Scorn of Women: A Play In Three Acts

Jack London

Scorn of Women

A Play In Three Acts

Sharp Ink Publishing

2024

Contact: [email protected]

ISBN 978-80-282-3333-4

Table of Contents

A Play In Three Acts

By Jack London

ACT I—ALASKA COMPANY'S STORE AT DAWSON

ACT II—ANTEROOM OF PIONEER HALL

ACT III—FREDA MOLOOF'S CABIN

A Play In Three Acts

Table of Contents

By Jack London

Table of Contents

The Macmillan Company

London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd.

1906

ACT I Alaska Commercial Company's Store at Dawson

ACT II Anteroom of Pioneer Hall

ACT III Freda Moloof's Cabin

Time of play, 1897, Dawson, Northwest Territory. It occurs in thirteen hours.

Freda Moloof............A dancer.

Floyd Vanderlip.........An Eldorado king.

Loraine Lisznayi........A Hungarian.

Captain Eppingwell......United States government agent.

Mrs. Eppingwell.........His wife.

Flossie.................Engaged to marry Floyd Vanderlip

Sitka Charley...........An Indian dog-driver.

Dave Harney.............An Eldorado king.

Prince..................A mining engineer.

Mrs. McFee..............Whose business is morals.

Minnie..................Maid to Freda Moloof.

Dog-punchers, couriers, miners, Indians, mounted police, clerks, etc.

FREDA MOLOOF. A Greek girl and a dancer. Speaks perfect English, but withal has that slight, indefinable foreign touch of accent. Good figure, willowy, yet not too slender. Of indeterminate age, possibly no more than twenty-five. Her furs the most magnificent in all the Yukon country from Chilcoot to St. Michael's, her name common on the lips of men.

FLOYD VANDERLIP. An Eldorado king, worth a couple of millions. Simple, elemental, almost childish in his emotions. But a brave man, and masculine; a man who has done a man's work in the world. Has caressed more shovel-handles than women's hands. Big-muscled, big-bodied, ingenuous-faced; the sort of a man whom women of the right sort can tie into knots.

LORAINE LISZNAYI. A Hungarian, reputed to be wealthy, and to be travelling in the Klondike for pleasure and love of adventure. Past the flush of youth, and with fair success feigning youth. In the first stages of putting flesh upon her erstwhile plumpness. Dark-eyed, a flashing, dazzling brunette, with a cosmopolitan reputation earned in a day when she posed in the studios of artist-queens and received at her door the cards of cardinals and princes.

CAPTAIN EPPINGWELL. Special agent for the United States government.

MRS. EPPINGWELL. His wife. Twenty-five to twenty-eight years of age. Of the cold order of women, possessing sanity, and restraint, and control. Brown hair, demi-blond type, oval-faced, with cameo-like features. The kind of a woman who is not painfully good, but who acts upon principle and who knows always just what she is doing.

FLOSSIE. Eighteen or nineteen years of age. Of the soft and clinging kind, with pretty, pouting lips, blow-away hair, and eyes full of the merry shallows of life. Engaged to marry Floyd Vanderlip.

PRINCE. A young mining engineer. A good fellow, a man's man.

MRS. MCFEE. Near to forty, Scotch accent, sharp-featured, and unbeautiful, with an eager nose that leads her into the affairs of others. So painfully good that it hurts.

SITKA CHARLEY. An Indian dog-puncher, who has come into the warm and sat by the fires of the white man until he is somewhat as one of them. Should not be much shorter than Vanderlip and Captain Eppingwell.

DAVE HARNEY. An Eldorado king, also a Yankee, with a fondness for sugar and a faculty for sharp dealing. Is tall, lean, loose-jointed. Walks with a shambling gait. Speaks slowly, with a drawl.

MINNIE. (Maid to Freda.) A cool, impassive young woman.

POLICEMAN. A young fellow, with small blond mustache. An Englishman, brave, cool, but easily embarrassed. Though he says Sorry frequently, he is never for an instant afraid.

ACT I—ALASKA COMPANY'S STORE AT DAWSON

ACT II—ANTEROOM OF PIONEER HALL

ACT III—FREDA MOLOOF'S CABIN

ACT I—ALASKA COMPANY'S STORE AT DAWSON

Table of Contents

Scene. Alaska Commercial Company's store at Dawson. It is eleven o'clock of a cold winter morning. In front, on the left, a very large wood-burning stove. Beside the stove is a woodbox filled with firewood. Farther back, on left, a door with sign on it, Private. On right, door, a street entrance; alongside are wisp-brooms for brushing snow from moccasins. In the background a long counter running full length of room with just space at either end for ingress or egress. Large gold-scales rest upon counter. Behind counter equally long rows of shelves, broken in two places by ordinary small-paned house-windows. Windows are source of a dim, gray light. Doors, window-frames, and sashes are of rough, unstained pine boards. Shelves practically empty, with here and there upon them an article of hardware (such as pots, pans, and tea-kettles), or of dry-goods (such as pasteboard boxes and bolts of cloth). The walls of the store are of logs stuffed between with brown moss. On counter, furs, moccasins, mittens, and blankets, piled up or spread out for inspection. In front of counter many snow-shoes, picks, shovels, axes, gold-pans, axe-handles, and oblong sheet-iron Yukon stoves. The feature most notable is the absence of foodstuffs in any considerable quantity. On shelves a few tins of mushrooms, a few bottles of olives.

About the stove, backs to the stove and hands behind their backs, clad in mackinaw suits, mittens dangling from around their necks at ends of leather thongs, ear-flaps of fur caps raised, are several miners. Prince stands by stove An Indian is replenishing the fire with great chunks of wood. Mounted police pass in and out. Sitka Charley is examining snow-shoes, bending and testing them. Behind the counter are several clerks, one of whom is waiting upon a bearded miner near end of counter to right.

MINER

(Pathetically.) No flour?

CLERK

(Shakes head.)

MINER

(Increased pathos.)

No beans?

CLERK

(Shakes head as before.)

MINER

(Supreme pathos.)

No sugar?

CLERK

(Coming from behind counter and approaching stove, visibly irritated, shaking his head violently; midway he encounters Miner, who retreats backward before him.)

No! No! No! I tell you no! No flour, no beans, no sugar, nothing!

(Warms his hands over stove and glares ferociously at Miner.)

(Dave Harney enters from right, brushes snow from moccasins, and walks across to stove. He is tall and lean, has a loose-jointed, shambling gait, and listens interestedly to Clerk and Miner. He evinces a desire to speak, but his mustached mouth is so iced-up that he cannot open it. He bends over stove to thaw the ice.)

MINER

(To Clerk, with growing anger.)

It's all very well for your playing the high an' lofty, you sneakin' little counter-jumper. But we all know what your damned Company is up to. You're holdin' grub for a rise, that's what you're doin'. Famine prices is your game.

CLERK

Look at the shelves, man! Look at them!

MINER

How about the warehouses, eh? Stacked to the roof with grub!

CLERK

They're not.

MINER

I suppose you'll say they're empty.

CLERK

They're not. But what little grub's in them belongs to the sour-doughs who filed their orders last spring and summer before ever you thought of coming into the country. And even the sourdoughs are scaled down, cut clean in half. Now shut up. I don't want to hear any more from you. You newcomers needn't think you're going to run this country, because you ain't.

(Turning his hack on Miner.)

Damned cheechawker!

MINER

(Breaking down and showing fear, not of Clerk, but of famine.)

But good heavens, man, what am I to do? I haven't fifty pounds of flour for the whole winter.

I can pay for my grub if you'll sell it to me. You can't leave me starve!

DAVE HARNEY

(Tearing the last chunk oj ice from mustache and sending it rattling to the floor. He speaks with a drawl.)

Aw, you tenderfeet make me tired. I never seen the beat of you critters. Better men than you have starved in this country, an' they didn't make no bones about it neither—they was all bones I calkilate. What do you think this is? A Sunday picnic? Jes' come in, eh? An' you're clean scairt. Look at me—old-timer, sir, a sour-dough, an' proud of it! I come into this country before there was any blamed Company, fished for my breakfast, an' hunted my supper. An' when the fish didn't bite an' they wa'n't any game, jes' cinched my belt tighter an' hiked along, livin' on salmon-bellies and rabbit tracks an' eatin' my