JESSE: As a matter of fact, Widow Begbick, we’re having a bit of a lark.
BEGBICK: I see: a lark?
POLLY: Isn’t that right, my dear sir? Isn’t it all a bit of a lark?
GALY GAY: Yes, it’s a sort of a bit of a – cigar. He laughs.
The three laugh too.
BEGBICK: How helpless a weak woman is against four such strong men. Let no one ever say the Widow Begbick hindered a man from changing his trousers.
She goes to the rear and writes on a slate: I pair of trousers, I tunic, I pair of puttees etc.
GALY GAY: What’s all this about?
JESSE: It’s all about nothing, really.
GALY GAY: Won’t it be dangerous if it gets found out?
POLLY: Not in the least. And in your case, once equals never.
GALY GAY: True enough. Once equals never. Or so they say.
BEGBICK: That uniform will be five shillings an hour.
POLLY: Sheer bloody extortion, three’s the limit.
JESSE at the window: Rain clouds are coming up fast. If it rains now the palanquin will get wet, and if the palanquin gets wet they’ll take it into the pagoda, and if they take it into the pagoda Jip will be discovered, and if Jip is discovered we’re sunk.
GALY GAY: Too small. I’ll never get into it.
POLLY: You see, he can’t get into it.
GALY GAY: And the boots pinch horribly.
POLLY: Everything’s too small. Unusable! Two bob.
URIAH: Shut up, Polly. Four bob because everything’s too small and particularly because the boots pinch so. Don’t they?
GALY GAY: To the highest degree. They pinch quite particularly.
URIAH: The gentleman isn’t such a crybaby as you, you see, Polly.
BEGBICK comes up to Uriah, leads him to the rear and points at the ‘Wanted’ sign: This poster has been up all round the camp for the last hour, stating that a military crime has been perpetrated in this town. The guilty parties have not yet been identified. And if the uniform costs no more than five shillings it’s because I’m not having the whole company dragged into this crime.
POLLY: Four shillings is a lot of money.
URIAH coming forward: Be quiet, Polly. Ten bob.
BEGBICK: Anything that might besmirch the company’s honour can generally be cleaned up in Widow Begbick’s Drinking Car.
JESSE: By the way, Widow Begbick, do you think it’ll rain?
BEGBICK: To answer that one I’d have to take a look at the sergeant, Bloody Five. It’s well known throughout the army that when it rains he gets into the most appalling states of sensuality and is outwardly and inwardly transformed.
JESSE: You see, this lark of ours absolutely depends on its not raining.
BEGBICK: Not a bit of it. Once it starts raining Bloody Five, from being the most dangerous man in the British Army, becomes harmless as a kitten. As soon as he gets one of his fits of sensuality he is blind to everything going on around him.
A SOLDIER calls into the room: All out for roll call; it’s that pagoda business, there’s supposed to be a man missing. So they’re calling the roll and checking paybooks.
URIAH: His paybook!
GALY GAY kneels down and wraps up his old clothes: I take good care of my things, you see.
URIAH to Galy Gay: Here’s your paybook. All you have to do is to call out our comrade’s name, very clearly and as loud as possible. Nothing to it.
POLLY: And our lost comrade’s name is Jeraiah Jip. Jeraiah Jip!
GALY GAY: Jeraiah Jip!
URIAH to Galy Gay as they walk off: It’s a pleasure to meet well-bred persons who know how to conduct themselves in any situation.
GALY GAY stops just inside the door: And what is in it for me?
URIAH: A bottle of beer. Come on.
GALY GAY: Gentlemen, my profession of porter obliges me to look after my own interests in any situation. I was thinking of two boxes of cigars and four or five bottles of beer.
JESSE: But we need you for that roll call.
GALY GAY: Exactly.
POLLY: All right. Two boxes of cigars and three or four bottles of beer.
GALY GAY: Three boxes and five bottles.
JESSE: I don’t get it. You just said two boxes.
GALY GAY: If you’re going to take that line it will be five boxes and eight bottles.
A bugle call.
URIAH: Time we were out of here.
JESSE: Right. It’s a deal if you come along with us straight away.
GALY GAY: Right.
URIAH: And what is your name?
GALY GAY: Jip! Jeraiah Jip!
JESSE: So long as it doesn’t rain.
POLLY comes back; to Begbick: Widow Begbick, we understand the sergeant becomes very sensual when it rains. And now it’s going to rain. See to it that he’s blind to whatever goes on around him for the next few hours, or else we risk getting found out. Exit.
BEGBICK looking after them: That man’s not called Jip, I happen to know. That’s a porter called Galy Gay from Kilkoa, and at this very instant a man who is by no means a soldier is forming up under the eyes of Bloody Five. She takes a mirror and goes to the rear. I’ll stand here where Bloody Five is sure to see me, and lure him in.
Second bugle call. Enter Fairchild. Begbick looks at him seductively in the mirror and sits down in a chair.
FAIRCHILD: Don’t cast such devouring glances at me, you white-washed Babylon. Things are bad enough already. Three days ago I took to my bunk and began washing in cold water. On Thursday my unbridled sensuality forced me to proclaim a state of siege against myself. It is a particularly disagreeable situation for me since only today I sniffed out a crime virtually without precedent in military history.
BEGBICK:
Follow, o Bloody Five, thine own great nature
Unobserved! For who will learn it?
And in the pit of my arm, in my hair
Learn who thou art. And in the crook of my knee forget
Thy fortuitous name.
Pathetic discipline! Poverty-stricken Order!
Therefore, Bloody Five, I entreat thee come
To me in this night of tepid rainfall
Exactly as thou fearest to: as man
A contradiction. As must-but-don’t-want-to.
Come now as man. Just as nature made thee
With no tin hat. Confused and savage and tied up in thyself
And defenceless victim of thy instincts
And helpless slave of thine own strength.
Come, then, as man.
FAIRCHILD: Never. The collapse of Mankind started when the first of these Zulus left a button undone. The Infantry Training Manual is a book chock-a-block with weaknesses, but it is the one thing a man can fall back on, because it stiffens the backbone and takes over responsibility towards God. Verily a hole should be dug in the ground and dynamite put in it so as to blow up the entire planet; then they might just begin to realise one means business. It’s all plain as a pikestaff. But will you, Bloody Five, be able to last out this rainy night without the widow’s flesh?
BEGBICK: So when you come to me tonight I want you to wear a black suit and have a bowler hat on your head.
A VOICE OF COMMAND: Machine-gunners fall in for roll call!
FAIRCHILD: Now I must sit by this door post so as to keep an eye on this scum they’re counting. Sits down.
VOICES OF THREE SOLDIERS outside: Polly Baker. – Uriah Shelley. – Jesse Mahoney.
FAIRCHILD: Ha, and now there will be a slight pause.
GALY GAY’S VOICE outside: Jeraiah Jip!
BEGBICK: Correct.
FAIRCHILD: They’re up to something again. Insubordination without. Insubordination within. He stands up and starts to leave.
BEGBICK calls after him: But let me inform you, Sergeant, that before the black rains of Nepal have fallen for three nights you will take a more lenient view of human failings, for you are perhaps the most sex-ridden individual under the sun. You will hobnob wi
th insubordination, and the desecrators of the temple will gaze deep into your eyes, for your own crimes will be as numberless as the sands of the sea.
FAIRCHILD: Ho, we’d take action in that case, my dear, believe me, we’d take action in exemplary fashion against that insubordinate little Bloody Five. The whole thing’s plain as a pikestaff. Exit.
FAIRCHILD’S VOICE outside: Eight men up to the navel in hot sand for non-regulation haircuts!
Enter Uriah, Jesse and Polly with Galy Gay. Galy Gay steps forward.
URIAH: Scissors, please, Widow Begbick.
GALY GAY to the audience: This sort of little favour, man to man, can’t do any harm. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, that’s the idea. Now I’ll drink a glass of beer as if it were water and tell myself: you’ve done these gentlemen a good turn. And all that counts in this world is to take a chance now and then and say ‘Jeraiah Jip’ the way another man would say ‘Good evening’, and be the way people want you to be, because it’s so easy.
Begbick brings a pair of scissors.
URIAH: Time we looked for Jip.
JESSE: That’s a nasty storm blowing up.
The three turn to Galy Gay.
URIAH: I am afraid we’re in a great hurry, sir.
JESSE: We’ve still got to crop a gentleman’s hair, you see.
They turn to the door. Galy Gay runs after them.
GALY GAY: Couldn’t I help you with that too?
URIAH: No, we have no further need of you, sir. To Begbick: Five boxes of cheap cigars and eight bottles of brown ale for this man. On the way out: There are some people who will keep sticking their noses into everything. Give them a finger and they’ll have your whole hand.
The three hurry out.
GALY GAY:
Now I could go away, but
Should a man go away when he is sent away?
Perhaps once he has gone
He may be needed again? And can a man go away
When he is needed. Unless it has to be
A man should not go away.
Galy Gay goes to the rear and sits down in a chair by the door. Begbick takes beer bottles and cigar boxes and places them in a circle on the ground in front of Galy Gay.
BEGBICK: Haven’t we met somewhere? Galy Gay shakes his head. Aren’t you the man who carried my basket of cucumbers for me? Galy Gay shakes his head. Isn’t your name Galy Gay?
GALY GAY: No.
Exit Begbick shaking her head. It grows dark. Galy Gay falls asleep on his chair. Rain falls. Begbick is heard singing to soft music.
BEGBICK:
Often as you may see the river sluggishly flowing
Each time the water is different.
What’s gone can’t go past again. Not one drop
Ever flows back to its starting point.
5
Interior of the Pagoda of the Yellow God
Wang the bonze and his sacristan
SACRISTAN: It is raining.
WANG: Bring in our leather palanquin out of the rain. The sacristan goes out. Now the last of our takings have been stolen. And now the rain is coming in on my head through those bullet holes. The sacristan drags in the palanquin. Groans from within. What’s that? He looks inside. I knew it must be a white man as soon as I saw what a disgusting state the palanquin was in. Oh, he’s wearing a uniform. And he’s got a bald spot, this thief. They’ve simply cut his hair off. What shall we do with him? Since he is a soldier he must be without brains. A soldier of his Queen, coated with sicked-up drinks, more helpless than an infant hen, too drunk to recognise his own mother. We can hand him to the police. What’s the good of that? Once the money has gone what’s the good of justice? And all he can do is grunt. Furiously: Heave him out, you cheese-hole, and stuff him in the prayer-box, but make sure his head is on top. Our best answer is to make a god of him. The sacristan puts Jip into the prayer box. Get me some paper. We must hang out paper flags at once. We must immediately paint posters for all we are worth. No false economies: I want it to be a big operation, with posters that can’t be overlooked. What’s the good of a god that doesn’t get talked about? A knock at the door. Who is calling on me at this hour?
POLLY: Three soldiers.
WANG: Those will be his comrades. He admits the three.
POLLY: We are looking for a gentleman, or more specifically a soldier, who is sleeping in a leather box that once stood outside this rich and distinguished temple.
WANG: May his awakening be a pleasant one.
POLLY: That box however has disappeared.
WANG: I understand your impatience, which originates in uncertainty; for I too am looking for some men, about three all told, specifically soldiers, and I cannot find them.
URIAH: That will be extremely difficult. I’d say you might as well give up. But we thought you might know something about that leather box.
WANG: Unhappily not. The unpleasant fact is that all you honourable soldiers wear the same clothes.
JESSE: That is not unpleasant. Inside the said leather box just now is sitting a man who is very ill.
POLLY: Having moreover lost a certain amount of hair through his illness he is in urgent need of help.
URIAH: Might you have seen such a man?
WANG: Unhappily not. I did however find hair such as you mention. But a sergeant in your army took it away with him. He wished to give it back to the honourable soldier.
Jip groans inside the prayer box.
POLLY: What is that, sir?
WANG: That is my cow who is slumbering.
URIAH: Your cow does not seem to slumber very well.
POLLY: This is the palanquin we stuffed Jip into. Permit us to inspect it.
WANG: It will be best if I tell you the whole truth. It is not the same palanquin.
POLLY: It’s as full of sick as a slop pail on the third day of Christmas. Jesse, it’s obvious Jip was here.
WANG: He couldn’t have been in that, now, could he? Nobody would get into such a filthy palanquin.
Jip groans loudly.
URIAH: We’ve got to have our fourth man. Even if it means murdering our own grandmother.
WANG: I fear the man you are looking for is not here. But to make it clear to you that the man who in your opinion is here but of whose presence I have no knowledge is not your man, allow me to explain the entire situation by means of a drawing. Permit your unworthy servant to delineate four criminals by means of chalk. He draws on the door of the prayer box.
One of them has a face, so you can see who he is, but three of them have no faces. You cannot recognise them. Now the man with the face has got no money, so he is not a thief. Those with the money however have got no faces, so you cannot know them. Unless they are together, that is. But once they are together the three faceless ones will grow faces, and other people’s money will be found on them. You will never make me believe that a man who might be here is your man.
The three threaten him with their weapons, but at a sign from
Wang the sacristan appears with Chinese worshippers.
JESSE: We shall not disturb your night’s rest any longer, sir. Besides, your tea doesn’t agree with us. Your drawing, to be sure, is very clever. Come along.
WANG: It grieves me to see you depart.
URIAH: Do you really believe that when our comrade wakes up, no matter where, wild horses will prevent him from coming back to us?
WANG: Wild horses possibly not, but a small portion of domestic horse, who knows?
URIAH: Once he’s shaken the beer out of his head he’ll be back. The three leave amid deep bows.
JIP inside the prayer box: Hey!
Wang draws the attention of the worshippers to his god.
6
The Canteen
Late at night. Galy Gay is sitting in his chair, still asleep. The three soldiers appear in the window.
POLLY: He’s still sitting there. Like an Irish mammoth, isn’the?
URIAH: Perhaps he didn’t want to leave on account
of the rain.
JESSE: Who can say? Anyhow we’re going to need him again now.
POLLY: Don’t you think that Jip will be back?
JESSE: Uriah, I know that Jip will not be back.
POLLY: We can hardly tell this porter the same old tale again.
JESSE: What do you think, Uriah?
URIAH: I think I’ll have a kip.
POLLY: But suppose this porter now gets up and walks out of that door our heads will be hanging by a mere thread.
JESSE: Definitely. But I’m turning in now too. You can’t expect too much of a fellow.
POLLY: Perhaps it’s best if we all have a kip. It’s too depressing and it’s really all the fault of the rain.
Exeunt the three.
7
Interior of the Pagoda of the Yellow God
Towards morning. Large posters on all sides. The sound of an old gramophone and of a drum. Religious ceremonies of some importance appear to be going on in the background.
WANG approaches the prayer box; to the sacristan: Roll those camel-dung balls quicker, you trash! Close to the prayer box: Is the honourable soldier still asleep?
JIP inside: Shall we be de-training soon, Jesse? This truck is shaking so dreadfully, and it’s as cramped as a water closet.
WANG: Honourable soldier, you must not imagine that you are in a railway truck. If anything is shaking it is the beer in your honourable head.
JIP inside: Nonsense. Who’s that singing in the gramophone? Can’t it stop?
WANG: Come on out, honourable soldier, eat a piece of meat from a cow.
JIP inside: Is it all right for me to have a piece of meat, Polly? He pounds on the sides of the prayer box.
WANG running to the rear: Quiet, you wretches! The god you can hear knocking on the walls of the holy prayer box is asking for five taels. Grace is being shown unto you. Take a collection, Mah Sing.
JIP inside: Uriah, Uriah, where am I?
WANG: Knock a little more, honourable soldier, on the other wall, honourable general, with both your feet, emphatically.
JIP inside: Hey, what is this? Where am I? Where are you? Uriah, Jesse, Polly!
WANG: Your grovelling servant is desirous of knowing what food and strong drinks the honourable soldier wishes to call for.