Work in progress, the play
In All His Glory...

 

And here is Scene V from In All His Glory...

The darkness lightens only a little. A stope -- hollowed-out cavern -- underground in Dolcoath. Three miners, faintly visible only through their lamps, are dodging about in an impromptu game of rugby, using a piece of wood. Another miner is pushing a loaded wheelbarrow and disappears out of sight. Suddenly, a deep rumble, a cloud of dust, and all light goes out.

After a short interval the blackness becomes murk, and we see JACK, SAM and WILLIE. They sit on the floor, backs against the rockside: JACK and SAM side by side, playing noughts and crosses with sharp stones and a slate; WILLIE sits a few feet away, his head slumped forward.

SAM: That's enough of that, Jack. (They put down the slate and stones.)

JACK: You want a game, Willie?

WILLIE: No, thanks. Never could abide noughts and crosses. Now, if had a draughts board...

JACK: But we haven't.

SAM (sadly): Alfred loved his games of draughts.

WILLIE: Loved? Did you say loved?... Alfred is alright; I've got a good feelin' about it... Our families will have heard by now.

SAM: They're very likely here. (he jerks his head upwards.) It's been long enough.

JACK: My poor old Mum will be screechin' her eyes out. She d'have a terrible fear of bein' trapped; so she'll be puttin' herself in my position. Except she'll prefer that to the alternative.

WILLIE: My missus won't be crying; she can hold her feelings in. She never cried for two weeks when her mother passed away last year -- then they burst out, like the waters that flooded Wheal Owles.

JACK: I'm glad mother've got Amy with her. Amy can hold herself together and she's an optimist. She'll be tellin' her we're goin' to be alright.

SAM: Reckon my old lurcher will have given my missus the first sign something was wrong. He'll have started whimperin' soon as the rocks fell, make no mistake. They have a sixth sense, dogs; ours do, any rate. Bess'll have screamed, 'Oh my Lord, Daisy! somethin's wrong down at bal! Get you hat and coat on, we must get over there!'

JACK: Got any baccy left?

SAM: No.

JACK: I knew they timbers weren't right. Put in in too much of a rush. The worse the yield, the worse the timbers.

WILLIE: Shall we give a shout again?

(Getting to their feet, they go to the fallen rocks on left, and shout:)

ALL: Anybody hear us? Anybody hear us? Anybody hear us? (They press their ears to the rock. Then go back to where they were sitting, and slump back down.)

SAM: What did the bard say? The best laid schemes of mice and men oft go astray? I was lookin' forward to my brother comin' home from America for a holiday. He's already set sail.

JACK: You'll see him, old pal; you'll see him. If anyone can get us out, Cap'n Thomas will. He'll be movin' heaven and earth. We mustn't give up hope.

WILLIE: Shall we say another prayer?

JACK: I'd rather put my faith in the cap'n. But yes, if you've a mind to.

WILLIE: Oh, Lord, we pray, for our loved ones sake, that we be spared. And we pray for our families, that they shall be comforted while they wait for news. And we pray for Alfred, that he made it through to the shaft before the rocks fell. We ask it for Thy name's sake. Amen.

JACK and SAM: Amen!

WILLIE: Tell'ee what I was lookin' forward to: our little maid's birthday next week. We were goin' to take her up Truro, show her the cathedral. She's very excited, dear little soul.

SAM: You'll still do that, Willie. What are you lookin' forward to, Jack?

JACK: Gettin' married in three weeks.

SAM: You and Amy gettin' hitched?

JACK: That's what we planned. When I say lookin' forward to it -- well, with some trepidation. It's a big thing.

WILLIE: Amy's a lovely maid; she'll make you a good wife.

JACK: I think so. It was forced on us, you might say, because she's expecting. At the moment, all my fears about it have suddenly melted away, like the Camborne backs when faced with Solomon, and I'm just afraid it won't happen.

SAM: How far gone is she?

JACK: Only a couple of months.

SAM: And neither of you let on you was gettin' married.

JACK: Well, to be frank, it's all been the spur of the moment. We wouldn't have been in such a hurry, only I'm going back to the Rand. I had a job offer. I've been mullin' it over; but the baby decided it. Amy won't be able to work. I can't keep mother and two sisters, on top of Amy and a baby, on what I earn here. There's no alternative. I'll go for two or three years. I don't want to, but -- what can I do?

SAM: We'll miss you, old pard. If I was five years younger I'd go back there too. But I haven't the energy. I'll rest my bones in Cornish earth -- whether 'tis twenty hours' time or twenty years.

WILLIE: When you plannin' to leave, Jack?

JACK: Friday after Easter. We're gettin' married Easter Monday, down Illogan church. I was waitin' for the right time to tell you I'd be going. And about the wedding. I was goin' ask one of you if you'd be my best man; only I couldn't decide between you.

SAM: We'll toss up for it.

JACK: But no hurry... (Gives an ironic laugh) Funny old time to be tellin' you -- when it may not happen! God knows how they'll manage if I don't make it. I suppose I should be glad there'll be someone to carry on my name; a bit o' me.

(They sit in gloomy silence.)

WILLIE: I could do with a cup tea and a pasty.

SAM: A pint of ale would go down a treat.

WILLIE: I reckon Alfred got through in time; but if he didn't, at least it was quick. Not like us.

JACK: 'Tis strange, I know exactly when I made Amy pregnant, and it was about the only time when my mind wasn't fully on the job.

SAM: Sure enough?

JACK: We worked it out it was the last Sunday in January. We were goin' through a bit of a rough spell around then, so we weren't doin' it much. I was always tired out, and Amy was annoyed with me for not seein' enough of her. I went to chapel at Treskillard with her, and afterwards the rest of her family stayed on for a concert. Amy and I took the opportunity. It was bitterly cold, snowin' a bit, but the Cornish range was goin' full belt. We, you know, got down to it, on the kitchen floor. But all I could think about was Bert's try against St. Ives day before! (SAM and WILLIE nod and smile.) You remember the one? He sold such a handsome dummy, their two centres collided even though they weren't within ten yards of him! And glided past three or four others -- what was that word the young chap with Dr Lawry used? -- posthumously! Glided past them posthumously! There I was, hamerrin' away, pretending to be all loving, and I was seeing that try! It was like a beautiful sunset over the veldt, or Fanny Moody singin' 'Home, sweet home', or Kynance Cove on a lovely day, that try of Bert's.

WILLIE: I chatted to Mr Glasson, the solicitor, afterwards, and he said, Solomon dismissed them from his presence! Dismissed them from his presence!

JACK: Wasn't very fair on Amy, mind. To be rememberin' it just then.

SAM: But it didn't put you off, Jack.

JACK: Far from it. I reckon young Bert give me the hard-on in the first place!

SAM: I reckon my missus d'think of Kimberley, our dog, each time we make love. Which isn't very often... But I wouldn't like never to cuddle up to her again in bed.

JACK: Cuddle up to the dog?

SAM: My wife, you idiot!

WILLIE: She's a good size, your missus.

SAM: I'll say! Lots of good handfulls.

WILLIE: My Lily's a bit on the skinny side. To be honest, we've never been great shakes in bed. Ever since she confessed to me she sometimes can't help thinkin' of her first husband while we're at it; that put me off.

SAM: I should bleddy think so!

WILLIE: All the same, she d'look after me and the children. Bed isn't everything, especially after a few years.

JACK: It was that dummy of Bert's. I kept wonderin' how he does it.

SAM: I think he flicks it from one hand to another. He've got hands like shovels.

WILLIE: Miner's hands.

JACK: But he d'work in the Bacon Factory.

WILLIE: No, he don't. Leastways he didn't. You ask Thomas-Henry. Tommy'll tell you he was one of the first men to see him play. It was one croust-time, they started up a game, using a hard pasty as a ball. And the one young chap -- scarcely more than a boy -- nobody could lay a hand on was young Bert. They thought he was one of the knackers, playin' tricks.

JACK: Well, I'll be damned. That's why he's so strong. Some boot on'n'. Tha drop goal against Penzance...

WILLIE: From seventy yards, and still climbin' when it went over the posts.

SAM: He's a magician.

WILLIE: He's more than that.

SAM: Much more. But they'll never pick him for England. You won't get the selectors sending for a Cornish miner.

JACK: That's true.

SAM (showing again his gift for upper-class accents): Bert Solomon... oh, yes, a fine player, but would he fit in? I don't think he fucking would.

(JACK and WILLIE laugh at the unlikely obscenity.)

JACK: That's a good one, Sam!

SAM: I don't think he fucking would! (Laughs at his own wit; the laugh turns to a short cough.) I've had this bit of a cough lately.

JACK: Who'd wonder at it -- the rain we've been having?

(In the silence that follows, SAM coughs again.)

SAM: I'm also a bit short of breath.

JACK: So am I: it's the lack of air. Have you noticed it before -- the shortness of breath?

SAM: No, I don't think so.

JACK: Well, then.

SAM: Won't matter anyway... I'm thinking of my poor dog. At least the humans will know what's happened to me, but the dog won't know. He'll expect me to come in every time the gate clicks. And it won't be me. He'll think I've deserted him; he'll pine away. I hate to --

WILLIE: Wait! I thought I heard something. (They get to their feet and rush to the rock barrier to listen.)

SAM: Nothin'... I can't stand this. (He picks up a shovel and starts to smash it against the rock, howling like an animal. The others leap to restrain him; dropping the shovel he lashes out with his fists at Jack.)

JACK: Steady, old pard. Wrestle! (They wrestle in the Cornish style; Jack eventually pins him to the ground.)

WILLIE: Quiet!

(The wrestlers get to their feet. Faint knocking sounds.)

JACK: Yes!

ALL: Can you hear us? Can you hear us?

VOICE OF THE MINE CAPTAIN (faintly): Are you alright, you men?

ALL (loudly): Yes, cap'n!

CAPTAIN: Don't worry, we'll get you out soon.

JACK: Is Alfred alright?

(There is no response. Their heads slump.)

JACK: Bugger!

***

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