PISTOL PETE, an old buccaneer

LADY JANE, a medieval scholar

LONG JOHN THOMAS, a hanger-on

SAINT MARTIN, ghostly ectoplasmic apparition

[Aboard the pirate ship Sea Ewe, set adrift by the evil Nawab of Bharnet. The Poop Deck. Lady Jane is sitting on her booty, reading The Canterbury Tales. A pair of golden handcuffs securing her to the ship's wheel glints in the moonlight. ENTER Pistol Pete, with Long John Thomas. They stand stiffly, transfixed by her booty, until Lady Jane notices them and tosses the book flirtatiously over her shoulder. It lands in the dinghy.]

LADY JANE: So proud! (murmurs uneasily) And so lordly! Now I know why men are so overbearing! (Looks at John Thomas) But he's lovely, really. Like another being! A bit terrifying! But lovely really! And he comes to me!--- (catches her lower lip between her teeth, in fear and excitement)

PISTOL PETE: (looks down in silence at John Thomas)`Ay! (in a little voice) Ay ma lad! tha're theer right enough. Yi, tha mun rear thy head! Theer on thy own, eh? an' ta'es no count O' nob'dy! Tha ma'es nowt O' me, John Thomas. Art boss? of me? Eh well, tha're more cocky than me, an' tha says less. John Thomas! Dost want her? Dost want my lady Jane? Tha's dipped me in again, tha hast. Ay, an' tha comes up smilin'.---Ax 'er then! Ax lady Jane! Say: Lift up your heads, O ye gates, that the king of glory may come in. Ay, th' cheek on thee! Cunt¹, that's what tha're after. Tell lady Jane tha wants cunt. John Thomas, an' th' cunt O' lady Jane!---

LADY JANE: Oh, don't tease him,' (crawls on her knees across the deck towards John Thomas, puts her arms round him, and drawing him to her so that her hanging, swinging bags of swag² lightly brush his tricorn³, holds him fast.)

JOHN THOMAS: (delirious) Lie down! Lie down! Let me come alongside!

[A tremendous flash of levin light, then dark clouds plunge the poop deck into total darkness.]

[The storm is over. A whale oil lamp on the yardarm casts a dim and fitful glow on the poop deck. Lady Jane and Pistol Pete sit in silence in the semi-darkness. John Thomas sleeps. Saint Martin hovers.]

LADY JANE: (looks at John Thomas) And now he's tiny, and soft like a little bud of life! Isn't he somehow lovely! so on his own, so strange! And so innocent! And he comes from Boulder! You must never insult him, you know. He's mine too. He's not only yours. He's mine!

PISTOL PETE: (laughs) Blest be the tie that binds our hearts in kindred love

SAINT MARTIN: (sternly) WOE!

VOICES OFF: Giddyup!

LADY JANE: (ignores Saint Martin) Of course! Even when he's soft and little I feel my heart simply tied to him. And how lovely your hair is here! quite, quite different!'

PISTOL PETE: That's John Thomas's hair, not mine!

LADY JANE: (Confused) John Thomas! John Thomas! (quickly kisses John Thomas, who begins to stir again)

PISTOL PETE: Ay! (John Thomas stretches almost painfully) He's got his root in my soul, has that gentleman! An' sometimes I don' know what ter do wi' him. Ay, he's got a will of his own, an' it's hard to suit him. Yet I wouldn't have him killed.

SAINT MARTIN: (flickering) Should I?

[John Thomas in slow soft undulations surges and rises up, and stands there hard and overweening, in his curious towering fashion. Lady Jane trembles a little as she watches.]

SAINT MARTIN: (flickering) Or shouldn't I?

PISTOL PETE: (ignores Saint Martin) There! Take him then! He's thine!

[The poop deck. Dawn. John Thomas can been seen behind Lady Jane and Pistol Pete, draped over the gunwales. There are sounds of heaving-to. From offstage right can be heard rough voices riotously singing a scurrilous madrigal about Good Queen Bess, the Elector of Hanover, and a One-Legged Sea Cook.]

PISTOL PETE: (shyly) Th'art good cunt, though, aren't ter? Best bit o' cunt left on earth. When ter likes! When tha'rt willin'!

LADY JANE: What is cunt?

JOHN THOMAS: (raises his head weakly) An' doesn't ter know? Cunt! It's thee down theer; an' what I get when I'm i'side thee, and what tha gets when I'm i'side thee; it's a` as it is, all on't.

LADY JANE: All on't (teasingly) Cunt! It's like fuck then.

PISTOL PETE: (naughtily) Nay nay! Fuck's only what you do. animals fuck. But cunt's a lot more than that. It's thee, dost see: an' tha'rt a lot besides an animal, aren't ter? - even ter fuck? Cunt! Eh, that's the beauty o' thee, lass!

[Lady Jane gets up and places one of her hanging, swinging bags of swag, so dark and soft and unspeakably warm, in each of Pistol Pete's upturned palms.]

SAINT MARTIN: (imploringly) Should I? Or shouldn't I?

LADY JANE: (ignores Saint Martin) Is it? And do you care for me?

PISTOL PETE (kisses her without answering)

LADY JANE: (pouts) Petey? Why do you talk ... like that?

PISTOL PETE: Arrrr! Ah doubloon stuck i' ma teef!

____________________________
¹Term of endearment borrowed by pirates from Chaucer, meaning, "crumpet"

²of Spanish leather, of course

³At a buccaneer, tricorn would equal three bucks

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