Two Men of Sandy Bar
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Bret Harte >> Two Men of Sandy Bar
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TWO MEN OF SANDY BAR
by Bret Harte
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
The Prodigals.
"SANDY" . . Son of Alexander Morton, sen.
JOHN OAKHURST . . His former partner, personating the prodigal son,
Sandy.
COL. STARBOTTLE . . Alexander Morton, sen.'s, legal adviser.
OLD MORTON . . Alexander Morton, sen.
DON JOSE . . Father of Jovita Castro.
CAPPER . . A detective.
CONCHO . . Major-domo of Don Jose's rancho.
YORK . . An old friend of Oakhurst.
PRITCHARD . . An Australian convict.
SOAPY & SILKY . . His pals.
JACKSON . . Confidential clerk of Alexander Morton, jun., and
confederate of Pritchard.
HOP SING . . A Chinese laundryman.
SERVANT of Alexander Morton, sen.--POLICEMEN.
MISS MARY MORRIS . . The schoolmistress of Red Gulch, in love with
Sandy, and cousin of Alexander Morton, sen.
DONA JOVITA CASTRO . . In love with John Oakhurst, and daughter of
Don Jose.
THE DUCHESS . . Wife of Pritchard, illegally married to Sandy, and
former "flame" of John Oakhurst.
MANUELA . . Servant of Castro, and maid to Dona Jovita.
ACT I
The Rancho of the Blessed Innocents, and House of Don Jose Castro.
ACT II
Red Gulch.
ACT III
The Banking-House of Morton & Son, San Francisco.
ACT IV
The Villa of Alexander Morton, sen., San Francisco.
COSTUMES
ALEXANDER MORTON ("SANDY").--First dress: Mexican vaquero; black
velvet trousers open from knee, over white trousers; laced black
velvet jacket, and broad white sombrero; large silver spurs.
Second dress: miner's white duck jumper, and white duck trousers;
(sailor's) straw hat. Third dress: fashionable morning costume.
Fourth dress: full evening dress.
JOHN OAKHURST.--First dress: riding-dress, black, elegantly
fitting. Second and third dress: fashionable. Fourth dress: full
evening dress.
COL. STARBOTTLE.--First dress: blue double-breasted frock, and
white "strapped" trousers; white hat. Second dress: same coat,
blue trousers, and black broad-brimmed felt hat; cane, semper;
ruffles, semper. Third dress: the same. Fourth dress: the same,
with pumps.
YORK.--Fashionable morning dress.
JACKSON.--Business suit.
CONCHO.--First dress: vaquero's dress. Second dress: citizen's
dress.
HOP SING.--Dress of Chinese coolie: dark-blue blouse, and dark-blue
drawers gathered at ankles; straw conical hat, and wooden sabots.
DON JOSE.--First dress: serape, black, with gold embroidery.
Second class: fashionable black suit, with broad-brimmed black
stiff sombrero.
OLD MORTON.--First, second, third, and fourth dress: black, stiff,
with white cravat.
CAPPER.--Ordinary dress of period.
MISS MARY.--First dress: tasteful calico morning dress. Second and
third dress: lady's walking costume--fashionable. Fourth dress:
full dress.
DONA JOVITA.--First dress: handsome Spanish dress, with manta.
Second dress: more elaborate, same quality.
THE DUCHESS.--First dress: elaborate but extravagant fashionable
costume. Second dress: traveling dress.
MANUELA.--The saya y manta; white waist, and white or black skirt,
with flowers.
TWO MEN OF SANDY BAR
ACT I
SCENE 1.--Courtyard and Corridors of the Rancho.
MANUELA (arranging supper-table in corridor L., solus). There!
Tortillas, chocolate, olives, and--the whiskey of the Americans!
And supper's ready. But why Don Jose chooses to-night, of all
nights, with this heretic fog lying over the Mission Hills like a
wet serape, to take his supper out here, the saints only know.
Perhaps it's some distrust of his madcap daughter, the Dona Jovita;
perhaps to watch her--who knows? And now to find Diego. Ah, here
he comes. So! The old story. He is getting Dona Jovita's horse
ready for another madcap journey. Ah! (Retires to table.)
Enter cautiously from corridor, L., SANDY MORTON, carrying lady's
saddle and blanket; starts on observing MANUELA, and hastily hides
saddle and blanket in recess.
Sandy (aside). She's alone. I reckon the old man's at his siesta
yet. Ef he'll only hang onto that snooze ten minutes longer, I'll
manage to let that gal Jovita slip out to that yer fandango, and no
questions asked.
Manuela (calling SANDY). Diego!
Sandy (aside, without heeding her). That's a sweet voice for a
serenade. Round, full, high-shouldered, and calkilated to fetch a
man every time. Only thar ain't, to my sartain knowledge, one o'
them chaps within a mile of the rancho. (Laughs.)
Manuela. Diego!
Sandy (aside). Oh, go on! That's the style o' them Greasers.
They'll stand rooted in their tracks, and yell for a chap without
knowin' whether he's in sight or sound.
Manuela (approaching SANDY impatiently). Diego!
Sandy (starting, aside). The devil! Why, that's ME she's after.
(Laughs.) I clean disremembered that when I kem yer I tole those
chaps my name was James,--James Smith (laughs), and thet they might
call me "Jim." And De-a-go's their lingo for Jim. (Aloud.) Well,
my beauty, De-a-go it is. Now, wot's up?
Manuela. Eh? no sabe!
Sandy. Wot's your little game. (Embraces her.)
Manuela (aside, and recoiling coquettishly). Mother of God! He
must be drunk again. These Americans have no time for love when
they are sober. (Aloud and coquettishly.) Let me go, Diego. Don
Jose is coming. He has sent for you. He takes his supper to-night
on the corridor. Listen, Diego. He must not see you thus. You
have been drinking again. I will keep you from him. I will say
you are not well.
Sandy. Couldn't you, my darling, keep him from ME? Couldn't you
make him think HE was sick? Couldn't you say he's exposin' his
precious health by sittin' out thar to-night; thet ther's chills
and fever in every breath? (Aside.) Ef the old Don plants himself
in that chair, that gal's chances for goin' out to-night is gone up.
Manuela. Never. He would suspect at once. Listen, Diego. If Don
Jose does not know that his daughter steals away with you to meet
some caballero, some LOVER,--you understand, Diego,--it is because
he does not know, or would not SEEM to know, what every one else in
the rancho knows. Have a care, foolish Diego! If Don Jose is old
and blind, look you, friend, we are NOT. You understand?
Sandy (aside). What the devil does she expect?--money? No!
(Aloud.) Look yer, Manuela, you ain't goin' to blow on that young
gal! (Putting his arm around her waist.) Allowin' that she hez a
lover, thar ain't nothin' onnateral in thet, bein' a purty sort o'
gal. Why, suppose somebody should see you and me together like
this, and should just let on to the old man.
Manuela. Hush! (Disengaging herself.) Hush! He is coming. Let
me go, Diego. It is Don Jose!
Enter Don Jose, who walks gravely to the table, and seats himself.
MANUELA retires to table.
Sandy (aside). I wonder if he saw us. I hope he did: it would
shut that Manuela's mouth for a month of Sundays. (Laughs.) God
forgive me for it! I've done a heap of things for that young gal
Dona Jovita; but this yer gittin' soft on the Greaser maid-servant
to help out the misses is a little more than Sandy Morton bargained
fur.
Don Jose (to MANUELA). You can retire. Diego will attend me.
(Looks at DIEGO attentively.) [Exit MANUELA.
Sandy (aside). Diego will attend him! Why, blast his yeller skin,
does he allow that Sandy Morton hired out as a purty waiter-gal?
Because I calkilated to feed his horses, it ain't no reason thet my
dooty to animals don't stop thar. Pass his hash! (Turns to follow
MANUELA, but stops.) Hello, Sandy! wot are ye doin', eh? You
ain't going back on Miss Jovita, and jest spile that gal's chances
to git out to-night, on'y to teach that God-forsaken old gov'ment
mule manners? No! I'll humor the old man, and keep one eye out
for the gal. (Comes to table, and leans familiarly over the back
of DON JOSE'S chair.)
Don Jose (aside). He seems insulted and annoyed. His manner
strengthens my worst suspicions. He has not expected this.
(Aloud.) Chocolate, Diego.
Sandy (leaning over table carelessly). Yes, I reckon it's somewhar
thar.
Don Jose (aside). He is unused to menial labor. If I should be
right in my suspicions! if he really were Dona Jovita's secret
lover! This gallantry with the servants only a deceit! Bueno! I
will watch him. (Aloud.) Chocolate, Diego!
Sandy (aside). I wonder if the old fool reckons I'll pour it out.
Well, seein's he's the oldest. (Pours chocolate awkwardly, and
spills it on the table and DON JOSE.)
Don Jose (aside). He IS embarrassed. I am right. (Aloud.) Diego!
Sandy (leaning confidentially over DON JOSE'S chair). Well, old
man!
Don Jose. Three months ago my daughter the Dona Jovita picked you
up, a wandering vagabond, in the streets of the Mission. (Aside.)
He does not seem ashamed. (Aloud.) She--she--ahem! The
aguardiente, Diego.
Sandy (aside). That means the whiskey. It's wonderful how quick a
man learns Spanish. (Passes the bottle, fills DON JOSE'S glass,
and then his own. DON JOSE recoils in astonishment.) I looks
toward ye, ole man. (Tosses off liquor.)
Don Jose (aside). This familiarity! He IS a gentleman. Bueno!
(Aloud.) She was thrown from her horse; her skirt caught in the
stirrup; she was dragged; you saved her life. You--
Sandy (interrupting, confidentially drawing a chair to the table,
and seating himself). Look yer! I'll tell you all about it. It
wasn't that gal's fault, ole man. The hoss shied at me, lying
drunk in a ditch, you see; the hoss backed, the surcle broke; it
warn't in human natur for her to keep her seat, and that gal rides
like an angel; but the mustang throwed her. Well, I sorter got in
the way o' thet hoss, and it stopped. Hevin' bin the cause o' the
hoss shyin', for I reckon I didn't look much like an angel lyin' in
that ditch, it was about the only squar thing for me to waltz in
and help the gal. Thar, thet's about the way the thing pints.
Now, don't you go and hold that agin her!
Don Jose. Well, well! She was grateful. She has a strange
fondness for you Americans; and at her solicitation I gave you--
YOU, an unknown vagrant--employment here as groom. You comprehend,
Diego. I, Don Jose Castro, proprietor of this rancho, with an
hundred idle vaqueros on my hands,--I made a place for you.
Sandy (meditatively). Umph.
Don Jose. You said you would reform. How have you kept your word?
You were drunk last Wednesday.
Sandy. Thet's so.
Don Jose. And again last Saturday.
Sandy (slowly). Look yer, ole man, don't ye be too hard on me:
that was the same old drunk.
Don Jose. I am in no mood for trifling. Hark ye, friend Diego.
You have seen, perhaps,--who has not?--that I am a fond, an
indulgent father. But even my consideration for my daughter's
strange tastes and follies has its limit. Your conduct is a
disgrace to the rancho. You must go.
Sandy (meditatively). Well, I reckon, perhaps I'd better.
Don Jose (aside). His coolness is suspicious. Can it be that he
expects the girl will follow him? Mother of God! perhaps it has
been already planned between them. Good! Thank Heaven I can end
it here. (Aloud.) Diego!
Sandy. Old man.
Don Jose. For my daughter's sake, you understand,--for her sake,--
I am willing to try you once more. Hark ye! My daughter is young,
foolish, and romantic. I have reason to believe, from her conduct
lately, that she has contracted an intimacy with some Americano,
and that in her ignorance, her foolishness, she has allowed that
man to believe that he might aspire to her hand. Good! Now listen
to me. You shall stay in her service. You shall find out,--you
are in her confidence,--you shall find out this American, this
adventurer, this lover if you please, of the Dona Jovita my
daughter; and you will tell him this,--you will tell him that a
union with him is impossible, forbidden; that the hour she attempts
it, without my consent, she is PENNILESS; that this estate, this
rancho, passes into the hands of the Holy Church, where even your
laws cannot reach it.
Sandy (leaning familiarly over the table). But suppose that he
sees that little bluff, and calls ye.
Don Jose. I do not comprehend you (coldly).
Sandy. Suppose he loves that gal, and will take her as she stands,
without a cent, or hide or hair of yer old cattle.
Don Jose (scornfully). Suppose--a miracle! Hark ye, Diego! It is
now five years since I have known your countrymen, these smart
Americanos. I have yet to know when love, sentiment, friendship,
was worth any more than a money value in your market.
Sandy (truculently and drunkenly). You hev, hev ye? Well, look
yar, ole man. Suppose I REFUSE. Suppose I'd rather go than act as
a spy on that young gal your darter! Suppose that--hic--allowin'
she's my friend, I'd rather starve in the gutters of the Mission
than stand between her and the man she fancies. Hey? Suppose I
would--damn me! Suppose I'd see you and your derned old rancho in--
t'other place--hic--damn me. You hear me, ole man! That's the
kind o' man I am--damn me.
Don Jose (aside, rising contemptuously). It is as I suspected.
Traitor. Ingrate! Satisfied that his scheme has failed, he is
ready to abandon her. And this--THIS is the man for whom she has
been ready to sacrifice everything,--her home, her father! (Aloud,
coldly.) Be it so, Diego: you shall go.
Sandy (soberly and seriously, after a pause.) Well, I reckon I had
better. (Rising.) I've a few duds, old man, to put up. It won't
take me long. (Goes to L., and pauses.)
Don Jose (aside). Ah! he hesitates! He is changing his mind.
(SANDY returns slowly to table, pours out glass of liquor, nods to
DON JOSE, and drinks.) I looks towards ye, ole man. Adios!
[Exit SANDY.
Don Jose. His coolness is perfect. If these Americans are cayotes
in their advances, they are lions in retreat! Bueno! I begin to
respect him. But it will be just as well to set Concho to track
him to the Mission; and I will see that he leaves the rancho alone.
[Exit Jose.
Enter hurriedly JOVITA CASTRO, in riding habit, with whip.
So! Chiquita not yet saddled, and that spy Concho haunting the
plains for the last half-hour. What an air of mystery! Something
awful, something deliciously dreadful, has happened! Either my
amiable drunkard has forgotten to despatch Concho on his usual
fool's errand, or he is himself lying helpless in some ditch. Was
there ever a girl so persecuted? With a father wrapped in mystery,
a lover nameless and shrouded in the obscurity of some Olympian
height, and her only confidant and messenger a Bacchus instead of a
Mercury! Heigh ho! And in another hour Don Juan--he told me I
might call him John--will be waiting for me outside the convent
wall! What if Diego fails me? To go there alone would be madness!
Who else would be as charmingly unconscious and inattentive as this
American vagabond! (Goes to L.) Ah, my saddle and blanket hidden!
He HAS been interrupted. Some one has been watching. This freak
of my father's means something. And to-night, of all nights, the
night that Oakhurst was to disclose himself, and tell me all! What
is to be done? Hark! (DIEGO, without, singing.)
"Oh, here's your aguardiente,
Drink it down!"
Jovita. It is Diego; and, Mother of God! drunk again!
Enter SANDY, carrying pack, intoxicated; staggers to centre, and,
observing JOVITA, takes off his hat respectfully.
Jovita (shaking him by the shoulders passionately). Diego! How
dare you! And at such a time!
Sandy (with drunken solemnity). Miss Jovita, did ye ever know me
to be drunk afore at such a time?
Jovita. No.
Sandy. Zachy so. It's abnormal. And it means--the game's up.
Jovita. I do not understand. For the love of God, Diego, be
plain!
Sandy (solemnly and drunkenly). When I say your game's up, I mean
the old man knows it all. You're blowed upon. Hearken, miss.
(Seriously and soberly.) Your father knows all that I know; but,
as it wasn't my business to interfere with, I hev sorter helped
along. He knows that you meet a stranger, an American, in these
rides with me.
Jovita (passionately). Ingrate! You have not dared to tell him!
(Seizing him by the collar, and threatening him with the horsewhip.)
Sandy (rising with half-drunken, half-sober solemnity). One minit,
miss! one minit! Don't ye! don't ye do that! Ef ye forget (and I
don't blame ye for it), ef ye forget that I'm a man, don't ye,
don't ye forget that you're a woman! Sit ye down, sit ye down, so!
Now, ef ye'll kindly remember, miss, I never saw this yer man, yer
lover. Ef ye'll recollect, miss, whenever you met him, I allers
hung back and waited round in the mission or in the fields beyond
for ye, and allowed ye to hev your own way, it bein' no business o'
mine. Thar isn't a man on the ranch, who, ef he'd had a mind to
watch ye, wouldn't hev known more about yer lover than I do.
Jovita (aside). He speaks truly. He always kept in the
background. Even Don Juan never knew that I had an attendant until
I told him. (Aloud.) I made a mistake, Diego. I was hasty. What
am I to do? He is waiting for me even now.
Sandy. Well (with drunken gravity), ef ye can't go to him, I
reckon it's the squar thing for him to come to ye.
Jovita. Recollect yourself, Diego. Be a man!
Sandy. Fash jus war I say. Let him be a man, and come to ye here.
Let him ride up to this ranch like a man, and call out to yer
father that he'll take ye jist as ye are, without the land. And if
the old man allows, rather than hev ye marry that stranger, he'll
give this yer place to the church, why, let him do it, and be
damned.
Jovita (recoiling, aside). So! That is their plan. Don Jose has
worked on the fears or the cupidity of this drunken ingrate.
Sandy (with drunken submission). Ye was speaking to me, miss. Ef
ye'll take my advice,--a drunken man's advice, miss,--ye'll say to
that lover of yours, ef he's afeard to come for ye here, to take ye
as ye stand, he ain't no man for ye. And, ontil he does, ye'll do
as the ole man says. Fur ef I do say it, miss,--and thar ain't no
love lost between us,--he's a good father to ye. It ain't every
day that a gal kin afford to swap a father like that, as she DOES
KNOW, fur the husband that she DON'T! He's a proud old fool, miss;
but to ye, to ye, he's clar grit all through.
Jovita (passionately, aside). Tricked, fooled, like a child! and
through the means of this treacherous, drunken tool. (Stamping her
foot.) Ah! we shall see! You are wise, you are wise, Don Jose;
but your daughter is not a novice, nor a helpless creature of the
Holy Church. (Passionately.) I'll--I'll become a Protestant
to-morrow!
Sandy (unheeding her passion, and becoming more earnest and self-
possessed). Ef ye hed a father, miss, ez instead o' harkinin' to
your slightest wish, and surroundin' ye with luxury, hed made your
infancy a struggle for life among strangers, and your childhood a
disgrace and a temptation; ef he had left ye with no company but
want, with no companions but guilt, with no mother but suffering;
ef he had made your home, this home, so unhappy, so vile, so
terrible, so awful, that the crowded streets and gutters of a great
city was something to fly to for relief; ef he had made his
presence, his very name,--your name, miss, allowin' it was your
father,--ef he had made that presence so hateful, that name so
infamous, that exile, that flyin' to furrin' parts, that wanderin'
among strange folks ez didn't know ye, was the only way to make
life endurable; and ef he'd given ye,--I mean this good old man Don
Jose, miss,--ef he'd given ye as part of yer heritage a taint, a
weakness in yer very blood, a fondness for a poison, a poison that
soothed ye like a vampire bat and sucked yer life-blood (seizing
her arm) ez it soothed ye; ef this curse that hung over ye dragged
ye down day by day, till hating him, loathing him, ye saw yerself
day by day becoming more and more like him, till ye knew that his
fate was yours, and yours his,--why then, Miss Jovita (rising with
an hysterical, drunken laugh), why then, I'd run away with ye
myself,--I would, damn me!
Jovita (who has been withdrawing from him scornfully). Well acted,
Diego. Don Jose should have seen his pupil. Trust me, my father
will reward you. (Aside.) And yet there were tears in his drunken
eyes. Bah! it is the liquor: he is no longer sane. And, either
hypocrite or imbecile, he is to be trusted no longer. But where
and why is he going? (Aloud.) You are leaving us, Diego.
Sandy (quietly). Well, the old man and me don't get on together.
Jovita (scornfully). Bueno! I see. Then you abandon me.
Sandy (quickly). To the old man, miss,--not the young one. (Walks
to the table, and begins to pour out liquor.)
Jovita (angrily). You would not dare to talk to me thus if John
Oakhurst--ah! (Checking herself.)
Sandy (drops glass on table, hurries to centre, and seizes DONA
JOVITA). Eh! Wot name did you say? (Looks at her amazed and
bewildered.)
Jovita (terrified, aside). Mother of God! What have I done?
Broken my sacred pledge to keep his name secret. No! No! Diego
did not hear me! Surely this wretched drunkard does not know him.
(Aloud.) Nothing. I said nothing: I mentioned no name.
Sandy (still amazed, frightened, and bewildered, passing his hand
over his forehead slowly). Ye mentioned no name? Surely. I am
wild, crazed. Tell me, miss--ye didn't,--I know ye didn't, but I
thought it sounded like it,--ye didn't mention the name of--of--of--
John Oakhurst?
Jovita (hurriedly). No, of course not! You terrify me, Diego.
You are wild.
Sandy (dropping her hand with a sigh of relief). No, no! In
course ye didn't. I was wild, miss, wild; this drink has confused
me yer. (Pointing to his head.) There are times when I hear that
name, miss,--times when I see his face. (Sadly.) But it's when
I've took too much--too much. I'll drink no more--no more!--
to-night--to-night! (Drops his head slowly in his hands.)
Jovita (looking at DIEGO--aside). Really, I'm feeling very
uncomfortable. I'd like to ask a question of this maniac. But
nonsense! Don Juan gave me to understand Oakhurst wasn't his real
name; that is, he intimated there was something dreadful and
mysterious about it that mustn't be told,--something that would
frighten people. HOLY VIRGIN! it has! Why, this reckless vagabond
here is pale and agitated. Don Juan shall explain this mystery to-
night. But then, how shall I see him? Ah, I have it. The night
of the last festa, when I could not leave the rancho, he begged me
to show a light from the flat roof of the upper corridor, that he
might know I was thinking of him,--dear fellow! He will linger to-
night at the Mission; he will see the light; he will know that I
have not forgotten. He will approach the rancho; I shall manage to
slip away at midnight to the ruined Mission. I shall--ah, it is my
father! Holy Virgin, befriend me now with self-possession.
(Stands quietly at L., looking toward SANDY, who still remains
buried in thought, as)--
Enter DON JOSE; regards his daughter and DIEGO with a sarcastic
smile.
Don Jose (aside). Bueno! It is as I expected,--an explanation, an
explosion, a lover's quarrel, an end to romance. From his looks I
should say she has been teaching the adventurer a lesson. Good! I
could embrace her. (Crosses to SANDY--aloud.) You still here!
Sandy (rising with a start). Yes! I--a--I was only taking leave
of Miss Jovita that hez bin kind to me. She's a good gal, ole man,
and won't be any the worse when I'm gone.--Good-by, Miss Jovita
(extending his hand): I wish ye luck.
Jovita (coldly). Adios, friend Diego. (Aside, hurriedly.) You
will not expose my secret?
Sandy (aside). It ain't in me, miss. (To DON JOSE, going.)
Adios, ole man. (Shouldering his pack.)
Don Jose. Adios, friend Diego. (Formally.) May good luck attend
you! (Aside.) You understand, on your word as--as--as--A
GENTLEMAN!--you have no further communication with this rancho, or
aught that it contains.
Sandy (gravely). I hear ye, ole man. Adios. (Goes to gateway,
but pauses at table, and begins to fill a glass of aguardiente.)
Don Jose (aside, looking at his daughter). I could embrace her
now. She is truly a Castro. (Aloud to JOVITA.) Hark ye, little
one! I have news that will please you, and--who knows? perhaps
break up the monotony of the dull life of the rancho. To-night
come to me two famous caballeros, Americanos, you understand: they
will be here soon, even now. Retire, and make ready to receive
them. [Exit JOVITA.
Don Jose (aside, looking at SANDY). He lingers. I shall not be
satisfied until Concho has seen him safely beyond the Mission wall.
Enter CONCHO.
Concho. Two caballeros have dismounted in the corral, and seek the
honor of Don Jose's presence.
Don Jose. Bueno! (Aside.) Follow that fellow beyond the Mission.
(Aloud.) Admit the strangers. Did they give their names?
Concho. They did, Don Jose,--Col. Culpepper Starbottle and the Don
Alexandro Morton.
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