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diff --git a/4025-h/4025-h.htm b/4025-h/4025-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..729df97 --- /dev/null +++ b/4025-h/4025-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5290 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Anna Christie, by Eugene O'Neill +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.stage {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.dialog {text-indent: -5%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.dialog2 {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna Christie, by Eugene O'Neill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Anna Christie + +Author: Eugene O'Neill + +Posting Date: June 4, 2009 [EBook #4025] +Release Date: May, 2003 +First Posted: October 12, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA CHRISTIE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks, Robert Rowe and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +"ANNA CHRISTIE" +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +A Play in Four Acts +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +By +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +EUGENE O'NEILL +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3> +CHARACTERS +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + "JOHNNY-THE-PRIEST"<BR> + TWO LONGSHOREMEN<BR> + A POSTMAN<BR> + LARRY, bartender<BR> + CHRIS. CHRISTOPHERSON, captain of the barge "Simeon Winthrop"<BR> + MARTHY OWEN<BR> + ANNA CHRISTOPHERSON, Chris's daughter<BR> + THREE MEN OF A STEAMER'S CREW<BR> + MAT BURKE, a stoker<BR> + JOHNSON, deckhand on the barge<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2> +SCENES +</H2> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#act1">ACT I</A> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Johnny-the-Priest's" saloon near the waterfront. New York City. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#act2">ACT II</A> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The barge, Simeon Winthrop, at anchor in the harbor of Provincetown, +Mass. Ten days later. +</P> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3> +<A HREF="#act3">ACT III</A> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Cabin of the barge, at dock in Boston. A week later. +</P> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3> +<A HREF="#act4">ACT IV</A> +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +The same. Two days later. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Time of the Play—About 1910. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="act1"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ACT I +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SCENE—"Johnny-The-Priest's" saloon near South Street, New York City. +The stage is divided into two sections, showing a small back room on +the right. On the left, forward, of the barroom, a large window looking +out on the street. Beyond it, the main entrance—a double swinging +door. Farther back, another window. The bar runs from left to right +nearly the whole length of the rear wall. In back of the bar, a small +showcase displaying a few bottles of case goods, for which there is +evidently little call. The remainder of the rear space in front of the +large mirrors is occupied by half-barrels of cheap whiskey of the +"nickel-a-shot" variety, from which the liquor is drawn by means of +spigots. On the right is an open doorway leading to the back room. In +the back room are four round wooden tables with five chairs grouped +about each. In the rear, a family entrance opening on a side street. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +It is late afternoon of a day in fall. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +As the curtain rises, Johnny is discovered. "Johnny-The-Priest" +deserves his nickname. With his pale, thin, clean-shaven face, mild +blue eyes and white hair, a cassock would seem more suited to him than +the apron he wears. Neither his voice nor his general manner dispel +this illusion which has made him a personage of the water front. They +are soft and bland. But beneath all his mildness one senses the man +behind the mask—cynical, callous, hard as nails. He is lounging at +ease behind the bar, a pair of spectacles on his nose, reading an +evening paper. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Two longshoremen enter from the street, wearing their working aprons, +the button of the union pinned conspicuously on the caps pulled +sideways on their heads at an aggressive angle. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +FIRST LONGSHOREMAN—[As they range themselves at the bar.] Gimme a +shock. Number Two. [He tosses a coin on the bar.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SECOND LONGSHOREMAN—Same here. [Johnny sets two glasses of barrel +whiskey before them.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +FIRST LONGSHOREMAN—Here's luck! [The other nods. They gulp down their +whiskey.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SECOND LONGSHOREMAN—[Putting money on the bar.] Give us another. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +FIRST LONGSHOREMAN—Gimme a scoop this time—lager and porter. I'm dry. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SECOND LONGSHOREMAN—Same here. [Johnny draws the lager and porter and +sets the big, foaming schooners before them. They drink down half the +contents and start to talk together hurriedly in low tones. The door on +the left is swung open and Larry enters. He is a boyish, red-cheeked, +rather good-looking young fellow of twenty or so.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Nodding to Johnny—cheerily.] Hello, boss. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—Hello, Larry. [With a glance at his watch.] Just on time. +[LARRY goes to the right behind the bar, takes off his coat, and puts +on an apron.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +FIRST LONGSHOREMAN—[Abruptly.] Let's drink up and get back to it. +[They finish their drinks and go out left. The POSTMAN enters as they +leave. He exchanges nods with JOHNNY and throws a letter on the bar.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE POSTMAN—Addressed care of you, Johnny. Know him? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—[Picks up the letter, adjusting his spectacles. LARRY comes and +peers over his shoulders. JOHNNY reads very slowly.] Christopher +Christopherson. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE POSTMAN—[Helpfully.] Square-head name. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—Old Chris—that's who. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—Oh, sure. I was forgetting Chris carried a hell of a name like +that. Letters come here for him sometimes before, I remember now. Long +time ago, though. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE POSTMAN—It'll get him all right then? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—Sure thing. He comes here whenever he's in port. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE POSTMAN—[Turning to go.] Sailor, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—[With a grin.] Captain of a coal barge. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE POSTMAN—[Laughing.] Some job! Well, s'long. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—S'long. I'll see he gets it. [The POSTMAN goes out. JOHNNY +scrutinizes the letter.] You got good eyes, Larry. Where's it from? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[After a glance.] St. Paul. That'll be in Minnesota, I'm +thinkin'. Looks like a woman's writing, too, the old divil! +JOHNNY—He's got a daughter somewheres out West, I think he told me +once. [He puts the letter on the cash register.] Come to think of it, I +ain't seen old Chris in a dog's age. [Putting his overcoat on, he comes +around the end of the bar.] Guess I'll be gettin' home. See you +to-morrow. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—Good-night to ye, boss. [As JOHNNY goes toward the street door, +it is pushed open and CHRISTOPHER CHRISTOPHERSON enters. He is a short, +squat, broad-shouldered man of about fifty, with a round, +weather-beaten, red face from which his light blue eyes peer +short-sightedly, twinkling with a simple good humor. His large mouth, +overhung by a thick, drooping, yellow mustache, is childishly +self-willed and weak, of an obstinate kindliness. A thick neck is +jammed like a post into the heavy trunk of his body. His arms with +their big, hairy, freckled hands, and his stumpy legs terminating in +large flat feet, are awkwardly short and muscular. He walks with a +clumsy, rolling gait. His voice, when not raised in a hollow boom, is +toned down to a sly, confidential half-whisper with something vaguely +plaintive in its quality. He is dressed in a wrinkled, ill-fitting dark +suit of shore clothes, and wears a faded cap of gray cloth over his mop +of grizzled, blond hair. Just now his face beams with a too-blissful +happiness, and he has evidently been drinking. He reaches his hand out +to JOHNNY.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Hello, Yohnny! Have drink on me. Come on, Larry. Give us drink. +Have one yourself. [Putting his hand in his pocket.] Ay gat +money—plenty money. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—[Shakes CHRIS by the hand.] Speak of the devil. We was just +talkin' about you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Coming to the end of the bar.] Hello, Chris. Put it there. +[They shake hands.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Beaming.] Give us drink. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—[With a grin.] You got a half-snootful now. Where'd you get it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Grinning.] Oder fallar on oder barge—Irish fallar—he gat +bottle vhiskey and we drank it, yust us two. Dot vhiskey gat kick, by +yingo! Ay yust come ashore. Give us drink, Larry. Ay vas little drunk, +not much. Yust feel good. [He laughs and commences to sing in a nasal, +high-pitched quaver.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "My Yosephine, come board de ship. Long time Ay vait for you.<BR> + De moon, she shi-i-i-ine. She looka yust like you.<BR> + Tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> +[To the accompaniment of this last he waves his hand as if he were +conducting an orchestra.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—[With a laugh.] Same old Yosie, eh, Chris? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—You don't know good song when you hear him. Italian fallar on +oder barge, he learn me dat. Give us drink. [He throws change on the +bar.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[With a professional air.] What's your pleasure, gentlemen? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—Small beer, Larry. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Vhiskey—Number Two. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[As he gets their drinks.] I'll take a cigar on you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Lifting his glass.] Skoal! [He drinks.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—Drink hearty. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Immediately.] Have oder drink. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—No. Some other time. Got to go home now. So you've just landed? +Where are you in from this time? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Norfolk. Ve make slow voyage—dirty vedder—yust fog, fog, fog, +all bloody time! [There is an insistent ring from the doorbell at the +family entrance in the back room. Chris gives a start—hurriedly.] Ay +go open, Larry. Ay forgat. It vas Marthy. She come with me. [He goes +into the back room.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[With a chuckle.] He's still got that same cow livin' with him, +the old fool! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—[With a grin.] A sport, Chris is. Well, I'll beat it home. +S'long. [He goes to the street door.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—So long, boss. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNNY—Oh—don't forget to give him his letter. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—I won't. [JOHNNY goes out. In the meantime, CHRIS has opened the +family entrance door, admitting MARTHY. She might be forty or fifty. +Her jowly, mottled face, with its thick red nose, is streaked with +interlacing purple veins. Her thick, gray hair is piled anyhow in a +greasy mop on top of her round head. Her figure is flabby and fat; her +breath comes in wheezy gasps; she speaks in a loud, mannish voice, +punctuated by explosions of hoarse laughter. But there still twinkles +in her blood-shot blue eyes a youthful lust for life which hard usage +has failed to stifle, a sense of humor mocking, but good-tempered. She +wears a man's cap, double-breasted man's jacket, and a grimy, calico +skirt. Her bare feet are encased in a man's brogans several sizes too +large for her, which gives her a shuffling, wobbly gait.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Grumblingly.] What yuh tryin' to do, Dutchy—keep me standin' +out there all day? [She comes forward and sits at the table in the +right corner, front.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Mollifyingly.] Ay'm sorry, Marthy. Ay talk to Yohnny. Ay +forgat. What you goin' take for drink? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Appeased.] Gimme a scoop of lager an' ale. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay go bring him back. [He returns to the bar.] Lager and ale for +Marthy, Larry. Vhiskey for me. [He throws change on the bar.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—Right you are. [Then remembering, he takes the letter from in +back of the bar.] Here's a letter for you—from St. Paul, +Minnesota—and a lady's writin'. [He grins.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Quickly—taking it.] Oh, den it come from my daughter, Anna. +She live dere. [He turns the letter over in his hands uncertainly.] Ay +don't gat letter from Anna—must be a year. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Jokingly.] That's a fine fairy tale to be tellin'—your +daughter! Sure I'll bet it's some bum. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Soberly.] No. Dis come from Anna. [Engrossed by the letter in +his hand—uncertainly.] By golly, Ay tank Ay'm too drunk for read dis +letter from Anna. Ay tank Ay sat down for a minute. You bring drinks in +back room, Larry. [He goes into the room on right.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Angrily.] Where's my lager an' ale, yuh big stiff? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Preoccupied.] Larry bring him. [He sits down opposite her. +LARRY brings in the drinks and sets them on the table. He and MARTHY +exchange nods of recognition. LARRY stands looking at CHRIS curiously. +MARTHY takes a long draught of her schooner and heaves a huge sigh of +satisfaction, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. CHRIS stares +at the letter for a moment—slowly opens it, and, squinting his eyes, +commences to read laboriously, his lips moving as he spells out the +words. As he reads his face lights up with an expression of mingled joy +and bewilderment.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—Good news? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Her curiosity also aroused.] What's that yuh got—a letter, +fur Gawd's sake? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Pauses for a moment, after finishing the letter, as if to let +the news sink in—then suddenly pounds his fist on the table with happy +excitement.] Py yiminy! Yust tank, Anna say she's comin' here right +avay! She gat sick on yob in St. Paul, she say. It's short letter, +don't tal me much more'n dat. [Beaming.] Py golly, dat's good news all +at one time for ole fallar! [Then turning to MARTHY, rather +shamefacedly.] You know, Marthy, Ay've tole you Ay don't see my Anna +since she vas little gel in Sveden five year ole. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—How old'll she be now? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—She must be—lat me see—she must be twenty year ole, py Yo! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Surprised.] You've not seen her in fifteen years? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Suddenly growing somber—in a low tone.] No. Ven she vas little +gel, Ay vas bo'sun on vindjammer. Ay never gat home only few time dem +year. Ay'm fool sailor fallar. My voman—Anna's mother—she gat tired +vait all time Sveden for me ven Ay don't never come. She come dis +country, bring Anna, dey go out Minnesota, live with her cousins on +farm. Den ven her mo'der die ven Ay vas on voyage, Ay tank it's better +dem cousins keep Anna. Ay tank it's better Anna live on farm, den she +don't know dat ole davil, sea, she don't know fader like me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[With a wink at MARTHY.] This girl, now, 'll be marryin' a +sailor herself, likely. It's in the blood. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Suddenly springing to his feet and smashing his fist on the +table in a rage.] No, py God! She don't do dat! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Grasping her schooner hastily—angrily.] Hey, look out, yuh +nut! Wanta spill my suds for me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Amazed.] Oho, what's up with you? Ain't you a sailor yourself +now, and always been? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Slowly.] Dat's yust vhy Ay say it. [Forcing a smile.] Sailor +vas all right fallar, but not for marry gel. No. Ay know dat. Anna's +mo'der, she know it, too. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[As CHRIS remains sunk in gloomy reflection.] When is your +daughter comin'? Soon? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Roused.] Py yiminy, Ay forgat. [Reads through the letter +hurriedly.] She say she come right avay, dat's all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—She'll maybe be comin' here to look for you, I s'pose. [He +returns to the bar, whistling. Left alone with MARTHY, who stares at +him with a twinkle of malicious humor in her eyes, CHRIS suddenly +becomes desperately ill-at-ease. He fidgets, then gets up hurriedly.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay gat speak with Larry. Ay be right back. [Mollifyingly.] Ay +bring you oder drink. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Emptying her glass.] Sure. That's me. [As he retreats with the +glass she guffaws after him derisively.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[To LARRY in an alarmed whisper.] Py yingo, Ay gat gat Marthy +shore off barge before Anna come! Anna raise hell if she find dat out. +Marthy raise hell, too, for go, py golly! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[With a chuckle.] Serve ye right, ye old divil—havin' a woman +at your age! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Scratching his head in a quandary.] You tal me lie for tal +Marthy, Larry, so's she gat off barge quick. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—She knows your daughter's comin'. Tell her to get the hell out +of it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—No. Ay don't like make her feel bad. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—You're an old mush! Keep your girl away from the barge, then. +She'll likely want to stay ashore anyway. [Curiously.] What does she +work at, your Anna? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—She stay on dem cousins' farm 'till two year ago. Dan she gat +yob nurse gel in St. Paul. [Then shaking his head resolutely.] But Ay +don't vant for her gat yob now. Ay vant for her stay with me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Scornfully.] On a coal barge! She'll not like that, I'm +thinkin'. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Shouts from next room.] Don't I get that bucket o' suds, +Dutchy? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Startled—in apprehensive confusion.] Yes, Ay come, Marthy. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Drawing the lager and ale, hands it to CHRIS—laughing.] Now +you're in for it! You'd better tell her straight to get out! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Shaking in his boots.] Py golly. [He takes her drink in to +MARTHY and sits down at the table. She sips it in silence. LARRY moves +quietly close to the partition to listen, grinning with expectation. +CHRIS seems on the verge of speaking, hesitates, gulps down his whiskey +desperately as if seeking for courage. He attempts to whistle a few +bars of "Yosephine" with careless bravado, but the whistle peters out +futilely. MARTHY stares at him keenly, taking in his embarrassment with +a malicious twinkle of amusement in her eye. CHRIS clears his throat.] +Marthy— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Aggressively.] Wha's that? [Then, pretending to fly into a +rage, her eyes enjoying CHRIS' misery.] I'm wise to what's in back of +your nut, Dutchy. Yuh want to git rid o' me, huh?—now she's comin'. +Gimme the bum's rush ashore, huh? Lemme tell yuh, Dutchy, there ain't a +square-head workin' on a boat man enough to git away with that. Don't +start nothin' yuh can't finish! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Miserably.] Ay don't start nutting, Marthy. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Glares at him for a second—then cannot control a burst of +laughter.] Ho-ho! Yuh're a scream, Square-head—an honest-ter-Gawd +knockout! Ho-ho! [She wheezes, panting for breath.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[With childish pique.] Ay don't see nutting for laugh at. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Take a slant in the mirror and yuh'll see. Ho-ho! [Recovering +from her mirth—chuckling, scornfully.] A square-head tryin' to kid +Marthy Owen at this late day!—after me campin' with barge men the last +twenty years. I'm wise to the game, up, down, and sideways. I ain't +been born and dragged up on the water front for nothin'. Think I'd make +trouble, huh? Not me! I'll pack up me duds an' beat it. I'm quittin' +yuh, get me? I'm tellin' yuh I'm sick of stickin' with yuh, and I'm +leavin' yuh flat, see? There's plenty of other guys on other barges +waitin' for me. Always was, I always found. [She claps the astonished +CHRIS on the back.] So cheer up, Dutchy! I'll be offen the barge before +she comes. You'll be rid o' me for good—and me o' you—good riddance +for both of us. Ho-ho! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Seriously.] Ay don' tank dat. You vas good gel, Marthy. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Grinning.] Good girl? Aw, can the bull! Well, yuh treated me +square, yuhself. So it's fifty-fifty. Nobody's sore at nobody. We're +still good frien's, huh? [LARRY returns to bar.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Beaming now that he sees his troubles disappearing.] Yes, py +golly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—That's the talkin'! In all my time I tried never to split with +a guy with no hard feelin's. But what was yuh so scared about—that I'd +kick up a row? That ain't Marthy's way. [Scornfully.] Think I'd break +my heart to lose yuh? Commit suicide, huh? Ho-ho! Gawd! The world's +full o' men if that's all I'd worry about! [Then with a grin, after +emptying her glass.] Blow me to another scoop, huh? I'll drink your +kid's health for yuh. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Eagerly.] Sure tang. Ay go gat him. [He takes the two glasses +into the bar.] Oder drink. Same for both. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Getting the drinks and putting them on the bar.] She's not such +a bad lot, that one. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Jovially.] She's good gel, Ay tal you! Py golly, Ay calabrate +now! Give me vhiskey here at bar, too. [He puts down money. LARRY +serves him.] You have drink, Larry. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Virtuously.] You know I never touch it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—You don't know what you miss. Skoal! [He drinks—then begins to +sing loudly.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "My Yosephine, come board de ship—"<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> +[He picks up the drinks for MARTHY and himself and walks unsteadily +into the back room, singing.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "De moon, she shi-i-i-ine. She looks yust like you.<BR> + Tche-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Grinning, hands to ears.] Gawd! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Sitting down.] Ay'm good singer, yes? Ve drink, eh? Skoal! Ay +calabrate! [He drinks.] Ay calabrate 'cause Anna's coming home. You +know, Marthy, Ay never write for her to come, 'cause Ay tank Ay'm no +good for her. But all time Ay hope like hell some day she vant for see +me and den she come. And dat's vay it happen now, py yiminy! [His face +beaming.] What you tank she look like, Marthy? Ay bet you she's fine, +good, strong gel, pooty like hell! Living on farm made her like dat. +And Ay bet you some day she marry good, steady land fallar here in +East, have home all her own, have kits—and dan Ay'm ole grandfader, py +golly! And Ay go visit dem every time Ay gat in port near! [Bursting +with joy.] By yiminy crickens, Ay calabrate dat! [Shouts.] Bring oder +drink, Larry! [He smashes his fist on the table with a bang.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Coming in from bar—irritably.] Easy there! Don't be breakin' +the table, you old goat! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[By way of reply, grins foolishly and begins to sing.] "My +Yosephine comes board de ship—" +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Touching CHRIS' arm persuasively.] You're soused to the ears, +Dutchy. Go out and put a feed into you. It'll sober you up. [Then as +CHRIS shakes his head obstinately.] Listen, yuh old nut! Yuh don't know +what time your kid's liable to show up. Yuh want to be sober when she +comes, don't yuh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Aroused—gets unsteadily to his feet.] Py golly, yes. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—That's good sense for you. A good beef stew'll fix you. Go round +the corner. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—All right. Ay be back soon, Marthy. [CHRIS goes through the bar +and out the street door.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—He'll come round all right with some grub in him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Sure. [LARRY goes back to the bar and resumes his newspaper. +MARTHY sips what is left of her schooner reflectively. There is the +ring of the family entrance bell. LARRY comes to the door and opens it +a trifle—then, with a puzzled expression, pulls it wide. ANNA +CHRISTOPHERSON enters. She is a tall, blond, fully-developed girl of +twenty, handsome after a large, Viking-daughter fashion but now run +down in health and plainly showing all the outward evidences of +belonging to the world's oldest profession. Her youthful face is +already hard and cynical beneath its layer of make-up. Her clothes are +the tawdry finery of peasant stock turned prostitute. She comes and +sinks wearily in a chair by the table, left front.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Gimme a whiskey—ginger ale on the side. [Then, as LARRY turns to +go, forcing a winning smile at him.] And don't be stingy, baby. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Sarcastically.] Shall I serve it in a pail? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a hard laugh.] That suits me down to the ground. [LARRY +goes into the bar. The two women size each other up with frank stares. +LARRY comes back with the drink which he sets before ANNA and returns +to the bar again. ANNA downs her drink at a gulp. Then, after a moment, +as the alcohol begins to rouse her, she turns to MARTHY with a friendly +smile.] Gee, I needed that bad, all right, all right! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Nodding her head sympathetically.] Sure—yuh look all in. Been +on a bat? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—No—travelling—day and a half on the train. Had to sit up all +night in the dirty coach, too. Gawd, I thought I'd never get here! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[With a start—looking at her intently.] Where'd yuh come from, +huh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—St. Paul—out in Minnesota. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Staring at her in amazement—slowly.] So—yuh're—[She +suddenly bursts out into hoarse, ironical laughter.] Gawd! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—All the way from Minnesota, sure. [Flaring up.] What you laughing +at? Me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Hastily.] No, honest, kid. I was thinkin' of somethin' else. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Mollified—with a smile.] Well, I wouldn't blame you, at that. +Guess I do look rotten—yust out of the hospital two weeks. I'm going +to have another 'ski. What d'you say? Have something on me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Sure I will. T'anks. [She calls.] Hey, Larry! Little service! +[He comes in.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Same for me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Same here. [LARRY takes their glasses and goes out.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Why don't you come sit over here, be sociable. I'm a dead +stranger in this burg—and I ain't spoke a word with no one since day +before yesterday. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Sure thing. [She shuffles over to ANNA'S table and sits down +opposite her. LARRY brings the drinks and ANNA pays him.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Skoal! Here's how! [She drinks.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Here's luck! [She takes a gulp from her schooner.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Taking a package of Sweet Caporal cigarettes from her bag.] Let +you smoke in here, won't they? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Doubtfully.] Sure. [Then with evident anxiety.] On'y trow it +away if yuh hear someone comin'. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Lighting one and taking a deep inhale.] Gee, they're fussy in +this dump, ain't they? [She puffs, staring at the table top. MARTHY +looks her over with a new penetrating interest, taking in every detail +of her face. ANNA suddenly becomes conscious of this appraising +stare—resentfully.] Ain't nothing wrong with me, is there? You're +looking hard enough. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Irritated by the other's tone—scornfully.] Ain't got to look +much. I got your number the minute you stepped in the door. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Her eyes narrowing.] Ain't you smart! Well, I got yours, too, +without no trouble. You're me forty years from now. That's you! [She +gives a hard little laugh.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Angrily.] Is that so? Well, I'll tell you straight, kiddo, +that Marthy Owen never—[She catches herself up short—with a grin.] +What are you and me scrappin' over? Let's cut it out, huh? Me, I don't +want no hard feelin's with no one. [Extending her hand.] Shake and +forget it, huh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Shakes her hand gladly.] Only too glad to. I ain't looking for +trouble. Let's have 'nother. What d'you say? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Shaking her head.] Not for mine. I'm full up. And you— Had +anythin' to eat lately? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Not since this morning on the train. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Then yuh better go easy on it, hadn't yuh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[After a moment's hesitation.] Guess you're right. I got to meet +someone, too. But my nerves is on edge after that rotten trip. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Yuh said yuh was just outa the hospital? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Two weeks ago. [Leaning over to MARTHY confidentially.] The joint +I was in out in St. Paul got raided. That was the start. The judge give +all us girls thirty days. The others didn't seem to mind being in the +cooler much. Some of 'em was used to it. But me, I couldn't stand it. +It got my goat right—couldn't eat or sleep or nothing. I never could +stand being caged up nowheres. I got good and sick and they had to send +me to the hospital. It was nice there. I was sorry to leave it, honest! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[After a slight pause.] Did yuh say yuh got to meet someone +here? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Yes. Oh, not what you mean. It's my Old Man I got to meet. +Honest! It's funny, too. I ain't seen him since I was a kid—don't even +know what he looks like—yust had a letter every now and then. This was +always the only address he give me to write him back. He's yanitor of +some building here now—used to be a sailor. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Astonished.] Janitor! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Sure. And I was thinking maybe, seeing he ain't never done a +thing for me in my life, he might be willing to stake me to a room and +eats till I get rested up. [Wearily.] Gee, I sure need that rest! I'm +knocked out. [Then resignedly.] But I ain't expecting much from him. +Give you a kick when you're down, that's what all men do. [With sudden +passion.] Men, I hate 'em—all of 'em! And I don't expect he'll turn +out no better than the rest. [Then with sudden interest.] Say, do you +hang out around this dump much? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Oh, off and on. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Then maybe you know him—my Old Man—or at least seen him? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—It ain't old Chris, is it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Old Chris? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Chris Christopherson, his full name is. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Excitedly.] Yes, that's him! Anna Christopherson—that's my real +name—only out there I called myself Anna Christie. So you know him, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Evasively.] Seen him about for years. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Say, what's he like, tell me, honest? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Oh, he's short and— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Impatiently.] I don't care what he looks like. What kind is he? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Earnestly.] Well, yuh can bet your life, kid, he's as good an +old guy as ever walked on two feet. That goes! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Pleased.] I'm glad to hear it. Then you think's he'll stake me +to that rest cure I'm after? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Emphatically.] Surest thing you know. [Disgustedly.] But +where'd yuh get the idea he was a janitor? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—He wrote me he was himself. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Well, he was lyin'. He ain't. He's captain of a barge—five men +under him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Disgusted in her turn.] A barge? What kind of a barge? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Coal, mostly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—A coal barge! [With a harsh laugh.] If that ain't a swell job to +find your long lost Old Man working at! Gee, I knew something'd be +bound to turn out wrong—always does with me. That puts my idea of his +giving me a rest on the bum. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—What d'yuh mean? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I s'pose he lives on the boat, don't he? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Sure. What about it? Can't you live on it, too? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Scornfully.] Me? On a dirty coal barge! What d'you think I am? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Resentfully.] What d'yuh know about barges, huh? Bet yuh ain't +never seen one. That's what comes of his bringing yuh up inland—away +from the old devil sea—where yuh'd be safe—Gawd! [The irony of it +strikes her sense of humor and she laughs hoarsely.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Angrily.] His bringing me up! Is that what he tells people! I +like his nerve! He let them cousins of my Old Woman's keep me on their +farm and work me to death like a dog. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Well, he's got queer notions on some things. I've heard him say +a farm was the best place for a kid. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Sure. That's what he'd always answer back—and a lot of crazy +stuff about staying away from the sea—stuff I couldn't make head or +tail to. I thought he must be nutty. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—He is on that one point. [Casually.] So yuh didn't fall for +life on the farm, huh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I should say not! The old man of the family, his wife, and four +sons—I had to slave for all of 'em. I was only a poor relation, and +they treated me worse than they dare treat a hired girl. [After a +moment's hesitation—somberly.] It was one of the sons—the +youngest—started me—when I was sixteen. After that, I hated 'em so +I'd killed 'em all if I'd stayed. So I run away—to St. Paul. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[Who has been listening sympathetically.] I've heard Old Chris +talkin' about your bein' a nurse girl out there. Was that all a bluff +yuh put up when yuh wrote him? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Not on your life, it wasn't. It was true for two years. I didn't +go wrong all at one jump. Being a nurse girl was yust what finished me. +Taking care of other people's kids, always listening to their bawling +and crying, caged in, when you're only a kid yourself and want to go +out and see things. At last I got the chance—to get into that house. +And you bet your life I took it! [Defiantly.] And I ain't sorry +neither. [After a pause—with bitter hatred.] It was all men's +fault—the whole business. It was men on the farm ordering and beating +me—and giving me the wrong start. Then when I was a nurse, it was men +again hanging around, bothering me, trying to see what they could get. +[She gives a hard laugh.] And now it's men all the time. Gawd, I hate +'em all, every mother's son of 'em! Don't you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Oh, I dunno. There's good ones and bad ones, kid. You've just +had a run of bad luck with 'em, that's all. Your Old Man, now—old +Chris—he's a good one. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Sceptically.] He'll have to show me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Yuh kept right on writing him yuh was a nurse girl still, even +after yuh was in the house, didn't yuh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Sure. [Cynically.] Not that I think he'd care a darn. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Yuh're all wrong about him, kid, [Earnestly.] I know Old Chris +well for a long time. He's talked to me 'bout you lots o' times. He +thinks the world o' you, honest he does. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Aw, quit the kiddin'! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—Honest! Only, he's a simple old guy, see? He's got nutty +notions. But he means well, honest. Listen to me, kid—[She is +interrupted by the opening and shutting of the street door in the bar +and by hearing CHRIS' voice.] Ssshh! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—What's up? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Who has entered the bar. He seems considerably sobered up.] Py +golly, Larry, dat grub taste good. Marthy in back? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—Sure—and another tramp with her. [CHRIS starts for the entrance +to the back room.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[To ANNA in a hurried, nervous whisper.] That's him now. He's +comin' in here. Brace up! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Who? [Chris opens the door.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MARTHY—[As if she were greeting him for the first time]. Why hello, +Old Chris. [Then before he can speak, she shuffles hurriedly past him +into the bar, beckoning him to follow her.] Come here. I wanta tell yuh +somethin'. [He goes out to her. She speaks hurriedly in a low voice.] +Listen! I'm goin' to beat it down to the barge—pack up me duds and +blow. That's her in there—your Anna—just come—waitin' for yuh. Treat +her right, see? She's been sick. Well, s'long! [She goes into the back +room—to ANNA.] S'long, kid. I gotta beat it now. See yuh later. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Nervously.] So long. [MARTHY goes quickly out of the family +entrance.] LARRY—[Looking at the stupefied CHRIS curiously.] Well, +what's up now? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Vaguely.] Nutting—nutting. [He stands before the door to the +back room in an agony of embarrassed emotion—then he forces himself to +a bold decision, pushes open the door and walks in. He stands there, +casts a shy glance at ANNA, whose brilliant clothes, and, to him, +high-toned appearance awe him terribly. He looks about him with pitiful +nervousness as if to avoid the appraising look with which she takes in +his face, his clothes, etc—his voice seeming to plead for her +forbearance.] Anna! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Acutely embarrassed in her turn.] Hello—father. She told me it +was you. I yust got here a little while ago. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Goes slowly over to her chair.] It's good—for see you—after +all dem years, Anna. [He bends down over her. After an embarrassed +struggle they manage to kiss each other.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[A trace of genuine feeling in her voice.] It's good to see you, +too. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Grasps her arms and looks into her face—then overcome by a +wave of fierce tenderness.] Anna lilla! Anna lilla! [Takes her in his +arms.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Shrinks away from him, half-frightened.] What's that—Swedish? I +don't know it. [Then as if seeking relief from the tension in a voluble +chatter.] Gee, I had an awful trip coming here. I'm all in. I had to +sit up in the dirty coach all night—couldn't get no sleep, hardly—and +then I had a hard job finding this place. I never been in New York +before, you know, and— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Who has been staring down at her face admiringly, not hearing +what she says—impulsively.] You know you vas awful pooty gel, Anna? Ay +bet all men see you fall in love with you, py yiminy! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Repelled—harshly.] Cut it! You talk same as they all do. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Hurt—humbly.] Ain't no harm for your fader talk dat vay, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Forcing a short laugh.] No—course not. Only—it's funny to see +you and not remember nothing. You're like—a stranger. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Sadly.] Ay s'pose. Ay never come home only few times ven you +vas kit in Sveden. You don't remember dat? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—No. [Resentfully.] But why didn't you never come home them days? +Why didn't you never come out West to see me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Slowly.] Ay tank, after your mo'der die, ven Ay vas avay on +voyage, it's better for you you don't never see me! [He sinks down in +the chair opposite her dejectedly—then turns to her—sadly.] Ay don't +know, Anna, vhy Ay never come home Sveden in ole year. Ay vant come +home end of every voyage. Ay vant see your mo'der, your two bro'der +before dey vas drowned, you ven you vas born—but—Ay—don't go. Ay +sign on oder ships—go South America, go Australia, go China, go every +port all over world many times—but Ay never go aboard ship sail for +Sveden. Ven Ay gat money for pay passage home as passenger den—[He +bows his head guiltily.] Ay forgat and Ay spend all money. Ven Ay tank +again, it's too late. [He sighs.] Ay don't know vhy but dat's vay with +most sailor fallar, Anna. Dat ole davil sea make dem crazy fools with +her dirty tricks. It's so. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Who has watched him keenly while he has been speaking—with a +trace of scorn in her voice.] Then you think the sea's to blame for +everything, eh? Well, you're still workin' on it, ain't you, spite of +all you used to write me about hating it. That dame was here told me +you was captain of a coal barge—and you wrote me you was yanitor of a +building! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Embarrassed but lying glibly.] Oh, Ay work on land long time as +yanitor. Yust short time ago Ay got dis yob cause Ay vas sick, need +open air. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Sceptically.] Sick? You? You'd never think it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—And, Anna, dis ain't real sailor yob. Dis ain't real boat on +sea. She's yust ole tub—like piece of land with house on it dat float. +Yob on her ain't sea yob. No. Ay don't gat yob on sea, Anna, if Ay die +first. Ay swear dat, ven your mo'der die. Ay keep my word, py yingo! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Perplexed.] Well, I can't see no difference. [Dismissing the +subject.] Speaking of being sick, I been there myself—yust out of the +hospital two weeks ago. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Immediately all concern.] You, Anna? Py golly! [Anxiously.] You +feel better now, dough, don't you? You look little tired, dat's all! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Wearily.] I am. Tired to death. I need a long rest and I don't +see much chance of getting it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—What you mean, Anna? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Well, when I made up my mind to come to see you, I thought you +was a yanitor—that you'd have a place where, maybe, if you didn't mind +having me, I could visit a while and rest up—till I felt able to get +back on the job again. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Eagerly.] But Ay gat place, Anna—nice place. You rest all you +want, py yiminy! You don't never have to vork as nurse gel no more. You +stay with me, py golly! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Surprised and pleased by his eagerness—with a smile.] Then +you're really glad to see me—honest? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Pressing one of her hands in both of his.] Anna, Ay like see +you like hell, Ay tal you! And don't you talk no more about gatting +yob. You stay with me. Ay don't see you for long time, you don't forgat +dat. [His voice trembles.] Ay'm gatting ole. Ay gat no one in vorld but +you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Touched—embarrassed by this unfamiliar emotion.] Thanks. It +sounds good to hear someone—talk to me that way. Say, though—if +you're so lonely—it's funny—why ain't you ever married again? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Shaking his head emphatically—after a pause.] Ay love your +mo'der too much for ever do dat, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Impressed—slowly.] I don't remember nothing about her. What was +she like? Tell me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay tal you all about everytang—and you tal me all tangs happen +to you. But not here now. Dis ain't good place for young gel, anyway. +Only no good sailor fallar come here for gat drunk. [He gets to his +feet quickly and picks up her bag.] You come with me, Anna. You need +lie down, gat rest. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Half rises to her feet, then sits down again.] Where're you +going? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Come. Ve gat on board. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Disappointedly.] On board your barge, you mean? [Dryly.] Nix for +mine! [Then seeing his crestfallen look—forcing a smile.] Do you think +that's a good place for a young girl like me—a coal barge? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Dully.] Yes, Ay tank. [He hesitates—then continues more and +more pleadingly.] You don't know how nice it's on barge, Anna. Tug come +and ve gat towed out on voyage—yust water all round, and sun, and +fresh air, and good grub for make you strong, healthy gel. You see many +tangs you don't see before. You gat moonlight at night, maybe; see +steamer pass; see schooner make sail—see everytang dat's pooty. You +need take rest like dat. You work too hard for young gel already. You +need vacation, yes! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Who has listened to him with a growing interest—with an +uncertain laugh.] It sounds good to hear you tell it. I'd sure like a +trip on the water, all right. It's the barge idea has me stopped. Well, +I'll go down with you and have a look—and maybe I'll take a chance. +Gee, I'd do anything once. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Picks up her bag again.] Ye go, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—What's the rush? Wait a second. [Forgetting the situation for a +moment, she relapses into the familiar form and flashes one of her +winning trade smiles at him.] Gee, I'm thirsty. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Sets down her bag immediately—hastily.] Ay'm sorry, Anna. What +you tank you like for drink, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Promptly.] I'll take a—[Then suddenly reminded—confusedly.] I +don't know. What'a they got here? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[With a grin.] Ay don't tank dey got much fancy drink for young +gel in dis place, Anna. Yinger ale—sas'prilla, maybe. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Forcing a laugh herself.] Make it sas, then. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Coming up to her—with a wink.] Ay tal you, Anna, we calabrate, +yes—dis one time because we meet after many year. [In a half whisper, +embarrassedly.] Dey gat good port wine, Anna. It's good for you. Ay +tank—little bit—for give you appetite. It ain't strong, neider. One +glass don't go to your head, Ay promise. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a half hysterical laugh.] All right! I'll take port. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay go gat him. [He goes out to the bar. As soon as the door +closes, Anna starts to her feet.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Picking up her bag—half—aloud—stammeringly.] Gawd, I can't +stand this! I better beat it. [Then she lets her bag drop, stumbles +over to her chair again, and covering her face with her hands, begins +to sob.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Putting down his paper as CHRIS comes up—with a grin.] Well, +who's the blond? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Proudly.] Dat vas Anna, Larry. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[In amazement.] Your daughter, Anna? [CHRIS nods. LARRY lets a +long, low whistle escape him and turns away embarrassedly.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Don't you tank she vas pooty gel, Larry? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[Rising to the occasion.] Sure! A peach! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—You bet you! Give me drink for take back—one port vine for +Anna—she calabrate dis one time with me—and small beer for me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LARRY—[As he gets the drinks.] Small beer for you, eh? She's reformin' +you already. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Pleased.] You bet! [He takes the drinks. As she hears him +coming, ANNA hastily dries her eyes, tries to smile. CHRIS comes in and +sets the drinks down on the table—stares at her for a second +anxiously—patting her hand.] You look tired, Anna. Veil, Ay make you +take good long rest now. [Picking up his beer.] Come, you drink vine. +It put new life in you. [She lifts her glass—he grins.] Skoal, Anna! +You know dat Svedish word? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Skoal! [Downing her port at a gulp like a drink of whiskey—her +lips trembling.] Skoal? Guess I know that word, all right, all right! +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> +[The Curtain Falls] +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="act2"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ACT II +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SCENE—Ten days later. The stern of the deeply-laden barge, "SIMEON +WINTHROP," at anchor in the outer harbor of Provincetown, Mass. It is +ten o'clock at night. Dense fog shrouds the barge on all sides, and she +floats motionless on a calm. A lantern set up on an immense coil of +thick hawser sheds a dull, filtering light on objects near it—the +heavy steel bits for making fast the tow lines, etc. In the rear is the +cabin, its misty windows glowing wanly with the light of a lamp inside. +The chimney of the cabin stove rises a few feet above the roof. The +doleful tolling of bells, on Long Point, on ships at anchor, breaks the +silence at regular intervals. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +As the curtain rises, ANNA is discovered standing near the coil of rope +on which the lantern is placed. She looks healthy, transformed, the +natural color has come back to her face. She has on a black, oilskin +coat, but wears no hat. She is staring out into the fog astern with an +expression of awed wonder. The cabin door is pushed open and CHRIS +appears. He is dressed in yellow oilskins—coat, pants, sou'wester—and +wears high sea-boots. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[The glare from the cabin still in his eyes, peers blinkmgly +astern.] Anna! [Receiving no reply, he calls again, this time with +apparent apprehension.] Anna! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a start—making a gesture with her hand as if to impose +silence—in a hushed whisper.] Yes, here I am. What d'you want? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Walks over to her—solicitously.] Don't you come turn in, Anna? +It's late—after four bells. It ain't good for you stay out here in +fog, Ay tank. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Why not? [With a trace of strange exultation.] I love this fog! +Honest! It's so—[She hesitates, groping for a word.]—Funny and still. +I feel as if I was—out of things altogether. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Spitting disgustedly.] Fog's vorst one of her dirty tricks, py +yingo! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a short laugh.] Beefing about the sea again? I'm getting +so's I love it, the little I've seen. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Glancing at her moodily.] Dat's foolish talk, Anna. You see her +more, you don't talk dat vay. [Then seeing her irritation, he hastily +adopts a more cheerful tone.] But Ay'm glad you like it on barge. Ay'm +glad it makes you feel good again. [With a placating grin.] You like +live like dis alone with ole fa'der, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Sure I do. Everything's been so different from anything I ever +come across before. And now—this fog—Gee, I wouldn't have missed it +for nothing. I never thought living on ships was so different from +land. Gee, I'd just love to work on it, honest I would, if I was a man. +I don't wonder you always been a sailor. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Vehemently.] Ay ain't sailor, Anna. And dis ain't real sea. You +only see nice part. [Then as she doesn't answer, he continues +hopefully.] Vell, fog lift in morning, Ay tank. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[The exultation again in her voice.] I love it! I don't give a +rap if it never lifts! [CHRIS fidgets from one foot to the other +worriedly. ANNA continues slowly, after a pause.] It makes me feel +clean—out here—'s if I'd taken a bath. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[After a pause.] You better go in cabin—read book. Dat put you +to sleep. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I don't want to sleep. I want to stay out here—and think about +things. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Walks away from her toward the cabin—then comes back.] You act +funny to-night, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Her voice rising angrily.] Say, what're you trying to do—make +things rotten? You been kind as kind can be to me and I certainly +appreciate it—only don't spoil it all now. [Then, seeing the hurt +expression on her father's face, she forces a smile.] Let's talk of +something else. Come. Sit down here. [She points to the coil of rope.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Sits down beside her with a sigh.] It's gatting pooty late in +night, Anna. Must be near five bells. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Interestedly.] Five bells? What time is that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Half past ten. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Funny I don't know nothing about sea talk—but those cousins was +always talking crops and that stuff. Gee, wasn't I sick of it—and of +them! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—You don't like live on farm, Anna? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I've told you a hundred times I hated it. [Decidedly.] I'd rather +have one drop of ocean than all the farms in the world! Honest! And you +wouldn't like a farm, neither. Here's where you belong. [She makes a +sweeping gesture seaward.] But not on a coal barge. You belong on a +real ship, sailing all over the world. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Moodily.] Ay've done dat many year, Anna, when Ay vas damn fool. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Disgustedly.] Oh, rats! [After a pause she speaks musingly.] Was +the men in our family always sailors—as far back as you know about? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Shortly.] Yes. Damn fools! All men in our village on coast, +Sveden, go to sea. Ain't nutting else for dem to do. My fa'der die on +board ship in Indian Ocean. He's buried at sea. Ay don't never know him +only little bit. Den my tree bro'der, older'n me, dey go on ships. Den +Ay go, too. Den my mo'der she's left all 'lone. She die pooty quick +after dat—all 'lone. Ve vas all avay on voyage when she die. [He +pauses sadly.] Two my bro'der dey gat lost on fishing boat same like +your bro'ders vas drowned. My oder bro'der, he save money, give up sea, +den he die home in bed. He's only one dat ole davil don't kill. +[Defiantly.] But me, Ay bet you Ay die ashore in bed, too! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Were all of 'em yust plain sailors? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHEIS—Able body seaman, most of dem. [With a certain pride.] Dey vas +all smart seaman, too—A one. [Then after hesitating a moment—shyly.] +Ay vas bo'sun. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Bo'sun? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Dat's kind of officer. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Gee, that was fine. What does he do? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[After a second's hesitation, plunged into gloom again by his +fear of her enthusiasm.] Hard vork all time. It's rotten, Ay tal you, +for go to sea. [Determined to disgust her with sea life—volubly.] +Dey're all fool fallar, dem fallar in our family. Dey all vork rotten +yob on sea for nutting, don't care nutting but yust gat big pay day in +pocket, gat drunk, gat robbed, ship avay again on oder voyage. Dey +don't come home, Dey don't do anytang like good man do. And dat ole +davil, sea, sooner, later she svallow dem up. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With an excited laugh.] Good sports, I'd call 'em. [Then +hastily.] But say—listen—did all the women of the family marry +sailors? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Eagerly—seeing a chance to drive home his point.] Yes—and +it's bad on dem like hell vorst of all. Dey don't see deir men only +once in long while. Dey set and vait all 'lone. And vhen deir boys +grows up, go to sea, dey sit and vait some more. [Vehemently.] Any gel +marry sailor, she's crazy fool! Your mo'der she tal you same tang if +she vas alive. [He relapses into an attitude of somber brooding.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[After a pause—dreamily.] Funny! I do feel sort of—nutty, +to-night. I feel old. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Mystified. ] Old? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Sure—like I'd been living a long, long time—out here in the +fog. [Frowning perplexedly.] I don't know how to tell you yust what I +mean. It's like I'd come home after a long visit away some place. It +all seems like I'd been here before lots of times—on boats—in this +same fog. [With a short laugh.] You must think I'm off my base. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Gruffly.] Anybody feel funny dat vay in fog. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Persistently.] But why d'you s'pose I feel so—so—like I'd +found something I'd missed and been looking for—'s if this was the +right place for me to fit in? And I seem to have forgot—everything +that's happened—like it didn't matter no more. And I feel clean, +somehow—like you feel yust after you've took a bath. And I feel happy +for once—yes, honest!—happier than I ever been anywhere before! [As +CHRIS makes no comment but a heavy sigh, she continues wonderingly.] +It's nutty for me to feel that way, don't you think? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[A grim foreboding in his voice.] Ay tank Ay'm damn fool for +bring you on voyage, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Impressed by his tone.] You talk—nutty to-night yourself. You +act's if you was scared something was going to happen. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Only God know dat, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Half-mockingly.] Then it'll be Gawd's will, like the preachers +say-what does happen. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Starts to his feet with fierce protest.] No! Dat ole davil, +sea, she ain't God! [In the pause of silence that comes after his +defiance a hail in a man's husky, exhausted voice comes faintly out of +the fog to port.] "Ahoy!" [CHRIS gives a startled exclamation.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Jumping to her feet.] What's that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Who has regained his composure—sheepishly.] Py golly, dat +scare me for minute. It's only some fallar hail, Anna—loose his course +in fog. Must be fisherman's power boat. His engine break down, Ay +guess. [The "ahoy" comes again through the wall of fog, sounding much +nearer this time. CHRIS goes over to the port bulwark.] Sound from dis +side. She come in from open sea. [He holds his hands to his mouth, +megaphone-fashion, and shouts back.] Ahoy, dere! Vhat's trouble? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE VOICE—[This time sounding nearer but up forward toward the bow.] +Heave a rope when we come alongside. [Then irritably.] Where are ye, ye +scut? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay hear dem rowing. Dey come up by bow, Ay tank. [Then shouting +out again.] Dis vay! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE VOICE—Right ye are! [There is a muffled sound of oars in +oar-locks.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Half to herself—resentfully.] Why don't that guy stay where he +belongs? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Hurriedly.] Ay go up bow. All hands asleep 'cepting fallar on +vatch. Ay gat heave line to dat fallar. [He picks up a coil of rope and +hurries off toward the bow. ANNA walks back toward the extreme stern as +if she wanted to remain as much isolated possible. She turns her back +on the proceedings and stares out into the fog. THE VOICE is heard +again shouting "Ahoy" and CHRIS answering "Dis way" Then there is a +pause—the murmur of excited voices—then the scuffling of feet. CHRIS +appears from around the cabin to port. He is supporting the limp form +of a man dressed in dungarees, holding one of the man's arms around his +neck. The deckhand, JOHNSON, a young, blond Swede, follows him, helping +along another exhausted man similar fashion. ANNA turns to look at +them. Chris stops for a second—volubly.] Anna! You come help, vill +you? You find vhiskey in cabin. Dese fallars need drink for fix dem. +Dey vas near dead. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Hurrying to him.] Sure—but who are they? What's the trouble? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Sailor fallars. Deir steamer gat wrecked. Dey been five days in +open boat—four fallars—only one left able stand up. Come, Anna. [She +precedes him into the cabin, holding the door open while he and JOHNSON +carry in their burdens. The door is shut, then opened again as JOHNSON +comes out. CHRIS'S voice shouts after him.] Go gat oder fallar, Yohnson. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +JOHNSON—Yes, sir. [He goes. The door is closed again. MAT BURKE +stumbles in around the port side of the cabin. He moves slowly, feeling +his way uncertainly, keeping hold of the port bulwark with his right +hand to steady himself. He is stripped to the waist, has on nothing but +a pair of dirty dungaree pants. He is a powerful, broad-chested +six-footer, his face handsome in a hard, rough, bold, defiant way. He +is about thirty, in the full power of his heavy-muscled, immense +strength. His dark eyes are bloodshot and wild from sleeplessness. The +muscles of his arms and shoulders are lumped in knots and bunches, the +veins of his forearms stand out like blue cords. He finds his way to +the coil of hawser and sits down on it facing the cabin, his back +bowed, head in his hands, in an attitude of spent weariness.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Talking aloud to himself.] Row, ye divil! Row! [Then lifting +his head and looking about him.] What's this tub? Well, we're safe +anyway—with the help of God. [He makes the sign of the cross +mechanically. JOHNSON comes along the deck to port, supporting the +fourth man, who is babbling to himself incoherently. BURKE glances at +him disdainfully.] Is it losing the small wits ye iver had, ye are? +Deck-scrubbing scut! [They pass him and go into the cabin, leaving the +door open. BURKE sags forward wearily.] I'm bate out—bate out entirely. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Comes out of the cabin with a tumbler quarter-full of whiskey in +her hand. She gives a start when she sees BURKE so near her, the light +from the open door falling full on him. Then, overcoming what is +evidently a feeling of repulsion, she comes up beside him.] Here you +are. Here's a drink for you. You need it, I guess. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Lifting his head slowly—confusedly.] Is it dreaming I am? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Half smiling.] Drink it and you'll find it ain't no dream. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—To hell with the drink—but I'll take it just the same. [He +tosses it down.] Aah! I'm needin' that—and 'tis fine stuff. [Looking +up at her with frank, grinning admiration.] But 'twasn't the booze I +meant when I said, was I dreaming. I thought you was some mermaid out +of the sea come to torment me. [He reaches out to feel of her arm.] +Aye, rale flesh and blood, divil a less. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Coldly. Stepping back from him.] Cut that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—But tell me, isn't this a barge I'm on—or isn't it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Sure. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—And what is a fine handsome woman the like of you doing on this +scow? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Coldly.] Never you mind. [Then half-amused in spite of herself.] +Say, you're a great one, honest—starting right in kidding after what +you been through. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Delighted—proudly.] Ah, it was nothing—aisy for a rale man +with guts to him, the like of me. [He laughs.] All in the day's work, +darlin'. [Then, more seriously but still in a boastful tone, +confidentially.] But I won't be denying 'twas a damn narrow squeak. +We'd all ought to be with Davy Jones at the bottom of the sea, be +rights. And only for me, I'm telling you, and the great strength and +guts is in me, we'd be being scoffed by the fishes this minute! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Contemptuously.] Gee, you hate yourself, don't you? [Then +turning away from him indifferently.] Well, you'd better come in and +lie down. You must want to sleep. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Stung—rising unsteadily to his feet with chest out and head +thrown back—resentfully.] Lie down and sleep, is it? Divil a wink I'm +after having for two days and nights and divil a bit I'm needing now. +Let you not be thinking I'm the like of them three weak scuts come in +the boat with me. I could lick the three of them sitting down with one +hand tied behind me. They may be bate out, but I'm not—and I've been +rowing the boat with them lying in the bottom not able to raise a hand +for the last two days we was in it. [Furiously, as he sees this is +making no impression on her.] And I can lick all hands on this tub, wan +be wan, tired as I am! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Sarcastically.] Gee, ain't you a hard guy! [Then, with a trace +of sympathy, as she notices him swaying from weakness.] But never mind +that fight talk. I'll take your word for all you've said. Go on and sit +down out here, anyway, if I can't get you to come inside. [He sits down +weakly.] You're all in, you might as well own up to it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Fiercely.] The hell I am! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Coldly.] Well, be stubborn then for all I care. And I must say I +don't care for your language. The men I know don't pull that rough +stuff when ladies are around. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Getting unsteadily to his feet again—in a rage.] Ladies! +Ho-ho! Divil mend you! Let you not be making game of me. What would +ladies be doing on this bloody hulk? [As ANNA attempts to go to the +cabin, he lurches into her path.] Aisy, now! You're not the old +Square-head's woman, I suppose you'll be telling me next—living in his +cabin with him, no less! [Seeing the cold, hostile expression on ANNA's +face, he suddenly changes his tone to one of boisterous joviality.] But +I do be thinking, iver since the first look my eyes took at you, that +it's a fool you are to be wasting yourself—a fine, handsome girl—on a +stumpy runt of a man like that old Swede. There's too many strapping +great lads on the sea would give their heart's blood for one kiss of +you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Scornfully.] Lads like you, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Grinning.] Ye take the words out o' my mouth. I'm the proper +lad for you, if it's meself do be saying it. [With a quick movement he +puts his arms about her waist.] Whisht, now, me daisy! Himself's in the +cabin. It's wan of your kisses I'm needing to take the tiredness from +me bones. Wan kiss, now! [He presses her to him and attempts to kiss +her.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Struggling fiercely.] Leggo of me, you big mut! [She pushes him +away with all her might. BURKE, weak and tottering, is caught off his +guard. He is thrown down backward and, in falling, hits his head a hard +thump against the bulwark. He lies there still, knocked out for the +moment. ANNA stands for a second, looking down at him frightenedly. +Then she kneels down beside him and raises his head to her knee, +staring into his face anxiously for some sign of life.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Stirring a bit—mutteringly.] God stiffen it! [He opens his +eyes and blinks up at her with vague wonder.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Letting his head sink back on the deck, rising to her feet with +a sigh of relief.] You're coming to all right, eh? Gee, I was scared +for a moment I'd killed you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With difficulty rising to a sitting position—scornfully.] +Killed, is it? It'd take more than a bit of a blow to crack my thick +skull. [Then looking at her with the most intense admiration.] But, +glory be, it's a power of strength is in them two fine arms of yours. +There's not a man in the world can say the same as you, that he seen +Mat Burke lying at his feet and him dead to the world. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Rather remorsefully.] Forget it. I'm sorry it happened, see? +[BURKE rises and sits on bench. Then severely.] Only you had no right +to be getting fresh with me. Listen, now, and don't go getting any more +wrong notions. I'm on this barge because I'm making a trip with my +father. The captain's my father. Now you know. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—The old square—the old Swede, I mean? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Yes. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Rising—peering at her face.] Sure I might have known it, if I +wasn't a bloody fool from birth. Where else'd you get that fine yellow +hair is like a golden crown on your head. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With an amused laugh.] Say, nothing stops you, does it? [Then +attempting a severe tone again.] But don't you think you ought to be +apologizing for what you said and done yust a minute ago, instead of +trying to kid me with that mush? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Indignantly.] Mush! [Then bending forward toward her with very +intense earnestness.] Indade and I will ask your pardon a thousand +times—and on my knees, if ye like. I didn't mean a word of what I said +or did. [Resentful again for a second.] But divil a woman in all the +ports of the world has iver made a great fool of me that way before! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With amused sarcasm.] I see. You mean you're a lady-killer and +they all fall for you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Offended. Passionately.] Leave off your fooling! 'Tis that is +after getting my back up at you. [Earnestly.] 'Tis no lie I'm telling +you about the women. [Ruefully.] Though it's a great jackass I am to be +mistaking you, even in anger, for the like of them cows on the +waterfront is the only women I've met up with since I was growed to a +man. [As ANNA shrinks away from him at this, he hurries on pleadingly.] +I'm a hard, rough man and I'm not fit, I'm thinking, to be kissing the +shoe-soles of a fine, dacent girl the like of yourself. 'Tis only the +ignorance of your kind made me see you wrong. So you'll forgive me, for +the love of God, and let us be friends from this out. [Passionately.] +I'm thinking I'd rather be friends with you than have my wish for +anything else in the world. [He holds out his hand to her shyly.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Looking queerly at him, perplexed and worried, but moved and +pleased in spite of herself—takes his hand uncertainly.] Sure. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With boyish delight.] God bless you! [In his excitement he +squeezes her hand tight.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Ouch! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Hastily dropping her hand—ruefully.] Your pardon, Miss. 'Tis a +clumsy ape I am. [Then simply—glancing down his arm proudly.] It's +great power I have in my hand and arm, and I do be forgetting it at +times. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Nursing her crushed hand and glancing at his arm, not without a +trace of his own admiration.] Gee, you're some strong, all right. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Delighted.] It's no lie, and why shouldn't I be, with me +shoveling a million tons of coal in the stokeholes of ships since I was +a lad only. [He pats the coil of hawser invitingly.] Let you sit down, +now, Miss, and I'll be telling you a bit of myself, and you'll be +telling me a bit of yourself, and in an hour we'll be as old friends as +if we was born in the same house. [He pulls at her sleeve shyly.] Sit +down now, if you plaze. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a half laugh.] Well—[She sits down.] But we won't talk +about me, see? You tell me about yourself and about the wreck. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Flattered.] I'll tell you, surely. But can I be asking you one +question. Miss, has my head in a puzzle? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Guardedly.] Well—I dunno—what is it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—What is it you do when you're not taking a trip with the Old +Man? For I'm thinking a fine girl the like of you ain't living always +on this tub. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Uneasily.] No—of course I ain't. [She searches his face +suspiciously, afraid there may be some hidden insinuation in his words. +Seeing his simple frankness, she goes on confidently.] Well, I'll tell +you. I'm a governess, see? I take care of kids for people and learn +them things. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Impressed.] A governess, is it? You must be smart, surely. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—But let's not talk about me. Tell me about the wreck, like you +promised me you would. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Importantly.] 'Twas this way, Miss. Two weeks out we ran into +the divil's own storm, and she sprang wan hell of a leak up for'ard. +The skipper was hoping to make Boston before another blow would finish +her, but ten days back we met up with another storm the like of the +first, only worse. Four days we was in it with green seas raking over +her from bow to stern. That was a terrible time, God help us. +[Proudly.] And if 'twasn't for me and my great strength, I'm telling +you—and it's God's truth—there'd been mutiny itself in the stokehole. +'Twas me held them to it, with a kick to wan and a clout to another, +and they not caring a damn for the engineers any more, but fearing a +clout of my right arm more than they'd fear the sea itself. [He glances +at her anxiously, eager for her approval.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Concealing a smile—amused by this boyish boasting of his.] You +did some hard work, didn't you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Promptly.] I did that! I'm a divil for sticking it out when +them that's weak give up. But much good it did anyone! 'Twas a mad, +fightin' scramble in the last seconds with each man for himself. I +disremember how it come about, but there was the four of us in wan boat +and when we was raised high on a great wave I took a look about and +divil a sight there was of ship or men on top of the sea. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[In a subdued voice.] Then all the others was drowned? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—They was, surely. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a shudder.] What a terrible end! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Turns to her.] A terrible end for the like of them swabs does +live on land, maybe. But for the like of us does be roaming the seas, a +good end, I'm telling you—quick and clane. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Struck by the word.] Yes, clean. That's yust the word for—all +of it—the way it makes me feel. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—The sea, you mean? [Interestedly.] I'm thinking you have a bit +of it in your blood, too. Your Old Man wasn't only a barge rat—begging +your pardon—all his life, by the cut of him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—No, he was bo'sun on sailing ships for years. And all the men on +both sides of the family have gone to sea as far back as he remembers, +he says. All the women have married sailors, too. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With intense satisfaction.] Did they, now? They had spirit in +them. It's only on the sea you'd find rale men with guts is fit to wed +with fine, high-tempered girls [Then he adds half-boldly] the like of +yourself. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a laugh.] There you go kiddin' again. [Then seeing his hurt +expression—quickly.] But you was going to tell me about yourself. +You're Irish, of course I can tell that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Stoutly.] Yes, thank God, though I've not seen a sight of it in +fifteen years or more. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Thoughtfully.] Sailors never do go home hardly, do they? That's +what my father was saying. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—He wasn't telling no lie. [With sudden melancholy.] It's a hard +and lonesome life, the sea is. The only women you'd meet in the ports +of the world who'd be willing to speak you a kind word isn't woman at +all. You know the kind I mane, and they're a poor, wicked lot, God +forgive them. They're looking to steal the money from you only. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Her face averted—rising to her feet—agitatedly.] I think—I +guess I'd better see what's doing inside. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Afraid he has offended her—beseechingly.] Don't go, I'm +saying! Is it I've given you offence with my talk of the like of them? +Don't heed it at all! I'm clumsy in my wits when it comes to talking +proper with a girl the like of you. And why wouldn't I be? Since the +day I left home for to go to sea punching coal, this is the first time +I've had a word with a rale, dacent woman. So don't turn your back on +me now, and we beginning to be friends. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Turning to him again—forcing a smile.] I'm not sore at you, +honest. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Gratefully.] God bless you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Changing the subject abruptly.] But if you honestly think the +sea's such a rotten life, why don't you get out of it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Surprised.] Work on land, is it? [She nods. He spits +scornfully.] Digging spuds in the muck from dawn to dark, I suppose? +[Vehemently.] I wasn't made for it, Miss. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a laugh.] I thought you'd say that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Argumentatively.] But there's good jobs and bad jobs at sea, +like there'd be on land. I'm thinking if it's in the stokehole of a +proper liner I was, I'd be able to have a little house and be home to +it wan week out of four. And I'm thinking that maybe then I'd have the +luck to find a fine dacent girl—the like of yourself, now—would be +willing to wed with me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Turning away from him with a short laugh—uneasily.] Why, sure. +Why not? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Edging up close to her—exultantly.] Then you think a girl the +like of yourself might maybe not mind the past at all but only be +seeing the good herself put in me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[In the same tone.] Why, sure. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Passionately.] She'd not be sorry for it, I'd take my oath! +'Tis no more drinking and roving about I'd be doing then, but giving my +pay day into her hand and staying at home with her as meek as a lamb +each night of the week I'd be in port. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Moved in spite of herself and troubled by this half-concealed +proposal—with a forced laugh.] All you got to do is find the girl. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—I have found her! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Half-frightenedly—trying to laugh it off.] You have? When? I +thought you was saying— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Boldly and forcefully.] This night. [Hanging his head—humbly.] +If she'll be having me. [Then raising his eyes to hers—simply.] 'Tis +you I mean. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Is held by his eyes for a moment—then shrinks back from him +with a strange, broken laugh.] Say—are you—going crazy? Are you +trying to kid me? Proposing—to me!—for Gawd's sake!—on such short +acquaintance? [CHRIS comes out of the cabin and stands staring +blinkingly astern. When he makes out ANNA in such intimate proximity to +this strange sailor, an angry expression comes over his face.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Following her—with fierce, pleading insistence.] I'm telling +you there's the will of God in it that brought me safe through the +storm and fog to the wan spot in the world where you was! Think of that +now, and isn't it queer— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Anna! [He comes toward them, raging, his fists clenched.] Anna, +you gat in cabin, you hear! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[All her emotions immediately transformed into resentment at his +bullying tone.] Who d'you think you're talking to—a slave? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Hurt—his voice breaking—pleadingly.] You need gat rest, Anna. +You gat sleep. [She does not move. He turns on BURKE furiously.] What +you doing here, you sailor fallar? You ain't sick like oders. You gat +in fo'c's'tle. Dey give you bunk. [Threateningly.] You hurry, Ay tal +you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Impulsively.] But he is sick. Look at him. He can hardly stand +up. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Straightening and throwing out his chest—with a bold laugh.] +Is it giving me orders ye are, me bucko? Let you look out, then! With +wan hand, weak as I am, I can break ye in two and fling the pieces over +the side—and your crew after you. [Stopping abruptly.] I was +forgetting. You're her Old Man and I'd not raise a fist to you for the +world. [His knees sag, he wavers and seems about to fall. ANNA utters +an exclamation of alarm and hurries to his slde.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Taking one of his arms over her shoulder.] Come on in the cabin. +You can have my bed if there ain't no other place. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With jubilant happiness—as they proceed toward the cabin.] +Glory be to God, is it holding my arm about your neck you are! Anna! +Anna! Sure it's a sweet name is suited to you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Guiding him carefully.] Sssh! Sssh! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—Whisht, is it? Indade, and I'll not. I'll be roaring it out like +a fog horn over the sea! You're the girl of the world and we'll be +marrying soon and I don't care who knows it! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[As she guides him through the cabin door.] Ssshh! Never mind +that talk. You go to sleep. [They go out of sight in the cabin. CHRIS, +who has been listening to BURKE's last words with open-mouthed +amazement stands looking after them helplessly.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Turns suddenly and shakes his fist out at the sea—with bitter +hatred.] Dat's your dirty trick, damn ole davil, you! [Then in a frenzy +of rage.] But, py God, you don't do dat! Not while Ay'm living! No, py +God, you don't! +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> +[The Curtain Falls] +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="act3"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ACT III +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SCENE—The interior of the cabin on the barge, "Simeon Winthrop" (at +dock in Boston)—a narrow, low-ceilinged compartment the walls of which +are painted a light brown with white trimmings. In the rear on the +left, a door leading to the sleeping quarters. In the far left corner, +a large locker-closet, painted white, on the door of which a mirror +hangs on a nail. In the rear wall, two small square windows and a door +opening out on the deck toward the stern. In the right wall, two more +windows looking out on the port deck. White curtains, clean and stiff, +are at the windows. A table with two cane-bottomed chairs stands in the +center of the cabin. A dilapidated, wicker rocker, painted brown, is +also by the table. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +It is afternoon of a sunny day about a week later. From the harbor and +docks outside, muffled by the closed door and windows, comes the sound +of steamers' whistles and the puffing snort of the donkey engines of +some ship unloading nearby. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +As the curtain rises, CHRIS and ANNA are discovered. ANNA is seated in +the rocking-chair by the table, with a newspaper in her hands. She is +not reading but staring straight in front of her. She looks unhappy, +troubled, frowningly concentrated on her thoughts. CHRIS wanders about +the room, casting quick, uneasy side glances at her face, then stopping +to peer absentmindedly out of the window. His attitude betrays an +overwhelming, gloomy anxiety which has him on tenter hooks. He pretends +to be engaged in setting things ship-shape, but this occupation is +confined to picking up some object, staring at it stupidly for a +second, then aimlessly putting it down again. He clears his throat and +starts to sing to himself in a low, doleful voice: "My Yosephine, come +aboard de ship. Long time Ay wait for you." +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Turning on him, sarcastically.] I'm glad someone's feeling good. +[Wearily.] Gee, I sure wish we was out of this dump and back in New +York. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[With a sigh.] Ay'm glad vhen ve sail again, too. [Then, as she +makes no comment, he goes on with a ponderous attempt at sarcasm.] Ay +don't see vhy you don't like Boston, dough. You have good time here, Ay +tank. You go ashore all time, every day and night veek ve've been here. +You go to movies, see show, gat all kinds fun—[His eyes hard with +hatred.] All with that damn Irish fallar! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With weary scorn.] Oh, for heaven's sake, are you off on that +again? Where's the harm in his taking me around? D'you want me to sit +all day and night in this cabin with you—and knit? Ain't I got a right +to have as good a time as I can? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—It ain't right kind of fun—not with that fallar, no. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I been back on board every night by eleven, ain't I? [Then struck +by some thought—looks at him with keen suspicion—with rising anger.] +Say, look here, what d'you mean by what you yust said? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Hastily.] Nutting but what Ay say, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—You said "ain't right" and you said it funny. Say, listen here, +you ain't trying to insinuate that there's something wrong between us, +are you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Horrified.] No, Anna! No, Ay svear to God, Ay never tank dat! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Mollified by his very evident sincerity—sitting down again.] +Well, don't you never think it neither if you want me ever to speak to +you again. [Angrily again.] If I ever dreamt you thought that, I'd get +the hell out of this barge so quick you couldn't see me for dust. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Soothingly.] Ay wouldn't never dream—[Then, after a second's +pause, reprovingly.] You vas gatting learn to svear. Dat ain't nice for +young gel, you tank? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a faint trace of a smile.] Excuse me. You ain't used to +such language, I know. [Mockingly.] That's what your taking me to sea +has done for me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Indignantly.] No, it ain't me. It's dat damn sailor fallar +learn you bad tangs. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—He ain't a sailor. He's a stoker. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Forcibly.] Dat vas million times vorse, Ay tal you! Dem fallars +dat vork below shoveling coal vas de dirtiest, rough gang of no-good +fallars in vorld! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I'd hate to hear you say that to Mat. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Oh, Ay tal him same tang. You don't gat it in head Ay'm scared +of him yust 'cause he vas stronger'n Ay vas. [Menacingly.] You don't +gat for fight with fists with dem fallars. Dere's oder vay for fix him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Glancing at him with sudden alarm.] What d'you mean? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Sullenly.] Nutting. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—You'd better not. I wouldn't start no trouble with him if I was +you. He might forget some time that you was old and my father—and then +you'd be out of luck. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[With smouldering hatred.] Vell, yust let him! Ay'm ole bird +maybe, but Ay bet Ay show him trick or two. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Suddenly changing her tone—persuasively.] Aw come on, be good. +What's eating you, anyway? Don't you want no one to be nice to me +except yourself? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Placated—coming to her—eagerly.] Yes, Ay do, Anna—only not +fallar on sea. But Ay like for you marry steady fallar got good yob on +land. You have little home in country all your own— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Rising to her feet—brusquely.] Oh, cut it out! [Scornfully.] +Little home in the country! I wish you could have seen the little home +in the country where you had me in jail till I was sixteen! [With +rising irritation.] Some day you're going to get me so mad with that +talk, I'm going to turn loose on you and tell you—a lot of things +that'll open your eyes. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Alarmed.] Ay don't vant— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I know you don't; but you keep on talking yust the same. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay don't talk no more den, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Then promise me you'll cut out saying nasty things about Mat +Burke every chance you get. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Evasive and suspicious.] Vhy? You like dat fallar—very much, +Anna? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Yes, I certainly do! He's a regular man, no matter what faults +he's got. One of his fingers is worth all the hundreds of men I met out +there—inland. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[His face darkening.] Maybe you tank you love him, den? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Defiantly.] What of it if I do? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Scowling and forcing out the words.] Maybe—you tank you—marry +him? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Shaking her head.] No! [CHRIS' face lights up with relief. ANNA +continues slowly, a trace of sadness in her voice.] If I'd met him four +years ago—or even two years ago—I'd have jumped at the chance, I tell +you that straight. And I would now—only he's such a simple guy—a big +kid—and I ain't got the heart to fool him. [She breaks off suddenly.] +But don't never say again he ain't good enough for me. It's me ain't +good enough for him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Snorts scornfully.] Py yiminy, you go crazy, Ay tank! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a mournful laugh.] Well, I been thinking I was myself the +last few days. [She goes and takes a shawl from a hook near the door +and throws it over her shoulders.] Guess I'll take a walk down to the +end of the dock for a minute and see what's doing. I love to watch the +ships passing. Mat'll be along before long, I guess. Tell him where I +am, will you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Despondently.] All right, Ay tal him. [ANNA goes out the +doorway on rear. CHRIS follows her out and stands on the deck outside +for a moment looking after her. Then he comes back inside and shuts the +door. He stands looking out of the window—mutters—"Dirty die davil, +you." Then he goes to the table, sets the cloth straight mechanically, +picks up the newspaper ANNA has let fall to the floor and sits down in +the rocking-chair. He stares at the paper for a while, then puts it on +table, holds his head in his hands and sighs drearily. The noise of a +man's heavy footsteps comes from the deck outside and there is a loud +knock on the door. CHRIS starts, makes a move as if to get up and go to +the door, then thinks better of it and sits still. The knock is +repeated—then as no answer comes, the door is flung open and MAT BURKE +appears. CHRIS scowls at the intruder and his hand instinctively goes +back to the sheath knife on his hip. BURKE is dressed up—wears a cheap +blue suit, a striped cotton shirt with a black tie, and black shoes +newly shined. His face is beaming with good humor.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[As he sees CHRIS—in a jovial tone of mockery.] Well, God bless +who's here! [He bends down and squeezes his huge form through the +narrow doorway.] And how is the world treating you this afternoon, +Anna's father? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Sullenly.] Pooty goot—if it ain't for some fallars. +BURKE—[With a grin.] Meaning me, do you? [He laughs.] Well, if you +ain't the funny old crank of a man! [Then soberly.] Where's herself? +[CHRIS sits dumb, scowling, his eyes averted. BURKE is irritated by +this silence.] Where's Anna, I'm after asking you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Hesitating—then grouchily.] She go down end of dock. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—I'll be going down to her, then. But first I'm thinking I'll +take this chance when we're alone to have a word with you. [He sits +down opposite CHRIS at the table and leans over toward him.] And that +word is soon said. I'm marrying your Anna before this day is out, and +you might as well make up your mind to it whether you like it or no. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Glaring at him with hatred and forcing a scornful laugh.] +Ho-ho! Dat's easy for say! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—You mean I won't? [Scornfully.] Is it the like of yourself will +stop me, are you thinking? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Yes, Ay stop it, if it come to vorst. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With scornful pity.] God help you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—But ain't no need for me do dat. Anna— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Smiling confidently.] Is it Anna you think will prevent me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Yes. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—And I'm telling you she'll not. She knows I'm loving her, and +she loves me the same, and I know it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ho-ho! She only have fun. She make big fool of you, dat's all! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Unshaken—pleasantly.] That's a lie in your throat, divil mend +you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—No, it ain't lie. She tal me yust before she go out she never +marry fallar like you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—I'll not believe it. 'Tis a great old liar you are, and a divil +to be making a power of trouble if you had your way. But 'tis not +trouble I'm looking for, and me sitting down here. [Earnestly.] Let us +be talking it out now as man to man. You're her father, and wouldn't it +be a shame for us to be at each other's throats like a pair of dogs, +and I married with Anna. So out with the truth, man alive. What is it +you're holding against me at all? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[A bit placated, in spite of himself, by BURKE'S evident +sincerity—but puzzled and suspicious.] Vell—Ay don't vant for Anna +gat married. Listen, you fallar. Ay'm a ole man. Ay don't see Anna for +fifteen year. She vas all Ay gat in vorld. And now ven she come on +first trip—you tank Ay vant her leave me 'lone again? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Heartily.] Let you not be thinking I have no heart at all for +the way you'd be feeling. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Astonished and encouraged—trying to plead persuasively.] Den +you do right tang, eh? You ship avay again, leave Anna alone. +[Cajolingly.] Big fallar like you dat's on sea, he don't need vife. He +gat new gel in every port, you know dat. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Angry for a second.] God stiffen you! [Then controlling +himself—calmly.] I'll not be giving you the lie on that. But divil +take you, there's a time comes to every man, on sea or land, that isn't +a born fool, when he's sick of the lot of them cows, and wearing his +heart out to meet up with a fine dacent girl, and have a home to call +his own and be rearing up children in it. 'Tis small use you're asking +me to leave Anna. She's the wan woman of the world for me, and I can't +live without her now, I'm thinking. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—You forgat all about her in one veek out of port, Ay bet you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—You don't know the like I am. Death itself wouldn't make me +forget her. So let you not be making talk to me about leaving her. I'll +not, and be damned to you! It won't be so bad for you as you'd make out +at all. She'll be living here in the States, and her married to me. And +you'd be seeing her often so—a sight more often than ever you saw her +the fifteen years she was growing up in the West. It's quare you'd be +the one to be making great trouble about her leaving you when you never +laid eyes on her once in all them years. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Guiltily.] Ay taught it vas better Anna stay avay, grow up +inland where she don't ever know ole davil, sea. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Scornfully.] Is it blaming the sea for your troubles ye are +again, God help you? Well, Anna knows it now. 'Twas in her blood, +anyway. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—And Ay don't vant she ever know no-good fallar on sea— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—She knows one now. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Banging the table with his fist—furiously.] Dat's yust it! +Dat's yust what you are—no-good, sailor fallar! You tank Ay lat her +life be made sorry by you like her mo'der's vas by me! No, Ay svear! +She don't marry you if Ay gat kill you first! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Looks at him a moment, in astonishment—then laughing +uproariously.] Ho-ho! Glory be to God, it's bold talk you have for a +stumpy runt of a man! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Threateningly.] Vell—you see! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With grinning defiance.] I'll see, surely! I'll see myself and +Anna married this day, I'm telling you! [Then with contemptuous +exasperation.] It's quare fool's blather you have about the sea done +this and the sea done that. You'd ought to be shamed to be saying the +like, and you an old sailor yourself. I'm after hearing a lot of it +from you and a lot more that Anna's told me you do be saying to her, +and I'm thinking it's a poor weak thing you are, and not a man at all! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Darkly.] You see if Ay'm man—maybe quicker'n you tank. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Contemptuously.] Yerra, don't be boasting. I'm thinking 'tis +out of your wits you've got with fright of the sea. You'd be wishing +Anna married to a farmer, she told me. That'd be a swate match, surely! +Would you have a fine girl the like of Anna lying down at nights with a +muddy scut stinking of pigs and dung? Or would you have her tied for +life to the like of them skinny, shrivelled swabs does be working in +cities? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Dat's lie, you fool! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—'Tis not. 'Tis your own mad notions I'm after telling. But you +know the truth in your heart, if great fear of the sea has made you a +liar and coward itself. [Pounding the table.] The sea's the only life +for a man with guts in him isn't afraid of his own shadow! 'Tis only on +the sea he's free, and him roving the face of the world, seeing all +things, and not giving a damn for saving up money, or stealing from his +friends, or any of the black tricks that a landlubber'd waste his life +on. 'Twas yourself knew it once, and you a bo'sun for years. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Sputtering with rage.] You vas crazy fool, Ay tal you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—You've swallowed the anchor. The sea give you a clout once +knocked you down, and you're not man enough to get up for another, but +lie there for the rest of your life howling bloody murder. [Proudly.] +Isn't it myself the sea has nearly drowned, and me battered and bate +till I was that close to hell I could hear the flames roaring, and +never a groan out of me till the sea gave up and it seeing the great +strength and guts of a man was in me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Scornfully.] Yes, you vas hell of fallar, hear you tal it! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Angrily.] You'll be calling me a liar once too often, me old +bucko! Wasn't the whole story of it and my picture itself in the +newspapers of Boston a week back? [Looking CHRIS up and down +belittlingly.] Sure I'd like to see you in the best of your youth do +the like of what I done in the storm and after. 'Tis a mad lunatic, +screeching with fear, you'd be this minute! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ho-ho! You vas young fool! In ole years when Ay was on +windyammer, Ay vas through hundred storms vorse'n dat! Ships vas ships +den—and men dat sail on dem vas real men. And now what you gat on +steamers? You gat fallars on deck don't know ship from mudscow. [With a +meaning glance at BURKE.] And below deck you gat fallars yust know how +for shovel coal—might yust as veil vork on coal vagon ashore! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Stung—angrily.] Is it casting insults at the men in the +stokehole ye are, ye old ape? God stiffen you! Wan of them is worth any +ten stock-fish-swilling Square-heads ever shipped on a windbag! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[His face working with rage, his hand going back to the +sheath-knife on his hip.] Irish svine, you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Tauntingly.] Don't ye like the Irish, ye old babboon? 'Tis that +you're needing in your family, I'm telling you—an Irishman and a man +of the stokehole—to put guts in it so that you'll not be having +grandchildren would be fearful cowards and jackasses the like of +yourself! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Half rising from his chair—in a voice choked with rage.] You +look out! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Watching him intently—a mocking smile on his lips.] And it's +that you'll be having, no matter what you'll do to prevent; for Anna +and me'll be married this day, and no old fool the like of you will +stop us when I've made up my mind. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[With a hoarse cry.] You don't! [He throws himself at BURKE, +knife in hand, knocking his chair over backwards. BURKE springs to his +feet quickly in time to meet the attack. He laughs with the pure love +of battle. The old Swede is like a child in his hands. BURKE does not +strike or mistreat him in any way, but simply twists his right hand +behind his back and forces the knife from his fingers. He throws the +knife into a far corner of the room—tauntingly.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—Old men is getting childish shouldn't play with knives. [Holding +the struggling CHRIS at arm's length—with a sudden rush of anger, +drawing back his fist.] I've half a mind to hit you a great clout will +put sense in your square head. Kape off me now, I'm warning you! [He +gives CHRIS a push with the flat of his hand which sends the old Swede +staggering back against the cabin wall, where he remains standing, +panting heavily, his eyes fixed on BURKE with hatred, as if he were +only collecting his strength to rush at him again.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Warningly.] Now don't be coming at me again, I'm saying, or +I'll flatten you on the floor with a blow, if 'tis Anna's father you +are itself! I've no patience left for you. [Then with an amused laugh.] +Well, 'tis a bold old man you are just the same, and I'd never think it +was in you to come tackling me alone. [A shadow crosses the cabin +windows. Both men start. ANNA appears in the doorway.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With pleased surprise as she sees BURKE.] Hello, Mat. Are you +here already? I was down—[She stops, looking from one to the other, +sensing immediately that something has happened.] What's up? [Then +noticing the overturned chair—in alarm.] How'd that chair get knocked +over? [Turning on BURKE reproachfully.] You ain't been fighting with +him, Mat—after you promised? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[His old self again.] I've not laid a hand on him, Anna. [He +goes and picks up the chair, then turning on the still questioning +ANNA—with a reassuring smile.] Let you not be worried at all. 'Twas +only a bit of an argument we was having to pass the time till you'd +come. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—It must have been some argument when you got to throwing chairs. +[She turns on CHRIS.] Why don't you say something? What was it about? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Relaxing at last—avoiding her eyes—sheepishly.] Ve vas +talking about ships and fallars on sea. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a relieved smile.] Oh—the old stuff, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Suddenly seeming to come to a bold decision—with a defiant +grin at CHRIS.] He's not after telling you the whole of it. We was +arguing about you mostly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a frown.] About me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—And we'll be finishing it out right here and now in your +presence if you're willing. [He sits down at the left of table.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Uncertainly—looking from him to her father.] Sure. Tell me what +it's all about. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Advancing toward the table—protesting to BURKE.] No! You don't +do dat, you! You tal him you don't vant for hear him talk, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—But I do. I want this cleared up. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Miserably afraid now.] Vell, not now, anyvay. You vas going +ashore, yes? You ain't got time— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Firmly.] Yes, right here and now. [She turns to BURKE.] You tell +me, Mat, since he don't want to. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Draws a deep breath—then plunges in boldly.] The whole of it's +in a few words only. So's he'd make no mistake, and him hating the +sight of me, I told him in his teeth I loved you. [Passionately.] And +that's God truth, Anna, and well you know it! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Scornfully—forcing a laugh.] Ho-ho! He tal same tang to gel +every port he go! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Shrinking from her father with repulsion—resentfully.] Shut up, +can't you? [Then to BURKE—feelingly.] I know it's true, Mat. I don't +mind what he says. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Humbly grateful.] God bless you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—And then what? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—And then—[Hesitatingly.] And then I said—[He looks at her +pleadingly.] I said I was sure—I told him I thought you have a bit of +love for me, too. [Passionately.] Say you do, Anna! Let you not destroy +me entirely, for the love of God! [He grasps both her hands in his two.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Deeply moved and troubled—forcing a trembling laugh.] So you +told him that, Mat? No wonder he was mad. [Forcing out the words.] +Well, maybe it's true, Mat. Maybe I do. I been thinking and thinking—I +didn't want to, Mat, I'll own up to that—I tried to cut it +out—but—[She laughs helplessly.] I guess I can't help it anyhow. So I +guess I do, Mat. [Then with a sudden joyous defiance.] Sure I do! +What's the use of kidding myself different? Sure I love you, Mat! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[With a cry of pain.] Anna! [He sits crushed.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With a great depth of sincerity in his humble gratitude.] God +be praised! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Assertively.] And I ain't never loved a man in my life before, +you can always believe that—no matter what happens. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Goes over to her and puts his arms around her.] Sure I do be +believing ivery word you iver said or iver will say. And 'tis you and +me will be having a grand, beautiful life together to the end of our +days! [He tries to kiss her. At first she turns away her head—then, +overcome by a fierce impulse of passionate love, she takes his head in +both her hands and holds his face close to hers, staring into his eyes. +Then she kisses him full on the lips.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Pushing him away from her—forcing a broken laugh.] Good-bye. +[She walks to the doorway in rear—stands with her back toward them, +looking out. Her shoulders quiver once or twice as if she were fighting +back her sobs.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Too in the seventh heaven of bliss to get any correct +interpretation of her word—with a laugh.] Good-bye, is it? The divil +you say! I'll be coming back at you in a second for more of the same! +[To CHRIS, who has quickened to instant attention at his daughter's +good-bye, and has looked back at her with a stirring of foolish hope in +his eyes.] Now, me old bucko, what'll you be saying? You heard the +words from her own lips. Confess I've bate you. Own up like a man when +you're bate fair and square. And here's my hand to you—[Holds out his +hand.] And let you take it and we'll shake and forget what's over and +done, and be friends from this out. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[With implacable hatred.] Ay don't shake hands vith you +fallar—not vhile Ay live! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Offended.] The back of my hand to you then, if that suits you +better. [Growling.] 'Tis a rotten bad loser you are, divil mend you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay don't lose—[Trying to be scornful and self-convincing.] Anna +say she like you little bit but you don't hear her say she marry you, +Ay bet. [At the sound of her name ANNA has turned round to them. Her +face is composed and calm again, but it is the dead calm of despair.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Scornfully.] No, and I wasn't hearing her say the sun is +shining either. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Doggedly.] Dat's all right. She don't say it, yust same. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Quietly—coming forward to them.] No, I didn't say it, Mat. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Eagerly.] Dere! You hear! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Misunderstanding her—with a grin.] You're waiting till you do +be asked, you mane? Well, I'm asking you now. And we'll be married this +day, with the help of God! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Gently.] You heard what I said, Mat—after I kissed you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Alarmed by something in her manner.] No—I disremember. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I said good-bye. [Her voice trembling.] That kiss was for +good-bye, Mat. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Terrified.] What d'you mane? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I can't marry you, Mat—and we've said good-bye. That's all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Unable to hold back his exultation.] Ay know it! Ay know dat +vas so! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Jumping to his feet—unable to believe his ears.] Anna! Is it +making game of me you'd be? 'Tis a quare time to joke with me, and +don't be doing it, for the love of God. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Looking him in the eyes—steadily.] D'you think I'd kid you now? +No, I'm not joking, Mat. I mean what I said. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—Ye don't! Ye can't! 'Tis mad you are. I'm telling you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Fixedly.] No I'm not. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Desperately.] But what's come over you so sudden? You was +saying you loved me— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I'll say that as often as you want me to. It's true. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Bewilderedly.] Then why—what, in the divil's name—Oh, God +help me, I can't make head or tail to it at all! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Because it's the best way out I can figure, Mat. [Her voice +catching.] I been thinking it over and thinking it over day and night +all week. Don't think it ain't hard on me, too, Mat. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—For the love of God, tell me then, what is it that's preventing +you wedding me when the two of us has love? [Suddenly getting an idea +and pointing at CHRIS—exasperatedly.] Is it giving heed to the like of +that old fool ye are, and him hating me and filling your ears full of +bloody lies against me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Getting to his feet—raging triumphantly before ANNA has a +chance to get in a word.] Yes, Anna believe me, not you! She know her +old fa'der don't lie like you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Turning on her father angrily.] You sit down, d'you hear? Where +do you come in butting in and making things worse? You're like a devil, +you are! [Harshly.] Good Lord, and I was beginning to like you, +beginning to forget all I've got held up against you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Crushed—feebly.] You ain't got nutting for hold against me, +Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Ain't I yust! Well, lemme tell you—[She glances at BURKE and +stops abruptly.] Say, Mat, I'm s'prised at you. You didn't think +anything he'd said— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Glumly.] Sure, what else would it be? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Think I've ever paid any attention to all his crazy bull? Gee, +you must take me for a five-year-old kid. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Puzzled and beginning to be irritated at her too.] I don't know +how to take you, with your saying this one minute and that the next. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Well, he has nothing to do with it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—Then what is it has? Tell me, and don't keep me waiting and +sweating blood. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Resolutely] I can't tell you—and I won't. I got a good +reason—and that's all you need to know. I can't marry you, that's all +there is to it. [Distractedly.] So, for Gawd's sake, let's talk of +something else. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—I'll not! [Then fearfully.] Is it married to someone else you +are—in the West maybe? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Vehemently.] I should say not. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Regaining his courage.] To the divil with all other reasons +then. They don't matter with me at all. [He gets to his feet +confidently, assuming a masterful tone.] I'm thinking you're the like +of them women can't make up their mind till they're drove to it. Well, +then, I'll make up your mind for you bloody quick. [He takes her by the +arms, grinning to soften his serious bullying.] We've had enough of +talk! Let you be going into your room now and be dressing in your best +and we'll be going ashore. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Aroused—angrily.] No, py God, she don't do that! [Takes hold +of her arm.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Who has listened to BURKE in astonishment. She draws away from +him, instinctively repelled by his tone, but not exactly sure if he is +serious or not—a trace of resentment in her voice.] Say, where do you +get that stuff? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Imperiously.] Never mind, now! Let you go get dressed, I'm +saying, [Then turning to CHRIS.] We'll be seeing who'll win in the +end—me or you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[To ANNA—also in an authoritative tone.] You stay right here, +Anna, you hear! [ANNA stands looking from one to the other of them as +if she thought they had both gone crazy. Then the expression of her +face freezes into the hardened sneer of her experience.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Violently.] She'll not! She'll do what I say! You've had your +hold on her long enough. It's my turn now. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a hard laugh.] Your turn? Say, what am I, anyway? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—'Tis not what you are, 'tis what you're going to be this +day—and that's wedded to me before night comes. Hurry up now with your +dressing. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Commandingly.] You don't do one tang he say, Anna! [ANNA laughs +mockingly.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—She will, so! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay tal you she don't! Ay'm her fa'der. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—She will in spite of you. She's taking my orders from this out, +not yours. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Laughing again.] Orders is good! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Turning to her impatiently.] Hurry up now, and shake a leg. +We've no time to be wasting. [Irritated as she doesn't move.] Do you +hear what I'm telling you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—You stay dere, Anna! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[At the end of her patience—blazing out at them passionately.] +You can go to hell, both of you! [There is something in her tone that +makes them forget their quarrel and turn to her in a stunned amazement. +ANNA laughs wildly.] You're just like all the rest of them—you two! +Gawd, you'd think I was a piece of furniture! I'll show you! Sit down +now! [As they hesitate—furiously.] Sit down and let me talk for a +minute. You're all wrong, see? Listen to me! I'm going to tell you +something—and then I'm going to beat it. [To BURKE—with a harsh +laugh.] I'm going to tell you a funny story, so pay attention. +[Pointing to CHRIS.] I've been meaning to turn it loose on him every +time he'd get my goat with his bull about keeping me safe inland. I +wasn't going to tell you, but you've forced me into it. What's the dif? +It's all wrong anyway, and you might as well get cured that way as any +other. [With hard mocking.] Only don't forget what you said a minute +ago about it not mattering to you what other reason I got so long as I +wasn't married to no one else. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Manfully.] That's my word, and I'll stick to it! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Laughing bitterly.] What a chance! You make me laugh, honest! +Want to bet you will? Wait 'n see! [She stands at the table rear, +looking from one to the other of the two men with her hard, mocking +smile. Then she begins, fighting to control her emotion and speak +calmly.] First thing is, I want to tell you two guys something. You was +going on's if one of you had got to own me. But nobody owns me, +see?—'cepting myself. I'll do what I please and no man, I don't give a +hoot who he is, can tell me what to do! I ain't asking either of you +for a living. I can make it myself—one way or other. I'm my own boss. +So put that in your pipe and smoke it! You and your orders! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Protestingly.] I wasn't meaning it that way at all and well you +know it. You've no call to be raising this rumpus with me. [Pointing to +CHRIS.] 'Tis him you've a right— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I'm coming to him. But you—you did mean it that way, too. You +sounded—yust like all the rest. [Hysterically.] But, damn it, shut up! +Let me talk for a change! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—'Tis quare, rough talk, that—for a dacent girl the like of you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a hard laugh.] Decent? Who told you I was? [CHRIS is +sitting with bowed shoulders, his head in his hands. She leans over in +exasperation and shakes him violently by the shoulder.] Don't go to +sleep, Old Man! Listen here, I'm talking to you now! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Straightening up and looking about as if he were seeking a way +to escape—with frightened foreboding in his voice.] Ay don't vant for +hear it. You vas going out of head, Ay tank, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Violently.] Well, living with you is enough to drive anyone off +their nut. Your bunk about the farm being so fine! Didn't I write you +year after year how rotten it was and what a dirty slave them cousins +made of me? What'd you care? Nothing! Not even enough to come out and +see me! That crazy bull about wanting to keep me away from the sea +don't go down with me! You yust didn't want to be bothered with me! +You're like all the rest of 'em! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Feebly.] Anna! It ain't so— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Not heeding his interruption—revengefully.] But one thing I +never wrote you. It was one of them cousins that you think is such nice +people—the youngest son—Paul—that started me wrong. [Loudly.] It +wasn't none of my fault. I hated him worse 'n hell and he knew it. But +he was big and strong—[Pointing to Burke]—like you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Half springing to his feet—his fists clenched,] God blarst it! +[He sinks slowly back in his chair again, the knuckles showing white on +his clenched hands, his face tense with the effort to suppress his +grief and rage.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[In a cry of horrified pain.] Anna! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[To him—seeming not to have heard their interruptions.] That was +why I run away from the farm. That was what made me get a yob as nurse +girl in St. Paul. [With a hard, mocking laugh.] And you think that was +a nice yob for a girl, too, don't you? [Sarcastically.] With all them +nice inland fellers yust looking for a chance to marry me, I s'pose. +Marry me? What a chance! They wasn't looking for marrying. [As BURKE +lets a groan of fury escape him—desperately.] I'm owning up to +everything fair and square. I was caged in, I tell you—yust like in +yail—taking care of other people's kids—listening to 'em bawling and +crying day and night—when I wanted to be out—and I was +lonesome—lonesome as hell! [With a sudden weariness in her voice.] So +I give up finally. What was the use? [She stops and looks at the two +men. Both are motionless and silent. CHRIS seems in a stupor of +despair, his house of cards fallen about him. BURKE's face is livid +with the rage that is eating him up, but he is too stunned and +bewildered yet to find a vent for it. The condemnation she feels in +their silence goads ANNA into a harsh, strident defiance.] You don't +say nothing—either of you—but I know what you're thinking. You're +like all the rest! [To CHRIS—furiously.] And who's to blame for it, me +or you? If you'd even acted like a man—if you'd even been a regular +father and had me with you—maybe things would be different! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[In agony.] Don't talk dat vay, Anna! Ay go crazy! Ay von't +listen! [Puts his hands over his ears.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Infuriated by his action—stridently.] You will too listen! [She +leans over and pulls his hands from his ears—with hysterical rage.] +You—keeping me safe inland—I wasn't no nurse girl the last two +years—I lied when I wrote you—I was in a house, that's what!—yes, +that kind of a house—the kind sailors like you and Mat goes to in +port—and your nice inland men, too—and all men, God damn 'em! I hate +'em! Hate 'em! [She breaks into hysterical sobbing, throwing herself +into the chair and hiding her face in her hands on the table. The two +men have sprung to their feet.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Whimpering like a child.] Anna! Anna! It's lie! It's lie! [He +stands wringing his hands together and begins to weep.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[His whole great body tense like a spring—dully and gropingly.] +So that's what's in it! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Raising her head at the sound of his voice—with extreme mocking +bitterness.] I s'pose you remember your promise, Mat? No other reason +was to count with you so long as I wasn't married already. So I s'pose +you want me to get dressed and go ashore, don't you? [She laughs.] Yes, +you do! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[On the verge of his outbreak—stammeringly.] God stiffen you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Trying to keep up her hard, bitter tone, but gradually letting a +note of pitiful pleading creep in.] I s'pose if I tried to tell you I +wasn't—that—no more you'd believe me, wouldn't you? Yes, you would! +And if I told you that yust getting out in this barge, and being on the +sea had changed me and made me feel different about things,'s if all +I'd been through wasn't me and didn't count and was yust like it never +happened—you'd laugh, wouldn't you? And you'd die laughing sure if I +said that meeting you that funny way that night in the fog, and +afterwards seeing that you was straight goods stuck on me, had got me +to thinking for the first time, and I sized you up as a different kind +of man—a sea man as different from the ones on land as water is from +mud—and that was why I got stuck on you, too. I wanted to marry you +and fool you, but I couldn't. Don't you see how I'd changed? I couldn't +marry you with you believing a lie—and I was shamed to tell you the +truth—till the both of you forced my hand, and I seen you was the same +as all the rest. And now, give me a bawling out and beat it, like I can +tell you're going to. [She stops, looking at BURKE. He is silent, his +face averted, his features beginning to work with fury. She pleads +passionately.] Will you believe it if I tell you that loving you has +made me—clean? It's the straight goods, honest! [Then as he doesn't +reply—bitterly.] Like hell you will! You're like all the rest! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Blazing out—turning on her in a perfect frenzy of rage—his +voice trembling with passion.] The rest, is it? God's curse on you! +Clane, is it? You slut, you, I'll be killing you now! [He picks up the +chair on which he has been sitting and, swinging it high over his +shoulder, springs toward her. CHRIS rushes forward with a cry of alarm, +trying to ward off the blow from his daughter. ANNA looks up into +BURKE'S eyes with the fearlessness of despair. BURKE checks himself, +the chair held in the air.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Wildly.] Stop, you crazy fool! You vant for murder her! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Pushing her father away brusquely, her eyes still holding +BURKE'S.] Keep out of this, you! [To BURKE—dully.] Well, ain't you got +the nerve to do it? Go ahead! I'll be thankful to you, honest. I'm sick +of the whole game. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Throwing the chair away into a corner of the room—helplessly.] +I can't do it, God help me, and your two eyes looking at me. +[Furiously.] Though I do be thinking I'd have a good right to smash +your skull like a rotten egg. Was there iver a woman in the world had +the rottenness in her that you have, and was there iver a man the like +of me was made the fool of the world, and me thinking thoughts about +you, and having great love for you, and dreaming dreams of the fine +life we'd have when we'd be wedded! [His voice high pitched in a +lamentation that is like a keen]. Yerra, God help me! I'm destroyed +entirely and my heart is broken in bits! I'm asking God Himself, was it +for this He'd have me roaming the earth since I was a lad only, to come +to black shame in the end, where I'd be giving a power of love to a +woman is the same as others you'd meet in any hooker-shanty in port, +with red gowns on them and paint on their grinning mugs, would be +sleeping with any man for a dollar or two! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[In a scream.] Don't, Mat! For Gawd's sake! [Then raging and +pounding on the table with her hands.] Get out of here! Leave me alone! +Get out of here! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[His anger rushing back on him.] I'll be going, surely! And I'll +be drinking sloos of whiskey will wash that black kiss of yours off my +lips; and I'll be getting dead rotten drunk so I'll not remember if +'twas iver born you was at all; and I'll be shipping away on some boat +will take me to the other end of the world where I'll never see your +face again! [He turns toward the door] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Who has been standing in a stupor—suddenly grasping BURKE by +the arm—stupidly] No, you don't go. Ay tank maybe it's better Anna +marry you now. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Shaking CHRIS off—furiously] Lave go of me, ye old ape! Marry +her, is it? I'd see her roasting in hell first! I'm shipping away out +of this, I'm telling you! [Pointing to Anna—passionately] And my curse +on you and the curse of Almighty God and all the Saints! You've +destroyed me this day and may you lie awake in the long nights, +tormented with thoughts of Mat Burke and the great wrong you've done +him! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[In anguish] Mat! [But he turns without another word and strides +out of the doorway. ANNA looks after him wildly, starts to run after +him, then hides her face in her outstretched arms, sobbing. CHRIS +stands in a stupor, staring at the floor.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[After a pause, dully.] Ay tank Ay go ashore, too. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Looking up, wildly.] Not after him! Let him go! Don't you dare— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Somberly.] Ay go for gat drink. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a harsh laugh.] So I'm driving you to drink, too, eh? I +s'pose you want to get drunk so's you can forget—like him? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Bursting out angrily.] Yes, Ay vant! You tank Ay like hear dem +tangs. [Breaking down—weeping.] Ay tank you vasn't dat kind of gel, +Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Mockingly.] And I s'pose you want me to beat it, don't you? You +don't want me here disgracing you, I s'pose? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—No, you stay here! [Goes over and pats her on the shoulder, the +tears running down his face.] Ain't your fault, Anna, Ay know dat. [She +looks up at him, softened. He bursts into rage.] It's dat ole davil, +sea, do this to me! [He shakes his fist at the door.] It's her dirty +tricks! It vas all right on barge with yust you and me. Den she bring +dat Irish fallar in fog, she make you like him, she make you fight with +me all time! If dat Irish fallar don't never come, you don't never tal +me dem tangs, Ay don't never know, and every tang's all right. [He +shakes his fist again,] Dirty ole davil! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With spent weariness.] Oh, what's the use? Go on ashore and get +drunk. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Goes into room on left and gets his cap. He goes to the door, +silent and stupid—then turns.] You vait here, Anna? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Dully] Maybe—and maybe not. Maybe I'll get drunk, too. Maybe +I'll—But what the hell do you care what I do? Go on and beat it. +[CHRIS turns stupidly and goes out. ANNA sits at the table, staring +straight in front of her.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> +[The Curtain Falls] +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="act4"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ACT IV +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SCENE—Same as Act Three, about nine o'clock of a foggy night two days +later. The whistles of steamers in the harbor can be heard. The cabin +is lighted by a small lamp on the table. A suitcase stands in the +middle of the floor. ANNA is sitting in the rocking-chair. She wears a +hat, is all dressed up as in Act One. Her face is pale, looks terribly +tired and worn, as if the two days just past had been ones of suffering +and sleepless nights. She stares before her despondently, her chin in +her hands. There is a timid knock on the door in rear. ANNA jumps to +her feet with a startled exclamation and looks toward the door with an +expression of mingled hope and fear. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Faintly.] Come in. [Then summoning her courage—more +resolutely.] Come in. [The door is opened and CHRIS appears in the +doorway. He is in a very bleary, bedraggled condition, suffering from +the after effects of his drunk. A tin pail full of foaming beer is in +his hand. He comes forward, his eyes avoiding ANNA'S. He mutters +stupidly.] It's foggy. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Looking him over with contempt.] So you come back at last, did +you? You're a fine looking sight! [Then jeeringly.] I thought you'd +beaten it for good on account of the disgrace I'd brought on you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Wincing-faintly.] Don't say dat, Anna, please! [He sits in a +chair by the table, setting down the can of beer, holding his head in +his hands] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Looks at him with a certain sympathy.] What's the trouble? +Feeling sick? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Dully.] Inside my head feel sick. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Well, what d'you expect after being soused for two days? +[Resentfully.] It serves you right. A fine thing—you leaving me alone +on this barge all that time! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Humbly.] Ay'm sorry, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Scornfully] Sorry! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—But Ay'm not sick inside head vay you mean. Ay'm sick from tank +too much about you, about me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—And how about me? D'you suppose I ain't been thinking, too? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay'm sorry, Anna. [He sees her bag and gives a start] You pack +your bag, Anna? You vas going—? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Forcibly.] Yes, I was going right back to what you think. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Anna! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I went ashore to get a train for New York. I'd been waiting and +waiting 'till I was sick of it. Then I changed my mind and decided not +to go to-day. But I'm going first thing to-morrow, so it'll all be the +same in the end. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Raising his head—pleadingly] No, you never do dat, Anna! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a sneer.] Why not, I'd like to know? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—You don't never gat to do—dat vay—no more, Ay tal you. Ay fix +dat up all right. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Suspiciously.] Fix what up? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Not seeming to have heard her question—sadly.] You vas +vaiting, you say? You vasn't vaiting for me, Ay bet. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Callously.] You'd win. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—For dat Irish fallar? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Defiantly.] Yes—if you want to know! [Then with a forlorn +laugh.] If he did come back it'd only because he wanted to beat me up +or kill me, I suppose. But even if he did, I'd rather have him come +than not show up at all. I wouldn't care what he did. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay guess it's true you vas in love with him all right. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—You guess! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Turning to her earnestly.] And Ay'm sorry for you like hell he +don't come, Anna! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Softened.] Seems to me you've changed your tune a lot. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay've been tanking, and Ay guess it vas all my fault—all bad +tangs dat happen to you. [Pleadingly.] You try for not hate me, Anna. +Ay'm crazy ole fool, dat's all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Who said I hated you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay'm sorry for everytang Ay do wrong for you, Anna. Ay vant for +you be happy all rest of your life for make up! It make you happy marry +dat Irish fallar, Ay vant it, too. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Dully.]—Well, there ain't no chance. But I'm glad you think +different about it, anyway. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Supplicatingly.] And you tank—maybe—you forgive me sometime? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a wan smile.] I'll forgive you right now. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Seizing her hand and kissing it—brokenly.] Anna lilla! Anna +lilla! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Touched but a bit embarrassed.] Don't bawl about it. There ain't +nothing to forgive, anyway. It ain't your fault, and it ain't mine, and +it ain't his neither. We're all poor nuts, and things happen, and we +yust get mixed in wrong, that's all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Eagerly.] You say right tang, Anna, py golly! It ain't nobody's +fault! [Shaking his fist.] It's dat ole davil, sea! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With an exasperated laugh.] Gee, won't you ever can that stuff? +[CHRIS relapses into injured silence. After a pause ANNA continues +curiously.] You said a minute ago you'd fixed something up—about me. +What was it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[After a hesitating pause.] Ay'm shipping avay on sea again, +Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Astounded.] You're—what? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Ay sign on steamer sail to-morrow. Ay gat my ole yob—bo'sun. +[ANNA stares at him. As he goes on, a bitter smile comes over her +face.] Ay tank dat's best tang for you. Ay only bring you bad luck, Ay +tank. Ay make your mo'der's life sorry. Ay don't vant make yours dat +way, but Ay do yust same. Dat ole davil, sea, she make me Yonah man +ain't no good for nobody. And Ay tank now it ain't no use fight with +sea. No man dat live going to beat her, py yingo! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a laugh of helpless bitterness.] So that's how you've fixed +me, is it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Yes, Ay tank if dat ole davil gat me back she leave you alone +den. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Bitterly.] But, for Gawd's sake, don't you see, you're doing the +same thing you've always done? Don't you see—? [But she sees the look +of obsessed stubbornness on her father's face and gives it up +helplessly.] But what's the use of talking. You ain't right, that's +what. I'll never blame you for nothing no more. But how you could +figure out that was fixing me—! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Dat ain't all. Ay gat dem fallars in steam-ship office to pay +you all money coming to me every month vhile Ay'm avay. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a hard laugh.] Thanks. But I guess I won't be hard up for +no small change. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Hurt—humbly.] It ain't much, Ay know, but it's plenty for keep +you so you never gat go. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Shortly.] Shut up, will you? We'll talk about it later, see? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[After a pause—ingratiatingly.] You like Ay go ashore look for +dat Irish fallar, Anna? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Angrily.] Not much! Think I want to drag him back? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[After a pause—uncomfortably.] Py golly, dat booze don't go +veil. Give me fever, Ay tank, Ay feel hot like hell. [He takes off his +coat and lets it drop on the floor. There is a loud thud.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a start.] What you got in your pocket, for Pete's sake—a +ton of lead? [She reaches down, takes the coat and pulls out a +revolver—looks from it to him in amazement.] A gun? What were you +doing with this? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Sheepishly.] Ay forgat. Ain't nutting. Ain't loaded, anyvay. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Breaking it open to make sure—then closing it again—looking at +him suspiciously.] That ain't telling me why you got it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Sheepishly.] Ay'm ole fool. Ay gat it vhen Ay go ashore first. +Ay tank den it's all fault of dat Irish fallar. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a shudder.] Say, you're crazier than I thought. I never +dreamt you'd go that far. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Quickly.] Ay don't. Ay gat better sense right avay. Ay don't +never buy bullets even. It ain't his fault, Ay know. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Still suspicious of him.] Well, I'll take care of this for a +while, loaded or not. [She puts it in the drawer of table and closes +the drawer.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Placatingly.] Throw it overboard if you vant. Ay don't care, +[Then after a pause.] Py golly, Ay tank Ay go lie down. Ay feel sick. +[ANNA takes a magazine from the table. CHRIS hesitates by her chair.] +Ve talk again before Ay go, yes? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Dully.] Where's this ship going to? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Cape Town. Dat's in South Africa. She's British steamer called +Londonderry. [He stands hesitatingly—finally blurts out.] Anna—you +forgive me sure? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Wearily.] Sure I do. You ain't to blame. You're yust—what you +are—like me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Pleadingly.] Den—you lat me kiss you again once? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Raising her face—forcing a wan smile.] Sure. No hard feelings. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Kisses her—brokenly.] Anna lilla! Ay—[He fights for words to +express himself, but finds none—miserably—with a sob.] Ay can't say +it. Good-night, Anna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Good-night. [He picks up the can of beer and goes slowly into the +room on left, his shoulders bowed, his head sunk forward dejectedly. He +closes the door after him. ANNA turns over the pages of the magazine, +trying desperately to banish her thoughts by looking at the pictures. +This fails to distract her, and flinging the magazine back on the +table, she springs to her feet and walks about the cabin distractedly, +clenching and unclenching her hands. She speaks aloud to herself in a +tense, trembling voice.] Gawd, I can't stand this much longer! What am +I waiting for anyway?—like a damn fool! [She laughs helplessly, then +checks herself abruptly, as she hears the sound of heavy footsteps on +the deck outside. She appears to recognize these and her face lights up +with joy. She gasps:] Mat! [A strange terror seems suddenly to seize +her. She rushes to the table, takes the revolver out of drawer and +crouches down in the corner, left, behind the cupboard. A moment later +the door is flung open and MAT BURKE appears in the doorway. He is in +bad shape—his clothes torn and dirty, covered with sawdust as if he +had been grovelling or sleeping on barroom floors. There is a red +bruise on his forehead over one of his eyes, another over one +cheekbone, his knuckles are skinned and raw—plain evidence of the +fighting he has been through on his "bat." His eyes are bloodshot and +heavy-lidded, his face has a bloated look. But beyond these +appearances—the results of heavy drinking—there is an expression in +his eyes of wild mental turmoil, of impotent animal rage baffled by its +own abject misery.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Peers blinkingly about the cabin—hoarsely.] Let you not be +hiding from me, whoever's here—though 'tis well you know I'd have a +right to come back and murder you. [He stops to listen. Hearing no +sound, he closes the door behind him and comes forward to the table. He +throws himself into the rocking-chair—despondently.] There's no one +here, I'm thinking, and 'tis a great fool I am to be coming. [With a +sort of dumb, uncomprehending anguish.] Yerra, Mat Burke, 'tis a great +jackass you've become and what's got into you at all, at all? She's +gone out of this long ago, I'm telling you, and you'll never see her +face again. [ANNA stands up, hesitating, struggling between joy and +fear. BURKE'S eyes fall on ANNA'S bag. He leans over to examine it.] +What's this? [Joyfully.] It's hers. She's not gone! But where is she? +Ashore? [Darkly.] What would she be doing ashore on this rotten night? +[His face suddenly convulsed with grief and rage.] 'Tis that, is it? +Oh, God's curse on her! [Raging.] I'll wait 'till she comes and choke +her dirty life out. [ANNA starts, her face grows hard. She steps into +the room, the revolver in her right hand by her side.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[In a cold, hard tone.] What are you doing here? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Wheeling about with a terrified gasp] Glory be to God! [They +remain motionless and silent for a moment, holding each other's eyes.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[In the same hard voice] Well, can't you talk? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Trying to fall into an easy, careless tone] You've a year's +growth scared out of me, coming at me so sudden and me thinking I was +alone. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—You've got your nerve butting in here without knocking or +nothing. What d'you want? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Airily] Oh, nothing much. I was wanting to have a last word +with you, that's all. [He moves a step toward her.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Sharply—raising the revolver in her hand.] Careful now! Don't +try getting too close. I heard what you said you'd do to me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Noticing the revolver for the first time.] Is it murdering me +you'd be now, God forgive you? [Then with a contemptuous laugh.] Or is +it thinking I'd be frightened by that old tin whistle? [He walks +straight for her.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Wildly.] Look out, I tell you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Who has come so close that the revolver is almost touching his +chest.] Let you shoot, then! [Then with sudden wild grief.] Let you +shoot, I'm saying, and be done with it! Let you end me with a shot and +I'll be thanking you, for it's a rotten dog's life I've lived the past +two days since I've known what you are, 'til I'm after wishing I was +never born at all! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Overcome—letting the revolver drop to the floor, as if her +fingers had no strength to hold it—hysterically.] What d'you want +coming here? Why don't you beat it? Go on! [She passes him and sinks +down in the rocking-chair.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Following her—mournfully.] 'Tis right you'd be asking why did +I come. [Then angrily.] 'Tis because 'tis a great weak fool of the +world I am, and me tormented with the wickedness you'd told of +yourself, and drinking oceans of booze that'd make me forget. Forget? +Divil a word I'd forget, and your face grinning always in front of my +eyes, awake or asleep, 'til I do be thinking a madhouse is the proper +place for me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Glancing at his hands and—face—scornfully] You look like you +ought to be put away some place. Wonder you wasn't pulled in. You been +scrapping, too, ain't you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—I have—with every scut would take off his coat to me! +[Fiercely.] And each time I'd be hitting one a clout in the mug, it +wasn't his face I'd be seeing at all, but yours, and me wanting to +drive you a blow would knock you out of this world where I wouldn't be +seeing or thinking more of you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Her lips trembling pitifully] Thanks! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Walking up and down—distractedly.] That's right, make game of +me! Oh, I'm a great coward surely, to be coming back to speak with you +at all. You've a right to laugh at me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I ain't laughing at you, Mat. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Unheeding.] You to be what you are, and me to be Mat Burke, and +me to be drove back to look at you again! 'Tis black shame is on me! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Resentfully.] Then get out. No one's holding you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Bewilderedly] And me to listen to that talk from a woman like +you and be frightened to close her mouth with a slap! Oh, God help me, +I'm a yellow coward for all men to spit at! [Then furiously] But I'll +not be getting out of this 'till I've had me word. [Raising his fist +threateningly] And let you look out how you'd drive me! [Letting his +fist fall helplessly] Don't be angry now! I'm raving like a real +lunatic, I'm thinking, and the sorrow you put on me has my brains +drownded in grief. [Suddenly bending down to her and grasping her arm +intensely] Tell me it's a lie, I'm saying! That's what I'm after coming +to hear you say. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Dully] A lie? What? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With passionate entreaty] All the badness you told me two days +back. Sure it must be a lie! You was only making game of me, wasn't +you? Tell me 'twas a lie, Anna, and I'll be saying prayers of thanks on +my two knees to the Almighty God! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Terribly shaken—faintly.] I can't. Mat. [As he turns +away—imploringly.] Oh, Mat, won't you see that no matter what I was I +ain't that any more? Why, listen! I packed up my bag this afternoon and +went ashore. I'd been waiting here all alone for two days, thinking +maybe you'd come back—thinking maybe you'd think over all I'd +said—and maybe—oh, I don't know what I was hoping! But I was afraid +to even go out of the cabin for a second, honest—afraid you might come +and not find me here. Then I gave up hope when you didn't show up and I +went to the railroad station. I was going to New York. I was going +back— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Hoarsely.] God's curse on you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Listen, Mat! You hadn't come, and I'd gave up hope. But—in the +station—I couldn't go. I'd bought my ticket and everything. [She takes +the ticket from her dress and tries to hold it before his eyes.] But I +got to thinking about you—and I couldn't take the train—I couldn't! +So I come back here—to wait some more. Oh, Mat, don't you see I've +changed? Can't you forgive what's dead and gone—and forget it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Turning on her—overcome by rage again.] Forget, is it? I'll +not forget 'til my dying day, I'm telling you, and me tormented with +thoughts. [In a frenzy.] Oh, I'm wishing I had wan of them fornenst me +this minute and I'd beat him with my fists 'till he'd be a bloody +corpse! I'm wishing the whole lot of them will roast in hell 'til the +Judgment Day—and yourself along with them, for you're as bad as they +are. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Shuddering.] Mat! [Then after a pause—in a voice of dead, stony +calm.] Well, you've had your say. Now you better beat it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Starts slowly for the door—hesitates—then after a pause.] And +what'll you be doing? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—What difference does it make to you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—I'm asking you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[In the same tone.] My bag's packed and I got my ticket. I'll go +to New York to-morrow. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Helplessly.] You mean—you'll be doing the same again? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Stonily.] Yes. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[In anguish.] You'll not! Don't torment me with that talk! 'Tis +a she-divil you are sent to drive me mad entirely! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Her voice breaking.] Oh, for Gawd's sake, Mat, leave me alone! +Go away! Don't you see I'm licked? Why d'you want to keep on kicking me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Indignantly.] And don't you deserve the worst I'd say, God +forgive you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—All right. Maybe I do. But don't rub it in. Why ain't you done +what you said you was going to? Why ain't you got that ship was going +to take you to the other side of the earth where you'd never see me +again? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—I have. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Startled.] What—then you're going—honest? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—I signed on to-day at noon, drunk as I was—and she's sailing +to-morrow. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—And where's she going to? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—Cape Town. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[The memory of having heard that name a little while before +coming to her—with a start, confusedly.] Cape Town? Where's that. Far +away? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—'Tis at the end of Africa. That's far for you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Forcing a laugh.] You're keeping your word all right, ain't you? +[After a slight pause—curiously.] What's the boat's name? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—The Londonderry. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[It suddenly comes to her that this is the same ship her father +is sailing on.] The Londonderry! It's the same—Oh, this is too much! +[With wild, ironical laughter.] Ha-ha-ha! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—What's up with you now? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Ha-ha-ha! It's funny, funny! I'll die laughing! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Irritated.] Laughing at what? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—It's a secret. You'll know soon enough. It's funny. [Controlling +herself—after a pause—cynically.] What kind of a place is this Cape +Town? Plenty of dames there, I suppose? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—To hell with them! That I may never see another woman to my +dying hour! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—That's what you say now, but I'll bet by the time you get there +you'll have forgot all about me and start in talking the same old bull +you talked to me to the first one you meet. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Offended.] I'll not, then! God mend you, is it making me out to +be the like of yourself you are, and you taking up with this one and +that all the years of your life? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Angrily assertive.] Yes, that's yust what I do mean! You been +doing the same thing all your life, picking up a new girl in every +port. How're you any better than I was? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Thoroughly exasperated.] Is it no shame you have at all? I'm a +fool to be wasting talk on you and you hardened in badness. I'll go out +of this and lave you alone forever. [He starts for the door—then stops +to turn on her furiously] And I suppose 'tis the same lies you told +them all before that you told to me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Indignantly.] That's a lie! I never did! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Miserably.] You'd be saying that, anyway. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Forcibly, with growing intensity.] Are you trying to accuse +me—of being in love—really in love—with them? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—I'm thinking you were, surely. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Furiously, as if this were the last insult—advancing on him +threateningly] You mutt, you! I've stood enough from you. Don't you +dare. [With scornful bitterness.] Love 'em! Oh, my Gawd! You damn +thick-head! Love 'em? [Savagely.] I hated 'em, I tell you! Hated 'em, +hated 'em, hated 'em! And may Gawd strike me dead this minute and my +mother, too, if she was alive, if I ain't telling you the honest truth! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Immensely pleased by her vehemence—a light beginning to break +over his face—but still uncertain, torn between doubt and the desire +to believe—helplessly.] If I could only be believing you now! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Distractedly.] Oh, what's the use? What's the use of me talking? +What's the use of anything? [Pleadingly.] Oh, Mat, you mustn't think +that for a second! You mustn't! Think all the other bad about me you +want to, and I won't kick, 'cause you've a right to. But don't think +that! [On the point of tears.] I couldn't bear it! It'd be yust too +much to know you was going away where I'd never see you again—thinking +that about me! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[After an inward struggle—tensely—forcing out the words with +difficulty.] If I was believing—that you'd never had love for any +other man in the world but me—I could be forgetting the rest, maybe. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a cry of joy.] Mat! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Slowly.] If 'tis truth you're after telling, I'd have a right, +maybe, to believe you'd changed—and that I'd changed you myself 'til +the thing you'd been all your life wouldn't be you any more at all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Hanging on his words—breathlessly.] Oh, Mat! That's what I been +trying to tell you all along! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Simply.] For I've a power of strength in me to lead men the way +I want, and women, too, maybe, and I'm thinking I'd change you to a new +woman entirely, so I'd never know, or you either, what kind of woman +you'd been in the past at all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—Yes, you could, Mat! I know you could! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—And I'm thinking 'twasn't your fault, maybe, but having that old +ape for a father that left you to grow up alone, made you what you was. +And if I could be believing 'tis only me you— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Distractedly.] You got to believe it. Mat! What can I do? I'll +do anything, anything you want to prove I'm not lying! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Suddenly seems to have a solution. He feels in the pocket of +his coat and grasps something—solemnly.] Would you be willing to swear +an oath, now—a terrible, fearful oath would send your soul to the +divils in hell if you was lying? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Eagerly.] Sure, I'll swear, Mat—on anything! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Takes a small, cheap old crucifix from his pocket and holds it +up for her to see.] Will you swear on this? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Reaching out for it.] Yes. Sure I will. Give it to me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Holding it away.] 'Tis a cross was given me by my mother, God +rest her soul. [He makes the sign of the cross mechanically.] I was a +lad only, and she told me to keep it by me if I'd be waking or sleeping +and never lose it, and it'd bring me luck. She died soon after. But I'm +after keeping it with me from that day to this, and I'm telling you +there's great power in it, and 'tis great bad luck it's saved me from +and me roaming the seas, and I having it tied round my neck when my +last ship sunk, and it bringing me safe to land when the others went to +their death. [Very earnestly.] And I'm warning you now, if you'd swear +an oath on this, 'tis my old woman herself will be looking down from +Hivin above, and praying Almighty God and the Saints to put a great +curse on you if she'd hear you swearing a lie! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Awed by his manner—superstitiously] I wouldn't have the +nerve—honest—if it was a lie. But it's the truth and I ain't scared +to swear. Give it to me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Handing it to her—almost frightenedly, as if he feared for her +safety.] Be careful what you'd swear, I'm saying. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Holding the cross gingerly.] Well—what do you want me to swear? +You say it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—Swear I'm the only man in the world ivir you felt love for. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Looking into his eyes steadily] I swear it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—And that you'll be forgetting from this day all the badness +you've done and never do the like of it again. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Forcibly.] I swear it! I swear it by God! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—And may the blackest curse of God strike you if you're lying. +Say it now! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—And may the blackest curse of God strike me if I'm lying! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With a stupendous sigh.] Oh, glory be to God, I'm after +believing you now! [He takes the cross from her hand, his face beaming +with joy, and puts it back in his pocket. He puts his arm about her +waist and is about to kiss her when he stops, appalled by some terrible +doubt.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Alarmed.] What's the matter with you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[With sudden fierce questioning.] Is it Catholic ye are? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Confused.] No. Why? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Filled with a sort of bewildered foreboding.] Oh, God, help me! +[With a dark glance of suspicion at her.] There's some divil's trickery +in it, to be swearing an oath on a Catholic cross and you wan of the +others. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Distractedly.] Oh, Mat, don't you believe me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Miserably.] If it isn't a Catholic you are— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—I ain't nothing. What's the difference? Didn't you hear me swear? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Passionately.] Oh, I'd a right to stay away from you—but I +couldn't! I was loving you in spite of it all and wanting to be with +you, God forgive me, no matter what you are. I'd go mad if I'd not have +you! I'd be killing the world—[He seizes her in his arms and kisses +her fiercely.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[With a gasp of joy.] Mat! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Suddenly holding her away from him and staring into her eyes as +if to probe into her soul—slowly.] If your oath is no proper oath at +all, I'll have to be taking your naked word for it and have you anyway, +I'm thinking—I'm needing you that bad! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Hurt—reproachfully.] Mat! I swore, didn't I? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Defiantly, as if challenging fate.] Oath or no oath, 'tis no +matter. We'll be wedded in the morning, with the help of God. [Still +more defiantly.] We'll be happy now, the two of us, in spite of the +divil! [He crushes her to him and kisses her again. The door on the +left is pushed open and CHRIS appears in the doorway. He stands +blinking at them. At first the old expression of hatred of BURKE comes +into his eyes instinctively. Then a look of resignation and relief +takes its place. His face lights up with a sudden happy thought. He +turns back into the bedroom—reappears immediately with the tin can of +beer in his hand grinning.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—Me have drink on this, py golly! [They break away from each +other with startled exclamations.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Explosively.] God stiffen it! [He takes a step toward CHRIS +threateningly.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Happily—to her father.] That's the way to talk! [With a laugh.] +And say, it's about time for you and Mat to kiss and make up. You're +going to be shipmates on the Londonderry, did you know it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Astounded.] Shipmates—Has himself— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Equally astounded.] Ay vas bo'sun on her. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—The divil! [Then angrily.] You'd be going back to sea and +leaving her alone, would you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Quickly.] It's all right, Mat. That's where he belongs, and I +want him to go. You got to go, too; we'll need the money. [With a +laugh, as she gets the glasses.] And as for me being alone, that runs +in the family, and I'll get used to it. [Pouring out their glasses.] +I'll get a little house somewhere and I'll make a regular place for you +two to come back to,—wait and see. And now you drink up and be friends. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Happily—but still a bit resentful against the old man.] Sure! +[Clinking his glass against CHRIS'.] Here's luck to you! [He drinks.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Subdued—his face melancholy.] Skoal. [He drinks.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[To Anna, with a wink.] You'll not be lonesome long. I'll see to +that, with the help of God. 'Tis himself here will be having a +grandchild to ride on his foot, I'm telling you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Turning away in embarrassment.] Quit the kidding, now. [She +picks up her bag and goes into the room on left. As soon as she is gone +BURKE relapses into an attitude of gloomy thought. CHRIS stares at his +beer absent-mindedly. Finally BURKE turns on him.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—Is it any religion at all you have, you and your Anna? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Surprised.] Vhy yes. Ve vas Lutheran in ole country. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Horrified.] Luthers, is it? [Then with a grim resignation, +slowly, aloud to himself.] Well, damned then surely. Yerra, what's the +difference? 'Tis the will of God, anyway. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Moodily preoccupied with his own thoughts—speaks with somber +premonition as ANNA re-enters from the left.] It's funny. It's queer, +yes—you and me shipping on same boat dat vay. It ain't right. Ay don't +know—it's dat funny vay ole davil sea do her vorst dirty tricks, yes. +It's so. [He gets up and goes back and, opening the door, stares out +into the darkness.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BURKE—[Nodding his head in gloomy acquiescence—with a great sigh.] +I'm fearing maybe you have the right of it for once, divil take you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +ANNA—[Forcing a laugh.] Gee, Mat, you ain't agreeing with him, are +you? [She comes forward and puts her arm about his shoulder—with a +determined gaiety.] Aw say, what's the matter? Cut out the gloom. We're +all fixed now, ain't we, me and you? [Pours out more beer into his +glass and fills one for herself—slaps him on the back.] Come on! +Here's to the sea, no matter what! Be a game sport and drink to that! +Come on! [She gulps down her glass. Burke banishes his superstitious +premonitions with a defiant jerk of his head, grins up at her, and +drinks to her toast.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CHRIS—[Looking out into the night—lost in his somber +preoccupation—shakes his head and mutters.] Fog, fog, fog, all bloody +time. You can't see vhere you vas going, no. Only dat ole davil, +sea—she knows! [The two stare at him. From the harbor comes the +muffled, mournful wail of steamers' whistles.] +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> +[The Curtain Falls] +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Anna Christie, by Eugene O'Neill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANNA CHRISTIE *** + +***** This file should be named 4025-h.htm or 4025-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/2/4025/ + +Produced by Charles Franks, Robert Rowe and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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