The Same Boat

A Distressing Dialogue of Love Sickness in Eight Days-At-Sea

NANCY BOYD

PERSONS: Terence, twenty-eight years old, black hair, . blue eyes, handsome, lonesome-looking, lovely manners. brown

Jacqueline, twenty-two years old, yellow hair, brown eyes, beautiful, helpless-looking, lovely mannerisms.

Place: A steamer, somewhere between New York and le Havre.

Time: About now.

Evening of the First-Day-Out (On Deck)

HE (throwing his arms around somebody): Oh, I beg your pardon!

SHE (extricating herself from somebody's arms): Oh, I'm sorry!

She wears an enthralling mist-grey suit and a dull-gold turban)

HE (courteously): I hope I didn't hurt you. SHE courteously): Not at all, thank you. And if you had, she looks hurriedly around, and then leans forward, as if about to betray a confidence) and if you had, 'twould be my own fault. I'm walking the wrong way!

HE enchanted): Indeed! And how do you know which is the right way?

SHE (ingenuously, gazing up at him): Why,

I supposed it was the way everybody is walking!

HE sinisterly, gazing down at her): A perilous assumption!

SHE: I hope I didn't hurt you! (She reaches out an impulsive hand, and withdraws it flutteringly.)

HE: Oh, no! Er—on the contrary!

SHE (gaily): I'll try not to run into you again. Goodnight!

HE reluctantly): Oh,—goodnight.

She walks away. He stares after her.)

Morning of the Second-Day-Out (On Deck)

HE (to himself, just having passed for the twenty-fourth time the steamer-chair in which she sits, reading, in a peacock-blue feather toque and a lot of little heliotrope ruffles): Hateful girl! Wouldn't look up if I dropped dead at her feet!

SHE for the twenty-fourth time looking up and following him with her brown eyes furtively): Oh, dear! He qertainly is wonderful-looking! She sighs) How marvellously he walks! She sighs) And what a heavenly overcoat!—I think I'll go in and write some letters. She hurriedly unwinds her feet from the rug and disappears.)

Evening of the Second-Day-Out (On Deck)

HE (courteously, stopping by her chair): Won't you let me do that?

SHE courteously, struggling with her rug): Oh,—thank you, don't trouble. Oh, that's very nice. Thank you very much.

HE lingering): Not at all. I—are you sure that one blanket is enough for you? It seems awfully light. I have one I'm not using at all if you-

SHE hurriedly): Oh, no, please,—it's quite all right, thank you. (She smiles at him huntedly, Slavically; she is wearing a restrained black hat and a black cloth dress with a savagely high collar) Thank you. He knows himself dismissed.)

Morning of the Third-Day-Out (On Deck)

HE turning from the rail to speak to her as she passes): Goodmorning!

SHE (courteously, continuing her walk): Goodmorning!

HE: Don't you want to see the great big fishes?

SHE with a small, very cultivated squeal): Oh, yes! Where are they? She comes over to the rail. She is wearing a short moleskin coat and a moleskin tamoshanter with a little red silk apple on the side.)

SHE: Why, they're playing, aren't they? Oh, how adorable! She starts to clap her hands, stops in confusion, darts at him a swift, beseeching glance, and stares at the sea. They watch for some moments in silence,—that is to say, she watches the great big fishes, and he watches her watch them. She knows that he is watching her; and he knows that she knows it. Still, they have their simplicity, in a way.)

SHE catching her under-lip between her teeth): Oh, dear, I'm afraid they're gone! (She stares at him imploringly. He is helpless. He can think of nothing to do to bring them back but to put salt on their tails, which seems vaguely incongruous.)

SHE: Well,—(she sighs, then smiles brightly) Thank 'you so much for showing them to me!

HE (eagerly): Wait a moment! If you're going to walk, I'll take a few turns with you,— if you don't mind.

SHE (hurriedly, twisting her hands together) : Why, I—I was just going in. I'm sorry. (She smiles at him swiftly, deprecatingly, and is gone.)

HE (tramping the deck, moodily): Dammit, what's the idea?—running away like that all the time!

SHE (hurrying down to her cabin): Oh, dear, why do I run away like that all the time? —Nobody else would!

Evening of the Third-Day-Out (On Deck)

(It is nearly eleven o'clock, cold and very windy. Most of the passengers who are not in their cabins are in the smoker. The canvas set to keep the wind from the sides of the promenade-deck keeps also the deck-lights from shining upon the bow. In the bleak darkness of this forward-deck, wrapped well against the cold, but buffeted breathless by the wind, stands Jacqueline, clinging to the rail, and staring out at the night. She is wearing a very swagger purple leather coat, and a little leather hat.)

HE (suddenly beside her): Tell me,—why do you avoid me like this?

SHE (quietly): I do not avoid you. How silly!

HE (coolly): Oh, yes, you do. If you hadn't been avoiding me, you couldn't have escaped being with me,—that's easy. I follow you about like a pup.

SHE (abruptly turning her head and speaking over his shoulder, in a teased voice): Yes, —and why do you ? Why do you wish to annoy me? (Her chin quivers. She presses the back of her hand against her mouth and turns as abruptly away.)

HE (hurt and shocked beyond measure): Good heavens,—why, I wouldn't annoy you for anything in the world! I—r just wanted to be with you. I'm lonesome as the devil, and this lx>at drives me crazy, that's all. Child!— You're not crying?

SHE (tearfully, restraining her skirt, which blows in the wind and insists upon caressing his legs): Certainly, I'm crying. But don't —don't trouble, please! It's a form of dissipation! (She sobs involuntarily) Please go away!

HE: I shall do nothing of the sort. (He lays his hand on her shoulder) You're lonely, aren't you?

SHE (drying her eyes and looking up at him, quaveringly): No—no, I'm just nervous!

Evening of the Fourth-Day-Out (In the Smoker)

HE: Do you mind smoking these? They're about all you can get.

SHE: Thank you,—I don't smoke.

(Her head is turned slightly from him. She is wearing a black velvet dress with a modest neck and no sleeves at all, and a very thin scarlet hat that droops to her shoulders. He gazes upon her. She is so beautiful that she makes virtue attractive.)

SHE (lifting her head and watching the smoke about the ceiling of the room,—she has a very pretty chin): It's nice in here, isn't it? You almost forget you're on a boat. It's more like a cafe.

HE: Yes.

SHE (warmly, clasping her hands): It's really awfully nice!

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Continued from page 33

HE: It is. And you're the only nice person in it.

SHE (with certainty) : Oh, no!

HE: It's the truth. You are. Have you looked around?

SHE (smiling faintly, looking into his eyes): I can tell without looking

around that I'm not the only nice person in it.

Evening of the Fifth-Day-Out (In the Smoker)

HE: YOU haven't told me your

name yet.

SHE (as if in fright, putting her hand to her cheek): Oh, please don't!

(They are sitting at a small round table. At her words several men look up from their five-days' poker-game.)

SHE (in a low voice, glancing hurriedly around, then leaning towards him): I'm sorry. I didn't mean to speak so loud. But I wish you wouldn't ask me that. It's so much nicer not knowing who we are. (She smiles into his eyes, waveringly. She is wearing a simple little green frock such as the Lorelei would pawn her comb for, and a large hat of rainy black and silver. He gazes at her for some time, then turns away sharply and drums on the table for a moment with his fingers.)

HE (ceasing to drum on the table): Beg your pardon. Nasty habit. Nervous, I guess. Er—just as you say, dear child. And perhaps you're right. What will you drink? (While the drinks are being brought, he covers his eyes with his hand.)

Evening of the Sixth-Day-Out (On Deck)

HE: Do you like it when it rains like this?

SHE: I love it!

(She is wearing an adorable brown cloak that exactly matches her eyes, and a little felt hat with a long, curling orange quill.)

HE: You'll get enough of it in Paris at this season. You're going to be there ?

SHE: Only for a day or two. I'm going to Florence for a month.

HE: The devil you are!—I beg your pardon. I mean to say, so am I!

(They are briskly walking tip and down the deck together. The rain strikes at them as they come out from under the shelter of the roof, and the deck becomes more slippery.)

HE (taking her arm to steady her): You are trembling! What is the matter, child?

SHE (in a fainting voice): I am cold.

HE (stopping short, greatly concerned) : Shall we go in ?

SHE (confusedly):I don't know— I'm not cold, really—that was a lie. I'm just trembling.

HE (holding her tightly by the arm and bending down to look at her): Why are you trembling?

SHE (twisting her hands and staring up at him imploringly): I don't know!

Evening of the Seventh-Day-Out (In the Dining-room)

(They aresitting at a table for two.)

HE: It's much nicer eating together, isn't it? Will you have some of this?

SHE: Er—no, thank you,—it might be anything by this time! I wish he'd take this soup before it leaps into my lap.

HE (admiringly): You haven't minded the motion at all, have you?

SHE: No,—not a bit. I wish he'd take this soup. This gown is a favourite of mine. (She is wearing a dancing frock of coral crepe meteor. Her throat and shoulders are such that to think of food in her presence is like taking a

shoe-box of sandwiches to the Rodin Museum.)

HE: It is perilously charming. It doesn't look as if it had ever been worn before. I don't think I ever knew a girl with so many clothes!

SHE (turning ash-white and putting her hand to her throat): Oh—Oh, don't!

He(frightened): What's the matter?

SHE (recovering herself): Nothing. A—a queer little pain. It's gone now. You were saying—oh, yes. You see, they let me take my big wardrobfe trunk right into my cabin with me. And then there's—there's a steamer-trunk besides. I wish he'd take this soup l

Evening of the Eighth-Day-Out (On Deck)

HE: All those lights are light-houses on the English coast.

SHE: Oh.

HE: Yes. You won't see the French coast until morning.

SHE: Oh.

(There is a long silence. She hugs about her a soft and voluminous dolman of seal and sand-coloured duvetyn. She is bare-headed. Her yellow hair blows on his face.)

HE: Aren't you cold, dear?

SHE: Yes, a little. You mustn't call me that.

HE (opening his heavenly overcoat and folding it about her with one arm): You won't tell me your name.

SHE (simply): It is Jacqueline.

HE: Oh, how beautiful! I wish you hadn't told me.

SHE : What is your name?

HE: Terence.

SHE: Oh, may I call you Terry— just once?

HE: If you call me Terry I shall call you Love.

SHE: Oh, please,—we mustn't!

HE (suddenly tightening his clasp about her): Oh, Jacqueline!

SHE: Don't!

HE (bending his face to hers): Please —please.

SHE (faintly): Oh—I feel as if the boat were going down.

(He takes her in his arms.)

The Next Morning (On Deck)

HE (abruptly appearing before her, in a low voice): Jacqueline, listen. I have to go in just a minute. I wish I could help you get off—but I can't.

SHE (rather nervously): It's all right. I'll be perfectly all right. (She is wearing the mist-grey suit and dullgold turban of the first day.)

HE: Dear, are you sorry you let me kiss you last night?

SHE (more and more distractedly): Oh—I don't know! I don't know!

HE (with tenderness): Please don't be. It will always be one of the loveliest memories I have. And, dear,— aren't you going to change your mind and let me see you in Florence?

SHE (with a stifled scream): No! No! I won't! I'm going to Florence on my honeymoon ! I won't! I—

HE (stepping back and staring at her): Oh, my God—you, too?

(Just at this moment a young woman comes up to them, looking rather white, clinging to the rail.)

HE: Oh, hello, Madge! Feeling better, dear? My wife, Mrs. Dennison, Mrs.—er—

SHE (very sweetly, holding out her hand): I was so distressed that you were ill all the time, Mrs. Dennison.

(Just at this moment a young man comes up to them, looking rather white, clinging to the rail.)

SHE: Oh, hello, Dick! My husband, Mr. Littleton,—Mrs. Dennison, Mr. Dennison. Feeling better, dear? CURTAIN