The Iceman Cometh (22 page)

LARRY

Pityingly
.

You’re raving drunk.
HUGO
. I’ve never seen you so paralyzed. Lay your head down now and sleep it off.

HUGO

Gratefully
.

Yes. I should sleep. I am too crazy trunk.

He puts his head on his arms and closes his eyes
.

JOE

Behind the lunch counter
—
brooding superstitiously
.

You’s right, Larry. Bad luck come in de door when Hickey come. I’s a old gamblin’ man and I knows bad luck when I feels it!

Then defiantly
.

But it’s white man’s bad luck. He can’t jinx me!

He comes from behind the counter and goes to the bar
—
addressing
ROCKY
stiffly
.

De bread’s cut and I’s finished my job. Do I get de drink I’s earned?
ROCKY
gives him a hostile look but shoves a bottle and glass at him.
JOE
pours a brimful drink
—
sullenly
.

I’s finished wid dis dump for keeps.

He takes a key from his pocket and slaps it on the bar
.

Here’s de key to my room. I ain’t comin’ back. I’s goin’ to my own folks where I belong. I don’t stay where I’s not wanted. I’s sick and tired of messin’ round wid white men.

He gulps down his drink
—
then looking around defiantly he deliberately throws his whiskey glass on the floor and smashes it
.

ROCKY
Hey! What de hell—!

JOE

With a sneering dignity
.

I’s on’y savin’ you de trouble, White Boy. Now you don’t have to break it, soon’s my back’s turned, so’s no white man kick about drinkin’ from de same glass.

He walks stiffly to the street door
—
then turns for a parting shot
—
boastfully
.

Is tired of loafin “round wid a lot of bums. I’s a gamblin’ man. I’s gonna get in a big crap game and win me a big bankroll. Den I’ll get de okay to open up my old gamblin’ house for colored men. Den maybe I comes back here sometime to see de bums. Maybe I throw a twenty-dollar bill on de bar and say, “Drink it up,” and listen when dey all pat me on de back and say, “Joe, you sure is white.” But I’ll say, “No, I’m black and my dough is black man’s dough, and you’s proud to drink wid me or you don’t get no drink!” Or maybe I just says, “You can all go to hell. I don’t lower myself drinkin’ wid no white trash!”

He opens the door to go out
—
then turns again
.

And dat ain’t no pipe dream! I’ll git de money for my stake today, somehow, somewheres! If I has to borrow a gun and stick up some white man, I gets it! You wait and see!

He swaggers out through the swinging doors
.

CHUCK

Angrily
.

Can yuh beat de noive of dat dinge! Jees, if I wasn’t dressed up, I’d go out and mop up de street wid him!

ROCKY

Aw, let him go, de poor old dope! Him and his gamblin’ house! He’ll be back tonight askin’ Harry for his room and bummin’ me for a ball.

Vengefully
.

Den I’ll be de one to smash de glass. I’ll loin him his place!

The swinging doors are pushed open
and willie oban
enters from the street. He is shaved and wears an expensive, well-cut suit, good shoes and clean linen. He is absolutely sober, but his face is sick, and his nerves in a shocking state of shakes
.

CHUCK

Another guy all dolled up! Got your clothes from Solly’s, huh, Willie?

Derisively
.

Now yuh can sell dem back to him again tomorrow.

WILLIE

Stiffly
.

No, I—I’m through with that stuff. Never again.

He comes to the bar
.

ROCKY

Sympathetically
.

Yuh look sick, Willie. Take a ball to pick yuh up.

He pushes a bottle toward him
.

WILLIE

Eyes the bottle yearningly but shakes his head
—
determinedly
.

No, thanks. The only way to stop is to stop. I’d have no chance if I went to the D. A.’s office smelling of booze.

CHUCK

Yuh’re really goin’ dere?

WILLIE

Stiffly
.

I said I was, didn’t I? I just came back here to rest a few minutes, not because I needed any booze. I’ll show that cheap drummer I don’t have to have any Dutch courage—

Guiltily
.

But he’s been very kind and generous staking me. He can’t help his insulting manner, I suppose.

He turns away from the bar
.

My legs are a bit shaky yet. I better sit down a while.

He goes back and sits at the left of the second table, facing
PARRITT
,
who gives him a scowling, suspicious glance and then ignores him
.
ROCKY
looks
at
CHUCK
and taps his head disgustedly
.
CAPTAIN LEWIS
appears in the doorway from the hall
.

CHUCK

Mutters
.

Here’s anudder one.

LEWIS
looks spruce and clean-shaven. His ancient tweed suit has been brushed and his frayed linen is clean. His manner is full of a forced
,
jaunty self-assurance. But he is sick and beset by katzenjammer
.

LEWIS

Good morning, gentlemen all.

He passes along the front of bar to look out in the street
.

A jolly fine morning, too.

He turns back to the bar
.

An eye-opener? I think not. Not required, Rocky, old chum. Feel extremely fit, as a matter of fact. Though can’t say I slept much, thanks to that interfering ass, Hickey, and that stupid bounder of a Boer.

His face hardens
.

I’ve had about all I can take from that fellow. It’s my own fault, of course, for allowing a brute of a Dutch farmer to become familiar. Well, it’s come to a parting of the ways now, and good riddance. Which reminds me, here’s my key.

He puts it on the bar
.

I shan’t be coming back. Sorry to be leaving good old Harry and the rest of you, of course, but I can’t continue to live under the same roof with that fellow.

He stops, stiffening into hostility as
WETJOEN
enters from the hall, and pointedly turns his back on him
.
WETJOEN
glares at him sneeringly. He, too, has made an effort to spruce up his appearance, and his bearing has a forced swagger of conscious physical strength. Behind this, he is sick and feebly holding his booze-sodden body together
.

ROCKY

To
LEWIS
—
disgustedly putting the key on the shelf in back of the bar
. So Hickey’s kidded the pants offa you, too? Yuh tink yuh’re leavin’ here, huh?

WETJOEN

Jeeringly
.

Ja! Dot’s vhat he kids himself.

LEWIS

Ignores him
—
airily
.

Yes, I’m leaving,
ROCKY
. But that ass, Hickey, has nothing to do with it. Been thinking things over. Time I turned over a new leaf, and all that.

WETJOEN

He’s going to get a job! Dot’s what he says!

ROCKY

What at, for Chris’ sake?

LEWIS

Keeping his airy manner
.

Oh, anything. I mean, not manual labor, naturally, but anything that calls for a bit of brains and education. However humble. Beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll see a pal of mine at the Consulate. He promised any time I felt an energetic fit he’d get me a post with the Cunard—clark in the office or something of the kind.

WETJOEN

Ja! At Limey Consulate they promise anything to get rid of him vhen he comes there tronk! They’re scared to call the police and have him pinched because it vould scandal in the papers make about a Limey officer and chentleman!

LEWIS

As a matter of fact, Rocky, I only wish a post temporarily. Means to an end, you know. Save up enough for a first-class passage home, that’s the bright idea.

WETJOEN

He’s sailing back to home, sveet home! Dot’s biggest pipe dream of all. What leetle brain the poor Limey has left, dot isn’t in whiskey pickled, Hickey has made crazy!

LEWIS
’
fists clench, but he manages to ignore this
.

CHUCK

Feels sorry for
LEWIS
and turns on
WETJOEN
—
sarcastically
.

Hickey ain’t made no sucker outa you, huh? You’re too foxy, huh? But I’ll bet you tink yuh’re goin’ out and land a job, too.

WETJOEN

Bristles
.

I am, ja. For me, it is easy. Because I put on no airs of chentleman.

I am not ashamed to vork vith my hands. I vas a farmer before the war ven ploody Limey thieves steal my country.

Boastfully
.

Anyone I ask for job can see vith one look I have the great strength to do work often ordinary mens.

LEWIS

Sneeringly
.

Yes, Chuck, you remember he gave a demonstration of his extraordinary muscles last night when he helped to move the piano.

CHUCK

Yuh couldn’t even hold up your corner. It was your fault de damned box almost fell down de stairs.

WETJOEN

My hands vas sweaty! Could I help dot my hands slip? I could de whole veight of it lift! In old days in Transvaal, I lift loaded oxcart by the axle! So vhy shouldn’t I get job? Dot longshoreman boss, Dan, he tell me any time I like, he take me on. And Benny from de Market he promise me same.

LEWIS

You remember, Rocky, it was one of those rare occasions when the Boer that walks like a man—spelled with a double o, by the way—was buying drinks and Dan and Benny were stony. They’d bloody well have promised him the moon.

ROCKY

Yeah, yuh big boob, dem boids was on’y kiddin’ yuh.

WETJOEN

Angrily
.

Dot’s lie! You vill see dis morning I get job! I’ll show dot bloody Limey chentleman, and dot liar, Hickey! And I need vork only leetle vhile to save money for my passage home. I need not much money because I am not ashamed to travel steerage. I don’t put on first-cabin airs!

Tauntingly
.

Und
I can
go home to my country! Vhen I get there, they vill let
me
come in!

LEWIS

Grows rigid
—
his voice trembling with repressed anger
.

There was a rumor in South Africa, Rocky, that a certain Boer officer—if you call the leaders of a rabble of farmers officers—kept advising Cronje to retreat and not stand and fight—

WETJOEN

And I vas right! I vas right! He got surrounded at Poardeberg! He had to surrender!

LEWIS

Ignoring him
.

Good strategy, no doubt, but a suspicion grew afterwards into a conviction among the Boers that the officer’s caution was prompted by a desire to make his personal escape. His countrymen felt extremely savage about it, and his family disowned him. So I imagine there would be no welcoming committee waiting on the dock, nor delighted relatives making the veldt ring with their happy cries—

WETJOEN

With guilty rage
.

All lies! You Gottamned Limey—

Trying to control himself and copy
lewis’
manner
.

I also haf heard rumors of a Limey officer who, after the war, lost all his money gambling vhen he vas tronk. But they found out it vas regiment money, too, he lost—

LEWIS

Loses his control and starts for him
.

You bloody Dutch scum!

ROCKY

Leans over the bar and stops
LEWIS
with a straight-arm swipe on the chest
.

Cut it out!

At the same moment
CHUCK
grabs
WETJOEN
and yanks him back
.

WETJOEN

Struggling
.

Let him come! I saw them come before—at Modder River, Magersfontein, Spion Kopje—waving their silly swords, so afraid they couldn’t show off how brave they vas!—and I kill them vith my rifle so easy!

Vindictively
.

Listen to me, you Cecil! Often vhen I am tronk and kidding you I say I am sorry I missed you, but now, py Gott, I am sober, and I don’t joke, and I say it!

LARRY