tries to shout above the noise) But there’s one more award to be announced, folks, so don’t leave yet. This last trophy represents the “I told you so” of boating. Each year we present it to the sailor who has experienced frequent breakdowns, been involved in many protest situations, and generally, complained the loudest. Luckily, the same boat has never received this trophy more than once. So, in hopes we’ll get this reprimanding ornament back real soon, I present the SCROUNGE AWARD to…
Scrounge: (shouting) No! No! (clutching the sleeve of his neighbor, who coincidentally enough is the bartending pirate.)
Pirate: Need a whiskey, laddie?
Scrounge: (gasping for air) Take me away from this place!
Pirate: All righty. We’ll make it a double, to go! (Scrounge awakens to daylight, his body drenched with sweat.)
Scrounge: What a dream I’ve had! Frozen pizzas are more powerful than I thought. (He scoops up the TV dinner carton and notices a half finished drink underneath it. Cautiously he picks up the drink, sniffs its contents, then stares ahead for a long while. Decisively he picks up the telephone.)
Scrounge: This is Mr. Scrounge, I would like to order a mast and boom for Bob Ratchet’s boat. You’ll need to send a man there for measurements, but send the bill to me. (pauses to listen) Yes, yes, this is Mr. Eli Scrounge. Take care of the matter immediately. (Hangs up with a satisfied look on his face. Thinks a minute then picks up the phone again.)
Scrounge: Is this Dr. Milfoil? Doctor, this is Eli Scrounge speaking. No, it’s not my arthritis again. I want you to send a prescription for one of those new ear patches to Bob Ratchet’s son, Tom. Send me the bill. (listens) Yes, you can send along all their other outstanding bills, too. (He replaces the receiver, a newly discovered grin on his face. Picks up the phone once more.)
Scrounge: Hello, Jelly Belly Catering Co? I would like…. (scene fades)
SCENE VI It is Christmas Eve and Bob has convinced Scrounge’s entire crew to race. They amble gloomily down the dock towards Bank Machine.
Bob: (to crew) That’s funny. Scrounge called me this morning to say that he’s preparing the boat. The sail cover’s still on and no sheets are led. And this morning a man came to my boat to measure for a mast and boom he insists Mr. Scrounge ordered. I wonder if he’s sick?
(Scrounge’s head peeks out from the hatch.)
Scrounge: Come aboard, fellows. We’re not racing today. We’ve having a crew meeting. (The sailors climb wearily below, expecting the worst, but their faces light up with delight and disbelief when they see what awaits them. Christmas wreaths are everywhere. The table is unfolded and bedecked with all sorts of gourmet delights. Buckets of champagne sit chilling in the galley.)
Bob: Mr. Scrounge, in speaking for both myself and the crew, we’re grateful, but a little confused.
Scrounge: And well you should be. Bob. Last night I ‘decided’ (at this word he glances meaningfully at Jake Marlin’s photograph on the cabin wall), that my racing program needs changing. This boat is destined for complete overhaul. If you can bear not racing through the winter season (he notices relief reflected in many faces), I promise you a much improved boat next spring – with hot meals for overnight races, (murmuring of approval) and duffel bags as heavy as you like (the murmurings grow louder), and anyone with itchy fingers is welcome to drive. (There are cries of “wow” and “about time.”)
Bob: Three cheers for Mr. Scrounge.
Crew: Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray! (During the cheers Briny Tom has joined them below.)
Tom: Mr. Scrounge, I feel so much better with my ear patch on.
Scrounge: I’m glad, Tom, because I’ll need you next spring for a very important crew position.
Tom: (unbelieving) Really? Why me?
Scrounge: Because I believe you have real sailing ability. Right Bob?
Bob: (regarding Scrounge gratefully) Right, Eli ... thanks ... for everything.
Tom: And God bless us, everyone. (Julie, Bob’s oldest daughter suddenly sticks her head down the hatchway.)
Julie: Hi, Mr. Scrounge. If Tom can crew for you, will you take me along as well?
Scrounge: A woman in my crew? (he halts in confusion and despair)
Bob: (to no one in particular, everyone in general) Here we go again.
Curtain
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