Two Men of Sandy Bar

Door of young Morton's room opens, and discloses MR. OAKHURST gazing at the group. He starts slightly on observing the DUCHESS, but instantly recovers himself, and faces the company coldly. The DUCHESS starts on observing OAKHURST, and struggles in confusion towards the door, dragging with her the child and MISS MARY, who endeavors to re-assure her. COL. STARBOTTLE looks in astonishment from one to the other, and advances to front.

Col. Starbottle (aside). The—er—tableau, although striking in moral force, is apparently—er—deficient in moral stamina.

Miss Mary (angrily to the DUCHESS). I'm ashamed of you! (To OAKHURST, advancing.) I don't ask pardon for my intrusion. If you are Alexander Morton, you are my kinsman, and you will know that I cannot introduce myself better than as the protector of an injured woman. Come here! (To the DUCHESS, dragging her towards OAKHURST. To OAKHURST.) Look upon this woman: she claims to be—

Starbottle (stepping between MISS MARY and the DUCHESS). A moment, Miss Mary, a single moment! Permit me to—er—explain. The whole thing, the—er—situation reminds me, demn me, of most amusing incident at Sacramento in '52. Large party at Hank Suedecois: know Hank? Confirmed old bach of sixty. Dinner for forty. Everything in style, first families, Ged,—Judge Beeswinger, Mat Boompointer, and Maje Blodgett of Ahlabam: know old Maje Blodgett? Well, Maje was there. Ged, sir, delay,—everybody waiting. I went to Hank. "Hank," I says, "what's matter? why delay?"—"Star," he says,—always called me Star,—"Star,—it's cook!"—"Demn cook," I says: "discharge cook,—only a black mulatto anyway!"—"Can't, Star," he says: "impossible!"—"Can't?" says I.—"No," says he. "Listen, Star," he says, "family secret! Honor! Can't discharge cook, because cook—demn it—'s MY wife!" Fact, sir, fact—showed marriage certificate—married privately seven years! Fact, sir—

The Duchess (to MISS MARY). Some other time, miss, let us go now. There's a mistake, miss, I can't explain. Some other time, miss! See, miss, how cold and stern he looks! another time, miss! (Struggling.) For God's sake, miss, let me go!

Miss Mary. No! This mystery must be cleared up now, before I enter HIS house,—before I accept the charge of this—

Starbottle (interrupting, and crossing before MISS MARY). A moment—a single moment, miss. (To OAKHURST.) Mr. Morton, you will pardon the exuberance, and perhaps, under the circumstances, somewhat natural impulsiveness, of the—er—sex, for which I am perhaps responsible; I may say—er—personally, sir,—personally responsible—

Oakhurst (coldly). Go on, sir.

Starbottle. The lady on my right is—er—the niece of your father,—your cousin. The lady on my left, engaged in soothing the—er—bashful timidity of infancy, is—er—that is—er—claims to be, the mother of the child of Alexander Morton.

Oakhurst (calmly). She is right.

Miss Mary (rushing forward). Then you are—

Oakhurst (gently restraining her). You have another question to ask: you hesitate: let me ask it. (Crossing to the DUCHESS.) You have heard my answer. Madam, are you the legal wife of Alexander Morton?

The Duchess (sinking upon her knees, and dropping her face in her hands). No!

Oakhurst. Enough: I will take the child. Pardon me, Miss Morris, but you have heard enough to know that your mission is accomplished, but what else passes between this woman and myself becomes no stranger to hear. (Motions toward room L.)

Miss Mary (aside). It is HIS son. I am satisfied (going). Come, colonel.

[Exeunt into room L., STARBOTTLE and MISS MARY.

The Duchess (crossing to OAKHURST, and falling at his feet). Forgive me, Jack, forgive me! It was no fault of mine. I did not know that you were here. I did not know that you had taken his name!

Oakhurst. Hush—on your life!

The Duchess. Hear me, Jack! I was anxious only for a home for my child. I came to HER—the schoolmistress of Red Gulch—for aid. I told her the name of my boy's father. She—she brought me here. Oh, forgive me, Jack! I have offended you!

Oakhurst. How can I believe you? You have deceived HIM. You have deceived me. Listen! When I said, a moment ago, you were not the wife of Alexander Morton, it was because I knew that your first husband—the Australian convict Pritchard—was still living; that you had deceived Sandy Morton as you had deceived me. That was why I left you. Tell me, have you deceived me also about him, as you did about the other? Is HE living, and with you; or dead, as you declared.

The Duchess (aside). He will kill me if I tell him. (Aloud.) No, no. He is gone—is dead these three years.

Oakhurst. You swear!

The Duchess (hesitates, gasps, and looks around for her child; then seizing it, and drawing it toward her). I—swear.

Oakhurst. Enough. Seek not to know why I am here, and under his name. Enough for you that it has saved your child's future, and secured him his heritage past all revocation. Yet remember! a word from you within the next few days destroys it all. After that, I care not what you say.

The Duchess. Jack! One word, Jack, before I go. I never thought to bring my shame to you!—to HIM!

Oakhurst. It was no trick, then, no contrivance, that brought her here. No: it was fate. And at least I shall save his child.

Re-enter STARBOTTLE, MISS MARY, and DUCHESS.

Col. Starbottle (impressively). Permit me, Mr. Alexander Morton, as the friend of my—er—principal to declare that we have received—honorable—honorable—satisfaction. Allow me, sir, to grasp the hand, the—er—cherished hand of a gentleman who, demn me! has fulfilled all his duties to—er—society and gentlemen. And allow me to add, sir, should any invidious criticism of the present—er—settlement be uttered in my presence, I shall hold that critic responsible, sir—er—personally responsible!

Miss Mary (sweeping truculently and aggressively up to JOHN OAKHURST). And permit ME to add, sir, that, if you can see your way clearly out of this wretched muddle, it's more than I can. This arrangement may be according to the Californian code of morality, but it doesn't accord with my Eastern ideas of right and wrong. If this foolish, wretched creature chooses to abandon all claim upon you, chooses to run away from you,—why, I suppose, as a GENTLEMAN, according to your laws of honor, you are absolved. Good-night, Mr. Alexander Morton. (Goes to door C., and exit, pushing out STARBOTTLE, the DUCHESS, and child. MR. OAKHURST sinks into chair at desk, burying his face in his hands. Re-enter slowly and embarrassedly, MISS MARY: looks toward OAKHURST, and comes slowly down stage.)

Miss Mary (aside). I was too hard on him. I was not so hard on Sandy when I thought that he—he—was the father of her child. And he's my own flesh and blood, too; and—he's crying. (Aloud.) Mr. Morton.

Oakhurst (slowly lifting his head). Yes; Miss Mary.

Miss Mary. I spoke hastily just then. I—I—thought—you see—I—(angrily and passionately) I mean this. I'm a stranger. I don't understand your Californian ways, and I don't want to. But I believe you've done what you thought was right, according to a MAN'S idea of right; and—there's my hand. Take it, take it; for it's a novelty, Mr. Morton: it's the hand of an honest girl!

Oakhurst (hesitates, then rises, sinks on one knee, and raises MISS MARY'S fingers to his lips). God bless you, miss! God bless you!

Miss Mary (retreating to centre door). Good-night, good-night (slowly),—cousin—Alexander. [Exit. Dark stage.

Oakhurst (rising swiftly). No, no: it is false! Ah! She's gone. Another moment, and I would have told her all. Pshaw! courage, man! It is only six days more, and you are free, and this year's shame and agony forever ended.

Enter JACKSON.

Jackson. As you ordered, sir, the night watchman has been relieved, and has just gone.

Oakhurst. Very good, sir; and you?

Jackson. I relieved the porter, sir; and I shall bunk on two chairs in the counting-room. You'll find me handy if you want me, sir. Good-night, sir. [Exit C.

Oakhurst. I fear these rascals will not dare to make their second attempt to-night. A quiet scrimmage with them, enough to keep me awake or from thinking, would be a good fortune. No, no! no such luck for you to-night, John Oakhurst! You are playing a losing game.... Yet the robbery was a bold one. At eleven o'clock, while the bank was yet lighted, and Mr. Jackson and another clerk were at work here, three well-dressed men pick the lock of the counting-house door, enter, and turn the key on the clerks in this parlor, and carry away a box of doubloons not yet placed in the vaults by the porter; and all this done so cautiously that the clerks within knew nothing of it until notified of the open street door by the private watchman, and so boldly that the watchman, seeing them here, believed them clerks of the bank, and let them go unmolested. No: this was the coincidence of good luck, not of bold premeditation. There will be no second attempt. (Yawns.) If they don't come soon I shall fall asleep. Four nights without rest will tell on a man, unless he has some excitement to back him. (Nods.) Hallo! What was that? Oh! Jackson in the counting-room getting to bed. I'll look at that front door myself. (Takes revolver from desk and goes to door C., tries lock, comes down stage with revolver, examines it, and lays it down.)

Oakhurst (slowly and quietly.) The door is locked on the outside: that may have been an accident. The caps are taken from my pistol: THAT was not! Well, here is the vault, and here is John Oakhurst: to reach the one, they must pass the other.

(Takes off his coat, seizes poker from grate, and approaches safe.) Ha! some one is moving in the old man's room. (Approaches door of room R. as—

Enter noiselessly and cautiously from room L., PRITCHARD, SILKY, and SOAPY. PRITCHARD and his confederates approach OAKHURST from behind, carrying lariat, or slip-noose.

Oakhurst (listening at door R.) Good. At least I know from what quarter to expect the attack. Ah!

PRITCHARD throws slip-noose over OAKHURST from behind; OAKHURST puts his hand in his breast as the slip-noose is drawn across his bosom, pinioning one arm over his breast, and the other at his side. SILKY and SOAPY, directed by PRITCHARD, drag OAKHURST to chair facing front, and pinion his legs. PRITCHARD, C., regarding him.

Oakhurst (very coolly). You have left me my voice, I suppose, because it is useless.

Pritchard. That's so, pard. 'Twon't be no help to ye.

Oakhurst. Then you have killed Jackson.

Pritchard. Lord love ye, no! That ain't like us, pard! Jackson's tendin' door for us, and kinder lookin' out gin'rally for the boys. Thar's nothin' mean about Jackson.

Soapy. No! Jackson's a squar man. Eh, Silky?

Silky. Ez white a man ez they is, pard!

Oakhurst (aside). The traitor! (Aloud.) Well!

Pritchard. Well, you want ter know our business. Call upon a business man in business hours. Our little game is this, Mr. Jack Morton Alexander Oakhurst. When we was here the other night, we was wantin' a key to that theer lock (pointing to vault), and we sorter dropped in passin' to get it.

Oakhurst. And suppose I refuse to give it up?

Pritchard. We were kalkilatin' on yer bein' even that impolite: wasn't we, boys?

Silky and Soapy. We was that.

Pritchard. And so we got Mr. Jackson to take an impression of it in wax. Oh, he's a squar man—is Mr. Jackson!

Silky. Jackson is a white man, Soapy!

Soapy. They don't make no better men nor Jackson, Silky.

Pritchard. And we've got a duplicate key here. But we don't want any differences, pard: we only want a squar game. It seemed to us—some of your old pards as knew ye, Jack—that ye had a rather soft thing here, reformin'; and we thought ye was kinder throwin' off on the boys, not givin' 'em any hand in the game. But thar ain't anythin' mean about us. Eh, boys?

Soapy. We is allers ready to chip in ekal in the game. Eh, Silky?

Silky. That's me, Soapy.

Pritchard. Ye see, the boys is free and open-handed, Jack. And so the proposition we wanter make to ye, Jack, is this. It's reg'lar on the squar. We reckon, takin' Mr. Jackson's word,—and thar ain't no man's word ez is better nor Jackson's,—that there's nigh on to two millions in that vault, not to speak of a little speshil deposit o' York's, ez we learn from that accommodatin' friend, Mr. Jackson. We propose to share it with ye, on ekil terms—us five—countin' Jackson, a square man. In course, we takes the risk o' packin' it away to-night comfortable. Ez your friends, Jack, we allow this yer little arrangement to be a deuced sight easier for you than playin' Sandy Morton on a riglar salary, with the chance o' the real Sandy poppin' in upon ye any night.

Oakkurst. It's a lie. Sandy is dead.

Pritchard. In course, in course; that is your little game! But we kalkilated, Jack, even on that, on yer bein' rambunktious and contrary; and so we went ter Red Gulch, and found Sandy. Ye know I take a kind o' interest in Sandy: he's the second husband of my wife, the woman you run away with, pard. But thar's nothin' mean about me! eh, boys?

Silky. No! he's the forgivingest kind of a man, is Pritchard.

Soapy. That's so, Silky.

Pritchard. And, thinkin' ye might be dubious, we filled Sandy about full o' rye whiskey, and brought him along; and one of our pards is preambulatin' the streets with him, ready to bring him on call.

Oakhurst. It's a lie, Pritchard,—a cowardly lie!

Pritchard. Is it? Hush!

Sandy (without, singing),—

     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,           Drink him down!     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,           Drink him down!     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,           All alive and just a-snortin'!     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,           Drink him down!

Pritchard. We don't propose to run him in yer, cept we're took, or yer unaccommodatin' to the boys.

Oakhurst. And if I refuse?

Pritchard. Why, we'll take what we can get; and we'll leave Sandy Morton with you yer, to sorter alleviate the old man's feelin's over the loss of his money. There's nothin' mean about us; no! eh, boys? (Going toward safe.)

Oakhurst. Hear me a moment, Henry Pritchard. (PRITCHARD stops abreast of OAKHURST.) Four years ago you were assaulted in the Arcade Saloon in Sacramento. You would have been killed, but your assailant suddenly fell dead by a pistol-shot fired from some unknown hand. I stood twenty feet from you with folded arms; but that shot was fired by me,—me, Henry Pritchard,—through my clothes, from a derringer hidden in my waistcoat! Understand me, I do not ask your gratitude now. But that pistol is in my right hand, and now covers you. Make a single motion,—of a muscle,—and it is your last.

Pritchard (motionless, but excitedly). You dare not fire! No, dare not! A shot here will bring my pal and Sandy Morton to confront you. You will have killed me to save exposure, have added murder to imposture! You have no witness to this attempt!

Capper (opening door of room L., at the same moment that two policemen appear at door C., and two at room R). You are wrong: he has five (crossing to SILKY and SOAPY, and laying his hands on their shoulders); and, if I mistake not, he has two more in these gentlemen, whom I know, and who will be quite as willing to furnish the necessary State's evidence of the robbery, as of the fact that they never knew any other Alexander Morton than the gentleman who sits in that chair.

Soapy. That's so, Silky.

Silky. That's so, Soapy.

Capper (to policemen). Take them away.

[Exit policemen with PRITCHARD, SOAPY, and SILKY. CAPPER unbinds OAKHURST.

Oakhurst. Then I have to thank you, Mr. C.

Capper. Yes! "A man of ridiculous theories, but well-meaning, brave, and honest." No, sir; don't apologize: you were right, Mr. Oakhurst. It is I who owe you an apology. I came here, believing YOU were the robber, having no faith in you or your reformation, expecting,—yes, sir,—hoping, to detect you in the act. Hear me! From the hour you first entered the bank, I have shadowed your every movement, I have been the silent witness of all that has passed in this room. You have played a desperate game, Mr. Oakhurst; but I'll see you through it. If you are true to your resolve, for the next six days, I will hold these wretches silent. I will protect your imposture with the strong arm of the law. I don't like YOUR theories, sir; but I believe you to be well-meaning, and I know you to be brave and honest.

Oakhurst (grasping his hand). I shall not forget this. But Sandy—

Capper. I will put my men on his track, and have him brought quietly here. I can give you no aid beyond that. As an honorable man, I need not tell you your duty. Settle it with him as best you can.

Oakhurst. You are right; I WILL see him. (Aside.) Unless he has changed, he will listen to me, he will obey me.

Capper. Hush! (Blows out candle.) Stand here!

CAPPER and OAKHURST retreat to wing L., as enter MORTON, sen., from room R.

Morton. The private door open, the room dark, and Capper gone. I don't like this. The more I think of the mystery of that man's manner this morning, the more it seems to hide some terrible secret I must fathom! There are matches here. (Strikes a light, as CAPPER draws OAKHURST, struggling, back into shadow.) What's this? (Picking up key.) The key of the vault. A chair overturned. (Touches bell.) No answer! Jackson gone! My God! A terrible suspicion haunts me! No. Hush! (Retreats to private room R., as door of L. opens and—)

Enter SANDY.

Sandy (drunkenly). Shoo! Shoo! boys, whar are ye, boys, eh? Pritchard, Silky, Soapy! Whar are ye, boys?

Morton (aside). A crime has been committed, and here is one of the gang. God has delivered him in my hands. (Draws revolver, and fires, as OAKHURST breaks from CAPPER, and strikes up MORTON'S pistol. CAPPER at same moment seizes SANDY, and drags him in room L. MORTON and OAKHURST struggle to centre.)

Morton (relaxing hold of OAKHURST). Alexander! Good God! Why are you here? Why have you stepped between me and retribution? You hesitate. God in heaven! Speak, Alexander, my son, speak for God's sake! Tell me—tell me that this detective's suspicions are not true. Tell me that you are not—not—no, I cannot say it. Speak, Alexander Morton, I command you! Who is this man you have saved? Is it—is it—your accomplice?

Oakhurst (sinking at his feet). Don't ask me! You know not what you ask! I implore you—

Capper (appearing quietly from room L., and locking the door behind him). Your son has acted under MY orders. The man he has saved, as he has saved you, was a decoy,—one of my policemen.TABLEAU. CAPPER, MORTON, OAKHURST.

Curtain.

END OF ACT III.

ACT IV

SCENE 1.—MR. MORTON'S villa, Russian Hill, Night. OAKHURST'S bedroom. Sofa in alcove C., door in flat left of C. SANDY MORTON discovered, unconscious, lying on sofa; OAKHURST standing at his head, two policemen at his feet. Candles on table L.

Oakhurst. That will do. You are sure he was unconscious as you brought him in?

First Policeman. Sure, sir? He hasn't known anything since we picked him up on the sidewalk outside the bank.

Oakhurst. Good! You have fulfilled your orders well, and your chief shall know it. Go now. Be as cautious in going out as you were on entering. Here is the private staircase. (Opens door L.) [Exit policeman.

Oakhurst (listening). Gone! and without disturbing any one. So far, luck has befriended me. He will sleep to-night beneath his father's roof. His father! umph! would the old man recognize him here? Would he take to his heart this drunken outcast, picked from the gutters of the street, and brought here by the strong arm of the law? Hush! (A knock without.) Ah, it is the colonel: he is prompt to the hour. (Opens door cautiously, and admits COL. STARBOTTLE.)

Starbottle (looking around, and overlooking SANDY). I presume the other—er—principal is not yet on the ground?

Oakhurst (motioning to sofa). He IS!

Starbottle (starting as he looks towards sofa). Ged, you don't mean to say it's all OVER, without witnesses, without my—er—presence?

Oakhurst. Pardon me, Col. Starbottle; but, if you look again, you will perceive that the gentleman is only drunk.

Starbottle. Eh? Ged! not uncommon, sir, not uncommon! I remember singular incident at—er—Louisville in '47. Old Judge Tollim—know old Judge Tolly?—Ged! he came to ground drunk, sir; couldn't stand! Demn me, sir, had to put him into position with kitchen poker down his back, and two sections of lightning-rod in his—er—trousers, demn me! Firm, sir, firm, you understand, here (striking his breast), but—here (striking his legs)—er—er—wobbly! No, sir! Intoxication of principal not a bar, sir, to personal satisfaction! (Goes towards sofa with eyeglass.) Good Ged! why, it's Diego! (Returning stifly to OAKHURST.) Excuse me, sir, but this is a case in which I cannot act. Cannot, sir,—impossible! absurd! pre—post—or—ous! I recogmze in the—er—inebriated menial on yonder sofa a person, sir, who, having already declined my personal challenge, is—er—excluded from the consideration of gentlemen. The person who lies there, sir, is Diego,—a menial of Don Jose Castro,–alias "Sandy," the vagabond of Red Gulch.

Oakhurst. You have omitted one title, his true one. He is Alexander Morton, the son of the master of this house.

Starbottle (starting in bewilderment). Alexander Morton! (Aside.) Ged! my first suspicions were correct. Star, you have lost the opportunity of making your fortune as a scoundrel; but you have at a pecuniary sacrifice, preserved your honor.

Oakhurst. Yes. Hear me, Col. Starbottle. I have summoned you here to-night, as I have already intimated, on an affair of honor. I have sought you as my father's legal counsel, as a disinterested witness, as a gentleman of honor. The man who lies before you was once my friend and partner. I have wronged him doubly. As his partner, I ran away with the woman he believed, and still believes, to be his wife; as his friend, I have for a twelvemonth kept him from the enjoyment of his home, his patrimony, by a shameful deception. I have summoned you to-night to witness my confession; as a lawyer, to arrange those details necessary to restore to him his property; as a man of honor, to receive from me whatever retribution he demands. You will be a witness to our interview. Whatever befalls me here, you will explain to Mr. Morton—to Jovita—that I accepted it as a man, and did not avoid, here or elsewhere, the penalty of my crime. (Folding his arms.)

Slarbottle. Umph! The case is, as you say, a delicate one, but not—not—peculiar. No, sir! Ged, sir, I remember Tom Marshall—know Tom Marshall of Kentucky?—said to me, "Star!"—always calls me Star,—"how in blank, sir, can you remember the REAL names of your clients?"—"Why," says I, "Tom," always called him Tom,—"yesterday I was called to make will—most distinguished family of Virginia—as lawyer and gentleman, you understand: can't mention name. Waited for signature—most distinguished name: Ged, sir, man signed Bloggins,—Peter Bloggins. Fact, demme! 'Mistake,' I said,—'excitement; exaltation of fever. Non compos. Compose yourself, Bob.'—'Star,' he said,—always called me Star,—'for forty-seven years I have been an impostor!'—his very words, sir. 'I am not'—you understand: 'I AM Peter Bloggins!'"

Oakhurst. But, my dear colonel, I—

Starbottle (loftily). Say no more, sir! I accept the—er position. Let us see! The gentleman will, on recognition, probably make a personal attack. You are armed. Ah, no? Umph! On reflection I would not permit him to strike a single blow: I would anticipate it. It will provoke the challenge from him, leaving YOU, sir, the—er—choice of weapons.

Oakhurst. Hush! he is moving! Take your stand here, in this alcove. Remember, as a gentleman, and a man of honor, Col. Starbottle, I trust you not to interfere between the injured man and—justice! (Pushes COL. STARBOTTLE into alcove behind couch, and approaches SANDY.)

Sandy (waking slowly—and incoherently). Hush, Silky! hush! Eh? Oh, hush yourself! (Sings.)

     Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton,           Drink him down!

Eh! Oh! (Half sits up on couch.) Eh! (Looking around him.) Where the devil am I?

Oakhurst (advancing and leaning over SANDY'S couch). In the house of your father, Alexander Morton.

Sandy (recoiling in astonishment). His voice, John Oakhurst! What—ah! (Rises, and rushes towards OAKHURST with uplifted hand.)

Starbottle (gesticulating in whisper). A blow! a single blow would be sufficient.