Chapter 15 of 22 · 3987 words · ~20 min read

Part 15

MORGAN. No matter. [_Brusquely._] Well, what you goin' to do about what I said? [_He looks at her squarely._ JIM _watches them both with open mouth_. AUNT CANDACE _keeps staring at the bundle on the bed, and now and then glancing around to see if any one is watching her. She is oblivious of the conversation._ MARY _stands with bowed head_.] Well, what about it? I've done told you you got to get out at the first o' the year if you ain't a mind to marry Jim. [JIM _straightens up_.] At least you've got to marry somebody that can come here and work. I told you to tell Candace to look out for it. Why didn't you tell her like I said?

MARY. I couldn't do it. It'd kill her to leave here. You know it. She's been good to me all my life. Oh, I can't do it.

[AUNT CANDACE _stealthily slips across the room and picks up the package from the bed, unseen by any one but_ JIM.

MORGAN. Can't do it? Well, what you want me to do? Lose money on you till the end of time! You ain't earned enough to keep you in clothes for the last three years since Candace got down, an' ...

[_A terrible cry rings out._ AUNT CANDACE _stands by the bed, holding a white dress up before her_. MORGAN _looks perplexed. Suddenly he starts back in astonishment._

MARY. [_Starting forward._] It's for me! [_Joyously._] It's mine!

MORGAN. [_Catching_ MARY _by the arm_.] What--what is it?... Heigh! Don't you move, gal! Wait a minute!

[_He pulls her back._ AUNT CANDACE _looks at_ MORGAN. _Gradually he lowers his head._

AUNT CANDACE. I's a-feared on it. I knowed it ... I knowed it. [_She throws the dress back on the bed and hobbles to the fire, groaning._] Oh, Lawdy! Oh, Lawdy! My po' li'l gal! My po' li'l gal!

[_She rocks to and fro._ MORGAN'S _hand falls from_ MARY'S _shoulder, and she runs to the bed_.

MARY. He sent it to me! He sent it to me! I knowed he wouldn't forget. [_She hugs the dress to her._

MORGAN. [_Turning to her._] Well, and what nigger's sending you presents now? [_With suspicion fully aroused._] Who give you that, Mary!

MARY. He did!

MORGAN. [_Sternly._] Who?

MARY. [_Impetuously._] It was him! An' I don't care if you do know it!

MORGAN. Who? You don't mean ...

MARY. I do too--an' ...

MORGAN. God a'mighty, my ... it can't be so.

[MARY _goes to the window and holds the dress in front of her_.

MARY. It is, too. Mr. Hugh sent it to me. [MORGAN _groans_.] He told me to-day he's sorry for me. I knowed he'd remember me; I knowed it. An', after all, I ain't been workin' the whole year for nothin'. He's got a heart if nobody else ain't.

MORGAN. What in the devil! I wonder ... Lord!

[AUNT CANDACE _still looks in the fire. For a moment_ MORGAN _stands lost in abstraction, then he speaks fiercely_.

MORGAN. Mary, put them damned things up. Put 'em up, I say. [_He goes toward her. She shrinks back; holding the dress to her. He snatches it from her and throws it on the bed, then he pushes her out in the middle of the floor. She wipes the tears from her eyes with her apron._] You listen here, gal. We're goin' to settle it right here and now, once and for all. You're goin' to marry Jim?

MARY. Mr. Morgan ... oh ... I can't marry him. I can't! I won't! Let me stay. Don't drive her out; she'll die. I'll work, I'll hoe an' wash, day an' night. I'll do anything, I'll ...

MORGAN. [_Fiercely._] You've tole me that a thousand times, an' you've got to say one or the other right now. Right now! Do you hear! Marry Jim, I tell you, and it'll be all right. He's smart and he'll take care of you ...

MARY. I can't do it, I tell you. I can't! I'd rather die. Look at me. Ain't I almost white? Look at him. He's black and I hate him. I can't marry no nigger. Oh, don't make me do it.

MORGAN. White! What's that got to do with your marryin'? Ain't you a...? You don't think you can marry a white man, do you? I tell you you've got to decide to-night. I've been after you now for two years and, gal, you've got to do it!

MARY. Don't make me do it! I hate him. I ain't black. Oh, Lord!...

MORGAN. [_Desperately._] Candace!

MARY. [_Clutching at his arm._] Don't tell her. I ain't goin' to see her drove out in the cold from her home. Don't tell her.

[AUNT CANDACE _still looks in the fire_. JIM _sits lost in amazement, idly strumming his guitar_.

MORGAN. Well?

MARY. [_Looking wildly around, as if seeking help._] Oh!...

MORGAN. [_Wiping his face._] Gal, I don't want to be too hard on you. But use common sense. I've been good to you. They ain't another man in the county that would have kept you for the last three years, an' losin' money on you every year. I'm done of it, gal, I'm done. Marry Jim.

MARY. He wouldn't let you do it if he was here. He wouldn't.

MORGAN. Who? Who you talkin' about?

MARY. Mr. Hugh, your boy. He's got feelin's, he has. If he was here ...

MORGAN. [_Hoarsely._] I know it. I know it. Don't you see? He's all I got. I can't run the risk of his ... Oh, Mary, I can't tell you. For God's sake, marry Jim. Can't you see? You've got to marry him! Hugh's gone off for a week, an' I'm goin' to settle it before he ever gets back. And when he gets back, you and Candace will be clean out of this country, if you don't marry Jim. They ain't nobody else 'round here will take you in, and keep you like I have.

MARY. Where ... where's he gone?

MORGAN. He's gone to see his gal. The one he's going to marry. And by God, you've got to marry Jim.

MARY. [_Half sobbing._] They ain't no use tryin' to change it. I've tried and tried, but they ain't no use. I jus' as well do it. Yes, yes, I'll marry him. I'll marry him. They ain't no way to be white. I got to be a nigger. I'll marry him, yes. I'll marry him, an' work an' hoe an' wash an' raise more children to go through it all like me, maybe other children that'll want to be white an' can't. They ain't nobody can help me. But look at him. [_Pointing to_ JIM.] He's a nigger an' ... yes ... I'm a nigger too.

[_She throws her arms out, letting them fall at her side._

MORGAN. [_Almost gently._] All right, Mary ... I'll send for the preacher and the license in the morning and have him marry you and Jim right here. You needn't think about leavin' any more. And you and Jim can live here as long as you please. Is that all right, Jim?

JIM. [_Uncertainly._] Yes-suh, yes-suh, Mr. Mawgin! An' I thanks you 'specially.

MORGAN. [_Going up to_ AUNT CANDACE.] Mary and Jim are going to be married to-morrow, Candace. It'll be a lucky day for you. [_She makes no answer, but continues her trancelike stare in the fire._ MORGAN _comes to_ MARY _and offers his hand. She fails to see it._] Child, what I've had to do to-night has hurt me a whole lot worse'n you.... Good-night, Mary.

[_He stands a moment looking at the floor, then goes out quietly._

JIM. [_Coming up to_ MARY.] Miss Mary, don't look lak dat. I's gwine do better, I's.... [MARY _keeps her head muffled in her apron_.] Honey, I's sho' gwine make you a good man.

[MARY _pays no attention to him. In his embarrassment he strums his guitar, clears his throat, props his foot up on a chair rung, and begins singing in a low voice._]

JIM. Lyin' in the jail house, A-peepin' th'ough de bars....

AUNT CANDACE. [_Waking from her reverie._] Bring me de li'l black box, gal. Bring me de box! [MARY _drops her apron and stares dully at the floor_.] Bring me de box! [_Half-screaming._] Bring me de box, I say! [_Trembling and groaning, she stands up._ MARY _goes to the chest and brings her the black box_. AUNT CANDACE _drops her stick and clutches it_.] I's gwine tell you de secret o' dis li'l box. Yo' mammy told me to tell you if de time ever come, an' it's come. She seed trouble an' our mammy befo' us. [_She takes a key, tied by a string around her neck, and unlocks the box, pulling out a wrinkled white dress, yellowed with age, of the style of the last generation._ JIM _sits down, overcome with astonishment, staring at the old woman with open mouth_.] Look heah, chile. I's gwine tell you now. Nineteen yeahs ago come dis Christmas dey's a white man gi'n your mammy dis heah, an' dat white man is kin to you, an' he don't live fur off nuther. Gimme dat dress dere on de bed. [MARY _gets it and holds it tightly to her breast_. AUNT CANDACE _snatches at it, but_ MARY _clings to it_.] Gimme dat dress!

MARY. It's mine!

AUNT CANDACE. Gimme! [_She jerks the dress from_ MARY. _Hobbling to the fireplace, she lays both of them carefully on the flames._ JIM _makes a movement as if to save them, but she waves him back with her stick_.] Git back, nigger! Git back! Dis night I's gwine wipe out some o' de traces o' sin. [MARY _sits in her chair, sobbing. As the dresses burn_ AUNT CANDACE _comes to her and lays her hand upon her head_.] I knows yo' feelin's, chile. But yo's got to smother 'em in. Yo's got to smother 'em in.

CURTAIN

MOONSHINE

ARTHUR HOPKINS

Arthur Hopkins, one of the well-known men of the practical theatre of to-day, was born in Cleveland, Ohio, in 1878. He completed his academic training at Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio. At present he is the manager of Plymouth Theatre, New York City.

Mr. Hopkins's entire life has been given to the theatre, which is his hobby. In the midst of his various activities as a manager he has found time to do some dramatic writing. Among his one-act plays are _Thunder God_, _Broadway Love_, and _Moonshine_, which appeared in the _Theatre Acts Magazine_ for January, 1919.

_Moonshine_ is an excellent play of situation that has grown out of the reaction of character on character.

CHARACTERS

LUKE HAZY, _Moonshiner_ A REVENUE OFFICER

MOONSHINE

SCENE: _Hut of a moonshiner in the mountain wilds of North Carolina. Door back left. Window back right centre. Old deal table right centre. Kitchen chair at either side of table, not close to it. Old cupboard in left corner. Rude stone fireplace left side. On back wall near door is a rough pencil sketch of a man hanging from a tree._

_At rise of curtain a commotion is heard outside of hut._

LUKE. [_Off stage._] It's all right, boys.... Jist leave him to me.... Git in there, Mister Revenue.

[REVENUE, _a Northerner in city attire, without hat, clothes dusty, is pushed through doorway_. LUKE, _a lanky, ill-dressed Southerner, following, closes door_. REVENUE'S _hands are tied behind him_.

LUKE. You must excuse the boys for makin' a demonstration over you, Mister Revenue, but you see they don't come across you fellers very frequent, and they allus gits excited.

REVENUE. I appreciate that I'm welcome.

LUKE. 'Deed you is, and I'm just agoin' to untie your hands long nuff fer you to take a sociable drink. [_Goes to stranger, feels in all-pockets for weapons._] Reckon yer travellin' peaceable. [_Unties hands._] Won't yer sit down?

REVENUE. [_Drawing over chair and sitting._] Thank you. [_Rubs wrists to get back circulation._]

LUKE. [_Going over to cupboard and taking out jug._] Yessa, Mister, the boys ain't seen one o' you fellers fer near two years. Began to think you wus goin' to neglect us. I wus hopin' you might be Jim Dunn. Have a drink?

REVENUE. [_Starts slightly at mention of_ JIM DUNN.] No, thank you, your make is too strong for me.

LUKE. It hain't no luck to drink alone when you git company. Better have some.

REVENUE. Very well, my friend, I suffer willingly.

[_Drinks a little and chokes._

LUKE. [_Draining cup._] I reckon ye all don't like the flavor of liquor that hain't been stamped.

REVENUE. It's not so bad.

LUKE. The last Revenue that sit in that chair got drunk on my make.

REVENUE. That wouldn't be difficult.

LUKE. No, but it wuz awkward.

REVENUE. Why?

LUKE. I had to wait till he sobered up before I give him his ticker. I didn't feel like sendin' him to heaven drunk. He'd a found it awkward climbin' that golden ladder.

REVENUE. Thoughtful executioner.

LUKE. So you see mebbe you kin delay things a little by dallyin' with the licker.

REVENUE. [_Picking up cup, getting it as far as his lips, slowly puts it down._] The price is too great.

LUKE. I'm mighty sorry you ain't Jim Dunn. But I reckon you ain't. You don't answer his likeness.

REVENUE. Who's Jim Dunn?

LUKE. You ought to know who Jim Dunn is. He's just about the worst one of your revenue critters that ever hit these parts. He's got four of the boys in jail. We got a little reception all ready for him. See that?

[_Pointing to sketch on back wall._

REVENUE. [_Looking at sketch._] Yes.

LUKE. That's Jim Dunn.

REVENUE. [_Rising, examining picture._] Doesn't look much like any one.

LUKE. Well, that's what Jim Dunn'll look like when we git 'im. I'm mighty sorry you hain't Jim Dunn.

REVENUE. I'm sorry to disappoint you.

LUKE. [_Turning to cupboard and filling pipe._] Oh, it's all right. I reckon one Revenue's about as good as another, after all.

REVENUE. Are you sure I'm a revenue officer?

LUKE. [_Rising._] Well, since we ketched ye climin' trees an' snoopin' round the stills, I reckon we won't take no chances that you hain't.

REVENUE. Oh.

LUKE. Say, mebbe you'd like a seggar. Here's one I been savin' fer quite a spell back, thinkin' mebbe I'd have company some day. [_Brings out dried-up cigar, hands it to him._

REVENUE. No, thank you.

LUKE. It hain't no luck to smoke alone when ye got company. [_Striking match and holding it to_ REVENUE.] Ye better smoke. [REVENUE _bites off end and mouth is filled with dust, spits out dust_. LUKE _holds match to cigar. With difficulty_ REVENUE _lights it_.] That's as good a five-cent cigar as ye can git in Henderson.

REVENUE. [_After two puffs, makes wry face, throws cigar on table._] You make death very easy, Mister.

LUKE. Luke's my name. Yer kin call me Luke. Make you feel as though you had a friend near you at the end--Luke Hazy.

REVENUE. [_Starting as though interested, rising._] Not the Luke Hazy that cleaned out the Crosby family?

LUKE. [_Startled._] How'd you hear about it?

REVENUE. Hear about it? Why, your name's been in every newspaper in the United States. Every time you killed another Crosby the whole feud was told all over again. Why, I've seen your picture in the papers twenty times.

LUKE. Hain't never had one took.

REVENUE. That don't stop them from printing it. Don't you ever read the newspapers?

LUKE. Me read? I hain't read nothin' fer thirty years. Reckon I couldn't read two lines in a hour.

REVENUE. You've missed a lot of information about yourself.

LUKE. How many Crosbys did they say I killed?

REVENUE. I think the last report said you had just removed the twelfth.

LUKE. It's a lie! I only killed six ... that's all they wuz--growed up. I'm a-waitin' fer one now that's only thirteen.

REVENUE. When'll he be ripe?

LUKE. Jes as soon as he comes a-lookin' fer me.

REVENUE. Will he come?

LUKE. He'll come if he's a Crosby.

REVENUE. A brave family?

LUKE. They don't make 'em any braver--they'd be first-rate folks if they wuzn't Crosbys.

REVENUE. If you feel that way why did you start fighting them?

LUKE. I never started no fight. My granddad had some misunderstandin' with their granddad. I don't know jes what it wuz about, but I reckon my granddad wuz right, and I'll see it through.

REVENUE. You must think a lot of your grandfather.

LUKE. Never seen 'im, but it ain't no luck goin' agin yer own kin. Won't ye have a drink?

REVENUE. No--no--thank you.

LUKE. Well, Mr. Revenue, I reckon we might as well have this over.

REVENUE. What?

LUKE. Well, you won't get drunk, and I can't be put to the trouble o' havin' somebody guard you.

REVENUE. That'll not be necessary.

LUKE. Oh, I know yer like this yer place now, but this evenin' you might take it into yer head to walk out.

REVENUE. I'll not walk out unless you make me.

LUKE. Tain't like I'll let yer, but I wouldn't blame yer none if yu tried.

REVENUE. But I'll not.

LUKE. [_Rising._] Say, Mistah Revenue, I wonder if you know what you're up against?

REVENUE. What do you mean?

LUKE. I mean I gotta kill you.

REVENUE. [_Rising, pauses._] Well, that lets me out.

LUKE. What do yu mean?

REVENUE. I mean that I've been trying to commit suicide for the last two months, but I haven't had the nerve.

LUKE. [_Startled._] Suicide?

REVENUE. Yes. Now that you're willing to kill me, the problem is solved.

LUKE. Why, what d'ye want to commit suicide fer?

REVENUE. I just want to stop living, that's all.

LUKE. Well, yu must have a reason.

REVENUE. No special reason--I find life dull and I'd like to get out of it.

LUKE. Dull?

REVENUE. Yes--I hate to go to bed--I hate to get up--I don't care for food--I can't drink liquor--I find people either malicious or dull--I see by the fate of my acquaintances, both men and women, that love is a farce. I have seen fame and preference come to those who least deserved them, while the whole world kicked and cuffed the worthy ones. The craftier schemer gets the most money and glory, while the fair-minded dealer is humiliated in the bankruptcy court. In the name of the law every crime is committed; in the name of religion every vice is indulged; in the name of education greatest ignorance is rampant.

LUKE. I don't git all of that, but I reckon you're some put out.

REVENUE. I am. The world's a failure ... what's more, it's a farce. I don't like it but I can't change it, so I'm just aching for a chance to get out of it.... [_Approaching_ LUKE.] And you, my dear friend, are going to present me the opportunity.

LUKE. Yes, I reckon you'll get your wish now.

REVENUE. Good ... if you only knew how I've tried to get killed.

LUKE. Well, why didn't you kill yerself?

REVENUE. I was afraid.

LUKE. Afreed o' what--hurtin' yourself?

REVENUE. No, afraid of the consequences.

LUKE. Whad d'ye mean?

REVENUE. Do you believe in another life after this one?

LUKE. I kan't say ez I ever give it much thought.

REVENUE. Well, don't--because if you do you'll never kill another Crosby ... not even a revenue officer.

LUKE. 'Tain't that bad, is it?

REVENUE. Worse. Twenty times I've had a revolver to my head--crazy to die--and then as my finger pressed the trigger I'd get a terrible dread--a dread that I was plunging into worse terrors than this world ever knew. If killing were the end it would be easy, but what if it's only the beginning of something worse?

LUKE. Well, you gotta take some chances.

REVENUE. I'll not take that one. You know, Mr. Luke, life was given to us by some one who probably never intended that we should take it, and that some one has something ready for people who destroy his property. That's what frightens me.

LUKE. You do too much worryin' to be a regular suicide.

REVENUE. Yes, I do. That's why I changed my plan.

LUKE. What plan?

REVENUE. My plan for dying.

LUKE. Oh, then you didn't give up the idea?

REVENUE. No, indeed--I'm still determined to die, but I'm going to make some one else responsible.

LUKE. Oh--so you hain't willing to pay fer yer own funeral music?

REVENUE. No, sir. I'll furnish the passenger, but some one else must buy the ticket. You see, when I finally decided I'd be killed, I immediately exposed myself to every danger I knew.

LUKE. How?

REVENUE. In a thousand ways.... [_Pause._] Did you ever see an automobile?

LUKE. No.

REVENUE. They go faster than steam engines, and they don't _stay_ on tracks. Did you ever hear of Fifth Avenue, New York?

LUKE. No.

REVENUE. Fifth Avenue is jammed with automobiles, eight deep all day long. People being killed every day. I crossed Fifth Avenue a thousand times a day, every day for weeks, never once trying to get out of the way, and always praying I'd be hit.

LUKE. And couldn't yu git hit?

REVENUE. [_In disgust._] No. Automobiles only hit people who try to get out of the way. [_Pause._] When that failed, I frequented the lowest dives on the Bowery, flashing a roll of money and wearing diamonds, hoping they'd kill me for them. They stole the money and diamonds, but never touched me.

LUKE. Couldn't you pick a fight?

REVENUE. I'm coming to that. You know up North they believe that a man can be killed in the South for calling another man a liar.

LUKE. That's right.

REVENUE. It is, is it? Well, I've called men liars from Washington to Atlanta, and I'm here to tell you about it.

LUKE. They must a took pity on ye.

REVENUE. Do you know Two Gun Jake that keeps the dive down in Henderson?

LUKE. I should think I do.... Jake's killed enough of 'em.

REVENUE. He's a bad man, ain't he?

LUKE. He's no trifler.

REVENUE. I wound up in Jake's place two nights ago, pretending to be drunk. Jake was cursing niggers.

LUKE. He's allus doin' that.

REVENUE. So I elbowed my way up to the bar and announced that I was an expert in the discovery of nigger blood ... could tell a nigger who was 63-64ths white.

LUKE. Ye kin?

REVENUE. No, I can't, but I made them believe it. I then offered to look them over and tell them if they had any nigger blood in them. A few of them sneaked away, but the rest stood for it. I passed them all until I got to Two Gun Jake. I examined his eyeballs, looked at his finger-nails, and said, "You're a nigger."

LUKE. An' what did Jake do?

REVENUE. He turned pale, took me into the back room. He said: "Honest to God, mister, can ye see nigger blood in me?" I said: "Yes." "There's no mistake about it?" "Not a bit," I answered. "Good God," he said, "I always suspected it." Then he pulled out his gun--

LUKE. Eh ... eh?

REVENUE. And shot _himself_.

LUKE. Jake shot hisself!... Is he dead?

REVENUE. I don't know--I was too disgusted to wait. I wandered around until I thought of you moonshiners ... scrambled around in the mountains until I found your still. I _sat_ on it and waited until you boys showed up, and here I am, and you're going to kill me.