Twist of Gold Page 2

  ANNIE: Don’t say that. Rest now.

  She tucks the blanket under her MOTHER’s chin.

  MOTHER: Oh, Annie: there’s an anger and bitterness inside me that will hang over this land for hundreds of years after we’re all gone.

  MOTHER sleeps after her exertion. ANNIE stokes the peat fire, which roars.

  ANNIE: Like Father said: ‘The higher the chimney, the better it draws.’

  SEAN: Truly, a wonderful creation.

  ANNIE: (Whispering to SEAN.) Sean: why does Father not come back to us? It’s more than a year now.

  SEAN: (Whispering.) ’Tis a long way to America, Annie – and a long way back. And it’s a very big place when you get there. He’ll be finding us a farm, and a place to live, ‘a paradise on earth…’

  FATHER ‘delivers’ the letter:

  FATHER: ‘…a paradise on earth, where the sun shines through the winter and there’s food enough for everyone and plenty … I will be going as far West as the sun leads me. I will be following the sun all the way till it sets in a place they call Grass Valley, California. And when I have found Grass Valley I shall build us a house with the tallest chimney in all America, and then I will be coming back for you and we shall all be together again…’

  SEAN: Now that would take time, wouldn’t it?

  ANNIE: (Whispering.) Sure it would. But if he doesn’t come soon, it will be too late.

  SEAN: He’ll come.

  WILL bursts in.

  Will!

  ANNIE: English soldier! You followed us! You promised you wouldn’t. Don’t tumble our home, Mister.

  WILL: I’m not going to harm you. I’m your friend. I had to follow you to find your home. I have to tell you and your Mother grave news.

  MOTHER: (Stirring.) What can be more grave than the grave you’ll bury us in, English soldier?

  WILL: I’ve come to warn you.

  MOTHER: Warn us of what?

  WILL: There’s a plague, a fever, sweeping the countryside. It’s coming closer all the time.

  MOTHER: (Quietly.) I know.

  SEAN: You know?

  MOTHER: There’s always fever in Ireland. There always has been. It follows the hunger. It always has done.

  WILL: (Gently.) Ma’am, this is a fever like no other. It wipes out whole villages.

  MOTHER: No. It’s the English who wipe out whole villages. And then burn them to the ground.

  WILL: I regret that this is true, Ma’am. But now the Soldiers are torching the villages, on the orders of the authorities, to try to burn out the fever.

  MOTHER: How can we trust you?

  WILL: Your children asked me the same thing. I’m risking a court martial by being here.

  MOTHER: Hunger is a terrible thing. Plague: terrible. We Irish have always known that. Do they not know that, your English ‘authorities’? We ask for food, we beg for food and they send us work at tuppence a day, scarce enough to feed one child. And even if we could pay for food, there’s no food to buy, so the people rise up and fight for it and they send more soldiers to put them down. And still the landlord we never see wants his rent paid. Rent for what? And if you don’t pay the rent, the roof comes tumbling down over your head and you’re left to die in a ditch.

  Pause.

  WILL: Ma’am, I can do nothing to put right all the great wrongs that have been done in this poor country. All I can do is to help you and your children. And there’s only one thing to be done. You must leave, and leave now.

  MOTHER: Leave and go where, sir?

  WILL: Anywhere, but away from the Plague.

  Pause.

  MOTHER: Annie. Sit me up so that I can see this man better.

  She does so.

  Now, leave us children, I’ll be wanting a few words with your soldier friend here. And don’t be listening outside. There you go now.

  ANNIE opens her mouth to ask a question –

  No questions, Annie. Just do as I say.

  They leave.

  MOTHER: (To WILL.) You’re right. They should leave.

  WILL: ‘They’?

  MOTHER: I am dying, Soldier.

  WILL: You are brave to admit it.

  MOTHER: Death and the dying of it hold no fear for me. I know that my children Danny, Mary and Little Joe will be waiting for me on the other side. It is the parting from the living that troubles me.

  WILL: Sean and Annie.

  MOTHER: Sean and Annie. They should leave for America.

  WILL: America?

  MOTHER: It’s where their father went, when the other children began to starve. He said that way there would be less mouths to feed…

  FATHER ‘delivers’ his letter:

  FATHER: ‘…that way there will be less mouths to feed. But I will also be seeking our fortune, the O’Brien family fortune, seeking it out, surely, in bounteous America, the plentiful land of opportunity…’

  MOTHER: I should never have let him go.

  WILL: Why not?

  MOTHER: Because he left over a year ago. And he has yet to return.

  Pause while this sinks in.

  Mister Soldier, sir, will you be taking the children to the docks at Cork. The ships set sail from there to America, do they not?

  WILL: They do. But for America? It’s a fierce journey – especially for young children alone. And besides, the passage doesn’t come cheap. These ships’ captains want hard cash.

  MOTHER: But we have none, sir.

  WILL: And they’ll not give you passage without it.

  MOTHER: (Defeated.) No, sir.

  WILL: I have money enough, Ma’am. Enough for the three of you. A soldier’s pay is poor enough, but it is regular and I always keep some by me. You can get a passage for as little as…six pounds.

  MOTHER: ’Tis too much. Why would you want to spend your money on us?

  WILL: Your children make me smile and God knows I’ve done little enough of that since I’ve been over here.

  MOTHER: I see now there may be some good in you.

  WILL: Thank you Ma’am.

  MOTHER: Even though you are an Englishman.

  * * *

  Outside, SEAN and ANNIE are by the graves of their brothers and sister.

  ANNIE: Sean: if I ask you one question, will you promise me to answer true?

  SEAN: I know what you’re going to ask, Annie –

  ANNIE: I’m old enough, I’m nearly eleven, and that’s only three years younger than you. And she is my mother. I’ve a right to know.

  SEAN: (Softly.) She is dying, Annie. And that’s the truth of it. You know it without me telling you. We saw it with the others, the way their colour goes and the way they don’t seem to want food even if it’s there. They were just the same and they died.

  ANNIE: Yes, I knew it, Sean. So we’ll not be going anywhere, will we?

  SEAN: She’s too weak to move.

  WILL has come outside.

  WILL: Your Mother wishes to speak with you, children.

  * * *

  They enter their home.

  MOTHER: Come closer, children. Tell them, Will. Tell them what you told me.

  WILL: There’s no hope for any of you in Ireland.

  SEAN: Don’t presume the future of our nation, mister!

  WILL: If the hunger doesn’t kill you, then the Plague will. I’ve seen it all over this country.

  MOTHER: So that is why you must go.

  SEAN: Go where?

  MOTHER: To America. To Boston, where your father sailed to. And from where he went West.

  ANNIE: But we must wait here for Father.

  MOTHER: There’s no time to wait, Annie.

  ANNIE: Then you will come with us.

  MOTHER: I shall be staying here, Annie. With Danny and Mary and little Joe.

  WILL: We should go.

  ANNIE: Why do you need to look after them and not us? Haven’t enough of us passed away? Why won’t you come with us?

  MOTHER: You’re always asking questions, Annie. Will you never just listen? Here. I w
ant you to have this.

  She takes a golden torc – a golden necklace – from her bosom.

  The O’Briens were once a great clan, rich in land. We fought alongside kings. All we have now is you, Sean; and you, Annie – and this ancient torc of beaten gold, worn by the O’Brien chieftains one thousand years ago. Here. Wherever the O’Briens go, this torc must go with them. So long as we keep it, we will never forget who we are. You will wear it, Annie, and keep it hidden all the way to America. Put it round her neck, Sean. It will protect you both from the dangers you will be facing. It is the O’Brien soul you carry with you. Now, you can kiss me before you leave.

  SEAN: We can’t leave now.

  MOTHER: You are to leave now. With Will. He’ll take you to Cork and you will set sail for America.

  ANNIE kisses her mother and buries her face in her shoulder.

  Look after your brother, Annie.

  ANNIE hugs her MOTHER even more tightly. SEAN gently prises them apart.

  And I give you permission to insist that Sean washes his neck.

  They laugh a little.

  ANNIE: Mother?

  MOTHER: Yes, my darling.

  ANNIE: Where is ’Merica anyway?

  * * *

  A sudden blast of sea-air. Cork. The bustle of the docks, the curses of sailors, the screeching of gulls.

  WILL: She’s making ready to sail. The tide’s in her favour. But we’ll make it.

  They run to the gangplank – CAPTAIN MURRAY stands at the top. He appears to be charm itself. A surly looking First Officer, MR BLUNDELL, stands by his side.

  Captain! I want the best quarters you have for my two young friends. I want two berths on the upper deck and I want these children looked after like royalty.

  CAPTAIN: I have a full ship, Sergeant. But I might find the room.

  WILL: Captain, I’ll pay you twenty pounds –

  CAPTAIN: (Disingenuous.) Oh no, Sergeant, it is too much.

  WILL: Each. As a seal of honour. But on the strict understanding that they travel in comfort. Under no circumstances will they travel in steerage.

  He counts out the money and proffers it to the CAPTAIN.

  Do I have your promise, Captain?

  CAPTAIN: I am an officer and a gentleman. I will keep them under my personal supervision – they will be cared for as if they were my own.

  WILL: They are in your charge. (To SEAN, ANNIE.) Here. Take my water bottle. And make sure it’s filled afresh each day.

  SEAN: Thank you.

  WILL: Sean, Annie: you’re on your own.

  SEAN: Will you not come with us?

  WILL: It’s a voyage you must make yourselves. My direction is elsewhere.

  And he descends the gangplank.

  SEAN: Will you not be saying a proper goodbye, Will?

  WILL walks on.

  SEAN: Will you not be waving?

  WILL: (Without turning.) Never look back, Sean. Never look back.

  He disappears in the throng.

  SEAN: (To ANNIE.) Let’s go to the front of the ship and see if we can see America.

  They proceed to the prow of the ship.

  ANNIE: Will we not see Will again?

  SEAN: No, I don’t suppose we shall.

  ANNIE: Nor Ireland?

  SEAN: No. But we’re going to America, Annie. We’re going to find Father. He’ll have bought a farm – ’tis hundreds of years since the O’Briens owned the land they worked on.

  ANNIE: I can’t see it.

  SEAN: Can’t see what?

  ANNIE: ’Merica.

  SEAN: Well, it’s out there somewhere.

  * * *

  The ship’s bell rings.

  MR BLUNDELL: All hands on deck!

  And ‘All hands on deck!’ is echoed throughout the ship.

  CAPTAIN: My name is Captain Murray, late of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy and Captain of this good ship The Pelican. I keep a tight ship, and expect you all to keep to the rules. If you abide by these rules, then I will treat you fairly – if not, well, it is for the good of the many that the few shall be reprimanded. We set a fair sail West on a brisk wind and true tide. My ship is your home; my home, your ship. You are the pioneers. I am your deliverer. May God bless you, The Pelican, and all who set sail in her for a New World!

  Cheers to the echo at his rousing speech.

  ANNIE: Mister Captain?

  CAPTAIN: Yes, little lady?

  ANNIE: I’m not little. Can you be telling me where we sleep, sir?

  CAPTAIN: You’ll be the Sergeant of Dragoons’ girl. You’ll accompany my First Officer, Mr Blundell here. He will show you where you will reside for the voyage.

  ANNIE: Thank you, Captain.

  CAPTAIN: And, young lady: I see you have about you something that is precious.

  ANNIE clasps her neck in a vain attempt to hide the torc.

  And if I have seen it, you can be certain that others on board will have spied it too. Beware of vagabonds, tinkers… Well, you know your fellow countrymen.

  SEAN: Sir?

  CAPTAIN: Mr Blundell.

  MR BLUNDELL: Captain.

  CAPTAIN: Be so kind as to lock away the young lady’s valuables in my private quarters, for safe-keeping.

  ANNIE: Sean? Do you think it wise?

  SEAN: (Unsure.) I do, Annie. The Captain is right. ’Tis mixed company we keep aboard this ship. He will protect us and our torc.

  ANNIE: (To the CAPTAIN.) Thank you, sir.

  CAPTAIN: Please, it is my humble duty. Now, Mr Blundell, show them the comfort for which the Sergeant has so handsomely paid.

  MR BLUNDELL: Ay, ay, Captain.

  They descend into steerage. Around them in the gloom, they are aware of the creaking timbers, of wailing babies, retching bodies.

  MR BLUNDELL: Make yourself a bed anywhere you can, anyhow you like. (To SEAN.) And report to me at dawn, young lad.

  MR BLUNDELL leaves. ANNIE and SEAN proceed through the misery.

  ANNIE: Why are they so sick, Sean?

  EMIGRANT: ’Tis the malady of the sea. It will pass.

  ANNIE: Is this the passage Will has paid for? Are these the quarters the Captain promised?

  A shaft of radiant light picks out a FIDDLE PLAYER who starts to play a jig: feet tap; hands clap, and all are comforted by the music. When the fiddling has stopped, SEAN and ANNIE approach the FIDDLE PLAYER.

  FIDDLE PLAYER: I’m as thin as a rake, so why don’t you twos join me on the comfortable floor here. Very snug. There’s not enough room to swing a mouse, is there, let alone –

  SEAN/ANNIE: A ship’s cat!

  FIDDLE PLAYER/DONNELLY: (Smiling at their quick-wit.) My name is Liam Donnelly – I’m from County Sligo and Boston-bound like all these good folk here. There’s not a lot I can do besides play my fiddle, but I’m mighty good at that, best in all Sligo, though I say it myself. I’m a modest sort of fellow, ain’t I? And who might you be?

  ANNIE: I’m Annie O’Brien, and he’s my brother, Sean; and I’m hungry.

  DONNELLY: Well, we’ll not be having a feast here by the looks of it. But I’ve half a loaf of bread – all I have in the world, besides my fiddle. But my fiddle you can not eat. So, Annie O’Brien, you’re welcome to share my bread. We’ve best be quiet about it though, for there’s some hungry mouths around here and I’ve not enough for the feeding of the five thousand.

  They eat the bread – he plays his fiddle: a gentle tune. SEAN offers him their water bottle.

  Thank you. Now if I’m not mistaken – and I’m not often mistaken – you’ll be the two the Captain has taken a shining to, will you not? Looking after you, is he?

  ANNIE: Yes and he has our –

  ANNIE is about to tell DONNELLY the whole story about the torc, but SEAN interrupts.

  SEAN: To be sure.

  DONNELLY: And what might he have, now?

  SEAN: He has our best interests at heart, ’tis no more than that. I’ve to be up at first light to report to Mr Blundell. But don’t tell the others, or th
ey’ll be as jealous as dogs.

  Beat.

  DONNELLY: Is that what it was? Well, let’s talk no more about it. Here hold this.

  He hands SEAN his fiddle.

  Now, can you by any chance play the violin, Sean O’Brien?

  SEAN: What’s a vi-o-lin?

  DONNELLY: (Laughing.) It’s the fiddle you’re holding in your hands.

  SEAN: Oh, a fiddle! Yes, of course! Well, no. I don’t know how to play it.

  DONNELLY: Then you shall learn, for I shall teach you.

  SEAN: But you make it sound so joyful.

  DONNELLY: It’s what’s in your heart that makes it sing, Sean – ain’t that right, Annie O’Brien?

  ANNIE: I haven’t an inkling of your meaning.

  DONNELLY: When I reach Boston that’s how I shall make my living.

  SEAN: How?

  DONNELLY: Teaching fiddle to every American who wants to learn. I know every Irish tune that has ever been written, or played – or has yet to be thought of. It would be a privilege and a pleasure, Sean O’Brien, for me to teach you. And it would assist my prospects greatly if I could be practising my teaching on you during the voyage.

  SEAN: Why thank you.

  DONNELLY: ’Tis nothing. If I can teach someone as ignorant as you, then it will be good practice for the Americans!

  ANNIE: And what about me, Mister Fiddler? Can I not learn too?

  DONNELLY: Certainly not, young Annie O’Brien.

  ANNIE: And why not?

  DONNELLY: Sure we’ve only the one fiddle between the three of us. So instead, I shall teach you to dance.

  ANNIE: Why?

  DONNELLY: Because your toes twinkle!

  ANNIE: We have no money to pay for lessons, Mister.

  DONNELLY: Nor I none to pay you.

  ANNIE: Are you travelling on your own, Mister Fiddler?

  DONNELLY: Not any more! Not any more.

  He plays another jig and ANNIE dances – everyone stomps – this segues into…

  * * *

  SEAN on deck, scrubbing the timbers. The CAPTAIN and MR BLUNDELL watch.

  SEAN: Captain.

  CAPTAIN: Yes, my lad.

  SEAN: Captain: are you sure we should be cooped up below in steerage? Didn’t you give your word to Sergeant Will?