'but,' saith he, 'they are on
a high ridge whence they can see wide about, and be in no danger of
ambush, because the place is bare for the most part, nor is there any
cover except here and there down in the dales a few hazels and blackthorn
bushes, and the rushes of the becks in the marshy bottoms, wherein a
snipe may hide, or a hare, but scarce a man; and note that there is no
way up to that ridge but by a spur thereof as bare as my hand; so ye will
be well seen as ye wend up thereto.'
"So spake he in my hearing. But Thiodolf bade him lead on to that spur,
and old Heriulf, who was standing nigh, laughed merrily and said: 'Yea,
lead on, and speedily, lest the day wane and nothing done save the
hunting of snipes.'
"So on we went, and coming to the hither side of that spur beheld those
others and Fox with them; and he held in his hand an arrow of the aliens,
and his face was all astir with half-hidden laughter, and he breathed
hard, and pointed to the ridge, and somewhat low down on it we saw a
steel cap and three spear-heads showing white from out a little hollow in
its side, but the men hidden by the hollow: so we knew that Fox had been
chased, and that the Romans were warned and wary.
"No delay made the War-duke, but led us up that spur, which was somewhat
steep; and as we rose higher we saw a band of men on the ridge, a little
way down it, not a many; archers and slingers mostly, who abode us till
we were within shot, and then sent a few shots at us, and so fled. But
two men were hurt with the sling-plummets, and one, and he not
grievously, with an arrow, and not one slain.
"Thus we came up on to the ridge, so that there was nothing between us
and the bare heavens; thence we looked south-east and saw the Romans
wisely posted on the ridge not far from where it fell down steeply to the
north; but on the south, that is to say on their left hands, and all
along the ridge past where we were stayed, the ground sloped gently to
the south-west for a good way, before it fell, somewhat steeply, into
another long dale. Looking north we saw the outer edge of Mirkwood but a
little way from us, and we were glad thereof; because ere we left our
sleeping-place that morn Thiodolf had sent to Otter another messenger
bidding him send yet more men on to us in case we should be hard-pressed
in the battle; for he had had a late rumour that the Romans were many.
And now when he had looked on the Roman array and noted how wise it was,
he sent three swift-foot ones to take stand on a high knoll which we had
passed on the way, that they might take heed where our folk came out from
the wood and give signal to them by the horn, and lead them to where the
battle should be.
"So we stood awhile and breathed us, and handled our weapons some half a
furlong from the alien host. They had no earth rampart around them, for
that ridge is waterless, and they could not abide there long, but they
had pitched sharp pales in front of them and they stood in very good
order, as if abiding an onslaught, and moved not when they saw us; for
that band of shooters had joined themselves to them already. Taken one
with another we deemed them to be more than we were; but their hauberked
footmen with the heavy cast-spears not so many as we by a good deal.
"Now we were of mind to fall on them ere they should fall on us; so all
such of us as had shot-weapons spread out from our company and went forth
a little; and of the others Heriulf stood foremost along with the leaders
of the Beamings and the Elkings; but as yet Thiodolf held aback and led
the midmost company, as his wont was, and the more part of the Wolfings
were with him.
"Thus we ordered ourselves, and awaited a little while yet what the
aliens should do; and presently a war-horn blew amongst them, and from
each flank of their mailed footmen came forth a many bowmen and slingers
and a band of horsemen; and drew within bowshot, the shooters in open
array yet wisely, and so fell to on us, and the horsemen hung aback a
little as yet.
"Their arrow-shot was of little avail, their bowmen fell fast before
ours; but deadly was their sling-shot, and hurt and slew many and some
even in our main battle; for they slung round leaden balls and not
stones, and they aimed true and shot quick; and the men withal were so
light and lithe, never still, but crouching and creeping and bounding
here and there, that they were no easier to hit than coneys amidst of the
fern, unless they were very nigh.
"Howbeit when this storm had endured a while, and we moved but little,
and not an inch aback, and gave them shot for shot, then was another horn
winded from amongst the aliens; and thereat the bowmen cast down their
bows, and the slingers wound their slings about their heads, and they all
came on with swords and short spears and feathered darts, running and
leaping lustily, making for our flanks, and the horsemen set spurs to
their horses and fell on in the very front of our folk like good and
valiant men-at-arms.
"That saw Heriulf and his men, and they set up the war-whoop, and ran
forth to meet them, axe and sword aloft, terribly yet maybe somewhat
unwarily. The archers and slingers never came within sword-stroke of
them, but fell away before them on all sides; but the slingers fled not
far, but began again with their shot, and slew a many. Then was a horn
winded, as if to call back the horsemen, who, if they heard, heeded not,
but rode hard on our kindred like valiant warriors who feared not death.
Sooth to say, neither were the horses big or good, nor the men fit for
the work, saving for their hardihood; and their spears were short withal
and their bucklers unhandy to wield.
"Now could it be seen how the Goths gave way before them to let them into
the trap, and then closed around again, and the axes and edge weapons
went awork hewing as in a wood; and Heriulf towered over all the press,
and the Wolf's-sister flashed over his head in the summer morning.
"Soon was that storm over, and we saw the Goths tossing up their spears
over the slain, and horses running loose and masterless adown over the
westward-lying slopes, and a few with their riders still clinging to
them. Yet some, sore hurt by seeming, galloping toward the main battle
of the Romans.
"Unwarily then fared the children of Tyr that were with Heriulf; for by
this time they were well nigh within shot of the spears of those mighty
footmen of the Romans: and on their flanks were the slingers, and the
bowmen, who had now gotten their bows again; and our bowmen, though they
shot well and strong, were too few to quell them; and indeed some of them
had cast by their bows to join in Heriulf's storm. Also the lie of the
ground was against us, for it sloped up toward the Roman array at first
very gently, but afterwards steeply enough to breathe a short-winded man.
Also behind them were we of the other kindreds, whom Thiodolf had ordered
into the wedge-array; and we were all ready to move forward, so that had
they abided somewhat, all had been well and better.
"So did they not, but straightway set up the Victory-whoop and ran
forward on the Roman host. And these were so ordered that, as aforesaid,
they had before them sharp piles stuck into the earth and pointed against
us, as we found afterwards to our cost; and within these piles stood the
men some way apart from each other, so as to handle their casting spears,
and in three ranks were they ordered and many spears could be cast at
once, and if any in the front were slain, his fellow behind him took his
place.
"So now the storm of war fell at once upon our folk, and swift and fierce
as was their onslaught yet were a many slain and hurt or ever they came
to the piles aforesaid. Then saw they death before them and heeded it
nought, but tore up the piles and dashed through them, and fell in on
those valiant footmen. Short is the tale to tell: wheresoever a sword or
spear of the Goths was upraised there were three upon him, and saith Toti
of the Beamings, who was hurt and crawled away and yet lives, that on
Heriulf there were six at first and then more; and he took no thought of
shielding himself, but raised up the Wolf's-sister and hewed as the
woodman in the thicket, when night cometh and hunger is on him. There
fell Heriulf the Ancient and many a man of the Beamings and the Elkings
with him, and many a Roman.
"But amidst the slain and the hurt our wedge-array moved forward slowly
now, warily shielded against the plummets and shafts on either side; and
when the Romans saw our unbroken array, and Thiodolf the first with
Throng-plough naked in his hand, they chased not such men of ours unhurt
or little hurt, as drew aback from before them: so these we took amongst
us, and when we had gotten all we might, and held a grim face to the foe,
we drew aback little by little, still facing them till we were out of
shot of their spears, though the shot of the arrows and the
sling-plummets ceased not wholly from us. Thus ended Heriulf's Storm."
Then he rested from his speaking for a while, and none said aught, but
they gazed on him as if he bore with him a picture of the battle, and
many of the women wept silently for Heriulf, and yet more of the younger
ones were wounded to the heart when they thought of the young men of the
Elkings, and the Beamings, since with both those houses they had
affinity; and they lamented the loves that they had lost, and would have
asked concerning their own speech-friends had they durst. But they held
their peace till the tale was told out to an end.
Then Egil spake again:
"No long while had worn by in Heriulf's Storm, and though men's hearts
were nothing daunted, but rather angered by what had befallen, yet would
Thiodolf wear away the time somewhat more, since he hoped for succour
from the Wain-burg and the Wood; and he would not that any of these
Romans should escape us, but would give them all to Tyr, and to be a
following to Heriulf the Old and the Great.
"So there we abided a while moving nought, and Thiodolf stood with Throng-
plough on his shoulder, unhelmed, unbyrnied, as though he trusted to the
kindred for all defence. Nor for their part did the Romans dare to leave
their vantage-ground, when they beheld what grim countenance we made
them.
"Albeit, when we had thrice made as if we would fall on, and yet they
moved not, whereas it trieth a man sorely to stand long before the
foeman, and do nought but endure, and whereas many of our bowmen were
slain or hurt, and the rest too few to make head against the shot-weapons
of the aliens, then at last we began to draw nearer and a little nearer,
not breaking the wedge-array; and at last, just before we were within
shot of the cast-spears of their main battle, loud roared our war-horn:
then indeed we broke the wedge-array, but orderly as we knew how,
spreading out from right and left of the War-duke till we were facing
them in a long line: one minute we abode thus, and then ran forth through
the spear-storm: and even therewith we heard, as it were, the echo of our
own horn, and whoso had time to think betwixt the first of the storm and
the handstrokes of the Romans deemed that now would be coming fresh
kindreds for our helping.
"Not long endured the spear-rain, so swift we were, neither were we in
one throng as betid in Heriulf's Storm, but spread abroad, each trusting
in the other that none thought of the backward way.
"Though we had the ground against us we dashed like fresh men at their
pales, and were under the weapons at once. Then was the battle grim;
they could not thrust us back, nor did we break their array with our
first storm; man hewed at man as if there were no foes in the world but
they two: sword met sword, and sax met sax; it was thrusting and hewing
with point and edge, and no long-shafted weapons were of any avail; there
we fought hand to hand and no man knew by eyesight how the battle went
two yards from where he fought, and each one put all his heart in the
stroke he was then striking, and thought of nothing else.
"Yet at the last we felt that they were faltering and that our work was
easier and our hope higher; then we cried our cries and pressed on
harder, and in that very nick of time there arose close behind us the
roar of the Markmen's horn and the cries of the kindreds answering ours.
Then such of the Romans as were not in the very act of smiting, or
thrusting, or clinging or shielding, turned and fled, and the whoop of
victory rang around us, and the earth shook, and past the place of the
slaughter rushed the riders of the Goths; for they had sent horsemen to
us, and the paths were grown easier for our much treading of them. Then
I beheld Thiodolf, that he had just slain a foe, and clear was the space
around him, and he rushed sideways and caught hold of the stirrup of
Angantyr of the Bearings, and ran ten strides beside him, and then
bounded on afoot swifter than the red horses of the Bearings, urging on
the chase, as his wont was.
"But we who were wearier, when we had done our work, stood still between
the living and the dead, between the freemen of the Mark and their war-
thralls. And in no long while there came back to us Thiodolf and the
chasers, and we made a great ring on the field of the slain, and sang the
Song of Triumph; and it was the Wolfing Song that we sang.
"Thus then ended Thiodolf's Storm."
When he held his peace there was but little noise among the
stay-at-homes, for still were they thinking about the deaths of their
kindred and their lovers. But Egil spoke again.
"Yet within that ring lay the sorrow of our hearts; for Odin had called a
many home, and there lay their bodies; and the mightiest was Heriulf; and
the Romans had taken him up from where he fell, and cast him down out of
the way, but they had not stripped him, and his hand still gripped the
Wolf's-sister. His shield was full of shafts of arrows and spears; his
byrny was rent in many places, his helm battered out of form. He had
been grievously hurt in the side and in the thigh by cast-spears or ever
he came to hand-blows with the Romans, but moreover he had three great
wounds from the point of the sax, in the throat, in the side, in the
belly, each enough for his bane. His face was yet fair to look on, and
we deemed that he had died smiling.
"At his feet lay a young man of the Beamings in a gay green coat, and
beside him was the head of another of his House, but his green-clad body
lay some yards aloof. There lay of the Elkings a many. Well may ye
weep, maidens, for them that loved you. Now fare they to the Gods a
goodly company, but a goodly company is with them.
"Seventy and seven of the Sons of the Goths lay dead within the Roman
battle, and fifty-four on the slope before it; and to boot there were
twenty-four of us slain by the arrows and plummets of the shooters, and a
many hurt withal.
"But there were no hurt men inside the Roman array or before it. All
were slain outright, for the hurt men either dragged themselves back to
our folk, or onward to the Roman ranks, that they might die with one more
stroke smitten.
"Now of the aliens the dead lay in heaps in that place, for grim was the
slaughter when the riders of the Bearings and the Wormings fell on the
aliens; and a many of the foemen scorned to flee, but died where they
stood, craving no peace; and to few of them was peace given. There fell
of the Roman footmen five hundred and eighty and five, and the remnant
that fled was but little: but of the slingers and bowmen but eighty and
six were slain, for they were there to shoot and not to stand; and they
were nimble and fleet of foot, men round of limb, very dark-skinned, but
not foul of favour."
Then he said:
"There are men through the dusk a-faring, our speech-fiends and our
kin,
No more shall they crave our helping, nor ask what work to win;
They have done their deeds and departed when they had holpen the
House,
So high their heads are holden, and their hurts are glorious
With the story of strokes stricken, and new weapons to be met,
And new scowling of foes' faces, and new curses unknown yet.
Lo, they dight the feast in Godhome, and fair are the tables spread,
Late come, but well-beloved is every war-worn head,
And the God-folk and the Fathers, as these cross the tinkling bridge,
Crowd round and crave for stories of the Battle on the Ridge."
Therewith he came down from the Speech-Hill and the women-folk came round
about him, and they brought him to the Hall, and washed him, and gave him
meat and drink; and then would he sleep, for he was weary.
Howbeit some of the women could not refrain themselves, but must needs
ask after their speech-friends who had been in the battle; and he
answered as he could, and some he made glad, and some sorry; and as to
some, he could not tell them whether their friends were alive or dead. So
he went to his place and fell asleep and slept long, while the women went
down to acre and meadow, or saw to the baking of bread or the sewing of
garments, or went far afield to tend the neat and the sheep.
Howbeit the Hall-Sun went not with them; but she talked with that old
warrior, Sorli, who was now halt and grown unmeet for the road, but was a
wise man; and she and he together with some old carlines and a few young
lads fell to work, and saw to many matters about the Hall and the garth
that day; and they got together what weapons there were both for shot and
for the handplay, and laid them where they were handy to come at, and
they saw to the meal in the hall that there was provision for many days;
and they carried up to a loft above the Women's-Chamber many great
vessels of water, lest the fire should take the Hall; and they looked
everywhere to the entrances and windows and had fastenings and bolts and
bars fashioned and fitted to them; and saw that all things were trim and
stout. And so they abided the issue.
CHAPTER XVI--HOW THE DWARF-WROUGHT HAUBERK WAS BROUGHT AWAY FROM THE HALL
OF THE DAYLINGS
Now it must be told that early in the morning, after the night when Gisli
had brought to the Wolfing Stead the tidings of the Battle in the Wood, a
man came riding from the south to the Dayling abode. It was just before
sunrise, and but few folk were stirring about the dwellings. He rode up
to the Hall and got off his black horse, and tied it to a ring in the
wall by the Man's-door, and went in clashing, for he was in his battle-
gear, and had a great wide-rimmed helm on his head.
Folk were but just astir in the Hall, and there came an old woman to him,
and looked on him and saw by his attire that he was a man of the Goths
and of the Wolfing kindred; so she greeted him kindly: but he said:
"Mother, I am come hither on an errand, and time presses."
Said she: "Yea, my son, or what tidings bearest thou from the south? for
by seeming thou art new-come from the host."
Said he: "The tidings are as yesterday, save that Thiodolf will lead the
host through the wild-wood to look for the Romans beyond it: therefore
will there soon be battle again. See ye, Mother, hast thou here one that
knoweth this ring of Thiodolf's, if perchance men doubt me when I say
that I am sent on my errand by him?"
"Yea," she said, "Agni will know it; since he knoweth all the chief men
of the Mark; but what is thine errand, and what is thy name?"
"It is soon told," said he, "I am a Wolfing hight Thorkettle, and I come
to have away for Thiodolf the treasure of the world, the Dwarf-wrought
Hauberk, which he left with you when we fared hence to the south three
days ago. Now let Agni come, that I may have it, for time presses
sorely."
There were three or four gathered about them now, and a maiden of them
said: "Shall I bring Agni hither, mother?"
"What needeth it?" said the carline, "he sleepeth, and shall be hard to
awaken; and he is old, so let him sleep. I shall go fetch the hauberk,
for I know where it is, and my hand may come on it as easily as on mine
own girdle."
So she went her ways to the treasury where were the precious things of
the kindred; the woven cloths were put away in fair coffers to keep them
clean from the whirl of the Hall-dust and the reek; and the vessels of
gold and some of silver were standing on the shelves of a cupboard before
which hung a veil of needlework: but the weapons and war-gear hung upon
pins along the wall, and many of them had much fair work on them, and
were dight with gold and gems: but amidst them all was the wondrous
hauberk clear to see, dark grey and thin, for it was so wondrously
wrought that it hung in small compass. So the carline took it down from
the pin, and handled it, and marvelled at it, and said:
"Strange are the hands that have passed over thee, sword-rampart, and in
strange places of the earth have they dwelt! For no smith of the
kindreds hath fashioned thee, unless he had for his friend either a God
or a foe of the Gods. Well shalt thou wot of the tale of sword and spear
ere thou comest back hither! For Thiodolf shall bring thee where the
work is wild."
Then she went with the hauberk to the new-come warrior, and made no
delay, but gave it to him, and said:
"When Agni awaketh, I shall tell him that Thorkettle of the Wolfings hath
borne aback to Thiodolf the Treasure of the World, the Dwarf-wrought
Hauberk."
Then Thorkettle took it and turned to go; but even therewith came old
Asmund from out of his sleeping-place, and gazed around the Hall, and his
eyes fell on the shape of the Wolfing as he was going out of the door,
and he asked the carline.
"What doeth he here? What tidings is there from the host? For my soul
was nought unquiet last night."
"It is a little matter," she said; "the War-duke hath sent for the
wondrous Byrny that he left in our treasury when he departed to meet the
Romans. Belike there shall be a perilous battle, and few hearts need a
stout sword-wall more than Thiodolf's."
As she spoke, Thorkettle had passed the door, and got into his saddle,
and sat his black horse like a mighty man as he slowly rode down the turf
bridge that led into the plain. And Asmund went to the door and stood
watching him till he set spurs to his horse, and departed a great gallop
to the south. Then said Asmund:
"What then are the Gods devising, what wonders do they will?
What mighty need is on them to work the kindreds ill,
That the seed of the Ancient Fathers and a woman of their kin
With her all unfading beauty must blend herself therein?
Are they fearing lest the kindreds should grow too fair and great,
And climb the stairs of God-home, and fashion all their fate,
And make all earth so merry that it never wax the worse,
Nor need a gift from any, nor prayers to quench the curse?
Fear they that the Folk-wolf, growing as the fire from out the spark
Into a very folk-god, shall lead the weaponed Mark
From wood to field and mountain, to stand between the earth
And the wrights that forge its thraldom and the sword to slay its
mirth?
Fear they that the sons of the wild-wood the Loathly Folk shall quell,
And grow into Gods thereafter, and aloof in God-home dwell?"
Therewith he turned back into the Hall, and was heavy-hearted and dreary
of aspect; for he was somewhat foreseeing; and it may not be hidden that
this seeming Thorkettle was no warrior of the Wolfings, but the Wood-Sun
in his likeness; for she had the power and craft of shape-changing.
CHAPTER XVII--THE WOOD-SUN SPEAKETH WITH THIODOLF
Now the Markmen laid Heriulf in howe on the ridge-crest where he had
fallen, and heaped a mighty howe over him that could be seen from far,
and round about him they laid the other warriors of the kindreds. For
they deemed it was fittest that they should lie on the place whose story
they had fashioned. But they cast earth on the foemen lower down on the
westward-lying bents.
The sun set amidst their work, and night came on; and Thiodolf was weary
and would fain rest him and sleep: but he had many thoughts, and pondered
whitherward he should lead the folk, so as to smite the Romans once
again, and he had a mind to go apart and be alone for rest and slumber;
so he spoke to a man of the kindred named Solvi in whom he put all trust,
and then he went down from the ridge, and into a little dale on the
southwest side thereof, a furlong from the place of the battle. A beck
ran down that dale, and the further end of it was closed by a little wood
of yew trees, low, but growing thick together, and great grey stones were
scattered up and down on the short grass of the dale. Thiodolf went down
to the brook-side, and to a place where it trickled into a pool, whence
it ran again in a thin thread down the dale, turning aside before it
reached the yew-wood to run its ways under low ledges of rock into a
wider dale. He looked at the pool and smiled to himself as if he had
thought of something that pleased him; then he drew a broad knife from
his side, and fell to cutting up turfs till he had what he wanted; and
then he brought stones to the place, and built a dam across the mouth of
the pool, and sat by on a great stone to watch it filling.
As he sat he strove to think about the Roman host and how he should deal
with it; but despite himself his thoughts wandered, and made for him
pictures of his life that should be when this time of battle was over; so
that he saw nothing of the troubles that were upon his hands that night,
but rather he saw himself partaking in the deeds of the life of man.
There he was between the plough-stilts in the acres of the kindred when
the west wind was blowing over the promise of early spring; or smiting
down the ripe wheat in the hot afternoon amidst the laughter and merry
talk of man and maid; or far away over Mirkwood-water watching the edges
of the wood against the prowling wolf and lynx, the stars just beginning
to shine over his head, as now they were; or wending the windless woods
in the first frosts before the snow came, the hunter's bow or javelin in
hand: or coming back from the wood with the quarry on the sledge across
the snow, when winter was deep, through the biting icy wind and the whirl
of the drifting snow, to the lights and music of the Great Roof, and the
merry talk therein and the smiling of the faces glad to see the hunting-
carles come back; and the full draughts of mead, and the sweet rest a
night-tide when the north wind was moaning round the ancient home.
All seemed good and fair to him, and whiles he looked around him, and saw
the long dale lying on his left hand and the dark yews in its jaws
pressing up against the rock-ledges of the brook, and on his right its
windings as the ground rose up to the buttresses of the great ridge. The
moon was rising over it, and he heard the voice of the brook as it
tinkled over the stones above him; and the whistle of the plover and the
laugh of the whimbrel came down the dale sharp and clear in the calm
evening; and sounding far away, because the great hill muffled them, were
the voices of his fellows on the ridge, and the songs of the warriors and
the high-pitched cries of the watch. And this also was a part of the
sweet life which was, and was to be; and he smiled and was happy and
loved the days that were coming, and longed for them, as the young man
longs for the feet of his maiden at the trysting-place.
So as he sat there, the dreams wrapping him up from troublous thoughts,
at last slumber overtook him, and the great warrior of the Wolfings sat
nodding like an old carle in the chimney ingle, and he fell asleep, his
dreams going with him, but all changed and turned to folly and emptiness.
He woke with a start in no long time; the night was deep, the wind had
fallen utterly, and all sounds were stilled save the voice of the brook,
and now and again the cry of the watchers of the Goths. The moon was
high and bright, and the little pool beside him glittered with it in all
its ripples; for it was full now and trickling over the lip of his dam.
So he arose from the stone and did off his war-gear, casting
Throng-plough down into the grass beside him, for he had been minded to
bathe him, but the slumber was still on him, and he stood musing while
the stream grew stronger and pushed off first one of his turfs and then
another, and rolled two or three of the stones over, and then softly
thrust all away and ran with a gush down the dale, filling all the little
bights by the way for a minute or two; he laughed softly thereat, and
stayed the undoing of his kirtle, and so laid himself down on the grass
beside the stone looking down the dale, and fell at once into a dreamless
sleep.
When he awoke again, it was yet night, but the moon was getting lower and
the first beginnings of dawn were showing in the sky over the ridge; he
lay still a moment gathering his thoughts and striving to remember where
he was, as is the wont of men waking from deep sleep; then he leapt to
his feet, and lo, he was face to face with a woman, and she who but the
Wood-Sun? and he wondered not, but reached out his hand to touch her,
though he had not yet wholly cast off the heaviness of slumber or
remembered the tidings of yesterday.
She drew aback a little from him, and his eyes cleared of the slumber,
and he saw her that she was scantily clad in black raiment, barefoot,
with no gold ring on her arms or necklace on her neck, or crown about her
head. But she looked so fair and lovely even in that end of the night-
tide, that he remembered all her beauty of the day and the sunshine, and
he laughed aloud for joy of the sight of her, and said:
"What aileth thee, O Wood-Sun, and is this a new custom of thy kindred
and the folk of God-home that their brides array themselves like thralls
new-taken, and as women who have lost their kindred and are outcast? Who
then hath won the Burg of the Anses, and clomb the rampart of God-home?"
But she spoke from where she stood in a voice so sweet, that it thrilled
to the very marrow of his bones.
"I have dwelt a while with sorrow since we met, we twain, in the wood:
I have mourned, while thou hast been merry, who deemest the war-play
good.
For I know the heart of the wilful and how thou wouldst cast away
The rampart of thy life-days, and the wall of my happy day.
Yea I am the thrall of Sorrow; she hath stripped my raiment off
And laid sore stripes upon me with many a bitter scoff.
Still bidding me remember that I come of the God-folk's kin,
And yet for all my godhead no love of thee may win."
Then she looked longingly at him a while and at last could no longer
refrain her, but drew nigh him and took his hands in hers, and kissed his
mouth, and said as she caressed him:
"O where are thy wounds, beloved? how turned the spear from thy
breast,
When the storm of war blew strongest, and the best men met the best?
Lo, this is the tale of to-day: but what shall to-morrow tell?
That Thiodolf the Mighty in the fight's beginning fell;
That there came a stroke ill-stricken, there came an aimless thrust,
And the life of the people's helper lay quenched in the summer dust."
He answered nothing, but smiled as though the sound of her voice and the
touch of her hand were pleasant to him, for so much love there was in
her, that her very grief was scarcely grievous. But she said again:
"Thou sayest it: I am outcast; for a God that lacketh mirth
Hath no more place in God-home and never a place on earth.
A man grieves, and he gladdens, or he dies and his grief is gone;
But what of the grief of the Gods, and the sorrow never undone?
Yea verily I am the outcast. When first in thine arms I lay
On the blossoms of the woodland my godhead passed away;
Thenceforth unto thee was I looking for the light and the glory of
life
And the Gods' doors shut behind me till the day of the uttermost
strife.
And now thou hast taken my soul, thou wilt cast it into the night,
And cover thine head with the darkness, and turn thine eyes from the
light.
Thou wouldst go to the empty country where never a seed is sown
And never a deed is fashioned, and the place where each is alone;
But I thy thrall shall follow, I shall come where thou seemest to lie,
I shall sit on the howe that hides thee, and thou so dear and nigh!
A few bones white in their war-gear that have no help or thought,
Shall be Thiodolf the Mighty, so nigh, so dear--and nought."
His hands strayed over her shoulders and arms, caressing them, and he
said softly and lovingly:
"I am Thiodolf the Mighty: but as wise as I may be
No story of that grave-night mine eyes can ever see,
But rather the tale of the Wolfings through the coming days of earth,
And the young men in their triumph and the maidens in their mirth;
And morn's promise every evening, and each day the promised morn,
And I amidst it ever reborn and yet reborn.
This tale I know, who have seen it, who have felt the joy and pain,
Each fleeing, each pursuing, like the links of the draw-well's chain:
But that deedless tide of the grave-mound, and the dayless nightless
day,
E'en as I strive to see it, its image wanes away.
What say'st thou of the grave-mound? shall I be there at all
When they lift the Horn of Remembrance, and the shout goes down the
hall,
And they drink the Mighty War-duke and Thiodolf the old?
Nay rather; there where the youngling that longeth to be bold
Sits gazing through the hall-reek and sees across the board
A vision of the reaping of the harvest of the sword,
There shall Thiodolf be sitting; e'en there shall the youngling be
That once in the ring of the hazels gave up his life to thee."
She laughed as he ended, and her voice was sweet, but bitter was her
laugh. Then she said:
"Nay thou shalt be dead, O warrior, thou shalt not see the Hall
Nor the children of thy people 'twixt the dais and the wall.
And I, and I shall be living; still on thee shall waste my thought:
I shall long and lack thy longing; I shall pine for what is nought."
But he smiled again, and said:
"Not on earth shall I learn this wisdom; and how shall I learn it then
When I lie alone in the grave-mound, and have no speech with men?
But for thee,--O doubt it nothing that my life shall live in thee,
And so shall we twain be loving in the days that yet shall be."
It was as if she heard him not; and she fell aback from him a little and
stood silently for a while as one in deep thought; and then turned and
went a few paces from him, and stooped down and came back again with
something in her arms (and it was the hauberk once more), and said
suddenly:
"O Thiodolf, now tell me for what cause thou wouldst not bear
This grey wall of the hammer in the tempest of the spear?
Didst thou doubt my faith, O Folk-wolf, or the counsel of the Gods,
That thou needs must cast thee naked midst the flashing battle-rods,
Or is thy pride so mighty that it seemed to thee indeed
That death was a better guerdon than the love of the Godhead's seed?"
But Thiodolf said: "O Wood-Sun, this thou hast a right to ask of me, why
I have not worn in the battle thy gift, the Treasure of the World, the
Dwarf-wrought Hauberk! And what is this that thou sayest? I doubt not
thy faith towards me and thine abundant love: and as for the rede of the
Gods, I know it not, nor may I know it, nor turn it this way nor that:
and as for thy love and that I would choose death sooner, I know not what
thou meanest; I will not say that I love thy love better than life
itself; for these two, my life and my love, are blended together and may
not be sundered.
"Hearken therefore as to the Hauberk: I wot well that it is for no light
matter that thou wouldst have me bear thy gift, the wondrous hauberk,
into battle; I deem that some doom is wrapped up in it; maybe that I
shall fall before the foe if I wear it not; and that if I wear it,
somewhat may betide me which is unmeet to betide a warrior of the
Wolfings. Therefore will I tell thee why I have fought in two battles
with the Romans with unmailed body, and why I left the hauberk, (which I
see that thou bearest in thine arms) in the Roof of the Daylings. For
when I entered therein, clad in the hauberk, there came to meet me an
ancient man, one of the very valiant of days past, and he looked on me
with the eyes of love, as though he had been the very father of our folk,
and I the man that was to come after him to carry on the life thereof.
But when he saw the hauberk and touched it, then was his love smitten
cold with sadness and he spoke words of evil omen; so that putting this
together with thy words about the gift, and that thou didst in a manner
compel me to wear it, I could not but deem that this mail is for the
ransom of a man and the ruin of a folk.
"Wilt thou say that it is not so? then will I wear the hauberk, and live
and die happy. But if thou sayest that I have deemed aright, and that a
curse goeth with the hauberk, then either for the sake of the folk I will
not wear the gift and the curse, and I shall die in great glory, and
because of me the House shall live; or else for thy sake I shall bear it
and live, and the House shall live or die as may be, but I not helping,
nay I no longer of the House nor in it. How sayest thou?"
Then she said:
"Hail be thy mouth, beloved, for that last word of thine,
And the hope that thine heart conceiveth and the hope that is born in
mine.
Yea, for a man's delivrance was the hauberk born indeed
That once more the mighty warrior might help the folk at need.
And where is the curse's dwelling if thy life be saved to dwell
Amidst the Wolfing warriors and the folk that loves thee well
And the house where the high Gods left thee to be cherished well
therein?
"Yea more: I have told thee, beloved, that thou art not of the kin;
The blood in thy body is blended of the wandering Elking race,
And one that I may not tell of, who in God-home hath his place,
And who changed his shape to beget thee in the wild-wood's leafy roof.
How then shall the doom of the Wolfings be woven in the woof
Which the Norns for thee have shuttled? or shall one man of war
Cast down the tree of the Wolfings on the roots that spread so far?
O friend, thou art wise and mighty, but other men have lived
Beneath the Wolfing roof-tree whereby the folk has thrived."
He reddened at her word; but his eyes looked eagerly on her. She cast
down the hauberk, and drew one step nigher to him. She knitted her
brows, her face waxed terrible, and her stature seemed to grow greater,
as she lifted up her gleaming right arm, and cried out in a great voice.
"Thou Thiodolf the Mighty! Hadst thou will to cast the net
And tangle the House in thy trouble, it is I would slay thee yet;
For 'tis I and I that love them, and my sorrow would I give,
And thy life, thou God of battle, that the Wolfing House might live."
Therewith she rushed forward, and cast herself upon him, and threw her
arms about him, and strained him to her bosom, and kissed his face, and
he her in likewise, for there was none to behold them, and nought but the
naked heaven was the roof above their heads.
And now it was as if the touch of her face and her body, and the
murmuring of her voice changed and soft close to his ear, as she murmured
mere words of love to him, drew him away from the life of deeds and
doubts and made a new world for him, wherein he beheld all those fair
pictures of the happy days that had been in his musings when first he
left the field of the dead.
So they sat down on the grey stone together hand in hand, her head laid
upon his shoulder, no otherwise than if they had been two lovers, young
and without renown in days of deep peace.
So as they sat, her foot smote on the cold hilts of the sword, which
Thiodolf had laid down in the grass; and she stooped and took it up, and
laid it across her knees and his as they sat there; and she looked on
Throng-plough as he lay still in the sheath, and smiled on him, and saw
that the peace-strings were not yet wound about his hilts. So she drew
him forth and raised him up in her hand, and he gleamed white and fearful
in the growing dawn, for all things had now gotten their colours again,
whereas amidst their talking had the night worn, and the moon low down
was grown white and pale.
But she leaned aside, and laid her cheek against Thiodolf's, and he took
the sword out of her hand and set it on his knees again, and laid his
right hand on it, and said:
"Two things by these blue edges in the face of the dawning I swear;
And first this warrior's ransom in the coming fight to bear,
And evermore to love thee who hast given me second birth.
And by the sword I swear it, and by the Holy Earth,
To live for the House of the Wolfings, and at last to die for their
need.
For though I trow thy saying that I am not one of their seed,
Nor yet by the hand have been taken and unto the Father shown
As a very son of the Fathers, yet mid them hath my body grown;
And I am the guest of their Folk-Hall, and each one there is my
friend.
So with them is my joy and sorrow, and my life, and my death in the
end.
Now whatso doom hereafter my coming days shall bide,
Thou speech-friend, thou deliverer, thine is this dawning-tide."
She spoke no word to him; but they rose up and went hand in hand down the
dale, he still bearing his naked sword over his shoulder, and thus they
went together into the yew-copse at the dale's end. There they abode
till after the rising of the sun, and each to each spake many loving
words at their departure; and the Wood-Sun went her ways at her will.
But Thiodolf went up the dale again, and set Throng-plough in his sheath,
and wound the peace-strings round him. Then he took up the hauberk from
the grass whereas the Wood-Sun had cast it, and did it on him, as it were
of the attire he was wont to carry daily. So he girt Throng-plough to
him, and went soberly up to the ridge-top to the folk, who were just
stirring in the early morning.
CHAPTER XVIII--TIDINGS BROUGHT TO THE WAIN-BURG
Now it must be told of Otter and they of the Wain-burg how they had the
tidings of the overthrow of the Romans on the Ridge, and that Egil had
left them on his way to Wolf-stead. They were joyful of the tale, as was
like to be, but eager also to strike their stroke at the foemen, and in
that mood they abode fresh tidings.
It has been told how Otter had sent the Bearings and the Wormings to the
aid of Thiodolf and his folk, and these two were great kindreds, and they
being gone, there abode with Otter, one man with another, thralls and
freemen, scant three thousand men: of these many were bowmen good to
fight from behind a wall or fence, or some such cover, but scarce meet to
withstand a shock in the open field. However it was deemed at this time
in the Wain-burg that Thiodolf and his men would soon return to them; and
in any case, they said, he lay between the Romans and the Mark, so that
they had but little doubt; or rather they feared that the Romans might
draw aback from the Mark before they could be met in battle again, for as
aforesaid they were eager for the fray.
Now it was in the cool of the evening two days after the Battle on the
Ridge, that the men, both freemen and thralls, had been disporting
themselves in the plain ground without the Burg in casting the spear and
putting the stone, and running races a-foot and a-horseback, and now
close on sunset three young men, two of the Laxings and one of the
Shieldings, and a grey old thrall of that same House, were shooting a
match with the bow, driving their shafts at a rushen roundel hung on a
pole which the old thrall had dight. Men were peaceful and happy, for
the time was fair and calm, and, as aforesaid, they dreaded not the Roman
Host any more than if they were Gods dwelling in God-home. The shooters
were deft men, and they of the Burg were curious to note their deftness,
and many were breathed with the games wherein they had striven, and
thought it good to rest, and look on the new sport: so they sat and stood
on the grass about the shooters on three sides, and the mead-horn went
briskly from man to man; for there was no lack of meat and drink in the
Burg, whereas the kindreds that lay nighest to it had brought in abundant
provision, and women of the kindreds had come to them, and not a few were
there scattered up and down among the carles.
Now the Shielding man, Geirbald by name, had just loosed at the mark, and
had shot straight and smitten the roundel in the midst, and a shout went
up from the onlookers thereat; but that shout was, as it were, lined with
another, and a cry that a messenger was riding toward the Burg: thereat
most men looked round toward the wood, because their minds were set on
fresh tidings from Thiodolf's company, but as it happened it was from the
north and the side toward Mid-mark that they on the outside of the throng
had seen the rider coming; and presently the word went from man to man
that so it was, and that the new comer was a young man on a grey horse,
and would speedily be amongst them; so they wondered what the tidings
might be, but yet they did not break up the throng, but abode in their
places that they might receive the messenger more orderly; and as the
rider drew near, those who were nighest to him perceived that it was a
woman.
So men made way before the grey horse, and its rider, and the horse was
much spent and travel-worn. So the woman rode right into the ring of
warriors, and drew rein there, and lighted down slowly and painfully, and
when she was on the ground could scarce stand for stiffness; and two or
three of the swains drew near her to help her, and knew her at once for
Hrosshild of the Wolfings, for she was well-known as a doughty woman.
Then she said: "Bring me to Otter the War-duke; or bring him hither to
me, which were best, since so many men are gathered together; and
meanwhile give me to drink; for I am thirsty and weary."
So while one went for Otter, another reached to her the mead-horn, and
she had scarce done her draught, ere Otter was there, for they had found
him at the gate of the Burg. He had many a time been in the Wolfing
Hall, so he knew her at once and said:
"Hail, Hrosshild! how farest thou?"
She said: "I fare as the bearer of evil tidings. Bid thy folk do on
their war-gear and saddle their horses, and make no delay; for now
presently shall the Roman host be in Mid-mark!"
Then cried Otter: "Blow up the war-horn! get ye all to your weapons and
be ready to leap on your horses, and come ye to the Thing in good order
kindred by kindred: later on ye shall hear Hrosshild's story as she shall
tell it to me!"
Therewith he led her to a grassy knoll that was hard by, and set her down
thereon and himself beside her, and said:
"Speak now, damsel, and fear not! For now shall one fate go over us all,
either to live together or die together as the free children of Tyr, and
friends of the Almighty God of the Earth. How camest thou to meet the
Romans and know of their ways and to live thereafter?"
She said: "Thus it was: the Hall-Sun bethought her how that the eastern
ways into Mid-mark that bring a man to the thicket behind the Roof of the
Bearings are nowise hard, even for an host; so she sent ten women, and me
the eleventh to the Bearing dwelling and the road through the thicket
aforesaid; and we were to take of the Bearing stay-at-homes whomso we
would that were handy, and then all we to watch the ways for fear of the
Romans. And methinks she has had some vision of their ways, though
mayhap not altogether clear.
"Anyhow we came to the Bearing dwellings, and they gave us of their folk
eight doughty women and two light-foot lads, and so we were twenty and
one in all.
"So then we did as the Hall-Sun bade us, and ordained a chain of watchers
far up into the waste; and these were to sound a point of war upon their
horns each to each till the sound thereof should come to us who lay with
our horses hoppled ready beside us in the fair plain of the Mark outside
the thicket.
"To be short, the horns waked us up in the midst of yesternight, and of
the watches also came to us the last, which had heard the sound amidst
the thicket, and said that it was certainly the sound of the Goths' horn,
and the note agreed on. Therefore I sent a messenger at once to the
Wolfing Roof to say what was toward; but to thee I would not ride until I
had made surer of the tidings; so I waited awhile, and then rode into the
wild-wood; and a long tale I might make both of the waiting and the
riding, had I time thereto; but this is the end of it; that going warily
a little past where the thicket thinneth and the road endeth, I came on
three of those watches or links in the chain we had made, and half of
another watch or link; that is to say six women, who were come together
after having blown their horns and fled (though they should rather have
abided in some lurking-place to espy whatever might come that way) and
one other woman, who had been one of the watch much further off, and had
spoken with the furthest of all, which one had seen the faring of the
Roman Host, and that it was very great, and no mere band of pillagers or
of scouts. And, said this fleer (who was indeed half wild with fear),
that while they were talking together, came the Romans upon them, and saw
them; and a band of Romans beat the wood for them when they fled, and
she, the fleer, was at point to be taken, and saw two taken indeed, and
haled off by the Roman scourers of the wood. But she escaped and so came
to the others on the skirts of the thicket, having left of her skin and
blood on many a thornbush and rock by the way.
"Now when I heard this, I bade this fleer get her home to the Bearings as
swiftly as she might, and tell her tale; and she went away trembling, and
scarce knowing whether her feet were on earth or on water or on fire; but
belike failed not to come there, as no Romans were before her.
"But for the others, I sent one to go straight to Wolf-stead on the heels
of the first messenger, to tell the Hall-Sun what had befallen, and other
five I set to lurk in the thicket, whereas none could lightly lay hands
on them, and when they had new tidings, to flee to Wolf-stead as occasion
might serve them; and for myself I tarried not, but rode on the spur to
tell thee hereof.
"But my last word to thee, Otter, is that by the Hall-sun's bidding the
Bearings will not abide fire and steel at their own stead, but when they
hear true tidings of the Romans being hard at hand, will take with them
all that is not too hot or too heavy to carry, and go their ways unto
Wolf-stead: and the tidings will go up and down the Mark on both sides of
the water, so that whatever is of avail for defence will gather there at
our dwelling, and if we fall, goodly shall be the howe heaped over us,
even if ye come not in time.
"Now have I told thee what I needs must and there is no need to question
me more, for thou hast it all--do thou what thou hast to do!"
With that word she cast herself down on the grass by the mound-side, and
was presently asleep, for she was very weary.
But all the time she had been telling her tale had the horn been
sounding, and there were now a many warriors gathered and more coming in
every moment: so Otter stood up on the mound after he had bidden a man of
his House to bring him his horse and war-gear, and abided a little, till,
as might be said, the whole host was gathered: then he bade cry silence,
and spake:
"Sons of Tyr, now hath an Host of the Romans gotten into the Mark; a
mighty host, but not so mighty that it may not be met. Few words are
best: let the Steerings, who are not many, but are men well-tried in war
and wisdom abide in the Burg along with the fighting thralls: but let the
Burg be broken up and moved from the place, and let its warders wend
towards Mid-mark, but warily and without haste, and each night let them
make the wain-garth and keep good watch.
"But know ye that the Romans shall fall with all their power on the
Wolfing dwellings, deeming that when they have that, they shall have all
that is ours with ourselves also. For there is the Hall-Sun under the
Great Roof, and there hath Thiodolf, our War-duke, his dwelling-place;
therefore shall all of us, save those that abide with the wains, take
horse, and ride without delay, and cross the water at Battleford, so that
we may fall upon the foe before they come west of the water; for as ye
know there is but one ford whereby a man wending straight from the
Bearings may cross Mirkwood-water, and it is like that the foe will tarry
at the Bearing stead long enough to burn and pillage it.
"So do ye order yourselves according to your kindreds, and let the
Shieldings lead. Make no more delay! But for me I will now send a
messenger to Thiodolf to tell him of the tidings, and then speedily shall
he be with us. Geirbald, I see thee; come hither!"
Now Geirbald stood amidst the Shieldings, and when Otter had spoken, he
came forth bestriding a white horse, and with his bow slung at his back.
Said Otter: "Geirbald, thou shalt ride at once through the wood, and find
Thiodolf; and tell him the tidings, and that in nowise he follow the
Roman fleers away from the Mark, nor to heed anything but the trail of
the foemen through the south-eastern heaths of Mirkwood, whether other
Romans follow him or not: whatever happens let him lead the Goths by that
road, which for him is the shortest, towards the defence of the Wolfing
dwellings. Lo thou, my ring for a token! Take it and depart in haste.
Yet first take thy fellow Viglund the Woodman with thee, lest if
perchance one fall, the other may bear the message. Tarry not, nor rest
till thy word be said!"
Then turned Geirbald to find Viglund who was anigh to him, and he took
the ring, and the twain went their ways without more ado, and rode into
the wild-wood.
But about the wain-burg was there plenteous stir of men till all was
ordered for the departure of the host, which was no long while, for there
was nothing to do but on with the war-gear and up on to the horse.
Forth then they went duly ordered in their kindreds towards the head of
the Upper-mark, riding as swiftly as they might without breaking their
array.
CHAPTER XIX--THOSE MESSENGERS COME TO THIODOLF
Of Geirbald and Viglund the tale tells that they rode the woodland paths
as speedily as they might. They had not gone far, and were winding
through a path amidst of a thicket mingled of the hornbeam and holly,
betwixt the openings of which the bracken grew exceeding tall, when
Viglund, who was very fine-eared, deemed that he heard a horse coming to
meet them: so they lay as close as they might, and drew back their horses
behind a great holly-bush lest it should be some one or more of the foes
who had fled into the wood when the Romans were scattered in that first
fight. But as the sound drew nearer, and it was clearly the footsteps of
a great horse, they deemed it would be some messenger from Thiodolf, as
indeed it turned out: for as the new-comer fared on, somewhat unwarily,
they saw a bright helm after the fashion of the Goths amidst of the
trees, and then presently they knew by his attire that he was of the
Bearings, and so at last they knew him to be Asbiorn of the said House, a
doughty man; so they came forth to meet him and he drew rein when he saw
armed men, but presently beholding their faces he knew them and laughed
on them, and said:
"Hail fellows! what tidings are toward?"
"These," said Viglund, "that thou art well met, since now shalt thou turn
back and bring us to Thiodolf as speedily as may be."
But Asbiorn laughed and said: "Nay rather turn about with me; or why are
ye so grim of countenance?"
"Our errand is no light one," said Geirbald, "but thou, why art thou so
merry?"
"I have seen the Romans fall," said he, "and belike shall soon see more
of that game: for I am on an errand to Otter from Thiodolf: the War-duke,
when he had questioned some of those whom we took on the Day of the
Ridge, began to have a deeming that the Romans had beguiled us, and will
fall on the Mark by the way of the south-east heaths: so now is he
hastening to fetch a compass and follow that road either to overtake them
or prevent them; and he biddeth Otter tarry not, but ride hard along the
water to meet them if he may, or ever they have set their hands to the
dwellings of my House. And belike when I have done mine errand to Otter
I shall ride with him to look on these burners and slayers once more;
therefore am I merry. Now for your tidings, fellows."
Said Geirbald: "Our tidings are that both our errands are prevented, and
come to nought: for Otter hath not tarried, but hath ridden with all his
folk toward the stead of thine House. So shalt thou indeed see these
burners and slayers if thou ridest hard; since we have tidings that the
Romans will by now be in Mid-mark. And as for our errand, it is to bid
Thiodolf do even as he hath done. Hereby may we see how good a pair of
War-dukes we have gotten, since each thinketh of the same wisdom. Now
take we counsel together as to what we shall do; whether we shall go back
to Otter with thee, or thou go back to Thiodolf with us; or else each go
the road ordained for us."
Said Asbiorn: "To Otter will I ride as I was bidden, that I may look on
the burning of our roof, and avenge me of the Romans afterwards; and I
bid you, fellows, ride with me, since fewer men there are with Otter, and
he must be the first to bide the brunt of battle."
"Nay," said Geirbald, "as for me ye must even lose a man's aid; for to
Thiodolf was I sent, and to Thiodolf will I go: and bethink thee if this
be not best, since Thiodolf hath but a deeming of the ways of the Romans
and we wot surely of them. Our coming shall make him the speedier, and
the less like to turn back if any alien band shall follow after him. What
sayest thou, Viglund?"
Said Viglund: "Even as thou, Geirbald: but for myself I deem I may well
turn back with Asbiorn. For I would serve the House in battle as soon as
may be; and maybe we shall slaughter these kites of the cities, so that
Thiodolf shall have no work to do when he cometh."
Said Asbiorn; "Geirbald, knowest thou right well the ways through the
wood and on the other side thereof, to the place where Thiodolf abideth?
for ye see that night is at hand."
"Nay, not over well," said Geirbald.
Said Asbiorn: "Then I rede thee take Viglund with thee; for he knoweth
them yard by yard, and where they be hard and where they be soft.
Moreover it were best indeed that ye meet Thiodolf betimes; for I deem
not but that he wendeth leisurely, though always warily, because he
deemeth not that Otter will ride before to-morrow morning. Hearken,
Viglund! Thiodolf will rest to-night on the other side of the water,
nigh to where the hills break off into the sheer cliffs that are called
the Kites' Nest, and the water runneth under them, coming from the east:
and before him lieth the easy ground of the eastern heaths where he is
minded to wend to-morrow betimes in the morning: and if ye do your best
ye shall be there before he is upon the road, and sure it is that your
tidings shall hasten him."
"Thou sayest sooth," saith Geirbald, "tarry we no longer; here sunder our
ways; farewell!"
"Farewell," said he, "and thou, Viglund, take this word in parting, that
belike thou shalt yet see the Romans, and strike a stroke, and maybe be
smitten. For indeed they be most mighty warriors."
Then made they no delay but rode their ways either side. And Geirbald
and Viglund rode over rough and smooth all night, and were out of the
thick wood by day-dawn: and whereas they rode hard, and Viglund knew the
ways well, they came to Mirkwood-water before the day was old, and saw
that the host was stirring, but not yet on the way. And or ever they
came to the water's edge, they were met by Wolfkettle of the Wolfings,
and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and three others who were but just come from
the place where the hurt men lay down in a dale near the Great Ridge;
there had Wolfkettle and Hiarandi been tending Toti of the Beamings,
their fellow-in-arms, who had been sorely hurt in the battle, but was
doing well, and was like to live. So when they saw the messengers, they
came up to them and hailed them, and asked them if the tidings were good
or evil.
"That is as it may be," said Geirbald, "but they are short to tell; the
Romans are in Mid-mark, and Otter rideth on the spur to meet them, and
sendeth us to bid Thiodolf wend the heaths to fall in on them also. Nor
may we tarry one minute ere we have seen Thiodolf."
Said Wolfkettle, "We will lead you to him; he is on the east side of the
water, with all his host, and they are hard on departing."
So they went down the ford, which was not very deep; and Wolfkettle rode
the ford behind Geirbald, and another man behind Viglund; but Hiarandi
went afoot with the others beside the horses, for he was a very tall man.
But as they rode amidst the clear water Wolfkettle lifted up his voice
and sang:
"White horse, with what are ye laden as ye wade the shallows warm,
But with tidings of the battle, and the fear of the fateful storm?
What loureth now behind us, what pileth clouds before,
On either hand what gathereth save the stormy tide of war?
Now grows midsummer mirky, and fallow falls the morn,
And dusketh the Moon's Sister, and the trees look overworn;
God's Ash tree shakes and shivers, and the sheer cliff standeth white
As the bones of the giants' father when the Gods first fared to
fight."
And indeed the morning had grown mirky and grey and threatening, and from
far away the thunder growled, and the face of the Kite's Nest showed pale
and awful against a dark steely cloud; and a few drops of rain pattered
into the smooth water before them from a rag of the cloud-flock right
over head. They were in mid stream now, for the water was wide there; on
the eastern bank were the warriors gathering, for they had beheld the
faring of those men, and the voice of Wolfkettle came to them across the
water, so they deemed that great tidings were toward, and would fain know
on what errand those were come.
Then the waters of the ford deepened till Hiarandi was wading more than
waist-deep, and the water flowed over Geirbald's saddle; then Wolfkettle
laughed, and turning as he sat, dragged out his sword, and waved it from
east to west and sang:
"O sun, pale up in heaven, shrink from us if thou wilt,
And turn thy face from beholding the shock of guilt with guilt!
Stand still, O blood of summer! and let the harvest fade,
Till there be nought but fallow where once was bloom and blade!
O day, give out but a glimmer of all thy flood of light,
If it be but enough for our eyen to see the road of fight!
Forget all else and slumber, if still ye let us wake,
And our mouths shall make the thunder, and our swords shall the
lightening make,
And we shall be the storm-wind and drive the ruddy rain,
Till the joy of our hearts in battle bring back the day again."
As he spake that word they came up through the shallow water dripping on
to the bank, and they and the men who abode them on the bank shouted
together for joy of fellowship, and all tossed aloft their weapons. The
man who had ridden behind Viglund slipped off on to the ground; but
Wolfkettle abode in his place behind Geirbald.
So the messengers passed on, and the others closed up round about them,
and all the throng went up to where Thiodolf was sitting on a rock
beneath a sole ash-tree, the face of the Kite's Nest rising behind him on
the other side of a bight of the river. There he sat unhelmed with the
dwarf-wrought hauberk about him, holding Throng-plough in its sheath
across his knees, while he gave word to this and that man concerning the
order of the host.
So when they were come thither, the throng opened that the messengers
might come forward; for by this time had many more drawn near to hearken
what was toward. There they sat on their horses, the white and the grey,
and Wolfkettle stood by Geirbald's bridle rein, for he had now lighted
down; and a little behind him, his head towering over the others, stood
Hiarandi great and gaunt. The ragged cloud had drifted down south-east
now and the rain fell no more, but the sun was still pale and clouded.
Then Thiodolf looked gravely on them, and spake:
"What do ye sons of the War-shield? what tale is there to tell?
Is the kindred fallen tangled in the grasp of the fallow Hell?
Crows the red cock over the homesteads, have we met the foe too late?
For meseems your brows are heavy with the shadowing o'er of fate."
But Geirbald answered:
"Still cold with dew in the morning the Shielding Roof-ridge stands,
Nor yet hath grey Hell bounden the Shielding warriors' hands;
But lo, the swords, O War-duke, how thick in the wind they shake,
Because we bear the message that the battle-road ye take,
Nor tarry for the thunder or the coming on of rain,
Or the windy cloudy night-tide, lest your battle be but vain.
And this is the word that Otter yestre'en hath set in my mouth;
Seek thou the trail of the Aliens of the Cities of the South,
And thou shalt find it leading o'er the heaths to the beechen-wood,
And thence to the stony places where the foxes find their food;
And thence to the tangled thicket where the folkway cleaves it
through,
To the eastern edge of Mid-mark where the Bearings deal and do."
Then said Thiodolf in a cold voice, "What then hath befallen Otter?"
Said Geirbald:
"When last I looked upon Otter, all armed he rode the plain,
With his whole host clattering round him like the rush of the summer
rain;
To the right or the left they looked not but they rode through the
dusk and the dark
Beholding nought before them but the dream of the foes in the Mark.
So he went; but his word fled from him and on my horse it rode,
And again it saith, O War-duke seek thou the Bear's abode,
And tarry never a moment for ought that seems of worth,
For there shall ye find the sword-edge and the flame of the foes of
the earth.
"Tarry not, Thiodolf, nor turn aback though a new foe followeth on thine
heels. No need to question me more; I have no more to tell, save that a
woman brought these tidings to us, whom the Hall-Sun had sent with others
to watch the ways: and some of them had seen the Romans, who are a great
host and no band stealing forth to lift the herds."
Now all those round about him heard his words, for he spake with a loud
voice; and they knew what the bidding of the War-duke would be; so they
loitered not, but each man went about his business of looking to his war-
gear and gathering to the appointed place of his kindred. And even while
Geirbald had been speaking, had Hiarandi brought up the man who bore the
great horn, who when Thiodolf leapt to his feet to find him, was close at
hand. So he bade him blow the war-blast, and all men knew the meaning of
that voice of the horn, and every man armed him in haste, and they who
had horses (and these were but the Bearings and the Warnings), saddled
them, and mounted, and from mouth to mouth went the word that the Romans
were gotten into Mid-mark, and were burning the Bearing abodes. So
speedily was the whole host ready for the way, the Wolfings at the head
of all. Then came forth Thiodolf from the midst of his kindred, and they
raised him upon a great war-shield upheld by many men, and he stood
thereon and spake:
"O sons of Tyr, ye have vanquished, and sore hath been your pain;
But he that smiteth in battle must ever smite again;
And thus with you it fareth, and the day abideth yet
When ye shall hold the Aliens as the fishes in the net.
On the Ridge ye slew a many; but there came a many more
From their strongholds by the water to their new-built garth of war,
And all these have been led by dastards o'er the way our feet must
tread
Through the eastern heaths and the beech-wood to the door of the
Bearing stead,
Now e'en yesterday I deemed it, but I durst not haste away
Ere the word was borne to Otter and 'tis he bids haste to-day;
So now by day and by night-tide it behoveth us to wend
And wind the reel of battle and weave its web to end.
Had ye deemed my eyes foreseeing, I would tell you of my sight,
How I see the folk delivered and the Aliens turned to flight,
While my own feet wend them onwards to the ancient Father's Home.
But belike these are but the visions that to many a man shall come
When he goeth adown to the battle, and before him riseth high
The wall of valiant foemen to hide all things anigh.
But indeed I know full surely that no work that we may win
To-morrow or the next day shall quench the Markmen's kin.
On many a day hereafter shall their warriors carry shield;
On many a day their maidens shall drive the kine afield,
On many a day their reapers bear sickle in the wheat
When the golden wind-wrought ripple stirs round the feast-hall's feet.
Lo, now is the day's work easy--to live and overcome,
Or to die and yet to conquer on the threshold of the Home."
And therewith he gat him down and went a-foot to the head of the Wolfing
band, a great shout going with him, which was mingled with the voice of
the war-horn that bade away.
So fell the whole host into due array, and they were somewhat over three
thousand warriors, all good and tried men and meet to face the uttermost
of battle in the open field; so they went their ways with all the speed
that footmen may, and in fair order; and the sky cleared above their
heads, but the distant thunder still growled about the world. Geirbald
and Viglund joined themselves to the Wolfings and went a-foot along with
Wolfkettle; but Hiarandi went with his kindred who were second in the
array.
CHAPTER XX--OTTER AND HIS FOLK COME INTO MID-MARK
Otter and his folk rode their ways along Mirkwood-water, and made no
stay, except now and again to breathe their horses, till they came to
Battleford in the early morning; there they baited their horses, for the
grass was good in the meadow, and the water easy to come at.
So after they had rested there a short hour, and had eaten what was easy
for them to get, they crossed the ford, and wended along Mirkwood-water
between the wood and the river, but went slower than before lest they
should weary their horses; so that it was high-noon before they had come
out of the woodland way into Mid-mark; and at once as soon as the whole
plain of the Mark opened out before them, they saw what most of them
looked to see (since none doubted Hrosshild's tale), and that was a
column of smoke rising high and straight up into the air, for the
afternoon was hot and windless. Great wrath rose in their hearts
thereat, and many a strong man trembled for anger, though none for fear,
as Otter raised his right hand and stretched it out towards that token of
wrack and ruin; yet they made no stay, nor did they quicken their pace
much; because they knew that they should come to Bearham before night-
fall, and they would not meet the Romans way-worn and haggard; but they
rode on steadily, a terrible company of wrathful men.
They passed by the dwellings of the kindreds, though save for the
Galtings the houses on the east side of the water between the Bearings
and the wild-wood road were but small; for the thicket came somewhat near
to the water and pinched the meadows. But the Galtings were great
hunters and trackers of the wild-wood, and they of the Geddings, the
Erings and the Withings, which were smaller Houses, lived somewhat on the
take of fish from Mirkwood-water (as did the Laxings also of the Nether-
mark), for thereabout were there goodly pools and eddies, and sun-warmed
shallows therewithal for the spawning of the trouts; as there were eyots
in the water, most of which tailed off into a gravelly shallow at their
lower ends.
Now as the riders of the Goths came over against the dwellings of the
Withings, they saw people, mostly women, driving up the beasts from the
meadow towards the garth; but upon the tofts about their dwellings were
gathered many folk, who had their eyes turned toward the token of ravage
that hung in the sky above the fair plain; but when these beheld the
riding of the host, they tossed up their arms to them and whatever they
bore in them, and the sound of their shrill cry (for they were all women
and young lads) came down the wind to the ears of the riders. But down
by the river on a swell of the ground were some swains and a few thralls,
and among them some men armed and a-horseback; and these, when they
perceived the host coming on turned and rode to meet them; and as they
drew near they shouted as men overjoyed to meet their kindred; and indeed
the fighting-men of their own House were riding in the host. And the
armed men were three old men, and one very old with marvellous long white
hair, and four long lads of some fifteen winters, and four stout carles
of the thralls bearing bows and bucklers, and these rode behind the
swains; so they found their own kindred and rode amongst them.
But when they were all jingling and clashing on together, the dust
arising from the sun-dried turf, the earth shaking with the thunder of
the horse-hoofs, then the heart of the long-hoary one stirred within him
as he bethought him of the days of his youth, and to his old nostrils
came the smell of the horses and the savour of the sweat of warriors
riding close together knee to knee adown the meadow. So he lifted up his
voice and sang:
"Rideth lovely along
The strong by the strong;
Soft under his breath
Singeth sword in the sheath,
And shield babbleth oft
Unto helm-crest aloft;
How soon shall their words rise mid wrath of the battle
Into wrangle unheeded of clanging and rattle,
And no man shall note then the gold on the sword
When the runes have no meaning, the mouth-cry no word,
When all mingled together, the war-sea of men
Shall toss up the steel-spray round fourscore and ten.
"Now as maids burn the weed
Betwixt acre and mead,
So the Bearings' Roof
Burneth little aloof,
And red gloweth the hall
Betwixt wall and fair wall,
Where often the mead-sea we sipped in old days,
When our feet were a-weary with wending the ways;
When the love of the lovely at even was born,
And our hands felt fair hands as they fell on the horn.
There round about standeth the ring of the foe
Tossing babes on their spears like the weeds o'er the low.
"Ride, ride then! nor spare
The red steeds as ye fare!
Yet if daylight shall fail,
By the fire-light of bale
Shall we see the bleared eyes
Of the war-learned, the wise.
In the acre of battle the work is to win,
Let us live by the labour, sheaf-smiting therein;
And as oft o'er the sickle we sang in time past
When the crake that long mocked us fled light at the last,
So sing o'er the sword, and the sword-hardened hand
Bearing down to the reaping the wrath of the land."
So he sang; and a great shout went up from his kindred and those around
him, and it was taken up all along the host, though many knew not why
they shouted, and the whole host quickened its pace, and went a great
trot over the smooth meadow.
So in no long while were they come over against the stead of the Erings,
and thereabouts were no beasts afield, and no women, for all the neat
were driven into the garth of the House; but all they who were not war-
fit were standing without doors looking down the Mark towards the reek of
the Bearing dwellings, and these also sent a cry of welcome toward the
host of their kindred. But along the river-bank came to meet the host an
armed band of two old men, two youths who were their sons, and twelve
thralls who were armed with long spears; and all these were a-horseback:
so they fell in with their kindred and the host made no stay for them,
but pressed on over-running the meadow. And still went up that column of
smoke, and thicker and blacker it grew a-top, and ruddier amidmost.
So came they by the abode of the Geddings, and there also the neat and
sheep were close in the home-garth: but armed men were lying or standing
about the river bank, talking or singing merrily none otherwise than
though deep peace were on the land; and when they saw the faring of the
host they sprang to their feet with a shout and gat to their horses at
once: they were more than the other bands had been, for the Geddings were
a greater House; they were seven old men, and ten swains, and ten thralls
bearing long spears like to those of the Erings; and no sooner had they
fallen in with their kindred, than the men of the host espied a greater
company yet coming to meet them: and these were of the folk of the
Galtings; and amongst them were ten warriors in their prime, because they
had but of late come back from the hunting in the wood and had been
belated from the muster of the kindreds; and with them were eight old men
and fifteen lads, and eighteen thralls; and the swains and thralls all
bore bows besides the swords that they were girt withal, and not all of
them had horses, but they who had none rode behind the others: so they
joined themselves to the host, shouting aloud; and they had with them a
great horn that they blew on till they had taken their place in the
array; and whereas their kindred was with Thiodolf, they followed along
with the hinder men of the Shieldings.
So now all the host went on together, and when they had passed the
Galting abodes, there was nothing between them and Bearham, nor need they
look for any further help of men; there were no beasts afield nor any to
herd them, and the stay-at-homes were within doors dighting them for
departure into the wild-wood if need should be: but a little while after
they had passed these dwellings came into the host two swains of about
twenty winters, and a doughty maid, their sister, and they bare no
weapons save short spears and knives; they were wet and dripping with the
water, for they had just swum Mirkwood-water. They were of the Wolfing
House, and had been shepherding a few sheep on the west side of the
water, when they saw the host faring to battle, and might not refrain
them, but swam their horses across the swift deeps to join their kindred
to live and die with them. The tale tells that they three fought in the
battles that followed after, and were not slain there, though they
entered them unarmed, but lived long years afterwards: of them need no
more be said.
Now, when the host was but a little past the Galting dwellings men began
to see the flames mingled with the smoke of the burning, and the smoke
itself growing thinner, as though the fire had over-mastered everything
and was consuming itself with its own violence; and somewhat afterwards,
the ground rising, they could see the Bearing meadow and the foemen
thereon: yet a little further, and from the height of another swelling of
the earth they could see the burning houses themselves and the array of
the Romans; so there they stayed and breathed their horses a while. And
they beheld how of the Romans a great company was gathered together in
close array betwixt the ford and the Bearing Hall, but nigher unto the
ford, and these were a short mile from them; but others they saw
streaming out from the burning dwellings, as if their work were done
there, and they could not see that they had any captives with them. Other
Romans there were, and amongst them men in the attire of the Goths,
busied about the river banks, as though they were going to try the ford.
But a little while abode Otter in that place, and then waved his arm and
rode on and all the host followed; and as they drew nigher, Otter, who
was wise in war, beheld the Romans and deemed them a great host, and the
very kernel and main body of them many more than all his company; and
moreover they were duly and well arrayed as men waiting a foe; so he knew
that he must be wary or he would lose himself and all his men.
So he stayed his company when they were about two furlongs from them, and
the main body of the foe stirred not, but horsemen and slingers came
forth from its sides and made on toward the Goths, and in three or four
minutes were within bowshot of them. Then the bowmen of the Goths
slipped down from their horses and bent their bows and nocked their
arrows and let fly, and slew and hurt many of the horsemen, who endured
their shot but for a minute or two and then turned rein and rode back
slowly to their folk, and the slingers came not on very eagerly whereas
they were dealing with men a-horseback, and the bowmen of the Goths also
held them still.
Now turned Otter to his folk and made them a sign, which they knew well,
that they should get down from their horses; and when they were afoot the
leaders of tens and hundreds arrayed them, into the wedge-array, with the
bowmen on either flank: and Otter smiled as he beheld this adoing and
that the Romans meddled not with them, belike because they looked to have
them good cheap, since they were but a few wild men.
But when they were all arrayed he sat still on his horse and spake to
them short and sharply, saying:
"Men of the Goths, will ye mount your horses again and ride into the wood
and let it cover you, or will ye fight these Romans?" They answered him
with a great shout and the clashing of their weapons on their shields.
"That is well," quoth Otter, "since we have come so far; for I perceive
that the foe will come to meet us, so that we must either abide their
shock or turn our backs. Yet must we fight wisely or we are undone, and
Thiodolf in risk of undoing; this have we to do if we may, to thrust in
between them and the ford, and if we may do that, there let us fight it
out, till we fall one over another. But if we may not do it, then will
we not throw our lives away but do the foemen what hurt we may without
mingling ourselves amongst them, and so abide the coming of Thiodolf; for
if we get not betwixt them and the ford we may in no case hinder them
from crossing. And all this I tell you that ye may follow me wisely, and
refrain your wrath that ye may live yet to give it the rein when the time
comes."
So he spake and got down from his horse and drew his sword and went to
the head of the wedge-array and began slowly to lead forth; but the
thralls and swains had heed of the horses, and they drew aback with them
towards the wood which was but a little way from them.
But for Otter he led his men down towards the ford, and when the Romans
saw that, their main body began to move forward, faring slant-wise, as a
crab, down toward the ford; then Otter hastened somewhat, as he well
might, since his men were well learned in war and did not break their
array; but now by this time were those burners of the Romans come up with
the main battle, and the Roman captain sent them at once against the
Goths, and they advanced boldly enough, a great cloud of men in loose
array who fell to with arrows and slings on the wedge-array and slew and
hurt many: yet did not Otter stay his folk; but it was ill going for
them, for their unshielded sides were turned to the Romans, nor durst
Otter scatter his bowmen out from the wedge-array, lest the Romans, who
were more than they, should enter in amongst them. Ever he gazed
earnestly on the main battle of the Romans, and what they were doing, and
presently it became clear to him that they would outgo him and come to
the ford, and then he wotted well that they would set on him just when
their light-armed were on his flank and his rearward, and then it would
go hard but they would break their array and all would be lost: therefore
he slacked his pace and went very slowly and the Romans went none the
slower for that; but their light-armed grew bolder and drew more together
as they came nigher to the Goths, as though they would give them an
onset; but just at that nick of time Otter passed the word down the
ranks, and, waving his sword, turned sharply to the right and fell with
all the wedge-array on the clustering throng of the light-armed, and his
bowmen spread out now from the right flank of the wedge-array, and shot
sharp and swift and the bowmen on the left flank ran forward swiftly till
they had cleared the wedge-array and were on the flank of the light-armed
Romans; and they, what between the onset of the swordsmen and spearmen of
the Goths, and their sharp arrows, knew not which way to turn, and a
great slaughter befell amongst them, and they of them were the happiest
who might save themselves by their feet.
Now after this storm, and after these men had been thrust away, Otter
stayed not, but swept round about the field toward the horses; and indeed
he looked to it that the main-battle of the Romans should follow him, but
they did not, but stayed still to receive the fleers of their
light-armed. And this indeed was the goodhap of the Goths; for they were
somewhat disordered by their chase of the light-armed, and they smote and
spared not, their hearts being full of bitter wrath, as might well be;
for even as they turned on the Romans, they beheld the great roof of the
Bearings fall in over the burned hall, and a great shower of sparks burst
up from its fall, and there were the ragged gables left standing, licked
by little tongues of flame which could not take hold of them because of
the clay which filled the spaces between the great timbers and was daubed
over them. And they saw that all the other houses were either alight or
smouldering, down to the smallest cot of a thrall, and even the barns and
booths both great and little.
Therefore, whereas the Markmen were far fewer in all than the Roman main-
battle, and whereas this same host was in very good array, no doubt there
was that the Markmen would have been grievously handled had the Romans
fallen on; but the Roman Captain would not have it so: for though he was
a bold man, yet was his boldness that of the wolf, that falleth on when
he is hungry and skulketh when he is full. He was both young and very
rich, and a mighty man among his townsmen, and well had he learned that
ginger is hot in the mouth, and though he had come forth to the war for
the increasing of his fame, he had no will to die among the Markmen,
either for the sake of the city of Rome, or of any folk whatsoever, but
was liefer to live for his own sake. Therefore was he come out to
vanquish easily, that by his fame won he might win more riches and
dominion in Rome; and he was well content also to have for his own
whatever was choice amongst the plunder of these wild-men (as he deemed
them), if it were but a fair woman or two. So this man thought, It is my
business to cross the ford and come to Wolfstead, and there take the
treasure of the tribe, and have a stronghold there, whence we may slay so
many of these beasts with little loss to us that we may march away easily
and with our hands full, even if Maenius with his men come not to our
aid, as full surely he will: therefore as to these angry men, who be not
without might and conduct in battle, let us remember the old saw that
saith 'a bridge of gold to a fleeing foe,' and let them depart with no
more hurt of Romans, and seek us afterwards when we are fenced into their
stead, which shall then be our stronghold: even so spake he to his
Captains about him.
For it must be told that he had no tidings of the overthrow of the Romans
on the Ridge; nor did he know surely how many fighting-men the Markmen
might muster, except by the report of those dastards of the Goths; and
though he had taken those two women in the wastes, yet had he got no word
from them, for they did as the Hall-Sun bade them, when they knew that
they would be questioned with torments, and smiting themselves each with
a little sharp knife, so went their ways to the Gods.
Thus then the Roman Captain let the Markmen go their ways, and turned
toward the ford, and the Markmen went slowly now toward their horses.
Howbeit there were many of them who murmured against Otter, saying that
it was ill done to have come so far and ridden so hard, and then to have
done so little, and that were to-morrow come, they would not be led away
so easily: but now they said it was ill; for the Romans would cross the
water, and make their ways to Wolfstead, none hindering them, and would
burn the dwellings and slay the old men and thralls, and have away the
women and children and the Hall-Sun the treasure of the Markmen. In
sooth, they knew not that a band of the Roman light-armed had already
crossed the water, and had fallen upon the dwellings of the Wolfings; but
that the old men and younglings and thralls of the House had come upon
them as they were entangled amidst the tofts and the garths, and had
overcome them and slain many.
Thus went Otter and his men to their horses when it was now drawing
toward sunset (for all this was some while adoing), and betook them to a
rising ground not far from the wood-side, and there made what sort of a
garth they might, with their horses and the limbs of trees and
long-shafted spears; and they set a watch and abode in the garth right
warily, and lighted no fires when night fell, but ate what meat they had
with them, which was but little, and so sleeping and watching abode the
morning. But the main body of the Romans did not cross the ford that
night, for they feared lest they might go astray therein, for it was an
ill ford to those that knew not the water: so they abode on the bank nigh
to the water's edge, with the mind to cross as soon as it was fairly
daylight.
Now Otter had lost of his men some hundred and twenty slain or grievously
hurt, and they had away with them the hurt men and the bodies of the
slain. The tale tells not how many of the Romans were slain, but a many
of their light-armed had fallen, since the Markmen had turned so hastily
upon them, and they had with them many of the best bowmen of the Mark.
CHAPTER XXI--THEY BICKER ABOUT THE FORD
In the grey of the morning was Otter afoot with the watchers, and
presently he got on his horse and peered over the plain, but the mist yet
hung low on it, so that he might see nought for a while; but at last he
seemed to note something coming toward the host from the upper water
above the ford, so he rode forward to meet it, and lo, it was a lad of
fifteen winters, naked save his breeches, and wet from the river; and
Otter drew rein, and the lad said to him: "Art thou the War-duke?" "Yea,"
said Otter.
Said the lad, "I am Ali, the son of Grey, and the Hall-Sun hath sent me
to thee with this word: 'Are ye coming? Is Thiodolf at hand? For I have
seen the Roof-ridge red in the sunlight as if it were painted with
cinnabar.'"
Said Otter, "Art thou going back to Wolfstead, son?"
"Yea, at once, my father," said Ali.
"Then tell her," said Otter, "that Thiodolf is at hand, and when he
cometh we shall both together fall upon the Romans either in crossing the
ford or in the Wolfing meadow; but tell her also that I am not strong
enough to hinder the Romans from crossing."
"Father," said Ali, "the Hall-Sun saith: Thou art wise in war; now tell
us, shall we hold the Hall against the Romans that ye may find us there?
For we have discomfited their vanguard already, and we have folk who can
fight; but belike the main battle of the Romans shall get the upper hand
of us ere ye come to our helping: belike it were better to leave the
hall, and let the wood cover us."
"Now is this well asked," said Otter; "get thee back, my son, and bid the
Hall-Sun trust not to warding of the Hall, for the Romans are a mighty
host: and this day, even when Thiodolf cometh hither, shall be hard for
the Goth-folk: let her hasten lest these thieves come upon her hastily;
let her take the Hall-Sun her namesake, and the old men and children and
the women, and let those fighting folk she hath be a guard to all this in
the wood. And hearken moreover; it will, maybe, be six hours ere
Thiodolf cometh; tell her I will cast the dice for life or death, and
stir up these Romans now at once, that they may have other things to
think of than burning old men and women and children in their dwellings;
thus may she reach the wood unhindered. Hast thou all this in thine
head? Then go thy ways."
But the lad lingered, and he reddened and looked on the ground and then
he said: "My father, I swam the deeps, and when I reached this bank, I
crept along by the mist and the reeds toward where the Romans are, and I
came near to them, and noted what they were doing; and I tell thee that
they are already stirring to take the water at the ford. Now then do
what thou wilt."
Therewith he turned about, and went his way at once, running like a colt
which has never felt halter or bit.
But Otter rode back hastily and roused certain men in whom he trusted,
and bid them rouse the captains and all the host and bid men get to horse
speedily and with as little noise as might be. So did they, and there
was little delay, for men were sleeping with one eye open, as folk say,
and many were already astir. So in a little while they were all in the
saddle, and the mist yet stretched low over the meadow; for the morning
was cool and without wind. Then Otter bade the word be carried down the
ranks that they should ride as quietly as may be and fare through the
mist to do the Romans some hurt, but in nowise to get entangled in their
ranks, and all men to heed well the signal of turning and drawing aback;
and therewith they rode off down the meadow led by men who could have led
them through the dark night.
But for the Romans, they were indeed getting ready to cross the ford when
the mist should have risen; and on the bank it was thinning already and
melting away; for a little air of wind was beginning to breathe from the
north-east and the sunrise, which was just at hand; and the bank,
moreover, was stonier and higher than the meadow's face, which fell away
from it as a shallow dish from its rim: thereon yet lay the mist like a
white wall.
So the Romans and their friends the dastards of the Goths had well nigh
got all ready, and had driven stakes into the water from bank to bank to
mark out the safe ford, and some of their light-armed and most of their
Goths were by now in the water or up on the Wolfing meadow with the more
part of their baggage and wains; and the rest of the host was drawn up in
good order, band by band, waiting the word to take the water, and the
captain was standing nigh to the river bank beside their God the chief
banner of the Host.
Of a sudden one of the dastards of the Goths who was close to the Captain
cried out that he heard horse coming; but because he spake in the Gothic
tongue, few heeded; but even therewith an old leader of a hundred cried
out the same tidings in the Roman tongue, and all men fell to handling
their weapons; but before they could face duly toward the meadow, came
rushing from out of the mist a storm of shafts that smote many men, and
therewithal burst forth the sound of the Markmen's war-horn, like the
roaring of a hundred bulls mingled with the thunder of horses at the
gallop; and then dark over the wall of mist showed the crests of the
riders of the Mark, though scarce were their horses seen till their whole
war-rank came dark and glittering into the space of the rising-ground
where the mist was but a haze now, and now at last smitten athwart by the
low sun just arisen.
Therewith came another storm of shafts, wherein javelins and spears cast
by the hand were mingled with the arrows: but the Roman ranks had faced
the meadow and the storm which it yielded, swiftly and steadily, and they
stood fast and threw their spears, albeit not with such good aim as might
have been, because of their haste, so that few were slain by them. And
the Roman Captain still loth to fight with the Goths in earnest for no
reward, and still more and more believing that this was the only band of
them that he had to look to, bade those who were nighest the ford not to
tarry for the onset of a few wild riders, but to go their ways into the
water; else by a sudden onrush might the Romans have entangled Otter's
band in their ranks, and so destroyed all. As it was the horsemen fell
not on the Roman ranks full in face, but passing like a storm athwart the
ranks to the right, fell on there where they were in thinnest array (for
they were gathered to the ford as aforesaid), and slew some and drave
some into the deeps and troubled the whole Roman host.
So now the Roman Captain was forced to take new order, and gather all his
men together, and array his men for a hard fight; and by now the mist was
rolling off from the face of the whole meadow and the sun was bright and
hot. His men serried their ranks, and the front rank cast their spears,
and slew both men and horses of the Goths as those rode along their front
casting their javelins, and shooting here and there from behind their
horses if occasion served, or making a shift to send an arrow even as
they sat a-horseback; then the second rank of the Romans would take the
place of the first, and cast in their turn, and they who had taken the
water turned back and took their place behind the others, and many of the
light-armed came with them, and all the mass of them flowed forward
together, looking as if it might never be broken. But Otter would not
abide the shock, since he had lost men and horses, and had no mind to be
caught in the sweep of their net; so he made the sign, and his Company
drew off to right and left, yet keeping within bowshot, so that the
bowmen still loosed at the Romans.
But they for their part might not follow afoot men on untired horses, and
their own horse was on the west side with the baggage, and had it been
there would have been but of little avail, as the Roman Captain knew. So
they stood awhile making grim countenance, and then slowly drew back to
the ford under cover of their light-armed who shot at the Goths as they
rode forward, but abode not their shock.
But Otter and his folk followed after the Romans again, and again did
them some hurt, and at last drew so nigh, that once more the Romans
stormed forth, and once more smote a stroke in the air; nor even so would
the Markmen cease to meddle with them, though never would Otter suffer
his men to be mingled with them. At the last the Romans, seeing that
Otter would not walk into the open trap, and growing weary of this
bickering, began to take the water little by little, while a strong
Company kept face to the Markmen; and now Otter saw that they would not
be hindered any longer, and he had lost many men, and even now feared
lest he should be caught in the trap, and so lose all. And on the other
hand it was high noon by now, so that he had given respite to the stay-at-
homes of the Wolfings, so that they might get them into the wood. So he
drew out of bowshot and bade his men breathe their horses and rest
themselves and eat something; and they did so gladly, since they saw that
they might not fall upon the Romans to live and die for it until Thiodolf
was come, or until they knew that he was not coming. But the Romans
crossed the ford in good earnest and were soon all gathered together on
the western bank making them ready for the march to Wolfstead. And it
must be told that the Roman Captain was the more deliberate about this
because after the overthrow of his light-armed there the morning before,
he thought that the Roof was held by warriors of the kindreds, and not by
a few old men, and women, and lads. Therefore he had no fear of their
escaping him. Moreover it was this imagination of his, to wit that a
strong band of warriors was holding Wolf-stead, that made him deem there
were no more worth thinking about of the warriors of the Mark save
Otter's Company and the men in the Hall of the Wolfings.
CHAPTER XXII--OTTER FALLS ON AGAINST HIS WILL
It was with the same imagination working in him belike that the Roman
Captain set none to guard the ford on the westward side of
Mirkwood-water. The Romans tarried there but a little hour, and then
went their ways; but Otter sent a man on a swift horse to watch them, and
when they were clean gone for half an hour, he bade his folk to horse,
and they departed, all save a handful of the swains and elders, who were
left to tell the tidings to Thiodolf when he should come into Mid-mark.
So Otter and his folk crossed the ford, and drew up in good order on the
westward bank, and it was then somewhat more than three hours after noon.
He had been there but a little while before he noted a stir in the
Bearing meadow, and lo, it was the first of Thiodolf's folk, who had
gotten out of the wood and had fallen in with the men whom he had left
behind. And these first were the riders of the Bearings, and the
Wormings, (for they had out-gone the others who were afoot). It may well
be thought how fearful was their anger when they set eyes on the
smouldering ashes of the dwellings; nor even when those folk of Otter had
told them all they had to tell could some of them refrain them from
riding off to the burnt houses to seek for the bodies of their kindred.
But when they came there, and amidst the ashes could find no bones, their
hearts were lightened, and yet so mad wroth they were, that some could
scarce sit their horses, and great tears gushed from the eyes of some,
and pattered down like hail-stones, so eager were they to see the blood
of the Romans. So they rode back to where they had left their folk
talking with them of Otter; and the Bearings were sitting grim upon their
horses and somewhat scowling on Otter's men. Then the foremost of those
who had come back from the houses waved his hand toward the ford, but
could say nought for a while; but the captain and chief of the Bearings,
a grizzled man very big of body, whose name was Arinbiorn, spake to that
man and said; "What aileth thee Sweinbiorn the Black? What hast thou
seen?"
He said:
"Now red and grey is the pavement of the Bearings' house of old:
Red yet is the floor of the dais, but the hearth all grey and cold.
I knew not the house of my fathers; I could not call to mind
The fashion of the building of that Warder of the Wind.
O wide were grown the windows, and the roof exceeding high!
For nought there was to look on 'twixt the pavement and the sky.
But the tie-beam lay on the dais, and methought its staining fair;
For rings of smoothest charcoal were round it here and there,
And the red flame flickered o'er it, and never a staining wight
Hath red earth in his coffer so clear and glittering bright,
And still the little smoke-wreaths curled o'er it pale and blue.
Yea, fair is our hall's adorning for a feast that is strange and new."
Said Arinbiorn: "What sawest thou therein, O Sweinbiorn, where sat thy
grandsire at the feast? Where were the bones of thy mother lying?"
Said Sweinbiorn:
"We sought the feast-hall over, and nought we found therein
Of the bones of the ancient mothers, or the younglings of the kin.
The men are greedy, doubtless, to lose no whit of the prey,
And will try if the hoary elders may yet outlive the way
That leads to the southland cities, till at last they come to stand
With the younglings in the market to be sold in an alien land."
Arinbiorn's brow lightened somewhat; but ere he could speak again an
ancient thrall of the Galtings spake and said:
"True it is, O warriors of the Bearings, that we might not see any war-
thralls being led away by the Romans when they came away from the burning
dwellings; and we deem it certain that they crossed the water before the
coming of the Romans, and that they are now with the stay-at-homes of the
Wolfings in the wild-wood behind the Wolfing dwellings, for we hear tell
that the War-duke would not that the Hall-Sun should hold the Hall
against the whole Roman host."
Then Sweinbiorn tossed up his sword into the air and caught it by the
hilts as it fell, and cried out: "On, on to the meadow, where these
thieves abide us!" Arinbiorn spake no word, but turned his horse and
rode down to the ford, and all men followed him; and of the Bearings
there were an hundred warriors save one, and of the Wormings eighty and
seven.
So rode they over the meadow and into the ford and over it, and Otter's
company stood on the bank to meet them, and shouted to see them; but the
others made but little noise as they crossed the water.
So when they were on the western bank Arinbiorn came among them of Otter,
and cried out: "Where then is Otter, where is the War-duke, is he alive
or dead?"
And the throng opened to him and Otter stood facing him; and Arinbiorn
spake and said: "Thou art alive and unhurt, War-duke, when many have been
hurt and slain; and methinks thy company is little minished though the
kindred of the Bearings lacketh a roof; and its elders and women and
children are gone into captivity. What is this? Was it a light thing
that gangrel thieves should burn and waste in Mid-mark and depart unhurt,
that ye stand here with clean blades and cold bodies?"
Said Otter: "Thou grievest for the hurt of thine House, Arinbiorn; but
this at least is good, that though ye have lost the timber of your house
ye have not lost its flesh and blood; the shell is gone, but the kernel
is saved: for thy folk are by this time in the wood with the Wolfing stay-
at-homes, and among these are many who may fight on occasion, so they are
safe as for this time: the Romans may not come at them to hurt them."
Said Arinbiorn: "Had ye time to learn all this, Otter, when ye fled so
fast before the Romans, that the father tarried not for the son, nor the
son for the father?"
He spoke in a loud voice so that many heard him, and some deemed it evil;
for anger and dissension between friends seemed abroad; but some were so
eager for battle, that the word of Arinbiorn seemed good to them, and
they laughed for pride and anger.
Then Otter answered meekly, for he was a wise man and a bold: "We fled
not, Arinbiorn, but as the sword fleeth, when it springeth up from the
iron helm to fall on the woollen coat. Are we not now of more avail to
you, O men of the Bearings, than our dead corpses would have been?"
Arinbiorn answered not, but his face waxed red, as if he were struggling
with a weight hard to lift: then said Otter:
"But when will Thiodolf and the main battle be with us?"
Arinbiorn answered calmly: "Maybe in a little hour from now, or somewhat
more."
Said Otter: "My rede is that we abide him here, and when we are all met
and well ordered together, fall on the Romans at once: for then shall we
be more than they; whereas now we are far fewer, and moreover we shall
have to set on them in their ground of vantage."
Arinbiorn answered nothing; but an old man of the Bearings, one
Thorbiorn, came up and spake:
"Warriors, here are we talking and taking counsel, though this is no
Hallowed Thing to bid us what we shall do, and what we shall forbear; and
to talk thus is less like warriors than old women wrangling over the why
and wherefore of a broken crock. Let the War-duke rule here, as is but
meet and right. Yet if I might speak and not break the peace of the
Goths, then would I say this, that it might be better for us to fall on
these Romans at once before they have cast up a dike about them, as Fox
telleth is their wont, and that even in an hour they may do much."
As he spake there was a murmur of assent about him, but Otter spake
sharply, for he was grieved.
"Thorbiorn, thou art old, and shouldest not be void of prudence. Now it
had been better for thee to have been in the wood to-day to order the
women and the swains according to thine ancient wisdom than to egg on my
young warriors to fare unwarily. Here will I abide Thiodolf."
Then Thorbiorn reddened and was wroth; but Arinbiorn spake:
"What is this to-do? Let the War-duke rule as is but right: but I am now
become a man of Thiodolf's company; and he bade me haste on before to
help all I might. Do thou as thou wilt, Otter: for Thiodolf shall be
here in an hour's space, and if much diking shall be done in an hour, yet
little slaying, forsooth, shall be done, and that especially if the foe
is all armed and slayeth women and children. Yea if the Bearing women be
all slain, yet shall not Tyr make us new ones out of the stones of the
waste to wed with the Galtings and the fish-eating Houses?--this is easy
to be done forsooth. Yea, easier than fighting the Romans and overcoming
them!"
And he was very wrath, and turned away; and again there was a murmur and
a hum about him. But while these had been speaking aloud, Sweinbiorn had
been talking softly to some of the younger men, and now he shook his
naked sword in the air and spake aloud and sang:
"Ye tarry, Bears of Battle! ye linger, Sons of the Worm!
Ye crouch adown, O kindreds, from the gathering of the storm!
Ye say, it shall soon pass over and we shall fare afield
And reap the wheat with the war-sword and winnow in the shield.
But where shall be the corner wherein ye then shall abide,
And where shall be the woodland where the whelps of the bears shall
hide
When 'twixt the snowy mountains and the edges of the sea
These men have swept the wild-wood and the fields where men may be
Of every living sword-blade, and every quivering spear,
And in the southland cities the yoke of slaves ye bear?
Lo ye! whoever follows I fare to sow the seed
Of the days to be hereafter and the deed that comes of deed."
Therewith he waved his sword over his head, and made as if he would spur
onward. But Arinbiorn thrust through the press and outwent him and cried
out:
"None goeth before Arinbiorn the Old when the battle is pitched in the
meadows of the kindred. Come, ye sons of the Bear, ye children of the
Worm! And come ye, whosoever hath a will to see stout men die!"
Then on he rode nor looked behind him, and the riders of the Bearings and
the Wormings drew themselves out of the throng, and followed him, and
rode clattering over the meadow towards Wolfstead. A few of the others
rode with them, and yet but a few. For they remembered the holy Folk-
mote and the oath of the War-duke, and how they had chosen Otter to be
their leader. Howbeit, man looked askance at man, as if in shame to be
left behind.
But Otter bethought him in the flash of a moment, "If these men ride
alone, they shall die and do nothing; and if we ride with them it may be
that we shall overthrow the Romans, and if we be vanquished, it shall go
hard but we shall slay many of them, so that it shall be the easier for
Thiodolf to deal with them."
Then he spake hastily, and bade certain men abide at the ford for a
guard; then he drew his sword and rode to the front of his folk, and
cried out aloud to them:
"Now at last has come the time to die, and let them of the Markmen who
live hereafter lay us in howe. Set on, Sons of Tyr, and give not your
lives away, but let them be dearly earned of our foemen."
Then all shouted loudly and gladly; nor were they otherwise than
exceeding glad; for now had they forgotten all other joys of life save
the joy of fighting for the kindred and the days to be.
So Otter led them forth, and when he heard the whole company clattering
and thundering on the earth behind him and felt their might enter into
him, his brow cleared, and the anxious lines in the face of the old man
smoothed themselves out, and as he rode along the soul so stirred within
him that he sang out aloud:
"Time was when hot was the summer and I was young on the earth,
And I grudged me every moment that lacked its share of mirth.
I woke in the morn and was merry and all the world methought
For me and my heart's deliverance that hour was newly wrought.
I have passed through the halls of manhood, I have reached the doors
of eld,
And I have been glad and sorry, but ever have upheld
My heart against all trouble that none might call me sad,
But ne'er came such remembrance of how my heart was glad
In the afternoon of summer 'neath the still unwearied sun
Of the days when I was little and all deeds were hopes to be won,
As now at last it cometh when e'en in such-like tide,
For the freeing of my trouble o'er the fathers' field I ride."
Many men perceived that he sang, and saw that he was merry, howbeit few
heard his very words, and yet all were glad of him.
Fast they rode, being wishful to catch up with the Bearings and the
Wormings, and soon they came anigh them, and they, hearing the thunder of
the horse-hoofs, looked and saw that it was the company of Otter, and so
slacked their speed till they were all joined together with joyous
shouting and laughter. So then they ordered the ranks anew and so set
forward in great joy without haste or turmoil toward Wolfstead and the
Romans. For now the bitterness of their fury and the sourness of their
abiding wrath were turned into the mere joy of battle; even as the clear
red and sweet wine comes of the ugly ferment and rough trouble of the
must.
CHAPTER XXIII--THIODOLF MEETETH THE ROMANS IN THE WOLFING MEADOW
It was scarce an hour after this that the footmen of Thiodolf came out of
the thicket road on to the meadow of the Bearings; there saw they men
gathered on a rising ground, and they came up to them and saw how some of
them were looking with troubled faces towards the ford and what lay
beyond it, and some toward the wood and the coming of Thiodolf. But
these were they whom Otter had bidden abide Thiodolf there, and he had
sent two messengers to them for Thiodolf's behoof that he might have due
tidings so soon as he came out of the thicket: the first told how Otter
had been compelled in a manner to fall on the Romans along with the
riders of the Bearings and the Wormings, and the second who had but just
then come, told how the Markmen had been worsted by the Romans, and had
given back from the Wolfing dwellings, and were making a stand against
the foemen in the meadow betwixt the ford and Wolfstead.
Now when Thiodolf heard of these tidings he stayed not to ask long
questions, but led the whole host straightway down to the ford, lest the
remnant of Otter's men should be driven down there, and the Romans should
hold the western bank against him.
At the ford there was none to withstand them, nor indeed any man at all;
for the men whom Otter had set there, when they heard that the battle had
gone against their kindred, had ridden their ways to join them. So
Thiodolf crossed over the ford, he and his in good order all afoot, he
like to the others; but for him he was clad in the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk,
but was unhelmeted and bare no shield. Throng-plough was naked in his
hand as he came up all dripping on to the bank and stood in the meadow of
the Wolfings; his face was stern and set as he gazed straight onward to
the place of the fray, but he did not look as joyous as his wont was in
going down to the battle.
Now they had gone but a short way from the ford before the noise of the
fight and the blowing of horns came down the wind to them, but it was a
little way further before they saw the fray with their eyes; because the
ground fell away from the river somewhat at first, and then rose and fell
again before it went up in one slope toward the Wolfing dwellings.
But when they were come to the top of the next swelling of the ground,
they beheld from thence what they had to deal with; for there round about
a ground of vantage was the field black with the Roman host, and in the
midst of it was a tangle of struggling men and tossing spears, and
glittering swords.
So when they beheld the battle of their kindred they gave a great shout
and hastened onward the faster; and they were ordered into the
wedge-array and Thiodolf led them, as meet it was. And now even as they
who were on the outward edge of the array and could see what was toward
were looking on the battle with eager eyes, there came an answering shout
down the wind, which they knew for the voice of the Goths amid the
foemen, and then they saw how the ring of the Romans shook and parted,
and their array fell back, and lo the company of the Markmen standing
stoutly together, though sorely minished; and sure it was that they had
not fled or been scattered, but were ready to fall one over another in
one band, for there were no men straggling towards the ford, though many
masterless horses ran here and there about the meadow. Now, therefore,
none doubted but that they would deliver their friends from the Romans,
and overthrow the foemen.
But now befel a wonder, a strange thing to tell of. The Romans soon
perceived what was adoing, whereupon the half of them turned about to
face the new comers, while the other half still withstood the company of
Otter: the wedge-array of Thiodolf drew nearer and nearer till it was
hard on the place where it should spread itself out to storm down on the
foe, and the Goths beset by the Romans made them ready to fall on from
their side. There was Thiodolf leading his host, and all men looking for
the token and sign to fall on; but even as he lifted up Throng-plough to
give that sign, a cloud came over his eyes and he saw nought of all that
was before him, and he staggered back as one who hath gotten a deadly
stroke, and so fell swooning to the earth, though none had smitten him.
Then stayed was the wedge-array even at the very point of onset, and the
hearts of the Goths sank, for they deemed that their leader was slain,
and those who were nearest to him raised him up and bore him hastily
aback out of the battle; and the Romans also had beheld him fall, and
they also deemed him dead or sore hurt, and shouted for joy and loitered
not, but stormed forth on the wedge-array like valiant men; for it must
be told that they, who erst out-numbered the company of Otter, were now
much out-numbered, but they deemed it might well be that they could
dismay the Goths since they had been stayed by the fall of their leader;
and Otter's company were wearied with sore fighting against a great host.
Nevertheless these last, who had not seen the fall of Thiodolf (for the
Romans were thick between him and them) fell on with such exceeding fury
that they drove the Romans who faced them back on those who had set on
the wedge-array, which also stood fast undismayed; for he who stood next
to Thiodolf, a man big of body, and stout of heart, hight Thorolf, hove
up a great axe and cried out aloud:
"Here is the next man to Thiodolf! here is one who will not fall till
some one thrusts him over, here is Thorolf of the Wolfings! Stand fast
and shield you, and smite, though Thiodolf be gone untimely to the Gods!"
So none gave back a foot, and fierce was the fight about the wedge-array;
and the men of Otter--but there was no Otter there, and many another man
was gone, and Arinbiorn the Old led them--these stormed on so fiercely
that they cleft their way through all and joined themselves to their
kindred, and the battle was renewed in the Wolfing meadow. But the
Romans had this gain, that Thiodolf's men had let go their occasion for
falling on the Romans with their line spread out so that every man might
use his weapons; yet were the Goths strong both in valiancy and in
numbers, nor might the Romans break into their array, and as aforesaid
the Romans were the fewer, for it was less than half of their host that
had pursued the Goths when they had been thrust back from their fierce
onset: nor did more than the half seem needed, so many of them had fallen
along with Otter the War-duke and Sweinbiorn of the Bearings, that they
seemed to the Romans but a feeble band easy to overcome.
So fought they in the Wolfing meadow in the fifth hour after high-noon,
and neither yielded to the other: but while these things were a-doing,
men laid Thiodolf adown aloof from the battle under a doddered oak half a
furlong from where the fight was a-doing, round whose bole clung flocks
of wool from the sheep that drew around it in the hot summer-tide and
rubbed themselves against it, and the ground was trodden bare of grass
round the bole, and close to the trunk was worn into a kind of trench.
There then they laid Thiodolf, and they wondered that no blood came from
him, and that there was no sign of a shot-weapon in his body.
But as for him, when he fell, all memory of the battle and what had gone
before it faded from his mind, and he passed into sweet and pleasant
dreams wherein he was a lad again in the days before he had fought with
the three Hun-Kings in the hazelled field. And in these dreams he was
doing after the manner of young lads, sporting in the meadows, backing
unbroken colts, swimming in the river, going a-hunting with the elder
carles. And especially he deemed that he was in the company of one old
man who had taught him both wood-craft and the handling of weapons: and
fair at first was his dream of his doings with this man; he was with him
in the forge smithying a sword-blade, and hammering into its steel the
thin golden wires; and fishing with an angle along with him by the eddies
of Mirkwood-water; and sitting with him in an ingle of the Hall, the old
man telling a tale of an ancient warrior of the Wolfings hight Thiodolf
also: then suddenly and without going there, they were in a little
clearing of the woods resting after hunting, a roe-deer with an arrow in
her lying at their feet, and the old man was talking, and telling
Thiodolf in what wise it was best to go about to get the wind of a hart;
but all the while there was going on the thunder of a great gale of wind
through the woodland boughs, even as the drone of a bag-pipe cleaves to
the tune. Presently Thiodolf arose and would go about his hunting again,
and stooped to take up his spear, and even therewith the old man's speech
stayed, and Thiodolf looked up, and lo, his face was white like stone,
and he touched him, and he was hard as flint, and like the image of an
ancient god as to his face and hands, though the wind stirred his hair
and his raiment, as they did before. Therewith a great pang smote
Thiodolf in his dream, and he felt as if he also were stiffening into
stone, and he strove and struggled, and lo, the wild-wood was gone, and a
white light empty of all vision was before him, and as he moved his head
this became the Wolfing meadow, as he had known it so long, and thereat a
soft pleasure and joy took hold of him, till again he looked, and saw
there no longer the kine and sheep, and the herd-women tending them, but
the rush and turmoil of that fierce battle, the confused thundering noise
of which was going up to the heavens; for indeed he was now fully awake
again.
So he stood up and looked about; and around him was a ring of the
sorrowful faces of the warriors, who had deemed that he was hurt deadly,
though no hurt could they find upon him. But the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk
lay upon the ground beside him; for they had taken it off him to look for
his hurts.
So he looked into their faces and said: "What aileth you, ye men? I am
alive and unhurt; what hath betided?"
And one said: "Art thou verily alive, or a man come back from the dead?
We saw thee fall as thou wentest leading us against the foe as if thou
hadst been smitten by a thunder-bolt, and we deemed thee dead or
grievously hurt. Now the carles are fighting stoutly, and all is well
since thou livest yet."
So he said: "Give me the point and edges that I know, that I may smite
myself therewith and not the foemen; for I have feared and blenched from
the battle."
Said an old warrior: "If that be so, Thiodolf, wilt thou blench twice? Is
not once enough? Now let us go back to the hard handplay, and if thou
wilt, smite thyself after the battle, when we have once more had a man's
help of thee."
Therewith he held out Throng-plough to him by the point, and Thiodolf
took hold of the hilts and handled it and said: "Let us hasten, while the
Gods will have it so, and while they are still suffering me to strike a
stroke for the kindred."
And therewith he brandished Throng-plough, and went forth toward the
battle, and the heart grew hot within him, and the joy of waking life
came back to him, the joy which but erewhile he had given to a mere
dream.
But the old man who had rebuked him stooped down and lifted the Hauberk
from the ground, and cried out after him, "O Thiodolf, and wilt thou go
naked into so strong a fight? and thou with this so goodly
sword-rampart?"
Thiodolf stayed a moment, and even therewith they looked, and lo! the
Romans giving back before the Goths and the Goths following up the chase,
but slowly and steadily. Then Thiodolf heeded nothing save the battle,
but ran forward hastily, and those warriors followed him, the old man
last of all holding the Hauberk in his hand, and muttering:
"So fares hot blood to the glooming and the world beneath the grass;
And the fruit of the Wolfings' orchard in a flash from the world must
pass.
Men say that the tree shall blossom in the garden of the folk,
And the new twig thrust him forward from the place where the old one
broke,
And all be well as aforetime: but old and old I grow,
And I doubt me if such another the folk to come shall know."
And he still hurried forward as fast as his old body might go, so that he
might wrap the safeguard of the Hauberk round Thiodolf's body.
CHAPTER XXIV--THE GOTHS ARE OVERTHROWN BY THE ROMANS
Now rose up a mighty shout when Thiodolf came back to the battle of the
kindreds, for many thought he had been slain; and they gathered round
about him, and cried out to him joyously out of their hearts of
good-fellowship, and the old man who had rebuked Thiodolf, and who was
Jorund of the Wolfings, came up to him and reached out to him the
Hauberk, and he did it on scarce heeding; for all his heart and soul was
turned toward the battle of the Romans and what they were a-doing; and he
saw that they were falling back in good order, as men out-numbered, but
undismayed. So he gathered all his men together and ordered them afresh;
for they were somewhat disarrayed with the fray and the chase: and now he
no longer ordered them in the wedge array, but in a line here three deep,
here five deep, or more, for the foes were hard at hand, and outnumbered,
and so far overcome, that he and all men deemed it a little matter to
give these their last overthrow, and then onward to Wolf-stead to storm
on what was left there and purge the house of the foemen. Howbeit
Thiodolf bethought him that succour might come to the Romans from their
main-battle, as they needed not many men there, since there was nought to
fear behind them: but the thought was dim within him, for once more since
he had gotten the Hauberk on him the earth was wavering and dream-like:
he looked about him, and nowise was he as in past days of battle when he
saw nought but the foe before him, and hoped for nothing save the
victory. But now indeed the Wood-Sun seemed to him to be beside him, and
not against his will, as one besetting and hindering him, but as though
his own longing had drawn her thither and would not let her depart; and
whiles it seemed to him that her beauty was clearer to be seen than the
bodies of the warriors round about him. For the rest he seemed to be in
a dream indeed, and, as men do in dreams, to be for ever striving to be
doing something of more moment than anything which he did, but which he
must ever leave undone. And as the dream gathered and thickened about
him the foe before him changed to his eyes, and seemed no longer the
stern brown-skinned smooth-faced men under their crested iron helms with
their iron-covered shields before them, but rather, big-headed men, small
of stature, long-bearded, swart, crooked of body, exceeding foul of
aspect. And he looked on and did nothing for a while, and his head
whirled as though he had been grievously smitten.
Thus tarried the kindreds awhile, and they were bewildered and their
hearts fell because Thiodolf did not fly on the foemen like a falcon on
the quarry, as his wont was. But as for the Romans, they had now stayed,
and were facing their foes again, and that on a vantage-ground, since the
field sloped up toward the Wolfing dwelling; and they gathered heart when
they saw that the Goths tarried and forbore them. But the sun was
sinking, and the evening was hard at hand.
So at last Thiodolf led forward with Throng-plough held aloft in his
right hand; but his left hand he held out by his side, as though he were
leading someone along. And as he went, he muttered: "When will these
accursed sons of the nether earth leave the way clear to us, that we may
be alone and take pleasure each in each amidst of the flowers and the
sun?"
Now as the two hosts drew near to one another, again came the sound of
trumpets afar off, and men knew that this would be succour coming to the
Romans from their main-battle, and the Romans thereon shouted for joy,
and the host of the kindreds might no longer forbear, but rushed on
fiercely against them; and for Thiodolf it was now come to this, that so
entangled was he in his dream that he rather went with his men than led
them. Yet had he Throng-plough in his right hand, and he muttered in his
beard as he went, "Smite before! smite behind! and smite on the right
hand! but never on the left!"
Thus then they met, and as before, neither might the Goths sweep the
Romans away, nor the Romans break the Goths into flight; yet were many of
the kindred anxious and troubled, since they knew that aid was coming to
the Romans, and they heard the trumpets sounding nearer and more joyous;
and at last, as the men of the kindreds were growing a-wearied with
fighting, they heard those horns as it were in their very ears, and the
thunder of the tramp of footmen, and they knew that a fresh host of men
was upon them; then those they had been fighting with opened before them,
falling aside to the right and the left, and the fresh men passing
between them, fell on the Goths like the waters of a river when a sluice-
gate is opened. They came on in very good order, never breaking their
ranks, but swift withal, smiting and pushing before them, and so brake
through the array of the Goth-folk, and drave them this way and that way
down the slopes.
Yet still fought the warriors of the kindred most valiantly, making stand
and facing the foe again and again in knots of a score or two score, or
maybe ten score; and though many a man was slain, yet scarce any one
before he had slain or hurt a Roman; and some there were, and they the
oldest, who fought as if they and the few about them were all the host
that was left to the folk, and heeded not that others were driven back,
or that the Romans gathered about them, cutting them off from all succour
and aid, but went on smiting till they were felled with many strokes.
Howbeit the array of the Goths was broken and many were slain, and
perforce they must give back, and it seemed as if they would be driven
into the river and all be lost.
But for Thiodolf, this befell him: that at first, when those fresh men
fell on, he seemed, as it were, to wake unto himself again, and he cried
aloud the cry of the Wolf, and thrust into the thickest of the fray, and
slew many and was hurt of none, and for a moment of time there was an
empty space round about him, such fear he cast even into the valiant
hearts of the foemen. But those who had time to see him as they stood by
him noted that he was as pale as a dead man, and his eyes set and
staring; and so of a sudden, while he stood thus threatening the ring of
doubtful foemen, the weakness took him again, Throng-plough tumbled from
his hand, and he fell to earth as one dead.
Then of those who saw him some deemed that he had been striving against
some secret hurt till he could do no more; and some that there was a
curse abroad that had fallen upon him and upon all the kindreds of the
Mark; some thought him dead and some swooning. But, dead or alive, the
warriors would not leave their War-duke among the foemen, so they lifted
him, and gathered about him a goodly band that held its own against all
comers, and fought through the turmoil stoutly and steadily; and others
gathered to them, till they began to be something like a host again, and
the Romans might not break them into knots of desperate men any more.
Thus they fought their way, Arinbiorn of the Bearings leading them now,
with a mind to make a stand for life or death on some vantage-ground; and
so, often turning upon the Romans, they came in array ever growing more
solid to the rising ground looking one way over the ford and the other to
the slopes where the battle had just been. There they faced the foe as
men who may be slain, but will be driven no further; and what bowmen they
had got spread out from their flanks and shot on the Romans, who had with
them no light-armed, or slingers or bowmen, for they had left them at
Wolf-stead. So the Romans stood a while, and gave breathing-space to the
Markmen, which indeed was the saving of them: for if they had fallen on
hotly and held to it steadily, it is like that they would have passed
over all the bodies of the Markmen: for these had lost their leader,
either slain, as some thought, or, as others thought, banned from
leadership by the Gods; and their host was heavy-hearted; and though it
is like that they would have stood there till each had fallen over other,
yet was their hope grown dim, and the whole folk brought to a perilous
and fearful pass, for if these were slain or scattered there were no more
but they, and nought between fire and the sword and the people of the
Mark.
But once again the faint-heart folly of the Roman Captain saved his foes:
for whereas he once thought that the whole power of the Markmen lay in
Otter and his company, and deemed them too little to meddle with, so now
he ran his head into the other hedge, and deemed that Thiodolf's company
was but a part of the succour that was at hand for the Goths, and that
they were over-big for him to meddle with.
True it is also that now dark night was coming on, and the land was
unknown to the Romans, who moreover trusted not wholly to the dastards of
the Goths who were their guides and scouts: furthermore the wood was at
hand, and they knew not what it held; and with all this and above it all,
it is to be said that over them also had fallen a dread of some doom
anear; for those habitations amidst of the wild-woods were terrible to
them as they were dear to the Goths; and the Gods of their foemen seemed
to be lying in wait to fall upon them, even if they should slay every man
of the kindreds.
So now having driven back the Goths to that height over the ford, which
indeed was no stronghold, no mountain, scarce a hill even, nought but a
gentle swelling of the earth, they forebore them; and raising up the
whoop of victory drew slowly aback, picking up their own dead and
wounded, and slaying the wounded Markmen. They had with them also some
few captives, but not many; for the fighting had been to the death
between man and man on the Wolfing Meadow.
CHAPTER XXV--THE HOST OF THE MARKMEN COMETH INTO THE WILD-WOOD
Yet though the Romans were gone, the Goth-folk were very hard bested.
They had been overthrown, not sorely maybe if they had been in an alien
land, and free to come and go as they would; yet sorely as things were,
because the foeman was sitting in their own House, and they must needs
drag him out of it or perish: and to many the days seemed evil, and the
Gods fighting against them, and both the Wolfings and the other kindreds
bethought them of the Hall-Sun and her wisdom and longed to hear of
tidings concerning her.
But now the word ran through the host that Thiodolf was certainly not
slain. Slowly he had come to himself, and yet was not himself, for he
sat among his men gloomy and silent, clean contrary to his wont; for
hitherto he had been a merry man, and a joyous fellow.
Amidst of the ridge whereon the Markmen now abode, there was a ring made
of the chief warriors and captains and wise men who had not been slain or
grievously hurt in the fray, and amidst them all sat Thiodolf on the
ground, his chin sunken on his breast, looking more like a captive than
the leader of a host amidst of his men; and that the more as his scabbard
was empty; for when Throng-plough had fallen from his hand, it had been
trodden under foot, and lost in the turmoil. There he sat, and the
others in that ring of men looked sadly upon him; such as Arinbiorn of
the Bearings, and Wolfkettle and Thorolf of his own House, and Hiarandi
of the Elkings, and Geirbald the Shielding, the messenger of the woods,
and Fox who had seen the Roman Garth, and many others. It was night now,
and men had lighted fires about the host, for they said that the Romans
knew where to find them if they listed to seek; and about those fires
were men eating and drinking what they might come at, but amidmost of
that ring was the biggest fire, and men turned them towards it for
counsel and help, for elsewhere none said, "What do we?" for they were
heavy-hearted and redeless, since the Gods had taken the victory out of
their hands just when they seemed at point to win it.
But amidst all this there was a little stir outside that biggest ring,
and men parted, and through them came a swain amongst the chiefs, and
said, "Who will lead me to the War-duke?"
Thiodolf, who was close beside the lad, answered never a word; but
Arinbiorn said; "This man here sitting is the War-duke: speak to him, for
he may hearken to thee: but first who art thou?"
Said the lad; "My name is Ali the son of Grey, and I come with a message
from the Hall-Sun and the stay-at-homes who are in the Woodland."
Now when he named the Hall-Sun Thiodolf started and looked up, and
turning to his left-hand said, "And what sayeth thy daughter?"
Men did not heed that he said _thy_ daughter, but deemed that he said
_my_ daughter, since he was wont as her would-be foster-father to call
her so. But Ali spake:
"War-duke and ye chieftains, thus saith the Hall-Sun: 'I know that by
this time Otter hath been slain and many another, and ye have been
overthrown and chased by the Romans, and that now there is little counsel
in you except to abide the foe where ye are and there to die valiantly.
But now do my bidding and as I am bidden, and then whosoever dieth or
liveth, the kindreds shall vanquish that they may live and grow greater.
Do ye thus: the Romans think no otherwise but to find you here to-morrow
or else departed across the water as broken men, and they will fall upon
you with their whole host, and then make a war-garth after their manner
at Wolf-stead and carry fire and the sword and the chains of thralldom
into every House of the Mark. Now therefore fetch a compass and come
into the wood on the north-west of the houses and make your way to the
Thing-stead of the Mid-mark. For who knoweth but that to-morrow we may
fall upon these thieves again? Of this shall ye hear more when we may
speak together and take counsel face to face; for we stay-at-homes know
somewhat closely of the ways of these Romans. Haste then! let not the
grass grow over your feet!
"'But to thee, Thiodolf, have I a word to say when we meet; for I wot
that as now thou canst not hearken to my word.' Thus saith the
Hall-Sun."
"Wilt thou speak, War-duke?" said Arinbiorn. But Thiodolf shook his
head. Then said Arinbiorn; "Shall I speak for thee?" and Thiodolf nodded
yea. Then said Arinbiorn: "Ali son of Grey, art thou going back to her
that sent thee?"
"Yea," said the lad, "but in your company, for ye will be coming
straightway and I know all the ways closely; and there is need for a
guide through the dark night as ye will see presently."
Then stood up Arinbiorn and said: "Chiefs and captains, go ye speedily
and array your men for departure: bid them leave all the fires burning
and come their ways as silently as maybe; for now will we wend this same
hour before moonrise into the Wild-wood and the Thing-stead of Mid-mark;
thus saith the War-duke."
But when they were gone, and Arinbiorn and Thiodolf were left alone,
Thiodolf lifted up his head and spake slowly and painfully:
"Arinbiorn, I thank thee: and thou dost well to lead this folk: since as
for me that is somewhat that weighs me down, and I know not whether it be
life or death; therefore I may no longer be your captain, for twice now
have I blenched from the battle. Yet command me, and I will obey, set a
sword in my hand and I will smite, till the God snatches it out of my
hand, as he did Throng-plough to-day."
"And that is well," said Arinbiorn, "it may be that ye shall meet that
God to-morrow, and heave up sword against him, and either overcome him or
go to thy fathers a proud and valiant man."
So they spake, and Thiodolf stood up and seemed of better cheer. But
presently the whole host was afoot, and they went their ways warily with
little noise, and wound little by little about the Wolfing meadow and
about the acres towards the wood at the back of the Houses; and they met
nothing by the way except an out-guard of the Romans, whom they slew
there nigh silently, and bore away their bodies, twelve in number, lest
the Romans when they sent to change the guard, should find the slain and
have an inkling of the way the Goths were gone; but now they deemed that
the Romans might think their guard fled, or perchance that they had been
carried away by the Gods of the woodland folk.
So came they into the wood, and Arinbiorn and the chiefs were for
striking the All-men's road to the Thing-stead and so coming thither; but
the lad Ali when he heard it laughed and said:
"If ye would sleep to-night ye shall wend another way. For the Hall-Sun
hath had us at work cumbering it against the foe with great trees felled
with limbs, branches, and all. And indeed ye shall find the Thing-stead
fenced like a castle, and the in-gate hard to find; yet will I bring you
thither."
So did he without delay, and presently they came anigh the Thing-stead;
and the place was fenced cunningly, so that if men would enter they must
go by a narrow way that had a fence of tree-trunks on each side wending
inward like the maze in a pleasance. Thereby now wended the host all
afoot, since it was a holy place and no beast must set foot therein, so
that the horses were left without it: so slowly and right quietly once
more they came into the garth of the Thing-stead; and lo, a many folk
there, of the Wolfings and the Bearings and other kindreds, who had
gathered thereto; and albeit these were not warriors in their prime, yet
were there none save the young children and the weaker of the women but
had weapons of some kind; and they were well ordered, standing or sitting
in ranks like folk awaiting battle. There were booths of boughs and
rushes set up for shelter of the feebler women and the old men and
children along the edges of the fence, for the Hall-Sun had bidden them
keep the space clear round about the Doom-ring and the Hill-of-Speech as
if for a mighty folk-mote, so that the warriors might have room to muster
there and order their array. There were some cooking-fires lighted about
the aforesaid booths, but neither many nor great, and they were screened
with wattle from the side that lay toward the Romans; for the Hall-Sun
would not that they should hold up lanterns for their foemen to find them
by. Little noise there was in that stronghold, moreover, for the hearts
of all who knew their right hands from their left were set on battle and
the destruction of the foe that would destroy the kindreds.
Anigh the Speech-Hill, on its eastern side, had the bole of a slender
beech tree been set up, and at the top of it a cross-beam was nailed on,
and therefrom hung the wondrous lamp, the Hall-Sun, glimmering from on
high, and though its light was but a glimmer amongst the mighty wood, yet
was it also screened on three sides from the sight of the chance wanderer
by wings of thin plank. But beneath her namesake as beforetime in the
Hall sat the Hall-Sun, the maiden, on a heap of faggots, and she was
wrapped in a dark blue cloak from under which gleamed the folds of the
fair golden-broidered gown she was wont to wear at folk-motes, and her
right hand rested on a naked sword that lay across her knees: beside her
sat the old man Sorli, the Wise in War, and about her were slim lads and
sturdy maidens and old carles of the thralls or freedmen ready to bear
the commands that came from her mouth; for she and Sorli were the
captains of the stay-at-homes.
Now came Thiodolf and Arinbiorn and other leaders into the ring of men
before her, and she greeted them kindly and said:
"Hail, Sons of Tyr! now that I behold you again it seemeth to me as if
all were already won: the time of waiting hath been weary, and we have
borne the burden of fear every day from morn till even, and in the waking
hour we presently remembered it. But now ye are come, even if this Thing-
stead were lighted by the flames of the Wolfing Roof instead of by these
moonbeams; even if we had to begin again and seek new dwellings, and
another water and other meadows, yet great should grow the kindreds of
the Men who have dwelt in the Mark, and nought should overshadow them:
and though the beasts and the Romans were dwelling in their old places,
yet should these kindreds make new clearings in the Wild-wood; and they
with their deeds should cause other waters to be famous, that as yet have
known no deeds of man; and they should compel the Earth to bear increase
round about their dwelling-places for the welfare of the kindreds. O
Sons of Tyr, friendly are your faces, and undismayed, and the Terror of
the Nations has not made you afraid any more than would the onrush of the
bisons that feed adown the grass hills. Happy is the eve, O children of
the Goths, yet shall to-morrow morn be happier."
Many heard what she spake, and a murmur of joy ran through the ranks of
men: for they deemed her words to forecast victory.
And now amidst her speaking, the moon, which had arisen on Mid-mark, when
the host first entered into the wood, had overtopped the tall trees that
stood like a green wall round about the Thing-stead, and shone down on
that assembly, and flashed coldly back from the arms of the warriors. And
the Hall-Sun cast off her dark blue cloak and stood up in her
golden-broidered raiment, which flashed back the grey light like as it
had been an icicle hanging from the roof of some hall in the midnight of
Yule, when the feast is high within, and without the world is silent with
the night of the ten-weeks' frost.
Then she spake again: "O War-duke, thy mouth is silent; speak to this
warrior of the Bearings that he bid the host what to do; for wise are ye
both, and dear are the minutes of this night and should not be wasted;
since they bring about the salvation of the Wolfings, and the vengeance
of the Bearings, and the hope renewed of all the kindreds."
Then Thiodolf abode a while with his head down cast; his bosom heaved,
and he set his left hand to his swordless scabbard, and his right to his
throat, as though he were sore troubled with something he might not tell
of: but at last he lifted up his head and spoke to Arinbiorn, but slowly
and painfully, as he had spoken before:
"Chief of the Bearings, go up on to the Hill of Speech, and speak to the
folk out of thy wisdom, and let them know that to-morrow early before the
sun-rising those that may, and are not bound by the Gods against it,
shall do deeds according to their might, and win rest for themselves, and
new days of deeds for the kindreds."
Therewith he ceased, and let his head fall again, and the Hall-Sun looked
at him askance. But Arinbiorn clomb the Speech-Hill and said:
"Men of the kindreds, it is now a few days since we first met the Romans
and fought with them; and whiles we have had the better, and whiles the
worse in our dealings, as oft in war befalleth: for they are men, and we
no less than men. But now look to it what ye will do; for we may no
longer endure these outlanders in our houses, and we must either die or
get our own again: and that is not merely a few wares stored up for use,
nor a few head of neat, nor certain timbers piled up into a dwelling, but
the life we have made in the land we have made. I show you no choice,
for no choice there is. Here are we bare of everything in the wild-wood:
for the most part our children are crying for us at home, our wives are
longing for us in our houses, and if we come not to them in kindness, the
Romans shall come to them in grimness. Down yonder in the plain,
moreover, is our wain-burg slowly drawing near to us, and with it is much
livelihood of ours, which is a little thing, for we may get more; but
also there are our banners of battle and the tokens of the kindred, which
is a great thing. And between all this and us there lieth but little;
nought but a band of valiant men, and a few swords and spears, and a few
wounds, and the hope of death amidst the praise of the people; and this
ye have to set out to wend across within two or three hours. I will not
ask if ye will do so, for I wot that even so ye will; therefore when I
have done, shout not, nor clash sword on shield, for we are no great way
off that house of ours wherein dwells the foe that would destroy us. Let
each man rest as he may, and sleep if he may with his war-gear on him and
his weapons by his side, and when he is next awakened by the captains and
the leaders of hundreds and scores, let him not think that it is night,
but let him betake himself to his place among his kindred and be ready to
go through the wood with as little noise as may be. Now all is said that
the War-duke would have me say, and to-morrow shall those see him who are
foremost in falling upon the foemen, for he longeth sorely for his seat
on the days of the Wolfing Hall."
So he spake, and even as he bade them, they made no sound save a joyous
murmur; and straightway the more part of them betook themselves to sleep
as men who must busy themselves about a weighty matter; for they were
wise in the ways of war. So sank all the host to the ground save those
who were appointed as watchers of the night, and Arinbiorn and Thiodolf
and the Hall-Sun; they three yet stood together; and Arinbiorn said:
"Now it seems to me not so much as if we had vanquished the foe and were
safe and at rest, but rather as if we had no foemen and never have had.
Deep peace is on me, though hitherto I have been deemed a wrathful man,
and it is to me as if the kindreds that I love had filled the whole
earth, and left no room for foemen: even so it may really be one day. To-
night it is well, yet to-morrow it shall be better. What thine errand
may be, Thiodolf, I scarce know; for something hath changed in thee, and
thou art become strange to us. But as for mine errand, I will tell it
thee; it is that I am seeking Otter of the Laxings, my friend and fellow,
whose wisdom my foolishness drave under the point and edge of the Romans,
so that he is no longer here; I am seeking him, and to-morrow I think I
shall find him, for he hath not had time to travel far, and we shall be
blithe and merry together. And now will I sleep; for I have bidden the
watchers awaken me if any need be. Sleep thou also, Thiodolf! and wake
up thine old self when the moon is low." Therewith he laid himself down
under the lee of the pile of faggots, and was presently asleep.
CHAPTER XXVI--THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN
Now were Thiodolf and the Hall-Sun left alone together standing by the
Speech-Hill; and the moon was risen high in the heavens above the tree-
tops of the wild-wood. Thiodolf scarce stirred, and he still held his
head bent down as one lost in thought.
Then said the Hall-Sun, speaking softly amidst the hush of the camp:
"I have said that the minutes of this night are dear, and they are
passing swiftly; and it may be that thou wilt have much to say and to do
before the host is astir with the dawning. So come thou with me a little
way, that thou mayst hear of new tidings, and think what were best to do
amidst them."
And without more ado she took him by the hand and led him forth, and he
went as he was led, not saying a word. They passed out of the camp into
the wood, none hindering, and went a long way where under the
beech-leaves there was but a glimmer of the moonlight, and presently
Thiodolf's feet went as it were of themselves; for they had hit a path
that he knew well and over-well.
So came they to that little wood-lawn where first in this tale Thiodolf
met the Wood-Sun; and the stone seat there was not empty now any more
than it was then; for thereon sat the Wood-Sun, clad once more in her
glittering raiment. Her head was sunken down, her face hidden by her
hands; neither did she look up when she heard their feet on the grass,
for she knew who they were.
Thiodolf lingered not; for a moment it was to him as if all that past
time had never been, and its battles and hurry and hopes and fears but
mere shows, and the unspoken words of a dream. He went straight up to
her and sat down by her side and put his arm about her shoulders, and
strove to take her hand to caress it; but she moved but little, and it
was as if she heeded him not. And the Hall-Sun stood before them and
looked at them for a little while; and then she fell to speech; but at
the first sound of her voice, it seemed that the Wood-Sun trembled, but
still she hid her face. Said the Hall-Sun:
"Two griefs I see before me in mighty hearts grown great;
And to change both these into gladness out-goes the power of fate.
Yet I, a lonely maiden, have might to vanquish one
Till it melt as the mist of the morning before the summer sun.
O Wood-Sun, thou hast borne me, and I were fain indeed
To give thee back thy gladness; but thou com'st of the Godhead's seed,
And herein my might avails not; because I can but show
Unto these wedded sorrows the truth that the heart should know
Ere the will hath wielded the hand; and for thee, I can tell thee
nought
That thou hast not known this long while; thy will and thine hand have
wrought,
And the man that thou lovest shall live in despite of Gods and of men,
If yet thy will endureth. But what shall it profit thee then
That after the fashion of Godhead thou hast gotten thee a thrall
To be thine and never another's, whatso in the world may befall?
Lo! yesterday this was a man, and to-morrow it might have been
The very joy of the people, though never again it were seen;
Yet a part of all they hoped for through all the lapse of years,
To make their laughter happy and dull the sting of tears;
To quicken all remembrance of deeds that never die,
And death that maketh eager to live as the days go by.
Yea, many a deed had he done as he lay in the dark of the mound;
As the seed-wheat plotteth of spring, laid under the face of the
ground
That the foot of the husbandman treadeth, that the wind of the winter
wears,
That the turbid cold flood hideth from the constant hope of the years.
This man that should leave in his death his life unto many an one
Wilt thou make him a God of the fearful who live lone under the sun?
And then shalt thou have what thou wouldedst when amidst of the
hazelled field
Thou kissed'st the mouth of the helper, and the hand of the people's
shield,
Shalt thou have the thing that thou wouldedst when thou broughtest me
to birth,
And I, the soul of the Wolfings, began to look on earth?
Wilt thou play the God, O mother, and make a man anew,
A joyless thing and a fearful? Then I betwixt you two,
'Twixt your longing and your sorrow will cast the sundering word,
And tell out all the story of that rampart of the sword!
I shall bid my mighty father make choice of death in life,
Or life in death victorious and the crowned end of strife."
Ere she had ended, the Wood-Sun let her hands fall down, and showed her
face, which for all its unpaled beauty looked wearied and anxious; and
she took Thiodolf's hand in hers, while she looked with eyes of love upon
the Hall-Sun, and Thiodolf laid his cheek to her cheek, and though he
smiled not, yet he seemed as one who is happy. At last the Wood-Sun
spoke and said:
"Thou sayest sooth, O daughter: I am no God of might,
Yet I am of their race, and I think with their thoughts and see with
their sight,
And the threat of the doom did I know of, and yet spared not to lie:
For I thought that the fate foreboded might touch and pass us by,
As the sword that heweth the war-helm and cleaveth a cantle away,
And the cunning smith shall mend it and it goeth again to the fray;
If my hand might have held for a moment, yea, even against his will,
The life of my beloved! But Weird is the master still:
And this man's love of my body and his love of the ancient kin
Were matters o'er mighty to deal with and the game withal to win.
Woe's me for the waning of all things, and my hope that needs must
fade
As the fruitless sun of summer on the waste where nought is made!
And now farewell, O daughter, thou mayst not see the kiss
Of the hapless and the death-doomed when I have told of this;
Yet once again shalt thou see him, though I no more again,
Fair with the joy that hopeth and dieth not in vain."
Then came the Hall-Sun close to her, and knelt down by her, and laid her
head upon her knees and wept for love of her mother, who kissed her oft
and caressed her; and Thiodolf's hand strayed, as it were, on to his
daughter's head, and he looked kindly on her, though scarce now as if he
knew her. Then she arose when she had kissed her mother once more, and
went her ways from that wood-lawn into the woods again, and so to the
Folk-mote of her people.
But when those twain were all alone again, the Wood-Sun spoke: "O
Thiodolf canst thou hear me and understand?"
"Yea," he said, "when thou speakest of certain matters, as of our love
together, and of our daughter that came of our love."
"Thiodolf," she said, "How long shall our love last?"
"As long as our life," he said.
"And if thou diest to-day, where then shall our love be?" said the Wood-
Sun.
He said, "I must now say, I wot not; though time was I had said, It shall
abide with the soul of the Wolfing Kindred."
She said: "And when that soul dieth, and the kindred is no more?"
"Time agone," quoth he, "I had said, it shall abide with the Kindreds of
the Earth; but now again I say, I wot not."
"Will the Earth hide it," said she, "when thou diest and art borne to
mound?"
"Even so didst thou say when we spake together that other night," said
he; "and now I may say nought against thy word."
"Art thou happy, O Folk-Wolf?" she said.
"Why dost thou ask me?" said he; "I know not; we were sundered and I
longed for thee; thou art here; it is enough."
"And the people of thy Kindred?" she said, "dost thou not long for them?"
He said; "Didst thou not say that I was not of them? Yet were they my
friends, and needed me, and I loved them: but by this evening they will
need me no more, or but little; for they will be victorious over their
foes: so hath the Hall-Sun foretold. What then! shall I take all from
thee to give little to them?"
"Thou art wise," she said; "Wilt thou go to battle to-day?"
"So it seemeth," said he.
She said: "And wilt thou bear the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk? for if thou
dost, thou wilt live, and if thou dost not, thou wilt die."
"I will bear it," said he, "that I may live to love thee."
"Thinkest thou that any evil goes with it?" said she.
There came into his face a flash of his ancient boldness as he answered:
"So it seemed to me yesterday, when I fought clad in it the first time;
and I fell unsmitten on the meadow, and was shamed, and would have slain
myself but for thee. And yet it is not so that any evil goes with it;
for thou thyself didst say that past night that there was no evil weird
in it."
She said: "How then if I lied that night?"
Said he; "It is the wont of the Gods to lie, and be unashamed, and men-
folk must bear with it."
"Ah! how wise thou art!" she said; and was silent for a while, and drew
away from him a little, and clasped her hands together and wrung them for
grief and anger. Then she grew calm again, and said:
"Wouldest thou die at my bidding?"
"Yea," said he, "not because thou art of the Gods, but because thou hast
become a woman to me, and I love thee."
Then was she silent some while, and at last she said, "Thiodolf, wilt
thou do off the Hauberk if I bid thee?"
"Yea, yea," said he, "and let us depart from the Wolfings, and their
strife, for they need us not."
She was silent once more for a longer while still, and at last she said
in a cold voice; "Thiodolf, I bid thee arise, and put off the Hauberk
from thee."
He looked at her wondering, not at her words, but at the voice wherewith
she spake them; but he arose from the stone nevertheless, and stood stark
in the moonlight; he set his hand to the collar of the war-coat, and
undid its clasps, which were of gold and blue stones, and presently he
did the coat from off him and let it slide to the ground where it lay in
a little grey heap that looked but a handful. Then he sat down on the
stone again, and took her hand and kissed her and caressed her fondly,
and she him again, and they spake no word for a while: but at the last he
spake in measure and rhyme in a low voice, but so sweet and clear that it
might have been heard far in the hush of the last hour of the night:
"Dear now are this dawn-dusk's moments as is the last of the light
When the foemen's ranks are wavering, and the victory feareth night;
And of all the time I have loved thee of these am I most fain,
When I know not what shall betide me, nor what shall be my gain.
But dear as they are, they are waning, and at last the time is come
When no more shall I behold thee till I wend to Odin's Home.
Now is the time so little that once hath been so long
That I fain would ask thee pardon wherein I have done thee wrong,
That thy longing might be softer, and thy love more sweet to have.
But in nothing have I wronged thee, there is nought that I may crave.
Strange too! as the minutes fail me, so do my speech-words fail,
Yet strong is the joy within me for this hour that crowns the tale."
Therewith he clipped her and caressed her, and she spake nothing for a
while; and he said; "Thy face is fair and bright; art thou not joyous of
these minutes?"
She said: "Thy words are sweet; but they pierce my heart like a sharp
knife; for they tell me of thy death and the ending of our love."
Said he; "I tell thee nothing, beloved, that thou hast not known: is it
not for this that we have met here once more?"
She answered after a while; "Yea, yea; yet mightest thou have lived."
He laughed, but not scornfully or bitterly and said:
"So thought I in time past: but hearken, beloved; If I fall to-day, shall
there not yet be a minute after the stroke hath fallen on me, wherein I
shall know that the day is won and see the foemen fleeing, and wherein I
shall once again deem I shall never die, whatever may betide afterwards,
and though the sword lieth deep in my breast? And shall I not see then
and know that our love hath no end?"
Bitter grief was in her face as she heard him. But she spake and said:
"Lo here the Hauberk which thou hast done off thee, that thy breast might
be the nearer to mine! Wilt thou not wear it in the fight for my sake?"
He knit his brows somewhat, and said:
"Nay, it may not be: true it is that thou saidest that no evil weird went
with it, but hearken! Yesterday I bore it in the fight, and ere I
mingled with the foe, before I might give the token of onset, a cloud
came before my eyes and thick darkness wrapped me around, and I fell to
the earth unsmitten; and so was I borne out of the fight, and evil dreams
beset me of evil things, and the dwarfs that hate mankind. Then I came
to myself, and the Hauberk was off me, and I rose up and beheld the
battle, that the kindreds were pressing on the foe, and I thought not
then of any past time, but of the minutes that were passing; and I ran
into the fight straightway: but one followed me with that Hauberk, and I
did it on, thinking of nought but the battle. Fierce then was the fray,
yet I faltered in it; till the fresh men of the Romans came in upon us
and broke up our array. Then my heart almost broke within me, and I
faltered no more, but rushed on as of old, and smote great strokes all
round about: no hurt I got, but once more came that ugly mist over my
eyes, and again I fell unsmitten, and they bore me out of battle: then
the men of our folk gave back and were overcome; and when I awoke from my
evil dreams, we had gotten away from the fight and the Wolfing dwellings,
and were on the mounds above the ford cowering down like beaten men.
There then I sat shamed among the men who had chosen me for their best
man at the Holy Thing, and lo I was their worst! Then befell that which
never till then had befallen me, that life seemed empty and worthless and
I longed to die and be done with it, and but for the thought of thy love
I had slain myself then and there.
"Thereafter I went with the host to the assembly of the stay-at-homes and
fleers, and sat before the Hall-Sun our daughter, and said the words
which were put into my mouth. But now must I tell thee a hard and evil
thing; that I loved them not, and was not of them, and outside myself
there was nothing: within me was the world and nought without me. Nay,
as for thee, I was not sundered from thee, but thou wert a part of me;
whereas for the others, yea, even for our daughter, thine and mine, they
were but images and shows of men, and I longed to depart from them, and
to see thy body and to feel thine heart beating. And by then so evil was
I grown that my very shame had fallen from me, and my will to die: nay, I
longed to live, thou and I, and death seemed hateful to me, and the deeds
before death vain and foolish.
"Where then was my glory and my happy life, and the hope of the days
fresh born every day, though never dying? Where then was life, and
Thiodolf that once had lived?
"But now all is changed once more; I loved thee never so well as now, and
great is my grief that we must sunder, and the pain of farewell wrings my
heart. Yet since I am once more Thiodolf the Mighty, in my heart there
is room for joy also. Look at me, O Wood-Sun, look at me, O beloved!
tell me, am I not fair with the fairness of the warrior and the helper of
the folk? Is not my voice kind, do not my lips smile, and mine eyes
shine? See how steady is mine hand, the friend of the folk! For mine
eyes are cleared again, and I can see the kindreds as they are, and their
desire of life and scorn of death, and this is what they have made me
myself. Now therefore shall they and I together earn the merry days to
come, the winter hunting and the spring sowing, the summer haysel, the
ingathering of harvest, the happy rest of midwinter, and Yuletide with
the memory of the Fathers, wedded to the hope of the days to be. Well
may they bid me help them who have holpen me! Well may they bid me die
who have made me live!
"For whereas thou sayest that I am not of their blood, nor of their
adoption, once more I heed it not. For I have lived with them, and eaten
and drunken with them, and toiled with them, and led them in battle and
the place of wounds and slaughter; they are mine and I am theirs; and
through them am I of the whole earth, and all the kindreds of it; yea,
even of the foemen, whom this day the edges in mine hand shall smite.
"Therefore I will bear the Hauberk no more in battle; and belike my body
but once more: so shall I have lived and death shall not have undone me.
"Lo thou, is not this the Thiodolf whom thou hast loved? no changeling of
the Gods, but the man in whom men have trusted, the friend of Earth, the
giver of life, the vanquisher of death?"
And he cast himself upon her, and strained her to his bosom and kissed
her, and caressed her, and awoke the bitter-sweet joy within her, as he
cried out:
"O remember this, and this, when at last I am gone from thee!"
But when they sundered her face was bright, but the tears were on it, and
she said: "O Thiodolf, thou wert fain hadst thou done a wrong to me so
that I might forgive thee; now wilt thou forgive me the wrong I have done
thee?"
"Yea," he said, "Even so would I do, were we both to live, and how much
more if this be the dawn of our sundering day! What hast thou done?"
She said: "I lied to thee concerning the Hauberk when I said that no evil
weird went with it: and this I did for the saving of thy life."
He laid his hand fondly on her head, and spake smiling: "Such is the wont
of the God-kin, because they know not the hearts of men. Tell me all the
truth of it now at last."
She said:
"Hear then the tale of the Hauberk and the truth there is to tell:
There was a maid of the God-kin, and she loved a man right well,
Who unto the battle was wending; and she of her wisdom knew
That thence to the folk-hall threshold should come back but a very
few;
And she feared for her love, for she doubted that of these he should
not be;
So she wended the wilds lamenting, as I have lamented for thee;
And many wise she pondered, how to bring her will to pass
(E'en as I for thee have pondered), as her feet led over the grass,
Till she lifted her eyes in the wild-wood, and lo! she stood before
The Hall of the Hollow-places; and the Dwarf-lord stood in the door
And held in his hand the Hauberk, whereon the hammer's blow
The last of all had been smitten, and the sword should be hammer now.
Then the Dwarf beheld her fairness, and the wild-wood many-leaved
Before his eyes was reeling at the hope his heart conceived;
So sorely he longed for her body; and he laughed before her and cried,
'O Lady of the Disir, thou farest wandering wide
Lamenting thy beloved and the folk-mote of the spear,
But if amidst of the battle this child of the hammer he bear
He shall laugh at the foemen's edges and come back to thy lily breast
And of all the days of his life-time shall his coming years be best.'
Then she bowed adown her godhead and sore for the Hauberk she prayed;
But his greedy eyes devoured her as he stood in the door and said;
'Come lie in mine arms! Come hither, and we twain the night to wake!
And then as a gift of the morning the Hauberk shall ye take.'
So she humbled herself before him, and entered into the cave,
The dusky, the deep-gleaming, the gem-strewn golden grave.
But he saw not her girdle loosened, or her bosom gleam on his love,
For she set the sleep-thorn in him, that he saw, but might not move,
Though the bitter salt tears burned him for the anguish of his greed;
And she took the hammer's offspring, her unearned morning meed,
And went her ways from the rock-hall and was glad for her warrior's
sake.
But behind her dull speech followed, and the voice of the hollow
spake:
'Thou hast left me bound in anguish, and hast gained thine heart's
desire;
Now I would that the dewy night-grass might be to thy feet as the
fire,
And shrivel thy raiment about thee, and leave thee bare to the flame,
And no way but a fiery furnace for the road whereby ye came!
But since the folk of God-home we may not slay nor smite,
And that fool of the folk that thou lovest, thou hast saved in my
despite,
Take with thee, thief of God-home, this other word I say:
Since the safeguard wrought in the ring-mail I may not do away
I lay this curse upon it, that whoso weareth the same,
Shall save his life in the battle, and have the battle's shame;
He shall live through wrack and ruin, and ever have the worse,
And drag adown his kindred, and bear the people's curse.'
"Lo, this the tale of the Hauberk, and I knew it for the truth:
And little I thought of the kindreds; of their day I had no ruth;
For I said, They are doomed to departure; in a little while must they
wane,
And nought it helpeth or hindreth if I hold my hand or refrain.
Yea, thou wert become the kindred, both thine and mine; and thy birth
To me was the roofing of heaven, and the building up of earth.
I have loved, and I must sorrow; thou hast lived, and thou must die;
Ah, wherefore were there others in the world than thou and I?"
He turned round to her and clasped her strongly in his arms again, and
kissed her many times and said:
"Lo, here art thou forgiven; and here I say farewell!
Here the token of my wonder which my words may never tell;
The wonder past all thinking, that my love and thine should blend;
That thus our lives should mingle, and sunder in the end!
Lo, this, for the last remembrance of the mighty man I was,
Of thy love and thy forbearing, and all that came to pass!
Night wanes, and heaven dights her for the kiss of sun and earth;
Look up, look last upon me on this morn of the kindreds' mirth!"
Therewith he arose and lingered no minute longer, but departed, going as
straight towards the Thing-stead and the Folk-mote of his kindred as the
swallow goes to her nest in the hall-porch. He looked not once behind
him, though a bitter wailing rang through the woods and filled his heart
with the bitterness of her woe and the anguish of the hour of sundering.
CHAPTER XXVII--THEY WEND TO THE MORNING BATTLE
Now when Thiodolf came back to the camp the signs of dawn were plain in
the sky, the moon was low and sinking behind the trees, and he saw at
once that the men were stirring and getting ready for departure. He
looked gladly and blithely at the men he fell in with, and they at him,
and scarce could they refrain a shout when they beheld his face and the
brightness of it. He went straight up to where the Hall-Sun was yet
sitting under her namesake, with Arinbiorn standing before her amidst of
a ring of leaders of hundreds and scores: but old Sorli sat by her side
clad in all his war-gear.
When Thiodolf first came into that ring of men they looked doubtfully at
him, as if they dreaded somewhat, but when they had well beheld him their
faces cleared, and they became joyous.
He went straight up to Arinbiorn and kissed the old warrior, and said to
him, "I give thee good morrow, O leader of the Bearings! Here now is
come the War-duke! and meseems that we should get to work as speedily as
may be, for lo the dawning!"
"Hail to thine hand, War-duke!" said Arinbiorn joyously; "there is no
more to do but to take thy word concerning the order wherein we shall
wend; for all men are armed and ready."
Said Thiodolf; "Lo ye, I lack war-gear and weapons! Is there a good
sword hereby, a helm, a byrny and a shield? For hard will be the battle,
and we must fence ourselves all we may."
"Hard by," said Arinbiorn, "is the war-gear of Ivar of our House, who is
dead in the night of his hurts gotten in yesterday's battle: thou and he
are alike in stature, and with a good will doth he give them to thee, and
they are goodly things, for he comes of smithying blood. Yet is it a
pity of Throng-plough that he lieth on the field of the slain."
But Thiodolf smiled and said: "Nay, Ivar's blade shall serve my turn to-
day; and thereafter shall it be seen to, for then will be time for many
things."
So they went to fetch him the weapons; but he said to Arinbiorn, "Hast
thou numbered the host? What are the gleanings of the Roman sword?"
Said Arinbiorn: "Here have we more than three thousand three hundred
warriors of the host fit for battle: and besides this here are gathered
eighteen hundred of the Wolfings and the Bearings, and of the other
Houses, mostly from over the water, and of these nigh upon seven hundred
may bear sword or shoot shaft; neither shall ye hinder them from so doing
if the battle be joined."
Then said Thiodolf: "We shall order us into three battles; the Wolfings
and the Bearings to lead the first, for this is our business; but others
of the smaller Houses this side the water to be with us; and the Elkings
and Galtings and the other Houses of the Mid-mark on the further side of
the water to be in the second, and with them the more part of the Nether-
mark; but the men of Up-mark to be in the third, and the stay-at-homes to
follow on with them: and this third battle to let the wood cover them
till they be needed, which may not be till the day of fight draws to an
end, when all shall be needed: for no Roman man must be left alive or
untaken by this even, or else must we all go to the Gods together.
Hearken, Arinbiorn. I am not called fore-sighted, and yet meseems I see
somewhat how this day shall go; and it is not to be hidden that I shall
not see another battle until the last of all battles is at hand. But be
of good cheer, for I shall not die till the end of the fight, and once
more I shall be a man's help unto you. Now the first of the Romans we
meet shall not be able to stand before us, for they shall be unready, and
when their men are gotten ready and are fighting with us grimly, ye of
the second battle shall hear the war-token, and shall fall on, and they
shall be dismayed when they see so many fresh men come into the fight;
yet shall they stand stoutly; for they are valiant men, and shall not all
be taken unawares. Then, if they withstand us long enough, shall the
third battle come forth from the wood, and fall on either flank of them,
and the day shall be won. But I think not that they shall withstand us
so long, but that the men of Up-mark and the stay-at-homes shall have the
chasing of them. Now get me my war-gear, and let the first battle get
them to the outgate of the garth."
So they brought him his arms; and meanwhile the Hall-Sun spake to one of
the Captains, and he turned and went away a little space, and then came
back, having with him three strong warriors of the Wolfings, and he
brought them before the Hall-Sun, who said to them:
"Ye three, Steinulf, Athalulf, and Grani the Grey, I have sent for you
because ye are men both mighty in battle and deft wood-wrights and house-
smiths; ye shall follow Thiodolf closely, when he winneth into the Roman
garth, yet shall ye fight wisely, so that ye be not slain, or at least
not all; ye shall enter the Hall with Thiodolf, and when ye are therein,
if need be, ye shall run down the Hall at your swiftest, and mount up
into the loft betwixt the Middle-hearth and the Women's-Chamber, and
there shall ye find good store of water in vats and tubs, and this ye
shall use for quenching the fire of the Hall if the foemen fire it, as is
not unlike to be."
Then Grani spoke for the others and said he would pay all heed to her
words, and they departed to join their company.
Now was Thiodolf armed; and Arinbiorn, turning about before he went to
his place, beheld him and knit his brow, and said: "What is this,
Thiodolf? Didst thou not swear to the Gods not to bear helm or shield in
the battles of this strife? yet hast thou Ivar's helm on thine head and
his shield ready beside thee: wilt thou forswear thyself? so doing shalt
thou bring woe upon the House."
"Arinbiorn," said Thiodolf, "where didst thou hear tell of me that I had
made myself the thrall of the Gods? The oath that I sware was sworn when
mine heart was not whole towards our people; and now will I break it that
I may keep what of good intent there was in it, and cast away the rest.
Long is the story; but if we journey together to-night I will tell it
thee. Likewise I will tell it to the Gods if they look sourly upon me
when I see them, and all shall be well."
He smiled as he spoke, and Arinbiorn smiled on him in turn and went his
ways to array the host. But when he was gone Thiodolf was alone in that
place with the Hall-Sun, and he turned to her, and kissed her, and
caressed her fondly, and spake and said:
"So fare we, O my daughter, to the sundering of the ways;
Short is my journey henceforth to the door that ends my days,
And long the road that lieth as yet before thy feet.
How fain were I that thy journey from day to day were sweet
With peace to thee and pleasure; that a noble warrior's hand
In its early days might lead thee adown the flowery land,
And thy children in its noon-tide cling round about thy gown,
And the wise that thy womb has carried when the sun is going down,
Be thy happy fellow-farers to tell the tale of Earth,
But I wot that for no such sweetness did we bring thee unto birth,
But to be the soul of the Wolfings till the other days should come,
And the fruit of the kindreds' harvest with thee is garnered home.
Yet if for no blithe faring thy life-day is ordained,
Yet peace that long endureth maybe thy soul hath gained;
And thy sorrow of this even thy latest grief shall be,
The grief wherewith thou singest the death-song over me."
She looked up at him and smiled, though the tears were on her face; then
she said:
"Though to-day the grief beginneth yet the bitterness is done.
Though my body wendeth barren 'neath the beams of the quickening sun,
Yet remembrance still abideth, and long after the days of my life
Shall I live in the tale of the morning, when they tell of the ending
of strife;
And the deeds of this little hand, and the thought conceived in my
heart,
And never again henceforward from the folk shall I fare apart.
And if of the Earth, my father, thou hast tidings in thy place
Thou shalt hear how they call me the Ransom and the Mother of happy
days."
Then she wept outright for a brief space, and thereafter she said:
"Keep this in thine heart, O father, that I shall remember all
Since thou liftedst the she-wolf's nursling in the oak-tree's leafy
hall.
Yea, every time I remember when hand in hand we went
Amidst the shafts of the beech-trees, and down to the youngling bent
The Folk-wolf in his glory when the eve of fight drew nigh;
And every time I remember when we wandered joyfully
Adown the sunny meadow and lived a while of life
'Midst the herbs and the beasts and the waters so free from fear and
strife,
That thy years and thy might and thy wisdom, I had no part therein;
But thou wert as the twin-born brother of the maiden slim and thin,
The maiden shy in the feast-hall and blithe in wood and field.
Thus have we fared, my father; and e'en now when thou bearest shield,
On the last of thy days of mid-earth, twixt us 'tis even so
That the heart of my like-aged brother is the heart of thee that I
know."
Then the bitterness of tears stayed her speech, and he spake no word
more, but took her in his arms a while and soothed her and fondled her,
and then they parted, and he went with great strides towards the outgoing
of the Thing-stead.
There he found the warriors of his House and of the Bearings and the
lesser Houses of Mid-mark, all duly ordered for wending through the wood.
The dawn was coming on apace, but the wood was yet dark. But whereas the
Wolfings led, and each man of them knew the wood like his own hand, there
was no straying or disarray, and in less than a half-hour's space
Thiodolf and the first battle were come to the wood behind the
hazel-trees at the back of the hall, and before them was the dawning
round about the Roof of the Kindred; the eastern heavens were
brightening, and they could see all things clear without the wood.
CHAPTER XXVIII--OF THE STORM OF DAWNING
Then Thiodolf bade Fox and two others steal forward, and see what of
foemen was before them; so they fell to creeping on towards the open: but
scarcely had they started, before all men could hear the tramp of men
drawing nigh; then Thiodolf himself took with him a score of his House
and went quietly toward the wood-edge till they were barely within the
shadow of the beech-wood; and he looked forth and saw men coming straight
towards their lurking-place. And those he saw were a good many, and they
were mostly of the dastards of the Goths; but with them was a Captain of
an Hundred of the Romans, and some others of his kindred; and Thiodolf
deemed that the Goths had been bidden to gather up some of the
night-watchers and enter the wood and fall on the stay-at-homes. So he
bade his men get them aback, and he himself abode still at the very
wood's edge listening intently with his sword bare in his hand. And he
noted that those men of the foe stayed in the daylight outside the wood,
but a few yards from it, and, by command as it seemed, fell silent and
spake no word; and the morn was very still, and when the sound of their
tramp over the grass had ceased, Thiodolf could hear the tramp of more
men behind them. And then he had another thought, to wit that the Romans
had sent scouts to see if the Goths yet abided on the vantage-ground by
the ford, and that when they had found them gone, they were minded to
fall on them unawares in the refuge of the Thing-stead and were about to
do so by the counsel and leading of the dastard Goths; and that this was
one body of the host led by those dastards, who knew somewhat of the
woods. So he drew aback speedily, and catching hold of Fox by the
shoulder (for he had taken him alone with him) he bade him creep along
through the wood toward the Thing-stead, and bring back speedy word
whether there were any more foemen near the wood thereaway; and he
himself came to his men, and ordered them for onset, drawing them up in a
shallow half moon, with the bowmen at the horns thereof, with the word to
loose at the Romans as soon as they heard the war-horn blow: and all this
was done speedily and with little noise, for they were well nigh so
arrayed already.
Thus then they waited, and there was more than a glimmer of light even
under the beechen leaves, and the eastern sky was yellowing to sunrise.
The other warriors were like hounds in the leash eager to be slipped; but
Thiodolf stood calm and high-hearted turning over the memory of past
days, and the time he thought of seemed long to him, but happy.
Scarce had a score of minutes passed, and the Romans before them, who
were now gathered thick behind those dastards of the Goths, had not
moved, when back comes Fox and tells how he has come upon a great company
of the Romans led by their thralls of the Goths who were just entering
the wood, away there towards the Thing-stead.
"But, War-duke," says he, "I came also across our own folk of the second
battle duly ordered in the wood ready to meet them; and they shall be
well dealt with, and the sun shall rise for us and not for them."
Then turns Thiodolf round to those nighest to him and says, but still
softly:
"Hear ye a word, O people, of the wisdom of the foe!
Before us thick they gather, and unto the death they go.
They fare as lads with their cur-dogs who have stopped a fox's earth,
And standing round the spinny, now chuckle in their mirth,
Till one puts by the leafage and trembling stands astare
At the sight of the Wood wolf's father arising in his lair--
They have come for our wives and our children, and our sword-edge
shall they meet;
And which of them is happy save he of the swiftest feet?"
Speedily then went that word along the ranks of the Kindred, and men were
merry with the restless joy of battle: but scarce had two minutes passed
ere suddenly the stillness of the dawn was broken by clamour and uproar;
by shouts and shrieks, and the clashing of weapons from the wood on their
left hand; and over all arose the roar of the Markmen's horn, for the
battle was joined with the second company of the Kindreds. But a rumour
and murmur went from the foemen before Thiodolf's men; and then sprang
forth the loud sharp word of the captains commanding and rebuking, as if
the men were doubtful which way they should take.
Amidst all which Thiodolf brandished his sword, and cried out in a great
voice:
"Now, now, ye War-sons!
Now the Wolf waketh!
Lo how the Wood-beast
Wendeth in onset.
E'en as his feet fare
Fall on and follow!"
And he led forth joyously, and terrible rang the long refrained gathered
shout of his battle as his folk rushed on together devouring the little
space between their ambush and the hazel-beset greensward.
In the twinkling of an eye the half-moon had lapped around the
Roman-Goths and those that were with them; and the dastards made no stand
but turned about at once, crying out that the Gods of the Kindreds were
come to aid and none could withstand them. But these fleers thrust
against the band of Romans who were next to them, and bore them aback,
and great was the turmoil; and when Thiodolf's storm fell full upon them,
as it failed not to do, so close were they driven together that scarce
could any man raise his hand for a stroke. For behind them stood a great
company of those valiant spearmen of the Romans, who would not give way
if anywise they might hold it out: and their ranks were closely serried,
shield nigh touching shield, and their faces turned toward the foe; and
so arrayed, though they might die, they scarce knew how to flee. As they
might these thrust and hewed at the fleers, and gave fierce words but few
to the Roman-Goths, driving them back against their foemen: but the
fleers had lost the cunning of their right hands, and they had cast away
their shields and could not defend their very bodies against the wrath of
the kindreds; and when they strove to flee to the right hand or to the
left, they were met by the horns of the half-moon, and the arrows began
to rain in upon them, and from so close were they shot at that no shaft
failed to smite home.
There then were the dastards slain; and their bodies served for a rampart
against the onrush of the Markmen to those Romans who had stood fast. To
them were gathering more and more every minute, and they faced the Goths
steadily with their hard brown visages and gleaming eyes above their iron-
plated shields; not casting their spears, but standing closely together,
silent, but fierce. The light was spread now over all the earth; the
eastern heavens were grown golden-red, flecked here and there with little
crimson clouds: this battle was fallen near silent, but to the North was
great uproar of shouts and cries, and the roaring of the war-horns, and
the shrill blasts of the brazen trumpets.
Now Thiodolf, as his wont was when he saw that all was going well, had
refrained himself of hand-strokes, but was here and there and everywhere
giving heart to his folk, and keeping them in due order, and close array,
lest the Romans should yet come among them. But he watched the ranks of
the foe, and saw how presently they began to spread out beyond his, and
might, if it were not looked to, take them in flank; and he was about to
order his men anew to meet them, when he looked on his left hand and saw
how Roman men were pouring thick from the wood out of all array, followed
by a close throng of the kindreds: for on this side the Romans were
outnumbered and had stumbled unawares into the ambush of the Markmen, who
had fallen on them straightway and disarrayed them from the first. This
flight of their folk the Romans saw also, and held their men together,
refraining from the onset, as men who deem that they will have enough to
do to stand fast.
But the second battle of the Markmen, (who were of the Nether-mark,
mingled with the Mid-mark) fought wisely, for they swept those fleers
from before them, slaying many and driving the rest scattering, yet held
the chase for no long way, but wheeling about came sidelong on toward the
battle of the Romans and Thiodolf. And when Thiodolf saw that, he set up
the whoop of victory, he and his, and fell fiercely on the Romans,
casting everything that would fly, as they rushed on to the handplay; so
that there was many a Roman slain with the Roman spears that those who
had fallen had left among their foemen.
Now the Roman captains perceived that it availed not to tarry till the
men of the Mid and Nether-marks fell upon their flank; so they gave
command, and their ranks gave back little by little, facing their foes,
and striving to draw themselves within the dike and garth, which, after
their custom, they had already cast up about the Wolfing Roof, their
stronghold.
Now as fierce as was the onset of the Markmen, the main body of the
Romans could not be hindered from doing this much before the men of the
second battle were upon them; but Thiodolf and Arinbiorn with some of the
mightiest brake their array in two places and entered in amongst them.
And wrath so seized upon the soul of Arinbiorn for the slaying of Otter,
and his own fault towards him, that he cast away his shield, and heeding
no strokes, first brake his sword in the press, and then, getting hold of
a great axe, smote at all before him as though none smote at him in turn;
yea, as though he were smiting down tree-boles for a match against some
other mighty man; and all the while amidst the hurry, strokes of swords
and spears rained on him, some falling flatwise and some glancing
sideways, but some true and square, so that his helm was smitten off and
his hauberk rent adown, and point and edge reached his living flesh; and
he had thrust himself so far amidst the foe that none could follow to
shield him, so that at last he fell shattered and rent at the foot of the
new clayey wall cast up by the Romans, even as Thiodolf and a band with
him came cleaving the press, and the Romans closed the barriers against
friend and foe, and cast great beams adown, and masses of iron and lead
and copper taken from the smithying-booths of the Wolfings, to stay them
if it were but a little.
Then Thiodolf bestrode the fallen warrior, and men of his House were
close behind him, for wisely had he fought, cleaving the press like a
wedge, helping his friends that they might help him, so that they all
went forward together. But when he saw Arinbiorn fall he cried out:
"Woe's me, Arinbiorn! that thou wouldest not wait for me; for the day is
young yet, and over-young!"
There then they cleared the space outside the gate, and lifted up the
Bearing Warrior, and bare him back from the rampart. For so fierce had
been the fight and so eager the storm of those that had followed after
him that they must needs order their battle afresh, since Thiodolf's
wedge which he had driven into the Roman host was but of a few and the
foe had been many and the rampart and the shot-weapons were close anigh.
Wise therefore it seemed to abide them of the second battle and join with
them to swarm over the new-built slippery wall in the teeth of the Roman
shot.
In this, the first onset of the Morning Battle, some of the Markmen had
fallen, but not many, since but a few had entered outright into the Roman
ranks; and when they first rushed on from the wood but three of them were
slain, and the slaughter was all of the dastards and the Romans; and
afterwards not a few of the Romans were slain, what by Arinbiorn, what by
the others; for they were fighting fleeing, and before their eyes was the
image of the garth-gate which was behind them; and they stumbled against
each other as they were driven sideways against the onrush of the Goths,
nor were they now standing fair and square to them, and they were hurried
and confused with the dread of the onset of them of the two Marks.
As yet Thiodolf had gotten no great hurt, so that when he heard that
Arinbiorn's soul had passed away he smiled and said:
"Yea, yea, Arinbiorn might have abided the end, for ere then shall the
battle be hard."
So now the Wolfings and the Bearings met joyously the kindreds of the
Nether Mark and the others of the second battle, and they sang the song
of victory arrayed in good order hard by the Roman rampart, while
bowstrings twanged and arrows whistled, and sling-stones hummed from this
side and from that.
And of their song of victory thus much the tale telleth:
"Now hearken and hear
Of the day-dawn of fear,
And how up rose the sun
On the battle begun.
All night lay a-hiding,
Our anger abiding,
Dark down in the wood
The sharp seekers of blood;
But ere red grew the heaven we bore them all bare,
For against us undriven the foemen must fare;
They sought and they found us, and sorrowed to find,
For the tree-boles around us the story shall mind,
How fast from the glooming they fled to the light,
Yeasaying the dooming of Tyr of the fight.
"Hearken yet and again
How the night gan to wane,
And the twilight stole on
Till the world was well won!
E'en in such wise was wending
A great host for our ending;
On our life-days e'en so
Stole the host of the foe;
Till the heavens grew lighter, and light grew the world,
And the storm of the fighter upon them was hurled,
Then some fled the stroke, and some died and some stood,
Till the worst of the storm broke right out from the wood,
And the war-shafts were singing the carol of fear,
The tale of the bringing the sharp swords anear.
"Come gather we now,
For the day doth grow.
Come, gather, ye bold,
Lest the day wax old;
Lest not till to-morrow
We slake our sorrow,
And heap the ground
With many a mound.
Come, war-children, gather, and clear we the land!
In the tide of War-father the deed is to hand.
Clad in gear that we gilded they shrink from our sword;
In the House that we builded they sit at the board;
Come, war-children, gather, come swarm o'er the wall
For the feast of War-father to sweep out the Hall!"
Now amidst of their singing the sun rose upon the earth, and gleamed in
the arms of men, and lit the faces of the singing warriors as they stood
turned toward the east.
In this first onset of battle but twenty and three Markmen were slain in
all, besides Arinbiorn; for, as aforesaid, they had the foe at a
disadvantage. And this onset is called in the tale the Storm of Dawning.
CHAPTER XXI--OF THIODOLF'S STORM
The Goths tarried not over their victory; they shot with all the bowmen
that they had against the Romans on the wall, and therewith arrayed
themselves to fall on once more. And Thiodolf, now that the foe were
covered by a wall, though it was but a little one, sent a message to the
men of the third battle, them of Up-mark to wit, to come forward in good
array and help to make a ring around the Wolfing Stead, wherein they
should now take the Romans as a beast is taken in a trap. Meanwhile,
until they came, he sent other men to the wood to bring tree-boles to
batter the gate, and to make bridges whereby to swarm over the wall,
which was but breast-high on the Roman side, though they had worked at it
ceaselessly since yesterday morning.
In a long half-hour, therefore, the horns of the men of Up-mark sounded,
and they came forth from the wood a very great company, for with them
also were the men of the stay-at-homes and the homeless, such of them as
were fit to bear arms. Amongst these went the Hall-Sun surrounded by a
band of the warriors of Up-mark; and before her was borne her namesake
the Lamp as a sign of assured victory. But these stay-at-homes with the
Hall-Sun were stayed by the command of Thiodolf on the crown of the slope
above the dwellings, and stood round about the Speech-Hill, on the
topmost of which stood the Hall-Sun, and the wondrous Lamp, and the men
who warded her and it.
When the Romans saw the new host come forth from the wood, they might
well think that they would have work enough to do that day; but when they
saw the Hall-Sun take her stand on the Speech-Hill with the men-at-arms
about her, and the Lamp before her, then dread of the Gods fell upon
them, and they knew that the doom had gone forth against them.
Nevertheless they were not men to faint and die because the Gods were
become their foes, but they were resolved rather to fight it out to the
end against whatsoever might come against them, as was well seen
afterwards.
Now they had made four gates to their garth according to their custom,
and at each gate within was there a company of their mightiest men, and
each was beset by the best of the Markmen. Thiodolf and his men beset
the western gate where they had made that fierce onset. And the northern
gate was beset by the Elkings and some of the kindreds of the
Nether-mark; and the eastern gate by the rest of the men of Nether-mark;
and the southern gate by the kindreds of Up-mark.
All this the Romans noted, and they saw how that the Markmen were now
very many, and they knew that they were men no less valiant than
themselves, and they perceived that Thiodolf was a wise Captain; and in
less than two hours' space from the Storm of Dawning they saw those men
coming from the wood with plenteous store of tree-trunks to bridge their
ditch and rampart; and they considered how the day was yet very young, so
that they might look for no shelter from the night-tide; and as for any
aid from their own folk at the war-garth aforesaid, they hoped not for
it, nor had they sent any messenger to the Captain of the garth; nor did
they know as yet of his overthrow on the Ridge.
Now therefore there seemed to be but two choices before them; either to
abide within the rampart they had cast up, or to break out like valiant
men, and either die in the storm, or cleave a way through, whereby they
might come to their kindred and their stronghold south-east of the Mark.
This last way then they chose; or, to say the truth, it was their chief
captain who chose it for them, though they were nothing loth thereto: for
this man was a mocker, yet hot-headed, unstable, and nought wise in war,
and heretofore had his greed minished his courage; yet now, being driven
into a corner, he had courage enough and to spare, but utterly lacked
patience; for it had been better for the Romans to have abided one or two
onsets from the Goths, whereby they who should make the onslaught would
at the least have lost more men than they on whom they should fall,
before they within stormed forth on them; but their pride took away from
the Romans their last chance. But their captain, now that he perceived,
as he thought, that the game was lost and his life come to its last hour
wherein he would have to leave his treasure and pleasure behind him, grew
desperate and therewith most fierce and cruel. So all the captives whom
they had taken (they were but two score and two, for the wounded men they
had slain) he caused to be bound on the chairs of the high-seat clad in
their war-gear with their swords or spears made fast to their right
hands, and their shields to their left hands; and he said that the Goths
should now hold a Thing wherein they should at last take counsel wisely,
and abstain from folly. For he caused store of faggots and small wood
smeared with grease and oil to be cast into the hall that it might be
fired, so that it and the captives should burn up altogether; "So," said
he, "shall we have a fair torch for our funeral fire;" for it was the
custom of the Romans to burn their dead.
Thus, then, he did; and then he caused men to do away the barriers and
open all the four gates of the new-made garth, after he had manned the
wall with the slingers and bowmen, and slain the horses, so that the
woodland folk should have no gain of them. Then he arrayed his men at
the gates and about them duly and wisely, and bade those valiant footmen
fall on the Goths who were getting ready to fall on them, and to do their
best. But he himself armed at all points took his stand at the Man's-
door of the Hall, and swore by all the Gods of his kindred that he would
not move a foot's length from thence either for fire or for steel.
So fiercely on that fair morning burned the hatred of men about the
dwellings of the children of the Wolf of the Goths, wherein the children
of the Wolf of Rome were shut up as in a penfold of slaughter.
Meanwhile the Hall-Sun standing on the Hill of Speech beheld it all,
looking down into the garth of war; for the new wall was no hindrance to
her sight, because the Speech-Hill was high and but a little way from the
Great Roof; and indeed she was within shot of the Roman bowmen, though
they were not very deft in shooting.
So now she lifted up her voice and sang so that many heard her; for at
this moment of time there was a lull in the clamour of battle both within
the garth and without; even as it happens when the thunder-storm is just
about to break on the world, that the wind drops dead, and the voice of
the leaves is hushed before the first great and near flash of lightening
glares over the fields.
So she sang:
"Now the latest hour cometh and the ending of the strife;
And to-morrow and to-morrow shall we take the hand of life,
And wend adown the meadows, and skirt the darkling wood,
And reap the waving acres, and gather in the good.
I see a wall before me built up of steel and fire,
And hurts and heart-sick striving, and the war-wright's fierce desire;
But there-amidst a door is, and windows are therein;
And the fair sun-litten meadows and the Houses of the kin
Smile on me through the terror my trembling life to stay,
That at my mouth now flutters, as fain to flee away.
Lo e'en as the little hammer and the blow-pipe of the wright
About the flickering fire deals with the silver white,
And the cup and its beauty groweth that shall be for the people's
feast,
And all men are glad to see it from the greatest to the least;
E'en so is the tale now fashioned, that many a time and oft
Shall be told on the acre's edges, when the summer eve is soft;
Shall be hearkened round the hall-blaze when the mid-winter night
The kindreds' mirth besetteth, and quickeneth man's delight,
And we that have lived in the story shall be born again and again
As men feast on the bread of our earning, and praise the grief-born
grain."
As she made an end of singing, those about her understood her words, that
she was foretelling victory, and the peace of the Mark, and for joy they
raised a shrill cry; and the warriors who were nighest to her took it up,
and it spread through the whole host round about the garth, and went up
into the breath of the summer morning and went down the wind along the
meadow of the Wolfings, so that they of the wain-burg, who were now
drawing somewhat near to Wolf-stead heard it and were glad.
But the Romans when they heard it knew that the heart of the battle was
reached, and they cast back that shout wrathfully and fiercely, and made
toward the foe.
Therewithal those mighty men fell on each other in the narrow passes of
the garth; for fear was dead and buried in that Battle of the Morning.
On the North gate Hiarandi of the Elkings was the point of the Markmen's
wedge, and first clave the Roman press. In the Eastern gate it was
Valtyr, Otter's brother's son, a young man and most mighty. In the South
gate it was Geirbald of the Shieldings, the Messenger.
In the west gate Thiodolf the War-duke gave one mighty cry like the roar
of an angry lion, and cleared a space before him for the wielding of
Ivar's blade; for at that moment he had looked up to the Roof of the
Kindred and had beheld a little stream of smoke curling blue out of a
window thereof, and he knew what had betided, and how short was the time
before them. But his wrathful cry was taken up by some who had beheld
that same sight, and by others who saw nought but the Roman press, and
terribly it rang over the swaying struggling crowd.
Then fell the first rank of the Romans before those stark men and mighty
warriors; and they fell even where they stood, for on neither side could
any give back but for a little space, so close the press was, and the men
so eager to smite. Neither did any crave peace if he were hurt or
disarmed; for to the Goths it was but a little thing to fall in hot blood
in that hour of love of the kindred, and longing for the days to be. And
for the Romans, they had had no mercy, and now looked for none: and they
remembered their dealings with the Goths, and saw before them, as it
were, once more, yea, as in a picture, their slayings and quellings, and
lashings, and cold mockings which they had dealt out to the conquered
foemen without mercy, and now they longed sore for the quiet of the dark,
when their hard lives should be over, and all these deeds forgotten, and
they and their bitter foes should be at rest for ever.
Most valiantly they fought; but the fury of their despair could not deal
with the fearless hope of the Goths, and as rank after rank of them took
the place of those who were hewn down by Thiodolf and the Kindred, they
fell in their turn, and slowly the Goths cleared a space within the
gates, and then began to spread along the wall within, and grew thicker
and thicker. Nor did they fight only at the gates; but made them bridges
of those tree-trunks, and fell to swarming over the rampart, till they
had cleared it of the bowmen and slingers, and then they leaped down and
fell upon the flanks of the Romans; and the host of the dead grew, and
the host of the living lessened.
Moreover the stay-at-homes round about the Speech-Hill, and that band of
the warriors of Up-mark who were with them, beheld the Great Roof and saw
the smoke come gushing out of the windows, and at last saw the red flames
creep out amidst it and waver round the window jambs like little banners
of scarlet cloth. Then they could no longer refrain themselves, but ran
down from the Speech-Hill and the slope about it with great and fierce
cries, and clomb the wall where it was unmanned, helping each other with
hand and back, both stark warriors, and old men and lads and women: and
thus they gat them into the garth and fell upon the lessening band of the
Romans, who now began to give way hither and thither about the garth, as
they best might.
Thus it befell at the West-gate, but at the other gates it was no worser,
for there was no diversity of valour between the Houses; nay, whereas the
more part and the best part of the Romans faced the onset of Thiodolf,
which seemed to them the main onset, they were somewhat easier to deal
with elsewhere than at the West gate; and at the East gate was the place
first won, so that Valtyr and his folk were the first to clear a space
within the gate, and to tell the tale shortly (for can this that and the
other sword-stroke be told of in such a medley?) they drew the death-ring
around the Romans that were before them, and slew them all to the last
man, and then fell fiercely on the rearward of them of the North gate,
who still stood before Hiarandi's onset. There again was no long tale to
tell of, for Hiarandi was just winning the gate, and the wall was cleared
of the Roman shot-fighters, and the Markmen were standing on the top
thereof, and casting down on the Romans spears and baulks of wood and
whatsoever would fly. There again were the Romans all slain or put out
of the fight, and the two bands of the kindred joined together, and with
what voices the battle-rage had left them cried out for joy and fared on
together to help to bind the sheaves of war which Thiodolf's sickle had
reaped. And now it was mere slaying, and the Romans, though they still
fought in knots of less than a score, yet fought on and hewed and thrust
without more thought or will than the stone has when it leaps adown the
hill-side after it has first been set agoing.
But now the garth was fairly won and Thiodolf saw that there was no hope
for the Romans drawing together again; so while the kindreds were busied
in hewing down those knots of desperate men, he gathered to him some of
the wisest of his warriors, amongst whom were Steinulf and Grani the
Grey, the deft wood-wrights (but Athalulf had been grievously hurt by a
spear and was out of the battle), and drave a way through the confused
turmoil which still boiled in the garth there, and made straight for the
Man's-door of the Hall. Soon he was close thereto, having hewn away all
fleers that hindered him, and the doorway was before him. But on the
threshold, the fire and flames of the kindled hall behind him, stood the
Roman Captain clad in gold-adorned armour and surcoat of sea-born purple;
the man was cool and calm and proud, and a mocking smile was on his face:
and he bore his bright blade unbloodied in his hand.
Thiodolf stayed a moment of time, and their eyes met; it had gone hard
with the War-duke, and those eyes glittered in his pale face, and his
teeth were close set together; though he had fought wisely, and for life,
as he who is most valiant ever will do, till he is driven to bay like the
lone wood-wolf by the hounds, yet had he been sore mishandled. His helm
and shield were gone, his hauberk rent; for it was no dwarf-wrought coat,
but the work of Ivar's hand: the blood was running down from his left
arm, and he was hurt in many places: he had broken Ivar's sword in the
medley, and now bore in his hand a strong Roman short-sword, and his feet
stood bloody on the worn earth anigh the Man's-door.
He looked into the scornful eyes of the Roman lord for a little minute
and then laughed aloud, and therewithal, leaping on him with one spring,
turned sideways, and dealt him a great buffet on his ear with his unarmed
left hand, just as the Roman thrust at him with his sword, so that the
Captain staggered forward on to the next man following, which was
Wolfkettle the eager warrior, who thrust him through with his sword and
shoved him aside as they all strode into the hall together. Howbeit no
sword fell from the Roman Captain as he fell, for Thiodolf's side bore it
into the Hall of the Wolfings.
Most wrathful were those men, and went hastily, for their Roof was full
of smoke, and the flames flickered about the pillars and the wall here
and there, and crept up to the windows aloft; yet was it not wholly or
fiercely burning; for the Roman fire-raisers had been hurried and hasty
in their work. Straightway then Steinulf and Grani led the others off at
a run towards the loft and the water; but Thiodolf, who went slowly and
painfully, looked and beheld on the dais those men bound for the burning,
and he went quietly, and as a man who has been sick, and is weak, up on
to the dais, and said:
"Be of good cheer, O brothers, for the kindreds have vanquished the
foemen, and the end of strife is come."
His voice sounded strange and sweet to them amidst the turmoil of the
fight without; he laid down his sword on the table, and drew a little
sharp knife from his girdle and cut their bonds one by one and loosed
them with his blood-stained hands; and each one as he loosed him he
kissed and said to him, "Brother, go help those who are quenching the
fire; this is the bidding of the War-duke."
But as he loosed one after other he was longer and longer about it, and
his words were slower. At last he came to the man who was bound in his
own high-seat close under the place of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun,
and he was the only one left bound; that man was of the Wormings and was
named Elfric; he loosed him and was long about it; and when he was done
he smiled on him and kissed him, and said to him:
"Arise, brother! go help the quenchers of the fire, and leave to me this
my chair, for I am weary: and if thou wilt, thou mayst bring me of that
water to drink, for this morning men have forgotten the mead of the
reapers!"
Then Elfric arose, and Thiodolf sat in his chair, and leaned back his
head; but Elfric looked at him for a moment as one scared, and then ran
his ways down the hall, which now was growing noisy with the hurry and
bustle of the quenchers of the fire, to whom had divers others joined
themselves.
There then from a bucket which was still for a moment he filled a wooden
bowl, which he caught up from the base of one of the hall-pillars, and
hastened up the Hall again; and there was no man nigh the dais, and
Thiodolf yet sat in his chair, and the hall was dim with the rolling
smoke, and Elfric saw not well what the War-duke was doing. So he
hastened on, and when he was close to Thiodolf he trod in something wet,
and his heart sank for he knew that it was blood; his foot slipped
therewith and as he put out his hand to save himself the more part of the
water was spilled, and mingled with the blood. But he went up to
Thiodolf and said to him, "Drink, War-duke! here hath come a mouthful of
water."
But Thiodolf moved not for his word, and Elfric touched him, and he moved
none the more.
Then Elfric's heart failed him and he laid his hand on the War-duke's
hand, and looked closely into his face; and the hand was cold and the
face ashen-pale; and Elfric laid his hand on his side, and he felt the
short-sword of the Roman leader thrust deep therein, besides his many
other hurts.
So Elfric knew that he was dead, and he cast the bowl to the earth, and
lifted up his hands and wailed out aloud, like a woman who hath come
suddenly on her dead child, and cried out in a great voice:
"Hither, hither, O men in this hall, for the War-duke of the Markmen is
dead! O ye people, Hearken! Thiodolf the Mighty, the Wolfing is dead!"
And he was a young man, and weak with the binding and the waiting for
death, and he bowed himself adown and crouched on the ground and wept
aloud.
But even as he cried that cry, the sunlight outside the Man's-door was
darkened, and the Hall-Sun came over the threshold in her ancient gold-
embroidered raiment, holding in her hand her namesake the wondrous Lamp;
and the spears and the war-gear of warriors gleamed behind her; but the
men tarried on the threshold till she turned about and beckoned to them,
and then they poured in through the Man's-door, their war-gear rent and
they all befouled and disarrayed with the battle, but with proud and
happy faces: as they entered she waved her hand to them to bid them go
join the quenchers of the fire; so they went their ways.
But she went with unfaltering steps up to the dais, and the place where
the chain of the Lamp hung down from amidst the smoke-cloud wavering a
little in the gusts of the hall. Straightway she made the Lamp fast to
its chain, and dealt with its pulleys with a deft hand often practised
therein, and then let it run up toward the smoke-hidden Roof till it
gleamed in its due place once more, a token of the salvation of the
Wolfings and the welfare of all the kindreds.
Then she turned toward Thiodolf with a calm and solemn face, though it
was very pale and looked as if she would not smile again. Elfric had
risen up and was standing by the board speechless and the passion of sobs
still struggling in his bosom. She put him aside gently, and went up to
Thiodolf and stood above him, and looked down on his face a while: then
she put forth her hand and closed his eyes, and stooped down and kissed
his face. Then she stood up again and faced the Hall and looked and saw
that many were streaming in, and that though the smoke was still eddying
overhead, the fire was well nigh quenched within; and without the sound
of battle had sunk and died away. For indeed the Markmen had ended their
day's work before noon-tide that day, and the more part of the Romans
were slain, and to the rest they had given peace till the Folk-mote
should give Doom concerning them; for pity of these valiant men was
growing in the hearts of the valiant men who had vanquished them, now
that they feared them no more.
And this second part of the Morning Battle is called Thiodolf's Storm.
So now when the Hall-Sun looked and beheld that the battle was done and
the fire quenched, and when she saw how every man that came into the Hall
looked up and beheld the wondrous Lamp and his face quickened into joy at
the sight of it; and how most looked up at the high-seat and Thiodolf
lying leaned back therein, her heart nigh broke between the thought of
her grief and of the grief of the Folk that their mighty friend was dead,
and the thought of the joy of the days to be and all the glory that his
latter days had won. But she gathered heart, and casting back the dark
tresses of her hair, she lifted up her voice and cried out till its clear
shrillness sounded throughout all the Roof:
"O men in this Hall the War-duke is dead! O people hearken! for Thiodolf
the Mighty hath changed his life: Come hither, O men, Come hither, for
this is true, that Thiodolf is dead!"
CHAPTER XXX--THIODOLF IS BORNE OUT OF THE HALL AND OTTER IS LAID BESIDE
HIM
So when they heard her voice they came thither flockmeal, and a great
throng mingled of many kindreds was in the Hall, but with one consent
they made way for the Children of the Wolf to stand nearest to the dais.
So there they stood, the warriors mingled with the women, the swains with
the old men, the freemen with the thralls: for now the stay-at-homes of
the House were all gotten into the garth, and the more part of them had
flowed into the feast-hall when they knew that the fire was slackening.
All these now had heard the clear voice of the Hall-Sun, or others had
told them what had befallen; and the wave of grief had swept coldly over
them amidst their joy of the recoverance of their dwelling-place; yet
they would not wail nor cry aloud, even to ease their sorrow, till they
had heard the words of the Hall-Sun, as she stood facing them beside
their dead War-duke.
Then she spake: "O Sorli the Old, come up hither! thou hast been my
fellow in arms this long while."
So the old man came forth, and went slowly in his clashing war-gear up on
to the dais. But his attire gleamed and glittered, since over-old was he
to thrust deep into the press that day, howbeit he was wise in war. So
he stood beside her on the dais holding his head high, and proud he
looked, for all his thin white locks and sunken eyes.
But again said the Hall-Sun: "Canst thou hear me, Wolfkettle, when I bid
thee stand beside me, or art thou, too, gone on the road to Valhall?"
Forth then strode that mighty warrior and went toward the dais: nought
fair was his array to look on; for point and edge had rent it and stained
it red, and the flaring of the hall-flames had blackened it; his face was
streaked with black withal, and his hands were as the hands of a smith
among the thralls who hath wrought unwashen in the haste and hurry when
men look to see the war-arrow abroad. But he went up on to the dais and
held up his head proudly, and looked forth on to the hall-crowd with eyes
that gleamed fiercely from his stained and blackened face.
Again the Hall-Sun said: "Art thou also alive, O Egil the messenger?
Swift are thy feet, but not to flee from the foe: Come up and stand with
us!"
Therewith Egil clave the throng; he was not so roughly dealt with as was
Wolfkettle, for he was a bowman, and had this while past shot down on the
Romans from aloof; and he yet held his bended bow in his hand. He also
came up on to the dais and stood beside Wolfkettle glancing down on the
hall-crowd, looking eagerly from side to side.
Yet again the Hall-Sun spake: "No aliens now are dwelling in the Mark;
come hither, ye men of the kindreds! Come thou, our brother Hiarandi of
the Elkings, for thy sisters, our wives, are fain of thee. Come thou,
Valtyr of the Laxings, brother's son of Otter; do thou for the War-duke
what thy father's brother had done, had he not been faring afar. Come
thou, Geirbald of the Shieldings the messenger! Now know we the deeds of
others and thy deeds. Come, stand beside us for a little!"
Forth then they came in their rent and battered war-gear: and the tall
Hiarandi bore but the broken truncheon of his sword; and Valtyr a
woodman's axe notched and dull with work; and Geirbald a Roman
cast-spear, for his own weapons had been broken in the medley; and he
came the last of the three, going as a belated reaper from the acres.
There they stood by the others and gazed adown the hall-throng.
But the Hall-Sun spake again: "Agni of the Daylings, I see thee now. How
camest thou into the hard handplay, old man? Come hither and stand with
us, for we love thee. Angantyr of the Bearings, fair was thy riding on
the day of the Battle on the Ridge! Come thou, be with us. Shall the
Beamings whose daughters we marry fail the House of the Wolf to-day?
Geirodd, thou hast no longer a weapon, but the fight is over, and this
hour thou needest it not. Come to us, brother! Gunbald of the Vallings,
the Falcon on thy shield is dim with the dint of point and edge, but it
hath done its work to ward thy valiant heart: Come hither, friend! Come
all ye and stand with us!"
As she named them so they came, and they went up on to the dais and stood
altogether; and a terrible band of warriors they looked had the fight
been to begin over again, and they to meet death once more. And again
spake the Hall-Sun:
"Steinulf and Grani, deft are your hands! Take ye the stalks of the war
blossoms, the spears of the kindreds, and knit them together to make a
bier for our War-duke, for he is weary and may not go afoot. Thou Ali,
son of Grey; thou hast gone errands for me before; go forth now from the
garth, and wend thy ways toward the water, and tell me when thou comest
back what thou hast seen of the coming of the wain-burg. For by this
time it should be drawing anigh."
So Ali went forth, and there was silence of words for a while in the
Hall; but there arose the sound of the wood-wrights busy with the wimble
and the hammer about the bier. No long space had gone by when Ali came
back into the hall panting with his swift running; and he cried out:
"O Hall-Sun, they are coming; the last wain hath crossed the ford, and
the first is hard at hand: bright are their banners in the sun."
Then said the Hall-Sun: "O warriors, it is fitting that we go to meet our
banners returning from the field, and that we do the Gods to wit what
deeds we have done; fitting is it also that Thiodolf our War-duke wend
with us. Now get ye into your ordered bands, and go we forth from the
fire-scorched hall, and out into the sunlight, that the very earth and
the heavens may look upon the face of our War-duke, and bear witness that
he hath played his part as a man."
Then without more words the folk began to stream out of the Hall, and
within the garth which the Romans had made they arrayed their companies.
But when they were all gone from the Hall save they who were on the dais,
the Hall-Sun took the waxen torch which she had litten and quenched at
the departure of the host to battle, and now she once more kindled it at
the flame of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun. But the wood-wrights
brought the bier which they had made of the spear-shafts of the kindred,
and they laid thereon a purple cloak gold-embroidered of the treasure of
the Wolfings, and thereon was Thiodolf laid.
Then those men took him up; to wit, Sorli the Old, and Wolfkettle and
Egil, all these were of the Wolfing House; Hiarandi of the Elkings also,
and Valtyr of the Laxings, Geirbald of the Shieldings, Agni of the
Daylings, Angantyr of the Bearings, Geirodd of the Beamings, Gunbald of
the Vallings: all these, with the two valiant wood-wrights, Steinulf and
Grani, laid hand to the bier.
So they bore it down from the dais, and out at the Man's-door into the
sunlight, and the Hall-Sun followed close after it, holding in her hand
the Candle of Returning. It was an hour after high-noon of a bright
midsummer day when she came out into the garth; and the smoke from the
fire-scorched hall yet hung about the trees of the wood-edge. She looked
neither down towards her feet nor on the right side or the left, but
straight before her. The ordered companies of the kindreds hid the sight
of many fearful things from her eyes; though indeed the thralls and women
had mostly gleaned the dead from the living both of friend and foe, and
were tending the hurt of either host. Through an opening in the ranks
moreover could they by the bier behold the scanty band of Roman captives,
some standing up, looking dully around them, some sitting or lying on the
grass talking quietly together, and it seemed by their faces that for
them the bitterness of death was passed.
Forth then fared the host by the West gate, where Thiodolf had done so
valiantly that day, and out on to the green amidst the booths and lesser
dwellings. Sore then was the heart of the Hall-Sun, as she looked forth
over dwelling, and acre, and meadow, and the blue line of the woods
beyond the water, and bethought her of all the familiar things that were
within the compass of her eyesight, and remembered the many days of her
father's loving-kindness, and the fair words wherewith he had solaced her
life-days. But of the sorrow that wrung her heart nothing showed in her
face, nor was she paler now than her wont was. For high was her courage,
and she would in no wise mar that fair day and victory of the kindreds
with grief for what was gone, whereas so much of what once was, yet
abided and should abide for ever.
Then fared they down through the acres, where what was yet left of the
wheat was yellowing toward harvest, and the rye hung grey and heavy; for
bright and hot had the weather been all through these tidings. Howbeit
much of the corn was spoiled by the trampling of the Roman bands.
So came they into the fair open meadow and saw before them the wains
coming to meet them with their folk; to wit a throng of stout carles of
the thrall-folk led by the war-wise and ripe men of the Steerings. Bright
was the gleaming of the banner-wains, though for the lack of wind the
banners hung down about their staves; the sound of the lowing of the
bulls and the oxen, the neighing of horses and bleating of the flocks
came up to the ears of the host as they wended over the meadow.
They made stay at last on the rising ground, all trampled and in parts
bloody, where yesterday Thiodolf had come on the fight between the
remnant of Otter's men and the Romans: there they opened their ranks, and
made a ring round about a space, amidmost of which was a little mound
whereon was set the bier of Thiodolf. The wains and their warders came
up with them and drew a garth of the wains round about the ring of men
with the banners of the kindreds in their due places.
There was the Wolf and the Elk, the Falcon, the Swan, the Boar, the Bear,
and the Green-tree: the Willow-bush, the Gedd, the Water-bank and the
Wood-Ousel, the Steer, the Mallard and the Roe-deer: all these were of
the Mid-mark. But of the Upper-mark were the Horse and the Spear, and
the Shield, and the Daybreak, and the Dale, and the Mountain, and the
Brook, and the Weasel, and the Cloud, and the Hart.
Of the Nether-mark were the Salmon, and the Lynx, and the Ling worm, the
Seal, the Stone, and the Sea-mew; the Buck-goat, the Apple-tree, the
Bull, the Adder, and the Crane.
There they stood in the hot sunshine three hours after noon; and a little
wind came out of the west and raised the pictured cloths upon the banner-
staves, so that the men could now see the images of the tokens of their
Houses and the Fathers of old time.
Now was there silence in the ring of men; but it opened presently and
through it came all-armed warriors bearing another bier, and lo, Otter
upon it, dead in his war-gear with many a grievous wound upon his body.
For men had found him in an ingle of the wall of the Great Roof, where he
had been laid yesterday by the Romans when his company and the Bearings
with the Wormings made their onset: for the Romans had noted his
exceeding valour, and when they had driven off the Goths some of them
brought him dead inside their garth, for they would know the name and
dignity of so valorous a man.
So now they bore him to the mound where Thiodolf lay and set the bier
down beside Thiodolf's, and the two War-dukes of the Markmen lay there
together: and when the warriors beheld that sight, they could not
forbear, but some groaned aloud, and some wept great tears, and they
clashed their swords on their shields and the sound of their sorrow and
their praise went up to the summer heavens.
Now the Hall-Sun holding aloft the waxen torch lifted up her voice and
said:
"O warriors of the Wolfings, by the token of the flame
That here in my right hand flickers, ye are back at the House of the
Name,
And there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing Roof,
And the flame that the foemen quickened hath died out far aloof.
Ye gleanings of the battle, lift up your hearts on high,
For the House of the War-wise Wolfings and the Folk undoomed to die.
But ye kindreds of the Markmen, the Wolfing guests are ye,
And to-night we hold the high-tide, and great shall the feasting be,
For to-day by the road that we know not a many wend their ways
To the Gods and the ancient Fathers, and the hope of the latter days.
And how shall their feet be cumbered if we tangle them with woe,
And the heavy rain of sorrow drift o'er the road they go?
They have toiled, and their toil was troublous to make the days to
come;
Use ye their gifts in gladness, lest they grieve for the Ancient Home!
Now are our maids arraying that fire-scorched Hall of ours
With the treasure of the Wolfings and the wealth of summer flowers,
And this eve the work before you will be the Hall to throng
And purge its walls of sorrow and quench its scathe and wrong."
She looked on the dead Thiodolf a moment, and then glanced from him to
Otter and spake again:
"O kindreds, here before you two mighty bodies lie;
Henceforth no man shall see them in house and field go by
As we were used to behold them, familiar to us then
As the wind beneath the heavens and the sun that shines on men;
Now soon shall there be nothing of their dwelling-place to tell,
Save the billow of the meadows, the flower-grown grassy swell!
Now therefore, O ye kindreds, if amidst you there be one
Who hath known the heart of the War-dukes, and the deeds their hands
have done,
Will not the word be with him, while yet your hearts are hot,
Of our praise and long remembrance, and our love that dieth not?
Then let him come up hither and speak the latest word
O'er the limbs of the battle-weary and the hearts outworn with the
sword."
She held her peace, and there was a stir in the ring of men: for they who
were anigh the Dayling banner saw an old warrior sitting on a great black
horse and fully armed. He got slowly off his horse and walked toward the
ring of warriors, which opened before him; for all knew him for Asmund
the old, the war-wise warrior of the Daylings, even he who had lamented
over the Hauberk of Thiodolf. He had taken horse the day before, and had
ridden toward the battle, but was belated, and had come up with them of
the wain-burg just as they had crossed the water.
CHAPTER XXXI--OLD ASMUND SPEAKETH OVER THE WAR-DUKES: THE DEAD ARE LAID
IN MOUND
Now while all looked on, he went to the place where lay the bodies of the
War-dukes, and looked down on the face of Otter and said:
"O Otter, there thou liest! and thou that I knew of old,
When my beard began to whiten, as the best of the keen and the bold,
And thou wert as my youngest brother, and thou didst lead my sons
When we fared forth over the mountains to meet the arrowy Huns,
And I smiled to see thee teaching the lore that I learned thee erst.
O Otter, dost thou remember how the Goth-folk came by the worst,
And with thee in mine arms I waded the wide shaft-harrowed flood
That lapped the feet of the mountains with its water blent with blood;
And how in the hollow places of the mountains hidden away
We abode the kindreds' coming as the wet night bideth day?
Dost thou remember, Otter, how many a joy we had,
How many a grief remembered has made our high-tide glad?
O fellow of the hall-glee! O fellow of the field!
Why then hast thou departed and left me under shield?
I the ancient, I the childless, while yet in the Laxing hall
Are thy brother's sons abiding and their children on thee call.
"O kindreds of the people! the soul that dwelt herein,
This goodly way-worn body, was keen for you to win
Good days and long endurance. Who knoweth of his deed
What things for you it hath fashioned from the flame of the fire of
need?
But of this at least well wot we, that forth from your hearts it came
And back to your hearts returneth for the seed of thriving and fame.
In the ground wherein ye lay it, the body of this man,
No deed of his abideth, no glory that he wan,
But evermore the Markmen shall bear his deeds o'er earth,
With the joy of the deeds that are coming, the garland of his worth."
He was silent a little as he stood looking down on Otter's face with
grievous sorrow, for all that his words were stout. For indeed, as he
had said, Otter had been his battle-fellow and his hall-fellow, though he
was much younger than Asmund; and they had been standing foot to foot in
that battle wherein old Asmund's sons were slain by his side.
After a while he turned slowly from looking at Otter to gaze upon
Thiodolf, and his body trembled as he looked, and he opened his mouth to
speak; but no word came from it; and he sat down upon the edge of the
bier, and the tears began to gush out of his old eyes, and he wept aloud.
Then they that saw him wondered; for all knew the stoutness of his heart,
and how he had borne more burdens than that of eld, and had not cowered
down under them. But at last he arose again, and stood firmly on his
feet, and faced the folk-mote, and in a voice more like the voice of a
man in his prime than of an old man, he sang:
"Wild the storm is abroad
Of the edge of the sword!
Far on runneth the path
Of the war-stride of wrath!
The Gods hearken and hear
The long rumour of fear
From the meadows beneath
Running fierce o'er the heath,
Till it beats round their dwelling-place builded aloof
And at last all up-swelling breaks wild o'er their roof,
And quencheth their laughter and crieth on all,
As it rolleth round rafter and beam of the Hall,
Like the speech of the thunder-cloud tangled on high,
When the mountain-halls sunder as dread goeth by.
"So they throw the door wide
Of the Hall where they bide,
And to murmuring song
Turns that voice of the wrong,
And the Gods wait a-gaze
For that Wearer of Ways:
For they know he hath gone
A long journey alone.
Now his feet are they hearkening, and now is he come,
With his battle-wounds darkening the door of his home,
Unbyrnied, unshielded, and lonely he stands,
And the sword that he wielded is gone from his hands--
Hands outstretched and bearing no spoil of the fight,
As speechless, unfearing, he stands in their sight.
"War-father gleams
Where the white light streams
Round kings of old
All red with gold,
And the Gods of the name
With joy aflame.
All the ancient of men
Grown glorious again:
Till the Slains-father crieth aloud at the last:
'Here is one that belieth no hope of the past!
No weapon, no treasure of earth doth he bear,
No gift for the pleasure of Godhome to share;
But life his hand bringeth, well cherished, most sweet;
And hark! the Hall singeth the Folk-wolf to greet!'
"As the rain of May
On earth's happiest day,
So the fair flowers fall
On the sun-bright Hall
As the Gods rise up
With the greeting-cup,
And the welcoming crowd
Falls to murmur aloud.
Then the God of Earth speaketh; sweet-worded he saith,
'Lo, the Sun ever seeketh Life fashioned of death;
And to-day as he turneth the wide world about
On Wolf-stead he yearneth; for there without doubt
Dwells the death-fashioned story, the flower of all fame.
Come hither new Glory, come Crown of the Name!'"
All men's hearts rose high as he sang, and when he had ended arose the
clang of sword and shield and went ringing down the meadow, and the
mighty shout of the Markmen's joy rent the heavens: for in sooth at that
moment they saw Thiodolf, their champion, sitting among the Gods on his
golden chair, sweet savours around him, and sweet sound of singing, and
he himself bright-faced and merry as no man on earth had seen him, for as
joyous a man as he was.
But when the sound of their exultation sank down, the Hall-Sun spake
again:
"Now wendeth the sun westward, and weary grows the Earth
Of all the long day's doings in sorrow and in mirth;
And as the great sun waneth, so doth my candle wane,
And its flickering flame desireth to rest and die again.
Therefore across the meadows wend we aback once more
To the holy Roof of the Wolfings, the shrine of peace and war.
And these that once have loved us, these warriors images,
Shall sit amidst our feasting, and see, as the Father sees
The works that men-folk fashion and the rest of toiling hands,
When his eyes look down from the mountains and the heavens above all
lands,
And up from the flowery meadows and the rolling deeps of the sea.
There then at the feast with our champions familiar shall we be
As oft we are with the Godfolk, when in story-rhymes and lays
We laugh as we tell of their laughter, and their deeds of other days.
"Come then, ye sons of the kindreds who hither bore these twain!
Take up their beds of glory, and fare we home again,
And feast as men delivered from toil unmeet to bear,
Who through the night are looking to the dawn-tide fresh and fair
And the morn and the noon to follow, and the eve and its morrow morn,
All the life of our deliv'rance and the fair days yet unborn."
So she spoke, and a murmur arose as those valiant men came forth again.
But lo, now were they dight in fresh and fair raiment and gleaming war-
array. For while all this was a-doing and a-saying, they had gotten them
by the Hall-Sun's bidding unto the wains of their Houses, and had arrayed
them from the store therein.
So now they took up the biers, and the Hall-Sun led them, and they went
over the meadow before the throng of the kindreds, who followed them duly
ordered, each House about its banner; and when they were come through the
garth which the Romans had made to the Man's-door of the Hall, there were
the women of the House freshly attired, who cast flowers on the living
men of the host, and on the dead War-dukes, while they wept for pity of
them. So went the freemen of the Houses into the Hall, following the
Hall-Sun, and the bearers of the War-dukes; but the banners abode without
in the garth made by the Romans; and the thralls arrayed a feast for
themselves about the wains of the kindreds in the open place before their
cots and the smithying booths and the byres.
And as the Hall-Sun went into the Hall, she thrust down the candle
against the threshold of the Man's-door, and so quenched it.
Long were the kindreds entering, and when they were under the Roof of the
Wolfings, they looked and beheld Thiodolf set in his chair once more, and
Otter set beside him; and the chiefs and leaders of the House took their
places on the dais, those to whom it was due, and the Hall-Sun sat under
the wondrous Lamp her namesake.
Now was the glooming falling upon the earth; but the Hall was bright
within even as the Hall-Sun had promised. Therein was set forth the
Treasure of the Wolfings; fair cloths were hung on the walls, goodly
broidered garments on the pillars: goodly brazen cauldrons and
fair-carven chests were set down in nooks where men could see them well,
and vessels of gold and silver were set all up and down the tables of the
feast. The pillars also were wreathed with flowers, and flowers hung
garlanded from the walls over the precious hangings; sweet gums and
spices were burning in fair-wrought censers of brass, and so many candles
were alight under the Roof, that scarce had it looked more ablaze when
the Romans had litten the faggots therein for its burning amidst the
hurry of the Morning Battle.
There then they fell to feasting, hallowing in the high-tide of their
return with victory in their hands: and the dead corpses of Thiodolf and
Otter, clad in precious glistering raiment, looked down on them from the
High-seat, and the kindreds worshipped them and were glad; and they drank
the Cup to them before any others, were they Gods or men.
But before the feast was hallowed in, came Ali the son of Grey up to the
High-seat, bearing something in his hand: and lo! it was Throng-plough,
which he had sought all over the field where the Markmen had been
overcome by the Romans, and had found it at last. All men saw him how he
held it in his hand now as he went up to the Hall-Sun and spake to her.
But she kissed the lad on the forehead, and took Throng-plough, and wound
the peace-strings round him and laid him on the board before Thiodolf;
and then she spake softly as if to herself, yet so that some heard her:
"O father, no more shalt thou draw Throng-plough from the sheath till the
battle is pitched in the last field of fight, and the sons of the
fruitful Earth and the sons of Day meet Swart and his children at last,
when the change of the World is at hand. Maybe I shall be with thee
then: but now and in meanwhile, farewell, O mighty hand of my father!"
Thus then the Houses of the Mark held their High-tide of Returning under
the Wolfing Roof with none to blame them or make them afraid: and the
moon rose and the summer night wore on towards dawn, and within the Roof
and without was there feasting and singing and harping and the voice of
abundant joyance: for without the Roof feasted the thralls and the
strangers, and the Roman war-captives.
But on the morrow the kindreds laid their dead men in mound betwixt the
Great Roof and the Wild-wood. In one mound they laid them with the War-
dukes in their midst, and Arinbiorn by Otter's right side; and Thiodolf
bore Throng-plough to mound with him.
But a little way from the mound of their own dead, toward the south they
laid the Romans, a great company, with their Captain in the midst: and
they heaped a long mound over them not right high; so that as years wore,
and the feet of men and beasts trod it down, it seemed a mere swelling of
the earth not made by men's hands; and belike men knew not how many bones
of valiant men lay beneath; yet it had a name which endured for long, to
wit, the Battle-toft.
But the mound whereunder the Markmen were laid was called Thiodolf's Howe
for many generations of men, and many are the tales told of him; for men
were loth to lose him and forget him: and in the latter days men deemed
of him that he sits in that Howe not dead but sleeping, with
Throng-plough laid before him on the board; and that when the sons of the
Goths are at their sorest need and the falcons cease to sit on the ridge
of the Great Roof of the Wolfings, he will wake and come forth from the
Howe for their helping. But none have dared to break open that Howe and
behold what is therein.
But that swelling of the meadow where the Goths had their overthrow at
the hands of the Romans, and Thiodolf fell to earth unwounded, got a name
also, and was called the Swooning Knowe; and it kept that name long after
men had forgotten wherefore it was so called.
Now when all this was done, and the warriors of the kindreds were
departed each to his own stead, the Wolfings gathered in wheat-harvest,
and set themselves to make good all that the Romans had undone; and they
cleansed and mended their Great Roof and made it fairer than before, and
took from it all signs of the burning, save that they left the charring
and marks of the flames on one tie-beam, the second from the dais, for a
token of the past tidings. Also when Harvest was over the Wolfings, the
Beamings, the Galtings, and the Elkings, set to work with the Bearings to
rebuild their Great Roof and the other dwellings and booths which the
Romans had burned; and right fair was that house.
But the Wolfings throve in field and fold, and they begat children who
grew up to be mighty men and deft of hand, and the House grew more
glorious year by year.
The tale tells not that the Romans ever fell on the Mark again; for about
this time they began to stay the spreading of their dominion, or even to
draw in its boundaries somewhat.
AND THIS IS ALL THAT THE TALE HAS TO TELL CONCERNING THE HOUSE OF THE
WOLFINGS AND THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK.
FOOTNOTES
{1} Welsh with these men means Foreign, and is used for all people of
Europe who are not of Gothic or Teutonic blood.
{2} i.e. Foreigners: see note {1}
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS***
******* This file should be named 2885.txt or 2885.zip *******
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/8/2885
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit:
https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
How many sections was the Mark divided into?
Answer:
| Three sections | 174 | 469,663 | 469,665 | 469,719 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
23148 | 23148_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Enoch Soames, by Max Beerbohm
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Enoch Soames
A Memory of the Eighteen-nineties
Author: Max Beerbohm
Posting Date: July 23, 2008 [EBook #760]
Release Date: December, 1996
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENOCH SOAMES ***
Produced by Judith Boss.
Enoch Soames
A Memory of the Eighteen-nineties
By
MAX BEERBOHM
When a book about the literature of the eighteen-nineties was given by
Mr. Holbrook Jackson to the world, I looked eagerly in the index for
Soames, Enoch. It was as I feared: he was not there. But everybody
else was. Many writers whom I had quite forgotten, or remembered but
faintly, lived again for me, they and their work, in Mr. Holbrook
Jackson's pages. The book was as thorough as it was brilliantly
written. And thus the omission found by me was an all the deadlier
record of poor Soames's failure to impress himself on his decade.
I dare say I am the only person who noticed the omission. Soames had
failed so piteously as all that! Nor is there a counterpoise in the
thought that if he had had some measure of success he might have
passed, like those others, out of my mind, to return only at the
historian's beck. It is true that had his gifts, such as they were,
been acknowledged in his lifetime, he would never have made the bargain
I saw him make--that strange bargain whose results have kept him always
in the foreground of my memory. But it is from those very results that
the full piteousness of him glares out.
Not my compassion, however, impels me to write of him. For his sake,
poor fellow, I should be inclined to keep my pen out of the ink. It is
ill to deride the dead. And how can I write about Enoch Soames without
making him ridiculous? Or, rather, how am I to hush up the horrid fact
that he WAS ridiculous? I shall not be able to do that. Yet, sooner
or later, write about him I must. You will see in due course that I
have no option. And I may as well get the thing done now.
In the summer term of '93 a bolt from the blue flashed down on Oxford.
It drove deep; it hurtlingly embedded itself in the soil. Dons and
undergraduates stood around, rather pale, discussing nothing but it.
Whence came it, this meteorite? From Paris. Its name? Will
Rothenstein. Its aim? To do a series of twenty-four portraits in
lithograph. These were to be published from the Bodley Head, London.
The matter was urgent. Already the warden of A, and the master of B,
and the Regius Professor of C had meekly "sat." Dignified and
doddering old men who had never consented to sit to any one could not
withstand this dynamic little stranger. He did not sue; he invited: he
did not invite; he commanded. He was twenty-one years old. He wore
spectacles that flashed more than any other pair ever seen. He was a
wit. He was brimful of ideas. He knew Whistler. He knew Daudet and
the Goncourts. He knew every one in Paris. He knew them all by heart.
He was Paris in Oxford. It was whispered that, so soon as he had
polished off his selection of dons, he was going to include a few
undergraduates. It was a proud day for me when I--I was included. I
liked Rothenstein not less than I feared him; and there arose between
us a friendship that has grown ever warmer, and been more and more
valued by me, with every passing year.
At the end of term he settled in, or, rather, meteoritically into,
London. It was to him I owed my first knowledge of that
forever-enchanting little world-in-itself, Chelsea, and my first
acquaintance with Walter Sickert and other August elders who dwelt
there. It was Rothenstein that took me to see, in Cambridge Street,
Pimlico, a young man whose drawings were already famous among the
few--Aubrey Beardsley by name. With Rothenstein I paid my first visit
to the Bodley Head. By him I was inducted into another haunt of
intellect and daring, the domino-room of the Cafe Royal.
There, on that October evening--there, in that exuberant vista of
gilding and crimson velvet set amidst all those opposing mirrors and
upholding caryatids, with fumes of tobacco ever rising to the painted
and pagan ceiling, and with the hum of presumably cynical conversation
broken into so sharply now and again by the clatter of dominoes
shuffled on marble tables, I drew a deep breath and, "This indeed,"
said I to myself, "is life!" (Forgive me that theory. Remember the
waging of even the South African War was not yet.)
It was the hour before dinner. We drank vermuth. Those who knew
Rothenstein were pointing him out to those who knew him only by name.
Men were constantly coming in through the swing-doors and wandering
slowly up and down in search of vacant tables or of tables occupied by
friends. One of these rovers interested me because I was sure he
wanted to catch Rothenstein's eye. He had twice passed our table, with
a hesitating look; but Rothenstein, in the thick of a disquisition on
Puvis de Chavannes, had not seen him. He was a stooping, shambling
person, rather tall, very pale, with longish and brownish hair. He had
a thin, vague beard, or, rather, he had a chin on which a large number
of hairs weakly curled and clustered to cover its retreat. He was an
odd-looking person; but in the nineties odd apparitions were more
frequent, I think, than they are now. The young writers of that
era--and I was sure this man was a writer--strove earnestly to be
distinct in aspect. This man had striven unsuccessfully. He wore a
soft black hat of clerical kind, but of Bohemian intention, and a gray
waterproof cape which, perhaps because it was waterproof, failed to be
romantic. I decided that "dim" was the mot juste for him. I had
already essayed to write, and was immensely keen on the mot juste, that
Holy Grail of the period.
The dim man was now again approaching our table, and this time he made
up his mind to pause in front of it.
"You don't remember me," he said in a toneless voice.
Rothenstein brightly focused him.
"Yes, I do," he replied after a moment, with pride rather than
effusion--pride in a retentive memory. "Edwin Soames."
"Enoch Soames," said Enoch.
"Enoch Soames," repeated Rothenstein in a tone implying that it was
enough to have hit on the surname. "We met in Paris a few times when
you were living there. We met at the Cafe Groche."
"And I came to your studio once."
"Oh, yes; I was sorry I was out."
"But you were in. You showed me some of your paintings, you know. I
hear you're in Chelsea now."
"Yes."
I almost wondered that Mr. Soames did not, after this monosyllable,
pass along. He stood patiently there, rather like a dumb animal,
rather like a donkey looking over a gate. A sad figure, his. It
occurred to me that "hungry" was perhaps the mot juste for him;
but--hungry for what? He looked as if he had little appetite for
anything. I was sorry for him; and Rothenstein, though he had not
invited him to Chelsea, did ask him to sit down and have something to
drink.
Seated, he was more self-assertive. He flung back the wings of his
cape with a gesture which, had not those wings been waterproof, might
have seemed to hurl defiance at things in general. And he ordered an
absinthe. "Je me tiens toujours fidele," he told Rothenstein, "a la
sorciere glauque."
"It is bad for you," said Rothenstein, dryly.
"Nothing is bad for one," answered Soames. "Dans ce monde il n'y a ni
bien ni mal."
"Nothing good and nothing bad? How do you mean?"
"I explained it all in the preface to 'Negations.'"
"'Negations'?"
"Yes, I gave you a copy of it."
"Oh, yes, of course. But, did you explain, for instance, that there
was no such thing as bad or good grammar?"
"N-no," said Soames. "Of course in art there is the good and the evil.
But in life--no." He was rolling a cigarette. He had weak, white
hands, not well washed, and with finger-tips much stained with
nicotine. "In life there are illusions of good and evil, but"--his
voice trailed away to a murmur in which the words "vieux jeu" and
"rococo" were faintly audible. I think he felt he was not doing
himself justice, and feared that Rothenstein was going to point out
fallacies. Anyhow, he cleared his throat and said, "Parlons d'autre
chose."
It occurs to you that he was a fool? It didn't to me. I was young,
and had not the clarity of judgment that Rothenstein already had.
Soames was quite five or six years older than either of us. Also--he
had written a book. It was wonderful to have written a book.
If Rothenstein had not been there, I should have revered Soames. Even
as it was, I respected him. And I was very near indeed to reverence
when he said he had another book coming out soon. I asked if I might
ask what kind of book it was to be.
"My poems," he answered. Rothenstein asked if this was to be the title
of the book. The poet meditated on this suggestion, but said he rather
thought of giving the book no title at all. "If a book is good in
itself--" he murmured, and waved his cigarette.
Rothenstein objected that absence of title might be bad for the sale of
a book.
"If," he urged, "I went into a bookseller's and said simply, 'Have you
got?' or, 'Have you a copy of?' how would they know what I wanted?"
"Oh, of course I should have my name on the cover," Soames answered
earnestly. "And I rather want," he added, looking hard at Rothenstein,
"to have a drawing of myself as frontispiece." Rothenstein admitted
that this was a capital idea, and mentioned that he was going into the
country and would be there for some time. He then looked at his watch,
exclaimed at the hour, paid the waiter, and went away with me to
dinner. Soames remained at his post of fidelity to the glaucous witch.
"Why were you so determined not to draw him?" I asked.
"Draw him? Him? How can one draw a man who doesn't exist?"
"He is dim," I admitted. But my mot juste fell flat. Rothenstein
repeated that Soames was non-existent.
Still, Soames had written a book. I asked if Rothenstein had read
"Negations." He said he had looked into it, "but," he added crisply,
"I don't profess to know anything about writing." A reservation very
characteristic of the period! Painters would not then allow that any
one outside their own order had a right to any opinion about painting.
This law (graven on the tablets brought down by Whistler from the
summit of Fuji-yama) imposed certain limitations. If other arts than
painting were not utterly unintelligible to all but the men who
practiced them, the law tottered--the Monroe Doctrine, as it were, did
not hold good. Therefore no painter would offer an opinion of a book
without warning you at any rate that his opinion was worthless. No one
is a better judge of literature than Rothenstein; but it wouldn't have
done to tell him so in those days, and I knew that I must form an
unaided judgment of "Negations."
Not to buy a book of which I had met the author face to face would have
been for me in those days an impossible act of self-denial. When I
returned to Oxford for the Christmas term I had duly secured
"Negations." I used to keep it lying carelessly on the table in my
room, and whenever a friend took it up and asked what it was about, I
would say: "Oh, it's rather a remarkable book. It's by a man whom I
know." Just "what it was about" I never was able to say. Head or tail
was just what I hadn't made of that slim, green volume. I found in the
preface no clue to the labyrinth of contents, and in that labyrinth
nothing to explain the preface.
Lean near to life. Lean very near--
nearer.
Life is web and therein nor warp nor
woof is, but web only.
It is for this I am Catholick in church
and in thought, yet do let swift Mood weave
there what the shuttle of Mood wills.
These were the opening phrases of the preface, but those which followed
were less easy to understand. Then came "Stark: A Conte," about a
midinette who, so far as I could gather, murdered, or was about to
murder, a mannequin. It was rather like a story by Catulle Mendes in
which the translator had either skipped or cut out every alternate
sentence. Next, a dialogue between Pan and St. Ursula, lacking, I
rather thought, in "snap." Next, some aphorisms (entitled "Aphorismata"
[spelled in Greek]). Throughout, in fact, there was a great variety of
form, and the forms had evidently been wrought with much care. It was
rather the substance that eluded me. Was there, I wondered, any
substance at all? It did now occur to me: suppose Enoch Soames was a
fool! Up cropped a rival hypothesis: suppose _I_ was! I inclined to
give Soames the benefit of the doubt. I had read "L'Apres-midi d'un
faune" without extracting a glimmer of meaning; yet Mallarme, of
course, was a master. How was I to know that Soames wasn't another?
There was a sort of music in his prose, not indeed, arresting, but
perhaps, I thought, haunting, and laden, perhaps, with meanings as deep
as Mallarme's own. I awaited his poems with an open mind.
And I looked forward to them with positive impatience after I had had a
second meeting with him. This was on an evening in January. Going
into the aforesaid domino-room, I had passed a table at which sat a
pale man with an open book before him. He had looked from his book to
me, and I looked back over my shoulder with a vague sense that I ought
to have recognized him. I returned to pay my respects. After
exchanging a few words, I said with a glance to the open book, "I see I
am interrupting you," and was about to pass on, but, "I prefer," Soames
replied in his toneless voice, "to be interrupted," and I obeyed his
gesture that I should sit down.
I asked him if he often read here.
"Yes; things of this kind I read here," he answered, indicating the
title of his book--"The Poems of Shelley."
"Anything that you really"--and I was going to say "admire?" But I
cautiously left my sentence unfinished, and was glad that I had done
so, for he said with unwonted emphasis, "Anything second-rate."
I had read little of Shelley, but, "Of course," I murmured, "he's very
uneven."
"I should have thought evenness was just what was wrong with him. A
deadly evenness. That's why I read him here. The noise of this place
breaks the rhythm. He's tolerable here." Soames took up the book and
glanced through the pages. He laughed. Soames's laugh was a short,
single, and mirthless sound from the throat, unaccompanied by any
movement of the face or brightening of the eyes. "What a period!" he
uttered, laying the book down. And, "What a country!" he added.
I asked rather nervously if he didn't think Keats had more or less held
his own against the drawbacks of time and place. He admitted that
there were "passages in Keats," but did not specify them. Of "the
older men," as he called them, he seemed to like only Milton.
"Milton," he said, "wasn't sentimental." Also, "Milton had a dark
insight." And again, "I can always read Milton in the reading-room."
"The reading-room?"
"Of the British Museum. I go there every day."
"You do? I've only been there once. I'm afraid I found it rather a
depressing place. It--it seemed to sap one's vitality."
"It does. That's why I go there. The lower one's vitality, the more
sensitive one is to great art. I live near the museum. I have rooms
in Dyott Street."
"And you go round to the reading-room to read Milton?"
"Usually Milton." He looked at me. "It was Milton," he
certificatively added, "who converted me to diabolism."
"Diabolism? Oh, yes? Really?" said I, with that vague discomfort and
that intense desire to be polite which one feels when a man speaks of
his own religion. "You--worship the devil?"
Soames shook his head.
"It's not exactly worship," he qualified, sipping his absinthe. "It's
more a matter of trusting and encouraging."
"I see, yes. I had rather gathered from the preface to 'Negations'
that you were a--a Catholic."
"Je l'etais a cette epoque. In fact, I still am. I am a Catholic
diabolist."
But this profession he made in an almost cursory tone. I could see
that what was upmost in his mind was the fact that I had read
"Negations." His pale eyes had for the first time gleamed. I felt as
one who is about to be examined viva voce on the very subject in which
he is shakiest. I hastily asked him how soon his poems were to be
published.
"Next week," he told me.
"And are they to be published without a title?"
"No. I found a title at last. But I sha'n't tell you what it is," as
though I had been so impertinent as to inquire. "I am not sure that it
wholly satisfies me. But it is the best I can find. It suggests
something of the quality of the poems--strange growths, natural and
wild, yet exquisite," he added, "and many-hued, and full of poisons."
I asked him what he thought of Baudelaire. He uttered the snort that
was his laugh, and, "Baudelaire," he said, "was a bourgeois malgre
lui." France had had only one poet--Villon; "and two thirds of Villon
were sheer journalism." Verlaine was "an epicier malgre lui."
Altogether, rather to my surprise, he rated French literature lower
than English. There were "passages" in Villiers de l'Isle-Adam. But,
"I," he summed up, "owe nothing to France." He nodded at me. "You'll
see," he predicted.
I did not, when the time came, quite see that. I thought the author of
"Fungoids" did, unconsciously of course, owe something to the young
Parisian decadents or to the young English ones who owed something to
THEM. I still think so. The little book, bought by me in Oxford, lies
before me as I write. Its pale-gray buckram cover and silver lettering
have not worn well. Nor have its contents. Through these, with a
melancholy interest, I have again been looking. They are not much.
But at the time of their publication I had a vague suspicion that they
MIGHT be. I suppose it is my capacity for faith, not poor Soames's
work, that is weaker than it once was.
TO A YOUNG WOMAN
THOU ART, WHO HAST NOT BEEN!
Pale tunes irresolute
And traceries of old sounds
Blown from a rotted flute
Mingle with noise of cymbals rouged with rust,
Nor not strange forms and epicene
Lie bleeding in the dust,
Being wounded with wounds.
For this it is
That in thy counterpart
Of age-long mockeries
THOU HAST NOT BEEN NOR ART!
There seemed to me a certain inconsistency as between the first and
last lines of this. I tried, with bent brows, to resolve the discord.
But I did not take my failure as wholly incompatible with a meaning in
Soames's mind. Might it not rather indicate the depth of his meaning?
As for the craftsmanship, "rouged with rust" seemed to me a fine
stroke, and "nor not" instead of "and" had a curious felicity. I
wondered who the "young woman" was and what she had made of it all. I
sadly suspect that Soames could not have made more of it than she.
Yet even now, if one doesn't try to make any sense at all of the poem,
and reads it just for the sound, there is a certain grace of cadence.
Soames was an artist, in so far as he was anything, poor fellow!
It seemed to me, when first I read "Fungoids," that, oddly enough, the
diabolistic side of him was the best. Diabolism seemed to be a
cheerful, even a wholesome influence in his life.
NOCTURNE
Round and round the shutter'd Square
I strolled with the Devil's arm in mine.
No sound but the scrape of his hoofs was there
And the ring of his laughter and mine.
We had drunk black wine.
I scream'd, "I will race you, Master!"
"What matter," he shriek'd, "to-night
Which of us runs the faster?
There is nothing to fear to-night
In the foul moon's light!"
Then I look'd him in the eyes
And I laugh'd full shrill at the lie he told
And the gnawing fear he would fain disguise.
It was true, what I'd time and again been told:
He was old--old.
There was, I felt, quite a swing about that first stanza--a joyous and
rollicking note of comradeship. The second was slightly hysterical,
perhaps. But I liked the third, it was so bracingly unorthodox, even
according to the tenets of Soames's peculiar sect in the faith. Not
much "trusting and encouraging" here! Soames triumphantly exposing the
devil as a liar, and laughing "full shrill," cut a quite heartening
figure, I thought, then! Now, in the light of what befell, none of his
other poems depresses me so much as "Nocturne."
I looked out for what the metropolitan reviewers would have to say.
They seemed to fall into two classes: those who had little to say and
those who had nothing. The second class was the larger, and the words
of the first were cold; insomuch that
Strikes a note of modernity. . . . These tripping numbers.--"The
Preston Telegraph."
was the only lure offered in advertisements by Soames's publisher. I
had hoped that when next I met the poet I could congratulate him on
having made a stir, for I fancied he was not so sure of his intrinsic
greatness as he seemed. I was but able to say, rather coarsely, when
next I did see him, that I hoped "Fungoids" was "selling splendidly."
He looked at me across his glass of absinthe and asked if I had bought
a copy. His publisher had told him that three had been sold. I
laughed, as at a jest.
"You don't suppose I CARE, do you?" he said, with something like a
snarl. I disclaimed the notion. He added that he was not a tradesman.
I said mildly that I wasn't, either, and murmured that an artist who
gave truly new and great things to the world had always to wait long
for recognition. He said he cared not a sou for recognition. I agreed
that the act of creation was its own reward.
His moroseness might have alienated me if I had regarded myself as a
nobody. But ah! hadn't both John Lane and Aubrey Beardsley suggested
that I should write an essay for the great new venture that was
afoot--"The Yellow Book"? And hadn't Henry Harland, as editor,
accepted my essay? And wasn't it to be in the very first number? At
Oxford I was still in statu pupillari. In London I regarded myself as
very much indeed a graduate now--one whom no Soames could ruffle.
Partly to show off, partly in sheer good-will, I told Soames he ought
to contribute to "The Yellow Book." He uttered from the throat a sound
of scorn for that publication.
Nevertheless, I did, a day or two later, tentatively ask Harland if he
knew anything of the work of a man called Enoch Soames. Harland paused
in the midst of his characteristic stride around the room, threw up his
hands toward the ceiling, and groaned aloud: he had often met "that
absurd creature" in Paris, and this very morning had received some
poems in manuscript from him.
"Has he NO talent?" I asked.
"He has an income. He's all right." Harland was the most joyous of
men and most generous of critics, and he hated to talk of anything
about which he couldn't be enthusiastic. So I dropped the subject of
Soames. The news that Soames had an income did take the edge off
solicitude. I learned afterward that he was the son of an unsuccessful
and deceased bookseller in Preston, but had inherited an annuity of
three hundred pounds from a married aunt, and had no surviving
relatives of any kind. Materially, then, he was "all right." But there
was still a spiritual pathos about him, sharpened for me now by the
possibility that even the praises of "The Preston Telegraph" might not
have been forthcoming had he not been the son of a Preston man He had a
sort of weak doggedness which I could not but admire. Neither he nor
his work received the slightest encouragement; but he persisted in
behaving as a personage: always he kept his dingy little flag flying.
Wherever congregated the jeunes feroces of the arts, in whatever Soho
restaurant they had just discovered, in whatever music-hall they were
most frequently, there was Soames in the midst of them, or, rather, on
the fringe of them, a dim, but inevitable, figure. He never sought to
propitiate his fellow-writers, never bated a jot of his arrogance about
his own work or of his contempt for theirs. To the painters he was
respectful, even humble; but for the poets and prosaists of "The Yellow
Book" and later of "The Savoy" he had never a word but of scorn. He
wasn't resented. It didn't occur to anybody that he or his Catholic
diabolism mattered. When, in the autumn of '96, he brought out (at his
own expense, this time) a third book, his last book, nobody said a word
for or against it. I meant, but forgot, to buy it. I never saw it,
and am ashamed to say I don't even remember what it was called. But I
did, at the time of its publication, say to Rothenstein that I thought
poor old Soames was really a rather tragic figure, and that I believed
he would literally die for want of recognition. Rothenstein scoffed.
He said I was trying to get credit for a kind heart which I didn't
possess; and perhaps this was so. But at the private view of the New
English Art Club, a few weeks later, I beheld a pastel portrait of
"Enoch Soames, Esq." It was very like him, and very like Rothenstein
to have done it. Soames was standing near it, in his soft hat and his
waterproof cape, all through the afternoon. Anybody who knew him would
have recognized the portrait at a glance, but nobody who didn't know
him would have recognized the portrait from its bystander: it "existed"
so much more than he; it was bound to. Also, it had not that
expression of faint happiness which on that day was discernible, yes,
in Soames's countenance. Fame had breathed on him. Twice again in the
course of the month I went to the New English, and on both occasions
Soames himself was on view there. Looking back, I regard the close of
that exhibition as having been virtually the close of his career. He
had felt the breath of Fame against his cheek--so late, for such a
little while; and at its withdrawal he gave in, gave up, gave out. He,
who had never looked strong or well, looked ghastly now--a shadow of
the shade he had once been. He still frequented the domino-room, but
having lost all wish to excite curiosity, he no longer read books
there. "You read only at the museum now?" I asked, with attempted
cheerfulness. He said he never went there now. "No absinthe there,"
he muttered. It was the sort of thing that in old days he would have
said for effect; but it carried conviction now. Absinthe, erst but a
point in the "personality" he had striven so hard to build up, was
solace and necessity now. He no longer called it "la sorciere
glauque." He had shed away all his French phrases. He had become a
plain, unvarnished Preston man.
Failure, if it be a plain, unvarnished, complete failure, and even
though it be a squalid failure, has always a certain dignity. I
avoided Soames because he made me feel rather vulgar. John Lane had
published, by this time, two little books of mine, and they had had a
pleasant little success of esteem. I was a--slight, but
definite--"personality." Frank Harris had engaged me to kick up my
heels in "The Saturday Review," Alfred Harmsworth was letting me do
likewise in "The Daily Mail." I was just what Soames wasn't. And he
shamed my gloss. Had I known that he really and firmly believed in the
greatness of what he as an artist had achieved, I might not have
shunned him. No man who hasn't lost his vanity can be held to have
altogether failed. Soames's dignity was an illusion of mine. One day,
in the first week of June, 1897, that illusion went. But on the
evening of that day Soames went, too.
I had been out most of the morning and, as it was too late to reach
home in time for luncheon, I sought the Vingtieme. This little
place--Restaurant du Vingtieme Siecle, to give it its full title--had
been discovered in '96 by the poets and prosaists, but had now been
more or less abandoned in favor of some later find. I don't think it
lived long enough to justify its name; but at that time there it still
was, in Greek Street, a few doors from Soho Square, and almost opposite
to that house where, in the first years of the century, a little girl,
and with her a boy named De Quincey, made nightly encampment in
darkness and hunger among dust and rats and old legal parchments. The
Vingtieme was but a small whitewashed room, leading out into the street
at one end and into a kitchen at the other. The proprietor and cook
was a Frenchman, known to us as Monsieur Vingtieme; the waiters were
his two daughters, Rose and Berthe; and the food, according to faith,
was good. The tables were so narrow and were set so close together
that there was space for twelve of them, six jutting from each wall.
Only the two nearest to the door, as I went in, were occupied. On one
side sat a tall, flashy, rather Mephistophelian man whom I had seen
from time to time in the domino-room and elsewhere. On the other side
sat Soames. They made a queer contrast in that sunlit room, Soames
sitting haggard in that hat and cape, which nowhere at any season had I
seen him doff, and this other, this keenly vital man, at sight of whom
I more than ever wondered whether he were a diamond merchant, a
conjurer, or the head of a private detective agency. I was sure Soames
didn't want my company; but I asked, as it would have seemed brutal not
to, whether I might join him, and took the chair opposite to his. He
was smoking a cigarette, with an untasted salmi of something on his
plate and a half-empty bottle of Sauterne before him, and he was quite
silent. I said that the preparations for the Jubilee made London
impossible. (I rather liked them, really.) I professed a wish to go
right away till the whole thing was over. In vain did I attune myself
to his gloom. He seemed not to hear me or even to see me. I felt that
his behavior made me ridiculous in the eyes of the other man. The
gangway between the two rows of tables at the Vingtieme was hardly more
than two feet wide (Rose and Berthe, in their ministrations, had always
to edge past each other, quarreling in whispers as they did so), and
any one at the table abreast of yours was virtually at yours. I
thought our neighbor was amused at my failure to interest Soames, and
so, as I could not explain to him that my insistence was merely
charitable, I became silent. Without turning my head, I had him well
within my range of vision. I hoped I looked less vulgar than he in
contrast with Soames. I was sure he was not an Englishman, but what
WAS his nationality? Though his jet-black hair was en brosse, I did
not think he was French. To Berthe, who waited on him, he spoke French
fluently, but with a hardly native idiom and accent. I gathered that
this was his first visit to the Vingtieme; but Berthe was offhand in
her manner to him: he had not made a good impression. His eyes were
handsome, but, like the Vingtieme's tables, too narrow and set too
close together. His nose was predatory, and the points of his
mustache, waxed up behind his nostrils, gave a fixity to his smile.
Decidedly, he was sinister. And my sense of discomfort in his presence
was intensified by the scarlet waistcoat which tightly, and so
unseasonably in June, sheathed his ample chest. This waistcoat wasn't
wrong merely because of the heat, either. It was somehow all wrong in
itself. It wouldn't have done on Christmas morning. It would have
struck a jarring note at the first night of "Hernani." I was trying to
account for its wrongness when Soames suddenly and strangely broke
silence. "A hundred years hence!" he murmured, as in a trance.
"We shall not be here," I briskly, but fatuously, added.
"We shall not be here. No," he droned, "but the museum will still be
just where it is. And the reading-room just where it is. And people
will be able to go and read there." He inhaled sharply, and a spasm as
of actual pain contorted his features.
I wondered what train of thought poor Soames had been following. He
did not enlighten me when he said, after a long pause, "You think I
haven't minded."
"Minded what, Soames?"
"Neglect. Failure."
"FAILURE?" I said heartily. "Failure?" I repeated vaguely.
"Neglect--yes, perhaps; but that's quite another matter. Of course you
haven't been--appreciated. But what, then? Any artist who--who
gives--" What I wanted to say was, "Any artist who gives truly new and
great things to the world has always to wait long for recognition"; but
the flattery would not out: in the face of his misery--a misery so
genuine and so unmasked--my lips would not say the words.
And then he said them for me. I flushed. "That's what you were going
to say, isn't it?" he asked.
"How did you know?"
"It's what you said to me three years ago, when 'Fungoids' was
published." I flushed the more. I need not have flushed at all.
"It's the only important thing I ever heard you say," he continued.
"And I've never forgotten it. It's a true thing. It's a horrible
truth. But--d'you remember what I answered? I said, 'I don't care a
sou for recognition.' And you believed me. You've gone on believing
I'm above that sort of thing. You're shallow. What should YOU know of
the feelings of a man like me? You imagine that a great artist's faith
in himself and in the verdict of posterity is enough to keep him happy.
You've never guessed at the bitterness and loneliness, the"--his voice
broke; but presently he resumed, speaking with a force that I had never
known in him. "Posterity! What use is it to ME? A dead man doesn't
know that people are visiting his grave, visiting his birthplace,
putting up tablets to him, unveiling statues of him. A dead man can't
read the books that are written about him. A hundred years hence!
Think of it! If I could come back to life THEN--just for a few
hours--and go to the reading-room and READ! Or, better still, if I
could be projected now, at this moment, into that future, into that
reading-room, just for this one afternoon! I'd sell myself body and
soul to the devil for that! Think of the pages and pages in the
catalogue: 'Soames, Enoch' endlessly--endless editions, commentaries,
prolegomena, biographies"-- But here he was interrupted by a sudden
loud crack of the chair at the next table. Our neighbor had half risen
from his place. He was leaning toward us, apologetically intrusive.
"Excuse--permit me," he said softly. "I have been unable not to hear.
Might I take a liberty? In this little restaurant-sans-facon--might I,
as the phrase is, cut in?"
I could but signify our acquiescence. Berthe had appeared at the
kitchen door, thinking the stranger wanted his bill. He waved her away
with his cigar, and in another moment had seated himself beside me,
commanding a full view of Soames.
"Though not an Englishman," he explained, "I know my London well, Mr.
Soames. Your name and fame--Mr. Beerbohm's, too--very known to me.
Your point is, who am _I_?" He glanced quickly over his shoulder, and
in a lowered voice said, "I am the devil."
I couldn't help it; I laughed. I tried not to, I knew there was
nothing to laugh at, my rudeness shamed me; but--I laughed with
increasing volume. The devil's quiet dignity, the surprise and disgust
of his raised eyebrows, did but the more dissolve me. I rocked to and
fro; I lay back aching; I behaved deplorably.
"I am a gentleman, and," he said with intense emphasis, "I thought I
was in the company of GENTLEMEN."
"Don't!" I gasped faintly. "Oh, don't!"
"Curious, nicht wahr?" I heard him say to Soames. "There is a type of
person to whom the very mention of my name is--oh, so awfully--funny!
In your theaters the dullest comedien needs only to say 'The devil!'
and right away they give him 'the loud laugh what speaks the vacant
mind.' Is it not so?"
I had now just breath enough to offer my apologies. He accepted them,
but coldly, and re-addressed himself to Soames.
"I am a man of business," he said, "and always I would put things
through 'right now,' as they say in the States. You are a poet. Les
affaires--you detest them. So be it. But with me you will deal, eh?
What you have said just now gives me furiously to hope."
Soames had not moved except to light a fresh cigarette. He sat
crouched forward, with his elbows squared on the table, and his head
just above the level of his hands, staring up at the devil.
"Go on," he nodded. I had no remnant of laughter in me now.
"It will be the more pleasant, our little deal," the devil went on,
"because you are--I mistake not?--a diabolist."
"A Catholic diabolist," said Soames.
The devil accepted the reservation genially.
"You wish," he resumed, "to visit now--this afternoon as-ever-is--the
reading-room of the British Museum, yes? But of a hundred years hence,
yes? Parfaitement. Time--an illusion. Past and future--they are as
ever present as the present, or at any rate only what you call 'just
round the corner.' I switch you on to any date. I project you--pouf!
You wish to be in the reading-room just as it will be on the afternoon
of June 3, 1997? You wish to find yourself standing in that room, just
past the swing-doors, this very minute, yes? And to stay there till
closing-time? Am I right?"
Soames nodded.
The devil looked at his watch. "Ten past two," he said. "Closing-time
in summer same then as now--seven o'clock. That will give you almost
five hours. At seven o'clock--pouf!--you find yourself again here,
sitting at this table. I am dining to-night dans le monde--dans le
higlif. That concludes my present visit to your great city. I come
and fetch you here, Mr. Soames, on my way home."
"Home?" I echoed.
"Be it never so humble!" said the devil, lightly.
"All right," said Soames.
"Soames!" I entreated. But my friend moved not a muscle.
The devil had made as though to stretch forth his hand across the
table, but he paused in his gesture.
"A hundred years hence, as now," he smiled, "no smoking allowed in the
reading-room. You would better therefore--"
Soames removed the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it into his
glass of Sauterne.
"Soames!" again I cried. "Can't you"--but the devil had now stretched
forth his hand across the table. He brought it slowly down on the
table-cloth. Soames's chair was empty. His cigarette floated sodden
in his wine-glass. There was no other trace of him.
For a few moments the devil let his hand rest where it lay, gazing at
me out of the corners of his eyes, vulgarly triumphant.
A shudder shook me. With an effort I controlled myself and rose from
my chair. "Very clever," I said condescendingly. "But--'The Time
Machine' is a delightful book, don't you think? So entirely original!"
"You are pleased to sneer," said the devil, who had also risen, "but it
is one thing to write about an impossible machine; it is a quite other
thing to be a supernatural power." All the same, I had scored.
Berthe had come forth at the sound of our rising. I explained to her
that Mr. Soames had been called away, and that both he and I would be
dining here. It was not until I was out in the open air that I began
to feel giddy. I have but the haziest recollection of what I did,
where I wandered, in the glaring sunshine of that endless afternoon. I
remember the sound of carpenters' hammers all along Piccadilly and the
bare chaotic look of the half-erected "stands." Was it in the Green
Park or in Kensington Gardens or WHERE was it that I sat on a chair
beneath a tree, trying to read an evening paper? There was a phrase in
the leading article that went on repeating itself in my fagged mind:
"Little is hidden from this August Lady full of the garnered wisdom of
sixty years of Sovereignty." I remember wildly conceiving a letter (to
reach Windsor by an express messenger told to await answer): "Madam:
Well knowing that your Majesty is full of the garnered wisdom of sixty
years of Sovereignty, I venture to ask your advice in the following
delicate matter. Mr. Enoch Soames, whose poems you may or may not
know--" Was there NO way of helping him, saving him? A bargain was a
bargain, and I was the last man to aid or abet any one in wriggling out
of a reasonable obligation. I wouldn't have lifted a little finger to
save Faust. But poor Soames! Doomed to pay without respite an eternal
price for nothing but a fruitless search and a bitter disillusioning.
Odd and uncanny it seemed to me that he, Soames, in the flesh, in the
waterproof cape, was at this moment living in the last decade of the
next century, poring over books not yet written, and seeing and seen by
men not yet born. Uncannier and odder still that to-night and evermore
he would be in hell. Assuredly, truth was stranger than fiction.
Endless that afternoon was. Almost I wished I had gone with Soames,
not, indeed, to stay in the reading-room, but to sally forth for a
brisk sight-seeing walk around a new London. I wandered restlessly out
of the park I had sat in. Vainly I tried to imagine myself an ardent
tourist from the eighteenth century. Intolerable was the strain of the
slow-passing and empty minutes. Long before seven o'clock I was back
at the Vingtieme.
I sat there just where I had sat for luncheon. Air came in listlessly
through the open door behind me. Now and again Rose or Berthe appeared
for a moment. I had told them I would not order any dinner till Mr.
Soames came. A hurdy-gurdy began to play, abruptly drowning the noise
of a quarrel between some Frenchmen farther up the street. Whenever
the tune was changed I heard the quarrel still raging. I had bought
another evening paper on my way. I unfolded it. My eyes gazed ever
away from it to the clock over the kitchen door.
Five minutes now to the hour! I remembered that clocks in restaurants
are kept five minutes fast. I concentrated my eyes on the paper. I
vowed I would not look away from it again. I held it upright, at its
full width, close to my face, so that I had no view of anything but it.
Rather a tremulous sheet? Only because of the draft, I told myself.
My arms gradually became stiff; they ached; but I could not drop
them--now. I had a suspicion, I had a certainty. Well, what, then?
What else had I come for? Yet I held tight that barrier of newspaper.
Only the sound of Berthe's brisk footstep from the kitchen enabled me,
forced me, to drop it, and to utter:
"What shall we have to eat, Soames?"
"Il est souffrant, ce pauvre Monsieur Soames?" asked Berthe.
"He's only--tired." I asked her to get some wine--Burgundy--and
whatever food might be ready. Soames sat crouched forward against the
table exactly as when last I had seen him. It was as though he had
never moved--he who had moved so unimaginably far. Once or twice in
the afternoon it had for an instant occurred to me that perhaps his
journey was not to be fruitless, that perhaps we had all been wrong in
our estimate of the works of Enoch Soames. That we had been horribly
right was horribly clear from the look of him. But, "Don't be
discouraged," I falteringly said. "Perhaps it's only that you--didn't
leave enough time. Two, three centuries hence, perhaps--"
"Yes," his voice came; "I've thought of that."
"And now--now for the more immediate future! Where are you going to
hide? How would it be if you caught the Paris express from Charing
Cross? Almost an hour to spare. Don't go on to Paris. Stop at
Calais. Live in Calais. He'd never think of looking for you in
Calais."
"It's like my luck," he said, "to spend my last hours on earth with an
ass." But I was not offended. "And a treacherous ass," he strangely
added, tossing across to me a crumpled bit of paper which he had been
holding in his hand. I glanced at the writing on it--some sort of
gibberish, apparently. I laid it impatiently aside.
"Come, Soames, pull yourself together! This isn't a mere matter of
life or death. It's a question of eternal torment, mind you! You
don't mean to say you're going to wait limply here till the devil comes
to fetch you."
"I can't do anything else. I've no choice."
"Come! This is 'trusting and encouraging' with a vengeance! This is
diabolism run mad!" I filled his glass with wine. "Surely, now that
you've SEEN the brute--"
"It's no good abusing him."
"You must admit there's nothing Miltonic about him, Soames."
"I don't say he's not rather different from what I expected."
"He's a vulgarian, he's a swell mobs-man, he's the sort of man who
hangs about the corridors of trains going to the Riviera and steals
ladies' jewel-cases. Imagine eternal torment presided over by HIM!"
"You don't suppose I look forward to it, do you?"
"Then why not slip quietly out of the way?"
Again and again I filled his glass, and always, mechanically, he
emptied it; but the wine kindled no spark of enterprise in him. He did
not eat, and I myself ate hardly at all. I did not in my heart believe
that any dash for freedom could save him. The chase would be swift,
the capture certain. But better anything than this passive, meek,
miserable waiting. I told Soames that for the honor of the human race
he ought to make some show of resistance. He asked what the human race
had ever done for him. "Besides," he said, "can't you understand that
I'm in his power? You saw him touch me, didn't you? There's an end of
it. I've no will. I'm sealed."
I made a gesture of despair. He went on repeating the word "sealed."
I began to realize that the wine had clouded his brain. No wonder!
Foodless he had gone into futurity, foodless he still was. I urged him
to eat, at any rate, some bread. It was maddening to think that he,
who had so much to tell, might tell nothing. "How was it all," I
asked, "yonder? Come, tell me your adventures!"
"They'd make first-rate 'copy,' wouldn't they?"
"I'm awfully sorry for you, Soames, and I make all possible allowances;
but what earthly right have you to insinuate that I should make 'copy,'
as you call it, out of you?"
The poor fellow pressed his hands to his forehead.
"I don't know," he said. "I had some reason, I know. I'll try to
remember. He sat plunged in thought.
"That's right. Try to remember everything. Eat a little more bread.
What did the reading-room look like?"
"Much as usual," he at length muttered.
"Many people there?"
"Usual sort of number."
"What did they look like?"
Soames tried to visualize them.
"They all," he presently remembered, "looked very like one another."
My mind took a fearsome leap.
"All dressed in sanitary woolen?"
"Yes, I think so. Grayish-yellowish stuff."
"A sort of uniform?" He nodded. "With a number on it perhaps--a
number on a large disk of metal strapped round the left arm? D. K. F.
78,910--that sort of thing?" It was even so. "And all of them, men
and women alike, looking very well cared for? Very Utopian, and
smelling rather strongly of carbolic, and all of them quite hairless?"
I was right every time. Soames was only not sure whether the men and
women were hairless or shorn. "I hadn't time to look at them very
closely," he explained.
"No, of course not. But--"
"They stared at ME, I can tell you. I attracted a great deal of
attention." At last he had done that! "I think I rather scared them.
They moved away whenever I came near. They followed me about, at a
distance, wherever I went. The men at the round desk in the middle
seemed to have a sort of panic whenever I went to make inquiries."
"What did you do when you arrived?"
Well, he had gone straight to the catalogue, of course,--to the S
volumes,--and had stood long before SN-SOF, unable to take this volume
out of the shelf because his heart was beating so. At first, he said,
he wasn't disappointed; he only thought there was some new arrangement.
He went to the middle desk and asked where the catalogue of
twentieth-century books was kept. He gathered that there was still
only one catalogue. Again he looked up his name, stared at the three
little pasted slips he had known so well. Then he went and sat down
for a long time.
"And then," he droned, "I looked up the 'Dictionary of National
Biography,' and some encyclopedias. I went back to the middle desk and
asked what was the best modern book on late nineteenth-century
literature. They told me Mr. T. K. Nupton's book was considered the
best. I looked it up in the catalogue and filled in a form for it. It
was brought to me. My name wasn't in the index, but--yes!" he said
with a sudden change of tone, "that's what I'd forgotten. Where's that
bit of paper? Give it me back."
I, too, had forgotten that cryptic screed. I found it fallen on the
floor, and handed it to him.
He smoothed it out, nodding and smiling at me disagreeably.
"I found myself glancing through Nupton's book," he resumed. "Not very
easy reading. Some sort of phonetic spelling. All the modern books I
saw were phonetic."
"Then I don't want to hear any more, Soames, please."
"The proper names seemed all to be spelt in the old way. But for that
I mightn't have noticed my own name."
"Your own name? Really? Soames, I'm VERY glad."
"And yours."
"No!"
"I thought I should find you waiting here to-night, so I took the
trouble to copy out the passage. Read it."
I snatched the paper. Soames's handwriting was characteristically dim.
It and the noisome spelling and my excitement made me all the slower to
grasp what T. K. Nupton was driving at.
The document lies before me at this moment. Strange that the words I
here copy out for you were copied out for me by poor Soames just
eighty-two years hence!
From page 234 of "Inglish Littracher 1890-1900" bi T. K. Nupton,
publishd bi th Stait, 1992.
Fr egzarmpl, a riter ov th time, naimed Max Beerbohm, hoo woz stil
alive in th twentith senchri, rote a stauri in wich e pautraid an
immajnari karrakter kauld "Enoch Soames"--a thurd-rait poit hoo beleevz
imself a grate jeneus an maix a bargin with th Devvl in auder ter no
wot posterriti thinx ov im! It iz a sumwot labud sattire, but not
without vallu az showing hou seriusli the yung men ov th aiteen-ninetiz
took themselvz. Nou that th littreri profeshn haz bin auganized az a
departmnt of publik servis, our riters hav found their levvl an hav
lernt ter doo their duti without thort ov th morro. "Th laibrer iz
werthi ov hiz hire" an that iz aul. Thank hevvn we hav no Enoch
Soameses amung us to-dai!
I found that by murmuring the words aloud (a device which I commend to
my reader) I was able to master them little by little. The clearer
they became, the greater was my bewilderment, my distress and horror.
The whole thing was a nightmare. Afar, the great grisly background of
what was in store for the poor dear art of letters; here, at the table,
fixing on me a gaze that made me hot all over, the poor fellow
whom--whom evidently--but no: whatever down-grade my character might
take in coming years, I should never be such a brute as to--
Again I examined the screed. "Immajnari." But here Soames was, no
more imaginary, alas! than I. And "labud"--what on earth was that?
(To this day I have never made out that word.) "It's all
very--baffling," I at length stammered.
Soames said nothing, but cruelly did not cease to look at me.
"Are you sure," I temporized, "quite sure you copied the thing out
correctly?"
"Quite."
"Well, then, it's this wretched Nupton who must have made--must be
going to make--some idiotic mistake. Look here Soames, you know me
better than to suppose that I-- After all, the name Max Beerbohm is
not at all an uncommon one, and there must be several Enoch Soameses
running around, or, rather, Enoch Soames is a name that might occur to
any one writing a story. And I don't write stories; I'm an essayist,
an observer, a recorder. I admit that it's an extraordinary
coincidence. But you must see--"
"I see the whole thing," said Soames, quietly. And he added, with a
touch of his old manner, but with more dignity than I had ever known in
him, "Parlons d'autre chose."
I accepted that suggestion very promptly. I returned straight to the
more immediate future. I spent most of the long evening in renewed
appeals to Soames to come away and seek refuge somewhere. I remember
saying at last that if indeed I was destined to write about him, the
supposed "stauri" had better have at least a happy ending. Soames
repeated those last three words in a tone of intense scorn.
"In life and in art," he said, "all that matters is an INEVITABLE
ending."
"But," I urged more hopefully than I felt, "an ending that can be
avoided ISN'T inevitable."
"You aren't an artist," he rasped. "And you're so hopelessly not an
artist that, so far from being able to imagine a thing and make it seem
true, you're going to make even a true thing seem as if you'd made it
up. You're a miserable bungler. And it's like my luck."
I protested that the miserable bungler was not I, was not going to be
I, but T. K. Nupton; and we had a rather heated argument, in the thick
of which it suddenly seemed to me that Soames saw he was in the wrong:
he had quite physically cowered. But I wondered why--and now I guessed
with a cold throb just why--he stared so past me. The bringer of that
"inevitable ending" filled the doorway.
I managed to turn in my chair and to say, not without a semblance of
lightness, "Aha, come in!" Dread was indeed rather blunted in me by
his looking so absurdly like a villain in a melodrama. The sheen of
his tilted hat and of his shirt-front, the repeated twists he was
giving to his mustache, and most of all the magnificence of his sneer,
gave token that he was there only to be foiled.
He was at our table in a stride. "I am sorry," he sneered witheringly,
"to break up your pleasant party, but--"
"You don't; you complete it," I assured him. "Mr. Soames and I want to
have a little talk with you. Won't you sit? Mr. Soames got nothing,
frankly nothing, by his journey this afternoon. We don't wish to say
that the whole thing was a swindle, a common swindle. On the contrary,
we believe you meant well. But of course the bargain, such as it was,
is off."
The devil gave no verbal answer. He merely looked at Soames and
pointed with rigid forefinger to the door. Soames was wretchedly
rising from his chair when, with a desperate, quick gesture, I swept
together two dinner-knives that were on the table, and laid their
blades across each other. The devil stepped sharp back against the
table behind him, averting his face and shuddering.
"You are not superstitious!" he hissed.
"Not at all," I smiled.
"Soames," he said as to an underling, but without turning his face,
"put those knives straight!"
With an inhibitive gesture to my friend, "Mr. Soames," I said
emphatically to the devil, "is a Catholic diabolist"; but my poor
friend did the devil's bidding, not mine; and now, with his master's
eyes again fixed on him, he arose, he shuffled past me. I tried to
speak. It was he that spoke. "Try," was the prayer he threw back at
me as the devil pushed him roughly out through the door--"TRY to make
them know that I did exist!"
In another instant I, too, was through that door. I stood staring all
ways, up the street, across it, down it. There was moonlight and
lamplight, but there was not Soames nor that other.
Dazed, I stood there. Dazed, I turned back at length into the little
room, and I suppose I paid Berthe or Rose for my dinner and luncheon
and for Soames's; I hope so, for I never went to the Vingtieme again.
Ever since that night I have avoided Greek Street altogether. And for
years I did not set foot even in Soho Square, because on that same
night it was there that I paced and loitered, long and long, with some
such dull sense of hope as a man has in not straying far from the place
where he has lost something. "Round and round the shutter'd
Square"--that line came back to me on my lonely beat, and with it the
whole stanza, ringing in my brain and bearing in on me how tragically
different from the happy scene imagined by him was the poet's actual
experience of that prince in whom of all princes we should put not our
trust!
But strange how the mind of an essayist, be it never so stricken, roves
and ranges! I remember pausing before a wide door-step and wondering
if perchance it was on this very one that the young De Quincey lay ill
and faint while poor Ann flew as fast as her feet would carry her to
Oxford Street, the "stony-hearted stepmother" of them both, and came
back bearing that "glass of port wine and spices" but for which he
might, so he thought, actually have died. Was this the very door-step
that the old De Quincey used to revisit in homage? I pondered Ann's
fate, the cause of her sudden vanishing from the ken of her boy friend;
and presently I blamed myself for letting the past override the
present. Poor vanished Soames!
And for myself, too, I began to be troubled. What had I better do?
Would there be a hue and cry--"Mysterious Disappearance of an Author,"
and all that? He had last been seen lunching and dining in my company.
Hadn't I better get a hansom and drive straight to Scotland Yard? They
would think I was a lunatic. After all, I reassured myself, London was
a very large place, and one very dim figure might easily drop out of it
unobserved, now especially, in the blinding glare of the near Jubilee.
Better say nothing at all, I thought.
AND I was right. Soames's disappearance made no stir at all. He was
utterly forgotten before any one, so far as I am aware, noticed that he
was no longer hanging around. Now and again some poet or prosaist may
have said to another, "What has become of that man Soames?" but I never
heard any such question asked. As for his landlady in Dyott Street, no
doubt he had paid her weekly, and what possessions he may have had in
his rooms were enough to save her from fretting. The solicitor through
whom he was paid his annuity may be presumed to have made inquiries,
but no echo of these resounded. There was something rather ghastly to
me in the general unconsciousness that Soames had existed, and more
than once I caught myself wondering whether Nupton, that babe unborn,
were going to be right in thinking him a figment of my brain.
In that extract from Nupton's repulsive book there is one point which
perhaps puzzles you. How is it that the author, though I have here
mentioned him by name and have quoted the exact words he is going to
write, is not going to grasp the obvious corollary that I have invented
nothing? The answer can be only this: Nupton will not have read the
later passages of this memoir. Such lack of thoroughness is a serious
fault in any one who undertakes to do scholar's work. And I hope these
words will meet the eye of some contemporary rival to Nupton and be the
undoing of Nupton.
I like to think that some time between 1992 and 1997 somebody will have
looked up this memoir, and will have forced on the world his inevitable
and startling conclusions. And I have reason for believing that this
will be so. You realize that the reading-room into which Soames was
projected by the devil was in all respects precisely as it will be on
the afternoon of June 3, 1997. You realize, therefore, that on that
afternoon, when it comes round, there the selfsame crowd will be, and
there Soames will be, punctually, he and they doing precisely what they
did before. Recall now Soames's account of the sensation he made. You
may say that the mere difference of his costume was enough to make him
sensational in that uniformed crowd. You wouldn't say so if you had
ever seen him, and I assure you that in no period would Soames be
anything but dim. The fact that people are going to stare at him and
follow him around and seem afraid of him, can be explained only on the
hypothesis that they will somehow have been prepared for his ghostly
visitation. They will have been awfully waiting to see whether he
really would come. And when he does come the effect will of course
be--awful.
An authentic, guaranteed, proved ghost, but; only a ghost, alas! Only
that. In his first visit Soames was a creature of flesh and blood,
whereas the creatures among whom he was projected were but ghosts, I
take it--solid, palpable, vocal, but unconscious and automatic ghosts,
in a building that was itself an illusion. Next time that building and
those creatures will be real. It is of Soames that there will be but
the semblance. I wish I could think him destined to revisit the world
actually, physically, consciously. I wish he had this one brief
escape, this one small treat, to look forward to. I never forget him
for long. He is where he is and forever. The more rigid moralists
among you may say he has only himself to blame. For my part, I think
he has been very hardly used. It is well that vanity should be
chastened; and Enoch Soames's vanity was, I admit, above the average,
and called for special treatment. But there was no need for
vindictiveness. You say he contracted to pay the price he is paying.
Yes; but I maintain that he was induced to do so by fraud. Well
informed in all things, the devil must have known that my friend would
gain nothing by his visit to futurity. The whole thing was a very
shabby trick. The more I think of it, the more detestable the devil
seems to me.
Of him I have caught sight several times, here and there, since that
day at the Vingtieme. Only once, however, have I seen him at close
quarters. This was a couple of years ago, in Paris. I was walking one
afternoon along the rue d'Antin, and I saw him advancing from the
opposite direction, overdressed as ever, and swinging an ebony cane and
altogether behaving as though the whole pavement belonged to him. At
thought of Enoch Soames and the myriads of other sufferers eternally in
this brute's dominion, a great cold wrath filled me, and I drew myself
up to my full height. But--well, one is so used to nodding and smiling
in the street to anybody whom one knows that the action becomes almost
independent of oneself; to prevent it requires a very sharp effort and
great presence of mind. I was miserably aware, as I passed the devil,
that I nodded and smiled to him. And my shame was the deeper and
hotter because he, if you please, stared straight at me with the utmost
haughtiness.
To be cut, deliberately cut, by HIM! I was, I still am, furious at
having had that happen to me.
[Transcriber's Note: I have closed contractions in the text; e.g.,
"does n't" has become "doesn't" etc.]
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Enoch Soames, by Max Beerbohm
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENOCH SOAMES ***
***** This file should be named 760.txt or 760.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/7/6/760/
Produced by Judith Boss.
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
Where do Soames and Beerbohm meet for lunch?
Answer:
| Restaurant du Vingtieme Siecle | 174 | 81,711 | 81,713 | 81,767 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
23148 | 23148_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Enoch Soames, by Max Beerbohm
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Enoch Soames
A Memory of the Eighteen-nineties
Author: Max Beerbohm
Posting Date: July 23, 2008 [EBook #760]
Release Date: December, 1996
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENOCH SOAMES ***
Produced by Judith Boss.
Enoch Soames
A Memory of the Eighteen-nineties
By
MAX BEERBOHM
When a book about the literature of the eighteen-nineties was given by
Mr. Holbrook Jackson to the world, I looked eagerly in the index for
Soames, Enoch. It was as I feared: he was not there. But everybody
else was. Many writers whom I had quite forgotten, or remembered but
faintly, lived again for me, they and their work, in Mr. Holbrook
Jackson's pages. The book was as thorough as it was brilliantly
written. And thus the omission found by me was an all the deadlier
record of poor Soames's failure to impress himself on his decade.
I dare say I am the only person who noticed the omission. Soames had
failed so piteously as all that! Nor is there a counterpoise in the
thought that if he had had some measure of success he might have
passed, like those others, out of my mind, to return only at the
historian's beck. It is true that had his gifts, such as they were,
been acknowledged in his lifetime, he would never have made the bargain
I saw him make--that strange bargain whose results have kept him always
in the foreground of my memory. But it is from those very results that
the full piteousness of him glares out.
Not my compassion, however, impels me to write of him. For his sake,
poor fellow, I should be inclined to keep my pen out of the ink. It is
ill to deride the dead. And how can I write about Enoch Soames without
making him ridiculous? Or, rather, how am I to hush up the horrid fact
that he WAS ridiculous? I shall not be able to do that. Yet, sooner
or later, write about him I must. You will see in due course that I
have no option. And I may as well get the thing done now.
In the summer term of '93 a bolt from the blue flashed down on Oxford.
It drove deep; it hurtlingly embedded itself in the soil. Dons and
undergraduates stood around, rather pale, discussing nothing but it.
Whence came it, this meteorite? From Paris. Its name? Will
Rothenstein. Its aim? To do a series of twenty-four portraits in
lithograph. These were to be published from the Bodley Head, London.
The matter was urgent. Already the warden of A, and the master of B,
and the Regius Professor of C had meekly "sat." Dignified and
doddering old men who had never consented to sit to any one could not
withstand this dynamic little stranger. He did not sue; he invited: he
did not invite; he commanded. He was twenty-one years old. He wore
spectacles that flashed more than any other pair ever seen. He was a
wit. He was brimful of ideas. He knew Whistler. He knew Daudet and
the Goncourts. He knew every one in Paris. He knew them all by heart.
He was Paris in Oxford. It was whispered that, so soon as he had
polished off his selection of dons, he was going to include a few
undergraduates. It was a proud day for me when I--I was included. I
liked Rothenstein not less than I feared him; and there arose between
us a friendship that has grown ever warmer, and been more and more
valued by me, with every passing year.
At the end of term he settled in, or, rather, meteoritically into,
London. It was to him I owed my first knowledge of that
forever-enchanting little world-in-itself, Chelsea, and my first
acquaintance with Walter Sickert and other August elders who dwelt
there. It was Rothenstein that took me to see, in Cambridge Street,
Pimlico, a young man whose drawings were already famous among the
few--Aubrey Beardsley by name. With Rothenstein I paid my first visit
to the Bodley Head. By him I was inducted into another haunt of
intellect and daring, the domino-room of the Cafe Royal.
There, on that October evening--there, in that exuberant vista of
gilding and crimson velvet set amidst all those opposing mirrors and
upholding caryatids, with fumes of tobacco ever rising to the painted
and pagan ceiling, and with the hum of presumably cynical conversation
broken into so sharply now and again by the clatter of dominoes
shuffled on marble tables, I drew a deep breath and, "This indeed,"
said I to myself, "is life!" (Forgive me that theory. Remember the
waging of even the South African War was not yet.)
It was the hour before dinner. We drank vermuth. Those who knew
Rothenstein were pointing him out to those who knew him only by name.
Men were constantly coming in through the swing-doors and wandering
slowly up and down in search of vacant tables or of tables occupied by
friends. One of these rovers interested me because I was sure he
wanted to catch Rothenstein's eye. He had twice passed our table, with
a hesitating look; but Rothenstein, in the thick of a disquisition on
Puvis de Chavannes, had not seen him. He was a stooping, shambling
person, rather tall, very pale, with longish and brownish hair. He had
a thin, vague beard, or, rather, he had a chin on which a large number
of hairs weakly curled and clustered to cover its retreat. He was an
odd-looking person; but in the nineties odd apparitions were more
frequent, I think, than they are now. The young writers of that
era--and I was sure this man was a writer--strove earnestly to be
distinct in aspect. This man had striven unsuccessfully. He wore a
soft black hat of clerical kind, but of Bohemian intention, and a gray
waterproof cape which, perhaps because it was waterproof, failed to be
romantic. I decided that "dim" was the mot juste for him. I had
already essayed to write, and was immensely keen on the mot juste, that
Holy Grail of the period.
The dim man was now again approaching our table, and this time he made
up his mind to pause in front of it.
"You don't remember me," he said in a toneless voice.
Rothenstein brightly focused him.
"Yes, I do," he replied after a moment, with pride rather than
effusion--pride in a retentive memory. "Edwin Soames."
"Enoch Soames," said Enoch.
"Enoch Soames," repeated Rothenstein in a tone implying that it was
enough to have hit on the surname. "We met in Paris a few times when
you were living there. We met at the Cafe Groche."
"And I came to your studio once."
"Oh, yes; I was sorry I was out."
"But you were in. You showed me some of your paintings, you know. I
hear you're in Chelsea now."
"Yes."
I almost wondered that Mr. Soames did not, after this monosyllable,
pass along. He stood patiently there, rather like a dumb animal,
rather like a donkey looking over a gate. A sad figure, his. It
occurred to me that "hungry" was perhaps the mot juste for him;
but--hungry for what? He looked as if he had little appetite for
anything. I was sorry for him; and Rothenstein, though he had not
invited him to Chelsea, did ask him to sit down and have something to
drink.
Seated, he was more self-assertive. He flung back the wings of his
cape with a gesture which, had not those wings been waterproof, might
have seemed to hurl defiance at things in general. And he ordered an
absinthe. "Je me tiens toujours fidele," he told Rothenstein, "a la
sorciere glauque."
"It is bad for you," said Rothenstein, dryly.
"Nothing is bad for one," answered Soames. "Dans ce monde il n'y a ni
bien ni mal."
"Nothing good and nothing bad? How do you mean?"
"I explained it all in the preface to 'Negations.'"
"'Negations'?"
"Yes, I gave you a copy of it."
"Oh, yes, of course. But, did you explain, for instance, that there
was no such thing as bad or good grammar?"
"N-no," said Soames. "Of course in art there is the good and the evil.
But in life--no." He was rolling a cigarette. He had weak, white
hands, not well washed, and with finger-tips much stained with
nicotine. "In life there are illusions of good and evil, but"--his
voice trailed away to a murmur in which the words "vieux jeu" and
"rococo" were faintly audible. I think he felt he was not doing
himself justice, and feared that Rothenstein was going to point out
fallacies. Anyhow, he cleared his throat and said, "Parlons d'autre
chose."
It occurs to you that he was a fool? It didn't to me. I was young,
and had not the clarity of judgment that Rothenstein already had.
Soames was quite five or six years older than either of us. Also--he
had written a book. It was wonderful to have written a book.
If Rothenstein had not been there, I should have revered Soames. Even
as it was, I respected him. And I was very near indeed to reverence
when he said he had another book coming out soon. I asked if I might
ask what kind of book it was to be.
"My poems," he answered. Rothenstein asked if this was to be the title
of the book. The poet meditated on this suggestion, but said he rather
thought of giving the book no title at all. "If a book is good in
itself--" he murmured, and waved his cigarette.
Rothenstein objected that absence of title might be bad for the sale of
a book.
"If," he urged, "I went into a bookseller's and said simply, 'Have you
got?' or, 'Have you a copy of?' how would they know what I wanted?"
"Oh, of course I should have my name on the cover," Soames answered
earnestly. "And I rather want," he added, looking hard at Rothenstein,
"to have a drawing of myself as frontispiece." Rothenstein admitted
that this was a capital idea, and mentioned that he was going into the
country and would be there for some time. He then looked at his watch,
exclaimed at the hour, paid the waiter, and went away with me to
dinner. Soames remained at his post of fidelity to the glaucous witch.
"Why were you so determined not to draw him?" I asked.
"Draw him? Him? How can one draw a man who doesn't exist?"
"He is dim," I admitted. But my mot juste fell flat. Rothenstein
repeated that Soames was non-existent.
Still, Soames had written a book. I asked if Rothenstein had read
"Negations." He said he had looked into it, "but," he added crisply,
"I don't profess to know anything about writing." A reservation very
characteristic of the period! Painters would not then allow that any
one outside their own order had a right to any opinion about painting.
This law (graven on the tablets brought down by Whistler from the
summit of Fuji-yama) imposed certain limitations. If other arts than
painting were not utterly unintelligible to all but the men who
practiced them, the law tottered--the Monroe Doctrine, as it were, did
not hold good. Therefore no painter would offer an opinion of a book
without warning you at any rate that his opinion was worthless. No one
is a better judge of literature than Rothenstein; but it wouldn't have
done to tell him so in those days, and I knew that I must form an
unaided judgment of "Negations."
Not to buy a book of which I had met the author face to face would have
been for me in those days an impossible act of self-denial. When I
returned to Oxford for the Christmas term I had duly secured
"Negations." I used to keep it lying carelessly on the table in my
room, and whenever a friend took it up and asked what it was about, I
would say: "Oh, it's rather a remarkable book. It's by a man whom I
know." Just "what it was about" I never was able to say. Head or tail
was just what I hadn't made of that slim, green volume. I found in the
preface no clue to the labyrinth of contents, and in that labyrinth
nothing to explain the preface.
Lean near to life. Lean very near--
nearer.
Life is web and therein nor warp nor
woof is, but web only.
It is for this I am Catholick in church
and in thought, yet do let swift Mood weave
there what the shuttle of Mood wills.
These were the opening phrases of the preface, but those which followed
were less easy to understand. Then came "Stark: A Conte," about a
midinette who, so far as I could gather, murdered, or was about to
murder, a mannequin. It was rather like a story by Catulle Mendes in
which the translator had either skipped or cut out every alternate
sentence. Next, a dialogue between Pan and St. Ursula, lacking, I
rather thought, in "snap." Next, some aphorisms (entitled "Aphorismata"
[spelled in Greek]). Throughout, in fact, there was a great variety of
form, and the forms had evidently been wrought with much care. It was
rather the substance that eluded me. Was there, I wondered, any
substance at all? It did now occur to me: suppose Enoch Soames was a
fool! Up cropped a rival hypothesis: suppose _I_ was! I inclined to
give Soames the benefit of the doubt. I had read "L'Apres-midi d'un
faune" without extracting a glimmer of meaning; yet Mallarme, of
course, was a master. How was I to know that Soames wasn't another?
There was a sort of music in his prose, not indeed, arresting, but
perhaps, I thought, haunting, and laden, perhaps, with meanings as deep
as Mallarme's own. I awaited his poems with an open mind.
And I looked forward to them with positive impatience after I had had a
second meeting with him. This was on an evening in January. Going
into the aforesaid domino-room, I had passed a table at which sat a
pale man with an open book before him. He had looked from his book to
me, and I looked back over my shoulder with a vague sense that I ought
to have recognized him. I returned to pay my respects. After
exchanging a few words, I said with a glance to the open book, "I see I
am interrupting you," and was about to pass on, but, "I prefer," Soames
replied in his toneless voice, "to be interrupted," and I obeyed his
gesture that I should sit down.
I asked him if he often read here.
"Yes; things of this kind I read here," he answered, indicating the
title of his book--"The Poems of Shelley."
"Anything that you really"--and I was going to say "admire?" But I
cautiously left my sentence unfinished, and was glad that I had done
so, for he said with unwonted emphasis, "Anything second-rate."
I had read little of Shelley, but, "Of course," I murmured, "he's very
uneven."
"I should have thought evenness was just what was wrong with him. A
deadly evenness. That's why I read him here. The noise of this place
breaks the rhythm. He's tolerable here." Soames took up the book and
glanced through the pages. He laughed. Soames's laugh was a short,
single, and mirthless sound from the throat, unaccompanied by any
movement of the face or brightening of the eyes. "What a period!" he
uttered, laying the book down. And, "What a country!" he added.
I asked rather nervously if he didn't think Keats had more or less held
his own against the drawbacks of time and place. He admitted that
there were "passages in Keats," but did not specify them. Of "the
older men," as he called them, he seemed to like only Milton.
"Milton," he said, "wasn't sentimental." Also, "Milton had a dark
insight." And again, "I can always read Milton in the reading-room."
"The reading-room?"
"Of the British Museum. I go there every day."
"You do? I've only been there once. I'm afraid I found it rather a
depressing place. It--it seemed to sap one's vitality."
"It does. That's why I go there. The lower one's vitality, the more
sensitive one is to great art. I live near the museum. I have rooms
in Dyott Street."
"And you go round to the reading-room to read Milton?"
"Usually Milton." He looked at me. "It was Milton," he
certificatively added, "who converted me to diabolism."
"Diabolism? Oh, yes? Really?" said I, with that vague discomfort and
that intense desire to be polite which one feels when a man speaks of
his own religion. "You--worship the devil?"
Soames shook his head.
"It's not exactly worship," he qualified, sipping his absinthe. "It's
more a matter of trusting and encouraging."
"I see, yes. I had rather gathered from the preface to 'Negations'
that you were a--a Catholic."
"Je l'etais a cette epoque. In fact, I still am. I am a Catholic
diabolist."
But this profession he made in an almost cursory tone. I could see
that what was upmost in his mind was the fact that I had read
"Negations." His pale eyes had for the first time gleamed. I felt as
one who is about to be examined viva voce on the very subject in which
he is shakiest. I hastily asked him how soon his poems were to be
published.
"Next week," he told me.
"And are they to be published without a title?"
"No. I found a title at last. But I sha'n't tell you what it is," as
though I had been so impertinent as to inquire. "I am not sure that it
wholly satisfies me. But it is the best I can find. It suggests
something of the quality of the poems--strange growths, natural and
wild, yet exquisite," he added, "and many-hued, and full of poisons."
I asked him what he thought of Baudelaire. He uttered the snort that
was his laugh, and, "Baudelaire," he said, "was a bourgeois malgre
lui." France had had only one poet--Villon; "and two thirds of Villon
were sheer journalism." Verlaine was "an epicier malgre lui."
Altogether, rather to my surprise, he rated French literature lower
than English. There were "passages" in Villiers de l'Isle-Adam. But,
"I," he summed up, "owe nothing to France." He nodded at me. "You'll
see," he predicted.
I did not, when the time came, quite see that. I thought the author of
"Fungoids" did, unconsciously of course, owe something to the young
Parisian decadents or to the young English ones who owed something to
THEM. I still think so. The little book, bought by me in Oxford, lies
before me as I write. Its pale-gray buckram cover and silver lettering
have not worn well. Nor have its contents. Through these, with a
melancholy interest, I have again been looking. They are not much.
But at the time of their publication I had a vague suspicion that they
MIGHT be. I suppose it is my capacity for faith, not poor Soames's
work, that is weaker than it once was.
TO A YOUNG WOMAN
THOU ART, WHO HAST NOT BEEN!
Pale tunes irresolute
And traceries of old sounds
Blown from a rotted flute
Mingle with noise of cymbals rouged with rust,
Nor not strange forms and epicene
Lie bleeding in the dust,
Being wounded with wounds.
For this it is
That in thy counterpart
Of age-long mockeries
THOU HAST NOT BEEN NOR ART!
There seemed to me a certain inconsistency as between the first and
last lines of this. I tried, with bent brows, to resolve the discord.
But I did not take my failure as wholly incompatible with a meaning in
Soames's mind. Might it not rather indicate the depth of his meaning?
As for the craftsmanship, "rouged with rust" seemed to me a fine
stroke, and "nor not" instead of "and" had a curious felicity. I
wondered who the "young woman" was and what she had made of it all. I
sadly suspect that Soames could not have made more of it than she.
Yet even now, if one doesn't try to make any sense at all of the poem,
and reads it just for the sound, there is a certain grace of cadence.
Soames was an artist, in so far as he was anything, poor fellow!
It seemed to me, when first I read "Fungoids," that, oddly enough, the
diabolistic side of him was the best. Diabolism seemed to be a
cheerful, even a wholesome influence in his life.
NOCTURNE
Round and round the shutter'd Square
I strolled with the Devil's arm in mine.
No sound but the scrape of his hoofs was there
And the ring of his laughter and mine.
We had drunk black wine.
I scream'd, "I will race you, Master!"
"What matter," he shriek'd, "to-night
Which of us runs the faster?
There is nothing to fear to-night
In the foul moon's light!"
Then I look'd him in the eyes
And I laugh'd full shrill at the lie he told
And the gnawing fear he would fain disguise.
It was true, what I'd time and again been told:
He was old--old.
There was, I felt, quite a swing about that first stanza--a joyous and
rollicking note of comradeship. The second was slightly hysterical,
perhaps. But I liked the third, it was so bracingly unorthodox, even
according to the tenets of Soames's peculiar sect in the faith. Not
much "trusting and encouraging" here! Soames triumphantly exposing the
devil as a liar, and laughing "full shrill," cut a quite heartening
figure, I thought, then! Now, in the light of what befell, none of his
other poems depresses me so much as "Nocturne."
I looked out for what the metropolitan reviewers would have to say.
They seemed to fall into two classes: those who had little to say and
those who had nothing. The second class was the larger, and the words
of the first were cold; insomuch that
Strikes a note of modernity. . . . These tripping numbers.--"The
Preston Telegraph."
was the only lure offered in advertisements by Soames's publisher. I
had hoped that when next I met the poet I could congratulate him on
having made a stir, for I fancied he was not so sure of his intrinsic
greatness as he seemed. I was but able to say, rather coarsely, when
next I did see him, that I hoped "Fungoids" was "selling splendidly."
He looked at me across his glass of absinthe and asked if I had bought
a copy. His publisher had told him that three had been sold. I
laughed, as at a jest.
"You don't suppose I CARE, do you?" he said, with something like a
snarl. I disclaimed the notion. He added that he was not a tradesman.
I said mildly that I wasn't, either, and murmured that an artist who
gave truly new and great things to the world had always to wait long
for recognition. He said he cared not a sou for recognition. I agreed
that the act of creation was its own reward.
His moroseness might have alienated me if I had regarded myself as a
nobody. But ah! hadn't both John Lane and Aubrey Beardsley suggested
that I should write an essay for the great new venture that was
afoot--"The Yellow Book"? And hadn't Henry Harland, as editor,
accepted my essay? And wasn't it to be in the very first number? At
Oxford I was still in statu pupillari. In London I regarded myself as
very much indeed a graduate now--one whom no Soames could ruffle.
Partly to show off, partly in sheer good-will, I told Soames he ought
to contribute to "The Yellow Book." He uttered from the throat a sound
of scorn for that publication.
Nevertheless, I did, a day or two later, tentatively ask Harland if he
knew anything of the work of a man called Enoch Soames. Harland paused
in the midst of his characteristic stride around the room, threw up his
hands toward the ceiling, and groaned aloud: he had often met "that
absurd creature" in Paris, and this very morning had received some
poems in manuscript from him.
"Has he NO talent?" I asked.
"He has an income. He's all right." Harland was the most joyous of
men and most generous of critics, and he hated to talk of anything
about which he couldn't be enthusiastic. So I dropped the subject of
Soames. The news that Soames had an income did take the edge off
solicitude. I learned afterward that he was the son of an unsuccessful
and deceased bookseller in Preston, but had inherited an annuity of
three hundred pounds from a married aunt, and had no surviving
relatives of any kind. Materially, then, he was "all right." But there
was still a spiritual pathos about him, sharpened for me now by the
possibility that even the praises of "The Preston Telegraph" might not
have been forthcoming had he not been the son of a Preston man He had a
sort of weak doggedness which I could not but admire. Neither he nor
his work received the slightest encouragement; but he persisted in
behaving as a personage: always he kept his dingy little flag flying.
Wherever congregated the jeunes feroces of the arts, in whatever Soho
restaurant they had just discovered, in whatever music-hall they were
most frequently, there was Soames in the midst of them, or, rather, on
the fringe of them, a dim, but inevitable, figure. He never sought to
propitiate his fellow-writers, never bated a jot of his arrogance about
his own work or of his contempt for theirs. To the painters he was
respectful, even humble; but for the poets and prosaists of "The Yellow
Book" and later of "The Savoy" he had never a word but of scorn. He
wasn't resented. It didn't occur to anybody that he or his Catholic
diabolism mattered. When, in the autumn of '96, he brought out (at his
own expense, this time) a third book, his last book, nobody said a word
for or against it. I meant, but forgot, to buy it. I never saw it,
and am ashamed to say I don't even remember what it was called. But I
did, at the time of its publication, say to Rothenstein that I thought
poor old Soames was really a rather tragic figure, and that I believed
he would literally die for want of recognition. Rothenstein scoffed.
He said I was trying to get credit for a kind heart which I didn't
possess; and perhaps this was so. But at the private view of the New
English Art Club, a few weeks later, I beheld a pastel portrait of
"Enoch Soames, Esq." It was very like him, and very like Rothenstein
to have done it. Soames was standing near it, in his soft hat and his
waterproof cape, all through the afternoon. Anybody who knew him would
have recognized the portrait at a glance, but nobody who didn't know
him would have recognized the portrait from its bystander: it "existed"
so much more than he; it was bound to. Also, it had not that
expression of faint happiness which on that day was discernible, yes,
in Soames's countenance. Fame had breathed on him. Twice again in the
course of the month I went to the New English, and on both occasions
Soames himself was on view there. Looking back, I regard the close of
that exhibition as having been virtually the close of his career. He
had felt the breath of Fame against his cheek--so late, for such a
little while; and at its withdrawal he gave in, gave up, gave out. He,
who had never looked strong or well, looked ghastly now--a shadow of
the shade he had once been. He still frequented the domino-room, but
having lost all wish to excite curiosity, he no longer read books
there. "You read only at the museum now?" I asked, with attempted
cheerfulness. He said he never went there now. "No absinthe there,"
he muttered. It was the sort of thing that in old days he would have
said for effect; but it carried conviction now. Absinthe, erst but a
point in the "personality" he had striven so hard to build up, was
solace and necessity now. He no longer called it "la sorciere
glauque." He had shed away all his French phrases. He had become a
plain, unvarnished Preston man.
Failure, if it be a plain, unvarnished, complete failure, and even
though it be a squalid failure, has always a certain dignity. I
avoided Soames because he made me feel rather vulgar. John Lane had
published, by this time, two little books of mine, and they had had a
pleasant little success of esteem. I was a--slight, but
definite--"personality." Frank Harris had engaged me to kick up my
heels in "The Saturday Review," Alfred Harmsworth was letting me do
likewise in "The Daily Mail." I was just what Soames wasn't. And he
shamed my gloss. Had I known that he really and firmly believed in the
greatness of what he as an artist had achieved, I might not have
shunned him. No man who hasn't lost his vanity can be held to have
altogether failed. Soames's dignity was an illusion of mine. One day,
in the first week of June, 1897, that illusion went. But on the
evening of that day Soames went, too.
I had been out most of the morning and, as it was too late to reach
home in time for luncheon, I sought the Vingtieme. This little
place--Restaurant du Vingtieme Siecle, to give it its full title--had
been discovered in '96 by the poets and prosaists, but had now been
more or less abandoned in favor of some later find. I don't think it
lived long enough to justify its name; but at that time there it still
was, in Greek Street, a few doors from Soho Square, and almost opposite
to that house where, in the first years of the century, a little girl,
and with her a boy named De Quincey, made nightly encampment in
darkness and hunger among dust and rats and old legal parchments. The
Vingtieme was but a small whitewashed room, leading out into the street
at one end and into a kitchen at the other. The proprietor and cook
was a Frenchman, known to us as Monsieur Vingtieme; the waiters were
his two daughters, Rose and Berthe; and the food, according to faith,
was good. The tables were so narrow and were set so close together
that there was space for twelve of them, six jutting from each wall.
Only the two nearest to the door, as I went in, were occupied. On one
side sat a tall, flashy, rather Mephistophelian man whom I had seen
from time to time in the domino-room and elsewhere. On the other side
sat Soames. They made a queer contrast in that sunlit room, Soames
sitting haggard in that hat and cape, which nowhere at any season had I
seen him doff, and this other, this keenly vital man, at sight of whom
I more than ever wondered whether he were a diamond merchant, a
conjurer, or the head of a private detective agency. I was sure Soames
didn't want my company; but I asked, as it would have seemed brutal not
to, whether I might join him, and took the chair opposite to his. He
was smoking a cigarette, with an untasted salmi of something on his
plate and a half-empty bottle of Sauterne before him, and he was quite
silent. I said that the preparations for the Jubilee made London
impossible. (I rather liked them, really.) I professed a wish to go
right away till the whole thing was over. In vain did I attune myself
to his gloom. He seemed not to hear me or even to see me. I felt that
his behavior made me ridiculous in the eyes of the other man. The
gangway between the two rows of tables at the Vingtieme was hardly more
than two feet wide (Rose and Berthe, in their ministrations, had always
to edge past each other, quarreling in whispers as they did so), and
any one at the table abreast of yours was virtually at yours. I
thought our neighbor was amused at my failure to interest Soames, and
so, as I could not explain to him that my insistence was merely
charitable, I became silent. Without turning my head, I had him well
within my range of vision. I hoped I looked less vulgar than he in
contrast with Soames. I was sure he was not an Englishman, but what
WAS his nationality? Though his jet-black hair was en brosse, I did
not think he was French. To Berthe, who waited on him, he spoke French
fluently, but with a hardly native idiom and accent. I gathered that
this was his first visit to the Vingtieme; but Berthe was offhand in
her manner to him: he had not made a good impression. His eyes were
handsome, but, like the Vingtieme's tables, too narrow and set too
close together. His nose was predatory, and the points of his
mustache, waxed up behind his nostrils, gave a fixity to his smile.
Decidedly, he was sinister. And my sense of discomfort in his presence
was intensified by the scarlet waistcoat which tightly, and so
unseasonably in June, sheathed his ample chest. This waistcoat wasn't
wrong merely because of the heat, either. It was somehow all wrong in
itself. It wouldn't have done on Christmas morning. It would have
struck a jarring note at the first night of "Hernani." I was trying to
account for its wrongness when Soames suddenly and strangely broke
silence. "A hundred years hence!" he murmured, as in a trance.
"We shall not be here," I briskly, but fatuously, added.
"We shall not be here. No," he droned, "but the museum will still be
just where it is. And the reading-room just where it is. And people
will be able to go and read there." He inhaled sharply, and a spasm as
of actual pain contorted his features.
I wondered what train of thought poor Soames had been following. He
did not enlighten me when he said, after a long pause, "You think I
haven't minded."
"Minded what, Soames?"
"Neglect. Failure."
"FAILURE?" I said heartily. "Failure?" I repeated vaguely.
"Neglect--yes, perhaps; but that's quite another matter. Of course you
haven't been--appreciated. But what, then? Any artist who--who
gives--" What I wanted to say was, "Any artist who gives truly new and
great things to the world has always to wait long for recognition"; but
the flattery would not out: in the face of his misery--a misery so
genuine and so unmasked--my lips would not say the words.
And then he said them for me. I flushed. "That's what you were going
to say, isn't it?" he asked.
"How did you know?"
"It's what you said to me three years ago, when 'Fungoids' was
published." I flushed the more. I need not have flushed at all.
"It's the only important thing I ever heard you say," he continued.
"And I've never forgotten it. It's a true thing. It's a horrible
truth. But--d'you remember what I answered? I said, 'I don't care a
sou for recognition.' And you believed me. You've gone on believing
I'm above that sort of thing. You're shallow. What should YOU know of
the feelings of a man like me? You imagine that a great artist's faith
in himself and in the verdict of posterity is enough to keep him happy.
You've never guessed at the bitterness and loneliness, the"--his voice
broke; but presently he resumed, speaking with a force that I had never
known in him. "Posterity! What use is it to ME? A dead man doesn't
know that people are visiting his grave, visiting his birthplace,
putting up tablets to him, unveiling statues of him. A dead man can't
read the books that are written about him. A hundred years hence!
Think of it! If I could come back to life THEN--just for a few
hours--and go to the reading-room and READ! Or, better still, if I
could be projected now, at this moment, into that future, into that
reading-room, just for this one afternoon! I'd sell myself body and
soul to the devil for that! Think of the pages and pages in the
catalogue: 'Soames, Enoch' endlessly--endless editions, commentaries,
prolegomena, biographies"-- But here he was interrupted by a sudden
loud crack of the chair at the next table. Our neighbor had half risen
from his place. He was leaning toward us, apologetically intrusive.
"Excuse--permit me," he said softly. "I have been unable not to hear.
Might I take a liberty? In this little restaurant-sans-facon--might I,
as the phrase is, cut in?"
I could but signify our acquiescence. Berthe had appeared at the
kitchen door, thinking the stranger wanted his bill. He waved her away
with his cigar, and in another moment had seated himself beside me,
commanding a full view of Soames.
"Though not an Englishman," he explained, "I know my London well, Mr.
Soames. Your name and fame--Mr. Beerbohm's, too--very known to me.
Your point is, who am _I_?" He glanced quickly over his shoulder, and
in a lowered voice said, "I am the devil."
I couldn't help it; I laughed. I tried not to, I knew there was
nothing to laugh at, my rudeness shamed me; but--I laughed with
increasing volume. The devil's quiet dignity, the surprise and disgust
of his raised eyebrows, did but the more dissolve me. I rocked to and
fro; I lay back aching; I behaved deplorably.
"I am a gentleman, and," he said with intense emphasis, "I thought I
was in the company of GENTLEMEN."
"Don't!" I gasped faintly. "Oh, don't!"
"Curious, nicht wahr?" I heard him say to Soames. "There is a type of
person to whom the very mention of my name is--oh, so awfully--funny!
In your theaters the dullest comedien needs only to say 'The devil!'
and right away they give him 'the loud laugh what speaks the vacant
mind.' Is it not so?"
I had now just breath enough to offer my apologies. He accepted them,
but coldly, and re-addressed himself to Soames.
"I am a man of business," he said, "and always I would put things
through 'right now,' as they say in the States. You are a poet. Les
affaires--you detest them. So be it. But with me you will deal, eh?
What you have said just now gives me furiously to hope."
Soames had not moved except to light a fresh cigarette. He sat
crouched forward, with his elbows squared on the table, and his head
just above the level of his hands, staring up at the devil.
"Go on," he nodded. I had no remnant of laughter in me now.
"It will be the more pleasant, our little deal," the devil went on,
"because you are--I mistake not?--a diabolist."
"A Catholic diabolist," said Soames.
The devil accepted the reservation genially.
"You wish," he resumed, "to visit now--this afternoon as-ever-is--the
reading-room of the British Museum, yes? But of a hundred years hence,
yes? Parfaitement. Time--an illusion. Past and future--they are as
ever present as the present, or at any rate only what you call 'just
round the corner.' I switch you on to any date. I project you--pouf!
You wish to be in the reading-room just as it will be on the afternoon
of June 3, 1997? You wish to find yourself standing in that room, just
past the swing-doors, this very minute, yes? And to stay there till
closing-time? Am I right?"
Soames nodded.
The devil looked at his watch. "Ten past two," he said. "Closing-time
in summer same then as now--seven o'clock. That will give you almost
five hours. At seven o'clock--pouf!--you find yourself again here,
sitting at this table. I am dining to-night dans le monde--dans le
higlif. That concludes my present visit to your great city. I come
and fetch you here, Mr. Soames, on my way home."
"Home?" I echoed.
"Be it never so humble!" said the devil, lightly.
"All right," said Soames.
"Soames!" I entreated. But my friend moved not a muscle.
The devil had made as though to stretch forth his hand across the
table, but he paused in his gesture.
"A hundred years hence, as now," he smiled, "no smoking allowed in the
reading-room. You would better therefore--"
Soames removed the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it into his
glass of Sauterne.
"Soames!" again I cried. "Can't you"--but the devil had now stretched
forth his hand across the table. He brought it slowly down on the
table-cloth. Soames's chair was empty. His cigarette floated sodden
in his wine-glass. There was no other trace of him.
For a few moments the devil let his hand rest where it lay, gazing at
me out of the corners of his eyes, vulgarly triumphant.
A shudder shook me. With an effort I controlled myself and rose from
my chair. "Very clever," I said condescendingly. "But--'The Time
Machine' is a delightful book, don't you think? So entirely original!"
"You are pleased to sneer," said the devil, who had also risen, "but it
is one thing to write about an impossible machine; it is a quite other
thing to be a supernatural power." All the same, I had scored.
Berthe had come forth at the sound of our rising. I explained to her
that Mr. Soames had been called away, and that both he and I would be
dining here. It was not until I was out in the open air that I began
to feel giddy. I have but the haziest recollection of what I did,
where I wandered, in the glaring sunshine of that endless afternoon. I
remember the sound of carpenters' hammers all along Piccadilly and the
bare chaotic look of the half-erected "stands." Was it in the Green
Park or in Kensington Gardens or WHERE was it that I sat on a chair
beneath a tree, trying to read an evening paper? There was a phrase in
the leading article that went on repeating itself in my fagged mind:
"Little is hidden from this August Lady full of the garnered wisdom of
sixty years of Sovereignty." I remember wildly conceiving a letter (to
reach Windsor by an express messenger told to await answer): "Madam:
Well knowing that your Majesty is full of the garnered wisdom of sixty
years of Sovereignty, I venture to ask your advice in the following
delicate matter. Mr. Enoch Soames, whose poems you may or may not
know--" Was there NO way of helping him, saving him? A bargain was a
bargain, and I was the last man to aid or abet any one in wriggling out
of a reasonable obligation. I wouldn't have lifted a little finger to
save Faust. But poor Soames! Doomed to pay without respite an eternal
price for nothing but a fruitless search and a bitter disillusioning.
Odd and uncanny it seemed to me that he, Soames, in the flesh, in the
waterproof cape, was at this moment living in the last decade of the
next century, poring over books not yet written, and seeing and seen by
men not yet born. Uncannier and odder still that to-night and evermore
he would be in hell. Assuredly, truth was stranger than fiction.
Endless that afternoon was. Almost I wished I had gone with Soames,
not, indeed, to stay in the reading-room, but to sally forth for a
brisk sight-seeing walk around a new London. I wandered restlessly out
of the park I had sat in. Vainly I tried to imagine myself an ardent
tourist from the eighteenth century. Intolerable was the strain of the
slow-passing and empty minutes. Long before seven o'clock I was back
at the Vingtieme.
I sat there just where I had sat for luncheon. Air came in listlessly
through the open door behind me. Now and again Rose or Berthe appeared
for a moment. I had told them I would not order any dinner till Mr.
Soames came. A hurdy-gurdy began to play, abruptly drowning the noise
of a quarrel between some Frenchmen farther up the street. Whenever
the tune was changed I heard the quarrel still raging. I had bought
another evening paper on my way. I unfolded it. My eyes gazed ever
away from it to the clock over the kitchen door.
Five minutes now to the hour! I remembered that clocks in restaurants
are kept five minutes fast. I concentrated my eyes on the paper. I
vowed I would not look away from it again. I held it upright, at its
full width, close to my face, so that I had no view of anything but it.
Rather a tremulous sheet? Only because of the draft, I told myself.
My arms gradually became stiff; they ached; but I could not drop
them--now. I had a suspicion, I had a certainty. Well, what, then?
What else had I come for? Yet I held tight that barrier of newspaper.
Only the sound of Berthe's brisk footstep from the kitchen enabled me,
forced me, to drop it, and to utter:
"What shall we have to eat, Soames?"
"Il est souffrant, ce pauvre Monsieur Soames?" asked Berthe.
"He's only--tired." I asked her to get some wine--Burgundy--and
whatever food might be ready. Soames sat crouched forward against the
table exactly as when last I had seen him. It was as though he had
never moved--he who had moved so unimaginably far. Once or twice in
the afternoon it had for an instant occurred to me that perhaps his
journey was not to be fruitless, that perhaps we had all been wrong in
our estimate of the works of Enoch Soames. That we had been horribly
right was horribly clear from the look of him. But, "Don't be
discouraged," I falteringly said. "Perhaps it's only that you--didn't
leave enough time. Two, three centuries hence, perhaps--"
"Yes," his voice came; "I've thought of that."
"And now--now for the more immediate future! Where are you going to
hide? How would it be if you caught the Paris express from Charing
Cross? Almost an hour to spare. Don't go on to Paris. Stop at
Calais. Live in Calais. He'd never think of looking for you in
Calais."
"It's like my luck," he said, "to spend my last hours on earth with an
ass." But I was not offended. "And a treacherous ass," he strangely
added, tossing across to me a crumpled bit of paper which he had been
holding in his hand. I glanced at the writing on it--some sort of
gibberish, apparently. I laid it impatiently aside.
"Come, Soames, pull yourself together! This isn't a mere matter of
life or death. It's a question of eternal torment, mind you! You
don't mean to say you're going to wait limply here till the devil comes
to fetch you."
"I can't do anything else. I've no choice."
"Come! This is 'trusting and encouraging' with a vengeance! This is
diabolism run mad!" I filled his glass with wine. "Surely, now that
you've SEEN the brute--"
"It's no good abusing him."
"You must admit there's nothing Miltonic about him, Soames."
"I don't say he's not rather different from what I expected."
"He's a vulgarian, he's a swell mobs-man, he's the sort of man who
hangs about the corridors of trains going to the Riviera and steals
ladies' jewel-cases. Imagine eternal torment presided over by HIM!"
"You don't suppose I look forward to it, do you?"
"Then why not slip quietly out of the way?"
Again and again I filled his glass, and always, mechanically, he
emptied it; but the wine kindled no spark of enterprise in him. He did
not eat, and I myself ate hardly at all. I did not in my heart believe
that any dash for freedom could save him. The chase would be swift,
the capture certain. But better anything than this passive, meek,
miserable waiting. I told Soames that for the honor of the human race
he ought to make some show of resistance. He asked what the human race
had ever done for him. "Besides," he said, "can't you understand that
I'm in his power? You saw him touch me, didn't you? There's an end of
it. I've no will. I'm sealed."
I made a gesture of despair. He went on repeating the word "sealed."
I began to realize that the wine had clouded his brain. No wonder!
Foodless he had gone into futurity, foodless he still was. I urged him
to eat, at any rate, some bread. It was maddening to think that he,
who had so much to tell, might tell nothing. "How was it all," I
asked, "yonder? Come, tell me your adventures!"
"They'd make first-rate 'copy,' wouldn't they?"
"I'm awfully sorry for you, Soames, and I make all possible allowances;
but what earthly right have you to insinuate that I should make 'copy,'
as you call it, out of you?"
The poor fellow pressed his hands to his forehead.
"I don't know," he said. "I had some reason, I know. I'll try to
remember. He sat plunged in thought.
"That's right. Try to remember everything. Eat a little more bread.
What did the reading-room look like?"
"Much as usual," he at length muttered.
"Many people there?"
"Usual sort of number."
"What did they look like?"
Soames tried to visualize them.
"They all," he presently remembered, "looked very like one another."
My mind took a fearsome leap.
"All dressed in sanitary woolen?"
"Yes, I think so. Grayish-yellowish stuff."
"A sort of uniform?" He nodded. "With a number on it perhaps--a
number on a large disk of metal strapped round the left arm? D. K. F.
78,910--that sort of thing?" It was even so. "And all of them, men
and women alike, looking very well cared for? Very Utopian, and
smelling rather strongly of carbolic, and all of them quite hairless?"
I was right every time. Soames was only not sure whether the men and
women were hairless or shorn. "I hadn't time to look at them very
closely," he explained.
"No, of course not. But--"
"They stared at ME, I can tell you. I attracted a great deal of
attention." At last he had done that! "I think I rather scared them.
They moved away whenever I came near. They followed me about, at a
distance, wherever I went. The men at the round desk in the middle
seemed to have a sort of panic whenever I went to make inquiries."
"What did you do when you arrived?"
Well, he had gone straight to the catalogue, of course,--to the S
volumes,--and had stood long before SN-SOF, unable to take this volume
out of the shelf because his heart was beating so. At first, he said,
he wasn't disappointed; he only thought there was some new arrangement.
He went to the middle desk and asked where the catalogue of
twentieth-century books was kept. He gathered that there was still
only one catalogue. Again he looked up his name, stared at the three
little pasted slips he had known so well. Then he went and sat down
for a long time.
"And then," he droned, "I looked up the 'Dictionary of National
Biography,' and some encyclopedias. I went back to the middle desk and
asked what was the best modern book on late nineteenth-century
literature. They told me Mr. T. K. Nupton's book was considered the
best. I looked it up in the catalogue and filled in a form for it. It
was brought to me. My name wasn't in the index, but--yes!" he said
with a sudden change of tone, "that's what I'd forgotten. Where's that
bit of paper? Give it me back."
I, too, had forgotten that cryptic screed. I found it fallen on the
floor, and handed it to him.
He smoothed it out, nodding and smiling at me disagreeably.
"I found myself glancing through Nupton's book," he resumed. "Not very
easy reading. Some sort of phonetic spelling. All the modern books I
saw were phonetic."
"Then I don't want to hear any more, Soames, please."
"The proper names seemed all to be spelt in the old way. But for that
I mightn't have noticed my own name."
"Your own name? Really? Soames, I'm VERY glad."
"And yours."
"No!"
"I thought I should find you waiting here to-night, so I took the
trouble to copy out the passage. Read it."
I snatched the paper. Soames's handwriting was characteristically dim.
It and the noisome spelling and my excitement made me all the slower to
grasp what T. K. Nupton was driving at.
The document lies before me at this moment. Strange that the words I
here copy out for you were copied out for me by poor Soames just
eighty-two years hence!
From page 234 of "Inglish Littracher 1890-1900" bi T. K. Nupton,
publishd bi th Stait, 1992.
Fr egzarmpl, a riter ov th time, naimed Max Beerbohm, hoo woz stil
alive in th twentith senchri, rote a stauri in wich e pautraid an
immajnari karrakter kauld "Enoch Soames"--a thurd-rait poit hoo beleevz
imself a grate jeneus an maix a bargin with th Devvl in auder ter no
wot posterriti thinx ov im! It iz a sumwot labud sattire, but not
without vallu az showing hou seriusli the yung men ov th aiteen-ninetiz
took themselvz. Nou that th littreri profeshn haz bin auganized az a
departmnt of publik servis, our riters hav found their levvl an hav
lernt ter doo their duti without thort ov th morro. "Th laibrer iz
werthi ov hiz hire" an that iz aul. Thank hevvn we hav no Enoch
Soameses amung us to-dai!
I found that by murmuring the words aloud (a device which I commend to
my reader) I was able to master them little by little. The clearer
they became, the greater was my bewilderment, my distress and horror.
The whole thing was a nightmare. Afar, the great grisly background of
what was in store for the poor dear art of letters; here, at the table,
fixing on me a gaze that made me hot all over, the poor fellow
whom--whom evidently--but no: whatever down-grade my character might
take in coming years, I should never be such a brute as to--
Again I examined the screed. "Immajnari." But here Soames was, no
more imaginary, alas! than I. And "labud"--what on earth was that?
(To this day I have never made out that word.) "It's all
very--baffling," I at length stammered.
Soames said nothing, but cruelly did not cease to look at me.
"Are you sure," I temporized, "quite sure you copied the thing out
correctly?"
"Quite."
"Well, then, it's this wretched Nupton who must have made--must be
going to make--some idiotic mistake. Look here Soames, you know me
better than to suppose that I-- After all, the name Max Beerbohm is
not at all an uncommon one, and there must be several Enoch Soameses
running around, or, rather, Enoch Soames is a name that might occur to
any one writing a story. And I don't write stories; I'm an essayist,
an observer, a recorder. I admit that it's an extraordinary
coincidence. But you must see--"
"I see the whole thing," said Soames, quietly. And he added, with a
touch of his old manner, but with more dignity than I had ever known in
him, "Parlons d'autre chose."
I accepted that suggestion very promptly. I returned straight to the
more immediate future. I spent most of the long evening in renewed
appeals to Soames to come away and seek refuge somewhere. I remember
saying at last that if indeed I was destined to write about him, the
supposed "stauri" had better have at least a happy ending. Soames
repeated those last three words in a tone of intense scorn.
"In life and in art," he said, "all that matters is an INEVITABLE
ending."
"But," I urged more hopefully than I felt, "an ending that can be
avoided ISN'T inevitable."
"You aren't an artist," he rasped. "And you're so hopelessly not an
artist that, so far from being able to imagine a thing and make it seem
true, you're going to make even a true thing seem as if you'd made it
up. You're a miserable bungler. And it's like my luck."
I protested that the miserable bungler was not I, was not going to be
I, but T. K. Nupton; and we had a rather heated argument, in the thick
of which it suddenly seemed to me that Soames saw he was in the wrong:
he had quite physically cowered. But I wondered why--and now I guessed
with a cold throb just why--he stared so past me. The bringer of that
"inevitable ending" filled the doorway.
I managed to turn in my chair and to say, not without a semblance of
lightness, "Aha, come in!" Dread was indeed rather blunted in me by
his looking so absurdly like a villain in a melodrama. The sheen of
his tilted hat and of his shirt-front, the repeated twists he was
giving to his mustache, and most of all the magnificence of his sneer,
gave token that he was there only to be foiled.
He was at our table in a stride. "I am sorry," he sneered witheringly,
"to break up your pleasant party, but--"
"You don't; you complete it," I assured him. "Mr. Soames and I want to
have a little talk with you. Won't you sit? Mr. Soames got nothing,
frankly nothing, by his journey this afternoon. We don't wish to say
that the whole thing was a swindle, a common swindle. On the contrary,
we believe you meant well. But of course the bargain, such as it was,
is off."
The devil gave no verbal answer. He merely looked at Soames and
pointed with rigid forefinger to the door. Soames was wretchedly
rising from his chair when, with a desperate, quick gesture, I swept
together two dinner-knives that were on the table, and laid their
blades across each other. The devil stepped sharp back against the
table behind him, averting his face and shuddering.
"You are not superstitious!" he hissed.
"Not at all," I smiled.
"Soames," he said as to an underling, but without turning his face,
"put those knives straight!"
With an inhibitive gesture to my friend, "Mr. Soames," I said
emphatically to the devil, "is a Catholic diabolist"; but my poor
friend did the devil's bidding, not mine; and now, with his master's
eyes again fixed on him, he arose, he shuffled past me. I tried to
speak. It was he that spoke. "Try," was the prayer he threw back at
me as the devil pushed him roughly out through the door--"TRY to make
them know that I did exist!"
In another instant I, too, was through that door. I stood staring all
ways, up the street, across it, down it. There was moonlight and
lamplight, but there was not Soames nor that other.
Dazed, I stood there. Dazed, I turned back at length into the little
room, and I suppose I paid Berthe or Rose for my dinner and luncheon
and for Soames's; I hope so, for I never went to the Vingtieme again.
Ever since that night I have avoided Greek Street altogether. And for
years I did not set foot even in Soho Square, because on that same
night it was there that I paced and loitered, long and long, with some
such dull sense of hope as a man has in not straying far from the place
where he has lost something. "Round and round the shutter'd
Square"--that line came back to me on my lonely beat, and with it the
whole stanza, ringing in my brain and bearing in on me how tragically
different from the happy scene imagined by him was the poet's actual
experience of that prince in whom of all princes we should put not our
trust!
But strange how the mind of an essayist, be it never so stricken, roves
and ranges! I remember pausing before a wide door-step and wondering
if perchance it was on this very one that the young De Quincey lay ill
and faint while poor Ann flew as fast as her feet would carry her to
Oxford Street, the "stony-hearted stepmother" of them both, and came
back bearing that "glass of port wine and spices" but for which he
might, so he thought, actually have died. Was this the very door-step
that the old De Quincey used to revisit in homage? I pondered Ann's
fate, the cause of her sudden vanishing from the ken of her boy friend;
and presently I blamed myself for letting the past override the
present. Poor vanished Soames!
And for myself, too, I began to be troubled. What had I better do?
Would there be a hue and cry--"Mysterious Disappearance of an Author,"
and all that? He had last been seen lunching and dining in my company.
Hadn't I better get a hansom and drive straight to Scotland Yard? They
would think I was a lunatic. After all, I reassured myself, London was
a very large place, and one very dim figure might easily drop out of it
unobserved, now especially, in the blinding glare of the near Jubilee.
Better say nothing at all, I thought.
AND I was right. Soames's disappearance made no stir at all. He was
utterly forgotten before any one, so far as I am aware, noticed that he
was no longer hanging around. Now and again some poet or prosaist may
have said to another, "What has become of that man Soames?" but I never
heard any such question asked. As for his landlady in Dyott Street, no
doubt he had paid her weekly, and what possessions he may have had in
his rooms were enough to save her from fretting. The solicitor through
whom he was paid his annuity may be presumed to have made inquiries,
but no echo of these resounded. There was something rather ghastly to
me in the general unconsciousness that Soames had existed, and more
than once I caught myself wondering whether Nupton, that babe unborn,
were going to be right in thinking him a figment of my brain.
In that extract from Nupton's repulsive book there is one point which
perhaps puzzles you. How is it that the author, though I have here
mentioned him by name and have quoted the exact words he is going to
write, is not going to grasp the obvious corollary that I have invented
nothing? The answer can be only this: Nupton will not have read the
later passages of this memoir. Such lack of thoroughness is a serious
fault in any one who undertakes to do scholar's work. And I hope these
words will meet the eye of some contemporary rival to Nupton and be the
undoing of Nupton.
I like to think that some time between 1992 and 1997 somebody will have
looked up this memoir, and will have forced on the world his inevitable
and startling conclusions. And I have reason for believing that this
will be so. You realize that the reading-room into which Soames was
projected by the devil was in all respects precisely as it will be on
the afternoon of June 3, 1997. You realize, therefore, that on that
afternoon, when it comes round, there the selfsame crowd will be, and
there Soames will be, punctually, he and they doing precisely what they
did before. Recall now Soames's account of the sensation he made. You
may say that the mere difference of his costume was enough to make him
sensational in that uniformed crowd. You wouldn't say so if you had
ever seen him, and I assure you that in no period would Soames be
anything but dim. The fact that people are going to stare at him and
follow him around and seem afraid of him, can be explained only on the
hypothesis that they will somehow have been prepared for his ghostly
visitation. They will have been awfully waiting to see whether he
really would come. And when he does come the effect will of course
be--awful.
An authentic, guaranteed, proved ghost, but; only a ghost, alas! Only
that. In his first visit Soames was a creature of flesh and blood,
whereas the creatures among whom he was projected were but ghosts, I
take it--solid, palpable, vocal, but unconscious and automatic ghosts,
in a building that was itself an illusion. Next time that building and
those creatures will be real. It is of Soames that there will be but
the semblance. I wish I could think him destined to revisit the world
actually, physically, consciously. I wish he had this one brief
escape, this one small treat, to look forward to. I never forget him
for long. He is where he is and forever. The more rigid moralists
among you may say he has only himself to blame. For my part, I think
he has been very hardly used. It is well that vanity should be
chastened; and Enoch Soames's vanity was, I admit, above the average,
and called for special treatment. But there was no need for
vindictiveness. You say he contracted to pay the price he is paying.
Yes; but I maintain that he was induced to do so by fraud. Well
informed in all things, the devil must have known that my friend would
gain nothing by his visit to futurity. The whole thing was a very
shabby trick. The more I think of it, the more detestable the devil
seems to me.
Of him I have caught sight several times, here and there, since that
day at the Vingtieme. Only once, however, have I seen him at close
quarters. This was a couple of years ago, in Paris. I was walking one
afternoon along the rue d'Antin, and I saw him advancing from the
opposite direction, overdressed as ever, and swinging an ebony cane and
altogether behaving as though the whole pavement belonged to him. At
thought of Enoch Soames and the myriads of other sufferers eternally in
this brute's dominion, a great cold wrath filled me, and I drew myself
up to my full height. But--well, one is so used to nodding and smiling
in the street to anybody whom one knows that the action becomes almost
independent of oneself; to prevent it requires a very sharp effort and
great presence of mind. I was miserably aware, as I passed the devil,
that I nodded and smiled to him. And my shame was the deeper and
hotter because he, if you please, stared straight at me with the utmost
haughtiness.
To be cut, deliberately cut, by HIM! I was, I still am, furious at
having had that happen to me.
[Transcriber's Note: I have closed contractions in the text; e.g.,
"does n't" has become "doesn't" etc.]
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Enoch Soames, by Max Beerbohm
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENOCH SOAMES ***
***** This file should be named 760.txt or 760.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/7/6/760/
Produced by Judith Boss.
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
Where do Soames and Beerbohm meet for lunch?
Answer:
| At the Restaurant du Vingtieme Siecle. | 174 | 81,711 | 81,713 | 81,767 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
25278 | 25278_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
*********The Project Gutenberg Etext of Crito, by Plato*********
#16 in our series by Plato
Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below. We need your donations.
Crito
by Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
March, 1999 [Etext #1657]
*********The Project Gutenberg Etext of Crito, by Plato*********
******This file should be named 1657.txt or 1657.zip******
This etext was prepared by Sue Asscher <asschers@aia.net.au>
Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions,
all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a
copyright notice is included. Therefore, we do NOT keep these books
in compliance with any particular paper edition, usually otherwise.
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the official release dates, for time for better editing.
Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an
up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has
a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
new copy has at least one byte more or less.
Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text
files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+
If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the
total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year.
The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users.
At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third
of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we
manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly
from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an
assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few
more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we
don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person.
We need your donations more than ever!
All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are
tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie-
Mellon University).
For these and other matters, please mail to:
Project Gutenberg
P. O. Box 2782
Champaign, IL 61825
When all other email fails try our Executive Director:
Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
We would prefer to send you this information by email.
******
To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser
to view http://promo.net/pg. This site lists Etexts by
author and by title, and includes information about how
to get involved with Project Gutenberg. You could also
download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here. This
is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com,
for a more complete list of our various sites.
To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any
Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror
sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed
at http://promo.net/pg).
Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better.
Example FTP session:
ftp sunsite.unc.edu
login: anonymous
password: your@login
cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg
cd etext90 through etext99
dir [to see files]
get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99]
GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books]
***
**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
(Three Pages)
***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other
things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.
THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:
[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the etext (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
"Small Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
net profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon
University" within the 60 days following each
date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)
your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
Association / Carnegie-Mellon University".
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
This etext was prepared by Sue Asscher <asschers@aia.net.au>
CRITO
by Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
INTRODUCTION.
The Crito seems intended to exhibit the character of Socrates in one light
only, not as the philosopher, fulfilling a divine mission and trusting in
the will of heaven, but simply as the good citizen, who having been
unjustly condemned is willing to give up his life in obedience to the laws
of the state...
The days of Socrates are drawing to a close; the fatal ship has been seen
off Sunium, as he is informed by his aged friend and contemporary Crito,
who visits him before the dawn has broken; he himself has been warned in a
dream that on the third day he must depart. Time is precious, and Crito
has come early in order to gain his consent to a plan of escape. This can
be easily accomplished by his friends, who will incur no danger in making
the attempt to save him, but will be disgraced for ever if they allow him
to perish. He should think of his duty to his children, and not play into
the hands of his enemies. Money is already provided by Crito as well as by
Simmias and others, and he will have no difficulty in finding friends in
Thessaly and other places.
Socrates is afraid that Crito is but pressing upon him the opinions of the
many: whereas, all his life long he has followed the dictates of reason
only and the opinion of the one wise or skilled man. There was a time when
Crito himself had allowed the propriety of this. And although some one
will say 'the many can kill us,' that makes no difference; but a good life,
in other words, a just and honourable life, is alone to be valued. All
considerations of loss of reputation or injury to his children should be
dismissed: the only question is whether he would be right in attempting to
escape. Crito, who is a disinterested person not having the fear of death
before his eyes, shall answer this for him. Before he was condemned they
had often held discussions, in which they agreed that no man should either
do evil, or return evil for evil, or betray the right. Are these
principles to be altered because the circumstances of Socrates are altered?
Crito admits that they remain the same. Then is his escape consistent with
the maintenance of them? To this Crito is unable or unwilling to reply.
Socrates proceeds:--Suppose the Laws of Athens to come and remonstrate with
him: they will ask 'Why does he seek to overturn them?' and if he replies,
'they have injured him,' will not the Laws answer, 'Yes, but was that the
agreement? Has he any objection to make to them which would justify him in
overturning them? Was he not brought into the world and educated by their
help, and are they not his parents? He might have left Athens and gone
where he pleased, but he has lived there for seventy years more constantly
than any other citizen.' Thus he has clearly shown that he acknowledged
the agreement, which he cannot now break without dishonour to himself and
danger to his friends. Even in the course of the trial he might have
proposed exile as the penalty, but then he declared that he preferred death
to exile. And whither will he direct his footsteps? In any well-ordered
state the Laws will consider him as an enemy. Possibly in a land of
misrule like Thessaly he may be welcomed at first, and the unseemly
narrative of his escape will be regarded by the inhabitants as an amusing
tale. But if he offends them he will have to learn another sort of lesson.
Will he continue to give lectures in virtue? That would hardly be decent.
And how will his children be the gainers if he takes them into Thessaly,
and deprives them of Athenian citizenship? Or if he leaves them behind,
does he expect that they will be better taken care of by his friends
because he is in Thessaly? Will not true friends care for them equally
whether he is alive or dead?
Finally, they exhort him to think of justice first, and of life and
children afterwards. He may now depart in peace and innocence, a sufferer
and not a doer of evil. But if he breaks agreements, and returns evil for
evil, they will be angry with him while he lives; and their brethren the
Laws of the world below will receive him as an enemy. Such is the mystic
voice which is always murmuring in his ears.
That Socrates was not a good citizen was a charge made against him during
his lifetime, which has been often repeated in later ages. The crimes of
Alcibiades, Critias, and Charmides, who had been his pupils, were still
recent in the memory of the now restored democracy. The fact that he had
been neutral in the death-struggle of Athens was not likely to conciliate
popular good-will. Plato, writing probably in the next generation,
undertakes the defence of his friend and master in this particular, not to
the Athenians of his day, but to posterity and the world at large.
Whether such an incident ever really occurred as the visit of Crito and the
proposal of escape is uncertain: Plato could easily have invented far more
than that (Phaedr.); and in the selection of Crito, the aged friend, as the
fittest person to make the proposal to Socrates, we seem to recognize the
hand of the artist. Whether any one who has been subjected by the laws of
his country to an unjust judgment is right in attempting to escape, is a
thesis about which casuists might disagree. Shelley (Prose Works) is of
opinion that Socrates 'did well to die,' but not for the 'sophistical'
reasons which Plato has put into his mouth. And there would be no
difficulty in arguing that Socrates should have lived and preferred to a
glorious death the good which he might still be able to perform. 'A
rhetorician would have had much to say upon that point.' It may be
observed however that Plato never intended to answer the question of
casuistry, but only to exhibit the ideal of patient virtue which refuses to
do the least evil in order to avoid the greatest, and to show his master
maintaining in death the opinions which he had professed in his life. Not
'the world,' but the 'one wise man,' is still the paradox of Socrates in
his last hours. He must be guided by reason, although her conclusions may
be fatal to him. The remarkable sentiment that the wicked can do neither
good nor evil is true, if taken in the sense, which he means, of moral
evil; in his own words, 'they cannot make a man wise or foolish.'
This little dialogue is a perfect piece of dialectic, in which granting the
'common principle,' there is no escaping from the conclusion. It is
anticipated at the beginning by the dream of Socrates and the parody of
Homer. The personification of the Laws, and of their brethren the Laws in
the world below, is one of the noblest and boldest figures of speech which
occur in Plato.
CRITO
by
Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Socrates, Crito.
SCENE: The Prison of Socrates.
SOCRATES: Why have you come at this hour, Crito? it must be quite early.
CRITO: Yes, certainly.
SOCRATES: What is the exact time?
CRITO: The dawn is breaking.
SOCRATES: I wonder that the keeper of the prison would let you in.
CRITO: He knows me because I often come, Socrates; moreover. I have done
him a kindness.
SOCRATES: And are you only just arrived?
CRITO: No, I came some time ago.
SOCRATES: Then why did you sit and say nothing, instead of at once
awakening me?
CRITO: I should not have liked myself, Socrates, to be in such great
trouble and unrest as you are--indeed I should not: I have been watching
with amazement your peaceful slumbers; and for that reason I did not awake
you, because I wished to minimize the pain. I have always thought you to
be of a happy disposition; but never did I see anything like the easy,
tranquil manner in which you bear this calamity.
SOCRATES: Why, Crito, when a man has reached my age he ought not to be
repining at the approach of death.
CRITO: And yet other old men find themselves in similar misfortunes, and
age does not prevent them from repining.
SOCRATES: That is true. But you have not told me why you come at this
early hour.
CRITO: I come to bring you a message which is sad and painful; not, as I
believe, to yourself, but to all of us who are your friends, and saddest of
all to me.
SOCRATES: What? Has the ship come from Delos, on the arrival of which I
am to die?
CRITO: No, the ship has not actually arrived, but she will probably be
here to-day, as persons who have come from Sunium tell me that they have
left her there; and therefore to-morrow, Socrates, will be the last day of
your life.
SOCRATES: Very well, Crito; if such is the will of God, I am willing; but
my belief is that there will be a delay of a day.
CRITO: Why do you think so?
SOCRATES: I will tell you. I am to die on the day after the arrival of
the ship?
CRITO: Yes; that is what the authorities say.
SOCRATES: But I do not think that the ship will be here until to-morrow;
this I infer from a vision which I had last night, or rather only just now,
when you fortunately allowed me to sleep.
CRITO: And what was the nature of the vision?
SOCRATES: There appeared to me the likeness of a woman, fair and comely,
clothed in bright raiment, who called to me and said: O Socrates,
'The third day hence to fertile Phthia shalt thou go.' (Homer, Il.)
CRITO: What a singular dream, Socrates!
SOCRATES: There can be no doubt about the meaning, Crito, I think.
CRITO: Yes; the meaning is only too clear. But, oh! my beloved Socrates,
let me entreat you once more to take my advice and escape. For if you die
I shall not only lose a friend who can never be replaced, but there is
another evil: people who do not know you and me will believe that I might
have saved you if I had been willing to give money, but that I did not
care. Now, can there be a worse disgrace than this--that I should be
thought to value money more than the life of a friend? For the many will
not be persuaded that I wanted you to escape, and that you refused.
SOCRATES: But why, my dear Crito, should we care about the opinion of the
many? Good men, and they are the only persons who are worth considering,
will think of these things truly as they occurred.
CRITO: But you see, Socrates, that the opinion of the many must be
regarded, for what is now happening shows that they can do the greatest
evil to any one who has lost their good opinion.
SOCRATES: I only wish it were so, Crito; and that the many could do the
greatest evil; for then they would also be able to do the greatest good--
and what a fine thing this would be! But in reality they can do neither;
for they cannot make a man either wise or foolish; and whatever they do is
the result of chance.
CRITO: Well, I will not dispute with you; but please to tell me, Socrates,
whether you are not acting out of regard to me and your other friends: are
you not afraid that if you escape from prison we may get into trouble with
the informers for having stolen you away, and lose either the whole or a
great part of our property; or that even a worse evil may happen to us?
Now, if you fear on our account, be at ease; for in order to save you, we
ought surely to run this, or even a greater risk; be persuaded, then, and
do as I say.
SOCRATES: Yes, Crito, that is one fear which you mention, but by no means
the only one.
CRITO: Fear not--there are persons who are willing to get you out of
prison at no great cost; and as for the informers they are far from being
exorbitant in their demands--a little money will satisfy them. My means,
which are certainly ample, are at your service, and if you have a scruple
about spending all mine, here are strangers who will give you the use of
theirs; and one of them, Simmias the Theban, has brought a large sum of
money for this very purpose; and Cebes and many others are prepared to
spend their money in helping you to escape. I say, therefore, do not
hesitate on our account, and do not say, as you did in the court (compare
Apol.), that you will have a difficulty in knowing what to do with yourself
anywhere else. For men will love you in other places to which you may go,
and not in Athens only; there are friends of mine in Thessaly, if you like
to go to them, who will value and protect you, and no Thessalian will give
you any trouble. Nor can I think that you are at all justified, Socrates,
in betraying your own life when you might be saved; in acting thus you are
playing into the hands of your enemies, who are hurrying on your
destruction. And further I should say that you are deserting your own
children; for you might bring them up and educate them; instead of which
you go away and leave them, and they will have to take their chance; and if
they do not meet with the usual fate of orphans, there will be small thanks
to you. No man should bring children into the world who is unwilling to
persevere to the end in their nurture and education. But you appear to be
choosing the easier part, not the better and manlier, which would have been
more becoming in one who professes to care for virtue in all his actions,
like yourself. And indeed, I am ashamed not only of you, but of us who are
your friends, when I reflect that the whole business will be attributed
entirely to our want of courage. The trial need never have come on, or
might have been managed differently; and this last act, or crowning folly,
will seem to have occurred through our negligence and cowardice, who might
have saved you, if we had been good for anything; and you might have saved
yourself, for there was no difficulty at all. See now, Socrates, how sad
and discreditable are the consequences, both to us and you. Make up your
mind then, or rather have your mind already made up, for the time of
deliberation is over, and there is only one thing to be done, which must be
done this very night, and if we delay at all will be no longer practicable
or possible; I beseech you therefore, Socrates, be persuaded by me, and do
as I say.
SOCRATES: Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable, if a right one; but if
wrong, the greater the zeal the greater the danger; and therefore we ought
to consider whether I shall or shall not do as you say. For I am and
always have been one of those natures who must be guided by reason,
whatever the reason may be which upon reflection appears to me to be the
best; and now that this chance has befallen me, I cannot repudiate my own
words: the principles which I have hitherto honoured and revered I still
honour, and unless we can at once find other and better principles, I am
certain not to agree with you; no, not even if the power of the multitude
could inflict many more imprisonments, confiscations, deaths, frightening
us like children with hobgoblin terrors (compare Apol.). What will be the
fairest way of considering the question? Shall I return to your old
argument about the opinions of men?--we were saying that some of them are
to be regarded, and others not. Now were we right in maintaining this
before I was condemned? And has the argument which was once good now
proved to be talk for the sake of talking--mere childish nonsense? That is
what I want to consider with your help, Crito:--whether, under my present
circumstances, the argument appears to be in any way different or not; and
is to be allowed by me or disallowed. That argument, which, as I believe,
is maintained by many persons of authority, was to the effect, as I was
saying, that the opinions of some men are to be regarded, and of other men
not to be regarded. Now you, Crito, are not going to die to-morrow--at
least, there is no human probability of this, and therefore you are
disinterested and not liable to be deceived by the circumstances in which
you are placed. Tell me then, whether I am right in saying that some
opinions, and the opinions of some men only, are to be valued, and that
other opinions, and the opinions of other men, are not to be valued. I ask
you whether I was right in maintaining this?
CRITO: Certainly.
SOCRATES: The good are to be regarded, and not the bad?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the opinions of the wise are good, and the opinions of the
unwise are evil?
CRITO: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And what was said about another matter? Is the pupil who
devotes himself to the practice of gymnastics supposed to attend to the
praise and blame and opinion of every man, or of one man only--his
physician or trainer, whoever he may be?
CRITO: Of one man only.
SOCRATES: And he ought to fear the censure and welcome the praise of that
one only, and not of the many?
CRITO: Clearly so.
SOCRATES: And he ought to act and train, and eat and drink in the way
which seems good to his single master who has understanding, rather than
according to the opinion of all other men put together?
CRITO: True.
SOCRATES: And if he disobeys and disregards the opinion and approval of
the one, and regards the opinion of the many who have no understanding,
will he not suffer evil?
CRITO: Certainly he will.
SOCRATES: And what will the evil be, whither tending and what affecting,
in the disobedient person?
CRITO: Clearly, affecting the body; that is what is destroyed by the evil.
SOCRATES: Very good; and is not this true, Crito, of other things which we
need not separately enumerate? In questions of just and unjust, fair and
foul, good and evil, which are the subjects of our present consultation,
ought we to follow the opinion of the many and to fear them; or the opinion
of the one man who has understanding? ought we not to fear and reverence
him more than all the rest of the world: and if we desert him shall we not
destroy and injure that principle in us which may be assumed to be improved
by justice and deteriorated by injustice;--there is such a principle?
CRITO: Certainly there is, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Take a parallel instance:--if, acting under the advice of those
who have no understanding, we destroy that which is improved by health and
is deteriorated by disease, would life be worth having? And that which has
been destroyed is--the body?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: Could we live, having an evil and corrupted body?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And will life be worth having, if that higher part of man be
destroyed, which is improved by justice and depraved by injustice? Do we
suppose that principle, whatever it may be in man, which has to do with
justice and injustice, to be inferior to the body?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: More honourable than the body?
CRITO: Far more.
SOCRATES: Then, my friend, we must not regard what the many say of us:
but what he, the one man who has understanding of just and unjust, will
say, and what the truth will say. And therefore you begin in error when
you advise that we should regard the opinion of the many about just and
unjust, good and evil, honorable and dishonorable.--'Well,' some one will
say, 'but the many can kill us.'
CRITO: Yes, Socrates; that will clearly be the answer.
SOCRATES: And it is true; but still I find with surprise that the old
argument is unshaken as ever. And I should like to know whether I may say
the same of another proposition--that not life, but a good life, is to be
chiefly valued?
CRITO: Yes, that also remains unshaken.
SOCRATES: And a good life is equivalent to a just and honorable one--that
holds also?
CRITO: Yes, it does.
SOCRATES: From these premisses I proceed to argue the question whether I
ought or ought not to try and escape without the consent of the Athenians:
and if I am clearly right in escaping, then I will make the attempt; but if
not, I will abstain. The other considerations which you mention, of money
and loss of character and the duty of educating one's children, are, I
fear, only the doctrines of the multitude, who would be as ready to restore
people to life, if they were able, as they are to put them to death--and
with as little reason. But now, since the argument has thus far prevailed,
the only question which remains to be considered is, whether we shall do
rightly either in escaping or in suffering others to aid in our escape and
paying them in money and thanks, or whether in reality we shall not do
rightly; and if the latter, then death or any other calamity which may
ensue on my remaining here must not be allowed to enter into the
calculation.
CRITO: I think that you are right, Socrates; how then shall we proceed?
SOCRATES: Let us consider the matter together, and do you either refute me
if you can, and I will be convinced; or else cease, my dear friend, from
repeating to me that I ought to escape against the wishes of the Athenians:
for I highly value your attempts to persuade me to do so, but I may not be
persuaded against my own better judgment. And now please to consider my
first position, and try how you can best answer me.
CRITO: I will.
SOCRATES: Are we to say that we are never intentionally to do wrong, or
that in one way we ought and in another way we ought not to do wrong, or is
doing wrong always evil and dishonorable, as I was just now saying, and as
has been already acknowledged by us? Are all our former admissions which
were made within a few days to be thrown away? And have we, at our age,
been earnestly discoursing with one another all our life long only to
discover that we are no better than children? Or, in spite of the opinion
of the many, and in spite of consequences whether better or worse, shall we
insist on the truth of what was then said, that injustice is always an evil
and dishonour to him who acts unjustly? Shall we say so or not?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then we must do no wrong?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: Nor when injured injure in return, as the many imagine; for we
must injure no one at all? (E.g. compare Rep.)
CRITO: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: Again, Crito, may we do evil?
CRITO: Surely not, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And what of doing evil in return for evil, which is the morality
of the many--is that just or not?
CRITO: Not just.
SOCRATES: For doing evil to another is the same as injuring him?
CRITO: Very true.
SOCRATES: Then we ought not to retaliate or render evil for evil to any
one, whatever evil we may have suffered from him. But I would have you
consider, Crito, whether you really mean what you are saying. For this
opinion has never been held, and never will be held, by any considerable
number of persons; and those who are agreed and those who are not agreed
upon this point have no common ground, and can only despise one another
when they see how widely they differ. Tell me, then, whether you agree
with and assent to my first principle, that neither injury nor retaliation
nor warding off evil by evil is ever right. And shall that be the premiss
of our argument? Or do you decline and dissent from this? For so I have
ever thought, and continue to think; but, if you are of another opinion,
let me hear what you have to say. If, however, you remain of the same mind
as formerly, I will proceed to the next step.
CRITO: You may proceed, for I have not changed my mind.
SOCRATES: Then I will go on to the next point, which may be put in the
form of a question:--Ought a man to do what he admits to be right, or ought
he to betray the right?
CRITO: He ought to do what he thinks right.
SOCRATES: But if this is true, what is the application? In leaving the
prison against the will of the Athenians, do I wrong any? or rather do I
not wrong those whom I ought least to wrong? Do I not desert the
principles which were acknowledged by us to be just--what do you say?
CRITO: I cannot tell, Socrates, for I do not know.
SOCRATES: Then consider the matter in this way:--Imagine that I am about
to play truant (you may call the proceeding by any name which you like),
and the laws and the government come and interrogate me: 'Tell us,
Socrates,' they say; 'what are you about? are you not going by an act of
yours to overturn us--the laws, and the whole state, as far as in you lies?
Do you imagine that a state can subsist and not be overthrown, in which the
decisions of law have no power, but are set aside and trampled upon by
individuals?' What will be our answer, Crito, to these and the like words?
Any one, and especially a rhetorician, will have a good deal to say on
behalf of the law which requires a sentence to be carried out. He will
argue that this law should not be set aside; and shall we reply, 'Yes; but
the state has injured us and given an unjust sentence.' Suppose I say
that?
CRITO: Very good, Socrates.
SOCRATES: 'And was that our agreement with you?' the law would answer; 'or
were you to abide by the sentence of the state?' And if I were to express
my astonishment at their words, the law would probably add: 'Answer,
Socrates, instead of opening your eyes--you are in the habit of asking and
answering questions. Tell us,--What complaint have you to make against us
which justifies you in attempting to destroy us and the state? In the
first place did we not bring you into existence? Your father married your
mother by our aid and begat you. Say whether you have any objection to
urge against those of us who regulate marriage?' None, I should reply.
'Or against those of us who after birth regulate the nurture and education
of children, in which you also were trained? Were not the laws, which have
the charge of education, right in commanding your father to train you in
music and gymnastic?' Right, I should reply. 'Well then, since you were
brought into the world and nurtured and educated by us, can you deny in the
first place that you are our child and slave, as your fathers were before
you? And if this is true you are not on equal terms with us; nor can you
think that you have a right to do to us what we are doing to you. Would
you have any right to strike or revile or do any other evil to your father
or your master, if you had one, because you have been struck or reviled by
him, or received some other evil at his hands?--you would not say this?
And because we think right to destroy you, do you think that you have any
right to destroy us in return, and your country as far as in you lies?
Will you, O professor of true virtue, pretend that you are justified in
this? Has a philosopher like you failed to discover that our country is
more to be valued and higher and holier far than mother or father or any
ancestor, and more to be regarded in the eyes of the gods and of men of
understanding? also to be soothed, and gently and reverently entreated when
angry, even more than a father, and either to be persuaded, or if not
persuaded, to be obeyed? And when we are punished by her, whether with
imprisonment or stripes, the punishment is to be endured in silence; and if
she lead us to wounds or death in battle, thither we follow as is right;
neither may any one yield or retreat or leave his rank, but whether in
battle or in a court of law, or in any other place, he must do what his
city and his country order him; or he must change their view of what is
just: and if he may do no violence to his father or mother, much less may
he do violence to his country.' What answer shall we make to this, Crito?
Do the laws speak truly, or do they not?
CRITO: I think that they do.
SOCRATES: Then the laws will say: 'Consider, Socrates, if we are speaking
truly that in your present attempt you are going to do us an injury. For,
having brought you into the world, and nurtured and educated you, and given
you and every other citizen a share in every good which we had to give, we
further proclaim to any Athenian by the liberty which we allow him, that if
he does not like us when he has become of age and has seen the ways of the
city, and made our acquaintance, he may go where he pleases and take his
goods with him. None of us laws will forbid him or interfere with him.
Any one who does not like us and the city, and who wants to emigrate to a
colony or to any other city, may go where he likes, retaining his property.
But he who has experience of the manner in which we order justice and
administer the state, and still remains, has entered into an implied
contract that he will do as we command him. And he who disobeys us is, as
we maintain, thrice wrong: first, because in disobeying us he is
disobeying his parents; secondly, because we are the authors of his
education; thirdly, because he has made an agreement with us that he will
duly obey our commands; and he neither obeys them nor convinces us that our
commands are unjust; and we do not rudely impose them, but give him the
alternative of obeying or convincing us;--that is what we offer, and he
does neither.
'These are the sort of accusations to which, as we were saying, you,
Socrates, will be exposed if you accomplish your intentions; you, above all
other Athenians.' Suppose now I ask, why I rather than anybody else? they
will justly retort upon me that I above all other men have acknowledged the
agreement. 'There is clear proof,' they will say, 'Socrates, that we and
the city were not displeasing to you. Of all Athenians you have been the
most constant resident in the city, which, as you never leave, you may be
supposed to love (compare Phaedr.). For you never went out of the city
either to see the games, except once when you went to the Isthmus, or to
any other place unless when you were on military service; nor did you
travel as other men do. Nor had you any curiosity to know other states or
their laws: your affections did not go beyond us and our state; we were
your especial favourites, and you acquiesced in our government of you; and
here in this city you begat your children, which is a proof of your
satisfaction. Moreover, you might in the course of the trial, if you had
liked, have fixed the penalty at banishment; the state which refuses to let
you go now would have let you go then. But you pretended that you
preferred death to exile (compare Apol.), and that you were not unwilling
to die. And now you have forgotten these fine sentiments, and pay no
respect to us the laws, of whom you are the destroyer; and are doing what
only a miserable slave would do, running away and turning your back upon
the compacts and agreements which you made as a citizen. And first of all
answer this very question: Are we right in saying that you agreed to be
governed according to us in deed, and not in word only? Is that true or
not?' How shall we answer, Crito? Must we not assent?
CRITO: We cannot help it, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Then will they not say: 'You, Socrates, are breaking the
covenants and agreements which you made with us at your leisure, not in any
haste or under any compulsion or deception, but after you have had seventy
years to think of them, during which time you were at liberty to leave the
city, if we were not to your mind, or if our covenants appeared to you to
be unfair. You had your choice, and might have gone either to Lacedaemon
or Crete, both which states are often praised by you for their good
government, or to some other Hellenic or foreign state. Whereas you, above
all other Athenians, seemed to be so fond of the state, or, in other words,
of us her laws (and who would care about a state which has no laws?), that
you never stirred out of her; the halt, the blind, the maimed, were not
more stationary in her than you were. And now you run away and forsake
your agreements. Not so, Socrates, if you will take our advice; do not
make yourself ridiculous by escaping out of the city.
'For just consider, if you transgress and err in this sort of way, what
good will you do either to yourself or to your friends? That your friends
will be driven into exile and deprived of citizenship, or will lose their
property, is tolerably certain; and you yourself, if you fly to one of the
neighbouring cities, as, for example, Thebes or Megara, both of which are
well governed, will come to them as an enemy, Socrates, and their
government will be against you, and all patriotic citizens will cast an
evil eye upon you as a subverter of the laws, and you will confirm in the
minds of the judges the justice of their own condemnation of you. For he
who is a corrupter of the laws is more than likely to be a corrupter of the
young and foolish portion of mankind. Will you then flee from well-ordered
cities and virtuous men? and is existence worth having on these terms? Or
will you go to them without shame, and talk to them, Socrates? And what
will you say to them? What you say here about virtue and justice and
institutions and laws being the best things among men? Would that be
decent of you? Surely not. But if you go away from well-governed states
to Crito's friends in Thessaly, where there is great disorder and licence,
they will be charmed to hear the tale of your escape from prison, set off
with ludicrous particulars of the manner in which you were wrapped in a
goatskin or some other disguise, and metamorphosed as the manner is of
runaways; but will there be no one to remind you that in your old age you
were not ashamed to violate the most sacred laws from a miserable desire of
a little more life? Perhaps not, if you keep them in a good temper; but if
they are out of temper you will hear many degrading things; you will live,
but how?--as the flatterer of all men, and the servant of all men; and
doing what?--eating and drinking in Thessaly, having gone abroad in order
that you may get a dinner. And where will be your fine sentiments about
justice and virtue? Say that you wish to live for the sake of your
children--you want to bring them up and educate them--will you take them
into Thessaly and deprive them of Athenian citizenship? Is this the
benefit which you will confer upon them? Or are you under the impression
that they will be better cared for and educated here if you are still
alive, although absent from them; for your friends will take care of them?
Do you fancy that if you are an inhabitant of Thessaly they will take care
of them, and if you are an inhabitant of the other world that they will not
take care of them? Nay; but if they who call themselves friends are good
for anything, they will--to be sure they will.
'Listen, then, Socrates, to us who have brought you up. Think not of life
and children first, and of justice afterwards, but of justice first, that
you may be justified before the princes of the world below. For neither
will you nor any that belong to you be happier or holier or juster in this
life, or happier in another, if you do as Crito bids. Now you depart in
innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil; a victim, not of the laws,
but of men. But if you go forth, returning evil for evil, and injury for
injury, breaking the covenants and agreements which you have made with us,
and wronging those whom you ought least of all to wrong, that is to say,
yourself, your friends, your country, and us, we shall be angry with you
while you live, and our brethren, the laws in the world below, will receive
you as an enemy; for they will know that you have done your best to destroy
us. Listen, then, to us and not to Crito.'
This, dear Crito, is the voice which I seem to hear murmuring in my ears,
like the sound of the flute in the ears of the mystic; that voice, I say,
is humming in my ears, and prevents me from hearing any other. And I know
that anything more which you may say will be vain. Yet speak, if you have
anything to say.
CRITO: I have nothing to say, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Leave me then, Crito, to fulfil the will of God, and to follow
whither he leads.
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Crito, by Plato
Question:
Who persuades Socrates to escape?
Answer:
| Crito | 174 | 47,431 | 47,433 | 47,476 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
25278 | 25278_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
*********The Project Gutenberg Etext of Crito, by Plato*********
#16 in our series by Plato
Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below. We need your donations.
Crito
by Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
March, 1999 [Etext #1657]
*********The Project Gutenberg Etext of Crito, by Plato*********
******This file should be named 1657.txt or 1657.zip******
This etext was prepared by Sue Asscher <asschers@aia.net.au>
Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions,
all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a
copyright notice is included. Therefore, we do NOT keep these books
in compliance with any particular paper edition, usually otherwise.
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the official release dates, for time for better editing.
Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an
up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has
a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
new copy has at least one byte more or less.
Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-six text
files per month, or 432 more Etexts in 1999 for a total of 2000+
If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the
total should reach over 200 billion Etexts given away this year.
The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only ~5% of the present number of computer users.
At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third
of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we
manage to get some real funding; currently our funding is mostly
from Michael Hart's salary at Carnegie-Mellon University, and an
assortment of sporadic gifts; this salary is only good for a few
more years, so we are looking for something to replace it, as we
don't want Project Gutenberg to be so dependent on one person.
We need your donations more than ever!
All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are
tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie-
Mellon University).
For these and other matters, please mail to:
Project Gutenberg
P. O. Box 2782
Champaign, IL 61825
When all other email fails try our Executive Director:
Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
We would prefer to send you this information by email.
******
To access Project Gutenberg etexts, use any Web browser
to view http://promo.net/pg. This site lists Etexts by
author and by title, and includes information about how
to get involved with Project Gutenberg. You could also
download our past Newsletters, or subscribe here. This
is one of our major sites, please email hart@pobox.com,
for a more complete list of our various sites.
To go directly to the etext collections, use FTP or any
Web browser to visit a Project Gutenberg mirror (mirror
sites are available on 7 continents; mirrors are listed
at http://promo.net/pg).
Mac users, do NOT point and click, typing works better.
Example FTP session:
ftp sunsite.unc.edu
login: anonymous
password: your@login
cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg
cd etext90 through etext99
dir [to see files]
get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99]
GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books]
***
**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
(Three Pages)
***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other
things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.
THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:
[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the etext (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
"Small Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
net profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon
University" within the 60 days following each
date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)
your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
Association / Carnegie-Mellon University".
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
This etext was prepared by Sue Asscher <asschers@aia.net.au>
CRITO
by Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
INTRODUCTION.
The Crito seems intended to exhibit the character of Socrates in one light
only, not as the philosopher, fulfilling a divine mission and trusting in
the will of heaven, but simply as the good citizen, who having been
unjustly condemned is willing to give up his life in obedience to the laws
of the state...
The days of Socrates are drawing to a close; the fatal ship has been seen
off Sunium, as he is informed by his aged friend and contemporary Crito,
who visits him before the dawn has broken; he himself has been warned in a
dream that on the third day he must depart. Time is precious, and Crito
has come early in order to gain his consent to a plan of escape. This can
be easily accomplished by his friends, who will incur no danger in making
the attempt to save him, but will be disgraced for ever if they allow him
to perish. He should think of his duty to his children, and not play into
the hands of his enemies. Money is already provided by Crito as well as by
Simmias and others, and he will have no difficulty in finding friends in
Thessaly and other places.
Socrates is afraid that Crito is but pressing upon him the opinions of the
many: whereas, all his life long he has followed the dictates of reason
only and the opinion of the one wise or skilled man. There was a time when
Crito himself had allowed the propriety of this. And although some one
will say 'the many can kill us,' that makes no difference; but a good life,
in other words, a just and honourable life, is alone to be valued. All
considerations of loss of reputation or injury to his children should be
dismissed: the only question is whether he would be right in attempting to
escape. Crito, who is a disinterested person not having the fear of death
before his eyes, shall answer this for him. Before he was condemned they
had often held discussions, in which they agreed that no man should either
do evil, or return evil for evil, or betray the right. Are these
principles to be altered because the circumstances of Socrates are altered?
Crito admits that they remain the same. Then is his escape consistent with
the maintenance of them? To this Crito is unable or unwilling to reply.
Socrates proceeds:--Suppose the Laws of Athens to come and remonstrate with
him: they will ask 'Why does he seek to overturn them?' and if he replies,
'they have injured him,' will not the Laws answer, 'Yes, but was that the
agreement? Has he any objection to make to them which would justify him in
overturning them? Was he not brought into the world and educated by their
help, and are they not his parents? He might have left Athens and gone
where he pleased, but he has lived there for seventy years more constantly
than any other citizen.' Thus he has clearly shown that he acknowledged
the agreement, which he cannot now break without dishonour to himself and
danger to his friends. Even in the course of the trial he might have
proposed exile as the penalty, but then he declared that he preferred death
to exile. And whither will he direct his footsteps? In any well-ordered
state the Laws will consider him as an enemy. Possibly in a land of
misrule like Thessaly he may be welcomed at first, and the unseemly
narrative of his escape will be regarded by the inhabitants as an amusing
tale. But if he offends them he will have to learn another sort of lesson.
Will he continue to give lectures in virtue? That would hardly be decent.
And how will his children be the gainers if he takes them into Thessaly,
and deprives them of Athenian citizenship? Or if he leaves them behind,
does he expect that they will be better taken care of by his friends
because he is in Thessaly? Will not true friends care for them equally
whether he is alive or dead?
Finally, they exhort him to think of justice first, and of life and
children afterwards. He may now depart in peace and innocence, a sufferer
and not a doer of evil. But if he breaks agreements, and returns evil for
evil, they will be angry with him while he lives; and their brethren the
Laws of the world below will receive him as an enemy. Such is the mystic
voice which is always murmuring in his ears.
That Socrates was not a good citizen was a charge made against him during
his lifetime, which has been often repeated in later ages. The crimes of
Alcibiades, Critias, and Charmides, who had been his pupils, were still
recent in the memory of the now restored democracy. The fact that he had
been neutral in the death-struggle of Athens was not likely to conciliate
popular good-will. Plato, writing probably in the next generation,
undertakes the defence of his friend and master in this particular, not to
the Athenians of his day, but to posterity and the world at large.
Whether such an incident ever really occurred as the visit of Crito and the
proposal of escape is uncertain: Plato could easily have invented far more
than that (Phaedr.); and in the selection of Crito, the aged friend, as the
fittest person to make the proposal to Socrates, we seem to recognize the
hand of the artist. Whether any one who has been subjected by the laws of
his country to an unjust judgment is right in attempting to escape, is a
thesis about which casuists might disagree. Shelley (Prose Works) is of
opinion that Socrates 'did well to die,' but not for the 'sophistical'
reasons which Plato has put into his mouth. And there would be no
difficulty in arguing that Socrates should have lived and preferred to a
glorious death the good which he might still be able to perform. 'A
rhetorician would have had much to say upon that point.' It may be
observed however that Plato never intended to answer the question of
casuistry, but only to exhibit the ideal of patient virtue which refuses to
do the least evil in order to avoid the greatest, and to show his master
maintaining in death the opinions which he had professed in his life. Not
'the world,' but the 'one wise man,' is still the paradox of Socrates in
his last hours. He must be guided by reason, although her conclusions may
be fatal to him. The remarkable sentiment that the wicked can do neither
good nor evil is true, if taken in the sense, which he means, of moral
evil; in his own words, 'they cannot make a man wise or foolish.'
This little dialogue is a perfect piece of dialectic, in which granting the
'common principle,' there is no escaping from the conclusion. It is
anticipated at the beginning by the dream of Socrates and the parody of
Homer. The personification of the Laws, and of their brethren the Laws in
the world below, is one of the noblest and boldest figures of speech which
occur in Plato.
CRITO
by
Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Socrates, Crito.
SCENE: The Prison of Socrates.
SOCRATES: Why have you come at this hour, Crito? it must be quite early.
CRITO: Yes, certainly.
SOCRATES: What is the exact time?
CRITO: The dawn is breaking.
SOCRATES: I wonder that the keeper of the prison would let you in.
CRITO: He knows me because I often come, Socrates; moreover. I have done
him a kindness.
SOCRATES: And are you only just arrived?
CRITO: No, I came some time ago.
SOCRATES: Then why did you sit and say nothing, instead of at once
awakening me?
CRITO: I should not have liked myself, Socrates, to be in such great
trouble and unrest as you are--indeed I should not: I have been watching
with amazement your peaceful slumbers; and for that reason I did not awake
you, because I wished to minimize the pain. I have always thought you to
be of a happy disposition; but never did I see anything like the easy,
tranquil manner in which you bear this calamity.
SOCRATES: Why, Crito, when a man has reached my age he ought not to be
repining at the approach of death.
CRITO: And yet other old men find themselves in similar misfortunes, and
age does not prevent them from repining.
SOCRATES: That is true. But you have not told me why you come at this
early hour.
CRITO: I come to bring you a message which is sad and painful; not, as I
believe, to yourself, but to all of us who are your friends, and saddest of
all to me.
SOCRATES: What? Has the ship come from Delos, on the arrival of which I
am to die?
CRITO: No, the ship has not actually arrived, but she will probably be
here to-day, as persons who have come from Sunium tell me that they have
left her there; and therefore to-morrow, Socrates, will be the last day of
your life.
SOCRATES: Very well, Crito; if such is the will of God, I am willing; but
my belief is that there will be a delay of a day.
CRITO: Why do you think so?
SOCRATES: I will tell you. I am to die on the day after the arrival of
the ship?
CRITO: Yes; that is what the authorities say.
SOCRATES: But I do not think that the ship will be here until to-morrow;
this I infer from a vision which I had last night, or rather only just now,
when you fortunately allowed me to sleep.
CRITO: And what was the nature of the vision?
SOCRATES: There appeared to me the likeness of a woman, fair and comely,
clothed in bright raiment, who called to me and said: O Socrates,
'The third day hence to fertile Phthia shalt thou go.' (Homer, Il.)
CRITO: What a singular dream, Socrates!
SOCRATES: There can be no doubt about the meaning, Crito, I think.
CRITO: Yes; the meaning is only too clear. But, oh! my beloved Socrates,
let me entreat you once more to take my advice and escape. For if you die
I shall not only lose a friend who can never be replaced, but there is
another evil: people who do not know you and me will believe that I might
have saved you if I had been willing to give money, but that I did not
care. Now, can there be a worse disgrace than this--that I should be
thought to value money more than the life of a friend? For the many will
not be persuaded that I wanted you to escape, and that you refused.
SOCRATES: But why, my dear Crito, should we care about the opinion of the
many? Good men, and they are the only persons who are worth considering,
will think of these things truly as they occurred.
CRITO: But you see, Socrates, that the opinion of the many must be
regarded, for what is now happening shows that they can do the greatest
evil to any one who has lost their good opinion.
SOCRATES: I only wish it were so, Crito; and that the many could do the
greatest evil; for then they would also be able to do the greatest good--
and what a fine thing this would be! But in reality they can do neither;
for they cannot make a man either wise or foolish; and whatever they do is
the result of chance.
CRITO: Well, I will not dispute with you; but please to tell me, Socrates,
whether you are not acting out of regard to me and your other friends: are
you not afraid that if you escape from prison we may get into trouble with
the informers for having stolen you away, and lose either the whole or a
great part of our property; or that even a worse evil may happen to us?
Now, if you fear on our account, be at ease; for in order to save you, we
ought surely to run this, or even a greater risk; be persuaded, then, and
do as I say.
SOCRATES: Yes, Crito, that is one fear which you mention, but by no means
the only one.
CRITO: Fear not--there are persons who are willing to get you out of
prison at no great cost; and as for the informers they are far from being
exorbitant in their demands--a little money will satisfy them. My means,
which are certainly ample, are at your service, and if you have a scruple
about spending all mine, here are strangers who will give you the use of
theirs; and one of them, Simmias the Theban, has brought a large sum of
money for this very purpose; and Cebes and many others are prepared to
spend their money in helping you to escape. I say, therefore, do not
hesitate on our account, and do not say, as you did in the court (compare
Apol.), that you will have a difficulty in knowing what to do with yourself
anywhere else. For men will love you in other places to which you may go,
and not in Athens only; there are friends of mine in Thessaly, if you like
to go to them, who will value and protect you, and no Thessalian will give
you any trouble. Nor can I think that you are at all justified, Socrates,
in betraying your own life when you might be saved; in acting thus you are
playing into the hands of your enemies, who are hurrying on your
destruction. And further I should say that you are deserting your own
children; for you might bring them up and educate them; instead of which
you go away and leave them, and they will have to take their chance; and if
they do not meet with the usual fate of orphans, there will be small thanks
to you. No man should bring children into the world who is unwilling to
persevere to the end in their nurture and education. But you appear to be
choosing the easier part, not the better and manlier, which would have been
more becoming in one who professes to care for virtue in all his actions,
like yourself. And indeed, I am ashamed not only of you, but of us who are
your friends, when I reflect that the whole business will be attributed
entirely to our want of courage. The trial need never have come on, or
might have been managed differently; and this last act, or crowning folly,
will seem to have occurred through our negligence and cowardice, who might
have saved you, if we had been good for anything; and you might have saved
yourself, for there was no difficulty at all. See now, Socrates, how sad
and discreditable are the consequences, both to us and you. Make up your
mind then, or rather have your mind already made up, for the time of
deliberation is over, and there is only one thing to be done, which must be
done this very night, and if we delay at all will be no longer practicable
or possible; I beseech you therefore, Socrates, be persuaded by me, and do
as I say.
SOCRATES: Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable, if a right one; but if
wrong, the greater the zeal the greater the danger; and therefore we ought
to consider whether I shall or shall not do as you say. For I am and
always have been one of those natures who must be guided by reason,
whatever the reason may be which upon reflection appears to me to be the
best; and now that this chance has befallen me, I cannot repudiate my own
words: the principles which I have hitherto honoured and revered I still
honour, and unless we can at once find other and better principles, I am
certain not to agree with you; no, not even if the power of the multitude
could inflict many more imprisonments, confiscations, deaths, frightening
us like children with hobgoblin terrors (compare Apol.). What will be the
fairest way of considering the question? Shall I return to your old
argument about the opinions of men?--we were saying that some of them are
to be regarded, and others not. Now were we right in maintaining this
before I was condemned? And has the argument which was once good now
proved to be talk for the sake of talking--mere childish nonsense? That is
what I want to consider with your help, Crito:--whether, under my present
circumstances, the argument appears to be in any way different or not; and
is to be allowed by me or disallowed. That argument, which, as I believe,
is maintained by many persons of authority, was to the effect, as I was
saying, that the opinions of some men are to be regarded, and of other men
not to be regarded. Now you, Crito, are not going to die to-morrow--at
least, there is no human probability of this, and therefore you are
disinterested and not liable to be deceived by the circumstances in which
you are placed. Tell me then, whether I am right in saying that some
opinions, and the opinions of some men only, are to be valued, and that
other opinions, and the opinions of other men, are not to be valued. I ask
you whether I was right in maintaining this?
CRITO: Certainly.
SOCRATES: The good are to be regarded, and not the bad?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the opinions of the wise are good, and the opinions of the
unwise are evil?
CRITO: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And what was said about another matter? Is the pupil who
devotes himself to the practice of gymnastics supposed to attend to the
praise and blame and opinion of every man, or of one man only--his
physician or trainer, whoever he may be?
CRITO: Of one man only.
SOCRATES: And he ought to fear the censure and welcome the praise of that
one only, and not of the many?
CRITO: Clearly so.
SOCRATES: And he ought to act and train, and eat and drink in the way
which seems good to his single master who has understanding, rather than
according to the opinion of all other men put together?
CRITO: True.
SOCRATES: And if he disobeys and disregards the opinion and approval of
the one, and regards the opinion of the many who have no understanding,
will he not suffer evil?
CRITO: Certainly he will.
SOCRATES: And what will the evil be, whither tending and what affecting,
in the disobedient person?
CRITO: Clearly, affecting the body; that is what is destroyed by the evil.
SOCRATES: Very good; and is not this true, Crito, of other things which we
need not separately enumerate? In questions of just and unjust, fair and
foul, good and evil, which are the subjects of our present consultation,
ought we to follow the opinion of the many and to fear them; or the opinion
of the one man who has understanding? ought we not to fear and reverence
him more than all the rest of the world: and if we desert him shall we not
destroy and injure that principle in us which may be assumed to be improved
by justice and deteriorated by injustice;--there is such a principle?
CRITO: Certainly there is, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Take a parallel instance:--if, acting under the advice of those
who have no understanding, we destroy that which is improved by health and
is deteriorated by disease, would life be worth having? And that which has
been destroyed is--the body?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: Could we live, having an evil and corrupted body?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And will life be worth having, if that higher part of man be
destroyed, which is improved by justice and depraved by injustice? Do we
suppose that principle, whatever it may be in man, which has to do with
justice and injustice, to be inferior to the body?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: More honourable than the body?
CRITO: Far more.
SOCRATES: Then, my friend, we must not regard what the many say of us:
but what he, the one man who has understanding of just and unjust, will
say, and what the truth will say. And therefore you begin in error when
you advise that we should regard the opinion of the many about just and
unjust, good and evil, honorable and dishonorable.--'Well,' some one will
say, 'but the many can kill us.'
CRITO: Yes, Socrates; that will clearly be the answer.
SOCRATES: And it is true; but still I find with surprise that the old
argument is unshaken as ever. And I should like to know whether I may say
the same of another proposition--that not life, but a good life, is to be
chiefly valued?
CRITO: Yes, that also remains unshaken.
SOCRATES: And a good life is equivalent to a just and honorable one--that
holds also?
CRITO: Yes, it does.
SOCRATES: From these premisses I proceed to argue the question whether I
ought or ought not to try and escape without the consent of the Athenians:
and if I am clearly right in escaping, then I will make the attempt; but if
not, I will abstain. The other considerations which you mention, of money
and loss of character and the duty of educating one's children, are, I
fear, only the doctrines of the multitude, who would be as ready to restore
people to life, if they were able, as they are to put them to death--and
with as little reason. But now, since the argument has thus far prevailed,
the only question which remains to be considered is, whether we shall do
rightly either in escaping or in suffering others to aid in our escape and
paying them in money and thanks, or whether in reality we shall not do
rightly; and if the latter, then death or any other calamity which may
ensue on my remaining here must not be allowed to enter into the
calculation.
CRITO: I think that you are right, Socrates; how then shall we proceed?
SOCRATES: Let us consider the matter together, and do you either refute me
if you can, and I will be convinced; or else cease, my dear friend, from
repeating to me that I ought to escape against the wishes of the Athenians:
for I highly value your attempts to persuade me to do so, but I may not be
persuaded against my own better judgment. And now please to consider my
first position, and try how you can best answer me.
CRITO: I will.
SOCRATES: Are we to say that we are never intentionally to do wrong, or
that in one way we ought and in another way we ought not to do wrong, or is
doing wrong always evil and dishonorable, as I was just now saying, and as
has been already acknowledged by us? Are all our former admissions which
were made within a few days to be thrown away? And have we, at our age,
been earnestly discoursing with one another all our life long only to
discover that we are no better than children? Or, in spite of the opinion
of the many, and in spite of consequences whether better or worse, shall we
insist on the truth of what was then said, that injustice is always an evil
and dishonour to him who acts unjustly? Shall we say so or not?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then we must do no wrong?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: Nor when injured injure in return, as the many imagine; for we
must injure no one at all? (E.g. compare Rep.)
CRITO: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: Again, Crito, may we do evil?
CRITO: Surely not, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And what of doing evil in return for evil, which is the morality
of the many--is that just or not?
CRITO: Not just.
SOCRATES: For doing evil to another is the same as injuring him?
CRITO: Very true.
SOCRATES: Then we ought not to retaliate or render evil for evil to any
one, whatever evil we may have suffered from him. But I would have you
consider, Crito, whether you really mean what you are saying. For this
opinion has never been held, and never will be held, by any considerable
number of persons; and those who are agreed and those who are not agreed
upon this point have no common ground, and can only despise one another
when they see how widely they differ. Tell me, then, whether you agree
with and assent to my first principle, that neither injury nor retaliation
nor warding off evil by evil is ever right. And shall that be the premiss
of our argument? Or do you decline and dissent from this? For so I have
ever thought, and continue to think; but, if you are of another opinion,
let me hear what you have to say. If, however, you remain of the same mind
as formerly, I will proceed to the next step.
CRITO: You may proceed, for I have not changed my mind.
SOCRATES: Then I will go on to the next point, which may be put in the
form of a question:--Ought a man to do what he admits to be right, or ought
he to betray the right?
CRITO: He ought to do what he thinks right.
SOCRATES: But if this is true, what is the application? In leaving the
prison against the will of the Athenians, do I wrong any? or rather do I
not wrong those whom I ought least to wrong? Do I not desert the
principles which were acknowledged by us to be just--what do you say?
CRITO: I cannot tell, Socrates, for I do not know.
SOCRATES: Then consider the matter in this way:--Imagine that I am about
to play truant (you may call the proceeding by any name which you like),
and the laws and the government come and interrogate me: 'Tell us,
Socrates,' they say; 'what are you about? are you not going by an act of
yours to overturn us--the laws, and the whole state, as far as in you lies?
Do you imagine that a state can subsist and not be overthrown, in which the
decisions of law have no power, but are set aside and trampled upon by
individuals?' What will be our answer, Crito, to these and the like words?
Any one, and especially a rhetorician, will have a good deal to say on
behalf of the law which requires a sentence to be carried out. He will
argue that this law should not be set aside; and shall we reply, 'Yes; but
the state has injured us and given an unjust sentence.' Suppose I say
that?
CRITO: Very good, Socrates.
SOCRATES: 'And was that our agreement with you?' the law would answer; 'or
were you to abide by the sentence of the state?' And if I were to express
my astonishment at their words, the law would probably add: 'Answer,
Socrates, instead of opening your eyes--you are in the habit of asking and
answering questions. Tell us,--What complaint have you to make against us
which justifies you in attempting to destroy us and the state? In the
first place did we not bring you into existence? Your father married your
mother by our aid and begat you. Say whether you have any objection to
urge against those of us who regulate marriage?' None, I should reply.
'Or against those of us who after birth regulate the nurture and education
of children, in which you also were trained? Were not the laws, which have
the charge of education, right in commanding your father to train you in
music and gymnastic?' Right, I should reply. 'Well then, since you were
brought into the world and nurtured and educated by us, can you deny in the
first place that you are our child and slave, as your fathers were before
you? And if this is true you are not on equal terms with us; nor can you
think that you have a right to do to us what we are doing to you. Would
you have any right to strike or revile or do any other evil to your father
or your master, if you had one, because you have been struck or reviled by
him, or received some other evil at his hands?--you would not say this?
And because we think right to destroy you, do you think that you have any
right to destroy us in return, and your country as far as in you lies?
Will you, O professor of true virtue, pretend that you are justified in
this? Has a philosopher like you failed to discover that our country is
more to be valued and higher and holier far than mother or father or any
ancestor, and more to be regarded in the eyes of the gods and of men of
understanding? also to be soothed, and gently and reverently entreated when
angry, even more than a father, and either to be persuaded, or if not
persuaded, to be obeyed? And when we are punished by her, whether with
imprisonment or stripes, the punishment is to be endured in silence; and if
she lead us to wounds or death in battle, thither we follow as is right;
neither may any one yield or retreat or leave his rank, but whether in
battle or in a court of law, or in any other place, he must do what his
city and his country order him; or he must change their view of what is
just: and if he may do no violence to his father or mother, much less may
he do violence to his country.' What answer shall we make to this, Crito?
Do the laws speak truly, or do they not?
CRITO: I think that they do.
SOCRATES: Then the laws will say: 'Consider, Socrates, if we are speaking
truly that in your present attempt you are going to do us an injury. For,
having brought you into the world, and nurtured and educated you, and given
you and every other citizen a share in every good which we had to give, we
further proclaim to any Athenian by the liberty which we allow him, that if
he does not like us when he has become of age and has seen the ways of the
city, and made our acquaintance, he may go where he pleases and take his
goods with him. None of us laws will forbid him or interfere with him.
Any one who does not like us and the city, and who wants to emigrate to a
colony or to any other city, may go where he likes, retaining his property.
But he who has experience of the manner in which we order justice and
administer the state, and still remains, has entered into an implied
contract that he will do as we command him. And he who disobeys us is, as
we maintain, thrice wrong: first, because in disobeying us he is
disobeying his parents; secondly, because we are the authors of his
education; thirdly, because he has made an agreement with us that he will
duly obey our commands; and he neither obeys them nor convinces us that our
commands are unjust; and we do not rudely impose them, but give him the
alternative of obeying or convincing us;--that is what we offer, and he
does neither.
'These are the sort of accusations to which, as we were saying, you,
Socrates, will be exposed if you accomplish your intentions; you, above all
other Athenians.' Suppose now I ask, why I rather than anybody else? they
will justly retort upon me that I above all other men have acknowledged the
agreement. 'There is clear proof,' they will say, 'Socrates, that we and
the city were not displeasing to you. Of all Athenians you have been the
most constant resident in the city, which, as you never leave, you may be
supposed to love (compare Phaedr.). For you never went out of the city
either to see the games, except once when you went to the Isthmus, or to
any other place unless when you were on military service; nor did you
travel as other men do. Nor had you any curiosity to know other states or
their laws: your affections did not go beyond us and our state; we were
your especial favourites, and you acquiesced in our government of you; and
here in this city you begat your children, which is a proof of your
satisfaction. Moreover, you might in the course of the trial, if you had
liked, have fixed the penalty at banishment; the state which refuses to let
you go now would have let you go then. But you pretended that you
preferred death to exile (compare Apol.), and that you were not unwilling
to die. And now you have forgotten these fine sentiments, and pay no
respect to us the laws, of whom you are the destroyer; and are doing what
only a miserable slave would do, running away and turning your back upon
the compacts and agreements which you made as a citizen. And first of all
answer this very question: Are we right in saying that you agreed to be
governed according to us in deed, and not in word only? Is that true or
not?' How shall we answer, Crito? Must we not assent?
CRITO: We cannot help it, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Then will they not say: 'You, Socrates, are breaking the
covenants and agreements which you made with us at your leisure, not in any
haste or under any compulsion or deception, but after you have had seventy
years to think of them, during which time you were at liberty to leave the
city, if we were not to your mind, or if our covenants appeared to you to
be unfair. You had your choice, and might have gone either to Lacedaemon
or Crete, both which states are often praised by you for their good
government, or to some other Hellenic or foreign state. Whereas you, above
all other Athenians, seemed to be so fond of the state, or, in other words,
of us her laws (and who would care about a state which has no laws?), that
you never stirred out of her; the halt, the blind, the maimed, were not
more stationary in her than you were. And now you run away and forsake
your agreements. Not so, Socrates, if you will take our advice; do not
make yourself ridiculous by escaping out of the city.
'For just consider, if you transgress and err in this sort of way, what
good will you do either to yourself or to your friends? That your friends
will be driven into exile and deprived of citizenship, or will lose their
property, is tolerably certain; and you yourself, if you fly to one of the
neighbouring cities, as, for example, Thebes or Megara, both of which are
well governed, will come to them as an enemy, Socrates, and their
government will be against you, and all patriotic citizens will cast an
evil eye upon you as a subverter of the laws, and you will confirm in the
minds of the judges the justice of their own condemnation of you. For he
who is a corrupter of the laws is more than likely to be a corrupter of the
young and foolish portion of mankind. Will you then flee from well-ordered
cities and virtuous men? and is existence worth having on these terms? Or
will you go to them without shame, and talk to them, Socrates? And what
will you say to them? What you say here about virtue and justice and
institutions and laws being the best things among men? Would that be
decent of you? Surely not. But if you go away from well-governed states
to Crito's friends in Thessaly, where there is great disorder and licence,
they will be charmed to hear the tale of your escape from prison, set off
with ludicrous particulars of the manner in which you were wrapped in a
goatskin or some other disguise, and metamorphosed as the manner is of
runaways; but will there be no one to remind you that in your old age you
were not ashamed to violate the most sacred laws from a miserable desire of
a little more life? Perhaps not, if you keep them in a good temper; but if
they are out of temper you will hear many degrading things; you will live,
but how?--as the flatterer of all men, and the servant of all men; and
doing what?--eating and drinking in Thessaly, having gone abroad in order
that you may get a dinner. And where will be your fine sentiments about
justice and virtue? Say that you wish to live for the sake of your
children--you want to bring them up and educate them--will you take them
into Thessaly and deprive them of Athenian citizenship? Is this the
benefit which you will confer upon them? Or are you under the impression
that they will be better cared for and educated here if you are still
alive, although absent from them; for your friends will take care of them?
Do you fancy that if you are an inhabitant of Thessaly they will take care
of them, and if you are an inhabitant of the other world that they will not
take care of them? Nay; but if they who call themselves friends are good
for anything, they will--to be sure they will.
'Listen, then, Socrates, to us who have brought you up. Think not of life
and children first, and of justice afterwards, but of justice first, that
you may be justified before the princes of the world below. For neither
will you nor any that belong to you be happier or holier or juster in this
life, or happier in another, if you do as Crito bids. Now you depart in
innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil; a victim, not of the laws,
but of men. But if you go forth, returning evil for evil, and injury for
injury, breaking the covenants and agreements which you have made with us,
and wronging those whom you ought least of all to wrong, that is to say,
yourself, your friends, your country, and us, we shall be angry with you
while you live, and our brethren, the laws in the world below, will receive
you as an enemy; for they will know that you have done your best to destroy
us. Listen, then, to us and not to Crito.'
This, dear Crito, is the voice which I seem to hear murmuring in my ears,
like the sound of the flute in the ears of the mystic; that voice, I say,
is humming in my ears, and prevents me from hearing any other. And I know
that anything more which you may say will be vain. Yet speak, if you have
anything to say.
CRITO: I have nothing to say, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Leave me then, Crito, to fulfil the will of God, and to follow
whither he leads.
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Crito, by Plato
Question:
Who persuades Socrates to escape?
Answer:
| Crito convinces Socrates to leave his cell. | 174 | 47,431 | 47,433 | 47,476 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
33068 | 33068_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
<html>
<head><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" />
<meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true">
<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
<meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN">
<meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document>
<meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW">
<meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts">
<meta name=rating CONTENT=General>
<meta name=distribution content=Global>
<meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days">
<link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">
<script type="text/javascript">
var _gaq = _gaq || [];
_gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']);
_gaq.push(['_trackPageview']);
(function() {
var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true;
ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js';
var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s);
})();
</script>
</head>
<body topmargin="0" bottommargin="0" id="mainbody">
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td valign="bottom" bgcolor="#FF0000"><a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_top.gif" border="0"></a></td>
<td bgcolor="#FF0000">
<center>
<font color="#FFFFFF"><h1>The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)</h1></font>
</center>
<tr>
<td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2"><a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_middle.gif" border="0"></a></td>
<tr>
<td width="170" valign="top" class="smalltxt"> <a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_bottom.gif" width="170" border="0"></a>
<br>
<center><span class="smalltxt">The web's largest <br>movie script resource!</span></center>
</td>
<td>
<script type="text/javascript"><!--
e9 = new Object();
e9.size = "728x90";
//--></script>
<script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<br>
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td width="180" valign="top">
<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr>
<td colspan="2" class=heading>Search IMSDb<tr>
<form method="post" action="/search.php">
<td width="180"> <div align="center">
<input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">
<input type="submit" value="Go!" name="submit">
</div></td>
</form>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=9 class=heading>Alphabetical
<tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/0">#</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/A">A</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/B">B</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/C">C</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/D">D</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/E">E</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/F">F</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/G">G</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/H">H</a><tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/I">I</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/J">J</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/K">K</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/L">L</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/M">M</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/N">N</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/O">O</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/P">P</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Q">Q</a><tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/R">R</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/S">S</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/T">T</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/U">U</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/V">V</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/W">W</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/X">X</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Y">Y</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Z">Z</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Genre
<tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Action">Action</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Adventure">Adventure</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Animation">Animation</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Comedy">Comedy</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Crime">Crime</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Drama">Drama</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Family">Family</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Fantasy">Fantasy</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Horror">Horror</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Musical">Musical</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Mystery">Mystery</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Romance">Romance</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Sci-Fi">Sci-Fi</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Short">Short</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Thriller">Thriller</a>
<td><a href="/genre/War">War</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Western">Western</a>
</table>
<br>
<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr>
<td colspan="2" class=heading>Sponsor<tr>
<td width="300" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">
<script type="text/javascript"><!--
e9 = new Object();
e9.size = "300x250";
//--></script>
<script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
</td>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td class=heading>TV Transcripts
<tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Futurama.html">Futurama</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Seinfeld.html">Seinfeld</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/South Park.html">South Park</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Stargate SG1.html">Stargate SG-1</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Lost.html">Lost</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/The 4400.html">The 4400</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" class="body">
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>International
<tr>
<td><a href="/language/French">French scripts</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Latest Comments
<tr>
</table>
<br>
<div align="center"><br><br>
<a href="https://imsdb.com/all-scripts.html">ALL SCRIPTS</a><br><br>
</div>
<td width="10"></td>
<td valign="top">
<br> <table width="100%"><tr><td class="scrtext">
<pre>
<b> THE PACIFIER
</b>
Written by
<b>
</b> Thomas Lennon & Robert Ben Garant
<b>
</b><b>
</b> Previous Revisions by
<b>
</b> Jason Fulardi, Scott Alexander & Larry Karaszewki
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> March 3rd, 2004
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> FADE IN:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - DAY
</b><b>
</b> A fishing boat pushes over choppy water. FOUR GUN TOTING
MEN on Jet Skis wearing black wet suits and goggles
escort the boat. Flying above it is a HELICOPTER.
<b>
</b><b> INT. FISHING BOAT/CONTROL DECK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> A SERBIAN MAN captains the wheel. SERB 2 scans the
horizon with binoculars. He checks the GPS system, then
his watch, then speaks into his throat mic. All italics
are Serbian w/ subtitles:
<b>
</b><b> SERB 2
</b> Fifteen minutes to delivery.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The JET SKIER in the lead weighs in on a radio.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SEA HAWK 1 - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The HELICOPTER PILOT weighs in.
<b>
</b><b> PILOT
</b> All clear from above.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SKY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The camera descends as the boat passes, and dives beneath
the surface.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The droning of engines becomes less pronounced. Foam
from the boat and skis bubbles.
<b>
</b> Calm. Then from out of nowhere five NAVY SEALs wearing RE-
BREATHERS appear, in neat formation like the Blue Angels.
JET PROPELLED BACKPACKS push the SEALs through the water.
<b>
</b> The LEAD SEAL: SHANE WOLFE, points upwards. All eyes
follow his finger to the underbelly of the boat above.
From his belt, Shane takes a steel wand with an adhesive
disc attached, aims it at the fleeing boat and FIRES.
A cable shoots up -- THUD... The disc sticks to the
boat's hull. Shane pushes a button on the wand retracting
the cable and drawing himself closer.
<b>
</b> Dangling from the cruiser, Shane fixes a BOMB to the
hull. He releases himself from the boat and speeds away --
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 2.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> BOOM. A dense explosion sends ripples through the water
and ELECTRICITY crackling around the boat.
<b>
</b><b> INT. FISHING BOAT/CONTROL DECK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> A SURGE of ELECTRICAL FORCE blasts from the control
panel. SPARKS fly.
<b>
</b> The two Serbian Men jolt backwards -- WHAM -- and hit the
wall. All the needles inside all the dials go LIMP. The
roar of the engines DIES and the boat STOPS.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN, UNDER THE BOAT - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane slips inside the hull, through the new hole.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SEA HAWK 1 - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The chopper slows to a hover. The Pilot looks below.
<b>
</b><b> PILOT
</b> What's happening?
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The jet skiers protectively circle the injured boat in a
SYNCHRONIZED SWIMMING move, and the Jet Ski drivers are
simultaneously YANKED below the surface: a split second
later they're replaced by our SEALS (ALSO IN BLACK WET
SUITS AND GOGGLES) -- the switch happens in less than a
second, way too fast for anyone to notice.
<b>
</b><b> INT. FISHING BOAT/CONTROL DECK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The shaken Serbs climb to their feet.
<b>
</b><b> SERBIAN 2
</b> What happened?
<b>
</b> They look around, and see the SEALS, on the jet skis: In
the masks they are indistinguishable from the GUN-TOTTING
MEN they switched paces with. All seems clear. Serb 1
pushes on the throttle... nothing.
<b>
</b><b> SERBIAN 1
</b> We've been hit. We're taking on water.
<b>
</b> Suddenly the boat lists -- and water pours in, under the
cabin door. They spring into action!
<b>
</b><b> SERBIAN 1 (CONT'D)
</b> Grab the professor, quick!
<b>
</b><b> 3.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. DECK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Serb 1 rushes out, shouting orders: He alerts four ARMED
GUARDS and the Jet Ski drivers (now our Seals).
<b>
</b><b> SERBIAN 1
</b> Something must be below us! Shoot! Shoot!
<b>
</b> The Armed Guards fire relentlessly into the water. Serb 2
rushes below deck.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SHIP'S HOLD - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> PROFESSOR CHARLES PLUMMER, bound to a chair and gagged,
tries to YELP as the room begins to flood with water.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SHIP'S CORRIDOR - SIMULTANEOUS
</b><b>
</b> Serb 2 runs down steps to the lowermost hold. He tries to
force the door open. When it finally opens, he is forced
back by a three foot wall of water.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SHIP'S HOLD - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Professor Plummer panics, as the water rises up to his
mouth He struggles, but can't get free. Up to his nose,
over his head.... He's gone.
<b>
</b> Then Shane Wolf rises out of the water, hauling the
Professor up. He cuts the Professor's GAG. Plummer
screams. Shane removes his mouth piece. Shane doesn't
seem the slightest bit fazed by the circumstances.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Lieutenant Shane Wolfe, United States
Navy. I'm gonna get you outta here. But
you have to do exactly what I say, when I
say it. My way -- no highway option. Do
you copy?
(Plummer nods, terrified.)
Where's the briefcase?
<b>
</b> The Professor gestures across the room, where a metal
BRIEFCASE is floating. Shane calmly HANDCUFFS it to his
own waist. As the water rises, to the roof.
<b>
</b><b> PLUMMER
</b> How did you know where I...
<b>
</b> Shane sticks the mouth piece into Plummer's mouth, giving
him his oxygen.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. ON THE DECK - SIMULTANEOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> 4.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> The Armed Guards stop shooting into the water. One of
our SEALS calls out to them, in PERFECT SERBIAN:
<b>
</b><b> SEAL
</b><b> KEEP SHOOTING!
</b><b>
</b> The Guards fire again. The SEAL speaks into his neck mic.
<b>
</b><b> SEAL (CONT'D)
</b> Give it a second, they're almost out of
ammo.
<b>
</b> The Seal calls out: "shoot more, more!" They do, until
there's nothing but empty CLICKS from their guns.
<b>
</b><b> SEAL (CONT'D)
</b> Now Lieutenant. Chopper's four meters at
your 10 o'clock.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SHIP'S HOLD - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Just before the water envelopes him and Plummer...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (into his mic)
I've got the Prof and the case. First
round's on me back at Virginia Beach.
<b>
</b> Shane takes a deep breath, and pulls himself, the
Professor and the briefcase UNDER the water.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. OCEAN'S SURFACE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane and the Professor rise to the surface as the boat
falters behind them. Shane pulls out a retractable
CROSSBOW. It clicks open and he shoots a CABLE into the
belly of the helicopter above him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Hold on.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HELICOPTER - A SECOND LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane appears at the Pilot's door, holding the Professor.
Shane addresses the Pilot in perfect SERBIAN.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You know how to swim?
<b>
</b> The Pilot nods, terrified. Shane TOSSES the Pilot out.
<b>
</b> Shane swings into the hot seat and grabs the controls,
pulling the Professor in behind him.
<b>
</b><b> 5.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> ON THE SURFACE OF THE WATER - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The SEALS on the Jet Skis SALUTE Shane in the chopper,
then disappear gracefully back into the water.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HELICOPTER - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane smiles, clearly he loves this kind of day. He looks
beside him, the Professor looks terrified. The Professor
takes out his mouth piece.
<b>
</b><b> PLUMMER
</b> Oh my God. I can't believe you... how'd
we... That was the most incredible...
<b>
</b> Shane sticks the mouth piece back in the Professors'
mouth, shutting him up.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Better keep that on `til we get to the
rendezvous point.
<b>
</b><b> PLUMMER
</b> (through the mouth piece)
Why? Poison gas?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (re: the oxygen)
No. I'm just not big on chit chat.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MOUNTAIN CLEARING - A LITTLE LATER
</b><b>
</b> A Pave Hawk SH-60 helicopter, rotors whirling slowly,
waits. Shane's chopper appears from behind a tree line
and sets down atop the mountain by a stream.
<b>
</b> Shane and Charles sprint from the chopper towards the
waiting Hawk. Charles stops Shane.
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES
</b> Lieutenant, thank you. (He pats his
briefcase) You saved more than just my
life today. Can I call my wife to let
her know I'm okay?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Negative. Not imperative to the mission.
We have to keep moving. I have strict
orders to get you out of here safely.
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES
</b> I'm safe, Lieutenant. Please. She thinks
I'm dead. (then) Don't you have a family?
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 6.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (this gets him:)
Make it quick.
<b>
</b> Charles picks up his briefcase. He holds the lock up to
his mouth and whispers into it:
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES
</b> Joe, Todd, Lulu, Peter, Tyler.
<b>
</b> The briefcase pops open. Shane looks at him, puzzled.
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES (CONT'D)
</b> My kids. It's voice activated. Designed
it myself. I do security, that's my
specialty. (gestures back:) Those guys
back there tried to get this case open
for five days -- couldn't crack it. And
you should see what happens to you if
open it without the code. I have a
picture of my kids in here, you want to
see it?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Negative.
<b>
</b> Charles takes a cell-phone out of the case. Shane looks
in the case: it's EMPTY, except for the phone and a
family PHOTO. Charles dials his cell phone... nothing
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES
</b> Battery's dead...
<b>
</b> Shane considers, then hands him his satellite phone.
Charles dials, and talks...
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES (CONT'D)
</b> Honey, I'm alive...
<b>
</b><b> INT. PAVE HAWK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane climbs in the Hawk and approaches the cockpit. The
PILOT sits, back to him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> We're almost ready. Just gives us a -
<b>
</b> The Pilot slumps forward... DEAD. Shane turns-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Professor, RUN!!!
<b>
</b> WHAM. Shane drops, knocked unconscious. All goes black.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 7.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PAVE HAWK - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The helicopter is on fire. Wolf lies facedown in the
stream. He looks around, barely conscious.
<b>
</b> SHANE'S P.O.V.: Everything is a blur, in slow-motion. He
sees Charles, unconscious. A Huey Helicopter lands. A
VERY TALL MAN steps out, and takes Charles' Briefcase.
There is huge explosion, as the chopper ignites.
Everything is ablaze. Shane reaches out, grabs the
picture of Charles' kids then goes unconscious.
<b> F
</b><b> ADE TO BLACK:
</b><b>
</b><b> EST. HOSPITAL - DAY
</b><b>
</b> TITLE CARD: 1 Month Later
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOSPITAL - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane lies in a hospital bed, despondent. His arm and
face bandaged.
<b>
</b> Shane's Captain enters: BILL FAWCETT (35) -- friendly,
unassuming. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. Shane
salutes him with his bandaged arm -- it hurts to salute,
but he does it anyway.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Captain, sir.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> As you were Lieutenant.
<b>
</b> Bill sits down beside the bed. He takes a long look at
Shane. He holds a REPORT in his hand.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> We've been through a lot together Shane.
You're the best man I ever trained. And a
good friend.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... I know sir. And I except full
responsibility for the mission's failure.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Why the hell did you let him use the
satellite phone?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> He had to call his family. A lapse in
judgement on my part that I regret sir.
<b>
</b><b> 8.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Bill shakes his head, disappointed. He pulls up a chair,
and sits opposite Shane.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> ... Plummer was the best security expert
the department of defense ever had -- a
genius. He was working on a program that
scrambles launch codes. He called it
G.H.O.S.T.: Guided High-altitude
Scrambling Transmitter. One pulse from
the GHOST satellite and a country can't
launch its own nukes. That's what the
Serbians kidnapped him for, but they
couldn't get S
inside the briefcase.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> The case was empty sir, as I stated in my
report.
<b>
</b> Bill considers this. Then...
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Not a surprise, really. Not like the
professor to hide things where someone
might look for them. G.H.O.S.T. is still
out there, (Bill smiles:) which is why
I'm going to give you another shot.
<b>
</b> Shane sits up. He can't believe his good fortune.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sir. Thank you. I... appreciate your
confidence.
<b>
</b> Invigorated, he pulls off bandages, disconnects an IV,
and starts to rise.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> I'll need to put a team together. I'm
gonna need the mini sub, I need access to
an EP3 aries 2 spy plane...
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> (interrupting:)
Negative. It's not that kind of mission.
<b>
</b> Shane listens, intrigued.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> Two days ago, I got a call from the
professor's wife... Widow. She told me
someone had broken into her home.
Searched the place, top to bottom.
<b> (MORE)
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 9.
</b><b> BILL(CONT'D)
</b> She's scared. The family's scared.
Whoever killed the professor must think
G.H.O.S.T. is in that house. Maybe it is,
maybe it isn't. Either way, I need
someone to stay at that house, and
protect them. And while you're there --
find out if the program is in there.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's it? Why would you want me for
that, sir.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> The professor's wife requested you.
<b>
</b> Shane is surprised... Bill pulls a tiny tape recorder
from his pocket, presses play, we hear PROFESSOR
PLUMMER'S voice.
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES (O.S.)
</b> Honey, I'm alive. Listen: A lot can
happen between here and home -- if
anything happens to me, call Lt. Shane
Wolfe. He's a good man... anyway, I
should go. I'll call you in an hour. I
love you.
<b>
</b> Shane is shocked, hearing the dead man's voice.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> ... You gotta problem with this mission?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sirnosir. It's just that... I've never
been very good with kids, sir. Not even
when I was a kid sir.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. SHANE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane packs his duffel bag. He opens a drawer: There's
five t-shirts, identical to the one he wears. He opens
another drawer: Five khaki pants, also identical to the
one he wears. He opens the closet: There's a massive fur-
collared coat. Hm. He rejects it.
<b>
</b> Shane packs his duffel with military gear: GPS compass,
night vision goggles, camouflage vest, machete... they
all go in. Shane heads to the door, then goes back to his
chest of drawers. He reaches in, and pulls out a small,
old MEDAL: the ribbon is faded and frayed. He looks at it
for a moment, then unzips his suit and pins it to the
inside, like it's a lucky rabbit's foot.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 10.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - AFTERNOON
</b><b>
</b> A taxi door opens. Shane looks like a bad ass, ready for
anything. He steps from the taxi onto an adorable TROLL
doll on the sidewalk. It SQUEAKS.
<b>
</b> Shane's P.O.V.: Julie's unkempt suburban house, with toys
all over the lawn, and a "BLESS THIS MESS" welcome mat.
<b>
</b> Shane double-checks the address. The sprinklers go off.
Shane darts to the door and rings the bell (it's one of
those long cheerful doorbells).
<b>
</b> WE hear TINY FEET approach -- then the door swings open,
Shane looks down -- and sees LULU, 8, peering up at him.
<b>
</b> Shane eyes Lulu. Lulu eyes Shane, then:
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Mom! There's some weird bald guy at the
door!
<b>
</b> SLAM. Lulu shuts the door in Shane's face. Shane frowns.
WE hear heavier footsteps approaching.
<b>
</b> EMALE VOICE (o.s.)
(before she sees Shane:)
Look, if you're with the Hare Krishnas,
we're not interested...
<b>
</b> The door opens revealing JULIE PLUMMER. Julie holds
NAKED baby PETER, 2. She sees Shane, and stops, a little
startled by his size...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (salutes:)
Lieutenant Shane Wolfe, reporting for
duty.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Of course. I'm so sorry. Thank you for
coming.
<b>
</b> She hugs him. He's not quite sure what to do -- he's a
rock, he doesn't flinch.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> Come in and meet the rest of the gang.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE/FOYER - DAY
</b><b>
</b> It's warm and quiet. Petite Julie SCREAMS up the stairs-
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 11.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b><b> KIIIDDS!!!
</b><b>
</b> Shane startles, covers his ears.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> Get your butts down here and say "hello!"
<b>
</b> And then three pairs of feet come down the stairs. Lulu,
ZOE, 15, and TODD, 14 line up like the perfect family
portrait. Todd's hair hangs in his face. He wears a Sid
Vicious shirt and a long trench coat.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> You've already met Lulu. This is Peter,
Zoe and Todd. Kids, this is Lieutenant
Wolfe. He's the man who is going to be
staying with us for a while.
<b>
</b> All the kids except for Todd-
<b>
</b><b> KIDS
</b> Hi.
<b>
</b> Shane nods, stern. On the stairs, a Romanian MAID walks
by, carrying a BABY.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> And this is Helga and Tyler.
<b>
</b> Shane nods hello to them.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (official:)
Ma'am... Baby.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Kids, go finish your homework. And I'll
be checking.
<b>
</b> Zoe, Lulu and Todd climb back up the stairs. Julie leads
Shane into...
<b>
</b><b> INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Julie sits, Shane stands "at ease" (which doesn't look
"at ease" at all).
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You have a pleasant family, ma'am.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 12.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Charles wasn't around too much. His work
took him all over the world. He'd be gone
six or seven months at a time. So I
think for the younger ones it's a little
confusing. Zoe and Todd... well, they're
dealing like your normal teenagers.
Maybe in Todd's case semi-normal.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Mrs. Plummer, I have to tell you that I
did everything I could...
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Charles was in a dangerous business. I
knew it when I married him. No one's to
blame here.
(beat)
Everyone thinks that Charles told me or
the kids where he hid it. And until
G.H.O.S.T. is found, we're all in danger.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Nothing will happen to your family as
long as I'm here. I've dealt with much...
<b>
</b> Suddenly from behind Shane's head a DUCK appears and
NIBBLES his ear. Shane spins in full fight stance. He
sees the Duck... and relaxes. Sort of.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> That's Gary. He was Charles'.
<b>
</b> The duck QUACKS angrily. Confused, Shane returns to "at
ease," keeping one eye on the duck.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Mrs. Plummer-
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Call me Julie.
<b>
</b> Beat.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Mrs. Plummer, I'll go secure the
perimeter.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I'm glad you're here-
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 13.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> But Shane is already gone.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> MONTAGE. MILITARY MUSIC PLAYS:
</b><b>
</b> Shane secures the area. He paces off the yard.
<b>
</b> He mounts surveillance cameras in the eaves.
<b>
</b> He attaches contact alarms in the doors and windows.
<b>
</b> Shane climbs a telephone pole, opens the circuit box and
TAPS the phones.
<b>
</b> Shane, now wearing an EAR TRANSMITTER, crawls through the
shrubs, hiding electric eyes.
<b>
</b> Nighttime -- the family eats dinner. We slowly pull
out... through the kitchen window... and reveal Shane
with night vision goggles on scoping the property.
<b>
</b> The phone RINGS inside. Through the window, Julie
casually answers it. Shane touches his ear transmitter
and LISTENS as he walks into the house.
<b>
</b> BILL (o.s.)
Julie, it's Bill Fawcett. I have some
potentially good news.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> What is it?
<b>
</b> BILL (o.s.)
A safety deposit box under Charles' name
was just found in Switzerland. I think
it could contain GHOST.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> That's wonderful. This could all be over!
<b>
</b> BILL (o.s.)
There's a catch. Swiss law says only his
family can access it. I'm going to need
you on a plane tomorrow morning.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane, listening to the conversation, enters-
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I'll be there.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 14.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Julie and Shane share a look.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE/FOYER - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Julie, with her suitcase, Shane, Helga and the Kids stand
in the doorway. Zoe listens to her I-Pod ignoring the hug
Julie gives her.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Don't worry about the Kids, Helga will
handle everything. (Worried:) But if
there is an emergency, all the emergency
numbers are on the fridge. And on the
phone. And on the back door...
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Mom -- we'll be fine, chill.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> (a little choked up:)
I know, it's just... I am a mom, it's my
job to worry. ... I love you guys. I'm
gonna miss you. I'll be back in 48 hours.
And guys, whatever Lieutenant Wolfe asks
you to do... do it. Okay?
<b> A
</b> ll the children nod in agreement except Zoe who pops her
chewing gum bubble.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> Lieutenant, I don't want you to worry
about anything except the safety of my
children. Helga will take care of
everything else.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Don't worry. They'll be safe with me.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> Everything will be fine, Mrs. Plummer.
<b>
</b> Julie gets in the car and it drives away. Shane turns
back to the kids who loom in the doorway.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA (CONT'D)
</b> Tell me, are you licensed to kill?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... No.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> (she frowns)
Too bad.
<b>
</b><b> H
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 15.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Helga trudges up the path and in.
<b>
</b><b> INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane, on a short ladder, screws in a surveillance camera
into the corner of a wall when he hears:
<b>
</b> MALE VOICE (o.s.)
Prepare to be annihilated!
<b>
</b> Lulu SCREAMS. The sound of MACHINE GUN FIRING.
Immediately, Shane leaps off the ladder and bounds down
the stairs two at a time and into the...
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE/FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> hane rushes in -- and finds Lulu screaming and giggling
in front of a VIDEO GAME. Shane shakes his head.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Could you turn that dow-
<b>
</b> And Shane spies half of Todd's face peeking around a
corner staring at him...
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Hey-
<b>
</b> Todd disappears. WAAAAA!! WAAAAA!! Shane spins, looks
around for the CRYING BABY... can't find him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> ... Where's the baby?
<b>
</b> Without looking Lulu points. A diapered Peter stands in
the half full AQUARIUM, pouring in Cheerios. Helga
enters holding the wailing Tyler. Gary suddenly FLIES by -
- WHRRP! Shane ducks. Shane scowls at Helga:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> You run a very loose ship.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> You don't like it? You're the SEAL. You
do something. I make bottle.
<b>
</b> elga stomps out. Shane heads down the hall, when in the
corner of his eye -- he sees A FIGURE SCURRY ACROSS THE
BACK LAWN. Shane turns off the light. He shuts off the
window alarm and sneaks out silently.
<b>
</b><b> 16.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - BACK YARD - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The yard is littered with toys. In the middle is a
TRAMPOLINE. He spots the Figure climbing the TRELLIS.
Shane runs, jumps onto the trampoline. He flies in the
air and latches onto the figure. They both tumble to the
ground.
<b>
</b> Shane yanks off the DARK FIGURE's hood, revealing SCOTT
(16) a nervous teenager. He's dazed, but alright, wearing
SHARPER IMAGE night vision goggles.
<b>
</b><b> SCOTT
</b> ... Zoe?
<b>
</b> Zoe runs out the door, setting off the PIERCING ALARM.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> He's my boyfriend, tool.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> So you're the one who broke in.
Zoe -- go back inside.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Okay, fine... come on Scott.
<b>
</b> Shane grabs Scott by the scruff of the neck.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Not with this kid. (to Todd:) You --
Gimme twenty!
<b>
</b> Freaked, Scott fumbles for his wallet and gives Shane a
twenty dollar BILL.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> I meant PUSH-UPS!
<b>
</b> Befuddled, Scott starts to do lame push-ups. Shane grabs
the back of Scott's shirt, LIFTING him in the air,
spinning him away from the house like a marionette. Scott
runs off, calling out from across the street.
<b> S
</b><b> COTT
</b> ... I'll call you, Zoe!
<b>
</b> Zoe storms inside. Shane stands there, fuming. The
Alarm's still blaring. The window of the house next door
opens: a Korean couple, THE CHUNS, pop their heads out.
They're arguing with each other in Korean. Shane
addresses them, IN PERFECT KOREAN with subtitles:
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 17.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> My apologies. We had an intruder. A
simple misunderstanding.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> (perfect English, no accent)
We speak English, Kojak.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Oh. Sorry.
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> ... Look, about the 2000 decibel alarm
and the kleig lights and stuff... we own
a bakery, so we're up kind of early.
Would you mind?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sorry.
<b>
</b> Shane pulls a remote control from his pocket and clicks
it. The alarm stops.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> Thanks a bunch. Oh, and we found this in
our pool filter... Try to keep that zoo
reigned in, huh baby-sitter?
<b>
</b> Mr. Chun tosses him the TROLL DOLL and slam their window
shut. Shane's about to head inside, he pulls a tiny
camera phone from his pocket, and snaps a shot of the
Chun's car in their driveway.
<b> I
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> hane marches Zoe up the stairs. Loud, angry rock music
blares from Todd's room.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Your mother thought you were in real
danger. You should have told her the
truth.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Who do you think you are -- my dad?
<b>
</b> Zoe starts to turn -- then suddenly spins and tries
kicking him in the CROTCH. But Shane catches her foot --
and whirls her away. She has to hop on one foot, to not
fall over. He "hops" her down the hall to her room.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b> W
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 18.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> ZOE (CONT'D)
</b> Let me go! It's Saturday night. I have
plans!
<b>
</b> Zoe's back to her door, Shane flips her foot in the air.
Zoe falls backwards into the room. Shane shuts her door.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Not anymore.
<b>
</b> Shane marches back down the hall, bangs on Todd's door-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Lights out.
<b>
</b> TODD (o.s.)
Bite me!
<b>
</b> Shane frowns, continues down the hall. He passes the
NURSERY (Peter and Tyler's room), where Helga is singing
a lullaby: (as annoying Has something Barney might sing).
<b>
</b><b> ELGA
</b> When you're down and low, lower than the
floor.
And you feel like you ain't got a chance.
Don't make a move `til you're in the
groove, and do the Peter Panda Dance.
Just hop three times like a kangaroo --
<b>
</b> She does a little "dance" that goes with the lullaby: She
hops forwards three times, then "crab-walks" sideways.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA (CONT'D)
</b> Sidestep twice, just like the crabs do.
Three steps forward, one step back.
<b>
</b> She does. The Children, in bed -- laugh and laugh.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA (CONT'D)
</b> Then quick like a turtle lie on your
back!
riggle like a snake `til you can't no
more.
<b>
</b> he wriggles on the floor. Then jumps up, to their beds.
Shane shakes his head, keeps walking-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> This family's in for a rude awakening.
<b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 19.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - DAWN
</b><b>
</b> The sun rises over the neighborhood, warm orange light.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Everyone is asleep. In the bedrooms, a SERIES OF SHOTS:
<b>
</b><b> L
</b> Tyler snores in his crib. Peter in his bed.
<b>
</b> ulu is surrounded by stuffed animals.
<b>
</b> odd is out cold, motionless.
<b>
</b> oe is wrapped in blankets. Until A TRUMPET BLARES
"REVEILLE"! Zoe jumps, like she's been electrocuted.
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> Huh? Wha--?!
<b>
</b><b> INT. TODD'S ROOM - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Todd sits up, disoriented, not understanding what's
happening. The Whistle GETS LOUDER. Suddenly his door
flies open -- and Shane strides in with a BOOM BOX. Todd
blinks groggily.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> W-what are you doing??!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You're burning daylight. Move. Move.
<b>
</b><b> ODD
</b> It's Sunday...!
(he squints at a clock)
And it's six a.m. You're insane.
<b>
</b> Todd pulls the blanket over his head. Shane flips the
mattress over spilling Todd to the floor.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Now move it!
<b>
</b> Todd scrambles to his feet and out the door.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> All the little kids are CRYING. Covering their ears.
Helga runs through in hair curlers, half-asleep and
angry, carrying the crying baby.
<b>
</b><b> L
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 20.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> (She curses in Romanian)
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Hey. Not in front of the kids.
<b> S
</b> he gives him a look of disbelief.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> What's it matter? Nobody speaks Romanian.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Usca mi-as chilotii pe crucea lu mata!
<b>
</b> Helga narrows her eyes, shocked.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> (She curses Again, in Romanian.)
<b>
</b> Shane's jaw drops.
<b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - LATER
</b><b>
</b> The children are assembled, lined up tallest to shortest.
At the end on the floor is Baby Tyler, sucking on a
bottle. Shane firmly starts his Patton speech:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Listen up, ladies. Your behavior is
unacceptable. In order to maintain a
state of safety we need to maintain a
state of discipline and order. I've only
got one rule: Everything is done my way.
No highway option. Do you copy?
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Do you copy?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What? I said -- do you...
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> ("copying" him)
What? I said -- do you...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Do not copy me!
<b>
</b><b> ULU
</b> Make up your mind.
<b>
</b><b> L
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 21.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane starts to speak then thinks better, he's furious.
Everyone stares blankly -- a tense silence. It's broken
by the sound of a large AIR BUBBLE from the aquarium.
<b>
</b><b> ULU (CONT'D)
</b><b> P
</b> eter farted.
<b>
</b> Everyone cracks up. Shane tries to maintain decorum. He
reaches into his bag and unpacks a set of small high-tech
SECURITY BRACELETS with a red light and a covered button.
He straps one to each Kid's wrist.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Tracking devices. Now that I know I can't
trust you... Never take them off. The
panic button is only for emergencies.
Touch that -- you better be dying, or
you're dead.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I am not wearing that. Just because my
mom's paranoid doesn't mean we have to
take orders from you.
<b>
</b> He yells at her, Marine sergeant style:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Let me explain how the chain of command
works. I tell you what to do -- and you
do it. End of chain. Now I'm not gonna
have time to learn your names. So you are
-- (pointing) Red 1, Red 2, Red Leader,
Red baby... wait, where's the older male?
There were five.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> (mysterious)
He walks like Dracula, with footsteps
silent like death --
<b>
</b> Shane looks to Zoe for translation.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> He's in his room.
<b>
</b> Angry, Shane bounds up the stairs.
<b>
</b><b> INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - SAME TIME
</b><b> S
</b> hane marches to Todd's shut door. He tries the knob,
but it's locked. Shane bangs hard on it.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 22.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red 4! Open this door!
<b>
</b> No answer. Shane turns away from the door and DONKEY
KICKS it...SMASH! The wood CRACKS, then CRASHES inward.
The entire frame collapses.
<b>
</b><b> INT. TODD'S ROOM
</b><b>
</b> hane charges in-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> It didn't have to go down like-
<b>
</b> Todd isn't there. Down the hall -- a FLUSH. Oops.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> The bathroom door opens, and Todd comes sauntering back.
He sees Shane, the destroyed door and wall...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> All I need is a hammer and some plaster
of Paris. I can fix this.
<b>
</b> A piece of the ceiling falls, hits Shane on the head.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Can I get by?
<b>
</b> Embarrassed, Shane steps aside, then mutters-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Here's your bracelet. If you'd been
wearing it, this wouldn't have happened.
<b>
</b> Shane SNAPS it onto Todd's wrist, and head down the hall,
patrolling. Zoe comes up the stairs, to her room. She
stops at Todd's door -- they glare at Shane.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> He has to go.
<b>
</b> Todd nods in agreement.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - MORNING - LATER
</b><b> S
</b> hane does one-handed push ups in the living room while
the Duck watches. With his other hand he loads the PHOTO
of the Chun's license plate into his laptop computer.
His head shifts, he hears something suspicious -- the
rumble of a car approaching.
<b>
</b><b> L
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 23.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He rushes for the front door, clicks his alarm remote and
opens it, just as -- WHACK -- the MORNING PAPER connects
with his face, hard. From off-screen we hear a PAPERBOY.
<b>
</b><b> PAPERBOY (O.S.)
</b><b> SORRY DUDE!
</b><b>
</b> Shane rubs his nose. Lulu screams at the top of her
lungs. Shane turns, to see that Peter is chasing her,
wearing a towel as a sheet. He pretends to be a ghost.
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> Whhhoooooo!
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Stop it, Peter!
<b>
</b> Lulu hides behind Shane. Peter Booos again. Lulu screams.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Hey, hey, good soldiers aren't afraid of
anything.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> This house is haunted. Daddy even said
so. He said there's a ghost.
<b>
</b> And then it hits Shane. His eyes light up.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Really? And where is this ghost?
<b>
</b><b> ULU
</b> I don't know. I've never seen it.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane walks slowly down the hall. As he walks he glides
his hands along the wall, feeling, pushing, scanning the
ceiling. Searching.
<b> I
</b><b> INT. STAIRWAY - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Todd and Zoe kneel on the stairs. They surreptitiously
pour COOKING OIL all over the wood.
<b>
</b> Then -- a creak. Zoe whispers.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Here he comes...!
<b>
</b> Zoe and Todd run downstairs and hide behind the couch.
<b>
</b><b> F
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 24.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane strides to the top step and RAPS on the wall. He
RAPS again, listening for hollow spaces. Nothing. Shane
lifts his left foot out to take a step down...
<b>
</b> When he hears an alert from his laptop. He goes back to
the living room, then turns his attention to his laptop.
MR. Chun's photo appears next to a VEHICLE REGISTRATION.
Shane scans it...
<b>
</b> Todd and Zoe's faces fall. The footsteps again-
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> He's coming back-
<b>
</b> But Helga, carrying a huge laundry basket, appears, takes
a step onto the stairs --
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b><b> AHHH!!!
</b><b>
</b> BUMP! BUMP! BUMP! She flies down the greased stairs,
BANGING her head and ass on each step, all the way down.
<b>
</b> inally, BAM! Helga HITS the bottom with a mighty crash.
She screams, as laundry flutters down from above.
<b> T
</b><b> IGHT - ZOE AND TODD
</b><b>
</b> They gulp, terrified.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Uh-oh.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SWISS BANK - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Establishing.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SWISS BANK - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Bill and Julie, looking jet-lagged, sit across a desk
from a SWISS BANKER. He seems to be about 100 years old.
He's reading a HUGE stack of paperwork with a magnifying
glass, mouthing along in FRENCH. It's taking him a LONG
time. They wait patiently -- til their patience runs out.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> As we discussed, this is an urgent
matter.
<b>
</b> The Banker puts up a finger to "shush" him. Then looks
back to the paperwork, then licks his finger to turn the
page. He licks his finger again, but can't get the page
to turn.
<b>
</b><b> 25.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He feebly gets up, and shuffles across the room to a
WATER COOLER. He fills a paper cup with water and
shuffles back to his desk. He dips his finger in the
water to turn the page.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Can't you call somebody? Do something to
get us around all this paperwork?
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Sorry. Not in Switzerland, I can't.
<b>
</b> Bill can't stand it anymore. He jumps to his feet.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> This is absurd. If we can't get some
faster service, we're going to have to
file a complaint.
<b>
</b> The Banker looks at him blankly.
<b>
</b><b> BANKER
</b> Marcel!
<b>
</b> Another Banker, MARCEL, enters.
<b>
</b><b> MARCEL
</b> Oui.
<b>
</b><b> BANKER
</b> Je ne comprende pas.
<b>
</b><b> MARCEL
</b> (to Bill and Julie:)
I'm so sorry, the chief does not speak
English. But I can tell you -- you will
have access to the box tout-suite. As
soon as your background checks clear.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Thank you. How long is that?
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Helga, suitcases in hand, heads to the door -- Shane
tries to block her path. Peter's in the aquarium. The
duck flies around, QUACKING.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> AGGH! These brats! Sugi Pula!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red Leader, remain calm --
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 26.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> I am calm. I QUIT, that makes me calm!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Let's not be hasty.
<b>
</b> Suddenly, RING! Amid the chaos, Shane moves for the
phone. Helga takes the opening and runs for the door. He
grabs her suitcase. As she tries to wrestle it away,
Shane picks up the receiver.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Hello---
(sees Helga crawling away)
Don't even think about it.
<b>
</b> The suitcase handle breaks off, and Helga dashes for the
door. Shane dives, grabbing her foot. He DRAGS her back.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Ah, Mrs. Plummer.
(covering the phone, so Julie
can't hear the struggle)
No no -- everything's fine. You're gonna
be gone how much longer?
<b>
</b> here's a pause, the camera DOLLY/ZOOMS as he says it:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Five business days?
<b>
</b> elga's shoe comes off -- Helga falls forwards, and Shane
falls back, against the counter.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> That is not a problem. Just doing my...
<b>
</b> He picks up his hand, that landed on a diaper.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Duty.
<b>
</b> Helga's at the door. Shane body-checks it closed. Helga
struggles to get him off. CRUNCH. Helga chomps down on
Shane's hand...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Ah! Things are GREAT!!! You do what you
have to do.
<b>
</b> Shane lets go. Helga scampers out the door.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 27.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Take care, Mrs. Plummer.
<b>
</b> Shane hangs up the phone, as Helga makes a dash down the
path to a waiting cab.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane chases Helga to the cab.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red Leader! I command you to come back!
That is a direct order! You can't leave
a man behind!!
<b>
</b> Helga jumps in the cab.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b><b> (SCREAMING)
</b> I don't know the Peter Panda song!!
<b>
</b> As the cab pulls away, in the rear window, Helga glares
back, then does an obscene Romanian hand gesture.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> His jaw drops in disbelief. He drops his head, defeated.
Then -- he slowly glances up.
<b>
</b><b> ACROSS THE STREET
</b><b>
</b> The Korean couple is staring at him, dumbfounded.
<b>
</b><b> KOREAN WOMAN
</b> Don't worry, if she loves you, she'll
come back.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> Rises, takes a deep breath and strides inside.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane enters... to find the kids are all gloomy. The
baby cries. Shane awkwardly picks the baby up.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay, listen up. There's been a change of
plans. Your mom's not coming back as
soon as she thought...
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 28.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> (worried)
When is she coming back?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Soon. In the meantime, we're just gonna
have some more big fun.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> That's what we've been doing?
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> But tomorrow's a school day.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I need a signed release for Driver's Ed!
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> I've got Brownies!
<b>
</b> Shane reacts, inundated.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Whoa, WHOA! HALT! We'll take this hill
one inch at a time. Only then can we
rise to the challenge. All for one, and
one for all!
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> (singing)
"Be all that you can be!"
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's Army. I'm Navy. But I appreciate
your enthusiasm.
<b>
</b> nice moment. Until -- FWRPPPP!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Tell me that was the duck?
<b>
</b> FWRPPP! WE zoom in on the baby's leering face.
<b>
</b> hane quickly moves the Baby away from his body. Pure
self-preservation, everyone bolts from the room.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Hey. HEY!
<b>
</b> Nobody will help. Even Peter runs, holding his nose.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 29.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He gulps.
<b>
</b><b> INT. BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane enters, holding out the Baby at full arm's length.
He lowers Tyler onto a changing pad, takes a deep breath,
then pulls out PLIERS and a SCREWDRIVER. Using the tools
as chopsticks, he cautiously unfastens the diaper... And
then -- it flops open. SShane GROANS, repelled.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> The things I do for my country.
<b>
</b> Shane tries approaching -- he can't do it. Aghast, he
looks around for a solution. Then: Shane picks up the
Baby and dips the bottom half in the toilet, then
FLUSHES, over and over and over.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane patrols the hall, making sure all the doors and
windows are locked. Lulu is in her pj's.
<b>
</b> A hand tugs on Shane's shirt, he looks down to see Lulu.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Hi. Zoe thinks you look like the Hulk. I
think you're cute.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (unsure how to respond...)
Thank you.
<b>
</b> Lulu doesn't go away, she just stares at him, it starts
making Shane uncomfortable.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Do you know Kung Fu?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Affirmative.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Did you ever punch someone so hard that
their head came off?
<b>
</b> hane walks away from Lulu. She follows. Shane is again
twirling the MEDAL in his fingers. Lulu follows at his
heels, like a puppy.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 30.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU (CONT'D)
</b> What's that medal for?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> None of your business.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> I'll trade you a SpongeBob button for it.
<b>
</b> Shane walks room to room, pulling down the shades on
every window.
<b>
</b><b> LULU (CONT'D)
</b> Is that so people can't hurt us?
<b>
</b> He bends down to her level, and tries to sound sweet:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I think -- it's time for you take a nappy-
poo, in beddibye land, little girl.
<b>
</b> Lulu looks at him, like he's an idiot.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Do I look like I'm five to you?
<b>
</b> Lulu sulks off to bed, and shuts off her light.
<b>
</b> All the lights are out, all the kids asleep. Shane
breathes a sigh of relief, and patrols.
<b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - BREAKFAST - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> The Kids are dressed for school. On the table in front of
each place is a tan BAG. The kids sit down at their
designated spots, confused by the MRE's (MEALS READY TO
EAT) in front of them.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What are you waiting for? Dig in.
<b>
</b> Todd, Lulu and Zoe all tear open their bags.
<b>
</b> Todd pulls out a bag of CORN BEEF HASH and a Snickers
bar. Zoe pulls out a bag of FETTUCCINE ALFREDO and some
matches. Lulu takes out a bag of turkey slices and a
coffee packet. Shane smiles, proud of his accomplishment.
The Kids stare at "breakfast," dubious.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Don't worry, I can get lots more of
those. And I've survived off this stuff
for months.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 31.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Like I'm really gonna eat all those
carbs.
<b>
</b> Shane turns to address them:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay, ladies. Your mama -- is not here to
take care of you now. So -- here's how
it's gonna be. We're gonna pull together,
all for one, one for all. If I say in,
you stay in, if I say out, you go out...
<b>
</b> Peter stands in his chair, dancing...
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> Ba ba do the hokie pokey...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I did not say at ease!
<b>
</b> Peter's eyes fill with tears.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> He's only two, he doesn't have any idea
what you're talking about. I don't have
any idea what you're talking about...
<b>
</b> Shane sighs. Lulu asks Shane:
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Can you kill a man with your bare hands?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You play too many video games. (then:)
Yes.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> ... I can cross my eyes. Wanna see?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Negative.
<b>
</b> Lulu crosses her eyes at Shane, then at Tyler -- who
SCREAMS at the top of his lungs. Shane turns to Lulu.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Tyler hates it when I do that...
<b>
</b> Peter starts bawling, too. He runs away, crying. The
table cloth is yanked to the floor. And the phone rings.
Shane answers, trying to hear over the screaming.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 32.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Plummer residence... yes, I know it's
Monday. Oh. Thank you, sir.
<b>
</b> He hangs up. Zoe smiles at him, innocently.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Who was that?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Your vice principal. He said if you're
late again, you and Todd are expelled. He
wants to see you in his office. With your
... legal guardian.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The garage door opens, dramatically unveiling Shane. He's
wearing Tyler in a SNUGGLE. Across his chest, he's got a
bandoleer of baby-bottles and juice boxes. Shane can't
hide his contempt as he sees: Julie's WHITE MINIVAN. A
bumper sticker declares "World's Greatest Mom." Shane
puts Tyler in a CAR SEAT. Its interlocking buckle
connects FOUR WAYS. Shane fumbles with it for a while.
It just doesn't add up...
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> We're gonna be late.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Not on my watch.
<b>
</b> Shane TIES the buckles in a fancy knot.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The car speeds out of the drive, backwards at sixty
m.p.h.. It does a skidding 180 and heads down the street.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. EAST BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL - 9:29 A.M.
</b><b>
</b> A big suburban school, Busses and PARENTS are parked at
the curb, STUDENTS of all ages are hurrying inside. The
Minivan skids completely sideways, into a TINY parking
spot -- a death defying, perfect parallel park.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> CLOSE UP ON: a stopwatch. It hits ZERO, and at that
moment, the SCHOOL'S BELL RINGS.
<b>
</b> Holding the stopwatch is the VICE PRINCIPAL MURNEY
(50's). He's HUGE and mean.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 33.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> I always said these kids didn't need a
baby sitter, they needed a parole
officer. Looks like Mrs. Plummer finally
listened.
<b>
</b> He glares at Shane, and the Kids: Shane sits with Tyler
in a Snuggle, holding Peter on a harness, as he plays on
the floor. The Kids are seated around him, mortified.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> (To Shane)
What's your name, son?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Wolfe. Shane. Lieutenant. I'm in charge
of watching these kids for... a few days.
<b>
</b> Murney is unimpressed.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> aby-sitter huh. Well, whatever work you
can get. I'm Murphy. Duane. V.P in charge
of discipline, conduct and truancy. Top
to bottom, K thru 12. You're in my house
now, boy. I coach wrestling, too. (re:
Todd:) And the creeper here played hookey
from every wrestling practice this month.
<b>
</b> The Kids crack up. Murney is furious.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> She's missed twenty-two Driver's Ed
classes. Out of twenty-three. They're the
worst students in my school.
<b>
</b><b> OMAN'S VOICE
</b> Your school?
<b>
</b> Murney grimaces as PRINCIPAL CLAIRE NELSON (early 30's)
enters. She's attractive, assured, tough. He withers.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Good morning kids. What are you doing in
my office, Murney?
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> I was explaining, that as vice principal,
I am in charge of....
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 34.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Very little. I thought I asked you to
find out who stuck to the baloney slices
to the cafeteria ceiling with mustard?
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> I'm got some leads. (then, confidential:)
My informant's about to crack.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Then hop to it. I think I can handle this
from here.
<b>
</b> The opens the door for Murney. He exits, fuming. The
BELL rings.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red 1, Red 2. Get moving.
<b>
</b> The teens hustle off to their classes. Shane checks his
TRACKER -- two little red DOTS move away. Good.
<b>
</b> Principal Claire eyeballs him... staring him up and down,
as he casually holds the three kids.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> So. You're the new baby-sitter?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Bodyguard. You see, Mrs. Plummer called
my captain, she thought the kids needed -
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> It's okay, Lieutenant, I was briefed of
the situation by Mrs. Plummer. She told
me all about you.
<b>
</b> She notices NAVY SEAL tattoo on his upper arm. Claire
sees this -- and suddenly reacts, impressed.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE (CONT'D)
</b> Lieutenant, huh? You with "The Teams?"
(Shane nods.)
Petty Officer Third Class Claire Nelson
at your service.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... You're kidding?
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Four years at Naval base Coronado. The
Service paid for my college.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 35.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane stares not sure whether to believe. On the spot,
Claire looks nervously around. She lifts her pants leg...
revealing a tiny ANCHOR TATTOO on her ankle.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> "Honor, Courage...
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Commitment". That's the way I live my
life, and the way I run my school.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Can't be too careful. So. Permission to
stick around and keep eyes on the kids?
<b>
</b> She smiles.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Permission granted. Welcome aboard. Just
try not to frighten the children.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No one will even notice I'm here.
<b>
</b><b> JUMP CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. EAST BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL - MID-MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Shane, dead serious, (Tyler in Snuggle) is riding the see-
saw in the school's playground. Peter rides on the other
side with a group of KIDS, to balance Shane. Shane types
on his laptop: CLAIRE NELSON. A picture of Claire in a
Naval uniform pops up as well as her stats...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Clean as a whistle.
<b>
</b> Shane closes the computer, picks up a pair of binoculars.
<b>
</b> BINOCULARS P.O.V. as Shane goes from window to window of
the school: Zoe is glaring at him through the window from
her seat in a class. Todd, sitting in the back row of a
class, yanks his hood over his head. Lulu waves from 2nd
Grade, delighted.
<b>
</b> Along line of FIRST GRADERS wait for the seesaw.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Back off. Official Business.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 36.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> ON THE PLAYGROUND:
</b><b>
</b> Shane stands with his Baby snuggle. Peter is running in
circles around him on his harness, like a tether ball. He
checks his tracking device...
<b>
</b><b> INT. CAFETERIA - LUNCH TIME
</b><b>
</b> BINOCULARS P.O.V.: Five hundred students eat at long
tables. Zoe, with a group of HIP FRIENDS, turns her back
to him embarrassed. Todd, in line to get lunch, does the
same. Lulu sees Shane and waves.
<b>
</b> Shane puts down his binoculars. He turns to the person in
front of him, with stern intensity.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Give up now. Save us both a world of
pain. Now -- last time: Open the hanger,
Black Hawk coming in.
<b>
</b> Reveal: Shane is talking to Tyler, in his safety seat --
trying to get him to eat. Beside Shane, Peter is
destroying a sandwich with animal crackers.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Open in T minus three, two, one...
<b>
</b> Tyler gurgles, ignoring him. Shane sighs. Principal
Claire sits next to Shane with her lunch tray.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> What would you say is the secret with
kids, Mr. Wolfe?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Show no weakness.
<b>
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> I'll drink to that. (she toasts, with
milk.) Shane... Can I call you Shane?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Sure.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> So. When you agreed to serve your
country, I bet you didn't know you'd be
serving creamed bananas to one year olds,
huh?
<b>
</b> Shane gives her a look. Principal Claire smiles.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 37.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Hey -- I out rank you, you know.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Not here, you don't. You're on dry land,
lieutenant. (she looks at his chair)
Well, not so dry where you're sitting, I
guess.
<b>
</b> Shane sees that Tyler is pouring his juice Box all over
Shane's pants. He yanks Tyler away from him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Oh, man...
<b>
</b> Tyler starts to cry -- but Shane stops him from crying by
making a funny face. Tyler laughs. Claire smiles.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Don't take this personally -- but you're
pretty good at this. Seriously, I'm
impressed. A whole day, and all three
Plummer's stayed out of trouble.
That's... unusual.
<b>
</b> Suddenly there's a huge crash around the corner, and the
sound of Students in an uproar. Shane hands Tyler off to
the Principal and leaps over the table...
<b>
</b><b> INT. LUNCH-LINE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Students are in a ring, cheering, as four STUDENTS in
Wrestling Jackets hold Todd. One reaches down and gives
Todd a "wedgy" then another WRESTLER punches him. Todd
slips out of their hold and decks the Wrestler. VP Murney
is watching, but not stopping it. Zoe, in the crowd,
cheers Todd on:
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Kick his butt, Todd!
<b>
</b> Shane and Claire push through the Students. As soon as
they see the Principal, the crowd freezes.
<b>
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Who started this?
<b>
</b> Silence. Then vice principal Murney steps forward.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> He did. (Todd)
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 38.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Todd started a fight with five students
at once?
<b>
</b> Shane turns to Todd, and "punches fists" with him,
impressed.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> The kid's mixed up. Look at him.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> If I catch anyone on the team fighting
again, next week's tournament is off. I
don't care who starts it.
<b>
</b> Murney smirks, and gives her a "I'll handle it" wink.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> You heard the lady. Any more fighting and
there'll be no more wrestling. Personally
I think that's a little harsh. Boys'll be
boys. (low, to Todd:) `Scept for Plummer
here.
<b>
</b> Todd lunges at him. Shane effortlessly grabs Todd and
Judo FLIPS HIM -- Todd lands on his feet, sticking the
landing. No one is more Ssurprised than Todd and Shane.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Nice moves, man.
<b>
</b> The Bell rings, the crowd breaks up. Murney approaches
Shane.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> Pretty slick, Frogman -- I'm a black belt
myself. S'why they asked me to coach the
wrestling team.
<b>
</b> Murney makes a loud Kung Fu CRY and throws a punch,
stopping an inch from Shane's head. Shane doesn't flinch.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> See -- total control. Maybe you could
stop by practice, we'd show the boys how
a couple of pros do it, what do you say?
Come on, promise I'll go easy on you.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Sorry, sir. I'm on duty.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 39.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> Oh, yeah. That's right. I forgot you had
to baby-sit. Maybe some other time then.
<b>
</b> Shane puts an arm over Todd's shoulder. Todd shakes him
off and heads to class. Murney snickers to Claire:
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> Looks like pretty boy there's all bark
and no bite.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> ... Don't even think it, Murney. He'd
kill you so fast, I wouldn't even have
time to get my camera.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - 2:55
</b><b>
</b> Shane looks exhausted. Peter is asleep in his shoulder,
Tyler is crying, as he keeps watch. The Principal strolls
up.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Another day, another dollar twenty, minus
taxes... aren't you gonna change him?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'd love to, for one who'll eat, and not
cry.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> That's not what I mean, Lt.
<b>
</b> Then Shane smells what she means -- Tyler's diaper is
full. Shane recoils in disgust, holding Tyler out like a
grenade.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Oh -- change him. Roger that. Uh...
<b>
</b> Panicked, he pushes Tyler towards the Principal.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Sirnosir. Not my job.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> But...
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Instructions are right on the box.
Bathroom's down the hall. Have fun.
<b>
</b><b> 40.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Just then, an alarm in his Jacket GOES OFF. He looks at
his tracker: it's flashing RED 3 RED 3. Shane hands off
Peter and Tyler to the Principal.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Emergency!
<b>
</b><b> INT. 2ND GRADE HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane runs down the hall, following his tracking device.
It leads him to a door. He bursts though it, doing a
shoulder roll.
<b>
</b><b> INT. 2ND GRADE CLASSROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> 2ND GRADERS are sitting on the floor. Lulu is in front of
the class, with the Panic Button in her hand. The board
reads: SHOW AND TELL. Shane lands in fight stance -- the
Class applauds. Next to Lulu is a very upstaged LITTLE
BOY with a FROG. Lulu sticks her tongue out at him.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> See! My nanny can kick your nanny's butt.
<b>
</b> Shane is furious, but the FINAL BELL rings. At that
moment, his Tracker Alarm sounds again. He looks:
<b>
</b> CLOSE-UP ON THE TRACKER SCREEN: Two DOTS labeled RED 1
and RED 2, are heading away from the school fast.
<b> I
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane runs with Lulu through the mob of Kids. He hands
her to the Principal.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Thanks.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. EAST BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane dives into the Minivan. The DOTS on the tracker are
headed North. He speeds away after them.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BUSY INTERSECTION - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The BLINKING DOTS on his tracker are side by side, racing
down the road ahead of Shane. They make a sharp right.
Shane makes a right, almost tipping the minivan. He
blasts through a red light.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 41.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. IN FRONT OF A CONSTRUCTION SITE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> He turns a corner -- a PLYWOOD WALL surrounds the site.
He leaps out of the minivan. He looks at the tracker: Zoe
and Todd are dead ahead, through the fence.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Two BIG CONSTRUCTION workers are standing on the other
side of the plywood wall -- Shane KICKS out one entire
section, and charges through.
<b>
</b><b> CONSTRUCTION WORKER
</b> What hell do you think you're doing?
<b>
</b> He turns around, to see several CONSTRUCTION WORKERS, all
brandishing tools.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Tell me where the kids are and I'll let
you all live!
<b>
</b><b> CONSTRUCTION WORKER
</b> Buddy, you're about to get a beat down.
<b>
</b> Three Workers rush him. Shane easily takes them out. The
remaining Workers give Shane a scared look -- then RUN.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He's alone. He catches his breath, then checks his
tracker. Todd and Zoe's BEEPS are coming from a MANHOLE.
<b>
</b> Shane pries off the manhole cover. He looks down.
<b>
</b> IN THE MANHOLE - It's dark and dank.
<b>
</b> No sweat. Shane lowers himself down.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SEWER - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Shane lands shoulder deep in DISGUSTING SLUDGE. He
winces, then checks the tracker -- the DOTS are CLOSE,
feet away. Shane trudges through the river of muck.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red 1? Red 2?
<b>
</b> It's horrific. The DOTS BEEP LOUDER. He's almost there!
He splashes around a corner -- then gasps -- he sees the
blinking lights below the surface. He takes a deep
breath and dives under. He comes up for air with ZOE and
TODD'S HOMING BEACONS. A note is tied to them: "Ha! Ha!"
<b>
</b><b> 42.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Principal Claire sits with the Kids in the living room.
From outside, they hear the front door open, and the
sound of OMINOUS, SQUISHY footsteps.
<b>
</b> Then the door swings open, revealing Shane, looking like
a Swamp Creature. Everyone gasps, then covers their
noses. A CUTE YOUNG COP enters behind Shane. Todd
stiffens. Zoe fixes her hair. The Cop looks at them.
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> 14 year old Male, weird hair. 16 year old
female. Ditto. (into his radio:) Cancel
that a.p.b..
<b>
</b> The Cop turns to Shane, with a smirk.
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP (CONT'D)
</b> In the future, use our nonemergency
number. That's the one to call if
nobody's fleein' or bleedin'.
<b>
</b> The Cop leaves, Zoe checks him out as he goes...
<b>
</b><b> CLAIRE
</b> Shane are you okay?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (eerily calm:)
Just fine, thank you.
<b>
</b> Covering her nose. The smell is BAD.
<b>
</b><b> CLAIRE
</b> I should probably get going then. If you
need anymore help... Call.
<b>
</b> She practically GAGS as she passes him. Shane looks
around at Scott and Zoe, he doesn't say anything, but
with his hand he makes a "my eyes on you" gesture.
<b>
</b><b> INT. BATHROOM - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane is in the shower. He pours an entire bottle of
SHAMPOO over himself.
<b>
</b><b> INT. BACK YARD - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane BURNS his clothes in the barbecue.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 43.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Tyler is in a high-chair, Peter rocks in a cradle-swing.
<b>
</b> Shane enters, in just a towel. He sees on the fridge;
Helga'S SHOPPING LIST -- all junk food. He looks at it,
cringing in disgust, before he notices:
<b>
</b> Sitting around the table are Lulu's entire BROWNIE TROOP -
- a dozen little girls in uniforms, they're staring at
him. The Brownies applaud, and whistle.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> oo hoo! Hubba hubba!
<b>
</b> Shane covers up and leaps into the Family Room, pulling
Lulu after him.
<b>
</b><b> INT. FAMILY ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Who are those people?
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> It's my troop, it's Monday. Monday,
Wednesday and Saturday are troop nights.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (O.S.)
</b> Get rid of them.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> I can't. Everybody's parents go out on
troop nights. They won't be home `til
ten. Mom's our den mother.
<b>
</b> Lulu starts to sniffle, close to tears.
<b>
</b><b> LULU (CONT'D)
</b> Tonight we're supposed to sell cookies.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Selling cookies isn't imperative to my
mission.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> We have to. If we don't sell enough
cookies, we can't go the Jamboree, and if
we can't go to the Jamboree.
(whispers:)
Come on, Shane. You gotta help me out.
They already think I'm a loser. And it's
not like I have any other friends, cause
mom never lets me out of her sight...
<b>
</b><b> 44.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Lulu's about to burst into tears. Shane sighs.
<b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane, back in "uniform," paces in front of the Brownie
Troop. They are assembled, at attention, Indian Style.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Alright, ladies. Here's how it's gonna
be. Tonight, I'm gonna be your den --
commander. That means if you want to live
to see tomorrow, do as I say. DO WE
<b> UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER?
</b><b>
</b> The Brownies stare art him in stunned silence.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> Den Mother? ... I'm scared of you.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Good. Now -- wait here.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LIVING ROOM - A LITTLE LATE
</b><b>
</b> The Brownies are in the living room, unpacking boxes of
cookies, getting ready to go. Zoe's on the phone.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> ... yeah, he's a total psycho. I think
mom found him from one of those Tough
Love boot camps or something...
<b>
</b> Shane blows passed her, revving a cordless POWER DRILL.
<b>
</b> VARIOUS SHOTS: As Shane uses the drill to seal every
window and door. He's not just locking them -- he's
<b> SCREWING THEM SHUT WITH DRYWALL SCREWS.
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. ZOE'S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane's finishing up the last window.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> This is totally cruel and unusual! You
can't do this -- we could run out of air!
<b>
</b> Shane lifts her window so it's open a HALF INCH, then
drills it into place. Shane ushers the Troop out the
door, then loads Peter and Tyler into TWO SNUGGLES -- one
attached to his front, the other to his back. Shane
closes the front door and attaches a "Club" lock to it.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 45.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. DRIVEWAY - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane Loads the brownies and toddlers into the minivan.
<b>
</b> As the minivan pulls out of the driveway, the camera
CRANES up to...
<b>
</b><b> ZOE'S WINDOW:
</b><b>
</b> Inside, Zoe picks up the phone, hits speed-dial.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> .. he's got us on lock-down, it's like
Oz or something. No, not munchkin Oz --
HBO Oz. (she listens:) Hm... I dunno if
that's a good idea, Scott...
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GROCERY STORE - PARKING LOT - AFTERNOON
</b><b>
</b> Shane pulls the minivan into the crowded parking lot --
the Brownies are all singing 99 Bottles of Beer on the
Wall at the top of their lungs.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GROCERY STORE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane (double-Snuggled) helps the Brownies set up a card
table to display their cookies.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I gotta get supplies. I can see you
through the window, but if anything
happens...
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> (flashing her bracelet)
I know.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GROCERY STORE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane watches the Brownies on the store's CLOSED CIRCUIT
monitor, as he pushes a cart into the store. He looks
around at the bright, colorful boxes of Children's
Cereals, Rainbow Fruit Roll-Ups, Snack packs... NOTHING
looks familiar -- nothing even looks like food.
<b>
</b> He sees: a huge, 100 pack VALUE CASE of SPAM. He smiles.
Tyler looks at him -- "what are you, nuts?"
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GROCERY STORE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The Brownies are trying to sell the cookies, but they're
very shy. SHOPPERS blow passed them without even noticing
them. One of the Brownies spots something...
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 46.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> Oh no... they're back.
<b>
</b> SLOW MOTION: In a shot out of Reservoir Dogs, we see who
she means: A group of bad ass, chubby CUB SCOUTS. They're
headed straight towards the cookie table, menacingly.
<b>
</b><b> UGLY CUB SCOUT
</b> (to another Scout)
Hey Skeever, what's stinky and floats
`til you flush `em?
<b>
</b><b> 2ND SCOUT
</b> Brownies?
<b>
</b> The Scouts cackle. The Ugly Scout yanks a box of cookies
away from Lulu. He rips it open, dumping the cookies on
the ground and grinding Uthem with his foot.
<b>
</b><b> UGLY CUB SCOUT
</b> This is Troop 16 territory. How are we
supposed to sell raffle tickets when this
place reeks of your skanky cookies?
<b>
</b><b> 2ND SCOUT
</b> BEAT IT, before I get my face punching
badge on you.
<b>
</b> The Brownies take off running, clutching their boxes. One
of the Scouts grabs Lulu -- she tugs and tugs, but can't
get away. Finally, the Cub Scout takes her SCARF. He
laughs, and lets her go. The Cub Scouts high-five.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GROCERY STORE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane heads to the Brownie's table -- but Lulu and the
Brownies are gone. In their place are the Chubby Scouts.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Where are my troops?
<b>
</b><b> UGLY CUB SCOUT
</b> ... I haven't seen anybody, you Skeever?
<b>
</b><b> 2ND SCOUT
</b> Nope. You wanna buy a raffle ticket?
We're trying to win .22's.
<b>
</b> Around his neck, Shane's monitor starts beeping. Shane
takes off running in the direction of the signal.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 47.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PARKING LOT - SECONDS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane runs up to the minivan. The Brownies are huddled
behind it, trembling.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What happened? (No one answers) Well?
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Those boys over there broke our cookies.
<b>
</b> Shane eyes the Cub Scouts. Dead serious:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Well then -- I'm afraid I have to
eliminate them. If I don't come back --
avenge my death.
<b>
</b> He heads toward the Scouts. The Brownies scream.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIES
</b> No!
<b>
</b> Shane stops. He bends down, and points at Lulu's Panic
button. He firmly tells Lulu, who's close to tears:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> This is not a toy. I'm here to protect
you. Not cookies. Get in the car, we're
going home.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> You can't take us home yet, you're
supposed to take us to dinner.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Where?
<b>
</b><b> INT. CHUCK E. CHEESE - A LITTLE LATER - DAY
</b><b>
</b> An extreme CU of the Chuck E. Cheese MANAGER. He wears
braces and head-gear, which causes him to lisp.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> Welcome to Chuck E. Cheese!
<b>
</b> Wider reveals...CHAOS. SCREAMING CHILDREN everywhere.
On stage, the Chuck E. Cheese automaton band JAMS.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I wish I were in Chechnya.
<b>
</b><b> A LITTLE LATER:
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 48.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Brownies are running around, playing video games and skee
ball. Shane's watching Peter, in the PLASTIC BALL POOL,
while he holds Tyler in the Snuggle. The Manager
approaches Shane.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> Anything elsh I can do for you?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> In a big glass (he shows him) This much
ice... this much cyanide.
<b>
</b> The Manager laughs, but the headgear seems to hurt his
face when he smiles.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> How `bout a re-fill on that pischer of
Mischer Pibb?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What?
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> (gesturing:)
Pischer of Mischer Pibb? Mischer Pibb?
<b>
</b> Frustrated, the Manager picks up a pitcher and exits.
Lulu approaches, she grabs Shane by the sleeve and drags
him over to the stand up Mortal Kombat game.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Let's fight!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'm watching your brother...
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> I pressed two player. I thought you liked
combat. Unless you're scared.
<b>
</b> Shane doesn't like the sound of that. He steps up to the
machine. He cracks his knuckles, stretches. Then he takes
a joy stick. He checks over his shoulder -- Peter's
happily splashing about in the plastic balls.
<b>
</b> ON THE SCREEN: they each select a fighter. Lulu picks a
small female character. Shane picks a man who looks LIKE
SHANE. They begin, Lulu screams out with her fighter, in
unison:
<b>
</b><b> VIDEO GAME/LULU
</b> Prepare to be annihilated!
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 49.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> She leaps over Shane in a somersault and throws a DOZEN
throwing stars. Then kicks him in the head repeatedly.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's not fair. Nobody can jump thirty
feet.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> The Hulk can.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That wasn't a documentary.
<b>
</b> The second round starts, Brownies have gathered around to
watch. Lulu's fighter does a series of kicks. Shane can't
even get one punch in -- she pins him to the ground,
kneels on his head, then kicks him in the face. Shane is
taking it really seriously. He's really mad.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> This isn't fair. My joystick's broken.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> You wanna switch?
<b>
</b> They switch sides. Round three starts. Lulu's fighter
picks up Shane's in the air, spins her, then cracks her
in half over his knee... and then a kick in the face.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (re: the Snuggle)
You don't have a baby on your chest...
<b>
</b> Lulu's having fun now, she's just avoiding Shane's
fighter, dancing, jumping, while he pounds the buttons,
swinging and missing... Shane's really fuming.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> You're not even trying...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> I AM TOO TRYING.
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Too slow... come on -- take a shot...
oops too slow... swing and a miss...
<b>
</b> She keeps dancing. It's really annoying. Shane's working
the joy stick hard, slamming buttons, but he can't hit
her. He is KO'd. She does a very obnoxious VICTORY DANCE.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 50.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU (CONT'D)
</b> In your face! I am the greatest hand-to-
hand combat champion in the entire world!
<b>
</b> Shane screams and RIPS THE JOYSTICK OFF THE MACHINE.
Sparks fly. Shane looks around to see if the staff
noticed. He and the Brownies sneak away, leaving the
sizzling machine, its joystick dangling by its wires.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Zoe's on the phone, the Zhouse is quiet.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Mom -- stop worrying.
<b>
</b><b> INTERCUT WITH:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. HOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> JULIE (ON THE PHONE)
</b> I'm a mom, it's my job to worry.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Seriously, everything's cool. The guy's
just a control freak.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> It's only a few more days. I hate leaving
you, but you know I have to do this. I
love you.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I know. Don't worry, we're okay. Tonight
I'm just doing homework -- in my cell.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> As Zoe hangs up, we WIDEN OUT: The house is PACKED with
TEENAGERS: they're keeping quiet until the phone is in
its cradle, then the TEENAGE DJ starts the music back up.
<b>
</b> Zoe looks around at the mess. She turns to Scott, who
doesn't seem concerned at all.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Dude, this is outta hand. Who are all
these people?
<b>
</b><b> SCOTT
</b> Jus' ma peeps. And the folks who read my
<b> BLOG.
</b><b>
</b><b> 51.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Zoe rolls her eyes, then notices a WEIRD SWEATY KID,
who's throwing mustard covered baloney slices at the
ceiling, where they stick with a satisfying SQUISH.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Dude, not cool...
<b>
</b> VARIOUS SHOTS - The Plummer House:
<b>
</b> - Its a huge party: the place is JAMMED, kids everywhere.
<b>
</b> - Teenagers come and go through the kitchen's DOGGY DOOR.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MALL PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane (Tyler in Snuggle), loads Brownies into the
minivan, counting them. Barking at them like Marines:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Move, move, move! Go go!
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SUBURBAN ROAD - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane drives, the Brownies are singing 99 Bottles...
again. Suddenly, a look of horror comes across Shane's
face... he spins the minivan in a 180 and floors it.
<b>
</b><b> INT. CHUCK E. CHEESE - LATER - DUSK
</b><b>
</b> Shane (Tyler in Snuggle) bursts in, the Brownies follow.
We see what he forgot: PETER, still happily playing in
the pool of plastic balls. The Manager is watching him.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> I figured you'd come back for him -- they
almost always do.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Inexcusable, to leave a man behind like
that...
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> Relax, we once found a kid in the ball
pool when we opened in the morning --
<b>
</b> Shane wades into the ball pool and pulls Peter out, which
is fine, except that he's MISSING HIS DIAPER.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER (CONT'D)
</b> WHOA, Whoa. Not okay, freestyling in the
ball pool -- not okay.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 52.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane grimaces. He holds his breath, and goes down for
the diaper. He disappears under the balls -- for a long
time. The Manager and the Brownies share a concerned
look. He's still down there. Silence.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Should we send someone in after him?
<b>
</b> He surfaces, gasping. He's holding the diaper, out away
from him. He charges across the room with the diaper.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Clear out! GO GO GO!
<b>
</b> And he bursts out the other doors, at a full run.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane is exhausted, as he pulls up in the Minivan. He
gets out -- and groans in disbelief. It's insanity: HIP
HOP blasts, gyrating TEENAGERS everywhere, chugging
drinks, making out, peeing in the bushes, jocks throwing
footballs.
<b>
</b> Reeling, Shane takes Lulu, Peter and Tyler up the path.
He protectively guides them past the craziness -- until a
football suddenly WHIZZES by. Outraged, Shane snatches
it mid-air -- then CRUSHES the ball. POP!
<b>
</b> hane gives a blood-curdling stare.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Party's over.
<b>
</b> The jocks flinch, scared, then RUN. Shane unlocks the
CLUB lock off the door.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Inside is worse, a total wreck. Zoe's dancing with
Scott.
<b>
</b> Shane drags the needle across a record at the D.J.'s
turntables. Everyone recoils from the horrible sound.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No one leaves until this house is
spotless! I want to be able to eat off
the floor! The latrine! Hell, I wanna
be able to eat in the kitchen!!
<b>
</b> Nervous glances -- then everybody suddenly RUNS for the
back! Shane is confused, trying to understand...
<b>
</b><b> 53.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> then he intuitively dashes past them! He's scoping the
surroundings... windows... vents... AH! The doggy door!
<b>
</b> Scott is halfway through the doggy door when Shane grabs
his ankles and yanks him back in. Shane holds Scott
upsidedown by his ankles.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Oh no you don't. Now, we're gonna do this
my way -- no highway option.
<b>
</b> Just then: A MUSTARD SOAKED BALONEY SLICE drops from the
ceiling, sticking to the TOP of Shane's head. PLOP.
Shane's eyes narrow, he takes it off, trying to maintain
his dignity. He fumes...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Start swabbing, ladies.
<b>
</b> He hands Scott the mop. Scott gulps - and starts mopping.
<b>
</b><b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> CLEANING THE HOUSE.
</b><b>
</b> Miserable TEENS scrub. In a bathroom, Scott and Zoe, in
Playtex gloves, furiously clean. Scott scrubs the toilet
with Pinesol as the Duck swims in the top of the toilet.
<b>
</b><b> SCOTT
</b> This is officially the worst party ever.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> It was YOUR idea! I don't even know most
of these losers.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE/STUDY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane inspects the house, as kids clean. Shane wipes a
finger down the sofa. Clean. He lifts the sofa, and rubs
his finger UNDER IT. He holds it up to a KID... residue.
The Kid quickly starts cleaning again.
<b>
</b> A GIRL reorganizes a stack of CD'S. Shane goes over
them, straightening -- then he notices something. He
pulls out a CD: It is a home-burned disk, labeled with a
Sharpie. It reads: GHOST. Oh my god...
<b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - SIMULTANEOUS
</b><b>
</b> Two DARK CLAD FIGURES watch, through binoculars. They see
Shane find the CD, and walk out of sight.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 54.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE/STUDY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane quickly tucks the CD into his pocket.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - ALMOST DAWN
</b><b>
</b> A long line of exhausted party-goers files out. Scott's
the last one to leave.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - VARIOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane works his way through the house. It's SPOTLESS:
counter tops glisten, furniture polished. It looks like
Better Homes and Gardens. He heads upstairs. Zoe blows
past him -- into the bathroom, where she throws up. Shane
sits down, outside the bathroom door.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> ... Thanks a lot, Rambo. My friends will
never come here again.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Those people aren't your friends. They
show no respect for you or your house.
Because you have no respect for yourself.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I do too respect myself.
<b>
</b> ueasy, she pukes again. Shane hands her a handkerchief.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You got barf on your tank top.
(Announces:) Company, downstairs!
<b>
</b> He walks down the hall, Zpounding on doors.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> You're not my dad!
<b>
</b> Shane stops. Lulu and Todd step into the hall. Zoe gets
up, shaky and furious, and screams in Shane's face.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE (CONT'D)
</b> We hate you, you hate us. You're like a
robot. Why don't you just leave us alone?
<b>
</b> Silence. Lulu's crying, Todd picks her up. Shane stands,
helpless. After a beat...
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 55.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You're right, Red 1. I'm not the man for
this job.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Shane --!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> In all my years I have never been treated
with such disrespect. Not even from the
enemy. Don't worry, as soon as your mom
comes back, I'm gone.
<b>
</b> Suddenly -- the power goes out.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Now what?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> (sighs, tired) It's Scott...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Puberty... talking doesn't do any good.
Go to your rooms.
<b>
</b> Suddenly, TWO NINJAS, all in black BURST in through the
window. Shane spins in fight-stance.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> (to the kids:)
Go!
<b>
</b> Terrified, Zoe and Todd scoop up the kids and rush down
the hall.
<b>
</b> The Ninjas pull a retractable KENDO STAFFS. Wielding them
with great skill. It takes all of Shane's skill to fend
them off -- the three fight, close-quarters and fast.
Until Shane pulls down attic's spring-loaded FOLDING
LADDER and clocks a Ninja with it. He goes down, but
Shane is SHOCKED from behind by the other NINJA. The
Ninjas attack, fiercely -- they're good. Their Kendo
staffs hiss with a powerful ELECTRIC CURRENT. The Ninjas
knock Shane backwards down the stairs...
<b>
</b><b> NINJA
</b> GHOST -- hand it over!
<b>
</b> They leap down after him, pounding him with their staffs,
knocking him into...
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 56.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. PLAYROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> There are TOYS EVERYWHERE -- like a tornado hit a TOYS-R-
US. Shane fends the Ninjas off. He spots a BASEBALL BAT,
and grabs it, facing them, fiercely. They step back...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay -- who wants some?
<b>
</b> Shane swings the bat down on a Ninja's head: It's a
whiffle bat, it makes a silly thunk. Shane and the Ninja
share a surprised look -- then the Ninjas charge. Shane
fends them off with his Whiffle bat. With his foot, he
picks up a FISHER PRICE CORN-POPPER, and uses them both
to fend off blows. It rattles and pops as he fights with
both Toys -- until a Ninja breaks them with one blow.
Shane sees a FARMER JOHN TALKING GAME. He jumps up onto a
shelf and grabs it. He pulls the string, and swings the
plastic disk like a deadly bolo.
<b>
</b><b> FARMER JOHN GAME
</b> The rooster goes...
<b>
</b> WHACK, he hits a Ninja in the head. He swings the Farmer
John like a bull whip -- until a Ninja knocks the shelf
over. Shane crashes down, toys fly, several FURBIES hit
the floor. They echo the fight:
<b>
</b><b> FURBIES
</b> Ow! Ow!
<b>
</b> Shane sees: The Ninjas are wearing only Ninja socks -- no
shoes. He grabs a barrel of LEGOS, and flings them all
over the floor. The Ninjas move towards him -- the Legos
and Jacks dig into their feet.
<b>
</b><b> NINJA/FURBIES
</b> Ow! Ow ow! Crap!
<b>
</b> The Ninjas fight as they hobble around, avoiding Legos,
Shane runs to the changing table, then violently squeezes
DESITIN at a NINJA, blinding him.
<b>
</b> Shane hangs in the doorway and swings at them, KICKING a
Ninja in the chest. The Ninja CRASHES through the window!
<b>
</b> he other Ninja looks up, fearful. Suddenly he grabs a
bottle of BABY POWDER. He sprays it in Shane's face...
POOF! The room fills with a CLOUD OF WHITE.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b><b> 57.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He squints, blinded. The cloud dissipates... and Shane
sees he's now alone. He runs to the broken window.
<b>
</b><b> OUTSIDE:
</b><b>
</b> The Ninja's are long gone. Shane bangs the window sill,
disappointed to have lost them.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - SECONDS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Composing himself, Shane approaches Zoe's door. He
quietly knocks.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Kids. It's safe. You can open up.
<b>
</b> A long pause -- then the door creaks open. The kids run
out and hug Shane with all their strength, bawling. Todd
and Zoe enter, terrified. Shane isn't sure what to do...
Then, he hugs Peter and Lulu. He really hugs them.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Please don't leave us Shane.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'm not going anywhere.
<b>
</b> He hugs them, even Zoe is crying and hugging Shane.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I'm sorry for giving you a hard time.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Shhh... It's okay.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Who were they? What did they want...?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> They're looking for a program, that your
father invented.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> So Mom's not paranoid? There really are
people out to get us.
<b>
</b> He takes out the CD labeled GHOST.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> They're not after you. They want this.
But nothing's gonna happen to you, as
long as I'm here. And I'm not going
anywhere.
<b>
</b><b> 58.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> The kids shudder, relieved. They hug him tighter. He
looks Zoe, eye to eye. He dries her tears:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> But I can't do this without your help,
okay? We need a little more cooperation
here. (the Kids nod) Tell you what --
let's start over. From now on, you listen
to me, and do what I say. (to Zoe and
Todd:) And I... I'll listen to you too.
Deal? Truce -- okay?
<b>
</b> Zoe and Todd nod. Shane offers his hand to shake. They
shake -- then they hug him, too.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane and the Kids sit around Shane's computer. Shane
slips the Ghost CD in the disc drive, pushes play --
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> C'mon c'mon c'mon...
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - COMPUTER MONITOR
</b><b>
</b> The SOUND comes on: it's MUSIC. "Unchained Melody." And
then, PICTURE: Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze at a pottery
wheel. Shane is furious -- a long pause. Then...
<b>
</b> Zoe laughs: she can't help it, it's been a long night.
Then, the other kids join in. Soon, even Shane is
laughing too: the telephone RINGS -- they all jump,
startled. Zoe answers it, all smiles, she tries to play
it cool and not frighten her mother:
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Hey mom we're fine, absolutely nothing
happened you should worry about. Nope.
<b>
</b> Shane takes the phone.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Mrs. Plummer... two men tried to get into
the house tonight.
<b>
</b><b> WE INTERCUT:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. HOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Oh my god!
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 59.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No - it's okay. They're gone, everyone's
fine. They were looking for GHOST, but
they didn't find it. You have any luck?
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Well, yes and no. We found something in
the box... But we're not sure what it is.
Bill thinks it's part of the GHOST. It
looks like some kind of "key". We just
don't know what its for.
<b>
</b> She holds up the strange, metal two pronged KEY.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> The good news is I'll be home in two
days, as soon as the customs paperwork
clears.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (very genuine)
...So soon? We were just starting to have
fun. Don't worry -- we'll be just fine.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SCHOOL - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Early morning, students run in to school. The minivan
pulls up, and Shane emerges with the five kids.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I gotta warn you guys: From now on, I'm
gonna be sticking even closer.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LULU'S CLASSROOM - DAY
</b><b>
</b> The TEACHER shows the children how to dye Easter eggs.
<b>
</b> ANGLE on Lulu, making a mess of an egg. She smiles.
<b>
</b> ANGLE on Shane, squashed at a little desk. He dips an
egg in some purple dye.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Driver's Ed. An obstacle course with cones. Zoe
nervously drives a small sedan, a crazed TEACHER next to
her. He is gesticulating, SCREAMING, reacting each time
she HITS the gas, then BRAKES, HITS the gas, then BRAKES.
<b>
</b> Shane stands off to the side, shaking his head. Peter
and Tyler are tight in their Snuggles.
<b>
</b><b> 60.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. LULU'S CLASSROOM - LATER
</b><b>
</b> The TEACHER hangs a series of cute "Turkey Hand" drawings
above the blackboard (the kind where your fingers make
the feathers). She hangs one of a HUGE HAND, and smiles
at Shane, who sits in the back, sunglasses on. Shane
nods, "yeah, I know it's good." Then...
<b>
</b><b> VOICE (OVER THE PA:)
</b> Will Shane Wolfe please report to Vice
Principal Murney in the gym.
<b>
</b> Lulu's classmates all chant, in unison:
<b>
</b><b> SECOND GRADERS
</b> Ooooooooh! (You're in trouble!)
<b>
</b><b> INT. THE GYM - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane enters. Zoe sits in a folding chair, mortified. She
is holding a broken-off SIDE VIEW MIRROR. Murney stands,
Principal Claire next to him. They look concerned.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Don't worry. So, she wrecked a driver's
Ed. car -- she'll pay for the damage...
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> That? Lady drivers, what do you expect.
No, it's not that -- it's the boy...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red two? I mean Todd?
<b>
</b> Claire nods. Shane gives Zoe a look. Zoe shrugs.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Ordinarily I would wait for his mother to
return... but -- I'm a bit concerned, and
I'm not sure what to do...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Has he been skipping class?
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Well -- yes. He does always miss sixth
period. But this...
<b>
</b> Murney calls into the hallway. Todd enters. Shane stops,
in shock: Todd's long hair is all shaved off, he now has
a bleach blonde BUZZ CUT, giving him a "skinhead" look.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 61.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> This is how he showed up to practice. And
that's not all. I was doing a little re-
con in his locker... and I found this:
<b>
</b> Murney hands Shane a book and Shane flips through it.
It's a book of photographs of NAZI UNIFORMS. Shane
scowls.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> If he'd had Hustler or something, boys
will be boys -- but this is just sick.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> He's not a NAZI.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> It's certainly not normal.
(pulls Shane aside.)
See if you can talk to the boy. Find out
what's going on.
<b>
</b> Shane shakes his head: Todd is worse than he thought.
Todd and Zoe stand to go, and Shane walks them out.
<b>
</b> The WRESTLING TEAM is assembled, stretching. They snicker
and shake their heads at Todd, as he passes. Shane walks
the kids out, and Murney chases after him.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> hope you won't go light on him -- that
whole family's no good, if you ask me.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'll talk to him.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> You're a good man, Shane. Bet you're a
hell of a fighter on the mats, huh?
(Shane ignores him, and keeps
walking.)
Maybe sometime we oughta strap up, we'll
give these boys a treat.
<b>
</b> He "fake-punches" one of his Boys -- who flinches like
Murney has maybe hurt him a couple times. Murney laughs.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Another time, maybe...
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> It's a date then. I'll show you a couple
moves. I promise I won't hurt you.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 62.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane walks away. Without warning, Murney lets out a Kung
Fu SCREAM, and leaps at Shane, kicking him in the BACK,
Shane trips forwards to his knees. Murney tells his team:
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> See that? You never know when your
adversary is going to strike!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Did you kick me in the back? Is there a
footprint on my jacket?
<b>
</b> Shane dusts off his back, and leaves.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> Come on Frogman! Don't be a sissy!
<b>
</b> Shane turns back. It looks like Shane might fight, but
instead he takes a deep breath, and leaves. Murney shakes
his head, and snickers to his Team.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - A LITTLE LATER
</b><b>
</b> The minivan pulls up, with Shane and all the Plummers
piled in. Shane parks, Todd runs towards the house. Shane
holds Todd back by the arm.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Wait Todd, I want to talk to you...
<b>
</b> odd yanks his arm away and runs into the house.
<b>
</b><b> INT. TODD'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane knocks on Todd's door. Nothing. He enters. The
window is wide open, Shane checks his window alarm --
there's a REFRIGERATOR MAGNET stuck to it, keeping the
contact, so the alarm didn't go off.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Smart kid.
<b>
</b> Shane looks out the window -- far down the block, he can
see Todd, running around the corner. Shane hops out the
window. He sees Zoe, peering out her window.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Zoe, you're in charge. If anyone gets
within forty clicks of the perimeter,
signal me. Keep all doors sealed, do your
homework, preheat the oven, and make sure
Lulu brushes her teeth!
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 63.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He starts to shut the window, but the Duck leaps up on
the sill.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> You want in or out?
<b>
</b> The Duck leaps out. Shane screws the window shut. On the
corner, Shane sees Todd climbing on to a CITY BUS.
<b>
</b> Shane picks a GIRL'S BICYCLE up off the front lawn. It's
pink, with a flowered basket. It's small for him, but he
hops on and pedals furiously after the bus.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. CITY STREET NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane, on the girl-bike, pedals after the bus. A few
HOMEBOYS watch him pass, curiously. He nods back, tough.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. OLD WAREHOUSE - DOWNTOWN D.C. - NIGHT - LATER
</b><b>
</b> The bus stops in a rundown neighborhood Todd hops off the
bus. Shane's arrives a moment later, dripping sweat. He
stashes the bike behind a mailbox...
<b>
</b> Shane'S P.O.V.: At the entrance to the old warehouse,
Todd meets up with three other TEENAGE BOYS, they're
dressed in brown HITLER YOUTH UNIFORMS, they head inside.
<b>
</b> Shane follows them, stealthily.
<b>
</b><b> INT. OLD WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane follows the Hitler Youth into a large room, set up
with folding chairs. He hides in a dark corner. Todd and
the Hitler Youth enter, and take seats. A CREEPY MAN in
a scarf walks out, and stands in front of them. Shane
watches as the MAN addresses the Hitler Youth.
<b>
</b><b> MAN
</b> Alright. All my Nazis are finally here.
Okay, I want all of you at attention.
<b>
</b> The Nazis stand at attention. Shane is horrified...
<b>
</b><b> MAN (CONT'D)
</b> And on stage left - (he yells) VON
TRAPPS! I need my Von Trapps!
<b>
</b> hane watches... as a group of blonde ACTORS, all dressed
in lederhosen as the SINGING VON TRAPP family enter, and
join the "Nazis." There's also a few NUNS, a CAPTAIN VON
TRAPP, and a MARIA. The Creepy Man is, in fact, a good
natured, slightly foppish DIRECTOR.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 64.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> DIRECTOR
</b> Okeydokey. Starting from where we left
off Gimme Rolf and Liesl -- let's give
You are Sixteen a run up der flagpole...
<b>
</b> Todd heads up to the stage, the Director arranges him and
the ACTRESS PLAYING LIESL (40ish) into position. An
ACCOMPANIST begins on piano, Todd sings, remarkably well:
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> You wait little girl, on an empty
stage/for fate to turn the light on/your
life little girl, is an empty page/that
men will want to write on...
<b>
</b><b> ACTRESS/LIESL
</b> To write on...
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> You are sixteen, going on seventeen...
<b>
</b> Shane bursts into laughter. His whole face lights up for
the first time ever...
<b>
</b> Todd and Liesl dance. Todd is good, but nervous. He
attempts a spinning kick, but he slips, and hits the
stage, clutching his ankle. He gets up, and limps to the
seats. The Director walks onto the stage, upset. He
looks up, to heaven:
<b>
</b><b> DIRECTOR
</b> Baby Jesus, have I done some unspeakable
evil that I deserve to be saddled with
the world's worst production of Sound of
Music? (he shouts, at the cast:) We open
in a week. The set's not finished... The
cast is a bunch of clumsy goats -- every
kick ball change would make Bob Fosse dig
himself out of the earth, so he could
have a heart attack again.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> I'm sorry... I'll get it right.
<b>
</b><b> DIRECTOR
</b> None of you will ever get it right! Which
is why, I quit.
<b>
</b> He throws down his script. The Cast is stunned.
<b>
</b><b> DIRECTOR (CONT'D)
</b> And with that, he exits stage right...
end scene.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 65.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> And, on his own cue... he exits stage right, in a huff.
The entire cast looks to Todd, fuming.
<b>
</b> Shane jumps up from his hiding place, startling
everybody. Everyone steps back. Todd is terrified.
<b>
</b> Shane kneels down beside Todd. He closes his eyes, and
begins rubbing his hands together like Mr. Miyagi.
<b>
</b><b> LIESL
</b> You gonna fix him?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No. My hands are freezing.
<b>
</b> Shane grabs Todd's ankle hard and unceremoniously CRACKS
it, and yanks him to his feet.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> I'm not going to quit. I hate wresting...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> AT EASE. (Todd shuts up) Would you
listen, just once? Look, I don't know a
hell of a lot about this kinda stuff,
but... You're good. A lot to learn, but
with hard work, discipline -- you could
make a go of this.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> ... but what about Murney?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That guy's an idiot.
<b>
</b> Todd smiles, relieved. They sit on the edge of the stage.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> "Sound of Music" is a great show. My dad
took me to see it when I was a kid.
<b>
</b> Shane smiles wistfully. Todd relaxes.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> You don't seem like the musical type.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Come on. Julie Andrews was hot.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> What if... girls'll think I'm... weird or
something?
<b>
</b><b> 66.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You know what girls think is weird?
Wrestling. Men in leotards pinning each
other to the floor? I've never understood
that. Chicks dig guys who can dance.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Doesn't matter now anyway... show's
off... it's over.
<b>
</b> Shane looks at the Cast, they look pretty glum as they
pack up their costumes. Todd looks devastated -- only a
moment after Shane saw him happier than ever. Shane
straightens up, grabbing Todd by the shirt collar. BEAT.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> COMPANY -- CENTER STAGE!
</b><b>
</b> Everyone looks around, they're not sure what to do... off
Shane's glare, they quickly assemble on stage.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b><b> DO YOU, OR DO YOU NOT HAVE WHAT IT TAKES
</b><b> TO PERFORM THIS MUSICAL?
</b><b>
</b> There's some mumbling. Liesl chimes in.
<b>
</b><b> LIESL
</b> We don't have a director...
<b>
</b> Shane shakes his head.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No director? I have directed rescue
missions in Afghanistan! I've directed
numerous snatch and grabs in countries
who's names you are not allowed to know.
I have choreographed multi-pronged
amphibious landings and stealth air
attacks!
(full of bravado)
Do you think I have the stomach to whip
this production into shape, or not?
<b>
</b> Everyone nods... Todd looks up at Shane. He smiles.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Yes.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> YES WHAT?
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 67.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> TODD/CAST
</b><b> YESSIR.
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane's patrolling the hallway. He hears Zoe in her
room, BREAKING something, angrily. He peeks in -- just as
Zoe THROWS her cell-phone into the wall, furious.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... What's up?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> (embarrassed)
Nothing... It's stupid... Scott. I called
him in his room, another girl picked up
the phone. I know it's no big deal. I
don't know why I let it get to me.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I don't see what you see in this guy.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> It's just nice to think someone's
thinking about you, you know?
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (He nods)
It won't happen again.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> ... No wait! ...What are you gonna do?
You're not gonna hurt him are you?
Promise you won't touch him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay. I promise. I won't touch him.
<b>
</b> Shane exits. He turns out the light.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LULU'S ROOM - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane tucks Lulu into bed.
<b>
</b><b> ULU
</b> Tell me a story.
<b>
</b> Shane looks at her surprised. He sits on the bed...
Stumped. Then he starts:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay. Let's see. Once there was a family
of Elves.
<b> (MORE)
</b><b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> L
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 68.
</b><b> SHANE(CONT'D)
</b> One day, the little Elf family -- Uh.
Went into the magic forest. To find a
secret gnome... facility, where gnomes
where turning mushrooms into... Uranium.
The elves had to go in and take it out.
<b>
</b><b> ULU
</b> Why?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> They were ordered to. By the Elf Unit
commander at Elf station bravo. So --
they waited for cloud cover, and they
came in from the north...
<b>
</b> As Shane finishes the story, he illustrates, setting up
the scene with DOLLS, on Lulu's floor.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> The Elf Team decided on an L Ambush -- so
three elves formed a base leg and laid
down a heavy suppressive fire on the
gnomes while the others maneuvered around
to the right flank and walked through
finishing off anything left alive... I
mean standing... D
<b> ISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> AN HOUR LATER:
</b><b>
</b> Shane's really into the story. Lulu's fallen asleep.
Shane's eyes are brimming with tears as he finishes:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> ... And not one Elf got left behind that
day. We got `em all. Even, the teeniest
little elf of all -- Rodriquez.
<b>
</b> Then, from across the hall, Peter WAILS. Todd pops his
head in the door.
<b>
</b><b> ODD
</b> You have to do the Panda Dance... or he
won't stop.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Oh, c'mon... I can't remember that thing.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> I'll write it down for you...
<b>
</b> The wails get louder and LOUDER...
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 69.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Tyler's asleep. Shane sighs, and whispers to Peter,
reading from Todd's notes:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> When you're down and low, lower than the
floor. And you ain't got a chance. Don't
make a move `til you're in the groove,
and do the Panda Dance...
<b>
</b> Peter starts bawling. Shane doesn't know what's wrong.
Todd calls from the doorway...
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> You have to do the dance. Like dad used
to do. He made it up for him.
<b>
</b> Shane sighs. He sings again, mortified. He does the dance
as he sings... Shane hops forward three times.
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Just hop three times like a kangaroo --
Sidestep twice, just like the crabs do.
<b>
</b> Peter applauds. Humiliated, Shane crab-walks sideways.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Take three steps forward and one step
back... (He does.)
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - MORNING - THE NEXT DAY
</b><b>
</b> As Mr. Chun gets his paper, Shane, (Tyler in the
snuggle), hands out bag lunches as the Kids load into the
minivan. Shane turns and catches Mr. Chun, staring.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What are you looking at?
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Todd sits in the back of the Minivan, listening to Sound
of Music on his Walkman, Lulu is next to him, with her
Gameboy, Zoe and Peter are half asleep. Shane climbs into
the PASSENGER SEAT. Zoe realizes he's staring at her,
through the mirror.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Today you drive.
<b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> A
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 70.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> The Kids sit bolt upright. They turn to Zoe, terrified.
She gets out in shock, and gets in the driver's seat. The
other Kid's seat belts CLICK loudly.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> But -- I can't even pass driver's Ed.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Exactly.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Have you given a driving lesson before?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> N
</b> ot in a car, no... but it's a lot like
a Bradley Assault Vehicle.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Especially when Zoe's driving.
<b>
</b> The Kids share a dubious look. Zoe backs jerkily out.
<b>
</b><b> INT. MINIVAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Zoe is super-tense as they drive. Shane is nervous, but
trying not to show it. Lulu and Todd are terrified.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Do you know what causes most accidents?
ttention span. The most important thing
is that you keep an absolute focus on...
<b>
</b> Zoe's looking RIGHT at him, not the road.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> THE ROAD! Don't look at me...
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> What?!?
<b>
</b> he Minivan brakes abruptly at a red light, just as a
semi SCREAMS through the intersection. Shane is shaky.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE (CONT'D)
</b> You wanna drive?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No. Keep going. I trust you.
<b>
</b> Zoe is surprised. Touched. She pulls out, jerkily.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> P
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 71.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Zoe pulls to the curb, almost tapping a bus's rear
fender. Shane unclenches his teeth.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Good. Next lesson, 1500 hours.
<b>
</b> Zoe smiles. And the other Kids all bolt from the car,
terrified. Lulu makes a big show of kissing the ground.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Ha ha ha. Very funny.
<b> T
</b> hey head into the school. Shane spots something.
<b>
</b> ANOTHER ANGLE reveals: SCOTT (Zoe's boyfriend), with a
few FRIENDS, laughing, being obnoxious. Shane jumps out
of the car. Before Scott knows what's happened, Shane's
LIFTED him in the air by his backpack. Scott's terrified.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I know 437 ways to hurt a man without
touching him. Broken promises lead to
broken legs. Do we understand each other?
<b>
</b> Scott nods, trembling. Shane lets him down and heads into
school.
<b>
</b><b> INT. BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL, CAFETERIA - LUNCHTIME
</b><b>
</b> Shane (Peter in lap, Tyler in snuggle) keeps an eye on
the Kids at their tables. KIDS boisterously run past.
Suddenly -- Claire BARKS out.
<b>
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b><b> CHILDREN... STOP RUNNING!!
</b><b>
</b> The kids instantly freeze. Claire strides into view.
She's wearing a cute dress, and a little make-up.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE (CONT'D)
</b> (a long, severe stare)
Now... WALK! DOUBLE TIME.
<b>
</b> Chastened, the kids gulp and orderly march away. Shane's
eyes alight, impressed.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Wow. I'm glad I never had you for a CO.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> P
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 72.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> (she coyly smiles)
I've noticed improvement in your troops
lately, too. Noon and none of them have
been called to my office. It's a miracle.
<b> S
</b> he sits beside him, and offers him a milk.
<b>
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE (CONT'D)
</b> Buy you a drink, sailor?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Thanks.
<b>
</b> hey eat in silence. Shane`s not so good at small talk.
She's waiting for him to say... something.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> You look nice today.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> This old thing? Well, you never know who
you're going to run into.
<b>
</b> She smiles. He smiles back... Suddenly, there's a
commotion: Murney is marching Todd towards them, dragging
him by the ear. Principal Claire sighs "not again." In
one move, Shane leaps over the table. Principal Claire
watches him leap:
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE (CONT'D)
</b> ... Love it when he does that.
<b>
</b> Murney shoves Todd forward.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> I've had it. I just caught this boy
dancing under the bleachers like some
kind of Bavarian fruitcake.
<b>
</b> Murney gets up in Shane's face.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> I want this freak outta my school and
into treatment. Somebody needs to give
this punk a talking to...
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Hey. I'm right here. Talk.
<b> E
</b> veryone is shocked that Todd talked back. A hushed
whisper goes through the cafeteria. Murney turns around.
<b>
</b><b> M
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 73.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> You got something to say? Boy?
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Yeah. Yeah I do. I quit, Murney.
<b>
</b> A hushed "oooh" goes through the Students.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> Winners never quit, boy. What're you so
scared of, Freak?
<b>
</b> The Students snicker. Todd looks, intimidated. Then:
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> I am not scared. I... I want to sing.
<b>
</b> Silence. No one's sure they heard him right. Todd pulls
out a stack of SOUND OF MUSIC FLYERS and hands them out.
Todd is on the poster in his Rolf costume. Principal
Claire takes one: she laughs, now it all makes sense.
<b>
</b><b> TODD (CONT'D)
</b> I'm in Sound of Music. It opens Friday...
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> A musical? You're blowing off wrestling
for a musical? (to Shane:) This is what
happens when there's no man in the house.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> There is a man in my house -- me. (Murney
turns:) Let's get one thing clear. I'm
not quitting cause I hate wresting. I'm
quitting because you're a bad coach. You
suck. The whole team wants to quit. I'm
the only one with the guts to do it.
<b> M
</b> urney looks over at the Team. They look to the ground
sheepishly, Todd's telling the truth. Murney looks
around, humiliated, furious --
<b>
</b><b> URNEY
</b> So -- you're a tough guy now?
<b>
</b> Murney takes ONE STEP towards Todd -- Shane steps between
them, protecting him.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> Stay out of this, baby sitter!
<b>
</b> Murney glares at him -- face to face. So calm, it's scary
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 74.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You said you wanted to wrestle. You win.
Let's do it.
<b>
</b> Everyone is watching. Murney did not expect to be called
out. His voice cracks -- then he regains his calm:
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> After school. The Gym. Your ass is mine.
<b>
</b> He storms out. There is a stunned moment -- and then a
mob of Students, and a lot of CUTE GIRLS, swarm Todd,
taking flyers. Shane gives Todd a proud thumbs up.
<b>
</b> A QUICK SERIES OF SHOTS: Of STUDENTS whispering to other
STUDENTS, passing notes: A Kid opens a note -- it reads:
"Murney's getting his ass kicked. 3:00."
<b>
</b><b> INT. GYM - 3:00
</b><b>
</b> The bleachers are PACKED. Murney struts out onto the mat.
The two fighters begin circling one another. The
Wrestlers scream for Murney. Todd cheers Shane on.
<b> M
</b><b> URNEY
</b> on, you're about to enter Murney's house
of pain.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'll be sure to lock up when I'm through.
<b>
</b> Murney roars and CHARGES Shane. Shane defensively uses
Murney's momentum to flip him halfway across the mat.
WHAM. Murney lands on his back.
<b>
</b> The Wrestlers mouths drop. Murney, shocked, climbs to his
feet and CHARGES again, Shane side-steps, and sweeps
Murney -- sending him right into the wall, hard.
<b>
</b> Murney bounds to his feet, rushes Shane. Shane DIVES
OVER Murney, grabs onto Murney's waist. Shane's momentum
pulls Murney backwards -- BAM. Murney's shoulders hit the
mat with Shane smiling down on him.
<b>
</b> Todd flops to the mat, raises his hand and SLAPS it down-
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Pinned!
<b>
</b> Shane stands. Shane throws an arm around Todd, and they
head out. The Wrestling Team huddles around Murney, who's
quietly twitching on the ground, mumbling something.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 75.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> TODD (CONT'D)
</b> Is he okay?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Dislocated nerve, that's all. He'll be
fine in (checking his watch) two months.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> That was awesome.
<b>
</b> They walk out. The crowd cheers. Claire, too. Shane
<b> S
</b> smiles at her as he passes. She gives him a thumbs up.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (to Todd)
Let's go, Todd. I got my troops waiting.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. FOREST - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane marches the Brownies through a FOREST. He wears
Peter and Tyler in front and rear Snuggles.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> If you're ever lost in the woods, the
first thing you have to do is find a
source of drinking water! And make sure
it's potable. If you're not sure, boil
it for thirty minutes!
<b>
</b> The girls are loving it, fascinated.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> You have to eat, right? Well let me tell
you you're not gonna find Girl Scout
cookies out here.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> We're Brownies.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No brownies either. A lot of roots are
edible. So is some tree bark. When I
HALO'd into Rwanda, I lived off the
underground fern stem for three weeks!
<b>
</b> Shane kicks over a ROCK. Underneath are crawling BUGS.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Insects. They look nasty but they're full
of nutrients that may save your life.
<b>
</b><b> 76.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He scoops up some bugs and EATS them.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> He's eating Roly-Polies!
<b>
</b> The Brownies are frozen in shock.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (mouth full of bugs:)
Wots of pwotien!
<b>
</b><b> E
</b> UPBEAT MUSIC kicks in over the following MONTAGE:
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - FRONT LAWN - DAWN
</b><b>
</b> Shane leads the Brownie Troop through Combat exercises.
In unison, the Girls PUNCH, KICK. PUNCH, PUNCH, KICK.
Shane's got Tyler's cradle next to him, in between
punches, in perfect tempo, he reaches out and rocks it.
The Duck watches all this -- fascinated.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MALL PARKING LOT - EARLY MORNING
</b><b>
</b> The lot is empty. Shane and Zoe sit in the minivan, Shane
holds a stopwatch. He signals her, she burns rubber, and
races through a slalom of orange cones -- she hits EVERY
ONE -- the wheel hubs are CLOGGED with cones. She skids
to a stop just short of the "Severe Tire Damage" spikes.
<b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane changes Tyler's diaper WITH ONE HAND. In his other
hand he's reading The Brownie Handbook. It's open to a
page that reads "Knot Tying."
<b>
</b><b> INT. OLD FACTORY - DAY
</b><b>
</b> The CAST is assembled on stage, where Shane has set up a
scale model of the set on the floor. He illustrates the
stage directions, by moving around toy army men:
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay -- we'll put Von Trapps here, here,
and... here at the top of the stairs. Now
the Nazis are gonna come in, this way --
and the Von Trapp is set...
<b>
</b> He laughs at his own joke... The Kids don't get it.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MALL PARKING LOT - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Zoe leaps into the minivan through the windows. Zoe peels
out and weaves the cones...
<b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> I
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> E
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 77.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> she only clips one, it teeters, but doesn't fall. Shane
gives her a signal, she throws it in reverse and drives
the course backwards.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - FRONT LAWN - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Lulu, in her BROWNIE uniform, ties a complicated knot --
we WIDEN to see she's tying Shane's hands behind his
back, as the Brownie troop watches. He counts "1,2,3..."
and then begins wriggling free. They watch closely.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MALL PARKING LOT - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane and Zoe are huddled under the minivan's dashboard.
Shane's showing her the IGNITION WIRES.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - BACK YARD - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane has the Brownies assembled. He's attached SOFA
CUSHIONS to himself. The Brownies attack, mercilessly.
<b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane changes Tyler's diaper RAPID-SPEED. Hands a blur.
<b>
</b><b> INT. OLD FACTORY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Todd and "Liesl" work on the You Are Sixteen dance.
<b>
</b><b> ODD
</b> ... your life little girl, is an empty
page/that men will want to write on...
<b> T
</b> odd tries the spinning kick, but blows it, landing hard.
Shane blows a WHISTLE.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Why don't we just let the Nazis win
tonight -- huh? Now. From the top --
think of yourself as a gazelle prancing
over the plains. Graceful.
<b>
</b> Todd tries the kick. THUD! Shane BLOWS the whistle.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Gazelle. Prancing. Graceful. Again.
<b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> At the end of Peter's crib, Shane performs the "Panda
Dance." Singing and doing all the moves -- he's got it
down, adding a James Brown flourish, now and then.
<b>
</b><b> U
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 78.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Don't touch that dial sleep for a while --
HEAAAY! And say good night, Peter Panda.
<b>
</b> He does a spin kick. Then he tucks Peter in.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Good night, Peter.
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> (going to sleep)
Good night, daddy.
<b>
</b> Shane is so touched, he almost bursts into tears. He
kisses Peter on the forehead.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'm not your daddy, Peter. But sweet
dreams.
<b>
</b><b> MONTAGE ENDS
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. "PRICE CLUB" STORE - EVENING
</b><b>
</b> The Brownies sit at their cookie table beside the door.
Across the lot, the Chubby Cub Scouts, at their own
table, see them. The Scouts head towards the Brownies.
<b> U
</b><b> GLY CUB SCOUT
</b> Hey Skeever, what's in a Girl Scout's
pants when she has diarrhea?
<b>
</b><b> 2ND SCOUT
</b> Brown...
<b>
</b> He stops short, the Brownies have moved into a FORMATION,
ready to strike, Lulu at the front: it's (kind of) scary.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Go away and we won't hurt you.
<b>
</b> The Scouts share a look -- they LAUGH. The head Scout
steps forward and grabs Lulu's cookies. In one move, she
spins out of the way and pulls off his neckerchief.
<b>
</b><b> GLY CUB SCOUT
</b> Gimme that!
<b>
</b> He grabs the neckerchief, but like lightning, she wraps
it around his arm, tying him. She shoves a cookie in his
mouth.
<b>
</b><b> 79.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Uh oh. You're gonna have to pay for that.
<b>
</b> The Scout struggles, the Other Scouts are scared.
<b>
</b><b> UGLY CUB SCOUT
</b> Let go! Let go -- MOMMY!
<b>
</b> She lets him go -- in a FLIP, he lands on the ground
hard. Lulu lets out another "kia!" The Girls move
forward in unison, striking a cool pose.
<b>
</b><b> INT. "PRICE CLUB" STORE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane shops, wearing the double snuggle. As he's
comparing prices -- he sees, on the security monitor: The
Brownies attacking the Cub Scouts. He smiles, proud.
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's my troop.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. "PRICE CLUB" STORE - A MOMENT LATER
</b><b>
</b> The Cub Scouts have all been tied with their own bandanas
to the CART CORRAL. Shane comes out of the store, and
catches Lulu, using his "catchphrase."
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> From now on, you do things our way -- no
highway option!
<b>
</b> The Scouts nod, terrified. Shane gives her a stern look,
then LAUGHS.
<b>
</b><b> INT. VAN - DRIVING - DUSK
</b><b>
</b> Shane drives. The Brownies joyously CHANT a MARCH.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIES
</b> I don't care what has been said,
Brownies rock! Full speed ahead!
Give me guff, I'm in your face!
Brownies rule the human race!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sound off!
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIES
</b> One two! Three four! One TWO THREE FOUR!
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - UPSTAIRS - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane works his way down the hall, checking on the kids:
<b>
</b><b> N
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 80.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> - LULU'S ROOM: LULU is asleep.
<b>
</b> - TODD'S ROOM: The door is OPEN -- Shane peers in. Todd
has a SWITCHBLADE. He is practicing with it, clicking it
open, tossing it hand to hand. Off Shane's look:
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> West Side Story auditions in two weeks...
<b>
</b> Shane takes the switch blade, and performs an AMAZING
trick with it, spinning Sit like a pro.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> It's all in the wrist...
<b>
</b> He heads down to Zoe's room and peaks in -- SHE'S NOT IN
BED. He rushes in -- but she's out on...
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BALCONY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Zoe sits on the railing, she seems sad. Shane approaches.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Don't worry. I'm not gonna jump.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What's wrong... Scott?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> o. Scott's fine. I don't know what you
did, but he's really straightened up.
Flowers, phone calls. ...I've never been
in love like this before.
<b>
</b> Shane nods.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> How long you been together?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> A month...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's longer than any relationship I've
ever had.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> You're okay, Shane. I'm not used to
anyone giving me the benefit of the
doubt. My teachers don't trust me. Mom
doesn't. My dad didn't care about us, he
was never here...
<b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 81.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (interrupts her, stern:)
Hey. Your father cared about you very
deeply. He told me you were the greatest
things in his life. That what's bothering
you? Cause -- we can talk about it, if
you want.
<b>
</b> Zoe's eye well up, then she cries. Shane holds her.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I miss him so much...
<b>
</b> Shane is a little taken by surprise. Then -- he decides
to answer. He takes his Sfather's MEDAL out of his pocket.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> This was my dad's. He was the only family
I ever had. Mom left when I was little,
cause dad was always gone. Two years
in... an indisclosable locale. Another
six in... Another indisclosable locale. I
didn't really have a home, so I went to
military school -- then one day my mom
got the letter. No more dad.
<b>
</b> He looks at the Medal.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> I always wanted to be just like him. I'm
starting to realize, I never really knew
him. I don't know if I'm like him or not.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> That's horrible, Shane.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> The hardest part was living without any
details...why? How? Where? I always
wondered if he thought about me.
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> Me too. So how did you get through it?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You could say I just shut down my
emotions. I turned off all feelings and
dedicated myself to becoming the perfect
soldier.
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> I never even got to say good bye.
<b>
</b><b> J
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 82.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> A tear runs down Zoe's face. She throws her arms around
Shane. The phone rings. Shane answers it.
<b>
</b><b> INTERCUT WITH:
</b><b>
</b><b> J
</b><b> INT. HOTEL - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> ulie's on the other end.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> The red tape is cleared up, we're on the
first plane in the morning.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Zoe runs down the hall, telling the family:
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Mommy's coming home! Mommy's coming home!
<b>
</b> Everyone wakes up, happy, sleepy!
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> When?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Tomorrow morning!
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> Mama!
<b>
</b> Excited, the kids are all abuzz, talking excitedly.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He's left alone.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BACK YARD - LATE NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> The house is dark. Shane sits in a lawn chair, scoping
the area with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES ON. Gary sits in the
next chair. Shane sighs morosely.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Just another assignment. No reason for
personal attachments.
<b>
</b> Shane takes a sip out of a juice box. He pets the Duck.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Hey Gary, your wings aren't clipped. How
come you don't fly away?
(pause)
<b> (MORE)
</b><b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 83.
</b><b> SHANE(CONT'D)
</b> I guess you've got it good. Kids to play
with. Three squares a day.
<b>
</b> he Duck stares, unblinking.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> All quiet on the western front. I guess I
better fix that Playroom window.
<b> S
</b> hane rises.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> hane turns the light on. Gary follows Shane as he looks
for tool. Suddenly, the Duck starts quacking... Shane
turns. Gary's foot is caught in a grate.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What happened, Gary?
<b>
</b> Shane gets down on his hands and knees and gently pries
Gary's foot from the grate. Shane is about to stand when
something below catches his eye.
<b>
</b> Shane pulls out a pen flashlight, shines it down the
grate... we see a CRANK WHEEL.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> What do you suppose this is?
<b>
</b> Shane tugs at the grate until it pops off. Shane grips
the valve and tries turning it. Nothing. He tries harder,
muscles rippling, and then it gives... The wheel spins.
<b>
</b> he floor opens, revealing a CIRCULAR STAIRCASE, leading
below the garage. Shane steps down it...
<b>
</b><b> INT. BOTTOM OF STAIRS - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> There's a small room, and a hall leading to a STEEL DOOR.
It's solid and inscrutable. No hinges or cracks. The only
break in its surface is a strange, TWO-PRONGED KEYHOLE.
Shane looks on stunned...
<b>
</b><b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Shane's at the Steel Door. He has high-tech tools laid
out in front of him. He's been trying, unsuccessfully, to
crack the lock all night. The Kids are watching his
progress, Lulu hands him a tool. Shane dials a phone.
<b>
</b><b> INTERCUT:
</b><b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 84.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. SEDAN - MOVING
</b><b>
</b> We pan up from the WHITE "US GOV" license plates to Bill
at the wheel. Julie sits beside him. Bill's cell phone
rings, he answers it.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sir! Excellent news. I think I found
<b> GHOST.
</b><b>
</b> Bill reacts, excited.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> ... Do you have it?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No. It's in a steel vault. I've been
trying all night, can't crack it, sir.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> (remaining calm)
Good! Good work. Okay, don't do
anything further. We'll be there shortly
-- don't do anything `til I get there.
<b>
</b><b> BACK TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane smiles, pleased, and hangs up. Then we slowly MOVE
UP. Away from Shane... towards the neighbor's house.
<b> W
</b> e PUSH INTO the house. Through a window... revealing
the Korean neighbors standing in the dark. Silently
spying on Shane. An ominous pause.
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b><b> GHOST.
</b><b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> One things for sure. After we turn this
in to my CO, whoever's been bothering you
guys won't be bothering you anymore.
<b>
</b> Everyone reacts happily, relieved. Except for -- Lulu.
She looks stricken.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> What's wrong, Lulu? You should be happy.
<b>
</b><b> I
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 85.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> But, Shane -- does that mean you'll have
to go?
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He goes silent. Tongue-tied, he has no answer.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You guys better get ready. Your mom
should be home soon.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. HOUSE - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Bill's Sedan pulls up. Julie and Bill hop out.
<b>
</b><b> INT. JULIE'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Julie opens the door, comes into the dark hall. Bill is
carrying her suitcases.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I had a fight with Zoe when I left, so
they probably trashed the place...
<b>
</b> She trails off...
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> What's wrong?
<b>
</b> They listen -- they hear, in the next room, Kids singing
a beautiful, a capella version of The Hills are Alive
(with The Sound of Music). She turns on the lights --
what she sees makes her drop her luggage, in shock.
<b> J
</b> JULIE'S P.O.V.: The house is spotless. The rug is
vacuumed. The fish tank is clear, filled with healthy
<b> TROPICAL FISH.
</b><b>
</b><b> KIDS VOICES
</b> (singing, a capella)
... with songs they have sung, for a
thousand years...
<b>
</b> Dumb-struck, Julie goes to the...
<b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The kitchen is sparkling clean, no dishes in the sink.
She sees, attached to the fridge with magnets: A flyer
for Sound of Music, featuring Todd.
<b>
</b><b> (
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 86.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> JULIE almost faints. Bill steadies her. She staggers
to...
<b>
</b><b> INT. DINING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane and the Kids are holding up a home-made sign:
WELCOME HOME, MOM! Todd pushes STOP on a CD player: The
Sound of Music stops.
<b>
</b> Zoe is in a conservative dress, Todd a button down and
khakis: barely recognizable. Lulu has bows in her hair.
Peter is fresh faced, smiling, Tyler is asleep: a picture-
perfect family.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Welcome home, mom.
<b>
</b> Julie starts bawling. The Kids rush forward and hug her.
Across the room, Shane sees Bill enter. Shane stiffens
and salutes proudly. S
<b> SHANE
</b> Captain.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> (he smiles wryly, then
salutes back)
Good job, Lieutenant.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane leads Bill inside. Bill holds the pronged key.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> I'm really proud of you, Shane. I'm
giving you your choice of assignment,
anywhere you want. You just name it.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's kind of you, Sir...
pause)
But I'll have to think about it.
<b>
</b> Bill stops, surprised. Shane continues, a bit reluctant.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Sir, all I've never known is the
military. At nine years old my father
put me in cadet school and from there I
never looked back. Don't get me wrong, I
wouldn't trade it for anything and I have
no regrets...
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 87.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> I should hope not.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> But being with these kids has made me
feel like there's more to life than
taking out your enemy. And I think I
want to explore that some more.
<b>
</b> Suddenly, an ANGRY VOICE.
<b>
</b><b> MAN'S VOICE
</b><b> PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!
</b><b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> Shane and Bill spin, startled. The CHUNS strides up,
<b> GUNS DRAWN.
</b><b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> Give US THE KEY!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Mr. and Mrs. Chun? They checked out-
<b>
</b><b> KOREAN MAN
</b><b> H
</b> ands up!
<b>
</b> Compliant, Shane puts his hands behind his head. He
takes a submissive position... Mrs. Chun comes closer,
reaching for Bill's key... Shane shoots Bill a glance...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> NOW!
</b><b>
</b> Shane SPINS and grabs both guns! He WHACKS the Koreans'
forearms, while SLAMMING their heads together.
<b>
</b> hane takes control! He smiles, relishing a second of
glory -- when suddenly, CRACK! A third gun BUTTS him in
the head.
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> Lights out. He turns, startled, and starts to fall.
Disoriented, confused, he looks up as he drops...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE'S POV
</b><b>
</b> He is losing consciousness. Things are spinning... woozy.
<b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 88.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> KOREAN MAN
</b> (arguing with Bill)
You promised us GHOST months ago!
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> I'm sorry, Mr. Chun. There were delays...
<b>
</b> Shane peers in confusion, then passes out.
<b>
</b><b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b><b>
</b><b> FADE IN:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Julie and the Kids are on the floor, tied up. Peter and
Tyler are caged in the play pen. Peter has a JUICE BOX.
The Korean Man (Mr. Chun) secures the room, closing the
window shades. Bill checks the knots binding the
children. They whimper, scared.
<b> L
</b><b> ULU
</b><b> SHANE!!
</b><b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> He won't be baby-sitting you anymore.
<b>
</b> He GAGS the kids. Julie glares, livid.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I trusted you. Charles trusted you. So
did the Department of Defense.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> North Korea pays better.
(to Mr. Chun)
Keep an eye on them. You -- with me.
<b>
</b> Bill GAGS Julie. The Kids are furious. Bill and Mrs. Chun
exit.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane lies unconscious. Bill and Mrs. Chun approach the
steel door. Bill inserts the two-pronged key... and it
CLICKS. The door HUMS, then slides OPEN!
<b>
</b> Inside is a dark corridor. Bill grins. They enter...
<b>
</b><b> INT. SECRET VAULT
</b><b>
</b> Light is at the end. They anxiously tiptoe, reaching...
<b>
</b><b> 89.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> THE VAULT! Spare, bright and white. The floor is
covered with square tiles. At the far end is a LARGE
ELEVATED SAFE. Beside the safe is a red switch, with two
settings: ARMED and DISARMED. It's set on ARMED. The air
is filled with an ominous, low-pitched HUM, like a
monstrous computer. Bill eyes the safe.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> You bring your stethoscope?
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> No. But I've got some C4.
<b>
</b> She confidently strides toward the safe -- which sets off
hidden flame-throwers in the walls. A jet blast of FLAME
shoots out! She leaps back just in time, but the shoulder
of her jacket is on fire. Bill pats out the flames with
his own jacket. Chun is Bokay, just missing BOTH eyebrows.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> Charles never made things easy.
<b>
</b> Mrs. Chun's eyebrows are neatly, completely SINGED OFF.
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> Just... had eyebrows... done.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Mr. Chun guards the kids, eyeballing them icily.
<b>
</b> Lulu "looks" scared. But behind her back, we reveal her
HANDS untying her ropes! Freed, she hits her panic
button! O.S., BEEPING. Lulu grins hopefully: Shane's
coming! A beat... then Mr. Chun pulls the Tracker from
his pocket. He sneers.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> Think I'm stupid? Now stop bothering me.
<b>
</b> Lulu frowns, then leans back against Zoe. With a rapid
blur of finger-work, she unties Zoe! Then -- needing a
distraction, she signals Tyler and crosses her eyes.
<b>
</b> Tyler GASPS, horrified -- and SCREAMS HIS LUNGS OUT.
<b>
</b> Chun spins, startled -- and Lulu quickly ROLLS across the
room! She lands against Todd, quickly assuming a fake
bound position, as if she hadn't moved.
<b>
</b> Mr. Chun whirls -- the Kids look innocent. Mr. Chun is
confused for a second: "wasn't he tied to the other one?"
<b>
</b><b> I
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> W
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 90.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> BEHIND TODD - Lulu frantically unties Todd's ropes --
it's gonna be close...
<b>
</b> Chun scowls. Skeptical, he steps closer... He leans down
to look at Todd's ropes Z--
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> Now Peter!
<b>
</b> Peter SQUIRTS JUICE into Mr. Chun's face. The Kids use
the distraction: Todd POPS to his feet, then LEAPS into
his SPIN KICK: it connects with Mr. Chun's head.
<b>
</b><b> OE (CONT'D)
</b> Let's GO!
<b>
</b> All the kids bounce up. They untie Julie, then scoop up
Peter and Tyler. Mr. Chun growls and starts to stagger
up. Lulu lands in Karate stance and calls out:
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Hi ya!
<b>
</b> The other Kids take off, Mr. Chun looks at Lulu. Mr.
Chun laughs:
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> That's cute.
<b>
</b> HAM without warning, Lulu SWEEPS Mr. Chun's leg, he
drops to his knees in pain, then, when he's at her level,
she KICKS him right in the nuts. It HURTS.
<b>
</b> Mr. Chun tries to grab her by the wrist, but Lulu EVADES
with her cool, snake-like move. Lulu runs, slamming the
door behind her. Mr. Chun gets up and turns the
doorknob, but the door won't budge...
<b>
</b><b> INT. OUTSIDE THE NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Zoe shoves a chair between the door and the opposite
wall, they're trapped inside.
<b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Mr. Chun punches the door, making a small hole. He
reaches out to knock the chair away but he can't quite
reach. He puts his face up to the hole he's made...
<b> I
</b><b> INT. OUTSIDE THE NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Todd's outside with a FIRE EXTINGUISHER: he blasts Mrs.
Chun's face.
<b>
</b><b> M
</b><b>
</b><b> E
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> M
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 91.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Mr. Chun falls back from the door, his face COATED in
white. He yells out furious!
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> That stuff doesn't hurt.
<b>
</b> He sticks his face out the hole... DONNGGG -- Todd hits
him square in the face with the fire extinguisher ITSELF.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. FRONT DOOR - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> The family comes scrambling out -- but as Julie exits, a
HAND suddenly GRABS her.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b><b> AGGGH!
</b><b>
</b> She SCREAMS. Bill lurches into view, clutching her! The
kids are horrified. They start to run back, but she
urgently gestures --
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> Keep going! RUN! Go GET HELP!!!
<b>
</b> The kids fret, unsure, then nod and run to the side
garage. Zoe and Todd load the kids into the minivan.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE/TODD
</b> Hurry! C'mon! Buckle up!!
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Bill pulls Julie inside. Mrs. Chun listens to Mr. Chun ON
THE RADIO, speaking in Korean:
<b>
</b><b> RS. CHUN
</b> They're headed for the car!
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Relax -- I've got the keys, they're not
going anywhere...
<b>
</b><b> INT. MINIVAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> SPARKS FLY as Zoe hot-wires the minivan. She floors it...
<b>
</b><b> EXT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> r. Chun comes racing around the house -- as SCREEEECH!
The van suddenly FLOORS out, almost clipping him!
<b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 92.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b><b> ARGHH!
</b><b>
</b> Chun falls, as the van PEELS backwards down the driveway,
and 360's. RRRR! It shifts into drive and ROARS away.
Chun hops into Bill's car and races after them.
<b>
</b><b> INT. VAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Zoe floors it.
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> Omigod! What are we doing??!
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Let's look for a cop!
<b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> The sedan GUNS its engine, gaining on them.
<b>
</b> oe runs a yellow. She hits the curb and goes AIRBORNE.
WHOOOOOO! The kids SCREAM, as they sail through the
intersection! The sedan keeps chasing.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Bill has Julie at gunpoint, leading her to the secret
door. They step past Shane's body, lying on the concrete.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> How does it work?
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> How does what work?
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Don't play dumb. It's getting old. I want
to know how to get through the booby
traps. What's the code?
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I don't know any code -- Charles didn't
tell me about the room...
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> If I knew Charles had hidden it so well,
I wouldn't have killed him so soon. Don't
make me kill you too.
<b>
</b> Julie GASPS, chilled. Then, a CRACKLING of static. Mrs.
Chun exits the vault, holding a military RADIO.
<b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 93.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> Mr. Bill, my husband has question:
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN (OVER THE WALKIE)
</b> I have a clean shot at their tires. It's
<b> B
</b> risky, they might wreck...
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> ... Do it.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b><b> NO!
</b><b>
</b> Julie goes frantic, emotional.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (O.S.)
</b> Bill, don't hurt the kids.
<b>
</b> Surprised, everyone looks down.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> They look over -- Shane is standing in the doorway.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> I know the code. I'll get you in... just
please don't hurt anyone.
<b>
</b> ill eyes him. The men stare down, Bill deciding if he
can trust him. Then -- he clicks "talk" on the radio.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Change of plan. Bring them back
unharmed.
<b>
</b> Bill uncuffs Shane.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BUSY STREET - DAY
</b><b>
</b> The vehicles race, Chun just inches from the kids' tail.
He tries to pass them on the right. It's like a chariot
race, Chun zooming by, half on the sidewalk, to cut them
off!
<b>
</b><b> INT. MINIVAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Todd scrambles into the back seat. He does something we
can't see, as Zoe drives.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> What's taking you?
<b>
</b><b> 94.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Don't wait for me!
<b>
</b> The sedan pulls up beside them. Zoe makes a very lewd
gesture at him. It throws Mr. Chun off for a beat.
<b>
</b><b> TODD (CONT'D)
</b> Now!
<b>
</b> Zoe floors it, Mr. Chun is now face to face with Todd --
who throws a dirty diaper into the his face. Mr. Chun
swerves and almost wrecks. Lulu starts PELTING Mr. Chun
with debris: milk cartons, crayons, orange peels.
<b> M
</b><b> R. CHUN
</b> Aah! HEY --
<b>
</b> Rubbish clobbers him. Exasperated, Mr. Chun ROLLS UP his
window, then POUNDS the gas! Faster! About to pass...
<b>
</b> Zoe looks over. Chun is pointing a gun! She suddenly
PULLS the emergency brake.
<b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> RRRRRRRR!! The Van SPINS into a squealing 360.
<b>
</b> Mr. Chun SCREAMS, disoriented, and loses control.
<b>
</b> In the van, Peter laughs.
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> Wheee!
<b>
</b> The Van spins madly. The sedan skids and PLOWS into a
store window. CRASH!! The kids cheer, triumphant.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SECRET VAULT - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane scopes out the vault. The walls and ceilings are
covered with high-tech weaponry. Mrs. Chun holds Julie.
Bill waits impatiently. Shane is figuring his options...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Anybody got any perfume? Hair spray...
breath freshener...
<b>
</b> A bewildered beat -- then Julie pulls out a tube of
Binaca. Shane SQUIRTS it, revealing in the mist a myriad
of crisscrossing LASER BEAMS.
<b>
</b> Shane steps forward. He speaks aloud, confidently:
<b>
</b><b> J
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 95.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Zoe, Todd, Lulu, Peter, Tyler!
<b>
</b> Bill reacts, puzzled.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> The key is the kid's names. Watch.
<b>
</b> Shane steps forward - ZAP! The floor tile SHOCKS HIM,
sending him flying backwards. Bill laughs. Shane gets up,
in pain.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> You think this is a game?!
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> But... That was the code! I swear! I saw
Plummer use it on his briefcase.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Code or no code, go get it -- now.
<b>
</b> ill cocks his gun. Sweat drips down Shane's face. He
mists the air to see the beams: He steps forward, over
one beam and ducking under another -- he miscalculates: a
BURST OF FLAME blazes from the ceiling like a giant blow
torch, Shane leaps back, landing on his hands and knees.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> (to Bill) You can't make him do this --
He doesn't have a chance.
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> Shane's thinks. He notices a GROOVE carved in the floor,
not quite centered to the room. He feels the Groove.
Something she said...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (thinking)
Haven't got a chance.
<b>
</b> Shane feels the Groove in the floor. He thinks. He looks
up at the ceiling (bottom of the first floor).
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> (sings softly to himself)
... When you're down and low, lower than
the floor. And you haven't got a chance.
Don't make a move `til you're in the
groove, and do the Peter Panda Dance.
<b>
</b><b> E
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 96.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane LAUGHS sharply. That's the code! He shares a look
with Julie. Bill and Julie share a look -- they have no
idea what he's laughing about.
<b>
</b> Calmness comes to Shane's face. He takes a deep breath,
<b> S
</b> facing forwards:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Just hop three times like a kangaroo --
<b>
</b> He hops forwards three times, fearlessly. NOTHING
HAPPENS. No BOOBY TRAPS are set off.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Sidestep twice, just like the crabs do.
<b>
</b> He steps sideway, across two tiles. Again -- NOTHING
HAPPENS. It dawns on Julie what he's doing. Julie smiles,
relieved. Shane he steps forwards, then back:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Three steps forward and one step back.
<b>
</b> When he steps back -- A SPRING-LOADED SPIKE launches down
from the ceiling, imbedding itself where he was standing.
Shane is rattled, his focus gone. Until Julie shouts:
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b><b> QUICK LIKE A TURTLE LIE ON YOUR BACK!
</b><b>
</b> Shane snaps out of it and flops down on his back -- just
in time: FLAMES SHOOT FROM BOTH WALLS right at him. If
he'd been standing, he'd be toast.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BUSY INTERSECTION - SIMULTANEOUS
</b><b>
</b> The Minivan blasts through another yellow.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Look out Zoe! Rollers!
<b>
</b> There is a POLICE CAR cruising the street ahead of them.
Zoe blows past it. Inside is the Cute Cop. The Squad
Car's lights flash on, and he catches up with the minivan
-- it takes a while, they're FLYING.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Come on. Use the gas, not the brake, 5-0.
<b>
</b> Zoe slows down so the Police Car can pull up beside her.
The Cute Cop shouts over at Zoe.
<b>
</b><b> 97.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> I'd say you could lose your license --
but you haven't got one!
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> People are trying to kill us. They have
my mom, and our bodyguard -- you have to
follow me!
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> Just pull over!
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Fine. Don't follow me!
<b>
</b> She swerves into the Squad Car, almost running it off the
road. Zoe U-turns, and speeds back towards her house. The
Squad Car turns around and chases her.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The Minivan speeds by. The Squad Car is on its tail. It
is joined by MORE SQUAD CARS. Following the chase, at a
safe distance, is Mr. Chun in his now-wrecked sedan.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SCHOOL - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Murney and Claire are watching a SOCCER GAME. He's in a
<b> NECK-BRACE.
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> That Baloney Bandit struck again. I
accept full responsibility. My
intelligence proved to be faulty, but if
I had more resources...
<b>
</b> She shakes her head, Suddenly, the Minivan SPEEDS by.
VROOOOM! Then the Police Car CHASES by. VROOOM!! Then --
<b> FIVE MORE POLICE CARS ZOOM BY. VROOOOOOM!!!
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> (not that surprised:)
I told you not to pass her in Driver's
Ed.
<b>
</b> Claire frowns, concerned...
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane is on the floor, sliding forward, nervously.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 98.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Wriggle like a snake `til you can't no
more. Then better jump quick, like there
ain't no floor.
<b>
</b> Shane jumps up just AS THE FLOOR UNDER HIM DROPS AWAY,
revealing a pool of liquid. Shane has wedged himself in
the corner. A bead of his sweat falls into the liquid,
and sizzles in a cloud of smoke. It's acid.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> (to himself, to calm down)
Almost done, almost done... "Just hold
your breath, and jump to the left."
<b>
</b> He jumps, to the left of the HOLE. He lands in front of
THE SAFE. He's relieved -- then nozzles spray YELLOW GAS
at him. He holds his breath just in time. Still holding
his breath:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> And that's the Peter Panda Dance.
<b>
</b> He flips the switch to DISARMED. The safe's red light
turns green. Immediately, the flamethrowers and blowguns
retract! The gas gets sucked into grates. The whole
room goes SILENT. Whew.
<b>
</b> Bill looks around. He nervously steps forward - he waves
his hand over the floor, and jumps back. Nothing happens.
<b>
</b> Bill signals for Mrs. Chun to go first. She gestures
back: you go. It's a stand-off. Finally, Bill takes a
breath -- and walks across the room. The Booby Traps are
disarmed. Mrs. Chun follows, pulling Julie along.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Thank you, Shane. You were always my best
man. I knew you'd figure it out.
<b>
</b> Shane scowls, disgusted.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> You know, if you're willing to join up,
I'd be happy to cut you in on the
proceeds. What do you say -- we make a
good team?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I was devoted to you, sir. And you
betrayed all of that. All that we stand
for.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 99.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Beat. Bill shrugs.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> I'll take that as a "no."
<b>
</b> Bill turns to the safe. He starts to reach for the
dial... then catches himself. Something's not right.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> ... I think you better open it.
<b>
</b> Shane reaches for the safe, before he reaches the dial --
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> Wait. That's just what you want isn't it?
<b>
</b> Bill thinks, trying to read Shane's poker face. Shane
shrugs. Bill gestures to Mrs. Chun.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> You open it.
<b>
</b> Mrs. Chun doesn't budge.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> Oh come on. I walked the floor first.
<b>
</b> Reluctantly - Mrs. Chun reaches out, and touches the
dial. Nothing happens. Relief. She turns it, and ZAPPPPP!
1000 volts ELECTROCUTES her, her hair on end, shaking
from the voltage...
<b>
</b> Bill is off guard, Shane kicks his gun away! The gun
skids into the acid and plunges, SIZZLING. Bill is
incensed, but Shane gazes coldly.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> There will be no mercy.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> None requested.
<b>
</b> Full of himself, Bill LUNGES. And he's strong! He
shoves Shane back, then PUNCHES him in the gut.
<b>
</b> Shane glares, then returns an onslaught of BLOWS.
Shane's fury is unleashed: A volley of attacks, hitting
Bill's arms, head, legs! He's crazed, unrelenting.
<b>
</b> But suddenly Mrs. Chun LEAPS onto his back.
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b><b> AAAAAA!
</b><b>
</b><b> 100.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> She SCREAMS and grabs his throat. Shane struggles to
lose her. Suddenly, he drops and FLIPS her. She
catapults, stumbles backwards across the room, and stops
just inches from the acid! She teeters, tottering,
unable to gain her balance.
<b>
</b> Shane shakes his head, then runs to grab her outstretched
hand. She smiles, saved. But he's unforgiving.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You're a... terrible neighbor.
<b>
</b> Shane COLD-COCKS her, knocking her out. Suddenly --
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Shane! Watch out!
<b>
</b> Bill is charging him. Shane whirls, delivering a
ROUNDHOUSE KICK. OOF! Bill gets slammed in the chest.
<b>
</b> Bill tumbles, the wind knocked out of him. He jumps to
his feet, delivering a series of hard punches, which
Shane deflects -- they tangle like pro's. It's clear the
both have the same training. They punch, spin, kick,
connecting only occasionally. Bill wheels around and
lands a kicks squarely in Shane's chest. Shane tumbles,
landing on his back in front of the safe.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - BILL
</b><b>
</b> He steps over Shane. Leering mercilessly, he jabs the
spike against Shane's throat.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Any last words?
<b>
</b> Julie gasps. Shane narrows his eyes, then whispers/sings.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Say, good night, Peter Panda!
<b>
</b> The CODE! A BELL rings, and the safe door flies open!
SLAMMING Bill in the head! BONG! Bill's collapses and
drops. K.O.!
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER'S STREET - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> The minivan races toward the house. The Police Cars
chase after, SIRENS wailing.
<b>
</b> IN THE VAN, everyone is SCREAMING.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 101.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Zoe! You're going too fast!! You're not
gonna have enough time to stop-
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Hey, I'M the one in Driver's Ed! I think
I know what I'm doing!!
<b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> She squeals into the driveway, then BRAKES.
<b>
</b> But it's too late. The van SKIDS, smoke BURNING from the
tires -- and hits a tree. The Kid spill out and run.
<b>
</b> The lead Police Car screeches to a stop. POLICE leap
from the car.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SECRET VAULT - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Shane and Julie stare at each other, then look in the
safe:
<b>
</b> Inside, the cavernous metal box holds but one object: A
tiny COMPUTER CHIP. Shane gently removes it.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> ... GHOST.
</b><b>
</b> They look in silence. She smiles at Shane, grateful.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Thank you Shane. It's finally over. Now
we can go back to our peaceful...
<b>
</b> Then -- a sudden AMPLIFIED VOICE from behind them:
<b>
</b><b> ULLHORN (V.O.)
</b><b> FREEZE! HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. HOUSE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Total commotion. The kids clamber from the van, with
their hands raised. Cops surround them. Even Peter and
Tyler have their little hands over their heads. The
garage door raises, Shane steps out.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Whoa, WHOA! What are you doing to these
kids??
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b><b> FREEZE. HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM.
</b><b>
</b><b> 102.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Cops cover Shane and Julie, Julie and Shane Freeze.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> But, officer...
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> I said FREEZE. Zoe, you're in a lot of
trouble... Reckless endangerment!
Driving without a license. Numerous,
uh... trafficS violations --
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (cutting him off)
These kids are heroes. They just aided
in exposing a high-level espionage ring.
I suggest you call the FBI. Now.
<b>
</b> Silence. The Cops are unsure what to do. He scoffs.
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> You expect me to believe any of that?
<b>
</b> Suddenly -- a CRAZED SCREAM.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN (O.S.)
</b><b> EVERYBODY! HIT THE GROUND!!!
</b><b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> Everyone spins. Mr. Chun stands inside the gate,
pointing a ROCKET LAUNCHER. He's disheveled and manic.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN (CONT'D)
</b><b> I WANT THE GHOST, TEN MILLION DOLLARS,
</b><b> AND A DIRECT FLIGHT TO PYONGYANG!
</b><b>
</b> The cops freeze, helpless. Shane weighs his not so many
options... Nobody is sure what to do.
<b>
</b> But then -- a WOMAN suddenly flips over the fence, vaults
onto Chun, and KNOCKS him out with a Karate Chop.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Ya!!
<b>
</b> Claire lands on her feet, triumphant. Even Chun is
amazed, as he turns his head, Shane spins, and grabs the
rocket launcher.
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He breaks into a big grin.
<b>
</b><b> 103.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - CLAIRE
</b><b>
</b> She proudly smiles back at him.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - THE CUTE COP
</b><b>
</b> He's flummoxed. This chaos is unsolvable. Beaten, he
reaches for his radio.
<b>
</b><b> COP
</b> I think I'll call the FBI.
<b>
</b><b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - LATER
</b><b>
</b> F.B.I. AGENTS swarm the area. Bill and the Chuns are
being hauled away in cuffs. Julie huddles with the kids.
Shane talks with an F.B.I. Agent.
<b> F
</b><b> .B.I. AGENT
</b> Mr. Wolfe... that was nice work. You're
a one-man battalion.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Just doing my job.
<b>
</b><b> F.B.I. AGENT
</b> The Bureau is always looking for good
men. Do you have a card or something?
<b>
</b> The Agent hands him a BUSINESS CARD, then walks off.
Shane examines it, swelling with pride.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The Kids are looking around, watching the FBI Agents
work. Lulu is following one of the FBI Agents around.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Do you have to wear that thing in your
ear all the time?
<b>
</b><b> FBI AGENT
</b> Yes.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Does it itch?
<b>
</b><b> FBI AGENT
</b> Yes...
<b>
</b><b> 104.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Zoe is looking at the safe. She sees, fallen onto the
floor, from the safe, a letter. Her siblings, and Julie
notice, and gather around. Zoe reads the LETTER:
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> If you're reading this, then Julie found
the key. Julie, Tyler, Peter, Zoe, Todd,
Lulu -- I want to say: I love you more
than anything. I always have.
<b>
</b> A tear comes to her eye. The Plummers hug each other.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. THE PLUMMER HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Claire walks up to Shane. Mock-angry.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> So. What happens now? You'll be stationed
somewhere else, right? I guess there's no
more reason for you to stick around here.
<b>
</b> Shane looks at her. He looks around: at the family. He
looks at Claire....
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Well. I'm kinda, re-conning the
situation, here... And to tell the truth.
I don't see anything but reasons to stay.
<b> P
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> So... What's the next move?
<b>
</b> Shane smiles slyly and pulls her close.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... I don't know. I'm on dry land. You're
the superior office. You tell me.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Well. Summer's almost here. What if you
and me did a little amphibious recon
mission. On, say -- Maui?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sir yes sir.
<b>
</b> Claire beams. The Plummers all approach, interrupting.
Zoe gives them a look -- that makes Shane and Claire
BLUSH. Lulu turns to Shane, sad.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> This is it. Your work here is through.
Guess you have to go now...
<b>
</b><b> 105.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> She puts out her hand, to shake his.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Ah, come here you.
<b>
</b> He surprises her with a BEAR HUG -- he hugs the whole
family at once, squeezing them off the ground. He puts
them down. Before he goes: he reaches down and gives Zoe -
- his medal. He squeezes her hand around it.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> But...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> He would've wanted me to give it to
someone I care about. Like he did. Thank
you. For everything.
<b> P
</b><b> ETER
</b> Love you, Shane.
<b>
</b><b> TIGHT - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> This is too much. He wipes his face.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Your dad would be so proud.
<b>
</b> Shane bawls -- he can't keep it in. He starts to head
off, Lulu calls after him:
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Shane, we're never gonna see you again!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What are you talking about? I'm gonna
see you Friday night.
<b>
</b> A long beat. Julie looks up, baffled.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> What's Friday night?
<b>
</b><b> INT. VICTORIA THEATRE, BACKSTAGE - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Close on Shane:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Tonight is the night we trained for, and
failure is not an option! No detail is
too small! We are the BEST! Remember
your lines, hit your marks, and stay in
character! I expect perfection!
<b> (MORE)
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 106.
</b><b> SHANE(CONT'D)
</b> (he grins)
Now let's break a leg.
<b>
</b> Wider reveals the Cast of `The Sound of Music'.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b> Shane's military-march version of the musical. Nuns sing
"How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?" The Von Trapp
kids perform "So Long, Farewell."
<b>
</b> In the audience, Julie watches in astonishment. She is
surrounded by her children. Scott: in a suit, his hair
combed, Claire: dressed to the nines, the little Brownie
Troop, even Murney. Lulu has a basket in her lap --
inside: GARY THE DUCK and his new family, the most
adorable ducklings you ever saw.
<b>
</b> They all watch, rapt.
<b>
</b> You Are Sixteen begins. Shane watches with bated breath.
Todd spins. In SLOW MOTION, he leaps into the SPIN KICK.
It's fantastic -- a Michael Jordan dunk. The AUDIENCE
goes nuts, Shane stands, and shouts:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> YESSS! (And an Armed forces:) Huu-ah!
<b>
</b> The Audience stares at him, until he sits back down,
beaming with pride.
<b>
</b> Finally: "CLIMB EVERY MOUNTAIN." Hearts swell, as the
family crosses the papier-mch alps.
<b>
</b> A STANDING OVATION. The performers take their curtain
calls, then giddily gesture Shane to come out. He humbly
steps into view -- and the house goes crazy. Thundering
applause. A cellophane bouquet of flowers gets thrust on
him. Shane smiles, touched. Mission accomplished.
<b>
</b><b> FADE OUT.
</b><b>
</b><b> THE END
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b>
</pre><br>
<table width="85%" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" class="body" style="BORDER-TOP: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 1px solid;">
<tr>
<td align=center><img src="/posters/Pacifier,-The.jpg" border="0">
<td><h1>Pacifier, The</h1><br><br>
<b>Writers</b> : <a href="/writer.php?w=Thomas Lennon" title="Scripts by Thomas Lennon">Thomas Lennon</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=Robert Ben Garant" title="Scripts by Robert Ben Garant">Robert Ben Garant</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=Jason Fulardi" title="Scripts by Jason Fulardi">Jason Fulardi</a><br>
<b>Genres</b> : <a href="/genre/Comedy" title="Comedy Scripts">Comedy</a> <a href="/genre/Action" title="Action Scripts">Action</a> <a href="/genre/Family" title="Family Scripts">Family</a> <a href="/genre/Thriller" title="Thriller Scripts">Thriller</a><br><br><br>
<a href="/Movie Scripts/Pacifier, The Script.html#comments" title="Pacifier, The comments">User Comments</a>
</td>
</table>
<br><br>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://www.imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/lilbutton.gif" style="border: 1px solid black;" alt="Internet Movie Script Database" border=1><br>
Back to IMSDb</a>
</div><br>
<br><br>
</tr>
</table>
<br><br>
</table>
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2">
</table>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)">Index</a>
|
<a href="/submit.html" title="Submit scripts">Submit</a>
|
<a href="/link to us" title="Link to IMSDb">Link to IMSDb</a>
|
<a href="/disclaimer.html">Disclaimer</a>
|
<a href="/privacy">Privacy policy</a>
|
<a href="/contact.html">Contact</a>
</div>
<br />
</body>
</html>
Question:
Who is Lieutenant Shane Wolfe assigned to rescue?
Answer:
| Howard Plummer. | 174 | 271,363 | 271,365 | 271,424 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
33068 | 33068_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
<html>
<head><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" />
<meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true">
<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
<meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN">
<meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document>
<meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW">
<meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts">
<meta name=rating CONTENT=General>
<meta name=distribution content=Global>
<meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days">
<link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">
<script type="text/javascript">
var _gaq = _gaq || [];
_gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']);
_gaq.push(['_trackPageview']);
(function() {
var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true;
ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js';
var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s);
})();
</script>
</head>
<body topmargin="0" bottommargin="0" id="mainbody">
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td valign="bottom" bgcolor="#FF0000"><a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_top.gif" border="0"></a></td>
<td bgcolor="#FF0000">
<center>
<font color="#FFFFFF"><h1>The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)</h1></font>
</center>
<tr>
<td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2"><a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_middle.gif" border="0"></a></td>
<tr>
<td width="170" valign="top" class="smalltxt"> <a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_bottom.gif" width="170" border="0"></a>
<br>
<center><span class="smalltxt">The web's largest <br>movie script resource!</span></center>
</td>
<td>
<script type="text/javascript"><!--
e9 = new Object();
e9.size = "728x90";
//--></script>
<script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<br>
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td width="180" valign="top">
<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr>
<td colspan="2" class=heading>Search IMSDb<tr>
<form method="post" action="/search.php">
<td width="180"> <div align="center">
<input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">
<input type="submit" value="Go!" name="submit">
</div></td>
</form>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=9 class=heading>Alphabetical
<tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/0">#</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/A">A</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/B">B</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/C">C</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/D">D</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/E">E</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/F">F</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/G">G</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/H">H</a><tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/I">I</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/J">J</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/K">K</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/L">L</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/M">M</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/N">N</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/O">O</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/P">P</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Q">Q</a><tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/R">R</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/S">S</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/T">T</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/U">U</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/V">V</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/W">W</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/X">X</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Y">Y</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Z">Z</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Genre
<tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Action">Action</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Adventure">Adventure</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Animation">Animation</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Comedy">Comedy</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Crime">Crime</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Drama">Drama</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Family">Family</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Fantasy">Fantasy</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Horror">Horror</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Musical">Musical</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Mystery">Mystery</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Romance">Romance</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Sci-Fi">Sci-Fi</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Short">Short</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Thriller">Thriller</a>
<td><a href="/genre/War">War</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Western">Western</a>
</table>
<br>
<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr>
<td colspan="2" class=heading>Sponsor<tr>
<td width="300" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">
<script type="text/javascript"><!--
e9 = new Object();
e9.size = "300x250";
//--></script>
<script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
</td>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td class=heading>TV Transcripts
<tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Futurama.html">Futurama</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Seinfeld.html">Seinfeld</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/South Park.html">South Park</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Stargate SG1.html">Stargate SG-1</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Lost.html">Lost</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/The 4400.html">The 4400</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" class="body">
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>International
<tr>
<td><a href="/language/French">French scripts</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Latest Comments
<tr>
</table>
<br>
<div align="center"><br><br>
<a href="https://imsdb.com/all-scripts.html">ALL SCRIPTS</a><br><br>
</div>
<td width="10"></td>
<td valign="top">
<br> <table width="100%"><tr><td class="scrtext">
<pre>
<b> THE PACIFIER
</b>
Written by
<b>
</b> Thomas Lennon & Robert Ben Garant
<b>
</b><b>
</b> Previous Revisions by
<b>
</b> Jason Fulardi, Scott Alexander & Larry Karaszewki
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> March 3rd, 2004
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> FADE IN:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - DAY
</b><b>
</b> A fishing boat pushes over choppy water. FOUR GUN TOTING
MEN on Jet Skis wearing black wet suits and goggles
escort the boat. Flying above it is a HELICOPTER.
<b>
</b><b> INT. FISHING BOAT/CONTROL DECK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> A SERBIAN MAN captains the wheel. SERB 2 scans the
horizon with binoculars. He checks the GPS system, then
his watch, then speaks into his throat mic. All italics
are Serbian w/ subtitles:
<b>
</b><b> SERB 2
</b> Fifteen minutes to delivery.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The JET SKIER in the lead weighs in on a radio.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SEA HAWK 1 - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The HELICOPTER PILOT weighs in.
<b>
</b><b> PILOT
</b> All clear from above.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SKY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The camera descends as the boat passes, and dives beneath
the surface.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The droning of engines becomes less pronounced. Foam
from the boat and skis bubbles.
<b>
</b> Calm. Then from out of nowhere five NAVY SEALs wearing RE-
BREATHERS appear, in neat formation like the Blue Angels.
JET PROPELLED BACKPACKS push the SEALs through the water.
<b>
</b> The LEAD SEAL: SHANE WOLFE, points upwards. All eyes
follow his finger to the underbelly of the boat above.
From his belt, Shane takes a steel wand with an adhesive
disc attached, aims it at the fleeing boat and FIRES.
A cable shoots up -- THUD... The disc sticks to the
boat's hull. Shane pushes a button on the wand retracting
the cable and drawing himself closer.
<b>
</b> Dangling from the cruiser, Shane fixes a BOMB to the
hull. He releases himself from the boat and speeds away --
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 2.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> BOOM. A dense explosion sends ripples through the water
and ELECTRICITY crackling around the boat.
<b>
</b><b> INT. FISHING BOAT/CONTROL DECK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> A SURGE of ELECTRICAL FORCE blasts from the control
panel. SPARKS fly.
<b>
</b> The two Serbian Men jolt backwards -- WHAM -- and hit the
wall. All the needles inside all the dials go LIMP. The
roar of the engines DIES and the boat STOPS.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN, UNDER THE BOAT - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane slips inside the hull, through the new hole.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SEA HAWK 1 - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The chopper slows to a hover. The Pilot looks below.
<b>
</b><b> PILOT
</b> What's happening?
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The jet skiers protectively circle the injured boat in a
SYNCHRONIZED SWIMMING move, and the Jet Ski drivers are
simultaneously YANKED below the surface: a split second
later they're replaced by our SEALS (ALSO IN BLACK WET
SUITS AND GOGGLES) -- the switch happens in less than a
second, way too fast for anyone to notice.
<b>
</b><b> INT. FISHING BOAT/CONTROL DECK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The shaken Serbs climb to their feet.
<b>
</b><b> SERBIAN 2
</b> What happened?
<b>
</b> They look around, and see the SEALS, on the jet skis: In
the masks they are indistinguishable from the GUN-TOTTING
MEN they switched paces with. All seems clear. Serb 1
pushes on the throttle... nothing.
<b>
</b><b> SERBIAN 1
</b> We've been hit. We're taking on water.
<b>
</b> Suddenly the boat lists -- and water pours in, under the
cabin door. They spring into action!
<b>
</b><b> SERBIAN 1 (CONT'D)
</b> Grab the professor, quick!
<b>
</b><b> 3.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. DECK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Serb 1 rushes out, shouting orders: He alerts four ARMED
GUARDS and the Jet Ski drivers (now our Seals).
<b>
</b><b> SERBIAN 1
</b> Something must be below us! Shoot! Shoot!
<b>
</b> The Armed Guards fire relentlessly into the water. Serb 2
rushes below deck.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SHIP'S HOLD - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> PROFESSOR CHARLES PLUMMER, bound to a chair and gagged,
tries to YELP as the room begins to flood with water.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SHIP'S CORRIDOR - SIMULTANEOUS
</b><b>
</b> Serb 2 runs down steps to the lowermost hold. He tries to
force the door open. When it finally opens, he is forced
back by a three foot wall of water.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SHIP'S HOLD - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Professor Plummer panics, as the water rises up to his
mouth He struggles, but can't get free. Up to his nose,
over his head.... He's gone.
<b>
</b> Then Shane Wolf rises out of the water, hauling the
Professor up. He cuts the Professor's GAG. Plummer
screams. Shane removes his mouth piece. Shane doesn't
seem the slightest bit fazed by the circumstances.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Lieutenant Shane Wolfe, United States
Navy. I'm gonna get you outta here. But
you have to do exactly what I say, when I
say it. My way -- no highway option. Do
you copy?
(Plummer nods, terrified.)
Where's the briefcase?
<b>
</b> The Professor gestures across the room, where a metal
BRIEFCASE is floating. Shane calmly HANDCUFFS it to his
own waist. As the water rises, to the roof.
<b>
</b><b> PLUMMER
</b> How did you know where I...
<b>
</b> Shane sticks the mouth piece into Plummer's mouth, giving
him his oxygen.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. ON THE DECK - SIMULTANEOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> 4.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> The Armed Guards stop shooting into the water. One of
our SEALS calls out to them, in PERFECT SERBIAN:
<b>
</b><b> SEAL
</b><b> KEEP SHOOTING!
</b><b>
</b> The Guards fire again. The SEAL speaks into his neck mic.
<b>
</b><b> SEAL (CONT'D)
</b> Give it a second, they're almost out of
ammo.
<b>
</b> The Seal calls out: "shoot more, more!" They do, until
there's nothing but empty CLICKS from their guns.
<b>
</b><b> SEAL (CONT'D)
</b> Now Lieutenant. Chopper's four meters at
your 10 o'clock.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SHIP'S HOLD - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Just before the water envelopes him and Plummer...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (into his mic)
I've got the Prof and the case. First
round's on me back at Virginia Beach.
<b>
</b> Shane takes a deep breath, and pulls himself, the
Professor and the briefcase UNDER the water.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. OCEAN'S SURFACE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane and the Professor rise to the surface as the boat
falters behind them. Shane pulls out a retractable
CROSSBOW. It clicks open and he shoots a CABLE into the
belly of the helicopter above him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Hold on.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HELICOPTER - A SECOND LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane appears at the Pilot's door, holding the Professor.
Shane addresses the Pilot in perfect SERBIAN.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You know how to swim?
<b>
</b> The Pilot nods, terrified. Shane TOSSES the Pilot out.
<b>
</b> Shane swings into the hot seat and grabs the controls,
pulling the Professor in behind him.
<b>
</b><b> 5.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> ON THE SURFACE OF THE WATER - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The SEALS on the Jet Skis SALUTE Shane in the chopper,
then disappear gracefully back into the water.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HELICOPTER - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane smiles, clearly he loves this kind of day. He looks
beside him, the Professor looks terrified. The Professor
takes out his mouth piece.
<b>
</b><b> PLUMMER
</b> Oh my God. I can't believe you... how'd
we... That was the most incredible...
<b>
</b> Shane sticks the mouth piece back in the Professors'
mouth, shutting him up.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Better keep that on `til we get to the
rendezvous point.
<b>
</b><b> PLUMMER
</b> (through the mouth piece)
Why? Poison gas?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (re: the oxygen)
No. I'm just not big on chit chat.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MOUNTAIN CLEARING - A LITTLE LATER
</b><b>
</b> A Pave Hawk SH-60 helicopter, rotors whirling slowly,
waits. Shane's chopper appears from behind a tree line
and sets down atop the mountain by a stream.
<b>
</b> Shane and Charles sprint from the chopper towards the
waiting Hawk. Charles stops Shane.
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES
</b> Lieutenant, thank you. (He pats his
briefcase) You saved more than just my
life today. Can I call my wife to let
her know I'm okay?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Negative. Not imperative to the mission.
We have to keep moving. I have strict
orders to get you out of here safely.
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES
</b> I'm safe, Lieutenant. Please. She thinks
I'm dead. (then) Don't you have a family?
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 6.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (this gets him:)
Make it quick.
<b>
</b> Charles picks up his briefcase. He holds the lock up to
his mouth and whispers into it:
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES
</b> Joe, Todd, Lulu, Peter, Tyler.
<b>
</b> The briefcase pops open. Shane looks at him, puzzled.
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES (CONT'D)
</b> My kids. It's voice activated. Designed
it myself. I do security, that's my
specialty. (gestures back:) Those guys
back there tried to get this case open
for five days -- couldn't crack it. And
you should see what happens to you if
open it without the code. I have a
picture of my kids in here, you want to
see it?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Negative.
<b>
</b> Charles takes a cell-phone out of the case. Shane looks
in the case: it's EMPTY, except for the phone and a
family PHOTO. Charles dials his cell phone... nothing
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES
</b> Battery's dead...
<b>
</b> Shane considers, then hands him his satellite phone.
Charles dials, and talks...
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES (CONT'D)
</b> Honey, I'm alive...
<b>
</b><b> INT. PAVE HAWK - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane climbs in the Hawk and approaches the cockpit. The
PILOT sits, back to him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> We're almost ready. Just gives us a -
<b>
</b> The Pilot slumps forward... DEAD. Shane turns-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Professor, RUN!!!
<b>
</b> WHAM. Shane drops, knocked unconscious. All goes black.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 7.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PAVE HAWK - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The helicopter is on fire. Wolf lies facedown in the
stream. He looks around, barely conscious.
<b>
</b> SHANE'S P.O.V.: Everything is a blur, in slow-motion. He
sees Charles, unconscious. A Huey Helicopter lands. A
VERY TALL MAN steps out, and takes Charles' Briefcase.
There is huge explosion, as the chopper ignites.
Everything is ablaze. Shane reaches out, grabs the
picture of Charles' kids then goes unconscious.
<b> F
</b><b> ADE TO BLACK:
</b><b>
</b><b> EST. HOSPITAL - DAY
</b><b>
</b> TITLE CARD: 1 Month Later
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOSPITAL - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane lies in a hospital bed, despondent. His arm and
face bandaged.
<b>
</b> Shane's Captain enters: BILL FAWCETT (35) -- friendly,
unassuming. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. Shane
salutes him with his bandaged arm -- it hurts to salute,
but he does it anyway.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Captain, sir.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> As you were Lieutenant.
<b>
</b> Bill sits down beside the bed. He takes a long look at
Shane. He holds a REPORT in his hand.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> We've been through a lot together Shane.
You're the best man I ever trained. And a
good friend.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... I know sir. And I except full
responsibility for the mission's failure.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Why the hell did you let him use the
satellite phone?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> He had to call his family. A lapse in
judgement on my part that I regret sir.
<b>
</b><b> 8.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Bill shakes his head, disappointed. He pulls up a chair,
and sits opposite Shane.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> ... Plummer was the best security expert
the department of defense ever had -- a
genius. He was working on a program that
scrambles launch codes. He called it
G.H.O.S.T.: Guided High-altitude
Scrambling Transmitter. One pulse from
the GHOST satellite and a country can't
launch its own nukes. That's what the
Serbians kidnapped him for, but they
couldn't get S
inside the briefcase.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> The case was empty sir, as I stated in my
report.
<b>
</b> Bill considers this. Then...
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Not a surprise, really. Not like the
professor to hide things where someone
might look for them. G.H.O.S.T. is still
out there, (Bill smiles:) which is why
I'm going to give you another shot.
<b>
</b> Shane sits up. He can't believe his good fortune.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sir. Thank you. I... appreciate your
confidence.
<b>
</b> Invigorated, he pulls off bandages, disconnects an IV,
and starts to rise.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> I'll need to put a team together. I'm
gonna need the mini sub, I need access to
an EP3 aries 2 spy plane...
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> (interrupting:)
Negative. It's not that kind of mission.
<b>
</b> Shane listens, intrigued.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> Two days ago, I got a call from the
professor's wife... Widow. She told me
someone had broken into her home.
Searched the place, top to bottom.
<b> (MORE)
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 9.
</b><b> BILL(CONT'D)
</b> She's scared. The family's scared.
Whoever killed the professor must think
G.H.O.S.T. is in that house. Maybe it is,
maybe it isn't. Either way, I need
someone to stay at that house, and
protect them. And while you're there --
find out if the program is in there.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's it? Why would you want me for
that, sir.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> The professor's wife requested you.
<b>
</b> Shane is surprised... Bill pulls a tiny tape recorder
from his pocket, presses play, we hear PROFESSOR
PLUMMER'S voice.
<b>
</b><b> CHARLES (O.S.)
</b> Honey, I'm alive. Listen: A lot can
happen between here and home -- if
anything happens to me, call Lt. Shane
Wolfe. He's a good man... anyway, I
should go. I'll call you in an hour. I
love you.
<b>
</b> Shane is shocked, hearing the dead man's voice.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> ... You gotta problem with this mission?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sirnosir. It's just that... I've never
been very good with kids, sir. Not even
when I was a kid sir.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. SHANE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane packs his duffel bag. He opens a drawer: There's
five t-shirts, identical to the one he wears. He opens
another drawer: Five khaki pants, also identical to the
one he wears. He opens the closet: There's a massive fur-
collared coat. Hm. He rejects it.
<b>
</b> Shane packs his duffel with military gear: GPS compass,
night vision goggles, camouflage vest, machete... they
all go in. Shane heads to the door, then goes back to his
chest of drawers. He reaches in, and pulls out a small,
old MEDAL: the ribbon is faded and frayed. He looks at it
for a moment, then unzips his suit and pins it to the
inside, like it's a lucky rabbit's foot.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 10.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - AFTERNOON
</b><b>
</b> A taxi door opens. Shane looks like a bad ass, ready for
anything. He steps from the taxi onto an adorable TROLL
doll on the sidewalk. It SQUEAKS.
<b>
</b> Shane's P.O.V.: Julie's unkempt suburban house, with toys
all over the lawn, and a "BLESS THIS MESS" welcome mat.
<b>
</b> Shane double-checks the address. The sprinklers go off.
Shane darts to the door and rings the bell (it's one of
those long cheerful doorbells).
<b>
</b> WE hear TINY FEET approach -- then the door swings open,
Shane looks down -- and sees LULU, 8, peering up at him.
<b>
</b> Shane eyes Lulu. Lulu eyes Shane, then:
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Mom! There's some weird bald guy at the
door!
<b>
</b> SLAM. Lulu shuts the door in Shane's face. Shane frowns.
WE hear heavier footsteps approaching.
<b>
</b> EMALE VOICE (o.s.)
(before she sees Shane:)
Look, if you're with the Hare Krishnas,
we're not interested...
<b>
</b> The door opens revealing JULIE PLUMMER. Julie holds
NAKED baby PETER, 2. She sees Shane, and stops, a little
startled by his size...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (salutes:)
Lieutenant Shane Wolfe, reporting for
duty.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Of course. I'm so sorry. Thank you for
coming.
<b>
</b> She hugs him. He's not quite sure what to do -- he's a
rock, he doesn't flinch.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> Come in and meet the rest of the gang.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE/FOYER - DAY
</b><b>
</b> It's warm and quiet. Petite Julie SCREAMS up the stairs-
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 11.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b><b> KIIIDDS!!!
</b><b>
</b> Shane startles, covers his ears.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> Get your butts down here and say "hello!"
<b>
</b> And then three pairs of feet come down the stairs. Lulu,
ZOE, 15, and TODD, 14 line up like the perfect family
portrait. Todd's hair hangs in his face. He wears a Sid
Vicious shirt and a long trench coat.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> You've already met Lulu. This is Peter,
Zoe and Todd. Kids, this is Lieutenant
Wolfe. He's the man who is going to be
staying with us for a while.
<b>
</b> All the kids except for Todd-
<b>
</b><b> KIDS
</b> Hi.
<b>
</b> Shane nods, stern. On the stairs, a Romanian MAID walks
by, carrying a BABY.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> And this is Helga and Tyler.
<b>
</b> Shane nods hello to them.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (official:)
Ma'am... Baby.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Kids, go finish your homework. And I'll
be checking.
<b>
</b> Zoe, Lulu and Todd climb back up the stairs. Julie leads
Shane into...
<b>
</b><b> INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Julie sits, Shane stands "at ease" (which doesn't look
"at ease" at all).
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You have a pleasant family, ma'am.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 12.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Charles wasn't around too much. His work
took him all over the world. He'd be gone
six or seven months at a time. So I
think for the younger ones it's a little
confusing. Zoe and Todd... well, they're
dealing like your normal teenagers.
Maybe in Todd's case semi-normal.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Mrs. Plummer, I have to tell you that I
did everything I could...
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Charles was in a dangerous business. I
knew it when I married him. No one's to
blame here.
(beat)
Everyone thinks that Charles told me or
the kids where he hid it. And until
G.H.O.S.T. is found, we're all in danger.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Nothing will happen to your family as
long as I'm here. I've dealt with much...
<b>
</b> Suddenly from behind Shane's head a DUCK appears and
NIBBLES his ear. Shane spins in full fight stance. He
sees the Duck... and relaxes. Sort of.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> That's Gary. He was Charles'.
<b>
</b> The duck QUACKS angrily. Confused, Shane returns to "at
ease," keeping one eye on the duck.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Mrs. Plummer-
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Call me Julie.
<b>
</b> Beat.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Mrs. Plummer, I'll go secure the
perimeter.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I'm glad you're here-
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 13.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> But Shane is already gone.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> MONTAGE. MILITARY MUSIC PLAYS:
</b><b>
</b> Shane secures the area. He paces off the yard.
<b>
</b> He mounts surveillance cameras in the eaves.
<b>
</b> He attaches contact alarms in the doors and windows.
<b>
</b> Shane climbs a telephone pole, opens the circuit box and
TAPS the phones.
<b>
</b> Shane, now wearing an EAR TRANSMITTER, crawls through the
shrubs, hiding electric eyes.
<b>
</b> Nighttime -- the family eats dinner. We slowly pull
out... through the kitchen window... and reveal Shane
with night vision goggles on scoping the property.
<b>
</b> The phone RINGS inside. Through the window, Julie
casually answers it. Shane touches his ear transmitter
and LISTENS as he walks into the house.
<b>
</b> BILL (o.s.)
Julie, it's Bill Fawcett. I have some
potentially good news.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> What is it?
<b>
</b> BILL (o.s.)
A safety deposit box under Charles' name
was just found in Switzerland. I think
it could contain GHOST.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> That's wonderful. This could all be over!
<b>
</b> BILL (o.s.)
There's a catch. Swiss law says only his
family can access it. I'm going to need
you on a plane tomorrow morning.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane, listening to the conversation, enters-
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I'll be there.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 14.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Julie and Shane share a look.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE/FOYER - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Julie, with her suitcase, Shane, Helga and the Kids stand
in the doorway. Zoe listens to her I-Pod ignoring the hug
Julie gives her.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Don't worry about the Kids, Helga will
handle everything. (Worried:) But if
there is an emergency, all the emergency
numbers are on the fridge. And on the
phone. And on the back door...
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Mom -- we'll be fine, chill.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> (a little choked up:)
I know, it's just... I am a mom, it's my
job to worry. ... I love you guys. I'm
gonna miss you. I'll be back in 48 hours.
And guys, whatever Lieutenant Wolfe asks
you to do... do it. Okay?
<b> A
</b> ll the children nod in agreement except Zoe who pops her
chewing gum bubble.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> Lieutenant, I don't want you to worry
about anything except the safety of my
children. Helga will take care of
everything else.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Don't worry. They'll be safe with me.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> Everything will be fine, Mrs. Plummer.
<b>
</b> Julie gets in the car and it drives away. Shane turns
back to the kids who loom in the doorway.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA (CONT'D)
</b> Tell me, are you licensed to kill?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... No.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> (she frowns)
Too bad.
<b>
</b><b> H
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 15.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Helga trudges up the path and in.
<b>
</b><b> INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane, on a short ladder, screws in a surveillance camera
into the corner of a wall when he hears:
<b>
</b> MALE VOICE (o.s.)
Prepare to be annihilated!
<b>
</b> Lulu SCREAMS. The sound of MACHINE GUN FIRING.
Immediately, Shane leaps off the ladder and bounds down
the stairs two at a time and into the...
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE/FAMILY ROOM - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> hane rushes in -- and finds Lulu screaming and giggling
in front of a VIDEO GAME. Shane shakes his head.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Could you turn that dow-
<b>
</b> And Shane spies half of Todd's face peeking around a
corner staring at him...
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Hey-
<b>
</b> Todd disappears. WAAAAA!! WAAAAA!! Shane spins, looks
around for the CRYING BABY... can't find him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> ... Where's the baby?
<b>
</b> Without looking Lulu points. A diapered Peter stands in
the half full AQUARIUM, pouring in Cheerios. Helga
enters holding the wailing Tyler. Gary suddenly FLIES by -
- WHRRP! Shane ducks. Shane scowls at Helga:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> You run a very loose ship.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> You don't like it? You're the SEAL. You
do something. I make bottle.
<b>
</b> elga stomps out. Shane heads down the hall, when in the
corner of his eye -- he sees A FIGURE SCURRY ACROSS THE
BACK LAWN. Shane turns off the light. He shuts off the
window alarm and sneaks out silently.
<b>
</b><b> 16.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - BACK YARD - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The yard is littered with toys. In the middle is a
TRAMPOLINE. He spots the Figure climbing the TRELLIS.
Shane runs, jumps onto the trampoline. He flies in the
air and latches onto the figure. They both tumble to the
ground.
<b>
</b> Shane yanks off the DARK FIGURE's hood, revealing SCOTT
(16) a nervous teenager. He's dazed, but alright, wearing
SHARPER IMAGE night vision goggles.
<b>
</b><b> SCOTT
</b> ... Zoe?
<b>
</b> Zoe runs out the door, setting off the PIERCING ALARM.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> He's my boyfriend, tool.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> So you're the one who broke in.
Zoe -- go back inside.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Okay, fine... come on Scott.
<b>
</b> Shane grabs Scott by the scruff of the neck.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Not with this kid. (to Todd:) You --
Gimme twenty!
<b>
</b> Freaked, Scott fumbles for his wallet and gives Shane a
twenty dollar BILL.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> I meant PUSH-UPS!
<b>
</b> Befuddled, Scott starts to do lame push-ups. Shane grabs
the back of Scott's shirt, LIFTING him in the air,
spinning him away from the house like a marionette. Scott
runs off, calling out from across the street.
<b> S
</b><b> COTT
</b> ... I'll call you, Zoe!
<b>
</b> Zoe storms inside. Shane stands there, fuming. The
Alarm's still blaring. The window of the house next door
opens: a Korean couple, THE CHUNS, pop their heads out.
They're arguing with each other in Korean. Shane
addresses them, IN PERFECT KOREAN with subtitles:
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 17.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> My apologies. We had an intruder. A
simple misunderstanding.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> (perfect English, no accent)
We speak English, Kojak.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Oh. Sorry.
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> ... Look, about the 2000 decibel alarm
and the kleig lights and stuff... we own
a bakery, so we're up kind of early.
Would you mind?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sorry.
<b>
</b> Shane pulls a remote control from his pocket and clicks
it. The alarm stops.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> Thanks a bunch. Oh, and we found this in
our pool filter... Try to keep that zoo
reigned in, huh baby-sitter?
<b>
</b> Mr. Chun tosses him the TROLL DOLL and slam their window
shut. Shane's about to head inside, he pulls a tiny
camera phone from his pocket, and snaps a shot of the
Chun's car in their driveway.
<b> I
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> hane marches Zoe up the stairs. Loud, angry rock music
blares from Todd's room.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Your mother thought you were in real
danger. You should have told her the
truth.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Who do you think you are -- my dad?
<b>
</b> Zoe starts to turn -- then suddenly spins and tries
kicking him in the CROTCH. But Shane catches her foot --
and whirls her away. She has to hop on one foot, to not
fall over. He "hops" her down the hall to her room.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b> W
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 18.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> ZOE (CONT'D)
</b> Let me go! It's Saturday night. I have
plans!
<b>
</b> Zoe's back to her door, Shane flips her foot in the air.
Zoe falls backwards into the room. Shane shuts her door.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Not anymore.
<b>
</b> Shane marches back down the hall, bangs on Todd's door-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Lights out.
<b>
</b> TODD (o.s.)
Bite me!
<b>
</b> Shane frowns, continues down the hall. He passes the
NURSERY (Peter and Tyler's room), where Helga is singing
a lullaby: (as annoying Has something Barney might sing).
<b>
</b><b> ELGA
</b> When you're down and low, lower than the
floor.
And you feel like you ain't got a chance.
Don't make a move `til you're in the
groove, and do the Peter Panda Dance.
Just hop three times like a kangaroo --
<b>
</b> She does a little "dance" that goes with the lullaby: She
hops forwards three times, then "crab-walks" sideways.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA (CONT'D)
</b> Sidestep twice, just like the crabs do.
Three steps forward, one step back.
<b>
</b> She does. The Children, in bed -- laugh and laugh.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA (CONT'D)
</b> Then quick like a turtle lie on your
back!
riggle like a snake `til you can't no
more.
<b>
</b> he wriggles on the floor. Then jumps up, to their beds.
Shane shakes his head, keeps walking-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> This family's in for a rude awakening.
<b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 19.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - DAWN
</b><b>
</b> The sun rises over the neighborhood, warm orange light.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Everyone is asleep. In the bedrooms, a SERIES OF SHOTS:
<b>
</b><b> L
</b> Tyler snores in his crib. Peter in his bed.
<b>
</b> ulu is surrounded by stuffed animals.
<b>
</b> odd is out cold, motionless.
<b>
</b> oe is wrapped in blankets. Until A TRUMPET BLARES
"REVEILLE"! Zoe jumps, like she's been electrocuted.
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> Huh? Wha--?!
<b>
</b><b> INT. TODD'S ROOM - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Todd sits up, disoriented, not understanding what's
happening. The Whistle GETS LOUDER. Suddenly his door
flies open -- and Shane strides in with a BOOM BOX. Todd
blinks groggily.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> W-what are you doing??!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You're burning daylight. Move. Move.
<b>
</b><b> ODD
</b> It's Sunday...!
(he squints at a clock)
And it's six a.m. You're insane.
<b>
</b> Todd pulls the blanket over his head. Shane flips the
mattress over spilling Todd to the floor.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Now move it!
<b>
</b> Todd scrambles to his feet and out the door.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> All the little kids are CRYING. Covering their ears.
Helga runs through in hair curlers, half-asleep and
angry, carrying the crying baby.
<b>
</b><b> L
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 20.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> (She curses in Romanian)
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Hey. Not in front of the kids.
<b> S
</b> he gives him a look of disbelief.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> What's it matter? Nobody speaks Romanian.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Usca mi-as chilotii pe crucea lu mata!
<b>
</b> Helga narrows her eyes, shocked.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> (She curses Again, in Romanian.)
<b>
</b> Shane's jaw drops.
<b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - LATER
</b><b>
</b> The children are assembled, lined up tallest to shortest.
At the end on the floor is Baby Tyler, sucking on a
bottle. Shane firmly starts his Patton speech:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Listen up, ladies. Your behavior is
unacceptable. In order to maintain a
state of safety we need to maintain a
state of discipline and order. I've only
got one rule: Everything is done my way.
No highway option. Do you copy?
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Do you copy?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What? I said -- do you...
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> ("copying" him)
What? I said -- do you...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Do not copy me!
<b>
</b><b> ULU
</b> Make up your mind.
<b>
</b><b> L
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 21.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane starts to speak then thinks better, he's furious.
Everyone stares blankly -- a tense silence. It's broken
by the sound of a large AIR BUBBLE from the aquarium.
<b>
</b><b> ULU (CONT'D)
</b><b> P
</b> eter farted.
<b>
</b> Everyone cracks up. Shane tries to maintain decorum. He
reaches into his bag and unpacks a set of small high-tech
SECURITY BRACELETS with a red light and a covered button.
He straps one to each Kid's wrist.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Tracking devices. Now that I know I can't
trust you... Never take them off. The
panic button is only for emergencies.
Touch that -- you better be dying, or
you're dead.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I am not wearing that. Just because my
mom's paranoid doesn't mean we have to
take orders from you.
<b>
</b> He yells at her, Marine sergeant style:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Let me explain how the chain of command
works. I tell you what to do -- and you
do it. End of chain. Now I'm not gonna
have time to learn your names. So you are
-- (pointing) Red 1, Red 2, Red Leader,
Red baby... wait, where's the older male?
There were five.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> (mysterious)
He walks like Dracula, with footsteps
silent like death --
<b>
</b> Shane looks to Zoe for translation.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> He's in his room.
<b>
</b> Angry, Shane bounds up the stairs.
<b>
</b><b> INT. UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - SAME TIME
</b><b> S
</b> hane marches to Todd's shut door. He tries the knob,
but it's locked. Shane bangs hard on it.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 22.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red 4! Open this door!
<b>
</b> No answer. Shane turns away from the door and DONKEY
KICKS it...SMASH! The wood CRACKS, then CRASHES inward.
The entire frame collapses.
<b>
</b><b> INT. TODD'S ROOM
</b><b>
</b> hane charges in-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> It didn't have to go down like-
<b>
</b> Todd isn't there. Down the hall -- a FLUSH. Oops.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> The bathroom door opens, and Todd comes sauntering back.
He sees Shane, the destroyed door and wall...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> All I need is a hammer and some plaster
of Paris. I can fix this.
<b>
</b> A piece of the ceiling falls, hits Shane on the head.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Can I get by?
<b>
</b> Embarrassed, Shane steps aside, then mutters-
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Here's your bracelet. If you'd been
wearing it, this wouldn't have happened.
<b>
</b> Shane SNAPS it onto Todd's wrist, and head down the hall,
patrolling. Zoe comes up the stairs, to her room. She
stops at Todd's door -- they glare at Shane.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> He has to go.
<b>
</b> Todd nods in agreement.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - MORNING - LATER
</b><b> S
</b> hane does one-handed push ups in the living room while
the Duck watches. With his other hand he loads the PHOTO
of the Chun's license plate into his laptop computer.
His head shifts, he hears something suspicious -- the
rumble of a car approaching.
<b>
</b><b> L
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 23.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He rushes for the front door, clicks his alarm remote and
opens it, just as -- WHACK -- the MORNING PAPER connects
with his face, hard. From off-screen we hear a PAPERBOY.
<b>
</b><b> PAPERBOY (O.S.)
</b><b> SORRY DUDE!
</b><b>
</b> Shane rubs his nose. Lulu screams at the top of her
lungs. Shane turns, to see that Peter is chasing her,
wearing a towel as a sheet. He pretends to be a ghost.
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> Whhhoooooo!
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Stop it, Peter!
<b>
</b> Lulu hides behind Shane. Peter Booos again. Lulu screams.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Hey, hey, good soldiers aren't afraid of
anything.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> This house is haunted. Daddy even said
so. He said there's a ghost.
<b>
</b> And then it hits Shane. His eyes light up.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Really? And where is this ghost?
<b>
</b><b> ULU
</b> I don't know. I've never seen it.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane walks slowly down the hall. As he walks he glides
his hands along the wall, feeling, pushing, scanning the
ceiling. Searching.
<b> I
</b><b> INT. STAIRWAY - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Todd and Zoe kneel on the stairs. They surreptitiously
pour COOKING OIL all over the wood.
<b>
</b> Then -- a creak. Zoe whispers.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Here he comes...!
<b>
</b> Zoe and Todd run downstairs and hide behind the couch.
<b>
</b><b> F
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 24.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane strides to the top step and RAPS on the wall. He
RAPS again, listening for hollow spaces. Nothing. Shane
lifts his left foot out to take a step down...
<b>
</b> When he hears an alert from his laptop. He goes back to
the living room, then turns his attention to his laptop.
MR. Chun's photo appears next to a VEHICLE REGISTRATION.
Shane scans it...
<b>
</b> Todd and Zoe's faces fall. The footsteps again-
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> He's coming back-
<b>
</b> But Helga, carrying a huge laundry basket, appears, takes
a step onto the stairs --
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b><b> AHHH!!!
</b><b>
</b> BUMP! BUMP! BUMP! She flies down the greased stairs,
BANGING her head and ass on each step, all the way down.
<b>
</b> inally, BAM! Helga HITS the bottom with a mighty crash.
She screams, as laundry flutters down from above.
<b> T
</b><b> IGHT - ZOE AND TODD
</b><b>
</b> They gulp, terrified.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Uh-oh.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SWISS BANK - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Establishing.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SWISS BANK - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Bill and Julie, looking jet-lagged, sit across a desk
from a SWISS BANKER. He seems to be about 100 years old.
He's reading a HUGE stack of paperwork with a magnifying
glass, mouthing along in FRENCH. It's taking him a LONG
time. They wait patiently -- til their patience runs out.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> As we discussed, this is an urgent
matter.
<b>
</b> The Banker puts up a finger to "shush" him. Then looks
back to the paperwork, then licks his finger to turn the
page. He licks his finger again, but can't get the page
to turn.
<b>
</b><b> 25.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He feebly gets up, and shuffles across the room to a
WATER COOLER. He fills a paper cup with water and
shuffles back to his desk. He dips his finger in the
water to turn the page.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Can't you call somebody? Do something to
get us around all this paperwork?
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Sorry. Not in Switzerland, I can't.
<b>
</b> Bill can't stand it anymore. He jumps to his feet.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> This is absurd. If we can't get some
faster service, we're going to have to
file a complaint.
<b>
</b> The Banker looks at him blankly.
<b>
</b><b> BANKER
</b> Marcel!
<b>
</b> Another Banker, MARCEL, enters.
<b>
</b><b> MARCEL
</b> Oui.
<b>
</b><b> BANKER
</b> Je ne comprende pas.
<b>
</b><b> MARCEL
</b> (to Bill and Julie:)
I'm so sorry, the chief does not speak
English. But I can tell you -- you will
have access to the box tout-suite. As
soon as your background checks clear.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Thank you. How long is that?
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Helga, suitcases in hand, heads to the door -- Shane
tries to block her path. Peter's in the aquarium. The
duck flies around, QUACKING.
<b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> AGGH! These brats! Sugi Pula!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red Leader, remain calm --
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 26.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> HELGA
</b> I am calm. I QUIT, that makes me calm!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Let's not be hasty.
<b>
</b> Suddenly, RING! Amid the chaos, Shane moves for the
phone. Helga takes the opening and runs for the door. He
grabs her suitcase. As she tries to wrestle it away,
Shane picks up the receiver.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Hello---
(sees Helga crawling away)
Don't even think about it.
<b>
</b> The suitcase handle breaks off, and Helga dashes for the
door. Shane dives, grabbing her foot. He DRAGS her back.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Ah, Mrs. Plummer.
(covering the phone, so Julie
can't hear the struggle)
No no -- everything's fine. You're gonna
be gone how much longer?
<b>
</b> here's a pause, the camera DOLLY/ZOOMS as he says it:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Five business days?
<b>
</b> elga's shoe comes off -- Helga falls forwards, and Shane
falls back, against the counter.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> That is not a problem. Just doing my...
<b>
</b> He picks up his hand, that landed on a diaper.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Duty.
<b>
</b> Helga's at the door. Shane body-checks it closed. Helga
struggles to get him off. CRUNCH. Helga chomps down on
Shane's hand...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Ah! Things are GREAT!!! You do what you
have to do.
<b>
</b> Shane lets go. Helga scampers out the door.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 27.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Take care, Mrs. Plummer.
<b>
</b> Shane hangs up the phone, as Helga makes a dash down the
path to a waiting cab.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane chases Helga to the cab.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red Leader! I command you to come back!
That is a direct order! You can't leave
a man behind!!
<b>
</b> Helga jumps in the cab.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b><b> (SCREAMING)
</b> I don't know the Peter Panda song!!
<b>
</b> As the cab pulls away, in the rear window, Helga glares
back, then does an obscene Romanian hand gesture.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> His jaw drops in disbelief. He drops his head, defeated.
Then -- he slowly glances up.
<b>
</b><b> ACROSS THE STREET
</b><b>
</b> The Korean couple is staring at him, dumbfounded.
<b>
</b><b> KOREAN WOMAN
</b> Don't worry, if she loves you, she'll
come back.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> Rises, takes a deep breath and strides inside.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane enters... to find the kids are all gloomy. The
baby cries. Shane awkwardly picks the baby up.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay, listen up. There's been a change of
plans. Your mom's not coming back as
soon as she thought...
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 28.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> (worried)
When is she coming back?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Soon. In the meantime, we're just gonna
have some more big fun.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> That's what we've been doing?
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> But tomorrow's a school day.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I need a signed release for Driver's Ed!
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> I've got Brownies!
<b>
</b> Shane reacts, inundated.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Whoa, WHOA! HALT! We'll take this hill
one inch at a time. Only then can we
rise to the challenge. All for one, and
one for all!
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> (singing)
"Be all that you can be!"
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's Army. I'm Navy. But I appreciate
your enthusiasm.
<b>
</b> nice moment. Until -- FWRPPPP!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Tell me that was the duck?
<b>
</b> FWRPPP! WE zoom in on the baby's leering face.
<b>
</b> hane quickly moves the Baby away from his body. Pure
self-preservation, everyone bolts from the room.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Hey. HEY!
<b>
</b> Nobody will help. Even Peter runs, holding his nose.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 29.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He gulps.
<b>
</b><b> INT. BATHROOM - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane enters, holding out the Baby at full arm's length.
He lowers Tyler onto a changing pad, takes a deep breath,
then pulls out PLIERS and a SCREWDRIVER. Using the tools
as chopsticks, he cautiously unfastens the diaper... And
then -- it flops open. SShane GROANS, repelled.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> The things I do for my country.
<b>
</b> Shane tries approaching -- he can't do it. Aghast, he
looks around for a solution. Then: Shane picks up the
Baby and dips the bottom half in the toilet, then
FLUSHES, over and over and over.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane patrols the hall, making sure all the doors and
windows are locked. Lulu is in her pj's.
<b>
</b> A hand tugs on Shane's shirt, he looks down to see Lulu.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Hi. Zoe thinks you look like the Hulk. I
think you're cute.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (unsure how to respond...)
Thank you.
<b>
</b> Lulu doesn't go away, she just stares at him, it starts
making Shane uncomfortable.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Do you know Kung Fu?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Affirmative.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Did you ever punch someone so hard that
their head came off?
<b>
</b> hane walks away from Lulu. She follows. Shane is again
twirling the MEDAL in his fingers. Lulu follows at his
heels, like a puppy.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 30.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU (CONT'D)
</b> What's that medal for?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> None of your business.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> I'll trade you a SpongeBob button for it.
<b>
</b> Shane walks room to room, pulling down the shades on
every window.
<b>
</b><b> LULU (CONT'D)
</b> Is that so people can't hurt us?
<b>
</b> He bends down to her level, and tries to sound sweet:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I think -- it's time for you take a nappy-
poo, in beddibye land, little girl.
<b>
</b> Lulu looks at him, like he's an idiot.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Do I look like I'm five to you?
<b>
</b> Lulu sulks off to bed, and shuts off her light.
<b>
</b> All the lights are out, all the kids asleep. Shane
breathes a sigh of relief, and patrols.
<b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - BREAKFAST - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> The Kids are dressed for school. On the table in front of
each place is a tan BAG. The kids sit down at their
designated spots, confused by the MRE's (MEALS READY TO
EAT) in front of them.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What are you waiting for? Dig in.
<b>
</b> Todd, Lulu and Zoe all tear open their bags.
<b>
</b> Todd pulls out a bag of CORN BEEF HASH and a Snickers
bar. Zoe pulls out a bag of FETTUCCINE ALFREDO and some
matches. Lulu takes out a bag of turkey slices and a
coffee packet. Shane smiles, proud of his accomplishment.
The Kids stare at "breakfast," dubious.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Don't worry, I can get lots more of
those. And I've survived off this stuff
for months.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 31.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Like I'm really gonna eat all those
carbs.
<b>
</b> Shane turns to address them:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay, ladies. Your mama -- is not here to
take care of you now. So -- here's how
it's gonna be. We're gonna pull together,
all for one, one for all. If I say in,
you stay in, if I say out, you go out...
<b>
</b> Peter stands in his chair, dancing...
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> Ba ba do the hokie pokey...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I did not say at ease!
<b>
</b> Peter's eyes fill with tears.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> He's only two, he doesn't have any idea
what you're talking about. I don't have
any idea what you're talking about...
<b>
</b> Shane sighs. Lulu asks Shane:
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Can you kill a man with your bare hands?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You play too many video games. (then:)
Yes.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> ... I can cross my eyes. Wanna see?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Negative.
<b>
</b> Lulu crosses her eyes at Shane, then at Tyler -- who
SCREAMS at the top of his lungs. Shane turns to Lulu.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Tyler hates it when I do that...
<b>
</b> Peter starts bawling, too. He runs away, crying. The
table cloth is yanked to the floor. And the phone rings.
Shane answers, trying to hear over the screaming.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 32.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Plummer residence... yes, I know it's
Monday. Oh. Thank you, sir.
<b>
</b> He hangs up. Zoe smiles at him, innocently.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Who was that?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Your vice principal. He said if you're
late again, you and Todd are expelled. He
wants to see you in his office. With your
... legal guardian.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The garage door opens, dramatically unveiling Shane. He's
wearing Tyler in a SNUGGLE. Across his chest, he's got a
bandoleer of baby-bottles and juice boxes. Shane can't
hide his contempt as he sees: Julie's WHITE MINIVAN. A
bumper sticker declares "World's Greatest Mom." Shane
puts Tyler in a CAR SEAT. Its interlocking buckle
connects FOUR WAYS. Shane fumbles with it for a while.
It just doesn't add up...
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> We're gonna be late.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Not on my watch.
<b>
</b> Shane TIES the buckles in a fancy knot.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The car speeds out of the drive, backwards at sixty
m.p.h.. It does a skidding 180 and heads down the street.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. EAST BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL - 9:29 A.M.
</b><b>
</b> A big suburban school, Busses and PARENTS are parked at
the curb, STUDENTS of all ages are hurrying inside. The
Minivan skids completely sideways, into a TINY parking
spot -- a death defying, perfect parallel park.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> CLOSE UP ON: a stopwatch. It hits ZERO, and at that
moment, the SCHOOL'S BELL RINGS.
<b>
</b> Holding the stopwatch is the VICE PRINCIPAL MURNEY
(50's). He's HUGE and mean.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 33.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> I always said these kids didn't need a
baby sitter, they needed a parole
officer. Looks like Mrs. Plummer finally
listened.
<b>
</b> He glares at Shane, and the Kids: Shane sits with Tyler
in a Snuggle, holding Peter on a harness, as he plays on
the floor. The Kids are seated around him, mortified.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> (To Shane)
What's your name, son?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Wolfe. Shane. Lieutenant. I'm in charge
of watching these kids for... a few days.
<b>
</b> Murney is unimpressed.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> aby-sitter huh. Well, whatever work you
can get. I'm Murphy. Duane. V.P in charge
of discipline, conduct and truancy. Top
to bottom, K thru 12. You're in my house
now, boy. I coach wrestling, too. (re:
Todd:) And the creeper here played hookey
from every wrestling practice this month.
<b>
</b> The Kids crack up. Murney is furious.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> She's missed twenty-two Driver's Ed
classes. Out of twenty-three. They're the
worst students in my school.
<b>
</b><b> OMAN'S VOICE
</b> Your school?
<b>
</b> Murney grimaces as PRINCIPAL CLAIRE NELSON (early 30's)
enters. She's attractive, assured, tough. He withers.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Good morning kids. What are you doing in
my office, Murney?
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> I was explaining, that as vice principal,
I am in charge of....
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 34.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Very little. I thought I asked you to
find out who stuck to the baloney slices
to the cafeteria ceiling with mustard?
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> I'm got some leads. (then, confidential:)
My informant's about to crack.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Then hop to it. I think I can handle this
from here.
<b>
</b> The opens the door for Murney. He exits, fuming. The
BELL rings.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red 1, Red 2. Get moving.
<b>
</b> The teens hustle off to their classes. Shane checks his
TRACKER -- two little red DOTS move away. Good.
<b>
</b> Principal Claire eyeballs him... staring him up and down,
as he casually holds the three kids.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> So. You're the new baby-sitter?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Bodyguard. You see, Mrs. Plummer called
my captain, she thought the kids needed -
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> It's okay, Lieutenant, I was briefed of
the situation by Mrs. Plummer. She told
me all about you.
<b>
</b> She notices NAVY SEAL tattoo on his upper arm. Claire
sees this -- and suddenly reacts, impressed.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE (CONT'D)
</b> Lieutenant, huh? You with "The Teams?"
(Shane nods.)
Petty Officer Third Class Claire Nelson
at your service.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... You're kidding?
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Four years at Naval base Coronado. The
Service paid for my college.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 35.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane stares not sure whether to believe. On the spot,
Claire looks nervously around. She lifts her pants leg...
revealing a tiny ANCHOR TATTOO on her ankle.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> "Honor, Courage...
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Commitment". That's the way I live my
life, and the way I run my school.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Can't be too careful. So. Permission to
stick around and keep eyes on the kids?
<b>
</b> She smiles.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Permission granted. Welcome aboard. Just
try not to frighten the children.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No one will even notice I'm here.
<b>
</b><b> JUMP CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. EAST BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL - MID-MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Shane, dead serious, (Tyler in Snuggle) is riding the see-
saw in the school's playground. Peter rides on the other
side with a group of KIDS, to balance Shane. Shane types
on his laptop: CLAIRE NELSON. A picture of Claire in a
Naval uniform pops up as well as her stats...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Clean as a whistle.
<b>
</b> Shane closes the computer, picks up a pair of binoculars.
<b>
</b> BINOCULARS P.O.V. as Shane goes from window to window of
the school: Zoe is glaring at him through the window from
her seat in a class. Todd, sitting in the back row of a
class, yanks his hood over his head. Lulu waves from 2nd
Grade, delighted.
<b>
</b> Along line of FIRST GRADERS wait for the seesaw.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Back off. Official Business.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 36.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> ON THE PLAYGROUND:
</b><b>
</b> Shane stands with his Baby snuggle. Peter is running in
circles around him on his harness, like a tether ball. He
checks his tracking device...
<b>
</b><b> INT. CAFETERIA - LUNCH TIME
</b><b>
</b> BINOCULARS P.O.V.: Five hundred students eat at long
tables. Zoe, with a group of HIP FRIENDS, turns her back
to him embarrassed. Todd, in line to get lunch, does the
same. Lulu sees Shane and waves.
<b>
</b> Shane puts down his binoculars. He turns to the person in
front of him, with stern intensity.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Give up now. Save us both a world of
pain. Now -- last time: Open the hanger,
Black Hawk coming in.
<b>
</b> Reveal: Shane is talking to Tyler, in his safety seat --
trying to get him to eat. Beside Shane, Peter is
destroying a sandwich with animal crackers.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Open in T minus three, two, one...
<b>
</b> Tyler gurgles, ignoring him. Shane sighs. Principal
Claire sits next to Shane with her lunch tray.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> What would you say is the secret with
kids, Mr. Wolfe?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Show no weakness.
<b>
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> I'll drink to that. (she toasts, with
milk.) Shane... Can I call you Shane?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Sure.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> So. When you agreed to serve your
country, I bet you didn't know you'd be
serving creamed bananas to one year olds,
huh?
<b>
</b> Shane gives her a look. Principal Claire smiles.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 37.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Hey -- I out rank you, you know.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Not here, you don't. You're on dry land,
lieutenant. (she looks at his chair)
Well, not so dry where you're sitting, I
guess.
<b>
</b> Shane sees that Tyler is pouring his juice Box all over
Shane's pants. He yanks Tyler away from him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Oh, man...
<b>
</b> Tyler starts to cry -- but Shane stops him from crying by
making a funny face. Tyler laughs. Claire smiles.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Don't take this personally -- but you're
pretty good at this. Seriously, I'm
impressed. A whole day, and all three
Plummer's stayed out of trouble.
That's... unusual.
<b>
</b> Suddenly there's a huge crash around the corner, and the
sound of Students in an uproar. Shane hands Tyler off to
the Principal and leaps over the table...
<b>
</b><b> INT. LUNCH-LINE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Students are in a ring, cheering, as four STUDENTS in
Wrestling Jackets hold Todd. One reaches down and gives
Todd a "wedgy" then another WRESTLER punches him. Todd
slips out of their hold and decks the Wrestler. VP Murney
is watching, but not stopping it. Zoe, in the crowd,
cheers Todd on:
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Kick his butt, Todd!
<b>
</b> Shane and Claire push through the Students. As soon as
they see the Principal, the crowd freezes.
<b>
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Who started this?
<b>
</b> Silence. Then vice principal Murney steps forward.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> He did. (Todd)
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 38.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Todd started a fight with five students
at once?
<b>
</b> Shane turns to Todd, and "punches fists" with him,
impressed.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> The kid's mixed up. Look at him.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> If I catch anyone on the team fighting
again, next week's tournament is off. I
don't care who starts it.
<b>
</b> Murney smirks, and gives her a "I'll handle it" wink.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> You heard the lady. Any more fighting and
there'll be no more wrestling. Personally
I think that's a little harsh. Boys'll be
boys. (low, to Todd:) `Scept for Plummer
here.
<b>
</b> Todd lunges at him. Shane effortlessly grabs Todd and
Judo FLIPS HIM -- Todd lands on his feet, sticking the
landing. No one is more Ssurprised than Todd and Shane.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Nice moves, man.
<b>
</b> The Bell rings, the crowd breaks up. Murney approaches
Shane.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> Pretty slick, Frogman -- I'm a black belt
myself. S'why they asked me to coach the
wrestling team.
<b>
</b> Murney makes a loud Kung Fu CRY and throws a punch,
stopping an inch from Shane's head. Shane doesn't flinch.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> See -- total control. Maybe you could
stop by practice, we'd show the boys how
a couple of pros do it, what do you say?
Come on, promise I'll go easy on you.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Sorry, sir. I'm on duty.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 39.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> Oh, yeah. That's right. I forgot you had
to baby-sit. Maybe some other time then.
<b>
</b> Shane puts an arm over Todd's shoulder. Todd shakes him
off and heads to class. Murney snickers to Claire:
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> Looks like pretty boy there's all bark
and no bite.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> ... Don't even think it, Murney. He'd
kill you so fast, I wouldn't even have
time to get my camera.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY - 2:55
</b><b>
</b> Shane looks exhausted. Peter is asleep in his shoulder,
Tyler is crying, as he keeps watch. The Principal strolls
up.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Another day, another dollar twenty, minus
taxes... aren't you gonna change him?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'd love to, for one who'll eat, and not
cry.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> That's not what I mean, Lt.
<b>
</b> Then Shane smells what she means -- Tyler's diaper is
full. Shane recoils in disgust, holding Tyler out like a
grenade.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Oh -- change him. Roger that. Uh...
<b>
</b> Panicked, he pushes Tyler towards the Principal.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Sirnosir. Not my job.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> But...
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Instructions are right on the box.
Bathroom's down the hall. Have fun.
<b>
</b><b> 40.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Just then, an alarm in his Jacket GOES OFF. He looks at
his tracker: it's flashing RED 3 RED 3. Shane hands off
Peter and Tyler to the Principal.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Emergency!
<b>
</b><b> INT. 2ND GRADE HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane runs down the hall, following his tracking device.
It leads him to a door. He bursts though it, doing a
shoulder roll.
<b>
</b><b> INT. 2ND GRADE CLASSROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> 2ND GRADERS are sitting on the floor. Lulu is in front of
the class, with the Panic Button in her hand. The board
reads: SHOW AND TELL. Shane lands in fight stance -- the
Class applauds. Next to Lulu is a very upstaged LITTLE
BOY with a FROG. Lulu sticks her tongue out at him.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> See! My nanny can kick your nanny's butt.
<b>
</b> Shane is furious, but the FINAL BELL rings. At that
moment, his Tracker Alarm sounds again. He looks:
<b>
</b> CLOSE-UP ON THE TRACKER SCREEN: Two DOTS labeled RED 1
and RED 2, are heading away from the school fast.
<b> I
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane runs with Lulu through the mob of Kids. He hands
her to the Principal.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Thanks.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. EAST BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane dives into the Minivan. The DOTS on the tracker are
headed North. He speeds away after them.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BUSY INTERSECTION - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The BLINKING DOTS on his tracker are side by side, racing
down the road ahead of Shane. They make a sharp right.
Shane makes a right, almost tipping the minivan. He
blasts through a red light.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 41.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. IN FRONT OF A CONSTRUCTION SITE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> He turns a corner -- a PLYWOOD WALL surrounds the site.
He leaps out of the minivan. He looks at the tracker: Zoe
and Todd are dead ahead, through the fence.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Two BIG CONSTRUCTION workers are standing on the other
side of the plywood wall -- Shane KICKS out one entire
section, and charges through.
<b>
</b><b> CONSTRUCTION WORKER
</b> What hell do you think you're doing?
<b>
</b> He turns around, to see several CONSTRUCTION WORKERS, all
brandishing tools.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Tell me where the kids are and I'll let
you all live!
<b>
</b><b> CONSTRUCTION WORKER
</b> Buddy, you're about to get a beat down.
<b>
</b> Three Workers rush him. Shane easily takes them out. The
remaining Workers give Shane a scared look -- then RUN.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He's alone. He catches his breath, then checks his
tracker. Todd and Zoe's BEEPS are coming from a MANHOLE.
<b>
</b> Shane pries off the manhole cover. He looks down.
<b>
</b> IN THE MANHOLE - It's dark and dank.
<b>
</b> No sweat. Shane lowers himself down.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SEWER - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Shane lands shoulder deep in DISGUSTING SLUDGE. He
winces, then checks the tracker -- the DOTS are CLOSE,
feet away. Shane trudges through the river of muck.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red 1? Red 2?
<b>
</b> It's horrific. The DOTS BEEP LOUDER. He's almost there!
He splashes around a corner -- then gasps -- he sees the
blinking lights below the surface. He takes a deep
breath and dives under. He comes up for air with ZOE and
TODD'S HOMING BEACONS. A note is tied to them: "Ha! Ha!"
<b>
</b><b> 42.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Principal Claire sits with the Kids in the living room.
From outside, they hear the front door open, and the
sound of OMINOUS, SQUISHY footsteps.
<b>
</b> Then the door swings open, revealing Shane, looking like
a Swamp Creature. Everyone gasps, then covers their
noses. A CUTE YOUNG COP enters behind Shane. Todd
stiffens. Zoe fixes her hair. The Cop looks at them.
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> 14 year old Male, weird hair. 16 year old
female. Ditto. (into his radio:) Cancel
that a.p.b..
<b>
</b> The Cop turns to Shane, with a smirk.
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP (CONT'D)
</b> In the future, use our nonemergency
number. That's the one to call if
nobody's fleein' or bleedin'.
<b>
</b> The Cop leaves, Zoe checks him out as he goes...
<b>
</b><b> CLAIRE
</b> Shane are you okay?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (eerily calm:)
Just fine, thank you.
<b>
</b> Covering her nose. The smell is BAD.
<b>
</b><b> CLAIRE
</b> I should probably get going then. If you
need anymore help... Call.
<b>
</b> She practically GAGS as she passes him. Shane looks
around at Scott and Zoe, he doesn't say anything, but
with his hand he makes a "my eyes on you" gesture.
<b>
</b><b> INT. BATHROOM - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane is in the shower. He pours an entire bottle of
SHAMPOO over himself.
<b>
</b><b> INT. BACK YARD - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane BURNS his clothes in the barbecue.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 43.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Tyler is in a high-chair, Peter rocks in a cradle-swing.
<b>
</b> Shane enters, in just a towel. He sees on the fridge;
Helga'S SHOPPING LIST -- all junk food. He looks at it,
cringing in disgust, before he notices:
<b>
</b> Sitting around the table are Lulu's entire BROWNIE TROOP -
- a dozen little girls in uniforms, they're staring at
him. The Brownies applaud, and whistle.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> oo hoo! Hubba hubba!
<b>
</b> Shane covers up and leaps into the Family Room, pulling
Lulu after him.
<b>
</b><b> INT. FAMILY ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Who are those people?
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> It's my troop, it's Monday. Monday,
Wednesday and Saturday are troop nights.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (O.S.)
</b> Get rid of them.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> I can't. Everybody's parents go out on
troop nights. They won't be home `til
ten. Mom's our den mother.
<b>
</b> Lulu starts to sniffle, close to tears.
<b>
</b><b> LULU (CONT'D)
</b> Tonight we're supposed to sell cookies.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Selling cookies isn't imperative to my
mission.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> We have to. If we don't sell enough
cookies, we can't go the Jamboree, and if
we can't go to the Jamboree.
(whispers:)
Come on, Shane. You gotta help me out.
They already think I'm a loser. And it's
not like I have any other friends, cause
mom never lets me out of her sight...
<b>
</b><b> 44.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Lulu's about to burst into tears. Shane sighs.
<b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane, back in "uniform," paces in front of the Brownie
Troop. They are assembled, at attention, Indian Style.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Alright, ladies. Here's how it's gonna
be. Tonight, I'm gonna be your den --
commander. That means if you want to live
to see tomorrow, do as I say. DO WE
<b> UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER?
</b><b>
</b> The Brownies stare art him in stunned silence.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> Den Mother? ... I'm scared of you.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Good. Now -- wait here.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LIVING ROOM - A LITTLE LATE
</b><b>
</b> The Brownies are in the living room, unpacking boxes of
cookies, getting ready to go. Zoe's on the phone.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> ... yeah, he's a total psycho. I think
mom found him from one of those Tough
Love boot camps or something...
<b>
</b> Shane blows passed her, revving a cordless POWER DRILL.
<b>
</b> VARIOUS SHOTS: As Shane uses the drill to seal every
window and door. He's not just locking them -- he's
<b> SCREWING THEM SHUT WITH DRYWALL SCREWS.
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. ZOE'S BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane's finishing up the last window.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> This is totally cruel and unusual! You
can't do this -- we could run out of air!
<b>
</b> Shane lifts her window so it's open a HALF INCH, then
drills it into place. Shane ushers the Troop out the
door, then loads Peter and Tyler into TWO SNUGGLES -- one
attached to his front, the other to his back. Shane
closes the front door and attaches a "Club" lock to it.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 45.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. DRIVEWAY - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane Loads the brownies and toddlers into the minivan.
<b>
</b> As the minivan pulls out of the driveway, the camera
CRANES up to...
<b>
</b><b> ZOE'S WINDOW:
</b><b>
</b> Inside, Zoe picks up the phone, hits speed-dial.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> .. he's got us on lock-down, it's like
Oz or something. No, not munchkin Oz --
HBO Oz. (she listens:) Hm... I dunno if
that's a good idea, Scott...
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GROCERY STORE - PARKING LOT - AFTERNOON
</b><b>
</b> Shane pulls the minivan into the crowded parking lot --
the Brownies are all singing 99 Bottles of Beer on the
Wall at the top of their lungs.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GROCERY STORE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane (double-Snuggled) helps the Brownies set up a card
table to display their cookies.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I gotta get supplies. I can see you
through the window, but if anything
happens...
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> (flashing her bracelet)
I know.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GROCERY STORE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane watches the Brownies on the store's CLOSED CIRCUIT
monitor, as he pushes a cart into the store. He looks
around at the bright, colorful boxes of Children's
Cereals, Rainbow Fruit Roll-Ups, Snack packs... NOTHING
looks familiar -- nothing even looks like food.
<b>
</b> He sees: a huge, 100 pack VALUE CASE of SPAM. He smiles.
Tyler looks at him -- "what are you, nuts?"
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GROCERY STORE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The Brownies are trying to sell the cookies, but they're
very shy. SHOPPERS blow passed them without even noticing
them. One of the Brownies spots something...
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 46.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> Oh no... they're back.
<b>
</b> SLOW MOTION: In a shot out of Reservoir Dogs, we see who
she means: A group of bad ass, chubby CUB SCOUTS. They're
headed straight towards the cookie table, menacingly.
<b>
</b><b> UGLY CUB SCOUT
</b> (to another Scout)
Hey Skeever, what's stinky and floats
`til you flush `em?
<b>
</b><b> 2ND SCOUT
</b> Brownies?
<b>
</b> The Scouts cackle. The Ugly Scout yanks a box of cookies
away from Lulu. He rips it open, dumping the cookies on
the ground and grinding Uthem with his foot.
<b>
</b><b> UGLY CUB SCOUT
</b> This is Troop 16 territory. How are we
supposed to sell raffle tickets when this
place reeks of your skanky cookies?
<b>
</b><b> 2ND SCOUT
</b> BEAT IT, before I get my face punching
badge on you.
<b>
</b> The Brownies take off running, clutching their boxes. One
of the Scouts grabs Lulu -- she tugs and tugs, but can't
get away. Finally, the Cub Scout takes her SCARF. He
laughs, and lets her go. The Cub Scouts high-five.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. GROCERY STORE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane heads to the Brownie's table -- but Lulu and the
Brownies are gone. In their place are the Chubby Scouts.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Where are my troops?
<b>
</b><b> UGLY CUB SCOUT
</b> ... I haven't seen anybody, you Skeever?
<b>
</b><b> 2ND SCOUT
</b> Nope. You wanna buy a raffle ticket?
We're trying to win .22's.
<b>
</b> Around his neck, Shane's monitor starts beeping. Shane
takes off running in the direction of the signal.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 47.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PARKING LOT - SECONDS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane runs up to the minivan. The Brownies are huddled
behind it, trembling.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What happened? (No one answers) Well?
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Those boys over there broke our cookies.
<b>
</b> Shane eyes the Cub Scouts. Dead serious:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Well then -- I'm afraid I have to
eliminate them. If I don't come back --
avenge my death.
<b>
</b> He heads toward the Scouts. The Brownies scream.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIES
</b> No!
<b>
</b> Shane stops. He bends down, and points at Lulu's Panic
button. He firmly tells Lulu, who's close to tears:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> This is not a toy. I'm here to protect
you. Not cookies. Get in the car, we're
going home.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> You can't take us home yet, you're
supposed to take us to dinner.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Where?
<b>
</b><b> INT. CHUCK E. CHEESE - A LITTLE LATER - DAY
</b><b>
</b> An extreme CU of the Chuck E. Cheese MANAGER. He wears
braces and head-gear, which causes him to lisp.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> Welcome to Chuck E. Cheese!
<b>
</b> Wider reveals...CHAOS. SCREAMING CHILDREN everywhere.
On stage, the Chuck E. Cheese automaton band JAMS.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I wish I were in Chechnya.
<b>
</b><b> A LITTLE LATER:
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 48.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Brownies are running around, playing video games and skee
ball. Shane's watching Peter, in the PLASTIC BALL POOL,
while he holds Tyler in the Snuggle. The Manager
approaches Shane.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> Anything elsh I can do for you?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> In a big glass (he shows him) This much
ice... this much cyanide.
<b>
</b> The Manager laughs, but the headgear seems to hurt his
face when he smiles.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> How `bout a re-fill on that pischer of
Mischer Pibb?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What?
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> (gesturing:)
Pischer of Mischer Pibb? Mischer Pibb?
<b>
</b> Frustrated, the Manager picks up a pitcher and exits.
Lulu approaches, she grabs Shane by the sleeve and drags
him over to the stand up Mortal Kombat game.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Let's fight!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'm watching your brother...
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> I pressed two player. I thought you liked
combat. Unless you're scared.
<b>
</b> Shane doesn't like the sound of that. He steps up to the
machine. He cracks his knuckles, stretches. Then he takes
a joy stick. He checks over his shoulder -- Peter's
happily splashing about in the plastic balls.
<b>
</b> ON THE SCREEN: they each select a fighter. Lulu picks a
small female character. Shane picks a man who looks LIKE
SHANE. They begin, Lulu screams out with her fighter, in
unison:
<b>
</b><b> VIDEO GAME/LULU
</b> Prepare to be annihilated!
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 49.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> She leaps over Shane in a somersault and throws a DOZEN
throwing stars. Then kicks him in the head repeatedly.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's not fair. Nobody can jump thirty
feet.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> The Hulk can.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That wasn't a documentary.
<b>
</b> The second round starts, Brownies have gathered around to
watch. Lulu's fighter does a series of kicks. Shane can't
even get one punch in -- she pins him to the ground,
kneels on his head, then kicks him in the face. Shane is
taking it really seriously. He's really mad.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> This isn't fair. My joystick's broken.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> You wanna switch?
<b>
</b> They switch sides. Round three starts. Lulu's fighter
picks up Shane's in the air, spins her, then cracks her
in half over his knee... and then a kick in the face.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (re: the Snuggle)
You don't have a baby on your chest...
<b>
</b> Lulu's having fun now, she's just avoiding Shane's
fighter, dancing, jumping, while he pounds the buttons,
swinging and missing... Shane's really fuming.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> You're not even trying...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> I AM TOO TRYING.
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Too slow... come on -- take a shot...
oops too slow... swing and a miss...
<b>
</b> She keeps dancing. It's really annoying. Shane's working
the joy stick hard, slamming buttons, but he can't hit
her. He is KO'd. She does a very obnoxious VICTORY DANCE.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 50.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU (CONT'D)
</b> In your face! I am the greatest hand-to-
hand combat champion in the entire world!
<b>
</b> Shane screams and RIPS THE JOYSTICK OFF THE MACHINE.
Sparks fly. Shane looks around to see if the staff
noticed. He and the Brownies sneak away, leaving the
sizzling machine, its joystick dangling by its wires.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Zoe's on the phone, the Zhouse is quiet.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Mom -- stop worrying.
<b>
</b><b> INTERCUT WITH:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. HOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> JULIE (ON THE PHONE)
</b> I'm a mom, it's my job to worry.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Seriously, everything's cool. The guy's
just a control freak.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> It's only a few more days. I hate leaving
you, but you know I have to do this. I
love you.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I know. Don't worry, we're okay. Tonight
I'm just doing homework -- in my cell.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> As Zoe hangs up, we WIDEN OUT: The house is PACKED with
TEENAGERS: they're keeping quiet until the phone is in
its cradle, then the TEENAGE DJ starts the music back up.
<b>
</b> Zoe looks around at the mess. She turns to Scott, who
doesn't seem concerned at all.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Dude, this is outta hand. Who are all
these people?
<b>
</b><b> SCOTT
</b> Jus' ma peeps. And the folks who read my
<b> BLOG.
</b><b>
</b><b> 51.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Zoe rolls her eyes, then notices a WEIRD SWEATY KID,
who's throwing mustard covered baloney slices at the
ceiling, where they stick with a satisfying SQUISH.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Dude, not cool...
<b>
</b> VARIOUS SHOTS - The Plummer House:
<b>
</b> - Its a huge party: the place is JAMMED, kids everywhere.
<b>
</b> - Teenagers come and go through the kitchen's DOGGY DOOR.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MALL PARKING LOT - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane (Tyler in Snuggle), loads Brownies into the
minivan, counting them. Barking at them like Marines:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Move, move, move! Go go!
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SUBURBAN ROAD - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane drives, the Brownies are singing 99 Bottles...
again. Suddenly, a look of horror comes across Shane's
face... he spins the minivan in a 180 and floors it.
<b>
</b><b> INT. CHUCK E. CHEESE - LATER - DUSK
</b><b>
</b> Shane (Tyler in Snuggle) bursts in, the Brownies follow.
We see what he forgot: PETER, still happily playing in
the pool of plastic balls. The Manager is watching him.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> I figured you'd come back for him -- they
almost always do.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Inexcusable, to leave a man behind like
that...
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER
</b> Relax, we once found a kid in the ball
pool when we opened in the morning --
<b>
</b> Shane wades into the ball pool and pulls Peter out, which
is fine, except that he's MISSING HIS DIAPER.
<b>
</b><b> MANAGER (CONT'D)
</b> WHOA, Whoa. Not okay, freestyling in the
ball pool -- not okay.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 52.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane grimaces. He holds his breath, and goes down for
the diaper. He disappears under the balls -- for a long
time. The Manager and the Brownies share a concerned
look. He's still down there. Silence.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Should we send someone in after him?
<b>
</b> He surfaces, gasping. He's holding the diaper, out away
from him. He charges across the room with the diaper.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Clear out! GO GO GO!
<b>
</b> And he bursts out the other doors, at a full run.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane is exhausted, as he pulls up in the Minivan. He
gets out -- and groans in disbelief. It's insanity: HIP
HOP blasts, gyrating TEENAGERS everywhere, chugging
drinks, making out, peeing in the bushes, jocks throwing
footballs.
<b>
</b> Reeling, Shane takes Lulu, Peter and Tyler up the path.
He protectively guides them past the craziness -- until a
football suddenly WHIZZES by. Outraged, Shane snatches
it mid-air -- then CRUSHES the ball. POP!
<b>
</b> hane gives a blood-curdling stare.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Party's over.
<b>
</b> The jocks flinch, scared, then RUN. Shane unlocks the
CLUB lock off the door.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Inside is worse, a total wreck. Zoe's dancing with
Scott.
<b>
</b> Shane drags the needle across a record at the D.J.'s
turntables. Everyone recoils from the horrible sound.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No one leaves until this house is
spotless! I want to be able to eat off
the floor! The latrine! Hell, I wanna
be able to eat in the kitchen!!
<b>
</b> Nervous glances -- then everybody suddenly RUNS for the
back! Shane is confused, trying to understand...
<b>
</b><b> 53.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> then he intuitively dashes past them! He's scoping the
surroundings... windows... vents... AH! The doggy door!
<b>
</b> Scott is halfway through the doggy door when Shane grabs
his ankles and yanks him back in. Shane holds Scott
upsidedown by his ankles.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Oh no you don't. Now, we're gonna do this
my way -- no highway option.
<b>
</b> Just then: A MUSTARD SOAKED BALONEY SLICE drops from the
ceiling, sticking to the TOP of Shane's head. PLOP.
Shane's eyes narrow, he takes it off, trying to maintain
his dignity. He fumes...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Start swabbing, ladies.
<b>
</b> He hands Scott the mop. Scott gulps - and starts mopping.
<b>
</b><b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> CLEANING THE HOUSE.
</b><b>
</b> Miserable TEENS scrub. In a bathroom, Scott and Zoe, in
Playtex gloves, furiously clean. Scott scrubs the toilet
with Pinesol as the Duck swims in the top of the toilet.
<b>
</b><b> SCOTT
</b> This is officially the worst party ever.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> It was YOUR idea! I don't even know most
of these losers.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE/STUDY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Shane inspects the house, as kids clean. Shane wipes a
finger down the sofa. Clean. He lifts the sofa, and rubs
his finger UNDER IT. He holds it up to a KID... residue.
The Kid quickly starts cleaning again.
<b>
</b> A GIRL reorganizes a stack of CD'S. Shane goes over
them, straightening -- then he notices something. He
pulls out a CD: It is a home-burned disk, labeled with a
Sharpie. It reads: GHOST. Oh my god...
<b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - SIMULTANEOUS
</b><b>
</b> Two DARK CLAD FIGURES watch, through binoculars. They see
Shane find the CD, and walk out of sight.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 54.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE/STUDY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane quickly tucks the CD into his pocket.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - ALMOST DAWN
</b><b>
</b> A long line of exhausted party-goers files out. Scott's
the last one to leave.
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - VARIOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane works his way through the house. It's SPOTLESS:
counter tops glisten, furniture polished. It looks like
Better Homes and Gardens. He heads upstairs. Zoe blows
past him -- into the bathroom, where she throws up. Shane
sits down, outside the bathroom door.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> ... Thanks a lot, Rambo. My friends will
never come here again.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Those people aren't your friends. They
show no respect for you or your house.
Because you have no respect for yourself.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I do too respect myself.
<b>
</b> ueasy, she pukes again. Shane hands her a handkerchief.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You got barf on your tank top.
(Announces:) Company, downstairs!
<b>
</b> He walks down the hall, Zpounding on doors.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> You're not my dad!
<b>
</b> Shane stops. Lulu and Todd step into the hall. Zoe gets
up, shaky and furious, and screams in Shane's face.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE (CONT'D)
</b> We hate you, you hate us. You're like a
robot. Why don't you just leave us alone?
<b>
</b> Silence. Lulu's crying, Todd picks her up. Shane stands,
helpless. After a beat...
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 55.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You're right, Red 1. I'm not the man for
this job.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Shane --!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> In all my years I have never been treated
with such disrespect. Not even from the
enemy. Don't worry, as soon as your mom
comes back, I'm gone.
<b>
</b> Suddenly -- the power goes out.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Now what?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> (sighs, tired) It's Scott...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Puberty... talking doesn't do any good.
Go to your rooms.
<b>
</b> Suddenly, TWO NINJAS, all in black BURST in through the
window. Shane spins in fight-stance.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> (to the kids:)
Go!
<b>
</b> Terrified, Zoe and Todd scoop up the kids and rush down
the hall.
<b>
</b> The Ninjas pull a retractable KENDO STAFFS. Wielding them
with great skill. It takes all of Shane's skill to fend
them off -- the three fight, close-quarters and fast.
Until Shane pulls down attic's spring-loaded FOLDING
LADDER and clocks a Ninja with it. He goes down, but
Shane is SHOCKED from behind by the other NINJA. The
Ninjas attack, fiercely -- they're good. Their Kendo
staffs hiss with a powerful ELECTRIC CURRENT. The Ninjas
knock Shane backwards down the stairs...
<b>
</b><b> NINJA
</b> GHOST -- hand it over!
<b>
</b> They leap down after him, pounding him with their staffs,
knocking him into...
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 56.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. PLAYROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> There are TOYS EVERYWHERE -- like a tornado hit a TOYS-R-
US. Shane fends the Ninjas off. He spots a BASEBALL BAT,
and grabs it, facing them, fiercely. They step back...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay -- who wants some?
<b>
</b> Shane swings the bat down on a Ninja's head: It's a
whiffle bat, it makes a silly thunk. Shane and the Ninja
share a surprised look -- then the Ninjas charge. Shane
fends them off with his Whiffle bat. With his foot, he
picks up a FISHER PRICE CORN-POPPER, and uses them both
to fend off blows. It rattles and pops as he fights with
both Toys -- until a Ninja breaks them with one blow.
Shane sees a FARMER JOHN TALKING GAME. He jumps up onto a
shelf and grabs it. He pulls the string, and swings the
plastic disk like a deadly bolo.
<b>
</b><b> FARMER JOHN GAME
</b> The rooster goes...
<b>
</b> WHACK, he hits a Ninja in the head. He swings the Farmer
John like a bull whip -- until a Ninja knocks the shelf
over. Shane crashes down, toys fly, several FURBIES hit
the floor. They echo the fight:
<b>
</b><b> FURBIES
</b> Ow! Ow!
<b>
</b> Shane sees: The Ninjas are wearing only Ninja socks -- no
shoes. He grabs a barrel of LEGOS, and flings them all
over the floor. The Ninjas move towards him -- the Legos
and Jacks dig into their feet.
<b>
</b><b> NINJA/FURBIES
</b> Ow! Ow ow! Crap!
<b>
</b> The Ninjas fight as they hobble around, avoiding Legos,
Shane runs to the changing table, then violently squeezes
DESITIN at a NINJA, blinding him.
<b>
</b> Shane hangs in the doorway and swings at them, KICKING a
Ninja in the chest. The Ninja CRASHES through the window!
<b>
</b> he other Ninja looks up, fearful. Suddenly he grabs a
bottle of BABY POWDER. He sprays it in Shane's face...
POOF! The room fills with a CLOUD OF WHITE.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b><b> 57.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He squints, blinded. The cloud dissipates... and Shane
sees he's now alone. He runs to the broken window.
<b>
</b><b> OUTSIDE:
</b><b>
</b> The Ninja's are long gone. Shane bangs the window sill,
disappointed to have lost them.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - SECONDS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Composing himself, Shane approaches Zoe's door. He
quietly knocks.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Kids. It's safe. You can open up.
<b>
</b> A long pause -- then the door creaks open. The kids run
out and hug Shane with all their strength, bawling. Todd
and Zoe enter, terrified. Shane isn't sure what to do...
Then, he hugs Peter and Lulu. He really hugs them.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Please don't leave us Shane.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'm not going anywhere.
<b>
</b> He hugs them, even Zoe is crying and hugging Shane.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I'm sorry for giving you a hard time.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Shhh... It's okay.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Who were they? What did they want...?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> They're looking for a program, that your
father invented.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> So Mom's not paranoid? There really are
people out to get us.
<b>
</b> He takes out the CD labeled GHOST.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> They're not after you. They want this.
But nothing's gonna happen to you, as
long as I'm here. And I'm not going
anywhere.
<b>
</b><b> 58.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> The kids shudder, relieved. They hug him tighter. He
looks Zoe, eye to eye. He dries her tears:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> But I can't do this without your help,
okay? We need a little more cooperation
here. (the Kids nod) Tell you what --
let's start over. From now on, you listen
to me, and do what I say. (to Zoe and
Todd:) And I... I'll listen to you too.
Deal? Truce -- okay?
<b>
</b> Zoe and Todd nod. Shane offers his hand to shake. They
shake -- then they hug him, too.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LIVING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane and the Kids sit around Shane's computer. Shane
slips the Ghost CD in the disc drive, pushes play --
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> C'mon c'mon c'mon...
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - COMPUTER MONITOR
</b><b>
</b> The SOUND comes on: it's MUSIC. "Unchained Melody." And
then, PICTURE: Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze at a pottery
wheel. Shane is furious -- a long pause. Then...
<b>
</b> Zoe laughs: she can't help it, it's been a long night.
Then, the other kids join in. Soon, even Shane is
laughing too: the telephone RINGS -- they all jump,
startled. Zoe answers it, all smiles, she tries to play
it cool and not frighten her mother:
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Hey mom we're fine, absolutely nothing
happened you should worry about. Nope.
<b>
</b> Shane takes the phone.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Mrs. Plummer... two men tried to get into
the house tonight.
<b>
</b><b> WE INTERCUT:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. HOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Oh my god!
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 59.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No - it's okay. They're gone, everyone's
fine. They were looking for GHOST, but
they didn't find it. You have any luck?
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Well, yes and no. We found something in
the box... But we're not sure what it is.
Bill thinks it's part of the GHOST. It
looks like some kind of "key". We just
don't know what its for.
<b>
</b> She holds up the strange, metal two pronged KEY.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> The good news is I'll be home in two
days, as soon as the customs paperwork
clears.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (very genuine)
...So soon? We were just starting to have
fun. Don't worry -- we'll be just fine.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SCHOOL - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Early morning, students run in to school. The minivan
pulls up, and Shane emerges with the five kids.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I gotta warn you guys: From now on, I'm
gonna be sticking even closer.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LULU'S CLASSROOM - DAY
</b><b>
</b> The TEACHER shows the children how to dye Easter eggs.
<b>
</b> ANGLE on Lulu, making a mess of an egg. She smiles.
<b>
</b> ANGLE on Shane, squashed at a little desk. He dips an
egg in some purple dye.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Driver's Ed. An obstacle course with cones. Zoe
nervously drives a small sedan, a crazed TEACHER next to
her. He is gesticulating, SCREAMING, reacting each time
she HITS the gas, then BRAKES, HITS the gas, then BRAKES.
<b>
</b> Shane stands off to the side, shaking his head. Peter
and Tyler are tight in their Snuggles.
<b>
</b><b> 60.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. LULU'S CLASSROOM - LATER
</b><b>
</b> The TEACHER hangs a series of cute "Turkey Hand" drawings
above the blackboard (the kind where your fingers make
the feathers). She hangs one of a HUGE HAND, and smiles
at Shane, who sits in the back, sunglasses on. Shane
nods, "yeah, I know it's good." Then...
<b>
</b><b> VOICE (OVER THE PA:)
</b> Will Shane Wolfe please report to Vice
Principal Murney in the gym.
<b>
</b> Lulu's classmates all chant, in unison:
<b>
</b><b> SECOND GRADERS
</b> Ooooooooh! (You're in trouble!)
<b>
</b><b> INT. THE GYM - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane enters. Zoe sits in a folding chair, mortified. She
is holding a broken-off SIDE VIEW MIRROR. Murney stands,
Principal Claire next to him. They look concerned.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Don't worry. So, she wrecked a driver's
Ed. car -- she'll pay for the damage...
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> That? Lady drivers, what do you expect.
No, it's not that -- it's the boy...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Red two? I mean Todd?
<b>
</b> Claire nods. Shane gives Zoe a look. Zoe shrugs.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Ordinarily I would wait for his mother to
return... but -- I'm a bit concerned, and
I'm not sure what to do...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Has he been skipping class?
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Well -- yes. He does always miss sixth
period. But this...
<b>
</b> Murney calls into the hallway. Todd enters. Shane stops,
in shock: Todd's long hair is all shaved off, he now has
a bleach blonde BUZZ CUT, giving him a "skinhead" look.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 61.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> This is how he showed up to practice. And
that's not all. I was doing a little re-
con in his locker... and I found this:
<b>
</b> Murney hands Shane a book and Shane flips through it.
It's a book of photographs of NAZI UNIFORMS. Shane
scowls.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> If he'd had Hustler or something, boys
will be boys -- but this is just sick.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> He's not a NAZI.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> It's certainly not normal.
(pulls Shane aside.)
See if you can talk to the boy. Find out
what's going on.
<b>
</b> Shane shakes his head: Todd is worse than he thought.
Todd and Zoe stand to go, and Shane walks them out.
<b>
</b> The WRESTLING TEAM is assembled, stretching. They snicker
and shake their heads at Todd, as he passes. Shane walks
the kids out, and Murney chases after him.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> hope you won't go light on him -- that
whole family's no good, if you ask me.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'll talk to him.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> You're a good man, Shane. Bet you're a
hell of a fighter on the mats, huh?
(Shane ignores him, and keeps
walking.)
Maybe sometime we oughta strap up, we'll
give these boys a treat.
<b>
</b> He "fake-punches" one of his Boys -- who flinches like
Murney has maybe hurt him a couple times. Murney laughs.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Another time, maybe...
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> It's a date then. I'll show you a couple
moves. I promise I won't hurt you.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 62.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane walks away. Without warning, Murney lets out a Kung
Fu SCREAM, and leaps at Shane, kicking him in the BACK,
Shane trips forwards to his knees. Murney tells his team:
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> See that? You never know when your
adversary is going to strike!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Did you kick me in the back? Is there a
footprint on my jacket?
<b>
</b> Shane dusts off his back, and leaves.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> Come on Frogman! Don't be a sissy!
<b>
</b> Shane turns back. It looks like Shane might fight, but
instead he takes a deep breath, and leaves. Murney shakes
his head, and snickers to his Team.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - A LITTLE LATER
</b><b>
</b> The minivan pulls up, with Shane and all the Plummers
piled in. Shane parks, Todd runs towards the house. Shane
holds Todd back by the arm.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Wait Todd, I want to talk to you...
<b>
</b> odd yanks his arm away and runs into the house.
<b>
</b><b> INT. TODD'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane knocks on Todd's door. Nothing. He enters. The
window is wide open, Shane checks his window alarm --
there's a REFRIGERATOR MAGNET stuck to it, keeping the
contact, so the alarm didn't go off.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Smart kid.
<b>
</b> Shane looks out the window -- far down the block, he can
see Todd, running around the corner. Shane hops out the
window. He sees Zoe, peering out her window.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Zoe, you're in charge. If anyone gets
within forty clicks of the perimeter,
signal me. Keep all doors sealed, do your
homework, preheat the oven, and make sure
Lulu brushes her teeth!
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 63.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He starts to shut the window, but the Duck leaps up on
the sill.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> You want in or out?
<b>
</b> The Duck leaps out. Shane screws the window shut. On the
corner, Shane sees Todd climbing on to a CITY BUS.
<b>
</b> Shane picks a GIRL'S BICYCLE up off the front lawn. It's
pink, with a flowered basket. It's small for him, but he
hops on and pedals furiously after the bus.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. CITY STREET NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane, on the girl-bike, pedals after the bus. A few
HOMEBOYS watch him pass, curiously. He nods back, tough.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. OLD WAREHOUSE - DOWNTOWN D.C. - NIGHT - LATER
</b><b>
</b> The bus stops in a rundown neighborhood Todd hops off the
bus. Shane's arrives a moment later, dripping sweat. He
stashes the bike behind a mailbox...
<b>
</b> Shane'S P.O.V.: At the entrance to the old warehouse,
Todd meets up with three other TEENAGE BOYS, they're
dressed in brown HITLER YOUTH UNIFORMS, they head inside.
<b>
</b> Shane follows them, stealthily.
<b>
</b><b> INT. OLD WAREHOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane follows the Hitler Youth into a large room, set up
with folding chairs. He hides in a dark corner. Todd and
the Hitler Youth enter, and take seats. A CREEPY MAN in
a scarf walks out, and stands in front of them. Shane
watches as the MAN addresses the Hitler Youth.
<b>
</b><b> MAN
</b> Alright. All my Nazis are finally here.
Okay, I want all of you at attention.
<b>
</b> The Nazis stand at attention. Shane is horrified...
<b>
</b><b> MAN (CONT'D)
</b> And on stage left - (he yells) VON
TRAPPS! I need my Von Trapps!
<b>
</b> hane watches... as a group of blonde ACTORS, all dressed
in lederhosen as the SINGING VON TRAPP family enter, and
join the "Nazis." There's also a few NUNS, a CAPTAIN VON
TRAPP, and a MARIA. The Creepy Man is, in fact, a good
natured, slightly foppish DIRECTOR.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 64.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> DIRECTOR
</b> Okeydokey. Starting from where we left
off Gimme Rolf and Liesl -- let's give
You are Sixteen a run up der flagpole...
<b>
</b> Todd heads up to the stage, the Director arranges him and
the ACTRESS PLAYING LIESL (40ish) into position. An
ACCOMPANIST begins on piano, Todd sings, remarkably well:
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> You wait little girl, on an empty
stage/for fate to turn the light on/your
life little girl, is an empty page/that
men will want to write on...
<b>
</b><b> ACTRESS/LIESL
</b> To write on...
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> You are sixteen, going on seventeen...
<b>
</b> Shane bursts into laughter. His whole face lights up for
the first time ever...
<b>
</b> Todd and Liesl dance. Todd is good, but nervous. He
attempts a spinning kick, but he slips, and hits the
stage, clutching his ankle. He gets up, and limps to the
seats. The Director walks onto the stage, upset. He
looks up, to heaven:
<b>
</b><b> DIRECTOR
</b> Baby Jesus, have I done some unspeakable
evil that I deserve to be saddled with
the world's worst production of Sound of
Music? (he shouts, at the cast:) We open
in a week. The set's not finished... The
cast is a bunch of clumsy goats -- every
kick ball change would make Bob Fosse dig
himself out of the earth, so he could
have a heart attack again.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> I'm sorry... I'll get it right.
<b>
</b><b> DIRECTOR
</b> None of you will ever get it right! Which
is why, I quit.
<b>
</b> He throws down his script. The Cast is stunned.
<b>
</b><b> DIRECTOR (CONT'D)
</b> And with that, he exits stage right...
end scene.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 65.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> And, on his own cue... he exits stage right, in a huff.
The entire cast looks to Todd, fuming.
<b>
</b> Shane jumps up from his hiding place, startling
everybody. Everyone steps back. Todd is terrified.
<b>
</b> Shane kneels down beside Todd. He closes his eyes, and
begins rubbing his hands together like Mr. Miyagi.
<b>
</b><b> LIESL
</b> You gonna fix him?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No. My hands are freezing.
<b>
</b> Shane grabs Todd's ankle hard and unceremoniously CRACKS
it, and yanks him to his feet.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> I'm not going to quit. I hate wresting...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> AT EASE. (Todd shuts up) Would you
listen, just once? Look, I don't know a
hell of a lot about this kinda stuff,
but... You're good. A lot to learn, but
with hard work, discipline -- you could
make a go of this.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> ... but what about Murney?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That guy's an idiot.
<b>
</b> Todd smiles, relieved. They sit on the edge of the stage.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> "Sound of Music" is a great show. My dad
took me to see it when I was a kid.
<b>
</b> Shane smiles wistfully. Todd relaxes.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> You don't seem like the musical type.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Come on. Julie Andrews was hot.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> What if... girls'll think I'm... weird or
something?
<b>
</b><b> 66.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You know what girls think is weird?
Wrestling. Men in leotards pinning each
other to the floor? I've never understood
that. Chicks dig guys who can dance.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Doesn't matter now anyway... show's
off... it's over.
<b>
</b> Shane looks at the Cast, they look pretty glum as they
pack up their costumes. Todd looks devastated -- only a
moment after Shane saw him happier than ever. Shane
straightens up, grabbing Todd by the shirt collar. BEAT.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> COMPANY -- CENTER STAGE!
</b><b>
</b> Everyone looks around, they're not sure what to do... off
Shane's glare, they quickly assemble on stage.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b><b> DO YOU, OR DO YOU NOT HAVE WHAT IT TAKES
</b><b> TO PERFORM THIS MUSICAL?
</b><b>
</b> There's some mumbling. Liesl chimes in.
<b>
</b><b> LIESL
</b> We don't have a director...
<b>
</b> Shane shakes his head.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No director? I have directed rescue
missions in Afghanistan! I've directed
numerous snatch and grabs in countries
who's names you are not allowed to know.
I have choreographed multi-pronged
amphibious landings and stealth air
attacks!
(full of bravado)
Do you think I have the stomach to whip
this production into shape, or not?
<b>
</b> Everyone nods... Todd looks up at Shane. He smiles.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Yes.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> YES WHAT?
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 67.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> TODD/CAST
</b><b> YESSIR.
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane's patrolling the hallway. He hears Zoe in her
room, BREAKING something, angrily. He peeks in -- just as
Zoe THROWS her cell-phone into the wall, furious.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... What's up?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> (embarrassed)
Nothing... It's stupid... Scott. I called
him in his room, another girl picked up
the phone. I know it's no big deal. I
don't know why I let it get to me.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I don't see what you see in this guy.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> It's just nice to think someone's
thinking about you, you know?
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (He nods)
It won't happen again.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> ... No wait! ...What are you gonna do?
You're not gonna hurt him are you?
Promise you won't touch him.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay. I promise. I won't touch him.
<b>
</b> Shane exits. He turns out the light.
<b>
</b><b> INT. LULU'S ROOM - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane tucks Lulu into bed.
<b>
</b><b> ULU
</b> Tell me a story.
<b>
</b> Shane looks at her surprised. He sits on the bed...
Stumped. Then he starts:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay. Let's see. Once there was a family
of Elves.
<b> (MORE)
</b><b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> L
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 68.
</b><b> SHANE(CONT'D)
</b> One day, the little Elf family -- Uh.
Went into the magic forest. To find a
secret gnome... facility, where gnomes
where turning mushrooms into... Uranium.
The elves had to go in and take it out.
<b>
</b><b> ULU
</b> Why?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> They were ordered to. By the Elf Unit
commander at Elf station bravo. So --
they waited for cloud cover, and they
came in from the north...
<b>
</b> As Shane finishes the story, he illustrates, setting up
the scene with DOLLS, on Lulu's floor.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> The Elf Team decided on an L Ambush -- so
three elves formed a base leg and laid
down a heavy suppressive fire on the
gnomes while the others maneuvered around
to the right flank and walked through
finishing off anything left alive... I
mean standing... D
<b> ISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> AN HOUR LATER:
</b><b>
</b> Shane's really into the story. Lulu's fallen asleep.
Shane's eyes are brimming with tears as he finishes:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> ... And not one Elf got left behind that
day. We got `em all. Even, the teeniest
little elf of all -- Rodriquez.
<b>
</b> Then, from across the hall, Peter WAILS. Todd pops his
head in the door.
<b>
</b><b> ODD
</b> You have to do the Panda Dance... or he
won't stop.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Oh, c'mon... I can't remember that thing.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> I'll write it down for you...
<b>
</b> The wails get louder and LOUDER...
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 69.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Tyler's asleep. Shane sighs, and whispers to Peter,
reading from Todd's notes:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> When you're down and low, lower than the
floor. And you ain't got a chance. Don't
make a move `til you're in the groove,
and do the Panda Dance...
<b>
</b> Peter starts bawling. Shane doesn't know what's wrong.
Todd calls from the doorway...
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> You have to do the dance. Like dad used
to do. He made it up for him.
<b>
</b> Shane sighs. He sings again, mortified. He does the dance
as he sings... Shane hops forward three times.
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Just hop three times like a kangaroo --
Sidestep twice, just like the crabs do.
<b>
</b> Peter applauds. Humiliated, Shane crab-walks sideways.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Take three steps forward and one step
back... (He does.)
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - MORNING - THE NEXT DAY
</b><b>
</b> As Mr. Chun gets his paper, Shane, (Tyler in the
snuggle), hands out bag lunches as the Kids load into the
minivan. Shane turns and catches Mr. Chun, staring.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What are you looking at?
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Todd sits in the back of the Minivan, listening to Sound
of Music on his Walkman, Lulu is next to him, with her
Gameboy, Zoe and Peter are half asleep. Shane climbs into
the PASSENGER SEAT. Zoe realizes he's staring at her,
through the mirror.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Today you drive.
<b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> A
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 70.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> The Kids sit bolt upright. They turn to Zoe, terrified.
She gets out in shock, and gets in the driver's seat. The
other Kid's seat belts CLICK loudly.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> But -- I can't even pass driver's Ed.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Exactly.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Have you given a driving lesson before?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> N
</b> ot in a car, no... but it's a lot like
a Bradley Assault Vehicle.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Especially when Zoe's driving.
<b>
</b> The Kids share a dubious look. Zoe backs jerkily out.
<b>
</b><b> INT. MINIVAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Zoe is super-tense as they drive. Shane is nervous, but
trying not to show it. Lulu and Todd are terrified.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Do you know what causes most accidents?
ttention span. The most important thing
is that you keep an absolute focus on...
<b>
</b> Zoe's looking RIGHT at him, not the road.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> THE ROAD! Don't look at me...
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> What?!?
<b>
</b> he Minivan brakes abruptly at a red light, just as a
semi SCREAMS through the intersection. Shane is shaky.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE (CONT'D)
</b> You wanna drive?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No. Keep going. I trust you.
<b>
</b> Zoe is surprised. Touched. She pulls out, jerkily.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> P
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 71.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Zoe pulls to the curb, almost tapping a bus's rear
fender. Shane unclenches his teeth.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Good. Next lesson, 1500 hours.
<b>
</b> Zoe smiles. And the other Kids all bolt from the car,
terrified. Lulu makes a big show of kissing the ground.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Ha ha ha. Very funny.
<b> T
</b> hey head into the school. Shane spots something.
<b>
</b> ANOTHER ANGLE reveals: SCOTT (Zoe's boyfriend), with a
few FRIENDS, laughing, being obnoxious. Shane jumps out
of the car. Before Scott knows what's happened, Shane's
LIFTED him in the air by his backpack. Scott's terrified.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I know 437 ways to hurt a man without
touching him. Broken promises lead to
broken legs. Do we understand each other?
<b>
</b> Scott nods, trembling. Shane lets him down and heads into
school.
<b>
</b><b> INT. BETHESDA K-12 SCHOOL, CAFETERIA - LUNCHTIME
</b><b>
</b> Shane (Peter in lap, Tyler in snuggle) keeps an eye on
the Kids at their tables. KIDS boisterously run past.
Suddenly -- Claire BARKS out.
<b>
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b><b> CHILDREN... STOP RUNNING!!
</b><b>
</b> The kids instantly freeze. Claire strides into view.
She's wearing a cute dress, and a little make-up.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE (CONT'D)
</b> (a long, severe stare)
Now... WALK! DOUBLE TIME.
<b>
</b> Chastened, the kids gulp and orderly march away. Shane's
eyes alight, impressed.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Wow. I'm glad I never had you for a CO.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> P
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 72.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> (she coyly smiles)
I've noticed improvement in your troops
lately, too. Noon and none of them have
been called to my office. It's a miracle.
<b> S
</b> he sits beside him, and offers him a milk.
<b>
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE (CONT'D)
</b> Buy you a drink, sailor?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Thanks.
<b>
</b> hey eat in silence. Shane`s not so good at small talk.
She's waiting for him to say... something.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> You look nice today.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> This old thing? Well, you never know who
you're going to run into.
<b>
</b> She smiles. He smiles back... Suddenly, there's a
commotion: Murney is marching Todd towards them, dragging
him by the ear. Principal Claire sighs "not again." In
one move, Shane leaps over the table. Principal Claire
watches him leap:
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE (CONT'D)
</b> ... Love it when he does that.
<b>
</b> Murney shoves Todd forward.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> I've had it. I just caught this boy
dancing under the bleachers like some
kind of Bavarian fruitcake.
<b>
</b> Murney gets up in Shane's face.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> I want this freak outta my school and
into treatment. Somebody needs to give
this punk a talking to...
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Hey. I'm right here. Talk.
<b> E
</b> veryone is shocked that Todd talked back. A hushed
whisper goes through the cafeteria. Murney turns around.
<b>
</b><b> M
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 73.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> You got something to say? Boy?
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Yeah. Yeah I do. I quit, Murney.
<b>
</b> A hushed "oooh" goes through the Students.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> Winners never quit, boy. What're you so
scared of, Freak?
<b>
</b> The Students snicker. Todd looks, intimidated. Then:
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> I am not scared. I... I want to sing.
<b>
</b> Silence. No one's sure they heard him right. Todd pulls
out a stack of SOUND OF MUSIC FLYERS and hands them out.
Todd is on the poster in his Rolf costume. Principal
Claire takes one: she laughs, now it all makes sense.
<b>
</b><b> TODD (CONT'D)
</b> I'm in Sound of Music. It opens Friday...
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> A musical? You're blowing off wrestling
for a musical? (to Shane:) This is what
happens when there's no man in the house.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> There is a man in my house -- me. (Murney
turns:) Let's get one thing clear. I'm
not quitting cause I hate wresting. I'm
quitting because you're a bad coach. You
suck. The whole team wants to quit. I'm
the only one with the guts to do it.
<b> M
</b> urney looks over at the Team. They look to the ground
sheepishly, Todd's telling the truth. Murney looks
around, humiliated, furious --
<b>
</b><b> URNEY
</b> So -- you're a tough guy now?
<b>
</b> Murney takes ONE STEP towards Todd -- Shane steps between
them, protecting him.
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> Stay out of this, baby sitter!
<b>
</b> Murney glares at him -- face to face. So calm, it's scary
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 74.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You said you wanted to wrestle. You win.
Let's do it.
<b>
</b> Everyone is watching. Murney did not expect to be called
out. His voice cracks -- then he regains his calm:
<b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> After school. The Gym. Your ass is mine.
<b>
</b> He storms out. There is a stunned moment -- and then a
mob of Students, and a lot of CUTE GIRLS, swarm Todd,
taking flyers. Shane gives Todd a proud thumbs up.
<b>
</b> A QUICK SERIES OF SHOTS: Of STUDENTS whispering to other
STUDENTS, passing notes: A Kid opens a note -- it reads:
"Murney's getting his ass kicked. 3:00."
<b>
</b><b> INT. GYM - 3:00
</b><b>
</b> The bleachers are PACKED. Murney struts out onto the mat.
The two fighters begin circling one another. The
Wrestlers scream for Murney. Todd cheers Shane on.
<b> M
</b><b> URNEY
</b> on, you're about to enter Murney's house
of pain.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'll be sure to lock up when I'm through.
<b>
</b> Murney roars and CHARGES Shane. Shane defensively uses
Murney's momentum to flip him halfway across the mat.
WHAM. Murney lands on his back.
<b>
</b> The Wrestlers mouths drop. Murney, shocked, climbs to his
feet and CHARGES again, Shane side-steps, and sweeps
Murney -- sending him right into the wall, hard.
<b>
</b> Murney bounds to his feet, rushes Shane. Shane DIVES
OVER Murney, grabs onto Murney's waist. Shane's momentum
pulls Murney backwards -- BAM. Murney's shoulders hit the
mat with Shane smiling down on him.
<b>
</b> Todd flops to the mat, raises his hand and SLAPS it down-
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Pinned!
<b>
</b> Shane stands. Shane throws an arm around Todd, and they
head out. The Wrestling Team huddles around Murney, who's
quietly twitching on the ground, mumbling something.
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 75.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> TODD (CONT'D)
</b> Is he okay?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Dislocated nerve, that's all. He'll be
fine in (checking his watch) two months.
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> That was awesome.
<b>
</b> They walk out. The crowd cheers. Claire, too. Shane
<b> S
</b> smiles at her as he passes. She gives him a thumbs up.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (to Todd)
Let's go, Todd. I got my troops waiting.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. FOREST - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane marches the Brownies through a FOREST. He wears
Peter and Tyler in front and rear Snuggles.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> If you're ever lost in the woods, the
first thing you have to do is find a
source of drinking water! And make sure
it's potable. If you're not sure, boil
it for thirty minutes!
<b>
</b> The girls are loving it, fascinated.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> You have to eat, right? Well let me tell
you you're not gonna find Girl Scout
cookies out here.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> We're Brownies.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No brownies either. A lot of roots are
edible. So is some tree bark. When I
HALO'd into Rwanda, I lived off the
underground fern stem for three weeks!
<b>
</b> Shane kicks over a ROCK. Underneath are crawling BUGS.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Insects. They look nasty but they're full
of nutrients that may save your life.
<b>
</b><b> 76.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> He scoops up some bugs and EATS them.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIE
</b> He's eating Roly-Polies!
<b>
</b> The Brownies are frozen in shock.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (mouth full of bugs:)
Wots of pwotien!
<b>
</b><b> E
</b> UPBEAT MUSIC kicks in over the following MONTAGE:
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - FRONT LAWN - DAWN
</b><b>
</b> Shane leads the Brownie Troop through Combat exercises.
In unison, the Girls PUNCH, KICK. PUNCH, PUNCH, KICK.
Shane's got Tyler's cradle next to him, in between
punches, in perfect tempo, he reaches out and rocks it.
The Duck watches all this -- fascinated.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MALL PARKING LOT - EARLY MORNING
</b><b>
</b> The lot is empty. Shane and Zoe sit in the minivan, Shane
holds a stopwatch. He signals her, she burns rubber, and
races through a slalom of orange cones -- she hits EVERY
ONE -- the wheel hubs are CLOGGED with cones. She skids
to a stop just short of the "Severe Tire Damage" spikes.
<b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane changes Tyler's diaper WITH ONE HAND. In his other
hand he's reading The Brownie Handbook. It's open to a
page that reads "Knot Tying."
<b>
</b><b> INT. OLD FACTORY - DAY
</b><b>
</b> The CAST is assembled on stage, where Shane has set up a
scale model of the set on the floor. He illustrates the
stage directions, by moving around toy army men:
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Okay -- we'll put Von Trapps here, here,
and... here at the top of the stairs. Now
the Nazis are gonna come in, this way --
and the Von Trapp is set...
<b>
</b> He laughs at his own joke... The Kids don't get it.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MALL PARKING LOT - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Zoe leaps into the minivan through the windows. Zoe peels
out and weaves the cones...
<b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> I
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> E
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 77.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> she only clips one, it teeters, but doesn't fall. Shane
gives her a signal, she throws it in reverse and drives
the course backwards.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - FRONT LAWN - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Lulu, in her BROWNIE uniform, ties a complicated knot --
we WIDEN to see she's tying Shane's hands behind his
back, as the Brownie troop watches. He counts "1,2,3..."
and then begins wriggling free. They watch closely.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. MALL PARKING LOT - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane and Zoe are huddled under the minivan's dashboard.
Shane's showing her the IGNITION WIRES.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - BACK YARD - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane has the Brownies assembled. He's attached SOFA
CUSHIONS to himself. The Brownies attack, mercilessly.
<b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane changes Tyler's diaper RAPID-SPEED. Hands a blur.
<b>
</b><b> INT. OLD FACTORY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Todd and "Liesl" work on the You Are Sixteen dance.
<b>
</b><b> ODD
</b> ... your life little girl, is an empty
page/that men will want to write on...
<b> T
</b> odd tries the spinning kick, but blows it, landing hard.
Shane blows a WHISTLE.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Why don't we just let the Nazis win
tonight -- huh? Now. From the top --
think of yourself as a gazelle prancing
over the plains. Graceful.
<b>
</b> Todd tries the kick. THUD! Shane BLOWS the whistle.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Gazelle. Prancing. Graceful. Again.
<b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> At the end of Peter's crib, Shane performs the "Panda
Dance." Singing and doing all the moves -- he's got it
down, adding a James Brown flourish, now and then.
<b>
</b><b> U
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 78.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Don't touch that dial sleep for a while --
HEAAAY! And say good night, Peter Panda.
<b>
</b> He does a spin kick. Then he tucks Peter in.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Good night, Peter.
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> (going to sleep)
Good night, daddy.
<b>
</b> Shane is so touched, he almost bursts into tears. He
kisses Peter on the forehead.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I'm not your daddy, Peter. But sweet
dreams.
<b>
</b><b> MONTAGE ENDS
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. "PRICE CLUB" STORE - EVENING
</b><b>
</b> The Brownies sit at their cookie table beside the door.
Across the lot, the Chubby Cub Scouts, at their own
table, see them. The Scouts head towards the Brownies.
<b> U
</b><b> GLY CUB SCOUT
</b> Hey Skeever, what's in a Girl Scout's
pants when she has diarrhea?
<b>
</b><b> 2ND SCOUT
</b> Brown...
<b>
</b> He stops short, the Brownies have moved into a FORMATION,
ready to strike, Lulu at the front: it's (kind of) scary.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Go away and we won't hurt you.
<b>
</b> The Scouts share a look -- they LAUGH. The head Scout
steps forward and grabs Lulu's cookies. In one move, she
spins out of the way and pulls off his neckerchief.
<b>
</b><b> GLY CUB SCOUT
</b> Gimme that!
<b>
</b> He grabs the neckerchief, but like lightning, she wraps
it around his arm, tying him. She shoves a cookie in his
mouth.
<b>
</b><b> 79.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Uh oh. You're gonna have to pay for that.
<b>
</b> The Scout struggles, the Other Scouts are scared.
<b>
</b><b> UGLY CUB SCOUT
</b> Let go! Let go -- MOMMY!
<b>
</b> She lets him go -- in a FLIP, he lands on the ground
hard. Lulu lets out another "kia!" The Girls move
forward in unison, striking a cool pose.
<b>
</b><b> INT. "PRICE CLUB" STORE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane shops, wearing the double snuggle. As he's
comparing prices -- he sees, on the security monitor: The
Brownies attacking the Cub Scouts. He smiles, proud.
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's my troop.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. "PRICE CLUB" STORE - A MOMENT LATER
</b><b>
</b> The Cub Scouts have all been tied with their own bandanas
to the CART CORRAL. Shane comes out of the store, and
catches Lulu, using his "catchphrase."
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> From now on, you do things our way -- no
highway option!
<b>
</b> The Scouts nod, terrified. Shane gives her a stern look,
then LAUGHS.
<b>
</b><b> INT. VAN - DRIVING - DUSK
</b><b>
</b> Shane drives. The Brownies joyously CHANT a MARCH.
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIES
</b> I don't care what has been said,
Brownies rock! Full speed ahead!
Give me guff, I'm in your face!
Brownies rule the human race!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sound off!
<b>
</b><b> BROWNIES
</b> One two! Three four! One TWO THREE FOUR!
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER HOUSE - UPSTAIRS - LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane works his way down the hall, checking on the kids:
<b>
</b><b> N
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 80.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> - LULU'S ROOM: LULU is asleep.
<b>
</b> - TODD'S ROOM: The door is OPEN -- Shane peers in. Todd
has a SWITCHBLADE. He is practicing with it, clicking it
open, tossing it hand to hand. Off Shane's look:
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> West Side Story auditions in two weeks...
<b>
</b> Shane takes the switch blade, and performs an AMAZING
trick with it, spinning Sit like a pro.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> It's all in the wrist...
<b>
</b> He heads down to Zoe's room and peaks in -- SHE'S NOT IN
BED. He rushes in -- but she's out on...
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BALCONY - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Zoe sits on the railing, she seems sad. Shane approaches.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Don't worry. I'm not gonna jump.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What's wrong... Scott?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> o. Scott's fine. I don't know what you
did, but he's really straightened up.
Flowers, phone calls. ...I've never been
in love like this before.
<b>
</b> Shane nods.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> How long you been together?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> A month...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's longer than any relationship I've
ever had.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> You're okay, Shane. I'm not used to
anyone giving me the benefit of the
doubt. My teachers don't trust me. Mom
doesn't. My dad didn't care about us, he
was never here...
<b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 81.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (interrupts her, stern:)
Hey. Your father cared about you very
deeply. He told me you were the greatest
things in his life. That what's bothering
you? Cause -- we can talk about it, if
you want.
<b>
</b> Zoe's eye well up, then she cries. Shane holds her.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> I miss him so much...
<b>
</b> Shane is a little taken by surprise. Then -- he decides
to answer. He takes his Sfather's MEDAL out of his pocket.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> This was my dad's. He was the only family
I ever had. Mom left when I was little,
cause dad was always gone. Two years
in... an indisclosable locale. Another
six in... Another indisclosable locale. I
didn't really have a home, so I went to
military school -- then one day my mom
got the letter. No more dad.
<b>
</b> He looks at the Medal.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> I always wanted to be just like him. I'm
starting to realize, I never really knew
him. I don't know if I'm like him or not.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> That's horrible, Shane.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> The hardest part was living without any
details...why? How? Where? I always
wondered if he thought about me.
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> Me too. So how did you get through it?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You could say I just shut down my
emotions. I turned off all feelings and
dedicated myself to becoming the perfect
soldier.
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> I never even got to say good bye.
<b>
</b><b> J
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 82.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> A tear runs down Zoe's face. She throws her arms around
Shane. The phone rings. Shane answers it.
<b>
</b><b> INTERCUT WITH:
</b><b>
</b><b> J
</b><b> INT. HOTEL - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> ulie's on the other end.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> The red tape is cleared up, we're on the
first plane in the morning.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HALLWAY - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Zoe runs down the hall, telling the family:
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Mommy's coming home! Mommy's coming home!
<b>
</b> Everyone wakes up, happy, sleepy!
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> When?
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Tomorrow morning!
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> Mama!
<b>
</b> Excited, the kids are all abuzz, talking excitedly.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He's left alone.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BACK YARD - LATE NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> The house is dark. Shane sits in a lawn chair, scoping
the area with NIGHT VISION GOGGLES ON. Gary sits in the
next chair. Shane sighs morosely.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Just another assignment. No reason for
personal attachments.
<b>
</b> Shane takes a sip out of a juice box. He pets the Duck.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Hey Gary, your wings aren't clipped. How
come you don't fly away?
(pause)
<b> (MORE)
</b><b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b> T
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 83.
</b><b> SHANE(CONT'D)
</b> I guess you've got it good. Kids to play
with. Three squares a day.
<b>
</b> he Duck stares, unblinking.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> All quiet on the western front. I guess I
better fix that Playroom window.
<b> S
</b> hane rises.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> hane turns the light on. Gary follows Shane as he looks
for tool. Suddenly, the Duck starts quacking... Shane
turns. Gary's foot is caught in a grate.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What happened, Gary?
<b>
</b> Shane gets down on his hands and knees and gently pries
Gary's foot from the grate. Shane is about to stand when
something below catches his eye.
<b>
</b> Shane pulls out a pen flashlight, shines it down the
grate... we see a CRANK WHEEL.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> What do you suppose this is?
<b>
</b> Shane tugs at the grate until it pops off. Shane grips
the valve and tries turning it. Nothing. He tries harder,
muscles rippling, and then it gives... The wheel spins.
<b>
</b> he floor opens, revealing a CIRCULAR STAIRCASE, leading
below the garage. Shane steps down it...
<b>
</b><b> INT. BOTTOM OF STAIRS - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> There's a small room, and a hall leading to a STEEL DOOR.
It's solid and inscrutable. No hinges or cracks. The only
break in its surface is a strange, TWO-PRONGED KEYHOLE.
Shane looks on stunned...
<b>
</b><b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - MORNING
</b><b>
</b> Shane's at the Steel Door. He has high-tech tools laid
out in front of him. He's been trying, unsuccessfully, to
crack the lock all night. The Kids are watching his
progress, Lulu hands him a tool. Shane dials a phone.
<b>
</b><b> INTERCUT:
</b><b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 84.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. SEDAN - MOVING
</b><b>
</b> We pan up from the WHITE "US GOV" license plates to Bill
at the wheel. Julie sits beside him. Bill's cell phone
rings, he answers it.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sir! Excellent news. I think I found
<b> GHOST.
</b><b>
</b> Bill reacts, excited.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> ... Do you have it?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> No. It's in a steel vault. I've been
trying all night, can't crack it, sir.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> (remaining calm)
Good! Good work. Okay, don't do
anything further. We'll be there shortly
-- don't do anything `til I get there.
<b>
</b><b> BACK TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane smiles, pleased, and hangs up. Then we slowly MOVE
UP. Away from Shane... towards the neighbor's house.
<b> W
</b> e PUSH INTO the house. Through a window... revealing
the Korean neighbors standing in the dark. Silently
spying on Shane. An ominous pause.
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b><b> GHOST.
</b><b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> One things for sure. After we turn this
in to my CO, whoever's been bothering you
guys won't be bothering you anymore.
<b>
</b> Everyone reacts happily, relieved. Except for -- Lulu.
She looks stricken.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> What's wrong, Lulu? You should be happy.
<b>
</b><b> I
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 85.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> But, Shane -- does that mean you'll have
to go?
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He goes silent. Tongue-tied, he has no answer.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You guys better get ready. Your mom
should be home soon.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. HOUSE - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Bill's Sedan pulls up. Julie and Bill hop out.
<b>
</b><b> INT. JULIE'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Julie opens the door, comes into the dark hall. Bill is
carrying her suitcases.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I had a fight with Zoe when I left, so
they probably trashed the place...
<b>
</b> She trails off...
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> What's wrong?
<b>
</b> They listen -- they hear, in the next room, Kids singing
a beautiful, a capella version of The Hills are Alive
(with The Sound of Music). She turns on the lights --
what she sees makes her drop her luggage, in shock.
<b> J
</b> JULIE'S P.O.V.: The house is spotless. The rug is
vacuumed. The fish tank is clear, filled with healthy
<b> TROPICAL FISH.
</b><b>
</b><b> KIDS VOICES
</b> (singing, a capella)
... with songs they have sung, for a
thousand years...
<b>
</b> Dumb-struck, Julie goes to the...
<b>
</b><b> INT. KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The kitchen is sparkling clean, no dishes in the sink.
She sees, attached to the fridge with magnets: A flyer
for Sound of Music, featuring Todd.
<b>
</b><b> (
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 86.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> JULIE almost faints. Bill steadies her. She staggers
to...
<b>
</b><b> INT. DINING ROOM - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane and the Kids are holding up a home-made sign:
WELCOME HOME, MOM! Todd pushes STOP on a CD player: The
Sound of Music stops.
<b>
</b> Zoe is in a conservative dress, Todd a button down and
khakis: barely recognizable. Lulu has bows in her hair.
Peter is fresh faced, smiling, Tyler is asleep: a picture-
perfect family.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Welcome home, mom.
<b>
</b> Julie starts bawling. The Kids rush forward and hug her.
Across the room, Shane sees Bill enter. Shane stiffens
and salutes proudly. S
<b> SHANE
</b> Captain.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> (he smiles wryly, then
salutes back)
Good job, Lieutenant.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane leads Bill inside. Bill holds the pronged key.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> I'm really proud of you, Shane. I'm
giving you your choice of assignment,
anywhere you want. You just name it.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> That's kind of you, Sir...
pause)
But I'll have to think about it.
<b>
</b> Bill stops, surprised. Shane continues, a bit reluctant.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Sir, all I've never known is the
military. At nine years old my father
put me in cadet school and from there I
never looked back. Don't get me wrong, I
wouldn't trade it for anything and I have
no regrets...
<b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> S
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 87.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> I should hope not.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> But being with these kids has made me
feel like there's more to life than
taking out your enemy. And I think I
want to explore that some more.
<b>
</b> Suddenly, an ANGRY VOICE.
<b>
</b><b> MAN'S VOICE
</b><b> PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!
</b><b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> Shane and Bill spin, startled. The CHUNS strides up,
<b> GUNS DRAWN.
</b><b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> Give US THE KEY!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Mr. and Mrs. Chun? They checked out-
<b>
</b><b> KOREAN MAN
</b><b> H
</b> ands up!
<b>
</b> Compliant, Shane puts his hands behind his head. He
takes a submissive position... Mrs. Chun comes closer,
reaching for Bill's key... Shane shoots Bill a glance...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> NOW!
</b><b>
</b> Shane SPINS and grabs both guns! He WHACKS the Koreans'
forearms, while SLAMMING their heads together.
<b>
</b> hane takes control! He smiles, relishing a second of
glory -- when suddenly, CRACK! A third gun BUTTS him in
the head.
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> Lights out. He turns, startled, and starts to fall.
Disoriented, confused, he looks up as he drops...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE'S POV
</b><b>
</b> He is losing consciousness. Things are spinning... woozy.
<b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 88.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> KOREAN MAN
</b> (arguing with Bill)
You promised us GHOST months ago!
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> I'm sorry, Mr. Chun. There were delays...
<b>
</b> Shane peers in confusion, then passes out.
<b>
</b><b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b><b>
</b><b> FADE IN:
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Julie and the Kids are on the floor, tied up. Peter and
Tyler are caged in the play pen. Peter has a JUICE BOX.
The Korean Man (Mr. Chun) secures the room, closing the
window shades. Bill checks the knots binding the
children. They whimper, scared.
<b> L
</b><b> ULU
</b><b> SHANE!!
</b><b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> He won't be baby-sitting you anymore.
<b>
</b> He GAGS the kids. Julie glares, livid.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I trusted you. Charles trusted you. So
did the Department of Defense.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> North Korea pays better.
(to Mr. Chun)
Keep an eye on them. You -- with me.
<b>
</b> Bill GAGS Julie. The Kids are furious. Bill and Mrs. Chun
exit.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - DAY
</b><b>
</b> Shane lies unconscious. Bill and Mrs. Chun approach the
steel door. Bill inserts the two-pronged key... and it
CLICKS. The door HUMS, then slides OPEN!
<b>
</b> Inside is a dark corridor. Bill grins. They enter...
<b>
</b><b> INT. SECRET VAULT
</b><b>
</b> Light is at the end. They anxiously tiptoe, reaching...
<b>
</b><b> 89.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> THE VAULT! Spare, bright and white. The floor is
covered with square tiles. At the far end is a LARGE
ELEVATED SAFE. Beside the safe is a red switch, with two
settings: ARMED and DISARMED. It's set on ARMED. The air
is filled with an ominous, low-pitched HUM, like a
monstrous computer. Bill eyes the safe.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> You bring your stethoscope?
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> No. But I've got some C4.
<b>
</b> She confidently strides toward the safe -- which sets off
hidden flame-throwers in the walls. A jet blast of FLAME
shoots out! She leaps back just in time, but the shoulder
of her jacket is on fire. Bill pats out the flames with
his own jacket. Chun is Bokay, just missing BOTH eyebrows.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> Charles never made things easy.
<b>
</b> Mrs. Chun's eyebrows are neatly, completely SINGED OFF.
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> Just... had eyebrows... done.
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Mr. Chun guards the kids, eyeballing them icily.
<b>
</b> Lulu "looks" scared. But behind her back, we reveal her
HANDS untying her ropes! Freed, she hits her panic
button! O.S., BEEPING. Lulu grins hopefully: Shane's
coming! A beat... then Mr. Chun pulls the Tracker from
his pocket. He sneers.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> Think I'm stupid? Now stop bothering me.
<b>
</b> Lulu frowns, then leans back against Zoe. With a rapid
blur of finger-work, she unties Zoe! Then -- needing a
distraction, she signals Tyler and crosses her eyes.
<b>
</b> Tyler GASPS, horrified -- and SCREAMS HIS LUNGS OUT.
<b>
</b> Chun spins, startled -- and Lulu quickly ROLLS across the
room! She lands against Todd, quickly assuming a fake
bound position, as if she hadn't moved.
<b>
</b> Mr. Chun whirls -- the Kids look innocent. Mr. Chun is
confused for a second: "wasn't he tied to the other one?"
<b>
</b><b> I
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> W
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 90.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> BEHIND TODD - Lulu frantically unties Todd's ropes --
it's gonna be close...
<b>
</b> Chun scowls. Skeptical, he steps closer... He leans down
to look at Todd's ropes Z--
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> Now Peter!
<b>
</b> Peter SQUIRTS JUICE into Mr. Chun's face. The Kids use
the distraction: Todd POPS to his feet, then LEAPS into
his SPIN KICK: it connects with Mr. Chun's head.
<b>
</b><b> OE (CONT'D)
</b> Let's GO!
<b>
</b> All the kids bounce up. They untie Julie, then scoop up
Peter and Tyler. Mr. Chun growls and starts to stagger
up. Lulu lands in Karate stance and calls out:
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Hi ya!
<b>
</b> The other Kids take off, Mr. Chun looks at Lulu. Mr.
Chun laughs:
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> That's cute.
<b>
</b> HAM without warning, Lulu SWEEPS Mr. Chun's leg, he
drops to his knees in pain, then, when he's at her level,
she KICKS him right in the nuts. It HURTS.
<b>
</b> Mr. Chun tries to grab her by the wrist, but Lulu EVADES
with her cool, snake-like move. Lulu runs, slamming the
door behind her. Mr. Chun gets up and turns the
doorknob, but the door won't budge...
<b>
</b><b> INT. OUTSIDE THE NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Zoe shoves a chair between the door and the opposite
wall, they're trapped inside.
<b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Mr. Chun punches the door, making a small hole. He
reaches out to knock the chair away but he can't quite
reach. He puts his face up to the hole he's made...
<b> I
</b><b> INT. OUTSIDE THE NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Todd's outside with a FIRE EXTINGUISHER: he blasts Mrs.
Chun's face.
<b>
</b><b> M
</b><b>
</b><b> E
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> M
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 91.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> INT. NURSERY - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Mr. Chun falls back from the door, his face COATED in
white. He yells out furious!
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b> That stuff doesn't hurt.
<b>
</b> He sticks his face out the hole... DONNGGG -- Todd hits
him square in the face with the fire extinguisher ITSELF.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. FRONT DOOR - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> The family comes scrambling out -- but as Julie exits, a
HAND suddenly GRABS her.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b><b> AGGGH!
</b><b>
</b> She SCREAMS. Bill lurches into view, clutching her! The
kids are horrified. They start to run back, but she
urgently gestures --
<b>
</b><b> JULIE (CONT'D)
</b> Keep going! RUN! Go GET HELP!!!
<b>
</b> The kids fret, unsure, then nod and run to the side
garage. Zoe and Todd load the kids into the minivan.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE/TODD
</b> Hurry! C'mon! Buckle up!!
<b>
</b><b> INT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Bill pulls Julie inside. Mrs. Chun listens to Mr. Chun ON
THE RADIO, speaking in Korean:
<b>
</b><b> RS. CHUN
</b> They're headed for the car!
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Relax -- I've got the keys, they're not
going anywhere...
<b>
</b><b> INT. MINIVAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> SPARKS FLY as Zoe hot-wires the minivan. She floors it...
<b>
</b><b> EXT. HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> r. Chun comes racing around the house -- as SCREEEECH!
The van suddenly FLOORS out, almost clipping him!
<b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> Z
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 92.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN
</b><b> ARGHH!
</b><b>
</b> Chun falls, as the van PEELS backwards down the driveway,
and 360's. RRRR! It shifts into drive and ROARS away.
Chun hops into Bill's car and races after them.
<b>
</b><b> INT. VAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Zoe floors it.
<b>
</b><b> OE
</b> Omigod! What are we doing??!
<b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Let's look for a cop!
<b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> The sedan GUNS its engine, gaining on them.
<b>
</b> oe runs a yellow. She hits the curb and goes AIRBORNE.
WHOOOOOO! The kids SCREAM, as they sail through the
intersection! The sedan keeps chasing.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Bill has Julie at gunpoint, leading her to the secret
door. They step past Shane's body, lying on the concrete.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> How does it work?
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> How does what work?
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Don't play dumb. It's getting old. I want
to know how to get through the booby
traps. What's the code?
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> I don't know any code -- Charles didn't
tell me about the room...
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> If I knew Charles had hidden it so well,
I wouldn't have killed him so soon. Don't
make me kill you too.
<b>
</b> Julie GASPS, chilled. Then, a CRACKLING of static. Mrs.
Chun exits the vault, holding a military RADIO.
<b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 93.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b> Mr. Bill, my husband has question:
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN (OVER THE WALKIE)
</b> I have a clean shot at their tires. It's
<b> B
</b> risky, they might wreck...
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> ... Do it.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b><b> NO!
</b><b>
</b> Julie goes frantic, emotional.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (O.S.)
</b> Bill, don't hurt the kids.
<b>
</b> Surprised, everyone looks down.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> They look over -- Shane is standing in the doorway.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> I know the code. I'll get you in... just
please don't hurt anyone.
<b>
</b> ill eyes him. The men stare down, Bill deciding if he
can trust him. Then -- he clicks "talk" on the radio.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Change of plan. Bring them back
unharmed.
<b>
</b> Bill uncuffs Shane.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BUSY STREET - DAY
</b><b>
</b> The vehicles race, Chun just inches from the kids' tail.
He tries to pass them on the right. It's like a chariot
race, Chun zooming by, half on the sidewalk, to cut them
off!
<b>
</b><b> INT. MINIVAN - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Todd scrambles into the back seat. He does something we
can't see, as Zoe drives.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> What's taking you?
<b>
</b><b> 94.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Don't wait for me!
<b>
</b> The sedan pulls up beside them. Zoe makes a very lewd
gesture at him. It throws Mr. Chun off for a beat.
<b>
</b><b> TODD (CONT'D)
</b> Now!
<b>
</b> Zoe floors it, Mr. Chun is now face to face with Todd --
who throws a dirty diaper into the his face. Mr. Chun
swerves and almost wrecks. Lulu starts PELTING Mr. Chun
with debris: milk cartons, crayons, orange peels.
<b> M
</b><b> R. CHUN
</b> Aah! HEY --
<b>
</b> Rubbish clobbers him. Exasperated, Mr. Chun ROLLS UP his
window, then POUNDS the gas! Faster! About to pass...
<b>
</b> Zoe looks over. Chun is pointing a gun! She suddenly
PULLS the emergency brake.
<b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> RRRRRRRR!! The Van SPINS into a squealing 360.
<b>
</b> Mr. Chun SCREAMS, disoriented, and loses control.
<b>
</b> In the van, Peter laughs.
<b>
</b><b> PETER
</b> Wheee!
<b>
</b> The Van spins madly. The sedan skids and PLOWS into a
store window. CRASH!! The kids cheer, triumphant.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SECRET VAULT - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> Shane scopes out the vault. The walls and ceilings are
covered with high-tech weaponry. Mrs. Chun holds Julie.
Bill waits impatiently. Shane is figuring his options...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Anybody got any perfume? Hair spray...
breath freshener...
<b>
</b> A bewildered beat -- then Julie pulls out a tube of
Binaca. Shane SQUIRTS it, revealing in the mist a myriad
of crisscrossing LASER BEAMS.
<b>
</b> Shane steps forward. He speaks aloud, confidently:
<b>
</b><b> J
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> B
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 95.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Zoe, Todd, Lulu, Peter, Tyler!
<b>
</b> Bill reacts, puzzled.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> The key is the kid's names. Watch.
<b>
</b> Shane steps forward - ZAP! The floor tile SHOCKS HIM,
sending him flying backwards. Bill laughs. Shane gets up,
in pain.
<b>
</b><b> ILL
</b> You think this is a game?!
<b> S
</b><b> SHANE
</b> But... That was the code! I swear! I saw
Plummer use it on his briefcase.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Code or no code, go get it -- now.
<b>
</b> ill cocks his gun. Sweat drips down Shane's face. He
mists the air to see the beams: He steps forward, over
one beam and ducking under another -- he miscalculates: a
BURST OF FLAME blazes from the ceiling like a giant blow
torch, Shane leaps back, landing on his hands and knees.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> (to Bill) You can't make him do this --
He doesn't have a chance.
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> Shane's thinks. He notices a GROOVE carved in the floor,
not quite centered to the room. He feels the Groove.
Something she said...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (thinking)
Haven't got a chance.
<b>
</b> Shane feels the Groove in the floor. He thinks. He looks
up at the ceiling (bottom of the first floor).
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> (sings softly to himself)
... When you're down and low, lower than
the floor. And you haven't got a chance.
Don't make a move `til you're in the
groove, and do the Peter Panda Dance.
<b>
</b><b> E
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 96.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Shane LAUGHS sharply. That's the code! He shares a look
with Julie. Bill and Julie share a look -- they have no
idea what he's laughing about.
<b>
</b> Calmness comes to Shane's face. He takes a deep breath,
<b> S
</b> facing forwards:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Just hop three times like a kangaroo --
<b>
</b> He hops forwards three times, fearlessly. NOTHING
HAPPENS. No BOOBY TRAPS are set off.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Sidestep twice, just like the crabs do.
<b>
</b> He steps sideway, across two tiles. Again -- NOTHING
HAPPENS. It dawns on Julie what he's doing. Julie smiles,
relieved. Shane he steps forwards, then back:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> Three steps forward and one step back.
<b>
</b> When he steps back -- A SPRING-LOADED SPIKE launches down
from the ceiling, imbedding itself where he was standing.
Shane is rattled, his focus gone. Until Julie shouts:
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b><b> QUICK LIKE A TURTLE LIE ON YOUR BACK!
</b><b>
</b> Shane snaps out of it and flops down on his back -- just
in time: FLAMES SHOOT FROM BOTH WALLS right at him. If
he'd been standing, he'd be toast.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. BUSY INTERSECTION - SIMULTANEOUS
</b><b>
</b> The Minivan blasts through another yellow.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Look out Zoe! Rollers!
<b>
</b> There is a POLICE CAR cruising the street ahead of them.
Zoe blows past it. Inside is the Cute Cop. The Squad
Car's lights flash on, and he catches up with the minivan
-- it takes a while, they're FLYING.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Come on. Use the gas, not the brake, 5-0.
<b>
</b> Zoe slows down so the Police Car can pull up beside her.
The Cute Cop shouts over at Zoe.
<b>
</b><b> 97.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> I'd say you could lose your license --
but you haven't got one!
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> People are trying to kill us. They have
my mom, and our bodyguard -- you have to
follow me!
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> Just pull over!
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Fine. Don't follow me!
<b>
</b> She swerves into the Squad Car, almost running it off the
road. Zoe U-turns, and speeds back towards her house. The
Squad Car turns around and chases her.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SUBURBAN STREET - MOMENTS LATER
</b><b>
</b> The Minivan speeds by. The Squad Car is on its tail. It
is joined by MORE SQUAD CARS. Following the chase, at a
safe distance, is Mr. Chun in his now-wrecked sedan.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. SCHOOL - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Murney and Claire are watching a SOCCER GAME. He's in a
<b> NECK-BRACE.
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY
</b> That Baloney Bandit struck again. I
accept full responsibility. My
intelligence proved to be faulty, but if
I had more resources...
<b>
</b> She shakes her head, Suddenly, the Minivan SPEEDS by.
VROOOOM! Then the Police Car CHASES by. VROOOM!! Then --
<b> FIVE MORE POLICE CARS ZOOM BY. VROOOOOOM!!!
</b><b>
</b><b> MURNEY (CONT'D)
</b> (not that surprised:)
I told you not to pass her in Driver's
Ed.
<b>
</b> Claire frowns, concerned...
<b>
</b><b> INT. PLUMMER BASEMENT - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Shane is on the floor, sliding forward, nervously.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 98.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Wriggle like a snake `til you can't no
more. Then better jump quick, like there
ain't no floor.
<b>
</b> Shane jumps up just AS THE FLOOR UNDER HIM DROPS AWAY,
revealing a pool of liquid. Shane has wedged himself in
the corner. A bead of his sweat falls into the liquid,
and sizzles in a cloud of smoke. It's acid.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> (to himself, to calm down)
Almost done, almost done... "Just hold
your breath, and jump to the left."
<b>
</b> He jumps, to the left of the HOLE. He lands in front of
THE SAFE. He's relieved -- then nozzles spray YELLOW GAS
at him. He holds his breath just in time. Still holding
his breath:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> And that's the Peter Panda Dance.
<b>
</b> He flips the switch to DISARMED. The safe's red light
turns green. Immediately, the flamethrowers and blowguns
retract! The gas gets sucked into grates. The whole
room goes SILENT. Whew.
<b>
</b> Bill looks around. He nervously steps forward - he waves
his hand over the floor, and jumps back. Nothing happens.
<b>
</b> Bill signals for Mrs. Chun to go first. She gestures
back: you go. It's a stand-off. Finally, Bill takes a
breath -- and walks across the room. The Booby Traps are
disarmed. Mrs. Chun follows, pulling Julie along.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Thank you, Shane. You were always my best
man. I knew you'd figure it out.
<b>
</b> Shane scowls, disgusted.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> You know, if you're willing to join up,
I'd be happy to cut you in on the
proceeds. What do you say -- we make a
good team?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> I was devoted to you, sir. And you
betrayed all of that. All that we stand
for.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 99.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Beat. Bill shrugs.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> I'll take that as a "no."
<b>
</b> Bill turns to the safe. He starts to reach for the
dial... then catches himself. Something's not right.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> ... I think you better open it.
<b>
</b> Shane reaches for the safe, before he reaches the dial --
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> Wait. That's just what you want isn't it?
<b>
</b> Bill thinks, trying to read Shane's poker face. Shane
shrugs. Bill gestures to Mrs. Chun.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> You open it.
<b>
</b> Mrs. Chun doesn't budge.
<b>
</b><b> BILL (CONT'D)
</b> Oh come on. I walked the floor first.
<b>
</b> Reluctantly - Mrs. Chun reaches out, and touches the
dial. Nothing happens. Relief. She turns it, and ZAPPPPP!
1000 volts ELECTROCUTES her, her hair on end, shaking
from the voltage...
<b>
</b> Bill is off guard, Shane kicks his gun away! The gun
skids into the acid and plunges, SIZZLING. Bill is
incensed, but Shane gazes coldly.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> There will be no mercy.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> None requested.
<b>
</b> Full of himself, Bill LUNGES. And he's strong! He
shoves Shane back, then PUNCHES him in the gut.
<b>
</b> Shane glares, then returns an onslaught of BLOWS.
Shane's fury is unleashed: A volley of attacks, hitting
Bill's arms, head, legs! He's crazed, unrelenting.
<b>
</b> But suddenly Mrs. Chun LEAPS onto his back.
<b>
</b><b> MRS. CHUN
</b><b> AAAAAA!
</b><b>
</b><b> 100.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> She SCREAMS and grabs his throat. Shane struggles to
lose her. Suddenly, he drops and FLIPS her. She
catapults, stumbles backwards across the room, and stops
just inches from the acid! She teeters, tottering,
unable to gain her balance.
<b>
</b> Shane shakes his head, then runs to grab her outstretched
hand. She smiles, saved. But he's unforgiving.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> You're a... terrible neighbor.
<b>
</b> Shane COLD-COCKS her, knocking her out. Suddenly --
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Shane! Watch out!
<b>
</b> Bill is charging him. Shane whirls, delivering a
ROUNDHOUSE KICK. OOF! Bill gets slammed in the chest.
<b>
</b> Bill tumbles, the wind knocked out of him. He jumps to
his feet, delivering a series of hard punches, which
Shane deflects -- they tangle like pro's. It's clear the
both have the same training. They punch, spin, kick,
connecting only occasionally. Bill wheels around and
lands a kicks squarely in Shane's chest. Shane tumbles,
landing on his back in front of the safe.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - BILL
</b><b>
</b> He steps over Shane. Leering mercilessly, he jabs the
spike against Shane's throat.
<b>
</b><b> BILL
</b> Any last words?
<b>
</b> Julie gasps. Shane narrows his eyes, then whispers/sings.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... Say, good night, Peter Panda!
<b>
</b> The CODE! A BELL rings, and the safe door flies open!
SLAMMING Bill in the head! BONG! Bill's collapses and
drops. K.O.!
<b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER'S STREET - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> The minivan races toward the house. The Police Cars
chase after, SIRENS wailing.
<b>
</b> IN THE VAN, everyone is SCREAMING.
<b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 101.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> TODD
</b> Zoe! You're going too fast!! You're not
gonna have enough time to stop-
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> Hey, I'M the one in Driver's Ed! I think
I know what I'm doing!!
<b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> She squeals into the driveway, then BRAKES.
<b>
</b> But it's too late. The van SKIDS, smoke BURNING from the
tires -- and hits a tree. The Kid spill out and run.
<b>
</b> The lead Police Car screeches to a stop. POLICE leap
from the car.
<b>
</b><b> INT. SECRET VAULT - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Shane and Julie stare at each other, then look in the
safe:
<b>
</b> Inside, the cavernous metal box holds but one object: A
tiny COMPUTER CHIP. Shane gently removes it.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b><b> ... GHOST.
</b><b>
</b> They look in silence. She smiles at Shane, grateful.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> Thank you Shane. It's finally over. Now
we can go back to our peaceful...
<b>
</b> Then -- a sudden AMPLIFIED VOICE from behind them:
<b>
</b><b> ULLHORN (V.O.)
</b><b> FREEZE! HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. HOUSE - SAME TIME
</b><b>
</b> Total commotion. The kids clamber from the van, with
their hands raised. Cops surround them. Even Peter and
Tyler have their little hands over their heads. The
garage door raises, Shane steps out.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Whoa, WHOA! What are you doing to these
kids??
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b><b> FREEZE. HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM.
</b><b>
</b><b> 102.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Cops cover Shane and Julie, Julie and Shane Freeze.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> But, officer...
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> I said FREEZE. Zoe, you're in a lot of
trouble... Reckless endangerment!
Driving without a license. Numerous,
uh... trafficS violations --
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> (cutting him off)
These kids are heroes. They just aided
in exposing a high-level espionage ring.
I suggest you call the FBI. Now.
<b>
</b> Silence. The Cops are unsure what to do. He scoffs.
<b>
</b><b> CUTE COP
</b> You expect me to believe any of that?
<b>
</b> Suddenly -- a CRAZED SCREAM.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN (O.S.)
</b><b> EVERYBODY! HIT THE GROUND!!!
</b><b>
</b><b> WIDE
</b><b>
</b> Everyone spins. Mr. Chun stands inside the gate,
pointing a ROCKET LAUNCHER. He's disheveled and manic.
<b>
</b><b> MR. CHUN (CONT'D)
</b><b> I WANT THE GHOST, TEN MILLION DOLLARS,
</b><b> AND A DIRECT FLIGHT TO PYONGYANG!
</b><b>
</b> The cops freeze, helpless. Shane weighs his not so many
options... Nobody is sure what to do.
<b>
</b> But then -- a WOMAN suddenly flips over the fence, vaults
onto Chun, and KNOCKS him out with a Karate Chop.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Ya!!
<b>
</b> Claire lands on her feet, triumphant. Even Chun is
amazed, as he turns his head, Shane spins, and grabs the
rocket launcher.
<b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> He breaks into a big grin.
<b>
</b><b> 103.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> CLOSE-UP - CLAIRE
</b><b>
</b> She proudly smiles back at him.
<b>
</b><b> ANGLE - THE CUTE COP
</b><b>
</b> He's flummoxed. This chaos is unsolvable. Beaten, he
reaches for his radio.
<b>
</b><b> COP
</b> I think I'll call the FBI.
<b>
</b><b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b><b>
</b><b> EXT. PLUMMER HOUSE - LATER
</b><b>
</b> F.B.I. AGENTS swarm the area. Bill and the Chuns are
being hauled away in cuffs. Julie huddles with the kids.
Shane talks with an F.B.I. Agent.
<b> F
</b><b> .B.I. AGENT
</b> Mr. Wolfe... that was nice work. You're
a one-man battalion.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Just doing my job.
<b>
</b><b> F.B.I. AGENT
</b> The Bureau is always looking for good
men. Do you have a card or something?
<b>
</b> The Agent hands him a BUSINESS CARD, then walks off.
Shane examines it, swelling with pride.
<b>
</b><b> INT. GARAGE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> The Kids are looking around, watching the FBI Agents
work. Lulu is following one of the FBI Agents around.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Do you have to wear that thing in your
ear all the time?
<b>
</b><b> FBI AGENT
</b> Yes.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Does it itch?
<b>
</b><b> FBI AGENT
</b> Yes...
<b>
</b><b> 104.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> Zoe is looking at the safe. She sees, fallen onto the
floor, from the safe, a letter. Her siblings, and Julie
notice, and gather around. Zoe reads the LETTER:
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> If you're reading this, then Julie found
the key. Julie, Tyler, Peter, Zoe, Todd,
Lulu -- I want to say: I love you more
than anything. I always have.
<b>
</b> A tear comes to her eye. The Plummers hug each other.
<b>
</b><b> EXT. THE PLUMMER HOUSE - CONTINUOUS
</b><b>
</b> Claire walks up to Shane. Mock-angry.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> So. What happens now? You'll be stationed
somewhere else, right? I guess there's no
more reason for you to stick around here.
<b>
</b> Shane looks at her. He looks around: at the family. He
looks at Claire....
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Well. I'm kinda, re-conning the
situation, here... And to tell the truth.
I don't see anything but reasons to stay.
<b> P
</b><b> RINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> So... What's the next move?
<b>
</b> Shane smiles slyly and pulls her close.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> ... I don't know. I'm on dry land. You're
the superior office. You tell me.
<b>
</b><b> PRINCIPAL CLAIRE
</b> Well. Summer's almost here. What if you
and me did a little amphibious recon
mission. On, say -- Maui?
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Sir yes sir.
<b>
</b> Claire beams. The Plummers all approach, interrupting.
Zoe gives them a look -- that makes Shane and Claire
BLUSH. Lulu turns to Shane, sad.
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> This is it. Your work here is through.
Guess you have to go now...
<b>
</b><b> 105.
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b> She puts out her hand, to shake his.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Ah, come here you.
<b>
</b> He surprises her with a BEAR HUG -- he hugs the whole
family at once, squeezing them off the ground. He puts
them down. Before he goes: he reaches down and gives Zoe -
- his medal. He squeezes her hand around it.
<b>
</b><b> ZOE
</b> But...
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> He would've wanted me to give it to
someone I care about. Like he did. Thank
you. For everything.
<b> P
</b><b> ETER
</b> Love you, Shane.
<b>
</b><b> TIGHT - SHANE
</b><b>
</b> This is too much. He wipes his face.
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Your dad would be so proud.
<b>
</b> Shane bawls -- he can't keep it in. He starts to head
off, Lulu calls after him:
<b>
</b><b> LULU
</b> Shane, we're never gonna see you again!
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> What are you talking about? I'm gonna
see you Friday night.
<b>
</b> A long beat. Julie looks up, baffled.
<b>
</b><b> JULIE
</b> What's Friday night?
<b>
</b><b> INT. VICTORIA THEATRE, BACKSTAGE - NIGHT
</b><b>
</b> Close on Shane:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE
</b> Tonight is the night we trained for, and
failure is not an option! No detail is
too small! We are the BEST! Remember
your lines, hit your marks, and stay in
character! I expect perfection!
<b> (MORE)
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b><b> 106.
</b><b> SHANE(CONT'D)
</b> (he grins)
Now let's break a leg.
<b>
</b> Wider reveals the Cast of `The Sound of Music'.
<b>
</b><b> CUT TO:
</b><b>
</b> Shane's military-march version of the musical. Nuns sing
"How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?" The Von Trapp
kids perform "So Long, Farewell."
<b>
</b> In the audience, Julie watches in astonishment. She is
surrounded by her children. Scott: in a suit, his hair
combed, Claire: dressed to the nines, the little Brownie
Troop, even Murney. Lulu has a basket in her lap --
inside: GARY THE DUCK and his new family, the most
adorable ducklings you ever saw.
<b>
</b> They all watch, rapt.
<b>
</b> You Are Sixteen begins. Shane watches with bated breath.
Todd spins. In SLOW MOTION, he leaps into the SPIN KICK.
It's fantastic -- a Michael Jordan dunk. The AUDIENCE
goes nuts, Shane stands, and shouts:
<b>
</b><b> SHANE (CONT'D)
</b> YESSS! (And an Armed forces:) Huu-ah!
<b>
</b> The Audience stares at him, until he sits back down,
beaming with pride.
<b>
</b> Finally: "CLIMB EVERY MOUNTAIN." Hearts swell, as the
family crosses the papier-mch alps.
<b>
</b> A STANDING OVATION. The performers take their curtain
calls, then giddily gesture Shane to come out. He humbly
steps into view -- and the house goes crazy. Thundering
applause. A cellophane bouquet of flowers gets thrust on
him. Shane smiles, touched. Mission accomplished.
<b>
</b><b> FADE OUT.
</b><b>
</b><b> THE END
</b><b>
</b><b>
</b>
</pre><br>
<table width="85%" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" class="body" style="BORDER-TOP: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 1px solid;">
<tr>
<td align=center><img src="/posters/Pacifier,-The.jpg" border="0">
<td><h1>Pacifier, The</h1><br><br>
<b>Writers</b> : <a href="/writer.php?w=Thomas Lennon" title="Scripts by Thomas Lennon">Thomas Lennon</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=Robert Ben Garant" title="Scripts by Robert Ben Garant">Robert Ben Garant</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=Jason Fulardi" title="Scripts by Jason Fulardi">Jason Fulardi</a><br>
<b>Genres</b> : <a href="/genre/Comedy" title="Comedy Scripts">Comedy</a> <a href="/genre/Action" title="Action Scripts">Action</a> <a href="/genre/Family" title="Family Scripts">Family</a> <a href="/genre/Thriller" title="Thriller Scripts">Thriller</a><br><br><br>
<a href="/Movie Scripts/Pacifier, The Script.html#comments" title="Pacifier, The comments">User Comments</a>
</td>
</table>
<br><br>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://www.imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/lilbutton.gif" style="border: 1px solid black;" alt="Internet Movie Script Database" border=1><br>
Back to IMSDb</a>
</div><br>
<br><br>
</tr>
</table>
<br><br>
</table>
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2">
</table>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)">Index</a>
|
<a href="/submit.html" title="Submit scripts">Submit</a>
|
<a href="/link to us" title="Link to IMSDb">Link to IMSDb</a>
|
<a href="/disclaimer.html">Disclaimer</a>
|
<a href="/privacy">Privacy policy</a>
|
<a href="/contact.html">Contact</a>
</div>
<br />
</body>
</html>
Question:
Who is Lieutenant Shane Wolfe assigned to rescue?
Answer:
| Howard Plummer. | 174 | 271,363 | 271,365 | 271,424 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
35134 | 35134_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
Project Gutenberg's The Mule-Bone:, by Zora Hurston and Langston Hughes
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Mule-Bone:
A Comedy of Negro Life in Three Acts
Author: Zora Hurston and Langston Hughes
Release Date: October 2, 2006 [EBook #19435]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MULE-BONE: ***
Produced by Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by the
Library of Congress)
[Transcriber's Note: A few obvious typo's in stage directions have
been fixed, though nothing in the dialogue has been changed.]
THE MULE-BONE
A COMEDY OF NEGRO LIFE IN
THREE ACTS
BY
LANGSTON HUGHES and ZORA HURSTON
CHARACTERS
JIM WESTON: Guitarist, Methodist, slightly arrogant, agressive,
somewhat self-important, ready with his tongue.
DAVE CARTER: Dancer, Baptist, soft, happy-go-lucky character,
slightly dumb and unable to talk rapidly and
wittily.
DAISY TAYLOR: Methodist, domestic servant, plump, dark and sexy,
self-conscious of clothes and appeal, fickle.
JOE CLARK: The Mayor, storekeeper and postmaster, arrogant,
ignorant and powerful in a self-assertive way,
large, fat man, Methodist.
ELDER SIMMS: Methodist minister, newcomer in town, ambitious,
small and fly, but not very intelligent.
ELDER CHILDERS: Big, loose-jointed, slow spoken but not dumb. Long
resident in the town, calm and sure of himself.
KATIE CARTER: Dave's aunt, little old wizened dried-up lady.
MRS. HATTIE CLARK: The Mayor's wife, fat and flabby mulatto
high-pitched voice.
THE MRS. REV. SIMMS: Large and agressive.
THE MRS. REV. Just a wife who thinks of details.
CHILDERS:
LUM BOGER: Young town marshall about twenty, tall, gangly,
with big flat feet, liked to show off in public.
TEET MILLER: Village vamp who is jealous of DAISY.
LIGE MOSELY: A village wag.
WALTER THOMAS: Another village wag.
ADA LEWIS: A promiscuous lover.
DELLA LEWIS: Baptist, poor housekeeper, mother of ADA.
BOOTSIE PITTS: A local vamp.
MRS. DILCIE ANDERSON: Village housewife, Methodist.
WILLIE NIXON: Methodist, short runt.
ACT I
SETTING: The raised porch of JOE CLARK'S Store and the street in
front. Porch stretches almost completely across the stage, with a
plank bench at either end. At the center of the porch three steps
leading from street. Rear of porch, center, door to the store. On
either side are single windows on which signs, at left, "POST OFFICE",
and at right, "GENERAL STORE" are painted. Soap boxes, axe handles,
small kegs, etc., on porch on which townspeople sit and lounge during
action. Above the roof of the porch the "false front", or imitation
second story of the shop is seen with large sign painted across it
"JOE CLARK'S GENERAL STORE". Large kerosine street lamp on post at
right in front of porch.
Saturday afternoon and the villagers are gathered around the store.
Several men sitting on boxes at edge of porch chewing sugar cane,
spitting tobacco juice, arguing, some whittling, others eating
peanuts. During the act the women all dressed up in starched dresses
parade in and out of store. People buying groceries, kids playing in
the street, etc. General noise of conversation, laughter and children
shouting. But when the curtain rises there is momentary lull for
cane-chewing. At left of porch four men are playing cards on a soap
box, and seated on the edge of the porch at extreme right two children
are engaged in a checker game, with the board on the floor between
them.
When the curtain goes up the following characters are discovered on
the porch: MAYOR JOE CLARK, the storekeeper; DEACON HAMBO; DEACON
GOODWIN; Old Man MATT BRAZZLE; WILL CODY; SYKES JONES; LUM BOGER, the
young town marshall; LIGE MOSELY and WALTER THOMAS, two village wags;
TOM NIXON and SAM MOSELY, and several others, seated on boxes, kegs,
benches and floor of the porch. TONY TAYLOR is sitting on steps of
porch with empty basket. MRS. TAYLOR comes out with her arms full of
groceries, empties them into basket and goes back in store. All the
men are chewing sugar cane earnestly with varying facial expressions.
The noise of the breaking and sucking of cane can be clearly heard in
the silence. Occasionally the laughter and shouting of children is
heard nearby off stage.
HAMBO: (To BRAZZLE) Say, Matt, gimme a jint or two of dat green
cane--dis ribbon cane is hard.
LIGE: Yeah, and you ain't got de chears in yo' parlor you useter have.
HAMBO: Dat's all right, Lige, but I betcha right now wid dese few
teeth I got I kin eat up more cane'n you kin grow.
LIGE: I know you kin and that's de reason I ain't going to tempt you.
But youse gettin' old in lots of ways--look at dat bald-head--just as
clean as my hand. (Exposes his palm).
HAMBO: Don't keer if it tis--I don't want nothin'--not even
hair--between me and God. (General laughter--LIGE joins in as well.
Cane chewing keeps up. Silence for a moment.)
(Off stage a high shrill voice can be heard calling:)
VOICE: Sister Mosely, Oh, Sister Mosely! (A pause) Miz Mosely! (Very
irritated) Oh, Sister Mattie! You hear me out here--you just won't
answer!
VOICE OF MRS. MOSELY: Whoo-ee ... somebody calling me?
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (Angrily) Never mind now--you couldn't come
when I called you. I don't want yo' lil ole weasley turnip greens.
(Silence)
MATT BRAZZLE: Sister Roberts is en town agin! If she was mine, I'll
be hen-fired if I wouldn't break her down in de lines (loins)--good as
dat man is to her!
HAMBO: I wish she was mine jes' one day--de first time she open her
mouf to beg _anybody_, I'd lam her wid lightning.
JOE CLARK: I God, Jake Roberts buys mo' rations out dis store than any
man in dis town. I don't see to my Maker whut she do wid it all....
Here she come....
(ENTER MRS. JAKE ROBERTS, a heavy light brown woman with a basket on
her arm. A boy about ten walks beside her carrying a small child about
a year old straddle of his back. Her skirts are sweeping the ground.
She walks up to the step, puts one foot upon the steps and looks
forlornly at all the men, then fixes her look on JOE CLARK.)
MRS. ROBERTS: Evenin', Brother Mayor.
CLARK: Howdy do, Mrs. Roberts. How's yo' husband?
MRS. ROBERTS: (Beginning her professional whine): He ain't much and I
ain't much and my chillun is poly. We ain't got 'nough to eat! Lawd,
Mr. Clark, gimme a lil piece of side meat to cook us a pot of greens.
CLARK: Aw gwan, Sister Roberts. You got plenty bacon home. Last week
Jake bought....
MRS. ROBERTS: (Frantically) Lawd, Mist' Clark, how long you think dat
lil piece of meat last me an' my chillun? Lawd, me and my chillun is
_hongry_! God knows, Jake don't fee-eed me!
(MR. CLARK sits unmoved. MRS. ROBERTS advances upon him)
Mist' Clark!
CLARK: I God, woman, don't keep on after me! Every time I look, youse
round here beggin' for everything you see.
LIGE: And whut she don't see she whoops for it just de same.
MRS. ROBERTS: (In dramatic begging pose) Mist' Clark! Ain't you boin'
do nuthin' for me? And you see me and my poor chillun is starvin'....
CLARK: (Exasperated rises) I God, woman, a man can't git no peace wid
somebody like you in town. (He goes angrily into the store followed by
MRS. ROBERTS. The boy sits down on the edge of the porch sucking the
baby's thumb.)
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: A piece 'bout dis wide....
VOICE OF CLARK: I God, naw! Yo' husband done bought you plenty meat,
nohow.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (In great anguish) Ow! Mist' Clark! Don't you
cut dat lil tee-ninchy piece of meat for me and my chillun! (Sound of
running feet inside the store.) I ain't a going to tetch it!
VOICE OF CLARK: Well, don't touch it then. That's all you'll git outa
me.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (Calmer) Well, hand it chear den. Lawd, me and
my chillun is _so_ hongry.... Jake don't fee-eed me. (She re-enters by
door of store with the slab of meat in her hand and an outraged look
on her face. She gazes all about her for sympathy.) Lawd, me and my
poor chillun is _so_ hongry ... and some folks has _every_thing and
they's so _stingy_ and gripin'.... Lawd knows, Jake don't fee-eed me!
(She exits right on this line followed by the boy with the baby on his
back.)
(All the men gaze behind her, then at each other and shake their
heads.)
HAMBO: Poor Jak.... I'm really sorry for dat man. If she was mine I'd
beat her till her ears hung down like a Georgy mule.
WALTER THOMAS: I'd beat her till she smell like onions.
LIGE: I'd romp on her till she slack like lime.
NIXON: I'd stomp her till she rope like okra.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (Off stage right) Lawd, Miz Lewis, you goin'
give me dat lil han'ful of greens for me and my chillun. Why dat ain't
a eye-full. I ought not to take 'em ... but me and my chillun is _so_
hongry.... Some folks is so stingy and gripin'! Lawd knows, Tony don't
_feed_ me!
(The noise of cane-chewing is heard again. Enter JOE LINDSAY left with
a gun over his shoulder and the large leg bone of a mule in the other
hand. He approaches the step wearily.)
HAMBO: Well, did you git any partridges, Joe?
JOE: (Resting his gun and seating himself) Nope, but I made de
feathers fly.
HAMBO: I don't see no birds.
JOE: Oh, the feathers flew off on de birds.
LIGE: I don't see nothin' but dat bone. Look lak you done kilt a cow
and et 'im raw out in de woods.
JOE: Don't y'all know dat hock-bone?
WALTER: How you reckon we gointer know every hock-bone in Orange
County sight unseen?
JOE: (Standing the bone up on the floor of the porch) Dis is a
hock-bone of Brazzle's ole yaller mule.
(General pleased interest. Everybody wants to touch it.)
BRAZZLE: (Coming forward) Well, sir! (Takes bone in both hands and
looks up and down the length of it) If 'tain't my ole mule! This sho
was one hell of a mule, too. He'd fight every inch in front of de
plow ... he'd turn over de mowing machine ... run away wid de
wagon ... and you better not look like you wanter _ride_ 'im!
LINDSAY: (Laughing) Yeah, I 'member seein' you comin' down de road
just so ... (He limps wid one hand on his buttocks) one day.
BRAZZLE: Dis mule was so evil he used to try to bite and kick when I'd
go in de stable to feed 'im.
WALTER: He was too mean to git fat. He was so skinny you could do a
week's washing on his ribs for a washboard and hang 'em up on his
hip-bones to dry.
LIGE: I 'member one day, Brazzle, you sent yo' boy to Winter Park
after some groceries wid a basket. So here he went down de road ridin'
dis mule wid dis basket on his arm.... Whut you reckon dat ole
contrary mule done when he got to dat crooked place in de road going
round Park Lake? He turnt right round and went through de handle of
dat basket ... wid de boy still up on his back. (General laughter)
BRAZZLE: Yeah, he up and died one Sat'day just for spite ... but he
was too contrary to lay down on his side like a mule orter and die
decent. Naw, he made out to lay down on his narrer contracted back and
die wid his feets sticking straight up in de air just so. (He gets
down on his back and illustrates.) We drug him out to de swamp wid 'im
dat way, didn't we, Hambo?
JOE CLARK: I God, Brazzle, we all seen it. Didn't we all go to de
draggin' out? More folks went to yo' mule's draggin' out than went to
last school closing.... Bet there ain't been a thing right in
mule-hell for four years.
HAMBO: Been dat long since he been dead?
CLARK: I God, yes. He died de week after I started to cutting' dat new
ground.
(The bone is passing from hand to hand. At last a boy about twelve
takes it. He has just walked up and is proudly handling the bone when
a woman's voice is heard off stage right.)
VOICE: Senator! Senator!! Oh, you Senator?
BOY: (Turning displeased mutters) Aw, shux. (Loudly) Ma'm?
VOICE: If you don't come here you better!
SENATOR: Yes ma'am. (He drops bone on ground down stage and trots off
frowning.) Soon as we men git to doing something dese wimmen....
(Exits, right.)
(Enter TEET and BOOTSIE left, clean and primped in voile dresses just
alike. They speak diffidently and enter store. The men admire them
casually.)
LIGE: Them girls done turned out to be right good-looking.
WALTER: Teet ain't as pretty now as she was a few years back. She used
to be fat as a butter ball wid legs just like two whiskey-kegs. She's
too skinny since she got her growth.
CODY: Ain't none of 'em pretty as dat Miss Daisy. God! She's pretty as
a speckled pup.
LIGE: But she was sho nuff ugly when she was little ... little ole
hard black knot. She sho has changed since she been away up North. If
she ain't pretty now, there ain't a hound dog in Georgy.
(Re-enter SENATOR BAILEY and stops on the steps. He addresses JOE
CLARK.)
SENATOR: Mist' Clark....
HAMBO: (To Senator) Ain't you got no manners? We all didn't sleep wid
you last night.
SENATOR: (Embarrassed) Good evening, everybody.
ALL THE MEN: Good evening, son, boy, Senator, etc.
SENATOR: Mist' Clark, mama said is Daisy been here dis evenin'?
JOE CLARK: Ain't laid my eyes on her. Ain't she working over in
Maitland?
SENATOR: Yessuh ... but she's off today and mama sent her down here to
get de groceries.
JOE CLARK: Well, tell yo' ma I ain't seen her.
SENATOR: Well, she say to tell you when she come, to tell her ma say
she better git home and dat quick.
JOE CLARK: I will. (Exit BOY right.)
LIGE: Bet she's off somewhere wid Dave or Jim.
WALTER: I don't bet it ... I know it. She's got them two in de
go-long.
(Re-enter TEET and BOOTSIE from store. TEET has a letter and BOOTSIE
two or three small parcels. The men look up with interest as they come
out on the porch.)
WALTER: (Winking) Whut's dat you got, Teet ... letter from Dave?
TEET: (Flouncing) Naw indeed! It's a letter from my B-I-T-sweetie!
(Rolls her eyes and hips.)
WALTER: (Winking) Well, ain't Dave yo' B-I-T-sweetie? I thought y'all
was 'bout to git married. Everywhere I looked dis summer 'twas you and
Dave, Bootsie and Jim. I thought all of y'all would've done jumped
over de broomstick by now.
TEET: (Flourishing letter) Don't tell it to me ... tell it to the
ever-loving Mr. Albert Johnson way over in Apopka.
BOOTSIE: (Rolling her eyes) Oh, tell 'em 'bout the ever-loving Mr.
Jimmy Cox from Altamont. Oh, I can't stand to see my baby lose.
HAMBO: It's lucky y'all girls done got some more fellers, cause look
like Daisy done treed both Jim and Dave at once, or they done treed
here one.
TEET: Let her have 'em ... nobody don't keer. They don't handle de "In
God we trust" lak my Johnson. He's head bellman at de hotel.
BOOTSIE: Mr. Cox got money's grandma and old grandpa change. (The
girls exit huffily.)
LINDSAY: (To HAMBO, pseudo-seriously) You oughtn't tease dem gals lak
dat.
HAMBO: Oh, I laks to see gals all mad. But dem boys is crazy sho nuff.
Before Daisy come back here they both had a good-looking gal a piece.
Now they 'bout to fall out and fight over half a gal a piece. Neither
one won't give over and let de other one have her.
LIGE: And she ain't thinking too much 'bout no one man. (Looks off
left.) Here she come now. God! She got a mean walk on her!
WALTER: Yeah, man. She handles a lot of traffic! Oh, mama, throw it in
de river ... papa'll come git it!
LINDSAY: Aw, shut up, you married men!
LIGE: Man don't go blind cause he gits married, do he? (Enter DAISY
hurriedly. Stops at step a moment. She is dressed in sheer organdie,
white shoes and stockings.)
DAISY: Good evening, everybody. (Walks up on the porch.)
ALL THE MEN: (Very pleasantly) Good evening, Miss Daisy.
DAISY: (To CLARK) Mama sent me after some meal and flour and some
bacon and sausage oil.
CLARK: Senator been here long time ago hunting you.
DAISY: (Frightened) Did he? Oo ... Mist' Clark, hurry up and fix it
for me. (She starts on in the store.)
LINDSAY: (Giving her his seat) You better wait here, Daisy.
(WALTER kicks LIGE to call his attention to LINDSAY'S attitude)
It's powerful hot in dat store. Lemme run fetch 'em out to you.
LIGE: (To LINDSAY) _Run!_ Joe Lindsay, you ain't been able to run
since de big bell rung. Look at dat gray beard.
LINDSAY: Thank God, I ain't gray all over. I'm just as good a man
right now as any of you young 'uns. (He hurries on into the store.)
WALTER: Daisy, where's yo' two body guards? It don't look natural to
see you thout nary one of 'em.
DAISY: (Archly) I ain't got no body guards. I don't know what you
talkin' about.
LIGE: Aw, don' try to come dat over us, Daisy. You know who we talkin'
'bout all right ... but if you want me to come out flat footed ...
where's Jim and Dave?
DAISY: Ain't they playin' somewhere for de white folks?
LIGE: (To WALTER) Will you listen at dis gal, Walter? (To DAISY) When
I ain't been long seen you and Dave going down to de Lake.
DAISY: (Frightened) Don't y'all run tell mama where I been.
WALTER: Well, you tell us which one you laks de best and we'll wipe
our mouf (Gesture) and say nothin'. Dem boys been de best of friends
all they life, till both of 'em took after you ... then good-bye, Katy
bar de door!
DAISY: (Affected innocence) Ain't they still playin' and dancin'
together?
LIGE: Yeah, but that's 'bout all they do 'gree on these days. That's
de way it is wid men, young and old.... I don't keer how long they
been friends and how thick they been ... a woman kin come between 'em.
David and Jonather never would have been friends so long if Jonather
had of been any great hand wid de wimmen. You ain't never seen no two
roosters that likes one another.
DAISY: I ain't tried to break 'em up.
WALTER: Course you ain't. You don't have to. All two boys need to do
is to git stuck on de same girl and they done broke up ... _right
now_! Wimmen is something can't be divided equal.
(Re-enter JOE LINDSAY and CLARK with the groceries. DAISY jumps up and
grabs the packages.)
LIGE: (To DAISY) Want some of us ... me ... to go long and tote yo'
things for you?
DAISY: (Nervously) Naw, mama is riding her high horse today. Long as I
been gone it wouldn't do for me to come walking up wid nobody. (She
exits hurriedly right.)
(All the men watch her out of sight in silence.)
CLARK: (Sighing) I God, know whut Daisy puts me in de mind of?
HAMBO: No, what? (They all lean together.)
CLARK: I God, a great big mango ... a sweet smell, you know, Th a
strong flavor, but not something you could mash up like a strawberry.
Something with a body to it.
(General laughter, but not obscene.)
HAMBO: (Admiringly) Joe Clark! I didn't know you had it in you!
(MRS. CLARK enters from store door and they all straighten up
guiltily)
CLARK: (Angrily to his wife) Now whut do you want? I God, the minute I
set down, here you come....
MRS. CLARK: Somebody want a stamp, Jody. You know you don't 'low me to
bove wid de post office. (HE rises sullenly and goes inside the
store.)
BRAZZLE: Say, Hambo, I didn't see you at our Sunday School picnic.
HAMBO: (Slicing some plug-cut tobacco) Nope, wan't there dis time.
WALTER: Looka here, Hambo. Y'all Baptist carry dis close-communion
business too far. If a person ain't half drownded in de lake and half
et up by alligators, y'all think he ain't baptized, so you can't take
communion wid him. Now I reckon you can't even drink lemonade and eat
chicken perlow wid us.
HAMBO: My Lord, boy, youse just _full_ of words. Now, in de first
place, if this year's picnic was lak de one y'all had last year ...
you ain't had no lemonade for us Baptists to turn down. You had a big
ole barrel of rain water wid about a pound of sugar in it and one
lemon cut up over de top of it.
LIGE: Man, you sho kin mold 'em!
WALTER: Well, I went to de Baptist picnic wid my mouf all set to eat
chicken, when lo and behold y'all had chitlings! Do Jesus!
LINDSAY: Hold on there a minute. There was plenty chicken at dat
picnic, which I do know is right.
WALTER: Only chicken I seen was half a chicken yo' pastor musta tried
to swaller whole cause he was choked stiff as a board when I come
long ... wid de whole deacon's board beating him in de back, trying
to knock it out his throat.
LIGE: Say, dat puts me in de mind of a Baptist brother that was crazy
'bout de preachers and de preacher was crazy 'bout feeding his face.
So his son got tired of trying to beat dese stump-knockers to de grub
on the table, so one day he throwed out some slams 'bout dese
preachers. Dat made his old man mad, so he tole his son to git out.
He boy ast him "Where must I go, papa?" He says, "Go on to hell I
reckon ... I don't keer where you go."
So de boy left and was gone seven years. He come back one cold, windy
night and rapped on de door. "Who dat?" de old man ast him "It's me,
Jack." De old man opened de door, so glad to see his son agin, and
tole Jack to come in. He did and looked all round de place. Seven or
eight preachers was sitting round de fire eatin' and drinkin'.
"Where you been all dis time, Jack?" de old man ast him.
"I been to hell," Jack tole him.
"Tell us how it is down there, Jack."
"Well," he says, "It's just like it is here ... you cain't git to de
fire for de preachers."
HAMBO: Boy, you kin lie just like de cross-ties from Jacksonville to
Key West. De presidin' elder must come round on his circuit teaching
y'all how to tell 'em, cause you couldn't lie dat good just natural.
WALTER: Can't nobody beat Baptist folks lying ... and I ain't never
found out how come you think youse so important.
LINDSAY: Ain't we got de finest and de biggest church? Macedonia
Baptist will hold more folks than any two buildings in town.
LIGE: Thass right, y'all got a heap more church than you got members
to go in it.
HAMBO: Thass all right ... y'all ain't got neither de church nor de
members. Everything that's had in this town got to be held in our
church.
(Re-enter JOE CLARK.)
CLARK: What you-all talkin'?
HAMBO: Come on out, Tush Hawg, lemme beat you some checkers. I'm tired
of fending and proving wid dese boys ain't got no hair on they chest
yet.
CLARK: I God, you mean you gointer get beat. You can't handle me ...
I'm a tush hawg.
HAMBO: Well, I'm going to draw dem tushes right now. (To two small
boys using checker board on edge of porch.) Here you chilluns, let de
Mayor and me have that board. Go on out an' play an' give us grown
folks a little peace. (The children go down stage and call out:)
SMALL BOY: Hey, Senator. Hey, Marthy. Come on let's play chick-me,
chick-me, cranie-crow.
CHILD'S VOICE: (Off stage) All right! Come on, Jessie! (Enter several
children, led by SENATOR, and a game begins in front of the store as
JOE CLARK and HAMBO play checkers.)
JOE CLARK: I God! Hambo, you can't play no checkers.
HAMBO: (As they seat themselves at the check board) Aw, man, if you
wasn't de Mayor I'd beat you all de time.
(The children get louder and louder, drowning out the men's voices.)
SMALL GIRL: I'm gointer be de hen.
BOY: And I'm gointer be de hawk. Lemme git maself a stick to mark wid.
(The boy who is the hawk squats center stage with a short twig in his
hand. The largest girl lines up the other children behind her.)
GIRL: (Mother Hen) (Looking back over her flock): Y'all ketch holt of
one 'Nother's clothes so de hawk can't git yuh. (They do.) You all
straight now?
CHILDREN: Yeah. (The march around the hawk commences.)
HEN AND CHICKS:
Chick mah chick mah craney crow
Went to de well to wash ma toe
When I come back ma chick was gone
What time, ole witch?
HAWK: (Making a tally on the ground) One!
HEN AND CHICKS: (Repeat song and march.)
HAWK: (Scoring again) Two!
(Can be repeated any number of times.)
HAWK: Four. (He rises and imitates a hawk flying and trying to catch a
chicken. Calling in a high voice:) Chickee.
HEN: (Flapping wings to protect her young) My chickens sleep.
HAWK: Chickee. (During all this the hawk is feinting and darting in
his efforts to catch a chicken, and the chickens are dancing
defensively, the hen trying to protect them.)
HEN: My chicken's sleep.
HAWK: I shall have a chick.
HEN: You shan't have a chick.
HAWK: I'm goin' home. (Flies off)
HEN: Dere's de road.
HAWK: My pot's a boilin'.
HEN: Let it boil.
HAWK: My guts a growlin'.
HEN: Let 'em growl.
HAWK: I must have a chick.
HEN: You shan't have n'airn.
HAWK: My mama's sick.
HEN: Let her die.
HAWK: Chickie!
HEN: My chicken's sleep.
(HAWK darts quickly around the hen and grabs a chicken and leads him
off and places his captive on his knees at the store porch. After a
brief bit of dancing he catches another, then a third, etc.)
HAMBO: (At the checker board, his voice rising above the noise of the
playing children, slapping his sides jubilantly) Ha! Ha! I got you
now. Go ahead on and move, Joe Clark ... jus' go ahead on and move.
LOUNGERS: (Standing around two checker players) Ol' Deacon's got you
now.
ANOTHER VOICE: Don't see how he can beat the Mayor like that.
ANOTHER VOICE: Got him in the Louisville loop. (These remarks are
drowned by the laughter of the playing children directly in front of
the porch. MAYOR JOE CLARK disturbed in his concentration on the
checkers and peeved at being beaten suddenly turns toward the
children, throwing up his hands.)
CLARK: Get on 'way from here, you limbs of Satan, making all that
racket so a man can't hear his ears. Go on, go on!
(THE MAYOR looks about excitedly for the town marshall. Seeing him
playing cards on the other side of porch, he bellows:)
Lum Boger, whyn't you git these kids away from here! What kind of a
marshall is you? All this passle of young'uns around here under grown
people's feet, creatin' disorder in front of my store.
(LUM BOGER puts his cards down lazily, comes down stage and scatters
the children away. One saucy little girl refuses to move.)
LUM BOGER: Why'nt you go on away from here, Matilda? Didn't you hear
me tell you-all to move?
LITTLE MATILDA: (Defiantly) I ain't goin' nowhere. You ain't none of
my mama. (Jerking herself free from him as LUM touches her.) My mama
in the store and she told me to wait out here. So take that, ol' Lum.
LUM BOGER: You impudent little huzzy, you! You must smell yourself ...
youse so fresh.
MATILDA: The wind musta changed and you smell your own top lip.
LUM BOGER: Don't make me have to grab you and take you down a
buttonhole lower.
MATILDA: (Switching her little head) Go ahead on and grab me. You sho
can't kill me, and if you kill me, you sho can't eat me. (She marches
into the store.)
SENATOR: (Derisively from behind stump) Ol' dumb Lum! Hey! Hey!
(LITTLE BOY at edge of stage thumbs his nose at the marshall.)
(LUM lumbers after the small boy. Both exit.)
HAMBO: (To CLARK who has been thinking all this while what move to
make) You ain't got but one move ... go ahead on and make it. What's
de matter, Mayor?
CLARK: (Moving his checker) Aw, here.
HAMBO: (Triumphant) Now! Look at him, boys. I'm gonna laugh in notes.
(Laughing to the scale and jumping a checker each time) Do, sol, fa,
me, lo ... one! (Jumping another checker) La, sol, fa, me, do ... two!
(Another jump.) Do sol, re, me, lo ... three! (Jumping a third.) Lo
sol, fa, me, re ... four! (The crowd begins to roar with laughter. LUM
BOGER returns, looking on. Children come drifting back again playing
chick-me-chick-me-cranie crow.)
VOICE: Oh, ha! Done got the ol' tush hog.
ANOTHER VOICE: Thought you couldn't be beat, Brother Mayor?
CLARK: (Peeved, gets up and goes into the store mumbling) Oh, I coulda
beat you if I didn't have this store on my mind. Saturday afternoon
and I got work to do. Lum, ain't I told you to keep them kids from
playin' right in front of this store?
(LUM makes a pass at the nearest half-grown boy. The kids dart around
him teasingly.)
ANOTHER VOICE: Eh, heh.... Hambo done run him on his store ... done
run the ol' coon in his hole.
ANOTHER VOICE: That ain't good politics, Hambo, beatin' the Mayor.
ANOTHER VOICE: Well, Hambo, you don't got to be so hard at checkers,
come on let's see what you can do with de cards. Lum Boger there got
his hands full nursin' the chilluns.
ANOTHER VOICE: (At the table) We ain't playin' for money, nohow,
Deacon. We just playin' a little Florida Flip.
HAMBO: Ya all can't play no Florida Flip. When I was a sinner there
wasn't a man in this state could beat me playin' that game. But I'm a
deacon in Macedonia Baptist now and I don't bother with the cards no
more.
VOICE AT CARD TABLE: All right, then, come on here Tony (To man with
basket on steps.) let me catch your jack.
TAYLOR: (Looking toward door) I don't reckon I got time. I guess my
wife gonna get through buying out that store some time or other and
want to go home.
OLD MAN: (On opposite side of porch from card game) I bet my wife
would know better than expect me to sit around and wait for her with a
basket. Whyn't you tell her to tote it on home herself?
TAYLOR: (Sighing and shaking his head.) Eh, Lawd!
VOICE AT CARD TABLE: Look like we can't get nobody to come into this
game. Seem like everybody's scared a us. Come on back here, Lum, and
take your hand. (LUM makes a final futile gesture at the children.)
LUM: Ain't I tole you little haitians to stay away from here?
(CHILDREN scatter teasingly only to return to their play in front of
the store later on. LUM comes up on the porch and re-joins the card
game. Just as he gets seated, MRS. CLARK comes to the door of the
store and calls him.)
MRS. CLARK: (Drawlingly) Columbus!
LUM: (Wearily) Ma'am?
MRS. CLARK: De Mayor say for you to go round in de back yard and tie
up old lady Jackson's mule what's trampin' aup all de tomatoes in my
garden.
LUM: All right. (Leaving card game.) Wait till I come back, folkses.
LIGE: Oh, hum! (Yawning and putting down the deck of cards) Lum's sho
a busy marshall. Say, ain't Dave and Jim been round here yet? I feel
kinder like hearin' a little music 'bout now.
BOY: Naw, they ain't been here today. You-all know they ain't so thick
nohow as they was since Daisy Bailey come back and they started
runnin' after her.
WOMAN: You mean since she started runnin' after them, the young hussy.
MRS. CLARK: (In doorway) She don't mean 'em no good.
WALTER: That's a shame, ain't it now? (Enter LUM from around back of
store. He jumps on the porch and takes his place at the card box.)
LUM: (To the waiting players) All right, boys! Turn it on and let the
bad luck happen.
LIGE: My deal. (He begins shuffling the cards with an elaborate
fan-shape movement.)
VOICE AT TABLE: Look out there, Lige, you shuffling mighty lot. Don't
carry the cub to us.
LIGE: Aw, we ain't gonna cheat you ... we gonna beat you. (He slams
down the cards for LUM BOGER to cut.) Wanta cut 'em?
LUM: No, ain't no need of cutting a rabbit out when you can twist him
out. Deal 'em. (LIGE deals out the cards.)
CLARK'S VOICE: (Inside the store) You, Mattie! (MRS. CLARK, who has
been standing in the DOE, quickly turns and goes inside.)
LIGE: Y-e-e-e! Spades! (The game is started.)
LUM: Didn't snatch that jack, did you?
LIGE: Aw, no, ain't snatched no jack. Play.
WALTER: (LUM'S partner) Well, here it is, partner. What you want me to
play for you?
LUM: Play jus' like I'm in New York, partner. But we gotta try to
catch that jack.
LIGE: (Threateningly) Stick out your hand and draw back a nub.
(WALTER THOMAS plays.)
WALTER: I'm playin' a diamond for you, partner.
LUM: I done tole you you ain't got no partner.
LIGE: Heh, Heh! Partner, we got 'em. Pull off wid your king. Dey got
to play 'em. (When that trick is turned, triumphantly:) Didn't I tell
you, partner? (Stands on his feet and slams down with his ace
violently) Now, come up under this ace. Aw, hah, look at ol' low,
partner. I knew I was gonna catch 'em. (When LUM plays) Ho, ho, there
goes the queen.... Now, the jack's a gentleman.... Now, I'm playin' my
knots. (Everybody plays and the hand is ended.) Partner, high, low,
jack and the game and four.
WALTER: Give me them cards. I believe you-all done give me the cub
that time. Look at me ... this is Booker T Washington dealing these
cards. (Shuffles cards grandly and gives them to LIGE to cut.) Wanta
cut 'em?
LIGE: Yeah, cut 'em and shoot 'em. I'd cut behind my ma. (He cuts the
cards.)
WALTER: (Turning to player at left, FRANK, LIGE'S partner) What you
saying, Frank?
FRANK: I'm beggin'. (LIGE is trying to peep at cards.)
WALTER: (Turning to LIGE) Stop peepin' at them cards, Lige. (To FRANK)
Did you say you was beggin' or standin'?
FRANK: I'm beggin'.
WALTER: Get up off your knees. Go ahead and tell 'em I sent you.
FRANK: Well, that makes us four.
WALTER: I don't care if you is. (Pulls a quarter out of his pocket and
lays it down on the box.) Twenty-five cents says I know the best one.
Let's go. (Everybody puts down a quarter.)
FRANK: What you want me to play for you partner?
LIGE: Play me a club. (The play goes around to dealer, WALTER, who
gets up and takes the card off the top of the deck and slams it down
on the table.)
WALTER: Get up ol' deuce of deamonds and gallop off with your load.
(TO LUM) Partner, how many times you seen the deck?
LUM: Two times.
WALTER: Well, then I'm gonna pull off, partner. Watch this ol' queen.
(Everyone plays) Ha! Ha! Wash day and no soap. (Takes the jack of
diamonds and sticks him up on his forehead. Stands up on his feet.)
Partner, I'm dumping to you ... play your king. (When it comes to his
play LUM, too, stands up. The others get up and they, too, excitedly
slam their cards down.) Now, come on in this kitchen and let me splice
that cabbage! (He slams down the ace of diamonds. Pats the jack on his
for head, sings:) Hey, hey, back up, jenny, get your load. (Talking)
Dump to that jack, boys, dump to it. High, low, jack and the game and
four. One to go. We're four wid you, boys.
LIGE: Yeah, but you-all playin' catch-up.
FRANK: Gimme them cards ... lemme deal some.
LIGE: Frank, now you really got responsibility on you. They's got one
game on us.
FRANK: Aw, man, I'm gonna deal 'em up a mess. This deal's in the White
House. (He shuffles and puts the cards down for WALTER to cut.) Cut
'em.
WALTER: Nope, I never cut green timber. (FRANK deals and turns the
card up.)
FRANK: Hearts, boys. (He turns up an ace.)
LUM: Aw, you snatched that ace, nigger.
WALTER: Yeah, they done carried the cub to us, partner.
LIGE: Oh, he didn't do no such a thing. That ace was turned fair. We
jus' too hard for you ... we eats our dinner out a the blacksmith
shop.
WALTER: Aw, you all cheatin'. You know it wasn't fair.
FRANK: Aw, shut up, you all jus' whoopin' and hollerin' for nothin'.
Tryin' to bully the game. (FRANK and LIGE rise and shake hands
grandly.)
LIGE: Mr. Hoover, you sho is a noble president. We done stuck these
niggers full of cobs. They done got scared to play us.
LIGE (?) Scared to play you? Get back down to this table, let me
spread my mess.
LOUNGER: Yonder comes Elder Simms. You all better squat that rabbit.
They'll be having you all up in the church for playin' cards.
(FRANK grabs up the cards and puts them in his pocket quickly.
Everybody picks up the money and looks unconcerned as the preacher
enters. Enter ELDER SIMMS with his two prim-looking little children by
the hand.)
ELDER SIMMS: How do, children. Right warm for this time in November,
ain't it?
VOICE: Yes sir, Reverend, sho is. How's Sister Simms?
SIMMS: She's feelin' kinda po'ly today. (Goes on in store with his
children)
VOICE: (Whispering loudly) Don't see how that great big ole powerful
woman could be sick. Look like she could go bear huntin' with her
fist.
ANOTHER VOICE: She look jus' as good as you-all's Baptist pastor's
wife. Pshaw, you ain't seen no big woman, nohow, man. I seen one once
so big she went to whip her little boy and he run up under her belly
and hid six months 'fore she could find him.
ANOTHER VOICE: Well, I knowed a woman so little that she had to get up
on a soap box to look over a grain of sand.
(REV. SIMMS comes out of store, each child behind him sucking a stick
of candy.)
SIMMS: (To his children) Run on home to your mother and don't get
dirty on the way. (The two children start primly off down the street
but just out of sight one of them utters a loud cry.)
SIMMS'S CHILD: (Off stage) Papa, papa. Nunkie's trying to lick my
candy.
SIMMS: I told you to go on and leave them other children alone.
VOICE ON PORCH: (Kidding) Lum, whyn't you tend to your business.
(TOWN MARSHALL rises and shoos the children off again.)
LUM: You all varmints leave them nice chillun alone.
LIGE: (Continuing the lying on porch) Well, you all done seen so much,
but I bet you ain't never seen a snake as big as the one I saw when I
was a boy up in middle Georgia. He was so big couldn't hardly move his
self. He laid in one spot so long he growed moss on him and everybody
thought he was a log, till one day I set down on him and went to
sleep, and when I woke up that snake done crawled to Florida. (Loud
laughter.)
FRANK: (Seriously) Layin' all jokes aside though now, you all remember
that rattlesnake I killed last year was almost as big as that Georgia
snake.
VOICE: How big, you say it was, Frank?
FRANK: Maybe not quite as big as that, but jus' about fourteen feet.
VOICE: (Derisively) Gimme that lyin' snake. That snake wasn't but four
foot long when you killed him last year and you done growed him ten
feet in a year.
ANOTHER VOICE: Well, I don't know about that. Some of the snakes
around here is powerful long. I went out in my front yard yesterday
right after the rain and killed a great big ol' cottonmouth.
SIMMS: This sho is a snake town. I certainly can't raise no chickens
for 'em. They kill my little biddies jus' as fast as they hatch out.
And yes ... if I hadn't cut them weeds out of the street in front of
my parsonage, me or some of my folks woulda been snake-bit right at
our front door. (To whole crowd) Whyn't you all cut down these weeds
and clean up these streets?
HAMBO: Well, the Mayor ain't said nothin' 'bout it.
SIMMS: When the folks misbehaves in this town I think they oughta lock
'em up in a jail and make 'em work their fine out on the streets, then
these weeds would be cut down.
VOICE: How we gonna do that when we ain't got no jail?
SIMMS: Well, you sho needs a jail ... you-all needs a whole lot of
improvements round this town. I ain't never pastored no town so
way-back as this one here.
CLARK: (Who has lately emerged from the store, fanning himself,
overhears this last remark and bristles up) What's that you say 'bout
this town?
SIMMS: I say we needs some improvements here in this town ... that's
what.
CLARK: (In a powerful voice) And what improvements you figgers we
needs?
SIMMS: A whole heap. Now, for one thing we really does need a jail,
Mayor. We oughta stop runnin' these people out of town that
misbehaves, and lock 'em up. Others towns has jails, everytown I ever
pastored had a jail. Don't see how come we can't have one.
CLARK: (Towering angrily above the preacher) Now, wait a minute,
Simms. Don't you reckon the man who knows how to start a town knows
how to run it? I paid two hundred dollars out of this right hand for
this land and walked out here and started this town befo' you was
born. I ain't like some of you new niggers, come here when grapes'
ripe. I was here to cut new ground, and I been Mayor ever since.
SIMMS: Well, there ain't no sense in no one man stayin' Mayor all the
time.
CLARK: Well, it's my town and I can be mayor jus' as long as I want
to. It was me that put this town on the map.
SIMMS: What map you put it on, Joe Clark? I ain't seen it on no map.
CLARK: (Indignant) I God! Listen here, Elder Simms. If you don't like
the way I run this town, just' take your flat feets right on out and
git yonder crost the woods. You ain't been here long enough to say
nothin' nohow.
HAMBO: (From a nail keg) Yeah, you Methodist niggers always telling
people how to run things.
TAYLOR: (Practically unheard by the others) We do so know how to run
things, don't we? Ain't Brother Mayor a Methodist, and ain't the
school-teacher a ...? (His remarks are drowned out by the others.)
SIMMS: No, we don't like the way you're runnin' things. Now looka
here, (Pointing at the Marshall) You got that lazy Lum Boger here for
marshall and he ain't old enough to be dry behind his ears yet ... and
all these able-bodied means in this town! You won't 'low nobody else
to run a store 'ceptin' you. And looka yonder (happening to notice the
street light) only street lamp in town, you got in front of your
place. (Indignantly) We pay the taxes and you got the lamp.
VILLAGER: Don't you-all fuss now. How come you two always yam-yamming
at each other?
CLARK: How come this fly-by-night Methodist preacher over here ...
ain't been here three months ... tries to stand up on my store porch
and tries to tell me how to run my town? (MATTIE CLARK, the Mayor's
wife, comes timidly to the door, wiping her hands on her apron.) Ain't
no man gonna tell me how to run my town. I God, I 'lected myself in
and I'm gonna run it. (Turns and sees wife standing in door.
Commandingly.) I God, Mattie, git on back in there and wait on that
store!
MATTIE: (Timidly) Jody, somebody else wantin' stamps.
CLARK: I God, woman, what good is you? Gwan, git in. Look like between
women and preachers a man can't have no peace. (Exit CLARK.)
SIMMS: (Continuing his argument) Now, when I pastored in Jacksonville
you oughta see what kinda jails they got there....
LOUNGER: White folks needs jails. We colored folks don't need no jail.
ANOTHER VILLAGER: Yes, we do, too. Elder Simms is right....
(The argument becomes a hubbub of voices.)
TAYLOR: (Putting down his basket) Now, I tell you a jail....
MRS. TAYLOR: (Emerging from the store door, arms full of groceries,
looking at her husband) Yeah, and if you don't shut up and git these
rations home I'm gonna be worse on you than a jail and six judges.
Pickup that basket and let's go. (TONY meekly picks up the basket and
he and his wife exit as the sound of an approaching guitar is heard
off stage.)
(Two carelessly dressed, happy-go-lucky fellows enter together. One is
fingering a guitar without playing any particular tune, and the other
has his hat cocked over his eyes in a burlesque, dude-like manner.
There are casual greetings.)
WALTER: Hey, there, bums, how's tricks?
LIGE: What yo' sayin', boys?
HAMBO: Good evenin' sons.
LIGE: How did you-all make out this evenin', boys?
JIM: Oh, them white folks at the party shelled out right well. Kept
Dave busy pickin' it up. How much did we make today, Dave?
DAVE: (Striking his pocket) I don't know, boy, but feels right heavy
here. Kept me pickin' up money just like this.... (As JIM picks a few
dance chords, Dave gives a dance imitation of how he picked up the
coins from the ground as the white folks threw them.) We count it
after while. Woulda divided up with you already if you hadn't left me
when you seen Daisy comin' by. Let's sit down on the porch and rest
now.
LIGE: She sho is lookin' stylish and pretty since she come back with
her white folks from up North. Wearin' the swellest clothes. And that
coal-black hair of hers jus' won't quit.
MATTIE CLARK: (In doorway) I don't see what the mens always hanging
after Daisy Taylor for.
CLARK: (Turning around on the porch) I God, you back here again. Who's
tendin' that store? (MATTIE disappears inside.)
DAVE: Well, she always did look like new money to me when she was here
before.
JIM: Well, that's all you ever did get was a look.
DAVE: That's all you know! I bet I get more than that now.
JIM: You might git it but I'm the man to use it. I'm a bottom fish.
DAVE: Aw, man. You musta been walking round here fast asleep when
Daisy was in this county last. You ain't seen de go I had with her.
JIM: No, I ain't seen it. Bet you didn't have no letter from her while
she been away.
DAVE: Bet you didn't neither.
JIM: Well, it's just cause she can't write. If she knew how to scratch
with a pencil I'd had a ton of 'em.
DAVE: Shaw, man! I'd had a post office full of 'em.
OLD WOMAN: You-all ought to be shame, carrying on over a brazen heifer
like Daisy Taylor. Jus' cause she's been up North and come back, I
reckon you cutting de fool sho 'nough now. She ain't studying none of
you-all nohow. All she wants is what you got in your pocket.
JIM: I likes her but she won't git nothin' outa me. She never did. I
wouldn't give a poor consumpted cripple crab a crutch to cross the
River Jurdon.
DAVE: I know I ain't gonna give no woman nothin'. I wouldn't give a
dog a doughnut if he treed a terrapin.
LIGE: Youse a cottontail dispute ... both of you. You'd give her
anything you got. You'd give her Georgia with a fence 'round it.
OLD MAN: Yeah, and she'd take it, too.
LINDSAY: Don't distriminate the woman like that. That ain't nothing
but hogism. Ain't nothin' the matter with Daisy, she's all right.
(Enter TEETS and BOOTSIE tittering coyly and switching themselves.)
BOOTSIE: Is you seen my mama?
OLD WOMAN: You know you ain't lookin' for no mama. Jus' come back down
here to show your shape and fan around awhile. (BOOTSIE and TEETS
going into the store.)
BOOTSIE & TEETS: No, we ain't. We'se come to get our mail.
OLD WOMAN: (After girls enter store) Why don't you all keep up some
attention to these nice girls here, Bootsie and Teets. They wants to
marry.
DAVE: Aw, who thinkin' 'bout marryin' now? They better stay home and
eat their own pa's rations. I gotta buy myself some shoes.
JIM: The woman I'm gonna marry ain't born yet and her maw is dead.
(GIRLS come out giggling and exit.) (JIM begins to strum his guitar
lightly at first as the talk goes on.)
CLARK: (To DAVE and JIM) Two of the finest gals that ever lived and
friendly jus' like you-all is. You two boys better take 'em back and
stop them shiftless ways.
HAMBO: Yeah, hurry up and do somethin'! I wants to taste a piece yo'
weddin' cake.
JIM: (Embarrassed but trying to be jocular) Whut you trying to rush
me up so fast?... Look at Will Cody here (Pointing to little man on
porch) he been promising to bring his already wife down for two
months ... and nair one of us ain't seen her yet.
DAVE: Yeah, how you speck me to haul in a brand new wife when he can't
lead a wagon-broke wife eighteen miles? Me, I'm going git one soon's
Cody show me his'n. (General sly laughter at CODY'S expense.)
WALTER: (Snaps his fingers and pretends to remember something) Thass
right, Cody. I been intending to tell you.... I know where you kin buy
a ready-built house for you and yo' wife. (Calls into the store.) Hey,
Clark, cime on out here and tell Cody 'bout dat Bradley house. (To
CODY.) I know you wants to git a place of yo' own so you kin settle
down.
HAMBO: He done moved so much since he been here till every time he
walk out in his back yeard his chickens lay down and cross they legs.
LINDSAY: Cody, I thought you tole us you was going up to Sanford to
bring dat 'oman down here last Sat'day.
LIGE: That ain't de way he tole me 'bout it. Look, fellers, (Getting
up and putting one hand on his hips and one finger of the other hand
against his chin coquettishly) Where you reckon I'll be next Sat'day
night?... Sittin' up side of Miz Cody. (Great burst of laughter.)
SYKES JONES: (Laughing) Know what de folks tole me in Sanford? Dat was
another man's wife. (Guffaws.)
CODY: (Feebly) Aw, you don't know whut you talkin' bout.
JONES: Naw, I don't know, but de folks in Sanford does. (Laughing) Dey
tell me when dat lady's husband come home Sat'day night, ole Cody
jumped out de window. De man grabbed his old repeater and run out in
de yard to head him off. When Cody seen him come round de corner de
house (Gesture) he flopped his wings and flew up on de fence. De man
thowed dat shotgun dead on him. (Laughs) Den, man! Cody flopped his
wings lak a buzzard (Gesture) and sailed on off. De man dropped to his
knees lak dis (Gesture of kneeling on one knee and taking aim) Die!
die! die! (Supposedly sound of shots as the gun is moved in a circle
following the course of Cody's supposed flight) Cody just flew right
on off and lit on a hill two miles off. Then, man! (Gesture of swift
flight) In ten minutes he was back here in Eatonville and in he bed.
WALTER: I passed there and seen his house shakin', but I didn't know
how come.
HAMBO: Aw, leave de boy alone.... If you don't look out some of y'all
going to have to break his record.
LIGE: I'm prepared to break it now. (General laughter.)
JIM: Well, anyhow, I don't want to marry and leave Dave ... yet
awhile. (Picking a chord.)
DAVE: And I ain't gonna leave Jim. We been palling around together
ever since we hollered titty mama, ain't we, boy?
JIM: Sho is. (Music of the guitar increases in volume. DAVE shuffles a
few steps and the two begin to sing.)
JIM:
Rabbit on the log.
I ain't got no dog.
How am I gonna git him?
God knows.
DAVE:
Rabbit on the log.
Ain't got no dog.
Shoot him with my rifle
Bam! Bam!
(Some of the villagers join in song and others get up and march around
the porch in time with the music. BOOTSIE and TEETS re-enter, TEETS
sticking her letter down the neck of her blouse. JOE LINDSAY grabs
TEETS and WALTER THOMAS grabs BOOTSIE. There is dancing, treating and
general jollification. Little children dance the parse-me-la. The
music fills the air just as the sun begins to go down. Enter DAISY
TAYLOR coming down the road toward the store.)
CLARK: (Bawls out from the store porch) I God, there's Daisy again.
(Most of the dancing stops, the music slows down and then stops
completely. DAVE and JIM greet DAISY casually as she approaches the
porch.)
JIM: Well, Daisy, we knows you, too.
DAVE: Gal, youse jus' as pretty as a speckled pup.
DAISY: (Giggling) I see you two boys always playin' and singin'
together. That music sounded right good floating down the road.
JIM: Yeah, child, we'se been playin' for the white folks all week.
We'se playin' for the colored now.
DAVE: (Showing off, twirling his dancing feet) Yeah, we're standin' on
our abstract and livin' on our income.
OLD MAN: Um-ump, but they ain't never workin'. Just round here playing
as usual.
JIM: Some folks think you ain't workin' lessen you smellin' a mule.
(He sits back down on box and picks at his guitar.) Think you gotta
be beatin' a man to his barn every mornin'.
VOICE: Glad to be round home with we-all again, ain't you Daisy?
DAISY: Is I glad? I jus' got off special early this evenin' to come
over here and see everybody. I was kinda 'fraid sundown would catch me
'fore I got round that lake. Don't know how I'm gonna walk back to my
workin' place in the dark by muself.
DAVE: Don't no girl as good-lookin' as you is have to go home by
herself tonight.
JIM: No, cause I'm here.
DAVE: (To DAISY) Don't you trust yourself round that like wid all them
'gators and moccasins with that nigger there, Daisy (Pointing at JIM)
He's jus' full of rabbit blood. What you need is a real man ... with
good feet. (Cutting a dance step.)
DAISY: I ain't thinking 'bout goin' home yet. I'm goin' in the store.
JIM: What you want in the store?
DAISY: I want some gum.
DAVE: (Starting toward door) Girl, you don't have to go in there to
git no gum. I'll go in there and buy you a carload of gum. What kind
you want?
DAISY: Bubble gum. (DAVE goes in the store with his hand in his
pocket. The sun is setting and the twilight deepens.)
JIM: (Pulling package out of his pocket and laughing) Here your gum,
baby. What it takes to please the ladies, I totes it. I don't have to
go get it, like Dave. What you gimme for it?
DAISY: A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck. (She embraces
JIM playfully. He hands her the gum, patting his shoulder as he sits
on box.) Oh, thank you. Youse a ready man.
JIM: Yeah, there's a lot of good parts to me. You can have West Tampa
if you want it.
DAISY: You always was a nice quiet boy, Jim.
DAVE: (Emerging from the store with a package of gum) Here's your gum,
Daisy.
JIM: Oh, youse late. She's done got gum now. Chaw that yourself.
DAVE: (Slightly peeved and surprised) Hunh, you mighty fast here now
with Daisy but you wasn't that fast gettin' out of that white man's
chicken house last week.
JIM: Who you talkin' 'bout?
DAVE: Hoo-oo? (Facetiously) You ain't no owl. Your feet don't fit no
limb.
JIM: Aw, nigger, hush.
DAVE: Aw, hush, yourself. (He walks away for a minute as DAISY turns
to meet some newcomers. DAVE throws his package of gum down on the
ground. It breaks and several children scramble for the pieces. An old
man, very drunk, carrying an empty jug enters on left and staggers
tipsily across stage.) (MAYOR JOE CLARK emerges from the store and
looks about for his marshall.)
CLARK: (Bellowing) Lum Boger!
LUM BOGER: (Eating a stalk of cane) Yessir!
CLARK: I God, Lum, take your lazy self off that keg and go light that
town lamp. All summer long you eatin' up my melon, and all winter long
you chawin' up my cane. What you think this town is payin' you for?
Laying round here doin' nothin'? Can't you see it's gettin' dark?
(LUM BOGER rises lazily and takes the soap box down stage, stands on
it to light the lamp, discovers no oil in it and goes in store. In a
few moments he comes out of store, fills the lamp and lights it.)
DAISY: (Coming back toward JIM) Ain't you all gonna play and sing a
little somethin' for me? I ain't heard your all's music much for so
long.
JIM: Play anything you want, Daisy. Don't make no difference what 'tis
I can pick it. Where's that old coon, Dave? (Looking around for his
partner.)
LIGE: (Calling Dave, who is leaning against post at opposite end of
porch) Come here, an' get warmed up for Daisy.
DAVE: Aw, ma throat's tired.
JIM: Leave the baby be.
DAISY: Come on, sing a little, Dave.
DAVE: (Going back toward Jim) Well, seeing who's asking ... all right.
What song yo like, Daisy?
DAISY: Um-m. Lemme think.
VOICE ON PORCH: "Got on the train, didn't have no fare".
DAISY: (Gaily) Yes, that one. That's a good one.
JIM: (Begins to tune up. DAVE touches Daisy's hand.)
VOICE: (In fun) Hunh, you all wouldn't play at the hall last week when
we asked you.
VOICE OF SPITEFUL OLD WOMAN: Daisy wasn't here then.
ANOTHER VOICE: (Teasingly) All you got to do to some men is to shake a
skirt tail in their face and they goes off their head.
DAVE: (To JIM who is still tuning up) Come if you're comin' boy, let's
go if you gwine. (The full melody of the guitar comes out in a lively,
old-fashioned tune.)
VOICE: All right now, boys, do it for Daisy jus' as good as you do for
dem white folks over in Maitland.
DAVE & JIM: (Beginning to sing)
Got on the train,
Didn't have no fare,
But I rode some,
I rode some.
Got on the train,
Didn't have no fare,
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
Got on the train,
Didn't have no fare,
Conductor asked me what I'm doin' there,
But I rode some!
Grabbed me by the neck
And led me to the door.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
Grabbed me by the neck
And led me to the door.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
Grabbed me by the neck,
And led me to the door.
Rapped me cross the head with a forty-four,
But I rode some.
First thing I saw in jail
Was a pot of peas.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
First thing I saw in jail
Was a pot of peas.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
The peas was good,
The meat was fat,
Fell in love with the chain gang jus' for that,
But I rode some.
(DAVE acts out the song in dancing pantomime and when it ends there
are shouts and general exclamations of approval from the crowd.)
VOICES: I don't blame them white folks for goin' crazy 'bout that....
OLD MAN: Oh, when I was a young boy I used to swing the gals round on
that piece.
DAISY: (TO JIM) Seem like your playin' gits better and better.
DAVE: (Quickly) And how 'bout my singin'? (Everybody laughs.)
VOICES IN THE CROWD: Ha! Ha! Ol' Dave's gittin' jealous when she
speaks o' Jim.
JIM: (To DAVE, in fun) Ain't nothin' to it but my playin'. You ain't
got no singin' voice. If that's singin', God's a gopher.
DAVE: (Half-seriously) My singin' is a whole lot better'n your
playin'. You jus' go along and fram. The reason why the white folks
gives us money is cause I'm singin'.
JIM: Yeah?
DAVE: And you can't dance.
VOICE IN THE CROWD: You oughta dance. Big as your feet is, Dave.
DAISY: (Diplomatically) Both of you all is wonderful and I would like
to see Dave dance a little.
DAVE: There now, I told you. What did I tell you. (To JIM) Stop
woofing and pick a little tune there so that I can show Daisy
somethin'.
JIM: Pick a tune? I bet if you fool with me I'll pick your bones jus'
like a buzzard did the rabbit. You can't sing and now you wants to
dance.
DAVE: Yeah, and I'll lam your head. Come on and play,
good-for-nothing.
JIM: All right, then. You say you can dance ... show these people what
you can do. But don't bring that little stuff I been seein' you doin'
all these years. (JIM plays and DAVE dances, various members of the
crowd keep time with their hands and feet, DAISY looks on enjoying
herself immensely.)
DAISY: (As DAVE cuts a very fancy step) I ain't seen nothin' like this
up North. Dave you sho hot.
(As DAVE cuts a more complicated step the crowd applauds, but just as
the show begins to get good, suddenly JIM stops playing.)
DAVE: (Surprised) What's the matter, buddy?
JIM: (Envious of the attention DAVE has been getting from DAISY,
disgustedly) Oh, nigger, I'm tired of seein' you cut the fool. 'Sides
that, I been playin' all afternoon for the white folks.
DAISY: But I though you was playin' for me now, Jim.
JIM: Yeah, I'd play all night long for you, but I'm gettin' sick of
Dave round here showin' off. Let him git somethin' and play for
himself if he can. (An OLD MAN with a lighted lantern enters.)
DAISY: (Coyly) Well, honey, play some more for me, then, and don't
mind Dave. I reckon he done danced enough. Play me "Shake That
Thing".
OLD MAN WITH LANTERN: Sho, you ain't stopped, is you, boy? Music sound
mighty good floatin' down that dark road.
OLD WOMAN: Yeah, Jim, go on play a little more. Don't get to acting so
niggerish this evening.
DAVE: Aw, let the ol' darky alone. Nobody don't want to hear him play,
nohow. I know I don't.
JIM: Well, I'm gonna play. (And he begins to pick "Shake That Thing".
TEETS and BOOTSIE begin to dance with LIGE MOSELY and FRANK WARRICK.
As the tune gets good, DAVE cannot resist the music either.)
DAVE: Old nigger's eveil but he sho can play. (He begins to do a few
steps by himself, then twirls around in front of DAISY and approaches
her. DAISY, overcome by the music, begins to step rhythmically toward
DAVE and together they dance unobserved by JIM, absorbed in picking
his guitar.)
DAISY: Look here, baby, at this new step I learned up North.
DAVE: You can show me anything, sugar lump.
DAISY: Hold me tight now. (But just as they begin the new movement JIM
notices DAISY and DAVE. He stops playing again and lays his guitar
down.)
VOICES IN THE CROWD: (Disgustedly) Aw, come on, Jim.... You must be
jealous....
JIM: No, I ain't jealous. I jus' get tired of seein' that ol' nigger
clownin' all the time.
DAVE: (Laughing and pointing to JIM on porch) Look at that mad baby.
Take that lip up off the ground. Got your mouth stuck out jus' because
some one is enjoying themselves. (He comes up and pushes JIM
playfully.)
JIM: You better go head and let me alone. (TO DAISY) Come here,
Daisy!
LIGE: That's just what I say. Niggers can't have no fun without
someone getting mad ... specially over a woman.
JIM: I ain't mad.... Daisy, 'scuse me, honey, but that fool, Dave....
DAVE: I ain't mad neither.... Jim always tryin' to throw off on me.
But you can't joke him.
DAISY: (Soothingly) Aw, now, now!
JIM: You ain't jokin'. You means that, nigger. And if you tryin' to
get hot, first thing, you can pull of my blue shirt you put on this
morning.
DAVE: Youse a got that wrong. I ain't got on no shirt of yours.
JIM: Yes, you is got on my shirt, too. Don't tell me you ain't got on
my shirt.
DAVE: Well, even if I is, you can just lift your big plantations out
of my shoes. You can just foot it home barefooted.
JIM: You try to take any shoes offa me!
LIGE: (Pacifying them) Aw, there ain't no use of all that. What you
all want to start this quarreling for over a little jokin'.
JIM: Nobody's quarreling.... I'm just playin' a little for Daisy and
Dave's out there clownin' with her.
CLARK: (In doorway) I ain't gonna have no fussin' round my store, no
way. Shut up, you all.
JIM: Well, Mayor Clark, I ain't mad with him. We'se been friends all
our lives. He's slept in my bed and wore my clothes and et my grub....
DAVE: I et your grub? And many time as you done laid down with your
belly full of my grandma's collard greens. You done et my meat and
bread a whole lot more times than I et your stewed fish-heads.
JIM: I'd rather eat stewed fish-heads than steal out of other folkses
houses so much till you went to sleep on the roost and fell down one
night and broke up the settin' hen. (Loud laughter from the crowd)
DAVE: Youse a liar if you say I stole anybody's chickens. I didn't
have to. But you ... 'fore you started goin' around with me, playin'
that little box of yours, you was so hungry you had the white mouth.
If it wasn't for these white folks throwin' _me_ money for _my_
dancin', you would be thin as a whisper right now.
JIM: (Laughing sarcastically) Your dancin'! You been leapin' around
here like a tailless monkey in a wash pot for a long time and nobody
was payin' no 'tention to you, till I come along playing.
LINDSAY: Boys, boys, that ain't no way for friends to carry on.
DAISY: Well, if you all gonna keep up this quarrelin' and carryin' on
I'm goin' home. 'Bout time for me to be gittin' back to my white folks
anyhow. It's dark now. I'm goin', even if I have to go by myself. I
shouldn't a stopped by here nohow.
JIM: (Stopping his quarrel) You ain't gonna go home by yourself. I'm
goin' with you.
DAVE: (Singing softly)
It may be so,
I don't know.
But it sounds to me
Like a lie.
WALTER: Dave ain't' got as much rabbit blood as folks thought.
DAVE: Tell 'em 'bout me. (Turns to DAISY) Won't you choose a treat on
me, Miss Daisy, 'fore we go?
DAISY: (Coyly) Yessir, thank you. I wants a drink of soda water.
(DAVE pulls his hat down over his eyes, whirls around and offers his
arm to DAISY. They strut into the store, DAVE gazing contemptuously at
JIM as he passes. Crowd roars with laughter, much to the embarrassment
of JIM.)
LIGE: Ol' fast Dave jus' runnin' the hog right over you, Jim.
WALTER: Thought you was such a hot man.
LUM BOGER: Want me to go in there and put Daisy under arrest and bring
her to you?
JIM: (Sitting down on the edge of porch with one foot on the step and
lights a cigarette pretending not to be bothered.) Aw, I'll get her
when I want her. Let him treat her, but see who struts around that
lake and down the railroad with her by and by.
(DAVE and DAISY emerge from the store, each holding a bottle of red
soda pop and laughing together. As they start down the steps DAVE
accidentally steps on JIM's outstretched foot. JIM jumps up and pushes
DAVE back, causing him to spill the red soda all over his white shirt
front.)
JIM: Stay off my foot, you big ox.
DAVE: Well, you don't have to wet me all up, do you, and me in
company? Why don't you put your damn foot in your pocket?
DAISY: (Wiping DAVE'S shirt front with her handkerchief) Aw, ain't
that too bad.
JIM: (To DAVE) Well, who's shirt did I wet? It's mine, anyhow, ain't
it?
DAVE: (Belligerently) Well, if it's your shirt, then you come take it
off me. I'm tired of your lip.
JIM: Well, I will.
DAVE: Well, put your fist where you lip is. (Pushing DAISY aside.)
DAISY: (Frightened) I want to go home. Now, don't you all boys fight.
(JIM attempts to come up the steps. DAVE pushes him back and he
stumbles and falls in the dust. General excitement as the crowd senses
a fight.)
LITTLE BOY: (On the edge of crowd) Fight, fight, you're no kin. Kill
one another, won't be no sin. Fight, fight, you're no kin.
(JIM jumps up and rushes for DAVE as the latter starts down the steps.
DAVE meets him with his fist squarely in the face and causes him to
step backward, confused.)
DAISY: (Still on porch, half crying) Aw, my Lawd! I want to go home.
(General hubbub, women's cries of "Don't let 'em fight." "Why don't
somebody stop 'em?" "What kind of men is you all, sit there and let
them boys fight like that." Men's voices urging the fight: "Aw, let
'em fight." "Go for him, Dave." "Slug him, Jim."
JIM makes another rush toward the steps. He staggers DAVE. DAVE knocks
JIM sprawling once more. This time JIM grabs the mule bone as he
rises, rushes DAVE, strikes DAVE over the head with it and knocks him
out. DAVE falls prone on his back. There is great excitement.)
OLD WOMAN: (Screams) Lawdy, is he kilt? (Several men rush to the
fallen man.)
VOICE: Run down to the pump and get a dipper o' water.
CLARK: (To his wife in door) Mattie, come out of that store with a
bottle of witch hazely oil quick as you can. Jim Weston, I'm gonna
arrest you for this. You Lum Boger. Where is that marshall? Lum Boger!
(LUM BOGER detaches himself from the crowd.) Arrest Jim.
LUM: (Grabs JIM'S arm, relieves him of the mule bone and looks
helplessly at the Mayor.) Now I got him arrested, what's I going to do
with him?
CLARK: Lock him up back yonder in my barn till Monday when we'll have
the trial in de Baptist Church.
LINDSAY: Yeah, just like all the rest of them Methodists ... always
tryin' to take undercurrents on people.
WALTER: Ain't no worse then some of you Baptists, nohow. You all don't
run this town. We got jus' as much to say as you have.
CLARK: (Angrily to both men) Shut up! Done had enough arguing in front
of my place. (To LUM BOGER) Take that boy on and lock him up in my
barn. And save that mule bone for evidence.
(LUM BOGER leads JIM off toward the back of the store. A crowd follows
him. Other men and women are busy applying restoratives to DAVE. DAISY
stands alone, unnoticed in the center of the stage.)
DAISY: (Worriedly) Now, who's gonna take me home?
:::: CURTAIN::::
ACT TWO
SCENE I
SETTING: Village street scene; huge oak tree upstage center; a house
or two on back drop. When curtain goes up, Sister LUCY TAYLOR is seen
standing under the tree. She is painfully spelling it out.
(Enter SISTER THOMAS, a younger woman (In her thirties) at left.)
SISTER THOMAS: Evenin', Sis Taylor.
SISTER TAYLOR: Evenin'. (Returns to the notice)
SISTER THOMAS: Whut you doin'? Readin' dat notice Joe Clark put up
'bout de meeting? (Approaches tree)
SISTER TAYLOR: Is dat whut it says? I ain't much on readin' since I
had my teeth pulled out. You know if you pull out dem eye teeth you
ruins' yo' eye sight. (Turns back to notice) Whut it say?
SISTER THOMAS: (Reading notice) "The trial of Jim Weston for assault
and battery on Dave Carter wid a dangerous weapon will be held at
Macedonia Baptist Church on Monday, November 10, at three o'clock. All
are welcome. By order of J. Clark, Mayor of Eatonville, Florida."
(Turning to SISTER TAYLOR) Hit's makin' on to three now.
SISTER TAYLOR: You mean it's right _now_. (Looks up at sun to tell
time) Lemme go git ready to be at de trial 'cause I'm sho goin' to be
there an' I ain't goin' to bite my tongue neither.
SISTER THOMAS: I done went an' crapped a mess of collard greens for
supper. I better go put 'em on 'cause Lawd knows when we goin' to git
outa there an' my husband is one of them dat's gointer eat don't keer
whut happen. I bet if judgment day was to happen tomorrow he'd speck I
orter fix him a bucket to carry long. (She moves to exit, right)
SISTER TAYLOR: All men favors they guts, chile. But what you think of
all dis mess they got goin' on round here?
SISTER THOMAS: I just think it's a sin an' a shame befo' de livin'
justice de way dese Baptis' niggers is runnin' round here carryin' on.
SISTER TAYLOR: Oh, they been puttin' out the brags ever since Sat'day
night 'bout whut they gointer do to Jim. They thinks they runs this
town. They tell me Rev. CHILDERS preached a sermon on it yistiddy.
SISTER THOMAS: Lawd help us! He can't preach an' he look like 10 cents
worth of have-mercy let lone gittin' up dere tryin' to throw slams at
us. Now all Elder Simms done wuz to explain to us our rights ... whut
you think 'bout Joe Clarke runnin' round here takin' up for these ole
Baptist niggers?
SISTER TAYLOR: De puzzle-gut rascal ... we oughter have him up in
conference an' put him out de Methdis' faith. He don't b'long in
there--wanter tun dat boy outa town for nothin'.
SISTER THOMAS: But we all know how come he so hot to law Jim outa
town--hit's to dig de foundation out from under Elder Simms.
SISTER TAYLOR: Whut he wants do dat for?
SISTER THOMAS: 'Cause he wants to be a God-know-it-all an' a
God-do-it-all an' Simms is de onliest one in this town whut will buck
up to him.
(Enter SISTER JONES, walking leisurely)
SISTER JONES: Hello, Hoyt, hello, Lucy.
SISTER TAYLOR: Goin' to de meetin'?
SISTER JONES: Done got my clothes on de line an' I'm bound to be dere.
SISTER THOMAS: Gointer testify for Jim?
SISTER JONES: Naw, I reckon--don't make such difference to me which
way de drop fall.... 'Tain't neither one of 'em much good.
SISTER TAYLOR: I know it. I know it, Ida. But dat ain't de point. De
crow we wants to pick is: Is we gointer set still an' let dese Baptist
tell us when to plant an' when to pluck up?
SISTER JONES: Dat is something to think about when you come to think
'bout it. (Starts to move on) Guess I better go ahead--see y'all later
an tell you straighter.
(Enter ELDER SIMMS, right, walking fast, Bible under his arm, almost
collides with SISTER JONES as she exits.)
SIMMS: Oh, 'scuse me, Sister Jones. (She nods and smiles and exits.)
How you do, Sister Taylor, Sister Thomas.
BOTH: Good evenin', Elder.
SIMMS: Sho is a hot day.
SISTER TAYLOR: Yeah, de bear is walkin' de earth lak a natural man.
SISTER THOMAS: Reverend, look like you headed de wrong way. It's
almost time for de trial an' youse all de dependence we got.
SIMMS: I know it. I'm tryin' to find de marshall so we kin go after
Jim. I wants a chance to talk wid him a minute before court sets.
SISTER TAYLOR: Y'think he'll come clear?
SIMMS: (Proudly) I _know_ it! (Shakes the Bible) I'm goin' to law 'em
from Genesis to Revelation.
SISTER THOMAS: Give it to 'em, Elder. Wear 'em out!
SIMMS: We'se liable to havea new Mayor when all dis dust settle. Well,
I better scuffle on down de road. (Exits, left.)
SISTER THOMAS: Lord, lemme gwan home an' put dese greens on. (Looks
off stage left) Here come Mayor Clark now, wid his belly settin' out
in front of him like a cow catcher! His name oughter be Mayor Belly.
SISTER TAYLOR: (Arms akimbo) Jus' look at him! Tryin' to look like a
jigadier Breneral.
(Enter CLARK hot and perspiring. They look at him coldly.)
CLARK: I God, de bear got me! (Silence for a moment) How y'all
feelin', ladies?
SISTER TAYLOR: Brother Mayor, I ain't one of these folks dat bite my
tongue an' bust my gall--whut's inside got to come out! I can't see to
my rest why you cloakin' in wid dese Baptist buzzards 'ginst yo' own
church.
MAYOR CLARK: I ain't cloakin' in wid _none_. I'm de Mayor of dis whole
town I stands for de right an' ginst de wrong--I don't keer who it
kill or cure.
SISTER THOMAS: You think it's right to be runnin' dat boy off for
nothin'?
CLARK: I God! You call knockin' a man in de head wid a mule bone
nothin'? 'Nother thin; I done missed nine of my best-layin' hens. I
ain't sayin' Jim got 'em, but different people has tole me he burries
a powerful lot of feathers in his back yard. I God, I'm a ruint man!
(He starts towards the right exit, but LUM BOGER enters right.) I God,
Lum, I been lookin' for you all day. It's almost three o'clock. (Hands
him a key from his ring) Take dis key an' go fetch Jim Weston on to de
church.
LUM: Have you got yo' gavel from de lodge-room?
CLARK: I God, that's right, Lum. I'll go get it from de lodge room
whilst you go git de bone an' de prisoner. Hurry up! You walk like
dead lice droppin' off you. (He exits right while LUM crosses stage
towards left.)
SISTER TAYLOR: Lum, Elder Simms been huntin' you--he's gone on down
'bout de barn. (She gestures)
LUM BOGER: I reckon I'll overtake him. (Exit left.)
SISTER THOMAS: I better go put dese greens on. My husband will kill me
if he don't find no supper ready. Here come Mrs. Blunt. She oughter
feel like a penny's worth of have-mercy wid all dis stink behind her
daughter.
SISTER TAYLOR: Chile, some folks don't keer. They don't raise they
chillun; they drags 'em up. God knows if dat Daisy wuz mine, I'd throw
her down an' put a hundred lashes on her back wid a plow-line. Here
she come in de store Sat'day night (Acts coy and coquettish,
burlesques DAISY'S walk) a wringing and a twisting!
(Enter MRS. BLUNT, left.)
MRS. BLUNT: How y'all sisters?
SISTER THOMAS: Very well, Miz Blunt, how you?
MRS. BLUNT: Oh, so-so.
MRS. TAYLOR: I'm kickin', but not high.
MRS. BLUNT: Well, thank God you still on prayin' ground an' in a Bible
country. Me, I ain't so many today. De niggers got my Daisy's name all
mixed up in dis mess.
MRS. TAYLOR: You musn't mind dat, Sister Blunt. People jus' _will_
talk. They's talkin' in New York an' they's talkin' in Georgy an'
they's talkin' in Italy.
SISTER THOMAS: Chile, if you talk folkses talk, they'll have you in de
graveyard or in Chattahoochee one. You can't pay no 'tention to talk.
MRS. BLUNT: Well, I know one thing. De man or women, chick or child,
grizzly or gray, that tells me to my face anything wrong 'bout _my_
chile, I'm goin' to take _my_ fist (Rolls up right sleeve and gestures
with right fist) and knock they teeth down they throat. (She looks
ferocious) 'Case y'all know I raised my Daisy right round my feet till
I let her go up north last year wid them white folks. I'd ruther her
to be in de white folks' kitchen than walkin' de streets like some of
dese girls round here. If I do say so, I done raised a lady. She can't
help it if all dese mens get stuck on her.
MRS. TAYLOR: You'se tellin' de truth, Sister Blunt. That's whut I
always say: Don't confidence dese niggers. Do, they'll sho put you in
de street.
MRS. THOMAS: Naw indeed, never syndicate wid niggers. Do, they will
distriminate you. They'll be an _anybody_. You goin' to de trial,
ain't you?
MRS. BLUNT: Just as sho as you snore. An' they better leave Daisy's
name outa dis, too. I done told her and told her to come straight home
from her work. Naw, she had to stop by dat store and skin her gums
back wid dem trashy niggers. She better not leave them white folks
today to come traipsin' over here scornin' her name all up wid dis
nigger mess. Do, I'll kill her. No daughter of mine ain't goin' to do
as she please, long as she live under de sound of my voice. (She
crosses to right.)
MRS. THOMAS: That's right, Sister Blunt. I glory in yo' spunk. Lord, I
better go put on my supper.
(As MRS. BLUNT exits, right, REV. CHILDERS enters left with DAVE and
DEACON LINDSAY and SISTER LEWIS. Very hostile glances from SISTERS
THOMAS and TAYLOR toward the others.)
CHILDERS: Good evenin', folks.
(SISTERS THOMAS and TAYLOR just grunt. MRS. THOMAS moves a step or two
towards exit. Flirts her skirts and exits.)
LINDSAY: (Angrily) Whut's de matter, y'all? Cat got yo' tongue?
MRS. TAYLOR: More matter than you kin scatter all over Cincinnatti.
LINDSAY: Go 'head on, Lucy Taylor. Go 'head on. You know a very little
of yo' sugar sweetens my coffee. Go 'head on. Everytime you lift yo'
arm you smell like a nest of yellow hammers.
MRS. TAYLOR: Go 'head on yo'self. Yo' head look like it done wore out
three bodies. Talkin' 'bout _me_ smellin'--you smell lak a nest of
grand daddies yo'self.
LINDSAY: Aw rock on down de road, 'oman. Ah, don't wantuh change words
wid yuh. Youse too ugly.
MRS. TAYLOR: You ain't nobody's pretty baby, yo'self. You so ugly I
betcha yo' wife have to spread uh sheet over yo' head tuh let sleep
slip up on yuh.
LINDSAY: (Threatening) You better git way from me while you able. I
done tole you I don't wanter break a breath wid you. It's uh whole
heap better tuh walk off on yo' own legs than it is to be toted off.
I'm tired of yo' achin' round here. You fool wid me now an' I'll knock
you into doll rags, Tony or no Tony.
MRS. TAYLOR: (Jumping up in his face) Hit me? Hit me! I dare you tuh
hit me. If you take dat dare, you'll steal uh hawg an' eat his hair.
LINDSAY: Lemme gwan down to dat church befo' you make me stomp you.
(He exits, right.)
MRS. TAYLOR: You mean you'll _git_ stomped. Ah'm goin' to de trial,
too. De nex trial gointer be _me_ for kickin' some uh you Baptist
niggers around.
(A great noise is heard off stage left. The angry and jeering voices
of children. MRS. TAYLOR looks off left and takes a step or two
towards left exit as the noise comes nearer.)
VOICE OF ONE CHILD: Tell her! Tell her! Turn her up and smell her. Yo'
mama ain't got nothin' to do wid me.
MRS. TAYLOR: (Hollering off left) You lil Baptis' haitians leave them
chillun alone. If you don't, you better!
(Enter about ten children struggling and wrestling in a bunch. MRS.
TAYLOR looks about on the ground for a stick to strike the children
with.)
VOICE OF CHILD: Hey! Hey! He's skeered tuh knock it off. Coward!
MRS. TAYLOR: If y'all don't git on home!
SASSY LITTLE GIRL: (Standing akimbo) I know you better not touch me,
do my mama will 'tend to you.
MRS. TAYLOR: (Making as if to strike her.) Shet up you nasty lil
heifer, sassin' me! You ain't half raised.
(The little girl shakes herself at MRS. TAYLOR and is joined by two or
three others.)
MRS. TAYLOR: (Walkin' towards right exit.) I'm goin' on down to de
church an' tell yo' mammy. But she ain't been half raised herself.
(She exits right with several children making faces behind her.)
ONE BOY: (To sassy GIRL) Aw, haw! Y'all ol' Baptis' ain't got no
bookcase in yo' chuch. We went there one day an' I saw uh soda cracker
box settin' up in de corner so I set down on it. (Pointing at sassy
GIRL) Know what ole Mary Ella say? (Jeering laughter) Willie, you git
up off our library! Haw! Haw!
MARY ELLA: Y'all ole Meth'dis' ain't got no window panes in yo' ole
church.
ANOTHER GIRL: (Takes center of stand, hands akimbo and shakes her
hips) I don't keer whut y'all say, I'm a Meth'dis' bred an' uh
Meth'dis' born an' when I'm dead there'll be uh Meth'dis' gone.
MARY ELLA: (Snaps fingers under other girl's nose and starts singing.
Several join her.)
Oh Baptis', Baptis' is my name
My name's written on high
I got my lick in de Baptis' church
Gointer eat up de Meth'dis' pie.
(The Methodist children jeer and make faces. The Baptist camp make
faces back; for a full minute there is silence while each camp tries
to outdo the other in face making. The Baptist makes the last face.)
METHODIST BOY: Come on, less us don't notice 'em. Less gwan down to
de church an' hear de trial.
MARY ELLA: Y'all ain't de onliest ones kin go. We goin', too.
WILLIE: Aw, haw! Copy cats! (Makes face) Dat's right. Follow on behind
us lak uh puppy dog tail. (They start walking toward right exit,
switching their clothes behind.) Dat's right. Follow on behind us lak
uh puppy dog tail. (They start walking toward right exit, switching
their clothes behind.)
(Baptist children stage a rush and struggle to get in front of the
Methodists. They finally succeed in flinging some of the Methodist
children to the ground and some behind them and walk towards right
exit haughtily switching their clothes.)
WILLIE: (Whispers to his crowd) Less go round by Mosely's lot an' beat
'em there!
OTHERS: All right!
WILLIE: (Yellin' to Baptists) We wouldn't walk behind no ole Baptists!
(The Methodists turn and walk off towards left exit, switching their
clothes as the Baptists are doing.)
SLOW CURTAIN
End of Project Gutenberg's The Mule-Bone:, by Zora Hurston and Langston Hughes
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MULE-BONE: ***
***** This file should be named 19435.txt or 19435.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/4/3/19435/
Produced by Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by the
Library of Congress)
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
http://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
Who represents Jim in the trial?
Answer:
| Elder Simms represents Jim in the trial. | 174 | 99,589 | 99,591 | 99,633 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
35134 | 35134_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
Project Gutenberg's The Mule-Bone:, by Zora Hurston and Langston Hughes
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Mule-Bone:
A Comedy of Negro Life in Three Acts
Author: Zora Hurston and Langston Hughes
Release Date: October 2, 2006 [EBook #19435]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MULE-BONE: ***
Produced by Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by the
Library of Congress)
[Transcriber's Note: A few obvious typo's in stage directions have
been fixed, though nothing in the dialogue has been changed.]
THE MULE-BONE
A COMEDY OF NEGRO LIFE IN
THREE ACTS
BY
LANGSTON HUGHES and ZORA HURSTON
CHARACTERS
JIM WESTON: Guitarist, Methodist, slightly arrogant, agressive,
somewhat self-important, ready with his tongue.
DAVE CARTER: Dancer, Baptist, soft, happy-go-lucky character,
slightly dumb and unable to talk rapidly and
wittily.
DAISY TAYLOR: Methodist, domestic servant, plump, dark and sexy,
self-conscious of clothes and appeal, fickle.
JOE CLARK: The Mayor, storekeeper and postmaster, arrogant,
ignorant and powerful in a self-assertive way,
large, fat man, Methodist.
ELDER SIMMS: Methodist minister, newcomer in town, ambitious,
small and fly, but not very intelligent.
ELDER CHILDERS: Big, loose-jointed, slow spoken but not dumb. Long
resident in the town, calm and sure of himself.
KATIE CARTER: Dave's aunt, little old wizened dried-up lady.
MRS. HATTIE CLARK: The Mayor's wife, fat and flabby mulatto
high-pitched voice.
THE MRS. REV. SIMMS: Large and agressive.
THE MRS. REV. Just a wife who thinks of details.
CHILDERS:
LUM BOGER: Young town marshall about twenty, tall, gangly,
with big flat feet, liked to show off in public.
TEET MILLER: Village vamp who is jealous of DAISY.
LIGE MOSELY: A village wag.
WALTER THOMAS: Another village wag.
ADA LEWIS: A promiscuous lover.
DELLA LEWIS: Baptist, poor housekeeper, mother of ADA.
BOOTSIE PITTS: A local vamp.
MRS. DILCIE ANDERSON: Village housewife, Methodist.
WILLIE NIXON: Methodist, short runt.
ACT I
SETTING: The raised porch of JOE CLARK'S Store and the street in
front. Porch stretches almost completely across the stage, with a
plank bench at either end. At the center of the porch three steps
leading from street. Rear of porch, center, door to the store. On
either side are single windows on which signs, at left, "POST OFFICE",
and at right, "GENERAL STORE" are painted. Soap boxes, axe handles,
small kegs, etc., on porch on which townspeople sit and lounge during
action. Above the roof of the porch the "false front", or imitation
second story of the shop is seen with large sign painted across it
"JOE CLARK'S GENERAL STORE". Large kerosine street lamp on post at
right in front of porch.
Saturday afternoon and the villagers are gathered around the store.
Several men sitting on boxes at edge of porch chewing sugar cane,
spitting tobacco juice, arguing, some whittling, others eating
peanuts. During the act the women all dressed up in starched dresses
parade in and out of store. People buying groceries, kids playing in
the street, etc. General noise of conversation, laughter and children
shouting. But when the curtain rises there is momentary lull for
cane-chewing. At left of porch four men are playing cards on a soap
box, and seated on the edge of the porch at extreme right two children
are engaged in a checker game, with the board on the floor between
them.
When the curtain goes up the following characters are discovered on
the porch: MAYOR JOE CLARK, the storekeeper; DEACON HAMBO; DEACON
GOODWIN; Old Man MATT BRAZZLE; WILL CODY; SYKES JONES; LUM BOGER, the
young town marshall; LIGE MOSELY and WALTER THOMAS, two village wags;
TOM NIXON and SAM MOSELY, and several others, seated on boxes, kegs,
benches and floor of the porch. TONY TAYLOR is sitting on steps of
porch with empty basket. MRS. TAYLOR comes out with her arms full of
groceries, empties them into basket and goes back in store. All the
men are chewing sugar cane earnestly with varying facial expressions.
The noise of the breaking and sucking of cane can be clearly heard in
the silence. Occasionally the laughter and shouting of children is
heard nearby off stage.
HAMBO: (To BRAZZLE) Say, Matt, gimme a jint or two of dat green
cane--dis ribbon cane is hard.
LIGE: Yeah, and you ain't got de chears in yo' parlor you useter have.
HAMBO: Dat's all right, Lige, but I betcha right now wid dese few
teeth I got I kin eat up more cane'n you kin grow.
LIGE: I know you kin and that's de reason I ain't going to tempt you.
But youse gettin' old in lots of ways--look at dat bald-head--just as
clean as my hand. (Exposes his palm).
HAMBO: Don't keer if it tis--I don't want nothin'--not even
hair--between me and God. (General laughter--LIGE joins in as well.
Cane chewing keeps up. Silence for a moment.)
(Off stage a high shrill voice can be heard calling:)
VOICE: Sister Mosely, Oh, Sister Mosely! (A pause) Miz Mosely! (Very
irritated) Oh, Sister Mattie! You hear me out here--you just won't
answer!
VOICE OF MRS. MOSELY: Whoo-ee ... somebody calling me?
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (Angrily) Never mind now--you couldn't come
when I called you. I don't want yo' lil ole weasley turnip greens.
(Silence)
MATT BRAZZLE: Sister Roberts is en town agin! If she was mine, I'll
be hen-fired if I wouldn't break her down in de lines (loins)--good as
dat man is to her!
HAMBO: I wish she was mine jes' one day--de first time she open her
mouf to beg _anybody_, I'd lam her wid lightning.
JOE CLARK: I God, Jake Roberts buys mo' rations out dis store than any
man in dis town. I don't see to my Maker whut she do wid it all....
Here she come....
(ENTER MRS. JAKE ROBERTS, a heavy light brown woman with a basket on
her arm. A boy about ten walks beside her carrying a small child about
a year old straddle of his back. Her skirts are sweeping the ground.
She walks up to the step, puts one foot upon the steps and looks
forlornly at all the men, then fixes her look on JOE CLARK.)
MRS. ROBERTS: Evenin', Brother Mayor.
CLARK: Howdy do, Mrs. Roberts. How's yo' husband?
MRS. ROBERTS: (Beginning her professional whine): He ain't much and I
ain't much and my chillun is poly. We ain't got 'nough to eat! Lawd,
Mr. Clark, gimme a lil piece of side meat to cook us a pot of greens.
CLARK: Aw gwan, Sister Roberts. You got plenty bacon home. Last week
Jake bought....
MRS. ROBERTS: (Frantically) Lawd, Mist' Clark, how long you think dat
lil piece of meat last me an' my chillun? Lawd, me and my chillun is
_hongry_! God knows, Jake don't fee-eed me!
(MR. CLARK sits unmoved. MRS. ROBERTS advances upon him)
Mist' Clark!
CLARK: I God, woman, don't keep on after me! Every time I look, youse
round here beggin' for everything you see.
LIGE: And whut she don't see she whoops for it just de same.
MRS. ROBERTS: (In dramatic begging pose) Mist' Clark! Ain't you boin'
do nuthin' for me? And you see me and my poor chillun is starvin'....
CLARK: (Exasperated rises) I God, woman, a man can't git no peace wid
somebody like you in town. (He goes angrily into the store followed by
MRS. ROBERTS. The boy sits down on the edge of the porch sucking the
baby's thumb.)
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: A piece 'bout dis wide....
VOICE OF CLARK: I God, naw! Yo' husband done bought you plenty meat,
nohow.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (In great anguish) Ow! Mist' Clark! Don't you
cut dat lil tee-ninchy piece of meat for me and my chillun! (Sound of
running feet inside the store.) I ain't a going to tetch it!
VOICE OF CLARK: Well, don't touch it then. That's all you'll git outa
me.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (Calmer) Well, hand it chear den. Lawd, me and
my chillun is _so_ hongry.... Jake don't fee-eed me. (She re-enters by
door of store with the slab of meat in her hand and an outraged look
on her face. She gazes all about her for sympathy.) Lawd, me and my
poor chillun is _so_ hongry ... and some folks has _every_thing and
they's so _stingy_ and gripin'.... Lawd knows, Jake don't fee-eed me!
(She exits right on this line followed by the boy with the baby on his
back.)
(All the men gaze behind her, then at each other and shake their
heads.)
HAMBO: Poor Jak.... I'm really sorry for dat man. If she was mine I'd
beat her till her ears hung down like a Georgy mule.
WALTER THOMAS: I'd beat her till she smell like onions.
LIGE: I'd romp on her till she slack like lime.
NIXON: I'd stomp her till she rope like okra.
VOICE OF MRS. ROBERTS: (Off stage right) Lawd, Miz Lewis, you goin'
give me dat lil han'ful of greens for me and my chillun. Why dat ain't
a eye-full. I ought not to take 'em ... but me and my chillun is _so_
hongry.... Some folks is so stingy and gripin'! Lawd knows, Tony don't
_feed_ me!
(The noise of cane-chewing is heard again. Enter JOE LINDSAY left with
a gun over his shoulder and the large leg bone of a mule in the other
hand. He approaches the step wearily.)
HAMBO: Well, did you git any partridges, Joe?
JOE: (Resting his gun and seating himself) Nope, but I made de
feathers fly.
HAMBO: I don't see no birds.
JOE: Oh, the feathers flew off on de birds.
LIGE: I don't see nothin' but dat bone. Look lak you done kilt a cow
and et 'im raw out in de woods.
JOE: Don't y'all know dat hock-bone?
WALTER: How you reckon we gointer know every hock-bone in Orange
County sight unseen?
JOE: (Standing the bone up on the floor of the porch) Dis is a
hock-bone of Brazzle's ole yaller mule.
(General pleased interest. Everybody wants to touch it.)
BRAZZLE: (Coming forward) Well, sir! (Takes bone in both hands and
looks up and down the length of it) If 'tain't my ole mule! This sho
was one hell of a mule, too. He'd fight every inch in front of de
plow ... he'd turn over de mowing machine ... run away wid de
wagon ... and you better not look like you wanter _ride_ 'im!
LINDSAY: (Laughing) Yeah, I 'member seein' you comin' down de road
just so ... (He limps wid one hand on his buttocks) one day.
BRAZZLE: Dis mule was so evil he used to try to bite and kick when I'd
go in de stable to feed 'im.
WALTER: He was too mean to git fat. He was so skinny you could do a
week's washing on his ribs for a washboard and hang 'em up on his
hip-bones to dry.
LIGE: I 'member one day, Brazzle, you sent yo' boy to Winter Park
after some groceries wid a basket. So here he went down de road ridin'
dis mule wid dis basket on his arm.... Whut you reckon dat ole
contrary mule done when he got to dat crooked place in de road going
round Park Lake? He turnt right round and went through de handle of
dat basket ... wid de boy still up on his back. (General laughter)
BRAZZLE: Yeah, he up and died one Sat'day just for spite ... but he
was too contrary to lay down on his side like a mule orter and die
decent. Naw, he made out to lay down on his narrer contracted back and
die wid his feets sticking straight up in de air just so. (He gets
down on his back and illustrates.) We drug him out to de swamp wid 'im
dat way, didn't we, Hambo?
JOE CLARK: I God, Brazzle, we all seen it. Didn't we all go to de
draggin' out? More folks went to yo' mule's draggin' out than went to
last school closing.... Bet there ain't been a thing right in
mule-hell for four years.
HAMBO: Been dat long since he been dead?
CLARK: I God, yes. He died de week after I started to cutting' dat new
ground.
(The bone is passing from hand to hand. At last a boy about twelve
takes it. He has just walked up and is proudly handling the bone when
a woman's voice is heard off stage right.)
VOICE: Senator! Senator!! Oh, you Senator?
BOY: (Turning displeased mutters) Aw, shux. (Loudly) Ma'm?
VOICE: If you don't come here you better!
SENATOR: Yes ma'am. (He drops bone on ground down stage and trots off
frowning.) Soon as we men git to doing something dese wimmen....
(Exits, right.)
(Enter TEET and BOOTSIE left, clean and primped in voile dresses just
alike. They speak diffidently and enter store. The men admire them
casually.)
LIGE: Them girls done turned out to be right good-looking.
WALTER: Teet ain't as pretty now as she was a few years back. She used
to be fat as a butter ball wid legs just like two whiskey-kegs. She's
too skinny since she got her growth.
CODY: Ain't none of 'em pretty as dat Miss Daisy. God! She's pretty as
a speckled pup.
LIGE: But she was sho nuff ugly when she was little ... little ole
hard black knot. She sho has changed since she been away up North. If
she ain't pretty now, there ain't a hound dog in Georgy.
(Re-enter SENATOR BAILEY and stops on the steps. He addresses JOE
CLARK.)
SENATOR: Mist' Clark....
HAMBO: (To Senator) Ain't you got no manners? We all didn't sleep wid
you last night.
SENATOR: (Embarrassed) Good evening, everybody.
ALL THE MEN: Good evening, son, boy, Senator, etc.
SENATOR: Mist' Clark, mama said is Daisy been here dis evenin'?
JOE CLARK: Ain't laid my eyes on her. Ain't she working over in
Maitland?
SENATOR: Yessuh ... but she's off today and mama sent her down here to
get de groceries.
JOE CLARK: Well, tell yo' ma I ain't seen her.
SENATOR: Well, she say to tell you when she come, to tell her ma say
she better git home and dat quick.
JOE CLARK: I will. (Exit BOY right.)
LIGE: Bet she's off somewhere wid Dave or Jim.
WALTER: I don't bet it ... I know it. She's got them two in de
go-long.
(Re-enter TEET and BOOTSIE from store. TEET has a letter and BOOTSIE
two or three small parcels. The men look up with interest as they come
out on the porch.)
WALTER: (Winking) Whut's dat you got, Teet ... letter from Dave?
TEET: (Flouncing) Naw indeed! It's a letter from my B-I-T-sweetie!
(Rolls her eyes and hips.)
WALTER: (Winking) Well, ain't Dave yo' B-I-T-sweetie? I thought y'all
was 'bout to git married. Everywhere I looked dis summer 'twas you and
Dave, Bootsie and Jim. I thought all of y'all would've done jumped
over de broomstick by now.
TEET: (Flourishing letter) Don't tell it to me ... tell it to the
ever-loving Mr. Albert Johnson way over in Apopka.
BOOTSIE: (Rolling her eyes) Oh, tell 'em 'bout the ever-loving Mr.
Jimmy Cox from Altamont. Oh, I can't stand to see my baby lose.
HAMBO: It's lucky y'all girls done got some more fellers, cause look
like Daisy done treed both Jim and Dave at once, or they done treed
here one.
TEET: Let her have 'em ... nobody don't keer. They don't handle de "In
God we trust" lak my Johnson. He's head bellman at de hotel.
BOOTSIE: Mr. Cox got money's grandma and old grandpa change. (The
girls exit huffily.)
LINDSAY: (To HAMBO, pseudo-seriously) You oughtn't tease dem gals lak
dat.
HAMBO: Oh, I laks to see gals all mad. But dem boys is crazy sho nuff.
Before Daisy come back here they both had a good-looking gal a piece.
Now they 'bout to fall out and fight over half a gal a piece. Neither
one won't give over and let de other one have her.
LIGE: And she ain't thinking too much 'bout no one man. (Looks off
left.) Here she come now. God! She got a mean walk on her!
WALTER: Yeah, man. She handles a lot of traffic! Oh, mama, throw it in
de river ... papa'll come git it!
LINDSAY: Aw, shut up, you married men!
LIGE: Man don't go blind cause he gits married, do he? (Enter DAISY
hurriedly. Stops at step a moment. She is dressed in sheer organdie,
white shoes and stockings.)
DAISY: Good evening, everybody. (Walks up on the porch.)
ALL THE MEN: (Very pleasantly) Good evening, Miss Daisy.
DAISY: (To CLARK) Mama sent me after some meal and flour and some
bacon and sausage oil.
CLARK: Senator been here long time ago hunting you.
DAISY: (Frightened) Did he? Oo ... Mist' Clark, hurry up and fix it
for me. (She starts on in the store.)
LINDSAY: (Giving her his seat) You better wait here, Daisy.
(WALTER kicks LIGE to call his attention to LINDSAY'S attitude)
It's powerful hot in dat store. Lemme run fetch 'em out to you.
LIGE: (To LINDSAY) _Run!_ Joe Lindsay, you ain't been able to run
since de big bell rung. Look at dat gray beard.
LINDSAY: Thank God, I ain't gray all over. I'm just as good a man
right now as any of you young 'uns. (He hurries on into the store.)
WALTER: Daisy, where's yo' two body guards? It don't look natural to
see you thout nary one of 'em.
DAISY: (Archly) I ain't got no body guards. I don't know what you
talkin' about.
LIGE: Aw, don' try to come dat over us, Daisy. You know who we talkin'
'bout all right ... but if you want me to come out flat footed ...
where's Jim and Dave?
DAISY: Ain't they playin' somewhere for de white folks?
LIGE: (To WALTER) Will you listen at dis gal, Walter? (To DAISY) When
I ain't been long seen you and Dave going down to de Lake.
DAISY: (Frightened) Don't y'all run tell mama where I been.
WALTER: Well, you tell us which one you laks de best and we'll wipe
our mouf (Gesture) and say nothin'. Dem boys been de best of friends
all they life, till both of 'em took after you ... then good-bye, Katy
bar de door!
DAISY: (Affected innocence) Ain't they still playin' and dancin'
together?
LIGE: Yeah, but that's 'bout all they do 'gree on these days. That's
de way it is wid men, young and old.... I don't keer how long they
been friends and how thick they been ... a woman kin come between 'em.
David and Jonather never would have been friends so long if Jonather
had of been any great hand wid de wimmen. You ain't never seen no two
roosters that likes one another.
DAISY: I ain't tried to break 'em up.
WALTER: Course you ain't. You don't have to. All two boys need to do
is to git stuck on de same girl and they done broke up ... _right
now_! Wimmen is something can't be divided equal.
(Re-enter JOE LINDSAY and CLARK with the groceries. DAISY jumps up and
grabs the packages.)
LIGE: (To DAISY) Want some of us ... me ... to go long and tote yo'
things for you?
DAISY: (Nervously) Naw, mama is riding her high horse today. Long as I
been gone it wouldn't do for me to come walking up wid nobody. (She
exits hurriedly right.)
(All the men watch her out of sight in silence.)
CLARK: (Sighing) I God, know whut Daisy puts me in de mind of?
HAMBO: No, what? (They all lean together.)
CLARK: I God, a great big mango ... a sweet smell, you know, Th a
strong flavor, but not something you could mash up like a strawberry.
Something with a body to it.
(General laughter, but not obscene.)
HAMBO: (Admiringly) Joe Clark! I didn't know you had it in you!
(MRS. CLARK enters from store door and they all straighten up
guiltily)
CLARK: (Angrily to his wife) Now whut do you want? I God, the minute I
set down, here you come....
MRS. CLARK: Somebody want a stamp, Jody. You know you don't 'low me to
bove wid de post office. (HE rises sullenly and goes inside the
store.)
BRAZZLE: Say, Hambo, I didn't see you at our Sunday School picnic.
HAMBO: (Slicing some plug-cut tobacco) Nope, wan't there dis time.
WALTER: Looka here, Hambo. Y'all Baptist carry dis close-communion
business too far. If a person ain't half drownded in de lake and half
et up by alligators, y'all think he ain't baptized, so you can't take
communion wid him. Now I reckon you can't even drink lemonade and eat
chicken perlow wid us.
HAMBO: My Lord, boy, youse just _full_ of words. Now, in de first
place, if this year's picnic was lak de one y'all had last year ...
you ain't had no lemonade for us Baptists to turn down. You had a big
ole barrel of rain water wid about a pound of sugar in it and one
lemon cut up over de top of it.
LIGE: Man, you sho kin mold 'em!
WALTER: Well, I went to de Baptist picnic wid my mouf all set to eat
chicken, when lo and behold y'all had chitlings! Do Jesus!
LINDSAY: Hold on there a minute. There was plenty chicken at dat
picnic, which I do know is right.
WALTER: Only chicken I seen was half a chicken yo' pastor musta tried
to swaller whole cause he was choked stiff as a board when I come
long ... wid de whole deacon's board beating him in de back, trying
to knock it out his throat.
LIGE: Say, dat puts me in de mind of a Baptist brother that was crazy
'bout de preachers and de preacher was crazy 'bout feeding his face.
So his son got tired of trying to beat dese stump-knockers to de grub
on the table, so one day he throwed out some slams 'bout dese
preachers. Dat made his old man mad, so he tole his son to git out.
He boy ast him "Where must I go, papa?" He says, "Go on to hell I
reckon ... I don't keer where you go."
So de boy left and was gone seven years. He come back one cold, windy
night and rapped on de door. "Who dat?" de old man ast him "It's me,
Jack." De old man opened de door, so glad to see his son agin, and
tole Jack to come in. He did and looked all round de place. Seven or
eight preachers was sitting round de fire eatin' and drinkin'.
"Where you been all dis time, Jack?" de old man ast him.
"I been to hell," Jack tole him.
"Tell us how it is down there, Jack."
"Well," he says, "It's just like it is here ... you cain't git to de
fire for de preachers."
HAMBO: Boy, you kin lie just like de cross-ties from Jacksonville to
Key West. De presidin' elder must come round on his circuit teaching
y'all how to tell 'em, cause you couldn't lie dat good just natural.
WALTER: Can't nobody beat Baptist folks lying ... and I ain't never
found out how come you think youse so important.
LINDSAY: Ain't we got de finest and de biggest church? Macedonia
Baptist will hold more folks than any two buildings in town.
LIGE: Thass right, y'all got a heap more church than you got members
to go in it.
HAMBO: Thass all right ... y'all ain't got neither de church nor de
members. Everything that's had in this town got to be held in our
church.
(Re-enter JOE CLARK.)
CLARK: What you-all talkin'?
HAMBO: Come on out, Tush Hawg, lemme beat you some checkers. I'm tired
of fending and proving wid dese boys ain't got no hair on they chest
yet.
CLARK: I God, you mean you gointer get beat. You can't handle me ...
I'm a tush hawg.
HAMBO: Well, I'm going to draw dem tushes right now. (To two small
boys using checker board on edge of porch.) Here you chilluns, let de
Mayor and me have that board. Go on out an' play an' give us grown
folks a little peace. (The children go down stage and call out:)
SMALL BOY: Hey, Senator. Hey, Marthy. Come on let's play chick-me,
chick-me, cranie-crow.
CHILD'S VOICE: (Off stage) All right! Come on, Jessie! (Enter several
children, led by SENATOR, and a game begins in front of the store as
JOE CLARK and HAMBO play checkers.)
JOE CLARK: I God! Hambo, you can't play no checkers.
HAMBO: (As they seat themselves at the check board) Aw, man, if you
wasn't de Mayor I'd beat you all de time.
(The children get louder and louder, drowning out the men's voices.)
SMALL GIRL: I'm gointer be de hen.
BOY: And I'm gointer be de hawk. Lemme git maself a stick to mark wid.
(The boy who is the hawk squats center stage with a short twig in his
hand. The largest girl lines up the other children behind her.)
GIRL: (Mother Hen) (Looking back over her flock): Y'all ketch holt of
one 'Nother's clothes so de hawk can't git yuh. (They do.) You all
straight now?
CHILDREN: Yeah. (The march around the hawk commences.)
HEN AND CHICKS:
Chick mah chick mah craney crow
Went to de well to wash ma toe
When I come back ma chick was gone
What time, ole witch?
HAWK: (Making a tally on the ground) One!
HEN AND CHICKS: (Repeat song and march.)
HAWK: (Scoring again) Two!
(Can be repeated any number of times.)
HAWK: Four. (He rises and imitates a hawk flying and trying to catch a
chicken. Calling in a high voice:) Chickee.
HEN: (Flapping wings to protect her young) My chickens sleep.
HAWK: Chickee. (During all this the hawk is feinting and darting in
his efforts to catch a chicken, and the chickens are dancing
defensively, the hen trying to protect them.)
HEN: My chicken's sleep.
HAWK: I shall have a chick.
HEN: You shan't have a chick.
HAWK: I'm goin' home. (Flies off)
HEN: Dere's de road.
HAWK: My pot's a boilin'.
HEN: Let it boil.
HAWK: My guts a growlin'.
HEN: Let 'em growl.
HAWK: I must have a chick.
HEN: You shan't have n'airn.
HAWK: My mama's sick.
HEN: Let her die.
HAWK: Chickie!
HEN: My chicken's sleep.
(HAWK darts quickly around the hen and grabs a chicken and leads him
off and places his captive on his knees at the store porch. After a
brief bit of dancing he catches another, then a third, etc.)
HAMBO: (At the checker board, his voice rising above the noise of the
playing children, slapping his sides jubilantly) Ha! Ha! I got you
now. Go ahead on and move, Joe Clark ... jus' go ahead on and move.
LOUNGERS: (Standing around two checker players) Ol' Deacon's got you
now.
ANOTHER VOICE: Don't see how he can beat the Mayor like that.
ANOTHER VOICE: Got him in the Louisville loop. (These remarks are
drowned by the laughter of the playing children directly in front of
the porch. MAYOR JOE CLARK disturbed in his concentration on the
checkers and peeved at being beaten suddenly turns toward the
children, throwing up his hands.)
CLARK: Get on 'way from here, you limbs of Satan, making all that
racket so a man can't hear his ears. Go on, go on!
(THE MAYOR looks about excitedly for the town marshall. Seeing him
playing cards on the other side of porch, he bellows:)
Lum Boger, whyn't you git these kids away from here! What kind of a
marshall is you? All this passle of young'uns around here under grown
people's feet, creatin' disorder in front of my store.
(LUM BOGER puts his cards down lazily, comes down stage and scatters
the children away. One saucy little girl refuses to move.)
LUM BOGER: Why'nt you go on away from here, Matilda? Didn't you hear
me tell you-all to move?
LITTLE MATILDA: (Defiantly) I ain't goin' nowhere. You ain't none of
my mama. (Jerking herself free from him as LUM touches her.) My mama
in the store and she told me to wait out here. So take that, ol' Lum.
LUM BOGER: You impudent little huzzy, you! You must smell yourself ...
youse so fresh.
MATILDA: The wind musta changed and you smell your own top lip.
LUM BOGER: Don't make me have to grab you and take you down a
buttonhole lower.
MATILDA: (Switching her little head) Go ahead on and grab me. You sho
can't kill me, and if you kill me, you sho can't eat me. (She marches
into the store.)
SENATOR: (Derisively from behind stump) Ol' dumb Lum! Hey! Hey!
(LITTLE BOY at edge of stage thumbs his nose at the marshall.)
(LUM lumbers after the small boy. Both exit.)
HAMBO: (To CLARK who has been thinking all this while what move to
make) You ain't got but one move ... go ahead on and make it. What's
de matter, Mayor?
CLARK: (Moving his checker) Aw, here.
HAMBO: (Triumphant) Now! Look at him, boys. I'm gonna laugh in notes.
(Laughing to the scale and jumping a checker each time) Do, sol, fa,
me, lo ... one! (Jumping another checker) La, sol, fa, me, do ... two!
(Another jump.) Do sol, re, me, lo ... three! (Jumping a third.) Lo
sol, fa, me, re ... four! (The crowd begins to roar with laughter. LUM
BOGER returns, looking on. Children come drifting back again playing
chick-me-chick-me-cranie crow.)
VOICE: Oh, ha! Done got the ol' tush hog.
ANOTHER VOICE: Thought you couldn't be beat, Brother Mayor?
CLARK: (Peeved, gets up and goes into the store mumbling) Oh, I coulda
beat you if I didn't have this store on my mind. Saturday afternoon
and I got work to do. Lum, ain't I told you to keep them kids from
playin' right in front of this store?
(LUM makes a pass at the nearest half-grown boy. The kids dart around
him teasingly.)
ANOTHER VOICE: Eh, heh.... Hambo done run him on his store ... done
run the ol' coon in his hole.
ANOTHER VOICE: That ain't good politics, Hambo, beatin' the Mayor.
ANOTHER VOICE: Well, Hambo, you don't got to be so hard at checkers,
come on let's see what you can do with de cards. Lum Boger there got
his hands full nursin' the chilluns.
ANOTHER VOICE: (At the table) We ain't playin' for money, nohow,
Deacon. We just playin' a little Florida Flip.
HAMBO: Ya all can't play no Florida Flip. When I was a sinner there
wasn't a man in this state could beat me playin' that game. But I'm a
deacon in Macedonia Baptist now and I don't bother with the cards no
more.
VOICE AT CARD TABLE: All right, then, come on here Tony (To man with
basket on steps.) let me catch your jack.
TAYLOR: (Looking toward door) I don't reckon I got time. I guess my
wife gonna get through buying out that store some time or other and
want to go home.
OLD MAN: (On opposite side of porch from card game) I bet my wife
would know better than expect me to sit around and wait for her with a
basket. Whyn't you tell her to tote it on home herself?
TAYLOR: (Sighing and shaking his head.) Eh, Lawd!
VOICE AT CARD TABLE: Look like we can't get nobody to come into this
game. Seem like everybody's scared a us. Come on back here, Lum, and
take your hand. (LUM makes a final futile gesture at the children.)
LUM: Ain't I tole you little haitians to stay away from here?
(CHILDREN scatter teasingly only to return to their play in front of
the store later on. LUM comes up on the porch and re-joins the card
game. Just as he gets seated, MRS. CLARK comes to the door of the
store and calls him.)
MRS. CLARK: (Drawlingly) Columbus!
LUM: (Wearily) Ma'am?
MRS. CLARK: De Mayor say for you to go round in de back yard and tie
up old lady Jackson's mule what's trampin' aup all de tomatoes in my
garden.
LUM: All right. (Leaving card game.) Wait till I come back, folkses.
LIGE: Oh, hum! (Yawning and putting down the deck of cards) Lum's sho
a busy marshall. Say, ain't Dave and Jim been round here yet? I feel
kinder like hearin' a little music 'bout now.
BOY: Naw, they ain't been here today. You-all know they ain't so thick
nohow as they was since Daisy Bailey come back and they started
runnin' after her.
WOMAN: You mean since she started runnin' after them, the young hussy.
MRS. CLARK: (In doorway) She don't mean 'em no good.
WALTER: That's a shame, ain't it now? (Enter LUM from around back of
store. He jumps on the porch and takes his place at the card box.)
LUM: (To the waiting players) All right, boys! Turn it on and let the
bad luck happen.
LIGE: My deal. (He begins shuffling the cards with an elaborate
fan-shape movement.)
VOICE AT TABLE: Look out there, Lige, you shuffling mighty lot. Don't
carry the cub to us.
LIGE: Aw, we ain't gonna cheat you ... we gonna beat you. (He slams
down the cards for LUM BOGER to cut.) Wanta cut 'em?
LUM: No, ain't no need of cutting a rabbit out when you can twist him
out. Deal 'em. (LIGE deals out the cards.)
CLARK'S VOICE: (Inside the store) You, Mattie! (MRS. CLARK, who has
been standing in the DOE, quickly turns and goes inside.)
LIGE: Y-e-e-e! Spades! (The game is started.)
LUM: Didn't snatch that jack, did you?
LIGE: Aw, no, ain't snatched no jack. Play.
WALTER: (LUM'S partner) Well, here it is, partner. What you want me to
play for you?
LUM: Play jus' like I'm in New York, partner. But we gotta try to
catch that jack.
LIGE: (Threateningly) Stick out your hand and draw back a nub.
(WALTER THOMAS plays.)
WALTER: I'm playin' a diamond for you, partner.
LUM: I done tole you you ain't got no partner.
LIGE: Heh, Heh! Partner, we got 'em. Pull off wid your king. Dey got
to play 'em. (When that trick is turned, triumphantly:) Didn't I tell
you, partner? (Stands on his feet and slams down with his ace
violently) Now, come up under this ace. Aw, hah, look at ol' low,
partner. I knew I was gonna catch 'em. (When LUM plays) Ho, ho, there
goes the queen.... Now, the jack's a gentleman.... Now, I'm playin' my
knots. (Everybody plays and the hand is ended.) Partner, high, low,
jack and the game and four.
WALTER: Give me them cards. I believe you-all done give me the cub
that time. Look at me ... this is Booker T Washington dealing these
cards. (Shuffles cards grandly and gives them to LIGE to cut.) Wanta
cut 'em?
LIGE: Yeah, cut 'em and shoot 'em. I'd cut behind my ma. (He cuts the
cards.)
WALTER: (Turning to player at left, FRANK, LIGE'S partner) What you
saying, Frank?
FRANK: I'm beggin'. (LIGE is trying to peep at cards.)
WALTER: (Turning to LIGE) Stop peepin' at them cards, Lige. (To FRANK)
Did you say you was beggin' or standin'?
FRANK: I'm beggin'.
WALTER: Get up off your knees. Go ahead and tell 'em I sent you.
FRANK: Well, that makes us four.
WALTER: I don't care if you is. (Pulls a quarter out of his pocket and
lays it down on the box.) Twenty-five cents says I know the best one.
Let's go. (Everybody puts down a quarter.)
FRANK: What you want me to play for you partner?
LIGE: Play me a club. (The play goes around to dealer, WALTER, who
gets up and takes the card off the top of the deck and slams it down
on the table.)
WALTER: Get up ol' deuce of deamonds and gallop off with your load.
(TO LUM) Partner, how many times you seen the deck?
LUM: Two times.
WALTER: Well, then I'm gonna pull off, partner. Watch this ol' queen.
(Everyone plays) Ha! Ha! Wash day and no soap. (Takes the jack of
diamonds and sticks him up on his forehead. Stands up on his feet.)
Partner, I'm dumping to you ... play your king. (When it comes to his
play LUM, too, stands up. The others get up and they, too, excitedly
slam their cards down.) Now, come on in this kitchen and let me splice
that cabbage! (He slams down the ace of diamonds. Pats the jack on his
for head, sings:) Hey, hey, back up, jenny, get your load. (Talking)
Dump to that jack, boys, dump to it. High, low, jack and the game and
four. One to go. We're four wid you, boys.
LIGE: Yeah, but you-all playin' catch-up.
FRANK: Gimme them cards ... lemme deal some.
LIGE: Frank, now you really got responsibility on you. They's got one
game on us.
FRANK: Aw, man, I'm gonna deal 'em up a mess. This deal's in the White
House. (He shuffles and puts the cards down for WALTER to cut.) Cut
'em.
WALTER: Nope, I never cut green timber. (FRANK deals and turns the
card up.)
FRANK: Hearts, boys. (He turns up an ace.)
LUM: Aw, you snatched that ace, nigger.
WALTER: Yeah, they done carried the cub to us, partner.
LIGE: Oh, he didn't do no such a thing. That ace was turned fair. We
jus' too hard for you ... we eats our dinner out a the blacksmith
shop.
WALTER: Aw, you all cheatin'. You know it wasn't fair.
FRANK: Aw, shut up, you all jus' whoopin' and hollerin' for nothin'.
Tryin' to bully the game. (FRANK and LIGE rise and shake hands
grandly.)
LIGE: Mr. Hoover, you sho is a noble president. We done stuck these
niggers full of cobs. They done got scared to play us.
LIGE (?) Scared to play you? Get back down to this table, let me
spread my mess.
LOUNGER: Yonder comes Elder Simms. You all better squat that rabbit.
They'll be having you all up in the church for playin' cards.
(FRANK grabs up the cards and puts them in his pocket quickly.
Everybody picks up the money and looks unconcerned as the preacher
enters. Enter ELDER SIMMS with his two prim-looking little children by
the hand.)
ELDER SIMMS: How do, children. Right warm for this time in November,
ain't it?
VOICE: Yes sir, Reverend, sho is. How's Sister Simms?
SIMMS: She's feelin' kinda po'ly today. (Goes on in store with his
children)
VOICE: (Whispering loudly) Don't see how that great big ole powerful
woman could be sick. Look like she could go bear huntin' with her
fist.
ANOTHER VOICE: She look jus' as good as you-all's Baptist pastor's
wife. Pshaw, you ain't seen no big woman, nohow, man. I seen one once
so big she went to whip her little boy and he run up under her belly
and hid six months 'fore she could find him.
ANOTHER VOICE: Well, I knowed a woman so little that she had to get up
on a soap box to look over a grain of sand.
(REV. SIMMS comes out of store, each child behind him sucking a stick
of candy.)
SIMMS: (To his children) Run on home to your mother and don't get
dirty on the way. (The two children start primly off down the street
but just out of sight one of them utters a loud cry.)
SIMMS'S CHILD: (Off stage) Papa, papa. Nunkie's trying to lick my
candy.
SIMMS: I told you to go on and leave them other children alone.
VOICE ON PORCH: (Kidding) Lum, whyn't you tend to your business.
(TOWN MARSHALL rises and shoos the children off again.)
LUM: You all varmints leave them nice chillun alone.
LIGE: (Continuing the lying on porch) Well, you all done seen so much,
but I bet you ain't never seen a snake as big as the one I saw when I
was a boy up in middle Georgia. He was so big couldn't hardly move his
self. He laid in one spot so long he growed moss on him and everybody
thought he was a log, till one day I set down on him and went to
sleep, and when I woke up that snake done crawled to Florida. (Loud
laughter.)
FRANK: (Seriously) Layin' all jokes aside though now, you all remember
that rattlesnake I killed last year was almost as big as that Georgia
snake.
VOICE: How big, you say it was, Frank?
FRANK: Maybe not quite as big as that, but jus' about fourteen feet.
VOICE: (Derisively) Gimme that lyin' snake. That snake wasn't but four
foot long when you killed him last year and you done growed him ten
feet in a year.
ANOTHER VOICE: Well, I don't know about that. Some of the snakes
around here is powerful long. I went out in my front yard yesterday
right after the rain and killed a great big ol' cottonmouth.
SIMMS: This sho is a snake town. I certainly can't raise no chickens
for 'em. They kill my little biddies jus' as fast as they hatch out.
And yes ... if I hadn't cut them weeds out of the street in front of
my parsonage, me or some of my folks woulda been snake-bit right at
our front door. (To whole crowd) Whyn't you all cut down these weeds
and clean up these streets?
HAMBO: Well, the Mayor ain't said nothin' 'bout it.
SIMMS: When the folks misbehaves in this town I think they oughta lock
'em up in a jail and make 'em work their fine out on the streets, then
these weeds would be cut down.
VOICE: How we gonna do that when we ain't got no jail?
SIMMS: Well, you sho needs a jail ... you-all needs a whole lot of
improvements round this town. I ain't never pastored no town so
way-back as this one here.
CLARK: (Who has lately emerged from the store, fanning himself,
overhears this last remark and bristles up) What's that you say 'bout
this town?
SIMMS: I say we needs some improvements here in this town ... that's
what.
CLARK: (In a powerful voice) And what improvements you figgers we
needs?
SIMMS: A whole heap. Now, for one thing we really does need a jail,
Mayor. We oughta stop runnin' these people out of town that
misbehaves, and lock 'em up. Others towns has jails, everytown I ever
pastored had a jail. Don't see how come we can't have one.
CLARK: (Towering angrily above the preacher) Now, wait a minute,
Simms. Don't you reckon the man who knows how to start a town knows
how to run it? I paid two hundred dollars out of this right hand for
this land and walked out here and started this town befo' you was
born. I ain't like some of you new niggers, come here when grapes'
ripe. I was here to cut new ground, and I been Mayor ever since.
SIMMS: Well, there ain't no sense in no one man stayin' Mayor all the
time.
CLARK: Well, it's my town and I can be mayor jus' as long as I want
to. It was me that put this town on the map.
SIMMS: What map you put it on, Joe Clark? I ain't seen it on no map.
CLARK: (Indignant) I God! Listen here, Elder Simms. If you don't like
the way I run this town, just' take your flat feets right on out and
git yonder crost the woods. You ain't been here long enough to say
nothin' nohow.
HAMBO: (From a nail keg) Yeah, you Methodist niggers always telling
people how to run things.
TAYLOR: (Practically unheard by the others) We do so know how to run
things, don't we? Ain't Brother Mayor a Methodist, and ain't the
school-teacher a ...? (His remarks are drowned out by the others.)
SIMMS: No, we don't like the way you're runnin' things. Now looka
here, (Pointing at the Marshall) You got that lazy Lum Boger here for
marshall and he ain't old enough to be dry behind his ears yet ... and
all these able-bodied means in this town! You won't 'low nobody else
to run a store 'ceptin' you. And looka yonder (happening to notice the
street light) only street lamp in town, you got in front of your
place. (Indignantly) We pay the taxes and you got the lamp.
VILLAGER: Don't you-all fuss now. How come you two always yam-yamming
at each other?
CLARK: How come this fly-by-night Methodist preacher over here ...
ain't been here three months ... tries to stand up on my store porch
and tries to tell me how to run my town? (MATTIE CLARK, the Mayor's
wife, comes timidly to the door, wiping her hands on her apron.) Ain't
no man gonna tell me how to run my town. I God, I 'lected myself in
and I'm gonna run it. (Turns and sees wife standing in door.
Commandingly.) I God, Mattie, git on back in there and wait on that
store!
MATTIE: (Timidly) Jody, somebody else wantin' stamps.
CLARK: I God, woman, what good is you? Gwan, git in. Look like between
women and preachers a man can't have no peace. (Exit CLARK.)
SIMMS: (Continuing his argument) Now, when I pastored in Jacksonville
you oughta see what kinda jails they got there....
LOUNGER: White folks needs jails. We colored folks don't need no jail.
ANOTHER VILLAGER: Yes, we do, too. Elder Simms is right....
(The argument becomes a hubbub of voices.)
TAYLOR: (Putting down his basket) Now, I tell you a jail....
MRS. TAYLOR: (Emerging from the store door, arms full of groceries,
looking at her husband) Yeah, and if you don't shut up and git these
rations home I'm gonna be worse on you than a jail and six judges.
Pickup that basket and let's go. (TONY meekly picks up the basket and
he and his wife exit as the sound of an approaching guitar is heard
off stage.)
(Two carelessly dressed, happy-go-lucky fellows enter together. One is
fingering a guitar without playing any particular tune, and the other
has his hat cocked over his eyes in a burlesque, dude-like manner.
There are casual greetings.)
WALTER: Hey, there, bums, how's tricks?
LIGE: What yo' sayin', boys?
HAMBO: Good evenin' sons.
LIGE: How did you-all make out this evenin', boys?
JIM: Oh, them white folks at the party shelled out right well. Kept
Dave busy pickin' it up. How much did we make today, Dave?
DAVE: (Striking his pocket) I don't know, boy, but feels right heavy
here. Kept me pickin' up money just like this.... (As JIM picks a few
dance chords, Dave gives a dance imitation of how he picked up the
coins from the ground as the white folks threw them.) We count it
after while. Woulda divided up with you already if you hadn't left me
when you seen Daisy comin' by. Let's sit down on the porch and rest
now.
LIGE: She sho is lookin' stylish and pretty since she come back with
her white folks from up North. Wearin' the swellest clothes. And that
coal-black hair of hers jus' won't quit.
MATTIE CLARK: (In doorway) I don't see what the mens always hanging
after Daisy Taylor for.
CLARK: (Turning around on the porch) I God, you back here again. Who's
tendin' that store? (MATTIE disappears inside.)
DAVE: Well, she always did look like new money to me when she was here
before.
JIM: Well, that's all you ever did get was a look.
DAVE: That's all you know! I bet I get more than that now.
JIM: You might git it but I'm the man to use it. I'm a bottom fish.
DAVE: Aw, man. You musta been walking round here fast asleep when
Daisy was in this county last. You ain't seen de go I had with her.
JIM: No, I ain't seen it. Bet you didn't have no letter from her while
she been away.
DAVE: Bet you didn't neither.
JIM: Well, it's just cause she can't write. If she knew how to scratch
with a pencil I'd had a ton of 'em.
DAVE: Shaw, man! I'd had a post office full of 'em.
OLD WOMAN: You-all ought to be shame, carrying on over a brazen heifer
like Daisy Taylor. Jus' cause she's been up North and come back, I
reckon you cutting de fool sho 'nough now. She ain't studying none of
you-all nohow. All she wants is what you got in your pocket.
JIM: I likes her but she won't git nothin' outa me. She never did. I
wouldn't give a poor consumpted cripple crab a crutch to cross the
River Jurdon.
DAVE: I know I ain't gonna give no woman nothin'. I wouldn't give a
dog a doughnut if he treed a terrapin.
LIGE: Youse a cottontail dispute ... both of you. You'd give her
anything you got. You'd give her Georgia with a fence 'round it.
OLD MAN: Yeah, and she'd take it, too.
LINDSAY: Don't distriminate the woman like that. That ain't nothing
but hogism. Ain't nothin' the matter with Daisy, she's all right.
(Enter TEETS and BOOTSIE tittering coyly and switching themselves.)
BOOTSIE: Is you seen my mama?
OLD WOMAN: You know you ain't lookin' for no mama. Jus' come back down
here to show your shape and fan around awhile. (BOOTSIE and TEETS
going into the store.)
BOOTSIE & TEETS: No, we ain't. We'se come to get our mail.
OLD WOMAN: (After girls enter store) Why don't you all keep up some
attention to these nice girls here, Bootsie and Teets. They wants to
marry.
DAVE: Aw, who thinkin' 'bout marryin' now? They better stay home and
eat their own pa's rations. I gotta buy myself some shoes.
JIM: The woman I'm gonna marry ain't born yet and her maw is dead.
(GIRLS come out giggling and exit.) (JIM begins to strum his guitar
lightly at first as the talk goes on.)
CLARK: (To DAVE and JIM) Two of the finest gals that ever lived and
friendly jus' like you-all is. You two boys better take 'em back and
stop them shiftless ways.
HAMBO: Yeah, hurry up and do somethin'! I wants to taste a piece yo'
weddin' cake.
JIM: (Embarrassed but trying to be jocular) Whut you trying to rush
me up so fast?... Look at Will Cody here (Pointing to little man on
porch) he been promising to bring his already wife down for two
months ... and nair one of us ain't seen her yet.
DAVE: Yeah, how you speck me to haul in a brand new wife when he can't
lead a wagon-broke wife eighteen miles? Me, I'm going git one soon's
Cody show me his'n. (General sly laughter at CODY'S expense.)
WALTER: (Snaps his fingers and pretends to remember something) Thass
right, Cody. I been intending to tell you.... I know where you kin buy
a ready-built house for you and yo' wife. (Calls into the store.) Hey,
Clark, cime on out here and tell Cody 'bout dat Bradley house. (To
CODY.) I know you wants to git a place of yo' own so you kin settle
down.
HAMBO: He done moved so much since he been here till every time he
walk out in his back yeard his chickens lay down and cross they legs.
LINDSAY: Cody, I thought you tole us you was going up to Sanford to
bring dat 'oman down here last Sat'day.
LIGE: That ain't de way he tole me 'bout it. Look, fellers, (Getting
up and putting one hand on his hips and one finger of the other hand
against his chin coquettishly) Where you reckon I'll be next Sat'day
night?... Sittin' up side of Miz Cody. (Great burst of laughter.)
SYKES JONES: (Laughing) Know what de folks tole me in Sanford? Dat was
another man's wife. (Guffaws.)
CODY: (Feebly) Aw, you don't know whut you talkin' bout.
JONES: Naw, I don't know, but de folks in Sanford does. (Laughing) Dey
tell me when dat lady's husband come home Sat'day night, ole Cody
jumped out de window. De man grabbed his old repeater and run out in
de yard to head him off. When Cody seen him come round de corner de
house (Gesture) he flopped his wings and flew up on de fence. De man
thowed dat shotgun dead on him. (Laughs) Den, man! Cody flopped his
wings lak a buzzard (Gesture) and sailed on off. De man dropped to his
knees lak dis (Gesture of kneeling on one knee and taking aim) Die!
die! die! (Supposedly sound of shots as the gun is moved in a circle
following the course of Cody's supposed flight) Cody just flew right
on off and lit on a hill two miles off. Then, man! (Gesture of swift
flight) In ten minutes he was back here in Eatonville and in he bed.
WALTER: I passed there and seen his house shakin', but I didn't know
how come.
HAMBO: Aw, leave de boy alone.... If you don't look out some of y'all
going to have to break his record.
LIGE: I'm prepared to break it now. (General laughter.)
JIM: Well, anyhow, I don't want to marry and leave Dave ... yet
awhile. (Picking a chord.)
DAVE: And I ain't gonna leave Jim. We been palling around together
ever since we hollered titty mama, ain't we, boy?
JIM: Sho is. (Music of the guitar increases in volume. DAVE shuffles a
few steps and the two begin to sing.)
JIM:
Rabbit on the log.
I ain't got no dog.
How am I gonna git him?
God knows.
DAVE:
Rabbit on the log.
Ain't got no dog.
Shoot him with my rifle
Bam! Bam!
(Some of the villagers join in song and others get up and march around
the porch in time with the music. BOOTSIE and TEETS re-enter, TEETS
sticking her letter down the neck of her blouse. JOE LINDSAY grabs
TEETS and WALTER THOMAS grabs BOOTSIE. There is dancing, treating and
general jollification. Little children dance the parse-me-la. The
music fills the air just as the sun begins to go down. Enter DAISY
TAYLOR coming down the road toward the store.)
CLARK: (Bawls out from the store porch) I God, there's Daisy again.
(Most of the dancing stops, the music slows down and then stops
completely. DAVE and JIM greet DAISY casually as she approaches the
porch.)
JIM: Well, Daisy, we knows you, too.
DAVE: Gal, youse jus' as pretty as a speckled pup.
DAISY: (Giggling) I see you two boys always playin' and singin'
together. That music sounded right good floating down the road.
JIM: Yeah, child, we'se been playin' for the white folks all week.
We'se playin' for the colored now.
DAVE: (Showing off, twirling his dancing feet) Yeah, we're standin' on
our abstract and livin' on our income.
OLD MAN: Um-ump, but they ain't never workin'. Just round here playing
as usual.
JIM: Some folks think you ain't workin' lessen you smellin' a mule.
(He sits back down on box and picks at his guitar.) Think you gotta
be beatin' a man to his barn every mornin'.
VOICE: Glad to be round home with we-all again, ain't you Daisy?
DAISY: Is I glad? I jus' got off special early this evenin' to come
over here and see everybody. I was kinda 'fraid sundown would catch me
'fore I got round that lake. Don't know how I'm gonna walk back to my
workin' place in the dark by muself.
DAVE: Don't no girl as good-lookin' as you is have to go home by
herself tonight.
JIM: No, cause I'm here.
DAVE: (To DAISY) Don't you trust yourself round that like wid all them
'gators and moccasins with that nigger there, Daisy (Pointing at JIM)
He's jus' full of rabbit blood. What you need is a real man ... with
good feet. (Cutting a dance step.)
DAISY: I ain't thinking 'bout goin' home yet. I'm goin' in the store.
JIM: What you want in the store?
DAISY: I want some gum.
DAVE: (Starting toward door) Girl, you don't have to go in there to
git no gum. I'll go in there and buy you a carload of gum. What kind
you want?
DAISY: Bubble gum. (DAVE goes in the store with his hand in his
pocket. The sun is setting and the twilight deepens.)
JIM: (Pulling package out of his pocket and laughing) Here your gum,
baby. What it takes to please the ladies, I totes it. I don't have to
go get it, like Dave. What you gimme for it?
DAISY: A bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck. (She embraces
JIM playfully. He hands her the gum, patting his shoulder as he sits
on box.) Oh, thank you. Youse a ready man.
JIM: Yeah, there's a lot of good parts to me. You can have West Tampa
if you want it.
DAISY: You always was a nice quiet boy, Jim.
DAVE: (Emerging from the store with a package of gum) Here's your gum,
Daisy.
JIM: Oh, youse late. She's done got gum now. Chaw that yourself.
DAVE: (Slightly peeved and surprised) Hunh, you mighty fast here now
with Daisy but you wasn't that fast gettin' out of that white man's
chicken house last week.
JIM: Who you talkin' 'bout?
DAVE: Hoo-oo? (Facetiously) You ain't no owl. Your feet don't fit no
limb.
JIM: Aw, nigger, hush.
DAVE: Aw, hush, yourself. (He walks away for a minute as DAISY turns
to meet some newcomers. DAVE throws his package of gum down on the
ground. It breaks and several children scramble for the pieces. An old
man, very drunk, carrying an empty jug enters on left and staggers
tipsily across stage.) (MAYOR JOE CLARK emerges from the store and
looks about for his marshall.)
CLARK: (Bellowing) Lum Boger!
LUM BOGER: (Eating a stalk of cane) Yessir!
CLARK: I God, Lum, take your lazy self off that keg and go light that
town lamp. All summer long you eatin' up my melon, and all winter long
you chawin' up my cane. What you think this town is payin' you for?
Laying round here doin' nothin'? Can't you see it's gettin' dark?
(LUM BOGER rises lazily and takes the soap box down stage, stands on
it to light the lamp, discovers no oil in it and goes in store. In a
few moments he comes out of store, fills the lamp and lights it.)
DAISY: (Coming back toward JIM) Ain't you all gonna play and sing a
little somethin' for me? I ain't heard your all's music much for so
long.
JIM: Play anything you want, Daisy. Don't make no difference what 'tis
I can pick it. Where's that old coon, Dave? (Looking around for his
partner.)
LIGE: (Calling Dave, who is leaning against post at opposite end of
porch) Come here, an' get warmed up for Daisy.
DAVE: Aw, ma throat's tired.
JIM: Leave the baby be.
DAISY: Come on, sing a little, Dave.
DAVE: (Going back toward Jim) Well, seeing who's asking ... all right.
What song yo like, Daisy?
DAISY: Um-m. Lemme think.
VOICE ON PORCH: "Got on the train, didn't have no fare".
DAISY: (Gaily) Yes, that one. That's a good one.
JIM: (Begins to tune up. DAVE touches Daisy's hand.)
VOICE: (In fun) Hunh, you all wouldn't play at the hall last week when
we asked you.
VOICE OF SPITEFUL OLD WOMAN: Daisy wasn't here then.
ANOTHER VOICE: (Teasingly) All you got to do to some men is to shake a
skirt tail in their face and they goes off their head.
DAVE: (To JIM who is still tuning up) Come if you're comin' boy, let's
go if you gwine. (The full melody of the guitar comes out in a lively,
old-fashioned tune.)
VOICE: All right now, boys, do it for Daisy jus' as good as you do for
dem white folks over in Maitland.
DAVE & JIM: (Beginning to sing)
Got on the train,
Didn't have no fare,
But I rode some,
I rode some.
Got on the train,
Didn't have no fare,
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
Got on the train,
Didn't have no fare,
Conductor asked me what I'm doin' there,
But I rode some!
Grabbed me by the neck
And led me to the door.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
Grabbed me by the neck
And led me to the door.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
Grabbed me by the neck,
And led me to the door.
Rapped me cross the head with a forty-four,
But I rode some.
First thing I saw in jail
Was a pot of peas.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
First thing I saw in jail
Was a pot of peas.
But I rode some,
But I rode some.
The peas was good,
The meat was fat,
Fell in love with the chain gang jus' for that,
But I rode some.
(DAVE acts out the song in dancing pantomime and when it ends there
are shouts and general exclamations of approval from the crowd.)
VOICES: I don't blame them white folks for goin' crazy 'bout that....
OLD MAN: Oh, when I was a young boy I used to swing the gals round on
that piece.
DAISY: (TO JIM) Seem like your playin' gits better and better.
DAVE: (Quickly) And how 'bout my singin'? (Everybody laughs.)
VOICES IN THE CROWD: Ha! Ha! Ol' Dave's gittin' jealous when she
speaks o' Jim.
JIM: (To DAVE, in fun) Ain't nothin' to it but my playin'. You ain't
got no singin' voice. If that's singin', God's a gopher.
DAVE: (Half-seriously) My singin' is a whole lot better'n your
playin'. You jus' go along and fram. The reason why the white folks
gives us money is cause I'm singin'.
JIM: Yeah?
DAVE: And you can't dance.
VOICE IN THE CROWD: You oughta dance. Big as your feet is, Dave.
DAISY: (Diplomatically) Both of you all is wonderful and I would like
to see Dave dance a little.
DAVE: There now, I told you. What did I tell you. (To JIM) Stop
woofing and pick a little tune there so that I can show Daisy
somethin'.
JIM: Pick a tune? I bet if you fool with me I'll pick your bones jus'
like a buzzard did the rabbit. You can't sing and now you wants to
dance.
DAVE: Yeah, and I'll lam your head. Come on and play,
good-for-nothing.
JIM: All right, then. You say you can dance ... show these people what
you can do. But don't bring that little stuff I been seein' you doin'
all these years. (JIM plays and DAVE dances, various members of the
crowd keep time with their hands and feet, DAISY looks on enjoying
herself immensely.)
DAISY: (As DAVE cuts a very fancy step) I ain't seen nothin' like this
up North. Dave you sho hot.
(As DAVE cuts a more complicated step the crowd applauds, but just as
the show begins to get good, suddenly JIM stops playing.)
DAVE: (Surprised) What's the matter, buddy?
JIM: (Envious of the attention DAVE has been getting from DAISY,
disgustedly) Oh, nigger, I'm tired of seein' you cut the fool. 'Sides
that, I been playin' all afternoon for the white folks.
DAISY: But I though you was playin' for me now, Jim.
JIM: Yeah, I'd play all night long for you, but I'm gettin' sick of
Dave round here showin' off. Let him git somethin' and play for
himself if he can. (An OLD MAN with a lighted lantern enters.)
DAISY: (Coyly) Well, honey, play some more for me, then, and don't
mind Dave. I reckon he done danced enough. Play me "Shake That
Thing".
OLD MAN WITH LANTERN: Sho, you ain't stopped, is you, boy? Music sound
mighty good floatin' down that dark road.
OLD WOMAN: Yeah, Jim, go on play a little more. Don't get to acting so
niggerish this evening.
DAVE: Aw, let the ol' darky alone. Nobody don't want to hear him play,
nohow. I know I don't.
JIM: Well, I'm gonna play. (And he begins to pick "Shake That Thing".
TEETS and BOOTSIE begin to dance with LIGE MOSELY and FRANK WARRICK.
As the tune gets good, DAVE cannot resist the music either.)
DAVE: Old nigger's eveil but he sho can play. (He begins to do a few
steps by himself, then twirls around in front of DAISY and approaches
her. DAISY, overcome by the music, begins to step rhythmically toward
DAVE and together they dance unobserved by JIM, absorbed in picking
his guitar.)
DAISY: Look here, baby, at this new step I learned up North.
DAVE: You can show me anything, sugar lump.
DAISY: Hold me tight now. (But just as they begin the new movement JIM
notices DAISY and DAVE. He stops playing again and lays his guitar
down.)
VOICES IN THE CROWD: (Disgustedly) Aw, come on, Jim.... You must be
jealous....
JIM: No, I ain't jealous. I jus' get tired of seein' that ol' nigger
clownin' all the time.
DAVE: (Laughing and pointing to JIM on porch) Look at that mad baby.
Take that lip up off the ground. Got your mouth stuck out jus' because
some one is enjoying themselves. (He comes up and pushes JIM
playfully.)
JIM: You better go head and let me alone. (TO DAISY) Come here,
Daisy!
LIGE: That's just what I say. Niggers can't have no fun without
someone getting mad ... specially over a woman.
JIM: I ain't mad.... Daisy, 'scuse me, honey, but that fool, Dave....
DAVE: I ain't mad neither.... Jim always tryin' to throw off on me.
But you can't joke him.
DAISY: (Soothingly) Aw, now, now!
JIM: You ain't jokin'. You means that, nigger. And if you tryin' to
get hot, first thing, you can pull of my blue shirt you put on this
morning.
DAVE: Youse a got that wrong. I ain't got on no shirt of yours.
JIM: Yes, you is got on my shirt, too. Don't tell me you ain't got on
my shirt.
DAVE: Well, even if I is, you can just lift your big plantations out
of my shoes. You can just foot it home barefooted.
JIM: You try to take any shoes offa me!
LIGE: (Pacifying them) Aw, there ain't no use of all that. What you
all want to start this quarreling for over a little jokin'.
JIM: Nobody's quarreling.... I'm just playin' a little for Daisy and
Dave's out there clownin' with her.
CLARK: (In doorway) I ain't gonna have no fussin' round my store, no
way. Shut up, you all.
JIM: Well, Mayor Clark, I ain't mad with him. We'se been friends all
our lives. He's slept in my bed and wore my clothes and et my grub....
DAVE: I et your grub? And many time as you done laid down with your
belly full of my grandma's collard greens. You done et my meat and
bread a whole lot more times than I et your stewed fish-heads.
JIM: I'd rather eat stewed fish-heads than steal out of other folkses
houses so much till you went to sleep on the roost and fell down one
night and broke up the settin' hen. (Loud laughter from the crowd)
DAVE: Youse a liar if you say I stole anybody's chickens. I didn't
have to. But you ... 'fore you started goin' around with me, playin'
that little box of yours, you was so hungry you had the white mouth.
If it wasn't for these white folks throwin' _me_ money for _my_
dancin', you would be thin as a whisper right now.
JIM: (Laughing sarcastically) Your dancin'! You been leapin' around
here like a tailless monkey in a wash pot for a long time and nobody
was payin' no 'tention to you, till I come along playing.
LINDSAY: Boys, boys, that ain't no way for friends to carry on.
DAISY: Well, if you all gonna keep up this quarrelin' and carryin' on
I'm goin' home. 'Bout time for me to be gittin' back to my white folks
anyhow. It's dark now. I'm goin', even if I have to go by myself. I
shouldn't a stopped by here nohow.
JIM: (Stopping his quarrel) You ain't gonna go home by yourself. I'm
goin' with you.
DAVE: (Singing softly)
It may be so,
I don't know.
But it sounds to me
Like a lie.
WALTER: Dave ain't' got as much rabbit blood as folks thought.
DAVE: Tell 'em 'bout me. (Turns to DAISY) Won't you choose a treat on
me, Miss Daisy, 'fore we go?
DAISY: (Coyly) Yessir, thank you. I wants a drink of soda water.
(DAVE pulls his hat down over his eyes, whirls around and offers his
arm to DAISY. They strut into the store, DAVE gazing contemptuously at
JIM as he passes. Crowd roars with laughter, much to the embarrassment
of JIM.)
LIGE: Ol' fast Dave jus' runnin' the hog right over you, Jim.
WALTER: Thought you was such a hot man.
LUM BOGER: Want me to go in there and put Daisy under arrest and bring
her to you?
JIM: (Sitting down on the edge of porch with one foot on the step and
lights a cigarette pretending not to be bothered.) Aw, I'll get her
when I want her. Let him treat her, but see who struts around that
lake and down the railroad with her by and by.
(DAVE and DAISY emerge from the store, each holding a bottle of red
soda pop and laughing together. As they start down the steps DAVE
accidentally steps on JIM's outstretched foot. JIM jumps up and pushes
DAVE back, causing him to spill the red soda all over his white shirt
front.)
JIM: Stay off my foot, you big ox.
DAVE: Well, you don't have to wet me all up, do you, and me in
company? Why don't you put your damn foot in your pocket?
DAISY: (Wiping DAVE'S shirt front with her handkerchief) Aw, ain't
that too bad.
JIM: (To DAVE) Well, who's shirt did I wet? It's mine, anyhow, ain't
it?
DAVE: (Belligerently) Well, if it's your shirt, then you come take it
off me. I'm tired of your lip.
JIM: Well, I will.
DAVE: Well, put your fist where you lip is. (Pushing DAISY aside.)
DAISY: (Frightened) I want to go home. Now, don't you all boys fight.
(JIM attempts to come up the steps. DAVE pushes him back and he
stumbles and falls in the dust. General excitement as the crowd senses
a fight.)
LITTLE BOY: (On the edge of crowd) Fight, fight, you're no kin. Kill
one another, won't be no sin. Fight, fight, you're no kin.
(JIM jumps up and rushes for DAVE as the latter starts down the steps.
DAVE meets him with his fist squarely in the face and causes him to
step backward, confused.)
DAISY: (Still on porch, half crying) Aw, my Lawd! I want to go home.
(General hubbub, women's cries of "Don't let 'em fight." "Why don't
somebody stop 'em?" "What kind of men is you all, sit there and let
them boys fight like that." Men's voices urging the fight: "Aw, let
'em fight." "Go for him, Dave." "Slug him, Jim."
JIM makes another rush toward the steps. He staggers DAVE. DAVE knocks
JIM sprawling once more. This time JIM grabs the mule bone as he
rises, rushes DAVE, strikes DAVE over the head with it and knocks him
out. DAVE falls prone on his back. There is great excitement.)
OLD WOMAN: (Screams) Lawdy, is he kilt? (Several men rush to the
fallen man.)
VOICE: Run down to the pump and get a dipper o' water.
CLARK: (To his wife in door) Mattie, come out of that store with a
bottle of witch hazely oil quick as you can. Jim Weston, I'm gonna
arrest you for this. You Lum Boger. Where is that marshall? Lum Boger!
(LUM BOGER detaches himself from the crowd.) Arrest Jim.
LUM: (Grabs JIM'S arm, relieves him of the mule bone and looks
helplessly at the Mayor.) Now I got him arrested, what's I going to do
with him?
CLARK: Lock him up back yonder in my barn till Monday when we'll have
the trial in de Baptist Church.
LINDSAY: Yeah, just like all the rest of them Methodists ... always
tryin' to take undercurrents on people.
WALTER: Ain't no worse then some of you Baptists, nohow. You all don't
run this town. We got jus' as much to say as you have.
CLARK: (Angrily to both men) Shut up! Done had enough arguing in front
of my place. (To LUM BOGER) Take that boy on and lock him up in my
barn. And save that mule bone for evidence.
(LUM BOGER leads JIM off toward the back of the store. A crowd follows
him. Other men and women are busy applying restoratives to DAVE. DAISY
stands alone, unnoticed in the center of the stage.)
DAISY: (Worriedly) Now, who's gonna take me home?
:::: CURTAIN::::
ACT TWO
SCENE I
SETTING: Village street scene; huge oak tree upstage center; a house
or two on back drop. When curtain goes up, Sister LUCY TAYLOR is seen
standing under the tree. She is painfully spelling it out.
(Enter SISTER THOMAS, a younger woman (In her thirties) at left.)
SISTER THOMAS: Evenin', Sis Taylor.
SISTER TAYLOR: Evenin'. (Returns to the notice)
SISTER THOMAS: Whut you doin'? Readin' dat notice Joe Clark put up
'bout de meeting? (Approaches tree)
SISTER TAYLOR: Is dat whut it says? I ain't much on readin' since I
had my teeth pulled out. You know if you pull out dem eye teeth you
ruins' yo' eye sight. (Turns back to notice) Whut it say?
SISTER THOMAS: (Reading notice) "The trial of Jim Weston for assault
and battery on Dave Carter wid a dangerous weapon will be held at
Macedonia Baptist Church on Monday, November 10, at three o'clock. All
are welcome. By order of J. Clark, Mayor of Eatonville, Florida."
(Turning to SISTER TAYLOR) Hit's makin' on to three now.
SISTER TAYLOR: You mean it's right _now_. (Looks up at sun to tell
time) Lemme go git ready to be at de trial 'cause I'm sho goin' to be
there an' I ain't goin' to bite my tongue neither.
SISTER THOMAS: I done went an' crapped a mess of collard greens for
supper. I better go put 'em on 'cause Lawd knows when we goin' to git
outa there an' my husband is one of them dat's gointer eat don't keer
whut happen. I bet if judgment day was to happen tomorrow he'd speck I
orter fix him a bucket to carry long. (She moves to exit, right)
SISTER TAYLOR: All men favors they guts, chile. But what you think of
all dis mess they got goin' on round here?
SISTER THOMAS: I just think it's a sin an' a shame befo' de livin'
justice de way dese Baptis' niggers is runnin' round here carryin' on.
SISTER TAYLOR: Oh, they been puttin' out the brags ever since Sat'day
night 'bout whut they gointer do to Jim. They thinks they runs this
town. They tell me Rev. CHILDERS preached a sermon on it yistiddy.
SISTER THOMAS: Lawd help us! He can't preach an' he look like 10 cents
worth of have-mercy let lone gittin' up dere tryin' to throw slams at
us. Now all Elder Simms done wuz to explain to us our rights ... whut
you think 'bout Joe Clarke runnin' round here takin' up for these ole
Baptist niggers?
SISTER TAYLOR: De puzzle-gut rascal ... we oughter have him up in
conference an' put him out de Methdis' faith. He don't b'long in
there--wanter tun dat boy outa town for nothin'.
SISTER THOMAS: But we all know how come he so hot to law Jim outa
town--hit's to dig de foundation out from under Elder Simms.
SISTER TAYLOR: Whut he wants do dat for?
SISTER THOMAS: 'Cause he wants to be a God-know-it-all an' a
God-do-it-all an' Simms is de onliest one in this town whut will buck
up to him.
(Enter SISTER JONES, walking leisurely)
SISTER JONES: Hello, Hoyt, hello, Lucy.
SISTER TAYLOR: Goin' to de meetin'?
SISTER JONES: Done got my clothes on de line an' I'm bound to be dere.
SISTER THOMAS: Gointer testify for Jim?
SISTER JONES: Naw, I reckon--don't make such difference to me which
way de drop fall.... 'Tain't neither one of 'em much good.
SISTER TAYLOR: I know it. I know it, Ida. But dat ain't de point. De
crow we wants to pick is: Is we gointer set still an' let dese Baptist
tell us when to plant an' when to pluck up?
SISTER JONES: Dat is something to think about when you come to think
'bout it. (Starts to move on) Guess I better go ahead--see y'all later
an tell you straighter.
(Enter ELDER SIMMS, right, walking fast, Bible under his arm, almost
collides with SISTER JONES as she exits.)
SIMMS: Oh, 'scuse me, Sister Jones. (She nods and smiles and exits.)
How you do, Sister Taylor, Sister Thomas.
BOTH: Good evenin', Elder.
SIMMS: Sho is a hot day.
SISTER TAYLOR: Yeah, de bear is walkin' de earth lak a natural man.
SISTER THOMAS: Reverend, look like you headed de wrong way. It's
almost time for de trial an' youse all de dependence we got.
SIMMS: I know it. I'm tryin' to find de marshall so we kin go after
Jim. I wants a chance to talk wid him a minute before court sets.
SISTER TAYLOR: Y'think he'll come clear?
SIMMS: (Proudly) I _know_ it! (Shakes the Bible) I'm goin' to law 'em
from Genesis to Revelation.
SISTER THOMAS: Give it to 'em, Elder. Wear 'em out!
SIMMS: We'se liable to havea new Mayor when all dis dust settle. Well,
I better scuffle on down de road. (Exits, left.)
SISTER THOMAS: Lord, lemme gwan home an' put dese greens on. (Looks
off stage left) Here come Mayor Clark now, wid his belly settin' out
in front of him like a cow catcher! His name oughter be Mayor Belly.
SISTER TAYLOR: (Arms akimbo) Jus' look at him! Tryin' to look like a
jigadier Breneral.
(Enter CLARK hot and perspiring. They look at him coldly.)
CLARK: I God, de bear got me! (Silence for a moment) How y'all
feelin', ladies?
SISTER TAYLOR: Brother Mayor, I ain't one of these folks dat bite my
tongue an' bust my gall--whut's inside got to come out! I can't see to
my rest why you cloakin' in wid dese Baptist buzzards 'ginst yo' own
church.
MAYOR CLARK: I ain't cloakin' in wid _none_. I'm de Mayor of dis whole
town I stands for de right an' ginst de wrong--I don't keer who it
kill or cure.
SISTER THOMAS: You think it's right to be runnin' dat boy off for
nothin'?
CLARK: I God! You call knockin' a man in de head wid a mule bone
nothin'? 'Nother thin; I done missed nine of my best-layin' hens. I
ain't sayin' Jim got 'em, but different people has tole me he burries
a powerful lot of feathers in his back yard. I God, I'm a ruint man!
(He starts towards the right exit, but LUM BOGER enters right.) I God,
Lum, I been lookin' for you all day. It's almost three o'clock. (Hands
him a key from his ring) Take dis key an' go fetch Jim Weston on to de
church.
LUM: Have you got yo' gavel from de lodge-room?
CLARK: I God, that's right, Lum. I'll go get it from de lodge room
whilst you go git de bone an' de prisoner. Hurry up! You walk like
dead lice droppin' off you. (He exits right while LUM crosses stage
towards left.)
SISTER TAYLOR: Lum, Elder Simms been huntin' you--he's gone on down
'bout de barn. (She gestures)
LUM BOGER: I reckon I'll overtake him. (Exit left.)
SISTER THOMAS: I better go put dese greens on. My husband will kill me
if he don't find no supper ready. Here come Mrs. Blunt. She oughter
feel like a penny's worth of have-mercy wid all dis stink behind her
daughter.
SISTER TAYLOR: Chile, some folks don't keer. They don't raise they
chillun; they drags 'em up. God knows if dat Daisy wuz mine, I'd throw
her down an' put a hundred lashes on her back wid a plow-line. Here
she come in de store Sat'day night (Acts coy and coquettish,
burlesques DAISY'S walk) a wringing and a twisting!
(Enter MRS. BLUNT, left.)
MRS. BLUNT: How y'all sisters?
SISTER THOMAS: Very well, Miz Blunt, how you?
MRS. BLUNT: Oh, so-so.
MRS. TAYLOR: I'm kickin', but not high.
MRS. BLUNT: Well, thank God you still on prayin' ground an' in a Bible
country. Me, I ain't so many today. De niggers got my Daisy's name all
mixed up in dis mess.
MRS. TAYLOR: You musn't mind dat, Sister Blunt. People jus' _will_
talk. They's talkin' in New York an' they's talkin' in Georgy an'
they's talkin' in Italy.
SISTER THOMAS: Chile, if you talk folkses talk, they'll have you in de
graveyard or in Chattahoochee one. You can't pay no 'tention to talk.
MRS. BLUNT: Well, I know one thing. De man or women, chick or child,
grizzly or gray, that tells me to my face anything wrong 'bout _my_
chile, I'm goin' to take _my_ fist (Rolls up right sleeve and gestures
with right fist) and knock they teeth down they throat. (She looks
ferocious) 'Case y'all know I raised my Daisy right round my feet till
I let her go up north last year wid them white folks. I'd ruther her
to be in de white folks' kitchen than walkin' de streets like some of
dese girls round here. If I do say so, I done raised a lady. She can't
help it if all dese mens get stuck on her.
MRS. TAYLOR: You'se tellin' de truth, Sister Blunt. That's whut I
always say: Don't confidence dese niggers. Do, they'll sho put you in
de street.
MRS. THOMAS: Naw indeed, never syndicate wid niggers. Do, they will
distriminate you. They'll be an _anybody_. You goin' to de trial,
ain't you?
MRS. BLUNT: Just as sho as you snore. An' they better leave Daisy's
name outa dis, too. I done told her and told her to come straight home
from her work. Naw, she had to stop by dat store and skin her gums
back wid dem trashy niggers. She better not leave them white folks
today to come traipsin' over here scornin' her name all up wid dis
nigger mess. Do, I'll kill her. No daughter of mine ain't goin' to do
as she please, long as she live under de sound of my voice. (She
crosses to right.)
MRS. THOMAS: That's right, Sister Blunt. I glory in yo' spunk. Lord, I
better go put on my supper.
(As MRS. BLUNT exits, right, REV. CHILDERS enters left with DAVE and
DEACON LINDSAY and SISTER LEWIS. Very hostile glances from SISTERS
THOMAS and TAYLOR toward the others.)
CHILDERS: Good evenin', folks.
(SISTERS THOMAS and TAYLOR just grunt. MRS. THOMAS moves a step or two
towards exit. Flirts her skirts and exits.)
LINDSAY: (Angrily) Whut's de matter, y'all? Cat got yo' tongue?
MRS. TAYLOR: More matter than you kin scatter all over Cincinnatti.
LINDSAY: Go 'head on, Lucy Taylor. Go 'head on. You know a very little
of yo' sugar sweetens my coffee. Go 'head on. Everytime you lift yo'
arm you smell like a nest of yellow hammers.
MRS. TAYLOR: Go 'head on yo'self. Yo' head look like it done wore out
three bodies. Talkin' 'bout _me_ smellin'--you smell lak a nest of
grand daddies yo'self.
LINDSAY: Aw rock on down de road, 'oman. Ah, don't wantuh change words
wid yuh. Youse too ugly.
MRS. TAYLOR: You ain't nobody's pretty baby, yo'self. You so ugly I
betcha yo' wife have to spread uh sheet over yo' head tuh let sleep
slip up on yuh.
LINDSAY: (Threatening) You better git way from me while you able. I
done tole you I don't wanter break a breath wid you. It's uh whole
heap better tuh walk off on yo' own legs than it is to be toted off.
I'm tired of yo' achin' round here. You fool wid me now an' I'll knock
you into doll rags, Tony or no Tony.
MRS. TAYLOR: (Jumping up in his face) Hit me? Hit me! I dare you tuh
hit me. If you take dat dare, you'll steal uh hawg an' eat his hair.
LINDSAY: Lemme gwan down to dat church befo' you make me stomp you.
(He exits, right.)
MRS. TAYLOR: You mean you'll _git_ stomped. Ah'm goin' to de trial,
too. De nex trial gointer be _me_ for kickin' some uh you Baptist
niggers around.
(A great noise is heard off stage left. The angry and jeering voices
of children. MRS. TAYLOR looks off left and takes a step or two
towards left exit as the noise comes nearer.)
VOICE OF ONE CHILD: Tell her! Tell her! Turn her up and smell her. Yo'
mama ain't got nothin' to do wid me.
MRS. TAYLOR: (Hollering off left) You lil Baptis' haitians leave them
chillun alone. If you don't, you better!
(Enter about ten children struggling and wrestling in a bunch. MRS.
TAYLOR looks about on the ground for a stick to strike the children
with.)
VOICE OF CHILD: Hey! Hey! He's skeered tuh knock it off. Coward!
MRS. TAYLOR: If y'all don't git on home!
SASSY LITTLE GIRL: (Standing akimbo) I know you better not touch me,
do my mama will 'tend to you.
MRS. TAYLOR: (Making as if to strike her.) Shet up you nasty lil
heifer, sassin' me! You ain't half raised.
(The little girl shakes herself at MRS. TAYLOR and is joined by two or
three others.)
MRS. TAYLOR: (Walkin' towards right exit.) I'm goin' on down to de
church an' tell yo' mammy. But she ain't been half raised herself.
(She exits right with several children making faces behind her.)
ONE BOY: (To sassy GIRL) Aw, haw! Y'all ol' Baptis' ain't got no
bookcase in yo' chuch. We went there one day an' I saw uh soda cracker
box settin' up in de corner so I set down on it. (Pointing at sassy
GIRL) Know what ole Mary Ella say? (Jeering laughter) Willie, you git
up off our library! Haw! Haw!
MARY ELLA: Y'all ole Meth'dis' ain't got no window panes in yo' ole
church.
ANOTHER GIRL: (Takes center of stand, hands akimbo and shakes her
hips) I don't keer whut y'all say, I'm a Meth'dis' bred an' uh
Meth'dis' born an' when I'm dead there'll be uh Meth'dis' gone.
MARY ELLA: (Snaps fingers under other girl's nose and starts singing.
Several join her.)
Oh Baptis', Baptis' is my name
My name's written on high
I got my lick in de Baptis' church
Gointer eat up de Meth'dis' pie.
(The Methodist children jeer and make faces. The Baptist camp make
faces back; for a full minute there is silence while each camp tries
to outdo the other in face making. The Baptist makes the last face.)
METHODIST BOY: Come on, less us don't notice 'em. Less gwan down to
de church an' hear de trial.
MARY ELLA: Y'all ain't de onliest ones kin go. We goin', too.
WILLIE: Aw, haw! Copy cats! (Makes face) Dat's right. Follow on behind
us lak uh puppy dog tail. (They start walking toward right exit,
switching their clothes behind.) Dat's right. Follow on behind us lak
uh puppy dog tail. (They start walking toward right exit, switching
their clothes behind.)
(Baptist children stage a rush and struggle to get in front of the
Methodists. They finally succeed in flinging some of the Methodist
children to the ground and some behind them and walk towards right
exit haughtily switching their clothes.)
WILLIE: (Whispers to his crowd) Less go round by Mosely's lot an' beat
'em there!
OTHERS: All right!
WILLIE: (Yellin' to Baptists) We wouldn't walk behind no ole Baptists!
(The Methodists turn and walk off towards left exit, switching their
clothes as the Baptists are doing.)
SLOW CURTAIN
End of Project Gutenberg's The Mule-Bone:, by Zora Hurston and Langston Hughes
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MULE-BONE: ***
***** This file should be named 19435.txt or 19435.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/4/3/19435/
Produced by Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by the
Library of Congress)
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
http://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
Who represents Jim in the trial?
Answer:
| Elder Simms | 174 | 99,589 | 99,591 | 99,633 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
38322 | 38322_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Derelict, by Alan Edward Nourse
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Derelict
Author: Alan Edward Nourse
Illustrator: Ed Emshwiller
Release Date: April 13, 2010 [EBook #31976]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DERELICT ***
Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration]
_What was the mystery of this great ship from the dark, deep reaches
of space? For, within its death-filled chambers--was the avenue of
life!_
DERELICT
By Alan E. Nourse
Illustrated by Ed Emsh
John Sabo, second in command, sat bolt upright in his bunk, blinking
wide-eyed at the darkness. The alarm was screaming through the Satellite
Station, its harsh, nerve-jarring clang echoing and re-echoing down the
metal corridors, penetrating every nook and crevice and cubicle of the
lonely outpost, screaming incredibly through the dark sleeping period.
Sabo shook the sleep from his eyes, and then a panic of fear burst into
his mind. The alarm! Tumbling out of his bunk in the darkness, he
crashed into the far bulkhead, staggering giddily in the impossible
gravity as he pawed about for his magnaboots, his heart pounding
fiercely in his ears. The _alarm_! Impossible, after so long, after
these long months of bitter waiting-- In the corridor he collided with
Brownie, looking like a frightened gnome, and he growled profanity as he
raced down the corridor for the Central Control.
Frightened eyes turned to him as he blinked at the bright lights of the
room. The voices rose in a confused, anxious babble, and he shook his
head and swore, and ploughed through them toward the screen. "Kill that
damned alarm!" he roared, blinking as he counted faces. "Somebody get
the Skipper out of his sack, pronto, and stop that clatter! What's the
trouble?"
The radioman waved feebly at the view screen, shimmering on the great
side panel. "We just picked it up--"
It was a ship, moving in from beyond Saturn's rings, a huge, gray-black
blob in the silvery screen, moving in toward the Station with ponderous,
clumsy grace, growing larger by the second as it sped toward them. Sabo
felt the fear spill over in his mind, driving out all thought, and he
sank into the control chair like a well-trained automaton. His gray eyes
were wide, trained for long military years to miss nothing; his fingers
moved over the panel with deft skill. "Get the men to stations," he
growled, "and will somebody kindly get the Skipper down here, if he can
manage to take a minute."
"I'm right here." The little graying man was at his elbow, staring at
the screen with angry red eyes. "Who told you to shut off the alarm?"
"Nobody told me. Everyone was here, and it was getting on my nerves."
"What a shame." Captain Loomis' voice was icy. "I give orders on this
Station," he said smoothly, "and you'll remember it." He scowled at the
great gray ship, looming closer and closer. "What's its course?"
"Going to miss us by several thousand kilos at least. Look at that
thing! It's _traveling_."
"Contact it! This is what we've been waiting for." The captain's voice
was hoarse.
Sabo spun a dial, and cursed. "No luck. Can't get through. It's passing
us--"
"Then _grapple_ it, stupid! You want me to wipe your nose, too?"
Sabo's face darkened angrily. With slow precision he set the servo fixes
on the huge gray hulk looming up in the viewer, and then snapped the
switches sharply. Two small servos shoved their blunt noses from the
landing port of the Station, and slipped silently into space alongside.
Then, like a pair of trained dogs, they sped on their beams straight out
from the Station toward the approaching ship. The intruder was dark,
moving at tremendous velocity past the Station, as though unaware of its
existence. The servos moved out, and suddenly diverged and reversed,
twisting in long arcs to come alongside the strange ship, finally moving
in at the same velocity on either side. There was a sharp flash of
contact power; then, like a mammoth slow-motion monster, the ship jerked
in midspace and turned a graceful end-for-end arc as the servo-grapplers
gripped it like leeches and whined, glowing ruddy with the jolting power
flowing through them. Sabo watched, hardly breathing, until the great
ship spun and slowed and stopped. Then it reversed direction, and the
servos led it triumphantly back toward the landing port of the Station.
Sabo glanced at the radioman, a frown creasing his forehead. "Still
nothing?"
"Not a peep."
He stared out at the great ship, feeling a chill of wonder and fear
crawl up his spine. "So this is the mysterious puzzle of Saturn," he
muttered. "This is what we've been waiting for."
There was a curious eager light in Captain Loomis' eyes as he looked up.
"Oh, no. Not this."
"What?"
"Not this. The ships we've seen before were tiny, flat." His little eyes
turned toward the ship, and back to Sabo's heavy face. "This is
something else, something quite different." A smile curved his lips, and
he rubbed his hands together. "We go out for trout and come back with a
whale. This ship's from space, deep space. Not from Saturn. This one's
from the stars."
* * * * *
The strange ship hung at the side of the Satellite Station, silent as a
tomb, still gently rotating as the Station slowly spun in its orbit
around Saturn.
In the captain's cabin the men shifted restlessly, uneasily facing the
eager eyes of their captain. The old man paced the floor of the cabin,
his white hair mussed, his face red with excitement. Even his carefully
calm face couldn't conceal the eagerness burning in his eyes as he faced
the crew. "Still no contact?" he asked Sparks.
The radioman shook his head anxiously. "Not a sign. I've tried every
signal I know at every wave frequency that could possibly reach them.
I've even tried a dozen frequencies that couldn't possibly reach them,
and I haven't stirred them up a bit. They just aren't answering."
Captain Loomis swung on the group of men. "All right, now, I want you to
get this straight. This is our catch. We don't know what's aboard it,
and we don't know where it came from, but it's our prize. That means not
a word goes back home about it until we've learned all there is to
learn. We're going to get the honors on this one, not some eager Admiral
back home--"
The men stirred uneasily, worried eyes seeking Sabo's face in alarm.
"What about the law?" growled Sabo. "The law says everything must be
reported within two hours."
"Then we'll break the law," the captain snapped. "I'm captain of this
Station, and those are your orders. You don't need to worry about the
law--I'll see that you're protected, but this is too big to fumble. This
ship is from the stars. That means it must have an Interstellar drive.
You know what that means. The Government will fall all over itself to
reward us--"
Sabo scowled, and the worry deepened in the men's faces. It was hard to
imagine the Government falling all over itself for anybody. They knew
too well how the Government worked. They had heard of the swift trials,
the harsh imprisonments that awaited even the petty infringers. The
Military Government had no time to waste on those who stepped out of
line, they had no mercy to spare. And the men knew that their captain
was not in favor in top Government circles. Crack patrol commanders were
not shunted into remote, lifeless Satellite Stations if their stand in
the Government was high. And deep in their minds, somehow, the men knew
they couldn't trust this little, sharp-eyed, white-haired man. The
credit for such a discovery as this might go to him, yes--but there
would be little left for them.
"The law--" Sabo repeated stubbornly.
"Damn the law! We're stationed out here in this limbo to watch Saturn
and report any activity we see coming from there. There's nothing in our
orders about anything else. There have been ships from there, they
think, but not this ship. The Government has spent billions trying to
find an Interstellar, and never gotten to first base." The captain
paused, his eyes narrowing. "We'll go aboard this ship," he said softly.
"We'll find out what's aboard it, and where it's from, and we'll take
its drive. There's been no resistance yet, but it could be dangerous. We
can't assume anything. The boarding party will report everything they
find to me. One of them will have to be a drive man. That's you,
Brownie."
The little man with the sharp black eyes looked up eagerly. "I don't
know if I could tell anything--"
"You can tell more than anyone else here. Nobody else knows space drive.
I'll count on you. If you bring back a good report, perhaps we can
cancel out certain--unfortunate items in your record. But one other
should board with you--" His eyes turned toward John Sabo.
"Not me. This is your goat." The mate's eyes were sullen. "This is gross
breach, and you know it. They'll have you in irons when we get back. I
don't want anything to do with it."
"You're under orders, Sabo. You keep forgetting."
"They're illegal orders, sir!"
"I'll take responsibility for that."
Sabo looked the old man straight in the eye. "You mean you'd sell us
down a rat hole to save your skin. That's what you mean."
Captain Loomis' eyes widened incredulously. Then his face darkened, and
he stepped very close to the big man. "You'll watch your tongue, I
think," he gritted. "Be careful what you say to me, Sabo. Be very
careful. Because if you don't, _you'll_ be in irons, and we'll see just
how long you last when you get back home. Now you've got your orders.
You'll board the ship with Brownie."
The big man's fists were clenched until the knuckles were white. "You
don't know what's over there!" he burst out. "We could be slaughtered."
The captain's smile was unpleasant. "That would be such a pity," he
murmured. "I'd really hate to see it happen--"
* * * * *
The ship hung dark and silent, like a shadowy ghost. No flicker of light
could be seen aboard it; no sound nor faintest sign of life came from
the tall, dark hull plates. It hung there, huge and imponderable, and
swung around with the Station in its silent orbit.
The men huddled about Sabo and Brownie, helping them into their pressure
suits, checking their equipment. They had watched the little scanning
beetles crawl over the surface of the great ship, examining, probing
every nook and crevice, reporting crystals, and metals, and irons, while
the boarding party prepared. And still the radioman waited alertly for a
flicker of life from the solemn giant.
Frightened as they were of their part in the illegal secrecy, the
arrival of the ship had brought a change in the crew, lighting fires of
excitement in their eyes. They moved faster, their voices were lighter,
more cheerful. Long months on the Station had worn on their nerves--out
of contact with their homes, on a mission that was secretly jeered as
utter Governmental folly. Ships _had_ been seen, years before,
disappearing into the sullen bright atmospheric crust of Saturn, but
there had been no sign of anything since. And out there, on the lonely
guard Station, nerves had run ragged, always waiting, always watching,
wearing away even the iron discipline of their military background. They
grew bitterly weary of the same faces, the same routine, the constant
repetition of inactivity. And through the months they had watched with
increasing anxiety the conflict growing between the captain and his
bitter, sullen-eyed second-in-command, John Sabo.
And then the ship had come, incredibly, from the depths of space, and
the tensions of loneliness were forgotten in the flurry of activity. The
locks whined and opened as the two men moved out of the Station on the
little propulsion sleds, linked to the Station with light silk guy
ropes. Sabo settled himself on the sled, cursing himself for falling so
foolishly into the captain's scheme, cursing his tongue for wandering.
And deep within him he felt a new sensation, a vague uneasiness and
insecurity that he had not felt in all his years of military life. The
strange ship was a variant, an imponderable factor thrown suddenly into
his small world of hatred and bitterness, forcing him into unknown
territory, throwing his mind into a welter of doubts and fears. He
glanced uneasily across at Brownie, vaguely wishing that someone else
were with him. Brownie was a troublemaker, Brownie talked too much,
Brownie philosophized in a world that ridiculed philosophy. He'd known
men like Brownie before, and he knew that they couldn't be trusted.
The gray hull gleamed at them as they moved toward it, a monstrous wall
of polished metal. There were no dents, no surface scars from its
passage through space. They found the entrance lock without difficulty,
near the top of the ship's great hull, and Brownie probed the rim of the
lock with a dozen instruments, his dark eyes burning eagerly. And then,
with a squeal that grated in Sabo's ears, the oval port of the ship
quivered, and slowly opened.
Silently, the sleds moved into the opening. They were in a small vault,
quite dark, and the sleds settled slowly onto a metal deck. Sabo eased
himself from the seat, tuning up his audios to their highest
sensitivity, moving over to Brownie. Momentarily they touched helmets,
and Brownie's excited voice came to him, muted, but breathless. "No
trouble getting it open. It worked on the same principle as ours."
"Better get to work on the inner lock."
Brownie shot him a sharp glance. "But what about--inside? I mean, we
can't just walk in on them--"
"Why not? We've tried to contact them."
Reluctantly, the little engineer began probing the inner lock with
trembling fingers. Minutes later they were easing themselves through,
moving slowly down the dark corridor, waiting with pounding hearts for
a sound, a sign. The corridor joined another, and then still another,
until they reached a great oval door. And then they were inside, in the
heart of the ship, and their eyes widened as they stared at the thing in
the center of the great vaulted chamber.
"My God!" Brownie's voice was a hoarse whisper in the stillness. "Look
at them, Johnny!"
Sabo moved slowly across the room toward the frail, crushed form lying
against the great, gleaming panel. Thin, almost boneless arms were
pasted against the hard metal; an oval, humanoid skull was crushed like
an eggshell into the knobs and levers of the control panel. Sudden
horror shot through the big man as he looked around. At the far side of
the room was another of the things, and still another, mashed, like
lifeless jelly, into the floors and panels. Gently he peeled a bit of
jelly away from the metal, then turned with a mixture of wonder and
disgust. "All dead," he muttered.
Brownie looked up at him, his hands trembling. "No wonder there was no
sign." He looked about helplessly. "It's a derelict, Johnny. A wanderer.
How could it have happened? How long ago?"
Sabo shook his head, bewildered. "Then it was just chance that it came
to us, that we saw it--"
"No pilot, no charts. It might have wandered for centuries." Brownie
stared about the room, a frightened look on his face. And then he was
leaning over the control panel, probing at the array of levers, his
fingers working eagerly at the wiring. Sabo nodded approvingly. "We'll
have to go over it with a comb," he said. "I'll see what I can find in
the rest of the ship. You go ahead on the controls and drive." Without
waiting for an answer he moved swiftly from the round chamber, out into
the corridor again, his stomach almost sick.
It took them many hours. They moved silently, as if even a slight sound
might disturb the sleeping alien forms, smashed against the dark metal
panels. In another room were the charts, great, beautiful charts,
totally unfamiliar, studded with star formations he had never seen,
noted with curious, meaningless symbols. As Sabo worked he heard Brownie
moving down into the depths of the ship, toward the giant engine rooms.
And then, some silent alarm clicked into place in Sabo's mind,
tightening his stomach, screaming to be heard. Heart pounding, he dashed
down the corridor like a cat, seeing again in his mind the bright, eager
eyes of the engineer. Suddenly the meaning of that eagerness dawned on
him. He scampered down a ladder, along a corridor, and down another
ladder, down to the engine room, almost colliding with Brownie as he
crossed from one of the engines to a battery of generators on the far
side of the room.
"Brownie!"
"What's the trouble?"
Sabo trembled, then turned away. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just a
thought." But he watched as the little man snaked into the labyrinth of
dynamos and coils and wires, peering eagerly, probing, searching, making
notes in the little pad in his hand.
[Illustration]
Finally, hours later, they moved again toward the lock where they had
left their sleds. Not a word passed between them. The uneasiness was
strong in Sabo's mind now, growing deeper, mingling with fear and a
premonition of impending evil. A dead ship, a derelict, come to them by
merest chance from some unthinkably remote star. He cursed, without
knowing why, and suddenly he felt he hated Brownie as much as he hated
the captain waiting for them in the Station.
But as he stepped into the Station's lock, a new thought crossed his
mind, almost dazzling him with its unexpectedness. He looked at the
engineer's thin face, and his hands were trembling as he opened the
pressure suit.
* * * * *
He deliberately took longer than was necessary to give his report to the
captain, dwelling on unimportant details, watching with malicious
amusement the captain's growing annoyance. Captain Loomis' eyes kept
sliding to Brownie, as though trying to read the information he wanted
from the engineer's face. Sabo rolled up the charts slowly, stowing them
in a pile on the desk. "That's the picture, sir. Perhaps a qualified
astronomer could make something of it; I haven't the knowledge or the
instruments. The ship came from outside the system, beyond doubt.
Probably from a planet with lighter gravity than our own, judging from
the frailty of the creatures. Oxygen breathers, from the looks of their
gas storage. If you ask me, I'd say--"
"All right, all right," the captain breathed impatiently. "You can write
it up and hand it to me. It isn't really important where they came from,
or whether they breathe oxygen or fluorine." He turned his eyes to the
engineer, and lit a cigar with trembling fingers. "The important thing
is _how_ they got here. The drive, Brownie. You went over the engines
carefully? What did you find?"
Brownie twitched uneasily, and looked at the floor. "Oh, yes, I examined
them carefully. Wasn't too hard. I examined every piece of drive
machinery on the ship, from stem to stern."
Sabo nodded, slowly, watching the little man with a carefully blank
face. "That's right. You gave it a good going over."
Brownie licked his lips. "It's a derelict, like Johnny told you. They
were dead. All of them. Probably had been dead for a long time. I
couldn't tell, of course. Probably nobody could tell. But they must have
been dead for centuries--"
The captain's eyes blinked as the implication sank in. "Wait a minute,"
he said. "What do you mean, _centuries_?"
Brownie stared at his shoes. "The atomic piles were almost dead," he
muttered in an apologetic whine. "The ship wasn't going any place,
captain. It was just wandering. Maybe it's wandered for thousands of
years." He took a deep breath, and his eyes met the captain's for a
brief agonized moment. "They don't have Interstellar, sir. Just plain,
simple, slow atomics. Nothing different. They've been traveling for
centuries, and it would have taken them just as long to get back."
The captain's voice was thin, choked. "Are you trying to tell me that
their drive is no different from our own? That a ship has actually
wandered into Interstellar space _without a space drive_?"
Brownie spread his hands helplessly. "Something must have gone wrong.
They must have started off for another planet in their own system, and
something went wrong. They broke into space, and they all died. And the
ship just went on moving. They never intended an Interstellar hop. They
couldn't have. They didn't have the drive for it."
The captain sat back numbly, his face pasty gray. The light had faded in
his eyes now; he sat as though he'd been struck. "You--you couldn't be
wrong? You couldn't have missed anything?"
Brownie's eyes shifted unhappily, and his voice was very faint. "No,
sir."
The captain stared at them for a long moment, like a stricken child.
Slowly he picked up one of the charts, his mouth working. Then, with a
bitter roar, he threw it in Sabo's face. "Get out of here! Take this
garbage and get out! And get the men to their stations. We're here to
watch Saturn, and by god, we'll watch Saturn!" He turned away, a hand
over his eyes, and they heard his choking breath as they left the
cabin.
Slowly, Brownie walked out into the corridor, started down toward his
cabin, with Sabo silent at his heels. He looked up once at the mate's
heavy face, a look of pleading in his dark brown eyes, and then opened
the door to his quarters. Like a cat, Sabo was in the room before him,
dragging him in, slamming the door. He caught the little man by the neck
with one savage hand, and shoved him unceremoniously against the door,
his voice a vicious whisper. "_All right, talk! Let's have it now!_"
Brownie choked, his eyes bulging, his face turning gray in the dim light
of the cabin. "Johnny! Let me down! What's the matter? You're choking
me, Johnny--"
The mate's eyes were red, with heavy lines of disgust and bitterness
running from his eyes and the corners of his mouth. "You stinking little
liar! _Talk_, damn it! You're not messing with the captain now, you're
messing with _me_, and I'll have the truth if I have to cave in your
skull--"
"I told you the truth! I don't know what you mean--"
Sabo's palm smashed into his face, jerking his head about like an apple
on a string. "That's the wrong answer," he grated. "I warn you, don't
lie! The captain is an ambitious ass, he couldn't think his way through
a multiplication table. He's a little child. But I'm not quite so dull."
He threw the little man down in a heap, his eyes blazing. "You silly
fool, your story is so full of holes you could drive a tank through it.
They just up and died, did they? I'm supposed to believe that? Smashed
up against the panels the way they were? Only one thing could crush them
like that. Any fool could see it. Acceleration. And I don't mean atomic
acceleration. Something else." He glared down at the man quivering on
the floor. "They had Interstellar drive, didn't they, Brownie?"
Brownie nodded his head, weakly, almost sobbing, trying to pull himself
erect. "Don't tell the captain," he sobbed. "Oh, Johnny, for god's sake,
listen to me, don't let him know I lied. I was going to tell you anyway,
Johnny, really I was. I've got a plan, a good plan, can't you see it?"
The gleam of excitement came back into the sharp little eyes. "They had
it, all right. Their trip probably took just a few months. They had a
drive I've never seen before, non-atomic. I couldn't tell the principle,
with the look I had, but I think I could work it." He sat up, his whole
body trembling. "Don't give me away, Johnny, listen a minute--"
Sabo sat back against the bunk, staring at the little man. "You're out
of your mind," he said softly. "You don't know what you're doing. What
are you going to do when His Nibs goes over for a look himself? He's
stupid, but not that stupid."
Brownie's voice choked, his words tumbling over each other in his
eagerness. "He won't get a chance to see it, Johnny. He's got to take
our word until he sees it, and we can stall him--"
Sabo blinked. "A day or so--maybe. But what then? Oh, how could you be
so stupid? He's on the skids, he's out of favor and fighting for his
life. That drive is the break that could put him on top. Can't you see
he's selfish? He has to be, in this world, to get anything. Anything or
anyone who blocks him, he'll destroy, if he can. Can't you see that?
When he spots this, your life won't be worth spitting at."
Brownie was trembling as he sat down opposite the big man. His voice was
harsh in the little cubicle, heavy with pain and hopelessness. "That's
right," he said. "My life isn't worth a nickle. Neither is yours.
Neither is anybody's, here or back home. Nobody's life is worth a
nickle. Something's happened to us in the past hundred years,
Johnny--something horrible. I've seen it creeping and growing up around
us all my life. People don't matter any more, it's the Government, what
the Government thinks that matters. It's a web, a cancer that grows in
its own pattern, until it goes so far it can't be stopped. Men like
Loomis could see the pattern, and adapt to it, throw away all the
worthwhile things, the love and beauty and peace that we once had in our
lives. Those men can get somewhere, they can turn this life into a
climbing game, waiting their chance to get a little farther toward the
top, a little closer to some semblance of security--"
"Everybody adapts to it," Sabo snapped. "They have to. You don't see me
moving for anyone else, do you? I'm for _me_, and believe me I know it.
I don't give a hang for you, or Loomis, or anyone else alive--just me. I
want to stay alive, that's all. You're a dreamer, Brownie. But until you
pull something like this, you can learn to stop dreaming if you want
to--"
"No, no, you're wrong--oh, you're horribly wrong, Johnny. Some of us
_can't_ adapt, we haven't got what it takes, or else we have something
else in us that won't let us go along. And right there we're beat before
we start. There's no place for us now, and there never will be." He
looked up at the mate's impassive face. "We're in a life where we don't
belong, impounded into a senseless, never-ending series of fights and
skirmishes and long, lonely waits, feeding this insane urge of the
Government to expand, out to the planets, to the stars, farther and
farther, bigger and bigger. We've got to go, seeking newer and greater
worlds to conquer, with nothing to conquer them with, and nothing to
conquer them for. There's life somewhere else in our solar system, so it
must be sought out and conquered, no matter what or where it is. We live
in a world of iron and fear, and there was no place for me, and others
like me, _until this ship came_--"
Sabo looked at him strangely. "So I was right. I read it on your face
when we were searching the ship. I knew what you were thinking...." His
face darkened angrily. "You couldn't get away with it, Brownie. Where
could you go, what could you expect to find? You're talking death,
Brownie. Nothing else--"
"No, no. Listen, Johnny." Brownie leaned closer, his eyes bright and
intent on the man's heavy face. "The captain has to take our word for
it, until he sees the ship. Even then he couldn't tell for sure--I'm
the only drive engineer on the Station. We have the charts, we could
work with them, try to find out where the ship came from; I already have
an idea of how the drive is operated. Another look and I could make it
work. Think of it, Johnny! What difference does it make where we went,
or what we found? You're a misfit, too, you know that--this coarseness
and bitterness is a shell, if you could only see it, a sham. You don't
really believe in this world we're in--who cares where, if only we could
go, get away? Oh, it's a chance, the wildest, freak chance, but we could
take it--"
"If only to get away from _him_," said Sabo in a muted voice. "Lord, how
I hate him. I've seen smallness and ambition before--pettiness and
treachery, plenty of it. But that man is our whole world knotted up in
one little ball. I don't think I'd get home without killing him, just to
stop that voice from talking, just to see fear cross his face one time.
But if we took the ship, it would break him for good." A new light
appeared in the big man's eyes. "He'd be through, Brownie. Washed up."
"And we'd be _free_--"
Sabo's eyes were sharp. "What about the acceleration? It killed those
that came in the ship."
"But they were so frail, so weak. Light brittle bones and soft jelly.
Our bodies are stronger, we could stand it."
Sabo sat for a long time, staring at Brownie. His mind was suddenly
confused by the scope of the idea, racing in myriad twirling fantasies,
parading before his eyes the long, bitter, frustrating years, the
hopelessness of his own life, the dull aching feeling he felt deep in
his stomach and bones each time he set back down on Earth, to join the
teeming throngs of hungry people. He thought of the rows of drab
apartments, the thin faces, the hollow, hunted eyes of the people he had
seen. He knew that that was why he was a soldier--because soldiers ate
well, they had time to sleep, they were never allowed long hours to
think, and wonder, and grow dull and empty. But he knew his life had
been barren. The life of a mindless automaton, moving from place to
place, never thinking, never daring to think or speak, hoping only to
work without pain each day, and sleep without nightmares.
And then, he thought of the nights in his childhood, when he had lain
awake, sweating with fear, as the airships screamed across the dark sky
above, bound he never knew where; and then, hearing in the far distance
the booming explosion, he had played that horrible little game with
himself, seeing how high he could count before he heard the weary,
plodding footsteps of the people on the road, moving on to another
place. He had known, even as a little boy, that the only safe place was
in those bombers, that the place for survival was in the striking
armies, and his life had followed the hard-learned pattern, twisting him
into the cynical mold of the mercenary soldier, dulling the quick and
clever mind, drilling into him the ways and responses of order and obey,
stripping him of his heritage of love and humanity. Others less
thoughtful had been happier; they had succeeded in forgetting the life
they had known before, they had been able to learn easily and well the
lessons of the repudiation of the rights of men which had crept like a
blight through the world. But Sabo, too, was a misfit, wrenched into a
mold he could not fit. He had sensed it vaguely, never really knowing
when or how he had built the shell of toughness and cynicism, but also
sensing vaguely that it was built, and that in it he could hide,
somehow, and laugh at himself, and his leaders, and the whole world
through which he plodded. He had laughed, but there had been long
nights, in the narrow darkness of spaceship bunks, when his mind pounded
at the shell, screaming out in nightmare, and he had wondered if he had
really lost his mind.
His gray eyes narrowed as he looked at Brownie, and he felt his heart
pounding in his chest, pounding with a fury that he could no longer
deny. "It would have to be fast," he said softly. "Like lightning,
tonight, tomorrow--very soon."
"Oh, yes, I know that. But we _can_ do it--"
"Yes," said Sabo, with a hard, bitter glint in his eyes. "Maybe we can."
* * * * *
The preparation was tense. For the first time in his life, Sabo knew the
meaning of real fear, felt the clinging aura of sudden death in every
glance, every word of the men around him. It seemed incredible that the
captain didn't notice the brief exchanges with the little engineer, or
his own sudden appearances and disappearances about the Station. But the
captain sat in his cabin with angry eyes, snapping answers without even
looking up. Still, Sabo knew that the seeds of suspicion lay planted in
his mind, ready to burst forth with awful violence at any slight
provocation. As he worked, the escape assumed greater and greater
proportions in Sabo's mind; he knew with increasing urgency and daring
that nothing must stop him. The ship was there, the only bridge away
from a life he could no longer endure, and his determination blinded him
to caution.
Primarily, he pondered over the charts, while Brownie, growing hourly
more nervous, poured his heart into a study of his notes and sketches. A
second look at the engines was essential; the excuse he concocted for
returning to the ship was recklessly slender, and Sabo spent a grueling
five minutes dissuading the captain from accompanying him. But the
captain's eyes were dull, and he walked his cabin, sunk in a gloomy,
remorseful trance.
The hours passed, and the men saw, in despair, that more precious,
dangerous hours would be necessary before the flight could be attempted.
And then, abruptly, Sabo got the call to the captain's cabin. He found
the old man at his desk, regarding him with cold eyes, and his heart
sank. The captain motioned him to a seat, and then sat back, lighting a
cigar with painful slowness. "I want you to tell me," he said in a
lifeless voice, "exactly what Brownie thinks he's doing."
Sabo went cold. Carefully he kept his eyes on the captain's face. "I
guess he's nervous," he said. "He doesn't belong on a Satellite Station.
He belongs at home. The place gets on his nerves."
"I didn't like his report."
"I know," said Sabo.
The captain's eyes narrowed. "It was hard to believe. Ships don't just
happen out of space. They don't wander out interstellar by accident,
either." An unpleasant smile curled his lips. "I'm not telling you
anything new. I wouldn't want to accuse Brownie of lying, of course--or
you either. But we'll know soon. A patrol craft will be here from the
Triton supply base in an hour. I signaled as soon as I had your
reports." The smile broadened maliciously. "The patrol craft will have
experts aboard. Space drive experts. They'll review your report."
"An hour--"
The captain smiled. "That's what I said. In that hour, you could tell me
the truth. I'm not a drive man, I'm an administrator, and organizer and
director. You're the technicians. The truth now could save you much
unhappiness--in the future."
Sabo stood up heavily. "You've got your information," he said with a
bitter laugh. "The patrol craft will confirm it."
The captain's face went a shade grayer. "All right," he said. "Go ahead,
laugh. I told you, anyway."
Sabo didn't realize how his hands were trembling until he reached the
end of the corridor. In despair he saw the plan crumbling beneath his
feet, and with the despair came the cold undercurrent of fear. The
patrol would discover them, disclose the hoax. There was no choice
left--ready or not, they'd _have_ to leave.
Quickly he turned in to the central control room where Brownie was
working. He sat down, repeating the captain's news in a soft voice.
"An _hour_! But how can we--"
"We've _got_ to. We can't quit now, we're dead if we do."
Brownie's eyes were wide with fear. "But can't we stall them, somehow?
Maybe if we turned on the captain--"
"The crew would back him. They wouldn't dare go along with us. We've got
to run, nothing else." He took a deep breath. "Can you control the
drive?"
Brownie stared at his hands. "I--I think so. I can only try."
"You've got to. It's now or never. Get down to the lock, and I'll get
the charts. Get the sleds ready."
He scooped the charts from his bunk, folded them carefully and bound
them swiftly with cord. Then he ran silently down the corridor to the
landing port lock. Brownie was already there, in the darkness, closing
the last clamps on his pressure suit. Sabo handed him the charts, and
began the laborious task of climbing into his own suit, panting in the
darkness.
And then the alarm was clanging in his ear, and the lock was flooded
with brilliant light. Sabo stopped short, a cry on his lips, staring at
the entrance to the control room.
The captain was grinning, a nasty, evil grin, his eyes hard and
humorless as he stood there flanked by three crewmen. His hand gripped
an ugly power gun tightly. He just stood there, grinning, and his voice
was like fire in Sabo's ears. "Too bad," he said softly. "You almost
made it, too. Trouble is, two can't keep a secret. Shame, Johnny, a
smart fellow like you. I might have expected as much from Brownie, but I
thought you had more sense--"
Something snapped in Sabo's mind, then. With a roar, he lunged at the
captain's feet, screaming his bitterness and rage and frustration,
catching the old man's calves with his powerful shoulders. The captain
toppled, and Sabo was fighting for the power gun, straining with all his
might to twist the gun from the thin hand, and he heard his voice
shouting, "Run! _Go, Brownie, make it go!_"
The lock was open, and he saw Brownie's sled nose out into the
blackness. The captain choked, his face purple. "Get him! Don't let him
get away!"
The lock clanged, and the screens showed the tiny fragile sled jet out
from the side of the Station, the small huddled figure clinging to it,
heading straight for the open port of the gray ship. "Stop him! The
guns, you fools, the guns!"
The alarm still clanged, and the control room was a flurry of activity.
Three men snapped down behind the tracer-guns, firing without aiming, in
a frenzied attempt to catch the fleeing sled. The sled began
zig-zagging, twisting wildly as the shells popped on either side of it.
The captain twisted away from Sabo's grip with a roar, and threw one of
the crewmen to the deck, wrenching the gun controls from his hands. "Get
the big ones on the ship! Blast it! If it gets away you'll all pay."
Suddenly the sled popped into the ship's port, and the hatch slowly
closed behind it. Raving, the captain turned the gun on the sleek,
polished hull plates, pressed the firing levels on the war-head servos.
Three of them shot out from the Satellite, like deadly bugs, careening
through the intervening space, until one of them struck the side of the
gray ship, and exploded in purple fury against the impervious hull. And
the others nosed into the flame, and passed on through, striking
nothing.
Like the blinking of a light, the alien ship had throbbed, and jerked,
and was gone.
With a roar the captain brought his fist down on the hard plastic and
metal of the control panel, kicked at the sheet of knobs and levers with
a heavy foot, his face purple with rage. His whole body shook as he
turned on Sabo, his eyes wild. "You let him get away! It was your fault,
yours! But _you_ won't get away! I've got you, and you'll pay, do you
hear that?" He pulled himself up until his face was bare inches from
Sabo's, his teeth bared in a frenzy of hatred. "Now we'll see who'll
laugh, my friend. You'll laugh in the death chamber, if you can still
laugh by then!" He turned to the men around him. "Take him," he snarled.
"Lock him in his quarters, and guard him well. And while you're doing
it, take a good look at him. See how he laughs now."
They marched him down to his cabin, stunned, still wondering what had
happened. Something had gone in his mind in that second, something that
told him that the choice had to be made, instantly. Because he knew,
with dull wonder, that in that instant when the lights went on he could
have stopped Brownie, could have saved himself. He could have taken for
himself a piece of the glory and promotion due to the discoverers of an
Interstellar drive. But he had also known, somehow, in that short
instant, that the only hope in the world lay in that one nervous,
frightened man, and the ship which could take him away.
And the ship was gone. That meant the captain was through. He'd had his
chance, the ship's coming had given him his chance, and he had muffed
it. Now he, too, would pay. The Government would not be pleased that
such a ship had leaked through his fingers. Captain Loomis was through.
And him? Somehow, it didn't seem to matter any more. He had made a stab
at it, he had tried. He just hadn't had the luck. But he knew there was
more to that. Something in his mind was singing, some deep feeling of
happiness and hope had crept into his mind, and he couldn't worry about
himself any more. There was nothing more for him; they had him cold. But
deep in his mind he felt a curious satisfaction, transcending any fear
and bitterness. Deep in his heart, he knew that _one_ man had escaped.
And then he sat back and laughed.
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _If: Worlds of Science Fiction_ May
1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
typographical errors have been corrected without note.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Derelict, by Alan Edward Nourse
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DERELICT ***
***** This file should be named 31976.txt or 31976.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/9/7/31976/
Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
How do the men know the spaceship has ended its voyage?
Answer:
| The autopilot ejects a small discus. | 174 | 60,010 | 60,012 | 60,077 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
38322 | 38322_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Derelict, by Alan Edward Nourse
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Derelict
Author: Alan Edward Nourse
Illustrator: Ed Emshwiller
Release Date: April 13, 2010 [EBook #31976]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DERELICT ***
Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration]
_What was the mystery of this great ship from the dark, deep reaches
of space? For, within its death-filled chambers--was the avenue of
life!_
DERELICT
By Alan E. Nourse
Illustrated by Ed Emsh
John Sabo, second in command, sat bolt upright in his bunk, blinking
wide-eyed at the darkness. The alarm was screaming through the Satellite
Station, its harsh, nerve-jarring clang echoing and re-echoing down the
metal corridors, penetrating every nook and crevice and cubicle of the
lonely outpost, screaming incredibly through the dark sleeping period.
Sabo shook the sleep from his eyes, and then a panic of fear burst into
his mind. The alarm! Tumbling out of his bunk in the darkness, he
crashed into the far bulkhead, staggering giddily in the impossible
gravity as he pawed about for his magnaboots, his heart pounding
fiercely in his ears. The _alarm_! Impossible, after so long, after
these long months of bitter waiting-- In the corridor he collided with
Brownie, looking like a frightened gnome, and he growled profanity as he
raced down the corridor for the Central Control.
Frightened eyes turned to him as he blinked at the bright lights of the
room. The voices rose in a confused, anxious babble, and he shook his
head and swore, and ploughed through them toward the screen. "Kill that
damned alarm!" he roared, blinking as he counted faces. "Somebody get
the Skipper out of his sack, pronto, and stop that clatter! What's the
trouble?"
The radioman waved feebly at the view screen, shimmering on the great
side panel. "We just picked it up--"
It was a ship, moving in from beyond Saturn's rings, a huge, gray-black
blob in the silvery screen, moving in toward the Station with ponderous,
clumsy grace, growing larger by the second as it sped toward them. Sabo
felt the fear spill over in his mind, driving out all thought, and he
sank into the control chair like a well-trained automaton. His gray eyes
were wide, trained for long military years to miss nothing; his fingers
moved over the panel with deft skill. "Get the men to stations," he
growled, "and will somebody kindly get the Skipper down here, if he can
manage to take a minute."
"I'm right here." The little graying man was at his elbow, staring at
the screen with angry red eyes. "Who told you to shut off the alarm?"
"Nobody told me. Everyone was here, and it was getting on my nerves."
"What a shame." Captain Loomis' voice was icy. "I give orders on this
Station," he said smoothly, "and you'll remember it." He scowled at the
great gray ship, looming closer and closer. "What's its course?"
"Going to miss us by several thousand kilos at least. Look at that
thing! It's _traveling_."
"Contact it! This is what we've been waiting for." The captain's voice
was hoarse.
Sabo spun a dial, and cursed. "No luck. Can't get through. It's passing
us--"
"Then _grapple_ it, stupid! You want me to wipe your nose, too?"
Sabo's face darkened angrily. With slow precision he set the servo fixes
on the huge gray hulk looming up in the viewer, and then snapped the
switches sharply. Two small servos shoved their blunt noses from the
landing port of the Station, and slipped silently into space alongside.
Then, like a pair of trained dogs, they sped on their beams straight out
from the Station toward the approaching ship. The intruder was dark,
moving at tremendous velocity past the Station, as though unaware of its
existence. The servos moved out, and suddenly diverged and reversed,
twisting in long arcs to come alongside the strange ship, finally moving
in at the same velocity on either side. There was a sharp flash of
contact power; then, like a mammoth slow-motion monster, the ship jerked
in midspace and turned a graceful end-for-end arc as the servo-grapplers
gripped it like leeches and whined, glowing ruddy with the jolting power
flowing through them. Sabo watched, hardly breathing, until the great
ship spun and slowed and stopped. Then it reversed direction, and the
servos led it triumphantly back toward the landing port of the Station.
Sabo glanced at the radioman, a frown creasing his forehead. "Still
nothing?"
"Not a peep."
He stared out at the great ship, feeling a chill of wonder and fear
crawl up his spine. "So this is the mysterious puzzle of Saturn," he
muttered. "This is what we've been waiting for."
There was a curious eager light in Captain Loomis' eyes as he looked up.
"Oh, no. Not this."
"What?"
"Not this. The ships we've seen before were tiny, flat." His little eyes
turned toward the ship, and back to Sabo's heavy face. "This is
something else, something quite different." A smile curved his lips, and
he rubbed his hands together. "We go out for trout and come back with a
whale. This ship's from space, deep space. Not from Saturn. This one's
from the stars."
* * * * *
The strange ship hung at the side of the Satellite Station, silent as a
tomb, still gently rotating as the Station slowly spun in its orbit
around Saturn.
In the captain's cabin the men shifted restlessly, uneasily facing the
eager eyes of their captain. The old man paced the floor of the cabin,
his white hair mussed, his face red with excitement. Even his carefully
calm face couldn't conceal the eagerness burning in his eyes as he faced
the crew. "Still no contact?" he asked Sparks.
The radioman shook his head anxiously. "Not a sign. I've tried every
signal I know at every wave frequency that could possibly reach them.
I've even tried a dozen frequencies that couldn't possibly reach them,
and I haven't stirred them up a bit. They just aren't answering."
Captain Loomis swung on the group of men. "All right, now, I want you to
get this straight. This is our catch. We don't know what's aboard it,
and we don't know where it came from, but it's our prize. That means not
a word goes back home about it until we've learned all there is to
learn. We're going to get the honors on this one, not some eager Admiral
back home--"
The men stirred uneasily, worried eyes seeking Sabo's face in alarm.
"What about the law?" growled Sabo. "The law says everything must be
reported within two hours."
"Then we'll break the law," the captain snapped. "I'm captain of this
Station, and those are your orders. You don't need to worry about the
law--I'll see that you're protected, but this is too big to fumble. This
ship is from the stars. That means it must have an Interstellar drive.
You know what that means. The Government will fall all over itself to
reward us--"
Sabo scowled, and the worry deepened in the men's faces. It was hard to
imagine the Government falling all over itself for anybody. They knew
too well how the Government worked. They had heard of the swift trials,
the harsh imprisonments that awaited even the petty infringers. The
Military Government had no time to waste on those who stepped out of
line, they had no mercy to spare. And the men knew that their captain
was not in favor in top Government circles. Crack patrol commanders were
not shunted into remote, lifeless Satellite Stations if their stand in
the Government was high. And deep in their minds, somehow, the men knew
they couldn't trust this little, sharp-eyed, white-haired man. The
credit for such a discovery as this might go to him, yes--but there
would be little left for them.
"The law--" Sabo repeated stubbornly.
"Damn the law! We're stationed out here in this limbo to watch Saturn
and report any activity we see coming from there. There's nothing in our
orders about anything else. There have been ships from there, they
think, but not this ship. The Government has spent billions trying to
find an Interstellar, and never gotten to first base." The captain
paused, his eyes narrowing. "We'll go aboard this ship," he said softly.
"We'll find out what's aboard it, and where it's from, and we'll take
its drive. There's been no resistance yet, but it could be dangerous. We
can't assume anything. The boarding party will report everything they
find to me. One of them will have to be a drive man. That's you,
Brownie."
The little man with the sharp black eyes looked up eagerly. "I don't
know if I could tell anything--"
"You can tell more than anyone else here. Nobody else knows space drive.
I'll count on you. If you bring back a good report, perhaps we can
cancel out certain--unfortunate items in your record. But one other
should board with you--" His eyes turned toward John Sabo.
"Not me. This is your goat." The mate's eyes were sullen. "This is gross
breach, and you know it. They'll have you in irons when we get back. I
don't want anything to do with it."
"You're under orders, Sabo. You keep forgetting."
"They're illegal orders, sir!"
"I'll take responsibility for that."
Sabo looked the old man straight in the eye. "You mean you'd sell us
down a rat hole to save your skin. That's what you mean."
Captain Loomis' eyes widened incredulously. Then his face darkened, and
he stepped very close to the big man. "You'll watch your tongue, I
think," he gritted. "Be careful what you say to me, Sabo. Be very
careful. Because if you don't, _you'll_ be in irons, and we'll see just
how long you last when you get back home. Now you've got your orders.
You'll board the ship with Brownie."
The big man's fists were clenched until the knuckles were white. "You
don't know what's over there!" he burst out. "We could be slaughtered."
The captain's smile was unpleasant. "That would be such a pity," he
murmured. "I'd really hate to see it happen--"
* * * * *
The ship hung dark and silent, like a shadowy ghost. No flicker of light
could be seen aboard it; no sound nor faintest sign of life came from
the tall, dark hull plates. It hung there, huge and imponderable, and
swung around with the Station in its silent orbit.
The men huddled about Sabo and Brownie, helping them into their pressure
suits, checking their equipment. They had watched the little scanning
beetles crawl over the surface of the great ship, examining, probing
every nook and crevice, reporting crystals, and metals, and irons, while
the boarding party prepared. And still the radioman waited alertly for a
flicker of life from the solemn giant.
Frightened as they were of their part in the illegal secrecy, the
arrival of the ship had brought a change in the crew, lighting fires of
excitement in their eyes. They moved faster, their voices were lighter,
more cheerful. Long months on the Station had worn on their nerves--out
of contact with their homes, on a mission that was secretly jeered as
utter Governmental folly. Ships _had_ been seen, years before,
disappearing into the sullen bright atmospheric crust of Saturn, but
there had been no sign of anything since. And out there, on the lonely
guard Station, nerves had run ragged, always waiting, always watching,
wearing away even the iron discipline of their military background. They
grew bitterly weary of the same faces, the same routine, the constant
repetition of inactivity. And through the months they had watched with
increasing anxiety the conflict growing between the captain and his
bitter, sullen-eyed second-in-command, John Sabo.
And then the ship had come, incredibly, from the depths of space, and
the tensions of loneliness were forgotten in the flurry of activity. The
locks whined and opened as the two men moved out of the Station on the
little propulsion sleds, linked to the Station with light silk guy
ropes. Sabo settled himself on the sled, cursing himself for falling so
foolishly into the captain's scheme, cursing his tongue for wandering.
And deep within him he felt a new sensation, a vague uneasiness and
insecurity that he had not felt in all his years of military life. The
strange ship was a variant, an imponderable factor thrown suddenly into
his small world of hatred and bitterness, forcing him into unknown
territory, throwing his mind into a welter of doubts and fears. He
glanced uneasily across at Brownie, vaguely wishing that someone else
were with him. Brownie was a troublemaker, Brownie talked too much,
Brownie philosophized in a world that ridiculed philosophy. He'd known
men like Brownie before, and he knew that they couldn't be trusted.
The gray hull gleamed at them as they moved toward it, a monstrous wall
of polished metal. There were no dents, no surface scars from its
passage through space. They found the entrance lock without difficulty,
near the top of the ship's great hull, and Brownie probed the rim of the
lock with a dozen instruments, his dark eyes burning eagerly. And then,
with a squeal that grated in Sabo's ears, the oval port of the ship
quivered, and slowly opened.
Silently, the sleds moved into the opening. They were in a small vault,
quite dark, and the sleds settled slowly onto a metal deck. Sabo eased
himself from the seat, tuning up his audios to their highest
sensitivity, moving over to Brownie. Momentarily they touched helmets,
and Brownie's excited voice came to him, muted, but breathless. "No
trouble getting it open. It worked on the same principle as ours."
"Better get to work on the inner lock."
Brownie shot him a sharp glance. "But what about--inside? I mean, we
can't just walk in on them--"
"Why not? We've tried to contact them."
Reluctantly, the little engineer began probing the inner lock with
trembling fingers. Minutes later they were easing themselves through,
moving slowly down the dark corridor, waiting with pounding hearts for
a sound, a sign. The corridor joined another, and then still another,
until they reached a great oval door. And then they were inside, in the
heart of the ship, and their eyes widened as they stared at the thing in
the center of the great vaulted chamber.
"My God!" Brownie's voice was a hoarse whisper in the stillness. "Look
at them, Johnny!"
Sabo moved slowly across the room toward the frail, crushed form lying
against the great, gleaming panel. Thin, almost boneless arms were
pasted against the hard metal; an oval, humanoid skull was crushed like
an eggshell into the knobs and levers of the control panel. Sudden
horror shot through the big man as he looked around. At the far side of
the room was another of the things, and still another, mashed, like
lifeless jelly, into the floors and panels. Gently he peeled a bit of
jelly away from the metal, then turned with a mixture of wonder and
disgust. "All dead," he muttered.
Brownie looked up at him, his hands trembling. "No wonder there was no
sign." He looked about helplessly. "It's a derelict, Johnny. A wanderer.
How could it have happened? How long ago?"
Sabo shook his head, bewildered. "Then it was just chance that it came
to us, that we saw it--"
"No pilot, no charts. It might have wandered for centuries." Brownie
stared about the room, a frightened look on his face. And then he was
leaning over the control panel, probing at the array of levers, his
fingers working eagerly at the wiring. Sabo nodded approvingly. "We'll
have to go over it with a comb," he said. "I'll see what I can find in
the rest of the ship. You go ahead on the controls and drive." Without
waiting for an answer he moved swiftly from the round chamber, out into
the corridor again, his stomach almost sick.
It took them many hours. They moved silently, as if even a slight sound
might disturb the sleeping alien forms, smashed against the dark metal
panels. In another room were the charts, great, beautiful charts,
totally unfamiliar, studded with star formations he had never seen,
noted with curious, meaningless symbols. As Sabo worked he heard Brownie
moving down into the depths of the ship, toward the giant engine rooms.
And then, some silent alarm clicked into place in Sabo's mind,
tightening his stomach, screaming to be heard. Heart pounding, he dashed
down the corridor like a cat, seeing again in his mind the bright, eager
eyes of the engineer. Suddenly the meaning of that eagerness dawned on
him. He scampered down a ladder, along a corridor, and down another
ladder, down to the engine room, almost colliding with Brownie as he
crossed from one of the engines to a battery of generators on the far
side of the room.
"Brownie!"
"What's the trouble?"
Sabo trembled, then turned away. "Nothing," he muttered. "Just a
thought." But he watched as the little man snaked into the labyrinth of
dynamos and coils and wires, peering eagerly, probing, searching, making
notes in the little pad in his hand.
[Illustration]
Finally, hours later, they moved again toward the lock where they had
left their sleds. Not a word passed between them. The uneasiness was
strong in Sabo's mind now, growing deeper, mingling with fear and a
premonition of impending evil. A dead ship, a derelict, come to them by
merest chance from some unthinkably remote star. He cursed, without
knowing why, and suddenly he felt he hated Brownie as much as he hated
the captain waiting for them in the Station.
But as he stepped into the Station's lock, a new thought crossed his
mind, almost dazzling him with its unexpectedness. He looked at the
engineer's thin face, and his hands were trembling as he opened the
pressure suit.
* * * * *
He deliberately took longer than was necessary to give his report to the
captain, dwelling on unimportant details, watching with malicious
amusement the captain's growing annoyance. Captain Loomis' eyes kept
sliding to Brownie, as though trying to read the information he wanted
from the engineer's face. Sabo rolled up the charts slowly, stowing them
in a pile on the desk. "That's the picture, sir. Perhaps a qualified
astronomer could make something of it; I haven't the knowledge or the
instruments. The ship came from outside the system, beyond doubt.
Probably from a planet with lighter gravity than our own, judging from
the frailty of the creatures. Oxygen breathers, from the looks of their
gas storage. If you ask me, I'd say--"
"All right, all right," the captain breathed impatiently. "You can write
it up and hand it to me. It isn't really important where they came from,
or whether they breathe oxygen or fluorine." He turned his eyes to the
engineer, and lit a cigar with trembling fingers. "The important thing
is _how_ they got here. The drive, Brownie. You went over the engines
carefully? What did you find?"
Brownie twitched uneasily, and looked at the floor. "Oh, yes, I examined
them carefully. Wasn't too hard. I examined every piece of drive
machinery on the ship, from stem to stern."
Sabo nodded, slowly, watching the little man with a carefully blank
face. "That's right. You gave it a good going over."
Brownie licked his lips. "It's a derelict, like Johnny told you. They
were dead. All of them. Probably had been dead for a long time. I
couldn't tell, of course. Probably nobody could tell. But they must have
been dead for centuries--"
The captain's eyes blinked as the implication sank in. "Wait a minute,"
he said. "What do you mean, _centuries_?"
Brownie stared at his shoes. "The atomic piles were almost dead," he
muttered in an apologetic whine. "The ship wasn't going any place,
captain. It was just wandering. Maybe it's wandered for thousands of
years." He took a deep breath, and his eyes met the captain's for a
brief agonized moment. "They don't have Interstellar, sir. Just plain,
simple, slow atomics. Nothing different. They've been traveling for
centuries, and it would have taken them just as long to get back."
The captain's voice was thin, choked. "Are you trying to tell me that
their drive is no different from our own? That a ship has actually
wandered into Interstellar space _without a space drive_?"
Brownie spread his hands helplessly. "Something must have gone wrong.
They must have started off for another planet in their own system, and
something went wrong. They broke into space, and they all died. And the
ship just went on moving. They never intended an Interstellar hop. They
couldn't have. They didn't have the drive for it."
The captain sat back numbly, his face pasty gray. The light had faded in
his eyes now; he sat as though he'd been struck. "You--you couldn't be
wrong? You couldn't have missed anything?"
Brownie's eyes shifted unhappily, and his voice was very faint. "No,
sir."
The captain stared at them for a long moment, like a stricken child.
Slowly he picked up one of the charts, his mouth working. Then, with a
bitter roar, he threw it in Sabo's face. "Get out of here! Take this
garbage and get out! And get the men to their stations. We're here to
watch Saturn, and by god, we'll watch Saturn!" He turned away, a hand
over his eyes, and they heard his choking breath as they left the
cabin.
Slowly, Brownie walked out into the corridor, started down toward his
cabin, with Sabo silent at his heels. He looked up once at the mate's
heavy face, a look of pleading in his dark brown eyes, and then opened
the door to his quarters. Like a cat, Sabo was in the room before him,
dragging him in, slamming the door. He caught the little man by the neck
with one savage hand, and shoved him unceremoniously against the door,
his voice a vicious whisper. "_All right, talk! Let's have it now!_"
Brownie choked, his eyes bulging, his face turning gray in the dim light
of the cabin. "Johnny! Let me down! What's the matter? You're choking
me, Johnny--"
The mate's eyes were red, with heavy lines of disgust and bitterness
running from his eyes and the corners of his mouth. "You stinking little
liar! _Talk_, damn it! You're not messing with the captain now, you're
messing with _me_, and I'll have the truth if I have to cave in your
skull--"
"I told you the truth! I don't know what you mean--"
Sabo's palm smashed into his face, jerking his head about like an apple
on a string. "That's the wrong answer," he grated. "I warn you, don't
lie! The captain is an ambitious ass, he couldn't think his way through
a multiplication table. He's a little child. But I'm not quite so dull."
He threw the little man down in a heap, his eyes blazing. "You silly
fool, your story is so full of holes you could drive a tank through it.
They just up and died, did they? I'm supposed to believe that? Smashed
up against the panels the way they were? Only one thing could crush them
like that. Any fool could see it. Acceleration. And I don't mean atomic
acceleration. Something else." He glared down at the man quivering on
the floor. "They had Interstellar drive, didn't they, Brownie?"
Brownie nodded his head, weakly, almost sobbing, trying to pull himself
erect. "Don't tell the captain," he sobbed. "Oh, Johnny, for god's sake,
listen to me, don't let him know I lied. I was going to tell you anyway,
Johnny, really I was. I've got a plan, a good plan, can't you see it?"
The gleam of excitement came back into the sharp little eyes. "They had
it, all right. Their trip probably took just a few months. They had a
drive I've never seen before, non-atomic. I couldn't tell the principle,
with the look I had, but I think I could work it." He sat up, his whole
body trembling. "Don't give me away, Johnny, listen a minute--"
Sabo sat back against the bunk, staring at the little man. "You're out
of your mind," he said softly. "You don't know what you're doing. What
are you going to do when His Nibs goes over for a look himself? He's
stupid, but not that stupid."
Brownie's voice choked, his words tumbling over each other in his
eagerness. "He won't get a chance to see it, Johnny. He's got to take
our word until he sees it, and we can stall him--"
Sabo blinked. "A day or so--maybe. But what then? Oh, how could you be
so stupid? He's on the skids, he's out of favor and fighting for his
life. That drive is the break that could put him on top. Can't you see
he's selfish? He has to be, in this world, to get anything. Anything or
anyone who blocks him, he'll destroy, if he can. Can't you see that?
When he spots this, your life won't be worth spitting at."
Brownie was trembling as he sat down opposite the big man. His voice was
harsh in the little cubicle, heavy with pain and hopelessness. "That's
right," he said. "My life isn't worth a nickle. Neither is yours.
Neither is anybody's, here or back home. Nobody's life is worth a
nickle. Something's happened to us in the past hundred years,
Johnny--something horrible. I've seen it creeping and growing up around
us all my life. People don't matter any more, it's the Government, what
the Government thinks that matters. It's a web, a cancer that grows in
its own pattern, until it goes so far it can't be stopped. Men like
Loomis could see the pattern, and adapt to it, throw away all the
worthwhile things, the love and beauty and peace that we once had in our
lives. Those men can get somewhere, they can turn this life into a
climbing game, waiting their chance to get a little farther toward the
top, a little closer to some semblance of security--"
"Everybody adapts to it," Sabo snapped. "They have to. You don't see me
moving for anyone else, do you? I'm for _me_, and believe me I know it.
I don't give a hang for you, or Loomis, or anyone else alive--just me. I
want to stay alive, that's all. You're a dreamer, Brownie. But until you
pull something like this, you can learn to stop dreaming if you want
to--"
"No, no, you're wrong--oh, you're horribly wrong, Johnny. Some of us
_can't_ adapt, we haven't got what it takes, or else we have something
else in us that won't let us go along. And right there we're beat before
we start. There's no place for us now, and there never will be." He
looked up at the mate's impassive face. "We're in a life where we don't
belong, impounded into a senseless, never-ending series of fights and
skirmishes and long, lonely waits, feeding this insane urge of the
Government to expand, out to the planets, to the stars, farther and
farther, bigger and bigger. We've got to go, seeking newer and greater
worlds to conquer, with nothing to conquer them with, and nothing to
conquer them for. There's life somewhere else in our solar system, so it
must be sought out and conquered, no matter what or where it is. We live
in a world of iron and fear, and there was no place for me, and others
like me, _until this ship came_--"
Sabo looked at him strangely. "So I was right. I read it on your face
when we were searching the ship. I knew what you were thinking...." His
face darkened angrily. "You couldn't get away with it, Brownie. Where
could you go, what could you expect to find? You're talking death,
Brownie. Nothing else--"
"No, no. Listen, Johnny." Brownie leaned closer, his eyes bright and
intent on the man's heavy face. "The captain has to take our word for
it, until he sees the ship. Even then he couldn't tell for sure--I'm
the only drive engineer on the Station. We have the charts, we could
work with them, try to find out where the ship came from; I already have
an idea of how the drive is operated. Another look and I could make it
work. Think of it, Johnny! What difference does it make where we went,
or what we found? You're a misfit, too, you know that--this coarseness
and bitterness is a shell, if you could only see it, a sham. You don't
really believe in this world we're in--who cares where, if only we could
go, get away? Oh, it's a chance, the wildest, freak chance, but we could
take it--"
"If only to get away from _him_," said Sabo in a muted voice. "Lord, how
I hate him. I've seen smallness and ambition before--pettiness and
treachery, plenty of it. But that man is our whole world knotted up in
one little ball. I don't think I'd get home without killing him, just to
stop that voice from talking, just to see fear cross his face one time.
But if we took the ship, it would break him for good." A new light
appeared in the big man's eyes. "He'd be through, Brownie. Washed up."
"And we'd be _free_--"
Sabo's eyes were sharp. "What about the acceleration? It killed those
that came in the ship."
"But they were so frail, so weak. Light brittle bones and soft jelly.
Our bodies are stronger, we could stand it."
Sabo sat for a long time, staring at Brownie. His mind was suddenly
confused by the scope of the idea, racing in myriad twirling fantasies,
parading before his eyes the long, bitter, frustrating years, the
hopelessness of his own life, the dull aching feeling he felt deep in
his stomach and bones each time he set back down on Earth, to join the
teeming throngs of hungry people. He thought of the rows of drab
apartments, the thin faces, the hollow, hunted eyes of the people he had
seen. He knew that that was why he was a soldier--because soldiers ate
well, they had time to sleep, they were never allowed long hours to
think, and wonder, and grow dull and empty. But he knew his life had
been barren. The life of a mindless automaton, moving from place to
place, never thinking, never daring to think or speak, hoping only to
work without pain each day, and sleep without nightmares.
And then, he thought of the nights in his childhood, when he had lain
awake, sweating with fear, as the airships screamed across the dark sky
above, bound he never knew where; and then, hearing in the far distance
the booming explosion, he had played that horrible little game with
himself, seeing how high he could count before he heard the weary,
plodding footsteps of the people on the road, moving on to another
place. He had known, even as a little boy, that the only safe place was
in those bombers, that the place for survival was in the striking
armies, and his life had followed the hard-learned pattern, twisting him
into the cynical mold of the mercenary soldier, dulling the quick and
clever mind, drilling into him the ways and responses of order and obey,
stripping him of his heritage of love and humanity. Others less
thoughtful had been happier; they had succeeded in forgetting the life
they had known before, they had been able to learn easily and well the
lessons of the repudiation of the rights of men which had crept like a
blight through the world. But Sabo, too, was a misfit, wrenched into a
mold he could not fit. He had sensed it vaguely, never really knowing
when or how he had built the shell of toughness and cynicism, but also
sensing vaguely that it was built, and that in it he could hide,
somehow, and laugh at himself, and his leaders, and the whole world
through which he plodded. He had laughed, but there had been long
nights, in the narrow darkness of spaceship bunks, when his mind pounded
at the shell, screaming out in nightmare, and he had wondered if he had
really lost his mind.
His gray eyes narrowed as he looked at Brownie, and he felt his heart
pounding in his chest, pounding with a fury that he could no longer
deny. "It would have to be fast," he said softly. "Like lightning,
tonight, tomorrow--very soon."
"Oh, yes, I know that. But we _can_ do it--"
"Yes," said Sabo, with a hard, bitter glint in his eyes. "Maybe we can."
* * * * *
The preparation was tense. For the first time in his life, Sabo knew the
meaning of real fear, felt the clinging aura of sudden death in every
glance, every word of the men around him. It seemed incredible that the
captain didn't notice the brief exchanges with the little engineer, or
his own sudden appearances and disappearances about the Station. But the
captain sat in his cabin with angry eyes, snapping answers without even
looking up. Still, Sabo knew that the seeds of suspicion lay planted in
his mind, ready to burst forth with awful violence at any slight
provocation. As he worked, the escape assumed greater and greater
proportions in Sabo's mind; he knew with increasing urgency and daring
that nothing must stop him. The ship was there, the only bridge away
from a life he could no longer endure, and his determination blinded him
to caution.
Primarily, he pondered over the charts, while Brownie, growing hourly
more nervous, poured his heart into a study of his notes and sketches. A
second look at the engines was essential; the excuse he concocted for
returning to the ship was recklessly slender, and Sabo spent a grueling
five minutes dissuading the captain from accompanying him. But the
captain's eyes were dull, and he walked his cabin, sunk in a gloomy,
remorseful trance.
The hours passed, and the men saw, in despair, that more precious,
dangerous hours would be necessary before the flight could be attempted.
And then, abruptly, Sabo got the call to the captain's cabin. He found
the old man at his desk, regarding him with cold eyes, and his heart
sank. The captain motioned him to a seat, and then sat back, lighting a
cigar with painful slowness. "I want you to tell me," he said in a
lifeless voice, "exactly what Brownie thinks he's doing."
Sabo went cold. Carefully he kept his eyes on the captain's face. "I
guess he's nervous," he said. "He doesn't belong on a Satellite Station.
He belongs at home. The place gets on his nerves."
"I didn't like his report."
"I know," said Sabo.
The captain's eyes narrowed. "It was hard to believe. Ships don't just
happen out of space. They don't wander out interstellar by accident,
either." An unpleasant smile curled his lips. "I'm not telling you
anything new. I wouldn't want to accuse Brownie of lying, of course--or
you either. But we'll know soon. A patrol craft will be here from the
Triton supply base in an hour. I signaled as soon as I had your
reports." The smile broadened maliciously. "The patrol craft will have
experts aboard. Space drive experts. They'll review your report."
"An hour--"
The captain smiled. "That's what I said. In that hour, you could tell me
the truth. I'm not a drive man, I'm an administrator, and organizer and
director. You're the technicians. The truth now could save you much
unhappiness--in the future."
Sabo stood up heavily. "You've got your information," he said with a
bitter laugh. "The patrol craft will confirm it."
The captain's face went a shade grayer. "All right," he said. "Go ahead,
laugh. I told you, anyway."
Sabo didn't realize how his hands were trembling until he reached the
end of the corridor. In despair he saw the plan crumbling beneath his
feet, and with the despair came the cold undercurrent of fear. The
patrol would discover them, disclose the hoax. There was no choice
left--ready or not, they'd _have_ to leave.
Quickly he turned in to the central control room where Brownie was
working. He sat down, repeating the captain's news in a soft voice.
"An _hour_! But how can we--"
"We've _got_ to. We can't quit now, we're dead if we do."
Brownie's eyes were wide with fear. "But can't we stall them, somehow?
Maybe if we turned on the captain--"
"The crew would back him. They wouldn't dare go along with us. We've got
to run, nothing else." He took a deep breath. "Can you control the
drive?"
Brownie stared at his hands. "I--I think so. I can only try."
"You've got to. It's now or never. Get down to the lock, and I'll get
the charts. Get the sleds ready."
He scooped the charts from his bunk, folded them carefully and bound
them swiftly with cord. Then he ran silently down the corridor to the
landing port lock. Brownie was already there, in the darkness, closing
the last clamps on his pressure suit. Sabo handed him the charts, and
began the laborious task of climbing into his own suit, panting in the
darkness.
And then the alarm was clanging in his ear, and the lock was flooded
with brilliant light. Sabo stopped short, a cry on his lips, staring at
the entrance to the control room.
The captain was grinning, a nasty, evil grin, his eyes hard and
humorless as he stood there flanked by three crewmen. His hand gripped
an ugly power gun tightly. He just stood there, grinning, and his voice
was like fire in Sabo's ears. "Too bad," he said softly. "You almost
made it, too. Trouble is, two can't keep a secret. Shame, Johnny, a
smart fellow like you. I might have expected as much from Brownie, but I
thought you had more sense--"
Something snapped in Sabo's mind, then. With a roar, he lunged at the
captain's feet, screaming his bitterness and rage and frustration,
catching the old man's calves with his powerful shoulders. The captain
toppled, and Sabo was fighting for the power gun, straining with all his
might to twist the gun from the thin hand, and he heard his voice
shouting, "Run! _Go, Brownie, make it go!_"
The lock was open, and he saw Brownie's sled nose out into the
blackness. The captain choked, his face purple. "Get him! Don't let him
get away!"
The lock clanged, and the screens showed the tiny fragile sled jet out
from the side of the Station, the small huddled figure clinging to it,
heading straight for the open port of the gray ship. "Stop him! The
guns, you fools, the guns!"
The alarm still clanged, and the control room was a flurry of activity.
Three men snapped down behind the tracer-guns, firing without aiming, in
a frenzied attempt to catch the fleeing sled. The sled began
zig-zagging, twisting wildly as the shells popped on either side of it.
The captain twisted away from Sabo's grip with a roar, and threw one of
the crewmen to the deck, wrenching the gun controls from his hands. "Get
the big ones on the ship! Blast it! If it gets away you'll all pay."
Suddenly the sled popped into the ship's port, and the hatch slowly
closed behind it. Raving, the captain turned the gun on the sleek,
polished hull plates, pressed the firing levels on the war-head servos.
Three of them shot out from the Satellite, like deadly bugs, careening
through the intervening space, until one of them struck the side of the
gray ship, and exploded in purple fury against the impervious hull. And
the others nosed into the flame, and passed on through, striking
nothing.
Like the blinking of a light, the alien ship had throbbed, and jerked,
and was gone.
With a roar the captain brought his fist down on the hard plastic and
metal of the control panel, kicked at the sheet of knobs and levers with
a heavy foot, his face purple with rage. His whole body shook as he
turned on Sabo, his eyes wild. "You let him get away! It was your fault,
yours! But _you_ won't get away! I've got you, and you'll pay, do you
hear that?" He pulled himself up until his face was bare inches from
Sabo's, his teeth bared in a frenzy of hatred. "Now we'll see who'll
laugh, my friend. You'll laugh in the death chamber, if you can still
laugh by then!" He turned to the men around him. "Take him," he snarled.
"Lock him in his quarters, and guard him well. And while you're doing
it, take a good look at him. See how he laughs now."
They marched him down to his cabin, stunned, still wondering what had
happened. Something had gone in his mind in that second, something that
told him that the choice had to be made, instantly. Because he knew,
with dull wonder, that in that instant when the lights went on he could
have stopped Brownie, could have saved himself. He could have taken for
himself a piece of the glory and promotion due to the discoverers of an
Interstellar drive. But he had also known, somehow, in that short
instant, that the only hope in the world lay in that one nervous,
frightened man, and the ship which could take him away.
And the ship was gone. That meant the captain was through. He'd had his
chance, the ship's coming had given him his chance, and he had muffed
it. Now he, too, would pay. The Government would not be pleased that
such a ship had leaked through his fingers. Captain Loomis was through.
And him? Somehow, it didn't seem to matter any more. He had made a stab
at it, he had tried. He just hadn't had the luck. But he knew there was
more to that. Something in his mind was singing, some deep feeling of
happiness and hope had crept into his mind, and he couldn't worry about
himself any more. There was nothing more for him; they had him cold. But
deep in his mind he felt a curious satisfaction, transcending any fear
and bitterness. Deep in his heart, he knew that _one_ man had escaped.
And then he sat back and laughed.
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _If: Worlds of Science Fiction_ May
1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
typographical errors have been corrected without note.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Derelict, by Alan Edward Nourse
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DERELICT ***
***** This file should be named 31976.txt or 31976.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/9/7/31976/
Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
How do the men know the spaceship has ended its voyage?
Answer:
| the autopilot ejects a discus | 174 | 60,010 | 60,012 | 60,077 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
42586 | 42586_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inca of Perusalem, by George Bernard Shaw
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Inca of Perusalem
Author: George Bernard Shaw
Posting Date: February 5, 2009 [EBook #3486]
Release Date: October, 2002
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INCA OF PERUSALEM ***
Produced by Eve Sobol
THE INCA OF PERUSALEM: AN ALMOST HISTORICAL COMEDIETTA
By George Bernard Shaw
I must remind the reader that this playlet was written when its
principal character, far from being a fallen foe and virtually a
prisoner in our victorious hands, was still the Caesar whose legions
we were resisting with our hearts in our mouths. Many were so horribly
afraid of him that they could not forgive me for not being afraid of
him: I seemed to be trifling heartlessly with a deadly peril. I knew
better; and I have represented Caesar as knowing better himself. But
it was one of the quaintnesses of popular feeling during the war that
anyone who breathed the slightest doubt of the absolute perfection of
German organization, the Machiavellian depth of German diplomacy, the
omniscience of German science, the equipment of every German with a
complete philosophy of history, and the consequent hopelessness
of overcoming so magnificently accomplished an enemy except by the
sacrifice of every recreative activity to incessant and vehement war
work, including a heartbreaking mass of fussing and cadging and bluffing
that did nothing but waste our energies and tire our resolution, was
called a pro-German.
Now that this is all over, and the upshot of the fighting has shown that
we could quite well have afforded to laugh at the doomed Inca, I am in
another difficulty. I may be supposed to be hitting Caesar when he is
down. That is why I preface the play with this reminder that when it
was written he was not down. To make quite sure, I have gone through the
proof sheets very carefully, and deleted everything that could possibly
be mistaken for a foul blow. I have of course maintained the ancient
privilege of comedy to chasten Caesar's foibles by laughing at them,
whilst introducing enough obvious and outrageous fiction to relieve both
myself and my model from the obligations and responsibilities of sober
history and biography. But I should certainly put the play in the fire
instead of publishing it if it contained a word against our defeated
enemy that I would not have written in 1913.
The Inca of Perusalem was performed for the first time in England by
the Pioneer Players at the Criterion Theatre, London, on 16th December,
1917, with Gertrude Kingston as Ermyntrude, Helen Morris as the
Princess, Nigel Playfair as the waiter, Alfred Drayton as the hotel
manager, C. Wordley Hulse as the Archdeacon, and Randle Ayrton as the
Inca.
PROLOGUE
The tableau curtains are closed. An English archdeacon comes through
them in a condition of extreme irritation. He speaks through the
curtains to someone behind them.
THE ARCHDEACON. Once for all, Ermyntrude, I cannot afford to maintain
you in your present extravagance. [He goes to a flight of steps
leading to the stalls and sits down disconsolately on the top step. A
fashionably dressed lady comes through the curtains and contemplates him
with patient obstinacy. He continues, grumbling.] An English clergyman's
daughter should be able to live quite respectably and comfortably on an
allowance of £150 a year, wrung with great difficulty from the domestic
budget.
ERMYNTRUDE. You are not a common clergyman: you are an archdeacon.
THE ARCHDEACON [angrily]. That does not affect my emoluments to the
extent of enabling me to support a daughter whose extravagance would
disgrace a royal personage. [Scrambling to his feet and scolding at
her.] What do you mean by it, Miss?
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh really, father! Miss! Is that the way to talk to a widow?
THE ARCHDEACON. Is that the way to talk to a father? Your marriage was
a most disastrous imprudence. It gave you habits that are absolutely
beyond your means--I mean beyond my means: you have no means. Why did
you not marry Matthews: the best curate I ever had?
ERMYNTRUDE. I wanted to; and you wouldn't let me. You insisted on my
marrying Roosenhonkers-Pipstein.
THE ARCHDEACON. I had to do the best for you, my child.
Roosenhonkers-Pipstein was a millionaire.
ERMYNTRUDE. How did you know he was a millionaire?
THE ARCHDEACON. He came from America. Of course he was a millionaire.
Besides, he proved to my solicitors that he had fifteen million dollars
when you married him.
ERYNTRUDE. His solicitors proved to me that he had sixteen millions when
he died. He was a millionaire to the last.
THE ARCHDEACON. O Mammon, Mammon! I am punished now for bowing the knee
to him. Is there nothing left of your settlement? Fifty thousand dollars
a year it secured to you, as we all thought. Only half the securities
could be called speculative. The other half were gilt-edged. What has
become of it all?
ERMYNTRUDE. The speculative ones were not paid up; and the gilt-edged
ones just paid the calls on them until the whole show burst up.
THE ARCHDEACON. Ermyntrude: what expressions!
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh bother! If you had lost ten thousand a year what
expressions would you use, do you think? The long and the short of it is
that I can't live in the squalid way you are accustomed to.
THE ARCHDEACON. Squalid!
ERMYNTRUDE. I have formed habits of comfort.
THE ARCHDEACON. Comfort!!
ERMYNTRUDE. Well, elegance if you like. Luxury, if you insist. Call it
what you please. A house that costs less than a hundred thousand dollars
a year to run is intolerable to me.
THE ARCHDEACON. Then, my dear, you had better become lady's maid to a
princess until you can find another millionaire to marry you.
ERMYNTRUDE. That's an idea. I will. [She vanishes through the curtains.]
THE ARCHDEACON. What! Come back. Come back this instant. [The lights are
lowered.] Oh, very well: I have nothing more to say. [He descends the
steps into the auditorium and makes for the door, grumbling all the
time.] Insane, senseless extravagance! [Barking.] Worthlessness!!
[Muttering.] I will not bear it any longer. Dresses, hats, furs,
gloves, motor rides: one bill after another: money going like water. No
restraint, no self-control, no decency. [Shrieking.] I say, no decency!
[Muttering again.] Nice state of things we are coming to! A pretty
world! But I simply will not bear it. She can do as she likes. I wash
my hands of her: I am not going to die in the workhouse for any
good-for-nothing, undutiful, spendthrift daughter; and the sooner that
is understood by everybody the better for all par---- [He is by this
time out of hearing in the corridor.]
THE PLAY
A hotel sitting room. A table in the centre. On it a telephone. Two
chairs at it, opposite one another. Behind it, the door. The fireplace
has a mirror in the mantelpiece.
A spinster Princess, hatted and gloved, is ushered in by the hotel
manager, spruce and artifically bland by professional habit, but
treating his customer with a condescending affability which sails very
close to the east wind of insolence.
THE MANAGER. I am sorry I am unable to accommodate Your Highness on the
first floor.
THE PRINCESS [very shy and nervous.] Oh, please don't mention it. This
is quite nice. Very nice. Thank you very much.
THE MANAGER. We could prepare a room in the annexe--
THE PRINCESS. Oh no. This will do very well.
She takes of her gloves and hat: puts them on the table; and sits down.
THE MANAGER. The rooms are quite as good up here. There is less noise;
and there is the lift. If Your Highness desires anything, there is the
telephone--
THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you, I don't want anything. The telephone is so
difficult: I am not accustomed to it.
THE MANAGER. Can I take any order? Some tea?
THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you. Yes: I should like some tea, if I might--if
it would not be too much trouble.
He goes out. The telephone rings. The Princess starts out of her chair,
terrified, and recoils as far as possible from the instrument.
THE PRINCESS. Oh dear! [It rings again. She looks scared. It rings
again. She approaches it timidly. It rings again. She retreats hastily.
It rings repeatedly. She runs to it in desperation and puts the receiver
to her ear.] Who is there? What do I do? I am not used to the telephone:
I don't know how--What! Oh, I can hear you speaking quite distinctly.
[She sits down, delighted, and settles herself for a conversation.] How
wonderful! What! A lady? Oh! a person. Oh, yes: I know. Yes, please,
send her up. Have my servants finished their lunch yet? Oh no: please
don't disturb them: I'd rather not. It doesn't matter. Thank you. What?
Oh yes, it's quite easy. I had no idea--am I to hang it up just as it
was? Thank you. [She hangs it up.]
Ermyntrude enters, presenting a plain and staid appearance in a long
straight waterproof with a hood over her head gear. She comes to the end
of the table opposite to that at which the Princess is seated.
THE PRINCESS. Excuse me. I have been talking through the telephone: and
I heard quite well, though I have never ventured before. Won't you sit
down?
ERMYNTRUDE. No, thank you, Your Highness. I am only a lady's maid. I
understood you wanted one.
THE PRINCESS. Oh no: you mustn't think I want one. It's so unpatriotic
to want anything now, on account of the war, you know. I sent my
maid away as a public duty; and now she has married a soldier and is
expecting a war baby. But I don't know how to do without her. I've tried
my very best; but somehow it doesn't answer: everybody cheats me; and
in the end it isn't any saving. So I've made up my mind to sell my piano
and have a maid. That will be a real saving, because I really don't care
a bit for music, though of course one has to pretend to. Don't you think
so?
ERMYNTRUDE. Certainly I do, Your Highness. Nothing could be more
correct. Saving and self-denial both at once; and an act of kindness to
me, as I am out of place.
THE PRINCESS. I'm so glad you see it in that way. Er--you won't mind my
asking, will you?--how did you lose your place?
ERMYNTRUDE. The war, Your Highness, the war.
THE PRINCESS. Oh yes, of course. But how--
ERMYNTRUDE [taking out her handkerchief and showing signs of grief]. My
poor mistress--
THE PRINCESS. Oh please say no more. Don't think about it. So tactless
of me to mention it.
ERMYNTRUDE [mastering her emotion and smiling through her tears]. Your
Highness is too good.
THE PRINCESS. Do you think you could be happy with me? I attach such
importance to that.
ERMYNTRUDE [gushing]. Oh, I know--I shall.
THE PRINCESS. You must not expect too much. There is my uncle. He is
very severe and hasty; and he is my guardian. I once had a maid I liked
very much; but he sent her away the very first time.
ERMYNTRUDE. The first time of what, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS. Oh, something she did. I am sure she had never done it
before; and I know she would never have done it again, she was so truly
contrite and nice about it.
ERMYNTRUDE. About what, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS. Well, she wore my jewels and one of my dresses at a rather
improper ball with her young man; and my uncle saw her.
ERYMNTRUDE. Then he was at the ball too, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS [struck by the inference]. I suppose he must have been. I
wonder! You know, it's very sharp of you to find that out. I hope you
are not too sharp.
ERMYNTRUDE. A lady's maid has to be, Your Highness. [She produces some
letters.] Your Highness wishes to see my testimonials, no doubt. I have
one from an Archdeacon. [She proffers the letters.]
THE PRINCESS [taking them]. Do archdeacons have maids? How curious!
ERMYNTRUDE. No, Your Highness. They have daughters. I have first-rate
testimonials from the Archdeacon and from his daughter.
THE PRINCESS [reading them]. The daughter says you are in every respect
a treasure. The Archdeacon says he would have kept you if he could
possibly have afforded it. Most satisfactory, I'm sure.
ERMYNTRUDE. May I regard myself as engaged then, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS [alarmed]. Oh, I'm sure I don't know. If you like, of
course; but do you think I ought to?
ERMYNTRUDE. Naturally I think Your Highness ought to, most decidedly.
THE PRINCESS. Oh well, if you think that, I daresay you're quite right.
You'll excuse my mentioning it, I hope; but what wages--er--?
ERMYNTRUDE. The same as the maid who went to the ball. Your Highness
need not make any change.
THE PRINCESS. M'yes. Of course she began with less. But she had such a
number of relatives to keep! It was quite heartbreaking: I had to raise
her wages again and again.
ERMYNTRUDE. I shall be quite content with what she began on; and I have
no relatives dependent on me. And I am willing to wear my own dresses at
balls.
THE PRINCESS. I am sure nothing could be fairer than that. My uncle
can't object to that, can he?
ERMYNTRUDE. If he does, Your Highness, ask him to speak to me about
it. I shall regard it as part of my duties to speak to your uncle about
matters of business.
THE PRINCESS. Would you? You must be frightfully courageous.
ERMYNTRUDE. May I regard myself as engaged, Your Highness? I should like
to set about my duties immediately.
THE PRINCESS. Oh yes, I think so. Oh certainly. I--
A waiter comes in with the tea. He places the tray on the table.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you.
ERMYNTRUDE [raising the cover from the tea cake and looking at it]. How
long has that been standing at the top of the stairs?
THE PRINCESS [terrified]. Oh please! It doesn't matter.
THE WAITER. It has not been waiting. Straight from the kitchen, madam,
believe me.
ERMYNTRUDE. Send the manager here.
THE WAITER. The manager! What do you want with the manager?
ERMYNTRUDE. He will tell you when I have done with him. How dare you
treat Her Highness in this disgraceful manner? What sort of pothouse is
this? Where did you learn to speak to persons of quality? Take away your
cold tea and cold cake instantly. Give them to the chambermaid you were
flirting with whilst Her Highness was waiting. Order some fresh tea
at once; and do not presume to bring it yourself: have it brought by a
civil waiter who is accustomed to wait on ladies, and not, like you, on
commercial travellers.
THE WAITER. Alas, madam, I am not accustomed to wait on anybody. Two
years ago I was an eminent medical man, my waiting-room was crowded with
the flower of the aristocracy and the higher bourgeoisie from nine to
six every day. But the war came; and my patients were ordered to give
up their luxuries. They gave up their doctors, but kept their week-end
hotels, closing every career to me except the career of a waiter.
[He puts his fingers on the teapot to test its temperature, and
automatically takes out his watch with the other hand as if to count the
teapot's pulse.] You are right: the tea is cold: it was made by the wife
of a once fashionable architect. The cake is only half toasted: what can
you expect from a ruined west-end tailor whose attempt to establish a
second-hand business failed last Tuesday week? Have you the heart to
complain to the manager? Have we not suffered enough? Are our miseries
nev---- [the manager enters]. Oh Lord! here he is. [The waiter withdraws
abjectly, taking the tea tray with him.]
THE MANAGER. Pardon, Your Highness; but I have received an urgent
inquiry for rooms from an English family of importance; and I venture
to ask you to let me know how long you intend to honor us with your
presence.
THE PRINCESS [rising anxiously]. Oh! am I in the way?
ERMYNTRUDE [sternly]. Sit down, madam. [The Princess sits down
forlornly. Ermyntrude turns imperiously to the Manager.] Her Highness
will require this room for twenty minutes.
THE MANAGER. Twenty minutes!
ERMYNTRUDE. Yes: it will take fully that time to find a proper apartment
in a respectable hotel.
THE MANAGER. I do not understand.
ERMYNTRUDE. You understand perfectly. How dare you offer Her Highness a
room on the second floor?
THE MANAGER. But I have explained. The first floor is occupied. At
least--
ERMYNTRUDE. Well? at least?
THE MANAGER. It is occupied.
ERMYNTRUDE. Don't you dare tell Her Highness a falsehood. It is not
occupied. You are saving it up for the arrival of the five-fifteen
express, from which you hope to pick up some fat armaments contractor
who will drink all the bad champagne in your cellar at 5 francs a
bottle, and pay twice over for everything because he is in the same
hotel with Her Highness, and can boast of having turned her out of the
best rooms.
THE MANAGER. But Her Highness was so gracious. I did not know that Her
Highness was at all particular.
ERMYNTRUDE. And you take advantage of Her Highness's graciousness. You
impose on her with your stories. You give her a room not fit for a dog.
You send cold tea to her by a decayed professional person disguised as a
waiter. But don't think you can trifle with me. I am a lady's maid; and
I know the ladies' maids and valets of all the aristocracies of Europe
and all the millionaires of America. When I expose your hotel as the
second-rate little hole it is, not a soul above the rank of a curate
with a large family will be seen entering it. I shake its dust off my
feet. Order the luggage to be taken down at once.
THE MANAGER [appealing to the Princess]. Can Your Highness believe this
of me? Have I had the misfortune to offend Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS. Oh no. I am quite satisfied. Please--
ERMYNTRUDE. Is Your Highness dissatisfied with me?
THE PRINCESS [intimidated]. Oh no: please don't think that. I only
meant--
ERMYNTRUDE [to the manager]. You hear. Perhaps you think Her Highness
is going to do the work of teaching you your place herself, instead of
leaving it to her maid.
THE MANAGER. Oh please, mademoiselle. Believe me: our only wish is to
make you perfectly comfortable. But in consequence of the war, all royal
personages now practise a rigid economy, and desire us to treat them
like their poorest subjects.
THE PRINCESS. Oh yes. You are quite right--
ERMYNTRUDE [interrupting]. There! Her Highness forgives you; but don't
do it again. Now go downstairs, my good man, and get that suite on the
first floor ready for us. And send some proper tea. And turn on the
heating apparatus until the temperature in the rooms is comfortably
warm. And have hot water put in all the bedrooms--
THE MANAGER. There are basins with hot and cold taps.
ERMYNTRUDE [scornfully]. Yes: there WOULD be. Suppose we must put up
with that: sinks in our rooms, and pipes that rattle and bang and guggle
all over the house whenever anyone washes his hands. I know.
THE MANAGER [gallant]. You are hard to please, mademoiselle.
ERMYNTRUDE. No harder than other people. But when I'm not pleased I'm
not too ladylike to say so. That's all the difference. There is nothing
more, thank you.
The Manager shrugs his shoulders resignedly; makes a deep bow to the
Princess; goes to the door; wafts a kiss surreptitiously to Ermyntrude;
and goes out.
THE PRINCESS. It's wonderful! How have you the courage?
ERMYNTRUDE. In Your Highness's service I know no fear. Your Highness can
leave all unpleasant people to me.
THE PRINCESS. How I wish I could! The most dreadful thing of all I have
to go through myself.
ERMYNTRUDE. Dare I ask what it is, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS. I'm going to be married. I'm to be met here and married to
a man I never saw. A boy! A boy who never saw me! One of the sons of the
Inca of Perusalem.
ERMYNTRUDE. Indeed? Which son?
THE PRINCESS. I don't know. They haven't settled which. It's a dreadful
thing to be a princess: they just marry you to anyone they like. The
Inca is to come and look at me, and pick out whichever of his sons he
thinks will suit. And then I shall be an alien enemy everywhere except
in Perusalem, because the Inca has made war on everybody. And I shall
have to pretend that everybody has made war on him. It's too bad.
ERMYNTRUDE. Still, a husband is a husband. I wish I had one.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, how can you say that! I'm afraid you're not a nice
woman.
ERMYNTRUDE. Your Highness is provided for. I'm not.
THE PRINCESS. Even if you could bear to let a man touch you, you
shouldn't say so.
ERMYNTRUDE. I shall not say so again, Your Highness, except perhaps to
the man.
THE PRINCESS. It's too dreadful to think of. I wonder you can be so
coarse. I really don't think you'll suit. I feel sure now that you know
more about men than you should.
ERMYNTRUDE. I am a widow, Your Highness.
THE PRINCESS [overwhelmed]. Oh, I BEG your pardon. Of course I ought to
have known you would not have spoken like that if you were not married.
That makes it all right, doesn't it? I'm so sorry.
The Manager returns, white, scared, hardly able to speak.
THE MANAGER. Your Highness, an officer asks to see you on behalf of the
Inca of Perusalem.
THE PRINCESS [rising distractedly]. Oh, I can't, really. Oh, what shall
I do?
THE MANAGER. On important business, he says, Your Highness. Captain
Duval.
ERMYNTRUDE. Duval! Nonsense! The usual thing. It is the Inca himself,
incognito.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, send him away. Oh, I'm so afraid of the Inca. I'm not
properly dressed to receive him; and he is so particular: he would order
me to stay in my room for a week. Tell him to call tomorrow: say I'm ill
in bed. I can't: I won't: I daren't: you must get rid of him somehow.
ERMYNTRUDE. Leave him to me, Your Highness.
THE PRINCESS. You'd never dare!
ERMYNTRUDE. I am an Englishwoman, Your Highness, and perfectly capable
of tackling ten Incas if necessary. I will arrange the matter. [To the
Manager.] Show Her Highness to her bedroom; and then show Captain Duval
in here.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you so much. [She goes to the door. Ermyntrude,
noticing that she has left her hat and gloves on the table, runs after
her with them.] Oh, THANK you. And oh, please, if I must have one of his
sons, I should like a fair one that doesn't shave, with soft hair and a
beard. I couldn't bear being kissed by a bristly person. [She runs out,
the Manager bowing as she passes. He follows her.]
Ermyntrude whips off her waterproof; hides it; and gets herself swiftly
into perfect trim at the mirror, before the Manager, with a large jewel
case in his hand, returns, ushering in the Inca.
THE MANAGER. Captain Duval.
The Inca, in military uniform, advances with a marked and imposing stage
walk; stops; orders the trembling Manager by a gesture to place the
jewel case on the table; dismisses him with a frown; touches his helmet
graciously to Ermyntrude; and takes off his cloak.
THE INCA. I beg you, madam, to be quite at your ease, and to speak to me
without ceremony.
ERMYNTRUDE [moving haughtily and carelessly to the table]. I hadn't the
slightest intention of treating you with ceremony. [She sits down: a
liberty which gives him a perceptible shock.] I am quite at a loss to
imagine why I should treat a perfect stranger named Duval: a captain!
almost a subaltern! with the smallest ceremony.
THE INCA. That is true. I had for the moment forgotten my position.
ERMYNTRUDE. It doesn't matter. You may sit down.
THE INCA [frowning.] What!
ERMYNTRUDE. I said, you...may...sit...down.
THE INCA. Oh. [His moustache droops. He sits down.]
ERMYNTRUDE. What is your business?
THE INCA. I come on behalf of the Inca of Perusalem.
ERMYNTRUDE. The Allerhochst?
THE INCA. Precisely.
ERMYNTRUDE. I wonder does he feel ridiculous when people call him the
Allerhochst.
THE INCA [surprised]. Why should he? He IS the Allerhochst.
ERMYNTRUDE. Is he nice looking?
THE INCA. I--er. Er--I. I--er. I am not a good judge.
ERMYNTRUDE. They say he takes himself very seriously.
THE INCA. Why should he not, madam? Providence has entrusted to his
family the care of a mighty empire. He is in a position of half divine,
half paternal, responsibility towards sixty millions of people, whose
duty it is to die for him at the word of command. To take himself
otherwise than seriously would be blasphemous. It is a punishable
offence--severely punishable--in Perusalem. It is called
Incadisparagement.
ERMYNTRUDE. How cheerful! Can he laugh?
THE INCA. Certainly, madam. [He laughs, harshly and mirthlessly.] Ha ha!
Ha ha ha!
ERMYNTRUDE [frigidly]. I asked could the Inca laugh. I did not ask could
you laugh.
THE INCA. That is true, madam. [Chuckling.] Devilish amusing, that!
[He laughs, genially and sincerely, and becomes a much more agreeable
person.] Pardon me: I am now laughing because I cannot help it. I am
amused. The other was merely an imitation: a failure, I admit.
ERMYNTRUDE. You intimated that you had some business?
THE INCA [producing a very large jewel case, and relapsing into
solemnity.] I am instructed by the Allerhochst to take a careful note
of your features and figure, and, if I consider them satisfactory, to
present you with this trifling token of His Imperial Majesty's regard.
I do consider them satisfactory. Allow me [he opens the jewel case and
presents it.]
ERMYNTRUDE [staring at the contents]. What awful taste he must have! I
can't wear that.
THE INCA [reddening]. Take care, madam! This brooch was designed by the
Inca himself. Allow me to explain the design. In the centre, the shield
of Arminius. The ten surrounding medallions represent the ten castles
of His Majesty. The rim is a piece of the telephone cable laid by His
Majesty across the Shipskeel canal. The pin is a model in miniature of
the sword of Henry the Birdcatcher.
ERMYNTRUDE. Miniature! It must be bigger than the original. My good man,
you don't expect me to wear this round my neck: it's as big as a turtle.
[He shuts the case with an angry snap.] How much did it cost?
THE INCA. For materials and manufacture alone, half a million Perusalem
dollars, madam. The Inca's design constitutes it a work of art. As such,
it is now worth probably ten million dollars.
ERMYNTRUDE. Give it to me [she snatches it]. I'll pawn it and buy
something nice with the money.
THE INCA. Impossible, madam. A design by the Inca must not be exhibited
for sale in the shop window of a pawnbroker. [He flings himself into his
chair, fuming.]
ERMYNTRUDE. So much the better. The Inca will have to redeem it to save
himself from that disgrace; and the poor pawnbroker will get his money
back. Nobody would buy it, you know.
THE INCA. May I ask why?
ERMYNTRUDL. Well, look at it! Just look at it! I ask you!
THE INCA [his moustache drooping ominously]. I am sorry to have to
report to the Inca that you have no soul for fine art. [He rises
sulkily.] The position of daughter-in-law to the Inca is not compatible
with the tastes of a pig. [He attempts to take back the brooch.]
ERMYNTRUDE [rising and retreating behind her chair with the brooch].
Here! you let that brooch alone. You presented it to me on behalf of the
Inca. It is mine. You said my appearance was satisfactory.
THE INCA. Your appearance is not satisfactory. The Inca would not allow
his son to marry you if the boy were on a desert island and you were the
only other human being on it [he strides up the room.]
ERMYNTRUDE [calmly sitting down and replacing the case on the table].
How could he? There would be no clergyman to marry us. It would have to
be quite morganatic.
THE INCA [returning]. Such an expression is out of place in the mouth of
a princess aspiring to the highest destiny on earth. You have the morals
of a dragoon. [She receives this with a shriek of laughter. He struggles
with his sense of humor.] At the same time [he sits down] there is a
certain coarse fun in the idea which compels me to smile [he turns up
his moustache and smiles.]
ERMYNTRUDE. When I marry the Inca's son, Captain, I shall make the Inca
order you to cut off that moustache. It is too irresistible. Doesn't it
fascinate everyone in Perusalem?
THE INCA [leaning forward to her energetically]. By all the thunders of
Thor, madam, it fascinates the whole world.
ERMYNTRUDE. What I like about you, Captain Duval, is your modesty.
THE INCA [straightening up suddenly]. Woman, do not be a fool.
ERMYNTRUDE [indignant]. Well!
THE INCA. You must look facts in the face. This moustache is an exact
copy of the Inca's moustache. Well, does the world occupy itself with
the Inca's moustache or does it not? Does it ever occupy itself with
anything else? If that is the truth, does its recognition constitute
the Inca a coxcomb? Other potentates have moustaches: even beards
and moustaches. Does the world occupy itself with those beards and
moustaches? Do the hawkers in the streets of every capital on the
civilized globe sell ingenious cardboard representations of their faces
on which, at the pulling of a simple string, the moustaches turn up and
down, so--[he makes his moustache turn, up and down several times]? No!
I say No. The Inca's moustache is so watched and studied that it has
made his face the political barometer of the whole continent. When that
moustache goes up, culture rises with it. Not what you call culture;
but Kultur, a word so much more significant that I hardly understand
it myself except when I am in specially good form. When it goes down,
millions of men perish.
ERMYNTRUDE. You know, if I had a moustache like that, it would turn my
head. I should go mad. Are you quite sure the Inca isn't mad?
THE INCA. How can he be mad, madam? What is sanity? The condition of the
Inca's mind. What is madness? The condition of the people who disagree
with the Inca.
ERMYNTRUDE. Then I am a lunatic because I don't like that ridiculous
brooch.
THE INCA. No, madam: you are only an idiot.
ERMYNTRUDE. Thank you.
THE INCA. Mark you: It is not to be expected that you should see eye to
eye with the Inca. That would be presumption. It is for you to accept
without question or demur the assurance of your Inca that the brooch is
a masterpiece.
ERMYNTRUDE. MY Inca! Oh, come! I like that. He is not my Inca yet.
THE INCA. He is everybody's Inca, madam. His realm will yet extend to
the confines of the habitable earth. It is his divine right; and let
those who dispute it look to themselves. Properly speaking, all those
who are now trying to shake his world predominance are not at war with
him, but in rebellion against him.
ERMYNTRUDE. Well, he started it, you know.
THE INCA. Madam, be just. When the hunters surround the lion, the lion
will spring. The Inca had kept the peace of years. Those who attacked
him were steeped in blood, black blood, white blood, brown blood, yellow
blood, blue blood. The Inca had never shed a drop.
ERMYNTRUDE. He had only talked.
THE INCA. Only TALKED! ONLY talked! What is more glorious than talk? Can
anyone in the world talk like him? Madam, when he signed the declaration
of war, he said to his foolish generals and admirals, 'Gentlemen, you
will all be sorry for this.' And they are. They know now that they had
better have relied on the sword of the spirit: in other words, on their
Inca's talk, than on their murderous cannons. The world will one day do
justice to the Inca as the man who kept the peace with nothing but his
tongue and his moustache. While he talked: talked just as I am talking
now to you, simply, quietly, sensibly, but GREATLY, there was peace;
there was prosperity; Perusalem went from success to success. He has
been silenced for a year by the roar of trinitrotoluene and the bluster
of fools; and the world is in ruins. What a tragedy! [He is convulsed
with grief.]
ERMYNTRUDE. Captain Duval, I don't want to be unsympathetic; but suppose
we get back to business.
THE INCA. Business! What business?
ERMYNTRUDE. Well, MY business. You want me to marry one of the Inca's
sons: I forget which.
THE INCA. As far as I can recollect the name, it is His Imperial
Highness Prince Eitel William Frederick George Franz Josef Alexander
Nicholas Victor Emmanuel Albert Theodore Wilson--
ERMYNTRUDE [interrupting]. Oh, please, please, mayn't I have one with a
shorter name? What is he called at home?
THE INCA. He is usually called Sonny, madam. [With great charm of
manner.] But you will please understand that the Inca has no desire to
pin you to any particular son. There is Chips and Spots and Lulu and
Pongo and the Corsair and the Piffler and Jack Johnson the Second,
all unmarried. At least not seriously married: nothing, in short, that
cannot be arranged. They are all at your service.
ERMYNTRUDE. Are they all as clever and charming as their father?
THE INCA [lifts his eyebrows pityingly; shrugs his shoulders; then,
with indulgent paternal contempt]. Excellent lads, madam. Very honest
affectionate creatures. I have nothing against them. Pongo imitates
farmyard sounds--cock crowing and that sort of thing--extremely well.
Lulu plays Strauss's Sinfonia Domestica on the mouth organ really
screamingly. Chips keeps owls and rabbits. Spots motor bicycles. The
Corsair commands canal barges and steers them himself. The Piffler
writes plays, and paints most abominably. Jack Johnson trims ladies'
hats, and boxes with professionals hired for that purpose. He is
invariably victorious. Yes: they all have their different little
talents. And also, of course, their family resemblances. For example,
they all smoke; they all quarrel with one another; and they none of them
appreciate their father, who, by the way, is no mean painter, though the
Piffler pretends to ridicule his efforts.
ERMYNTRUDE. Quite a large choice, eh?
THE INCA. But very little to choose, believe me. I should not recommend
Pongo, because he snores so frightfully that it has been necessary to
build him a sound-proof bedroom: otherwise the royal family would get no
sleep. But any of the others would suit equally well--if you are really
bent on marrying one of them.
ERMYNTRUDE. If! What is this? I never wanted to marry one of them. I
thought you wanted me to.
THE INCA. I did, madam; but [confidentially, flattering her] you are not
quite the sort of person I expected you to be; and I doubt whether
any of these young degenerates would make you happy. I trust I am not
showing any want of natural feeling when I say that from the point of
view of a lively, accomplished, and beautiful woman [Ermyntrude bows]
they might pall after a time. I suggest that you might prefer the Inca
himself.
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh, Captain, how could a humble person like myself be of
any interest to a prince who is surrounded with the ablest and most
far-reaching intellects in the world?
TAE INCA [explosively]. What on earth are you talking about, madam? Can
you name a single man in the entourage of the Inca who is not a born
fool?
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh, how can you say that! There is Admiral von Cockpits--
THE INCA [rising intolerantly and striding about the room]. Von
Cockpits! Madam, if Von Cockpits ever goes to heaven, before three weeks
are over the Angel Gabriel will be at war with the man in the moon.
ERMYNTRUDE. But General Von Schinkenburg--
THE INCA. Schinkenburg! I grant you, Schinkenburg has a genius for
defending market gardens. Among market gardens he is invincible. But
what is the good of that? The world does not consist of market gardens.
Turn him loose in pasture and he is lost. The Inca has defeated all
these generals again and again at manoeuvres; and yet he has to
give place to them in the field because he would be blamed for every
disaster--accused of sacrificing the country to his vanity. Vanity! Why
do they call him vain? Just because he is one of the few men who are not
afraid to live. Why do they call themselves brave? Because they have
not sense enough to be afraid to die. Within the last year the world
has produced millions of heroes. Has it produced more than one Inca? [He
resumes his seat.]
ERMYNTRUDE. Fortunately not, Captain. I'd rather marry Chips.
THE INCA [making a wry face]. Chips! Oh no: I wouldn't marry Chips.
ERMYNTRUDE. Why?
THE INCA [whispering the secret]. Chips talks too much about himself.
ERMYNTRUDE. Well, what about Snooks?
THE INCA. Snooks? Who is he? Have I a son named Snooks? There are so
many--[wearily] so many--that I often forget. [Casually.] But I wouldn't
marry him, anyhow, if I were you.
ERMYNTRUDE. But hasn't any of them inherited the family genius? Surely,
if Providence has entrusted them with the care of Perusalem--if they are
all descended from Bedrock the Great--
THE INCA [interrupting her impatiently]. Madam, if you ask me, I
consider Bedrock a grossly overrated monarch.
ERMYNTRUDE [shocked]. Oh, Captain! Take care! Incadisparagement.
THE INCA. I repeat, grossly overrated. Strictly between ourselves, I
do not believe all this about Providence entrusting the care of sixty
million human beings to the abilities of Chips and the Piffler and Jack
Johnson. I believe in individual genius. That is the Inca's secret. It
must be. Why, hang it all, madam, if it were a mere family matter, the
Inca's uncle would have been as great a man as the Inca. And--well,
everybody knows what the Inca's uncle was.
ERMYNTRUDE. My experience is that the relatives of men of genius are
always the greatest duffers imaginable.
THE INCA. Precisely. That is what proves that the Inca is a man of
genius. His relatives ARE duffers.
ERMYNTRUDE. But bless my soul, Captain, if all the Inca's generals are
incapables, and all his relatives duffers, Perusalem will be beaten in
the war; and then it will become a republic, like France after 1871, and
the Inca will be sent to St Helena.
THE INCA [triumphantly]. That is just what the Inca is playing for,
madam. It is why he consented to the war.
ERMYNTRUDE. What!
THE INCA. Aha! The fools talk of crushing the Inca; but they little know
their man. Tell me this. Why did St Helena extinguish Napoleon?
ERMYNTRUDE. I give it up.
THE INCA. Because, madam, with certain rather remarkable qualities,
which I should be the last to deny, Napoleon lacked versatility. After
all, any fool can be a soldier: we know that only too well in Perusalem,
where every fool is a soldier. But the Inca has a thousand other
resources. He is an architect. Well, St Helena presents an unlimited
field to the architect. He is a painter: need I remind you that St
Helena is still without a National Gallery? He is a composer: Napoleon
left no symphonies in St Helena. Send the Inca to St Helena, madam,
and the world will crowd thither to see his works as they crowd now to
Athens to see the Acropolis, to Madrid to see the pictures of Velasquez,
to Bayreuth to see the music dramas of that egotistical old rebel
Richard Wagner, who ought to have been shot before he was forty, as
indeed he very nearly was. Take this from me: hereditary monarchs are
played out: the age for men of genius has come: the career is open to
the talents: before ten years have elapsed every civilized country from
the Carpathians to the Rocky Mountains will be a Republic.
ERMYNTRUDE. Then goodbye to the Inca.
THE INCA. On the contrary, madam, the Inca will then have his first real
chance. He will be unanimously invited by those Republics to return from
his exile and act as Superpresident of all the republics.
ERMYNTRUDE. But won't that be a come-down for him? Think of it! after
being Inca, to be a mere President!
THE INCA. Well, why not! An Inca can do nothing. He is tied hand and
foot. A constitutional monarch is openly called an India-rubber stamp.
An emperor is a puppet. The Inca is not allowed to make a speech: he
is compelled to take up a screed of flatulent twaddle written by
some noodle of a minister and read it aloud. But look at the American
President! He is the Allerhochst, if you like. No, madam, believe me,
there is nothing like Democracy, American Democracy. Give the people
voting papers: good long voting papers, American fashion; and while the
people are reading the voting papers the Government does what it likes.
ERMYNTRUDE. What! You too worship before the statue of Liberty, like the
Americans?
THE INCA. Not at all, madam. The Americans do not worship the statue
of Liberty. They have erected it in the proper place for a statue of
Liberty: on its tomb [he turns down his moustaches.]
ERMYNTRUDE [laughing]. Oh! You'd better not let them hear you say that,
Captain.
THE INCA. Quite safe, madam: they would take it as a joke. [He rises.]
And now, prepare yourself for a surprise. [She rises]. A shock. Brace
yourself. Steel yourself. And do not be afraid.
ERMYNTRUDE. Whatever on earth can you be going to tell me, Captain?
THE INCA. Madam, I am no captain. I--
ERMYNTRUDE. You are the Inca in disguise.
THE INCA. Good heavens! how do you know that? Who has betrayed me?
ERMYNTRUDE. How could I help divining it, Sir? Who is there in the world
like you? Your magnetism--
THE INCA. True: I had forgotten my magnetism. But you know now that
beneath the trappings of Imperial Majesty there is a Man: simple, frank,
modest, unaffected, colloquial: a sincere friend, a natural human being,
a genial comrade, one eminently calculated to make a woman happy. You,
on the other hand, are the most charming woman I have ever met. Your
conversation is wonderful. I have sat here almost in silence, listening
to your shrewd and penetrating account of my character, my motives, if I
may say so, my talents. Never has such justice been done me: never have
I experienced such perfect sympathy. Will you--I hardly know how to put
this--will you be mine?
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh, Sir, you are married.
THE INCA. I am prepared to embrace the Mahometan faith, which allows a
man four wives, if you will consent. It will please the Turks. But I had
rather you did not mention it to the Inca-ess. If you don't mind.
ERMYNTRUDE. This is really charming of you. But the time has come for
me to make a revelation. It is your Imperial Majesty's turn now to brace
yourself. To steel yourself. I am not the princess. I am--
THE INCA. The daughter of my old friend Archdeacon Daffodil Donkin,
whose sermons are read to me every evening after dinner. I never forget
a face.
ERMYNTRUDE. You knew all along!
THE INCA [bitterly, throwing himself into his chair]. And you supposed
that I, who have been condemned to the society of princesses all my
wretched life, believed for a moment that any princess that ever walked
could have your intelligence!
ERMYNTRUDE. How clever of you, Sir! But you cannot afford to marry me.
THE INCA [springing up]. Why not?
ERMYNTRUDE. You are too poor. You have to eat war bread. Kings nowadays
belong to the poorer classes. The King of England does not even allow
himself wine at dinner.
THE INCA [delighted]. Haw! Ha ha! Haw! haw! [He is convulsed with
laughter, and, finally has to relieve his feelings by waltzing half round
the room.]
ERMYNTRUDE. You may laugh, Sir; but I really could not live in that
style. I am the widow of a millionaire, ruined by your little war.
THE INCA. A millionaire! What are millionaires now, with the world
crumbling?
ERMYNTRUDE. Excuse me: mine was a hyphenated millionaire.
THE INCA. A highfalutin millionaire, you mean. [Chuckling]. Haw! ha ha!
really very nearly a pun, that. [He sits down in her chair.]
ERMYNTRUDE [revolted, sinking into his chair]. I think it quite the
worst pun I ever heard.
THE INCA. The best puns have all been made years ago: nothing remained
but to achieve the worst. However, madam [he rises majestically; and she
is about to rise also]. No: I prefer a seated audience [she falls back
into her seat at the imperious wave of his hand]. So [he clicks his
heels]. Madam, I recognize my presumption in having sought the honor
of your hand. As you say, I cannot afford it. Victorious as I am, I am
hopelessly bankrupt; and the worst of it is, I am intelligent enough
to know it. And I shall be beaten in consequence, because my most
implacable enemy, though only a few months further away from bankruptcy
than myself, has not a ray of intelligence, and will go on fighting
until civilization is destroyed, unless I, out of sheer pity for the
world, condescend to capitulate.
ERMYNTRUDE. The sooner the better, Sir. Many fine young men are dying
while you wait.
THE INCA [flinching painfully]. Why? Why do they do it?
ERMYNTRUDE. Because you make them.
THE INCA. Stuff! How can I? I am only one man; and they are millions.
Do you suppose they would really kill each other if they didn't want
to, merely for the sake of my beautiful eyes? Do not be deceived by
newspaper claptrap, madam. I was swept away by a passion not my own,
which imposed itself on me. By myself I am nothing. I dare not walk down
the principal street of my own capital in a coat two years old, though
the sweeper of that street can wear one ten years old. You talk of
death as an unpopular thing. You are wrong: for years I gave them art,
literature, science, prosperity, that they might live more abundantly;
and they hated me, ridiculed me, caricatured me. Now that I give them
death in its frightfullest forms, they are devoted to me. If you doubt
me, ask those who for years have begged our taxpayers in vain for a
few paltry thousands to spend on Life: on the bodies and minds of the
nation's children, on the beauty and healthfulness of its cities, on
the honor and comfort of its worn-out workers. They refused: and because
they refused, death is let loose on them. They grudged a few hundreds
a year for their salvation: they now pay millions a day for their own
destruction and damnation. And this they call my doing! Let them say it,
if they dare, before the judgment-seat at which they and I shall answer
at last for what we have left undone no less than for what we have done.
[Pulling himself together suddenly.] Madam, I have the honor to be your
most obedient [he clicks his heels and bows].
ERMYNTRUDE. Sir! [She curtsies.]
THE INCA [turning at the door]. Oh, by the way, there is a princess,
isn't there, somewhere on the premises?
ERMYNTRUDE. There is. Shall I fetch her?
THE INCA [dubious], Pretty awful, I suppose, eh?
ERMYNTRUDE. About the usual thing.
THE INCA [sighing]. Ah well! What can one expect? I don't think I need
trouble her personally. Will you explain to her about the boys?
ERMYNTRUDE. I am afraid the explanation will fall rather flat without
your magnetism.
THE INCA [returning to her and speaking very humanly]. You are making
fun of me. Why does everybody make fun of me? Is it fair?
ERMYNTRUDE [seriously]. Yes, it is fair. What other defence have we poor
common people against your shining armor, your mailed fist, your pomp
and parade, your terrible power over us? Are these things fair?
THE INCA. Ah, well, perhaps, perhaps. [He looks at his watch.] By the
way, there is time for a drive round the town and a cup of tea at the
Zoo. Quite a bearable band there: it does not play any patriotic airs.
I am sorry you will not listen to any more permanent arrangement; but if
you would care to come--
ERMYNTRUDE [eagerly]. Ratherrrrrr. I shall be delighted.
THE INCA [cautiously]. In the strictest honor, you understand.
ERMYNTRUDE. Don't be afraid. I promise to refuse any incorrect
proposals.
THE INCA [enchanted]. Oh! Charming woman: how well you understand men!
He offers her his arm: they go out together.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Inca of Perusalem, by George Bernard Shaw
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INCA OF PERUSALEM ***
***** This file should be named 3486-8.txt or 3486-8.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/3486/
Produced by Eve Sobol
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
http://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
Who was the Inca disguised as when he met Ermyntrude?
Answer:
| Captain Duval. | 174 | 66,255 | 66,257 | 66,320 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
42586 | 42586_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Inca of Perusalem, by George Bernard Shaw
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Inca of Perusalem
Author: George Bernard Shaw
Posting Date: February 5, 2009 [EBook #3486]
Release Date: October, 2002
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INCA OF PERUSALEM ***
Produced by Eve Sobol
THE INCA OF PERUSALEM: AN ALMOST HISTORICAL COMEDIETTA
By George Bernard Shaw
I must remind the reader that this playlet was written when its
principal character, far from being a fallen foe and virtually a
prisoner in our victorious hands, was still the Caesar whose legions
we were resisting with our hearts in our mouths. Many were so horribly
afraid of him that they could not forgive me for not being afraid of
him: I seemed to be trifling heartlessly with a deadly peril. I knew
better; and I have represented Caesar as knowing better himself. But
it was one of the quaintnesses of popular feeling during the war that
anyone who breathed the slightest doubt of the absolute perfection of
German organization, the Machiavellian depth of German diplomacy, the
omniscience of German science, the equipment of every German with a
complete philosophy of history, and the consequent hopelessness
of overcoming so magnificently accomplished an enemy except by the
sacrifice of every recreative activity to incessant and vehement war
work, including a heartbreaking mass of fussing and cadging and bluffing
that did nothing but waste our energies and tire our resolution, was
called a pro-German.
Now that this is all over, and the upshot of the fighting has shown that
we could quite well have afforded to laugh at the doomed Inca, I am in
another difficulty. I may be supposed to be hitting Caesar when he is
down. That is why I preface the play with this reminder that when it
was written he was not down. To make quite sure, I have gone through the
proof sheets very carefully, and deleted everything that could possibly
be mistaken for a foul blow. I have of course maintained the ancient
privilege of comedy to chasten Caesar's foibles by laughing at them,
whilst introducing enough obvious and outrageous fiction to relieve both
myself and my model from the obligations and responsibilities of sober
history and biography. But I should certainly put the play in the fire
instead of publishing it if it contained a word against our defeated
enemy that I would not have written in 1913.
The Inca of Perusalem was performed for the first time in England by
the Pioneer Players at the Criterion Theatre, London, on 16th December,
1917, with Gertrude Kingston as Ermyntrude, Helen Morris as the
Princess, Nigel Playfair as the waiter, Alfred Drayton as the hotel
manager, C. Wordley Hulse as the Archdeacon, and Randle Ayrton as the
Inca.
PROLOGUE
The tableau curtains are closed. An English archdeacon comes through
them in a condition of extreme irritation. He speaks through the
curtains to someone behind them.
THE ARCHDEACON. Once for all, Ermyntrude, I cannot afford to maintain
you in your present extravagance. [He goes to a flight of steps
leading to the stalls and sits down disconsolately on the top step. A
fashionably dressed lady comes through the curtains and contemplates him
with patient obstinacy. He continues, grumbling.] An English clergyman's
daughter should be able to live quite respectably and comfortably on an
allowance of £150 a year, wrung with great difficulty from the domestic
budget.
ERMYNTRUDE. You are not a common clergyman: you are an archdeacon.
THE ARCHDEACON [angrily]. That does not affect my emoluments to the
extent of enabling me to support a daughter whose extravagance would
disgrace a royal personage. [Scrambling to his feet and scolding at
her.] What do you mean by it, Miss?
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh really, father! Miss! Is that the way to talk to a widow?
THE ARCHDEACON. Is that the way to talk to a father? Your marriage was
a most disastrous imprudence. It gave you habits that are absolutely
beyond your means--I mean beyond my means: you have no means. Why did
you not marry Matthews: the best curate I ever had?
ERMYNTRUDE. I wanted to; and you wouldn't let me. You insisted on my
marrying Roosenhonkers-Pipstein.
THE ARCHDEACON. I had to do the best for you, my child.
Roosenhonkers-Pipstein was a millionaire.
ERMYNTRUDE. How did you know he was a millionaire?
THE ARCHDEACON. He came from America. Of course he was a millionaire.
Besides, he proved to my solicitors that he had fifteen million dollars
when you married him.
ERYNTRUDE. His solicitors proved to me that he had sixteen millions when
he died. He was a millionaire to the last.
THE ARCHDEACON. O Mammon, Mammon! I am punished now for bowing the knee
to him. Is there nothing left of your settlement? Fifty thousand dollars
a year it secured to you, as we all thought. Only half the securities
could be called speculative. The other half were gilt-edged. What has
become of it all?
ERMYNTRUDE. The speculative ones were not paid up; and the gilt-edged
ones just paid the calls on them until the whole show burst up.
THE ARCHDEACON. Ermyntrude: what expressions!
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh bother! If you had lost ten thousand a year what
expressions would you use, do you think? The long and the short of it is
that I can't live in the squalid way you are accustomed to.
THE ARCHDEACON. Squalid!
ERMYNTRUDE. I have formed habits of comfort.
THE ARCHDEACON. Comfort!!
ERMYNTRUDE. Well, elegance if you like. Luxury, if you insist. Call it
what you please. A house that costs less than a hundred thousand dollars
a year to run is intolerable to me.
THE ARCHDEACON. Then, my dear, you had better become lady's maid to a
princess until you can find another millionaire to marry you.
ERMYNTRUDE. That's an idea. I will. [She vanishes through the curtains.]
THE ARCHDEACON. What! Come back. Come back this instant. [The lights are
lowered.] Oh, very well: I have nothing more to say. [He descends the
steps into the auditorium and makes for the door, grumbling all the
time.] Insane, senseless extravagance! [Barking.] Worthlessness!!
[Muttering.] I will not bear it any longer. Dresses, hats, furs,
gloves, motor rides: one bill after another: money going like water. No
restraint, no self-control, no decency. [Shrieking.] I say, no decency!
[Muttering again.] Nice state of things we are coming to! A pretty
world! But I simply will not bear it. She can do as she likes. I wash
my hands of her: I am not going to die in the workhouse for any
good-for-nothing, undutiful, spendthrift daughter; and the sooner that
is understood by everybody the better for all par---- [He is by this
time out of hearing in the corridor.]
THE PLAY
A hotel sitting room. A table in the centre. On it a telephone. Two
chairs at it, opposite one another. Behind it, the door. The fireplace
has a mirror in the mantelpiece.
A spinster Princess, hatted and gloved, is ushered in by the hotel
manager, spruce and artifically bland by professional habit, but
treating his customer with a condescending affability which sails very
close to the east wind of insolence.
THE MANAGER. I am sorry I am unable to accommodate Your Highness on the
first floor.
THE PRINCESS [very shy and nervous.] Oh, please don't mention it. This
is quite nice. Very nice. Thank you very much.
THE MANAGER. We could prepare a room in the annexe--
THE PRINCESS. Oh no. This will do very well.
She takes of her gloves and hat: puts them on the table; and sits down.
THE MANAGER. The rooms are quite as good up here. There is less noise;
and there is the lift. If Your Highness desires anything, there is the
telephone--
THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you, I don't want anything. The telephone is so
difficult: I am not accustomed to it.
THE MANAGER. Can I take any order? Some tea?
THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you. Yes: I should like some tea, if I might--if
it would not be too much trouble.
He goes out. The telephone rings. The Princess starts out of her chair,
terrified, and recoils as far as possible from the instrument.
THE PRINCESS. Oh dear! [It rings again. She looks scared. It rings
again. She approaches it timidly. It rings again. She retreats hastily.
It rings repeatedly. She runs to it in desperation and puts the receiver
to her ear.] Who is there? What do I do? I am not used to the telephone:
I don't know how--What! Oh, I can hear you speaking quite distinctly.
[She sits down, delighted, and settles herself for a conversation.] How
wonderful! What! A lady? Oh! a person. Oh, yes: I know. Yes, please,
send her up. Have my servants finished their lunch yet? Oh no: please
don't disturb them: I'd rather not. It doesn't matter. Thank you. What?
Oh yes, it's quite easy. I had no idea--am I to hang it up just as it
was? Thank you. [She hangs it up.]
Ermyntrude enters, presenting a plain and staid appearance in a long
straight waterproof with a hood over her head gear. She comes to the end
of the table opposite to that at which the Princess is seated.
THE PRINCESS. Excuse me. I have been talking through the telephone: and
I heard quite well, though I have never ventured before. Won't you sit
down?
ERMYNTRUDE. No, thank you, Your Highness. I am only a lady's maid. I
understood you wanted one.
THE PRINCESS. Oh no: you mustn't think I want one. It's so unpatriotic
to want anything now, on account of the war, you know. I sent my
maid away as a public duty; and now she has married a soldier and is
expecting a war baby. But I don't know how to do without her. I've tried
my very best; but somehow it doesn't answer: everybody cheats me; and
in the end it isn't any saving. So I've made up my mind to sell my piano
and have a maid. That will be a real saving, because I really don't care
a bit for music, though of course one has to pretend to. Don't you think
so?
ERMYNTRUDE. Certainly I do, Your Highness. Nothing could be more
correct. Saving and self-denial both at once; and an act of kindness to
me, as I am out of place.
THE PRINCESS. I'm so glad you see it in that way. Er--you won't mind my
asking, will you?--how did you lose your place?
ERMYNTRUDE. The war, Your Highness, the war.
THE PRINCESS. Oh yes, of course. But how--
ERMYNTRUDE [taking out her handkerchief and showing signs of grief]. My
poor mistress--
THE PRINCESS. Oh please say no more. Don't think about it. So tactless
of me to mention it.
ERMYNTRUDE [mastering her emotion and smiling through her tears]. Your
Highness is too good.
THE PRINCESS. Do you think you could be happy with me? I attach such
importance to that.
ERMYNTRUDE [gushing]. Oh, I know--I shall.
THE PRINCESS. You must not expect too much. There is my uncle. He is
very severe and hasty; and he is my guardian. I once had a maid I liked
very much; but he sent her away the very first time.
ERMYNTRUDE. The first time of what, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS. Oh, something she did. I am sure she had never done it
before; and I know she would never have done it again, she was so truly
contrite and nice about it.
ERMYNTRUDE. About what, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS. Well, she wore my jewels and one of my dresses at a rather
improper ball with her young man; and my uncle saw her.
ERYMNTRUDE. Then he was at the ball too, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS [struck by the inference]. I suppose he must have been. I
wonder! You know, it's very sharp of you to find that out. I hope you
are not too sharp.
ERMYNTRUDE. A lady's maid has to be, Your Highness. [She produces some
letters.] Your Highness wishes to see my testimonials, no doubt. I have
one from an Archdeacon. [She proffers the letters.]
THE PRINCESS [taking them]. Do archdeacons have maids? How curious!
ERMYNTRUDE. No, Your Highness. They have daughters. I have first-rate
testimonials from the Archdeacon and from his daughter.
THE PRINCESS [reading them]. The daughter says you are in every respect
a treasure. The Archdeacon says he would have kept you if he could
possibly have afforded it. Most satisfactory, I'm sure.
ERMYNTRUDE. May I regard myself as engaged then, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS [alarmed]. Oh, I'm sure I don't know. If you like, of
course; but do you think I ought to?
ERMYNTRUDE. Naturally I think Your Highness ought to, most decidedly.
THE PRINCESS. Oh well, if you think that, I daresay you're quite right.
You'll excuse my mentioning it, I hope; but what wages--er--?
ERMYNTRUDE. The same as the maid who went to the ball. Your Highness
need not make any change.
THE PRINCESS. M'yes. Of course she began with less. But she had such a
number of relatives to keep! It was quite heartbreaking: I had to raise
her wages again and again.
ERMYNTRUDE. I shall be quite content with what she began on; and I have
no relatives dependent on me. And I am willing to wear my own dresses at
balls.
THE PRINCESS. I am sure nothing could be fairer than that. My uncle
can't object to that, can he?
ERMYNTRUDE. If he does, Your Highness, ask him to speak to me about
it. I shall regard it as part of my duties to speak to your uncle about
matters of business.
THE PRINCESS. Would you? You must be frightfully courageous.
ERMYNTRUDE. May I regard myself as engaged, Your Highness? I should like
to set about my duties immediately.
THE PRINCESS. Oh yes, I think so. Oh certainly. I--
A waiter comes in with the tea. He places the tray on the table.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you.
ERMYNTRUDE [raising the cover from the tea cake and looking at it]. How
long has that been standing at the top of the stairs?
THE PRINCESS [terrified]. Oh please! It doesn't matter.
THE WAITER. It has not been waiting. Straight from the kitchen, madam,
believe me.
ERMYNTRUDE. Send the manager here.
THE WAITER. The manager! What do you want with the manager?
ERMYNTRUDE. He will tell you when I have done with him. How dare you
treat Her Highness in this disgraceful manner? What sort of pothouse is
this? Where did you learn to speak to persons of quality? Take away your
cold tea and cold cake instantly. Give them to the chambermaid you were
flirting with whilst Her Highness was waiting. Order some fresh tea
at once; and do not presume to bring it yourself: have it brought by a
civil waiter who is accustomed to wait on ladies, and not, like you, on
commercial travellers.
THE WAITER. Alas, madam, I am not accustomed to wait on anybody. Two
years ago I was an eminent medical man, my waiting-room was crowded with
the flower of the aristocracy and the higher bourgeoisie from nine to
six every day. But the war came; and my patients were ordered to give
up their luxuries. They gave up their doctors, but kept their week-end
hotels, closing every career to me except the career of a waiter.
[He puts his fingers on the teapot to test its temperature, and
automatically takes out his watch with the other hand as if to count the
teapot's pulse.] You are right: the tea is cold: it was made by the wife
of a once fashionable architect. The cake is only half toasted: what can
you expect from a ruined west-end tailor whose attempt to establish a
second-hand business failed last Tuesday week? Have you the heart to
complain to the manager? Have we not suffered enough? Are our miseries
nev---- [the manager enters]. Oh Lord! here he is. [The waiter withdraws
abjectly, taking the tea tray with him.]
THE MANAGER. Pardon, Your Highness; but I have received an urgent
inquiry for rooms from an English family of importance; and I venture
to ask you to let me know how long you intend to honor us with your
presence.
THE PRINCESS [rising anxiously]. Oh! am I in the way?
ERMYNTRUDE [sternly]. Sit down, madam. [The Princess sits down
forlornly. Ermyntrude turns imperiously to the Manager.] Her Highness
will require this room for twenty minutes.
THE MANAGER. Twenty minutes!
ERMYNTRUDE. Yes: it will take fully that time to find a proper apartment
in a respectable hotel.
THE MANAGER. I do not understand.
ERMYNTRUDE. You understand perfectly. How dare you offer Her Highness a
room on the second floor?
THE MANAGER. But I have explained. The first floor is occupied. At
least--
ERMYNTRUDE. Well? at least?
THE MANAGER. It is occupied.
ERMYNTRUDE. Don't you dare tell Her Highness a falsehood. It is not
occupied. You are saving it up for the arrival of the five-fifteen
express, from which you hope to pick up some fat armaments contractor
who will drink all the bad champagne in your cellar at 5 francs a
bottle, and pay twice over for everything because he is in the same
hotel with Her Highness, and can boast of having turned her out of the
best rooms.
THE MANAGER. But Her Highness was so gracious. I did not know that Her
Highness was at all particular.
ERMYNTRUDE. And you take advantage of Her Highness's graciousness. You
impose on her with your stories. You give her a room not fit for a dog.
You send cold tea to her by a decayed professional person disguised as a
waiter. But don't think you can trifle with me. I am a lady's maid; and
I know the ladies' maids and valets of all the aristocracies of Europe
and all the millionaires of America. When I expose your hotel as the
second-rate little hole it is, not a soul above the rank of a curate
with a large family will be seen entering it. I shake its dust off my
feet. Order the luggage to be taken down at once.
THE MANAGER [appealing to the Princess]. Can Your Highness believe this
of me? Have I had the misfortune to offend Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS. Oh no. I am quite satisfied. Please--
ERMYNTRUDE. Is Your Highness dissatisfied with me?
THE PRINCESS [intimidated]. Oh no: please don't think that. I only
meant--
ERMYNTRUDE [to the manager]. You hear. Perhaps you think Her Highness
is going to do the work of teaching you your place herself, instead of
leaving it to her maid.
THE MANAGER. Oh please, mademoiselle. Believe me: our only wish is to
make you perfectly comfortable. But in consequence of the war, all royal
personages now practise a rigid economy, and desire us to treat them
like their poorest subjects.
THE PRINCESS. Oh yes. You are quite right--
ERMYNTRUDE [interrupting]. There! Her Highness forgives you; but don't
do it again. Now go downstairs, my good man, and get that suite on the
first floor ready for us. And send some proper tea. And turn on the
heating apparatus until the temperature in the rooms is comfortably
warm. And have hot water put in all the bedrooms--
THE MANAGER. There are basins with hot and cold taps.
ERMYNTRUDE [scornfully]. Yes: there WOULD be. Suppose we must put up
with that: sinks in our rooms, and pipes that rattle and bang and guggle
all over the house whenever anyone washes his hands. I know.
THE MANAGER [gallant]. You are hard to please, mademoiselle.
ERMYNTRUDE. No harder than other people. But when I'm not pleased I'm
not too ladylike to say so. That's all the difference. There is nothing
more, thank you.
The Manager shrugs his shoulders resignedly; makes a deep bow to the
Princess; goes to the door; wafts a kiss surreptitiously to Ermyntrude;
and goes out.
THE PRINCESS. It's wonderful! How have you the courage?
ERMYNTRUDE. In Your Highness's service I know no fear. Your Highness can
leave all unpleasant people to me.
THE PRINCESS. How I wish I could! The most dreadful thing of all I have
to go through myself.
ERMYNTRUDE. Dare I ask what it is, Your Highness?
THE PRINCESS. I'm going to be married. I'm to be met here and married to
a man I never saw. A boy! A boy who never saw me! One of the sons of the
Inca of Perusalem.
ERMYNTRUDE. Indeed? Which son?
THE PRINCESS. I don't know. They haven't settled which. It's a dreadful
thing to be a princess: they just marry you to anyone they like. The
Inca is to come and look at me, and pick out whichever of his sons he
thinks will suit. And then I shall be an alien enemy everywhere except
in Perusalem, because the Inca has made war on everybody. And I shall
have to pretend that everybody has made war on him. It's too bad.
ERMYNTRUDE. Still, a husband is a husband. I wish I had one.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, how can you say that! I'm afraid you're not a nice
woman.
ERMYNTRUDE. Your Highness is provided for. I'm not.
THE PRINCESS. Even if you could bear to let a man touch you, you
shouldn't say so.
ERMYNTRUDE. I shall not say so again, Your Highness, except perhaps to
the man.
THE PRINCESS. It's too dreadful to think of. I wonder you can be so
coarse. I really don't think you'll suit. I feel sure now that you know
more about men than you should.
ERMYNTRUDE. I am a widow, Your Highness.
THE PRINCESS [overwhelmed]. Oh, I BEG your pardon. Of course I ought to
have known you would not have spoken like that if you were not married.
That makes it all right, doesn't it? I'm so sorry.
The Manager returns, white, scared, hardly able to speak.
THE MANAGER. Your Highness, an officer asks to see you on behalf of the
Inca of Perusalem.
THE PRINCESS [rising distractedly]. Oh, I can't, really. Oh, what shall
I do?
THE MANAGER. On important business, he says, Your Highness. Captain
Duval.
ERMYNTRUDE. Duval! Nonsense! The usual thing. It is the Inca himself,
incognito.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, send him away. Oh, I'm so afraid of the Inca. I'm not
properly dressed to receive him; and he is so particular: he would order
me to stay in my room for a week. Tell him to call tomorrow: say I'm ill
in bed. I can't: I won't: I daren't: you must get rid of him somehow.
ERMYNTRUDE. Leave him to me, Your Highness.
THE PRINCESS. You'd never dare!
ERMYNTRUDE. I am an Englishwoman, Your Highness, and perfectly capable
of tackling ten Incas if necessary. I will arrange the matter. [To the
Manager.] Show Her Highness to her bedroom; and then show Captain Duval
in here.
THE PRINCESS. Oh, thank you so much. [She goes to the door. Ermyntrude,
noticing that she has left her hat and gloves on the table, runs after
her with them.] Oh, THANK you. And oh, please, if I must have one of his
sons, I should like a fair one that doesn't shave, with soft hair and a
beard. I couldn't bear being kissed by a bristly person. [She runs out,
the Manager bowing as she passes. He follows her.]
Ermyntrude whips off her waterproof; hides it; and gets herself swiftly
into perfect trim at the mirror, before the Manager, with a large jewel
case in his hand, returns, ushering in the Inca.
THE MANAGER. Captain Duval.
The Inca, in military uniform, advances with a marked and imposing stage
walk; stops; orders the trembling Manager by a gesture to place the
jewel case on the table; dismisses him with a frown; touches his helmet
graciously to Ermyntrude; and takes off his cloak.
THE INCA. I beg you, madam, to be quite at your ease, and to speak to me
without ceremony.
ERMYNTRUDE [moving haughtily and carelessly to the table]. I hadn't the
slightest intention of treating you with ceremony. [She sits down: a
liberty which gives him a perceptible shock.] I am quite at a loss to
imagine why I should treat a perfect stranger named Duval: a captain!
almost a subaltern! with the smallest ceremony.
THE INCA. That is true. I had for the moment forgotten my position.
ERMYNTRUDE. It doesn't matter. You may sit down.
THE INCA [frowning.] What!
ERMYNTRUDE. I said, you...may...sit...down.
THE INCA. Oh. [His moustache droops. He sits down.]
ERMYNTRUDE. What is your business?
THE INCA. I come on behalf of the Inca of Perusalem.
ERMYNTRUDE. The Allerhochst?
THE INCA. Precisely.
ERMYNTRUDE. I wonder does he feel ridiculous when people call him the
Allerhochst.
THE INCA [surprised]. Why should he? He IS the Allerhochst.
ERMYNTRUDE. Is he nice looking?
THE INCA. I--er. Er--I. I--er. I am not a good judge.
ERMYNTRUDE. They say he takes himself very seriously.
THE INCA. Why should he not, madam? Providence has entrusted to his
family the care of a mighty empire. He is in a position of half divine,
half paternal, responsibility towards sixty millions of people, whose
duty it is to die for him at the word of command. To take himself
otherwise than seriously would be blasphemous. It is a punishable
offence--severely punishable--in Perusalem. It is called
Incadisparagement.
ERMYNTRUDE. How cheerful! Can he laugh?
THE INCA. Certainly, madam. [He laughs, harshly and mirthlessly.] Ha ha!
Ha ha ha!
ERMYNTRUDE [frigidly]. I asked could the Inca laugh. I did not ask could
you laugh.
THE INCA. That is true, madam. [Chuckling.] Devilish amusing, that!
[He laughs, genially and sincerely, and becomes a much more agreeable
person.] Pardon me: I am now laughing because I cannot help it. I am
amused. The other was merely an imitation: a failure, I admit.
ERMYNTRUDE. You intimated that you had some business?
THE INCA [producing a very large jewel case, and relapsing into
solemnity.] I am instructed by the Allerhochst to take a careful note
of your features and figure, and, if I consider them satisfactory, to
present you with this trifling token of His Imperial Majesty's regard.
I do consider them satisfactory. Allow me [he opens the jewel case and
presents it.]
ERMYNTRUDE [staring at the contents]. What awful taste he must have! I
can't wear that.
THE INCA [reddening]. Take care, madam! This brooch was designed by the
Inca himself. Allow me to explain the design. In the centre, the shield
of Arminius. The ten surrounding medallions represent the ten castles
of His Majesty. The rim is a piece of the telephone cable laid by His
Majesty across the Shipskeel canal. The pin is a model in miniature of
the sword of Henry the Birdcatcher.
ERMYNTRUDE. Miniature! It must be bigger than the original. My good man,
you don't expect me to wear this round my neck: it's as big as a turtle.
[He shuts the case with an angry snap.] How much did it cost?
THE INCA. For materials and manufacture alone, half a million Perusalem
dollars, madam. The Inca's design constitutes it a work of art. As such,
it is now worth probably ten million dollars.
ERMYNTRUDE. Give it to me [she snatches it]. I'll pawn it and buy
something nice with the money.
THE INCA. Impossible, madam. A design by the Inca must not be exhibited
for sale in the shop window of a pawnbroker. [He flings himself into his
chair, fuming.]
ERMYNTRUDE. So much the better. The Inca will have to redeem it to save
himself from that disgrace; and the poor pawnbroker will get his money
back. Nobody would buy it, you know.
THE INCA. May I ask why?
ERMYNTRUDL. Well, look at it! Just look at it! I ask you!
THE INCA [his moustache drooping ominously]. I am sorry to have to
report to the Inca that you have no soul for fine art. [He rises
sulkily.] The position of daughter-in-law to the Inca is not compatible
with the tastes of a pig. [He attempts to take back the brooch.]
ERMYNTRUDE [rising and retreating behind her chair with the brooch].
Here! you let that brooch alone. You presented it to me on behalf of the
Inca. It is mine. You said my appearance was satisfactory.
THE INCA. Your appearance is not satisfactory. The Inca would not allow
his son to marry you if the boy were on a desert island and you were the
only other human being on it [he strides up the room.]
ERMYNTRUDE [calmly sitting down and replacing the case on the table].
How could he? There would be no clergyman to marry us. It would have to
be quite morganatic.
THE INCA [returning]. Such an expression is out of place in the mouth of
a princess aspiring to the highest destiny on earth. You have the morals
of a dragoon. [She receives this with a shriek of laughter. He struggles
with his sense of humor.] At the same time [he sits down] there is a
certain coarse fun in the idea which compels me to smile [he turns up
his moustache and smiles.]
ERMYNTRUDE. When I marry the Inca's son, Captain, I shall make the Inca
order you to cut off that moustache. It is too irresistible. Doesn't it
fascinate everyone in Perusalem?
THE INCA [leaning forward to her energetically]. By all the thunders of
Thor, madam, it fascinates the whole world.
ERMYNTRUDE. What I like about you, Captain Duval, is your modesty.
THE INCA [straightening up suddenly]. Woman, do not be a fool.
ERMYNTRUDE [indignant]. Well!
THE INCA. You must look facts in the face. This moustache is an exact
copy of the Inca's moustache. Well, does the world occupy itself with
the Inca's moustache or does it not? Does it ever occupy itself with
anything else? If that is the truth, does its recognition constitute
the Inca a coxcomb? Other potentates have moustaches: even beards
and moustaches. Does the world occupy itself with those beards and
moustaches? Do the hawkers in the streets of every capital on the
civilized globe sell ingenious cardboard representations of their faces
on which, at the pulling of a simple string, the moustaches turn up and
down, so--[he makes his moustache turn, up and down several times]? No!
I say No. The Inca's moustache is so watched and studied that it has
made his face the political barometer of the whole continent. When that
moustache goes up, culture rises with it. Not what you call culture;
but Kultur, a word so much more significant that I hardly understand
it myself except when I am in specially good form. When it goes down,
millions of men perish.
ERMYNTRUDE. You know, if I had a moustache like that, it would turn my
head. I should go mad. Are you quite sure the Inca isn't mad?
THE INCA. How can he be mad, madam? What is sanity? The condition of the
Inca's mind. What is madness? The condition of the people who disagree
with the Inca.
ERMYNTRUDE. Then I am a lunatic because I don't like that ridiculous
brooch.
THE INCA. No, madam: you are only an idiot.
ERMYNTRUDE. Thank you.
THE INCA. Mark you: It is not to be expected that you should see eye to
eye with the Inca. That would be presumption. It is for you to accept
without question or demur the assurance of your Inca that the brooch is
a masterpiece.
ERMYNTRUDE. MY Inca! Oh, come! I like that. He is not my Inca yet.
THE INCA. He is everybody's Inca, madam. His realm will yet extend to
the confines of the habitable earth. It is his divine right; and let
those who dispute it look to themselves. Properly speaking, all those
who are now trying to shake his world predominance are not at war with
him, but in rebellion against him.
ERMYNTRUDE. Well, he started it, you know.
THE INCA. Madam, be just. When the hunters surround the lion, the lion
will spring. The Inca had kept the peace of years. Those who attacked
him were steeped in blood, black blood, white blood, brown blood, yellow
blood, blue blood. The Inca had never shed a drop.
ERMYNTRUDE. He had only talked.
THE INCA. Only TALKED! ONLY talked! What is more glorious than talk? Can
anyone in the world talk like him? Madam, when he signed the declaration
of war, he said to his foolish generals and admirals, 'Gentlemen, you
will all be sorry for this.' And they are. They know now that they had
better have relied on the sword of the spirit: in other words, on their
Inca's talk, than on their murderous cannons. The world will one day do
justice to the Inca as the man who kept the peace with nothing but his
tongue and his moustache. While he talked: talked just as I am talking
now to you, simply, quietly, sensibly, but GREATLY, there was peace;
there was prosperity; Perusalem went from success to success. He has
been silenced for a year by the roar of trinitrotoluene and the bluster
of fools; and the world is in ruins. What a tragedy! [He is convulsed
with grief.]
ERMYNTRUDE. Captain Duval, I don't want to be unsympathetic; but suppose
we get back to business.
THE INCA. Business! What business?
ERMYNTRUDE. Well, MY business. You want me to marry one of the Inca's
sons: I forget which.
THE INCA. As far as I can recollect the name, it is His Imperial
Highness Prince Eitel William Frederick George Franz Josef Alexander
Nicholas Victor Emmanuel Albert Theodore Wilson--
ERMYNTRUDE [interrupting]. Oh, please, please, mayn't I have one with a
shorter name? What is he called at home?
THE INCA. He is usually called Sonny, madam. [With great charm of
manner.] But you will please understand that the Inca has no desire to
pin you to any particular son. There is Chips and Spots and Lulu and
Pongo and the Corsair and the Piffler and Jack Johnson the Second,
all unmarried. At least not seriously married: nothing, in short, that
cannot be arranged. They are all at your service.
ERMYNTRUDE. Are they all as clever and charming as their father?
THE INCA [lifts his eyebrows pityingly; shrugs his shoulders; then,
with indulgent paternal contempt]. Excellent lads, madam. Very honest
affectionate creatures. I have nothing against them. Pongo imitates
farmyard sounds--cock crowing and that sort of thing--extremely well.
Lulu plays Strauss's Sinfonia Domestica on the mouth organ really
screamingly. Chips keeps owls and rabbits. Spots motor bicycles. The
Corsair commands canal barges and steers them himself. The Piffler
writes plays, and paints most abominably. Jack Johnson trims ladies'
hats, and boxes with professionals hired for that purpose. He is
invariably victorious. Yes: they all have their different little
talents. And also, of course, their family resemblances. For example,
they all smoke; they all quarrel with one another; and they none of them
appreciate their father, who, by the way, is no mean painter, though the
Piffler pretends to ridicule his efforts.
ERMYNTRUDE. Quite a large choice, eh?
THE INCA. But very little to choose, believe me. I should not recommend
Pongo, because he snores so frightfully that it has been necessary to
build him a sound-proof bedroom: otherwise the royal family would get no
sleep. But any of the others would suit equally well--if you are really
bent on marrying one of them.
ERMYNTRUDE. If! What is this? I never wanted to marry one of them. I
thought you wanted me to.
THE INCA. I did, madam; but [confidentially, flattering her] you are not
quite the sort of person I expected you to be; and I doubt whether
any of these young degenerates would make you happy. I trust I am not
showing any want of natural feeling when I say that from the point of
view of a lively, accomplished, and beautiful woman [Ermyntrude bows]
they might pall after a time. I suggest that you might prefer the Inca
himself.
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh, Captain, how could a humble person like myself be of
any interest to a prince who is surrounded with the ablest and most
far-reaching intellects in the world?
TAE INCA [explosively]. What on earth are you talking about, madam? Can
you name a single man in the entourage of the Inca who is not a born
fool?
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh, how can you say that! There is Admiral von Cockpits--
THE INCA [rising intolerantly and striding about the room]. Von
Cockpits! Madam, if Von Cockpits ever goes to heaven, before three weeks
are over the Angel Gabriel will be at war with the man in the moon.
ERMYNTRUDE. But General Von Schinkenburg--
THE INCA. Schinkenburg! I grant you, Schinkenburg has a genius for
defending market gardens. Among market gardens he is invincible. But
what is the good of that? The world does not consist of market gardens.
Turn him loose in pasture and he is lost. The Inca has defeated all
these generals again and again at manoeuvres; and yet he has to
give place to them in the field because he would be blamed for every
disaster--accused of sacrificing the country to his vanity. Vanity! Why
do they call him vain? Just because he is one of the few men who are not
afraid to live. Why do they call themselves brave? Because they have
not sense enough to be afraid to die. Within the last year the world
has produced millions of heroes. Has it produced more than one Inca? [He
resumes his seat.]
ERMYNTRUDE. Fortunately not, Captain. I'd rather marry Chips.
THE INCA [making a wry face]. Chips! Oh no: I wouldn't marry Chips.
ERMYNTRUDE. Why?
THE INCA [whispering the secret]. Chips talks too much about himself.
ERMYNTRUDE. Well, what about Snooks?
THE INCA. Snooks? Who is he? Have I a son named Snooks? There are so
many--[wearily] so many--that I often forget. [Casually.] But I wouldn't
marry him, anyhow, if I were you.
ERMYNTRUDE. But hasn't any of them inherited the family genius? Surely,
if Providence has entrusted them with the care of Perusalem--if they are
all descended from Bedrock the Great--
THE INCA [interrupting her impatiently]. Madam, if you ask me, I
consider Bedrock a grossly overrated monarch.
ERMYNTRUDE [shocked]. Oh, Captain! Take care! Incadisparagement.
THE INCA. I repeat, grossly overrated. Strictly between ourselves, I
do not believe all this about Providence entrusting the care of sixty
million human beings to the abilities of Chips and the Piffler and Jack
Johnson. I believe in individual genius. That is the Inca's secret. It
must be. Why, hang it all, madam, if it were a mere family matter, the
Inca's uncle would have been as great a man as the Inca. And--well,
everybody knows what the Inca's uncle was.
ERMYNTRUDE. My experience is that the relatives of men of genius are
always the greatest duffers imaginable.
THE INCA. Precisely. That is what proves that the Inca is a man of
genius. His relatives ARE duffers.
ERMYNTRUDE. But bless my soul, Captain, if all the Inca's generals are
incapables, and all his relatives duffers, Perusalem will be beaten in
the war; and then it will become a republic, like France after 1871, and
the Inca will be sent to St Helena.
THE INCA [triumphantly]. That is just what the Inca is playing for,
madam. It is why he consented to the war.
ERMYNTRUDE. What!
THE INCA. Aha! The fools talk of crushing the Inca; but they little know
their man. Tell me this. Why did St Helena extinguish Napoleon?
ERMYNTRUDE. I give it up.
THE INCA. Because, madam, with certain rather remarkable qualities,
which I should be the last to deny, Napoleon lacked versatility. After
all, any fool can be a soldier: we know that only too well in Perusalem,
where every fool is a soldier. But the Inca has a thousand other
resources. He is an architect. Well, St Helena presents an unlimited
field to the architect. He is a painter: need I remind you that St
Helena is still without a National Gallery? He is a composer: Napoleon
left no symphonies in St Helena. Send the Inca to St Helena, madam,
and the world will crowd thither to see his works as they crowd now to
Athens to see the Acropolis, to Madrid to see the pictures of Velasquez,
to Bayreuth to see the music dramas of that egotistical old rebel
Richard Wagner, who ought to have been shot before he was forty, as
indeed he very nearly was. Take this from me: hereditary monarchs are
played out: the age for men of genius has come: the career is open to
the talents: before ten years have elapsed every civilized country from
the Carpathians to the Rocky Mountains will be a Republic.
ERMYNTRUDE. Then goodbye to the Inca.
THE INCA. On the contrary, madam, the Inca will then have his first real
chance. He will be unanimously invited by those Republics to return from
his exile and act as Superpresident of all the republics.
ERMYNTRUDE. But won't that be a come-down for him? Think of it! after
being Inca, to be a mere President!
THE INCA. Well, why not! An Inca can do nothing. He is tied hand and
foot. A constitutional monarch is openly called an India-rubber stamp.
An emperor is a puppet. The Inca is not allowed to make a speech: he
is compelled to take up a screed of flatulent twaddle written by
some noodle of a minister and read it aloud. But look at the American
President! He is the Allerhochst, if you like. No, madam, believe me,
there is nothing like Democracy, American Democracy. Give the people
voting papers: good long voting papers, American fashion; and while the
people are reading the voting papers the Government does what it likes.
ERMYNTRUDE. What! You too worship before the statue of Liberty, like the
Americans?
THE INCA. Not at all, madam. The Americans do not worship the statue
of Liberty. They have erected it in the proper place for a statue of
Liberty: on its tomb [he turns down his moustaches.]
ERMYNTRUDE [laughing]. Oh! You'd better not let them hear you say that,
Captain.
THE INCA. Quite safe, madam: they would take it as a joke. [He rises.]
And now, prepare yourself for a surprise. [She rises]. A shock. Brace
yourself. Steel yourself. And do not be afraid.
ERMYNTRUDE. Whatever on earth can you be going to tell me, Captain?
THE INCA. Madam, I am no captain. I--
ERMYNTRUDE. You are the Inca in disguise.
THE INCA. Good heavens! how do you know that? Who has betrayed me?
ERMYNTRUDE. How could I help divining it, Sir? Who is there in the world
like you? Your magnetism--
THE INCA. True: I had forgotten my magnetism. But you know now that
beneath the trappings of Imperial Majesty there is a Man: simple, frank,
modest, unaffected, colloquial: a sincere friend, a natural human being,
a genial comrade, one eminently calculated to make a woman happy. You,
on the other hand, are the most charming woman I have ever met. Your
conversation is wonderful. I have sat here almost in silence, listening
to your shrewd and penetrating account of my character, my motives, if I
may say so, my talents. Never has such justice been done me: never have
I experienced such perfect sympathy. Will you--I hardly know how to put
this--will you be mine?
ERMYNTRUDE. Oh, Sir, you are married.
THE INCA. I am prepared to embrace the Mahometan faith, which allows a
man four wives, if you will consent. It will please the Turks. But I had
rather you did not mention it to the Inca-ess. If you don't mind.
ERMYNTRUDE. This is really charming of you. But the time has come for
me to make a revelation. It is your Imperial Majesty's turn now to brace
yourself. To steel yourself. I am not the princess. I am--
THE INCA. The daughter of my old friend Archdeacon Daffodil Donkin,
whose sermons are read to me every evening after dinner. I never forget
a face.
ERMYNTRUDE. You knew all along!
THE INCA [bitterly, throwing himself into his chair]. And you supposed
that I, who have been condemned to the society of princesses all my
wretched life, believed for a moment that any princess that ever walked
could have your intelligence!
ERMYNTRUDE. How clever of you, Sir! But you cannot afford to marry me.
THE INCA [springing up]. Why not?
ERMYNTRUDE. You are too poor. You have to eat war bread. Kings nowadays
belong to the poorer classes. The King of England does not even allow
himself wine at dinner.
THE INCA [delighted]. Haw! Ha ha! Haw! haw! [He is convulsed with
laughter, and, finally has to relieve his feelings by waltzing half round
the room.]
ERMYNTRUDE. You may laugh, Sir; but I really could not live in that
style. I am the widow of a millionaire, ruined by your little war.
THE INCA. A millionaire! What are millionaires now, with the world
crumbling?
ERMYNTRUDE. Excuse me: mine was a hyphenated millionaire.
THE INCA. A highfalutin millionaire, you mean. [Chuckling]. Haw! ha ha!
really very nearly a pun, that. [He sits down in her chair.]
ERMYNTRUDE [revolted, sinking into his chair]. I think it quite the
worst pun I ever heard.
THE INCA. The best puns have all been made years ago: nothing remained
but to achieve the worst. However, madam [he rises majestically; and she
is about to rise also]. No: I prefer a seated audience [she falls back
into her seat at the imperious wave of his hand]. So [he clicks his
heels]. Madam, I recognize my presumption in having sought the honor
of your hand. As you say, I cannot afford it. Victorious as I am, I am
hopelessly bankrupt; and the worst of it is, I am intelligent enough
to know it. And I shall be beaten in consequence, because my most
implacable enemy, though only a few months further away from bankruptcy
than myself, has not a ray of intelligence, and will go on fighting
until civilization is destroyed, unless I, out of sheer pity for the
world, condescend to capitulate.
ERMYNTRUDE. The sooner the better, Sir. Many fine young men are dying
while you wait.
THE INCA [flinching painfully]. Why? Why do they do it?
ERMYNTRUDE. Because you make them.
THE INCA. Stuff! How can I? I am only one man; and they are millions.
Do you suppose they would really kill each other if they didn't want
to, merely for the sake of my beautiful eyes? Do not be deceived by
newspaper claptrap, madam. I was swept away by a passion not my own,
which imposed itself on me. By myself I am nothing. I dare not walk down
the principal street of my own capital in a coat two years old, though
the sweeper of that street can wear one ten years old. You talk of
death as an unpopular thing. You are wrong: for years I gave them art,
literature, science, prosperity, that they might live more abundantly;
and they hated me, ridiculed me, caricatured me. Now that I give them
death in its frightfullest forms, they are devoted to me. If you doubt
me, ask those who for years have begged our taxpayers in vain for a
few paltry thousands to spend on Life: on the bodies and minds of the
nation's children, on the beauty and healthfulness of its cities, on
the honor and comfort of its worn-out workers. They refused: and because
they refused, death is let loose on them. They grudged a few hundreds
a year for their salvation: they now pay millions a day for their own
destruction and damnation. And this they call my doing! Let them say it,
if they dare, before the judgment-seat at which they and I shall answer
at last for what we have left undone no less than for what we have done.
[Pulling himself together suddenly.] Madam, I have the honor to be your
most obedient [he clicks his heels and bows].
ERMYNTRUDE. Sir! [She curtsies.]
THE INCA [turning at the door]. Oh, by the way, there is a princess,
isn't there, somewhere on the premises?
ERMYNTRUDE. There is. Shall I fetch her?
THE INCA [dubious], Pretty awful, I suppose, eh?
ERMYNTRUDE. About the usual thing.
THE INCA [sighing]. Ah well! What can one expect? I don't think I need
trouble her personally. Will you explain to her about the boys?
ERMYNTRUDE. I am afraid the explanation will fall rather flat without
your magnetism.
THE INCA [returning to her and speaking very humanly]. You are making
fun of me. Why does everybody make fun of me? Is it fair?
ERMYNTRUDE [seriously]. Yes, it is fair. What other defence have we poor
common people against your shining armor, your mailed fist, your pomp
and parade, your terrible power over us? Are these things fair?
THE INCA. Ah, well, perhaps, perhaps. [He looks at his watch.] By the
way, there is time for a drive round the town and a cup of tea at the
Zoo. Quite a bearable band there: it does not play any patriotic airs.
I am sorry you will not listen to any more permanent arrangement; but if
you would care to come--
ERMYNTRUDE [eagerly]. Ratherrrrrr. I shall be delighted.
THE INCA [cautiously]. In the strictest honor, you understand.
ERMYNTRUDE. Don't be afraid. I promise to refuse any incorrect
proposals.
THE INCA [enchanted]. Oh! Charming woman: how well you understand men!
He offers her his arm: they go out together.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Inca of Perusalem, by George Bernard Shaw
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INCA OF PERUSALEM ***
***** This file should be named 3486-8.txt or 3486-8.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/3486/
Produced by Eve Sobol
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
http://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
Question:
Who was the Inca disguised as when he met Ermyntrude?
Answer:
| Captain Duval, a messenger | 174 | 66,255 | 66,257 | 66,320 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
16886 | 16886_0 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
<html>
<head><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" />
<meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true">
<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
<meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN">
<meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document>
<meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW">
<meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts">
<meta name=rating CONTENT=General>
<meta name=distribution content=Global>
<meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days">
<link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">
<script type="text/javascript">
var _gaq = _gaq || [];
_gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']);
_gaq.push(['_trackPageview']);
(function() {
var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true;
ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js';
var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s);
})();
</script>
</head>
<body topmargin="0" bottommargin="0" id="mainbody">
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td valign="bottom" bgcolor="#FF0000"><a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_top.gif" border="0"></a></td>
<td bgcolor="#FF0000">
<center>
<font color="#FFFFFF"><h1>The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)</h1></font>
</center>
<tr>
<td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2"><a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_middle.gif" border="0"></a></td>
<tr>
<td width="170" valign="top" class="smalltxt"> <a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_bottom.gif" width="170" border="0"></a>
<br>
<center><span class="smalltxt">The web's largest <br>movie script resource!</span></center>
</td>
<td>
<script type="text/javascript"><!--
e9 = new Object();
e9.size = "728x90";
//--></script>
<script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<br>
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td width="180" valign="top">
<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr>
<td colspan="2" class=heading>Search IMSDb<tr>
<form method="post" action="/search.php">
<td width="180"> <div align="center">
<input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">
<input type="submit" value="Go!" name="submit">
</div></td>
</form>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=9 class=heading>Alphabetical
<tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/0">#</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/A">A</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/B">B</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/C">C</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/D">D</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/E">E</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/F">F</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/G">G</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/H">H</a><tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/I">I</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/J">J</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/K">K</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/L">L</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/M">M</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/N">N</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/O">O</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/P">P</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Q">Q</a><tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/R">R</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/S">S</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/T">T</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/U">U</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/V">V</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/W">W</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/X">X</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Y">Y</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Z">Z</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Genre
<tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Action">Action</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Adventure">Adventure</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Animation">Animation</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Comedy">Comedy</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Crime">Crime</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Drama">Drama</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Family">Family</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Fantasy">Fantasy</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Horror">Horror</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Musical">Musical</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Mystery">Mystery</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Romance">Romance</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Sci-Fi">Sci-Fi</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Short">Short</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Thriller">Thriller</a>
<td><a href="/genre/War">War</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Western">Western</a>
</table>
<br>
<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr>
<td colspan="2" class=heading>Sponsor<tr>
<td width="300" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">
<script type="text/javascript"><!--
e9 = new Object();
e9.size = "300x250";
//--></script>
<script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
</td>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td class=heading>TV Transcripts
<tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Futurama.html">Futurama</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Seinfeld.html">Seinfeld</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/South Park.html">South Park</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Stargate SG1.html">Stargate SG-1</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Lost.html">Lost</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/The 4400.html">The 4400</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" class="body">
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>International
<tr>
<td><a href="/language/French">French scripts</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Latest Comments
<tr>
</table>
<br>
<div align="center"><br><br>
<a href="https://imsdb.com/all-scripts.html">ALL SCRIPTS</a><br><br>
</div>
<td width="10"></td>
<td valign="top">
<br> <table width="100%"><tr><td class="scrtext">
<pre>
<b> MAD MAX II
</b>
Written by
Terry Hayes, George Miller & Brian Hannant
April 13, 1981
<b> THE MONTAGE
</b>
<b> BLACK AND WHITE ACADEMY FORMAT
</b>
<b> THE WASTELAND. DAY.
</b>
Flurries of dust and sand swirl around us as we move
through an eerie, barren land. The only sound is the
howl of a rising wind.
Ahead something looms out of the storm. As we approach
we see that it is the rusting remains of a massive oil
pump.
The wind drops to be replaced by the voice of a very
old man. This is the Narrator:
NARRATOR v/o
The vision dims and all that
remains are memories. ._
They take me back - back to
the place where the black
pump sucked guzzolene from
the earth...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> lb. ANOTHER PART OF THE WASTELAND. DAY. lb.
Out of the dust storm emerges the ancient wreck of
a prime mover and fuel tanker. It is partly
charred, its wheels and sides studded with metal
crossbow bolts.
NARRATOR v/a
And I remember the terrible
battle we fought - the day
we left that place forever...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> A HILLTOP IN THE WASTELAND. DAY.
</b>
A warrior, dressed in leather and steel, stands on
a hillcrest. This is MAX. Behind him is a strange
road vehicle: two engines and a seat mounted on a
chassis.
NARRATOR v/o
But, most of all, I remember
the courage of a stranger, a
road warrior called Max.
To understand who he was you
must go back to the last days
of the old world...
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
A MOB OF ARAB STUDENTS storm a heavily-fortified embassy
and raise the Iranian flag.
U.S. SOLDIERS LAND... If.
on a beach in the Persian Gulf and fight their
way across the sand.
NARRATOR v/o
.when, for reasons long
forgotten, two mighty warrior
nations went to war...
<b> AN OIL WELL ERUPTS.
</b>
and then another... and another.
Plumes of flame burst across the skyline.
<b> NARRATOR
</b> and touched off a blaze
which engulfed them all.
Ih. A LINE OF CARS... lh.
stretches for blocks until it finally reaches
a gas station.
An attendant pulls down a sign which reads:
<b> $7/GALLON
</b> and replaces it with another sign:
<b> AUTHORISED VEHICLES ONLY
</b> A group of angry motorists gather around, yelling
and pushing.
The attendant produces a gun motioning them back...
<b> NARRATOR
</b> for without fuel they were
nothing. They had built a
house of straw...
ii. BUSINESSMEN AT A STOCK EXCHANGE... li.
are yelling and shoving.
<b> BUSINESSMEN
</b> Sell! Sell! Sell!
Torn up scrip litters the floor...
Ij. THE FOYER OF A HUGE CORPORATION lj.
The company's crest is chiselled on the wall. it
is accompanied by the words:
<b> SEVEN SISTERS PETROLEUM
</b> "Fuelling The World"
on the floor below, beyond the marble pillars, we see
the building is abandoned - littered with broken
furniture and piles of documents.
<b> DISSOLVE. 4
</b>
lk. A CORRIDOR. 1k.
We pass through a door designated:
<b> • CHIEF EXECUTIVE
</b> At the other end of the imposing room we see a
businessman clearing out his vast desk. His name is
PAPPAGALLO. On the wall behind him we see photo-
graphs and paintings of oil wells and refineries.
PAPPAGALLO takes a wad of maps and puts them in his
briefcase, followed by a copy of 'Whole Earth
Catalogue" and another book. The cover reads:
<b> TEACH YOURSELF SOLAR ENERGY
</b> I.l. LIVING ROOM. ii.
An ANXIOUS FAMILY is gathered in front of a
television set. A politican addresses the nation.
<b> POLITICIAN
</b> Stage three of the national
emergency is effective
immediately. Citizens are
warned...
The speech is cut short as static fills the screen.
The family looks up at the lights as they flicker...
Im. IN A FACTORY... lm.
.a giant machine grinds to a halt.
In. IN A CITY STREET... In.
.anxious faces look up as the street lights
flick off.
<b> 9
</b>
<b> 1D
</b>
lo. AN INDUSTRIAL CITY SCAPE. lo.
It is dark, decaying, silent...
NARRATOR v/o
People stopped in the stmeets
and listened: for the first
time they heard the sound of
silence.
ip. A CITY LANE - DARK AND DESERTED. NIGHT. lp.
A terrible scream... a YOUNG MAN runs down the
street... a shot is fired.
The YOUNG MAN falls dead... crushing the meat and
eggs he has been clutching to his chest...
NARRATOR v/o
Their world crumbled...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> lq. IN A DESERTED CITY STREET. lq.
Bank notes, blown by the wind, flutter towards a
store dummy, lying smashed on the road...
A rat emerges from the back of the mannequin's skull
and scurries away as we hear the roar of a big
engine.
The wide wheels of a big car crush the dummy. As the
vehicle roars down the street it is followed by two
big bikes...
NARRATOR v/o
And only those mobile enough
to scavenge, brutal enough to
pillage would survive.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 1
</b>
<b> 1
</b>
<b> (THE FOLLOWING IS ALL FOOTAGE FROM MAD MAX I)
</b> 2r.. A GROUP OF OUTLAW BIKERS...
.heap from a hillside onto the roof of a moving
fuel tanker. They pass a hose into the tank...
NARRATOR v/o
At last, the vermin had
inherited the earth.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> 2s. A PACK OF BIKERS... is.
.swarm around a car and start to back it to
pieces.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> it. A SERIES OF RAPIDLY DISSOLVING IMAGES.
Speeding cars, speeding bikes, crashing vans,
crashing police cars, crashing bikes, brawls,
smashed windows, explosions.
NARRATOR v/o
And in this maelstrom of decay,
ordinary men were
battered and crushed...
lu. MAX IN POLICE UNIFORM. lu.
.turns and smiles.
NARRATOR v/o
.`.men like the Warrior Max...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> lv. MAX PLAYS. lv.
.with a woman - JESSIE and their child.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
.through a wheat field. He catches her. They
tumble on the ground laughing.
lx. MAX EMBRACES JESSIE. 1x-
NARRATOR v/o
.whointhe roar of an engine,
lost everything...
<b> DISSOLVE,
</b> 1y. ON A HIGHWAY... ly.
JESSIE carrying the child, scrambles from her van
and runs down the road. A GANG OF OUTLAW BIKERS
run them down... the child's ball bounces down the
road.
MAX runs towards their bodies...
Iz. SILHOUETTED ON A HILLSID r GRAVEYARD. lz.
<b> (PRODUCTION FOOTAGE)
</b> MAX stands looking down at two headstones...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> laa. IN FRONT OF A ROARING FIRE. laa.
MAX fuels the blaze with the remnants of his past
life: children's toys; photo albums; his police
badge.
lbb. MAX WITH HIS SHOTGUN. 2bb.
.turns to camera, wild-eyed...
NARRATOR v/o
And became a shell of a man.
A burnt out, desolate man, a
dead man, running from the
demons of his past.
A man who wandered far away...
out into the wasteland... DISSOLVE.
icc. MAX DRIVING. lcc.
The supercharger on the front of the vehicle
dominates the foreground.
NARRATOR v/a
And it was out here, in this
blighted place, that he
learned to live again...
<b> FADE UP COLOUR.
</b>
<b> THE SCREEN WIDENS TO ANAMORPHIC RATIO.
</b>
<b> 2
</b>
<b> 2. HELICOPTER AERIAL TRANSITION. DAWN,
</b> We soar along the empty highway, up and down its
rises and around its curves until we are out in
the vast wasteland.
<b> 3.
</b>
<b> 3. WASTELAND HIGHWAY. DAY.
</b> The black hole of the supercharger dominates the
frame. Behind the wheel we see MAX looking about
- his leathers
3 years older. He is gaunt, unkempt
tattered and torn.
The black-on-black pursuit car, bearing the scars of
numerous road duels, cruises down the roller coaster
highway.
As MAX crests a hill he hits the brakes. His companion,
a mongrel DOG, sitting in a baby's auto seat, lifts
its bead to look.
The black-on-black slides to a stop.
<b> 4.
</b>
<b> 4. RURAL SHACK ON HIGHWAY. DAY.
</b> On a ridge close to the road, silhouetted in a dust-blown
<b> LIKE MEN.
</b> field, is a strange assortment of WARRIO1
They are cannibalising a farm vehicle: siphoning its
fuel and loading food and other loot into their
bizarre vehicles.
The DOG growls. MAX looks further along the ridge.
On the bor:.zon we see a burning wooden s:iack and
three bodies strung from a gnarled, dead tree.
MAX looks back to the MEN. Several of then, having seen
him, are running to their vehicles.
The first of them is a muscular man with a red mohawk
haircut. He is heavily protected by a leather and
metal chest plate, shoulder pads and leggings. This
is WEZ.
Sc. 4. Cont..
<b> 2
</b>
4. Gont. 11 .
He runs to where a GOLDEN YOUTH sits on the pillion
seat of a huge bike.
WEZ is followed by TWO MORE MOHAWKERS on bikes, THREE
GAYBOY BERSERKERS in road racers and FOUR SMEGMA
CRAZIES in bizarre dune buggies.
MAX guns the big motor. The black-on-black takes off.
MAX hits the supercharger - surging away.
Through the rear window we see WEZ lead the other nine
vehicles down the hill, giving chase...
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 5. ELSEWHERE ON THE HIGHWAY. --(A LITTLE LATER). DAY. 5.
</b> High angle helicopter shot of the chase. The
Marauders' vehicles are strung down the highway.
Only the fastest, led by Wee, can keep up with
the black-on-black.
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 6, THE WRECKS ON THE HIGHWAY. (STILL LATER). DAY. 6
</b> The black-oD-black surges around a wide curve,
revealing only three vehicles still in pursuit.
The first machine is Wez's big road bike, the
GOLDEN YOUTH riding pillion. It is followed by a
bizarre road racer and a strange dune buggy.
As the black-on-black crests a rise MAX is confronted
by a tangle of wrecked vehicles on the road ahead.
He swerves, slaloms through the wrecks and accelerates
into a sweeping right hand curve.
WEZ ramps his bike over the first wreck and corrects,
avoiding the other wrecks.
The road racer ramps two wheels over the first wreck
but cannot correct. It clips the second wreck, sends
it spinning, then continues after the black-on-black.
The dune buggy decides to avoid the wrecks altogether
and veers off the road to the right. It,.heads across
open terrain aiming to intercept the black-on-black 1
on the curve,
<b> 3
</b>
<b> 7
</b>
<b> 7. THE MARAUDERS CATCH UP - HIGHWAY. DAY.
</b> A light flashes on Max's dashboard, an alarm whoops,
MAX looks down at the fuel gauge: close to empty,
He curses and flicks a switch, cutting off the
supercharger.
The black-on-black slows...
The DOG whimpers, crawls off its chair and under Max's
seat.
WEZ overhauls MAX on the passenger side: He raises his
forearm, aiming his gauntlet-style crossbow at MAX'S
head.
MAX barely has time to glimpse the road racer drawing
alongside the driver's door.
The passenger - a GAYBOY BERSERKER - wields a brutal,
gas-powered 'gun': the heads of six metal arrows
protrude from a big barrel. This weapon is the
"porta-pak".
MAX hits the brakes,
The road racer and the bike surge past the black car...
just as the porta-pak fires.
Two arrows thud into the black car, three go astray
and one hits WEZ in the arm.
MAX throws the black car in behind the road racer...
WEZ, fighting to control the bike, leaves the road...
MAX changes down and hits the supercharger...
The black car leaps forward, ramming into the back of
the road racer, bullying it along.
Wheels and metal screaming, the two cars approach an
intersection littered with furniture and other debris.
A road rig lies abandoned on the roadside.
MAX eases back for a moment then flattens the
accelerator...
The black car slams into the back of the road racer...
hurling it forward, just as the dune buggy regains the
highway...
<b> 4
</b>
p . 1aL a. a+ t aruua.:.. a 1 VL\ . Ld 1
The driver of the road racer screams as his vehicle
hits the dune buggy, spinning it like a top, sending
it crashing into the side of the road rig.
The road racer slides through a 180 degrees, rolls,
smashes through a road sign and hits a power pole.
The pole thuds to the road as MAX throws a handbrake
"U" turn and skids to a halt in the middle of the
intersection.
MAX, carrying a jerry can, gets out of the black car.
He looks down the highway.
<b> 9. A RISE OVERLOOKING THE INTERSECTION. DAY. 9.
</b> WEZ is stopped on the crest of the road, looking down
on the intersection. The arrow is still in his arm.
We see the GOLDEN YOUTH clearly for the first time:
he is strikingly beautiful,.
<b> 10. THE INTERSECTION. 10.
</b> MAX, unfazed , hurries to the wreck of the dune buggy,
crushed beneath the road rig. Fuel streams from its
ruptured tank.
From inside the wreck we hear the moans of the injured
driver.
MAX puts the jerry can under the escaping fuel and
tearing a bandana from his neck - mops up the gasolene
lying on the bitumen.
Suddenly, there is a shrill whistle.
MAX looks up at the crest of the road.
<b> 11. THE RISE OVERLOOKING THE INTERSECTION. DAY. 11.
</b> WEZ grins as he pulls the arrow slowly out of his
arm. His eyes never leave MAX.
He holds up the arrow and mouths the words:
<b> I
</b>
<b> WEZ
</b> For you.
With that he puts the arrow back into his quiver and
guns the motor. He rea.; the front wheel, hangs there
a moment, then spins th,: bike around and roars back
1L. irit. 111. 1 AI%Jill Ln+ .
MAX, examines the road rig:
most of the tyres have been punctured with arrows, the
rear doors torn off and its contents pillaged.
MAX taps the fuel tank - empty.
He reaches up to open the door of the cabin...
There is an anguished scream, MAX turns.
The hand of the dying driver emerges from the twisted
metal of the dune buggy.
The fingernails score deeply into the paint-work, a
rush of dark blood pours out of the wreck. Then, silence.
MAX opens the cabin door...
A figure drops down, crashing onto his shoulders. As
MAX struggles from its grasp we see that it is the
bloated putrifying corpse of the rig's driver. Two
crossbow bolts are buried in its neck...-
MAX stoops and picks up a toy hurdy-gurdy which has
fallen from the dead man's hand.
As he walks back towards the black-on-black he turns
the handle, playing the first few notes of "Happy
Birthday".
He stops next to the vehicle, in the middle of the
intersection. He looks from one direction to another.
undecided... and then sees the smashed road sign.
He picks up a fragment which reads:
<b> ONE TREE HILL
</b> And throws it into the air.
It lands at h:_s feet, pointing north.
He gets into the car and drives off in that direction.
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 13,
</b>
<b> 13. DESERT ROAD, NEXT MORNING.
</b> The black-on-black travels slowly through the
shimmering desert. The only sounds are the rumble of
the engine and the whistle of the wind.
Sc. 13. Cont..
13. Cont. 13,
As the car crests a rise MAX looks ahead and sees a
large kite - in the shape of a man's grinning face -
hovering above a dune.
MAX leaves the DOG to guard the car .nd, carrying a
jerry can and a tyre iron, cautiously makes his way
across the sand.
<b> 14. ON THE DUNES. DAY. 14.
</b> From the,top of the dune MAX sees that the kite is
tethered to an abandoned vehicle: a primitive
version of a gyrocopter - little more than a motor,
a seat and a rotor mounted on a chassis.
A set of footprints leads from the gyrocopter,
dune and disappears into the distance.
Slowly MAX approaches the vehicle, skirting around it,
looking for a trap. Nothing moves except for the
flurries of sand whirling across the dunes.
<b> 15. THE GYROCOPTER. DAY. 15.
</b> Carefully, MAX reaches up and taps the gas tank: empty.
As he straightens up, he hears a low hiss.
MAX freezes. Only inches away a snake, coiled around
the vertical shaft of the gyro, is poised to strike..
They stare at each other.
The snake strikes... MAX springs... hand flashing...
catching it by the neck.
He holds up the snake, grinning, about to kill, it.
The head and shaft of an arrow emerge from the sand
behind him. It is followed by the frame of a crossbow
and a man's face, spitting sand, a length of rubber
hose clenched in his teeth. This is the GYRO CAPTAIN.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Don't hurt that snake!
<b> 7
</b>
15, Cont. 15,
MAX turns. The CAPTAIN emerges from his shallow grave,
motioning with the crossbow.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Put him back... gently!
MAX lays the snake on the rotor.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Sounded like a big V-8 to me.
I guess I got myself some
guzzolene.
He raises his bow, aiming at MAX'S head, preparing
to fire.
<b> MAX
</b> The car's booby-trapped.
Touch those tanks and
BOOM! You'll blow yourself
apart.
The CAPTAIN looks quickly in the direction of the
black-on-black, and back to MAX. He gestures with
the crossbow.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Drop the weapons...
Now back up.
MAX throws down the tyre iron and unhitches a bolster
which contains a sawn-off shotgun.
The CAPTAIN slings the gunbelt over his stoulder.
<b> 1.6. THE DESERT ROAD - MAX'S CAR.DAY. 16.
</b> MAX walks backwards towards his car. The CAPTAIN
tense, crossbow trained on MAX, follows him across
the dune.
Sc, 1.6. Cont..
<b> 0
</b>
<b> 16.
</b> 16. Cont.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> You're quick, I'll give you
that. Never seen a man beat
a snake. Never. Reflexes,
that's what you've got.
Me? I've got brains.
He taps his head as they arrive at the black-on-black.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Now, where's this booby-trap?
MAX reaches under the car. His hand groping for a
machete clipped to the chassis. His fingers wrap
around the handle.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> A fella - a quick fella - might
keep a weapon under there.
He nuzzles,the bow against the back of MAX'S head.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Then I'd have to pin his
head to the panel.
MAX slides his hand away, disconnects a series of
mechanical fuses and shows them to the CAPTAIN. He
moves to open the driver's door. The CAPTAIN
reacts quickly, raising his bow, motioning MAX back.
<b> MAX
</b> There's one more.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Oh no! You don't play me the
fool.
The CAPTAIN, keeping the crossbow trained on MAX'S
head, opens the door.
The DOG flies out, leaping for the CAPTAIN'S throat.
The crossbow discharges, narrowly missing MAX as he
hurls himself at the CAPTAIN. The steel arrow buries r
itself in the car door.
MAX pins the CAPTAIN to the ground and recovers his
shotgun.
Sc, 16. Cont...
<b> 16.
</b> 16. Cont.
MAX cocks the gun next to the CAPTAIN'S head.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Gas! Petrol! Guzzolene! Listen!
Hundreds... thousands of `gallons...
as much as you want...
MAX eases off the trigger.
<b> MAX
</b> Where?
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Not far. Ten... maybe twenty
miles. Pumping it they are.
Refining it. Kachunk...
kachunk... kachunk...
Day and night. A huge tanker
full.
<b> MAX
</b> Balls!
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> It's there, you betcha...
I'll. tell you straight
though - it's not self service.
It's under guard. Too hard for
me. But a man with your
ingenuity... Jesus I reckon...
MAX rams the barrel against the CAPTAIN'S head.
<b> MAX
</b> Where?
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Kill. me, and you'll never find
out.
MAX drags him to his feet and pushes him towards the
black-on-black.
41 f 1 Al 1 -a1"1 �... .n V �.Att ._ awn ..
MAX is driving the black-on-black while the CAPTAIN
sits rigid in the passenger's seat. The muzzle of
the shotgun is strapped to the back of his bead and
the stock fastened to the top of the seat.
A length of wire runs from the triggers across to the
DOG sitting in the rear of the car. The end of the
wire is clasped firmly in its mouth.
The CAPTAIN, not daring to take his eyes off the DOG
directs MAX along back roads to an area of high
country.
The DOG'S eyes dart out the window. He whimpers, body
twitching.
The CAPTAIN stares in horror at a rabbit bounding through
the scrub.
MAX smiles t') himself.
The DOG settles back.
i8. A CLIFFTOP OVERLOOKING THE COMPOUND. DAY.
MAX moves towards the cliff edge. A column of smoke
rises into the sky, accompanied by a garble of distant
sounds: police sirens; car horns; men screaming;
war-whoops; and revving motors.
The GYRO CAPTAIN - manacled and guarded by the DOG -
hobbles along behind MAX.
From the top of the cliff MAX looks down On a battle
raging on the plain below.
A fortified encampment, surrounded by a wide ditch
and coils of barbed wire, is under attack by a large
gang of MARAUDERS: MOHAWK BIKERS, SMEGMA CRAZIES in
dune buggies, and GAYBOY BERSERKERS in road racers.
They attack along a road which passes through an area -
outside the fortifications - which is under cultivation.
Three wooden work huts, a small barn and a corral
containing several cows and a horse are dotted around a
newly-ploughed field.
As the Marauders' vehicles come within range of the
compound, they stream around the perimeter, firing
crossbows at the DEFENDERS ranged along the battlements.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN I
</b> Well.,. I never said it'd
be easy.
MAX unhooks an old pair of binoculars from the
equipment belt around his,waist.
<b> 19
</b>
<b> 19, THE COMPOUND. POV BINOCULARS. DAY.
</b> Through the binoculars MAX sees a weird dune buggy
charging towards the camp. He recognises the two
bizarre occupants as members of the gang be
encountered sacking the farmiet the day before.
The dune buggy races along a causeway which spans the which blocks
ditch, heading for a yellowPAschool SSENGERuin buggy
the gate of the camp.
fires a string of arrows from a multi-barrel gas-gun.
A WARRIOR WOMAN on the battlement, armed with a flame-
thrower, hits the buggy with a stream of liquid fire.
The blazing vehicle plunges into the ditch. It tumbles - its
into another wreck which met a similar fate
tyres still smouldering.
MAX pans his binoculars to the interior of the compound.
He sees a large mechanical pump drawing the oil. from
the ground and a primitive fractionating column used to
refine it.
A DEFENDER firing from the refinery tower is struck by
an arrow. He falls over the guard rail, where a
dead companion hangs over the edge, suspended by his
foot.
The sound of an amplified voice draws MAX'S attention,
He swings the binoculars around:
<b> 20.
</b>
<b> 20. THE HILLSIDE ACROSS FROM TH.E COMPOUND. DAB .
</b> A huge, muscular man - his face covered by a metal
mask - sits in a bizarre six-wheeled vehicle. He
uses a microphone to shout orders to the MARAUDERS,
directing the course of the battle. This man is
the HUMUNGUS.
Beside him, is the Mohawk Biker called WEZ. He sits
astride his bike, the GOLDEN YOUTH clinging to his
waist. He speaks with HUMUNGUS, pointing, sweeping
his hand.
<b> 21.
</b>
<b> 21. CLIFFTOP. DAY.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN is becoming more agitated.
<b> I
</b>
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Okay, there it is. If anyone
can get in, I know it's gonna
be you. Me,.. I've gotta
feed the snakes.
Sc. 21, Cont -
21,. Cont.
MAX drops the binoculars.
The CAPTAIN offers his wrists to be unmanacled.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> A man lives by his word, I
reckon. And I've kept mine...
MAX gets to his feet and hauls the GYRO CAPTAIN to
a nearby tree stump.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Look! We had a deal: I show
you the gas - You let me go.
MAX starts to chain him to the stump.
<b> MAX
</b> The contract was:
wouldn't kill you.
The GYRO CAPTAIN turns angry, protesting.
MAX pushes the shotgun close to his face.
<b> MAX
</b> I reckon you got a bargain...
Don't you?
The CAPTAIN shuts up.
MAX tests the chain. The sounds of the battle continue.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 22.
</b>
<b> 22. CLIFFTOP. LATER THE SAME DAY.
</b> MAX has settled in. He sits under a small camouflage
canopy. His binoculars are fixed on a tripod
fashioned from sticks.
The DOG lies nearby. Further away the GYRO CAPTAIN
is tethered to the tree stump, on a short leash.
The black car is covered by a camouflage net.
MAX leans back from his binoculars, takes a can of
dog food from a pack and begins to open it.
Sc. 22. Cont..
The DOG pricks up his ears.
• The GYRO CAPTAIN watches as MAX unwraps a velvet cloth
to reveal a beautiful silver fork.
The revving of engines wafts up from below,
MAX, spooning the food into his mouth, leans forward
to his binoculars.
<b> 23. THE COMPOUND. DAY. 23.
</b> The MARAUDERS have formed a bridge of car wrecks across
the ditch near aless defended section of the compound.
At WETS signal three bikes ride at the bridge of
wrecks. Two of them are hit almost immediately but the
third rides over the wrecks and attempts to ramp into
the compound.
The bike flies through the air... and bounces into the
wire. The RIDER sails over the fence into the compound
where he is set upon by THREE DEFENDERS.
<b> 24. CLIFFTOP. DAY. 24,
</b> MAX wolfs down his meal.
The GYRO CAPTAIN and the DOG lick their lips in unison.
MAX tosses the can and its remains to the DOG.
The CAPTAIN groans as the DOG buries its muzzle into
the can. The CAPTAIN inches over towards the DOG.
The DOG snarls...
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 25. CLIFFTOP. (MAGIC HOUR). 25.
</b> From the clifftop, we see the lights in the compound
come on. A searchlight weaves across the wasteland.
The only sound is the "kachunk! kachunk!" of the
huge oil pump.
The battle has reached a stalemate. The DEFENDERS
and the ATTACKERS watch each other across "no man's
land".
Sc. 25. Cant.
<b> 14.
</b>
25, Cont. 25.
Smouldering wrecks and dead bodies litter the ditch.
• The animals in the corral have been slaughtered.
<b> 26. CLIFFTOP. ANGLE ON MAX. MAGIC HOUR. 26.
</b> MAX is slumped against a rock.
The DOG is asleep.
The GYRO CAPTAIN rings his finger around the dog food
can and licks it clean.
MAX sits up at the sound of a bugle.
He looks down.
<b> 27. THE COMPOUND. MAGIC HOUR, 27.
</b> The MARAUDERS kick over their engines, fanning across
the area under cultivation, tearing up the ploughed
field.
As they pull back to the high ground surrounding the
camp, they set fire to the farm huts and drag off the
carcasses of the dead animals.
The fires blaze fiercely on the darkening plain.
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 28. CLIFFTOP. DAWN. 28.
</b> Tracking close on MAX as he sleeps.
The DOG sitting next to him is on his feet growling
at the sound of vehicles from the plain below.
MAX wakes, alert', looking down.
Below, three compound vehicles are fanning out across
the plain.
The MARAUDERS camped on the rise rouse themselves...
climbing aboard their vehicles.
The GYRO CAPTAIN, tethered to the stump, strains at
his chain but cannot get close enough to the edge to
see...
4b, c;Ont.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> What's up!!
MAX ignores him, concentrating on the situation below.
' The bulk of the MARAUDERS have split into three groups
each chasing a camp vehicle off into the wasteland.
The HUMUNGUS leads one of the groups. Four MARAUDERS,
camped on a pinnacle, keep watch on the camp,
Suddenly another vehicle bursts out of the camp and
speeds across the plain towards MAX'S clifftop. It
passes out-of sight around the back of the hill,
MAX hurries from his canopy across the other side of
the hilltop.
<b> 29. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING. 29.
</b> MAX looks past the black-on-black, to where the lone
compound vehicle has achieved the bitumen.
Suddenly, three Mohawk bikes and a tow truck emerge
from behind a rocky outcrop. Led by WEZ, they fire
arrows into the tyres and smash the windscreen.
The compound vehicle leaves the road, rolling...
As the GYRO CAPTAIN crawls to his side, MAX raises his
binoculars...
<b> 30. MAX'S POV BINOCULARS. MORNING. 30.
</b> The bloodied driver is being dragged from the wreck
by TWO MOHAWKERS. The others cannibalise the vehicle
and siphon off its fuel. Another occupant emerges
from the twisted metal and tries to crawl away...
I t is a YOUNG WOMAN.
<b> 31, REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING. 31.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN sees her and fumbles urgently for
something deep in the pockets of his great-coat.
He produces a large telescope which is attached to
his waist by a leather cord.
<b> .1 C
</b>
<b> 32. GYRO CAPTAIN'S POV. TELESCOPE. MORNING. 32.
</b> Through the cracked lens of the telescope we see
two of the MOHAWIMRS dragging the woman to the
roadside.
<b> 33. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING. 33.
</b> MAX looks around to see the GYRO CAPTAIN'S telescope
and grabs it. The GYRO CAPTAIN, protesting, picks up
the less-powerful binoculars.
MAX lifts tae telescope.
<b> 34. MAX'S POV. TELESCOPE. MORNING. 34,
</b> The GOLDEN YOUTH is sitting on one of the bikes. The
POV whip pans across the wreck where two MOHAWKERS
have pushed the badly injured driver up to the car
panel, WEZ fires an arrow into the man's shoulder,
pinning it to the panel..
Methodically, he reloads and fires another pin into the
man's other shoulder.
MAX pans the telescope to where the three MOHAWKERS
hold the STRUGGLING WOMAN. At WEZ'S signal they start
to tear the woman's clothes away...
<b> 35. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING. 35,
</b> Track in as the GYRO CAPTAIN and MAX watch through
the binoculars and telescope.
Camera tightens further to the GYRO CAPTAIN. His
face reacts to the horror below.
MAX drops his head... his eyes closing momentarily.
The noise of vehicles starting below breaks the
moment.
He lifts the telescope and pans to one side.
<b> I
</b>
<b> -1 W
</b>
<b> 36, MAX'S POV. TELESCOPE. MORNING. 36,
</b> The zelescope lens finds all the MOHAWKERS except one
back on their vehicles. They ride off led by WEZ...
<b> 37.
</b>
<b> 37. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING.
</b> While MAX has the telescope trained on the departing
vehicles the GYRO CAPTAIN has the binoculars on the
<b> WOMAN.
</b>
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Jesus! He's gonna kill her.
MAX whips his telescope around...
<b> 38,
</b>
<b> 38. MAX'S POV. TELESCOPE. MORNING.
</b> The lens finds the remaining MOHAWKER now standing
back from the prostrate girl. He is loading his
crossbow...
The image blurrs...
<b> 39.
</b>
<b> 39. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT.MORNING,
</b> MAX has dropped the telescope and is on his feet
running down to the black-on-black. The DOG is at his
heels.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Hey! What about me?!!
The black-on-black roars off...
<b> 40.
</b>
<b> 40. THE WRECK OF THE COMPOUND VEHICLE. DAY.
</b> We track low past the dead girl's face towards the back
of the MOHAWKER. He is sitting on a wheel pulling on
his trousers,
Close to his back, the camera stops.
He turns, looking up.
MAX, carrying a pair of bolt cutters is hurrying towards
him.
'fu. l,.UUI..
The MOHAWKER grabs for his crossbow.
MAX'S foot stamps down, pinning his wrist...
Ssswish? the bolt cutters swing down... onto the
Mohawker's head.
Tears stream down the COMPOUND MAN'S face.
As MAX walks up to him we see that he is bleeding
badly. His name is NATHAN.
<b> NATHAN
</b> Thank you. Thank you...
<b> I.
</b>
<b> MAX
</b> Let's get this straight.
I'm doing it 'cos I need
fuel.
<b> NATHAN
</b> As much as you want. Take
me back... Don't let me die.
MAX takes the bolt cutters and inserts them between the
man and the panel. He cuts away the first arrow, then
the second.
<b> WIPE,
</b>
<b> 41.
</b>
<b> 41. INT. BLACK-ON-BLACK.DAY
</b>
The supercharger screams as MAX races towards the
compound.
NATHAN is slipping into unconsciousness.
MAX grabs him by the shoulder, shaking him.
<b> MAX
</b> Stay alive!
Stay alive!
<b> I
</b>
<b> 1Q.
</b>
4'L, UN XAtl n1LL1Ur. Phum hAMAU1Jtn"_11 LUUrL UU1 . VAX . 4G
Angle down on the plain.
The black-on-black approaches the burnt out huts.
A GAYBOY BERSERKER stands up into frame in the extreme
foreground.
He is joined by TWO OTHER MARAUDERS.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER grabs a hand-mirror and flashes a
signal across the wasteland.
From a far hill, we see the answering flash.
<b> 43. THE PLOUGHED FIELD. DAY. 43.
</b> Crane down from a high angle on the black-on-black
as it approaches the camp. As the camera achieves a
smouldering but we see a small animal-like
figure stalking the vehicle.
Tracking closer we see that it is a wild-looking
child, about 8 years old. He is dressed in dog skins
and carries a chrome boomerang. On one hand he wears
what looks like a catcher's mitt: a leather glove
reinforced with steel plates. This is the FERAL KID.
Before we get too close the boy scurries into a large
rabbit warren.
<b> 44. THE CAUSEWAY LEADING TO THE COMPOUND. DAY. 44.
</b> Long low angle on the compound. Its defenders wait
on the barricades, the cracking tower and the
catwalk.
The black car stops just outside crossbow range - about
twenty yards short of the compound.
In extreme foreground, the FERAL BOY'S head pops up
from another rabbit hole closer to the compound.
He ducks down out of sight when the car door opens.
High angle on MAX as he steps out of the car with
NATHAN across his shoulders.
MAX carries no weapons and as he steps up to camera,
he raises his arms high...
A woman on the barricade begins screaming. Her name
is BIG REBECCA,
Sc-44, Cont.
44, Cont. 44.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Nathan! Nathan! It's Nathan.
A man on the catwalk orders the gate to be opene•3..
MAX hurries along the causeway...
The FERAL KID comes out of the rabbit warren and
begins to follow MAX.
A trail of blood drips from the injured man onto the
causeway...
As MAX approaches the camp the old �ello'.v school bus
is pulled aside.
The I A3IRI011 WOMAN emerges, crossbow read., , keeping it
trained on MAX.
She is followed by another defender the MECHANIC'S
ASSISTANT - pulling a strange mechanised crane.
Suspended from the front of this machine is a paraplegic,
He is the MECHANIC.
Thny MAX, heading for the car, revealing
BIG RLU,CC.A, distraught, running towards him,
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Nathan! God have mercy.,
What a waste.
Si,F wipe the man's face, caressing him., as MAX
walks on.
She turns and looks straight at the camp's leader,
PAPPAGALLO. He"is standing at the gate, surrounded
by anxious defenders.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Look at your handiwork!
They didn't have a chance...
One of the group at the gate -- a nuggety old man
called the CURMUDGEON - plays to the crowd, pointing
<b> AT PAPPAGALLO:
</b>
<b> THE CURMUDGEON
</b> You all heard me, I warned
him didn't I? Madness, I said.
<b> 45. THE COMPOUNL. DAY. 45.
</b> As the DEFENDERS part to let MAX through we see the
group includes: a teenage couple - PISMO and ANGIE
- holding each other tight; a woman BUTCHER, holding
a knife and a rabbit; a middle aged man who looks
like a FARMER; and a LUSTY young girl chewing her
finger nails.
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> Pity your name wasn't pulled
out the hat.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> We can escape, take our petrol,
he said.
How? I said.
Get a prime mover, he said...
He points to NATHAN who is being carried to an old
bread van. The rear door is open, revealing two
hospital-style beds, drip stands and shelves of medical
supplies. An injured camp member occupies one of the
beds.
<b> CURMUDGECN
</b> .And there's the result!
Madness I said!
PAPPAGALLO ignores him, addressing MAX:
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Where did you find him?
<b> MAX
</b> Two, three miles away.,, left
for dead.,, next to his car.
We made a deal.
In the background the FARMER starts to work the first
arrow out of NATHAN'S chest.
BIG REBECCA comforts him.
Sc. 45. Cont...
YJ. i t .lJ _ Ya.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Three other vehicles.
Did you see them?
<b> MAX
</b> Running hard to the south
west. In heaps of trouble.
Listen: he said if I brought
him in, you'd give me gas.
There's no time...
An anxious young man pushes through the crowd, talking
over MAX. This is the QUIET MAN.
<b> QUIET MAN
</b> There was a woman...
in the car...
MAX looks straight at him.
<b> MAX
</b> She's dead.
The man struggles to keep hold of his emotions.
<b> QUIET MAN
</b> How? What did they do?
<b> MAX
</b> It was quick.
The QUIET MAN bows his head and turns away.
NATHAN groans, ANGIE has the clear plastic mask of
an air viva device over NATHAN'S face, PISMO pumps
air into his lungs.
MAX turns to PAPPAGALLO:
<b> MAX
</b> I saw a man in trouble. I
brought him in. And now I
just want to get out of here.
Give me my gas.
Sc. 45. Cont.
<b> 21.
</b>
-alp . vlJU b.
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> For all we know, he's one of
them.
Give him nothing.
There's an ugly murmur of agreement.
MAX, keeping his temper, talks to PAPPAGALLO:
<b> MAX
</b> We had a contract...
The FARMER succeeds in removing the first arrow.
BIG REBECCA relaxes
NATHAN sputters. Blood sprays into the plastic mask.
BIG REBECCA screams. The FERAL KID looks on as the
FARMER feels for a pulse: nothing.
PAPPAGALLO turns to MAX:
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> I don't know who you are,
or what happened.
But if you had a contract,
it was with him. And it
died with him.
PAPPAGALLO t'.trns on his heel and walks through the
crowd, back towards his tent.
The WARRIOR WOMAN puts a bow to MAX'S temple and
shoves him towards the gate.
<b> 46. COMPOUND. MAX IS MARCHED TO THE GATE. DAY. 46.
</b> THE FERAL KID, following MAX, laughs.
The DOG snarls at the boy.
As the crowd parts, MAX sees that the black-on-black
is being winched through the gate.
Sc. 46. Cont...
<b> 24.
</b>
-1b. t;OIIt.
The MECHANIC supervises the work.
LIAX stiffens, furious.. .
WARRIOR WOMAN prods him with the bow:
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> Be thankful, you're still
alive.
She pushes him past the car.
The DOG trained to protect the vehicle begins to
grow]. The MECHIANIC turns to MAX:
<b> MECHANIC
</b> I gotta hand it to you.
Some machine...
He holds up the detonators and fuse wire.
<b> MECHANIC
</b> Would've been a shame to
bloc it:. up.
The last of the pursuit spec-
ials. It's history, that's
what it is. A piece of
history...
The ME, IIA`IC runs an affectionate hand along the bonnet
of the car.
The DOG flies at him as he tour.hes the car. The DOG'S
ja.:s champ onto his u6elessIt-sthreatening to topple him
from t. is mechanical. "crane".
The MECIiANIC'S ASSISTANT turn, wielding a tyre iron,
about to batter the DOC to death...
MAX grabs his arm, wrenching the tyre iron from his hand,
other men raise their weapons..,.
The head of a crossbow arrow cuts into MAX'S neck.
The DOG, MAX and the camp people are frozen, waiting
for the next move,
WARRIOR WOMAN, holding the other end of the bow,
motions him forward,
Slowly MAX bends and gathers up the DOG.
Sc. 46. Cont
<b> 0 R
</b>
•to . %+uu 4 . 4b .
<b> MAX
</b> Its OK, Dog. Just do as
they say...
His words are lost in the wail of a siren. A guard
perched in the watch tower shouts a warning.
The yellow school bus roars across, closing the
entrance.
<b> 47. THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY, 47.
</b> The compound people run to their positions on the
battlements.
A pair of manacles are locked around MAX'S wrists.
WARRIOR WOMAN climbs to a big crossbow mounted above
the causeway.
The BUTCHER drops her knife and grabs her long bow.
The rabbit on the chopping block leaps for safety.
PAPPAGALLO mans the flame thrower. Others draw their
bows.
The FERAL KID follows the rabbit down a hole at the
foot of the battlement.
As MAX climbs to a position on the battlements near
WARRIOR WOMAN and PAPPAGALLO he sees that the MARAUDER
HORDE has gathered in all its glory.
<b> 46. NO MAN'S LAND. DAY. 48,
</b> The MARAUDERS rumble in formation over the rise:
At their head' is the Humungus machine surrounded by a
guard consisting of WEZ and his GOLDEN YOUTH on a
bike, a tow truck with TWO SKIN HEADS, a road racer
with THREE GAY BOY BERSERKERS and a dune buggy with
<b> TWO SMEGMA CRAZIES.
</b> As the advance guard approaches through the dust and
heat haze we see that SIX NEAR NAKED AND BLOODIED
PEOPLE are lashed to the front of the vehicles.
At the big crossbow, the WARRIOR WOMAN aims at the
Humungus machine. One of the TWO VICTIMS, tied to the
front of the Humungus machine, is screaming above the
awesome rumble of machines and sirens...
Sc, 48. Cont.
<b> -2 0 .
</b>
<b> THE BROKEN VICTIM
</b> Hold your fire. He wants to
talk... he comes in peace...
for Godsake! Hold your fire..
<b> 49. THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY. 49,
</b> The camp people moan as they recognise the victims.
PAPPAGALLO holds up his hand, stopping the WARRIOR
WOMAN from firing.
• The MECHANIC cranes himself up into view next to MAX:
<b> MECHANIC
</b> Poor mongrels... not one
got through.
BIG REBECCA sobs. The QUIET MAN puts a comforting
hand on her shoulder.
PISMO and ANGIE huddle closer together.
<b> 50. NO MAN'S LAND, DAY. 50.
</b> The vanguard of 5 vehicles stops on the causeway,
just out of range.
MAX and WEZ look across no man's land, recognising
each other. WEZ grins, a gold tooth flashing.
The TOADIE, a comically dressed Marauder perched on
the top of the Humungus vehicle, waves his arms. The
Marauders cut their motors... Silence.
The TOADIE announces:
<b> TOADIE
</b> Greetings from the Lord Humungus
The Warrior of the Wasteland!
The Ayatollah of Rock and Roller.
Camera cranes up to the HUMUNGUS as he rises in his
seat. His voice is amplified by two loudspeakers
mounted to the roll cage of his vehicle:
Sc. 50, Cont...
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> I am told you wish to take
the gasolene out of the
wasteland...
The SECOND VICTIM lashed onto the Humungus vehicle
shouts in defiance:
<b> DEFIANT VICTIM
</b> Shoot! Shoot him! While you've
got the chance...
The TOADIE takes the wind out of him with an elbow
to the stomach...
The FERAL KID watches from a rabbit warren near a burnt
out hut.
The HUMUNGUS continues...
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> You set out this morning to
find a vehicle. A vehicle
strong enough to haul that
fat tank of gas...
Suddently, the escaped rabbit runs from a hole in the
barricade and out into the wasteland. WEZ whirls his
arm around... thud!... the rabbit falls dead from a
crossbow bolt.
The FERAL KID eases back down into his hole.
The TOADIE bellows:
<b> TOADIE
</b> You see! There is no escape.
The Humungus rules the
wasteland...
<b> DEFIANT VICTIM
</b> Don't give them the gas!
Blow it up!
WEZ leaps from his bike and head-butts the man into
unconsciousness, The BROKEN VICTIM sobs uncontrollably.
Sc. 50. Cont...
50. cont. 5Q.
The FERAL BOY runs from his hole, screaming. He
lets fly with the chrome boomerang...
The projectile whistles past WEZ'S head and returns
to the KID.
He reaches up and - clunk! catches it in his steel,
plated mitten.
The MARAUDERS roar with laughter.
The FERAL KID throws the boomerang again...
WEZ ducks and it buries itself into the head of the
<b> GOLDEN YOUTH.
</b> The MARAUDERS are dumbstruck.
<b> 51. THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY. 51.
</b> The MECHANIC grimaces.
The rest of the DEFENDERS are silent.
MAX is impressed.
<b> 52, NO MAN'S LAND. DAY. 52.
</b> WEZ bends over the GOLDEN'YOUTH and pulls the weapon
from his skull.
He hurls it at the FERAL KID.
The boomerang whistles across the ground... the KID
throws himself down into the hole... the boomerang
arcs and returns to WEZ... out of his reach.
The TOADIE runs forward...
<b> TOADIE
</b> I got it! I got it!
He reaches up to catch it...
Sc. 52. Cont...
Jf.. vv...
Then falls to his knees clutching his bleeding
fingerless hand.
The HUMUNGUS and MARAUDERS roar with laughter.
WEZ, bellowing with rage, leaps up dnto the
HUMUNGUS vehicle. He hits the ignition, yelling:
<b> WEZ
</b> There's been enough talk.
I'm going in!
Powerful arms encircle him from behind. WEZ is lifted
bodily from the seat.
The HUMUNGUS reaches over and cuts the ignition and
the P.A..system.
<b> 53.
</b>
<b> 53. THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY.
</b> The CAMP PEOPLE ease back on their weapons...
MAX is concentrating on his manacles, starting to use
a small, file to pick the lock.
<b> 54.
</b>
<b> 54, THE HUMUNGUS VEHICLE. DAY.
</b> • Maintaining his vicious hold on WEZ the HUMUNGUS
hisses soothingly in his ear.
<b> SUMUNGUS
</b> Be still my dog of war. I
understand your pain. We've
all lost someone we love...
But, we do it my way.
Fear is our ally.
Later, you can have your
revenge.
WEZ tries to break free but still, he cannot move.
The HUMUNGUS reaches over and flicks on the P.A. System.
Sc. 54. Cont.
54 . Cont. 54.
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> There has been too much violence
too much pain. None here
i s without sin,
But, I have an honourable
compromise.
Give me the gasolene and I'll
spare your lives. Just walk
away. I will give you safe
passage in the wasteland...
Walk away and there will
be an end to the horror...
He hits the ignition, eases WEZ aside and turns the
vehicle around...
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> You have one full day to decide!!
The TOADIE jumps on board as the HUMUNGUS leads the
HORDE back over the rise.
As the vehicles rumble away, the FERAL BOY retrieves
his bloodied boomerang and scurries back into his
hole.
<b> 55. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 55.
</b> The QUIET MAN fires his long bow at the departing
MARAUDERS: the arrow falls well short, unnoticed.
He yells after them:
<b> QUIET MAN
</b> We'll never walk away. Never!
BIG REBECCA grabs him by the shoulder.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Don't be a fool! It's our only
chance...
She turns to the other defenders:
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> It's simple... we trade the
gas for our lives.
DO. wont . 55,
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> No! We've worked too hard.
<b> FARMER
</b> Walk out there? They'd
slaughter us... run us down
for sport.
BIG REBECCA plays to the crcwd.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Don't listen to them! It's
bad enough the lunatics are
running the asylum. Don't
let 'em throw away the key.
<b> 56. THE BATTLEMENTS. MAX AND THE FERAL BOY. DAY. 56.
</b> While the CAMP PEOPLE argue, MAX sits forgotten -
the manacles unlocked now, dangling from one
wrist.
He produces the hurdy-gurdy he found on the bloated
man and plays the first few notes of "Happy Birthday".
From the hole under MAX, the FERAL KID appears wiping
his boomerang. He is attracted by the noise.
MAX plays the next few notes faster.
The FERAL KID grins.
More notes - very fast.
The FERAL KID laughs.
Several people at the back of the CROWD, including
WARRIOR WOMAN, turn around to look. MAX holds the
manacles up so that she can see that he's free.
She glares at him as he goes back to turning the
hurdy-gurdy.
The argument continues.
57. THE CUMPUUNiJ. DAY. 57
PISMO and ANGIE are quietly bickering.
The CURMUDGEON pushes past them heading towards the
gate.
He has a Gladstone bag in his hand and a collection
of car parts and personal effects tucked under his
arm.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> it'll be alright. I'll talk to
this Humungus.
He'd never hurt an asthmatic ol.d
man.
The LUSTY GIRL is joining him.., The MECHANIC turns to
her.
<b> MECHANIC
</b> I'm sure they'll find a use
for you.
<b> LUSTY
</b> I'd rather be out there, on my
back alive, than in here, on
my back dead.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Be promised us safe passage. Fe
gave his word.
<b> PAPPAGALLO'S VOICE
</b> And just suppose he keeps it...
The DEFENDERS turn to PAPPAGALLO, standing on the
<b> BATTLEMENT:
</b>
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> .and we walk out of here with
our lives. What then? Do we
wander the wasteland - scavenging.
Wake up one morning and find we're
just like them - savages.
He points in the direction of the MARAUDERS.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Is that what you want? I don't.
Sc. 57. Cont.
5!. cont. 57,
PAPPAGALLO Cont.
I came out here and I found that
pump. I built that plant and
ploughed that field, Why?
Because we are human beings.
We must maintain our dignity.
We are not barbarians...
The crowd is silent...
I made one mistake - I waited
too long... thinking we could
survive here. We can't.
But, as frightened as we all are
- let's not forget one thing.
He points to the tanker of fuel, propped up next tc the
cracking plant...
That is more than just a tank
of fuel. It's our lifeline, our
passport to a place beyond the
reach of men on machines.
He talks over several protesting voices...
No! I don't know how we're gonna
get there. But the first step is
to defend that fuel.
I won't surrender it to anyone.
I stay! Alone if I have to...
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Words! Just words. You're
going to die, for a pi,pedream.
BIG REBECCA moves over to join the CURMUDGEON and
the LUSTY GIRL.
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> No! We're going to fight for
a belief - I stay!
LUSTY looks straight at PAPPAGALLO,
Sc. 57, Cont..,
D r . I,UnL .
<b> LUSTY
</b> I really wished it had worked,
I'm sorry.
The MECHANIC'S ASSISTANT starts to push tha
MECHANIC'S contraption tows°ds the CURMUDGEON'S
GROUP, but the.-MECHANIC resists, grabbing onto the
catwalk.
The ASSISTANT leaves him there.
ANGIE takes the ASSISTANT'S place and pushes the
MECHANIC'S contraption over to PAPPAGALLO'S side.
<b> ANGIE
</b> We stay!
PISMO is left hesitating in the middle. After a terrible
moment of indecision he joins ANGIE.
The camp is now divided, mostly against PAPPAGALLO.
The two groups stare across at each other solemnly...
A voice is heard from the battlements,...
<b> MAX
</b> Two days ago I saw a
vehicle that'd haul that
tanker.
All eyes turn to MAX.
<b> MAX
</b> You wanna get out of here.
You talk to me.
<b> 58, INT. PAPPAGALLO'S TENT, DUSK. 58.
</b>
MAX faces PAPPAGALLO across a desk littered with plans
and equipment.
WARRIOR WOMAN, BIG REBECCA, the FARMER and the MECHANIC
listen in.
Sc. 58,. Cont.
58. Cont. 58.
<b> MAX
</b> So that's my offer. I
deliver a prime mover - in
return you give me my black
car and as much gas'as I
can carry.
All I need right now
is three jerry cans of diesel
and five gallons of petroleum.
They look at him quizzically.
Think of it as a down payment.
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> That's the last we'll ever
see of him.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> What have we got to lose?
PAPPAGALLO nods.
<b> WIPE
</b>
<b> 59. THE COMPOUND DITCH - THE BRIDGE OF WRECKS. NIGHT. 59,
</b> From the battlement, PAPPAGALLO watches as MAX,
accompanied by the DOG, emerges from a hole in the
wall. MAX has a pole across his shoulders,
supporting four jerry cans of fuel..
MAX'S knee brace"squeaks in the stillness.
The MECHANIC throws him a small can. MAX squirts
a stream of oil onto the metal and then moves off
across the bridge of wrecks, built by the Mohawk
Bikers the day before.
The FERAL KID watches with other camp people as MAX
and the DOG move out into the night.
<b> 60, NO MAN'S LAND. NIGHT. 60.
</b> MAX emerges from the ditch, the heavy load weighing
him down. Behind him, the searchlight from the
compound plays over the wilderness. Ahead, he sees
the glow of the Marauders' campfires.
He moves forward silently.
61. NEAR THE MAHAUDL S ' CAM1'k i hLJ . NIGHT. 61,
Picking his way carefully across rugged ground,
MAX skirts close to a large campfire.
Around it, a GROUP OF MARAUDERS are carousing: some
are laughing loudly at a VICTIM strung up to a beam
by his wrists. A bottle passes among the MARAUDERS.
In the shadows, lit by the flickering flame, a MOHAWK
BIKER fondles TWO CAMP FOLLOWERS.
Closest to MAX a GAYBOY BERSERKER hones his machete
on a whetstone.
MAX skirts round him, not taking his eyes off him.
Suddenly MAX'S leg gives way, caught in a rabbit hole.
He pitches forward, the ferry cans thumping together.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER pivots.., listening.., knife ready.
MAX is spread-eagled on the ground. The DOG curls its
lip. The GAYBOY BERSERKER walks towards MAX, his eyes
searching the darkness...
There is a loud barking! MAX looks up...
On a rabbit warren close by, the FERAL KID sits on his
haunches, howling like a wild dog.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER takes a rock and throws it, curs-
ing all howling dogs, and returns to the camp.
The FERAL KID motions for MAX to follow. Keeping low,
MAX limps forward.
<b> 62. AN EROSION DITCH. NIGHT. 62.
</b> The FERAL KID stops at the edge of the gully and
indicates the direction for MAX to take. He grins at
MAX and runs off into the night, back the way he came.
MAX drops down into the gully heading away from the
Marauders' camp.
<b> DISSOLVE,
</b>
<b> 63. THE CLIFFTOP. FIRST LIGHT. 63.
</b> MAX climbs up to the spot where he left the GYRO CAPTAIN.
Gone!... Just the canopy, a dog food can and a freshly-
dug hole where the tree stump used to be. A clear trail,
gouged in the dirt, leads back towards the sand dune
country. The DOG sniffs and lopes off,..
<b> 64, A CLAY PAN. DAY.
</b>
<b> 64..
</b> MAX and the DOG crest a rise at the edge of the
pan.
About a hundred yards ahead, out on the
clay, is the CAPTAIN, still dragging the tree
stump behind him.
T h e DOG growls.
The CAPTAIN turns to see MAX, He picks up the log
and tries to run.
<b> 65. THE WASTELAND. DAY.
</b>
<b> 65.
</b> The sun is much higher in the sky, The CAPTAIN has
been freed from the tree stump and now carries the
ferry cans, coolie-like, across his shoulders.
<b> 66. THE DUNES. DAY.
</b>
<b> 66.
</b> The three travellers stagger over the dune. Tha
gyro copter is intact though the kite now rests
face dawn on the sand, At the crest of the dune
they sue the body of a lone Marauder. Foot and
tyre prints tell the story. Crossing the dunes in
his buggy, he happened across the gyrocopter. He
left his buggy, walked down to the abandoned
gyrocopter and fell victim to the snake, He
staggered around in circles before slumping face
down in the sand.
The CAPTAIN lets out a whoop as he and MAX half
stumble, half run towards the body.
<b> CAPTAIN
</b> I knew it. I knew it'd work.
Lethal, those snakes. Lethal.
Born killers. The snake's
fangs, my brains. Lethal I
<b> TELL YA
</b> The CAPTAIN stops, staring down at the body of the
snake, its head crushed,
Quickly he picks it up and begins to skin it,
muttering,
Sc. 66. Cont.
VU L , % 1 t
<b> 60
</b>
<b> CAPTAIN
</b> Don't think you're gonna get
any of this. Cos you're not.
It was my snake. I found it.
I trained it. And I'm gonna
eat it.
Keeping the gun trained on the CAPTAIN, MAX
rummages through the MARAUDER'S clothes. He finds
a necklace of spark plugs, bolts, teeth and two old
shotgun cartridges.
MAX removes the two cartridges. One crumbles apart.
The second, although dog-eared, remains intact,
The GYRO CAPTAIN looks up as MAX cracks open the
shotgun - both barrels are empty.
MAX shoves the dog-eared cartridge into the barrel
and snaps the shotgun shut.
The GYRO CAPTAIN gasps:
<b> CAPTAIN
</b> You mean? All this time?
Jesus, that's dishonest!
MAX nudges the CAPTAIN towards the gyrocopter.
The CAPTAIN stands fast, eyeing the shotgun...
<b> CAPTAIN
</b> How do we know that one's
not a dud.
<b> 4
</b>
<b> MAX
</b> There's only one way to
find out.
He lifts the barrel to the CAPTAIN'S head.
The CAPTAIN moves off towards the gyrocopter.
<b> 67. SAND DUNES- GYROCOPTER. DAY. 67.
</b> One jerry can lies discarded by the gyro. MAX,
with the DOG on his lap, is settled on the chassis,
the three remaining cans strapped on beside him.
A flurry of sand whips back from the propellor.
The gyro, unaccustomed to the extra weight, lumbers
across the sand and slowly rises into the sky.
<b> IN WTPF
</b>
66 . THE IN'li.:1..LLT1UN . DAY . 68.
The bloated fly-blown corpse of the driver lies
next to the abandoned road rig.
The bonnet of the prime mover is up and MAX is
working on the engine.
A chain passes from the bull bar up into the cabin where
the CAPTAIN sits behind the wheel, muttering into a
handkerchief.
The DOG watches him carefully.
MAX yanks on the chain.
The GYRO CAPTAIN tests the motor: nothing.
After two more attempts it splutters to life.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> :R
</b>
<b> 69 THE PRIME MOVER. LATER THAT DAY. 69.
</b> The prime mover, disconnected from the rest of the
rig, stands in the middle of the road.
MAX is in the cabin with the DOG, the engine running,
The GYRO CAPTAIN looks up at him, rattling his chains.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> You can't just dump me!
Think of us as partners.
MAX tosses him a set of keys, shouting over the
engire.
<b> MAX
</b> It's up to you. Fly a kite,
or follow me back. Maybe
they'll throw some gas your
<b> KAY
</b> MAX eases the prime mover down the road:
Sc. 69. Cont.
hn.
69, Cont. 69.
The GYRO CAPTAIN, struggling to unlock his manacles,
yells after him:
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> What sort of deal's that?!
I'm running on empty!
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 70, THE LONELY HIGHWAY. DAY. 70.
</b> MAX hurls the prime mover down the long empty
highway, eating up the miles.
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 71. HILL CREST NEAR PINNACLES. DAY. 71.
</b> The'prime mover crests a bill. In the distance MAX
can see the pinnacles surrounding the camp. He
checks his shotgun on the seat beside him. MAX
tramps the accelerator.
The DOG climbs under the seat. The back wheels burn
rubber as the prime mover thunders down the road...
Suddenly the gyrocopter zooms over the rise behind him
spluttering and coughing like he's running out of
gas.
<b> 72. SIDE OF ROAD NEAR THE PINNACLES. DAY. 72.
</b> In the Marauders' camp a MOHAWKER is shaving WEZ'S
head. At the sound of the approaching prime mover,
WEZ leaps to his feet, clambers over a tow truck on
blocks and straddles his bike...
Other MARAUDERS follow as we track to a SKINHEAD
lying under the tow truck making noisy repairs.
<b> IN
</b>
73. THE ituiL. DA1.
MAX burls the prime mover towards the rise above
the compound.
A dune buggy comes up alongside the rear passenger
wheel. The SMEGMA CRAZY riding shotgun fires a
crossbow arrow into a tyre... which explodes.
WEZ appears on the road ahead as a road racer rockets
from out of the scrub in front of the prime mover.
MAX shunts it back off the road and into the rear of
the tow truck on blocks.
The tow truck crashes down, pinning the SKINHEAD
beneath it.
74, A RISE ABO'D'E rHE COMPOUND. DAY. 74.
The HUMUNGUS - his vehicle sitting in_the middle of
the road - turns at the sound of the crash.
<b> 75, THE GYR000PTER. (HELICOPTER MOUNT). DAY. 75,
</b> The gyrocopter sputters along, staying out of range
of the MARAUDERS.
The CAPTAIN is shouting advice and instructions from
<b> THE SIDELINES:
</b>
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Watch your tyres! Turn left!
Down over the CAPTAIN'S shoulder we see WEZ'S bike
coming alongside the prime mover's rear wheels on
the driver's side.
76. THE ROAD APPROACHING THE RISE. tAY. 76.
WEZ lifts his feet onto the saddle, steadies himself
and leaps onto the back of the prime mover.
As the vehicle crests the rise, MAX sees the camp
below. He yanks the air horn lanyard...
J , 4 J L LL' 1 111:, , 'J LLL V 41 \ 1J , W n i . I ,
PAPPAGALLO'S people turn at the sound. From the
cracking tower PAPPAGALLO shouts:
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Open the gate!!
The FERAL KID, astride the pump, is on his feet..
BIG REBECCA runs to the yellow school, bus...
<b> 78. ON THE RISE ABOVE THE COMPOUND - HUMUNGUS VEHICLE. 78.
</b>
<b> DAY.
</b> .The HUMUNGUS raises the magnum .44 aiming directly
at the oncoming prime mover...
<b> 79. THE RISE ABOVE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 79,
</b> On seeing this MAX grabs the shotgun, shoves it
through the smashed front window of the truck and
fires,.,
The gun fizzes and pops - the cartridge was a dud.
MAX ducks and yanks down hard on the wheel...
The HUMUNGUS fires. The big gun kicks,,.
The front of the prime mover bursts with steam and
hot oil,
The big machine careers off 'the road, and through
a primitive tent. As the canvas rips away.,. we
glimpse two startled MARAUDERS in the throes of
hetereosexual love.
MAX recovers, the big machine keeps going, rocketing
down the hill 400 yards from the causeway...
Suddenly a powerful arm bursts through the driver's
window.,, and grabs MAX around the throat - its
<b> WEZ!
</b> The DOG attacks WEZ, clamping his jaw around his
gauntlet.
WEZ pulls the DOG out the window and flicks his arm.
The DOG sails through the ai.r...
<b> 6 +.
</b>
8U. t hIL Ak'Y1tUALii TU 1 1A LAUZ) W A 1 . DAY . SA.
MAX rams his elbow into WEZ'S `ace.
The big biker holds on, tightening his grip.
A dune buggy with a machine gun like crossbow - the
4-pak - fires four bolts into the t y'res. All but one
tyre on the driver's side blow out.
As the prime mover charges past, we track with the
Lone Wolf, who drives a two-engined assault car.
He yells to other Marauders behind:
<b> LONE WOLF
</b> The gate's open!
Follow me in!
A street car and a dune buggy surge up beside him.
In the background we see the DOG, running along
the road, trying to catch up to the tanker.
<b> 81. THE AIRBORNE GYROCOPTER. DAY. 81.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN curses and screams.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Don't lose it now!
We need the fuel!
The CAPTAIN grabs whatever he can find - the two
ferry cans and his chains and throws -:hem at the
chase below.
82. THI_ APTP!OACf TO THE C.' ?1SEW"L Y . DAY. 8 2 ..
To of th':• objects fall across thr- path of the on-
rushing street car the third smashes into the
vehicleti windscreen - to no avail, the vehicle
continues in the chase to the causeway... converging
on the prime mover
The 4-pak dune buggy surges up to the driver's side
wheels, .. The SMEGMA CRAZ1E h4s reloaded the crossbow
and is taking aim on the critical last tyre.
<b> TIT
</b>
<b> 83, THE AIRBORNE GYROCOPTER. 83.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN is reaching down into a sack...
He pulls out two snakes. Clamping their jaws shut
he kisses them goodbye and hurls them down...
<b> 84. THE APPROACH TO THE CAUSEWAY. DAY. 84.
</b> .The snakes land in the 4-pak dune buggy - one of
them between the DRIVER'S legs. Perplexed, he
reaches down for it... pulling it up to look...
He screams.., the snake has its fangs in his hand...
85. THr CAUSEW'.Y. DAY. 85.
The 4-pak dune buggy swerves out of control... up
and over the back of the prime mover,., and onto
the street car. Locked together, both vehicles
tumble down into the ditch.
I n th,! cabin of the truck MAX smashes the butt of the shotgun
into \EZ'S face, again and again. WEZ just grins.
<b> 86. THE COMPOUND GATE. DAY. 86.
</b> The prime mover thunders through the gate.
PAPPAGALLO and WARRIOR WOMAN take their positions
on the battlements...
As soon as the prime mover clears the gate BIG
REBECCA plants her foot on the accelerator of the
school bus/gate. The Lone Wolf vehicle and the
dune buggy just make it inside.
The DOG scampers through the rapidly closing gap.
A road racer slides up to the gate.
The DRIVER looks up... to see PAPPAGALLO aiming
the flame thrower down at him... He slams the
vehicle into reverse...
b. r nu..: i hL 6A , i LS:h1Li� 1 `J LVVh l lvla UL, l . bA i . 6
PAPPAGALLO sends the torrent of flames down on the
retreating vehicle... as HUMUNGUS and the OTHER
MARAUDERS hover at the entrance of the causeway...
<b> 88., INSIDE THE COMPOUND THE CATWALK AREA. DAY. 88.
</b> The prime mover slides to a halt underneath a
catwalk. -
As SEVERAL CAMP PEOPLE run towards him, WEZ swings
up onto the roof of the prime mover and onto the
catwalk.
The two Marauder vehicles stop in the middle of the
compound.
MAX jumps out of the prime mover assessing the
situation. In addition to WEZ there are FOUR
MARAUDERS inside the compound: the LONE WOLF,
the LONE WOLF'S PASSENGER and TWO SMEGMA CRAZIES.
<b> 89, THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY. 89.
</b> Undei the direction of the HUMUNGUS - HALF A DOZEN
MARAUDERS come surging up the causeway on foot.
PAPPAGALLO stands up on the very limit of the battle-
ment and scares them off with a burst of flame.
A MARAUDER fires an arrow..
, .PAPPAGALLO is hit high up in the thigh. He
tumbles backwards, off the parapet and crE.shes to the
ground below.
<b> 90, INSIDE THE. COMPOUND - THE CRACKING TOWER. DAY 90.
</b> Up on the catwalk WEZ is shouting at the FOUR
<b> OTHER INVADERS.
</b>
<b> WEZ
</b> The gate! The gate! Move!!
MAX looks around as the LONE WOLF, the LONE WOLF
PASSENGER and the TWO SMEGMA CRAZIES start to sprint
across the compound towards the gate...
Thud! The LONE WOLF PASSENGER falls dead - an
arrow in his back...
9u. Cont. 90.
WEZ spins around to see the QUIET MAN, standing
on the cooling tower, reloading his bow.
WEZ starts running towards him.
<b> 91. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 91.
</b> With the help of the DOG, MAX tackles the-FIRST SMEGMA
CRAZY who is running towards the gate. They land at
the foot of the pump. The FERAL BOY, bouncing up and
down on top of the pump looks down gleefully, as the
FARMER, the BUTCHER and the CURMUDGEON descend on the
<b> MARAUDER.
</b> MAX is on his feet running towards PAPPAGALLO, as the
second SMEGMA CRAZY is hit by the MECHANIC flying on
the end of his lattice-arm contraption. ANGIE and
PISMC, manning the other end, smile with satisfaction.
<b> 92. INSIDE THE COMPOUND - THE CRACKING TOWER. DAY. 92.
</b> WEZ confronts the QUIET MAN who has his bow drawn,,,
The QUIET MAN fires - WEZ ducks - missed!
WEZ grins. The QUIET MAN is paralysed by indecision.
WEZ is on him.., head-butts him - once, twice, three
times,
The QUIET MAN'S face is a torrent of blood as WEZ
throws him of the cooling platform.
The QUIET MAIL lands, groaning, badly injured.
<b> 93. FROM INSIDE THE BUS. DAY. 93.
</b> The LONE WOLF has made it to the gate and smashes his
way through the window - clawing at BIG REBECCA.
She shoves a boot in his face as WARRIOR WOMAN drops
onto him from the battlement above and buries a knife
blade in his neck.
<b> Z7.
</b>
4 . AT 1H. 13A'1"i'L.MEN'1'J . UA . . 94
MAX has picked up PAPPAGALLO'S flame thrower.
PAPPAGALLO watches as he climbs the battlements,
A DOZEN MARAUDERS are charging up the causeway.
MAX appears above them,,, spraying fire. The
MARAUDERS retreat...
<b> 95, INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 95•,
</b> WEZ grabs a cable and swings from the catwalk across
the cracking tower to Pappagallo's 'dinosaur tent'.
He slides down the tent, leaps onto some tyres, onto
a storage tank and then onto the tanker...
He hesitates a moment looking for some way to get to
the gate...
The WHOLE CAMP turns to confront him..-'.:'
He ducks, the gyrocopter swoops down over his head
and lands in the centre of the compound...
An arrow flies past WEZ, then the Feral Kid's boomerang
, , he decides to call it quits.
Running along the top of the tanker, be leaps the
barbed wire fence.
<b> 9G THE L-ITCH. DAY. 96.
</b> WEZ lands in the ditch.
He clambers over a wreck out of the ditch and out of
range.
<b> 97, INSIDE THE COMPOUND. THE TANKER. DAY.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN is up on the tanker, throwing a
stick and shaking his fist at the MARAUDERS - putting
on a show for the jubilant compound people.
Several people shake hands with the GYRO CAPTAIN,
The FERAL KID watches, puzzled, intrigued by this
strange ritual.
Sc. 97. Cont.
The MECHANIC is already examining the damage to the
prime mover,
PAPPAGALLO is propped up against the base of the
battlement. BIG REBECCA and the WARRIOR WOMAN tend
his thigh wound.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> OK! OK! Let's go.
We leave tonight!
The MECHANIC lifts his head out of the engine:
<b> MECHANIC
</b> We got a hole through the
radiator - into the
timing case.
Gonna take at least 24
hours.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> You've got twelve.
The crowd disperses.
The QUIET MAN is carried to the bread van/medical
centre; the bodies are removed; camp members load
vehicles; men are working on the tanker.
WARRIOR WOMAN climbs onto the battlement.
<b> 98. THE BATTLEMENTS% DAY, 98.
</b> The MARAUDERS have regrouped on the rise.
MAX is watching them, the flame thrower in his hands,
as the WARRIOR WOMAN approaches him:
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> I want you to know... that was
a very brave thing you did...
He doesn't reply - just hands her the flame thrower
and descends the ladder.
<b> 49.
</b>
<b> 99. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 99.
</b> BIG REBECCA has just pulled the arrow out of
PAPPAGALLO'S leg as MAX moves into view.
PAPPAGALLO watches him walk towards the black-on
-black - its nose poking out of the pyramid workshop,
As MAX passes the gyrocopter we see the GYRO CAPTAIN
in conversation with the CURMUDGEON.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> .and tell me, son, this
machine of yours - it takes
two , does it?
The GYRO CAPTAIN glances over the CURMUDGEON'S
shoulder at LUSTY who is admiring the gyrocopter.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> er... possibly.
The FERAL KID steps forward, holding his hand out
stiffly to MAX.
MAX hesitates, then shakes it briefly. The KID
laughs - be finds this hand shaking-business hilarious.
As MAX moves on to the pyramid workshop, the FERAL
KID follows in his footsteps, mimicing his squeaky,
stiff-legged gait.
<b> 1.00, INT. PYRAMID WORKSHOP. LATE AFTERNOON. 100.
</b>
Through the maze of pipes in the peak of the pyramid,
we have a high angle down on MAX working on the
black-on-black below.
The FERAL KID comes into view in the foreground,
climbing along the pipes.
The KID is softly humming a tune - approximating the
first few notes of "Happy Birthday".
On the workshop floor a small siphon pump is transfer-
ring fuel from a 44 gallon drum into the black-on-
black's fuel tanks.
MAX is re-arming the booby traps - connecting a
string of wires and fuses to the gas tank caps. His
utility belt and jacket are off and he has laid his
personal. effects on a nearby work bench.
In the background, through the arched doorway we see
Sc. 100. Cont.
1VU. i„uliL'.
the MECHANIC and his TEAM working on the truck with
arc welders, lights and so on.
MAX looks up:
The CURMUDGEON is leading PAPPAGALLO'into the workshop.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> See! I told ya. I said he
was leaving.
High up in the pyramid the FERAL KID starts to swing
down the pipes - towards the bench where MAX has laid
his jacket and utility belt. On the floor, PAPPAGALLO
<b> CONFRONTS MAX:
</b>
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> I don't have time for thanks.
You know what you did out _
there and what it means to us.
Come with us, MAX. Drive the
tanker.
MA:. continues to work - muffling the four exhausts
by plugging them with rags.
<b> MAX
</b> We had a contract. I did
my job, I got my car and I
got my gas. End of story.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> It doesn't have to be -
we'll make a new contract.
I can offer you a chance to
rebuild your life, I can
offer you a future.
The CURMUDGEON breaks in, excited.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> You gotta come. Look!
He produces a grubby souvenir postcard pack which
bears the heading:
<b> GREETINGS FROM THE
</b>
<b> SUNSHINE COAST
</b>
100. Cont. 100.
The FERAL KID's arm sneaks across the work bench
reaching out for the hurdy-gurdy.
MAX'S hand snaps out and clamps around the KID'S
wrist. The FERAL KID drops the hurdy-gurdy. As
MAX releases his grip the KID retreats into the
shadows.
The CURMUDGEON unravels the postcard pictures in
front of MAX'S face. -
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> This is where we're going.
Two thousand miles away.
"Bloody paradise. Fresh
water... plenty of sunshine...
nothing to do but breed...
MAX starts to go back to his work.
PAPPAGALLO takes him by the shoulder.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> What are you looking for
out there? How long do
you expect to survive,
scavenging day to day?
You're no different than them.
He points in the direction of the Marauders.,.
..,vultures, maggots.
Don't you see? There is
a better way!
MAX flares at him, angry:
<b> MAX
</b> Yeah. I tried it once!
Now forget it, 'cos I
never get involved.
I'm leaving. I leave
tonight.
PAPPAGALLO is about to reply when a scream echoes
through the camp.
They all turn to look: the men working on the prime
mover are running towards the battlement,
An ominous drumming begins in the Marauders' camp.
<b> 3GI.. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. THE CATWALK. DUSK. 101.
</b> PAPPAGALLO climbs onto part of the refinery's cat-
walk which is close to the workshop area.
SEVERAL OTHER CAMP MEMBERS, including the GYRO
CAPTAIN, and LUSTY, are already there - looking
across no-man's land.
The MARAUDERS are raising two tall poles. TWO OF
THE CAMP MEMBERS captured that morning are nailed
to the poles screaming.
PAPPAGALLO turns to MAX, who is still down at the
black-on-black.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> You see! That's the
alternative!
Men feeding on men.
MAX goes back to work.
The GYRO CAPTAIN slips his arm around LUSTY'S
shoulder.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> I know you're afraid darlin'.
But I'll let you into a
secret, sweetheart. I'm
afraid too.
He squeezes her tight. She caresses his hand.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 1.02. NO MAN'S LAND. NIGHT, 102.
</b> Silhouetted against a large fire, near the two
poles, a group of TWELVE !.MARAUDERS of various
breeds beat out a tattoo on the panels of their
cars. The HUMUNGUS watches as two more victims
are raised on poles. The beat becomes more
frenzied,
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
Pouring with sweat, MAX tears up the first of a
series of metal plates which form the floor of the
workshop area.
He drags it.across the compound, passing the
MECHANIC'S TEAM working in a shower of sparks on
the prime mover.
The MECHANIC looks up:
<b> MECHANIC -
</b> Go on! Go! Just another mercenary!
He spits.
MAX ignores him, dragging the plate past Pappagallo's
tent. It is crowded with CAMP PEOPLE, laying their
plans for escape.
They fall silent, turning to watch MAX.
<b> 104, COMPOUND WALL. BRIDGE OF CARS. NIGHT. 104.
</b> The black-on-black waits next to the fence, near the
place where the Mohawkers attempted to build the
"bridge of cars" across the ditch.
MAX has cut a hole in the barbed wire and is
manouevrin6 the metal plate on top of the first car
starting to build a ramp from thw,
compound, over the top of the cars and onto the far
side of the ditch.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 105, INSIDE THE COMPOUND. LATER THAT NIGHT. 105
</b> The HUMUNGUS has stepped up his theatrics of terror.
His voice booms across the night - reciting dark
poetic descriptions of death and hell.
The CAMP PEOPLE, gathered in Pappagallo's tent, watch
as the GYRO CAPTAIN walks towards the spot where MAX
is working. PAPPAGALLO sits at his desk,flicki.ng an
egg timer: the sand trickling from one end to the
other.
E. fs
<b> 106. CUMI'OUNU WALL. BRIDGE OF CARS. NIGHT. 106,
</b> MAX, who is locking the last metal plate into
position, looks up at the GYRO CAPTAIN.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> I just want you to know that
I don't agree with them,
He indicates the people in Pappagallo's tent.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> I don't think you're a coward.
A bit stupid - but not a
coward,
Where else you gonna find
what we 've got here?
Food... fuel... clean women.
MAX goes back to work, putting the finishing touches
to the ramp.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Men, too, if that's your
inclination.
Jesus! All we've got to
do is get away from that
Humungus. With you driving
the tanker we can do it.
I know you can. I saw you
out there. Stay with us
Max. Drive the tanker.
MAX gets up, snaking his head.
<b> MAX
</b> I haven't got time to explain.
Just believe me - I've got
everything I want.
The CAPTAIN starts to interrupt but MAX cuts him
short.
<b> MAX
</b> Good luck tomorrow.
I hope you make it.
Sc. 106. Cont.
106. cont. 106,
MAX puts out his hand.
• The CAPTAIN, a little surprised, shakes hands with
him.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Thanks. Thanks a lot.
The CAPTAIN walks back towards the GROUP watching
from Pappagallo's tent. He shrugs his shoulders.
MAX opens the door of the black-on-black.
<b> 107. OUTSIDE THE _OMPOUND. BRIDGE OF CARS. NIGHT. 107.
</b> MAX eases the black car onto the metal plates.
The wide wheels rumble slowly across the makeshift
bridge.
MAX revs the motor to get over the last hump, the
plugs in the exhausts muffling the sound of the big
engine.
The Humungus's bizarre ravings continue to boom across
the wasteland.
<b> 108, THE WASTELAND NEAR THE COMPOUND.NIGHT. 108.
</b> The black-on-black eases away from the compound.
The DOG is edgy, growling. MAX takes hold of his
shotgun,
There is a thump! Something lands on the roof.
The DOG flies at the window snarling. MAX jams the
barrel against the roof.
A face appears, leaning over the windscreen, peering
in at MAX. It's the FERAL KID,
He grins and tumbles through the passenger's window.
He grabs hold of MAX'S hand, shaking it.
The FERAL KID laughs, settling in to the seat.
The car continues to roll forward.
Sc, 108, Cont.
108. Cont. 1.08,
<b> MAX
</b> Get out.
Scat! Go back.
The FERAL KID looks at him, puzzled, then throws his
head back, howling.
MAX stops the car, looking round, nervous.
The first light of dawn appears on the horizon.
MAX turns to the FERAL KID:
<b> MAX
</b> You're a fine kid, but you
can't come. You've gotta
learn - don't get close to
people. It can churn you
up...
The KID can't understand a word, so just grins.
MAX thrusts his hand into his back pocket and produces
the hurdy-gurdy.
He shoves it into the FERAL KID'S hands, opens the
door and pushes him out.
<b> 109. THE WASTELAND. DAWN.
</b> As the FERAL KID gets to his feet the black-on-black
accelerates away, surging up the rise towards the
Humungus encampment.
The rapid burst of power fires the four plugs out of
the exhausts. The big engine roars.
<b> 110. THE RISE ABOVE THE COMPOUND. DAWN. 110.
</b> WEZ springs to his feet. His face covered in a
white war paint. His eyes searching out the
darkness. He starts running,.. towards the
Humungus machine.
Sc. 110. Cont.
<b> 11.0 .
</b> no. Cont.
A GAYBOY BERSERKER is running with him. As they climb
into the vehicle, the HUMUNGUS - sitting on a rock near
the VICTIMS on the poles - gets to his feet,
He bellows with rage as WEZ drives the vehicle off in
pursuit of Max. The TWO VICTIMS, still strapped to the
front, lift their heads.
i11.. THE HUMUNGUS MACHINE. DAWN.
From the Humungus machine WEZ sees six other vehicles
stream across the landscape in pursuit of the black-on
-black. (One tow truck, two dune buggies, two street
cars and a bike).
The TOADIE emerges bewildered from where he has been
sleeping under the fuel tanks of the Humungus machine.
<b> 112.
</b>
<b> 112. A ROAD NEAR THE COMPOUND. DAWN.
</b> The black-on-black achieves the road...
The DOG is looking back through the passenger window
as we see the first of the pursuing vehicles rumble
onto the road...
MAX hits the supercharger switch...
The big engine whines up.
Once again, the DOG climbs down under the seat.
The Humungus machine rockets onto the road... and
begins to overtake the other six Marauder vehicles
one by one...
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 113.
</b>
<b> 11.3, THE HIGHWAY. EARLY MORNING.
</b> MAX is giving the black-on-black all its got...
In the Humungus machine WEZ, the GAYBOY BERSERKER
and the TOADIE have left the rest of the Marauders
well behind...
The big machine seems to be encroaching on the black-
on-black.
Sc. 1.13. Cont.
<b> 58.
</b>
♦ 1. ..I i t rv•A a.
WEZ shouts instructions to the GAYBOY BERSERKER who
comes to his side.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER slides behind the wheel as WEZ
clambers forward onto the front of the vehicle.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER reaches down. His hand rests on a
toggle switch next to three gas bottles marked:
<b> NITROUS OXIDE
</b> At the front of the vehicle WEZ grabs a huge exhaust
pipe jutting into the air. In spite of the heat he tears
the pipe off the mounting. He signals to the GAYBOY
<b> BERSERKER.
</b> The GAYBOY BERSERKER flicks down the toggle switch:
there is a mighty roar matched by a massive surge of
power in the Humungus machine...
The TWO VICTIMS on the front scream... MAX is bewildered
by the massive acceleration. ._
The Humungus machine leaps alongside the black-on-black.
WEZ swings the chrome pipe down through the front
windscreen -, into MAX'S face.
<b> 114. A CURVE IN THE HIGHWAY. MORNING. 1.14.
</b> The black-on-black takes out a guide post and leases
the road... rolling over and over.
Inside the car MAX - his face bloodied - and the DOG
are slammed around in the cabin of the black-on-black.
It continues rolling, over and over again, into a gully.
<b> 115, THE CREEK BED. MORNING. 115.
</b> What is left of the car comes to rest, upside down,
among the boulders of a dry creek bed. MAX is slumped,
dangling in his harness - his face and body bloodied
and broken. Somthing moves... it's the DOG pulling
himself out of the wreckage. He licks and paws at
MAX'S face. One eye flickers open.
<b> AN
</b>
l lu . hUAU:,ILL . MORNING . 116.
WEZ stands looking down into the gully. Another vehicle
has arrived. TWO GAYBOY BERSERKERS and the TOADIE
scramble down towards the wreck carrying jerry cans.
<b> WE-
</b> Don't waste him. If he's
alive I want him.
<b> 117. THE CREEK BED. MORNING. 117.
</b> By an enormous force of will, MAX frees himself from the
harness and - as the sound of the Marauders approaches -
pulls himself through the window of the wreck.
He falls to the ground, dragging his crippled body into
the shadow of a large boulder, hiding there.
The DOG confronts the MARAUDERS, snarling, standing
between them and the wreck.
One of the GAYBOY BERSERKERS raises his crossbow...
MAX watches, grim-faced, as the DOG falls dead.
The THREE MARAUDERS run to the vehicle.
While the TOADIE prepares to siphon off the gas, the
other two peer into the crushed cabin.
Perplexed, they examine the wreck more closely, looking
for MAX.. .
ONE of them sees the drag marks, leading down the
creek bed.
He signals to the OTHER MARAUDER... MAX prepares to defend
himself... the TOADIE prises the cap off the black car's
fuel tank.
The booby trap explodes... the petrol ignites... the
THREE MARAUDERS are engulfed by a giant fireball.
MAX looks pa3t the flames, staring up at WEZ,
not taking his eyes off him...
<b> 118, ROADSIDE. MORNING. 118.
</b> WEZ and the OTHER MARAUDERS watch the great pillar of
smoke rise up into the sky.
They return to their vehicles.
<b> 119. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. MORNING. 119.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN helps the LUSTY GIRL dismantle one of
the small tents.
In the background we see the camp vehicles standing
ready - fully loaded. The Mechanic's TEAM are still
working on the prime mover.
As PISMO shows from the tower, the GYRO CAPTAIN looks
up to see the smoke from the wreck rising into the sky.
The GYRO.CAPTAIN, mutters an oath and sprints towards
is machine.
<b> 120. CREEK BED. DAY. 120,
</b> Foot by foot, MAX drags himself alor:g the creekbed -
heading for the compound. Blood seeps from wounds on
his head and face. His legs are useless, his hands
heavily bandaged with strips from his leather jacket.
Behind him, in the distance, we see the still-
smouldering wreck of the black-on-black.
MAX struggles on, the pain growing, the sun climbing,
the temperature soaring. His mind becomes more feverish:
the wasteland dissolves into the heat haze; the buzz
of the flies around his face becomes the steady drone
of an engine.
The gyrocopter appears above him.
<b> 121. ON BOARD THE GYROCOPTER. DAY. 121.
</b> MAX, strapped to the chassis of the gyrocopter, drifts
back to consciousness.
He sees the compound surging towards them as they come
in to land.
He drifts back into unconsciousness, the images
distorting, dissolving,..
<b> 122. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. THE BREAD VAN. DAY.- 122.
</b> MAX'S eyes flicker open to a slow, distorted version of
<b> 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY"
</b> As he fights to make sense of his surroundings, we see
that his wounds have been stitched and dressed.
He lifts his head, looking through the back door of
the bread van.
...1 - t f T
122. Cont. 122.
is sitting on the roof of the van, playing the hurdy-
<b> GURDY
</b> Then, beyond the KID, coming into clear focus, he sees
the prime mover attached to the tanker.
The tanker now sports a 'cow-catcher' on the front,
armour-plating on the bonnet, steel aprons on the wheels
and a barbed wire net along each side.
MAX'S vision clears. He sees PAPPAGALLO-on the catwalk
addressing the CAMP PEOPLE.
MAX drops his bead back and looks to one side: a bloated
faces stares back at him.
The QUIET MAN, is lying unconscious on a stretcher next
to him.
MAX lifts his head urgently and looks around. He realises
that he is in the bread van. The canopy has been removed
and his stretcher is supported by a collection of 44 gallon
drums.
<b> 123. INSIDE THE COMPOUND - THE CATWALK. DAY. 123,
</b> PAPPAGALLO paces the catwalk as he gives final
instructions to the CAMP PEOPLE gathered below.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> We're going to use the tanker
and the two assault vehicles to
punch our way out of here.
If I'm right, they'll all go
after the tanker. That'll give
the rest of you a chance.
124. INT. BREAD VAN. DAY. 12•x.
MAX is sitting up, binding his leg tight with
bandages, clipping on his metal knee brace.
PAPPAGALLO (v/o)
Split up. Go as hard as you
can. Two hundred miles north
there's a bridge. At Powder
River. If we make it, that's
our rendezvous...
As MAX struggles to haul himself out of the bread van,
the FERAL KID hands him his equipment belt.
11412 . 14,4au L � L 411
PAPPAGALLO (v/a)
It's defensible, We can refuel
there.
<b> 125. INSIDE THE COMPOUNDDAY 125.
</b> MAX, grim-faced, starts to walk towards the tanker.
Blood seeps through the bandage on his leg.
PAPPAGALLO (v/o)
But! Only give us 'til sunset.
If we haven't made it by then,
keep going!
PAPPAGALLO swings down off the catwalk, heading for the
cabin of the tanker.
The meeting breaks up - the CAMP PEOPLE moving to take
up their positions on the various vehicles.
<b> MAX
</b> I'll drive the tanker...
Everybody stops, turning to look at him.
MAX is staring at PAPPAGALLO, swaying slightly, hands
clenched,
<b> MAX
</b> Until you're clear of
trouble...
The CURMUDGEON breaks in:
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> He's gotta be joking!
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Look at you.
MAX nods.
Sc. 125. Cont...
c,3
14z) . L.uLLL.
<b> MAX
</b> But I'm still the best
you've got.
PAPPAGALLO thinks for a long moment.,
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> You'll, need these...
He tosses MAX his sawn-off shotgun and a bandolier
containing six cartridges.
<b> 126. CRACKING TOWER. HIGH ANGLE. WHOLE SCENE.DAY. 126.
</b> The tanker stands at the far end of the compound. Behind
it, the GYRO CAPTAIN is spinning the rotor of his machine.
A dune buggy and the Lone Wolf's car - armour-plated
since being captured by the camp - wait on either side
of the tanker.
Beyond the gate the MARAUDERS have formed an arc of
vehicles just out of crossbow range. The Hiunungus machine
stands at its centre.
<b> 127. INS ID THE COMPOUND. DAY. 127.
</b> MAX sits in the tanker, checking out the controls,
familiarising himself with the machine...
WARRIOR WOMAN stands on the running board.
She turns as the MECHANIC clambers on board. He glares
at her, daring her to stop him:
<b> MECHANIC
</b> I sweated blood on this mother.
And no bastard's gonna make me
go in no lousy bread van.
MAX kicks over the big engine...
12£3 . oiY33IDh THE CUM UUNV . LM I .
WEZ stands on the back of a tow truck, beyond him
we see the arc of vehicles, engines gunning, straining
at the leash...
The Humungus vehicle eases forward into frame...
The TWO VICTIMS on the front of his vehicle have
their heads hooded.
<b> 129.
</b>
<b> 129. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY.
</b> MAX is revving the engine higher and higher.
WARRIOR WOMAN climbs up to the top of the tanker...
PAPPAGALLO starts the assault vehicle.
WARRIOR WOMAN finds the FERAL KI.D crouched down in
her position behind the protective plate. Holding
the KID by his arm, she passes him down to MAX who
passes him down to the ground... PAPPAGALLO yells
for someone to come and take him...
The LUSTY GIRL runs forward... the FERAL KID avoids
her. MAX engages the engine. The tanker rumbles
forward, gathering speed as it runs the length of the
compound. BIG REBECCA, at the wheel of the school bus
draws the vehicle aside - revealing the burnt out
wreck of the road racer on the causeway and the
MARAUDERS beyond.
<b> 130. OUTSIDE THE COMPOUND.__ DAY. 130.
</b> The HUMUNGUS has opened his gun case and removes the
magnum 44. The remaining 4 bullets have been
placed in the revolving chamber...
<b> 131.
</b>
<b> 131, INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY.
</b> The dune buggy and the Lone Wolf machine follow close
behind the tanker.
The FERAL KID leaps onto the back of Pappagallo's
vehicle.
Sc. 131. Cont.
131. Cont. 131,
The WARRIOR WOMAN and the MECHANIC lie low as the
tanker roars out the gate, ploughing through the
burnt out wreck,"knocking it into the ditch.
The HUMUNGUS, raises his gun, calmly taking aim at the
oncoming tanker...
As the tanker accelerates towards him, the gyrocopter
swoops out of the compound and over the MARAUDERS.
The GYRO CAPTAIN drops three burning molotov cocktails.
They fall in and around a road racer at one end of
the arc... the road racer bursts into flames...
The GYRO CAPTAIN whoops with delight.
<b> 1.32. THE BREAK OUT. OUTSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 132.
</b> With the Lone Wolf machine and the dune buggy close
alongside, MAX steers the tanker towards the burning
road racer.
The HUMUNGUS fires... once...
The bullet dents the protective plate mounted on the
front of the tanker but does no further damage.
Twice... three times!
Two more dents,
The tanker keeps going crashing through the burning
wreck... breaking the Marauders' cordon...
<b> 133. ON BOARD THE BYROCOPTER. DAY. 133,
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN has banked around and is swooping low.
Having swung around, the GYRO CAPTAIN, swoops down,
taking aim on the Humungus machine with another fistful.
of lighted bottles.
The HUMUNGUS looks up. He swings the revolver up,
taking aim at the approaching gyrocopter.
He fires!
The bullet hits, piercing the right rudder peddle.
Dropping his bottles, the GYRO CAPTAIN screams and
looks down: blood pours from what is left of his
right foot.
i J•x 1111: 411 JL' VV I JILL if1L LUBll'V441L. LNi. 134.
MAX glances up to see the gyrocopter, flying ezaatically,,
swoop over and bank away towards the horizon..
On top of the tanker WARRIOR WOMAN and the MECHANIC
prepare to fire their weapons.
Behind them, the HUMUNGUS and his HORDE power over the
rise, pursuing the tanker.
Suddenly, three of the Marauder vehicles skid to a halt,
They start to turn back towards the compound, where the
remaining camp vehicles are making their bid for freedom.
The bread van and three other vehicles have followed the
yellow school bus out onto the causeway.
They skirt round the back of the compound and head off
across country.
The HUMUNGUS screams at his men through the amplifier:
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> The tanker! All on the tanker!
As the three Marauder vehicles turn to rejoin the
tanker chase... whoomp! a massive flash fills the
sky. The camp erupts in flame, followed by a series
of rolling explosions.
The camp people have destroyed what they cannot take ...
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 1.35. DUNE BUGGY INCIDENT. HIGHWAY. DAY. 135,
</b> As the tanker surges towards us, we see the dune
buggy, the Lone Wolf' machine and the pursuing
MARAUDERS, surrounding it.
MAX grimaces as he changes gears. His leg is bleeding
freely now...
He looks to the passenger-side:
The dune buggy, driven by the BLACKSMITH and manned
by PISMO, leaps onto the road in front of=the tanker.
A tow truck, manned by SKINHEADS, converges on it from
the driver's side.
Sc. 135. Cont.
c.,
13S. Cont. 135 ,
On the back of the dune buggy PISMO lifts his crossbow...
unaware that, behind him, Wez's convertible tow truck
• is approaching fast.
The FIRST OF THE TWO SKINHEADS on the back of the tow
truck fires his crossbow.,,
The arrow sails past PISMO'S ear. PISMO fires.., He
hits the FIRST SKINHEAD but the arrow bounces off the
SKINHEAD'S protective armour. The SKINHEAD grins.
PISMO hurries to reload...
The SECOND SKINHEAD raises his bow, aiming at PISMO.
An arrow hits the SECOND SKINHEAD in the back of the
head.
PISMO looks up to see WARRIOR WOMAN reloading her
longbow.
PISMO grins at her... behind him, WETS arm reaches
down and hooks the jib chain around the roll bar of the
dune buggy...
The tow truck accelerates... the chain tightens...
PISMO screams as he is thrown through the air.
WEZ'S tow truck drags the dune buggy askew...
It rolls in front of the tanker... MAX has no choice.
The cow catcher shunts the dune buggy aside, sending it
tumbling off the road.
MAX struggles with the wheel,., managing to keep the
vehicle on the road.,.
He looks down in the side mirror: two road racers and
a dune buggy - followed by the Humungus machine - surge
up behind the tanker.
From behind protective plates on top of the tanker the
MECHANIC hurls a molotov cocktail...
The FARMER, stationed at the rear of the tanker does
the same...
The two bottles smash into the first road racer. It
bursts into flames... swerves in front of the other
road racer, ramps off the road and plunges into a
Marauder's dune buggy.
PAPPAGALLO, who has been forced off the road, narrowly
avoids the wreck.
<b> 136. MAX LOSES HIS DOOR. DAY. 136 .
</b> The Skinhead tow truck draws alongside the tanker,
near Max' s door.
The SECOND SKINHEAD, twirling a grappling hook, lets
it fly.
It trails out towards the tanker cabin,.. flies through
the driver's window.., and lands virtually in MAX'S lap...
As the tow truck swerves away from the tanker the cable
tightens.
The grappling hook drags across MAX'S arm, tearing away
part of the sleeve and hooks onto the door...
The tow truck brakes... Max's door is ripped off its
hinges...
<b> 137. THE REAR OF THE TANKER INCIDENT. DAY.' 137,
</b> A SMEGMA CRAZY riding in the cabin of the tow truck
is encouraged by this success...
He begins twirling his grappling hook as the vehicle
approaches the back of the tanker...
The FARMER pops up from behind a protective plate and
fires his crossbow...
The arrow-misses the tow truck, flies through the caged
window of a road racer armed with a 4-pak and lodges
in the driver's helmet.
The DRIVER pulls off his helmet... the arrow has barely
creased his scalp.
The S14EGMA CRAZY hurls his grappling hook...
It caches the FARMER by the leg and hooks on to the
lip of the back protective plate.
The cable snaps taut, the FARMER screams.
MAX feels the sudden tug on the tanker, He changes
down...
The tow truck is dragged along, veering out of control.
The strain pops the rivets off the tanker's back plate.
it comes away in one piece... carrying away the FARMER
and the steel aprons protecting the rear wheels...
The tow truck tumbles and rolls...
<b> RN
</b>
<b> 138, THE MECHANIC DROPS THE BOTTLE. DAY. 138,
</b> On top of the tanker, the MECHANIC has lit another
molotov cocktail...
He swings back to throw...
The road racer, armed with the 4-pak'swings alongside
and fires.
Three arrows rat-a-tat against the protective plates.
the fourth hits the MECHANIC'S upraised arm...
The bottle drops... and smashes on top of the tanker...
spreading flames.
The HUMUNGUS accelerates hard towards the now-undefended
rear of the tanker. He pulls a rope, whipping the hoods
off the heads of the TWO VICTIMS lashed to the front.
They scream as the back of the tanker looms in front of
them.
<b> 139. WEZ TAKES OUT THE FIRST TYRE.DAY. 139.
</b> MAX looks in the passenger-side mirror...
Wez's convertible tow truck is drawing alongside the
left rear wheels of the prime mover.
WEZ fires an arrow into the first tyre...
It explodes,,. flailing cable and rubber.,.
As WEZ reloads, another MOHAWKER - wearing two bizarre
bear claws on his crossbow gauntlets - steadies himself
on the back of the tow truck... ready to jump aboard
the tanker.
Pappagallo's Lone Wolf machine appears in the background.
<b> 140, WARRIOR WOMAN IS SHOT. DAY. 1,40.
</b> WARRIOR WOMAN turns to see that the MECHANIC is losing
the battle with the flames. In vain he tries to stop
his clothes catching alight,..
Rising to her feet WARRIOR WOMAN fires an arrow at the
BEAR CLAW BIKER... hitting him in his protective pads
throwing him off balance.
As WARRIOR WOMAN scrambles along the top of the tanker
towards the MECHANIC, TWO MARAUDERS fire at her,
Sc. 1,40. Cont.
140. Cont. 140.
She is hit, once in the protective plate around her
kidneys and once in the thigh.,,
From the Lone Wolf vehicle PAPPAGALLO and the FERAL
KID watch as she staggers forward,..
In the tow truck, WEZ has reloaded and fires at WARRIOR
WOMAN. The arrow hits her in the back... she buckles
and falls into the barbed wire.
MAX watches helplessly in the rear vision mirror as
she struggles in the wire.
<b> 141. CONVERTIBLE TOW TRUCK. DAY. 141.
</b> As WEZ reloads his crossbow, the Lone Wolf machine
accelerates alongside the tow truck.
The KID throws his steel boomerang... Yiitting Wez's
crossbow gauntlet, preventing him from aiming.
The MASKED MOHAWKER driving the tow truck turns to see...
PAPPAGALLO firing his gauntlet crossbow.
The MASKED MOHAWKER screams as the arrow passes through
his neck...
The convertible tow truck swerves in and bounces off the
tanker.
WEZ is thrown off balance...
The BEAR CLAW BIKER grabs the barbed wire on the side
of the tanker for support...
The tow truck swerves away, out of control, leaving
the BEAR CLAW BIKER clinging to the wire,
WEZ scrambles over into the driver's seat, bringing
the vehicle back under control.
<b> 142. WARRIOR WOMAN AND THE MECHANIC. DAY. 1.42.
</b> WARRIOR WOMAN, caught in the wire by her clothing,
struggles to remain conscious as she slips-closer to
the tanker's wheels.
The MECHANIC, who has managed to extinguish the flames,
crawls towards her. Her clothing tearing... his hand
reaches out... further... further... and grabs her.
A road racer draws alongside them.
Sc. 142. Con t ...
MAX yells as he sees the driver - a GAYBOY BERSERKER -
fire another arrow into the MECHANIC.
The MECHANIC shudders, the WARRIOR WOMAN slips - her
weight dragging them both off the tanker.
<b> 143, MAX ATTACKS. DAY. 143,
</b> MAX, enraged, tears off the sling which supports his
wrist. He grabs the shotgun off the seat next to him.
He swings the gun around then pumps both barrels into
the road racer: the first blast shatters the windscreen
the second blows off the bonnet...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER is unharmed.
MAX hauls down hard on the wheel...
The tanker swerves into the road racer, taking it
through a guide post and into the 'rough'...
The tanker barrels over the road racer, rolling it,
tumbling it into another Marauder's vehicle.
MAX changes down and hurls the tanker back onto the
highway. The BEAR CLAW BIKER hangs on desperately...
MAX grabs two of the four remaining cartridges and
quickly reloads the shotgun.
<b> 143. BOARDING THE TANKER. DAY. 143.
</b> The Humungus machine draws up behind the undefended
tanker.
A GAYBOY BERSERKER clambers to the front of the
Humungus vehicle - between the TWO VICTIMS - and leaps
onto the back of the tanker.
Further along the tanker, a MOHAWK BIKER with PILLION
RIDER has drawn alongside. The PILLION RIDER helps the
BEAR CLAW BIKER swing up above the wire...
Once he is on top, the BEAR CLAW BIKER hauls the PILLION
RIDER on board.
The MOHAWK BIKER accelerates alongside the leading set
of wheels - one of which has already been blown apart.
He raises his bow taking aim...
The flying steel belt of the shreaded tyre lashes around
his arm, dragging him and his bike beneath the rig...
Sc. 143. Cont...
143. Cont. 143.
The giant wheels trample the MAN and machine, spitting
them out the back... beneath the wheels of the Humungus
machine.
<b> 144. UNDER THE TANKER. DAY. 144.
</b> On its way through the bike has ruptured a small hose
underneath the tanker. We see something trickling out
of the tank... streaming down the road.
It's sand!
<b> 145. THE MARAUDERS ON BOARD. DAY. 145.
</b> On board the tanker, the GAYBOY BERSERKER scrambles
towards the cabin, leaping the gap between the tank
and the prime mover...
MAX looks up at the 'thump' overhead...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER braces himself, taking aim through
the roof... he fires...
The arrow rips through the metal and buries itself in
the seat between MAX'S legs...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER prepares to reload.
MAX brakes...
The HUMUNGUS, tailgating him, isn't quick enough. The
front of his vehicle smacks one corner of the tanker,
crushing the BROKEN MAN strapped to the front.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER on the roof pitches forward,
falling past the windscreen and out of sight over the
front of the tanker...
The PILLION RIDER and BEAR CLAW BIKER scramble and
fall..
The BEAR CLAW BIKER catches hold of an outlet valve
and steadies himself..,
The PILLION RIDER totters... reaches... and grabs
the chromed exhaust stacks.., =
He screams as the pipe scorches his hand..; letting go..
tumbling over the side.
<b> 146, THE GYRO CAPTAIN AGAIN. DAY 146.
</b> On the crest of a hill about 400 yards ahead, MAX
sees another vehicle.
The gyrocopter stands in the middle of the road
facing away from the chase...
The GYRO CAPTAIN has bandaged his foot and is trying to
repair the right rudder peddle...
As the chase looms up behind him he turns... we see
that the GAYBOY BERSERKER is clinging to the cow-
catcher on the front of the tanker.
Furiously, the GYRO CAPTAIN starts spinning the rotor
by hand, turning over the motor.
As the tanker bears down on him he takes off - so
steeply that he almost stalls.
Once he is airborne he looks down... assessing, cursing.
Down below we see Pappagallo's Lone Wolf vehicle draw
alongside Wez's convertible tow truck.
<b> 147. OFF ROAD. THE FERAL KID FALLS. DAY. 147.
</b> WEZ looks over his shoulder...
PAPPAGALLO comes alongside... the FERAL KID, standing
on the back of the machine, hands him a crossobw.
WEZ wrenches down hard on the wheel... shunting into
the Lone Wolf vehicle... sending Pappagallo's arrow
astray...
The FERAL KID loses his footing, tumbling off the side
of the vehicle.
PAPPAGALLO turns in dismay... as WEZ comes in to
shunt him again...
<b> 148. MAX UNDER SIEGE. DAY. 148.
</b> A bike with a side car accelerates alongside the tanker.
The SIDECAR RIDER fires and takes out another tyre...
The BEAR CLAW BIKER signals, calling for a weapon.
The SIDE CAR RIDER throws him a large, powerful
crossbow.
The BEAR CLAW BIKER catches it and starts to haul himself
onto the roof of the cabin.
Sc. 148. Cont.
<b> 74.
</b>
148. Cont. 1.48.
The SIDE CAR RIDER leaps onto the tanker.
At the rear of the tanker a SMEGMA CRAZY leaps off
the front of the Humungus vehicle and ontc the ladder
which leads to the top of the tanker.
<b> 149, OFF ROAD. THE KID ON HIS FEET. DAY. 149.
</b> The FERAL KID staggers to his feet as Wez's tow truck
and Pappagallo's Lone Wolf vehicle continue their
shunting... the KID turns... a street car and a bike
are roaring towards him. The KID starts running..,
<b> 150. OFF ROAD. THE EROSION DITCH. DAY. 1,50,
</b> In the scrub ahead - over WEZ'S shoulder - we see an
erosion ditch looming up. WEZ brakes and turns the
wheel...
The tow truck and the Lone Wolf machine go into a
slide...
WEZ manages to avoid the ditch and keep going but the
Lone Wolf machine's wheels plunge into the ditch,
bringing the vehicle to an abrupt halt...
<b> 151, MAX STILL UNDER SIEGE. DAY. 151.
</b> As MAX looks back, a hand comes over the front bull bar
of the tanker, followed by the GAYBOY BERSERKER'S bead.
He sees the BEAR CLAW BIKER and signals for the crossbow...
the BEAR CLAW BIKER throws it...
The crossbow lands on the bonnet...
MAX turns, sees him... and raises the shotgun... the
GAYBOY BERSERKER ducks... MAX waits...
The BEAR CLAW BIKER works his way to Max's window...
The SMEGMA CRAZY jumps from the tanker onto the cabin
roof. =
MAX looks up as the man's feet thump on t-he metal above
his head.
The passenger's window shatters; the SIDE CAR RIDER
clings there, raising his crossbow...
Sc, 157. Cont...
1J i, <.Vil 6 , l J d..
On the roof, the SMEGMA CRAZY braces himself,
preparing to fire a crossbow bolt through the roof..
MAX raises the shotgun, firing point blank at the
SIDE CAR RIDER, blowing him away.
Immediately he fires the second barrel through the
roo4f. the blast hurls the SMEGMA CRAZY off the back
of the cabin.
MAX breaks open the barrel...
MAX grabs his last two shells as a muscled arm reaches
through the open door. MAX recoils. It is the BEAR
CLAW BIKER. The cartridges fall to the floor.
The BEAR CLAW rips the seat next to MAX'S right shoulder.
MAX zig-zags the tanker down the highway trying to keep
the BEAR CLAW off his balance.
Thud! The BEAR CLAW strikes again - this time - through
the rear window into Max's shoulder padding,..
The BEAR CLAW BIKER'S foot slips, MAX screams with pain
as the claws dig into his left shoulder.
The BEAR CLAW hangs there unable to move.
MAX tries desperately to reach the two cartridge shells
rolling around on the floor,
On the front of the tanker the GAY BOY BERSERKER pokes
his head up for another look...
<b> 152. OFF ROAD. THE EROSION DITCH. 152.
</b> PAPPAGALLO spins the back wheels of the Lone Wolf
machine... frantically trying to pull it out of the
<b> DITCH
</b> It begins to move...
<b> 153, OFF ROAD, THE FERAL KID IS RESUCED. DAY. 153.
</b> The FERAL KID runs.
WEZ streams in behind the MARAUDERS in the bike and
street car.
They are bearing down fast,..
When a rope drops from above, swinging past the KID,
The KID grabs it and is hauled up just as the
veh= !!s pass under him, The gyrocopter banks away...
1ni. Lont. 153.
The FERAL KID flies through the air,
A GAYBOY BERSERKER in a road racer looks tip to see
the gyrocopter and the KID...
He swings a 4-pak around on its axis and fires.
Three of the four arrows hit the gyrocopter in its
under-belly...
The aircraft makes a terrible noise and dips radically,
dropping down towards the tanker.
The KID clings desperately to the rope... looking up
and then down at the rapidly approaching tanker.
<b> 154. THE TANKER CABIN. DAY. 154.
</b> MAX struggles to free himself from the=bear claws and
reload the gun...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER scrambles over the bull. bar
reaching for the crossbow...
MAX, lets go of the wheel and grabs the rear view
mirror, tearing it free and throwing it at the GAYBOY
BERSERKER. He slips back behind the bull bar...
<b> 15.5. THE SIDE OF THE TANKER. DAY. 155.
</b> While the GYRO CAPTAIN struggles to keep his machine
in the air, the KID reaches out - trying to grab bold
of the tanker's exhaust stacks.
He can't reach.,.
The gyro drops a.gain...
The KID grabs the barbed wire but can't bold it...
<b> 156. THE TANKER CABIN. DAY, 1.56.
</b> MAX is struggling to pull the bear claw out of his
shoulder when he sees the FERAL KID fly past the
missing driver's door.
MAX throws his arm out as far as it will go... grabbing
hold of the KID, hauling him into the tanker.
MAX and the KID look out as the gyrocopter bucks
wildly and crashes into the ground.
1a! AZAA Or 1nr. laitvlUi 116. tl111 .L7!
As the Marauders swarm around the tanker, a SMEGMA
CRAZY shoots out yet another tyre.
A MOHAWK BIKER fires... exploding another tyre.
<b> 156, THE TANKER CABIN. DAY. 155.
</b> MAX shouts at the FERAL KID. indicating the cartridges
rolling around on the floor...
The KID recovers the cartridges, MAX hands him the gun...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER has crawled back onto the bonnet
and is reaching for the crossbow.
The KID tries to insert the first cartridge upside down.,.
<b> MAX
</b> No! The other way!!
The KID slips in the first cartridge, then the second...
He snaps the gun shut and tries to aim it at the
GAYBOY BERSERKER... but can't find the trigger.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER raises the crossbow...
MAX grabs the gun and fires...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER disappears over the side...
MAX rams the barrel into the left arm pit of the
<b> BEAR CLAW BIKER.
</b> He fires...
The BEAR CLAW BIKER falls away... leaving his arm and
crossbow gauntlet embedded in MAX'S shoulder.
<b> 159. THE REAR OF THE TANKER. DAY. 159,
</b> Bellowing through his loudspeakers, the HUMUNGUS
organises the destruction of the tanker.
The 4-pak street car surges forward and discharges
its arrows..,
Two more tyres shred away..
.?a
1uv. aaaa. . as v... v. .a..r •. ✓.>•
The tanker shudders.
The FERAL KID looks out of the passenger window.
MAX struggles to control the tanker.
The FERAI. KID climbs through the smashed windscreen and
onto the bonnet...
MAX watches as he picks up the crossbow lying on the
bonnet...
<b> MAX
</b> Get back! For Chrissakes!
The KID doesn't understand...
He clambers onto the roof before MAX can grab him.
The tanker shudders again as another tyre is blown out.
MAX watches through the rear window as"the KID jumps
from the cabin to the top of the tanker and then
disappears from view.
161. TOP OF THi TANKER. DAY. 161,
The KID tries to load the crossbow as he clambers
along the top of the tanker...
The bow string is too powerful for him to draw.
<b> 162. REAR OF THE TANKER. DAY. 162•
</b> Another tyre is shot...
Then another. One bogie falls down on the wheel
rims,..
<b> 163. TOP OF TANKER. DAY. 163.
</b> The tanker lurches... the KID slips down into the
wire... the crossbow clatters onto the road...
<b> 164, BEHIND THL TANKER. DAY, 164,
</b> PAPPAGALLO has got the Lone Wolf machine back onto
the road... starting to overhaul the pack, heading for
the rightand side of the tanker.
Up ahead on the left, we see Wez's tow truck drawing
alongside the tanker.
Pieces of tyre are flailing everywhere... the tanker is
down on one side... slowing...
<b> 165. THE SIDE OF THE TANKER. DAY, 165.
</b> The KID is trying to climb back onto the top of the
tanker. Wez's tow truck comes into view.
WEZ fires...
The KID is pinned by his dogskins to the side of the
tank...
He tries to free himself... he tears his dogskin off
the arrow and reaches up once more to the top of the
tanker.
WEZ fires again.
The arrow pierces the KID'S arm, pinning him to the
tank . . .
<b> 1.66. THE FRONT OF THE TANKER. DAY. 166.
</b> MAX is fighting to bring the crippled tanker under
control... he changes down, wrestling with the wheel.,
stewing across the road.
PAPPAGALLO draws alongside his doorway, yelling:
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Jump! Its finished. Jump!
MAX turns around, looking for the KID...
The tanker leaves the road and ramps up on the embankment,
rolling to a stop.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Jump!
<b> MAX
</b> The Kid?!
Cr 1AF runt
iou. Lont. 166.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Forget it! Jump!
MAX hesitates.
As the MARAUDERS swarm on top of the tanker, PAPPAGALLO
guns the engine... spraying dust,
MAX leaps, the arm of the BEAR CLAW BIKER still. embedded in
<b> HIS SHOULDER
</b> He grabs the rear roll bar of the Lone Wolf machine,
fighting to swing his feet clear... and finds a foothold
as the vehicle roars away...
<b> 167. THE CRIPPLED TANKER. DAY. 167
</b> The HUMUNGUS draws up to the crippled tanker. WEZ and
a SECOND MOHAWKER are on top.
WEZ pulls open a hatch...
The SECOND MOHAWKER plunges in his hand and lets out an
<b> ANGUISHED CRY-
</b> He H e pulls out a handful of sand.
Below the HTJMUNGUS has opened the outlet hose.
Sand pours out onto the road.
Above him, the KID is hanging by his arm. Despite the
pain... he grins.
<b> SECOND MOHAWKER
</b> All this - and no guzzolene.
WEZ, pale with fury, speaks softly:
<b> WEZ
</b> I know where there's guzzolene,
WEZ whirls around and fires his crossbow,,.
The arrow buries itself in the HUMUNGUS'S mask...
The big man crumbles to the ground, dead.
The rest of the HORDE are arriving. As their vehicles
screech to a halt TWO SMEGMA CRAZIES and TWO GAYBOY
BERSERKERS leap out, waving their Jerry cans in the air.
WEZ, the SECOND MOHAWKER and TWO OTHERS, open fire.
The FOUR MARAUDERS crumple..
168. LU,NL i�oA.r VhHiLLI:. DAB . 168.
MAX makes his way over the back engine of the speeding
vehicle towards PAPPAGALLO, he tears the bear claw
arm out of his shoulder...
Through the screaming motor we hear Pappagallo laughing,
almost hysterical.
As MAX eases himself down into the cockpit.
<b> PAPPAGALLO TURNS:
</b>
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> We've done it!
I thought it'd be impossible.
But we've done it!!
<b> MAX YELLS:
</b>
<b> :R
</b>
<b> MAX
</b> What about the Kid?!
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> We've won! Don't you see?
The fuel was with the others.
It's already at Powder River.
MAX reaches across and cuts the engine... the vehicle
rolls to a stop...
MAX g-abs PAPPAGALLO.
<b> MAX
</b> What happened to the boy?!
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> We've gotta keep going. It's
our only chance.
MAX raises the Bear Claw arm to PAPPAGALLO'S face.
We see that the crossbow strapped to the forearm is
still loaded.
<b> MAX
</b> The Kid?
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> I had to leave him... he was
pinned to the rig...
Sc. 168. Conc.
l6b. Cont. 168.
<b> MAX
</b> You left him there?
With them? Alive?
<b> PAPPAGALLC
</b> There was nothing I could do.
MAX throws PAPPAGALLO out of the vehicle and takes
the driver's seat...
PAPPAGALLO is left standing in the dust as MAX swings
the Lone Wolf machine around...
<b> 169. THE TANKER WRECK. DAY. 169.
</b> WEZ is sitting at the wheel of the Humungus machine.
He and the THREE OTHER MARAUDERS - all on-.bikes -
accelerate away from the tanker. Dead bodies litter
the ground.
WEZ urges the OTHER THREE on - pursuing the Lone
Wolf machine.
As the Humungus machine winds around the bends, we see,
the Lone Wolf vehicle approaching over a distant hillcrest.
<b> 170. UNDULATING HIGHWAY, DAY. 170.
</b> MAX guns the vehicle over the rise...
Over his shoulder we see the Humungus machine, 400 yards
away, approaching at terrific speed...
MAX steels himself... 300 yards.
The two vehicles are on direct collision course... 200
yards...
The two victims have been taken from the front of the
Humungus machine and something else is in their place...
MAX sees that it is the FERAL KID, lashed there - upside
down...
He throws the wheel, sending the vehicle into a slide,
spinning clear of the Humungus machine.
The Lone Wolf vehicle spins around... Thud! into the
bikes of TWO MARAUDERS flanking WEZ.
The third - a MOHAWK BIKER - follows WEZ,
As soon as MAX has the Lone Wolf machine under control,
he guns the two engines un,s is off after WEZ. He hits
<b> 171. HUMUNGUS MACHINE. DAY. 171.
</b> As the vehicle approaches we see the KID, his head inches
off the bitumen... WEZ looks back to see MAX overtaking
the MOHAWK BIKER.
<b> 172. THE LONE WOLF MACHINE.DAY 172.
</b> As MAX overtakes the MOHAWK BIKER, he twitches the
wheel... the big car swipes the bike.., sending the
MOHAWKER sailing off the road.
The Lone :Wolf surges away, catching up to the Humungus
machine.
173. HU1!UNGUS MACHINE. tAY. 173.
WEZ looks back at the approaching machine. He floors
the accelerator, "red-lining" the engine...
As the Humungus machine surges into camera we do a
track, in zoom, on the FERAL KID'S face, turning the
camera through 180 degrees.
<b> 174. THE KID'S UPSIDE DOWN POINT OF VIEW. DAY. 174.
</b> We are upside down as we rocket along the curving,
undulating, highway, through a flock of birds...
towards a puddle of water... as the water splashes on
the lens...
<b> CUT TO:
</b> The Humungus vehicle as it roars through the water,
passing a startled PAPPAGALLO walking along the road,..
SAX rockets past moments later.
<b> 175. THE LONE WOLF MACHINE.DAY . 175.
</b> MAX raises the Bear Claw arm as he closes in on WEZ,
drawing alongside the Humungus machine ... I.
<b> ALL
</b>
I /b . '1.1 HUNIUNU ,a MACHI.NL. DAY . .176,
WEZ reaches down... to the toggle switch next to the
nitrous oxide bottles... waiting for the right moment, .
He flicks the switch...
He is thrown back by the massive acceleration... the
Humungus machine surges away from camera...
<b> 177. THE LONE WOLF MACHINE. DAY, 17Z.
</b> MAX doesn't have time to aim the crossbow still attached
to the bear claw arm.
He fires, the arrow disappearing in a blurr...
The Humungus machine thunders away, rocketing along the
open highway... eating up the white line...
Upside down, the FERAL KID is terror-struck: the
Humungus machine roars straight into a wide curve,
leaving the road, continuing out into the wasteland.
The Humungus machine charges through the salt bush..
<b> 178, THE LONE WOLF CAR. DAY. 178.
</b> Over MAX'S shoulder, we see that the vehicle is
slowing . .
MAX follows i- out into the wasteland...
The vehicle comes to a halt...
Cautiously, MAX draws alongside: WEZ sits stock still,
looking out at the desert beyond...
It is not until MAX is alongside his face that we see
the tip of the arrow protruding from his left eye...
On the front of the vehicle the FERAL KID starts to
sob...
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 179. HILLTOP. POWDER RIVER. DUSK. 179.
</b> MAX stands on a hilltop, overlooking Powder River.
• Below him, the convoy - led by the yellow school bus
- moves out across the plain.
A dust trail appears on the horizon,' racing to
intercept the convoy.
MAX lifts his broken binoculars: it's the GYRO CAPTAIN,
bumping along in the twisted, wreck of the gyrocopter -
its rotors gone, engine screaming.
MAX shakes his head and walks back to the Lone Wolf
machine on the top of the hill.
Once again we hear the Old Man's voice:
NARRATOR (v/o)
That was the last we ever saw
of him...
<b> 180. INT. SCHOOL BUS. DUSK. 180.
</b>
We see PAPPAGALLO, face set with determination, driving
the yellow school bus.
NARRATOR (v/o)
As for the rest of us...
Pappagallo led us north...
to safety - to a place in the
sun...
In the tenth year, nurturing
his vision of a new world,
he died felling timber.
The LUSTY GIRL rolls her eyes and sighs as the GYRO
CAPTAIN draws alongside her window...
NARRATOR (v/o)
The Captain and the Girl waged
war for years... together they
raised eight children...
And as for me...
Sc. 180. Cont...
180. Cont. 180
The FERAL KID, sitting in the back of the bus, turrs
to face us. His bright yellow eyes stare directly
into camera...
NARRATOR (v/o) '
in the fullness of time,
I became the leader - the
chief of the Great Northern
Tribe...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 181. THE NARRATOR'S FACE.
</b>
<b> 181,
</b> For the first time we see the Narrator's eyes - they
are bright yellow.
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 162, END CREDITS. 182.
</b>
</pre><br>
<table width="85%" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" class="body" style="BORDER-TOP: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 1px solid;">
<tr>
<td align=center><img src="/posters/Mad-Max-2-The-Road-Warrior.jpg" border="0">
<td><h1>Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior</h1><br><br>
<b>Writers</b> : <a href="/writer.php?w=Terry Hayes" title="Scripts by Terry Hayes">Terry Hayes</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=George Miller" title="Scripts by George Miller">George Miller</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=Brian Hannant" title="Scripts by Brian Hannant">Brian Hannant</a><br>
<b>Genres</b> : <a href="/genre/Action" title="Action Scripts">Action</a> <a href="/genre/Adventure" title="Adventure Scripts">Adventure</a> <a href="/genre/Sci-Fi" title="Sci-Fi Scripts">Sci-Fi</a><br><br><br>
<a href="/Movie Scripts/Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior Script.html#comments" title="Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior comments">User Comments</a>
</td>
</table>
<br><br>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://www.imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/lilbutton.gif" style="border: 1px solid black;" alt="Internet Movie Script Database" border=1><br>
Back to IMSDb</a>
</div><br>
<br><br>
</tr>
</table>
<br><br>
</table>
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2">
</table>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)">Index</a>
|
<a href="/submit.html" title="Submit scripts">Submit</a>
|
<a href="/link to us" title="Link to IMSDb">Link to IMSDb</a>
|
<a href="/disclaimer.html">Disclaimer</a>
|
<a href="/privacy">Privacy policy</a>
|
<a href="/contact.html">Contact</a>
</div>
<br />
</body>
</html>
Question:
What happens to the Gyro Captain?
Answer:
| He becomes the chief and leads the settlers to the coast to start the Great Northern Tribe. | 174 | 168,866 | 168,868 | 168,911 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
16886 | 16886_1 | You are given a story, which can be either a novel or a movie script, and a question. Answer the question as concisely as you can, using a single phrase if possible.
Story:
<html>
<head><meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1" />
<meta name="HandheldFriendly" content="true">
<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
<meta http-equiv="Content-Language" content="EN">
<meta name=objecttype CONTENT=Document>
<meta name=ROBOTS CONTENT="INDEX, FOLLOW">
<meta name=Subject CONTENT="Movie scripts, Film scripts">
<meta name=rating CONTENT=General>
<meta name=distribution content=Global>
<meta name=revisit-after CONTENT="2 days">
<link href="/style.css" rel="stylesheet" type="text/css">
<script type="text/javascript">
var _gaq = _gaq || [];
_gaq.push(['_setAccount', 'UA-3785444-3']);
_gaq.push(['_trackPageview']);
(function() {
var ga = document.createElement('script'); ga.type = 'text/javascript'; ga.async = true;
ga.src = ('https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://ssl' : 'http://www') + '.google-analytics.com/ga.js';
var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(ga, s);
})();
</script>
</head>
<body topmargin="0" bottommargin="0" id="mainbody">
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td valign="bottom" bgcolor="#FF0000"><a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_top.gif" border="0"></a></td>
<td bgcolor="#FF0000">
<center>
<font color="#FFFFFF"><h1>The Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)</h1></font>
</center>
<tr>
<td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2"><a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_middle.gif" border="0"></a></td>
<tr>
<td width="170" valign="top" class="smalltxt"> <a href="https://imsdb.com" title="The Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/logo_bottom.gif" width="170" border="0"></a>
<br>
<center><span class="smalltxt">The web's largest <br>movie script resource!</span></center>
</td>
<td>
<script type="text/javascript"><!--
e9 = new Object();
e9.size = "728x90";
//--></script>
<script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
<br>
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td width="180" valign="top">
<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr>
<td colspan="2" class=heading>Search IMSDb<tr>
<form method="post" action="/search.php">
<td width="180"> <div align="center">
<input type="text" name="search_query" maxlength="255" size="15">
<input type="submit" value="Go!" name="submit">
</div></td>
</form>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=9 class=heading>Alphabetical
<tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/0">#</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/A">A</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/B">B</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/C">C</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/D">D</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/E">E</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/F">F</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/G">G</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/H">H</a><tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/I">I</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/J">J</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/K">K</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/L">L</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/M">M</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/N">N</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/O">O</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/P">P</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Q">Q</a><tr align="center">
<td><a href="/alphabetical/R">R</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/S">S</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/T">T</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/U">U</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/V">V</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/W">W</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/X">X</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Y">Y</a>
<td><a href="/alphabetical/Z">Z</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Genre
<tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Action">Action</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Adventure">Adventure</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Animation">Animation</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Comedy">Comedy</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Crime">Crime</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Drama">Drama</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Family">Family</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Fantasy">Fantasy</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Film-Noir">Film-Noir</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Horror">Horror</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Musical">Musical</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Mystery">Mystery</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Romance">Romance</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Sci-Fi">Sci-Fi</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Short">Short</a><tr>
<td><a href="/genre/Thriller">Thriller</a>
<td><a href="/genre/War">War</a>
<td><a href="/genre/Western">Western</a>
</table>
<br>
<table class=body border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2 width="100%">
<tr>
<td colspan="2" class=heading>Sponsor<tr>
<td width="300" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">
<script type="text/javascript"><!--
e9 = new Object();
e9.size = "300x250";
//--></script>
<script type="text/javascript" src="//tags.expo9.exponential.com/tags/IMSDb/ROS/tags.js"></script>
</td>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td class=heading>TV Transcripts
<tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Futurama.html">Futurama</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Seinfeld.html">Seinfeld</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/South Park.html">South Park</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Stargate SG1.html">Stargate SG-1</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/Lost.html">Lost</a><tr>
<td><a href="/TV/The 4400.html">The 4400</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" class="body">
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>International
<tr>
<td><a href="/language/French">French scripts</a>
</table>
<br>
<table width="100%" border=0 cellpadding=2 cellspacing=0 class=body>
<tr>
<td colspan=3 class=heading>Latest Comments
<tr>
</table>
<br>
<div align="center"><br><br>
<a href="https://imsdb.com/all-scripts.html">ALL SCRIPTS</a><br><br>
</div>
<td width="10"></td>
<td valign="top">
<br> <table width="100%"><tr><td class="scrtext">
<pre>
<b> MAD MAX II
</b>
Written by
Terry Hayes, George Miller & Brian Hannant
April 13, 1981
<b> THE MONTAGE
</b>
<b> BLACK AND WHITE ACADEMY FORMAT
</b>
<b> THE WASTELAND. DAY.
</b>
Flurries of dust and sand swirl around us as we move
through an eerie, barren land. The only sound is the
howl of a rising wind.
Ahead something looms out of the storm. As we approach
we see that it is the rusting remains of a massive oil
pump.
The wind drops to be replaced by the voice of a very
old man. This is the Narrator:
NARRATOR v/o
The vision dims and all that
remains are memories. ._
They take me back - back to
the place where the black
pump sucked guzzolene from
the earth...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> lb. ANOTHER PART OF THE WASTELAND. DAY. lb.
Out of the dust storm emerges the ancient wreck of
a prime mover and fuel tanker. It is partly
charred, its wheels and sides studded with metal
crossbow bolts.
NARRATOR v/a
And I remember the terrible
battle we fought - the day
we left that place forever...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> A HILLTOP IN THE WASTELAND. DAY.
</b>
A warrior, dressed in leather and steel, stands on
a hillcrest. This is MAX. Behind him is a strange
road vehicle: two engines and a seat mounted on a
chassis.
NARRATOR v/o
But, most of all, I remember
the courage of a stranger, a
road warrior called Max.
To understand who he was you
must go back to the last days
of the old world...
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
A MOB OF ARAB STUDENTS storm a heavily-fortified embassy
and raise the Iranian flag.
U.S. SOLDIERS LAND... If.
on a beach in the Persian Gulf and fight their
way across the sand.
NARRATOR v/o
.when, for reasons long
forgotten, two mighty warrior
nations went to war...
<b> AN OIL WELL ERUPTS.
</b>
and then another... and another.
Plumes of flame burst across the skyline.
<b> NARRATOR
</b> and touched off a blaze
which engulfed them all.
Ih. A LINE OF CARS... lh.
stretches for blocks until it finally reaches
a gas station.
An attendant pulls down a sign which reads:
<b> $7/GALLON
</b> and replaces it with another sign:
<b> AUTHORISED VEHICLES ONLY
</b> A group of angry motorists gather around, yelling
and pushing.
The attendant produces a gun motioning them back...
<b> NARRATOR
</b> for without fuel they were
nothing. They had built a
house of straw...
ii. BUSINESSMEN AT A STOCK EXCHANGE... li.
are yelling and shoving.
<b> BUSINESSMEN
</b> Sell! Sell! Sell!
Torn up scrip litters the floor...
Ij. THE FOYER OF A HUGE CORPORATION lj.
The company's crest is chiselled on the wall. it
is accompanied by the words:
<b> SEVEN SISTERS PETROLEUM
</b> "Fuelling The World"
on the floor below, beyond the marble pillars, we see
the building is abandoned - littered with broken
furniture and piles of documents.
<b> DISSOLVE. 4
</b>
lk. A CORRIDOR. 1k.
We pass through a door designated:
<b> • CHIEF EXECUTIVE
</b> At the other end of the imposing room we see a
businessman clearing out his vast desk. His name is
PAPPAGALLO. On the wall behind him we see photo-
graphs and paintings of oil wells and refineries.
PAPPAGALLO takes a wad of maps and puts them in his
briefcase, followed by a copy of 'Whole Earth
Catalogue" and another book. The cover reads:
<b> TEACH YOURSELF SOLAR ENERGY
</b> I.l. LIVING ROOM. ii.
An ANXIOUS FAMILY is gathered in front of a
television set. A politican addresses the nation.
<b> POLITICIAN
</b> Stage three of the national
emergency is effective
immediately. Citizens are
warned...
The speech is cut short as static fills the screen.
The family looks up at the lights as they flicker...
Im. IN A FACTORY... lm.
.a giant machine grinds to a halt.
In. IN A CITY STREET... In.
.anxious faces look up as the street lights
flick off.
<b> 9
</b>
<b> 1D
</b>
lo. AN INDUSTRIAL CITY SCAPE. lo.
It is dark, decaying, silent...
NARRATOR v/o
People stopped in the stmeets
and listened: for the first
time they heard the sound of
silence.
ip. A CITY LANE - DARK AND DESERTED. NIGHT. lp.
A terrible scream... a YOUNG MAN runs down the
street... a shot is fired.
The YOUNG MAN falls dead... crushing the meat and
eggs he has been clutching to his chest...
NARRATOR v/o
Their world crumbled...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> lq. IN A DESERTED CITY STREET. lq.
Bank notes, blown by the wind, flutter towards a
store dummy, lying smashed on the road...
A rat emerges from the back of the mannequin's skull
and scurries away as we hear the roar of a big
engine.
The wide wheels of a big car crush the dummy. As the
vehicle roars down the street it is followed by two
big bikes...
NARRATOR v/o
And only those mobile enough
to scavenge, brutal enough to
pillage would survive.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 1
</b>
<b> 1
</b>
<b> (THE FOLLOWING IS ALL FOOTAGE FROM MAD MAX I)
</b> 2r.. A GROUP OF OUTLAW BIKERS...
.heap from a hillside onto the roof of a moving
fuel tanker. They pass a hose into the tank...
NARRATOR v/o
At last, the vermin had
inherited the earth.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> 2s. A PACK OF BIKERS... is.
.swarm around a car and start to back it to
pieces.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> it. A SERIES OF RAPIDLY DISSOLVING IMAGES.
Speeding cars, speeding bikes, crashing vans,
crashing police cars, crashing bikes, brawls,
smashed windows, explosions.
NARRATOR v/o
And in this maelstrom of decay,
ordinary men were
battered and crushed...
lu. MAX IN POLICE UNIFORM. lu.
.turns and smiles.
NARRATOR v/o
.`.men like the Warrior Max...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> lv. MAX PLAYS. lv.
.with a woman - JESSIE and their child.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
.through a wheat field. He catches her. They
tumble on the ground laughing.
lx. MAX EMBRACES JESSIE. 1x-
NARRATOR v/o
.whointhe roar of an engine,
lost everything...
<b> DISSOLVE,
</b> 1y. ON A HIGHWAY... ly.
JESSIE carrying the child, scrambles from her van
and runs down the road. A GANG OF OUTLAW BIKERS
run them down... the child's ball bounces down the
road.
MAX runs towards their bodies...
Iz. SILHOUETTED ON A HILLSID r GRAVEYARD. lz.
<b> (PRODUCTION FOOTAGE)
</b> MAX stands looking down at two headstones...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b> laa. IN FRONT OF A ROARING FIRE. laa.
MAX fuels the blaze with the remnants of his past
life: children's toys; photo albums; his police
badge.
lbb. MAX WITH HIS SHOTGUN. 2bb.
.turns to camera, wild-eyed...
NARRATOR v/o
And became a shell of a man.
A burnt out, desolate man, a
dead man, running from the
demons of his past.
A man who wandered far away...
out into the wasteland... DISSOLVE.
icc. MAX DRIVING. lcc.
The supercharger on the front of the vehicle
dominates the foreground.
NARRATOR v/a
And it was out here, in this
blighted place, that he
learned to live again...
<b> FADE UP COLOUR.
</b>
<b> THE SCREEN WIDENS TO ANAMORPHIC RATIO.
</b>
<b> 2
</b>
<b> 2. HELICOPTER AERIAL TRANSITION. DAWN,
</b> We soar along the empty highway, up and down its
rises and around its curves until we are out in
the vast wasteland.
<b> 3.
</b>
<b> 3. WASTELAND HIGHWAY. DAY.
</b> The black hole of the supercharger dominates the
frame. Behind the wheel we see MAX looking about
- his leathers
3 years older. He is gaunt, unkempt
tattered and torn.
The black-on-black pursuit car, bearing the scars of
numerous road duels, cruises down the roller coaster
highway.
As MAX crests a hill he hits the brakes. His companion,
a mongrel DOG, sitting in a baby's auto seat, lifts
its bead to look.
The black-on-black slides to a stop.
<b> 4.
</b>
<b> 4. RURAL SHACK ON HIGHWAY. DAY.
</b> On a ridge close to the road, silhouetted in a dust-blown
<b> LIKE MEN.
</b> field, is a strange assortment of WARRIO1
They are cannibalising a farm vehicle: siphoning its
fuel and loading food and other loot into their
bizarre vehicles.
The DOG growls. MAX looks further along the ridge.
On the bor:.zon we see a burning wooden s:iack and
three bodies strung from a gnarled, dead tree.
MAX looks back to the MEN. Several of then, having seen
him, are running to their vehicles.
The first of them is a muscular man with a red mohawk
haircut. He is heavily protected by a leather and
metal chest plate, shoulder pads and leggings. This
is WEZ.
Sc. 4. Cont..
<b> 2
</b>
4. Gont. 11 .
He runs to where a GOLDEN YOUTH sits on the pillion
seat of a huge bike.
WEZ is followed by TWO MORE MOHAWKERS on bikes, THREE
GAYBOY BERSERKERS in road racers and FOUR SMEGMA
CRAZIES in bizarre dune buggies.
MAX guns the big motor. The black-on-black takes off.
MAX hits the supercharger - surging away.
Through the rear window we see WEZ lead the other nine
vehicles down the hill, giving chase...
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 5. ELSEWHERE ON THE HIGHWAY. --(A LITTLE LATER). DAY. 5.
</b> High angle helicopter shot of the chase. The
Marauders' vehicles are strung down the highway.
Only the fastest, led by Wee, can keep up with
the black-on-black.
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 6, THE WRECKS ON THE HIGHWAY. (STILL LATER). DAY. 6
</b> The black-oD-black surges around a wide curve,
revealing only three vehicles still in pursuit.
The first machine is Wez's big road bike, the
GOLDEN YOUTH riding pillion. It is followed by a
bizarre road racer and a strange dune buggy.
As the black-on-black crests a rise MAX is confronted
by a tangle of wrecked vehicles on the road ahead.
He swerves, slaloms through the wrecks and accelerates
into a sweeping right hand curve.
WEZ ramps his bike over the first wreck and corrects,
avoiding the other wrecks.
The road racer ramps two wheels over the first wreck
but cannot correct. It clips the second wreck, sends
it spinning, then continues after the black-on-black.
The dune buggy decides to avoid the wrecks altogether
and veers off the road to the right. It,.heads across
open terrain aiming to intercept the black-on-black 1
on the curve,
<b> 3
</b>
<b> 7
</b>
<b> 7. THE MARAUDERS CATCH UP - HIGHWAY. DAY.
</b> A light flashes on Max's dashboard, an alarm whoops,
MAX looks down at the fuel gauge: close to empty,
He curses and flicks a switch, cutting off the
supercharger.
The black-on-black slows...
The DOG whimpers, crawls off its chair and under Max's
seat.
WEZ overhauls MAX on the passenger side: He raises his
forearm, aiming his gauntlet-style crossbow at MAX'S
head.
MAX barely has time to glimpse the road racer drawing
alongside the driver's door.
The passenger - a GAYBOY BERSERKER - wields a brutal,
gas-powered 'gun': the heads of six metal arrows
protrude from a big barrel. This weapon is the
"porta-pak".
MAX hits the brakes,
The road racer and the bike surge past the black car...
just as the porta-pak fires.
Two arrows thud into the black car, three go astray
and one hits WEZ in the arm.
MAX throws the black car in behind the road racer...
WEZ, fighting to control the bike, leaves the road...
MAX changes down and hits the supercharger...
The black car leaps forward, ramming into the back of
the road racer, bullying it along.
Wheels and metal screaming, the two cars approach an
intersection littered with furniture and other debris.
A road rig lies abandoned on the roadside.
MAX eases back for a moment then flattens the
accelerator...
The black car slams into the back of the road racer...
hurling it forward, just as the dune buggy regains the
highway...
<b> 4
</b>
p . 1aL a. a+ t aruua.:.. a 1 VL\ . Ld 1
The driver of the road racer screams as his vehicle
hits the dune buggy, spinning it like a top, sending
it crashing into the side of the road rig.
The road racer slides through a 180 degrees, rolls,
smashes through a road sign and hits a power pole.
The pole thuds to the road as MAX throws a handbrake
"U" turn and skids to a halt in the middle of the
intersection.
MAX, carrying a jerry can, gets out of the black car.
He looks down the highway.
<b> 9. A RISE OVERLOOKING THE INTERSECTION. DAY. 9.
</b> WEZ is stopped on the crest of the road, looking down
on the intersection. The arrow is still in his arm.
We see the GOLDEN YOUTH clearly for the first time:
he is strikingly beautiful,.
<b> 10. THE INTERSECTION. 10.
</b> MAX, unfazed , hurries to the wreck of the dune buggy,
crushed beneath the road rig. Fuel streams from its
ruptured tank.
From inside the wreck we hear the moans of the injured
driver.
MAX puts the jerry can under the escaping fuel and
tearing a bandana from his neck - mops up the gasolene
lying on the bitumen.
Suddenly, there is a shrill whistle.
MAX looks up at the crest of the road.
<b> 11. THE RISE OVERLOOKING THE INTERSECTION. DAY. 11.
</b> WEZ grins as he pulls the arrow slowly out of his
arm. His eyes never leave MAX.
He holds up the arrow and mouths the words:
<b> I
</b>
<b> WEZ
</b> For you.
With that he puts the arrow back into his quiver and
guns the motor. He rea.; the front wheel, hangs there
a moment, then spins th,: bike around and roars back
1L. irit. 111. 1 AI%Jill Ln+ .
MAX, examines the road rig:
most of the tyres have been punctured with arrows, the
rear doors torn off and its contents pillaged.
MAX taps the fuel tank - empty.
He reaches up to open the door of the cabin...
There is an anguished scream, MAX turns.
The hand of the dying driver emerges from the twisted
metal of the dune buggy.
The fingernails score deeply into the paint-work, a
rush of dark blood pours out of the wreck. Then, silence.
MAX opens the cabin door...
A figure drops down, crashing onto his shoulders. As
MAX struggles from its grasp we see that it is the
bloated putrifying corpse of the rig's driver. Two
crossbow bolts are buried in its neck...-
MAX stoops and picks up a toy hurdy-gurdy which has
fallen from the dead man's hand.
As he walks back towards the black-on-black he turns
the handle, playing the first few notes of "Happy
Birthday".
He stops next to the vehicle, in the middle of the
intersection. He looks from one direction to another.
undecided... and then sees the smashed road sign.
He picks up a fragment which reads:
<b> ONE TREE HILL
</b> And throws it into the air.
It lands at h:_s feet, pointing north.
He gets into the car and drives off in that direction.
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 13,
</b>
<b> 13. DESERT ROAD, NEXT MORNING.
</b> The black-on-black travels slowly through the
shimmering desert. The only sounds are the rumble of
the engine and the whistle of the wind.
Sc. 13. Cont..
13. Cont. 13,
As the car crests a rise MAX looks ahead and sees a
large kite - in the shape of a man's grinning face -
hovering above a dune.
MAX leaves the DOG to guard the car .nd, carrying a
jerry can and a tyre iron, cautiously makes his way
across the sand.
<b> 14. ON THE DUNES. DAY. 14.
</b> From the,top of the dune MAX sees that the kite is
tethered to an abandoned vehicle: a primitive
version of a gyrocopter - little more than a motor,
a seat and a rotor mounted on a chassis.
A set of footprints leads from the gyrocopter,
dune and disappears into the distance.
Slowly MAX approaches the vehicle, skirting around it,
looking for a trap. Nothing moves except for the
flurries of sand whirling across the dunes.
<b> 15. THE GYROCOPTER. DAY. 15.
</b> Carefully, MAX reaches up and taps the gas tank: empty.
As he straightens up, he hears a low hiss.
MAX freezes. Only inches away a snake, coiled around
the vertical shaft of the gyro, is poised to strike..
They stare at each other.
The snake strikes... MAX springs... hand flashing...
catching it by the neck.
He holds up the snake, grinning, about to kill, it.
The head and shaft of an arrow emerge from the sand
behind him. It is followed by the frame of a crossbow
and a man's face, spitting sand, a length of rubber
hose clenched in his teeth. This is the GYRO CAPTAIN.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Don't hurt that snake!
<b> 7
</b>
15, Cont. 15,
MAX turns. The CAPTAIN emerges from his shallow grave,
motioning with the crossbow.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Put him back... gently!
MAX lays the snake on the rotor.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Sounded like a big V-8 to me.
I guess I got myself some
guzzolene.
He raises his bow, aiming at MAX'S head, preparing
to fire.
<b> MAX
</b> The car's booby-trapped.
Touch those tanks and
BOOM! You'll blow yourself
apart.
The CAPTAIN looks quickly in the direction of the
black-on-black, and back to MAX. He gestures with
the crossbow.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Drop the weapons...
Now back up.
MAX throws down the tyre iron and unhitches a bolster
which contains a sawn-off shotgun.
The CAPTAIN slings the gunbelt over his stoulder.
<b> 1.6. THE DESERT ROAD - MAX'S CAR.DAY. 16.
</b> MAX walks backwards towards his car. The CAPTAIN
tense, crossbow trained on MAX, follows him across
the dune.
Sc, 1.6. Cont..
<b> 0
</b>
<b> 16.
</b> 16. Cont.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> You're quick, I'll give you
that. Never seen a man beat
a snake. Never. Reflexes,
that's what you've got.
Me? I've got brains.
He taps his head as they arrive at the black-on-black.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Now, where's this booby-trap?
MAX reaches under the car. His hand groping for a
machete clipped to the chassis. His fingers wrap
around the handle.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> A fella - a quick fella - might
keep a weapon under there.
He nuzzles,the bow against the back of MAX'S head.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Then I'd have to pin his
head to the panel.
MAX slides his hand away, disconnects a series of
mechanical fuses and shows them to the CAPTAIN. He
moves to open the driver's door. The CAPTAIN
reacts quickly, raising his bow, motioning MAX back.
<b> MAX
</b> There's one more.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Oh no! You don't play me the
fool.
The CAPTAIN, keeping the crossbow trained on MAX'S
head, opens the door.
The DOG flies out, leaping for the CAPTAIN'S throat.
The crossbow discharges, narrowly missing MAX as he
hurls himself at the CAPTAIN. The steel arrow buries r
itself in the car door.
MAX pins the CAPTAIN to the ground and recovers his
shotgun.
Sc, 16. Cont...
<b> 16.
</b> 16. Cont.
MAX cocks the gun next to the CAPTAIN'S head.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Gas! Petrol! Guzzolene! Listen!
Hundreds... thousands of `gallons...
as much as you want...
MAX eases off the trigger.
<b> MAX
</b> Where?
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Not far. Ten... maybe twenty
miles. Pumping it they are.
Refining it. Kachunk...
kachunk... kachunk...
Day and night. A huge tanker
full.
<b> MAX
</b> Balls!
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> It's there, you betcha...
I'll. tell you straight
though - it's not self service.
It's under guard. Too hard for
me. But a man with your
ingenuity... Jesus I reckon...
MAX rams the barrel against the CAPTAIN'S head.
<b> MAX
</b> Where?
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Kill. me, and you'll never find
out.
MAX drags him to his feet and pushes him towards the
black-on-black.
41 f 1 Al 1 -a1"1 �... .n V �.Att ._ awn ..
MAX is driving the black-on-black while the CAPTAIN
sits rigid in the passenger's seat. The muzzle of
the shotgun is strapped to the back of his bead and
the stock fastened to the top of the seat.
A length of wire runs from the triggers across to the
DOG sitting in the rear of the car. The end of the
wire is clasped firmly in its mouth.
The CAPTAIN, not daring to take his eyes off the DOG
directs MAX along back roads to an area of high
country.
The DOG'S eyes dart out the window. He whimpers, body
twitching.
The CAPTAIN stares in horror at a rabbit bounding through
the scrub.
MAX smiles t') himself.
The DOG settles back.
i8. A CLIFFTOP OVERLOOKING THE COMPOUND. DAY.
MAX moves towards the cliff edge. A column of smoke
rises into the sky, accompanied by a garble of distant
sounds: police sirens; car horns; men screaming;
war-whoops; and revving motors.
The GYRO CAPTAIN - manacled and guarded by the DOG -
hobbles along behind MAX.
From the top of the cliff MAX looks down On a battle
raging on the plain below.
A fortified encampment, surrounded by a wide ditch
and coils of barbed wire, is under attack by a large
gang of MARAUDERS: MOHAWK BIKERS, SMEGMA CRAZIES in
dune buggies, and GAYBOY BERSERKERS in road racers.
They attack along a road which passes through an area -
outside the fortifications - which is under cultivation.
Three wooden work huts, a small barn and a corral
containing several cows and a horse are dotted around a
newly-ploughed field.
As the Marauders' vehicles come within range of the
compound, they stream around the perimeter, firing
crossbows at the DEFENDERS ranged along the battlements.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN I
</b> Well.,. I never said it'd
be easy.
MAX unhooks an old pair of binoculars from the
equipment belt around his,waist.
<b> 19
</b>
<b> 19, THE COMPOUND. POV BINOCULARS. DAY.
</b> Through the binoculars MAX sees a weird dune buggy
charging towards the camp. He recognises the two
bizarre occupants as members of the gang be
encountered sacking the farmiet the day before.
The dune buggy races along a causeway which spans the which blocks
ditch, heading for a yellowPAschool SSENGERuin buggy
the gate of the camp.
fires a string of arrows from a multi-barrel gas-gun.
A WARRIOR WOMAN on the battlement, armed with a flame-
thrower, hits the buggy with a stream of liquid fire.
The blazing vehicle plunges into the ditch. It tumbles - its
into another wreck which met a similar fate
tyres still smouldering.
MAX pans his binoculars to the interior of the compound.
He sees a large mechanical pump drawing the oil. from
the ground and a primitive fractionating column used to
refine it.
A DEFENDER firing from the refinery tower is struck by
an arrow. He falls over the guard rail, where a
dead companion hangs over the edge, suspended by his
foot.
The sound of an amplified voice draws MAX'S attention,
He swings the binoculars around:
<b> 20.
</b>
<b> 20. THE HILLSIDE ACROSS FROM TH.E COMPOUND. DAB .
</b> A huge, muscular man - his face covered by a metal
mask - sits in a bizarre six-wheeled vehicle. He
uses a microphone to shout orders to the MARAUDERS,
directing the course of the battle. This man is
the HUMUNGUS.
Beside him, is the Mohawk Biker called WEZ. He sits
astride his bike, the GOLDEN YOUTH clinging to his
waist. He speaks with HUMUNGUS, pointing, sweeping
his hand.
<b> 21.
</b>
<b> 21. CLIFFTOP. DAY.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN is becoming more agitated.
<b> I
</b>
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Okay, there it is. If anyone
can get in, I know it's gonna
be you. Me,.. I've gotta
feed the snakes.
Sc. 21, Cont -
21,. Cont.
MAX drops the binoculars.
The CAPTAIN offers his wrists to be unmanacled.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> A man lives by his word, I
reckon. And I've kept mine...
MAX gets to his feet and hauls the GYRO CAPTAIN to
a nearby tree stump.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Look! We had a deal: I show
you the gas - You let me go.
MAX starts to chain him to the stump.
<b> MAX
</b> The contract was:
wouldn't kill you.
The GYRO CAPTAIN turns angry, protesting.
MAX pushes the shotgun close to his face.
<b> MAX
</b> I reckon you got a bargain...
Don't you?
The CAPTAIN shuts up.
MAX tests the chain. The sounds of the battle continue.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 22.
</b>
<b> 22. CLIFFTOP. LATER THE SAME DAY.
</b> MAX has settled in. He sits under a small camouflage
canopy. His binoculars are fixed on a tripod
fashioned from sticks.
The DOG lies nearby. Further away the GYRO CAPTAIN
is tethered to the tree stump, on a short leash.
The black car is covered by a camouflage net.
MAX leans back from his binoculars, takes a can of
dog food from a pack and begins to open it.
Sc. 22. Cont..
The DOG pricks up his ears.
• The GYRO CAPTAIN watches as MAX unwraps a velvet cloth
to reveal a beautiful silver fork.
The revving of engines wafts up from below,
MAX, spooning the food into his mouth, leans forward
to his binoculars.
<b> 23. THE COMPOUND. DAY. 23.
</b> The MARAUDERS have formed a bridge of car wrecks across
the ditch near aless defended section of the compound.
At WETS signal three bikes ride at the bridge of
wrecks. Two of them are hit almost immediately but the
third rides over the wrecks and attempts to ramp into
the compound.
The bike flies through the air... and bounces into the
wire. The RIDER sails over the fence into the compound
where he is set upon by THREE DEFENDERS.
<b> 24. CLIFFTOP. DAY. 24,
</b> MAX wolfs down his meal.
The GYRO CAPTAIN and the DOG lick their lips in unison.
MAX tosses the can and its remains to the DOG.
The CAPTAIN groans as the DOG buries its muzzle into
the can. The CAPTAIN inches over towards the DOG.
The DOG snarls...
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 25. CLIFFTOP. (MAGIC HOUR). 25.
</b> From the clifftop, we see the lights in the compound
come on. A searchlight weaves across the wasteland.
The only sound is the "kachunk! kachunk!" of the
huge oil pump.
The battle has reached a stalemate. The DEFENDERS
and the ATTACKERS watch each other across "no man's
land".
Sc. 25. Cant.
<b> 14.
</b>
25, Cont. 25.
Smouldering wrecks and dead bodies litter the ditch.
• The animals in the corral have been slaughtered.
<b> 26. CLIFFTOP. ANGLE ON MAX. MAGIC HOUR. 26.
</b> MAX is slumped against a rock.
The DOG is asleep.
The GYRO CAPTAIN rings his finger around the dog food
can and licks it clean.
MAX sits up at the sound of a bugle.
He looks down.
<b> 27. THE COMPOUND. MAGIC HOUR, 27.
</b> The MARAUDERS kick over their engines, fanning across
the area under cultivation, tearing up the ploughed
field.
As they pull back to the high ground surrounding the
camp, they set fire to the farm huts and drag off the
carcasses of the dead animals.
The fires blaze fiercely on the darkening plain.
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 28. CLIFFTOP. DAWN. 28.
</b> Tracking close on MAX as he sleeps.
The DOG sitting next to him is on his feet growling
at the sound of vehicles from the plain below.
MAX wakes, alert', looking down.
Below, three compound vehicles are fanning out across
the plain.
The MARAUDERS camped on the rise rouse themselves...
climbing aboard their vehicles.
The GYRO CAPTAIN, tethered to the stump, strains at
his chain but cannot get close enough to the edge to
see...
4b, c;Ont.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> What's up!!
MAX ignores him, concentrating on the situation below.
' The bulk of the MARAUDERS have split into three groups
each chasing a camp vehicle off into the wasteland.
The HUMUNGUS leads one of the groups. Four MARAUDERS,
camped on a pinnacle, keep watch on the camp,
Suddenly another vehicle bursts out of the camp and
speeds across the plain towards MAX'S clifftop. It
passes out-of sight around the back of the hill,
MAX hurries from his canopy across the other side of
the hilltop.
<b> 29. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING. 29.
</b> MAX looks past the black-on-black, to where the lone
compound vehicle has achieved the bitumen.
Suddenly, three Mohawk bikes and a tow truck emerge
from behind a rocky outcrop. Led by WEZ, they fire
arrows into the tyres and smash the windscreen.
The compound vehicle leaves the road, rolling...
As the GYRO CAPTAIN crawls to his side, MAX raises his
binoculars...
<b> 30. MAX'S POV BINOCULARS. MORNING. 30.
</b> The bloodied driver is being dragged from the wreck
by TWO MOHAWKERS. The others cannibalise the vehicle
and siphon off its fuel. Another occupant emerges
from the twisted metal and tries to crawl away...
I t is a YOUNG WOMAN.
<b> 31, REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING. 31.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN sees her and fumbles urgently for
something deep in the pockets of his great-coat.
He produces a large telescope which is attached to
his waist by a leather cord.
<b> .1 C
</b>
<b> 32. GYRO CAPTAIN'S POV. TELESCOPE. MORNING. 32.
</b> Through the cracked lens of the telescope we see
two of the MOHAWIMRS dragging the woman to the
roadside.
<b> 33. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING. 33.
</b> MAX looks around to see the GYRO CAPTAIN'S telescope
and grabs it. The GYRO CAPTAIN, protesting, picks up
the less-powerful binoculars.
MAX lifts tae telescope.
<b> 34. MAX'S POV. TELESCOPE. MORNING. 34,
</b> The GOLDEN YOUTH is sitting on one of the bikes. The
POV whip pans across the wreck where two MOHAWKERS
have pushed the badly injured driver up to the car
panel, WEZ fires an arrow into the man's shoulder,
pinning it to the panel..
Methodically, he reloads and fires another pin into the
man's other shoulder.
MAX pans the telescope to where the three MOHAWKERS
hold the STRUGGLING WOMAN. At WEZ'S signal they start
to tear the woman's clothes away...
<b> 35. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING. 35,
</b> Track in as the GYRO CAPTAIN and MAX watch through
the binoculars and telescope.
Camera tightens further to the GYRO CAPTAIN. His
face reacts to the horror below.
MAX drops his head... his eyes closing momentarily.
The noise of vehicles starting below breaks the
moment.
He lifts the telescope and pans to one side.
<b> I
</b>
<b> -1 W
</b>
<b> 36, MAX'S POV. TELESCOPE. MORNING. 36,
</b> The zelescope lens finds all the MOHAWKERS except one
back on their vehicles. They ride off led by WEZ...
<b> 37.
</b>
<b> 37. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT. MORNING.
</b> While MAX has the telescope trained on the departing
vehicles the GYRO CAPTAIN has the binoculars on the
<b> WOMAN.
</b>
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Jesus! He's gonna kill her.
MAX whips his telescope around...
<b> 38,
</b>
<b> 38. MAX'S POV. TELESCOPE. MORNING.
</b> The lens finds the remaining MOHAWKER now standing
back from the prostrate girl. He is loading his
crossbow...
The image blurrs...
<b> 39.
</b>
<b> 39. REAR OF CLIFFTOP LOOKOUT.MORNING,
</b> MAX has dropped the telescope and is on his feet
running down to the black-on-black. The DOG is at his
heels.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Hey! What about me?!!
The black-on-black roars off...
<b> 40.
</b>
<b> 40. THE WRECK OF THE COMPOUND VEHICLE. DAY.
</b> We track low past the dead girl's face towards the back
of the MOHAWKER. He is sitting on a wheel pulling on
his trousers,
Close to his back, the camera stops.
He turns, looking up.
MAX, carrying a pair of bolt cutters is hurrying towards
him.
'fu. l,.UUI..
The MOHAWKER grabs for his crossbow.
MAX'S foot stamps down, pinning his wrist...
Ssswish? the bolt cutters swing down... onto the
Mohawker's head.
Tears stream down the COMPOUND MAN'S face.
As MAX walks up to him we see that he is bleeding
badly. His name is NATHAN.
<b> NATHAN
</b> Thank you. Thank you...
<b> I.
</b>
<b> MAX
</b> Let's get this straight.
I'm doing it 'cos I need
fuel.
<b> NATHAN
</b> As much as you want. Take
me back... Don't let me die.
MAX takes the bolt cutters and inserts them between the
man and the panel. He cuts away the first arrow, then
the second.
<b> WIPE,
</b>
<b> 41.
</b>
<b> 41. INT. BLACK-ON-BLACK.DAY
</b>
The supercharger screams as MAX races towards the
compound.
NATHAN is slipping into unconsciousness.
MAX grabs him by the shoulder, shaking him.
<b> MAX
</b> Stay alive!
Stay alive!
<b> I
</b>
<b> 1Q.
</b>
4'L, UN XAtl n1LL1Ur. Phum hAMAU1Jtn"_11 LUUrL UU1 . VAX . 4G
Angle down on the plain.
The black-on-black approaches the burnt out huts.
A GAYBOY BERSERKER stands up into frame in the extreme
foreground.
He is joined by TWO OTHER MARAUDERS.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER grabs a hand-mirror and flashes a
signal across the wasteland.
From a far hill, we see the answering flash.
<b> 43. THE PLOUGHED FIELD. DAY. 43.
</b> Crane down from a high angle on the black-on-black
as it approaches the camp. As the camera achieves a
smouldering but we see a small animal-like
figure stalking the vehicle.
Tracking closer we see that it is a wild-looking
child, about 8 years old. He is dressed in dog skins
and carries a chrome boomerang. On one hand he wears
what looks like a catcher's mitt: a leather glove
reinforced with steel plates. This is the FERAL KID.
Before we get too close the boy scurries into a large
rabbit warren.
<b> 44. THE CAUSEWAY LEADING TO THE COMPOUND. DAY. 44.
</b> Long low angle on the compound. Its defenders wait
on the barricades, the cracking tower and the
catwalk.
The black car stops just outside crossbow range - about
twenty yards short of the compound.
In extreme foreground, the FERAL BOY'S head pops up
from another rabbit hole closer to the compound.
He ducks down out of sight when the car door opens.
High angle on MAX as he steps out of the car with
NATHAN across his shoulders.
MAX carries no weapons and as he steps up to camera,
he raises his arms high...
A woman on the barricade begins screaming. Her name
is BIG REBECCA,
Sc-44, Cont.
44, Cont. 44.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Nathan! Nathan! It's Nathan.
A man on the catwalk orders the gate to be opene•3..
MAX hurries along the causeway...
The FERAL KID comes out of the rabbit warren and
begins to follow MAX.
A trail of blood drips from the injured man onto the
causeway...
As MAX approaches the camp the old �ello'.v school bus
is pulled aside.
The I A3IRI011 WOMAN emerges, crossbow read., , keeping it
trained on MAX.
She is followed by another defender the MECHANIC'S
ASSISTANT - pulling a strange mechanised crane.
Suspended from the front of this machine is a paraplegic,
He is the MECHANIC.
Thny MAX, heading for the car, revealing
BIG RLU,CC.A, distraught, running towards him,
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Nathan! God have mercy.,
What a waste.
Si,F wipe the man's face, caressing him., as MAX
walks on.
She turns and looks straight at the camp's leader,
PAPPAGALLO. He"is standing at the gate, surrounded
by anxious defenders.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Look at your handiwork!
They didn't have a chance...
One of the group at the gate -- a nuggety old man
called the CURMUDGEON - plays to the crowd, pointing
<b> AT PAPPAGALLO:
</b>
<b> THE CURMUDGEON
</b> You all heard me, I warned
him didn't I? Madness, I said.
<b> 45. THE COMPOUNL. DAY. 45.
</b> As the DEFENDERS part to let MAX through we see the
group includes: a teenage couple - PISMO and ANGIE
- holding each other tight; a woman BUTCHER, holding
a knife and a rabbit; a middle aged man who looks
like a FARMER; and a LUSTY young girl chewing her
finger nails.
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> Pity your name wasn't pulled
out the hat.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> We can escape, take our petrol,
he said.
How? I said.
Get a prime mover, he said...
He points to NATHAN who is being carried to an old
bread van. The rear door is open, revealing two
hospital-style beds, drip stands and shelves of medical
supplies. An injured camp member occupies one of the
beds.
<b> CURMUDGECN
</b> .And there's the result!
Madness I said!
PAPPAGALLO ignores him, addressing MAX:
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Where did you find him?
<b> MAX
</b> Two, three miles away.,, left
for dead.,, next to his car.
We made a deal.
In the background the FARMER starts to work the first
arrow out of NATHAN'S chest.
BIG REBECCA comforts him.
Sc. 45. Cont...
YJ. i t .lJ _ Ya.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Three other vehicles.
Did you see them?
<b> MAX
</b> Running hard to the south
west. In heaps of trouble.
Listen: he said if I brought
him in, you'd give me gas.
There's no time...
An anxious young man pushes through the crowd, talking
over MAX. This is the QUIET MAN.
<b> QUIET MAN
</b> There was a woman...
in the car...
MAX looks straight at him.
<b> MAX
</b> She's dead.
The man struggles to keep hold of his emotions.
<b> QUIET MAN
</b> How? What did they do?
<b> MAX
</b> It was quick.
The QUIET MAN bows his head and turns away.
NATHAN groans, ANGIE has the clear plastic mask of
an air viva device over NATHAN'S face, PISMO pumps
air into his lungs.
MAX turns to PAPPAGALLO:
<b> MAX
</b> I saw a man in trouble. I
brought him in. And now I
just want to get out of here.
Give me my gas.
Sc. 45. Cont.
<b> 21.
</b>
-alp . vlJU b.
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> For all we know, he's one of
them.
Give him nothing.
There's an ugly murmur of agreement.
MAX, keeping his temper, talks to PAPPAGALLO:
<b> MAX
</b> We had a contract...
The FARMER succeeds in removing the first arrow.
BIG REBECCA relaxes
NATHAN sputters. Blood sprays into the plastic mask.
BIG REBECCA screams. The FERAL KID looks on as the
FARMER feels for a pulse: nothing.
PAPPAGALLO turns to MAX:
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> I don't know who you are,
or what happened.
But if you had a contract,
it was with him. And it
died with him.
PAPPAGALLO t'.trns on his heel and walks through the
crowd, back towards his tent.
The WARRIOR WOMAN puts a bow to MAX'S temple and
shoves him towards the gate.
<b> 46. COMPOUND. MAX IS MARCHED TO THE GATE. DAY. 46.
</b> THE FERAL KID, following MAX, laughs.
The DOG snarls at the boy.
As the crowd parts, MAX sees that the black-on-black
is being winched through the gate.
Sc. 46. Cont...
<b> 24.
</b>
-1b. t;OIIt.
The MECHANIC supervises the work.
LIAX stiffens, furious.. .
WARRIOR WOMAN prods him with the bow:
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> Be thankful, you're still
alive.
She pushes him past the car.
The DOG trained to protect the vehicle begins to
grow]. The MECHIANIC turns to MAX:
<b> MECHANIC
</b> I gotta hand it to you.
Some machine...
He holds up the detonators and fuse wire.
<b> MECHANIC
</b> Would've been a shame to
bloc it:. up.
The last of the pursuit spec-
ials. It's history, that's
what it is. A piece of
history...
The ME, IIA`IC runs an affectionate hand along the bonnet
of the car.
The DOG flies at him as he tour.hes the car. The DOG'S
ja.:s champ onto his u6elessIt-sthreatening to topple him
from t. is mechanical. "crane".
The MECIiANIC'S ASSISTANT turn, wielding a tyre iron,
about to batter the DOC to death...
MAX grabs his arm, wrenching the tyre iron from his hand,
other men raise their weapons..,.
The head of a crossbow arrow cuts into MAX'S neck.
The DOG, MAX and the camp people are frozen, waiting
for the next move,
WARRIOR WOMAN, holding the other end of the bow,
motions him forward,
Slowly MAX bends and gathers up the DOG.
Sc. 46. Cont
<b> 0 R
</b>
•to . %+uu 4 . 4b .
<b> MAX
</b> Its OK, Dog. Just do as
they say...
His words are lost in the wail of a siren. A guard
perched in the watch tower shouts a warning.
The yellow school bus roars across, closing the
entrance.
<b> 47. THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY, 47.
</b> The compound people run to their positions on the
battlements.
A pair of manacles are locked around MAX'S wrists.
WARRIOR WOMAN climbs to a big crossbow mounted above
the causeway.
The BUTCHER drops her knife and grabs her long bow.
The rabbit on the chopping block leaps for safety.
PAPPAGALLO mans the flame thrower. Others draw their
bows.
The FERAL KID follows the rabbit down a hole at the
foot of the battlement.
As MAX climbs to a position on the battlements near
WARRIOR WOMAN and PAPPAGALLO he sees that the MARAUDER
HORDE has gathered in all its glory.
<b> 46. NO MAN'S LAND. DAY. 48,
</b> The MARAUDERS rumble in formation over the rise:
At their head' is the Humungus machine surrounded by a
guard consisting of WEZ and his GOLDEN YOUTH on a
bike, a tow truck with TWO SKIN HEADS, a road racer
with THREE GAY BOY BERSERKERS and a dune buggy with
<b> TWO SMEGMA CRAZIES.
</b> As the advance guard approaches through the dust and
heat haze we see that SIX NEAR NAKED AND BLOODIED
PEOPLE are lashed to the front of the vehicles.
At the big crossbow, the WARRIOR WOMAN aims at the
Humungus machine. One of the TWO VICTIMS, tied to the
front of the Humungus machine, is screaming above the
awesome rumble of machines and sirens...
Sc, 48. Cont.
<b> -2 0 .
</b>
<b> THE BROKEN VICTIM
</b> Hold your fire. He wants to
talk... he comes in peace...
for Godsake! Hold your fire..
<b> 49. THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY. 49,
</b> The camp people moan as they recognise the victims.
PAPPAGALLO holds up his hand, stopping the WARRIOR
WOMAN from firing.
• The MECHANIC cranes himself up into view next to MAX:
<b> MECHANIC
</b> Poor mongrels... not one
got through.
BIG REBECCA sobs. The QUIET MAN puts a comforting
hand on her shoulder.
PISMO and ANGIE huddle closer together.
<b> 50. NO MAN'S LAND, DAY. 50.
</b> The vanguard of 5 vehicles stops on the causeway,
just out of range.
MAX and WEZ look across no man's land, recognising
each other. WEZ grins, a gold tooth flashing.
The TOADIE, a comically dressed Marauder perched on
the top of the Humungus vehicle, waves his arms. The
Marauders cut their motors... Silence.
The TOADIE announces:
<b> TOADIE
</b> Greetings from the Lord Humungus
The Warrior of the Wasteland!
The Ayatollah of Rock and Roller.
Camera cranes up to the HUMUNGUS as he rises in his
seat. His voice is amplified by two loudspeakers
mounted to the roll cage of his vehicle:
Sc. 50, Cont...
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> I am told you wish to take
the gasolene out of the
wasteland...
The SECOND VICTIM lashed onto the Humungus vehicle
shouts in defiance:
<b> DEFIANT VICTIM
</b> Shoot! Shoot him! While you've
got the chance...
The TOADIE takes the wind out of him with an elbow
to the stomach...
The FERAL KID watches from a rabbit warren near a burnt
out hut.
The HUMUNGUS continues...
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> You set out this morning to
find a vehicle. A vehicle
strong enough to haul that
fat tank of gas...
Suddently, the escaped rabbit runs from a hole in the
barricade and out into the wasteland. WEZ whirls his
arm around... thud!... the rabbit falls dead from a
crossbow bolt.
The FERAL KID eases back down into his hole.
The TOADIE bellows:
<b> TOADIE
</b> You see! There is no escape.
The Humungus rules the
wasteland...
<b> DEFIANT VICTIM
</b> Don't give them the gas!
Blow it up!
WEZ leaps from his bike and head-butts the man into
unconsciousness, The BROKEN VICTIM sobs uncontrollably.
Sc. 50. Cont...
50. cont. 5Q.
The FERAL BOY runs from his hole, screaming. He
lets fly with the chrome boomerang...
The projectile whistles past WEZ'S head and returns
to the KID.
He reaches up and - clunk! catches it in his steel,
plated mitten.
The MARAUDERS roar with laughter.
The FERAL KID throws the boomerang again...
WEZ ducks and it buries itself into the head of the
<b> GOLDEN YOUTH.
</b> The MARAUDERS are dumbstruck.
<b> 51. THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY. 51.
</b> The MECHANIC grimaces.
The rest of the DEFENDERS are silent.
MAX is impressed.
<b> 52, NO MAN'S LAND. DAY. 52.
</b> WEZ bends over the GOLDEN'YOUTH and pulls the weapon
from his skull.
He hurls it at the FERAL KID.
The boomerang whistles across the ground... the KID
throws himself down into the hole... the boomerang
arcs and returns to WEZ... out of his reach.
The TOADIE runs forward...
<b> TOADIE
</b> I got it! I got it!
He reaches up to catch it...
Sc. 52. Cont...
Jf.. vv...
Then falls to his knees clutching his bleeding
fingerless hand.
The HUMUNGUS and MARAUDERS roar with laughter.
WEZ, bellowing with rage, leaps up dnto the
HUMUNGUS vehicle. He hits the ignition, yelling:
<b> WEZ
</b> There's been enough talk.
I'm going in!
Powerful arms encircle him from behind. WEZ is lifted
bodily from the seat.
The HUMUNGUS reaches over and cuts the ignition and
the P.A..system.
<b> 53.
</b>
<b> 53. THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY.
</b> The CAMP PEOPLE ease back on their weapons...
MAX is concentrating on his manacles, starting to use
a small, file to pick the lock.
<b> 54.
</b>
<b> 54, THE HUMUNGUS VEHICLE. DAY.
</b> • Maintaining his vicious hold on WEZ the HUMUNGUS
hisses soothingly in his ear.
<b> SUMUNGUS
</b> Be still my dog of war. I
understand your pain. We've
all lost someone we love...
But, we do it my way.
Fear is our ally.
Later, you can have your
revenge.
WEZ tries to break free but still, he cannot move.
The HUMUNGUS reaches over and flicks on the P.A. System.
Sc. 54. Cont.
54 . Cont. 54.
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> There has been too much violence
too much pain. None here
i s without sin,
But, I have an honourable
compromise.
Give me the gasolene and I'll
spare your lives. Just walk
away. I will give you safe
passage in the wasteland...
Walk away and there will
be an end to the horror...
He hits the ignition, eases WEZ aside and turns the
vehicle around...
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> You have one full day to decide!!
The TOADIE jumps on board as the HUMUNGUS leads the
HORDE back over the rise.
As the vehicles rumble away, the FERAL BOY retrieves
his bloodied boomerang and scurries back into his
hole.
<b> 55. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 55.
</b> The QUIET MAN fires his long bow at the departing
MARAUDERS: the arrow falls well short, unnoticed.
He yells after them:
<b> QUIET MAN
</b> We'll never walk away. Never!
BIG REBECCA grabs him by the shoulder.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Don't be a fool! It's our only
chance...
She turns to the other defenders:
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> It's simple... we trade the
gas for our lives.
DO. wont . 55,
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> No! We've worked too hard.
<b> FARMER
</b> Walk out there? They'd
slaughter us... run us down
for sport.
BIG REBECCA plays to the crcwd.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Don't listen to them! It's
bad enough the lunatics are
running the asylum. Don't
let 'em throw away the key.
<b> 56. THE BATTLEMENTS. MAX AND THE FERAL BOY. DAY. 56.
</b> While the CAMP PEOPLE argue, MAX sits forgotten -
the manacles unlocked now, dangling from one
wrist.
He produces the hurdy-gurdy he found on the bloated
man and plays the first few notes of "Happy Birthday".
From the hole under MAX, the FERAL KID appears wiping
his boomerang. He is attracted by the noise.
MAX plays the next few notes faster.
The FERAL KID grins.
More notes - very fast.
The FERAL KID laughs.
Several people at the back of the CROWD, including
WARRIOR WOMAN, turn around to look. MAX holds the
manacles up so that she can see that he's free.
She glares at him as he goes back to turning the
hurdy-gurdy.
The argument continues.
57. THE CUMPUUNiJ. DAY. 57
PISMO and ANGIE are quietly bickering.
The CURMUDGEON pushes past them heading towards the
gate.
He has a Gladstone bag in his hand and a collection
of car parts and personal effects tucked under his
arm.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> it'll be alright. I'll talk to
this Humungus.
He'd never hurt an asthmatic ol.d
man.
The LUSTY GIRL is joining him.., The MECHANIC turns to
her.
<b> MECHANIC
</b> I'm sure they'll find a use
for you.
<b> LUSTY
</b> I'd rather be out there, on my
back alive, than in here, on
my back dead.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Be promised us safe passage. Fe
gave his word.
<b> PAPPAGALLO'S VOICE
</b> And just suppose he keeps it...
The DEFENDERS turn to PAPPAGALLO, standing on the
<b> BATTLEMENT:
</b>
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> .and we walk out of here with
our lives. What then? Do we
wander the wasteland - scavenging.
Wake up one morning and find we're
just like them - savages.
He points in the direction of the MARAUDERS.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Is that what you want? I don't.
Sc. 57. Cont.
5!. cont. 57,
PAPPAGALLO Cont.
I came out here and I found that
pump. I built that plant and
ploughed that field, Why?
Because we are human beings.
We must maintain our dignity.
We are not barbarians...
The crowd is silent...
I made one mistake - I waited
too long... thinking we could
survive here. We can't.
But, as frightened as we all are
- let's not forget one thing.
He points to the tanker of fuel, propped up next tc the
cracking plant...
That is more than just a tank
of fuel. It's our lifeline, our
passport to a place beyond the
reach of men on machines.
He talks over several protesting voices...
No! I don't know how we're gonna
get there. But the first step is
to defend that fuel.
I won't surrender it to anyone.
I stay! Alone if I have to...
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> Words! Just words. You're
going to die, for a pi,pedream.
BIG REBECCA moves over to join the CURMUDGEON and
the LUSTY GIRL.
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> No! We're going to fight for
a belief - I stay!
LUSTY looks straight at PAPPAGALLO,
Sc. 57, Cont..,
D r . I,UnL .
<b> LUSTY
</b> I really wished it had worked,
I'm sorry.
The MECHANIC'S ASSISTANT starts to push tha
MECHANIC'S contraption tows°ds the CURMUDGEON'S
GROUP, but the.-MECHANIC resists, grabbing onto the
catwalk.
The ASSISTANT leaves him there.
ANGIE takes the ASSISTANT'S place and pushes the
MECHANIC'S contraption over to PAPPAGALLO'S side.
<b> ANGIE
</b> We stay!
PISMO is left hesitating in the middle. After a terrible
moment of indecision he joins ANGIE.
The camp is now divided, mostly against PAPPAGALLO.
The two groups stare across at each other solemnly...
A voice is heard from the battlements,...
<b> MAX
</b> Two days ago I saw a
vehicle that'd haul that
tanker.
All eyes turn to MAX.
<b> MAX
</b> You wanna get out of here.
You talk to me.
<b> 58, INT. PAPPAGALLO'S TENT, DUSK. 58.
</b>
MAX faces PAPPAGALLO across a desk littered with plans
and equipment.
WARRIOR WOMAN, BIG REBECCA, the FARMER and the MECHANIC
listen in.
Sc. 58,. Cont.
58. Cont. 58.
<b> MAX
</b> So that's my offer. I
deliver a prime mover - in
return you give me my black
car and as much gas'as I
can carry.
All I need right now
is three jerry cans of diesel
and five gallons of petroleum.
They look at him quizzically.
Think of it as a down payment.
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> That's the last we'll ever
see of him.
<b> BIG REBECCA
</b> What have we got to lose?
PAPPAGALLO nods.
<b> WIPE
</b>
<b> 59. THE COMPOUND DITCH - THE BRIDGE OF WRECKS. NIGHT. 59,
</b> From the battlement, PAPPAGALLO watches as MAX,
accompanied by the DOG, emerges from a hole in the
wall. MAX has a pole across his shoulders,
supporting four jerry cans of fuel..
MAX'S knee brace"squeaks in the stillness.
The MECHANIC throws him a small can. MAX squirts
a stream of oil onto the metal and then moves off
across the bridge of wrecks, built by the Mohawk
Bikers the day before.
The FERAL KID watches with other camp people as MAX
and the DOG move out into the night.
<b> 60, NO MAN'S LAND. NIGHT. 60.
</b> MAX emerges from the ditch, the heavy load weighing
him down. Behind him, the searchlight from the
compound plays over the wilderness. Ahead, he sees
the glow of the Marauders' campfires.
He moves forward silently.
61. NEAR THE MAHAUDL S ' CAM1'k i hLJ . NIGHT. 61,
Picking his way carefully across rugged ground,
MAX skirts close to a large campfire.
Around it, a GROUP OF MARAUDERS are carousing: some
are laughing loudly at a VICTIM strung up to a beam
by his wrists. A bottle passes among the MARAUDERS.
In the shadows, lit by the flickering flame, a MOHAWK
BIKER fondles TWO CAMP FOLLOWERS.
Closest to MAX a GAYBOY BERSERKER hones his machete
on a whetstone.
MAX skirts round him, not taking his eyes off him.
Suddenly MAX'S leg gives way, caught in a rabbit hole.
He pitches forward, the ferry cans thumping together.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER pivots.., listening.., knife ready.
MAX is spread-eagled on the ground. The DOG curls its
lip. The GAYBOY BERSERKER walks towards MAX, his eyes
searching the darkness...
There is a loud barking! MAX looks up...
On a rabbit warren close by, the FERAL KID sits on his
haunches, howling like a wild dog.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER takes a rock and throws it, curs-
ing all howling dogs, and returns to the camp.
The FERAL KID motions for MAX to follow. Keeping low,
MAX limps forward.
<b> 62. AN EROSION DITCH. NIGHT. 62.
</b> The FERAL KID stops at the edge of the gully and
indicates the direction for MAX to take. He grins at
MAX and runs off into the night, back the way he came.
MAX drops down into the gully heading away from the
Marauders' camp.
<b> DISSOLVE,
</b>
<b> 63. THE CLIFFTOP. FIRST LIGHT. 63.
</b> MAX climbs up to the spot where he left the GYRO CAPTAIN.
Gone!... Just the canopy, a dog food can and a freshly-
dug hole where the tree stump used to be. A clear trail,
gouged in the dirt, leads back towards the sand dune
country. The DOG sniffs and lopes off,..
<b> 64, A CLAY PAN. DAY.
</b>
<b> 64..
</b> MAX and the DOG crest a rise at the edge of the
pan.
About a hundred yards ahead, out on the
clay, is the CAPTAIN, still dragging the tree
stump behind him.
T h e DOG growls.
The CAPTAIN turns to see MAX, He picks up the log
and tries to run.
<b> 65. THE WASTELAND. DAY.
</b>
<b> 65.
</b> The sun is much higher in the sky, The CAPTAIN has
been freed from the tree stump and now carries the
ferry cans, coolie-like, across his shoulders.
<b> 66. THE DUNES. DAY.
</b>
<b> 66.
</b> The three travellers stagger over the dune. Tha
gyro copter is intact though the kite now rests
face dawn on the sand, At the crest of the dune
they sue the body of a lone Marauder. Foot and
tyre prints tell the story. Crossing the dunes in
his buggy, he happened across the gyrocopter. He
left his buggy, walked down to the abandoned
gyrocopter and fell victim to the snake, He
staggered around in circles before slumping face
down in the sand.
The CAPTAIN lets out a whoop as he and MAX half
stumble, half run towards the body.
<b> CAPTAIN
</b> I knew it. I knew it'd work.
Lethal, those snakes. Lethal.
Born killers. The snake's
fangs, my brains. Lethal I
<b> TELL YA
</b> The CAPTAIN stops, staring down at the body of the
snake, its head crushed,
Quickly he picks it up and begins to skin it,
muttering,
Sc. 66. Cont.
VU L , % 1 t
<b> 60
</b>
<b> CAPTAIN
</b> Don't think you're gonna get
any of this. Cos you're not.
It was my snake. I found it.
I trained it. And I'm gonna
eat it.
Keeping the gun trained on the CAPTAIN, MAX
rummages through the MARAUDER'S clothes. He finds
a necklace of spark plugs, bolts, teeth and two old
shotgun cartridges.
MAX removes the two cartridges. One crumbles apart.
The second, although dog-eared, remains intact,
The GYRO CAPTAIN looks up as MAX cracks open the
shotgun - both barrels are empty.
MAX shoves the dog-eared cartridge into the barrel
and snaps the shotgun shut.
The GYRO CAPTAIN gasps:
<b> CAPTAIN
</b> You mean? All this time?
Jesus, that's dishonest!
MAX nudges the CAPTAIN towards the gyrocopter.
The CAPTAIN stands fast, eyeing the shotgun...
<b> CAPTAIN
</b> How do we know that one's
not a dud.
<b> 4
</b>
<b> MAX
</b> There's only one way to
find out.
He lifts the barrel to the CAPTAIN'S head.
The CAPTAIN moves off towards the gyrocopter.
<b> 67. SAND DUNES- GYROCOPTER. DAY. 67.
</b> One jerry can lies discarded by the gyro. MAX,
with the DOG on his lap, is settled on the chassis,
the three remaining cans strapped on beside him.
A flurry of sand whips back from the propellor.
The gyro, unaccustomed to the extra weight, lumbers
across the sand and slowly rises into the sky.
<b> IN WTPF
</b>
66 . THE IN'li.:1..LLT1UN . DAY . 68.
The bloated fly-blown corpse of the driver lies
next to the abandoned road rig.
The bonnet of the prime mover is up and MAX is
working on the engine.
A chain passes from the bull bar up into the cabin where
the CAPTAIN sits behind the wheel, muttering into a
handkerchief.
The DOG watches him carefully.
MAX yanks on the chain.
The GYRO CAPTAIN tests the motor: nothing.
After two more attempts it splutters to life.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> :R
</b>
<b> 69 THE PRIME MOVER. LATER THAT DAY. 69.
</b> The prime mover, disconnected from the rest of the
rig, stands in the middle of the road.
MAX is in the cabin with the DOG, the engine running,
The GYRO CAPTAIN looks up at him, rattling his chains.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> You can't just dump me!
Think of us as partners.
MAX tosses him a set of keys, shouting over the
engire.
<b> MAX
</b> It's up to you. Fly a kite,
or follow me back. Maybe
they'll throw some gas your
<b> KAY
</b> MAX eases the prime mover down the road:
Sc. 69. Cont.
hn.
69, Cont. 69.
The GYRO CAPTAIN, struggling to unlock his manacles,
yells after him:
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> What sort of deal's that?!
I'm running on empty!
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 70, THE LONELY HIGHWAY. DAY. 70.
</b> MAX hurls the prime mover down the long empty
highway, eating up the miles.
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 71. HILL CREST NEAR PINNACLES. DAY. 71.
</b> The'prime mover crests a bill. In the distance MAX
can see the pinnacles surrounding the camp. He
checks his shotgun on the seat beside him. MAX
tramps the accelerator.
The DOG climbs under the seat. The back wheels burn
rubber as the prime mover thunders down the road...
Suddenly the gyrocopter zooms over the rise behind him
spluttering and coughing like he's running out of
gas.
<b> 72. SIDE OF ROAD NEAR THE PINNACLES. DAY. 72.
</b> In the Marauders' camp a MOHAWKER is shaving WEZ'S
head. At the sound of the approaching prime mover,
WEZ leaps to his feet, clambers over a tow truck on
blocks and straddles his bike...
Other MARAUDERS follow as we track to a SKINHEAD
lying under the tow truck making noisy repairs.
<b> IN
</b>
73. THE ituiL. DA1.
MAX burls the prime mover towards the rise above
the compound.
A dune buggy comes up alongside the rear passenger
wheel. The SMEGMA CRAZY riding shotgun fires a
crossbow arrow into a tyre... which explodes.
WEZ appears on the road ahead as a road racer rockets
from out of the scrub in front of the prime mover.
MAX shunts it back off the road and into the rear of
the tow truck on blocks.
The tow truck crashes down, pinning the SKINHEAD
beneath it.
74, A RISE ABO'D'E rHE COMPOUND. DAY. 74.
The HUMUNGUS - his vehicle sitting in_the middle of
the road - turns at the sound of the crash.
<b> 75, THE GYR000PTER. (HELICOPTER MOUNT). DAY. 75,
</b> The gyrocopter sputters along, staying out of range
of the MARAUDERS.
The CAPTAIN is shouting advice and instructions from
<b> THE SIDELINES:
</b>
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Watch your tyres! Turn left!
Down over the CAPTAIN'S shoulder we see WEZ'S bike
coming alongside the prime mover's rear wheels on
the driver's side.
76. THE ROAD APPROACHING THE RISE. tAY. 76.
WEZ lifts his feet onto the saddle, steadies himself
and leaps onto the back of the prime mover.
As the vehicle crests the rise, MAX sees the camp
below. He yanks the air horn lanyard...
J , 4 J L LL' 1 111:, , 'J LLL V 41 \ 1J , W n i . I ,
PAPPAGALLO'S people turn at the sound. From the
cracking tower PAPPAGALLO shouts:
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Open the gate!!
The FERAL KID, astride the pump, is on his feet..
BIG REBECCA runs to the yellow school, bus...
<b> 78. ON THE RISE ABOVE THE COMPOUND - HUMUNGUS VEHICLE. 78.
</b>
<b> DAY.
</b> .The HUMUNGUS raises the magnum .44 aiming directly
at the oncoming prime mover...
<b> 79. THE RISE ABOVE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 79,
</b> On seeing this MAX grabs the shotgun, shoves it
through the smashed front window of the truck and
fires,.,
The gun fizzes and pops - the cartridge was a dud.
MAX ducks and yanks down hard on the wheel...
The HUMUNGUS fires. The big gun kicks,,.
The front of the prime mover bursts with steam and
hot oil,
The big machine careers off 'the road, and through
a primitive tent. As the canvas rips away.,. we
glimpse two startled MARAUDERS in the throes of
hetereosexual love.
MAX recovers, the big machine keeps going, rocketing
down the hill 400 yards from the causeway...
Suddenly a powerful arm bursts through the driver's
window.,, and grabs MAX around the throat - its
<b> WEZ!
</b> The DOG attacks WEZ, clamping his jaw around his
gauntlet.
WEZ pulls the DOG out the window and flicks his arm.
The DOG sails through the ai.r...
<b> 6 +.
</b>
8U. t hIL Ak'Y1tUALii TU 1 1A LAUZ) W A 1 . DAY . SA.
MAX rams his elbow into WEZ'S `ace.
The big biker holds on, tightening his grip.
A dune buggy with a machine gun like crossbow - the
4-pak - fires four bolts into the t y'res. All but one
tyre on the driver's side blow out.
As the prime mover charges past, we track with the
Lone Wolf, who drives a two-engined assault car.
He yells to other Marauders behind:
<b> LONE WOLF
</b> The gate's open!
Follow me in!
A street car and a dune buggy surge up beside him.
In the background we see the DOG, running along
the road, trying to catch up to the tanker.
<b> 81. THE AIRBORNE GYROCOPTER. DAY. 81.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN curses and screams.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Don't lose it now!
We need the fuel!
The CAPTAIN grabs whatever he can find - the two
ferry cans and his chains and throws -:hem at the
chase below.
82. THI_ APTP!OACf TO THE C.' ?1SEW"L Y . DAY. 8 2 ..
To of th':• objects fall across thr- path of the on-
rushing street car the third smashes into the
vehicleti windscreen - to no avail, the vehicle
continues in the chase to the causeway... converging
on the prime mover
The 4-pak dune buggy surges up to the driver's side
wheels, .. The SMEGMA CRAZ1E h4s reloaded the crossbow
and is taking aim on the critical last tyre.
<b> TIT
</b>
<b> 83, THE AIRBORNE GYROCOPTER. 83.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN is reaching down into a sack...
He pulls out two snakes. Clamping their jaws shut
he kisses them goodbye and hurls them down...
<b> 84. THE APPROACH TO THE CAUSEWAY. DAY. 84.
</b> .The snakes land in the 4-pak dune buggy - one of
them between the DRIVER'S legs. Perplexed, he
reaches down for it... pulling it up to look...
He screams.., the snake has its fangs in his hand...
85. THr CAUSEW'.Y. DAY. 85.
The 4-pak dune buggy swerves out of control... up
and over the back of the prime mover,., and onto
the street car. Locked together, both vehicles
tumble down into the ditch.
I n th,! cabin of the truck MAX smashes the butt of the shotgun
into \EZ'S face, again and again. WEZ just grins.
<b> 86. THE COMPOUND GATE. DAY. 86.
</b> The prime mover thunders through the gate.
PAPPAGALLO and WARRIOR WOMAN take their positions
on the battlements...
As soon as the prime mover clears the gate BIG
REBECCA plants her foot on the accelerator of the
school bus/gate. The Lone Wolf vehicle and the
dune buggy just make it inside.
The DOG scampers through the rapidly closing gap.
A road racer slides up to the gate.
The DRIVER looks up... to see PAPPAGALLO aiming
the flame thrower down at him... He slams the
vehicle into reverse...
b. r nu..: i hL 6A , i LS:h1Li� 1 `J LVVh l lvla UL, l . bA i . 6
PAPPAGALLO sends the torrent of flames down on the
retreating vehicle... as HUMUNGUS and the OTHER
MARAUDERS hover at the entrance of the causeway...
<b> 88., INSIDE THE COMPOUND THE CATWALK AREA. DAY. 88.
</b> The prime mover slides to a halt underneath a
catwalk. -
As SEVERAL CAMP PEOPLE run towards him, WEZ swings
up onto the roof of the prime mover and onto the
catwalk.
The two Marauder vehicles stop in the middle of the
compound.
MAX jumps out of the prime mover assessing the
situation. In addition to WEZ there are FOUR
MARAUDERS inside the compound: the LONE WOLF,
the LONE WOLF'S PASSENGER and TWO SMEGMA CRAZIES.
<b> 89, THE BATTLEMENTS. DAY. 89.
</b> Undei the direction of the HUMUNGUS - HALF A DOZEN
MARAUDERS come surging up the causeway on foot.
PAPPAGALLO stands up on the very limit of the battle-
ment and scares them off with a burst of flame.
A MARAUDER fires an arrow..
, .PAPPAGALLO is hit high up in the thigh. He
tumbles backwards, off the parapet and crE.shes to the
ground below.
<b> 90, INSIDE THE. COMPOUND - THE CRACKING TOWER. DAY 90.
</b> Up on the catwalk WEZ is shouting at the FOUR
<b> OTHER INVADERS.
</b>
<b> WEZ
</b> The gate! The gate! Move!!
MAX looks around as the LONE WOLF, the LONE WOLF
PASSENGER and the TWO SMEGMA CRAZIES start to sprint
across the compound towards the gate...
Thud! The LONE WOLF PASSENGER falls dead - an
arrow in his back...
9u. Cont. 90.
WEZ spins around to see the QUIET MAN, standing
on the cooling tower, reloading his bow.
WEZ starts running towards him.
<b> 91. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 91.
</b> With the help of the DOG, MAX tackles the-FIRST SMEGMA
CRAZY who is running towards the gate. They land at
the foot of the pump. The FERAL BOY, bouncing up and
down on top of the pump looks down gleefully, as the
FARMER, the BUTCHER and the CURMUDGEON descend on the
<b> MARAUDER.
</b> MAX is on his feet running towards PAPPAGALLO, as the
second SMEGMA CRAZY is hit by the MECHANIC flying on
the end of his lattice-arm contraption. ANGIE and
PISMC, manning the other end, smile with satisfaction.
<b> 92. INSIDE THE COMPOUND - THE CRACKING TOWER. DAY. 92.
</b> WEZ confronts the QUIET MAN who has his bow drawn,,,
The QUIET MAN fires - WEZ ducks - missed!
WEZ grins. The QUIET MAN is paralysed by indecision.
WEZ is on him.., head-butts him - once, twice, three
times,
The QUIET MAN'S face is a torrent of blood as WEZ
throws him of the cooling platform.
The QUIET MAIL lands, groaning, badly injured.
<b> 93. FROM INSIDE THE BUS. DAY. 93.
</b> The LONE WOLF has made it to the gate and smashes his
way through the window - clawing at BIG REBECCA.
She shoves a boot in his face as WARRIOR WOMAN drops
onto him from the battlement above and buries a knife
blade in his neck.
<b> Z7.
</b>
4 . AT 1H. 13A'1"i'L.MEN'1'J . UA . . 94
MAX has picked up PAPPAGALLO'S flame thrower.
PAPPAGALLO watches as he climbs the battlements,
A DOZEN MARAUDERS are charging up the causeway.
MAX appears above them,,, spraying fire. The
MARAUDERS retreat...
<b> 95, INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 95•,
</b> WEZ grabs a cable and swings from the catwalk across
the cracking tower to Pappagallo's 'dinosaur tent'.
He slides down the tent, leaps onto some tyres, onto
a storage tank and then onto the tanker...
He hesitates a moment looking for some way to get to
the gate...
The WHOLE CAMP turns to confront him..-'.:'
He ducks, the gyrocopter swoops down over his head
and lands in the centre of the compound...
An arrow flies past WEZ, then the Feral Kid's boomerang
, , he decides to call it quits.
Running along the top of the tanker, be leaps the
barbed wire fence.
<b> 9G THE L-ITCH. DAY. 96.
</b> WEZ lands in the ditch.
He clambers over a wreck out of the ditch and out of
range.
<b> 97, INSIDE THE COMPOUND. THE TANKER. DAY.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN is up on the tanker, throwing a
stick and shaking his fist at the MARAUDERS - putting
on a show for the jubilant compound people.
Several people shake hands with the GYRO CAPTAIN,
The FERAL KID watches, puzzled, intrigued by this
strange ritual.
Sc. 97. Cont.
The MECHANIC is already examining the damage to the
prime mover,
PAPPAGALLO is propped up against the base of the
battlement. BIG REBECCA and the WARRIOR WOMAN tend
his thigh wound.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> OK! OK! Let's go.
We leave tonight!
The MECHANIC lifts his head out of the engine:
<b> MECHANIC
</b> We got a hole through the
radiator - into the
timing case.
Gonna take at least 24
hours.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> You've got twelve.
The crowd disperses.
The QUIET MAN is carried to the bread van/medical
centre; the bodies are removed; camp members load
vehicles; men are working on the tanker.
WARRIOR WOMAN climbs onto the battlement.
<b> 98. THE BATTLEMENTS% DAY, 98.
</b> The MARAUDERS have regrouped on the rise.
MAX is watching them, the flame thrower in his hands,
as the WARRIOR WOMAN approaches him:
<b> WARRIOR WOMAN
</b> I want you to know... that was
a very brave thing you did...
He doesn't reply - just hands her the flame thrower
and descends the ladder.
<b> 49.
</b>
<b> 99. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 99.
</b> BIG REBECCA has just pulled the arrow out of
PAPPAGALLO'S leg as MAX moves into view.
PAPPAGALLO watches him walk towards the black-on
-black - its nose poking out of the pyramid workshop,
As MAX passes the gyrocopter we see the GYRO CAPTAIN
in conversation with the CURMUDGEON.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> .and tell me, son, this
machine of yours - it takes
two , does it?
The GYRO CAPTAIN glances over the CURMUDGEON'S
shoulder at LUSTY who is admiring the gyrocopter.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> er... possibly.
The FERAL KID steps forward, holding his hand out
stiffly to MAX.
MAX hesitates, then shakes it briefly. The KID
laughs - be finds this hand shaking-business hilarious.
As MAX moves on to the pyramid workshop, the FERAL
KID follows in his footsteps, mimicing his squeaky,
stiff-legged gait.
<b> 1.00, INT. PYRAMID WORKSHOP. LATE AFTERNOON. 100.
</b>
Through the maze of pipes in the peak of the pyramid,
we have a high angle down on MAX working on the
black-on-black below.
The FERAL KID comes into view in the foreground,
climbing along the pipes.
The KID is softly humming a tune - approximating the
first few notes of "Happy Birthday".
On the workshop floor a small siphon pump is transfer-
ring fuel from a 44 gallon drum into the black-on-
black's fuel tanks.
MAX is re-arming the booby traps - connecting a
string of wires and fuses to the gas tank caps. His
utility belt and jacket are off and he has laid his
personal. effects on a nearby work bench.
In the background, through the arched doorway we see
Sc. 100. Cont.
1VU. i„uliL'.
the MECHANIC and his TEAM working on the truck with
arc welders, lights and so on.
MAX looks up:
The CURMUDGEON is leading PAPPAGALLO'into the workshop.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> See! I told ya. I said he
was leaving.
High up in the pyramid the FERAL KID starts to swing
down the pipes - towards the bench where MAX has laid
his jacket and utility belt. On the floor, PAPPAGALLO
<b> CONFRONTS MAX:
</b>
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> I don't have time for thanks.
You know what you did out _
there and what it means to us.
Come with us, MAX. Drive the
tanker.
MA:. continues to work - muffling the four exhausts
by plugging them with rags.
<b> MAX
</b> We had a contract. I did
my job, I got my car and I
got my gas. End of story.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> It doesn't have to be -
we'll make a new contract.
I can offer you a chance to
rebuild your life, I can
offer you a future.
The CURMUDGEON breaks in, excited.
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> You gotta come. Look!
He produces a grubby souvenir postcard pack which
bears the heading:
<b> GREETINGS FROM THE
</b>
<b> SUNSHINE COAST
</b>
100. Cont. 100.
The FERAL KID's arm sneaks across the work bench
reaching out for the hurdy-gurdy.
MAX'S hand snaps out and clamps around the KID'S
wrist. The FERAL KID drops the hurdy-gurdy. As
MAX releases his grip the KID retreats into the
shadows.
The CURMUDGEON unravels the postcard pictures in
front of MAX'S face. -
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> This is where we're going.
Two thousand miles away.
"Bloody paradise. Fresh
water... plenty of sunshine...
nothing to do but breed...
MAX starts to go back to his work.
PAPPAGALLO takes him by the shoulder.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> What are you looking for
out there? How long do
you expect to survive,
scavenging day to day?
You're no different than them.
He points in the direction of the Marauders.,.
..,vultures, maggots.
Don't you see? There is
a better way!
MAX flares at him, angry:
<b> MAX
</b> Yeah. I tried it once!
Now forget it, 'cos I
never get involved.
I'm leaving. I leave
tonight.
PAPPAGALLO is about to reply when a scream echoes
through the camp.
They all turn to look: the men working on the prime
mover are running towards the battlement,
An ominous drumming begins in the Marauders' camp.
<b> 3GI.. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. THE CATWALK. DUSK. 101.
</b> PAPPAGALLO climbs onto part of the refinery's cat-
walk which is close to the workshop area.
SEVERAL OTHER CAMP MEMBERS, including the GYRO
CAPTAIN, and LUSTY, are already there - looking
across no-man's land.
The MARAUDERS are raising two tall poles. TWO OF
THE CAMP MEMBERS captured that morning are nailed
to the poles screaming.
PAPPAGALLO turns to MAX, who is still down at the
black-on-black.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> You see! That's the
alternative!
Men feeding on men.
MAX goes back to work.
The GYRO CAPTAIN slips his arm around LUSTY'S
shoulder.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> I know you're afraid darlin'.
But I'll let you into a
secret, sweetheart. I'm
afraid too.
He squeezes her tight. She caresses his hand.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 1.02. NO MAN'S LAND. NIGHT, 102.
</b> Silhouetted against a large fire, near the two
poles, a group of TWELVE !.MARAUDERS of various
breeds beat out a tattoo on the panels of their
cars. The HUMUNGUS watches as two more victims
are raised on poles. The beat becomes more
frenzied,
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
Pouring with sweat, MAX tears up the first of a
series of metal plates which form the floor of the
workshop area.
He drags it.across the compound, passing the
MECHANIC'S TEAM working in a shower of sparks on
the prime mover.
The MECHANIC looks up:
<b> MECHANIC -
</b> Go on! Go! Just another mercenary!
He spits.
MAX ignores him, dragging the plate past Pappagallo's
tent. It is crowded with CAMP PEOPLE, laying their
plans for escape.
They fall silent, turning to watch MAX.
<b> 104, COMPOUND WALL. BRIDGE OF CARS. NIGHT. 104.
</b> The black-on-black waits next to the fence, near the
place where the Mohawkers attempted to build the
"bridge of cars" across the ditch.
MAX has cut a hole in the barbed wire and is
manouevrin6 the metal plate on top of the first car
starting to build a ramp from thw,
compound, over the top of the cars and onto the far
side of the ditch.
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 105, INSIDE THE COMPOUND. LATER THAT NIGHT. 105
</b> The HUMUNGUS has stepped up his theatrics of terror.
His voice booms across the night - reciting dark
poetic descriptions of death and hell.
The CAMP PEOPLE, gathered in Pappagallo's tent, watch
as the GYRO CAPTAIN walks towards the spot where MAX
is working. PAPPAGALLO sits at his desk,flicki.ng an
egg timer: the sand trickling from one end to the
other.
E. fs
<b> 106. CUMI'OUNU WALL. BRIDGE OF CARS. NIGHT. 106,
</b> MAX, who is locking the last metal plate into
position, looks up at the GYRO CAPTAIN.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> I just want you to know that
I don't agree with them,
He indicates the people in Pappagallo's tent.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> I don't think you're a coward.
A bit stupid - but not a
coward,
Where else you gonna find
what we 've got here?
Food... fuel... clean women.
MAX goes back to work, putting the finishing touches
to the ramp.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Men, too, if that's your
inclination.
Jesus! All we've got to
do is get away from that
Humungus. With you driving
the tanker we can do it.
I know you can. I saw you
out there. Stay with us
Max. Drive the tanker.
MAX gets up, snaking his head.
<b> MAX
</b> I haven't got time to explain.
Just believe me - I've got
everything I want.
The CAPTAIN starts to interrupt but MAX cuts him
short.
<b> MAX
</b> Good luck tomorrow.
I hope you make it.
Sc. 106. Cont.
106. cont. 106,
MAX puts out his hand.
• The CAPTAIN, a little surprised, shakes hands with
him.
<b> GYRO CAPTAIN
</b> Thanks. Thanks a lot.
The CAPTAIN walks back towards the GROUP watching
from Pappagallo's tent. He shrugs his shoulders.
MAX opens the door of the black-on-black.
<b> 107. OUTSIDE THE _OMPOUND. BRIDGE OF CARS. NIGHT. 107.
</b> MAX eases the black car onto the metal plates.
The wide wheels rumble slowly across the makeshift
bridge.
MAX revs the motor to get over the last hump, the
plugs in the exhausts muffling the sound of the big
engine.
The Humungus's bizarre ravings continue to boom across
the wasteland.
<b> 108, THE WASTELAND NEAR THE COMPOUND.NIGHT. 108.
</b> The black-on-black eases away from the compound.
The DOG is edgy, growling. MAX takes hold of his
shotgun,
There is a thump! Something lands on the roof.
The DOG flies at the window snarling. MAX jams the
barrel against the roof.
A face appears, leaning over the windscreen, peering
in at MAX. It's the FERAL KID,
He grins and tumbles through the passenger's window.
He grabs hold of MAX'S hand, shaking it.
The FERAL KID laughs, settling in to the seat.
The car continues to roll forward.
Sc, 108, Cont.
108. Cont. 1.08,
<b> MAX
</b> Get out.
Scat! Go back.
The FERAL KID looks at him, puzzled, then throws his
head back, howling.
MAX stops the car, looking round, nervous.
The first light of dawn appears on the horizon.
MAX turns to the FERAL KID:
<b> MAX
</b> You're a fine kid, but you
can't come. You've gotta
learn - don't get close to
people. It can churn you
up...
The KID can't understand a word, so just grins.
MAX thrusts his hand into his back pocket and produces
the hurdy-gurdy.
He shoves it into the FERAL KID'S hands, opens the
door and pushes him out.
<b> 109. THE WASTELAND. DAWN.
</b> As the FERAL KID gets to his feet the black-on-black
accelerates away, surging up the rise towards the
Humungus encampment.
The rapid burst of power fires the four plugs out of
the exhausts. The big engine roars.
<b> 110. THE RISE ABOVE THE COMPOUND. DAWN. 110.
</b> WEZ springs to his feet. His face covered in a
white war paint. His eyes searching out the
darkness. He starts running,.. towards the
Humungus machine.
Sc. 110. Cont.
<b> 11.0 .
</b> no. Cont.
A GAYBOY BERSERKER is running with him. As they climb
into the vehicle, the HUMUNGUS - sitting on a rock near
the VICTIMS on the poles - gets to his feet,
He bellows with rage as WEZ drives the vehicle off in
pursuit of Max. The TWO VICTIMS, still strapped to the
front, lift their heads.
i11.. THE HUMUNGUS MACHINE. DAWN.
From the Humungus machine WEZ sees six other vehicles
stream across the landscape in pursuit of the black-on
-black. (One tow truck, two dune buggies, two street
cars and a bike).
The TOADIE emerges bewildered from where he has been
sleeping under the fuel tanks of the Humungus machine.
<b> 112.
</b>
<b> 112. A ROAD NEAR THE COMPOUND. DAWN.
</b> The black-on-black achieves the road...
The DOG is looking back through the passenger window
as we see the first of the pursuing vehicles rumble
onto the road...
MAX hits the supercharger switch...
The big engine whines up.
Once again, the DOG climbs down under the seat.
The Humungus machine rockets onto the road... and
begins to overtake the other six Marauder vehicles
one by one...
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 113.
</b>
<b> 11.3, THE HIGHWAY. EARLY MORNING.
</b> MAX is giving the black-on-black all its got...
In the Humungus machine WEZ, the GAYBOY BERSERKER
and the TOADIE have left the rest of the Marauders
well behind...
The big machine seems to be encroaching on the black-
on-black.
Sc. 1.13. Cont.
<b> 58.
</b>
♦ 1. ..I i t rv•A a.
WEZ shouts instructions to the GAYBOY BERSERKER who
comes to his side.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER slides behind the wheel as WEZ
clambers forward onto the front of the vehicle.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER reaches down. His hand rests on a
toggle switch next to three gas bottles marked:
<b> NITROUS OXIDE
</b> At the front of the vehicle WEZ grabs a huge exhaust
pipe jutting into the air. In spite of the heat he tears
the pipe off the mounting. He signals to the GAYBOY
<b> BERSERKER.
</b> The GAYBOY BERSERKER flicks down the toggle switch:
there is a mighty roar matched by a massive surge of
power in the Humungus machine...
The TWO VICTIMS on the front scream... MAX is bewildered
by the massive acceleration. ._
The Humungus machine leaps alongside the black-on-black.
WEZ swings the chrome pipe down through the front
windscreen -, into MAX'S face.
<b> 114. A CURVE IN THE HIGHWAY. MORNING. 1.14.
</b> The black-on-black takes out a guide post and leases
the road... rolling over and over.
Inside the car MAX - his face bloodied - and the DOG
are slammed around in the cabin of the black-on-black.
It continues rolling, over and over again, into a gully.
<b> 115, THE CREEK BED. MORNING. 115.
</b> What is left of the car comes to rest, upside down,
among the boulders of a dry creek bed. MAX is slumped,
dangling in his harness - his face and body bloodied
and broken. Somthing moves... it's the DOG pulling
himself out of the wreckage. He licks and paws at
MAX'S face. One eye flickers open.
<b> AN
</b>
l lu . hUAU:,ILL . MORNING . 116.
WEZ stands looking down into the gully. Another vehicle
has arrived. TWO GAYBOY BERSERKERS and the TOADIE
scramble down towards the wreck carrying jerry cans.
<b> WE-
</b> Don't waste him. If he's
alive I want him.
<b> 117. THE CREEK BED. MORNING. 117.
</b> By an enormous force of will, MAX frees himself from the
harness and - as the sound of the Marauders approaches -
pulls himself through the window of the wreck.
He falls to the ground, dragging his crippled body into
the shadow of a large boulder, hiding there.
The DOG confronts the MARAUDERS, snarling, standing
between them and the wreck.
One of the GAYBOY BERSERKERS raises his crossbow...
MAX watches, grim-faced, as the DOG falls dead.
The THREE MARAUDERS run to the vehicle.
While the TOADIE prepares to siphon off the gas, the
other two peer into the crushed cabin.
Perplexed, they examine the wreck more closely, looking
for MAX.. .
ONE of them sees the drag marks, leading down the
creek bed.
He signals to the OTHER MARAUDER... MAX prepares to defend
himself... the TOADIE prises the cap off the black car's
fuel tank.
The booby trap explodes... the petrol ignites... the
THREE MARAUDERS are engulfed by a giant fireball.
MAX looks pa3t the flames, staring up at WEZ,
not taking his eyes off him...
<b> 118, ROADSIDE. MORNING. 118.
</b> WEZ and the OTHER MARAUDERS watch the great pillar of
smoke rise up into the sky.
They return to their vehicles.
<b> 119. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. MORNING. 119.
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN helps the LUSTY GIRL dismantle one of
the small tents.
In the background we see the camp vehicles standing
ready - fully loaded. The Mechanic's TEAM are still
working on the prime mover.
As PISMO shows from the tower, the GYRO CAPTAIN looks
up to see the smoke from the wreck rising into the sky.
The GYRO.CAPTAIN, mutters an oath and sprints towards
is machine.
<b> 120. CREEK BED. DAY. 120,
</b> Foot by foot, MAX drags himself alor:g the creekbed -
heading for the compound. Blood seeps from wounds on
his head and face. His legs are useless, his hands
heavily bandaged with strips from his leather jacket.
Behind him, in the distance, we see the still-
smouldering wreck of the black-on-black.
MAX struggles on, the pain growing, the sun climbing,
the temperature soaring. His mind becomes more feverish:
the wasteland dissolves into the heat haze; the buzz
of the flies around his face becomes the steady drone
of an engine.
The gyrocopter appears above him.
<b> 121. ON BOARD THE GYROCOPTER. DAY. 121.
</b> MAX, strapped to the chassis of the gyrocopter, drifts
back to consciousness.
He sees the compound surging towards them as they come
in to land.
He drifts back into unconsciousness, the images
distorting, dissolving,..
<b> 122. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. THE BREAD VAN. DAY.- 122.
</b> MAX'S eyes flicker open to a slow, distorted version of
<b> 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY"
</b> As he fights to make sense of his surroundings, we see
that his wounds have been stitched and dressed.
He lifts his head, looking through the back door of
the bread van.
...1 - t f T
122. Cont. 122.
is sitting on the roof of the van, playing the hurdy-
<b> GURDY
</b> Then, beyond the KID, coming into clear focus, he sees
the prime mover attached to the tanker.
The tanker now sports a 'cow-catcher' on the front,
armour-plating on the bonnet, steel aprons on the wheels
and a barbed wire net along each side.
MAX'S vision clears. He sees PAPPAGALLO-on the catwalk
addressing the CAMP PEOPLE.
MAX drops his bead back and looks to one side: a bloated
faces stares back at him.
The QUIET MAN, is lying unconscious on a stretcher next
to him.
MAX lifts his head urgently and looks around. He realises
that he is in the bread van. The canopy has been removed
and his stretcher is supported by a collection of 44 gallon
drums.
<b> 123. INSIDE THE COMPOUND - THE CATWALK. DAY. 123,
</b> PAPPAGALLO paces the catwalk as he gives final
instructions to the CAMP PEOPLE gathered below.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> We're going to use the tanker
and the two assault vehicles to
punch our way out of here.
If I'm right, they'll all go
after the tanker. That'll give
the rest of you a chance.
124. INT. BREAD VAN. DAY. 12•x.
MAX is sitting up, binding his leg tight with
bandages, clipping on his metal knee brace.
PAPPAGALLO (v/o)
Split up. Go as hard as you
can. Two hundred miles north
there's a bridge. At Powder
River. If we make it, that's
our rendezvous...
As MAX struggles to haul himself out of the bread van,
the FERAL KID hands him his equipment belt.
11412 . 14,4au L � L 411
PAPPAGALLO (v/a)
It's defensible, We can refuel
there.
<b> 125. INSIDE THE COMPOUNDDAY 125.
</b> MAX, grim-faced, starts to walk towards the tanker.
Blood seeps through the bandage on his leg.
PAPPAGALLO (v/o)
But! Only give us 'til sunset.
If we haven't made it by then,
keep going!
PAPPAGALLO swings down off the catwalk, heading for the
cabin of the tanker.
The meeting breaks up - the CAMP PEOPLE moving to take
up their positions on the various vehicles.
<b> MAX
</b> I'll drive the tanker...
Everybody stops, turning to look at him.
MAX is staring at PAPPAGALLO, swaying slightly, hands
clenched,
<b> MAX
</b> Until you're clear of
trouble...
The CURMUDGEON breaks in:
<b> CURMUDGEON
</b> He's gotta be joking!
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Look at you.
MAX nods.
Sc. 125. Cont...
c,3
14z) . L.uLLL.
<b> MAX
</b> But I'm still the best
you've got.
PAPPAGALLO thinks for a long moment.,
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> You'll, need these...
He tosses MAX his sawn-off shotgun and a bandolier
containing six cartridges.
<b> 126. CRACKING TOWER. HIGH ANGLE. WHOLE SCENE.DAY. 126.
</b> The tanker stands at the far end of the compound. Behind
it, the GYRO CAPTAIN is spinning the rotor of his machine.
A dune buggy and the Lone Wolf's car - armour-plated
since being captured by the camp - wait on either side
of the tanker.
Beyond the gate the MARAUDERS have formed an arc of
vehicles just out of crossbow range. The Hiunungus machine
stands at its centre.
<b> 127. INS ID THE COMPOUND. DAY. 127.
</b> MAX sits in the tanker, checking out the controls,
familiarising himself with the machine...
WARRIOR WOMAN stands on the running board.
She turns as the MECHANIC clambers on board. He glares
at her, daring her to stop him:
<b> MECHANIC
</b> I sweated blood on this mother.
And no bastard's gonna make me
go in no lousy bread van.
MAX kicks over the big engine...
12£3 . oiY33IDh THE CUM UUNV . LM I .
WEZ stands on the back of a tow truck, beyond him
we see the arc of vehicles, engines gunning, straining
at the leash...
The Humungus vehicle eases forward into frame...
The TWO VICTIMS on the front of his vehicle have
their heads hooded.
<b> 129.
</b>
<b> 129. INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY.
</b> MAX is revving the engine higher and higher.
WARRIOR WOMAN climbs up to the top of the tanker...
PAPPAGALLO starts the assault vehicle.
WARRIOR WOMAN finds the FERAL KI.D crouched down in
her position behind the protective plate. Holding
the KID by his arm, she passes him down to MAX who
passes him down to the ground... PAPPAGALLO yells
for someone to come and take him...
The LUSTY GIRL runs forward... the FERAL KID avoids
her. MAX engages the engine. The tanker rumbles
forward, gathering speed as it runs the length of the
compound. BIG REBECCA, at the wheel of the school bus
draws the vehicle aside - revealing the burnt out
wreck of the road racer on the causeway and the
MARAUDERS beyond.
<b> 130. OUTSIDE THE COMPOUND.__ DAY. 130.
</b> The HUMUNGUS has opened his gun case and removes the
magnum 44. The remaining 4 bullets have been
placed in the revolving chamber...
<b> 131.
</b>
<b> 131, INSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY.
</b> The dune buggy and the Lone Wolf machine follow close
behind the tanker.
The FERAL KID leaps onto the back of Pappagallo's
vehicle.
Sc. 131. Cont.
131. Cont. 131,
The WARRIOR WOMAN and the MECHANIC lie low as the
tanker roars out the gate, ploughing through the
burnt out wreck,"knocking it into the ditch.
The HUMUNGUS, raises his gun, calmly taking aim at the
oncoming tanker...
As the tanker accelerates towards him, the gyrocopter
swoops out of the compound and over the MARAUDERS.
The GYRO CAPTAIN drops three burning molotov cocktails.
They fall in and around a road racer at one end of
the arc... the road racer bursts into flames...
The GYRO CAPTAIN whoops with delight.
<b> 1.32. THE BREAK OUT. OUTSIDE THE COMPOUND. DAY. 132.
</b> With the Lone Wolf machine and the dune buggy close
alongside, MAX steers the tanker towards the burning
road racer.
The HUMUNGUS fires... once...
The bullet dents the protective plate mounted on the
front of the tanker but does no further damage.
Twice... three times!
Two more dents,
The tanker keeps going crashing through the burning
wreck... breaking the Marauders' cordon...
<b> 133. ON BOARD THE BYROCOPTER. DAY. 133,
</b> The GYRO CAPTAIN has banked around and is swooping low.
Having swung around, the GYRO CAPTAIN, swoops down,
taking aim on the Humungus machine with another fistful.
of lighted bottles.
The HUMUNGUS looks up. He swings the revolver up,
taking aim at the approaching gyrocopter.
He fires!
The bullet hits, piercing the right rudder peddle.
Dropping his bottles, the GYRO CAPTAIN screams and
looks down: blood pours from what is left of his
right foot.
i J•x 1111: 411 JL' VV I JILL if1L LUBll'V441L. LNi. 134.
MAX glances up to see the gyrocopter, flying ezaatically,,
swoop over and bank away towards the horizon..
On top of the tanker WARRIOR WOMAN and the MECHANIC
prepare to fire their weapons.
Behind them, the HUMUNGUS and his HORDE power over the
rise, pursuing the tanker.
Suddenly, three of the Marauder vehicles skid to a halt,
They start to turn back towards the compound, where the
remaining camp vehicles are making their bid for freedom.
The bread van and three other vehicles have followed the
yellow school bus out onto the causeway.
They skirt round the back of the compound and head off
across country.
The HUMUNGUS screams at his men through the amplifier:
<b> HUMUNGUS
</b> The tanker! All on the tanker!
As the three Marauder vehicles turn to rejoin the
tanker chase... whoomp! a massive flash fills the
sky. The camp erupts in flame, followed by a series
of rolling explosions.
The camp people have destroyed what they cannot take ...
<b> WIPE.
</b>
<b> 1.35. DUNE BUGGY INCIDENT. HIGHWAY. DAY. 135,
</b> As the tanker surges towards us, we see the dune
buggy, the Lone Wolf' machine and the pursuing
MARAUDERS, surrounding it.
MAX grimaces as he changes gears. His leg is bleeding
freely now...
He looks to the passenger-side:
The dune buggy, driven by the BLACKSMITH and manned
by PISMO, leaps onto the road in front of=the tanker.
A tow truck, manned by SKINHEADS, converges on it from
the driver's side.
Sc. 135. Cont.
c.,
13S. Cont. 135 ,
On the back of the dune buggy PISMO lifts his crossbow...
unaware that, behind him, Wez's convertible tow truck
• is approaching fast.
The FIRST OF THE TWO SKINHEADS on the back of the tow
truck fires his crossbow.,,
The arrow sails past PISMO'S ear. PISMO fires.., He
hits the FIRST SKINHEAD but the arrow bounces off the
SKINHEAD'S protective armour. The SKINHEAD grins.
PISMO hurries to reload...
The SECOND SKINHEAD raises his bow, aiming at PISMO.
An arrow hits the SECOND SKINHEAD in the back of the
head.
PISMO looks up to see WARRIOR WOMAN reloading her
longbow.
PISMO grins at her... behind him, WETS arm reaches
down and hooks the jib chain around the roll bar of the
dune buggy...
The tow truck accelerates... the chain tightens...
PISMO screams as he is thrown through the air.
WEZ'S tow truck drags the dune buggy askew...
It rolls in front of the tanker... MAX has no choice.
The cow catcher shunts the dune buggy aside, sending it
tumbling off the road.
MAX struggles with the wheel,., managing to keep the
vehicle on the road.,.
He looks down in the side mirror: two road racers and
a dune buggy - followed by the Humungus machine - surge
up behind the tanker.
From behind protective plates on top of the tanker the
MECHANIC hurls a molotov cocktail...
The FARMER, stationed at the rear of the tanker does
the same...
The two bottles smash into the first road racer. It
bursts into flames... swerves in front of the other
road racer, ramps off the road and plunges into a
Marauder's dune buggy.
PAPPAGALLO, who has been forced off the road, narrowly
avoids the wreck.
<b> 136. MAX LOSES HIS DOOR. DAY. 136 .
</b> The Skinhead tow truck draws alongside the tanker,
near Max' s door.
The SECOND SKINHEAD, twirling a grappling hook, lets
it fly.
It trails out towards the tanker cabin,.. flies through
the driver's window.., and lands virtually in MAX'S lap...
As the tow truck swerves away from the tanker the cable
tightens.
The grappling hook drags across MAX'S arm, tearing away
part of the sleeve and hooks onto the door...
The tow truck brakes... Max's door is ripped off its
hinges...
<b> 137. THE REAR OF THE TANKER INCIDENT. DAY.' 137,
</b> A SMEGMA CRAZY riding in the cabin of the tow truck
is encouraged by this success...
He begins twirling his grappling hook as the vehicle
approaches the back of the tanker...
The FARMER pops up from behind a protective plate and
fires his crossbow...
The arrow-misses the tow truck, flies through the caged
window of a road racer armed with a 4-pak and lodges
in the driver's helmet.
The DRIVER pulls off his helmet... the arrow has barely
creased his scalp.
The S14EGMA CRAZY hurls his grappling hook...
It caches the FARMER by the leg and hooks on to the
lip of the back protective plate.
The cable snaps taut, the FARMER screams.
MAX feels the sudden tug on the tanker, He changes
down...
The tow truck is dragged along, veering out of control.
The strain pops the rivets off the tanker's back plate.
it comes away in one piece... carrying away the FARMER
and the steel aprons protecting the rear wheels...
The tow truck tumbles and rolls...
<b> RN
</b>
<b> 138, THE MECHANIC DROPS THE BOTTLE. DAY. 138,
</b> On top of the tanker, the MECHANIC has lit another
molotov cocktail...
He swings back to throw...
The road racer, armed with the 4-pak'swings alongside
and fires.
Three arrows rat-a-tat against the protective plates.
the fourth hits the MECHANIC'S upraised arm...
The bottle drops... and smashes on top of the tanker...
spreading flames.
The HUMUNGUS accelerates hard towards the now-undefended
rear of the tanker. He pulls a rope, whipping the hoods
off the heads of the TWO VICTIMS lashed to the front.
They scream as the back of the tanker looms in front of
them.
<b> 139. WEZ TAKES OUT THE FIRST TYRE.DAY. 139.
</b> MAX looks in the passenger-side mirror...
Wez's convertible tow truck is drawing alongside the
left rear wheels of the prime mover.
WEZ fires an arrow into the first tyre...
It explodes,,. flailing cable and rubber.,.
As WEZ reloads, another MOHAWKER - wearing two bizarre
bear claws on his crossbow gauntlets - steadies himself
on the back of the tow truck... ready to jump aboard
the tanker.
Pappagallo's Lone Wolf machine appears in the background.
<b> 140, WARRIOR WOMAN IS SHOT. DAY. 1,40.
</b> WARRIOR WOMAN turns to see that the MECHANIC is losing
the battle with the flames. In vain he tries to stop
his clothes catching alight,..
Rising to her feet WARRIOR WOMAN fires an arrow at the
BEAR CLAW BIKER... hitting him in his protective pads
throwing him off balance.
As WARRIOR WOMAN scrambles along the top of the tanker
towards the MECHANIC, TWO MARAUDERS fire at her,
Sc. 1,40. Cont.
140. Cont. 140.
She is hit, once in the protective plate around her
kidneys and once in the thigh.,,
From the Lone Wolf vehicle PAPPAGALLO and the FERAL
KID watch as she staggers forward,..
In the tow truck, WEZ has reloaded and fires at WARRIOR
WOMAN. The arrow hits her in the back... she buckles
and falls into the barbed wire.
MAX watches helplessly in the rear vision mirror as
she struggles in the wire.
<b> 141. CONVERTIBLE TOW TRUCK. DAY. 141.
</b> As WEZ reloads his crossbow, the Lone Wolf machine
accelerates alongside the tow truck.
The KID throws his steel boomerang... Yiitting Wez's
crossbow gauntlet, preventing him from aiming.
The MASKED MOHAWKER driving the tow truck turns to see...
PAPPAGALLO firing his gauntlet crossbow.
The MASKED MOHAWKER screams as the arrow passes through
his neck...
The convertible tow truck swerves in and bounces off the
tanker.
WEZ is thrown off balance...
The BEAR CLAW BIKER grabs the barbed wire on the side
of the tanker for support...
The tow truck swerves away, out of control, leaving
the BEAR CLAW BIKER clinging to the wire,
WEZ scrambles over into the driver's seat, bringing
the vehicle back under control.
<b> 142. WARRIOR WOMAN AND THE MECHANIC. DAY. 1.42.
</b> WARRIOR WOMAN, caught in the wire by her clothing,
struggles to remain conscious as she slips-closer to
the tanker's wheels.
The MECHANIC, who has managed to extinguish the flames,
crawls towards her. Her clothing tearing... his hand
reaches out... further... further... and grabs her.
A road racer draws alongside them.
Sc. 142. Con t ...
MAX yells as he sees the driver - a GAYBOY BERSERKER -
fire another arrow into the MECHANIC.
The MECHANIC shudders, the WARRIOR WOMAN slips - her
weight dragging them both off the tanker.
<b> 143, MAX ATTACKS. DAY. 143,
</b> MAX, enraged, tears off the sling which supports his
wrist. He grabs the shotgun off the seat next to him.
He swings the gun around then pumps both barrels into
the road racer: the first blast shatters the windscreen
the second blows off the bonnet...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER is unharmed.
MAX hauls down hard on the wheel...
The tanker swerves into the road racer, taking it
through a guide post and into the 'rough'...
The tanker barrels over the road racer, rolling it,
tumbling it into another Marauder's vehicle.
MAX changes down and hurls the tanker back onto the
highway. The BEAR CLAW BIKER hangs on desperately...
MAX grabs two of the four remaining cartridges and
quickly reloads the shotgun.
<b> 143. BOARDING THE TANKER. DAY. 143.
</b> The Humungus machine draws up behind the undefended
tanker.
A GAYBOY BERSERKER clambers to the front of the
Humungus vehicle - between the TWO VICTIMS - and leaps
onto the back of the tanker.
Further along the tanker, a MOHAWK BIKER with PILLION
RIDER has drawn alongside. The PILLION RIDER helps the
BEAR CLAW BIKER swing up above the wire...
Once he is on top, the BEAR CLAW BIKER hauls the PILLION
RIDER on board.
The MOHAWK BIKER accelerates alongside the leading set
of wheels - one of which has already been blown apart.
He raises his bow taking aim...
The flying steel belt of the shreaded tyre lashes around
his arm, dragging him and his bike beneath the rig...
Sc. 143. Cont...
143. Cont. 143.
The giant wheels trample the MAN and machine, spitting
them out the back... beneath the wheels of the Humungus
machine.
<b> 144. UNDER THE TANKER. DAY. 144.
</b> On its way through the bike has ruptured a small hose
underneath the tanker. We see something trickling out
of the tank... streaming down the road.
It's sand!
<b> 145. THE MARAUDERS ON BOARD. DAY. 145.
</b> On board the tanker, the GAYBOY BERSERKER scrambles
towards the cabin, leaping the gap between the tank
and the prime mover...
MAX looks up at the 'thump' overhead...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER braces himself, taking aim through
the roof... he fires...
The arrow rips through the metal and buries itself in
the seat between MAX'S legs...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER prepares to reload.
MAX brakes...
The HUMUNGUS, tailgating him, isn't quick enough. The
front of his vehicle smacks one corner of the tanker,
crushing the BROKEN MAN strapped to the front.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER on the roof pitches forward,
falling past the windscreen and out of sight over the
front of the tanker...
The PILLION RIDER and BEAR CLAW BIKER scramble and
fall..
The BEAR CLAW BIKER catches hold of an outlet valve
and steadies himself..,
The PILLION RIDER totters... reaches... and grabs
the chromed exhaust stacks.., =
He screams as the pipe scorches his hand..; letting go..
tumbling over the side.
<b> 146, THE GYRO CAPTAIN AGAIN. DAY 146.
</b> On the crest of a hill about 400 yards ahead, MAX
sees another vehicle.
The gyrocopter stands in the middle of the road
facing away from the chase...
The GYRO CAPTAIN has bandaged his foot and is trying to
repair the right rudder peddle...
As the chase looms up behind him he turns... we see
that the GAYBOY BERSERKER is clinging to the cow-
catcher on the front of the tanker.
Furiously, the GYRO CAPTAIN starts spinning the rotor
by hand, turning over the motor.
As the tanker bears down on him he takes off - so
steeply that he almost stalls.
Once he is airborne he looks down... assessing, cursing.
Down below we see Pappagallo's Lone Wolf vehicle draw
alongside Wez's convertible tow truck.
<b> 147. OFF ROAD. THE FERAL KID FALLS. DAY. 147.
</b> WEZ looks over his shoulder...
PAPPAGALLO comes alongside... the FERAL KID, standing
on the back of the machine, hands him a crossobw.
WEZ wrenches down hard on the wheel... shunting into
the Lone Wolf vehicle... sending Pappagallo's arrow
astray...
The FERAL KID loses his footing, tumbling off the side
of the vehicle.
PAPPAGALLO turns in dismay... as WEZ comes in to
shunt him again...
<b> 148. MAX UNDER SIEGE. DAY. 148.
</b> A bike with a side car accelerates alongside the tanker.
The SIDECAR RIDER fires and takes out another tyre...
The BEAR CLAW BIKER signals, calling for a weapon.
The SIDE CAR RIDER throws him a large, powerful
crossbow.
The BEAR CLAW BIKER catches it and starts to haul himself
onto the roof of the cabin.
Sc. 148. Cont.
<b> 74.
</b>
148. Cont. 1.48.
The SIDE CAR RIDER leaps onto the tanker.
At the rear of the tanker a SMEGMA CRAZY leaps off
the front of the Humungus vehicle and ontc the ladder
which leads to the top of the tanker.
<b> 149, OFF ROAD. THE KID ON HIS FEET. DAY. 149.
</b> The FERAL KID staggers to his feet as Wez's tow truck
and Pappagallo's Lone Wolf vehicle continue their
shunting... the KID turns... a street car and a bike
are roaring towards him. The KID starts running..,
<b> 150. OFF ROAD. THE EROSION DITCH. DAY. 1,50,
</b> In the scrub ahead - over WEZ'S shoulder - we see an
erosion ditch looming up. WEZ brakes and turns the
wheel...
The tow truck and the Lone Wolf machine go into a
slide...
WEZ manages to avoid the ditch and keep going but the
Lone Wolf machine's wheels plunge into the ditch,
bringing the vehicle to an abrupt halt...
<b> 151, MAX STILL UNDER SIEGE. DAY. 151.
</b> As MAX looks back, a hand comes over the front bull bar
of the tanker, followed by the GAYBOY BERSERKER'S bead.
He sees the BEAR CLAW BIKER and signals for the crossbow...
the BEAR CLAW BIKER throws it...
The crossbow lands on the bonnet...
MAX turns, sees him... and raises the shotgun... the
GAYBOY BERSERKER ducks... MAX waits...
The BEAR CLAW BIKER works his way to Max's window...
The SMEGMA CRAZY jumps from the tanker onto the cabin
roof. =
MAX looks up as the man's feet thump on t-he metal above
his head.
The passenger's window shatters; the SIDE CAR RIDER
clings there, raising his crossbow...
Sc, 157. Cont...
1J i, <.Vil 6 , l J d..
On the roof, the SMEGMA CRAZY braces himself,
preparing to fire a crossbow bolt through the roof..
MAX raises the shotgun, firing point blank at the
SIDE CAR RIDER, blowing him away.
Immediately he fires the second barrel through the
roo4f. the blast hurls the SMEGMA CRAZY off the back
of the cabin.
MAX breaks open the barrel...
MAX grabs his last two shells as a muscled arm reaches
through the open door. MAX recoils. It is the BEAR
CLAW BIKER. The cartridges fall to the floor.
The BEAR CLAW rips the seat next to MAX'S right shoulder.
MAX zig-zags the tanker down the highway trying to keep
the BEAR CLAW off his balance.
Thud! The BEAR CLAW strikes again - this time - through
the rear window into Max's shoulder padding,..
The BEAR CLAW BIKER'S foot slips, MAX screams with pain
as the claws dig into his left shoulder.
The BEAR CLAW hangs there unable to move.
MAX tries desperately to reach the two cartridge shells
rolling around on the floor,
On the front of the tanker the GAY BOY BERSERKER pokes
his head up for another look...
<b> 152. OFF ROAD. THE EROSION DITCH. 152.
</b> PAPPAGALLO spins the back wheels of the Lone Wolf
machine... frantically trying to pull it out of the
<b> DITCH
</b> It begins to move...
<b> 153, OFF ROAD, THE FERAL KID IS RESUCED. DAY. 153.
</b> The FERAL KID runs.
WEZ streams in behind the MARAUDERS in the bike and
street car.
They are bearing down fast,..
When a rope drops from above, swinging past the KID,
The KID grabs it and is hauled up just as the
veh= !!s pass under him, The gyrocopter banks away...
1ni. Lont. 153.
The FERAL KID flies through the air,
A GAYBOY BERSERKER in a road racer looks tip to see
the gyrocopter and the KID...
He swings a 4-pak around on its axis and fires.
Three of the four arrows hit the gyrocopter in its
under-belly...
The aircraft makes a terrible noise and dips radically,
dropping down towards the tanker.
The KID clings desperately to the rope... looking up
and then down at the rapidly approaching tanker.
<b> 154. THE TANKER CABIN. DAY. 154.
</b> MAX struggles to free himself from the=bear claws and
reload the gun...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER scrambles over the bull. bar
reaching for the crossbow...
MAX, lets go of the wheel and grabs the rear view
mirror, tearing it free and throwing it at the GAYBOY
BERSERKER. He slips back behind the bull bar...
<b> 15.5. THE SIDE OF THE TANKER. DAY. 155.
</b> While the GYRO CAPTAIN struggles to keep his machine
in the air, the KID reaches out - trying to grab bold
of the tanker's exhaust stacks.
He can't reach.,.
The gyro drops a.gain...
The KID grabs the barbed wire but can't bold it...
<b> 156. THE TANKER CABIN. DAY, 1.56.
</b> MAX is struggling to pull the bear claw out of his
shoulder when he sees the FERAL KID fly past the
missing driver's door.
MAX throws his arm out as far as it will go... grabbing
hold of the KID, hauling him into the tanker.
MAX and the KID look out as the gyrocopter bucks
wildly and crashes into the ground.
1a! AZAA Or 1nr. laitvlUi 116. tl111 .L7!
As the Marauders swarm around the tanker, a SMEGMA
CRAZY shoots out yet another tyre.
A MOHAWK BIKER fires... exploding another tyre.
<b> 156, THE TANKER CABIN. DAY. 155.
</b> MAX shouts at the FERAL KID. indicating the cartridges
rolling around on the floor...
The KID recovers the cartridges, MAX hands him the gun...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER has crawled back onto the bonnet
and is reaching for the crossbow.
The KID tries to insert the first cartridge upside down.,.
<b> MAX
</b> No! The other way!!
The KID slips in the first cartridge, then the second...
He snaps the gun shut and tries to aim it at the
GAYBOY BERSERKER... but can't find the trigger.
The GAYBOY BERSERKER raises the crossbow...
MAX grabs the gun and fires...
The GAYBOY BERSERKER disappears over the side...
MAX rams the barrel into the left arm pit of the
<b> BEAR CLAW BIKER.
</b> He fires...
The BEAR CLAW BIKER falls away... leaving his arm and
crossbow gauntlet embedded in MAX'S shoulder.
<b> 159. THE REAR OF THE TANKER. DAY. 159,
</b> Bellowing through his loudspeakers, the HUMUNGUS
organises the destruction of the tanker.
The 4-pak street car surges forward and discharges
its arrows..,
Two more tyres shred away..
.?a
1uv. aaaa. . as v... v. .a..r •. ✓.>•
The tanker shudders.
The FERAL KID looks out of the passenger window.
MAX struggles to control the tanker.
The FERAI. KID climbs through the smashed windscreen and
onto the bonnet...
MAX watches as he picks up the crossbow lying on the
bonnet...
<b> MAX
</b> Get back! For Chrissakes!
The KID doesn't understand...
He clambers onto the roof before MAX can grab him.
The tanker shudders again as another tyre is blown out.
MAX watches through the rear window as"the KID jumps
from the cabin to the top of the tanker and then
disappears from view.
161. TOP OF THi TANKER. DAY. 161,
The KID tries to load the crossbow as he clambers
along the top of the tanker...
The bow string is too powerful for him to draw.
<b> 162. REAR OF THE TANKER. DAY. 162•
</b> Another tyre is shot...
Then another. One bogie falls down on the wheel
rims,..
<b> 163. TOP OF TANKER. DAY. 163.
</b> The tanker lurches... the KID slips down into the
wire... the crossbow clatters onto the road...
<b> 164, BEHIND THL TANKER. DAY, 164,
</b> PAPPAGALLO has got the Lone Wolf machine back onto
the road... starting to overhaul the pack, heading for
the rightand side of the tanker.
Up ahead on the left, we see Wez's tow truck drawing
alongside the tanker.
Pieces of tyre are flailing everywhere... the tanker is
down on one side... slowing...
<b> 165. THE SIDE OF THE TANKER. DAY, 165.
</b> The KID is trying to climb back onto the top of the
tanker. Wez's tow truck comes into view.
WEZ fires...
The KID is pinned by his dogskins to the side of the
tank...
He tries to free himself... he tears his dogskin off
the arrow and reaches up once more to the top of the
tanker.
WEZ fires again.
The arrow pierces the KID'S arm, pinning him to the
tank . . .
<b> 1.66. THE FRONT OF THE TANKER. DAY. 166.
</b> MAX is fighting to bring the crippled tanker under
control... he changes down, wrestling with the wheel.,
stewing across the road.
PAPPAGALLO draws alongside his doorway, yelling:
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Jump! Its finished. Jump!
MAX turns around, looking for the KID...
The tanker leaves the road and ramps up on the embankment,
rolling to a stop.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Jump!
<b> MAX
</b> The Kid?!
Cr 1AF runt
iou. Lont. 166.
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> Forget it! Jump!
MAX hesitates.
As the MARAUDERS swarm on top of the tanker, PAPPAGALLO
guns the engine... spraying dust,
MAX leaps, the arm of the BEAR CLAW BIKER still. embedded in
<b> HIS SHOULDER
</b> He grabs the rear roll bar of the Lone Wolf machine,
fighting to swing his feet clear... and finds a foothold
as the vehicle roars away...
<b> 167. THE CRIPPLED TANKER. DAY. 167
</b> The HUMUNGUS draws up to the crippled tanker. WEZ and
a SECOND MOHAWKER are on top.
WEZ pulls open a hatch...
The SECOND MOHAWKER plunges in his hand and lets out an
<b> ANGUISHED CRY-
</b> He H e pulls out a handful of sand.
Below the HTJMUNGUS has opened the outlet hose.
Sand pours out onto the road.
Above him, the KID is hanging by his arm. Despite the
pain... he grins.
<b> SECOND MOHAWKER
</b> All this - and no guzzolene.
WEZ, pale with fury, speaks softly:
<b> WEZ
</b> I know where there's guzzolene,
WEZ whirls around and fires his crossbow,,.
The arrow buries itself in the HUMUNGUS'S mask...
The big man crumbles to the ground, dead.
The rest of the HORDE are arriving. As their vehicles
screech to a halt TWO SMEGMA CRAZIES and TWO GAYBOY
BERSERKERS leap out, waving their Jerry cans in the air.
WEZ, the SECOND MOHAWKER and TWO OTHERS, open fire.
The FOUR MARAUDERS crumple..
168. LU,NL i�oA.r VhHiLLI:. DAB . 168.
MAX makes his way over the back engine of the speeding
vehicle towards PAPPAGALLO, he tears the bear claw
arm out of his shoulder...
Through the screaming motor we hear Pappagallo laughing,
almost hysterical.
As MAX eases himself down into the cockpit.
<b> PAPPAGALLO TURNS:
</b>
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> We've done it!
I thought it'd be impossible.
But we've done it!!
<b> MAX YELLS:
</b>
<b> :R
</b>
<b> MAX
</b> What about the Kid?!
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> We've won! Don't you see?
The fuel was with the others.
It's already at Powder River.
MAX reaches across and cuts the engine... the vehicle
rolls to a stop...
MAX g-abs PAPPAGALLO.
<b> MAX
</b> What happened to the boy?!
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> We've gotta keep going. It's
our only chance.
MAX raises the Bear Claw arm to PAPPAGALLO'S face.
We see that the crossbow strapped to the forearm is
still loaded.
<b> MAX
</b> The Kid?
<b> PAPPAGALLO
</b> I had to leave him... he was
pinned to the rig...
Sc. 168. Conc.
l6b. Cont. 168.
<b> MAX
</b> You left him there?
With them? Alive?
<b> PAPPAGALLC
</b> There was nothing I could do.
MAX throws PAPPAGALLO out of the vehicle and takes
the driver's seat...
PAPPAGALLO is left standing in the dust as MAX swings
the Lone Wolf machine around...
<b> 169. THE TANKER WRECK. DAY. 169.
</b> WEZ is sitting at the wheel of the Humungus machine.
He and the THREE OTHER MARAUDERS - all on-.bikes -
accelerate away from the tanker. Dead bodies litter
the ground.
WEZ urges the OTHER THREE on - pursuing the Lone
Wolf machine.
As the Humungus machine winds around the bends, we see,
the Lone Wolf vehicle approaching over a distant hillcrest.
<b> 170. UNDULATING HIGHWAY, DAY. 170.
</b> MAX guns the vehicle over the rise...
Over his shoulder we see the Humungus machine, 400 yards
away, approaching at terrific speed...
MAX steels himself... 300 yards.
The two vehicles are on direct collision course... 200
yards...
The two victims have been taken from the front of the
Humungus machine and something else is in their place...
MAX sees that it is the FERAL KID, lashed there - upside
down...
He throws the wheel, sending the vehicle into a slide,
spinning clear of the Humungus machine.
The Lone Wolf vehicle spins around... Thud! into the
bikes of TWO MARAUDERS flanking WEZ.
The third - a MOHAWK BIKER - follows WEZ,
As soon as MAX has the Lone Wolf machine under control,
he guns the two engines un,s is off after WEZ. He hits
<b> 171. HUMUNGUS MACHINE. DAY. 171.
</b> As the vehicle approaches we see the KID, his head inches
off the bitumen... WEZ looks back to see MAX overtaking
the MOHAWK BIKER.
<b> 172. THE LONE WOLF MACHINE.DAY 172.
</b> As MAX overtakes the MOHAWK BIKER, he twitches the
wheel... the big car swipes the bike.., sending the
MOHAWKER sailing off the road.
The Lone :Wolf surges away, catching up to the Humungus
machine.
173. HU1!UNGUS MACHINE. tAY. 173.
WEZ looks back at the approaching machine. He floors
the accelerator, "red-lining" the engine...
As the Humungus machine surges into camera we do a
track, in zoom, on the FERAL KID'S face, turning the
camera through 180 degrees.
<b> 174. THE KID'S UPSIDE DOWN POINT OF VIEW. DAY. 174.
</b> We are upside down as we rocket along the curving,
undulating, highway, through a flock of birds...
towards a puddle of water... as the water splashes on
the lens...
<b> CUT TO:
</b> The Humungus vehicle as it roars through the water,
passing a startled PAPPAGALLO walking along the road,..
SAX rockets past moments later.
<b> 175. THE LONE WOLF MACHINE.DAY . 175.
</b> MAX raises the Bear Claw arm as he closes in on WEZ,
drawing alongside the Humungus machine ... I.
<b> ALL
</b>
I /b . '1.1 HUNIUNU ,a MACHI.NL. DAY . .176,
WEZ reaches down... to the toggle switch next to the
nitrous oxide bottles... waiting for the right moment, .
He flicks the switch...
He is thrown back by the massive acceleration... the
Humungus machine surges away from camera...
<b> 177. THE LONE WOLF MACHINE. DAY, 17Z.
</b> MAX doesn't have time to aim the crossbow still attached
to the bear claw arm.
He fires, the arrow disappearing in a blurr...
The Humungus machine thunders away, rocketing along the
open highway... eating up the white line...
Upside down, the FERAL KID is terror-struck: the
Humungus machine roars straight into a wide curve,
leaving the road, continuing out into the wasteland.
The Humungus machine charges through the salt bush..
<b> 178, THE LONE WOLF CAR. DAY. 178.
</b> Over MAX'S shoulder, we see that the vehicle is
slowing . .
MAX follows i- out into the wasteland...
The vehicle comes to a halt...
Cautiously, MAX draws alongside: WEZ sits stock still,
looking out at the desert beyond...
It is not until MAX is alongside his face that we see
the tip of the arrow protruding from his left eye...
On the front of the vehicle the FERAL KID starts to
sob...
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 179. HILLTOP. POWDER RIVER. DUSK. 179.
</b> MAX stands on a hilltop, overlooking Powder River.
• Below him, the convoy - led by the yellow school bus
- moves out across the plain.
A dust trail appears on the horizon,' racing to
intercept the convoy.
MAX lifts his broken binoculars: it's the GYRO CAPTAIN,
bumping along in the twisted, wreck of the gyrocopter -
its rotors gone, engine screaming.
MAX shakes his head and walks back to the Lone Wolf
machine on the top of the hill.
Once again we hear the Old Man's voice:
NARRATOR (v/o)
That was the last we ever saw
of him...
<b> 180. INT. SCHOOL BUS. DUSK. 180.
</b>
We see PAPPAGALLO, face set with determination, driving
the yellow school bus.
NARRATOR (v/o)
As for the rest of us...
Pappagallo led us north...
to safety - to a place in the
sun...
In the tenth year, nurturing
his vision of a new world,
he died felling timber.
The LUSTY GIRL rolls her eyes and sighs as the GYRO
CAPTAIN draws alongside her window...
NARRATOR (v/o)
The Captain and the Girl waged
war for years... together they
raised eight children...
And as for me...
Sc. 180. Cont...
180. Cont. 180
The FERAL KID, sitting in the back of the bus, turrs
to face us. His bright yellow eyes stare directly
into camera...
NARRATOR (v/o) '
in the fullness of time,
I became the leader - the
chief of the Great Northern
Tribe...
<b> DISSOLVE.
</b>
<b> 181. THE NARRATOR'S FACE.
</b>
<b> 181,
</b> For the first time we see the Narrator's eyes - they
are bright yellow.
<b> FADE TO BLACK.
</b>
<b> 162, END CREDITS. 182.
</b>
</pre><br>
<table width="85%" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" class="body" style="BORDER-TOP: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 1px solid;">
<tr>
<td align=center><img src="/posters/Mad-Max-2-The-Road-Warrior.jpg" border="0">
<td><h1>Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior</h1><br><br>
<b>Writers</b> : <a href="/writer.php?w=Terry Hayes" title="Scripts by Terry Hayes">Terry Hayes</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=George Miller" title="Scripts by George Miller">George Miller</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=Brian Hannant" title="Scripts by Brian Hannant">Brian Hannant</a><br>
<b>Genres</b> : <a href="/genre/Action" title="Action Scripts">Action</a> <a href="/genre/Adventure" title="Adventure Scripts">Adventure</a> <a href="/genre/Sci-Fi" title="Sci-Fi Scripts">Sci-Fi</a><br><br><br>
<a href="/Movie Scripts/Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior Script.html#comments" title="Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior comments">User Comments</a>
</td>
</table>
<br><br>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://www.imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database"><img src="/images/lilbutton.gif" style="border: 1px solid black;" alt="Internet Movie Script Database" border=1><br>
Back to IMSDb</a>
</div><br>
<br><br>
</tr>
</table>
<br><br>
</table>
<table width="99%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" class="body">
<tr>
<td background="/images/reel.gif" height="13" colspan="2">
</table>
<div align="center">
<a href="https://imsdb.com" title="Internet Movie Script Database (IMSDb)">Index</a>
|
<a href="/submit.html" title="Submit scripts">Submit</a>
|
<a href="/link to us" title="Link to IMSDb">Link to IMSDb</a>
|
<a href="/disclaimer.html">Disclaimer</a>
|
<a href="/privacy">Privacy policy</a>
|
<a href="/contact.html">Contact</a>
</div>
<br />
</body>
</html>
Question:
What happens to the Gyro Captain?
Answer:
| He's the chief of the Great Northern Tribe | 174 | 168,866 | 168,868 | 168,911 | ... [The rest of the story is omitted]
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.