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AD LECTOREM
“Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour and in the grapple I boarded them. On the instant they got clear of our ship, so I alone became their prisoner.”
– William Shakespeare, Hamlet (Arden ed., third series, 4.6.15 ff.)
So writes Hamlet after having been kidnapped by pirates on the way to England. Or was he? At second glance, it seems awfully convenient, doesn't it? There's this fierce pirate, he's all set and spoiling for a fight, he easily manages to catch up with the ship he wants to loot. There's a bit of a skirmish, Hamlet alone boards the pirate ship, and then – abracadabra – the pirate loses all interest in the ship that he was after all along and decides to sail off, tail between his legs. Why on earth would he do that? He could hardly have known, at this point, that Hamlet was a prince and might be of use for him. The sensible thing would have been to continue attacking the other ship, not to disappear with a random passenger. Why would he want to do that? Unless, of course, it was Hamlet he was after all along. And why would that be? Well, let's adjust just a few things about the general storyline...
We're back in Denmark, at the royal court, and King Claudius has just joined Queen Gertrude, Horatio, and Ophelia. The latter appears to be mad – her hair is unruly, her clothes unkept, and she has been singing nonsensical songs about flowers. The others are much distressed.
SCENE I
KING. How long has she been thus?
OPHELIA. I hope all will be well. We must be patient. But I cannot choose but weep to think they would lay him i'th' cold ground. My brother shall know of it. And so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! (To the King.) Goodnight, ladies, goodnight. Sweet ladies, goodnight, goodnight. (Exit Ophelia, stage right.)
KING. Follow her close. Give her good watch, I pray you.
HORATIO. Yes, sir. (Exit Horatio, stage right.)
KING. O, this is the poison of deep grief. It springs all from... (Exit King and Queen, still talking, stage left. The king's voice fades out.)
(Pause. Silence.)
(Ophelia pops her head around the corner, stage right. She looks around, scurries back on-stage, looks around again, and calls over her shoulder:)
OPHELIA. Horatio! They've gone!
(Reenter Horatio, stage right.)
HORATIO. You're sure?
OPHELIA. Of course I'm sure! They went back inside. Do you think they bought it?
HORATIO. Yeah. You were pretty convincing.
OPHELIA. Hah! (In mocking, overly girly voice – think Helena Bonham Carter, but as Bellatrix Lestrange rather than Ophelia.) 'They say the owl was a baker's daughter, larded all with sweet flowers...' I can't believe they actually bought that.
HORATIO. Apparently people like that kind of stuff.
OPHELIA. They're the mad ones. Good thing I didn't go overboard on the flowers – they'd probably have drawn flowers on every single damn portrait of me once we've disappeared.
HORATIO. Speaking of...
OPHELIA. Yeah, we should get going. Do you have everything we need for the journey?
HORATIO. (Indicating a bundle he is carrying.) Got it all here.
OPHELIA. Perfect. Let's make a dash for it then. The whole madness spiel will put them off for a while, but eventually they'll get suspicious one way or the other.
HORATIO. The queen will, probably. I'd say Claudius has already forgotten that we exist.
OPHELIA. True. Either way, though, we need to gain some distance before anyone starts seriously looking for us. Besides, I'm all set to go back into flower girl mode. Shall we, sweetie?
HORATIO. (Gesturing grandly.) Lead the way, milady.
(Exit Ophelia, stage right, mumbling about rosemary and hummingbirds. Horatio trails after her, calling out to her and asking if she's alright.)
SCENE II
(On board a ship. Hamlet is sleeping on some cushions in a corner while Rosencrantz and Guildenstern silently take turns tossing a coin at the other end of the stage. Vague wave-y and seagull-y noises. Nothing happens. Keep the scene until the audience begins to grow restless, then lower curtain.)
SCENE III
(A barn. Ophelia and Horatio are lying on some hay, cloaks wrapped around them, huddled together for warmth. Silence for a moment, and then...)
HORATIO. Psst.
OPHELIA. (Reluctantly) Mmh?
HORATIO. Are you asleep?
OPHELIA. (Turning to face him.) Well not now I'm not.
HORATIO. Oh.
(Pause.)
OPHELIA. (Exasperated.) Well, what is it?
HORATIO. Do you... do you think we're doing the right thing?
OPHELIA. In going after Hamlet? Of course we are! It was you who overheard Claudius talking about having him killed in England! What else should we do?
HORATIO. I don't know, I just - it feels like giving up, you know? I mean, here we are, traipsing after Hamlet - and we don't even know if we'll manage to find him - and if we do, whether he'll already be in trouble and how --
OPHELIA. Oh, he'll definitely be in trouble.
HORATIO. (Glaring at her.) Whether he'll be in serious trouble, and how to get him out of it if he is - or maybe he's actually doing fine, and we should be back at Elsinore, trying to prevent Claudius from consolidating his power - we don't even know what's happening, I really don't think the queen is involved in any way, what if he does something to her and --
OPHELIA. Horatio.
HORATIO. ...yes?
OPHELIA. Shut up.
(Pause.)
HORATIO. I'm overthinking it, aren't I.
(Ophelia nods wordlessly and watches him.)
HORATIO. There's nothing we can do right now. We need to get to Hamlet, since no one else will.
(Ophelia nods again.)
HORATIO. (With dawning realisation.) And all that other stuff... it's important, but...
(The corners of Ophelia's mouth turn up.)
HORATIO. You've already taken care of it, haven't you.
OPHELIA. Yeah. As far as possible, at least. I've written to my brother, and explained some things to him, and implied some more things, and well. Who knows how it will go, but let's just say that if I had to place my bets, I wouldn't lay any money on Claudius being in power for much longer.
HORATIO. Sometimes you're scary, you know that, right? And I mean, like, in a really good way.
OPHELIA. (Grinning.) Yes, honey, I know. Now get some sleep.
(Horatio nods and curls up comfortably. Ophelia watches him fondly for a moment before turning back around and closing her eyes.)
SCENE IV
(Back on board the ship. This time, Hamlet is seated at a table, all by himself. The chair is tilted back to stand on only two legs. Hamlet has a bag of peanuts. He proceeds to pick out a peanut and throw it into his mouth. Repeat until the audience, again, grows restless. Note: The actor playing Hamlet must be good at consistently catching peanuts with his mouth, otherwise this scene may become too interesting.)
SCENE V
(A picturesque coastal village somewhere in west Denmark. The harbour. Small fishing boats against a backdrop of colourfully painted houses. The waterside is at the front of the stage, so that when characters look out to the water, they are gazing at the audience. Fishermen and locals milling about. Enter Ophelia and Horatio in travelling apparel, stage right.)
OPHELIA. (Excitedly.) We made it! We've reached the coast, and I'm pretty sure we were fast enough.
HORATIO. I hope so...
OPHELIA. I talked to a local earlier, when I was getting breakfast. The winds have been working with us. Claudius put Hamlet on a boat directly at Elsinore while they were still blowing westward, but they turned almost immediately and the boat must have been making slow progress. With a bit of luck, we can cut them off before they even reach England.
HORATIO. How will we find them out in the middle of the North Sea, though?
OPHELIA. (Rolling her eyes.) Honestly, you've been spending too much time around Hamlet to become so dull, haven't you?
(Horatio makes a vague noise of disagreement. Ophelia just raises an eyebrow at him.)
HORATIO. (Petulantly, but without any real conviction.) Oy. That's my boyfriend you're talking about. (As an afterthought.) And me.
OPHELIA. (Rolling her eyes.) Yeah, and you're my best friends, but that doesn't change the fact that Hamlet is a great useless lump of an oaf.
(Horatio looks like he wants to argue, but can't quite bring himself to lie.)
OPHELIA. And you're fucking brilliant, but as soon as people let you out of the library, you try your hardest to hide it. We'll manage, just you wait and see. Go and find us some lunch and meet me back here in an hour.
(Horatio nods and hugs her; exit stage left.)
OPHELIA. Honestly. Men. (She gazes out to sea for a moment, contemplative, then comes back to reality.) Well, that gives me an hour to find some men's clothes, a ship, and a crew. Horatio better bring back some cheese for lunch or I'll be really angry.
(She turns and strides purposefully into one of the inns.)
SCENE VI
(On board the ship. Enter Hamlet, stage left, playing the air guitar. He dances around for a bit making noises that are closer to the grinding of a coffee machine than to a guitar, then trips and hurries off in embarrassment, stage right.)
SCENE VII
(Back at Elsinore. A chamber. Enter King Claudius, Queen Gertrude, and attendants.)
KING. Disappeared, you say?
QUEEN. Well, we haven't seen them in days! Nor has anyone, that I know of!
KING. (Rounding on a servant; brusquely.) Is this true?
SERVANT. (Cowering; stammering.) For ought I know, my lord?
KING. Zounds! (Aside.) They have gone to rejoin Hamlet. My plan may yet be foiled!
QUEEN. We must search for them at once!
(A noise within. Enter a messenger.)
KING. Attend! Where is my Switzers? Let them guard the door. What is the matter?
MESSENGER. Save yourself, my lord! The ocean overpeering of his list eats not the flats with more impiteous haste than young Laertes in a riotous head o'erbears your officers.
(A noise within, again; louder this time.)
KING. The doors are broke.
(Enter Laertes with followers. They swarm into the room, forming a semi-circle and blocking the door, then stand quietly, swords drawn. Laertes approaches.)
KING. What is the cause, Laertes, that thy rebellion looks so giant-like?
(Laertes considers him for a moment, then turns away, walks past him, and kneels before Queen Gertrude.)
LAERTES. O gracious Queen, to you my errand goes. I do not come in rebellion, for I have no reason to rebel against you. I come merely to inform you of certain facts pertaining to your husband, and to call the law upon his head. I regret having to bring you these news. Claudius is a murderer. Only by poisoning the King his brother did he gain the throne in the first place. To secure it, he has sent Hamlet off to likewise be killed.
(The Queen gasps and takes a step backward. She looks towards the King, unwilling to believe Laertes and yet already half-convinced.)
KING. (Blustering.) What impudence! I will have you --
(The crowd grows restless; muttering and clanking of weapons. The King falls silent.)
QUEEN. (Pleadingly, to the King.) Claudius, is this true?
(The King looks around somewhat helplessly, unsure what to say, trying to gauge the situation. The Queen realises that this gives her all the answer she needs.)
LAERTES. We will prove it to you, my Queen. I have here a letter from my sister. (He flourishes it.) She has gone with Horatio to save Hamlet from the worst; we can only hope. (The Queen clutches her heart.) In the meantime, though, she has informed me which courtiers and soldiers were involved in Claudius's plans, and of those who can give evidence thereof. We need but question them, and the truth will emerge. I ask only that my followers may keep Claudius detained until then.
(The Queen looks lost for a moment, then draws herself up to her full regal height.)
QUEEN. We will proceed as you say. Bring me before these people you speak of.
LAERTES. It shall be my pleasure.
(The Queen sweeps past Claudius without a second glance, followed by Laertes. Exeunt all, some guarding Claudius.)
SCENE VIII
(Once more on board the ship. The deck. Some ropes and barrels lying around. Hamlet is sitting in a deckchair beneath an umbrella, wrapped in a rug, reading a book, possibly smoking. He's humming My Chemical Romance songs to himself. Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, gesticulating in exasperation.)
ROS. All we get is incidents! Dear God, is it too much to expect a little sustained action?
(And on the word, pirates attack! That is to say, general screaming and shouting; deckhands rush to and fro; everyone is frantic. Hamlet, jolted out of his reverie, draws a sword from somewhere, brandishes it inexpertly - think Viola or Sir Andrew - and rushes upstage. Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and crew members follow him.)
(The back wall of the stage is kicked in by the Pirate Captain as he swings forward, holding onto a rope. The wall crumbles, the Pirate Captain lets go of the rope and jumps towards Hamlet and the others with a roar. He is heavily bearded, wearing a seafarers hat, and pulls out two swords which he was wearing on his back, Deadpool-style. Several more pirates appear behind him and climb over what is left of the wall.)
(Hamlet and the others stopped dead in their tracks when the Pirate Captain appeared and now turn tail and run, screaming in terror. General confusion and noise. Some minor scuffles between the crew and the pirates, but mainly just people chasing each other around. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern dive into one of the barrels.)
(The Pirate Captain lays chase to Hamlet and pursues him several times around the stage until Hamlet, in his terror, leaps over the remnants of the back wall and disappears. The Pirate Captain follows him with a shout of triumph; the remaining pirates, hearing this, turn and likewise disappear upstage.)
(The remaining crew members stand around, breathing heavily and looking at each other in confusion, before exiting stage left and right. Pause. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's heads appear from the barrel.)
ROS. Alright, I'm never asking for action again. (Pause. Then, hopefully.) I wouldn't mind some pie though.
SCENE VIII
(On board the pirate ship. A Jolly Roger is fluttering in the breeze. Hamlet is kneeling before the Pirate Captain and blathering away.)
HAMLET. No, honestly, I'm the Prince of Denmark, like, an actual prince, honestly, it will be so much better for you if you don't kill me, you could hold me to ransom instead, lots of ransom, I'm sure my mother would pay all the ransom, or I could get you pardoned for past crimes, there must be something, I also have really good taste in music by the way but really, think of all the money you could get if you hold me to ransom and don't kill me, please don't kill me, please just don't --
(Enter Horatio.)
HAMLET. (Flabbergasted.) Horatio? (He stares, open-mouthed.)
PIRATE CAPT. Oh thank God, I thought he was never going to shut up.
HORATIO. (Grinning.) Everything as it's ever been, then?
PIRATE CAPT. Oh, absolutely.
HORATIO. It would've been too much to hope that a near-death experience might turn him into less of a dork.
PIRATE CAPT. You love him for it, though.
HORATIO. True, I suppose.
(Hamlet's head has been swivelling to and fro between them as though he were watching a tennis match. He's still gaping.)
HORATIO. Do you think we broke him?
PIRATE CAPT. Huh. (Nudges Hamlet with his foot. Hamlet squawks and leaps backwards.) Nah, we're good. Maybe we should take pity on him now, though.
(The Pirate Captain takes of his hat, revealing long, flowing hair. He detaches his beard from both sides of his face, thereby making it properly visible. It's Ophelia! Nobody except Hamlet is in the least surprised.)
HAMLET. How -- what -- why --
OPHELIA. (In her normal voice.) Sweetie, you most certainly do not have good taste in music. I shudder to think what would have happened if you had been kidnapped by actual pirates.
(Hamlet still looks dazed. Horatio crosses the stage, pulls him to his feet and pecks him on the lips.)
HORATIO. Kidnapped by actual pirates, or reached England without us. Oh, Hamlet. Claudius was going to have you killed there! I’m so glad we got to you in time.
HAMLET. What in the name of heavens is going on?
OPHELIA. Okay, let's start at the beginning. And have some dinner, I'm starving. Being a pirate is hard work. I need to go tell the crew to head back to Denmark; I have the feeling there’s a throne waiting to be filled there. I'll be right back and then we'll talk, okay?
(Hamlet nods in awe. Horatio smiles fondly.)
OPEHLIA. But first, hugs!
(The three of them embrace. Curtain.)