© January 9, 2010 * ed@edvalentine.com
LIGHTS UP: A seascape. A rock. A ruined rowboat. A CAPTAIN in a black hat and a black oilcoat waits, looking out to sea, holding a wicked-looking harpoon. TWO WOMEN in white dresses of the 1890’s stand apart, watching the Captain. They carry clambaskets.
OLDER WOMAN: That’s him.
YOUNGER WOMAN: That’s who?
OLDER: Captain. Captain Black.
YOUNGER: Do they call him so because he’s dressed in black?
OLDER: Don’t be a fool. They call him so because that’s his name.
YOUNGER: Oh.
OLDER: And even if that wasn’t his name, we from the town would call him Cap’n Black.
YOUNGER: Why?
OLDER: Don’t be a fool, I say! Because he’s dressed in black. Black is his heart, black is his mood. Black is his story and black are his eyes when fixed upon the blackdark sea.
YOUNGER: Why stares he off so, so fixed and fearsome?
OLDER: You aren’t from around these parts, are you?
YOUNGER: I’d like to know anyway.
OLDER: No one knows! ‘Tis a great mystery around this island.
YOUNGER: He out here every day?
OLDER: He ain’t. What a silly question from a silly birdie. He ain’t out here every day, but only when the water is peculiar glassy and calm. An obsidian mirror.
(CAPTAIN BLACK mutters something unintelligible.)
YOUNGER: He’s saying something.
OLDER: Most likely.
YOUNGER: What says he?
OLDER: Who knows? Wouldn’t be polite to listen, now, would it? We here tend to let ‘im be. God makes all kinds, you know. God makes all kinds, and best to let ‘em be.
(Still, OLDER steers YOUNGER closer to the Captain. She tries to listen to his muttering, perhaps with an ear trumpet.)
YOUNGER: And he never moves?
OLDER: Never, not when he’s in this state. Then he goes back to his shanty on the shore, covered in oil paper and fishguts to keep out the cold. And he stands in the doorway, and glowers at the world as he shuts the door. Well, don’t stare, child! Best to let ‘im be. He’s cracked in the head, he is. Give him the peace of the sea.
CAPTAIN BLACK: OH!
YOUNGER: He stirs!
OLDER: Indeed.
YOUNGER: He starts!
OLDER: How strange!
(CAPTAIN most agitated. He points out to sea with his harpoon.)
YOUNGER: Captain Black! Captain Black!
CAPTAIN: Can ye see it there? Ye see it, ye lubbers, ye sandloving fools, ye children of the earth? Ye see it? ‘Tis there, there, and there! In the water, thrashing!
(Far off in the water, tentacles rise and unfurl, snatching a seagull out of the air.)
OLDER & YOUNGER: OH!
CAPTAIN: I come, ye Thing! I come, Leviathan! I come, wet Lucifer, many-legged sea-Satan! I come to ye! I come, I come!
(He throws off his hat and oilcoat and starts into the sea. YOUNGER screams and rushes to him, trying to hold him back. OLDER pulls YOUNGER off the CAPTAIN, who shakes her loose. And goes into the water.)
YOUNGER: Why did you let him go? He’ll die out there!
OLDER: Yes he will.
(A thrashing in the water. A gout of blood, then silence. The Captain is gone, and the two WOMEN alone on the beach. OLDER brushes sand off her dress. YOUNGER is destroyed, looking out to sea as the water turns red.)
YOUNGER: He’s lost, lost at sea.
OLDER: Serves him right.
YOUNGER: How can ye be so heartless?
OLDER: Say what you will, serves ‘im well.
YOUNGER: How can ye be so cold?
OLDER: ‘Tis not cold, girl, not heartless. He met the end he wanted. Do ye see? He met death as a man, not a watcher. And so live and so die the men who dance with Leviathan. Now come girl. There’s chowder to be made. Come, girl.
(She shoulders her huge heavy basket of clams. YOUNGER picks up the Captain’s black hat and oilcoat. Regards them. OLDER watches, concerned for the first time:)
OLDER: Did ye hear me, Girl?
(YOUNGER puts on the Captain’s coat and hat. Watches in the same place and same manner as he did at the beginning of the play. Very concerned.)
OLDER: Girl?
(Tableaux.)
END OF PLAY.
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