60 Plays: The George Bernard Shaw Edition (Illustrated). GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
shot the Count; and then —
KEARNEY. The Count! What Count?
LADY CICELY. Marzo. That’s Marzo (pointing to Marzo, who grins and touches his forehead).
KEARNEY (slightly overwhelmed by the unexpected profusion of incident and character in her story). Well, what happened then?
LADY CICELY. Then the escort ran away — all escorts do — and dragged me into the castle, which you really ought to make them clean and whitewash thoroughly, Captain Kearney. Then Captain Brassbound and Sir Howard turned out to be related to one another (sensation); and then of course, there was a quarrel. The Hallams always quarrel.
SIR HOWARD (rising to protest). Cicely! Captain Kearney: this man told me —
LADY CICELY (swiftly interrupting him). You mustn’t say what people told you: it’s not evidence. (Sir Howard chokes with indignation.)
KEARNEY (calmly). Allow the lady to proceed, Sir Howard Hallam.
SIR HOWARD (recovering his selfcontrol with a gulp, and resuming his seat). I beg your pardon, Captain Kearney.
LADY CICELY. Then Sidi came.
KEARNEY. Sidney! Who was Sidney?
LADY CICELY. No, Sidi. The Sheikh. Sidi el Assif. A noble creature, with such a fine face! He fell in love with me at first sight —
SIR HOWARD (remonstrating). Cicely!
LADY CICELY. He did: you know he did. You told me to tell the exact truth.
KEARNEY. I can readily believe it, madam. Proceed.
LADY CICELY. Well, that put the poor fellow into a most cruel dilemma. You see, he could claim to carry off Sir Howard, because Sir Howard is a Christian. But as I am only a woman, he had no claim to me.
KEARNEY (somewhat sternly, suspecting Lady Cicely of aristocratic atheism). But you are a Christian woman.
LADY CICELY. No: the Arabs don’t count women. They don’t believe we have any souls.
RANKIN. That is true, Captain: the poor benighted creatures!
LADY CICELY. Well, what was he to do? He wasn’t in love with Sir Howard; and he WAS in love with me. So he naturally offered to swop Sir Howard for me. Don’t you think that was nice of him, Captain Kearney?
KEARNEY. I should have done the same myself, Lady Waynflete. Proceed.
LADY CICELY. Captain Brassbound, I must say, was nobleness itself, in spite of the quarrel between himself and Sir Howard. He refused to give up either of us, and was on the point of fighting for us when in came the Cadi with your most amusing and delightful letter, captain, and bundled us all back to Mogador after calling my poor Sidi the most dreadful names, and putting all the blame on Captain Brassbound. So here we are. Now, Howard, isn’t that the exact truth, every word of it?
SIR HOWARD. It is the truth, Cicely, and nothing but the truth. But the English law requires a witness to tell the WHOLE truth.
LADY CICELY. What nonsense! As if anybody ever knew the whole truth about anything! (Sitting down, much hurt and discouraged.) I’m sorry you wish Captain Kearney to understand that I am an untruthful witness.
SIR HOWARD. No: but —
LADY CICELY. Very well, then: please don’t say things that convey that impression.
KEARNEY. But Sir Howard told me yesterday that Captain Brassbound threatened to sell him into slavery.
LADY CICELY (springing up again). Did Sir Howard tell you the things he said about Captain Brassbound’s mother? (Renewed sensation.) I told you they quarrelled, Captain Kearney. I said so, didn’t I?
REDBROOK (crisply). Distinctly. (Drinkwater opens his mouth to corroborate.) Shut up, you fool.
LADY CICELY. Of course I did. Now, Captain Kearney, do YOU want me — does Sir Howard want me — does ANYBODY want me to go into the details of that shocking family quarrel? Am I to stand here in the absence of any individual of my own sex and repeat the language of two angry men?
KEARNEY (rising impressively). The United States navy will have no hahnd in offering any violence to the pure instincts of womanhood. Lady Waynflete: I thahnk you for the delicacy with which you have given your evidence. (Lady Cicely beams on him gratefully and sits down triumphant.) Captain Brassbound: I shall not hold you respawnsible for what you may have said when the English bench addressed you in the language of the English forecastle — (Sir Howard is about to protest.) No, Sir Howard Hallam: excuse ME. In moments of pahssion I have called a man that myself. We are glahd to find real flesh and blood beneath the ermine of the judge. We will all now drop a subject that should never have been broached in a lady’s presence. (He resumes his seat, and adds, in a businesslike tone) Is there anything further before we release these men?
BLUEJACKET. There are some dawcuments handed over by the Cadi, sir. He reckoned they were sort of magic spells. The chahplain ordered them to be reported to you and burnt, with your leave, sir.
KEARNEY. What are they?
BLUEJACKET (reading from a list). Four books, torn and dirty, made up of separate numbers, value each wawn penny, and entitled Sweeny Todd, the Demon Barber of London; The Skeleton Horseman —
DRINKWATER (rushing forward in painful alarm, and anxiety). It’s maw lawbrary, gavner. Down’t burn em.
KEARNEY. You’ll be better without that sort of reading, my man.
DRINKWATER (in intense distress, appealing to Lady Cicely) Down’t let em burn em, Lidy. They dasn’t if you horder them not to. (With desperate eloquence) Yer dunno wot them books is to me. They took me aht of the sawdid reeyellities of the Worterleoo Rowd. They formed maw mawnd: they shaowed me sathink awgher than the squalor of a corster’s lawf —
REDBROOK (collaring him). Oh shut up, you fool. Get out. Hold your ton —
DRINKWATER (frantically breaking from him). Lidy, lidy: sy a word for me. Ev a feelin awt. (His tears choke him: he clasps his hands in dumb entreaty.)
LADY CICELY (touched). Don’t burn his books. Captain. Let me give them back to him.
KEARNEY. The books will be handed over to the lady.
DRINKWATER (in a small voice). Thenkyer, Lidy. (He retires among his comrades, snivelling subduedly.)
REDBROOK (aside to him as he passes). You silly ass, you. (Drinkwater sniffs and does not reply.)
KEARNEY. I suppose you and your men accept this lady’s account of what passed, Captain Brassbound.
BRASSBOUND (gloomily). Yes. It is true — as far as it goes.
KEARNEY (impatiently). Do you wawnt it to go any further?
MARZO. She leave out something. Arab shoot me. She nurse me. She cure me.
KEARNEY. And who are you, pray?
MARZO (seized with a sanctimonious desire to demonstrate his higher nature). Only dam thief. Dam liar. Dam rascal. She no lady.
JOHNSON (revolted by the seeming insult to the English peerage from a low Italian). What? What’s that you say?
MARZO. No lady nurse dam rascal. Only saint. She saint. She get me to heaven — get us all to heaven. We do what we like now.
LADY CICELY. Indeed you will do nothing of the sort Marzo, unless you like to behave yourself very nicely indeed. What hour did you say we were to lunch at, Captain Kearney?
KEARNEY. You recall me to my dooty, Lady Waynflete. My barge will be ready to take off you and Sir Howard to the Santiago at one o’clawk. (He rises.) Captain Brassbound: this innquery has elicited no reason why I should detain you or your men. I advise you to ahct as escort in future to heathens exclusively. Mr. Rahnkin: I thahnk you in the name of the United States for the hospitahlity you have extended to us today; and I invite you to accompany me bahck to my ship with a view to lunch at half-past one. Gentlemen: