by Unknown
MARY ROSE. I always said it was little like myself.
SIMON. It was obviously made to fit you, or you to fit it; one of you was measured for the other. At any rate, we have now been all round it, and all through it, as my bleeding limbs testify. (The whins have been tearing at him, and he rubs his legs.)
MARY ROSE. They didn’t hurt me at all.
SIMON. Perhaps they like you better than me. Well, we have made a good search for the place where you used to sit and sketch, and you must now take your choice.
MARY ROSE. It was here. I told you of the fir and the rowan-tree.
SIMON. There were a fir and a rowan at each of the other places.
MARY ROSE. Not this fir, not this rowan.
SIMON. You have me there.
MARY ROSE. Simon, I know I’m not clever, but I’m always right. The rowan-berries! I used to put them in my hair. (She puts them in her hair again.) Darling rowan-tree, are you glad to see me back? You don’t look a bit older, how do you think I am wearing? I shall tell you a secret. You too, firry. Come closer, both of you. Put your arms around me, and listen: I am married!
(The branch of which she has been making a scarf disengages itself.)
It didn’t like that, Simon, it is jealous. After all, it knew me first. Dearest trees, if I had known that you felt for me in that way — but it is too late now. I have been married for nearly four years, and this is the man. His name is Lieutenant Simon Sobersides. (She darts about making discoveries.)
SIMON (tranquilly smoking). What is it now?
MARY ROSE. That moss! I feel sure there is a treetrunk beneath it, the very root on which I used to sit and sketch.
(He clears away some of the moss.)
SIMON. It is a treetrunk right enough.
MARY ROSE. I believe — I believe I cut my name on it with a knife.
SIMON. This looks like it. ‘M — A — R—’ and there it stops. That is always where the blade of the knife breaks.
MARY ROSE. My ownest seat, how I have missed you.
SIMON. Don’t you believe it, old treetrunk. She had forgotten all about you, and you just came vaguely back to her mind because we happened to be in the neighbourhood.
MARY ROSE. Yes, I suppose that is true. You were the one who wanted to come, Simon. I wonder why?
SIMON (with his answer ready). No particular reason. I wanted to see a place you had visited as a child; that was all. But what a trumpery island it proves to be.
MARY ROSE (who perhaps agrees with him). How can you? Even if it is true, you needn’t say it before them all, hurting their feelings. Dear seat, here is one for each year I have been away. (She kisses the trunk a number of times.)
SIMON (counting). Eleven. Go on, give it all the news. Tell it we don’t have a house of our own yet.
MARY ROSE. You see, dear seat, we live with my daddy and mother, because Simon is so often away at sea. You know, the loveliest thing in the world is the navy, and the loveliest thing in the navy is H.M.S. Valiant, and the loveliest thing on H.M.S. Valiant is Lieutenant Simon Sobersides, and the loveliest thing on Lieutenant Simon Sobersides is the little tuft of hair which will keep standing up at the back of his head.
(SIMON, who is lolling on the moss, is so used to her prattle that his eyes close.)
But, listen, you trees, I have a much more wonderful secret than that. You can have three guesses. It is this... I — have — got — a baby! A girl? No thank you. He is two years and nine months, and he says such beautiful things to me about loving me. Oh, rowan, do you think he means them?
SIMON. I distinctly heard it say yes.
(He opens his eyes, to see her gazing entranced across the water.)
II — ou needn’t pretend that you can see him.
MARY ROSE. I do. Can’t you? He is waving his bib to us simon. That is nurse’s cap.
MARY ROSE. Then he is waving it. How clever of him.
(She waves her handkerchief.) Now they are gone. Isn’t it funny to think that from this very spot I used to wave to father? That was a happy time.
SIMON. I should be happier here if I wasn’t so hungry. I wonder where Cameron is. I told him after he landed us to tie up the boat at any good place and make a fire. I suppose I had better try to make it myself.
MARY ROSE. How you can think of food at such a time!
SIMON (who is collecting sticks). All very well, but you will presently be eating more than your share.
MARY ROSE. Do you know, Simon, I don’t think daddy and mother like this island.
SIMON (on his guard). Help me with the fire, you chatterbox.
(He has long ceased to credit the story he heard jour years ago, but he is ever watchful for MARY ROSE.)
MARY ROSE. They never seem to want to speak of it.
SIMON. Forgotten it, I suppose.
MARY ROSE. I shall write to them from the inn this evening. How surprised they will be to know I am there again.
SIMON (casually). I wouldn’t write from there. Wait till we cross to the mainland.
MARY ROSE. Why not from there?
SIMON. Oh, no reason. But if they have a distaste for the.
place, perhaps they wouldn’t like our coming. I say, praise me, I have got this fire alight.
MARY ROSE (who is occasionally pertinacious). Simon, why did you want to come to my island without me?
SIMON. Did I? Oh, I merely suggested your remaining at the inn because I thought you seemed tired. I wonder where Cameron can have got to?
MARY ROSE. Here he comes. (Solicitously) Do be polite to him, dear; you know how touchy they are.
SIMON. I am learning!
(The boat, with CAMERON, draws in. He is a gawky youth of twenty, in the poor but honourable garb of the ghillie, and is not specially impressive until you question him about the universe.)
CAMERON (in the soft voice of the Highlander). Iss it the wish of Mr. Blake that I should land?
SIMON. Yes, yes, Cameron, with the luncheon.
(cameron steps ashore with a fishing basket.)
CAMERON. Iss it the wish of Mr. Blake that I open the basket?
SIMON. We shall tumble out the luncheon if you bring a trout or two. I want you to show my wife, Cameron, how one cooks fish by the water’s edge.
CAMERON. I will do it with pleasure. (He pauses.) There iss one little matter; it iss of small importance. You may haf noticed that I always address you as Mr. Blake. I notice that you always address me as Cameron; I take no offence.
MARY ROSE. Oh dear, I am sure I always address you as Mr. Cameron.
CAMERON. That iss so, ma’am. You may haf noticed that I always address you as ‘ma’am.’ It iss my way of indicating that I consider you a ferry genteel young matron, and of all such I am the humble servant (He pauses.) In saying I am your humble servant I do not imply that I am not as good as you are. With this brief explanation, ma’am, I will now fetch the trouts.
SIMON (taking advantage of his departure). That is one in the eye for me. But I’m hanged if I mister him.
MARY ROSE. Simon, do be careful. If you want to say anything to me that is dangerous, say it in French.
(cameron returns with two small sea-trout.)
CAMERON. The trouts, ma’am, having been cleaned in a thorough and yet easy manner by pulling them up and down in the water, the next procedure iss as follows.
(He wraps up the trout in a piece of newspaper and soaks them in the water.) I now place the soaking little parcels on the fire, and when the paper begins to burn it will be a sure sign that the trouts iss now ready, like myself, ma’am, to be your humble servants.
(He is returning to the boat.)
MARY ROSE (who has been preparing the feast). Don’t go away.
CAMERON. If it iss agreeable to Mistress Blake I would wish to go back to the boat.
MARY ROSE. Why?
(CAMERON is not comfortable.)
It would be more agreeable to me if you would stay.
CAMERON (shuffling). I will stay.
SIMON. Good man — and look after the trout. It is the most heavenly way of cooking fish, Mary Rose.
CAMERON. It iss a tasty way, Mr. Blake, but I would not use the word heavenly in this connection.
SIMON. I stand corrected. (Tartly) I must say ——
MARY ROSE. Prenez garde, mon brave!
SIMON. Mon Dieu! Qu’il est un drble!
MARY ROSE. Mais moi, je l’aime; il est tellement — What is the French for an original?
SIMON. That stumps me.
CAMERON. Colloquially coquin might be used, though the classic writers would probably say simply un original.
SIMON (with a groan). Phew, this is serious. What was that book you were reading, Cameron, while I was fishing?
CAMERON. It iss a small Euripides I carry in the pocket, Mr. Blake.
SIMON. Latin, Mary Rose!
CAMERON. It may be Latin, but in these parts we know no better than to call it Greek.
SIMON. Crushed again! But I dare say it is good for me. Sit down and have pot-luck with us.
CAMERON. I thank you, Mr. Blake, but it would not be good manners for a paid man to sit with his employers.
MARY ROSE. When I ask you, Mr. Cameron?
CAMERON. It iss kindly meant, but I haf not been introduced to you.
MARY ROSE. Oh, but — oh, do let me. My husband Mr. Blake — Mr. Cameron.
CAMERON. I hope you are ferry well, sir.
SIMON. The same to you, Mr. Cameron. How do you do? Lovely day, isn’t it?
CAMERON. It iss a fairly fine day. (He is not yet appeased.)
MARY ROSE (to the rescue). Simon!
SIMON. Ah! Do you know my wife? Mr. Cameron —
Mrs. Blake.
CAMERON. I am ferry pleased to make Mistress Blake’s acquaintance. Iss Mistress Blake making a long stay in these parts?
MARY ROSE. No, alas, we go across tomorrow.
CAMERON. I hope the weather will be favourable.
MARY ROSE. Thank you (passing him the sandwiches). And now, you know, you are our guest.
CAMERON. I am much obliged. (He examines the sandwiches with curiosity.) Butcher-meat! This iss ferry excellent.
(He hursts into a surprising fit of laughter, and suddenly cuts it off.)
Please to excuse my behaviour. You haf been laughing at me all this time, but you did not know I haf been laughing at myself also, though keeping a remarkable control over my features. I will now haf my laugh out, and then I will explain. (He finishes his laugh.) I will now explain. I am not the solemn prig I haf pretended to you to be, I am really a fairly attractive young man, but I am shy and I haf been guarding against your taking liberties with me, not because of myself, who am nothing, but because of the noble profession it iss my ambition to enter.
(They discover that they like him.)
MARY ROSE. Do tell us what that is.
CAMERON. It iss the ministry. I am a student of Aberdeen University, and in the vacation I am a boatman, or a ghillie, or anything you please, to help to pay my fees.
SIMON. Well done!
CAMERON. I am obliged to Mr. Blake. And I may say, now that we know one another socially, that there iss much in Mr. Blake which I am trying to copy.
SIMON. Something in me worth copying!
CAMERON. It iss not Mr. Blake’s learning; he has not much learning, but I haf always understood that the English manage without it. What I admire in you iss your ferry nice manners and your general deportment, in all which I haf a great deal to learn yet, and I watch these things in Mr. Blake and take memoranda of them in a little notebook.
(simon expands.)
MARY ROSE. Mr. Cameron, do tell me that I also am in the little notebook?
CAMERON. You are not, ma’am, it would not be seemly in me. But it iss written in my heart, and also I haf said it to my father, that I will remain a bachelor unless I can marry some lady who iss ferry like Mistress Blake.
MARY ROSE. Simon, you never said anything to me as pretty as that. Is your father a crofter in the village?
CAMERON. Yes, ma’am, when he iss not at the University of Aberdeen.
SIMON. My stars, does he go there too?
CAMERON. He does so. We share a ferry small room between us.
SIMON. Father and son. Is he going into the ministry also?
CAMERON. Such iss not his purpose. When he has taken his degree he will return and be a crofter again.
SIMON. In that case I don’t see what he is getting out of it.
CAMERON. He iss getting the grandest thing in the world out of it; he iss getting education.
(SIMON feels that he is being gradually rubbed out, and it is a relief to him that CAMERON has now to attend to the trout. The paper they are wrapped in has begun to burn.)
MARY ROSE (for the first time eating of trout as it should be cooked). Delicious! (She offers a portion to CAMERON.)
CAMERON. No, I thank you. I haf lived on trouts most of my life. This butcher-meat iss more of an excellent novelty to me.
(He has been standing all this time.)
MARY ROSE. Do sit down, Mr. Cameron.
CAMERON. I am doing ferry well here, I thank you.
MARY ROSE. But, please.
CAMERON (with decision). I will not sit down on this island.
SIMON (curiously). Come, come, are you superstitious, you who are going into the ministry?
CAMERON. This island has a bad name. I haf never landed on it before.
MARY ROSE. A bad name, Mr. Cameron? Oh, but what a shame! When I was here long ago, I often came to the island.
CAMERON. Iss that so? It was not a chancey thing to do.
MARY ROSE. But it is a darling island.
CAMERON. That iss the proper way to speak of it.
MARY ROSE. I am sure I never heard a word against it. Have you, Simon?
SIMON (brazenly). Not I. I have heard that its Gaelic name has an odd meaning—’ The Island that Likes to be Visited,’ but there is nothing terrifying in that.
MARY ROSE. The name is new to me, Mr. Cameron. I think it is sweet.
CAMERON. That iss as it may be, Mistress Blake.
SIMON. What is there against the island?
CAMERON. For one thing, they are saying it has no authority to be here. It was not always here, so they are saying. Then one day it was here.
SIMON. That little incident happened before your time, I should say, Mr. Cameron.
CAMERON. It happened before the time of any one now alive, Mr. Blake.
SIMON. I thought so. And does the island ever go away for a jaunt in the same way?
CAMERON. There are some who say that it does.
SIMON. But you have not seen it on the move yourself?
CAMERON. I am not always watching it, Mr. Blake.
SIMON. Anything else against it?
CAMERON. There iss the birds. Too many birds come here. The birds like this island more than iss seemly.
SIMON. Birds here! What could bring them here?
CAMERON. It iss said they come to listen.
SIMON. To listen to the silence? An island that is as still as an empty church.
CAMERON. I do not know; that iss what they say.
MARY ROSE. I think it is a lovely story about the birds. I expect the kind things come because this island likes to be visited.
CAMERON. That iss another thing; for, mark you, Mistress Blake, an island that had visitors would not need to want to be visited. And why has it not visitors? Because they are afraid to visit it.
MARY ROSE. Whatever are they afraid of?
CAMERON. That iss what I say to them. Whateffer are you afraid of, I say.
MARY ROSE. But what are you afraid of, Mr. Cameron?
CAMERON. The same thing that they are afraid of. There are stories, ma’am.
MARY ROSE. Do tell us. Simon, wouldn’t it be lovely if he would tell us some misty, eerie Highland stories?