SCENE--_A small, barren coral island on the southern fringe of the
Malay Archipelago. The coral sand, blazing white under the full
glare of the sun, lifts in the right foreground to a long hummuck a
few feet above sea-level. A stunted coco palm rises from the center
of this elevation, its bunch of scraggly leaves drooping
motionlessly, casting a small circular patch of shadow directly
beneath on the ground about the trunk. About a hundred yards in the
distance the lagoon is seen, its vivid blue contrasting with the
white coral beach which borders its circular outline. The far
horizon to seaward is marked by a broad band of purplish haze which
separates the bright blue of the water from the metallic grey-blue
of the sky. The island bakes. The intensity of the sun’s rays is
flung back skyward in a quivering mist of heat-waves which distorts
the outlines of things, giving the visible world an intangible
eerie quality, as if it were floating submerged in some colorless
molten fluid._
_As the curtain rises_, ABEL _is discovered lying asleep, curled
up in the patch of shade beneath the coco palm. He is a runty,
under-sized boy of fifteen, with a shrivelled old face, tanned to
parchment by the sum. He has on a suit of dirty dungarees, man’s
size, much too large for him, which hang in loose folds from his
puny frame. A thatch of brown hair straggles in limp wisps from
under the peaked canvas cap he wears. He looks terribly exhausted.
His dreams are evidently fraught with terror, for he twitches
convulsively and moans with fright._ BUTLER _enters hurriedly,
panting, from the right, rear. He is a tall man of over middle age,
dressed in the faded remainder of what was once a brown suit. The
coat, the buttons of which have been torn off, hangs open,
revealing his nakedness beneath. A cloth cap covers his bald head,
with its halo of dirty thin grey hair. His body is emaciated. His
face, with its round, blue eyes, is weathered and cracked by the
sun’s rays. The wreck of a pair of heavy shoes flop about his bare
feet. He looks back cautiously, as if he were afraid of being
followed; then satisfied that he is not, he approaches the sleeping
boy, and bending down, puts his hand on_ ABEL’S _forehead_. ABEL
_groans and opens his eyes. He stares about furtively, as if
seeking someone whose presence he dreads to find._
ABEL--[_In a husky voice._] Where’s Capt’n and the rest, Butts?
BUTLER--[_In a hoarse, cracked whisper._]--On the beach--down there.
[_He makes an exhausted gesture, right, and then sinks with a groan at
the foot of the tree, leaning back against the trunk, trying vainly to
hunch his long legs up so as to be completely in the shade._]
ABEL--What’re they doin’? [_With avid eyes._] They ain’t found no water
yet?
BUTLER--[_Shaking his head, his eyes closing wearily._] No. How would
they--when there ain’t any--not on this devil’s island--dry as a bone,
my sonny--sand and sun--that’s all.
ABEL--[_Remonstratingly--his lips trembling a little._] Aw--maybe--you
don’t know no different.
BUTLER--No. Might as well look the devil in the face, sonny. There’s no
water here. Not a damn drop. No--nor a scrap to eat, neither. Only the
damn sun. [_Weakly--touching the skin of his face with trembling
fingers._] God! My face is like the raw inside of a wet hide! If it’d
only rain! [_After a pause--kindly._] But how are you, eh? Had a good
sleep?
ABEL--I was dreamin’ awful. [_With a sudden, shrill agony--his lips
twitching._] I need a drink of water--something awful! My mouth’s
burnin’ up. [_With tremulous pleading._] Say, ain’t you got ’nother
drink left?--honest, ain’t you?
BUTLER--[_Looking around him cautiously._] Not so loud! [_Fixing his
eyes sternly on the boy._] This is a dead secret, mind! You’ll swear you
won’t blab--not to him?
ABEL--Sure, Butts, sure! Gawd strike me dead!
BUTLER--[_Takes a pint bottle from the hip-pocket of his pants. It is
about half full of water._] He don’t know I’ve got this, remember!
He--and the rest--they’d kill me like a dog--and you too,
sonny--remember that!
ABEL--Sure! I ain’t goin’ to tell ’em, Butts. [_Stretching out his hands
frenziedly._] Aw, give it to me, Butts! Give me a drink, for Christ’s
sake!
BUTLER--No, you don’t! I’ll hold it for you. Only a few drops. You’d
have it all down your throat. And we’ve got to be careful. It’s got to
last ’til the ship comes past that’ll pick us up. That’s the only hope.
[_Holding the bottle at arm’s length from the boy._] Hands down, now--or
you don’t get a drop! [_The boy lets his hands drop to his sides._
BUTLER _puts the bottle carefully to his lips, and allows the boy two
gulps--then snatches it away_.] That’s all now. More later. [_He takes
one gulp himself, and making a tremendous effort of will, jerks the
bottle from his lips, and corking it quickly, thrusts it back in his
pocket and heaves a shuddering sigh._]