Time
A possible 1791, and 1837.
Places
A harsh, dangerous and imagined Bristol, Rhode Island.
Docks. Tavern. Library of a grand estate. Bottom of the ocean.
Notes
Accents should be light, just a touch, and not realistic. As though remembered from another time.
This is a world conjured from imagination. Nothing about the design needs to be historically accurate.
In the Signature Theatre production, the text of each “passage” was projected for a few moments at the beginning of each scene.
While for Britannia’s distant shore
We weep the liquid plain,
And with astonish’d eyes explore
The wide-extended main.
—PHILLIS WHEATLEY
“A FAREWELL TO AMERICA,” 1773
Prelude
Bristol, Rhode Island, 1791. The far end of the docks. Between the dark and daybreak. As the lights come up, we see The Shadow sprinkle something like powder around the stage. The Shadow then disappears. Now we see Adjua helping Dembi wrap and hide Dembi’s breasts with a long, narrow piece of cloth. This is a ritual between them, and it is both sensual and simple. There are a few moments of wrapping and silence between them. Adjua gives her words to Dembi like a prayer. What they say to one another is a part of the morning ritual, a preparation for the day.
ADJUA: My love. (Beat) When we find our way back home, we will make our child together. It will be the most beautiful child.
DEMBI: Yes he will.
ADJUA: And this child’ll be a hundred worlds rising.
DEMBI: Our miracle.
(Dembi pulls on his shirt, adjusts it. Now they are both ready to face whatever the day brings.)
ACT ONE
Scene One
PROJECTED TEXT: BOOK ONE. PASSAGE OF CLAY: BRISTOL, RHODE ISLAND, 1791.
The docks. We hear ships rubbing against the docks, water rolling, though the sound is slightly distorted and not realistic.
We now see empty sugar casks. A pile of old rope. A heap of torn sails still needing to be mended. Perhaps a broken mast off the dock, the rusty chain of an anchor or a piece of severed hull. Sharp, dangerous things. And yet the docks are not cluttered. This part of the dock, though now mostly bare and derelict, was once busy with the small industry of the poor.
This is a world of violence and the threat of violence. There is always the presence of danger, and the decisiveness of people to use brute force, and respond to it. It is a predatory, ferocious environment with ragged edges that cut at every turn.
Lights up on Adjua and Dembi leaning over a jagged hole in the dock, clutching the legs of a drowned man that they are pulling out of the water, feet first.
At all times, Dembi and Adjua take care not to be seen, on the docks or anywhere else, though this vigilance has become natural to them now. However, the fact that they are in hiding is not at first clearly evident to us or others. Both are highly intelligent thinkers, though in different ways. Adjua is intent on mapping out their ambitions, though her exertions diminish neither her spark nor her passion. She walks with a slight limp but this does not keep her from being light on her feet and vigorous. Dembi is tough, suspicious, a steely eyed survivor ready to take ruthless action when danger appears. His focus is on Adjua and their daily survival. They are passionately in love with one another, though they keep a lid on it because of daily brute realities. Most of the time, the characters onstage are engaged in some kind of industry, be it mending, sharpening or assembling.
DEMBI: Heave. Heave!
ADJUA: Pull!
DEMBI: Damn, he’s full of water.
ADJUA: Trekken!
DEMBI: Come on out, you rake.
ADJUA: Mijn Got, he’s a fat one!
DEMBI: And this one still got his clothes.
ADJUA: Nee let him slip.
DEMBI: We get the knave in.
(They pull the body onto the dock. The body is face down. Adjua pulls at the cloth on the body’s bottom.)
Not a bad cloth.
ADJUA: Ja. Something fine I sew up with this!
DEMBI: What’s here?
(Dembi digs in the man’s seat pocket and finds a small, wet book. They both stare at it. Then Adjua grabs it.)
A book.
ADJUA: A reading man.
DEMBI: Give’t here. I found it.
ADJUA: I found the body. But we can share, ja.
DEMBI: We dry it out. Get a coin for it.
ADJUA: Let’s turn him over.
(They roll him onto his back.)
DEMBI: Not been long in the water.
ADJUA: Still got a face.
DEMBI: There’s a knot on his head, there. Clothes off, fast.
ADJUA: Ja. Before someone come and take him from us, like the last one.
(As they speak, Dembi and Adjua proceed to strip the body down to its underwear. This is done with such precision and care, in tandem, that we’re sure it’s not the first time.)
DEMBI: Don’t tear the vest. It’s got buttons.
ADJUA: Of bone. A landlubber for sure.
DEMBI: Big feet like me. The shoes are mine.
ADJUA: Nee, love. We sell it all but the book.
DEMBI: You keep the book. I keep the shoes.
ADJUA: Dembi!
DEMBI: I’ll wear them for a little while. Dry them out. Then we’ll sell ’em.
ADJUA: Promise?
DEMBI: Sure. Check his grinders.
