Collected Plays and Teleplays (Irish Literature) (36 page)

NO. III:
(
Prim Englishman.
) I say, look here, flying personnel are prohibited by law the use of intoxicants or drugs.

NO. IV:
(
Another Dublin man.
) Doesn’t say he mightn’t take odd jar on the quiet all the same. There’s hawks and cute hawks.

HOSTESS:
That reminds me. Would anybody like a drink?

NO. III:/ENGLISHMAN:
(
Sharply.
) Certainly not.

HOSTESS:
They’re complimentary. . . . You KNOW?

LADY IN FRONT:
(
English.
) D’you mind if I hev a Cointreau with a tiny little desh of French vermouth. End some ice, please. Thank you.

HOSTESS:
Sairtintly.

NO. I:
I don’t suppose you’d have e’er a pint here at all? I never touch the hard stuff. (
Taps chest.
) The hairrt, you know.

NO. VII:
(
Dublin. Loud bawling voice.
) I’ll have a glass of Powers’s Gold Label with quantum sufficio of aqua pura.

NO. V:
(
North of Ireland man.
) Ah thenk Ah’ll have a wee dray sherry, Miss. Do ye mind what Ah’m sayin’ now? A dray sherry. Dray, dray, dray, DRAY.

HOSTESS:
(
Departing as plane gives terrific lurch.
) Sairtintly.

NO. I:
(
Frightened, roaring.
) Holy Godfathers! Whoa, there—WHOA! Ay, Miss—tell that driver to be more careful.

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
Only an air pockeet, old boy.

NO. I:
Well by Gob there must be a hole in it.

(
Enter the
CAPTAIN
from front.
)

CAPTAIN:
Good evenin’ all.

MAC:
Owairye, Captain.

NO. I:
Try and be a bit more careful drivin’ this yoke, Captain. I got half of me stummick taken out two years ago and what’s left isn’t right.

CAPTAIN:
Right. Tell me now—has anybody here got such a thing as a monkey wrench?

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
(
Indignant.
) A WOT?

NO. VIII:
(
Quiet old lady.
) Would a nail scissors be of any assistance. I think I have one here in my bag. . . . (
Begins to rummage, while plane gives another devastating plunge, nose up.
CAPTAIN
falls into the arms of the pretty
LADY IN FRONT
.)

CAPTAIN:
I’m very, very sorry ma’am. I beg yer pairdin.

LADY IN FRONT:
(
Frigidly.
) That’s quite all right.

CAPTAIN:
I’m sure yer man out there done that deliberately. Rafferty’s a hewer.

MAC:
Tell Rafferty he’s making the crowd in here nairvis.

NO. I:
Tell him I’LL have his bloody life if he doesn’t cut out actin’ the maggot.

CAPTAIN:
Ma’am give me that nail scissors.

(
There is another lurch, and cries of dismay.
)

CAPTAIN:
I’m not happy in meself at all with that port ingin. (
Shakes head.
) Not happy at all. (
Exit. Passengers look at each other.
)

(
HOSTESS
comes in with drinks on tray.
NO. I
grabs glass of malt.
)

NO. I:
So the Captain’s not happy in himself, eh? (
Turns to shout to
MAC
.) Ay, Mac, to hell with me stummick!

MAC:
More luck!

(
Plane gives series of sea-saw lurches. Queer spluttering noises come from engine, then steady drone is much diminished. Enter
CAPTAIN
.)

SOMEBODY:
Anything the matter, Captain?

CAPTAIN:
The port engine has gone for its tea.

GENERAL CRY:
Whaaaaat . . . ?

CAPTAIN:
The sprockets is gone.

NO. I:
Whataya talkin’ about?

CAPTAIN:
And the plugs is in an absolutely shockin’ state.

NO. I:
You tell Rafferty to get all that plugs cleaned up and stop actin’ the bags or I’ll have that chiner’s bloody life. D’you hear me?

CAPTAIN:
The whole oil job has gone for the milk too. I’ll have to turn back.

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
(
Very servere.
) WOT? I absolutely forbid you to turn beck. I hev most urgent business in London.

CAPTAIN:
I can turn back . . . or not turn . . . back . . . or turn left or turn right . . . or fly backwards . . . IN ME ABSOLUTE DISCRETION, now do you understand, me good man. A Captain, if you understand me (
lurch
) a Captain is endowed with ferociously wide powers. In me absolute discretion I could marry that gairrl there. In me absolute discretion I can hold a furenal sairvice. As a matter of fact I could clamp the whole crowd of ye in irons. D’ye understand me?

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
I think you’re a demn fool. If you turn this aircraft beck, I will report you.

MAC:
You shut yer gob. This is an Irish aerioplane, and We’ll do what WE like.

NO. III:/ENGLISHMAN:
I don’t like the Irish, actually.

NO. VII:
(
Loud, bawling voice.
) Oh is that so? Well let me tell you this. We bet you and your crowd out of the country (
lurch
) and will again if ye put yeer dirty noses back into it, and we’ll run ye out of Six Counties yet me bould segotia, ye runt of a limey.

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
Captain, I absolutely insist on being put down in London.

CAPTAIN:
Now look at here. That gentleman is pairfictly right. This flight we’re on (
lurch
) doesn’t take much more than sixty minutes. You KNOW? But how the SIX HUNDRED YEARS? Not a word about that . . . (
fearful lurching)
. . . at all. Where do you lave Strongbow marryin’ a dacent Irish gairrl be force below in Waterford when he was after slaughterin’ every man, woman, child, dog and divil in the town? Do you know what YOU ought to do? (
Lurch, lurch.
)

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
Wot you talking about?

NO. I:
He ought to read the Four Glorious Years in d’Irish Press.

CAPTAIN:
Yooughta shut yer gob and kindly remember there’s ladies present. (
Enormous sea-saw lurching, all present holding on to seats and each other.
CAPTAIN
again falls into
LADY’S
lap.
)

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
Really, you Irish! I should like you to notice, Captain, thet I have contrived, notwithstending the behaviour of this obsolete aircraft, to keep my hends off the ladies.

CAPTAIN:
(
To
LADY
.) I beg yer pairdin, ma’am.

LADY IN FRONT:
Ew, thet’s quite all right, Captain.

CAPTAIN:
And You—You—I tolded you, I TOLDED YOU TO SHUT UP. I’m keepin’ a great control of meself. (
Lurching.
) But I’m afraid of me life I’ll break out yet.

MAC:
Don’t pay any attention to him, Captain—don’t give him the satisfaction. He’s only a bowsy.

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
‘Fraid I didn’t get the Ceptain’s other name. Could it be Casanova?

(
Further lurching in the middle of which mild
OLD LADY
,
who gave captain the scissors, rises unsteadily, approaches
ENGLISHMAN
from rear, and bashes him over the head with her umbrella.
)

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
O I say, look here!

(
UPROAR. Lurching. Strange noises from engine.
)

NO. V/N. OF IRELAND MAN:
Hov ye no monners, wumman? Holy Goad, to strake an unforetunate mon on the back of tha had is a thing ye wouldn’t even see in the wilds of Conamawra.

SOMEBODY:
I’ll Conamara you. Shut up and finish yer dray, dray sherry.

NO. V/N. OF IRELAND MAN:
What are ye talking about? Ah have it finished hours ago mon.

NO. VIII/OLD LADY:
(
Fuming quietly.
) The cheek of some people.

CAPTAIN:
Did ye hear the starboard ingin? By Gob I don’t like the sound of that at all. (
Lurch.
)

MAC:
Shure we must be nearly across be now, Captain?

CAPTAIN:
Do you know what I’m going to tell you, we’d betther be. I’m thinking maybe we’ll have to land in the say.

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
(
Laughs drily.
) Demn good, thet.

NO. I:
WHAT’S damn good? (
Lurch, lurch.).

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
Wot the Ceptain said. Terribly Irish. “Land on the sea.” ’Ow could you lend on the sea?

CAPTAIN:
Aw, smairty, eh? (
Imitates accent.)
“’Ow could you lend on the sea?” Would ye prefer us to sea on the sea now?

NO. III:/ENGLISHMAN:
Just my little joke, old boy. (
Amid terrible lurching and uproar,
ENGLISHMAN
takes out the
Times
and begins reading.
) By Jove, Compton is hitting ‘em again!

CAPTAIN:
(
Shouting above din.
) Hould fast lads. I’ll have to see Rafferty about this other ingin. (
Exit.
)

NO. V/N. OF IRELAND MAN:
Tell him to lond somewhere where we’ll all be dray, d’ye undherstond.

(
More lurching.
)

NO. I:
(
Plaintively.
) I don’t know what put it into me head to be here at all and that’s the God’s truth, I’d be bether off where I was last night, having a scoop for meself in the Scotch House.

(
Engine begins to conk. Enter
CAPTAIN
wearing life-jacket.
)

CAPTAIN:
Ye know the propellor on the starboard ingin?

NO. V/N. OF IRELAND MAN:
Well what about the wee propellor, Captain?

CAPTAIN:
Do ye know (
lurches
) do ye know where it is?

CRIES:
Where . . . where?

CAPTAIN:
The propellor of the starbaord ingin is below in d’Irish Say.

(
Consternation. Enormous lurching, a flash, a crash, and the lights go out. Entire stage is now black. The voices are heard again.
)

CAPTAIN:
I think I see lights beyond there. Maybe Rafferty can glide in. Rafferty’s a right lad, one of the Rafferty crowd beyond there in Mulhuddard.

MAC:
He is not, he’s a Skerries man.

LADY IN FRONT:
Captain, I heppen to be a chennel swimmer. If we DO happen to go down into the water, I do hope you will allow me to assist you.

CAPTAIN:
Sairtintly, me good girl. I’d do annthin’ to oblige a lady in distress.

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
Some demn fool has blundered, there is no doubt about eet. I say, Ceptain, could I send a wireless message to my London offeece saying I will be delayed? (
No reply from
CAPTAIN
.)

VOICE:
Ay, you. Keep yer elbow outa me eye!

ANOTHER VOICE:
Somebody’s boots is pokin into me back.

NO. V/N. OF IRELAND MAN:
Ah wonder where that wee gairl in the unyform is gawn, because Ah could do with another gloss of dray sherry.

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
I wonder where the dickens that Ceptain is gone?

MAC:
D’ye know, I think that was a pariachute I seen him wearin.

A VOICE:
I think we’ll be O.K. I see lights down there.

ANOTHER VOICE:
Are ye there, Mac?

MAC:
Would ya mind tellin me where else I could be?

SAME VOICE:
Right. Give us an oul’ bar of a song.

MAC:
Right.

(
Begins to sing “The Wild Colonial Boy.” Half-way there is a shout:
)

SHOUT:
We’re comin DOWN. . . . We’re going to CRASH.

(
There is a terrific crash and tearing sound, followed by confused shouts.
)

A SHOUT:
Are yez all right?

(
Lights in plane go on, showing passengers piled in confusion on floor, with the exception of
CAPTAIN
and
LADY
,
who are locked in each other’s arms on seat.
CAPTAIN
quietly disengages himself, others sort themselves out.
)

CAPTAIN:
Didn’t I tell ye Rafferty would do it? Didn’t I tell ye? Hah?

VOICES:
Ye did indeed. Three cheers for Rafferty.

(
ENGLISHMAN
clutching brief-case comes urgently forward to
CAPTAIN
.)

NO. III/ENGLISHMAN:
I say, old boy, thet was a really megnificent feat of nevigation. Would you kindly convey my congretulations to Officer Refferty.

CAPTAIN:
Sairtintly. Guramahagut.

NO. III:/ENGLISHMAN:
Pawdon?

CAPTAIN:
Guramahagut.

NO. III:/ENGLISHMAN:
WOT?

CAPTAIN:
Guramahagut. Thanks very much.

NO. III:/ENGLISHMAN:
(
Turning to go.
) Ao. I think I’ll just be in time for my meeting after all. Goodnight. (
Exit.
)

CAPTAIN:
There’ll be right ructions when he finds he’s in Wexford—eh lads?

(
Loud laughs.
)

THE END

1
It is unclear in the original text whether Mac is another passenger, or one of the seven introduced earlier.