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Back The Darker Face of the Earth Save as PDF
Chapters (27)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Half-Title Page
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. Acknowledgments
  6. Dedication
  7. Cast
  8. Prologue
  9. Act One
  10. Scene 2
  11. Scene 3
  12. Scene 4
  13. Scene 5
  14. Scene 6
  15. Scene 7
  16. Scene 8
  17. Act Two
  18. Scene 2
  19. Scene 3
  20. Scene 4
  21. Scene 5
  22. Scene 6
  23. Scene 7
  24. Scene 8
  25. An Interview with Rita Dove
  26. Biographical Note
  27. Back Cover
LEADER

Destiny calls us! The reckoning is nigh!

But remember: trust no-one.

All those who are not with us

are against us, blacks as well

as whites. Oh, do not falter!

Bolster your heart with the memory

of the atrocities committed upon your mothers.

Gird your loins with vengeance,

strap on the shining sword of freedom!
CONSPIRATORS Selah!
LEADER Brothers, are you with me?
CONSPIRATORS Right behind you!
LEADER Then nothing can stop us now!
AUGUSTUS (Blurting out.)
My orders! What are my orders?
LEADER (A little taken aback, but decides on the role of the amused patriarch.)

Patience, my son! Patience and cunning.

Sow discontent among your brethren,

inspire them to fury.
AUGUSTUS I can do more. Read maps, write passes—
LEADER

That is all for now.

Is that clear?

Strained silence; the LEADER speaks reassuringly.

You will recognize the signal.

The CONSPIRATORS begin humming “Steal Away”.

LEADER

Go to your people and test their minds;

so when the fires of redemption

lick the skies of Charleston,

they will rise up, up—

a mighty army

marching into battle!
CONSPIRATORS

Steal away, steal away,

Steal away to Jesus!

Steal away, steal away home,

I ain’t got long to stay here.

The CONSPIRATORS continue singing as they exchange farewells and slip off. HECTOR appears at the edge of the undergrowth, a dead snake in his outstretched arms.

Blackout.

Scene 7

SCENE 7

The cotton fields.

NARRATOR

A sniff of freedom’s all it takes

to feel history’s sting;

there’s danger by-and-by

when the slaves won’t sing.

JONES supervises the picking, which transpires without singing; the silence is eerie. JONES’s appearance is slovenly, as if he’s already been drinking.

JONES

Move it, nigger! Faster!

What you glaring at? Faster!

The SLAVES continue picking at the same rate. JONES looks at the sun, then cracks his whip.

Aw, the hell with ya! Noon!

He stumbles offstage. The SLAVES divide into two groups: some hum spirituals while the others gather around AUGUSTUS.