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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Hairy Ape, by Eugene O'Neill
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+Title: The Hairy Ape
+
+Author: Eugene O'Neill
+
+Release Date: May, 2003  [Etext #4015]
+[Yes, we are about one year ahead of schedule]
+[The actual date this file first posted = 10/10/01]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Hairy Ape, by Eugene O'Neill
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+
+"THE HAIRY APE"
+
+A Comedy of Ancient and Modern Life
+
+In Eight Scenes
+
+By EUGENE O'NEILL
+
+
+
+
+
+CHARACTERS
+
+
+ROBERT SMITH, "YANK"
+PADDY
+LONG
+MILDRED DOUGLAS
+HER AUNT
+SECOND ENGINEER
+A GUARD
+A SECRETARY OF AN ORGANIZATION
+STOKERS, LADIES, GENTLEMEN, ETC.
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE I
+
+
+SCENE--The firemen's forecastle of a transatlantic liner an hour
+after sailing from New York for the voyage across. Tiers of
+narrow, steel bunks, three deep, on all sides. An entrance in
+rear. Benches on the floor before the bunks. The room is crowded
+with men, shouting, cursing, laughing, singing--a confused,
+inchoate uproar swelling into a sort of unity, a meaning--the
+bewildered, furious, baffled defiance of a beast in a cage. Nearly
+all the men are drunk. Many bottles are passed from hand to hand.
+All are dressed in dungaree pants, heavy ugly shoes. Some wear
+singlets, but the majority are stripped to the waist.
+
+The treatment of this scene, or of any other scene in the play,
+should by no means be naturalistic. The effect sought after is a
+cramped space in the bowels of a ship, imprisoned by white steel.
+The lines of bunks, the uprights supporting them, cross each other
+like the steel framework of a cage. The ceiling crushes down upon
+the men's heads. They cannot stand upright. This accentuates the
+natural stooping posture which shovelling coal and the resultant
+over-development of back and shoulder muscles have given them. The
+men themselves should resemble those pictures in which the
+appearance of Neanderthal Man is guessed at. All are hairy-
+chested, with long arms of tremendous power, and low, receding
+brows above their small, fierce, resentful eyes. All the civilized
+white races are represented, but except for the slight
+differentiation in color of hair, skin, eyes, all these men are
+alike.
+
+The curtain rises on a tumult of sound. YANK is seated in the
+foreground. He seems broader, fiercer, more truculent, more
+powerful, more sure of himself than the rest. They respect his
+superior strength--the grudging respect of fear. Then, too, he
+represents to them a self-expression, the very last word in what
+they are, their most highly developed individual.
+
+VOICES--Gif me trink dere, you!
+
+'Ave a wet!
+
+Salute!
+
+Gesundheit!
+
+Skoal!
+
+Drunk as a lord, God stiffen you!
+
+Here's how!
+
+Luck!
+
+Pass back that bottle, damn you!
+
+Pourin' it down his neck!
+
+Ho, Froggy! Where the devil have you been?
+
+La Touraine.
+
+I hit him smash in yaw, py Gott!
+
+Jenkins--the First--he's a rotten swine--
+
+And the coppers nabbed him--and I run--
+
+I like peer better. It don't pig head gif you.
+
+A slut, I'm sayin'! She robbed me aslape--
+
+To hell with 'em all!
+
+You're a bloody liar!
+
+Say dot again!
+
+[Commotion. Two men about to fight are pulled apart.]
+
+No scrappin' now!
+
+To-night--
+
+See who's the best man!
+
+Bloody Dutchman!
+
+To-night on the for'ard square.
+
+I'll bet on Dutchy.
+
+He packa da wallop, I tella you!
+
+Shut up, Wop!
+
+No fightin', maties. We're all chums, ain't we?
+
+[A voice starts bawling a song.]
+
+    "Beer, beer, glorious beer!
+    Fill yourselves right up to here."
+
+YANK--[For the first time seeming to take notice of the uproar
+about him, turns around threateningly--in a tone of contemptuous
+authority.] "Choke off dat noise! Where d'yuh get dat beer stuff?
+Beer, hell! Beer's for goils--and Dutchmen. Me for somep'n wit a
+kick to it! Gimme a drink, one of youse guys. [Several bottles are
+eagerly offered. He takes a tremendous gulp at one of them; then,
+keeping the bottle in his hand, glares belligerently at the owner,
+who hastens to acquiesce in this robbery by saying:] All righto,
+Yank. Keep it and have another." [Yank contemptuously turns his
+back on the crowd again. For a second there is an embarrassed
+silence. Then--]
+
+VOICES--We must be passing the Hook. She's beginning to roll to
+it. Six days in hell--and then Southampton. Py Yesus, I vish
+somepody take my first vatch for me! Gittin' seasick, Square-head?
+Drink up and forget it! What's in your bottle? Gin. Dot's nigger
+trink. Absinthe? It's doped. You'll go off your chump, Froggy!
+Cochon! Whiskey, that's the ticket! Where's Paddy? Going asleep.
+Sing us that whiskey song, Paddy. [They all turn to an old,
+wizened Irishman who is dozing, very drunk, on the benches
+forward. His face is extremely monkey-like with all the sad,
+patient pathos of that animal in his small eyes.] Singa da song,
+Caruso Pat! He's gettin' old. The drink is too much for him. He's
+too drunk.
+
+PADDY--[Blinking about him, starts to his feet resentfully,
+swaying, holding on to the edge of a bunk.] I'm never too drunk to
+sing. 'Tis only when I'm dead to the world I'd be wishful to sing
+at all. [With a sort of sad contempt.] "Whiskey Johnny," ye want?
+A chanty, ye want? Now that's a queer wish from the ugly like of
+you, God help you. But no matther. [He starts to sing in a thin,
+nasal, doleful tone:]
+
+    Oh, whiskey is the life of man!
+        Whiskey! O Johnny!
+
+[They all join in on this.]
+
+    Oh, whiskey is the life of man!
+        Whiskey for my Johnny! [Again chorus]
+    Oh, whiskey drove my old man mad!
+        Whiskey! O Johnny!
+    Oh, whiskey drove my old man mad!
+        Whiskey for my Johnny!
+
+YANK--[Again turning around scornfully.] Aw hell! Nix on dat old
+sailing ship stuff! All dat bull's dead, see? And you're dead,
+too, yuh damned old Harp, on'y yuh don't know it. Take it easy,
+see. Give us a rest. Nix on de loud noise. [With a cynical grin.]
+Can't youse see I'm tryin' to t'ink?
+
+ALL--[Repeating the word after him as one with same cynical amused
+mockery.] Think! [The chorused word has a brazen metallic quality
+as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a
+general uproar of hard, barking laughter.]
+
+VOICES--Don't be cracking your head wid ut, Yank.
+
+You gat headache, py yingo!
+
+One thing about it--it rhymes with drink!
+
+Ha, ha, ha!
+
+Drink, don't think!
+
+Drink, don't think!
+
+Drink, don't think!
+
+[A whole chorus of voices has taken up this refrain, stamping on
+the floor, pounding on the benches with fists.]
+
+YANK--[Taking a gulp from his bottle--good-naturedly.] Aw right.
+Can de noise. I got yuh de foist time. [The uproar subsides. A
+very drunken sentimental tenor begins to sing:]
+
+    "Far away in Canada,
+    Far across the sea,
+    There's a lass who fondly waits
+    Making a home for me--"
+
+YANK--[Fiercely contemptuous.] Shut up, yuh lousey boob! Where
+d'yuh get dat tripe? Home? Home, hell! I'll make a home for yuh!
+I'll knock yuh dead. Home! T'hell wit home! Where d'yuh get dat
+tripe? Dis is home, see? What d'yuh want wit home? [Proudly.] I
+runned away from mine when I was a kid. On'y too glad to beat it,
+dat was me. Home was lickings for me, dat's all. But yuh can bet
+your shoit noone ain't never licked me since! Wanter try it, any
+of youse? Huh! I guess not. [In a more placated but still
+contemptuous tone.] Goils waitin' for yuh, huh? Aw, hell! Dat's
+all tripe. Dey don't wait for noone. Dey'd double-cross yuh for a
+nickel. Dey're all tarts, get me? Treat 'em rough, dat's me. To
+hell wit 'em. Tarts, dat's what, de whole bunch of 'em.
+
+LONG--[Very drunk, jumps on a bench excitedly, gesticulating with
+a bottle in his hand.] Listen 'ere, Comrades! Yank 'ere is right.
+'E says this 'ere stinkin' ship is our 'ome. And 'e says as 'ome
+is 'ell. And 'e's right! This is 'ell. We lives in 'ell, Comrades
+--and right enough we'll die in it. [Raging.] And who's ter blame,
+I arsks yer? We ain't. We wasn't born this rotten way. All men is
+born free and ekal. That's in the bleedin' Bible, maties. But what
+d'they care for the Bible--them lazy, bloated swine what travels
+first cabin? Them's the ones. They dragged us down'til we're on'y
+wage slaves in the bowels of a bloody ship, sweatin', burnin' up,
+eatin' coal dust! Hit's them's ter blame--the damned capitalist
+clarss! [There had been a gradual murmur of contemptuous
+resentment rising among the men until now he is interrupted by a
+storm of catcalls, hisses, boos, hard laughter.]
+
+VOICES--Turn it off!
+
+Shut up!
+
+Sit down!
+
+Closa da face!
+
+Tamn fool! (Etc.)
+
+YANK--[Standing up and glaring at Long.] Sit down before I knock
+yuh down! [Long makes haste to efface himself. Yank goes on
+contemptuously.] De Bible, huh? De Cap'tlist class, huh? Aw nix on
+dat Salvation Army-Socialist bull. Git a soapbox! Hire a hall!
+Come and be saved, huh? Jerk us to Jesus, huh? Aw g'wan! I've
+listened to lots of guys like you, see, Yuh're all wrong. Wanter
+know what I t'ink? Yuh ain't no good for noone. Yuh're de bunk.
+Yuh ain't got no noive, get me? Yuh're yellow, dat's what. Yellow,
+dat's you. Say! What's dem slobs in de foist cabin got to do wit
+us? We're better men dan dey are, ain't we? Sure! One of us guys
+could clean up de whole mob wit one mit. Put one of 'em down here
+for one watch in de stokehole, what'd happen? Dey'd carry him off
+on a stretcher. Dem boids don't amount to nothin'. Dey're just
+baggage. Who makes dis old tub run? Ain't it us guys? Well den, we
+belong, don't we? We belong and dey don't. Dat's all. [A loud
+chorus of approval. Yank goes on] As for dis bein' hell--aw, nuts!
+Yuh lost your noive, dat's what. Dis is a man's job, get me? It
+belongs. It runs dis tub. No stiffs need apply. But yuh're a
+stiff, see? Yuh're yellow, dat's you.
+
+VOICES--[With a great hard pride in them.]
+
+Righto!
+
+A man's job!
+
+Talk is cheap, Long.
+
+He never could hold up his end.
+
+Divil take him!
+
+Yank's right. We make it go.
+
+Py Gott, Yank say right ting!
+
+We don't need noone cryin' over us.
+
+Makin' speeches.
+
+Throw him out!
+
+Yellow!
+
+Chuck him overboard!
+
+I'll break his jaw for him!
+
+[They crowd around Long threateningly.]
+
+YANK--[Half good-natured again--contemptuously.] Aw, take it easy.
+Leave him alone. He ain't woith a punch. Drink up. Here's how,
+whoever owns dis. [He takes a long swallow from his bottle. All
+drink with him. In a flash all is hilarious amiability again,
+back-slapping, loud talk, etc.]
+
+PADDY--[Who has been sitting in a blinking, melancholy daze--
+suddenly cries out in a voice full of old sorrow.] We belong to
+this, you're saying? We make the ship to go, you're saying? Yerra
+then, that Almighty God have pity on us! [His voice runs into the
+wail of a keen, he rocks back and forth on his bench. The men
+stare at him, startled and impressed in spite of themselves.] Oh,
+to be back in the fine days of my youth, ochone! Oh, there was
+fine beautiful ships them days--clippers wid tall masts touching
+the sky--fine strong men in them--men that was sons of the sea as
+if 'twas the mother that bore them. Oh, the clean skins of them,
+and the clear eyes, the straight backs and full chests of them!
+Brave men they was, and bold men surely! We'd be sailing out,
+bound down round the Horn maybe. We'd be making sail in the dawn,
+with a fair breeze, singing a chanty song wid no care to it. And
+astern the land would be sinking low and dying out, but we'd give
+it no heed but a laugh, and never a look behind. For the day that
+was, was enough, for we was free men--and I'm thinking 'tis only
+slaves do be giving heed to the day that's gone or the day to come
+--until they're old like me. [With a sort of religious
+exaltation.] Oh, to be scudding south again wid the power of the
+Trade Wind driving her on steady through the nights and the days!
+Full sail on her! Nights and days! Nights when the foam of the
+wake would be flaming wid fire, when the sky'd be blazing and
+winking wid stars. Or the full of the moon maybe. Then you'd see
+her driving through the gray night, her sails stretching aloft all
+silver and white, not a sound on the deck, the lot of us dreaming
+dreams, till you'd believe'twas no real ship at all you was on but
+a ghost ship like the Flying Dutchman they say does be roaming the
+seas forevermore widout touching a port. And there was the days,
+too. A warm sun on the clean decks. Sun warming the blood of you,
+and wind over the miles of shiny green ocean like strong drink to
+your lungs. Work--aye, hard work--but who'd mind that at all?
+Sure, you worked under the sky and 'twas work wid skill and daring
+to it. And wid the day done, in the dog watch, smoking me pipe at
+ease, the lookout would be raising land maybe, and we'd see the
+mountains of South Americy wid the red fire of the setting sun
+painting their white tops and the clouds floating by them! [His
+tone of exaltation ceases. He goes on mournfully.] Yerra, what's
+the use of talking? 'Tis a dead man's whisper. [To Yank
+resentfully.] 'Twas them days men belonged to ships, not now.
+'Twas them days a ship was part of the sea, and a man was part of
+a ship, and the sea joined all together and made it one.
+[Scornfully.] Is it one wid this you'd be, Yank--black smoke from
+the funnels smudging the sea, smudging the decks--the bloody
+engines pounding and throbbing and shaking--wid divil a sight of
+sun or a breath of clean air--choking our lungs wid coal dust--
+breaking our backs and hearts in the hell of the stokehole--
+feeding the bloody furnace--feeding our lives along wid the coal,
+I'm thinking--caged in by steel from a sight of the sky like
+bloody apes in the Zoo! [With a harsh laugh.] Ho-ho, divil mend
+you! Is it to belong to that you're wishing? Is it a flesh and
+blood wheel of the engines you'd be?
+
+YANK--[Who has been listening with a contemptuous sneer, barks out
+the answer.] Sure ting! Dat's me! What about it?
+
+PADDY--[As if to himself--with great sorrow.] Me time is past due.
+That a great wave wid sun in the heart of it may sweep me over the
+side sometime I'd be dreaming of the days that's gone!
+
+YANK--Aw, yuh crazy Mick! [He springs to his feet and advances on
+Paddy threateningly--then stops, fighting some queer struggle
+within himself--lets his hands fall to his sides--contemptuously.]
+Aw, take it easy. Yuh're aw right, at dat. Yuh're bugs, dat's all
+--nutty as a cuckoo. All dat tripe yuh been pullin'--Aw, dat's
+all right. On'y it's dead, get me? Yuh don't belong no more, see.
+Yuh don't get de stuff. Yuh're too old. [Disgustedly.] But aw say,
+come up for air onct in a while, can't yuh? See what's happened
+since yuh croaked. [He suddenly bursts forth vehemently, growing
+more and more excited.] Say! Sure! Sure I meant it! What de hell--
+Say, lemme talk! Hey! Hey, you old Harp! Hey, youse guys! Say,
+listen to me--wait a moment--I gotter talk, see. I belong and he
+don't. He's dead but I'm livin'. Listen to me! Sure I'm part of de
+engines! Why de hell not! Dey move, don't dey? Dey're speed, ain't
+dey? Dey smash trou, don't dey? Twenty-five knots a hour! Dat's
+goin' some! Dat's new stuff! Dat belongs! But him, he's too old.
+He gets dizzy. Say, listen. All dat crazy tripe about nights and
+days; all dat crazy tripe about stars and moons; all dat crazy
+tripe about suns and winds, fresh air and de rest of it--Aw hell,
+dat's all a dope dream! Hittin' de pipe of de past, dat's what
+he's doin'. He's old and don't belong no more. But me, I'm young!
+I'm in de pink! I move wit it! It, get me! I mean de ting dat's de
+guts of all dis. It ploughs trou all de tripe he's been sayin'. It
+blows dat up! It knocks dat dead! It slams dat off en de face of
+de oith! It, get me! De engines and de coal and de smoke and all
+de rest of it! He can't breathe and swallow coal dust, but I kin,
+see? Dat's fresh air for me! Dat's food for me! I'm new, get me?
+Hell in de stokehole? Sure! It takes a man to work in hell. Hell,
+sure, dat's my fav'rite climate. I eat it up! I git fat on it!
+It's me makes it hot! It's me makes it roar! It's me makes it
+move! Sure, on'y for me everyting stops. It all goes dead, get me?
+De noise and smoke and all de engines movin' de woild, dey stop.
+Dere ain't nothin' no more! Dat's what I'm sayin'. Everyting else
+dat makes de woild move, somep'n makes it move. It can't move
+witout somep'n else, see? Den yuh get down to me. I'm at de
+bottom, get me! Dere ain't nothin' foither. I'm de end! I'm de
+start! I start somep'n and de woild moves! It--dat's me!--de new
+dat's moiderin' de old! I'm de ting in coal dat makes it boin; I'm
+steam and oil for de engines; I'm de ting in noise dat makes yuh
+hear it; I'm smoke and express trains and steamers and factory
+whistles; I'm de ting in gold dat makes it money! And I'm what
+makes iron into steel! Steel, dat stands for de whole ting! And
+I'm steel--steel--steel! I'm de muscles in steel, de punch behind
+it! [As he says this he pounds with his fist against the steel
+bunks. All the men, roused to a pitch of frenzied self-
+glorification by his speech, do likewise. There is a deafening
+metallic roar, through which Yank's voice can be heard bellowing.]
+Slaves, hell! We run de whole woiks. All de rich guys dat tink
+dey're somep'n, dey ain't nothin'! Dey don't belong. But us guys,
+we're in de move, we're at de bottom, de whole ting is us! [Paddy
+from the start of Yank's speech has been taking one gulp after
+another from his bottle, at first frightenedly, as if he were
+afraid to listen, then desperately, as if to drown his senses, but
+finally has achieved complete indifferent, even amused,
+drunkenness. Yank sees his lips moving. He quells the uproar with
+a shout.] Hey, youse guys, take it easy! Wait a moment! De nutty
+Harp is sayin' someth'n.
+
+PADDY--[Is heard now--throws his head back with a mocking burst of
+laughter.] Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho---
+
+YANK--[Drawing back his fist, with a snarl.] Aw! Look out who
+yuh're givin' the bark!
+
+PADDY--[Begins to sing the "Muler of Dee" with enormous good-
+nature.]
+
+    "I care for nobody, no, not I,
+    And nobody cares for me."
+
+YANK--[Good-natured himself in a flash, interrupts PADDY with a
+slap on the bare back like a report.] Dat's de stuff! Now yuh're
+gettin' wise to somep'n. Care for nobody, dat's de dope! To hell
+wit 'em all! And nix on nobody else carin'. I kin care for myself,
+get me! [Eight bells sound, muffled, vibrating through the steel
+walls as if some enormous brazen gong were imbedded in the heart
+of the ship. All the men jump up mechanically, fie through the
+door silently close upon each other's heels in what is very like a
+prisoners lockstep. YANK slaps PADDY on the back.] Our watch, yuh
+old Harp! [Mockingly.] Come on down in hell. Eat up de coal dust.
+Drink in de heat. It's it, see! Act like yuh liked it, yuh better--
+or croak yuhself.
+
+PADDY--[With jovial defiance.] To the divil wid it! I'll not
+report this watch. Let thim log me and be damned. I'm no slave the
+like of you. I'll be sittin' here at me ease, and drinking, and
+thinking, and dreaming dreams.
+
+YANK--[Contemptuously.] Tinkin' and dreamin', what'll that get
+yuh? What's tinkin' got to do wit it? We move, don't we? Speed,
+ain't it? Fog, dat's all you stand for. But we drive trou dat,
+don't we? We split dat up and smash trou--twenty-five knots a
+hour! [Turns his back on Paddy scornfully.] Aw, yuh make me sick!
+Yuh don't belong! [He strides out the door in rear. Paddy hums to
+himself, blinking drowsily.]
+
+[Curtain]
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE II
+
+
+SCENE--Two days out. A section of the promenade deck. MILDRED
+DOUGLAS and her aunt are discovered reclining in deck chairs. The
+former is a girl of twenty, slender, delicate, with a pale, pretty
+face marred by a self-conscious expression of disdainful
+superiority. She looks fretful, nervous and discontented, bored by
+her own anemia. Her aunt is a pompous and proud--and fat--old
+lady. She is a type even to the point of a double chin and
+lorgnettes. She is dressed pretentiously, as if afraid her face
+alone would never indicate her position in life. MILDRED is
+dressed all in white.
+
+The impression to be conveyed by this scene is one of the
+beautiful, vivid life of the sea all about--sunshine on the deck
+in a great flood, the fresh sea wind blowing across it. In the
+midst of this, these two incongruous, artificial figures, inert
+and disharmonious, the elder like a gray lump of dough touched up
+with rouge, the younger looking as if the vitality of her stock
+had been sapped before she was conceived, so that she is the
+expression not of its life energy but merely of the
+artificialities that energy had won for itself in the spending.
+
+MILDRED--[Looking up with affected dreaminess.] How the black
+smoke swirls back against the sky! Is it not beautiful?
+
+AUNT--[Without looking up.] I dislike smoke of any kind.
+
+MILDRED--My great-grandmother smoked a pipe--a clay pipe.
+
+AUNT--[Ruffling.] Vulgar!
+
+MILDRED--She was too distant a relative to be vulgar. Time mellows
+pipes.
+
+AUNT--[Pretending boredom but irritated.] Did the sociology you
+took up at college teach you that--to play the ghoul on every
+possible occasion, excavating old bones? Why not let your great-
+grandmother rest in her grave?
+
+MILDRED--[Dreamily.] With her pipe beside her--puffing in
+Paradise.
+
+AUNT--[With spite.] Yes, you are a natural born ghoul. You are
+even getting to look like one, my dear.
+
+MILDRED--[In a passionless tone.] I detest you, Aunt. [Looking at
+her critically.] Do you know what you remind me of? Of a cold pork
+pudding against a background of linoleum tablecloth in the kitchen
+of a--but the possibilities are wearisome. [She closes her eyes.]
+
+AUNT--[With a bitter laugh.] Merci for your candor. But since I am
+and must be your chaperone--in appearance, at least--let us patch
+up some sort of armed truce. For my part you are quite free to
+indulge any pose of eccentricity that beguiles you--as long as you
+observe the amenities--
+
+MILDRED--[Drawling.] The inanities?
+
+AUNT--[Going on as if she hadn't heard.] After exhausting the
+morbid thrills of social service work on New York's East Side--how
+they must have hated you, by the way, the poor that you made so
+much poorer in their own eyes!--you are now bent on making your
+slumming international. Well, I hope Whitechapel will provide the
+needed nerve tonic. Do not ask me to chaperone you there, however.
+I told your father I would not. I loathe deformity. We will hire
+an army of detectives and you may investigate everything--they
+allow you to see.
+
+MILDRED--[Protesting with a trace of genuine earnestness.] Please
+do not mock at my attempts to discover how the other half lives.
+Give me credit for some sort of groping sincerity in that at
+least. I would like to help them. I would like to be some use in
+the world. Is it my fault I don't know how? I would like to be
+sincere, to touch life somewhere. [With weary bitterness.] But I'm
+afraid I have neither the vitality nor integrity. All that was
+burnt out in our stock before I was born. Grandfather's blast
+furnaces, flaming to the sky, melting steel, making millions--then
+father keeping those home fires burning, making more millions--and
+little me at the tail-end of it all. I'm a waste product in the
+Bessemer process--like the millions. Or rather, I inherit the
+acquired trait of the by-product, wealth, but none of the energy,
+none of the strength of the steel that made it. I am sired by gold
+and darned by it, as they say at the race track--damned in more
+ways than one, [She laughs mirthlessly].
+
+AUNT--[Unimpressed--superciliously.] You seem to be going in for
+sincerity to-day. It isn't becoming to you, really--except as an
+obvious pose. Be as artificial as you are, I advise. There's a
+sort of sincerity in that, you know. And, after all, you must
+confess you like that better.
+
+MILDRED--[Again affected and bored.] Yes, I suppose I do. Pardon
+me for my outburst. When a leopard complains of its spots, it must
+sound rather grotesque. [In a mocking tone.] Purr, little leopard.
+Purr, scratch, tear, kill, gorge yourself and be happy--only stay
+in the jungle where your spots are camouflage. In a cage they make
+you conspicuous.
+
+AUNT--I don't know what you are talking about.
+
+MILDRED--It would be rude to talk about anything to you. Let's
+just talk. [She looks at her wrist watch.] Well, thank goodness,
+it's about time for them to come for me. That ought to give me a
+new thrill, Aunt.
+
+AUNT--[Affectedly troubled.] You don't mean to say you're really
+going? The dirt--the heat must be frightful--
+
+MILDRED--Grandfather started as a puddler. I should have inherited
+an immunity to heat that would make a salamander shiver. It will
+be fun to put it to the test.
+
+AUNT--But don't you have to have the captain's--or someone's--
+permission to visit the stokehole?
+
+MILDRED--[With a triumphant smile.] I have it--both his and the
+chief engineer's. Oh, they didn't want to at first, in spite of my
+social service credentials. They didn't seem a bit anxious that I
+should investigate how the other half lives and works on a ship.
+So I had to tell them that my father, the president of Nazareth
+Steel, chairman of the board of directors of this line, had told
+me it would be all right.
+
+AUNT--He didn't.
+
+MILDRED--How naive age makes one! But I said he did, Aunt. I even
+said he had given me a letter to them--which I had lost. And they
+were afraid to take the chance that I might be lying. [Excitedly.]
+So it's ho! for the stokehole. The second engineer is to escort
+me. [Looking at her watch again.] It's time. And here he comes, I
+think. [The SECOND ENGINEER enters, He is a husky, fine-looking
+man of thirty-five or so. He stops before the two and tips his
+cap, visibly embarrassed and ill-at-ease.]
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--Miss Douglas?
+
+MILDRED--Yes. [Throwing off her rugs and getting to her feet.] Are
+we all ready to start?
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--In just a second, ma'am. I'm waiting for the
+Fourth. He's coming along.
+
+MILDRED--[With a scornful smile.] You don't care to shoulder this
+responsibility alone, is that it?
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--[Forcing a smile.] Two are better than one.
+[Disturbed by her eyes, glances out to sea--blurts out.] A fine
+day we're having.
+
+MILDRED--Is it?
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--A nice warm breeze--
+
+MILDRED--It feels cold to me.
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--But it's hot enough in the sun--
+
+MILDRED--Not hot enough for me. I don't like Nature. I was never
+athletic.
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--[Forcing a smile.] Well, you'll find it hot
+enough where you're going.
+
+MILDRED--Do you mean hell?
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--[Flabbergasted, decides to laugh.] Ho-ho! No, I
+mean the stokehole.
+
+MILDRED--My grandfather was a puddler. He played with boiling
+steel.
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--[All at sea--uneasily.] Is that so? Hum, you'll
+excuse me, ma'am, but are you intending to wear that dress.
+
+MILDRED--Why not?
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--You'll likely rub against oil and dirt. It can't
+be helped.
+
+MILDRED--It doesn't matter. I have lots of white dresses.
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--I have an old coat you might throw over--
+
+MILDRED--I have fifty dresses like this. I will throw this one
+into the sea when I come back. That ought to wash it clean, don't
+you think?
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--[Doggedly.] There's ladders to climb down that
+are none too clean--and dark alleyways--
+
+MILDRED--I will wear this very dress and none other.
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--No offence meant. It's none of my business. I was
+only warning you--
+
+MILDRED--Warning? That sounds thrilling.
+
+SECOND ENGINEER--[Looking down the deck--with a sigh of relief.]--
+There's the Fourth now. He's waiting for us. If you'll come--
+
+MILDRED--Go on. I'll follow you. [He goes. Mildred turns a mocking
+smile on her aunt.] An oaf--but a handsome, virile oaf.
+
+AUNT--[Scornfully.] Poser!
+
+MILDRED--Take care. He said there were dark alleyways--
+
+AUNT--[In the same tone.] Poser!
+
+MILDRED--[Biting her lips angrily.] You are right. But would that
+my millions were not so anemically chaste!
+
+AUNT--Yes, for a fresh pose I have no doubt you would drag the
+name of Douglas in the gutter!
+
+MILDRED--From which it sprang. Good-by, Aunt. Don't pray too hard
+that I may fall into the fiery furnace.
+
+AUNT--Poser!
+
+MILDRED--[Viciously.] Old hag! [She slaps her aunt insultingly
+across the face and walks off, laughing gaily.]
+
+AUNT--[Screams after her.] I said poser!
+
+[Curtain]
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE III
+
+
+SCENE--The stokehole. In the rear, the dimly-outlined bulks of
+the furnaces and boilers. High overhead one hanging electric bulb
+sheds just enough light through the murky air laden with coal dust
+to pile up masses of shadows everywhere. A line of men, stripped
+to the waist, is before the furnace doors. They bend over, looking
+neither to right nor left, handling their shovels as if they were
+part of their bodies, with a strange, awkward, swinging rhythm.
+They use the shovels to throw open the furnace doors. Then from
+these fiery round holes in the black a flood of terrific light and
+heat pours full upon the men who are outlined in silhouette in the
+crouching, inhuman attitudes of chained gorillas. The men shovel
+with a rhythmic motion, swinging as on a pivot from the coal which
+lies in heaps on the floor behind to hurl it into the flaming
+mouths before them. There is a tumult of noise--the brazen clang
+of the furnace doors as they are flung open or slammed shut, the
+grating, teeth-gritting grind of steel against steel, of crunching
+coal. This clash of sounds stuns one's ears with its rending
+dissonance. But there is order in it, rhythm, a mechanical
+regulated recurrence, a tempo. And rising above all, making the
+air hum with the quiver of liberated energy, the roar of leaping
+flames in the furnaces, the monotonous throbbing beat of the
+engines.
+
+As the curtain rises, the furnace doors are shut. The men are
+taking a breathing spell. One or two are arranging the coal behind
+them, pulling it into more accessible heaps. The others can be
+dimly made out leaning on their shovels in relaxed attitudes of
+exhaustion.
+
+PADDY--[From somewhere in the line--plaintively.] Yerra, will this
+divil's own watch nivir end? Me back is broke. I'm destroyed
+entirely.
+
+YANK--[From the center of the line--with exuberant scorn.] Aw, yuh
+make me sick! Lie down and croak, why don't yuh? Always beefin',
+dat's you! Say, dis is a cinch! Dis was made for me! It's my meat,
+get me! [A whistle is blown--a thin, shrill note from somewhere
+overhead in the darkness. Yank curses without resentment.] Dere's
+de damn engineer crakin' de whip. He tinks we're loafin'. PADDY--
+[Vindictively.] God stiffen him!
+
+YANK--[In an exultant tone of command.] Come on, youse guys! Git
+into de game! She's gittin' hungry! Pile some grub in her! Trow it
+into her belly! Come on now, all of youse! Open her up! [At this
+last all the men, who have followed his movements of getting into
+position, throw open their furnace doors with a deafening clang.
+The fiery light floods over their shoulders as they bend round for
+the coal. Rivulets of sooty sweat have traced maps on their backs.
+The enlarged muscles form bunches of high light and shadow.]
+
+YANK--[Chanting a count as he shovels without seeming effort.]
+One--two--tree--[His voice rising exultantly in the joy of
+battle.] Dat's de stuff! Let her have it! All togedder now! Sling
+it into her! Let her ride! Shoot de piece now! Call de toin on
+her! Drive her into it! Feel her move! Watch her smoke! Speed,
+dat's her middle name! Give her coal, youse guys! Coal, dat's her
+booze! Drink it up, baby! Let's see yuh sprint! Dig in and gain a
+lap! Dere she go-o-es [This last in the chanting formula of the
+gallery gods at the six-day bike race. He slams his furnace door
+shut. The others do likewise with as much unison as their wearied
+bodies will permit. The effect is of one fiery eye after another
+being blotted out with a series of accompanying bangs.]
+
+PADDY--[Groaning.] Me back is broke. I'm bate out--bate--[There
+is a pause. Then the inexorable whistle sounds again from the dim
+regions above the electric light. There is a growl of cursing rage
+from all sides.]
+
+YANK--[Shaking his fist upward--contemptuously.] Take it easy
+dere, you! Who d'yuh tinks runnin' dis game, me or you? When I git
+ready, we move. Not before! When I git ready, get me!
+
+VOICES--[Approvingly.] That's the stuff!
+
+Yank tal him, py golly!
+
+Yank ain't affeerd.
+
+Goot poy, Yank!
+
+Give him hell!
+
+Tell 'im 'e's a bloody swine!
+
+Bloody slave-driver!
+
+YANK--[Contemptuously.] He ain't got no noive. He's yellow, get
+me? All de engineers is yellow. Dey got streaks a mile wide. Aw,
+to hell wit him! Let's move, youse guys. We had a rest. Come on,
+she needs it! Give her pep! It ain't for him. Him and his whistle,
+dey don't belong. But we belong, see! We gotter feed de baby! Come
+on! [He turns and flings his furnace door open. They all follow
+his lead. At this instant the Second and Fourth Engineers enter
+from the darkness on the left with Mildred between them. She
+starts, turns paler, her pose is crumbling, she shivers with
+fright in spite of the blazing heat, but forces herself to leave
+the Engineers and take a few steps nearer the men. She is right
+behind Yank. All this happens quickly while the men have their
+backs turned.]
+
+YANK--Come on, youse guys! [He is turning to get coal when the
+whistle sounds again in a peremptory, irritating note. This drives
+Yank into a sudden fury. While the other men have turned full
+around and stopped dumfounded by the spectacle of Mildred standing
+there in her white dress, Yank does not turn far enough to see
+her. Besides, his head is thrown back, he blinks upward through
+the murk trying to find the owner of the whistle, he brandishes
+his shovel murderously over his head in one hand, pounding on his
+chest, gorilla-like, with the other, shouting:] Toin off dat
+whistle! Come down outa dere, yuh yellow, brass-buttoned, Belfast
+bum, yuh! Come down and I'll knock yer brains out! Yuh lousey,
+stinkin', yellow mut of a Catholic-moiderin' bastard! Come down
+and I'll moider yuh! Pullin' dat whistle on me, huh? I'll show
+yuh! I'll crash yer skull in! I'll drive yer teet' down yer troat!
+I'll slam yer nose trou de back of yer head! I'll cut yer guts out
+for a nickel, yuh lousey boob, yuh dirty, crummy, muck-eatin' son
+of a--
+
+[Suddenly he becomes conscious of all the other men staring at
+something directly behind his back. He whirls defensively with a
+snarling, murderous growl, crouching to spring, his lips drawn
+back o'ver his teeth, his small eyes gleaming ferociously. He sees
+Mildred, like a white apparition in the full light from the open
+furnace doors. He glares into her eyes, turned to stone. As for
+her, during his speech she has listened, paralyzed with horror,
+terror, her whole personality crushed, beaten in, collapsed, by
+the terrific impact of this unknown, abysmal brutality, naked and
+shameless. As she looks at his gorilla face, as his eyes bore into
+hers, she utters a low, choking cry and shrinks away from him,
+putting both hands up before her eyes to shut out the sight of his
+face, to protect her own. This startles Yank to a reaction. His
+mouth falls open, his eyes grow bewildered.]
+
+MILDRED--[About to faint--to the Engineers, who now have her one
+by each arm--whimperingly.] Take me away! Oh, the filthy beast!
+[She faints. They carry her quickly back, disappearing in the
+darkness at the left, rear. An iron door clangs shut. Rage and
+bewildered fury rush back on Yank. He feels himself insulted in
+some unknown fashion in the very heart of his pride. He roars:]
+God damn yuh! [And hurls his shovel after them at the door which
+has just closed. It hits the steel bulkhead with a clang and falls
+clattering on the steel floor. From overhead the whistle sounds
+again in a long, angry, insistent command.]
+
+[Curtain]
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE IV
+
+
+SCENE--The firemen's forecastle. Yank's watch has just come off
+duty and had dinner. Their faces and bodies shine from a soap and
+water scrubbing but around their eyes, where a hasty dousing does
+not touch, the coal dust sticks like black make-up, giving them a
+queer, sinister expression. Yank has not washed either face or
+body. He stands out in contrast to them, a blackened, brooding
+figure. He is seated forward on a bench in the exact attitude of
+Rodin's "The Thinker." The others, most of them smoking pipes, are
+staring at Yank half-apprehensively, as if fearing an outburst;
+half-amusedly, as if they saw a joke somewhere that tickled them.
+
+VOICES--He ain't ate nothin'.
+
+Py golly, a fallar gat gat grub in him.
+
+Divil a lie.
+
+Yank feeda da fire, no feeda da face.
+
+Ha-ha.
+
+He ain't even washed hisself.
+
+He's forgot.
+
+Hey, Yank, you forgot to wash.
+
+YANK--[Sullenly.] Forgot nothin'! To hell wit washin'.
+
+VOICES--It'll stick to you. It'll get under your skin. Give yer
+the bleedin' itch, that's wot. It makes spots on you--like a
+leopard. Like a piebald nigger, you mean. Better wash up, Yank.
+You sleep better. Wash up, Yank. Wash up! Wash up!
+
+YANK--[Resentfully.] Aw say, youse guys. Lemme alone. Can't youse
+see I'm tryin' to tink?
+
+ALL--[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.]
+Think! [The word has a brazen, metallic quality as if their
+throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard,
+barking laughter.]
+
+YANK--[Springing to his feet and glaring at
+them belligerently.] Yes, tink! Tink, dat's what I said! What
+about it? [They are silent, puzzled by his sudden resentment at
+what used to be one of his jokes. Yank sits down again in the same
+attitude of "The Thinker."]
+
+VOICES--Leave him alone.
+
+He's got a grouch on.
+
+Why wouldn't he?
+
+PADDY--[With a wink at the others.] Sure I know what's the
+matther. 'Tis aisy to see. He's fallen in love, I'm telling you.
+
+ALL--[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.]
+Love! [The word has a brazen, metallic quality as if their throats
+were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking
+laughter.]
+
+YANK--[With a contemptuous snort.] Love, hell! Hate, dat's what.
+I've fallen in hate, get me?
+
+PADDY--[Philosophically] 'Twould take a wise man to tell one from
+the other. [With a bitter, ironical scorn, increasing as he goes
+on.] But I'm telling you it's love that's in it. Sure what else
+but love for us poor bastes in the stokehole would be bringing a
+fine lady, dressed like a white quane, down a mile of ladders and
+steps to be havin' a look at us? [A growl of anger goes up from
+all sides.]
+
+LONG--[Jumping on a bench--hecticly] Hinsultin' us! Hinsultin' us,
+the bloody cow! And them bloody engineers! What right 'as they got
+to be exhibitin' us 's if we was bleedin' monkeys in a menagerie?
+Did we sign for hinsults to our dignity as 'onest workers? Is that
+in the ship's articles? You kin bloody well bet it ain't! But I
+knows why they done it. I arsked a deck steward 'o she was and 'e
+told me. 'Er old man's a bleedin' millionaire, a bloody
+Capitalist! 'E's got enuf bloody gold to sink this bleedin' ship!
+'E makes arf the bloody steel in the world! 'E owns this bloody
+boat! And you and me, comrades, we're 'is slaves! And the skipper
+and mates and engineers, they're 'is slaves! And she's 'is bloody
+daughter and we're all 'er slaves, too! And she gives 'er orders
+as 'ow she wants to see the bloody animals below decks and down
+they takes 'er! [There is a roar of rage from all sides.]
+
+YANK--[Blinking at him bewilderedly.] Say! Wait a moment! Is all
+dat straight goods?
+
+LONG--Straight as string! The bleedin' steward as waits on 'em, 'e
+told me about 'er. And what're we goin' ter do, I arsks yer? 'Ave
+we got ter swaller 'er hinsults like dogs? It ain't in the ship's
+articles. I tell yer we got a case. We kin go ter law--
+
+YANK--[With abysmal contempt.] Hell! Law!
+
+ALL--[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.]
+Law! [The word has a brazen metallic quality as if their throats
+were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking
+laughter.]
+
+LONG--[Feeling the ground slipping from under his feet--
+desperately.] As voters and citizens we kin force the bloody
+governments--
+
+YANK--[With abysmal contempt.] Hell! Governments!
+
+ALL--[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.]
+Governments! [The word has a brazen metallic quality as if their
+throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard,
+barking laughter.]
+
+LONG--[Hysterically.] We're free and equal in the sight of God--
+
+YANK--[With abysmal contempt.] Hell! God!
+
+ALL--[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.]
+God! [The word has a brazen metallic quality as if their throats
+were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking
+laughter.]
+
+YANK--[Witheringly.] Aw, join de Salvation Army!
+
+ALL--Sit down! Shut up! Damn fool! Sea-lawyer! [Long slinks back
+out of sight.]
+
+PADDY--[Continuing the trend of his thoughts as if he had never
+been interrupted--bitterly.] And there she was standing behind us,
+and the Second pointing at us like a man you'd hear in a circus
+would be saying: In this cage is a queerer kind of baboon than
+ever you'd find in darkest Africy. We roast them in their own
+sweat--and be damned if you won't hear some of thim saying they
+like it! [He glances scornfully at Yank.]
+
+YANK--[With a bewildered uncertain growl.] Aw!
+
+PADDY--And there was Yank roarin' curses and turning round wid his
+shovel to brain her--and she looked at him, and him at her--
+
+YANK--[Slowly.] She was all white. I tought she was a ghost. Sure.
+
+PADDY--[With heavy, biting sarcasm.] 'Twas love at first sight,
+divil a doubt of it! If you'd seen the endearin' look on her pale
+mug when she shrivelled away with her hands over her eyes to shut
+out the sight of him! Sure, 'twas as if she'd seen a great hairy
+ape escaped from the Zoo!
+
+YANK--[Stung--with a growl of rage.] Aw!
+
+PADDY--And the loving way Yank heaved his shovel at the skull of
+her, only she was out the door! [A grin breaking over his face.]
+'Twas touching, I'm telling you! It put the touch of home, swate
+home in the stokehole. [There is a roar of laughter from all.]
+
+YANK--[Glaring at Paddy menacingly.] Aw, choke dat off, see!
+
+PADDY--[Not heeding him--to the others.] And her grabbin' at the
+Second's arm for protection. [With a grotesque imitation of a
+woman's voice.] Kiss me, Engineer dear, for it's dark down here
+and me old man's in Wall Street making money! Hug me tight,
+darlin', for I'm afeerd in the dark and me mother's on deck makin'
+eyes at the skipper! [Another roar of laughter.]
+
+YANK--[Threateningly.] Say! What yuh tryin' to do, kid me, yuh old
+Harp?
+
+PADDY--Divil a bit! Ain't I wishin' myself you'd brained her?
+
+YANK--[Fiercely.] I'll brain her! I'll brain her yet, wait 'n'
+see! [Coming over to Paddy--slowly.] Say, is dat what she called
+me--a hairy ape?
+
+PADDY--She looked it at you if she didn't say the word itself.
+
+YANK--[Grinning horribly.] Hairy ape, huh? Sure! Dat's de way she
+looked at me, aw right. Hairy ape! So dat's me, huh? [Bursting
+into rage--as if she were still in front of him.] Yuh skinny tart!
+Yuh white-faced bum, yuh! I'll show yuh who's a ape! [Turning to
+the others, bewilderment seizing him again.] Say, youse guys. I
+was bawlin' him out for pullin' de whistle on us. You heard me.
+And den I seen youse lookin' at somep'n and I tought he'd sneaked
+down to come up in back of me, and I hopped round to knock him
+dead wit de shovel. And dere she was wit de light on her! Christ,
+yuh coulda pushed me over with a finger! I was scared, get me?
+Sure! I tought she was a ghost, see? She was all in white like dey
+wrap around stiffs. You seen her. Kin yuh blame me? She didn't
+belong, dat's what. And den when I come to and seen it was a real
+skoit and seen de way she was lookin' at me--like Paddy said--
+Christ, I was sore, get me? I don't stand for dat stuff from
+nobody. And I flung de shovel--on'y she'd beat it. [Furiously.] I
+wished it'd banged her! I wished it'd knocked her block off!
+
+LONG--And be 'anged for murder or 'lectrocuted? She ain't bleedin'
+well worth it.
+
+YANK--I don't give a damn what! I'd be square wit her, wouldn't I?
+Tink I wanter let her put somep'n over on me? Tink I'm goin' to
+let her git away wit dat stuff? Yuh don't know me! Noone ain't
+never put nothin' over on me and got away wit it, see!--not dat
+kind of stuff--no guy and no skoit neither! I'll fix her! Maybe
+she'll come down again--
+
+VOICE--No chance, Yank. You scared her out of a year's growth.
+
+YANK--I scared her? Why de hell should I scare her? Who de hell is
+she? Ain't she de same as me? Hairy ape, huh? [With his old
+confident bravado.] I'll show her I'm better'n her, if she on'y
+knew it. I belong and she don't, see! I move and she's dead!
+Twenty-five knots a hour, dats me! Dat carries her but I make dat.
+She's on'y baggage. Sure! [Again bewilderedly.] But, Christ, she
+was funny lookin'! Did yuh pipe her hands? White and skinny. Yuh
+could see de bones trough 'em. And her mush, dat was dead white,
+too. And her eyes, dey was like dey'd seen a ghost. Me, dat was!
+Sure! Hairy ape! Ghost, huh? Look at dat arm! [He extends his
+right arm, swelling out the great muscles.] I coulda took her wit
+dat, wit' just my little finger even, and broke her in two. [Again
+bewilderedly.] Say, who is dat skoit, huh? What is she? What's she
+come from? Who made her? Who give her de noive to look at me like
+dat? Dis ting's got my goat right. I don't get her. She's new to
+me. What does a skoit like her mean, huh? She don't belong, get
+me! I can't see her. [With growing anger.] But one ting I'm wise
+to, aw right, aw right! Youse all kin bet your shoits I'll git
+even wit her. I'll show her if she tinks she--She grinds de organ
+and I'm on de string, huh? I'll fix her! Let her come down again
+and I'll fling her in de furnace! She'll move den! She won't
+shiver at nothin', den! Speed, dat'll be her! She'll belong den!
+[He grins horribly.]
+
+PADDY--She'll never come. She's had her belly-full, I'm telling
+you. She'll be in bed now, I'm thinking, wid ten doctors and
+nurses feedin' her salts to clean the fear out of her.
+
+YANK--[Enraged.] Yuh tink I made her sick, too, do yuh? Just
+lookin' at me, huh? Hairy ape, huh? [In a frenzy of rage.] I'll
+fix her! I'll tell her where to git off! She'll git down on her
+knees and take it back or I'll bust de face offen her! [Shaking
+one fist upward and beating on his chest with the other.] I'll
+find yuh! I'm comin', d'yuh hear? I'll fix yuh, God damn yuh! [He
+makes a rush for the door.]
+
+VOICES--Stop him!
+
+He'll get shot!
+
+He'll murder her!
+
+Trip him up!
+
+Hold him!
+
+He's gone crazy!
+
+Gott, he's strong!
+
+Hold him down!
+
+Look out for a kick!
+
+Pin his arms!
+
+[They have all piled on him and, after a fierce struggle, by sheer
+weight of numbers have borne him to the floor just inside the
+door.]
+
+PADDY--[Who has remained detached.] Kape him down till he's cooled
+off. [Scornfully.] Yerra, Yank, you're a great fool. Is it payin'
+attention at all you are to the like of that skinny sow widout one
+drop of rale blood in her?
+
+YANK--[Frenziedly, from the bottom of the heap.] She done me doit!
+She done me doit, didn't she? I'll git square wit her! I'll get
+her some way! Git offen me, youse guys! Lemme up! I'll show her
+who's a ape!
+
+[Curtain]
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE V
+
+
+SCENE--Three weeks later. A corner of Fifth Avenue in the Fifties
+on a fine, Sunday morning. A general atmosphere of clean, well-
+tidied, wide street; a flood of mellow, tempered sunshine; gentle,
+genteel breezes. In the rear, the show windows of two shops, a
+jewelry establishment on the corner, a furrier's next to it. Here
+the adornments of extreme wealth are tantalizingly displayed. The
+jeweler's window is gaudy with glittering diamonds, emeralds,
+rubies, pearls, etc., fashioned in ornate tiaras, crowns,
+necklaces, collars, etc. From each piece hangs an enormous tag
+from which a dollar sign and numerals in intermittent electric
+lights wink out the incredible prices. The same in the furrier's.
+Rich furs of all varieties hang there bathed in a downpour of
+artificial light. The general effect is of a background of
+magnificence cheapened and made grotesque by commercialism, a
+background in tawdry disharmony with the clear light and sunshine
+on the street itself.
+
+Up the side street Yank and Long come swaggering. Long is dressed
+in shore clothes, wears a black Windsor tie, cloth cap. Yank is in
+his dirty dungarees. A fireman's cap with black peak is cocked
+defiantly on the side of his head. He has not shaved for days and
+around his fierce, resentful eyes--as around those of Long to a
+lesser degree--the black smudge of coal dust still sticks like
+make-up. They hesitate and stand together at the corner,
+swaggering, looking about them with a forced, defiant contempt.
+
+LONG--[Indicating it all with an oratorical gesture.] Well, 'ere
+we are. Fif' Avenoo. This 'ere's their bleedin' private lane, as
+yer might say. [Bitterly.] We're trespassers 'ere. Proletarians
+keep orf the grass!
+
+YANK--[Dully.] I don't see no grass, yuh boob. [Staring at the
+sidewalk.] Clean, ain't it? Yuh could eat a fried egg offen it.
+The white wings got some job sweepin' dis up. [Looking up and down
+the avenue--surlily.] Where's all de white-collar stiffs yuh said
+was here--and de skoits--her kind?
+
+LONG--In church, blarst 'em! Arskin' Jesus to give 'em more money.
+
+YANK--Choich, huh? I useter go to choich onct--sure--when I was a
+kid. Me old man and woman, dey made me. Dey never went demselves,
+dough. Always got too big a head on Sunday mornin', dat was dem.
+[With a grin.] Dey was scrappers for fair, bot' of dem. On Satiday
+nights when dey bot' got a skinful dey could put up a bout oughter
+been staged at de Garden. When dey got trough dere wasn't a chair
+or table wit a leg under it. Or else dey bot' jumped on me for
+somep'n. Dat was where I loined to take punishment. [With a grin
+and a swagger.] I'm a chip offen de old block, get me?
+
+LONG--Did yer old man follow the sea?
+
+YANK--Naw. Worked along shore. I runned away when me old lady
+croaked wit de tremens. I helped at truckin' and in de market. Den
+I shipped in de stokehole. Sure. Dat belongs. De rest was nothin'.
+[Looking around him.] I ain't never seen dis before. De Brooklyn
+waterfront, dat was where I was dragged up. [Taking a deep
+breath.] Dis ain't so bad at dat, huh?
+
+LONG--Not bad? Well, we pays for it wiv our bloody sweat, if yer
+wants to know!
+
+YANK--[With sudden angry disgust.] Aw, hell! I don't see noone,
+see--like her. All dis gives me a pain. It don't belong. Say,
+ain't dere a backroom around dis dump? Let's go shoot a ball. All
+dis is too clean and quiet and dolled-up, get me! It gives me a
+pain.
+
+LONG--Wait and yer'll bloody well see--
+
+YANK--I don't wait for noone. I keep on de move. Say, what yuh
+drag me up here for, anyway? Tryin' to kid me, yuh simp, yuh?
+
+LONG--Yer wants to get back at her, don't yer? That's what yer
+been saying' every bloomin' 'our since she hinsulted yer.
+
+YANK--[Vehemently.] Sure ting I do! Didn't I try to git even wit
+her in Southampton? Didn't I sneak on de dock and wait for her by
+de gangplank? I was goin' to spit in her pale mug, see! Sure,
+right in her pop-eyes! Dat woulda made me even, see? But no
+chanct. Dere was a whole army of plain clothes bulls around. Dey
+spotted me and gimme de bum's rush. I never seen her. But I'll git
+square wit her yet, you watch! [Furiously.] De lousey tart! She
+tinks she kin get away wit moider--but not wit me! I'll fix her!
+I'll tink of a way!
+
+LONG--[As disgusted as he dares to be.] Ain't that why I brought
+yer up 'ere--to show yer? Yer been lookin' at this 'ere 'ole
+affair wrong. Yer been actin' an' talkin' 's if it was all a
+bleedin' personal matter between yer and that bloody cow. I wants
+to convince yer she was on'y a representative of 'er clarss. I
+wants to awaken yer bloody clarss consciousness. Then yer'll see
+it's 'er clarss yer've got to fight, not 'er alone. There's a 'ole
+mob of 'em like 'er, Gawd blind 'em!
+
+YANK--[Spitting on his hands--belligerently.] De more de merrier
+when I gits started. Bring on de gang!
+
+LONG--Yer'll see 'em in arf a mo', when that church lets out. [He
+turns and sees the window display in the two stores for the first
+time.] Blimey! Look at that, will yer? [They both walk back and
+stand looking in the jewelers. Long flies into a fury.] Just look
+at this 'ere bloomin' mess! Just look at it! Look at the bleedin'
+prices on 'em--more'n our 'old bloody stokehole makes in ten
+voyages sweatin' in 'ell! And they--her and her bloody clarss--
+buys 'em for toys to dangle on 'em! One of these 'ere would buy
+scoff for a starvin' family for a year!
+
+YANK--Aw, cut de sob stuff! T' hell wit de starvin' family! Yuh'll
+be passin' de hat to me next. [With naive admiration.] Say, dem
+tings is pretty, huh? Bet yuh dey'd hock for a piece of change aw
+right. [Then turning away, bored.] But, aw hell, what good are
+dey? Let her have 'em. Dey don't belong no more'n she does. [With
+a gesture of sweeping the jewelers into oblivion.] All dat don't
+count, get me?
+
+LONG--[Who has moved to the furriers--indignantly.] And I s'pose
+this 'ere don't count neither--skins of poor, 'armless animals
+slaughtered so as 'er and 'ers can keep their bleedin' noses warm!
+
+YANK--[Who has been staring at something inside--with queer
+excitement.] Take a slant at dat! Give it de once-over! Monkey
+fur--two t'ousand bucks! [Bewilderedly.] Is dat straight goods--
+monkey fur? What de hell--?
+
+LONG--[Bitterly.] It's straight enuf. [With grim humor.] They
+wouldn't bloody well pay that for a 'airy ape's skin--no, nor for
+the 'ole livin' ape with all 'is 'ead, and body, and soul thrown
+in!
+
+YANK--[Clenching his fists, his face growing pale with rage as if
+the skin in the window were a personal insult.] Trowin' it up in
+my face! Christ! I'll fix her!
+
+LONG--[Excitedly.] Church is out. 'Ere they come, the bleedin'
+swine. [After a glance at Yank's lowering face--uneasily.] Easy
+goes, Comrade. Keep yer bloomin' temper. Remember force defeats
+itself. It ain't our weapon. We must impress our demands through
+peaceful means--the votes of the on-marching proletarians of the
+bloody world!
+
+YANK--[With abysmal contempt.] Votes, hell! Votes is a joke, see.
+Votes for women! Let dem do it!
+
+LONG--[Still more uneasily.] Calm, now. Treat 'em wiv the proper
+contempt. Observe the bleedin' parasites but 'old yer 'orses.
+
+YANK--[Angrily.] Git away from me! Yuh're yellow, dat's what.
+Force, dat's me! De punch, dat's me every time, see! [The crowd
+from church enter from the right, sauntering slowly and
+affectedly, their heads held stiffly up, looking neither to right
+nor left, talking in toneless, simpering voices. The women are
+rouged, calcimined, dyed, overdressed to the nth degree. The men
+are in Prince Alberts, high hats, spats, canes, etc. A procession
+of gaudy marionettes, yet with something of the relentless horror
+of Frankensteins in their detached, mechanical unawareness.]
+
+VOICES--Dear Doctor Caiaphas! He is so sincere! What was the
+sermon? I dozed off. About the radicals, my dear--and the false
+doctrines that are being preached. We must organize a hundred per
+cent American bazaar. And let everyone contribute one one-
+hundredth percent of their income tax. What an original idea! We
+can devote the proceeds to rehabilitatating the veil of the
+temple. But that has been done so many times.
+
+YANK--[Glaring from one to the other of them--with an insulting
+snort of scorn.] Huh! Huh! [Without seeming to see him, they make
+wide detours to avoid the spot where he stands in the middle of
+the sidewalk.]
+
+LONG--[Frightenedly.] Keep yer bloomin' mouth shut, I tells yer.
+
+YANK--[Viciously.] G'wan! Tell it to Sweeney! [He swaggers away
+and deliberately lurches into a top-hatted gentleman, then glares
+at him pugnaciously.] Say, who d'yuh tink yuh're bumpin'? Tink yuh
+own de oith?
+
+GENTLEMAN--[Coldly and affectedly.] I beg your pardon. [He has not
+looked at YANK and passes on without a glance, leaving him
+bewildered.]
+
+LONG--[Rushing up and grabbing YANK's arm.] 'Ere! Come away! This
+wasn't what I meant. Yer'll 'ave the bloody coppers down on us.
+
+YANK--[Savagely--giving him a push that sends him sprawling.]
+G'wan!
+
+LONG--[Picks himself up--hysterically.] I'll pop orf then. This
+ain't what I meant. And whatever 'appens, yer can't blame me. [He
+slinks off left.]
+
+YANK--T' hell wit youse! [He approaches a lady--with a vicious
+grin and a smirking wink.] Hello, Kiddo. How's every little ting?
+Got anyting on for to-night? I know an old boiler down to de docks
+we kin crawl into. [The lady stalks by without a look, without a
+change of pace. YANK turns to others--insultingly.] Holy smokes,
+what a mug! Go hide yuhself before de horses shy at yuh. Gee, pipe
+de heinie on dat one! Say, youse, yuh look like de stoin of a
+ferryboat. Paint and powder! All dolled up to kill! Yuh look like
+stiffs laid out for de boneyard! Aw, g'wan, de lot of youse! Yuh
+give me de eye-ache. Yuh don't belong, get me! Look at me, why
+don't youse dare? I belong, dat's me! [Pointing to a skyscraper
+across the street which is in process of construction--with
+bravado.] See dat building goin' up dere? See de steel work?
+Steel, dat's me! Youse guys live on it and tink yuh're somep'n.
+But I'm IN it, see! I'm de hoistin' engine dat makes it go up! I'm
+it--de inside and bottom of it! Sure! I'm steel and steam and
+smoke and de rest of it! It moves--speed--twenty-five stories up--
+and me at de top and bottom--movin'! Youse simps don't move.
+Yuh're on'y dolls I winds up to see 'm spin. Yuh're de garbage,
+get me--de leavins--de ashes we dump over de side! Now, whata yuh
+gotto say? [But as they seem neither to see nor hear him, he flies
+into a fury.] Bums! Pigs! Tarts! Bitches! [He turns in a rage on
+the men, bumping viciously into them but not jarring them the
+least bit. Rather it is he who recoils after each collision. He
+keeps growling.] Git off de oith! G'wan, yuh bum! Look where
+yuh're goin,' can't yuh? Git outa here! Fight, why don't yuh? Put
+up yer mits! Don't be a dog! Fight or I'll knock yuh dead! [But,
+without seeming to see him, they all answer with mechanical
+affected politeness:] I beg your pardon. [Then at a cry from one
+of the women, they all scurry to the furrier's window.]
+
+THE WOMAN--[Ecstatically, with a gasp of delight.] Monkey fur!
+[The whole crowd of men and women chorus after her in the same
+tone of affected delight.] Monkey fur!
+
+YANK--[With a jerk of his head back on his shoulders, as if he had
+received a punch full in the face--raging.] I see yuh, all in
+white! I see yuh, yuh white-faced tart, yuh! Hairy ape, huh? I'll
+hairy ape yuh! [He bends down and grips at the street curbing as
+if to pluck it out and hurl it. Foiled in this, snarling with
+passion, he leaps to the lamp-post on the corner and tries to pull
+it up for a club. Just at that moment a bus is heard rumbling up.
+A fat, high-hatted, spatted gentleman runs out from the side
+street. He calls out plaintively: "Bus! Bus! Stop there!" and runs
+full tilt into the bending, straining YANK, who is bowled off his
+balance.]
+
+YANK--[Seeing a fight--with a roar of joy as he springs to his
+feet.] At last! Bus, huh? I'll bust yuh! [He lets drive a terrific
+swing, his fist landing full on the fat gentleman's face. But the
+gentleman stands unmoved as if nothing had happened.]
+
+GENTLEMAN--I beg your pardon. [Then irritably.] You have made me
+lose my bus. [He claps his hands and begins to scream:] Officer!
+Officer! [Many police whistles shrill out on the instant and a
+whole platoon of policemen rush in on YANK from all sides. He
+tries to fight but is clubbed to the pavement and fallen upon. The
+crowd at the window have not moved or noticed this disturbance.
+The clanging gong of the patrol wagon approaches with a clamoring
+din.]
+
+[Curtain]
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE VI
+
+
+SCENE--Night of the following day. A row of cells in the prison
+on Blackwells Island. The cells extend back diagonally from right
+front to left rear. They do not stop, but disappear in the dark
+background as if they ran on, numberless, into infinity. One
+electric bulb from the low ceiling of the narrow corridor sheds
+its light through the heavy steel bars of the cell at the extreme
+front and reveals part of the interior. YANK can be seen within,
+crouched on the edge of his cot in the attitude of Rodin's "The
+Thinker." His face is spotted with black and blue bruises. A
+blood-stained bandage is wrapped around his head.
+
+YANK--[Suddenly starting as if awakening from a dream, reaches out
+and shakes the bars--aloud to himself, wonderingly.] Steel. Dis is
+de Zoo, huh? [A burst of hard, barking laughter comes from the
+unseen occupants of the cells, runs back down the tier, and
+abruptly ceases.]
+
+VOICES--[Mockingly.] The Zoo? That's a new name for this coop--a
+damn good name! Steel, eh? You said a mouthful. This is the old
+iron house. Who is that boob talkin'? He's the bloke they brung in
+out of his head. The bulls had beat him up fierce.
+
+YANK--[Dully.] I musta been dreamin'. I tought I was in a cage at
+de Zoo--but de apes don't talk, do dey?
+
+VOICES--[With mocking laughter.] You're in a cage aw right.
+
+A coop!
+
+A pen!
+
+A sty!
+
+A kennel! [Hard laughter--a pause.]
+
+Say, guy! Who are you? No, never mind lying. What are you?
+
+Yes, tell us your sad story. What's your game?
+
+What did they jug yuh for?
+
+YANK--[Dully.] I was a fireman--stokin' on de liners. [Then with
+sudden rage, rattling his cell bars.] I'm a hairy ape, get me? And
+I'll bust youse all in de jaw if yuh don't lay off kiddin' me.
+
+VOICES--Huh! You're a hard boiled duck ain't you!
+
+When you spit, it bounces! [Laughter.]
+
+Aw, can it. He's a regular guy. Ain't you?
+
+What did he say he was--a ape?
+
+YANK--[Defiantly.] Sure ting! Ain't dat what youse all are--apes?
+[A silence. Then a furious rattling of bars from down the
+corridor.]
+
+A VOICE--[Thick with rage.] I'll show yuh who's a ape, yuh bum!
+
+VOICES--Ssshh! Nix!
+
+Can de noise!
+
+Piano!
+
+You'll have the guard down on us!
+
+YANK--[Scornfully.] De guard? Yuh mean de keeper, don't yuh?
+[Angry exclamations from all the cells.]
+
+VOICE--[Placatingly.] Aw, don't pay no attention to him. He's off
+his nut from the beatin'-up he got. Say, you guy! We're waitin' to
+hear what they landed you for--or ain't yuh tellin'?
+
+YANK--Sure, I'll tell youse. Sure! Why de hell not? On'y--youse
+won't get me. Nobody gets me but me, see? I started to tell de
+Judge and all he says was: "Toity days to tink it over." Tink it
+over! Christ, dat's all I been doin' for weeks! [After a pause.] I
+was tryin' to git even wit someone, see?--someone dat done me
+doit.
+
+VOICES--[Cynically.] De old stuff, I bet. Your goil, huh?
+
+Give yuh the double-cross, huh?
+
+That's them every time!
+
+Did yuh beat up de odder guy?
+
+YANK--[Disgustedly] Aw, yuh're all wrong! Sure dere was a skoit in
+it--but not what youse mean, not dat old tripe. Dis was a new kind
+of skoit. She was dolled up all in white--in de stokehole. I
+tought she was a ghost. Sure. [A pause.]
+
+VOICES--[Whispering.] Gee, he's still nutty.
+
+Let him rave. It's fun listenin'.
+
+YANK--[Unheeding--groping in his thoughts.] Her hands--dey was
+skinny and white like dey wasn't real but painted on somep'n. Dere
+was a million miles from me to her--twenty-five knots a hour. She
+was like some dead ting de cat brung in. Sure, dat's what. She
+didn't belong. She belonged in de window of a toy store, or on de
+top of a garbage can, see! Sure! [He breaks out angrily.] But
+would yuh believe it, she had de noive to do me doit. She lamped
+me like she was seein' somep'n broke loose from de menagerie.
+Christ, yuh'd oughter seen her eyes! [He rattles the bars of his
+cell furiously.] But I'll get back at her yet, you watch! And if I
+can't find her I'll take it out on de gang she runs wit. I'm wise
+to where dey hangs out now. I'll show her who belongs! I'll show
+her who's in de move and who ain't. You watch my smoke!
+
+VOICES--[Serious and joking.] Dat's de talkin'!
+
+Take her for all she's got!
+
+What was this dame, anyway? Who was she, eh?
+
+YANK--I dunno. First cabin stiff. Her old man's a millionaire, dey
+says--name of Douglas.
+
+VOICES--Douglas? That's the president of the Steel Trust, I bet.
+
+Sure. I seen his mug in de papers.
+
+He's filthy with dough.
+
+VOICE--Hey, feller, take a tip from me. If you want to get back at
+that dame, you better join the Wobblies. You'll get some action
+then.
+
+YANK--Wobblies? What de hell's dat?
+
+VOICE--Ain't you ever heard of the I. W. W.?
+
+YANK--Naw. What is it?
+
+VOICE--A gang of blokes--a tough gang. I been readin' about 'em
+to-day in the paper. The guard give me the Sunday Times. There's a
+long spiel about 'em. It's from a speech made in the Senate by a
+guy named Senator Queen. [He is in the cell next to YANK's. There
+is a rustling of paper.] Wait'll I see if I got light enough and
+I'll read you. Listen. [He reads:] "There is a menace existing in
+this country to-day which threatens the vitals of our fair
+Republic--as foul a menace against the very life-blood of the
+American Eagle as was the foul conspiracy of Cataline against the
+eagles of ancient Rome!"
+
+VOICE [Disgustedly.] Aw hell! Tell him to salt de tail of dat
+eagle!
+
+VOICE--[Reading:] "I refer to that devil's brew of rascals,
+jailbirds, murderers and cutthroats who libel all honest working
+men by calling themselves the Industrial Workers of the World; but
+in the light of their nefarious plots, I call them the Industrious
+WRECKERS of the World!"
+
+YANK--[With vengeful satisfaction.] Wreckers, dat's de right dope!
+Dat belongs! Me for dem!
+
+VOICE--Ssshh! [Reading.] "This fiendish organization is a foul
+ulcer on the fair body of our Democracy--"
+
+VOICE--Democracy, hell! Give him the boid, fellers--the
+raspberry! [They do.]
+
+VOICE--Ssshh! [Reading:] "Like Cato I say to this senate, the I.
+W. W. must be destroyed! For they represent an ever-present dagger
+pointed at the heart of the greatest nation the world has ever
+known, where all men are born free and equal, with equal
+opportunities to all, where the Founding Fathers have guaranteed
+to each one happiness, where Truth, Honor, Liberty, Justice, and
+the Brotherhood of Man are a religion absorbed with one's mother's
+milk, taught at our father's knee, sealed, signed, and stamped
+upon in the glorious Constitution of these United States!" [A
+perfect storm of hisses, catcalls, boos, and hard laughter.]
+
+VOICES--[Scornfully.] Hurrah for de Fort' of July!
+
+Pass de hat!
+
+Liberty!
+
+Justice!
+
+Honor!
+
+Opportunity!
+
+Brotherhood!
+
+ALL--[With abysmal scorn.] Aw, hell!
+
+VOICE--Give that Queen Senator guy the bark! All togedder now--
+one--two--tree--[A terrific chorus of barking and yapping.]
+
+GUARD--[From a distance.] Quiet there, youse--or I'll git the
+hose. [The noise subsides.]
+
+YANK--[With growling rage.] I'd like to catch dat senator guy
+alone for a second. I'd loin him some trute!
+
+VOICE--Ssshh! Here's where he gits down to cases on the Wobblies.
+[Reads:] "They plot with fire in one hand and dynamite in the
+other. They stop not before murder to gain their ends, nor at the
+outraging of defenceless womanhood. They would tear down society,
+put the lowest scum in the seats of the mighty, turn Almighty
+God's revealed plan for the world topsy-turvy, and make of our
+sweet and lovely civilization a shambles, a desolation where man,
+God's masterpiece, would soon degenerate back to the ape!"
+
+VOICE--[To YANK.] Hey, you guy. There's your ape stuff again.
+
+YANK--[With a growl of fury.] I got him. So dey blow up tings, do
+dey? Dey turn tings round, do dey? Hey, lend me dat paper, will
+yuh?
+
+VOICE--Sure. Give it to him. On'y keep it to yourself, see. We
+don't wanter listen to no more of that slop.
+
+VOICE--Here you are. Hide it under your mattress.
+
+YANK--[Reaching out.] Tanks. I can't read much but I kin manage.
+[He sits, the paper in the hand at his side, in the attitude of
+Rodin's "The Thinker." A pause. Several snores from down the
+corridor. Suddenly YANK jumps to his feet with a furious groan as
+if some appalling thought had crashed on him--bewilderedly.] Sure--
+her old man--president of de Steel Trust--makes half de steel in
+de world--steel--where I tought I belonged--drivin' trou--movin'--
+in dat--to make HER--and cage me in for her to spit on! Christ
+[He shakes the bars of his cell door till the whole tier trembles.
+Irritated, protesting exclamations from those awakened or trying
+to get to sleep.] He made dis--dis cage! Steel! IT don't belong,
+dat's what! Cages, cells, locks, bolts, bars--dat's what it
+means!--holdin' me down wit him at de top! But I'll drive trou!
+Fire, dat melts it! I'll be fire--under de heap--fire dat never
+goes out--hot as hell--breakin' out in de night--[While he has
+been saying this last he has shaken his cell door to a clanging
+accompaniment. As he comes to the "breakin' out" he seizes one bar
+with both hands and, putting his two feet up against the others so
+that his position is parallel to the floor like a monkey's, he
+gives a great wrench backwards. The bar bends like a licorice
+stick under his tremendous strength. Just at this moment the
+PRISON GUARD rushes in, dragging a hose behind him.]
+
+GUARD--[Angrily.] I'll loin youse bums to wake me up! [Sees YANK.]
+Hello, it's you, huh? Got the D.T.s, hey? Well, I'll cure 'em.
+I'll drown your snakes for yuh! [Noticing the bar.] Hell, look at
+dat bar bended! On'y a bug is strong enough for dat!
+
+YANK--[Glaring at him.] Or a hairy ape, yuh big yellow bum! Look
+out! Here I come! [He grabs another bar.]
+
+GUARD--[Scared now--yelling off left.] Toin de hoose on, Ben!--
+full pressure! And call de others--and a strait jacket! [The
+curtain is falling. As it hides YANK from view, there is a
+splattering smash as the stream of water hits the steel of YANK's
+cell.]
+
+[Curtain]
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE VII
+
+
+SCENE--Nearly a month later. An I. W. W. local near the
+waterfront, showing the interior of a front room on the ground
+floor, and the street outside. Moonlight on the narrow street,
+buildings massed in black shadow. The interior of the room, which
+is general assembly room, office, and reading room, resembles some
+dingy settlement boys club. A desk and high stool are in one
+corner. A table with papers, stacks of pamphlets, chairs about it,
+is at center. The whole is decidedly cheap, banal, commonplace and
+unmysterious as a room could well be. The secretary is perched on
+the stool making entries in a large ledger. An eye shade casts his
+face into shadows. Eight or ten men, longshoremen, iron workers,
+and the like, are grouped about the table. Two are playing
+checkers. One is writing a letter. Most of them are smoking pipes.
+A big signboard is on the wall at the rear, "Industrial Workers of
+the World--Local No. 57."
+
+YANK--[Comes down the street outside. He is dressed as in Scene
+Five. He moves cautiously, mysteriously. He comes to a point
+opposite the door; tiptoes softly up to it, listens, is impressed
+by the silence within, knocks carefully, as if he were guessing at
+the password to some secret rite. Listens. No answer. Knocks again
+a bit louder. No answer. Knocks impatiently, much louder.]
+
+SECRETARY--[Turning around on his stool.] What the devil is that--
+someone knocking? [Shouts:] Come in, why don't you? [All the men
+in the room look up. YANK opens the door slowly, gingerly, as if
+afraid of an ambush. He looks around for secret doors, mystery, is
+taken aback by the commonplaceness of the room and the men in it,
+thinks he may have gotten in the wrong place, then sees the
+signboard on the wall and is reassured.]
+
+YANK--[Blurts out.] Hello.
+
+MEN--[Reservedly.] Hello.
+
+YANK--[More easily.] I tought I'd bumped into de wrong dump.
+
+SECRETARY--[Scrutinizing him carefully.] Maybe you have. Are you a
+member?
+
+YANK--Naw, not yet. Dat's what I come for--to join.
+
+SECRETARY--That's easy. What's your job--longshore?
+
+YANK--Naw. Fireman--stoker on de liners.
+
+SECRETARY--[With satisfaction.] Welcome to our city. Glad to know
+you people are waking up at last. We haven't got many members in
+your line.
+
+YANK--Naw. Dey're all dead to de woild.
+
+SECRETARY--Well, you can help to wake 'em. What's your name? I'll
+make out your card.
+
+YANK--[Confused.] Name? Lemme tink.
+
+SECRETARY--[Sharply.] Don't you know your own name?
+
+YANK--Sure; but I been just Yank for so long--Bob, dat's it--Bob
+Smith.
+
+SECRETARY--[Writing.] Robert Smith. [Fills out the rest of card.]
+Here you are. Cost you half a dollar.
+
+YANK--Is dat all--four bits? Dat's easy. [Gives the SECRETARY the
+money.]
+
+SECRETARY--[Throwing it in drawer.] Thanks. Well, make yourself at
+home. No introductions needed. There's literature on the table.
+Take some of those pamphlets with you to distribute aboard ship.
+They may bring results. Sow the seed, only go about it right.
+Don't get caught and fired. We got plenty out of work. What we
+need is men who can hold their jobs--and work for us at the same
+time.
+
+YANK--Sure. [But he still stands, embarrassed and uneasy.]
+
+SECRETARY--[Looking at him--curiously.] What did you knock for?
+Think we had a coon in uniform to open doors?
+
+YANK--Naw. I tought it was locked--and dat yuh'd wanter give me
+the once-over trou a peep-hole or somep'n to see if I was right.
+
+SECRETARY--[Alert and suspicious but with an easy laugh.] Think we
+were running a crap game? That door is never locked. What put that
+in your nut?
+
+YANK--[With a knowing grin, convinced that this is all camouflage,
+a part of the secrecy.] Dis burg is full of bulls, ain't it?
+
+SECRETARY--[Sharply.] What have the cops got to do with us? We're
+breaking no laws.
+
+YANK--[With a knowing wink.] Sure. Youse wouldn't for woilds.
+Sure. I'm wise to dat.
+
+SECRETARY--You seem to be wise to a lot of stuff none of us knows
+about.
+
+YANK--[With another wink.] Aw, dat's aw right, see. [Then made a
+bit resentful by the suspicious glances from all sides.] Aw, can
+it! Youse needn't put me trou de toid degree. Can't youse see I
+belong? Sure! I'm reg'lar. I'll stick, get me? I'll shoot de woiks
+for youse. Dat's why I wanted to join in.
+
+SECRETARY--[Breezily, feeling him out.] That's the right spirit.
+Only are you sure you understand what you've joined? It's all
+plain and above board; still, some guys get a wrong slant on us.
+[Sharply.] What's your notion of the purpose of the I. W. W.?
+
+YANK--Aw, I know all about it.
+
+SECRETARY--[Sarcastically.] Well, give us some of your valuable
+information.
+
+YANK--[Cunningly.] I know enough not to speak outa my toin. [Then
+resentfully again.] Aw, say! I'm reg'lar. I'm wise to de game. I
+know yuh got to watch your step wit a stranger. For all youse
+know, I might be a plain-clothes dick, or somep'n, dat's what
+yuh're tinkin', huh? Aw, forget it! I belong, see? Ask any guy
+down to de docks if I don't.
+
+SECRETARY--Who said you didn't?
+
+YANK--After I'm 'nitiated, I'll show yuh.
+
+SECRETARY--[Astounded.] Initiated? There's no initiation.
+
+YANK--[Disappointed.] Ain't there no password--no grip nor
+nothin'?
+
+SECRETARY--What'd you think this is--the Elks--or the Black Hand?
+
+YANK--De Elks, hell! De Black Hand, dey're a lot of yellow
+backstickin' Ginees. Naw. Dis is a man's gang, ain't it?
+
+SECRETARY--You said it! That's why we stand on our two feet in the
+open. We got no secrets.
+
+YANK--[Surprised but admiringly.] Yuh mean to say yuh always run
+wide open--like dis?
+
+SECRETARY--Exactly.
+
+YANK--Den yuh sure got your noive wit youse!
+
+SECRETARY--[Sharply.] Just what was it made you want to join us?
+Come out with that straight.
+
+YANK--Yuh call me? Well, I got noive, too! Here's my hand. Yuh
+wanter blow tings up, don't yuh? Well, dat's me! I belong!
+
+SECRETARY--[With pretended carelessness.] You mean change the
+unequal conditions of society by legitimate direct action--or with
+dynamite?
+
+YANK--Dynamite! Blow it offen de oith--steel--all de cages--all de
+factories, steamers, buildings, jails--de Steel Trust and all dat
+makes it go.
+
+SECRETARY--So--that's your idea, eh? And did you have any special
+job in that line you wanted to propose to us. [He makes a sign to
+the men, who get up cautiously one by one and group behind YANK.]
+
+YANK--[Boldly.] Sure, I'll come out wit it. I'll show youse I'm
+one of de gang. Dere's dat millionaire guy, Douglas--
+
+SECRETARY--President of the Steel Trust, you mean? Do you want to
+assassinate him?
+
+YANK--Naw, dat don't get yuh nothin'. I mean blow up de factory,
+de woiks, where he makes de steel. Dat's what I'm after--to blow
+up de steel, knock all de steel in de woild up to de moon. Dat'll
+fix tings! [Eagerly, with a touch of bravado.] I'll do it by me
+lonesome! I'll show yuh! Tell me where his woiks is, how to git
+there, all de dope. Gimme de stuff, de old butter--and watch me do
+de rest! Watch de smoke and see it move! I don't give a damn if
+dey nab me--long as it's done! I'll soive life for it--and give
+'em de laugh! [Half to himself.] And I'll write her a letter and
+tell her de hairy ape done it. Dat'll square tings.
+
+SECRETARY--[Stepping away from YANK.] Very interesting. [He gives
+a signal. The men, huskies all, throw themselves on YANK and
+before he knows it they have his legs and arms pinioned. But he is
+too flabbergasted to make a struggle, anyway. They feel him over
+for weapons.]
+
+MAN--No gat, no knife. Shall we give him what's what and put the
+boots to him?
+
+SECRETARY--No. He isn't worth the trouble we'd get into. He's too
+stupid. [He comes closer and laughs mockingly in YANK'S face.] Ho-
+ho! By God, this is the biggest joke they've put up on us yet.
+Hey, you Joke! Who sent you--Burns or Pinkerton? No, by God,
+you're such a bonehead I'll bet you're in the Secret Service!
+Well, you dirty spy, you rotten agent provocator, you can go back
+and tell whatever skunk is paying you blood-money for betraying
+your brothers that he's wasting his coin. You couldn't catch a
+cold. And tell him that all he'll ever get on us, or ever has got,
+is just his own sneaking plots that he's framed up to put us in
+jail. We are what our manifesto says we are, neither more or less--
+and we'll give him a copy of that any time he calls. And as for
+you--[He glares scornfully at YANK, who is sunk in an oblivious
+stupor.] Oh, hell, what's the use of talking? You're a brainless
+ape.
+
+YANK--[Aroused by the word to fierce but futile struggles.] What's
+dat, yuh Sheeny bum, yuh!
+
+SECRETARY--Throw him out, boys. [In spite of his struggles, this
+is done with gusto and eclat. Propelled by several parting kicks,
+YANK lands sprawling in the middle of the narrow cobbled street.
+With a growl he starts to get up and storm the closed door, but
+stops bewildered by the confusion in his brain, pathetically
+impotent. He sits there, brooding, in as near to the attitude of
+Rodin's "Thinker" as he can get in his position.]
+
+YANK--[Bitterly.] So dem boids don't tink I belong, neider. Aw, to
+hell wit 'em! Dey're in de wrong pew--de same old bull--soapboxes
+and Salvation Army--no guts! Cut out an hour offen de job a day
+and make me happy! Gimme a dollar more a day and make me happy!
+Tree square a day, and cauliflowers in de front yard--ekal rights--
+a woman and kids--a lousey vote--and I'm all fixed for Jesus,
+huh? Aw, hell! What does dat get yuh? Dis ting's in your inside,
+but it ain't your belly. Feedin' your face--sinkers and coffee--
+dat don't touch it. It's way down--at de bottom. Yuh can't grab
+it, and yuh can't stop it. It moves, and everyting moves. It stops
+and de whole woild stops. Dat's me now--I don't tick, see?--I'm a
+busted Ingersoll, dat's what. Steel was me, and I owned de woild.
+Now I ain't steel, and de woild owns me. Aw, hell! I can't see--
+it's all dark, get me? It's all wrong! [He turns a bitter mocking
+face up like an ape gibbering at the moon.] Say, youse up dere,
+Man in de Moon, yuh look so wise, gimme de answer, huh? Slip me de
+inside dope, de information right from de stable--where do I get
+off at, huh?
+
+A POLICEMAN--[Who has come up the street in time to hear this
+last--with grim humor.] You'll get off at the station, you boob,
+if you don't get up out of that and keep movin'.
+
+YANK--[Looking up at him--with a hard, bitter laugh.] Sure! Lock
+me up! Put me in a cage! Dat's de on'y answer yuh know. G'wan,
+lock me up!
+
+POLICEMAN--What you been doin'?
+
+YANK--Enuf to gimme life for! I was born, see? Sure, dat's de
+charge. Write it in de blotter. I was born, get me!
+
+POLICEMAN--[Jocosely.] God pity your old woman! [Then matter-of-
+fact.] But I've no time for kidding. You're soused. I'd run you in
+but it's too long a walk to the station. Come on now, get up, or
+I'll fan your ears with this club. Beat it now! [He hauls YANK to
+his feet.]
+
+YANK--[In a vague mocking tone.] Say, where do I go from here?
+
+POLICEMAN--[Giving him a push--with a grin, indifferently.] Go to
+hell.
+
+[Curtain]
+
+
+
+
+
+SCENE VIII
+
+
+SCENE--Twilight of the next day. The monkey house at the Zoo. One
+spot of clear gray light falls on the front of one cage so that
+the interior can be seen. The other cages are vague, shrouded in
+shadow from which chatterings pitched in a conversational tone can
+be heard. On the one cage a sign from which the word "gorilla"
+stands out. The gigantic animal himself is seen squatting on his
+haunches on a bench in much the same attitude as Rodin's
+"Thinker." YANK enters from the left. Immediately a chorus of
+angry chattering and screeching breaks out. The gorilla turns his
+eyes but makes no sound or move.
+
+YANK--[With a hard, bitter laugh.] Welcome to your city, huh?
+Hail, hail, de gang's all here! [At the sound of his voice the
+chattering dies away into an attentive silence. YANK walks up to
+the gorilla's cage and, leaning over the railing, stares in at its
+occupant, who stares back at him, silent and motionless. There is
+a pause of dead stillness. Then YANK begins to talk in a friendly
+confidential tone, half-mockingly, but with a deep undercurrent of
+sympathy.] Say, yuh're some hard-lookin' guy, ain't yuh? I seen
+lots of tough nuts dat de gang called gorillas, but yuh're de
+foist real one I ever seen. Some chest yuh got, and shoulders, and
+dem arms and mits! I bet yuh got a punch in eider fist dat'd knock
+'em all silly! [This with genuine admiration. The gorilla, as if
+he understood, stands upright, swelling out his chest and pounding
+on it with his fist. YANK grins sympathetically.] Sure, I get yuh.
+Yuh challenge de whole woild, huh? Yuh got what I was sayin' even
+if yuh muffed de woids. [Then bitterness creeping in.] And why
+wouldn't yuh get me? Ain't we both members of de same club--de
+Hairy Apes? [They stare at each other--a pause--then YANK goes on
+slowly and bitterly.] So yuh're what she seen when she looked at
+me, de white-faced tart! I was you to her, get me? On'y outa de
+cage--broke out--free to moider her, see? Sure! Dat's what she
+tought. She wasn't wise dat I was in a cage, too--worser'n yours--
+sure--a damn sight--'cause you got some chanct to bust loose--
+but me--[He grows confused.] Aw, hell! It's all wrong, ain't it?
+[A pause.] I s'pose yuh wanter know what I'm doin' here, huh? I
+been warmin' a bench down to de Battery--ever since last night.
+Sure. I seen de sun come up. Dat was pretty, too--all red and pink
+and green. I was lookin' at de skyscrapers--steel--and all de
+ships comin' in, sailin' out, all over de oith--and dey was steel,
+too. De sun was warm, dey wasn't no clouds, and dere was a breeze
+blowin'. Sure, it was great stuff. I got it aw right--what Paddy
+said about dat bein' de right dope--on'y I couldn't get IN it,
+see? I couldn't belong in dat. It was over my head. And I kept
+tinkin'--and den I beat it up here to see what youse was like. And
+I waited till dey was all gone to git yuh alone. Say, how d'yuh
+feel sittin' in dat pen all de time, havin' to stand for 'em
+comin' and starin' at yuh--de white-faced, skinny tarts and de
+boobs what marry 'em--makin' fun of yuh, laughin' at yuh, gittin'
+scared of yuh--damn 'em! [He pounds on the rail with his fist. The
+gorilla rattles the bars of his cage and snarls. All the other
+monkeys set up an angry chattering in the darkness. YANK goes on
+excitedly.] Sure! Dat's de way it hits me, too. On'y yuh're lucky,
+see? Yuh don't belong wit 'em and yuh know it. But me, I belong
+wit 'em--but I don't, see? Dey don't belong wit me, dat's what.
+Get me? Tinkin' is hard--[He passes one hand across his forehead
+with a painful gesture. The gorilla growls impatiently. YANK goes
+on gropingly.] It's dis way, what I'm drivin' at. Youse can sit
+and dope dream in de past, green woods, de jungle and de rest of
+it. Den yuh belong and dey don't. Den yuh kin laugh at 'em, see?
+Yuh're de champ of de woild. But me--I ain't got no past to tink
+in, nor nothin' dat's comin', on'y what's now--and dat don't
+belong. Sure, you're de best off! Yuh can't tink, can yuh? Yuh
+can't talk neider. But I kin make a bluff at talkin' and tinkin'--
+a'most git away wit it--a'most!--and dat's where de joker comes
+in. [He laughs.] I ain't on oith and I ain't in heaven, get me?
+I'm in de middle tryin' to separate 'em, takin' all de woist
+punches from bot' of 'em. Maybe dat's what dey call hell, huh? But
+you, yuh're at de bottom. You belong! Sure! Yuh're de on'y one in
+de woild dat does, yuh lucky stiff! [The gorilla growls proudly.]
+And dat's why dey gotter put yuh in a cage, see? [The gorilla
+roars angrily.] Sure! Yuh get me. It beats it when you try to tink
+it or talk it--it's way down--deep--behind--you 'n' me we feel it.
+Sure! Bot' members of dis club! [He laughs--then in a savage
+tone.] What de hell! T' hell wit it! A little action, dat's our
+meat! Dat belongs! Knock 'em down and keep bustin' 'em till dey
+croaks yuh wit a gat--wit steel! Sure! Are yuh game? Dey've looked
+at youse, ain't dey--in a cage? Wanter git even? Wanter wind up
+like a sport 'stead of croakin' slow in dere? [The gorilla roars
+an emphatic affirmative. YANK goes on with a sort of furious
+exaltation.] Sure! Yuh're reg'lar! Yuh'll stick to de finish! Me
+'n' you, huh?--bot' members of this club! We'll put up one last
+star bout dat'll knock 'em offen deir seats! Dey'll have to make
+de cages stronger after we're trou! [The gorilla is straining at
+his bars, growling, hopping from one foot to the other. YANK takes
+a jimmy from under his coat and forces the lock on the cage door.
+He throws this open.] Pardon from de governor! Step out and shake
+hands! I'll take yuh for a walk down Fif' Avenoo. We'll knock 'em
+offen de oith and croak wit de band playin'. Come on, Brother.
+[The gorilla scrambles gingerly out of his cage. Goes to YANK and
+stands looking at him. YANK keeps his mocking tone--holds out his
+hand.] Shake--de secret grip of our order. [Something, the tone of
+mockery, perhaps, suddenly enrages the animal. With a spring he
+wraps his huge arms around YANK in a murderous hug. There is a
+crackling snap of crushed ribs--a gasping cry, still mocking, from
+YANK.] Hey, I didn't say, kiss me. [The gorilla lets the crushed
+body slip to the floor; stands over it uncertainly, considering;
+then picks it up, throws it in the cage, shuts the door, and
+shuffles off menacingly into the darkness at left. A great uproar
+of frightened chattering and whimpering comes from the other
+cages. Then YANK moves, groaning, opening his eyes, and there is
+silence. He mutters painfully.] Say--dey oughter match him--wit
+Zybszko. He got me, aw right. I'm trou. Even him didn't tink I
+belonged. [Then, with sudden passionate despair.] Christ, where do
+I get off at? Where do I fit in? [Checking himself as suddenly.]
+Aw, what de hell! No squakin', see! No quittin', get me! Croak wit
+your boots on! [He grabs hold of the bars of the cage and hauls
+himself painfully to his feet--looks around him bewilderedly--
+forces a mocking laugh.] In de cage, huh? [In the strident tones
+of a circus barker.] Ladies and gents, step forward and take a
+slant at de one and only--[His voice weakening]--one and original--
+Hairy Ape from de wilds of--[He slips in a heap on the floor and
+dies. The monkeys set up a chattering, whimpering wail. And,
+perhaps, the Hairy Ape at last belongs.]
+
+[Curtain]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Hairy Ape, by Eugene O'Neill
+
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