Treasure Island

Sample Scene:

Inside the Admiral Portillo, a dockside inn near Liverpool.  A group of ill-kempt sailors, friendly ladies, together with young waifs and strays etc. are enjoying themselves.

SONG: ‘THE DRINKING SONG’ from ‘THE STUDENT PRINCE’

Dame steps to front of stage. Crowd continues drinking etc. business in background.

Dame: (To audience) Ooh, hello there, I didn’t see you, what with all these sea-farin’ lads ... and their nice new young lady friends. Mind you, I’m glad we’re busy, Ever since the late Mr. Widdecombe passed on it’s been a struggle to make ends meet. I really relied on his wages from the paint factory. I remember the day they brought me the news of the terrible accident … he was fettlin’ the stirrers, when the foreman told him that unless he pulled his socks up, he was for the chop. He was really upset by this, him only ever taking an hour and a half for his tea break and certainly no more than three hours for lunch, so he could squeeze in his two hour afternoon tea break, that tears sprang to his eyes. Now he was always one to take things literally, so he knelt to pull up his finest Birkenhead Market almost as new pure wool socks, the ones with only slight imperfections, hardly noticeable to the naked eye. He slipped on a turpentine soaked rag and fell backwards into a vat of aquamarine paint. That foreman shouldn’t have upset him like that, ‘cos when the death certificate came back it said he’d been overcome by emulsion. 

Still, I get by, and my son Jim, he’s a real treasure, I don’t know what I’d do without him. Oh, here he comes now...

JIM: Mum, Mum, there’s a strange man outside….

DAME: He couldn’t be much stranger than the lot we’ve got in here. What’s he want? Do you think he might be after lodgings? We’ve never been able to let that attic room out ever since Marvo and his Magical Flea Circus did a runner, and he left half his cast behind … and you wouldn’t mind moving back into the cupboard under the stairs would you son?

JIM: (scratching vigorously) Of course not Mum, er … shall I ask him in?

DAME: (adjusting her make-up etc) Yes, and be polite, who knows, he could be a proper gentleman, (to drinkers) – it’d be nice to have some folk in here with cash in their pockets! (Crowd responds with cat calls, boos etc. Jim exits briefly and returns with Captain Skint and Mr. Biggs the parrot. Dame and Jim are rather taken aback by the entrance of a 5 feet ten inch tall parrot. Whilst they are in a bemused state one of the drinkers staggers from the bar and gazes up at the parrot.)

CUT-THROAT COLIN:  Arrrhh! I ‘ad a pet parrot once!

SKINT: Oh, really?

CUT-THROAT COLIN: Arr! it used to lay square eggs!

SKINT: Amazin’! Did it ever speak?

CUT-THROAT COLIN: Oh, arrh, -  what it usually said were -  ‘Ouch!’

Parrot treats this remark with silent contempt.

POOP DECK PETE: (To Flint) Does your parrot bite?

SKINT: Oh, no, my parrot definitely doesn’t bite!

POOP DECK PETE: Oh, good, (to parrot) Who’s a pretty little Polly then? Polly want a cracker? (Jolly Tar reaches out to tickle parrot patronisingly under the chin – the parrot gives him a fierce nip on the fingers)

POOP DECK PETE: (Sucking damaged fingers and leaping about in pain) I thought you said your parrot didn’t bite!

SKINT: It doesn’t – but that’s not my parrot – that’s MR. BIGGS – he’s from South America – he was havin’ to do a bit of bird over there after an unsuccessful attempt at redistributing some wealth – it involved a mail train as I recall. Anyway he’s come back to these shores to spend his declining years and for the moment we seem to be sharing a cabin, albeit a third class one, on the great ship of life.

MR. BIGGS: (In very broad Kray style East End gangster voice) Oh, yeah, very philo-soph-ical I don’t fink!

Every one in Admiral Portillo does a double take at parrot talking at this point.

DAME: (not wishing to miss an opportunity) Cabin of life eh? That wouldn’t mean you two gentlemen would be lookin’ for some up-market accommodation? It’s not exactly large, in fact the mice go round hunchback, and you have to be careful when you put the key in the lock, ‘cos you can break the window, but otherwise it would suit two gentlemen of elevated status.

MR. BIGGS: Wotcher mean, elly-vated state-us?

DAME: It’s on the fifth floor. Caterin’ is included – you have two choices for dinner every night – take it or leave it. And my terms is very reasonable, I accept doubloons, pieces of eight, Royal Bank of Trinidad and Tobago Mastercard, Captain Cook’s Travellers’ Cheques ... in fact the only currency my bank won’t accept is them new fangled Euros!

SKINT: And what’s the name of your bank?

DAME: ‘Piggy’!

MR. BIGGS: Right then guvnor, we’ll take it.

DAME: Oh, I’m sure you’ll just love it here. Jim, go and bring in the gentlemen’s luggage.

(Jim drags vast chest across stage and out of wings on other side. SFX of chest thumping its way up stairs. If possible this SFX could occur at intervals during following dialogue)

MR. BIGGS: Right then, nah we’re settled, let me buy all you shipmates a glass of

ale! And I’ll have a tot of bay rum in with mine – it does me feathers a world o’ good.

(Cries of approval – a serving wench passes amongst the crowd topping up glasses. Dame hastily counts up number of drinks dispensed)

MR.BIGGS: Luverly jubberly Mrs. W. Just put it on my bill.

DAME: Well Mr. Biggs, that’s very generous of you. That’ll be three doubloons or half a piece of eight. Now I’ll just go and make sure your room is nice and comfy. (She scratches herself on being reminded of the room, and exits)

HOOK HANDED HARRY: ‘Ere - ‘Put it on his bill’ – get it? (nudges mate) on his bill! See, he’s a parrot ain’t he? It’s what them clever folk call er ... um  a ‘prune’, a play on words. See, there’s the bill for the drinks, and the parrot’s got a …

Mr. Biggs lays out Hook Handed Harry with one blow. Mr. Biggs moves to the bar to enjoy his drink.

Skint leans over flattened sailor.

SKINT: Mr. Biggs is just a weeny bit sensitive about being a repatriated parrot. So I’d watch it in future.

BLACK HEARTED KEVIN: Old ‘Arry looks really poorly. Shouldn’t we call out ‘ole Doctor Trembley, the well-travelled barber-surgeon? He’s sailed many a league.

POOP DECK PETE: Aye, but that were on the Isle o’ Wight Ferry, and anyway ‘ole Dr. Trembley ain’t one for them new fangled drugs and annie-thes-tics neither, I seed ‘im saw off a sailor’s leg without any more than one tot of brandy – and that was to calm his own nerves. (The drinkers etc. led by Mr. Biggs  exit doing a conga – possibly to the refrain of ’15 men on a dead man’s chest’ or similar, helping Hook Handed Harry out as they go. Jim returns breathless from delivering the chest)

SKINT: Arrh, Thank ‘ee Jim lad. You handled that there chest nice and careful. Now you make sure nothin’ should happen to it. That there chest is more precious than you could imagine even in your wildest dreams! Take this for yer trouble.  (He presses a coin into Jim’s palm) Get yerself summat – like a pint o’ winkles and a pin from Mrs. Miggins’ eel and pie shop, perhaps, or maybe (conspiratorially) spend it on summat a little more grown up if you gets my meanin’? (winks knowingly)

JIM: Oh, yes, sir, something a little more grown up if you don’t mind, please sir.

SKINT: Arrr! That’s me fine young buckaroo! (winks knowingly again)

JIM: Yes, I was thinking of half a dozen oysters perhaps … or a dressed crab … or maybe even (pauses as if far too risque) lobster thermidor! (Skint casts eyes to heaven. Jim examines the coin) Excuse my asking, Captain Skint, but I’ve never seen one of these before …

SKINT: Aaarh!  That be a Spanish singloon!

JIM:  A singloon?

SKINT:  Aaaarh!  Two o’ them makes a doubloon!

JIM: Wherever did you get that sir?

SKINT (Getting even closer to Jim to whisper) ‘Ere, young Jim, does the name Blackbeard the Buccaneer mean anything to ‘ee?

JIM: (Ponders) Afraid not sir.

SKINT: Funny, I ain’t never heard of ‘im neither … but let me tell ‘ee about that there singloon and the tale of Captain Kidd. He were the terror of Lake Windermere, anyway, he and his crew of cut-throats, they plundered pedaloes, scuppered skiffs and  destroyed dinghies till his gunnels were overloaded with gold, treasure and day trippers’ thermos flasks. He was sailin’ back in triumph when he encountered a man o’ war out of Ambleside that turned out to be his downfall. Expectin’ to gain his richest prize he sailed alongside, his crew armed to the teeth ready to board it, when suddenly it showed its colours to reveal it were the Lake District Excise Patrol! It were all up for him then. In the vain hope of provin’ hisself innocent he ordered the crew to throw overboard all the treasure he’d amassed. But it were to no avail, he were captured and met a terrible end danglin’ from the Blackpool Golden Mile Fun Park Gallows whilst bein’ forced to listen to all the recordins’ of one of them modern groups. Mind you, that’s just Hearsay.

JIM: So the treasure was lost then sir?

SKINT: Arr, well, not exactly. I were the only one to realise that the water be only eighteen inches deep at that point, and quickly hiring a mask, snorkel, bucket and spade and pedalo I returned under the cover o’ darkness and retrieved it.

JIM: So that’s why your seaman’s chest was so heavy!

SKINT: Aye, it be heavy all right, but that be my collection of ‘My Little Pirate’ dolls and their plastic Tracey Island, I’ve been a keen collector, ever since I did see ‘em make a model on that there ‘Blue Peter’.

JIM: So the treasure isn’t in the chest?

SKINT (Gripping Jim tightly) No lad, them that were left o’ Captain Kidd’s crew threw their lot in with me and elected me their captain. We sailed off to an uncharted island and buried the loot there, and apart from me there be no one alive that knows where exactly it be hid! But you be a good lad, and I need a strong young bucko to helps me retrieve it. If you was willin’ to help, then I reckons we goes fifty fifty on it! What do you say? You look a fine outstanding, strappin’ lad who’d be willin’ to help an old matelot.

JIM: Oh yes Captain Skint, I’d love to help, and the treasure would solve all my mother’s problems with the rent.

SKINT: Let’s shake on it then (they shake hands) and remember, you guard that there chest with your life.

JIM: But you said the treasure isn’t in the chest.

SKINT: No, the treasure ain’t, but something else is, something that others would kill to get their hands on. (Draws Jim even closer) Now especially you must look out for a man with one leg called Long John.

JIM:  What’s his other leg called?

SKINT:  (Raises eyes to heaven) Aaaarh!  I hopes I ain’t makin a terrible mistake takin’ ‘ee into my confidence.

JIM:  Don’t you worry sir.  You can trust me.

FLINT:  I’m sure that I can.  I’ve taken quite a liking to you, young feller me lad. (stretches and yawns) All this talking has left me quite tired.  I think I’ll go up to my room and take a little nap.  If you’ll be so kind Jim, try to make sure that I’m not disturbed. 

(He exits stage left.  Enter Squire Winton stage right)

SQUIRE:  Ah!  Jim lad.  Is your mother at home?  I need to talk to her quite urgently.

JIM:  If it’s about the back rent we owe you sir, I think I may soon have some good news for you.

SQUIRE:  It is about the back rent Jim, and if I don’t receive something more bankable than news very soon … I may have some very bad news for you!  Now where is your mother?

JIM:  I think you’ll find her in our private lounge sir – I’ll show you through.

SQUIRE:  That’s all right Jim, I know the way.  Perhaps you could keep my daughter Nigella company while your mother and I have a little chat.  (shouts)  Nigella. Nigella!  Come on girl. What’s keeping you?

(Enter Nigella)

NIGELLA:  Here I am Daddy.  Oh, hello Jim.  Off you go then Daddy.  Jim and I will have a little chat while you’re gone.

Squire exits.

JIM: Oh, Nigella, I can’t wait for the time when we can declare our love to the whole world.

NIGELLA: I fear we must keep our love a secret a little longer. My good father, although his heart is in the right place, would never approve of me being betrothed to the son of a mere ale house keeper.

JIM: But perhaps I may not have to play the part of a poverty stricken wretch for too much longer. I have lately made the acquaintance of a man of some substance who has offered me the chance to better myself.  More than that I cannot say.

NIGELLA: Oh, Jim, that would be so wonderful.

SONG: ‘SECRET LOVE’

At the end of the song there is a thunderous hammering on the door. Jim goes to answer it. He re-enters with Bald Pew.

PEW: (to Jim)  Arrrr! You look a good honest truthful young lad. Now as one shipmate to another, tell me, has an old man recently put down anchor at this fine establishment? A sea-farin’ man in the twilight of his years, with greased pig-tails and a pocket of finest Spanish singloons? His left eye is constantly a’twitchin’ and he bears a tattoo on his left forearm which no Christian man would look upon without blushing.

JIM: Well sir, that description could fit most of the bold sailors who spend time their days in the Admiral Portillo. Is there nothing unusual about him that might jog my memory?

PEW: Arrr, there might be just the one thing that sets this dear friend and old shipmate o’ mine apart from all the rest. He do have a parrot!

JIM: But many of our customers have parrots.

PEW: But not, I’d wager, five feet ten inches tall and with an East End accent.

JIM: Why, I know the very man, are you speaking of my good friend Captain Skint?

PEW: Shhhh! Not so loud! Would he be upon the premises at this moment perhaps?

JIM: Errr … I fear he has left instructions not to be disturbed.

PEW: Arrr, I’m sure he would want to know that his old friend and shipmate, Bald Pew, who has sailed the Windermere Main with him, is here with an urgent message! Now you be a good lad and go and fetch him.  (He catches a glimpse of Nigella, and leers at her) Don’t hurry back, I’ll wait here and keep this wench company.

(Jim exits and can be heard shouting as he runs up the stairs.)

JIM: (offstage)  Captain.  Captain!  There’s a man here to see you.  He says he’s an old shipmate of yours.

PEW (to Nigella) You be the finest example of womanhood I’ve clapped eyes on in all my travels my proud beauty. What be your name?

NIGELLA: I’d have you know that I am the daughter of Squire Winton, a man of  much importance in these parts.

PEW: Oh, hoity toity aren’t we? There’s no need to take that attitude with me, just ‘cos I be a common seafarin’ soul and suffer from alopecia, halitosis and the odd bout of scurvy. Still, never mind, I like a lass with a bit of spirit! (He leers again as Jim re-enters with Capt. Skint)

SKINT: (Seeing Bald Pew) Bald Pew! I never thought I’d clap eyes on ‘ee again after that business when you hid them refugee stowaways in a lifeboat, chargin’ ‘em fifty sovereigns each, promising ‘em they was bound for a new life in Australia, and them finding out after six weeks they was on the Mersey Ferry. What would you be wantin’ with me anyway? I’m an old man, and me seafarin’ days is done.

PEW: (meaningfully) I’ve brought ‘ee summat from the rest of the lads. (Hands over an envelope)

SKINT: It bain’t be one o’ them fancy retirement cards that plays ‘The Last Waltz’?

(He rips open the envelope. Seeing its contents he staggers back clutching his heart and groaning) No, no, anything but that!

JIM: What is it Captain Skint?

SKINT: It be the Black Spot! (His collapse continues, and he ends up lying on the floor, his head supported by Nigella.)

JIM: The Black Spot? What’s that, and why has it made you so ill?

PEW: It be the sign o’ mutiny! Captain Skint’s old crew has turned against him. They know about the hidden treasure, which he kept from ‘em, and they wants their fair share. In fact I do believe they might be on their way here right now, and they’ve turned rather ugly.

SKINT:  (Sitting up with a great effort) They was never that good lookin’ in the first place. (slumps back again)

PEW: Well, I’ve delivered my warnin’, and some would say that’s more kindness than ‘ee deserved. (exits, with final leer at Nigella)

NIGELLA: Oh Jim, is Doctor Trembley in the parlour? I think Captain Skint is mortally ill.

(Jim exits)

SKINT: (To Nigella) Come closer. I fear my tide be on the ebb. Tell Jim to look in my sea-chest, inside he’ll find together with my AA Guide to the Lake District and my collection of Barbie Doll Illustrated, an oil-skin chart, which gives the exact location of the Windermere hoard. It be buried in…..

NIGELLA: Yes?

SKINT: It be buried in …..

NIGELLA: Yes, yes?

SKINT: Urgghhh!! (He expires. Shortly afterwards the Doctor enters followed by the Squire, Mr. Biggs and Dame Widdecombe.)

NIGELLA:  Oh Doctor, please help. 

(Doctor takes out large fob watch, and begins to take Skint’s pulse. In the background SFX of Skint’s sea-chest bumping down the stairs. Doctor examines watch, shakes it etc.)

DOCTOR: Either this man is dead or my watch has stopped!

(Enter Jim, dragging the sea chest)

NIGELLA: It’s the chest!

JIM: Oh dear Nigella, it’s not your asthma acting up again?

DOCTOR: I’ve got just the stuff to rub on that here in my bag…(immediately starts to rummage for it)

SQUIRE: (pointedly) That won’t be necessary!

NIGELLA: No, I mean Captain Skint’s chest. There’s a chart inside which tells the whereabouts of the long lost treasure of Windermere!

JIM: (Opens chest and removes various inappropriate and unusual items) No. no .. no that’s not it either … good lord, what would he be doing with that?…. and I certainly didn’t know they made those in black leather … (etc) ah! This must be it! (Jim unrolls it and the others gather around to look at it)

(SFX off stage – sounds of inn being attacked – shouts of ‘We know you’re in there Skint’ etc etc. Shots being fired.)

DAME: What in heaven’s name is going on?

MR. BIGGS: It’s Captain Skint’s old crew – they’ve come for the map, and they’ll stop at nothing to get it. If you take my advice I’d escape while the going's good.

SQUIRE: Is there a back way out of here Dame Widdecombe?

DAME: Through the pantry ... follow me everyone!

(They exit one side of the stage as the pirate crew burst in from the other, brandishing cutlasses, etc.)

CURTAIN