Fifty Contemporary One-Act Plays Part 261

MRS. KEENEY. It'd be different if you needed the money, but you don't.

You've got more than plenty.

KEENEY [_impatiently_]. It ain't the money I'm thinkin' of. D'you think I'm as mean as that?

MRS. KEENEY [_dully_]. No--I don't know--I can't understand.

[_Intensely._] Oh, I want to be home in the old house once more, and see my own kitchen again, and hear a woman's voice talking to me and be able to talk to her. Two years! It seems so long ago--as if I'd been dead and could never go back.

KEENEY [_worried by her strange tone and the far-away look in her eyes_.] Best go to bed, Annie. You ain't well.

MRS. KEENEY [_not appearing to hear him_]. I used to be lonely when you were away. I used to think Homeport was a stupid, monotonous place. Then I used to go down on the beach, especially when it was windy and the breakers were rolling in, and I'd dream of the fine, free life you must be leading. [_She gives a laugh which is half a sob._] I used to love the sea then. [_She pauses; then continues with slow intensity._] But now--I don't ever want to see the sea again.

KEENEY [_thinking to humor her_]. 'Tis no fit place for a woman, that's sure. I was a fool to bring ye.

MRS. KEENEY [_after a pause--pa.s.sing her hand over her eyes with a gesture of pathetic weariness_]. How long would it take us to reach home--if we started now?

KEENEY [_frowning_]. 'Bout two months, I reckon, Annie, with fair luck.

MRS. KEENEY [_counts on her fingers--then murmurs with a rapt smile_].

That would be August, the latter part of August, wouldn't it? It was on the twenty-fifth of August we were married, David, wasn't it?

KEENEY [_trying to conceal the fact that her memories have moved him--gruffly_]. Don't you remember?

MRS. KEENEY [_vaguely--again pa.s.ses her hand over her eyes_]. My memory is leaving me--up here in the ice. It was so long ago. [_A pause--then she smiles dreamily._] It's June now. The lilacs will be all in bloom in the front yard--and the climbing roses on the trellis to the side of the house--they're budding--

[_She suddenly covers her face with her hands and commences to sob._]

KEENEY [_disturbed_]. Go in and rest, Annie. You're all worn out cryin'

over what can't be helped.

MRS. KEENEY [_suddenly throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him_]. You love me, don't you, David?

KEENEY [_in amazed embarra.s.sment at this outburst_]. Love you? Why d'you ask me such a question, Annie?

MRS. KEENEY [_shaking him fiercely_]. But you do, don't you, David? Tell me!

KEENEY. I'm your husband, Annie, and you're my wife. Could there be aught but love between us after all these years?

MRS. KEENEY [_shaking him again--still more fiercely_]. Then you do love me. Say it!

KEENEY [_simply_]. I do, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY [_gives a sigh of relief--her hands drop to her sides.

Keeney regards her anxiously. She pa.s.ses her hand across her eyes and murmurs half to herself_]: I sometimes think if we could only have had a child--[_Keeney turns away from her, deeply moved. She grabs his arm and turns him around to face her--intensely._] And I've always been a good wife to you, haven't I, David?

KEENEY [_his voice betraying his emotion_]. No man has ever had a better, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY. And I've never asked for much from you, have I, David? Have I?

KEENEY. You know you could have all I got the power to give ye, Annie.

MRS. KEENEY [_wildly_]. Then do this, this once, for my sake, for G.o.d's sake--take me home! It's killing me, this life--the brutality and cold and horror of it. I'm going mad. I can feel the threat in the air. I can't bear the silence threatening me--day after gray day and every day the same. I can't bear it. [_Sobbing._] I'll go mad, I know I will. Take me home, David, if you love me as you say. I'm afraid. For the love of G.o.d, take me home!

[_She throws her arms around him, weeping against his shoulder.

His face betrays the tremendous struggle going on within him. He holds her out at arm's length, his expression softening. For a moment his shoulders sag, he becomes old, his iron spirit weakens as he looks at her tear-stained face._]

KEENEY [_dragging out the words with an effort_]. I'll do it, Annie--for your sake--if you say it's needful for ye.

MRS. KEENEY [_with wild joy--kissing him_]. G.o.d bless you for that, David!

[_He turns away from her silently and walks toward the companion-way. Just at that moment there is a clatter of footsteps on the stairs and the Second Mate enters the cabin._]

MATE [_excitedly_]. The ice is breakin' up to no'the'ard, sir. There's a clear pa.s.sage through the floe, and clear water beyond, the lookout says.

[_Keeney straightens himself like a man coming out of a trance.

Mrs. Keeney looks at the Mate with terrified eyes._]

KEENEY [_dazedly--trying to collect his thoughts_]. A clear pa.s.sage? To no'the'ard?

MATE. Yes, sir.

KEENEY [_his voice suddenly grim with determination_]. Then get her ready and we'll drive her through.

MATE. Aye, aye, sir.

MRS. KEENEY [_appealingly_]. David! David!

KEENEY [_not heeding her_]. Will the men turn to willin' or must we drag 'em out?

MATE. They'll turn to willin' enough. You put the fear o' G.o.d into 'em, sir. They're meek as lambs.

KEENEY. Then drive 'em--both watches. [_With grim determination._]

They's whale t'other side o' this floe and we're agoin' to git 'em.

MATE. Aye, aye, sir.

[_He goes out hurriedly. A moment later there is the sound of scuffling feet from the deck outside and the Mate's voice shouting orders._]

KEENEY [_speaking aloud to himself--derisively_]. And I was agoin' home like a yaller dog!

MRS. KEENEY [_imploringly_]. David!

KEENEY [_sternly_]. Woman, you ain't adoin' right when you meddle in men's business and weaken 'em. You can't know my feelin's. I got to prove a man to be a good husband for ye to take pride in. I got to git the ile, I tell ye.

MRS. KEENEY [_supplicatingly_]. David! Aren't you going home?

KEENEY [_ignoring this question--commandingly_]. You ain't well. Go and lay down a mite. [_He starts for the door._] I got to git on deck.

[_He goes out. She cries after him in anguish, "David!" A pause.