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Title: The Night Ferry
Credit: written by
Author: A. Writer
INT. FERRY CABIN - NIGHT
A narrow bunk. A porthole black with sea. JONAH (40s) sits on his suitcase, as if someone might take it.
The door opens. MAREN (70s), in a steward's coat two sizes too big, holds out a tray.
MAREN
Tea. You have not slept.
JONAH
(not looking up)
Nobody sleeps on this crossing.
MAREN
I do. Every night, for thirty years.
She sets the tray on the bunk. The cup does not spill, though the whole cabin tilts.
JONAH
Then you know when we arrive.
MAREN
We arrive when you open the suitcase.
Jonah looks at her for the first time.
CUT TO:
EXT. FERRY DECK - CONTINUOUS
Fog so thick the lamps hang in it like moons. Jonah comes out holding the suitcase against his chest.
A DECKHAND (19), all elbows, coils a wet rope that is already coiled.
DECKHAND
(without looking up)
You're not supposed to be out here after the bell.
JONAH
I didn't hear a bell. I haven't heard anything since I came aboard. Not the engines, not the sea, not even you. Only the rain on the roof of the ticket office, over and over. I think it is still raining there, and nobody has thought to close the window.
DECKHAND
Nobody does. That's what she says.
(nods at the wheelhouse)
The old woman. She rings it anyway.
Jonah sets the suitcase on a bench, then picks it up again.
JONAH
How long have you worked this boat?
DECKHAND
Since tonight.
(beat)
Same as everyone.
A foghorn, somewhere below. The lights flicker and hold.
CUT TO:
INT. FERRY BAR - LATER
Six stools bolted to the floor. A radio plays a waltz from a station that went off the air before the war.
Maren polishes a glass that is already clean. Jonah takes the stool nearest the door, the suitcase between his feet.
MAREN
You found the deck, then.
JONAH
I found a boy who says he started tonight.
MAREN
He did. So did you.
She sets the glass in front of him and fills it with something the color of weak tea.
JONAH
I bought a ticket. I remember the ticket office, the woman with the stamp. I remember the rain.
MAREN
Everyone remembers the rain.
JONAH
(pushing the glass away)
Then tell me where this boat goes.
MAREN
To the other side.
JONAH
Of the bay.
MAREN
(gently)
Of whatever you are carrying.
Jonah looks down at the suitcase. The latches are rusted shut.
JONAH
It was my father's. He took it everywhere and never opened it. Not once, in forty years. When he died I found it by the door, packed, as if he was about to leave.
MAREN
And you picked it up.
JONAH
Somebody had to.
MAREN
Did they?
The radio stops between two notes. The silence is very loud.
JONAH
What happens if I don't open it?
MAREN
Then we go round again. The cabin, the tea, the boy on the deck. I have made this crossing with men who carried a suitcase for a hundred years.
JONAH
And the ones who opened it?
MAREN
(a small smile)
They got off.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. FERRY DECK - DAWN
The fog is thinning. A grey line of shore, and on it a single lit window.
Jonah kneels on the wet planks with the suitcase in front of him. The deckhand watches from the rail. Maren watches from the wheelhouse.
He works a thumb under the first latch. It gives.
JONAH
(to himself)
All right, Dad.
The second latch. The lid lifts an inch in the wind.
Inside: nothing but paper. Hundreds of letters, every one addressed to Jonah, every one stamped and never sent.
The wind takes the top one. Then a dozen. Then all of them, a flock of white over the water, toward the shore.
Jonah does not reach for them.
DECKHAND
You're supposed to keep one.
JONAH
I know what they say.
He closes the empty suitcase and, for the first time, stands up without it.
The ferry's horn sounds. The window on the shore goes out, because it is morning.
FADE OUT.
The Night Ferry
written by
A. Writer
INT. FERRY CABIN - NIGHT
A narrow bunk. A porthole black with sea. JONAH (40s) sits on his suitcase, as if someone might take it.
The door opens. MAREN (70s), in a steward's coat two sizes too big, holds out a tray.
MAREN
Tea. You have not slept.
JONAH
(not looking up)
Nobody sleeps on this crossing.
MAREN
I do. Every night, for thirty years.
She sets the tray on the bunk. The cup does not spill, though the whole cabin tilts.
JONAH
Then you know when we arrive.
MAREN
We arrive when you open the suitcase.
Jonah looks at her for the first time.
CUT TO:
EXT. FERRY DECK - CONTINUOUS
Fog so thick the lamps hang in it like moons. Jonah comes out holding the suitcase against his chest.
A DECKHAND (19), all elbows, coils a wet rope that is already coiled.
DECKHAND
(without looking up)
You're not supposed to be out here after the bell.
JONAH
I didn't hear a bell. I haven't heard anything since I came aboard. Not the engines, not the sea, not even you. Only the rain on the roof of the ticket office, over and over.
(MORE)
2.
JONAH (CONT'D)
I think it is still raining there, and nobody has thought to close the window.
DECKHAND
Nobody does. That's what she says.
(nods at the wheelhouse)
The old woman. She rings it anyway.
Jonah sets the suitcase on a bench, then picks it up again.
JONAH
How long have you worked this boat?
DECKHAND
Since tonight.
(beat)
Same as everyone.
A foghorn, somewhere below. The lights flicker and hold.
CUT TO:
INT. FERRY BAR - LATER
Six stools bolted to the floor. A radio plays a waltz from a station that went off the air before the war.
Maren polishes a glass that is already clean. Jonah takes the stool nearest the door, the suitcase between his feet.
MAREN
You found the deck, then.
JONAH
I found a boy who says he started tonight.
MAREN
He did. So did you.
She sets the glass in front of him and fills it with something the color of weak tea.
JONAH
I bought a ticket. I remember the ticket office, the woman with the stamp. I remember the rain.
MAREN
Everyone remembers the rain.
3.
JONAH
(pushing the glass away)
Then tell me where this boat goes.
MAREN
To the other side.
JONAH
Of the bay.
MAREN
(gently)
Of whatever you are carrying.
Jonah looks down at the suitcase. The latches are rusted shut.
JONAH
It was my father's. He took it everywhere and never opened it. Not once, in forty years. When he died I found it by the door, packed, as if he was about to leave.
MAREN
And you picked it up.
JONAH
Somebody had to.
MAREN
Did they?
The radio stops between two notes. The silence is very loud.
JONAH
What happens if I don't open it?
MAREN
Then we go round again. The cabin, the tea, the boy on the deck. I have made this crossing with men who carried a suitcase for a hundred years.
JONAH
And the ones who opened it?
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