60 Plays: The George Bernard Shaw Edition (Illustrated). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
(The missionary sits up quickly, and turns, resigning himself dutifully to the interruption.) Yr honor’s eolth.
RANKIN (reservedly). Good afternoon, Mr. Drinkwotter.
DRINKWATER. You’re not best pleased to be hinterrupted in yr bit o gawdnin bow the lawk o me, gavner.
RANKIN. A missionary knows nothing of leks of that soart, or of disleks either, Mr. Drinkwotter. What can I do for ye?
DRINKWATER (heartily). Nathink, gavner. Awve brort noos fer yer.
RANKIN. Well, sit ye doon.
DRINKWATER. Aw thenk yr honor. (He sits down on the seat under the tree and composes himself for conversation.) Hever ear o Jadge Ellam?
RANKIN. Sir Howrrd Hallam?
DRINKWATER. Thet’s im-enginest jadge in Hingland! — awlus gives the ket wen it’s robbry with voylence, bless is awt. Aw sy nathink agin im: awm all fer lor mawseolf, AW em.
RANKIN. Well?
DRINKWATER. Hever ear of is sist-in-lor: Lidy Sisly Winefleet?
RANKIN. Do ye mean the celebrated Leddy — the traveller?
DRINKWATER. Yuss: should think aw doo. Walked acrost Harfricar with nathink but a little dawg, and wrowt abaht it in the Dily Mile (the Daily Mail, a popular London newspaper), she did.
RANKIN. Is she Sir Howrrd Hallam’s sister-in-law?
DRINKWATER. Deeceased wawfe’s sister: yuss: thet’s wot SHE is.
RANKIN. Well, what about them?
DRINKWATER. Wot abaht them! Waw, they’re EAH. Lannid aht of a steam yacht in Mogador awber not twenty minnits agow. Gorn to the British cornsl’s. E’ll send em orn to you: e ynt got naowheres to put em. Sor em awr (hire) a Harab an two Krooboys to kerry their laggige. Thort awd cam an teoll yer.
RANKIN. Thank you. It’s verra kind of you, Mr. Drinkwotter.
DRINKWATER. Down’t mention it, gavner. Lor bless yer, wawn’t it you as converted me? Wot was aw wen aw cam eah but a pore lorst sinner? Down’t aw ow y’a turn fer thet? Besawds, gavner, this Lidy Sisly Winefleet mawt wor’t to tike a walk crost Morocker — a rawd inter the mahntns or sech lawk. Weoll, as you knaow, gavner, thet cawn’t be done eah withaht a hescort.
RANKIN. It’s impoassible: th’ would oall b’ murrdered. Morocco is not lek the rest of Africa.
DRINKWATER. No, gavner: these eah Moors ez their religion; an it mikes em dinegerous. Hever convert a Moor, gavner?
RANKIN (with a rueful smile). No.
DRINKWATER (solemnly). Nor never will, gavner.
RANKIN. I have been at work here for twenty-five years, Mr. Drinkwotter; and you are my first and only convert.
DRINKWATER. Down’t seem naow good, do it, gavner?
RANKIN. I don’t say that. I hope I have done some good. They come to me for medicine when they are ill; and they call me the Christian who is not a thief. THAT is something.
DRINKWATER. Their mawnds kennot rawse to Christiennity lawk hahrs ken, gavner: thet’s ah it is. Weoll, ez haw was syin, if a hescort is wornted, there’s maw friend and commawnder Kepn Brarsbahnd of the schooner Thenksgivin, an is crew, incloodin mawseolf, will see the lidy an Jadge Ellam through henny little excursion in reason. Yr honor mawt mention it.
RANKIN. I will certainly not propose anything so dangerous as an excursion.
DRINKWATER (virtuously). Naow, gavner, nor would I awst you to. (Shaking his head.) Naow, naow: it IS dinegerous. But hall the more call for a hescort if they should ev it hin their mawnds to gow.
RANKIN. I hope they won’t.
DRINKWATER. An sow aw do too, gavner.
RANKIN (pondering). ’Tis strange that they should come to Mogador, of all places; and to my house! I once met Sir Howrrd Hallam, years ago.
DRINKWATER (amazed). Naow! didger? Think o thet, gavner! Waw, sow aw did too. But it were a misunnerstedin, thet wors. Lef the court withaht a stine on maw kerrickter, aw did.
RANKIN (with some indignation). I hope you don’t think I met Sir Howrrd in that way.
DRINKWATER. Mawt yeppn to the honestest, best meanin pusson, aw do assure yer, gavner.
RANKIN. I would have you to know that I met him privately, Mr. Drinkwotter. His brother was a dear friend of mine. Years ago. He went out to the West Indies.
DRINKWATER. The Wust Hindies! Jist acrost there, tather sawd thet howcean (pointing seaward)! Dear me! We cams hin with vennity, an we deepawts in dawkness. Down’t we, gavner?
RANKIN (pricking up his ears). Eh? Have you been reading that little book I gave you?
DRINKWATER. Aw hev, et odd tawms. Very camfitn, gavner. (He rises, apprehensive lest further catechism should find him unprepared.) Awll sy good awtenoon, gavner: you’re busy hexpectin o Sr Ahrd an Lidy Sisly, ynt yer? (About to go.)
RANKIN (stopping him). No, stop: we’re oalways ready for travellers here. I have something else to say — a question to ask you.
DRINKWATER (with a misgiving, which he masks by exaggerating his hearty sailor manner). An weollcome, yr honor.
RANKIN. Who is this Captain Brassbound?
DRINKWATER (guiltily). Kepn Brarsbahnd! E’s-weoll, e’s maw Kepn, gavner.
RANKIN. Yes. Well?
DRINKWATER (feebly). Kepn of the schooner Thenksgivin, gavner.
RANKIN (searchingly). Have ye ever haird of a bad character in these seas called Black Paquito?
DRINKWATER (with a sudden radiance of complete enlightenment). Aoh, nar aw tikes yer wiv me, yr honor. Nah sammun es bin a teolln you thet Kepn Brarsbahnd an Bleck Pakeetow is hawdentically the sime pussn. Ynt thet sow?
RANKIN. That is so. (Drinkwater slaps his knee triumphantly. The missionary proceeds determinedly) And the someone was a verra honest, straightforward man, as far as I could judge.
DRINKWATER (embracing the implication). Course a wors, gavner: Ev aw said a word agin him? Ev aw nah?
RANKIN. But is Captain Brassbound Black Paquito then?
DRINKWATER. Waw, it’s the nime is blessed mather give im at er knee, bless is little awt! Ther ynt naow awm in it. She ware a Wust Hinjin — howver there agin, yer see (pointing seaward) — leastwaws, naow she worn’t: she were a Brazilian, aw think; an Pakeetow’s Brazilian for a bloomin little perrit — awskin yr pawdn for the word. (Sentimentally) Lawk as a Hinglish lidy mawt call er little boy Birdie.
RANKIN (not quite convinced). But why BLACK Paquito?
DRINKWATER (artlessly). Waw, the bird in its netral stite bein green, an e evin bleck air, y’ knaow —
RANKIN (cutting him short). I see. And now I will put ye another question. WHAT is Captain Brassbound, or Paquito, or whatever he calls himself?
DRINKWATER (officiously). Brarsbahnd, gavner. Awlus calls isseolf Brarsbahnd.
RANKIN. Well. Brassbound, then. What is he?
DRINKWATER (fervently). You awsks me wot e is, gavner?
RANKIN (firmly). I do.
DRINKWATER (with rising enthusiasm). An shll aw teoll yer wot e is, yr honor?
RANKIN (not at all impressed). If ye will be so good, Mr. Drinkwotter.
DRINKWATER (with overwhelming conviction). Then awll teoll you, gavner, wot he is. Ee’s a Paffick Genlmn: thet’s wot e is.
RANKIN (gravely). Mr. Drinkwotter: pairfection is an attribute, not of West Coast captains, but of thr Maaker. And there are gentlemen and gentlemen in the world, espaecially in these latitudes. Which sort of gentleman