THE MAN BORN TO BE HANGED
[As the curtain rises, the stage is pitch dark. Wind and rain audible, but above it the rhythmical and reverberant snoring of Mr. Lenora. As soon as the audience is listening, there is the sound of splintering wood as Davey forces and entrance. He pauses just inside the doorway.]
BILL.
[off, distant] Whisht, who's there?
DAVEY.
All right. [BILL stomps in, his iron foot clanking on the stone. He manages to strike a match: it goes out at once without showing anything. He gropes his way about.]
BILL [by Mr. LENORA].
Silly blighter! Drunk as a lord. Rolled himself in newspaper too, to keep the cold out. Guess it will serve our turn, though, friend. [He continues to grope about, and with the help of the newspapers tries to build a fire in the dark.] Whew, it's a crool night for sleeping rough! God knows why I ever took to it. I got a little circus of my own laid up in London– the smartest and toughest and roughest little circus in the country, it is; waiting for the money to start it; and here I am walking the road like any poor blooming lugbiter. How long have you been on the road, friend?
[Suddenly the fire blazes up: DAVEY is seated L. of fire, BILL above it.MR. LENORA is lying flat on his back on a pile of rags with a newspaper still round his legs.]
DAVEY.
Seven months come Christmas.
BILL.
Coo, I been on it ever since I was a babby. Six years old, I was, when I hopped it.–Look at him now, a nice, sociable, matey sort of chap to pass a night with ain't 'e? [ He heaves a bit of rock on to the sleeping man's stomach: who hiccups suddenly and then goes on snoring.] Wake up, you silly blighter! Can't you see there's two gentlemen wanting to have a chat with you? Wake up! The Copper's after you! It's closing–time! Coo, I can't understand a chap like that, what drinks himself silly. Let's have a look at him. [He heaves over on to one hand and holds a burning branch over the sleeper's face.] I know him, too: chap called Lenora: I done him down last Worcester races. Won five pounds, he did: oh, he was roaring drunk that day. I retched an old monkey's skull what I'd got in my pack, curio–like: I wired it on to a haddock's backbone, and told him it was a Mermaid's Anatomy. Young one. He paid me four pound for it, he did. Bit I don't care. Wake up, you skunk! Don't you remember old Bill, what sold you the Anatomy? You been looking for me, have you? Eh? Wake up!
[Meanwhile DAVEY squeezes the water out of the legs of his trousers; takes his coat off, wrings it, and puts it on again]
DAVEY.
You won't wake him, never. He's in for a good night's rest, that's what.
BILL.
Look at him! Born to be hanged, he is. See them eyebrows meeting? Born to be hanged, that means. I ain't a bit religious, but I'm very superstitious, you know. Not Jesusy, but I do believe in a bit of luck. See them bits of snake–skin?
DAVEY.
Ah.
BILL.
Do you think they're lucky, eh? I do: holy, they are, holy snake. I got them out in Malay, same as where I learnt tattooing and the Magic Coffin Trick. But I ain't had a bit of luck, not since. Are you married?
DAVEY.
No.
BILL.
That's right, friend: don't you be, neither. It's a silly duck that paddles always in the same puddle, I say. I am.
DAVEY.
What you are?
BILL.
Married! But I'm through with it. Look at that. [He rummages inside the front of his shirt, and pulls out an old pocket–book full of cuttings and photographs, which he takes out one by one.] See that? That's me, slung up in chains sixty feet above deck, in seven pair of regulation handcuffs. See all the passengers staring? I got out in four minutes, same as I said I would. –That's me as a little boy: you can guess I had a good home; white collar and all. –Ah, that's the one![DAVEY examines it with interest and due to ceremony.] Now, would you call her 'andsome?
DAVEY.
[slowly] Ah!
BILL
[disappointed]. Would you? I wouldn't: not real 'andsome: not like one of them flash girls: that's my wife. [DAVEY looks at him a little incredulously.] Irish girl: irish temper, too. Lumme! Lord alone knows what I wanted to do it for! We were married proper, you know, registry and all.
DAVEY.
You was married to her!
BILL.
[in an aggrieved tone].I don't know what she was thinking about! She'd got birth, she'd education,
mind you: read easy as winking, she could: she 'adn't got no business to marry
a chap like me! Ought to know better, she did! [Mr. LENORA mutters in his sleep. Turning on him in mock indignation, parodying an
Oxford accent:] Now then, you low fellow, kindly don't interrupt! [In own voice:] Or I'll roll you out in the ruddy rain!
[Chuckles.]– But I'm through with it! Coo, lumme,
what a life! [Steps off.] Hello, who goes there? [Enter MR. SPENCER: he stands a moment
motionless in the firelight, his nose is twitching.]
BILL.
Walk up! Walk up! [MR. SPENCER blows the water out of his
moustache: gives no greeting, and seats himself R. of fire, close to it. A
woman follows at this heels; she has pulled up her skirt over her head, and
her ragged petticoat flaps on her legs. Her shoe has a loose sole. She seats
herself behind MR. SPENCER , away from the fire, half
in light and half in shadow, her face hidden in her skirt.] Full bar
to–night, gentlemen!–Poor Man's Inn, they call it, sleeping rough: At the
Sign of the Ruddy Rain. A pint of old–and–mild all round, please Jou!–Coo, I
could do with a bit of grog inside me a night like this: crool, ain't it, Mr
Parker?
MR. SPENCER.
[in a sullen, strident voice: his nose twitching]. My name ain't Parker: it's Spencer: what you call me Parker for?
BILL.
[shaking with mirth]. Coo! I don't know! I can't think! Now, whatever should I go and call him Parker for, eh, friend? [Digging DAVEY in the ribs, and roaring with laughter. DAVEY. looks uncomfortable.]
MR. SPENCER
'Ere!
BILL.
Well?
MR. SPENCER
Stop it!
BILL.
[in mock seriousness]. Don't take no offence! I ain't a fighting man: I ain't that sort of chap. If a man wants to quarrel with me, I don't hit him, not I!– I just go up to him friendly–like, and bit a piece right out of his blooming face! [MR. SPENCER snorts with indignation.] All right, I ain't going to take a pull out of your mug, you needn't worry! [He suddenly spins round with incredible swiftness, and thrusts his own face within an inch of MR. SPENCER'S, letting out an appalling howl. MR. SPENCER tumbles over in consternation.] See now, that shook him! [Innocently:] It always shakes 'em! It shook Nell! I done it in the regist'y office. It shook the Regist'ar! [Chuckling:]He told me to remember it was a Solemn Occasion! Coo!
MR. SPENCER.
[slowly and provocatively]. You'd be a nice sort of chap to be married to, you would!
BILL.
[impressively]. So I was! But as I just done telling this gentleman here–what's your name, friend?
DAVEY.
Davey.
BILL.
Exercising my profession! I got out of thirty five feet of chain, seven pair of American Ratchet Handcuffs, and a straight waistcoat, I did! Nell took the 'at round in the middle. In 'ere [nodding at the bag, and getting into his showman manner] I got handcuffs of all the ages: I got Figure–of–Eight–Regulation–American Ratchet–I got a pair with teeth on 'em, same as was used by the Savage Romans, and the Ancient Mammoths of the Bohemian Desert. I've studied 'em , like. See here! [He puts his hand to his nose, and seems to extract a small mental instrument like a hollow clock key, but nicked like a whistle. See that? That's a master key to all the handcuffs of Europe!–But it won't fit them American Ratchets: you want a bit of wire for them. [Replaces it in nose, and sniffs loudly.] I got a foot of wire, up the other side. [Sniffs again.]
DAVEY.
Have you been to jail?
MR. SPENCER
Course he has!
BILL.
Yes, but don't stop: I can't stand living in. Three weeks hard is enough for me: then I hop it, eh, Mr. Lenora? [Chucks another bit of rock at the sleeper.] As I was saying, we had a good week of it: they're a bit of all right, them Oxford Police. But I didn't leave her, not till she come out of the 'firmary. I was always a good husband to her: careful, like. I hung on till she was right again. Nobody can't say I wasn't a good husband to her [sentimentally.]
[MR. SPENCER is getting more and more annoyed.]
DAVEY.
What was the matter with 'er, Mister?
BILL.
Well, you see, we done have a bit of a row: too many girls, you know: she didn't mean nothing by it: she was a good girl at heart. I just took up the poker; not to beat 'er, you know, just to learn her: and she trip up and broke her poor blooming ankle. [There is dead silence, except for MR. LENORA's snoring MR. SPENCER ostentatiously takes off his boots and pours the water out of them: then begins to examine the conditions of his feet.] [Sadly.] Month, she was, in the 'firmary. Pretty thin time of it, I had: my show was gone stale; oughtn't never do it more nor a week. I didn't take more nor a tenner a night. I was used to do the Magic Coffin Trick––shove Nell in a Coffin, padlocked 'and foot each end, and sor it through the middle! But I couldn't do it without Nell: you can't do it with any girl you see: she's got to be made that way, same as Nell was. Nor I couldn't think of nothing new: you know how it is: when you're in luck, your 'eads fair full of new tricks: when you're down on it, you can't think of nothing. [Brightening:] Coo, I remember down Llandudno way oncet, I got a bit of wood, and I nailed thousands and thousands of lug–worms on to it, so as you couldn't see the wood for the worms! Then I put it in a tank, and exhibited it as a marine monster, Pride of the Ocean! When the silly worms waggled, you see, they swam it about! I took pounds on pounds. Stuff in the papers, there was––"Unknown Monster Captured at Llandudno." That put the wind up me, that did! Nell, one night she broke it up. I said I'd throwed it back in its native ocean, I did. [Chuckles.] They offered a reward to anyone what could catch it again. All out fishing, for weeks they was. Coo, lumme!
MR. SPENCER
It'd have served you right if you'd been lagged!
BILL.
[with exaggerated innocence]. Would it now, Mr. Parker? D'you know, that never occurred to me! Funny, ain't it?
DAVEY.
But what did you do at Oxford, then, Mister?
BILL.
Do? There weren't nothing to do, but fire–eating! But it's terrible hard on the kidneys, that is: I was awful bad inside. No one can't do it for more than six months, even them what's used to it. Don't you ever take fire–eating, Mr. Parker!
MR. SPENCER
Thank you kindly, I'm sure!
BILL.
That's right, friend! Why, it ain't hardly worth the paraffin! I 'adn't got more nor half a crown in the world, time Nell was coming out. So I shoves a bob into 'er bed: and I beat it.
DAVEY.
Did she know you was going?
BILL.
Naw! Make a scene, she would'ave. She was real fond of me. I was good 'usband to 'er. I don't suppose she's got over it yet, proper. Terrible fond, she was [sentimentally].
MR. SPENCER
[puffing with anger, his nose twitching up and down as if he had the ague, it a shrill voice]. That's a nice edifying little story to tell a party of strangers! Some of you chaps ain't got no decency, no nuffink! Washing your dirty linen in public! Ought to be ashamed of yourself, you did!
BILL.
[in genuine surprise]. Why dirty linen? I don't see––"
MR. SPENCER
Yes, dirty linen! You're as bad as a divorce court, you are! Ought to be in jail, you did! [He fidgets nervously all over. The woman is thrown back the skirt off her head, revealing a face of great natural beauty, now utterly twisted and set in rage.].
BILL.
[At first he stares at her stupidly: slowly his expression changes to delight and an uncouth tenderness.] Well I'm–– [Her hand is hidden in a fold in her dress: there is a revolver–crack, and BILL pitches right over sideways on to his face. DAVEY sits quite still, his eyes half out of his head.]
MR. SPENCER
[still seated; slowly]. Whatever 'ave you been and gone and done! [He suddenly jumps to his feet, staring at NELL, saying "Crikey!" two or three times with increasing emphasis. Let's out a little screech. Then "Lumme!" [Then he pokes BILL with his finger, suddenly grabs up his boots in his hand and rushes out into the rain, hollering with terror, as he runs. Exit.]
NELL.
[She takes no notice of MR. SPENCER. The passion of her face changes to a sort of impersonal hardness: in a calm voice, her eyes all the while fixed on BILL:] That'll learn him. He won't do that again. [Turning to DAVEY, the soft Irish in her voice increasing:] Stranger, this is none of your business
DAVEY.
[pulling himself together]. No, indeed!
NELL
You had better be going.
DAVEY.
[jerking his head towards the door after MR. SPENCER]. That one's gone.
NELL
He is gone surely.
DAVEY.
[slowly]. I'll not go yet
NELL.
As you like, stranger. [She rises to her feet and flings away the revolver: it falls beside LENORA.]
DAVEY.
What was you doing in company with him?
NELL.
I didn't care.
DAVEY.
No?
NELL
No.
DAVEY.
But it's as well to be in company with a man of sorts, indeed, when you're on the Road.
NELL.
[listlessly.] It might.
DAVEY.
And there's beautiful you are, indeed
NELL.
Aye.
[DAVEY rises too; there is an awkward pause. LENORA hiccups].
DAVEY.
Did you see them eyebrows?
NELL.
I did not.
DAVEY.
Meeting! Do you get me?
NELL.
I do not.
[Another pause.]
DAVEY.
Don't you be losing heart.
NELL.
[looking at him for the first time]. Losing heart?
DAVEY.
They'll never know.
NELL.
[calmly]. They will not.
DAVEY.
I'll not tell.
NELL.
Why should you?
[Pause.]
DAVEY.
Shall we be going?
NELL
Go if you wish, stranger.
DAVEY.
I'll not go yet. [Pause. Awkwardly:] Would you––come in company with me a bit?
NELL.
It's a kind heart you have, young man: thoughtful of your friends.
DAVEY.
[uneasy.] I don't see––
NELL.
No: you don't, that's true.
DAVEY.
[His accent grows more Welsh in excitement.] I'd love you, Nell! I'd––I'd look after you! I'd take you away out of it.
NELL.
[sternly]. Boy, won't there be a fear creeping up your back at night, to be with such as me?
DAVEY.
No, indeed; what's a killing, anyway?
NELL.
You're right there, anyway; what is it?
DAVEY.
You'll forget it, surely.
Nell.
Will I, surely? And will you, surely?
DAVEY.
I wouldn't fear.
NELL.
Brave boy!
[Tense pause.]
DAVEY.
[sulkily]. I'd not ask nothing of you.
NELL.
Them as don't ask, don't get.
[DAVEY suddenly seizes her in his arms, and kisses her: then starts back: she remains quite impassive]
DAVEY.
Woman, you're as cold as ice!
NELL.
What did you expect, young man?
DAVEY.
You're not angry, are you?
NELL.
Angry? [Laughs.] No, young man, I am not angry with you.
DAVEY.
Will you come then, Nell?
NELL.
Do you want me? Certain?
DAVEY.
You're a grand woman, indeed! I couldn't kill a man like that, and never turn my hair.
NELL.
[weighing him up.] No; I think you could not.
DAVEY.
Come away, Nell: wouldn't you be afeard, walking alone at nights with the memory of that!
NELL.
Walking? [She begins to laugh.] It's walking shall I be, walking at nights up and down, up and down: for ever and ever I'll be walking! They'll see me in here at nights, walking, they will! Mother of Heaven, it's scared they'll be of me! [She bursts into laughter: quietly at first, then like a cataract; flings her head up and screams with laughter; her hair comes down, her eyes stream with tears: she still laughs.]
DAVEY.
[shrinking back with horror] God go with you, you poor woman, for I dare not!
NELL.
[growing suddenly calm; with intense emphasis] No, that you daren't! [Calmly begins to plaid her hair over her shoulder; coils it round her head and pins it. Then suddenly falls forward on her face, scratching at the ground, crying! Bill! Bill! In a little husky voice. DAVEY turns away, walks down stage biting at his fingers. Suddenly, she kneels up, pats her hair, rises, and disappears into the darkness: apparently by the door, but in reality in a corner of the room. Pause.]
BILL.
[sitting up] Whisht, friend, is she gone?
DAVEY.
[jumping like a shot rabbit] Ai–ai!
BILL.
Coo, lumme, that shook her!
DAVEY.
Aren't you hurt, man?
BILL.
Hurt? Lord, no! [Chuckles.] Take it from me, friend: give a woman a gun, and she'll miss you at six inches; but give her a knife, and she never goes wrong, never! [Half fiercely:] But that'll learn her not to go killing me! That ought to be a lesson to her, eh, friend? Lord, she was pretty near mad, she was she loved me that crool! Poor girl, she'll be that remorseful. But she didn't ought to have done it, eh, friend? She didn't ought to go a shooting of me! Let it be a lesson to 'er, I says. I never thought she would have done it, not really: I didn't think it of her, truth I didn't!––You thought you'd go off with her, did you? Coo, lumme, what a joke! You are a caution! [Roars with laughter, slapping his thigh; then rises, and goes towards MR. LENORA.]
DAVEY.
I––I––––
BILL.
[addressing MR. LENORA in a serious voice]. 'Tisn't your time, yet, my friend! [Picks up revolver.] Though you haven't got that cove to thank you didn't wake up in clink to–morrow! Lumme, they'd have strung him sure, what with the gun being by him and his threatening me and all!–– Though I'm not saying it wouldn't be better of him if they did. It's got to come, sooner or later; you can't go against a sure sign like them eyebrows; and it'd be better for his soul to be hung when he hadn't done nothing then waiting till he has, won't it friend?
DAVEY.
You're right there, Mister.
BILL.
[turning on him, and playing with the revolver]. Now, did you really think, Mr. Davey, she'd go off along of you?
DAVEY.
[shrinking.] I didn't mean nothing.
BILL.
Oh, you didn't, didn't you! [With a twinkle in his eye.] Kissing a married woman! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!
DAVEY.
She weren't a married woman, Mister: she were a widow!
BILL.
Well, kissing a widow what's––what's made 'erself one, then!
DAVEY.
And you lying quiet, and not saying nothing! It isn't decent! Watching another man kissing your wife, and you not saying nothing! I wonder you didn't holler out: I should.
BILL.
Would you? I wouldn't: bless you no, I hadn't no cause to worry. I know Nell! I know 'er better than you do, young man, an' better nor you ever will!
DAVEY.
You seem very sure of yourself!
BILL.
[simply]. I am.
DAVEY.
Don't you never make mistakes?
BILL.
Not as how I can remember. You're young yet, Davey, my boy; you got a deal to learn.
DAVEY.
Well, you aren't a gaffer yet.
BILL.
That's true, but I guess I'm through with learning. Why, I mind I been in clink seven times by what I was your age! And let myself out too, not waited to be let out. Coo, there ain't nothing about locks I don't know: give me any new patent combination, and I guarantee to have it open inside of ten minutes. Them letter–locks: my ear's that sharp I can tell by just clinking them round when I come to the right one! Or see here, friend: you lock a door on the inside, and bolt it, and leave the key in the lock, and I'll guarantee to have the bolts back, and the key outside the door, and the door unlocked inside two minutes.
DAVEY.
However would you do that, Mister?
BILL.
Ah! That's a secret, that is! I learnt it form a young Polish chap, what lived in Budapest. [Pause.] Coo, lumme, them Hungarian women! Hot lot of gipsies, they are! As I was saying, give a woman a knife–––
[The moon suddenly struggles through the clouds and, shining through a hole in the roof, shows NELL sitting sideways against the wall, huddles up.]
DAVEY.
[clutching his arm]. What's that?
BILL.
Nell!––Nell! [Crosses quickly and carries her to firelight.] Oh, my poor bloody little Nell!
DAVEY.
You've done it, you!
BILL.
Nell!––Nell, you little joker, stop shamming, or I'll give you what for! Stop it!––Wake up!
DAVEY.
She's not shamming.
BILL.
[touching blood with finger; shaking head and screwing up eyes]. Ow! You didn't oughter, you little limb. What you done it for?
DAVEY.
Damn you, you! Yr hên Ilofrudd i ti!
BILL.
You was... you was... who ever would have thought it! You and me... I didn't....
[Tableau; moon goes in; fire dying.]
SLOW CURTAIN
[ The curtain rises again for a moment, showing the stage empty except for the body of Nell and the sleeping MR. LENORA.]
