The Last of the Mohicans Page #5

JACK:

Does that mean they will be granted

leave to defend their homes if the

settlements are attacked?

WEBB:

Of course.

Heyward's more amazed by what he's just heard from Webb.

These Americans, including Jack, are streaming past him on

their way out.

JACK:

You got yourself a colonial militia,

General.

HEYWARD:

Major Duncan Heyward reporting, Sir!

Webb's pouring gin.

WEBB:

Duncan. How was your journey?

The door closes. Dispatches are passed. They are now alone

except for the General's two Adjutants and a shadowy form

waiting patiently in a corner. He's MAGUA. In the dim light,

he's motionless. Webb slides a glass across to Heyward.

HEYWARD:

I didn't experience anything so

surprising from Bristol to Albany as

what I witnessed here today.

WEBB:

And what is that?

HEYWARD:

The Crown "negotiating" the terms of

service?

WEBB:

I know.

(assuming a co-

commiserator)

One has to give Americans "reasons"

and make agreements to get them to

do anything at all. Tiring, isn't

it?

(throws up his hands)

But that's the way of it here.

HEYWARD:

(tight)

I thought British policy is 'Make

the World... England', sir.

A chill. Majors don't upbraid Generals.

WEBB:

You will take command of the 62nd

Regiment of Foot. At Fort William

Henry under Colonel Munro. I will

march the 33rd to Fort Edward.

HEYWARD:

Sir!... Might I inquire if General

Webb has heard from Colonel Munro's

daughters? I was to rendezvous with

them in Albany and escort them to

the fort.

WEBB:

Yes. You may.

(to Magua, after a

glance at Heyward)

You there. What does Munro call you?

(to Heyward)

The "Scotsman" has sent one of his

Indian allies to guide you.

MAGUA:

rises and slowly walks into the light. He is reserved and

over six feet tall. His head is shaved into a mohawk. Rings,

beads & feathers pierce his ears. A blanket is worn as a

shawl over his left shoulder exposing his right arm and heavy

tattooing. A long tomahawk is in the belt of his breechcloth.

WEBB:

The Scotsman's daughters are at the

Poltroon's house. A company of the

33rd will accompany you and Magua

will show you the way.

HEYWARD:

By your leave, sir.

Webb holds Heyward a moment.

WEBB:

(to Adjutants)

Explain to the Major we care little

about toying with colonial militia

because we have little to fear from

the French. They have not the nature

for war. Their Latinate voluptuousness

combines with their Gallic laziness

and the result is: they would rather

make love with their faces than fight.

Webb's Adjutants laugh uproariously at his wit. Heyward's

stiff, perfunctory smile. He's been made the butt of the

joke. He does not share Webb's derisive view of the French.

Webb doesn't like Heyward's manner. We don't like Webb. Then:

WEBB:

(continuing)

Dismissed.

Heyward stiffly salutes. Webb casually, perfunctorily salutes

the younger man in return.

HEYWARD:

(to Magua)

Dawn. At the encampment. Six a.m.

sharp. See to it you're there.

Beneath Magua's barely deferential manner we sense

intelligence & menace. None of these Brits see it. We do.

CUT TO:

EXT. POLTROON'S HOUSE - DAY

DUNCAN HEYWARD:

Brushed clean, his wig freshly powdered, his tricorn in his

hand with a crimson sash and sword and his cavalry boots,

walks through the gate after knocking. He enters a small

courtyard. Suddenly he hears...

CORA (O.S.)

Heyward! Duncan Heyward.

Heyward looks to the side. An inner light turns on. In this

mode, this is a man we could like.

REVERSE:
CORA MUNRO

enters from the garden. She's vivacious, dark-haired,

unconventional in that she's educated, but with conventional

values and attitudes. She hugs Duncan to her and then pushes

him away to look at him.

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