Scene 1 -- The Isle of Wight, England
Summer 1912

A young couple enters.  The young man, Walther Hans Schwieger, is carrying a banjo slung on his shoulder like a rifle.  They stroll along.  She does not take his hand when he offers it.
The air is crisp.  The young woman, Violet Sanford, looks at Hans and sighs.

VIOLET:  I know this is going to hurt you…

[Hans takes a deep breath and holds it in.]

VIOLET:  I can’t marry you, Hans.

[Hans is still holding his breath in.]

VIOLET:  It’s not that I don’t think you’re wonderful.
But, you’re German and I’m from Jersey…and I don’t like the banjo.

[There is a moment of silence as Walther Hans Schwieger’s heart breaks.]

VIOLET:  I like you as a person.

[There is another moment of silence as what was left of Hans Schwieger’s broken heart turns into several small pieces of anthracite.]

VIOLET:  Isn’t England beautiful in the summer?  I’d like to come back here someday.

[Schwieger is left standing alone as music plays. As the lights change Schwieger changes into some sort of naval uniform.]
 

Scene II – Emden, Germany, 1915

SCHWIEGER:  Kapitänleutnant Walther Hans Schwieger of the Imperial Kriegsmarine
  reporting for duty.

[He shrugs, shakes himself, changes direction and tries again.]

SCHWIEGER:  Kapitänleutnant Walther Hans Schwieger of the Imperial Kriegsmarine
  reporting for duty.  By order of the Kaiser— By order of the Kaiser and Grand Admiral
  Tirpitz…  Is he a Grand Admiral or just an Admiral?  You have to get these things just right.
  No sense having a command taken away from you on your first day for mistaking your
  Admiral’s rank.
  I should just skip down to Admiral von Pohl.  I just hope he’s not a Rear Admiral.
  No need to call someone a Rear Admiral if he isn’t a Rear Admiral.
  The same is true for Commodores.
  You’d think we could set aside formality what with there being a war.
  Maybe war is all about the formalities.
  War.
  England.
  It’s been nearly three years since I was in England.
  England.
  I wish I had never seen England.
  It’s like a black dream now.  The whole place smells like coal and cabbages in my memory.
  I don’t care what anyone says, England is not pretty.  It’s wet and grey and the birds crap on
  you when you least expect it.
  England. I hate England.
  You can’t play the banjo in England.
  Not even in the summer.
  England is unkind.

[Blackout.]

Scene III – Perth Amboy, New Jersey 1915

Lights reveal Violet.  She is dressed for a journey.

VIOLET:  I love England.
  It’s been nearly three years since I was in England.
  In the late summer the whole place is a like a shining dream.
  Especially in the afternoon.
  Sometimes when it gets cold and rainy here in Jersey I like to remember the late summer of that
  year in England.  It’s such a beautiful country.
  And it has the best dairy products in the world.
  Here in America people talk like Wisconsin is God’s gift to cows and those snobs in Boston go
  on and on about butter from Vermont, but you have no idea what you can do with cream until
  you go to England.  The butter tastes like sunshine and the sunshine is like butter.
  Some people say New Jersey is The Garden State, but those people haven’t been to England.
  England is The Garden Island.
  I don’t understand how anyone can go to England and not fall in love.
  That summer in England I was in love.  He was a poet…and he loved music.
  He had the most beautiful deep eyes and these warm hands that I loved to hold.
  I’ll never know if it was meant to be.  I had to come home to Jersey he went back to Oxford.
  Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed in England with Roger.
  I think he lost his legs last December in Belgium.  Such a shame.  He was such a good dancer.
  So beautiful.
  England is such a beautiful dream.
[Blackout.]
Scene IV – New York, 1915

The docks.  A sign says “RMS LUSITANIA BOARDS HERE.”  A young man, Jimmy, enters with a small sack of oranges.

JIMMY:  Get your oranges!  Oranges for sale!  Get your oranges!  Fresh from the sack!
   Keep away scurvy!  Avoid the curse of the high seas!  Have an orange!
It’s tasty and good for you!

[Several people come and go.]

JIMMY:  Oranges!  Get your oranges here!  Buy an orange, save a life!
Buy a stinking orange!

[Captain Turner enters.  He is busy looking at navigational charts.]

JIMMY:  Hey Mack!  Wanna buy an orange?  Hey Mack!

CAPTAIN TURNER: Excuse me?

JIMMY:  What?

CAPTAIN TURNER: What?

JIMMY:  What do you mean?

CAPTAIN TURNER: Excuse me?

JIMMY:  What?

CAPTAIN TURNER: What?

JIMMY:  What what?

CAPTAIN TURNER: Excuse me?

JIMMY:  Not this time, Buddy.

CAPTAIN TURNER: What?

JIMMY:  What do have against oranges, Mack?

CAPTAIN TURNER: Excuse me?

JIMMY:  What’s your deal, Mack?  What kind of real man doesn’t like the taste of a nice fresh
orange?  What kind of pervert are you?
CAPTAIN TURNER: You are an incredible twit.

JIMMY:  And you hate oranges.  I rest my case.  You’re an ass.

CAPTAIN TURNER: I have over two thousand passengers and crew in my hands—

JIMMY:  That must be some small ship.

CAPTAIN TURNER: The lives of thousands are in my care.

JIMMY:  Two to be exact.

CAPTAIN TURNER: Excuse me?

JIMMY:  Two thousands.

CAPTAIN TURNER: I have no time for tiresome gnomes like you.

JIMMY:  What about tiresome gnomes that aren’t like me?

CAPTAIN TURNER: Go away.

JIMMY:  So, what are you, Mack?  Some kind of captain?

CAPTAIN TURNER: Some kind.

JIMMY:  Then you should know the benefits the orange has to offer you, Mack.

CAPTAIN TURNER: My name is not “Mack.”

JIMMY:  Sure, sure.  Whatever you say, Mack.

CAPTAIN TURNER: You may refer to me as Captain Turner.

JIMMY:  Why would I ever refer to you?

[There is something of a pause as Jimmy and Captain Turner ponder the logic of this.]

CAPTAIN TURNER: I am going to look at these charts and walk away as if I never met you.

[Captain Turner does as he said and exits.]

JIMMY:  People suck.

ORANGEMASTER:  Sold any oranges lately?

JIMMY:  Not a one.  People don’t buy oranges.  Apples, sure.  They’ll buy apples from anyone.
People see some clown selling an apple on the street they say, “Hey, I’ll buy an apple!” but show them an orange and they look like they’ve never seen citrus in their whole life.  “What’s this?” they say.  “I’ve never seen one of these strange orange things.”  But you put a kid in rags in the worst alley and someone will buy an apple from the kid for a nickel.  A whole nickel for an apple.

ORANGEMASTER:  How much for an orange?

JIMMY:  I don’t even know.  I haven’t sold one yet.

ORANGEMASTER:  Do you even know anything about oranges?

JIMMY:  Do I know anything?
You carry something around in a sack all day you get to know it pretty well.

ORANGEMASTER:  But do you really know what an orange is?
Do you really know what an orange means?

JIMMY:  It means I’m broke, but the kid with the apples has a pocket full of nickels.

ORANGEMASTER:  I guess you’ll never understand.

[The Orangemaster starts to leave.]

JIMMY:  Understand what?

ORANGEMASTER:  What?

JIMMY:  What?

ORANGEMASTER:  What what?

JIMMY:  That.

ORANGEMASTER:  Oh, that.  Do you want to understand?

JIMMY:  Absolutely.  I have no idea why.  But I do.

ORANGEMASTER:  Give me an orange.

[The Orangemaster takes an orange.]

ORANGEMASTER:  What do you see here?

JIMMY:  An orange.
ORANGEMASTER:  Good.  What else do you see?

JIMMY:  An orange.

ORANGEMASTER:  Is that all?

JIMMY:  It’s an orange.  I have a whole sack of them.

ORANGEMASTER:  There’s more to the orange than just the outside.  Think harder.

[Jimmy thinks harder.]

ORANGEMASTER:  Now, think about the orange.

[Jimmy thinks about the orange.]

ORANGEMASTER:  Now, what do you see?

JIMMY:  An orange.

ORANGEMASTER:  Good.  I’ll bet that’s the first time you’ve thought about oranges.

JIMMY:  I guess so.

ORANGEMASTER:  What you have to realize is that there’s more to the orange than what’s
on the outside.  The outside of the orange is just the beginning.  It’s only when you peel it back that you get to the heart of the matter.  People are like oranges.  Oh, some of them look pretty on the outside, but it’s only when you look beyond the package that you get to know what they really are.  After all, in the end we judge oranges by what’s inside, why should it be any different for people?

JIMMY:  How do you peel a person?

ORANGEMASTER:  Show them an orange.  Start there.  See where it goes.

JIMMY:  Who are you?

ORANGEMASTER:  Just a person.  You getting on that boat?

JIMMY:  I was thinking about it.  Are you getting on that boat?

ORANGEMASTER:  No.  I was never here.

[The Orangemaster exits cryptically.]

JIMMY:  That was cryptic.
Enter Natasha Abashvili, a wealthy Ossetian woman.  She is attractive and knows it.  She carries herself with the air of someone who is about to take your breath away and sell it back to you in short whispers.

JIMMY:  Hello.

NATASHA:  Hello.

JIMMY:  My name is Jimmy.

NATASHA:  I am Natasha Abashvili, of the North Ossetian Abashvilis.

JIMMY:  Would you like an orange?

NATASHA:  What do you know about oranges?

JIMMY:  An orange is like sunshine that you can taste.

NATASHA:  Tell me more.

JIMMY:  Each orange is like falling in love.  The excitement of the first touch, the aroma of
citrus fills the air and then—

NATASHA:  And then?

JIMMY:  And then you begin to peel away down to the heart.

NATASHA:  That is beautiful.

JIMMY:  Do you want an orange?

NATASHA:  In Ossetia my family has acres of orange trees.

JIMMY:  Is that a yes?

NATASHA:  I have more oranges than you can imagine—and goats too.

JIMMY:  Goats?

NATASHA:  Big mountain goats.  They are fierce and loyal.

JIMMY:  You have loyal goats?

NATASHA:  They have the hearts of lions and there are thousands of them.

JIMMY:  Do they like oranges?
NATASHA:  They eat everything.

JIMMY:  Well, I’m not sure what I can say to that.

[She takes one of his oranges.]

NATASHA:  I’ve been so homesick for the mountains of the Caucasus.
They are…rugged…hard.  Is that the right word?  Hard?

JIMMY:  Hard…yes…rugged…goats.

NATASHA:  Come to my cabin and I’ll show you what you can do with an orange.

[She squeezes the orange over his head and walks away provocatively.  He collapses.  Several people pass by before he recovers and exits on the trail of Natasha Abashvili.  The Rich Passenger and Eddie the Newspaperman enter.]

RICH PASSENGER: The Germans had a warning in the Times that they were planning to
torpedo this boat.  What do you think about that, Eddie?

EDDIE:  I say don’t believe everything you read in the papers.

RICH PASSENGER: But you work for the papers.

EDDIE:  It takes a con to know a con.

RICH PASSENGER: But the Germans took out an ad.

EDDIE:  You’re a man of business, right?
Tell me, do you always tell the truth in your advertisements?

RICH PASSENGER: Touché.
But why would the Germans say they’d sink a ship if they don’t mean it?

EDDIE:   To scare men of business like you from loading up this boat with your rifle cartridges.

RICH PASSENGER: How did you know about that?

EDDIE:  I work for the paper.  If it’s news, I know.

RICH PASSENGER: Of course you know that I’m only selling butter and eggs to the British.

EDDIE:  Sure, sure.  I’ve seen the crates they were loading.
I didn’t know your chickens lay explosive eggs.

[There is a moment of silence as the Rich Passenger counts out the money in his wallet and hands it over to Eddie.]

RICH PASSENGER: I assume I can trust your discretion.

EDDIE:  Freedom of the press goes hand in hand with discretion.

[They board the ship.  Enter Jack Wallaby, a wealthy Australian emu rancher.]

JACK WALLABY: Waltzing Matilda, waltzing matilda,
You’ll come a waltzing matilda to me…

[Enter Violet Sanford and the Poor Fiancé.  Violet notices Jack Wallaby.]

POOR FIANCÉ: I think it’s wonderful that we’re going to be married in England,
seeing how you like England so much, Vi.

VIOLET:  Married…yes…wonderful.

POOR FIANCÉ: I’m just sorry we couldn’t go in style, seeing as I’m just a poor artist.

VIOLET:  Yes…artist…I love you and your art.

POOR FIANCÉ: Maybe I can do some drawings on the boat.
There’s always a chance that there’s a rich passenger who likes art.

VIOLET:  Yes…rich…art.

POOR FIANCÉ: You know, I’m going to make it big someday.
I’ve got a style like nobody else.  When I make it big we can live in a big mansion and go to Europe and have parties like the Rockefellers.

VIOLET:  Big…style…Rockefellers.  You know, why don’t you run and get me an apple.
I think I saw a little kid selling some down the pier.

POOR FIANCÉ: Gee Vi, are you sure we should splurge?  I mean, it’s a whole nickel.

VIOLET:  Oh, pretty please.  I could really use an apple…and maybe later you can paint a
special portrait of me…in the cabin.

POOR FIANCÉ: Sure, Vi, anything you’d like.

[The Poor Fiancé runs off.  Violet walks over to Jack Wallaby with purpose.]

VIOLET:  It’s a small world.

JACK WALLABY:    How do you mean?

VIOLET:  How a guy like you should be around at the right place and the right time to meet
a girl like me.

JACK WALLABY:    What kind of girl are you?

VIOLET:  The kind of girl guys like you dream about.

JACK WALLABY:    How do you know what kind of girls I dream about?

VIOLET:  It’s a small world.

JACK WALLABY:    That’s some circular logic.

VIOLET:  But you love it, don’t you?—The idea of it—That I should be here and you should be
here and we should be here.

JACK WALLABY:    When did you and I become we?

VIOLET:  Anytime you want it.

JACK WALLABY:    I don’t even know your name.

VIOLET:  My name is Violet Sanford.

JACK WALLABY:    Well, Violet Sanford, I’m Jack Wallaby.  I’m from Australia.

VIOLET:  Australia?  It is a small world.

JACK WALLABY:    Do you know anyone from Australia.

VIOLET:  Just you.

JACK WALLABY:    You should be careful, Violet Sanford.
I’m getting the distinct impression that you like me.

VIOLET:  What would give you that idea?

JACK WALLABY:    Just a feeling.  It’s a small world.

VIOLET:  And it’s getting smaller.
Three years ago I’d have never thought I’d meet someone from Australia.

JACK WALLABY:    Now you have.  I hope it’s all you expected.

VIOLET:  Are you going on Lusitania, too?

JACK WALLABY:    That’s right.  I have business to do.

VIOLET:  Business?  Are you a businessman?

JACK WALLABY:    In a way.  I’m a rancher.  I ranch emus?

VIOLET:  Emus?

JACK WALLABY:    Yes, they’re like ostriches and their meat is rather tasty.
Almost like beef.

VIOLET:  Really?  I never would have expected it.

JACK WALLABY:    I’m trying to sell some of my emu meat to the Army…for the soldiers.
It’s packed with nutritional value and emus require less space than cattle.

VIOLET:  How fascinating!

JACK WALLABY:    I know it’s become a bit of a cliché for wealthy Australian ranchers to go
to England selling some sort of exotic meat, but I see it as my patriotic duty.

VIOLET:  How noble.

JACK WALLABY:    Well, it’s nothing really.
I’d be making a tidy profit from it all, obviously.

VIOLET:  How wealthy are you, Jack Wallaby?

JACK WALLABY:    Fabulously wealthy.

VIOLET:  Fabulous.

JACK WALLABY:    I could give you a dollar bill just for standing here and talking to me.

VIOLET:  Just a dollar?

JACK WALLABY:    Do you expect more?

VIOLET:  I expect the world.

JACK WALLABY:    Well, it’s only a small world.

VIOLET:  Oh, but it seems to be getting bigger.

JACK WALLABY:    Maybe it could be more cozy if I were to take you to dinner at the
Captain’s table?

VIOLET:  That sounds charming.

JACK WALLABY:    You know, it’s become something of a cliché that Australian men are all
rugged and charming and romantic.

VIOLET:  Are you rugged and charming?

JACK WALLABY:    You might say so.

VIOLET:  And romantic?

JACK WALLABY:    It is a small world.  Do you like Waltzing Matilda?

VIOLET:  I don’t know it, but I’m sure it’s delightful.

[They exit together in a promenade.  Enter three nautical rubes:  Laura Gray, the entertainment officer of RMS Lusitania, Navigator Smith and Ensign Smedley.  Navigator Smith is holding a cup of coffee.]

LAURA GRAY: Navigator Smith—

SMITH:  What?!

[Smith flings his coffee into Smedley’s face.  Smedley falls to the ground.]

SMEDLEY:  It burns!  It burns!

LAURA GRAY: Smith!

SMITH:  Sorry, Smedley.

SMEDLEY:  It burns!  It burns!

LAURA GRAY: Ensign Smedley, are you alright?

SMEDLEY:  No.

LAURA GRAY: Ensign Smedley, do you recognize me?

SMEDLEY:  Mommy!

LAURA GRAY: I’m not your mother, Smedley.

SMEDLEY:  Not mother?

LAURA GRAY: It’s me, Laura Gray…the Entertainment Officer.  Do you recognize me now?

SMEDLEY:  Laura?

LAURA GRAY: Yes?

SMEDLEY:  IT BURNS!

SMITH:  Sorry, Smedley.

LAURA GRAY: See, Smedley?  Navigator Smith is very sorry.
Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?

SMEDLEY:  Yes.

LAURA GRAY: There.  Is it all better now?

SMEDLEY:  Yes.

LAURA GRAY: Good.  Now clean up this mess.

SMEDLEY:  Okay.

LAURA GRAY: I’ve booked a cabaret singer for the voyage, but I think we need
something else.

SMITH:  How about some sort of sea shanty sing along?

SMEDLEY:  How about we dress up like pirates and pretend to take over the ship?

LAURA GRAY: I don’t think that would go over well.

SMITH:  I need coffee.

SMEDLEY:  Is this vomit?

SMITH:  I think it’s coal.

SMEDLEY:  I don’t think coal comes in this color.

SMITH:  I don’t think vomit comes in that color, either.

LAURA GRAY: I have it!

SMITH:  What?!

[Smith spills his new coffee on Smedley.]

SMEDLEY:  Ow!  It burns!  It burns!

SMITH:  Sorry, Smedley.

LAURA GRAY: We can have a historical re-enactment!

SMITH:  I think we just had one.

LAURA GRAY: We could have a nautical theme, like Nelson’s victory at Trafalgar.
And we could each be a different ship.  Or we could re-enact one of the engagements against the Armada.  Captain Turner could be Francis Drake and Smedley could be Queen Elizabeth and we could get passengers to light candles to represent the fire-ships.

[Captain Turner enters.]

LAURA GRAY: Captain!

CAPTAIN TURNER: Smedley, Smith, Gray!  Get on board at once.
Smith, have you looked at the charts?

SMITH:  No.

CAPTAIN TURNER: You are completely useless.
Smedley, there’s some sort of cucumber on the poop deck.  Clean it up at once.

SMEDLEY:  Aye, aye.

CAPTAIN TURNER: Gray, do we have entertainment?

LAURA GRAY: We have a cabaret singer from the Cabaret Voltaire named Lola Lola
and I would like to request permission to have a re-enactment.

CAPTAIN TURNER [looking puzzled and suspicious]: Very well.  I’m going to pretend as if
I’m not disappointed that I’m not the captain of a warship and walk away.

LAURA GRAY: I’ll get to work on it at once.

[They exit.  Enter the Poor Fiancé carrying an apple.  He looks around.]

POOR FIANCÉ: Violet?  Violet?

[Enter Lola Lola and she is hot hot.  She is dressed something like a Berlin cabaret director’s idea of a saloon girl from the old west.  She is ahead of her time.]

LOLA:  There’s no Violet here.  Maybe you’d like a Rose or a Daisy.

POOR FIANCÉ: I have to give this apple to Violet.

LOLA:  You could tempt me with that apple.  Don’t worry, I won’t bite…the apple.

POOR FIANCÉ: Well, geez, I should be going.

LOLA:  What’s your hurry?  Are you afraid of me?

POOR FIANCÉ: No, of course not—I just—I should—I mean—geez—well, you know.

LOLA:  You have a way with words, don’t you?  Lola likes.

POOR FIANCÉ: Who’s Lola?

LOLA:  I’m Lola.

POOR FIANCÉ: I’m engaged.

LOLA:  I could get you unengaged real quick.

POOR FIANCÉ: I don’t think that would be such a good idea.  I mean—geez—well—

[Lola takes his apple and takes a bite.]

LOLA:  That’s tasty.

POOR FIANCÉ: I should…really…be…going.

[Exit Poor Fiancé with Lola slinking after him.  Blackout.]

Scene V – Emden, Germany, April 1915

The deck of the U-20.  First Officer Trudi Steiner looks over some charts and paperwork.
Schultz, the cook, is cleaning a pot.  Rollo, the wireless operator is reading a newspaper.
Chief Librarian Müller is checking the books on some sort of cart.  Torpedo Loaders No.1 and No.2 are fishing.  It is a quiet April day.

ROLLO:  They got Otto Weddigen.

MÜLLER:  They got Otto?

ROLLO:  HMS Dreadnought rammed U-29.

MÜLLER:  Rammed.  That’s a new one.

ROLLO:  They say you could see the “29” on the bow before it went down.

[There is a slight pause.]

STEINER:  Otto Weddigen was a good captain.

[There is an uncomfortable silence.]

SCHULTZ:  What do you think of this pot?  Isn’t this just the greatest pot you’ve ever seen?
Rollo, what do you think of this pot?

ROLLO:  It’s a good pot.

SCHULTZ:  Do you know anything about the new captain, Trudi?

STEINER:  He’s thirty years old and he’s supposed to be moody.

SCHULTZ:  Moody!?  That’s just what we need.

ROLLO:  I think I hear him coming.

SCHULTZ:  I don’t hear anything.

ROLLO:  Maybe you’re too busy polishing your pot.

SCHULTZ:  What was that?

ROLLO:  Nothing.  Nothing at all.

MÜLLER:  Maybe instead of wiping your pot all the time you could work on a new recipe.

SCHULTZ:  Why should I bother?  You people don’t appreciate art.

ROLLO:  If that’s art, I’m the Kaiser.

[Enter Schwieger with his banjo.]

SCHWIEGER:  By order of the Kaiser I take command of this ship.  I really hope this is U-20.

STEINER:  Welcome to U-20.  I’m First Officer Steiner.
You must be Kapitänleutnant Schwieger.

SCHWIEGER:  Yes.  I hope the paperwork is all in order.

[Steiner hands the papers to Rollo who skims through them knowingly.]

ROLLO:  They misspelled U-boat again.

MÜLLER:  There goes the Kriegsmarine.

STEINER:  You’ll excuse the informality here, Captain.
We’ve been in close quarters for a long time.

SCHWIEGER:  I understand.

STEINER:  This is Rollo.  He handles our communications, wireless, bureaucratic issues like
targeting and anything that comes up.

MÜLLER:  Like breakfast.

SCHWIEGER:  Rollo, right.

STEINER:  This is Chief Librarian Müller.  She handles the mobile library.

SCHWIEGER:  Mobile library?

MÜLLER:  Even sailors have to read.

STEINER:  I understand you’ve been to England.

SCHWIEGER:  It was three years ago.  I don’t talk about it much now.

STEINER:  Heart broken at twenty-seven…such a shame.

SCHWIEGER:  What was that?

ROLLO:  She said you have a broken heart.
SCHWIEGER:  Oh.

SCHULTZ:  Isn’t this a beautiful pot?  I think it’s the best pot in Germany.

ROLLO:  Enough with the pot!

SCHULTZ:  It’s a good pot.

MÜLLER:  If only the food was as good as the pot.

STEINER:  You might want to bring along some food.  Schultz tends to experiment.

SCHULTZ:  My cooking is sublime.

ROLLO:  Your cooking is surreal.

SCHWIEGER:  This is all very different from what I’d imagined it would be.
Are those two fishing?

STEINER:  That’s Helmut and what’s-his-name.

SCHWIEGER:  Do they always fish?

STEINER:  It’s the only way to avoid Schultz’s stew.

SCHULTZ:  I don’t do seafood.

ROLLO:  The fish thank you.

STEINER:  Do you have orders for us?

SCHWIEGER:  We are to sail to the Head of Kinsale and sink as much incoming shipping as
possible.  And we have a special task.  We are to seek and destroy RMS Lusitania before it gets a large supply of munitions to England.

STEINER:  How many torpedoes do we have?

[The Torpedo loaders look at each other and shrug.]

ROLLO:  Six.

STEINER:  Six torpedoes, six ships.

SCHWIEGER:  Six torpedoes, six ships.  It may just be possible.

STEINER:  When do we get underway?
SCHWIEGER:  Immediately.

STEINER:  You heard the Captain.  Pack it up and let’s sail.

[The crew packs it up and goes down into the U-20.]

STEINER:  Can I ask you a personal question?

SCHWIEGER:  Yes.

STEINER:  Is that a banjo?

SCHWIEGER:  Yes, why?

STEINER:  No reason.

[The exit into the U-20.  Blackout.]
 

Scene VI – Lusitania

Enter the Rich Passenger surveying the scene smugly.  The Rich Passenger looks at the audience smugly and walks away.  Eddie the Newspaperman enters.

EDDIE:  Profiteers.  You want to know why they’re smiling all the time?
Because they can sell you anything they want and make you like it.
They’ll even sell us a war and we’ll love every moment of it.  We can be the heroes of Europe, saving the world for democracy.  And saving the investments of all the men of business who’ve lent credit to Britain and France and the rest.  It’s always the same.
We might as well enjoy the ride.  If it isn’t a war then it’s a bottle of beer or an automobile.  At least the war has the illusion of romance and nobility—at least in the papers.
Truth is, we’re all profiting from each other.  Some people profit more than others.
And we’re happier not knowing about all the strings that are being pulled in the background.  That way we can enjoy our beer and our automobiles and our war without having to think too hard about how we bought it all.  How do I feel about this as a journalist?  Do I have job satisfaction?  I write a fluff piece about a boat ride to England with an industrial magnate—I get paid.  I get paid the same if I blow the lid off the fact that this ship is loaded down with ammunition and rifles and butter bound for England so they can fight a war that we’re officially neutral in.  Tough call—but no one ever got what they wanted in this world by sticking their neck out.

[Lights fade out.]

Scene VII – U-20

Enter Steiner.

STEINER:  The truth is I love bluegrass music.  The rhythm soothes me.
Every time I hear the sound of the banjo something moves my heart and I want to lie on a lawn and listen to it until the days go by.
When I hear the sound of the banjos I can forget the war and all the troubles and dream of Kentucky.
It must be beautiful in Kentucky, with its mountains and valleys and the blue grass.
I’d like to see it someday…when the war is over.
The war has made us all different…and there’s nothing we can do to change ourselves back.
I fired a torpedo last month.  We surfaced and gave the ship a warning shot first, just like the rules said we should.  The crew of the ship began evacuating.  When they had gotten clear of the ship we fired.  I saw the torpedo swimming near the surface as it slammed into the ship’s hull.  There was one man standing on the deck and swearing at us the whole time.  When the torpedo exploded he was thrown against the superstructure, but he struggled up again and held himself up on a railing.  By this time the ship was sinking fast and listing to one side.  As it went into the water it rolled over onto the starboard side.  The man was still standing there, holding on to the railing and screaming.
I couldn’t tell what he was saying when I looked through my lenses.
I don’t think I ever want to know what he was saying.
So I listen to the banjo…to forget.  When you’re young you listen to music and have nothing to forget.  That’s one more luxury the war has taken away from us.

[The lights fade out.]

Scene VIII – Lusitania

Enter the crew.  They set up some round tables.  Smedley is bandaged.  Smedley is doing all the work.

GRAY:  Be sure to set up the tables according to the chart.
We want everything to be just right for Lola Lola.

SMEDLEY:  Aye, aye.

GRAY:  Smith, watch out for that—

SMITH:  What?

[Smith hits Smedley in the head.  Smedley falls.]

SMITH:  Sorry, Smedley.

GRAY:  Ensign Smedley, are you alright?

SMEDLEY:  Mommy?

GRAY:  I’m not your mother, Smedley.  I’m Laura Gray, the Entertainment Officer.
Now do you recognize me?

SMEDLEY:  Laura?

GRAY:  Yes?

SMEDLEY:  I WANT MY MOMMY!

GRAY:  Oh dear.  Maybe we should try to contact his mother.
Navigator Smith, where can we find Smedley’s mother?

SMITH:  Bristol.

GRAY:  Bristol?  Why would anyone live in Bristol?

SMITH:  She’s dead.

GRAY:  Oh.

SMITH:  She was attacked by a rabid mole.
 
 

GRAY:  It really is something to be stalked by a mole.  That must have been quite a shock.
I can see how learning that could be debilitating.
EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE NOW, SMEDLEY.
THERE ARE NO MOLES ON THIS SHIP.  That should reassure him.
 Alright then, back to work.

[Enter Lola Lola.]

LOLA:  Do you have any grapes? I need some grapes.  Do you like…grapes?

[Smith pours his coffee onto Smedley.]

SMEDLEY:  It burns!  It burns!

SMITH:  Sorry, Smedley.

GRAY:  Ensign Smedley, this is Lola Lola.

[Smedley pops right up.]

SMEDLEY:  Hello, hello.

GRAY:  Lola, this is Ensign Smedley.

SMITH:  And I’m Navigator Smith.

LOLA:  Are those burns?

SMEDLEY:  No, no!  Yes, yes.  I mean—

LOLA:  Are you a masochist?

SMEDLEY:  Do you want me to be?

GRAY:  His mother was killed by a mole.

LOLA:  How tragic.  I need a drink.

SMEDLEY & SMITH: I’ll get it!

[They exit while struggling against each other.]

GRAY:  Wouldn’t it be fantastic if we were long lost sisters.

LOLA:  What would be fantastic about that?

GRAY:  We would have so many stories to share while we caught each other up on our lives
since we were separated.

LOLA:  Lola doesn’t need a sister, sister.

GRAY:  Do you like historical re-enactments?

LOLA:  Sure, sure.  I can dress up like Lucretia Borgia if you’d like.
I don’t sing in Italian, though.

GRAY:  What do you sing?

LOLA:  Well, the truth is, I don’t sing.  I only know one song.

GRAY:  One song?

LOLA:  Yeah.  I hope that’s okay.

GRAY:  Okay?  I don’t know.  I think I want my mother.

LOLA:  Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m your long lost sister?

GRAY:  Are you?

LOLA:  Sure, sure.  I’m your sister Lola, the…singer.

GRAY:  But you only know one song.

LOLA:  Let’s go catch up on old times.

[They exit.  Violet and Jack enter.]

VIOLET:  I can’t wait to get to England.  Have you ever been to England?

JACK WALLABY: Well, I haven’t been to England, but I know all about it.
Frankly, I think their cheese smells a bit off, if you know what I mean.
I know it’s a bit of a cliché for Australians to prefer kangaroo meat and sheep milk but I guess I’m just predictable that way.

VIOLET:  I guess you are.  Do you like long romantic walks?

JACK WALLABY: I prefer to ride.  And I have a racecar.

VIOLET:  Do you like long romantic music?
 

JACK WALLABY: I know this is going to sound like a bit of a cliché, but other than
“Waltzing Matilda” I prefer atonalism.

VIOLET:  Atonalism?

JACK WALLABY: Right.  It’s fascinating.

VIOLET:  Is it romantic?

JACK WALLABY: I think it is.

VIOLET:  Okay.  So…emus, huh?

JACK WALLABY: Oh, the emu is a fabulous creature.
They have this way of spitting on you when they like you.

VIOLET:  They spit on you?

JACK WALLABY: Only when they get to know you.

VIOLET:  I see.

JACK WALLABY: It’s their way of claiming you as a friend.  They don’t spit on just anyone.
You can know an emu for years before it’ll spit on you.

VIOLET:  Isn’t it a beautiful day.

JACK WALLABY: Yes it is.  We should be sailing by the Head of Kinsale soon.

VIOLET:  Is that in Ireland.

JACK WALLABY: Yeah.  Beautiful country.  Not enough range for emus, but beautiful.

VIOLET:  Maybe I should get us some drinks.

[Exit Violet.  Enter Jimmy and Natasha and Violet with the drinks.  Natasha takes the drinks from Violet and gives her a gratuity.]

NATASHA:  Thank you.

[Exit Violet again.]

JIMMY:  That was something else.

NATASHA:  Yes, it was something.

JIMMY:  I didn’t know you could do so much with an orange.

NATASHA:  The orange is…versatile.

JIMMY:  Was that last thing orange marmalade?

NATASHA:  Yes, you can do so much more with marmalade than jam.

JIMMY:  It was fabulous.

NATASHA:  It was tolerable.

JIMMY:  Tolerable?

NATASHA:  There was a man in Texas.  He was impressive.

JIMMY:  Texas.

NATASHA:  He wore boots.

JIMMY:  I could wear boots.

NATASHA:  Not like these.  These were big boots…big Texas boots.

JIMMY:  I could wear big Texas boots.

NATASHA:  We have an expression in North Ossetia: The goat does not herd the goatherd.

JIMMY:  I could give you an orange.

NATASHA:  Please, I’ve seen everything there is to be done with an orange.

JIMMY:  What about a toaster?

NATASHA:  A toaster?

JIMMY:  I have a toaster.  It holds two whole slices of bread.

NATASHA:  And what do you do with the sliced bread?

JIMMY:  You put it in the toaster, and then you toast it.

NATASHA:  That is all?

JIMMY:  Oh, I haven’t even gotten to the best part.

[Jimmy whispers something to Natasha.]

NATASHA:  With the orange marmalade, too?

JIMMY:  Exactly.

NATASHA:  Let’s go.

[They exit.  Violet enters.]

VIOLET:  I hope you like champagne.

JACK WALLABY:  Actually, I’m a big fan of Australian wines.

VIOLET:  Really?

[She drinks all of her champagne.]

VIOLET:  Tell me about your ranch again.

JACK WALLABY: It’s hot and dusty.  Every few months we have to shoot about a thousand
rabbits.  They attack the place in herds.

VIOLET:  The poor things.

JACK WALLABY: Oh, they’re pretty vicious.
I’ve lost three gunmen to the more vicious herds.  Ripped to shreds.

VIOLET:  But you are fabulously wealthy?

JACK WALLABY: Fabulously.

VIOLET:  Good.  Have you ever had an affair on a boat?

JACK WALLABY: Once.  It was a small boat.

VIOLET:  What happened?

JACK WALLABY: She went back to Sydney.

VIOLET:  Too bad.  How about taking a walk around the ship?

JACK WALLABY: Whatever you’d like.

[They exit.  Poor Fiancé enters.  He looks around.]

POOR FIANCÉ: Violet?  Violet?

[He exits.  Gray and Lola enter with a bottle.  They have already been drinking.]

GRAY:  Pour me another shot.

LOLA:  Here goes.

GRAY:  What should we drink to?

LOLA:  To love.

GRAY:  Love?  What’s that?

LOLA:  It’s a bottle of bourbon with a man chaser.

GRAY:  Manchaser…that’s funny.

LOLA:  You know what else is funny?

GRAY:  What?

LOLA:  Shoes.

GRAY:  You’re right.  Shoes are funny.

[Captain Turner enters.]

CAPTAIN TURNER: What’s going on here?  Gray, have you been drinking?

GRAY:  No sir.  Yes sir.  No sir, of course not.  The Germans made me do it.

CAPTAIN TURNER: The Germans?  This is very unusual.
I should have you brought before the drumhead.

LOLA:  You could bring the drumhead before me.

CAPTAIN TURNER: Who are you?

LOLA:  Lola.

CAPTAIN TURNER: Lola?

LOLA:  L, as in love.  O, as in ‘Oh my!’  L, as in luscious.  And A, as in all over you.

CAPTAIN TURNER: This is also highly unusual.
LOLA:  Are you the Captain?

CAPTAIN TURNER: Yes.  Yes, I am.

LOLA:  Then why don’t you steer me to your bunk.

CAPTAIN TURNER: This is relatively unheard of.

LOLA:  You know what else is relatively unheard of?

[She whispers into his ear.]

CAPTAIN TURNER: I am going to take you back to my cabin and pretend that I am a pirate.
Gray, sober up or I’ll have you flogged.

[They exit.  The Poor Fiancé passes through.]

POOR FIANCÉ: Violet?  Violet?

GRAY:  Flogging wouldn’t be bad right now.  Nobody wants to see a re-enactment of the
Spanish Armada.  I have a singer who can’t sing.  And she’s my long lost sister.
And she’s going back to the Captain’s cabin to play pirate games.
It looks like my life has hit an iceberg.
Iceberg…hmmm…
I’ve got it!

[Blackout.]

Scene IX – U-20, 5th of May, 1915

The crew of the U-20 in battle positions.

STEINER:  Two ships on target.

SCHWIEGER:  Let’s get in close.  Rollo, what do you hear?

ROLLO:  No change in speed.  They have no idea we’re coming.

SCHULTZ:  I have stew.

STEINER:  Keep it to yourself.

SCHULTZ:  You people are ingrates.

MÜLLER:  We have indigestion.

SCHULTZ:  It’s not my fault that your guts aren’t ready to understand my art.

ROLLO:  Your art tastes like a bowl of crap.

SCHWIEGER:  Steiner, close in fast and then we’ll surface and fire.

STEINER:  Yes, sir.  Close in at speed.

ROLLO:  Closing in at speed.

MÜLLER:  Captain Schwieger, I have to take the time to register a complaint.

SCHWIEGER:  About?

MÜLLER:  Several of the crew, who I will not name, have books which are long overdue.

SCHWIEGER:  And this is a problem?

MÜLLER:  I just don’t understand how hard it can be to return a book in a U-boat.
It’s not like they’re shooting them out of the torpedo tubes.

[The Torpedo loaders look at each other guiltily.]

SCHWIEGER:  This may not be the best time and place for this discussion.

MÜLLER:  Captain, I am under the direct orders of the Kaiser to lend books to the sailors and
get them back in good order and I have the power to levy fines at my own discretion if the books are not returned properly.
SCHWIEGER:  So, levy your fines.

MÜLLER:  Captain, the crew of this ship has 30 books overdue for a total of 500 days.
By my calculations the crew of this ship owes 1,567 marks in fines.

SCHWIEGER:  That’s a lot of fines.

MÜLLER:  That’s why I want this to be settled.

STEINER:  Captain, we’re in range.

SCHWIEGER:  Battle stations.

ROLLO:  Battle stations.

SCHWIEGER:  Rollo, what do you hear?

ROLLO:  Still no change.

STEINER:  One schooner.  The other’s a cargo ship...Norwegian.

SCHWIEGER:  Take the schooner first.  Prepare to fire.

STEINER:  Torpedo loaded.

SCHWIEGER:  Fire.

STEINER:  Fire.

ROLLO:  Fish away.

SCHWIEGER:  Easy to port.

STEINER:  Easy to port.

SCHWIEGER:  Let’s get that cargo ship.

STEINER:  We’re in pretty close.

SCHWIEGER:  We’ll have to fire fast.

ROLLO:  We got a hit on the schooner.  It’s sounds like it’s going down fast.

SCHWIEGER:  I see it now.  It’s down.

[There are cheers.]
MÜLLER:  Captain, about the books—

SCHULTZ:  Forget the books, what about my stew?

MÜLLER:  Screw your stew!

SCHULTZ:  Chief Librarian Müller!

SCHWIEGER:  You two take it somewhere else!  Prepare to fire.

SCHULTZ:  I can’t believe you insulted my stew, you…you…bookmonger!

[Müller slugs Schultz in the gut.  Schultz doubles over.  He tries to get back into the melee.  The Torpedo Loaders join in.]

SCHWIEGER:  Load!

STEINER:  Load!

ROLLO:  Loaded!

SCHWIEGER:  Fire.

STEINER:  Fire!

ROLLO:  Fire!

[The fracas falls apart.  The crew members return to their positions.  One of the Torpedo Loaders is missing.  The rest of the crew look ashamed.]

SCHWIEGER:  That doesn’t look like a torpedo.

STEINER:  What is that?

ROLLO:  It doesn’t sound like a torpedo.

SCHULTZ:  Ummm, Captain…

SCHWIEGER:  Yes?

MÜLLER:  We didn’t load a torpedo into the tube.

SCHWIEGER:  What?  Then what is that heading toward the cargo ship?

[There is a light dull splat that echoes in the U-20.]

STEINER:  What was that?

ROLLO:  That was the sound of a Torpedo Loader hitting the hull of a Norwegian cargo ship.

STEINER:  Which one was it?

ROLLO:  I think it was Helmut.

MÜLLER:  No, it was what’s-his-name.

SCHWIEGER:  Hard to starboard.

STEINER:  Hard to starboard.

SCHWIEGER:  Let’s get another shot off.  Load.  And make it a torpedo this time.

STEINER:  Loaded.

ROLLO:  They’re changing speed.

SCHWIEGER:  Fire.

STEINER:  Fire!

ROLLO:  They just cut engines.

STEINER:  What do you see?

SCHWIEGER:  It looks like a miss.

ROLLO:  Engines starting up again.

SCHWIEGER:  It’s a miss.

SCHULTZ:  Anyone hungry?

SCHWIEGER:  Set a course back toward Kinsale.  We’ll get the Trans-Atlantic flotilla there.

STEINER:  Captain?

SCHWIEGER:  Yes, Steiner?

STEINER:  You can call me Trudi.

SCHWIEGER:  Yes…Trudi?

STEINER:  Do you like bluegrass or ragtime?

SCHWIEGER:  Bluegrass.  Why?

STEINER:  No reason.

[Blackout.]

Scene X – Kinsale , Ireland, 1915

James Joyce, with eyepatch, glasses, overcoat and fedora is sitting in a chair watching the sunset and the stars starting to twinkle in the sky.  Behind him stands Samuel Beckett in a turtleneck sweater and a grim look in his eye as he stairs out to the horizon.  Nora Joyce is sitting in a chair opposite from Joyce with cucumber slices on her eyes.

JAMES JOYCE: O, waly, waly!  I eat my bread daily!  Are you getting this down, Samuel?

SAMUEL BECKETT: I take notes.
I write notes on the empty souls that wander alone toward the end.

JAMES JOYCE: The end?  Why wander to the end, when we can just wait?

SAMUEL BECKETT: Wait…wait…wait…We are all waiters.

JAMES JOYCE: Some are doers, some are thinkers, some are dickers.  Dicker-wickers.

NORA:  Why don’t you suck my toes like you used to do, Jamie?  You used to suck my toes as the sun went down and we watched the stars starting to twinkle in the skies.

JAMES JOYCE: Used to.  Used to.  Can’t watch what I can’t see anymore.
We still sit, but there is no watching anymore.  Can’t see, won’t see.

SAMUEL BECKETT: I can see.  I will see.  I see the sea.

NORA:  That’s funny, Sammy.  Jamie used to be funny.

JAMES JOYCE: Used to be…used to be.
I was used to being funny, when I used to be funny, when I used to be used.  To be.

NORA:  I used to be pretty.  Now I see the world through fresh cucumber.
Shades of green, it is.

JAMES JOYCE: I think the stars are starting to twinkle.
Twinkle and sparkle, twinkle and sparkle.  I need a drink.

NORA:  There used to be a song.  I only knew that one song.  We used to hear it.
When we used to hear.

JAMES JOYCE: Hear with the ear how near we were to the weir.

SAMUEL BECKETT: I remember a song.  It was about a dog and a cook and a cheesegrater.
It was a good song, as songs go.

NORA:  I wish we could sing.  Mother’s voice lessons were wasted.

SAMUEL BECKETT: All voice lessons are wasted when you have no song to sing.

JAMES JOYCE: I think we should sit here and watch the sun fade away as the stars start to
twinkle in the sky with our eyes that do not see and ears that used to hear songs that we can’t sing and don’t even remember except for Nora whose toes I can no longer feel.  Where were we in 1913?

SAMUEL BECKETT: Right here.  Or somewhere else.

NORA:  I can’t be sure.  I think you were meddling with me in the park.  Or somewhere else.

JAMES JOYCE: Somewhere else.  I wish I was there right now.  Or here.
I wish I was somewhere.  Are you taking any of this down, Samuel?

SAMUEL BECKETT: I take notes.
I write notes on the empty souls that wander alone to the end.

JAMES JOYCE: The end?  Why wander to the end when we can just wait?

SAMUEL BECKETT: Wait, wait, wait.  Waiters, we are.

NORA:  You used to kiss my feet here before I saw the world in shades of green.

JAMES JOYCE: Here or somewhere else.  Are you taking this down, Samuel?

SAMUEL BECKETT: I take notes.
I write notes on the empty souls that wander alone to the end.

JAMES JOYCE: Why end, when you can just wander?

[Lights fade out.]

Scene XII -- Lusitania, 7th May 1915, the Head of Kinsale

Laura Gray shepherds the passengers and crew onstage.
She and Lola begin to sing.  Everyone joins in.  They sing until you think they can sing no more.
Then they sing some more.  Unfortunately, these are the only words they know.

ALL:  It’s a long way to Tipperary,
It’s a long way to roam.
It’s a long way, to Tipperary,
 It’s a long way to go.
 
 It’s a long way to Tipperary,
 It’s a long way to roam.
 It’s a long way to Tipperary,
 It’s a long way to go.

[Eventually they start to inch their way offstage.  Lights fade.]

Scene XIII – U-20, 7th May 1915, The Head of Kinsale

Schwieger has been looking through the periscope.

STEINER:  What did you see?

SCHWIEGER:  Singing.

STEINER:  Was it Lusitania?

SCHWIEGER:  Yes.

STEINER:  Should we move in for targeting?

ROLLO:  They’re not changing course.  We can take them anytime.

SCHWIEGER:  Not right now.

STEINER:  Not right now?  This is our target.

SCHWIEGER:  Not right now.

STEINER: What else did you see there?

SCHWIEGER:  Nothing.

STEINER:  Captain, we are under orders.  I need to know what you saw.

SCHWIEGER:  I saw a ghost.

STEINER:  Was she alive?

SCHWIEGER:  I loved her once.

SCHULTZ:  Anybody want a dumpling?

ROLLO:  Captain, if we don’t go in now we’ll lose our chance.

SCHWIEGER:  I know.

STEINER:  Captain, if you’ve lost your nerve—

SCHWIEGER:  I haven’t lost my nerve!

STEINER:  What should we do?

ROLLO:  Captain, they’re changing course.  What do we do?

STEINER:  What do we do?

SCHWIEGER:  I don’t know.  I don’t know.

[Blackout.]

Scene XIV – Lusitania, 7th May 1915

Enter Jimmy and Natasha.  They sit at a table.

NATASHA: The toast was excellent.

JIMMY:  That was good toast.

NATASHA:  Perhaps we can have some more toast later.

[Enter Smedley, Smith & Gray.]

SMEDLEY:  Can I get you a drink?

NATASHA:  Vodka.

JIMMY:  Orange juice—fresh squeezed.

SMEDLEY:  One screwdriver, coming up.

[Enter Poor Fiancé.]

POOR FIANCÉ: Violet?  Violet?

JIMMY:  I’m Violet!

POOR FIANCÉ: You’re not Violet.

JIMMY:  I think she went by the railing.

POOR FIANCÉ: Okay.

JIMMY:  I have to stop lying.

[Enter Violet and Jack.]

VIOLET:  I’ve had the most fabulous time with you, Jack Wallaby.

JACK WALLABY: I know it’s become a bit of a cliché to fall in love on cruises,
but I think I love you.

[A large splashing sound.]

JACK WALLABY: What was that?

VIOLET:  I think it was my fiancé.  Oh well.
[Enter the Captain, dressed somewhat like a pirate.]

CAPTAIN TURNER: What is this infernal racket?

GRAY:  One of the passengers went overboard.

CAPTAIN TURNER: Why?

GRAY:  We have no idea.  You’re just in time for the entertainment.

CAPTAIN TURNER: More entertainment?  I don’t think so.
I am going to return to my cabin and entertain myself.

[Enter Lola.]

LOLA:  Are you coming?

CAPTAIN TURNER: I’m trying.

GRAY:  Captain, you have to stay for the re-enactment.

CAPTAIN TURNER: Re-enactment?

GRAY:  In 1912 RMS Titanic was sailing through the North Atlantic when it hit an iceberg
and sank.  Hundreds died.  We’re doing a re-enactment.

CAPTAIN TURNER: I’m going to pretend as if my attempt at kinky sexual intercourse while
dressed as a pirate was never interrupted in order to hear that.

GRAY:  Oh, come on, Captain, get in the spirit of things.

CAPTAIN TURNER: Do you see that woman there?

GRAY:  Lola?

CAPTAIN TURNER: That’s not just a woman.  That’s the dream of every boy who ever put on
a pirate outfit and dreamed of pillaging and robbing with his cutthroat gang.  That woman is the dream of every young man who joined the navy and scrubbed various clinging organisms from the deck of a smelly ship.  That’s not just a woman, that is the pinnacle of achievement and in a few minutes I will be climbing that peak, not only for myself,
but for England and the whole Empire.

LOLA:  Maybe we should stay for the re-enactment.

GRAY:  You can be the Captain of the Titanic.

CAPTAIN TURNER: I am going to pretend that I am the Captain of the Titanic.
This had better not take too long.

NATASHA:  What is a re-enactment?

JIMMY:  It’s when you do something over again.

NATASHA:  Shall we have a re-enactment?

JIMMY:  With an orange?

NATASHA:  Bring your whole bag.

[Music.  Captain Turner moves along as directed by Gray.  At one point he gets pelted with a cupful of ice.  The re-enactment carries on until the song runs out and the Titanic has sunk.  Blackout.]

Scene XV – U-20, 7th May 1915

Same as before.  Tension.

STEINER:  What do we do now, Captain?

ROLLO:  They’re moving steadily.

SCHWIEGER:  I don’t know.

STEINER:  I love you.

SCHWIEGER:  What?

ROLLO:  She said she loves you.

MÜLLER:  Don’t tell us you never saw it coming.  I mean it was so obvious all along.

SCHWIEGER:  I don’t know what to say to that.

STEINER:  You don’t have to say anything to that.  I don’t know if it means anything to you
now or ever will and I’m not sure it will mean anything to me tomorrow or next year.  But I know that we have our orders.
Out there is one ship and it’s carrying munitions that will kill a thousand of our soldiers at the front.  I know that we have one torpedo—one chance—to stop that ship from getting to where it’s going.  You don’t have to love me.  I’m nothing.  I’m an officer.  I take orders.  And my orders are to find and sink that ship.

SCHWIEGER:  What about her?  I still feel—

STEINER:  The future of the Fatherland depends on your decision.  Feel that.
There are more loves than one in this world.  You will find a new one.
But you will never have this moment again.  What will you do?

SCHWIEGER:  We are German sailors…and this is the Kriegsmarine…
and we have our orders.

STEINER:  One ship, one torpedo.

SCHWIEGER:  One ship, one torpedo.  For the Fatherland!

STEINER:  For the Fatherland!

SCHWIEGER:  Rollo, bring us in close and fast.

ROLLO:  Closing in.
STEINER:  We’re on target.

SCHWIEGER:  Load.

STEINER:  Loaded.

SCHWIEGER:  Fire!

STEINER:  Fire.

[Music plays.  Lights fade to black.]

Scene XVI – Lusitania, 7th May 1915

Jack and Violet enter.

VIOLET:  You know what would make this day even more perfect?

JACK WALLABY: A kiss?

VIOLET:  You read my mind.

JACK WALLABY: I’m smart that way.

[They lean in closer to kiss.]

JACK WALLABY: I know it’s a cliché to say that you’re a remarkable woman, but I think you’re more than special.

VIOLET:  I’m glad I happened to meet you.

[They are about to kiss, but both of them turn simultaneously toward the audience.]

VIOLET:  What’s that?

JACK WALLABY: It’s a torpedo.

[Lights fade to black as they watch the torpedo head in their direction.  Music.]
 

Scene XVII – Kinsale, Ireland, 7th May 1915

Joyce, Nora and Beckett watch from the shore as the Lusitania is struck by a torpedo and sinks.

JAMES JOYCE: Snort, snort, guzzle, garoo.  You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.
Snort, snort, guzzle, garoo.  Is the page full yet, Samuel?

SAMUEL BECKETT: I write in the margins of life about the margins of life.
I take notes on water.

NORA: You used to kiss me in the French way, Jamie. Do you remember that?
How come you don’t kiss me in the French way anymore?

JAMES JOYCE: Can’t feel what you can’t see.  I slip away into the twinkling twilight.
Do you know where we were in 1903?

SAMUEL BECKETT: Ending something, beginning something.

NORA:  When I take the cucumbers away the world still looks like cucumber.
I get used to seeing the world that way.

JAMES JOYCE: Used to see.  Used to see what used to be.  A-B-C-D-E. No reason, but rhyme.
Is the page full yet?

SAMUEL BECKETT: Every page starts out full of nothing.
Every nothing disappears under something.

NORA:  Jamie used to kiss me here.  That was then.  This was then.

JAMES JOYCE: Future tense, past perfect.  It’s the last sentence in a life of nostalgia.
Future tense, past perfect.  Did you write that one down, Samuel?

SAMUEL BECKETT: I take notes.
I write my notes on the empty souls that drown alone in the sea.

JAMES JOYCE: Can’t feel what you can’t see, can’t feel what you can’t see.

[Lights fade out.  Music.]