I. The Hairy Ape   
Scene II   
Section of promenade deck, two days out—morning   
     
SCENE—Two days out. A section of the promenade deck. MILDRED DOUGLAS and her aunt are discovered reclining in deck chairs. The former is a girl of twenty, slender, delicate, with a pale, pretty face marred by a self-conscious expression of disdainful superiority. She looks fretful, nervous and discontented, bored by her own anemia. Her aunt is a pompous and proud—and fat—old lady. She is a type even to the point of a double chin and lorgnettes. She is dressed pretentiously, as if afraid her face alone would never indicate her position in life. MILDRED is dressed all in white.      1   
  The impression to be conveyed by this scene is one of the beautiful, vivid life of the sea all about—sunshine on the deck in a great flood, the fresh sea wind blowing across it. In the midst of this, these two incongruous, artificial figures, inert and disharmonious, the elder like a gray lump of dough touched up with rouge, the younger looking as if the vitality of her stock had been sapped before she was conceived, so that she is the expression not of its life energy but merely of the artificialities that energy had won for itself in the spending.      2   
     
  MILDRED—[Looking up with affected dreaminess.] How the black smoke swirls back against the sky! Is it not beautiful?      3   
  AUNT—[Without looking up.] I dislike smoke of any kind.      4   
  MILDRED—My great-grandmother smoked a pipe—a clay pipe.      5   
  AUNT—[Ruffling.] Vulgar!      6   
  MILDRED—She was too distant a relative to be vulgar. Time mellows pipes.      7   
  AUNT—[Pretending boredom but irritated.] Did the sociology you took up at college teach you that—to play the ghoul on every possible occasion, excavating old bones? Why not let your great-grandmother rest in her grave?      8   
  MILDRED—[Dreamily.] With her pipe beside her—puffing in Paradise.      9   
  AUNT—[With spite.] Yes, you are a natural born ghoul. You are even getting to look like one, my dear.     10   
  MILDRED—[In a passionless tone.] I detest you, Aunt. [Looking at her critically.] Do you know what you remind me of? Of a cold pork pudding against a background of linoleum tablecloth in the kitchen of a—but the possibilities are wearisome. [She closes her eyes.]     11   
  AUNT—[With a bitter laugh.] Merci for your candor. But since I am and must be your chaperone—in appearance, at least—let us patch up some sort of armed truce. For my part you are quite free to indulge any pose of eccentricity that beguiles you—as long as you observe the amenities——     12   
  MILDRED—[Drawling.] The inanities?     13   
  AUNT—[Going on as if she hadn’t heard.] After exhausting the morbid thrills of social service work on New York’s East Side—how they must have hated you, by the way, the poor that you made so much poorer in their own eyes!—you are now bent on making your slumming international. Well, I hope Whitechapel will provide the needed nerve tonic. Do not ask me to chaperone you there, however. I told your father I would not. I loathe deformity. We will hire an army of detectives and you may investigate everything—they allow you to see.     14   
  MILDRED—[Protesting with a trace of genuine earnestness.] Please do not mock at my attempts to discover how the other half lives. Give me credit for some sort of groping sincerity in that at least. I would like to help them. I would like to be some use in the world. Is it my fault I don’t know how? I would like to be sincere, to touch life somewhere. [With weary bitterness.] But I’m afraid I have neither the vitality nor integrity. All that was burnt out in our stock before I was born. Grandfather’s blast furnaces, flaming to the sky, melting steel, making millions—then father keeping those home fires burning, making more millions—and little me at the tail-end of it all. I’m a waste product in the Bessemer process—like the millions. Or rather, I inherit the acquired trait of the by-product, wealth, but none of the energy, none of the strength of the steel that made it. I am sired by gold and damed by it, as they say at the race track—damned in more ways than one. [She laughs mirthlessly].     15   
  AUNT—[Unimpressed—superciliously.] You seem to be going in for sincerity to-day. It isn’t becoming to you, really—except as an obvious pose. Be as artificial as you are, I advise. There’s a sort of sincerity in that, you know. And, after all, you must confess you like that better.     16   
  MILDRED—[Again affected and bored.] Yes, I suppose I do. Pardon me for my outburst. When a leopard complains of its spots, it must sound rather grotesque. [In a mocking tone.] Purr, little leopard. Purr, scratch, tear, kill, gorge yourself and be happy—only stay in the jungle where your spots are camouflage. In a cage they make you conspicuous.     17   
  AUNT—I don’t know what you are talking about.     18   
  MILDRED—It would be rude to talk about anything to you. Let’s just talk. [She looks at her wrist watch.] Well, thank goodness, it’s about time for them to come for me. That ought to give me a new thrill, Aunt.     19   
  AUNT—[Affectedly troubled.] You don’t mean to say you’re really going? The dirt—the heat must be frightful——     20   
  MILDRED—Grandfather started as a puddler. I should have inherited an immunity to heat that would make a salamander shiver. It will be fun to put it to the test.     21   
  AUNT—But don’t you have to have the captain’s—or someone’s—permission to visit the stokehole?     22   
  MILDRED—[With a triumphant smile.] I have it—both his and the chief engineer’s. Oh, they didn’t want to at first, in spite of my social service credentials. They didn’t seem a bit anxious that I should investigate how the other half lives and works on a ship. So I had to tell them that my father, the president of Nazareth Steel, chairman of the board of directors of this line, had told me it would be all right.     23   
  AUNT—He didn’t.     24   
  MILDRED—How naïve age makes one! But I said he did, Aunt. I even said he had given me a letter to them—which I had lost. And they were afraid to take the chance that I might be lying. [Excitedly.] So it’s ho! for the stokehole. The second engineer is to escort me. [Looking at her watch again.] It’s time. And here he comes, I think. [The SECOND ENGINEER enters. He is a husky, fine-looking man of thirty-five or so. He stops before the two and tips his cap, visibly embarrassed and ill-at-ease.]     25   
  SECOND ENGINEER—Miss Douglas?     26   
  MILDRED—Yes. [Throwing off her rugs and getting to her feet.] Are we all ready to start?     27   
  SECOND ENGINEER—In just a second, ma’am. I’m waiting for the Fourth. He’s coming along.     28   
  MILDRED—[With a scornful smile.] You don’t care to shoulder this responsibility alone, is that it?     29   
  SECOND ENGINEER—[Forcing a smile.] Two are better than one. [Disturbed by her eyes, glances out to sea—blurts out.] A fine day we’re having.     30   
  MILDRED—Is it?     31   
  SECOND ENGINEER—A nice warm breeze——     32   
  MILDRED—It feels cold to me.     33   
  SECOND ENGINEER—But it’s hot enough in the sun——     34   
  MILDRED—Not hot enough for me. I don’t like Nature. I was never athletic.     35   
  SECOND ENGINEER—[Forcing a smile.] Well, you’ll find it hot enough where you’re going.     36   
  MILDRED—Do you mean hell?     37   
  SECOND ENGINEER—[Flabbergasted, decides to laugh.] Ho-ho! No, I mean the stokehole.     38   
  MILDRED—My grandfather was a puddler. He played with boiling steel.     39   
  SECOND ENGINEER—[All at sea—uneasily.] Is that so? Hum, you’ll excuse me, ma’am, but are you intending to wear that dress.     40   
  MILDRED—Why not?     41   
  SECOND ENGINEER—You’ll likely rub against oil and dirt. It can’t be helped.     42   
  MILDRED—It doesn’t matter. I have lots of white dresses.     43   
  SECOND ENGINEER—I have an old coat you might throw over——     44   
  MILDRED—I have fifty dresses like this. I will throw this one into the sea when I come back. That ought to wash it clean, don’t you think?     45   
  SECOND ENGINEER—[Doggedly.] There’s ladders to climb down that are none too clean—and dark alleyways——     46   
  MILDRED—I will wear this very dress and none other.     47   
  SECOND ENGINEER—No offence meant. It’s none of my business. I was only warning you——     48   
  MILDRED—Warning? That sounds thrilling.     49   
  SECOND ENGINEER—[Looking down the deck—with a sigh of relief.]—There’s the Fourth now. He’s waiting for us. If you’ll come——     50   
  MILDRED—Go on. I’ll follow you. [He goes. MILDRED turns a mocking smile on her aunt.] An oaf—but a handsome, virile oaf.     51   
  AUNT—[Scornfully.] Poser!     52   
  MILDRED—Take care. He said there were dark alleyways——     53   
  AUNT—[In the same tone.] Poser!     54   
  MILDRED—[Biting her lips angrily.] You are right. But would that my millions were not so anemically chaste!     55   
  AUNT—Yes, for a fresh pose I have no doubt you would drag the name of Douglas in the gutter!     56   
  MILDRED—From which it sprang. Good-by, Aunt. Don’t pray too hard that I may fall into the fiery furnace.     57   
  AUNT—Poser!     58   
  MILDRED—[Viciously.] Old hag! [She slaps her aunt insultingly across the face and walks off, laughing gaily.]     59   
  AUNT—[Screams after her.] I said poser!


[Curtain]

I. The Hairy Ape   
Scene III   
The stokehole. A few minutes later   
     
SCENE—The stokehole. In the rear, the dimly-outlined bulks of the furnaces and boilers. High overhead one hanging electric bulb sheds just enough light through the murky air laden with coal dust to pile up masses of shadows everywhere. A line of men, stripped to the waist, is before the furnace doors. They bend over, looking neither to right nor left, handling their shovels as if they were part of their bodies, with a strange, awkward, swinging rhythm. They use the shovels to throw open the furnace doors. Then from these fiery round holes in the black a flood of terrific light and heat pours full upon the men who are outlined in silhouette in the crouching, inhuman attitudes of chained gorillas. The men shovel with a rhythmic motion, swinging as on a pivot from the coal which lies in heaps on the floor behind to hurl it into the flaming mouths before them. There is a tumult of noise—the brazen clang of the furnace doors as they are flung open or slammed shut, the grating, teeth-gritting grind of steel against steel, of crunching coal. This clash of sounds stuns one’s ears with its rending dissonance. But there is order in it, rhythm, a mechanical regulated recurrence, a tempo. And rising above all, making the air hum with the quiver of liberated energy, the roar of leaping flames in the furnaces, the monotonous throbbing beat of the engines.      1   
  As the curtain rises, the furnace doors are shut. The men are taking a breathing spell. One or two are arranging the coal behind them, pulling it into more accessible heaps. The others can be dimly made out leaning on their shovels in relaxed attitudes of exhaustion.      2   
  PADDY—[From somewhere in the line—plaintively.] Yerra, will this divil’s own watch nivir end? Me back is broke. I’m destroyed entirely.      3   
  YANK—[From the center of the line—with exuberant scorn.] Aw, yuh make me sick! Lie down and croak, why don’t yuh? Always beefin’, dat’s you! Say, dis is a cinch! Dis was made for me! It’s my meat, get me! [A whistle is blown—a thin, shrill note from somewhere overhead in the darkness. YANK curses without resentment.] Dere’s de damn engineer crakin’ de whip. He tinks we’re loafin’.      4   
  PADDY—[Vindictively.] God stiffen him!      5   
  YANK—[In an exultant tone of command.] Come on, youse guys! Git into de game! She’s gittin’ hungry! Pile some grub in her! Trow it into her belly! Come on now, all of youse! Open her up! [At this last all the men, who have followed his movements of getting into position, throw open their furnace doors with a deafening clang. The fiery light floods over their shoulders as they bend round for the coal. Rivulets of sooty sweat have traced maps on their backs. The enlarged muscles form bunches of high light and shadow.]      6   
  YANK—[Chanting a count as he shovels without seeming effort.] One—two—tree— [His voice rising exultantly in the joy of battle.] Dat’s de stuff! Let her have it! All togedder now! Sling it into her! Let her ride! Shoot de piece now! Call de toin on her! Drive her into it! Feel her move! Watch her smoke! Speed, dat’s her middle name! Give her coal, youse guys! Coal, dat’s her booze! Drink it up, baby! Let’s see yuh sprint! Dig in and gain a lap! Dere she go-o-es [This last in the chanting formula of the gallery gods at the six-day bike race. He slams his furnace door shut. The others do likewise with as much unison as their wearied bodies will permit. The effect is of one fiery eye after another being blotted out with a series of accompanying bangs.]      7   
  PADDY—[Groaning.] Me back is broke. I’m bate out—bate—[There is a pause. Then the inexorable whistle sounds again from the dim regions above the electric light. There is a growl of cursing rage from all sides.]      8   
  YANK—[Shaking his fist upward—contemptuously.] Take it easy dere, you! Who d’yuh tinks runnin’ dis game, me or you? When I git ready, we move. Not before! When I git ready, get me!      9   
 
           VOICES—[Approvingly.] That’s the stuff!   
Yank tal him, py golly!   
Yank ain’t affeerd.   
Goot poy, Yank!   
Give him hell!   
Tell ’im ’e’s a bloody swine!   
Bloody slave-driver!   
  10   
  YANK—[Contemptuously.] He ain’t got no noive. He’s yellow, get me? All de engineers is yellow. Dey got streaks a mile wide. Aw, to hell wit him! Let’s move, youse guys. We had a rest. Come on, she needs it! Give her pep! It ain’t for him. Him and his whistle, dey don’t belong. But we belong, see! We gotter feed de baby! Come on! [He turns and flings his furnace door open. They all follow his lead. At this instant the SECOND and FOURTH ENGINEERS enter from the darkness on the left with MILDRED between them. She starts, turns paler, her pose is crumbling, she shivers with fright in spite of the blazing heat, but forces herself to leave the ENGINEERS and take a few steps nearer the men. She is right behind YANK. All this happens quickly while the men have their backs turned.]     11   
  YANK—Come on, youse guys! [He is turning to get coal when the whistle sounds again in a peremptory, irritating note. This drives YANK into a sudden fury. While the other men have turned full around and stopped dumfounded by the spectacle of MILDRED standing there in her white dress, YANK does not turn far enough to see her. Besides, his head is thrown back, he blinks upward through the murk trying to find the owner of the whistle, he brandishes his shovel murderously over his head in one hand, pounding on his chest, gorilla-like, with the other, shouting:] Toin off dat whistle! Come down outa dere, yuh yellow, brass-buttoned, Belfast bum, yuh! Come down and I’ll knock yer brains out! Yuh lousey, stinkin’, yellow mut of a Catholic-moiderin’ bastard! Come down and I’ll moider yuh! Pullin’ dat whistle on me, huh? I’ll show yuh! I’ll crash yer skull in! I’ll drive yer teet’ down yer troat! I’ll slam yer nose trou de back of yer head! I’ll cut yer guts out for a nickel, yuh lousey boob, yuh dirty, crummy, muck-eatin’ son of a—— [Suddenly he becomes conscious of all the other men staring at something directly behind his back. He whirls defensively with a snarling, murderous growl, crouching to spring, his lips drawn back over his teeth, his small eyes gleaming ferociously. He sees MILDRED, like a white apparition in the full light from the open furnace doors. He glares into her eyes, turned to stone. As for her, during his speech she has listened, paralyzed with horror, terror, her whole personality crushed, beaten in, collapsed, by the terrific impact of this unknown, abysmal brutality, naked and shameless. As she looks at his gorilla face, as his eyes bore into hers, she utters a low, choking cry and shrinks away from him, putting both hands up before her eyes to shut out the sight of his face, to protect her own. This startles YANK to a reaction. His mouth falls open, his eyes grow bewildered.]     12   
  MILDRED—[About to faint—to the ENGINEERS, who now have her one by each arm—whimperingly.] Take me away! Oh, the filthy beast! [She faints. They carry her quickly back, disappearing in the darkness at the left, rear. An iron door clangs shut. Rage and bewildered fury rush back on YANK. He feels himself insulted in some unknown fashion in the very heart of his pride. He roars:] God damn yuh! [And hurls his shovel after them at the door which has just closed. It hits the steel bulkhead with a clang and falls clattering on the steel floor. From overhead the whistle sounds again in a long, angry, insistent command.]


[Curtain]

I. The Hairy Ape   
Scene IV   
Same as Scene I. Half an hour later   
     
SCENE—The firemen’s forecastle. YANK’S watch has just come off duty and had dinner. Their faces and bodies shine from a soap and water scrubbing but around their eyes, where a hasty dousing does not touch, the coal dust sticks like black make-up, giving them a queer, sinister expression. YANK has not washed either face or body. He stands out in contrast to them, a blackened, brooding figure. He is seated forward on a bench in the exact attitude of Rodin’s “The Thinker.” The others, most of them smoking pipes, are staring at YANK half-apprehensively, as if fearing an outburst; half-amusedly, as if they saw a joke somewhere that tickled them.      1   
     
 
           VOICES—He ain’t ate nothin’.   
Py golly, a fallar gat gat grub in him.   
Divil a lie.   
Yank feeda da fire, no feeda da face.   
Ha-ha.   
He ain’t even washed hisself.   
He’s forgot.   
Hey, Yank, you forgot to wash.   
   2   
  YANK—[Sullenly.] Forgot nothin’! To hell wit washin’.      3   
 
           VOICES—It’ll stick to you.   
It’ll get under your skin.   
Give yer the bleedin’ itch, that’s wot.   
It makes spots on you—like a leopard.   
Like a piebald nigger, you mean.   
Better wash up, Yank.   
You sleep better.   
Wash up, Yank.   
Wash up! Wash up!   
   4   
  YANK—[Resentfully.] Aw say, youse guys. Lemme alone. Can’t youse see I’m tryin’ to tink?      5   
  ALL—[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.] Think! [The word has a brazen, metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter.]      6   
  YANK—[Springing to his feet and glaring at them belligerently.] Yes, tink! Tink, dat’s what I said! What about it? [They are silent, puzzled by his sudden resentment at what used to be one of his jokes.      7   
  YANK—sits down again in the same attitude of “The Thinker.”]      8   
 
           VOICES—Leave him alone.   
He’s got a grouch on.   
Why wouldn’t he?   
   9   
  PADDY—[With a wink at the others.] Sure I know what’s the matther. ’Tis aisy to see. He’s fallen in love, I’m telling you.     10   
  ALL—[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.] Love! [The word has a brazen, metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter.]     11   
  YANK—[With a contemptuous snort.] Love, hell! Hate, dat’s what. I’ve fallen in hate, get me?     12   
  PADDY—[Philosophically.] ’Twould take a wise man to tell one from the other. [With a bitter, ironical scorn, increasing as he goes on.] But I’m telling you it’s love that’s in it. Sure what else but love for us poor bastes in the stokehole would be bringing a fine lady, dressed like a white quane, down a mile of ladders and steps to be havin’ a look at us? [A growl of anger goes up from all sides.]     13   
  LONG—[Jumping on a bench—hecticly.] Hinsultin’ us! Hinsultin’ us, the bloody cow! And them bloody engineers! What right ’as they got to be exhibitin’ us ’s if we was bleedin’ monkeys in a menagerie? Did we sign for hinsults to our dignity as ’onest workers? Is that in the ship’s articles? You kin bloody well bet it ain’t! But I knows why they done it. I arsked a deck steward ’o she was and ’e told me. ’Er old man’s a bleedin’ millionaire, a bloody Capitalist! ’E’s got enuf bloody gold to sink this bleedin’ ship! ’E makes arf the bloody steel in the world! ’E owns this bloody boat! And you and me, comrades, we’re ’is slaves! And the skipper and mates and engineers, they’re ’is slaves! And she’s ’is bloody daughter and we’re all ’er slaves, too! And she gives ’er orders as ’ow she wants to see the bloody animals below decks and down they takes ’er! [There is a roar of rage from all sides.]     14   
  YANK—[Blinking at him bewilderedly.] Say! Wait a moment! Is all dat straight goods?     15   
  LONG—Straight as string! The bleedin’ steward as waits on ’em, ’e told me about ’er. And what’re we goin’ ter do, I arsks yer? ’Ave we got ter swaller ’er hinsults like dogs? It ain’t in the ship’s articles. I tell yer we got a case. We kin go ter law——     16   
  YANK—[With abysmal contempt.] Hell! Law!     17   
  ALL—[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.] Law! [The word has a brazen metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter.]     18   
  LONG—[Feeling the ground slipping from under his feet—desperately.] As voters and citizens we kin force the bloody governments——     19   
  YANK—[With abysmal contempt.] Hell! Governments!     20   
  ALL—[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.] Governments! [The word has a brazen metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter.]     21   
  LONG—[Hysterically.] We’re free and equal in the sight of God——     22   
  YANK—[With abysmal contempt.] Hell! God!     23   
  ALL—[Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery.] God! [The word has a brazen metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter.]     24   
  YANK—[Witheringly.] Aw, join de Salvation Army!     25   
  ALL—Sit down! Shut up! Damn fool! Sea-lawyer! [Long slinks back out of sight.]     26   
  PADDY—[Continuing the trend of his thoughts as if he had never been interrupted—bitterly.] And there she was standing behind us, and the Second pointing at us like a man you’d hear in a circus would be saying: In this cage is a queerer kind of baboon than ever you’d find in darkest Africy. We roast them in their own sweat—and be damned if you won’t hear some of thim saying they like it! [He glances scornfully at YANK.]     27   
  YANK—[With a bewildered uncertain growl.] Aw!     28   
  PADDY—And there was Yank roarin’ curses and turning round wid his shovel to brain her—and she looked at him, and him at her——     29   
  YANK—[Slowly.] She was all white. I tought she was a ghost. Sure.     30   
  PADDY—[With heavy, biting sarcasm.] ’Twas love at first sight, divil a doubt of it! If you’d seen the endearin’ look on her pale mug when she shrivelled away with her hands over her eyes to shut out the sight of him! Sure, ’twas as if she’d seen a great hairy ape escaped from the Zoo!     31   
  YANK—[Stung—with a growl of rage.] Aw!     32   
  PADDY—And the loving way Yank heaved his shovel at the skull of her, only she was out the door! [A grin breaking over his face.] ’Twas touching, I’m telling you! It put the touch of home, swate home in the stokehole. [There is a roar of laughter from all.]     33   
  YANK—[Glaring at PADDY menacingly.] Aw, choke dat off, see!     34   
  PADDY—[Not heeding him—to the others.] And her grabbin’ at the Second’s arm for protection. [With a grotesque imitation of a woman’s voice.] Kiss me, Engineer dear, for it’s dark down here and me old man’s in Wall Street making money! Hug me tight, darlin’, for I’m afeerd in the dark and me mother’s on deck makin’ eyes at the skipper! [Another roar of laughter.]     35   
  YANK—[Threateningly.] Say! What yuh tryin’ to do, kid me, yuh old Harp?     36   
  PADDY—Divil a bit! Ain’t I wishin’ myself you’d brained her?     37   
  YANK—[Fiercely.] I’ll brain her! I’ll brain her yet, wait ’n’ see! [Coming over to PADDY—slowly.] Say, is dat what she called me—a hairy ape?     38   
  PADDY—She looked it at you if she didn’t say the word itself.     39   
  YANK—[Grinning horribly.] Hairy ape, huh? Sure! Dat’s de way she looked at me, aw right. Hairy ape! So dat’s me, huh? [Bursting into rage—as if she were still in front of him.] Yuh skinny tart! Yuh white-faced bum, yuh! I’ll show yuh who’s a ape! [Turning to the others, bewilderment seizing him again.] Say, youse guys. I was bawlin’ him out for pullin’ de whistle on us. You heard me. And den I seen youse lookin’ at somep’n and I tought he’d sneaked down to come up in back of me, and I hopped round to knock him dead wit de shovel. And dere she was wit de light on her! Christ, yuh coulda pushed me over with a finger! I was scared, get me? Sure! I tought she was a ghost, see? She was all in white like dey wrap around stiffs. You seen her. Kin yuh blame me? She didn’t belong, dat’s what. And den when I come to and seen it was a real skoit and seen de way she was lookin’ at me—like Paddy said—Christ, I was sore, get me? I don’t stand for dat stuff from nobody. And I flung de shovel—on’y she’d beat it. [Furiously.] I wished it’d banged her! I wished it’d knocked her block off!     40   
  LONG—And be ’anged for murder or ’lectrocuted? She ain’t bleedin’ well worth it.     41   
  YANK—I don’t give a damn what! I’d be square wit her, wouldn’t I? Tink I wanter let her put somep’n over on me? Tink I’m goin’ to let her git away wit dat stuff? Yuh don’t know me! Noone ain’t never put nothin’ over on me and got away wit it, see!—not dat kind of stuff—no guy and no skoit neither! I’ll fix her! Maybe she’ll come down again——     42   
  VOICE—No chance, Yank. You scared her out of a year’s growth.     43   
  YANK—I scared her? Why de hell should I scare her? Who de hell is she? Ain’t she de same as me? Hairy ape, huh? [With his old confident bravado.] I’ll show her I’m better’n her, if she on’y knew it. I belong and she don’t, see! I move and she’s dead! Twenty-five knots a hour, dats me! Dat carries her but I make dat. She’s on’y baggage. Sure! [Again bewilderedly.] But, Christ, she was funny lookin’! Did yuh pipe her hands? White and skinny. Yuh could see de bones trough ’em. And her mush, dat was dead white, too. And her eyes, dey was like dey’d seen a ghost. Me, dat was! Sure! Hairy ape! Ghost, huh? Look at dat arm! [He extends his right arm, swelling out the great muscles.] I coulda took her wit dat, wit’ just my little finger even, and broke her in two. [Again bewilderedly.] Say, who is dat skoit, huh? What is she? What’s she come from? Who made her? Who give her de noive to look at me like dat? Dis ting’s got my goat right. I don’t get her. She’s new to me. What does a skoit like her mean, huh? She don’t belong, get me! I can’t see her. [With growing anger.] But one ting I’m wise to, aw right, aw right! Youse all kin bet your shoits I’ll git even wit her. I’ll show her if she tinks she—She grinds de organ and I’m on de string, huh? I’ll fix her! Let her come down again and I’ll fling her in de furnace! She’ll move den! She won’t shiver at nothin’, den! Speed, dat’ll be her! She’ll belong den! [He grins horribly.]     44   
  PADDY—She’ll never come. She’s had her belly-full, I’m telling you. She’ll be in bed now, I’m thinking, wid ten doctors and nurses feedin’ her salts to clean the fear out of her.     45   
  YANK—[Enraged.] Yuh tink I made her sick, too, do yuh? Just lookin’ at me, huh? Hairy ape, huh? [In a frenzy of rage.] I’ll fix her! I’ll tell her where to git off! She’ll git down on her knees and take it back or I’ll bust de face offen her! [Shaking one fist upward and beating on his chest with the other.] I’ll find yuh! I’m comin’, d’yuh hear? I’ll fix yuh, God damn yuh! [He makes a rush for the door.]     46   
 
           VOICES—Stop him!   
He’ll get shot!   
He’ll murder her!   
Trip him up!   
Hold him!   
He’s gone crazy!   
Gott, he’s strong!   
Hold him down!   
Look out for a kick!   
Pin his arms!   
  [They have all piled on him and, after a fierce struggle, by sheer weight of numbers have borne him to the floor just inside the door.]   
  47   
  PADDY—[Who has remained detached.] Kape him down till he’s cooled off. [Scornfully.] Yerra, Yank, you’re a great fool. Is it payin’ attention at all you are to the like of that skinny sow widout one drop of rale blood in her?     48   
  YANK—[Frenziedly, from the bottom of the heap.] She done me doit! She done me doit, didn’t she? I’ll git square with her! I’ll get her some way! Git offen me, youse guys! Lemme up! I’ll show her who’s a ape!


[Curtain]

I. The Hairy Ape   
Scene V   
Fifth Avenue, New York. Three weeks later   
     
SCENE—Three weeks later. A corner of Fifth Avenue in the Fifties on a fine, Sunday morning. A general atmosphere of clean, well-tidied, wide street; a flood of mellow, tempered sunshine; gentle, genteel breezes. In the rear, the show windows of two shops, a jewelry establishment on the corner, a furrier’s next to it. Here the adornments of extreme wealth are tantalizingly displayed. The jeweler’s window is gaudy with glittering diamonds, emeralds, rubies, pearls, etc., fashioned in ornate tiaras, crowns, necklaces, collars, etc. From each piece hangs an enormous tag from which a dollar sign and numerals in intermittent electric lights wink out the incredible prices. The same in the furrier’s. Rich furs of all varieties hang there bathed in a downpour of artificial light. The general effect is of a background of magnificence cheapened and made grotesque by commercialism, a background in tawdry disharmony with the clear light and sunshine on the street itself.      1   
  Up the side street YANK and LONG come swaggering. LONG is dressed in shore clothes, wears a black Windsor tie, cloth cap. YANK is in his dirty dungarees. A fireman’s cap with black peak is cocked defiantly on the side of his head. He has not shaved for days and around his fierce, resentful eyes—as around those of LONG to a lesser degree—the black smudge of coal dust still sticks like make-up. They hesitate and stand together at the corner, swaggering, looking about them with a forced, defiant contempt.      2   
     
  LONG—[Indicating it all with an oratorical gesture.] Well, ’ere we are. Fif’ Avenoo. This ’ere’s their bleedin’ private lane, as yer might say. [Bitterly.] We’re trespassers ’ere. Proletarians keep orf the grass!      3   
  YANK—[Dully.] I don’t see no grass, yuh boob. [Staring at the sidewalk.] Clean, ain’t it? Yuh could eat a fried egg offen it. The white wings got some job sweepin’ dis up. [Looking up and down the avenue—surlily.] Where’s all de white-collar stiffs yuh said was here—and de skoits—her kind?      4   
  LONG—In church, blarst ’em! Arskin’ Jesus to give ’em more money.      5   
  YANK—Choich, huh? I useter go to choich onct—sure—when I was a kid. Me old man and woman, dey made me. Dey never went demselves, dough. Always got too big a head on Sunday mornin’, dat was dem. [With a grin.] Dey was scrappers for fair, bot’ of dem. On Satiday nights when dey bot’ got a skinful dey could put up a bout oughter been staged at de Garden. When dey got trough dere wasn’t a chair or table wit a leg under it. Or else dey bot’ jumped on me for somep’n. Dat was where I loined to take punishment. [With a grin and a swagger.] I’m a chip offen de old block, get me?      6   
  LONG—Did yer old man follow the sea?      7   
  YANK—Naw. Worked along shore. I runned away when me old lady croaked wit de tremens. I helped at truckin’ and in de market. Den I shipped in de stokehole. Sure. Dat belongs. De rest was nothin’. [Looking around him.] I ain’t never seen dis before. De Brooklyn waterfront, dat was where I was dragged up. [Taking a deep breath.] Dis ain’t so bad at dat, huh?      8   
  LONG—Not bad? Well, we pays for it wiv our bloody sweat, if yer wants to know!      9   
  YANK—[With sudden angry disgust.] Aw, hell! I don’t see noone, see—like her. All dis gives me a pain. It don’t belong. Say, ain’t dere a backroom around dis dump? Let’s go shoot a ball. All dis is too clean and quiet and dolled-up, get me! It gives me a pain.     10   
  LONG—Wait and yer’ll bloody well see——     11   
  YANK—I don’t wait for noone. I keep on de move. Say, what yuh drag me up here for, anyway? Tryin’ to kid me, yuh simp, yuh?     12   
  LONG—Yer wants to get back at her, don’t yer? That’s what yer been saying’ every bloomin’ ’our since she hinsulted yer.     13   
  YANK—[Vehemently.] Sure ting I do! Didn’t I try to git even wit her in Southampton? Didn’t I sneak on de dock and wait for her by de gangplank? I was goin’ to spit in her pale mug, see! Sure, right in her pop-eyes! Dat woulda made me even, see? But no chanct. Dere was a whole army of plain clothes bulls around. Dey spotted me and gimme de bum’s rush. I never seen her. But I’ll git square wit her yet, you watch! [Furiously.] De lousey tart! She tinks she kin get away wit moider—but not wit me! I’ll fix her! I’ll tink of a way!     14   
  LONG—[As disgusted as he dares to be.] Ain’t that why I brought yer up ’ere—to show yer? Yer been lookin’ at this ’ere ’ole affair wrong. Yer been actin’ an’ talkin’ ’s if it was all a bleedin’ personal matter between yer and that bloody cow. I wants to convince yer she was on’y a representative of ’er clarss. I wants to awaken yer bloody clarss consciousness. Then yer’ll see it’s ’er clarss yer’ve got to fight, not ’er alone. There’s a ’ole mob of ’em like ’er, Gawd blind ’em!     15   
  YANK—[Spitting on his hands—belligerently.] De more de merrier when I gits started. Bring on de gang!     16   
  LONG—Yer’ll see ’em in arf a mo’, when that church lets out. [He turns and sees the window display in the two stores for the first time.] Blimey! Look at that, will yer? [They both walk back and stand looking in the jewelers. LONG flies into a fury.] Just look at this ’ere bloomin’ mess! Just look at it! Look at the bleedin’ prices on ’em—more’n our ’old bloody stokehole makes in ten voyages sweatin’ in ’ell! And they—her and her bloody clarss—buys ’em for toys to dangle on ’em! One of these ’ere would buy scoff for a starvin’ family for a year!     17   
  YANK—Aw, cut de sob stuff! T’ hell wit de starvin’ family! Yuh’ll be passin’ de hat to me next. [With naïve admiration.] Say, dem tings is pretty, huh? Bet yuh dey’d hock for a piece of change aw right. [Then turning away, bored.] But, aw hell, what good are dey? Let her have ’em. Dey don’t belong no more’n she does. [With a gesture of sweeping the jewelers into oblivion.] All dat don’t count, get me?     18   
  LONG—[Who has moved to the furriers—indignantly.] And I s’pose this ’ere don’t count neither—skins of poor, ’armless animals slaughtered so as ’er and ’ers can keep their bleedin’ noses warm!     19   
  YANK—[Who has been staring at something inside—with queer excitement.] Take a slant at dat! Give it de once-over! Monkey fur—two t’ousand bucks! [Bewilderedly.] Is dat straight goods—monkey fur? What de hell——?     20   
  LONG—[Bitterly.] It’s straight enuf. [With grim humor.] They wouldn’t bloody well pay that for a ’airy ape’s skin—no, nor for the ’ole livin’ ape with all ’is ’ead, and body, and soul thrown in!     21   
  YANK—[Clenching his fists, his face growing pale with rage as if the skin in the window were a personal insult.] Trowin’ it up in my face! Christ! I’ll fix her!     22   
  LONG—[Excitedly.] Church is out. ’Ere they come, the bleedin’ swine. [After a glance at YANK’S lowering face—uneasily.] Easy goes, Comrade. Keep yer bloomin’ temper. Remember force defeats itself. It ain’t our weapon. We must impress our demands through peaceful means—the votes of the on-marching proletarians of the bloody world!     23   
  YANK—[With abysmal contempt.] Votes, hell! Votes is a joke, see. Votes for women! Let dem do it!     24   
  LONG—[Still more uneasily.] Calm, now. Treat ’em wiv the proper contempt. Observe the bleedin’ parasites but ’old yer ’orses.     25   
  YANK—[Angrily.] Git away from me! Yuh’re yellow, dat’s what. Force, dat’s me! De punch, dat’s me every time, see! [The crowd from church enter from the right, sauntering slowly and affectedly, their heads held stiffly up, looking neither to right nor left, talking in toneless, simpering voices. The women are rouged, calcimined, dyed, overdressed to the nth degree. The men are in Prince Alberts, high hats, spats, canes, etc. A procession of gaudy marionettes, yet with something of the relentless horror of Frankensteins in their detached, mechanical unawareness.]     26   
 
           VOICES—Dear Doctor Caiaphas! He is so sincere!   
What was the sermon? I dozed off.   
About the radicals, my dear—and the false doctrines that are being preached.   
We must organize a hundred per cent American bazaar.   
And let everyone contribute one one-hundredth percent of their income tax.   
What an original idea!   
We can devote the proceeds to rehabilitating the veil of the temple.   
But that has been done so many times.   
  27   
  YANK—[Glaring from one to the other of them—with an insulting snort of scorn.] Huh! Huh! [Without seeming to see him, they make wide detours to avoid the spot where he stands in the middle of the sidewalk.]     28   
  LONG—[Frightenedly.] Keep yer bloomin’ mouth shut, I tells yer.     29   
  YANK—[Viciously.] G’wan! Tell it to Sweeney! [He swaggers away and deliberately lurches into a top-hatted gentleman, then glares at him pugnaciously.] Say, who d’yuh tink yuh’re bumpin’? Tink yuh own de oith?     30   
  GENTLEMAN—[Coldly and affectedly.] I beg your pardon. [He has not looked at YANK and passes on without a glance, leaving him bewildered.]     31   
  LONG—[Rushing up and grabbing YANK’S arm.] ’Ere! Come away! This wasn’t what I meant. Yer’ll ’ave the bloody coppers down on us.     32   
  YANK—[Savagely—giving him a push that sends him sprawling.] G’wan!     33   
  LONG—[Picks himself up—hysterically.] I’ll pop orf then. This ain’t what I meant. And whatever ’appens, yer can’t blame me. [He slinks off left.]     34   
  YANK—T’ hell wit youse! [He approaches a lady—with a vicious grin and a smirking wink.] Hello, Kiddo. How’s every little ting? Got anyting on for to-night? I know an old boiler down to de docks we kin crawl into. [The lady stalks by without a look, without a change of pace. YANK turns to others—insultingly.] Holy smokes, what a mug! Go hide yuhself before de horses shy at yuh. Gee, pipe de heinie on dat one! Say, youse, yuh look like de stoin of a ferryboat. Paint and powder! All dolled up to kill! Yuh look like stiffs laid out for de boneyard! Aw, g’wan, de lot of youse! Yuh give me de eye-ache. Yuh don’t belong, get me! Look at me, why don’t youse dare? I belong, dat’s me! [Pointing to a skyscraper across the street which is in process of construction—with bravado.] See dat building goin’ up dere? See de steel work? Steel, dat’s me! Youse guys live on it and tink yuh’re somep’n. But I’m in it, see! I’m de hoistin’ engine dat makes it go up! I’m it—de inside and bottom of it! Sure! I’m steel and steam and smoke and de rest of it! It moves—speed—twenty-five stories up—and me at de top and bottom—movin’! Youse simps don’t move. Yuh’re on’y dolls I winds up to see’m spin. Yuh’re de garbage, get me—de leavins—de ashes we dump over de side! Now, whata yuh gotto say? [But as they seem neither to see nor hear him, he flies into a fury.] Bums! Pigs! Tarts! Bitches! [He turns in a rage on the men, bumping viciously into them but not jarring them the least bit. Rather it is he who recoils after each collision. He keeps growling.] Git off de oith! G’wan, yuh bum! Look where yuh’re goin,’ can’t yuh? Git outa here! Fight, why don’t yuh? Put up yer mits! Don’t be a dog! Fight or I’ll knock yuh dead! [But, without seeming to see him, they all answer with mechanical affected politeness:] I beg your pardon. [Then at a cry from one of the women, they all scurry to the furrier’s window.]     35   
  THE WOMAN—[Ecstatically, with a gasp of delight.] Monkey fur! [The whole crowd of men and women chorus after her in the same tone of affected delight.] Monkey fur!     36   
  YANK—[With a jerk of his head back on his shoulders, as if he had received a punch full in the face—raging.] I see yuh, all in white! I see yuh, yuh white-faced tart, yuh! Hairy ape, huh? I’ll hairy ape yuh! [He bends down and grips at the street curbing as if to pluck it out and hurl it. Foiled in this, snarling with passion, he leaps to the lamp-post on the corner and tries to pull it up for a club. Just at that moment a bus is heard rumbling up. A fat, high-hatted, spatted gentleman runs out from the side street. He calls out plaintively: “Bus! Bus! Stop there!” and runs full tilt into the bending, straining YANK, who is bowled off his balance.]     37   
  YANK—[Seeing a fight—with a roar of joy as he springs to his feet.] At last! Bus, huh? I’ll bust yuh! [He lets drive a terrific swing, his fist landing full on the fat gentleman’s face. But the gentleman stands unmoved as if nothing had happened.]     38   
  GENTLEMAN—I beg your pardon. [Then irritably.] You have made me lose my bus. [He claps his hands and begins to scream:] Officer! Officer! [Many police whistles shrill out on the instant and a whole platoon of policemen rush in on YANK from all sides. He tries to fight but is clubbed to the pavement and fallen upon. The crowd at the window have not moved or noticed this disturbance. The clanging gong of the patrol wagon approaches with a clamoring din.]


[Curtain]

I. The Hairy Ape   
Scene VI   
An island near the city. The next night   
     
SCENE—Night of the following day. A row of cells in the prison on Blackwells Island. The cells extend back diagonally from right front to left rear. They do not stop, but disappear in the dark background as if they ran on, numberless, into infinity. One electric bulb from the low ceiling of the narrow corridor sheds its light through the heavy steel bars of the cell at the extreme front and reveals part of the interior. YANK can be seen within, crouched on the edge of his cot in the attitude of Rodin’s “The Thinker.” His face is spotted with black and blue bruises. A blood-stained bandage is wrapped around his head.      1   
     
  YANK—[Suddenly starting as if awakening from a dream, reaches out and shakes the bars—aloud to himself, wonderingly.] Steel. Dis is de Zoo, huh? [A burst of hard, barking laughter comes from the unseen occupants of the cells, runs back down the tier, and abruptly ceases.]      2   
 
           VOICES—[Mockingly.] The Zoo? That’s a new name   
for this coop—a damn good name!   
Steel, eh? You said a mouthful. This is   
the old iron house.   
Who is that boob talkin’?   
He’s the bloke they brung in out of his head.   
The bulls had beat him up fierce.   
   3   
  YANK—[Dully.] I musta been dreamin’. I tought I was in a cage at de Zoo—but de apes don’t talk, do dey?      4   
 
           VOICES—[With mocking laughter.] You’re in a cage aw right.   
A coop!   
A pen!   
A sty!   
A kennel! [Hard laughter—a pause.]   
Say, guy! Who are you? No, never mind   
lying. What are you?   
Yes, tell us your sad story. What’s your game?   
What did they jug yuh for?   
   5   
  YANK—[Dully.] I was a fireman—stokin’ on de liners. [Then with sudden rage, rattling his cell bars.] I’m a hairy ape, get me? And I’ll bust youse all in de jaw if yuh don’t lay off kiddin’ me.      6   
 
           VOICES—Huh! You’re a hard boiled duck ain’t you!   
When you spit, it bounces! [Laughter.]   
Aw, can it. He’s a regular guy. Ain’t you?   
What did he say he was—a ape?   
   7   
  YANK—[Defiantly.] Sure ting! Ain’t dat what youse all are—apes? [A silence. Then a furious rattling of bars from down the corridor.]      8   
  A VOICE—[Thick with rage.] I’ll show yuh who’s a ape, yuh bum!      9   
 
           VOICES—Ssshh! Nix!   
Can de noise!   
Piano!   
You’ll have the guard down on us!   
  10   
  YANK—[Scornfully.] De guard? Yuh mean de keeper, don’t yuh? [Angry exclamations from all the cells.]     11   
  VOICE—[Placatingly.] Aw, don’t pay no attention to him. He’s off his nut from the beatin’-up he got. Say, you guy! We’re waitin’ to hear what they landed you for—or ain’t yuh tellin’?     12   
  YANK—Sure, I’ll tell youse. Sure! Why de hell not? On’y—youse won’t get me. Nobody gets me but me, see? I started to tell de Judge and all he says was: “Toity days to tink it over.” Tink it over! Christ, dat’s all I been doin’ for weeks! [After a pause.] I was tryin’ to git even wit someone, see?—someone dat done me doit.     13   
 
           VOICES—[Cynically.] De old stuff, I bet. Your goil, huh?   
Give yuh the double-cross, huh?   
That’s them every time!   
Did yuh beat up de odder guy?   
  14   
  YANK—[Disgustedly.] Aw, yuh’re all wrong! Sure dere was a skoit in it—but not what youse mean, not dat old tripe. Dis was a new kind of skoit. She was dolled up all in white—in de stokehole. I tought she was a ghost. Sure. [A pause.]     15   
 
           VOICES—[Whispering.] Gee, he’s still nutty.   
Let him rave. It’s fun listenin’.   
  16   
  YANK—[Unheeding—groping in his thoughts.] Her hands—dey was skinny and white like dey wasn’t real but painted on somep’n. Dere was a million miles from me to her—twenty-five knots a hour. She was like some dead ting de cat brung in. Sure, dat’s what. She didn’t belong. She belonged in de window of a toy store, or on de top of a garbage can, see! Sure! [He breaks out angrily.] But would yuh believe it, she had de noive to do me doit. She lamped me like she was seein’ somep’n broke loose from de menagerie. Christ, yuh’d oughter seen her eyes! [He rattles the bars of his cell furiously.] But I’ll get back at her yet, you watch! And if I can’t find her I’ll take it out on de gang she runs wit. I’m wise to where dey hangs out now. I’ll show her who belongs! I’ll show her who’s in de move and who ain’t. You watch my smoke!     17   
 
           VOICES—[Serious and joking.] Dat’s de talkin’!   
Take her for all she’s got!   
What was this dame, anyway? Who was she, eh?   
  18   
  YANK—I dunno. First cabin stiff. Her old man’s a millionaire, dey says—name of Douglas.     19   
 
           VOICES—Douglas? That’s the president of the Steel   
Trust, I bet.   
Sure. I seen his mug in de papers.   
He’s filthy with dough.   
  20   
  VOICE—Hey, feller, take a tip from me. If you want to get back at that dame, you better join the Wobblies. You’ll get some action then.     21   
  YANK—Wobblies? What de hell’s dat?     22   
  VOICE—Ain’t you ever heard of the I. W. W.?     23   
  YANK—Naw. What is it?     24   
  VOICE—A gang of blokes—a tough gang. I been readin’ about ’em to-day in the paper. The guard give me the Sunday Times. There’s a long spiel about ’em. It’s from a speech made in the Senate by a guy named Senator Queen. [He is in the cell next to YANK’S. There is a rustling of paper.] Wait’ll I see if I got light enough and I’ll read you. Listen. [He reads:] “There is a menace existing in this country to-day which threatens the vitals of our fair Republic—as foul a meance against the very life-blood of the American Eagle as was the foul conspiracy of Cataline against the eagles of ancient Rome!     25   
  VOICE—[Disgustedly.] Aw hell! Tell him to salt de tail of dat eagle!     26   
  VOICE—[Reading:] “I refer to that devil’s brew of rascals, jailbirds, murderers and cutthroats who libel all honest working men by calling themselves the Industrial Workers of the World; but in the light of their nefarious plots, I call them the Industrious Wreckers of the World!”     27   
  YANK—[With vengeful satisfaction.] Wreckers, dat’s de right dope! Dat belongs! Me for dem!     28   
  VOICE—Ssshh! [Reading.] “This fiendish organization is a foul ulcer on the fair body of our Democracy——”     29   
  VOICE—Democracy, hell! Give him the boid, fellers—the raspberry! [They do.]     30   
  VOICE—Ssshh! [Reading:] “Like Cato I say to this senate, the I. W. W. must be destroyed! For they represent an ever-present dagger pointed at the heart of the greatest nation the world has ever known, where all men are born free and equal, with equal opportunities to all, where the Founding Fathers have guaranteed to each one happiness, where Truth, Honor, Liberty, Justice, and the Brotherhood of Man are a religion absorbed with one’s mother’s milk, taught at our father’s knee, sealed, signed, and stamped upon in the glorious Constitution of these United States! [A perfect storm of hisses, catcalls, boos, and hard laughter.]     31   
 
           VOICES—[Scornfully.] Hurrah for de Fort’ of July!   
Pass de hat!   
Liberty!   
Justice!   
Honor!   
Opportunity!   
Brotherhood!   
  32   
  ALL—[With abysmal scorn.] Aw, hell!     33   
  VOICE—Give that Queen Senator guy the bark! All togedder now—one—two—tree—— [A terrific chorus of barking and yapping.]     34   
  GUARD—[From a distance.] Quiet there, youse—or I’ll git the hose. [The noise subsides.]     35   
  YANK—[With growling rage.] I’d like to catch dat senator guy alone for a second. I’d loin him some trute!     36   
  VOICE—Ssshh! Here’s where he gits down to cases on the Wobblies. [Reads:] “They plot with fire in one hand and dynamite in the other. They stop not before murder to gain their ends, nor at the outraging of defenceless womanhood. They would tear down society, put the lowest scum in the seats of the mighty, turn Almighty God’s revealed plan for the world topsy-turvy, and make of our sweet and lovely civilization a shambles, a desolation where man, God’s masterpiece, would soon degenerate back to the ape!”     37   
  VOICE—[To YANK.] Hey, you guy. There’s your ape stuff again.     38   
  YANK—[With a growl of fury.] I got him. So dey blow up tings, do dey? Dey turn tings round, do dey? Hey, lend me dat paper, will yuh?     39   
  VOICE—Sure. Give it to him. On’y keep it to yourself, see. We don’t wanter listen to no more of that slop.     40   
  VOICE—Here you are. Hide it under your mattress.     41   
  YANK—[Reaching out.] Tanks. I can’t read much but I kin manage. [He sits, the paper in the hand at his side, in the attitude of Rodin’s “The Thinker.” A pause. Several snores from down the corridor. Suddenly YANK jumps to his feet with a furious groan as if some appalling thought had crashed on him—bewilderedly.] Sure—her old man—president of de Steel Trust—makes half de steel in de world—steel—where I tought I belonged—drivin’ trou—movin’—in dat—to make her—and cage me in for her to spit on! Christ [He shakes the bars of his cell door till the whole tier trembles. Irritated, protesting exclamations from those awakened or trying to get to sleep.] He made dis—dis cage! Steel! It don’t belong, dat’s what! Cages, cells, locks, bolts, bars—dat’s what it means!—holdin’ me down wit him at de top! But I’ll drive trou! Fire, dat melts it! I’ll be fire—under de heap—fire dat never goes out—hot as hell—breakin’ out in de night—[While he has been saying this last he has shaken his cell door to a clanging accompaniment. As he comes to the “breakin’ out” he seizes one bar with both hands and, putting his two feet up against the others so that his position is parallel to the floor like a monkey’s, he gives a great wrench backwards. The bar bends like a licorice stick under his tremendous strength. Just at this moment the PRISON GUARD rushes in, dragging a hose behind him.]     42   
  GUARD—[Angrily.] I’ll loin youse bums to wake me up! [Sees YANK.] Hello, it’s you, huh? Got the D. Ts., hey? Well, I’ll cure ’em. I’ll drown your snakes for yuh! [Noticing the bar.] Hell, look at dat bar bended! On’y a bug is strong enough for dat!     43   
  YANK—[Glaring at him.] Or a hairy ape, yuh big yellow bum! Look out! Here I come! [He grabs another bar.]     44   
  GUARD—[Scared now—yelling off left.] Toin de hoose on, Ben!—full pressure! And call de others—and a strait jacket! [The curtain is falling. As it hides YANK from view, there is a splattering smash as the stream of water hits the steel of YANK’S cell.]


[Curtain]

I. The Hairy Ape   
Scene VII   
In the city. About a month later   
     
SCENE—Nearly a month later. An I. W. W. local near the waterfront, showing the interior of a front room on the ground floor, and the street outside. Moonlight on the narrow street, buildings massed in black shadow. The interior of the room, which is general assembly room, office, and reading room, resembles some dingy settlement boys club. A desk and high stool are in one corner. A table with papers, stacks of pamphlets, chairs about it, is at center. The whole is decidedly cheap, banal, commonplace and unmysterious as a room could well be. The secretary is perched on the stool making entries in a large ledger. An eye shade casts his face into shadows. Eight or ten men, longshoremen, iron workers, and the like, are grouped about the table. Two are playing checkers. One is writing a letter. Most of them are smoking pipes. A big signboard is on the wall at the rear, “Industrial Workers of the World—Local No. 57.”      1   
     
  YANK—[Comes down the street outside. He is dressed as in Scene Five. He moves cautiously, mysteriously. He comes to a point opposite the door; tiptoes softly up to it, listens, is impressed by the silence within, knocks carefully, as if he were guessing at the password to some secret rite. Listens. No answer. Knocks again a bit louder. No answer. Knocks impatiently, much louder.]      2   
  SECRETARY—[Turning around on his stool.] What the devil is that—someone knocking? [Shouts:] Come in, why don’t you? [All the men in the room look up. YANK opens the door slowly, gingerly, as if afraid of an ambush. He looks around for secret doors, mystery, is taken aback by the commonplaceness of the room and the men in it, thinks he may have gotten in the wrong place, then sees the signboard on the wall and is reassured.]      3   
  YANK—[Blurts out.] Hello.      4   
  MEN—[Reservedly.] Hello.      5   
  YANK—[More easily.] I tought I’d bumped into de wrong dump.      6   
  SECRETARY—[Scrutinizing him carefully.] Maybe you have. Are you a member?      7   
  YANK—Naw, not yet. Dat’s what I come for—to join.      8   
  SECRETARY—That’s easy. What’s your job—longshore?      9   
  YANK—Naw. Fireman—stoker on de liners.     10   
  SECRETARY—[With satisfaction.] Welcome to our city. Glad to know you people are waking up at last. We haven’t got many members in your line.     11   
  YANK—Naw. Dey’re all dead to de woild.     12   
  SECRETARY—Well, you can help to wake ’em. What’s your name? I’ll make out your card.     13   
  YANK—[Confused.] Name? Lemme tink.     14   
  SECRETARY—[Sharply.] Don’t you know your own name?     15   
  YANK—Sure; but I been just Yank for so long—Bob, dat’s it—Bob Smith.     16   
  SECRETARY—[Writing.] Robert Smith. [Fills out the rest of card.] Here you are. Cost you half a dollar.     17   
  YANK—Is dat all—four bits? Dat’s easy. [Gives the Secretary the money.]     18   
  SECRETARY—[Throwing it in drawer.] Thanks. Well, make yourself at home. No introductions needed. There’s literature on the table. Take some of those pamphlets with you to distribute aboard ship. They may bring results. Sow the seed, only go about it right. Don’t get caught and fired. We got plenty out of work. What we need is men who can hold their jobs—and work for us at the same time.     19   
  YANK—Sure. [But he still stands, embarrassed and uneasy.]     20   
  SECRETARY—[Looking at him—curiously.] What did you knock for? Think we had a coon in uniform to open doors?     21   
  YANK—Naw. I tought it was locked—and dat yuh’d wanter give me the once-over trou a peep-hole or somep’n to see if I was right.     22   
  SECRETARY—[Alert and suspicious but with an easy laugh.] Think we were running a crap game? That door is never locked. What put that in your nut?     23   
  YANK—[With a knowing grin, convinced that this is all camouflage, a part of the secrecy.] Dis burg is full of bulls, ain’t it?     24   
  SECRETARY—[Sharply.] What have the cops got to do with us? We’re breaking no laws.     25   
  YANK—[With a knowing wink.] Sure. Youse wouldn’t for woilds. Sure. I’m wise to dat.     26   
  SECRETARY—You seem to be wise to a lot of stuff none of us knows about.     27   
  YANK—[With another wink.] Aw, dat’s aw right, see. [Then made a bit resentful by the suspicious glances from all sides.] Aw, can it! Youse needn’t put me trou de toid degree. Can’t youse see I belong? Sure! I’m reg’lar. I’ll stick, get me? I’ll shoot de woiks for youse. Dat’s why I wanted to join in.     28   
  SECRETARY—[Breezily, feeling him out.] That’s the right spirit. Only are you sure you understand what you’ve joined? It’s all plain and above board; still, some guys get a wrong slant on us. [Sharply.] What’s your notion of the purpose of the I. W. W.?     29   
  YANK—Aw, I know all about it.     30   
  SECRETARY—[Sarcastically.] Well, give us some of your valuable information.     31   
  YANK—[Cunningly.] I know enough not to speak outa my toin. [Then resentfully again.] Aw, say! I’m reg’lar. I’m wise to de game. I know yuh got to watch your step wit a stranger. For all youse know, I might be a plain-clothes dick, or somep’n, dat’s what yuh’re tinkin’, huh? Aw, forget it! I belong, see? Ask any guy down to de docks if I don’t.     32   
  SECRETARY—Who said you didn’t?     33   
  YANK—After I’m ’nitiated, I’ll show yuh.     34   
  SECRETARY—[Astounded.] Initiated? There’s no initiation.     35   
  YANK—[Disappointed.] Ain’t there no password—no grip nor nothin’?     36   
  SECRETARY—What’d you think this is—the Elks—or the Black Hand?     37   
  YANK—De Elks, hell! De Black Hand, dey’re a lot of yellow backstickin’ Ginees. Naw. Dis is a man’s gang, ain’t it?     38   
  SECRETARY—You said it! That’s why we stand on our two feet in the open. We got no secrets.     39   
  YANK—[Surprised but admiringly.] Yuh mean to say yuh always run wide open—like dis?     40   
  SECRETARY—Exactly.     41   
  YANK—Den yuh sure got your noive wit youse!     42   
  SECRETARY—[Sharply.] Just what was it made you want to join us? Come out with that straight.     43   
  YANK—Yuh call me? Well, I got noive, too! Here’s my hand. Yuh wanter blow tings up, don’t yuh? Well, dat’s me! I belong!     44   
  SECRETARY—[With pretended carelessness.] You mean change the unequal conditions of society by legitimate direct action—or with dynamite?     45   
  YANK—Dynamite! Blow it offen de oith—steel—all de cages—all de factories, steamers, buildings, jails—de Steel Trust and all dat makes it go.     46   
  SECRETARY—So—that’s your idea, eh? And did you have any special job in that line you wanted to propose to us. [He makes a sign to the men, who get up cautiously one by one and group behind YANK.]     47   
  YANK—[Boldly.] Sure, I’ll come out wit it. I’ll show youse I’m one of de gang. Dere’s dat millionaire guy, Douglas——”     48   
  SECRETARY—President of the Steel Trust, you mean? Do you want to assassinate him?     49   
  YANK—Naw, dat don’t get yuh nothin’. I mean blow up de factory, de woiks, where he makes de steel. Dat’s what I’m after—to blow up de steel, knock all de steel in de woild up to de moon. Dat’ll fix tings! [Eagerly, with a touch of bravado.] I’ll do it by me lonesome! I’ll show yuh! Tell me where his woiks is, how to git there, all de dope. Gimme de stuff, de old butter—and watch me do de rest! Watch de smoke and see it move! I don’t give a damn if dey nab me—long as it’s done! I’ll soive life for it—and give ’em de laugh! [Half to himself.] And I’ll write her a letter and tell her de hairy ape done it. Dat’ll square tings.     50   
  SECRETARY—[Stepping away from YANK.] Very interesting. [He gives a signal. The men, huskies all, throw themselves on YANK and before he knows it they have his legs and arms pinioned. But he is too flabber-gasted to make a struggle, anyway. They feel him over for weapons.]     51   
  MAN—No gat, no knife. Shall we give him what’s what and put the boots to him?     52   
  SECRETARY—No. He isn’t worth the trouble we’d get into. He’s too stupid. [He comes closer and laughs mockingly in YANK’S face.] Ho-ho! By God, this is the biggest joke they’ve put up on us yet. Hey, you Joke! Who sent you—Burns or Pinkerton? No, by God, you’re such a bonehead I’ll bet you’re in the Secret Service! Well, you dirty spy, you rotten agent provocator, you can go back and tell whatever skunk is paying you blood-money for betraying your brothers that he’s wasting his coin. You couldn’t catch a cold. And tell him that all he’ll ever get on us, or ever has got, is just his own sneaking plots that he’s framed up to put us in jail. We are what our manifesto says we are, neither more or less—and we’ll give him a copy of that any time he calls. And as for you—[He glares scornfully at YANK, who is sunk in an oblivious stupor.] Oh, hell, what’s the use of talking? You’re a brainless ape.     53   
  YANK—[Aroused by the word to fierce but futile struggles.] What’s dat, yuh Sheeny bum, yuh!     54   
  SECRETARY—Throw him out, boys. [In spite of his struggles, this is done with gusto and éclat. Propelled by several parting kicks, YANK lands sprawling in the middle of the narrow cobbled street. With a growl he starts to get up and storm the closed door, but stops bewildered by the confusion in his brain, pathetically impotent. He sits there, brooding, in as near to the attitude of Rodin’s “Thinker” as he can get in his position.]     55   
  YANK—[Bitterly.] So dem boids don’t tink I belong, neider. Aw, to hell wit ’em! Dey’re in de wrong pew—de same old bull—soapboxes and Salvation Army—no guts! Cut out an hour offen de job a day and make me happy! Gimme a dollar more a day and make me happy! Tree square a day, and cauliflowers in de front yard—ekal rights—a woman and kids—a lousey vote—and I’m all fixed for Jesus, huh? Aw, hell! What does dat get yuh? Dis ting’s in your inside, but it ain’t your belly. Feedin’ your face—sinkers and coffee—dat don’t touch it. It’s way down—at de bottom. Yuh can’t grab it, and yuh can’t stop it. It moves, and everything moves. It stops and de whole woild stops. Dat’s me now—I don’t tick, see?—I’m a busted Ingersoll, dat’s what. Steel was me, and I owned de woild. Now I ain’t steel, and de woild owns me. Aw, hell! I can’t see—it’s all dark, get me? It’s all wrong! [He turns a bitter mocking face up like an ape gibbering at the moon.] Say, youse up dere, Man in de Moon, yuh look so wise, gimme de answer, huh? Slip me de inside dope, de information right from de stable—where do I get off at, huh?     56   
  A POLICEMAN—[Who has come up the street in time to hear this last—with grim humor.] You’ll get off at the station, you boob, if you don’t get up out of that and keep movin’.     57   
  YANK—[Looking up at him—with a hard, bitter laugh.] Sure! Lock me up! Put me in a cage! Dat’s de on’y answer yuh know. G’wan, lock me up!     58   
  POLICEMAN—What you been doin’?     59   
  YANK—Enuf to gimme life for! I was born, see? Sure, dat’s de charge. Write it in de blotter. I was born, get me!     60   
  POLICEMAN—[Jocosely.] God pity your old woman! [Then matter-of-fact.] But I’ve no time for kidding. You’re soused. I’d run you in but it’s too long a walk to the station. Come on now, get up, or I’ll fan your ears with this club. Beat it now! [He hauls YANK to his feet.]     61   
  YANK—[In a vague mocking tone.] Say, where do I go from here?     62   
  POLICEMAN—[Giving him a push—with a grin, indifferently.] Go to hell.


[Curtain]

I. The Hairy Ape   
Scene VIII   
In the city. Twilight of the next day   
     
SCENE—Twilight of the next day. The monkey house at the Zoo. One spot of clear gray light falls on the front of one cage so that the interior can be seen. The other cages are vague, shrouded in shadow from which chatterings pitched in a conversational tone can be heard. On the one cage a sign from which the word “gorilla” stands out. The gigantic animal himself is seen squatting on his haunches on a bench in much the same attitude as Rodin’s “Thinker.” YANK enters from the left. Immediately a chorus of angry chattering and screeching breaks out. The gorilla turns his eyes but makes no sound or move.      1   
     
  YANK—[With a hard, bitter laugh.] Welcome to your city, huh? Hail, hail, de gang’s all here! [At the sound of his voice the chattering dies away into an attentive silence. YANK walks up to the gorilla’s cage and, leaning over the railing, stares in at its occupant, who stares back at him, silent and motionless. There is a pause of dead stillness. Then YANK begins to talk in a friendly confidential tone, half-mockingly, but with a deep undercurrent of sympathy.] Say, yuh’re some hard-lookin’ guy, ain’t yuh? I seen lots of tough nuts dat de gang called gorillas, but yuh’re de foist real one I ever seen. Some chest yuh got, and shoulders, and dem arms and mits! I bet yuh got a punch in eider fist dat’d knock ’em all silly! [This with genuine admiration. The gorilla, as if he understood, stands upright, swelling out his chest and pounding on it with his fist. YANK grins sympathetically.] Sure, I get yuh. Yuh challenge de whole woild, huh? Yuh got what I was sayin’ even if yuh muffed de woids. [Then bitterness creeping in.] And why wouldn’t yuh get me? Ain’t we both members of de same club—de Hairy Apes? [They stare at each other—a pause—then YANK goes on slowly and bitterly.] So yuh’re what she seen when she looked at me, de white-faced tart! I was you to her, get me? On’y outa de cage—broke out—free to moider her, see? Sure! Dat’s what she tought. She wasn’t wise dat I was in a cage, too—worser’n yours—sure—a damn sight—’cause you got some chanct to bust loose—but me— [He grows confused.] Aw, hell! It’s all wrong, ain’t it? [A pause.] I s’pose yuh wanter know what I’m doin’ here, huh? I been warmin’ a bench down to de Battery—ever since last night. Sure. I seen de sun come up. Dat was pretty, too—all red and pink and green. I was lookin’ at de skyscrapers—steel—and all de ships comin’ in, sailin’ out, all over de oith—and dey was steel, too. De sun was warm, dey wasn’t no clouds, and dere was a breeze blowin’. Sure, it was great stuff. I got it aw right—what Paddy said about dat bein’ de right dope—on’y I couldn’t get in it, see? I couldn’t belong in dat. It was over my head. And I kept tinkin’—and den I beat it up here to see what youse was like. And I waited till dey was all gone to git yuh alone. Say, how d’yuh feel sittin’ in dat pen all de time, havin’ to stand for ’em comin’ and starin’ at yuh—de white-faced, skinny tarts and de boobs what marry ’em—makin’ fun of yuh, laughin’ at yuh, gittin’ scared of yuh—damn ’em! [He pounds on the rail with his fist. The gorilla rattles the bars of his cage and snarls. All the other monkeys set up an angry chattering in the darkness. YANK goes on excitedly.] Sure! Dat’s de way it hits me, too. On’y yuh’re lucky, see? Yuh don’t belong wit ’em and yuh know it. But me, I belong wit ’em—but I don’t, see? Dey don’t belong wit me, dat’s what. Get me? Tinkin’ is hard— [He passes one hand across his forehead with a painful gesture. The gorilla growls impatiently. YANK goes on gropingly.] It’s dis way, what I’m drivin’ at. Youse can sit and dope dream in de past, green woods, de jungle and de rest of it. Den yuh belong and dey don’t. Den yuh kin laugh at ’em, see? Yuh’re de champ of de woild. But me—I ain’t got no past to tink in, nor nothin’ dat’s coming’, on’y what’s now—and dat don’t belong. Sure, you’re de best off! Yuh can’t tink, can yuh? Yuh can’t talk neider. But I kin make a bluff at talkin’ and tinkin’—a’most git away wit it—a’most!—and dat’s where de joker comes in. [He laughs.] I ain’t on oith and I ain’t in heaven, get me? I’m in de middle tryin’ to separate ’em, takin’ all de woist punches from bot’ of ’em. Maybe dat’s what dey call hell, huh? But you, yuh’re at de bottom. You belong! Sure! Yuh’re de on’y one in de woild dat does, yuh lucky stiff! [The gorilla growls proudly.] And dat’s why dey gotter put yuh in a cage, see? [The gorilla roars angrily.] Sure! Yuh get me. It beats it when you try to tink it or talk it—it’s way down—deep—behind—you ’n’ me we feel it. Sure! Bot’ members of dis club! [He laughs—then in a savage tone.] What de hell! T’ hell wit it! A little action, dat’s our meat! Dat belongs! Knock ’em down and keep bustin’ ’em till dey croaks yuh wit a gat—wit steel! Sure! Are yuh game? Dey’ve looked at youse, ain’t dey—in a cage? Wanter git even? Wanter wind up like a sport ’stead of croakin’ slow in dere? [The gorilla roars an emphatic affirmative. YANK goes on with a sort of furious exaltation.] Sure! Yuh’re reg’lar! Yuh’ll stick to de finish! Me ’n’ you, huh?—bot’ members of this club! We’ll put up one last star bout dat’ll knock ’em offen deir seats! Dey’ll have to make de cages stronger after we’re trou! [The gorilla is straining at his bars, growling, hopping from one foot to the other. YANK takes a jimmy from under his coat and forces the lock on the cage door. He throws this open.] Pardon from de governor! Step out and shake hands! I’ll take yuh for a walk down Fif’ Avenoo. We’ll knock ’em offen de oith and croak wit de band playin’. Come on, Brother. [The gorilla scrambles gingerly out of his cage. Goes to YANK and stands looking at him. YANK keeps his mocking tone—holds out his hand.] Shake—de secret grip of our order. [Something, the tone of mockery, perhaps, suddenly enrages the animal. With a spring he wraps his huge arms around YANK in a murderous hug. There is a crackling snap of crushed ribs—a gasping cry, still mocking, from YANK.] Hey, I didn’t say, kiss me. [The gorilla lets the crushed body slip to the floor; stands over it uncertainly, considering; then picks it up, throws it in the cage, shuts the door, and shuffles off menacingly into the darkness at left. A great uproar of frightened chattering and whimpering comes from the other cages. Then YANK moves, groaning, opening his eyes, and there is silence. He mutters painfully.] Say—dey oughter match him—wit Zybszko. He got me, aw right. I’m trou. Even him didn’t tink I belonged. [Then, with sudden passionate despair.] Christ, where do I get off at? Where do I fit in? [Checking himself as suddenly.] Aw, what de hell! No squakin’, see! No quittin’, get me! Croak wit your boots on! [He grabs hold of the bars of the cage and hauls himself painfully to his feet—looks around him bewilderedly—forces a mocking laugh.] In de cage, huh? [In the strident tones of a circus barker.] Ladies and gents, step forward and take a slant at de one and only—[His voice weakening]—one and original—Hairy Ape from de wilds of—[He slips in a heap on the floor and dies. The monkeys set up a chattering, whimpering wail. And, perhaps, the Hairy Ape at last belongs.]


[Curtain]

II. Anna Christie   
Characters   
     
“JOHNNY-THE-PRIEST”
TWO LONGSHOREMEN
A POSTMAN
LARRY, bartender
CHRIS. CHRISTOPHERSON, captain of the barge “Simeon Winthrop”
MARTHY OWEN
ANNA CHRISTOPHERSON, Chris’s daughter
THREE MEN OF A STEAMER’S CREW
MAT BURKE, a stoker
JOHNSON, deckhand on the barge
 
Time of the Play—About 1910.

II. Anna Christie   
Act I   
“Johnny-the-Priest’s” saloon near the waterfront, New York City   
     
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.      1   
  It is late afternoon of a day in fall.      2   
  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.      3   
  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.      4   
     
  FIRST LONGSHOREMAN—[As they range themselves at the bar.] Gimme a shock. Number Two. [He tosses a coin on the bar.]      5   
  SECOND LONGSHOREMAN—Same here. [JOHNNY sets two glasses of barrel whiskey before them.]      6   
  FIRST LONGSHOREMAN—Here’s luck! [The other nods. They gulp down their whiskey.]      7   
  SECOND LONGSHOREMAN—[Putting money on the bar.] Give us another.      8   
  FIRST LONGSHOREMAN—Gimme a scoop this time—lager and porter. I’m dry.      9   
  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.]     10   
  LARRY—[Nodding to Johnny—cheerily.] Hello, boss.     11   
  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.]     12   
  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.]     13   
  THE POSTMAN—Addressed care of you, Johnny. Know him?     14   
  JOHNNY—[Picks up the letter, adjusting his spectacles. LARRY comes and peers over his shoulders. JOHNNY reads very slowly.] Christopher Christopherson.     15   
  THE POSTMAN—[Helpfully.] Square-head name.     16   
  LARRY—Old Chris—that’s who.     17   
  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.     18   
  THE POSTMAN—It’ll get him all right then?     19   
  JOHNNY—Sure thing. He comes here whenever he’s in port.     20   
  THE POSTMAN—[Turning to go.] Sailor, eh?     21   
  JOHNNY—[With a grin.] Captain of a coal barge.     22   
  THE POSTMAN—[Laughing.] Some job! Well, s’long.     23   
  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?     24   
  LARRY—[After a glance.] St. Paul. That’ll be in Minnesota, I’m thinkin’. Looks like a woman’s writing, too, the old divil!     25   
  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.     26   
  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.     27   
  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.     28   
  JOHNNY—[Shakes Chris by the hand.] Speak of the devil. We was just talkin’ about you.     29   
  LARRY—[Coming to the end of the bar.] Hello, Chris. Put it there. [They shake hands.]     30   
  CHRIS—[Beaming.] Give us drink.     31   
  JOHNNY—[With a grin.] You got a half-snootful now. Where’d you get it?     32   
  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.]
           “My Yosephine, come board de ship. Long time Ay vait for you.   
De moon, she shi-i-i-ine. She looka yust like you. Tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee.”   
  [To the accompaniment of this last he waves his hand as if he were conducting an orchestra.]   
  33   
  JOHNNY—[With a laugh.] Same old Yosie, eh, Chris?     34   
  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.]     35   
  LARRY—[With a professional air.] What’s your pleasure, gentlemen?     36   
  JOHNNY—Small beer, Larry.     37   
  CHRIS—Vhiskey—Number Two.     38   
  LARRY—[As he gets their drinks.] I’ll take a cigar on you.     39   
  CHRIS—[Lifting his glass.] Skoal! [He drinks.]     40   
  JOHNNY—Drink hearty.     41   
  CHRIS—[Immediately.] Have oder drink.     42   
  JOHNNY—No. Some other time. Got to go home now. So you’ve just landed? Where are you in from this time?     43   
  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.]     44   
  LARRY—[With a chuckle.] He’s still got that same cow livin’ with him, the old fool!     45   
  JOHNNY—[With a grin.] A sport, Chris is. Well, I’ll beat it home. S’long. [He goes to the street door.]     46   
  LARRY—So long, boss.     47   
  JOHNNY—Oh—don’t forget to give him his letter.     48   
  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.]     49   
  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.]     50   
  CHRIS—[Mollifyingly.] Ay’m sorry, Marthy. Ay talk to Yohnny. Ay forgat. What you goin’ take for drink?     51   
  MARTHY—[Appeased.] Gimme a scoop of lager an’ ale.     52   
  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.]     53   
  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.]     54   
  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.     55   
  LARRY—[Jokingly.] That’s a fine fairy tale to be tellin’——your daughter! Sure I’ll bet it’s some bum.     56   
  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.]     57   
  MARTHY—[Angrily.] Where’s my larger an’ ale, yuh big stiff?     58   
  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.]     59   
  LARRY—Good news?     60   
  MARTHY—[Her curiosity also aroused.] What’s that yuh got—a letter, fur Gawd’s sake?     61   
  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.     62   
  MARTHY—How old’ll she be now?     63   
  CHRIS—She must be—lat me see—she must be twenty year ole, py Yo!     64   
  LARRY—[Surprised.] You’ve not seen her in fifteen years?     65   
  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.     66   
  LARRY—[With a wink at MARTHY.] This girl, now, ’ll be marryin’ a sailor herself, likely. It’s in the blood.     67   
  CHRIS—[Suddenly springing to his feet and smashing his fist on the table in a rage.] No, py God! She don’t do dat!     68   
  MARTHY—[Grasping her schooner hastily—angrily.] Hey, look out, yuh nut! Wanta spill my suds for me?     69   
  LARRY—[Amazed.] Oho, what’s up with you? Ain’t you a sailor yourself now, and always been?     70   
  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.     71   
  LARRY—[As Chris remains sunk in gloomy reflection.] When is your daughter comin’? Soon?     72   
  CHRIS—[Roused.] Py yiminy, Ay forgat. [Reads through the letter hurriedly.] She say she come right avay, dat’s all.     73   
  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.]     74   
  CHRIS—Ay gat speak with Larry. Ay be right back. [Mollifyingly.] Ay bring you oder drink.     75   
  MARTHY—[Emptying her glass.] Sure. That’s me. [As he retreats with the glass she guffaws after him derisively.]     76   
  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!     77   
  LARRY—[With a chuckle.] Serve ye right, ye old divil—havin’ a woman at your age!     78   
  CHRIS—[Scratching his head in a quandary.] You tal me lie for tal Marthy, Larry, so’s she gat off barge quick.     79   
  LARRY—She knows your daughter’s comin’. Tell her to get the hell out of it.     80   
  CHRIS—No. Ay don’t like make her feel bad.     81   
  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?     82   
  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.     83   
  LARRY—[Scornfully.] On a coal barge! She’ll not like that, I’m thinkin’.     84   
  MARTHY—[Shouts from next room.] Don’t I get that bucket o’ suds, Dutchy?     85   
  CHRIS—[Startled—in apprehensive confusion.] Yes, Ay come, Marthy.     86   
  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!     87   
  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.]     88   
  Marthy—     89   
  MARTHY—[Aggressively.] Wha’s that? [Then, pretending to fly into a rage, her eyes enjoying CHRIS’S 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!     90   
  CHRIS—[Miserably.] Ay don’t start nutting, Marthy.     91   
  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.]     92   
  CHRIS—[With childish pique.] Ay don’t see nutting for laugh at.     93   
  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!     94   
  CHRIS—[Seriously.] Ay don’ tank dat. You vas good gel, Marthy.     95   
  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.]     96   
  CHRIS—[Beaming now that he sees his troubles disappearing.] Yes, py golly.     97   
  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 loose 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.     98   
  CHRIS—[Eagerly.] Sure tang. Ay go gat him. [He takes the two glasses into the bar.] Oder drink. Same for both.     99   
  LARRY—[Getting the drinks and putting them on the bar.] She’s not such a bad lot, that one.    100   
  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.    101   
  LARRY—[Virtuously.] You know I never touch it.    102   
  CHRIS—You don’t know what you miss. Skoal! [He drinks—then begins to sing loudly.]
           “My Yosephine, come board de ship——”   
[He picks up the drinks for MARTHY and himself and walks unsteadily into the back room, singing.]   
“De moon, she shi-i-i-ine. She looks yust like you.   
    Tche-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee.”   
 103   
  MARTHY—[Grinning, hands to ears.] Gawd!    104   
  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 grand-fader, 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.]    105   
  LARRY—[Coming in from bar—irritably.] Easy there! Don’t be breakin’ the table, you old goat!    106   
  CHRIS—[By way of reply, grins foolishly and begins to sing.] “My Yosephine comes board de ship——”    107   
  MARTHY—[Touching CHRIS’S 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?    108   
  CHRIS—[Aroused—gets unsteadily to his feet.] Py golly, yes.    109   
  LARRY—That’s good sense for you. A good beef stew’ll fix you. Go round the corner.    110   
  CHRIS—All right. Ay be back soon, Marthy. [CHRIS goes through the bar and out the street door.]    111   
  LARRY—He’ll come round all right with some grub in him.    112   
  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.]    113   
  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.    114   
  LARRY—[Sarcastically.] Shall I serve it in a pail?    115   
  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!    116   
  MARTHY—[Nodding her head sympathetically.] Sure—yuh look all in. Been on a bat?    117   
  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!    118   
  MARTHY—[With a start—looking at her intently.] Where’d yuh come from, huh?    119   
  ANNA—St. Paul—out in Minnesota.    120   
  MARTHY—[Staring at her in amazement—slowly.] So—yuh’re—— [She suddenly burst out into hoarse, ironical laughter.] Gawd!    121   
  ANNA—All the way from Minnesota, sure. [Flaring up.] What you laughing at? Me?    122   
  MARTHY—[Hastily.] No, honest, kid. I was thinkin’ of somethin’ else.    123   
  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?    124   
  MARTHY—Sure I will. T’anks. [She calls.] Hey, Larry! Little service! [He comes in.]    125   
  ANNA—Same for me.    126   
  MARTHY—Same here. [LARRY takes their glasses and goes out.]    127   
  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.    128   
  MARTHY—Sure thing. [She shuffles over to ANNA’S table and sits down opposite her. LARRY brings the drinks and ANNA pays him.]    129   
  ANNA—Skoal! Here’s how! [She drinks.]    130   
  MARTHA—Here’s luck! [She takes a gulp from her schooner.]    131   
  ANNA—[Taking a package of Sweet Caporal cigarettes from her bag.] Let you smoke in here, won’t they?    132   
  MARTHY—[Doubtfully.] Sure. [Then with evident anxiety.] On’y trow it away if yuh hear someone comin’.    133   
  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.    134   
  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.    135   
  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.]    136   
  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?    137   
  ANNA—[Shakes her hand gladly.] Only too glad to. I ain’t looking for trouble. Let’s have ’nother. What d’you say?    138   
  MARTHY—[Shaking her head.] Not for mine. I’m full up. And you—Had anythin’ to eat lately?    139   
  ANNA—Not since this morning on the train.    140   
  MARTHY—Then yuh better go easy on it, hadn’t yuh?    141   
  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.    142   
  MARTHY—Yuh said yuh was just outa the hospital?    143   
  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!    144   
  MARTHY—[After a slight pause.] Did yuh say yuh got to meet someone here?    145   
  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.    146   
  MARTHY—[Astonished.] Janitor!    147   
  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?    148   
  MARTHY—Oh, off and on.    149   
  ANNA—Then maybe you know him—my Old Man—or at least seen him?    150   
  MARTHY—It ain’t old Chris, is it?    151   
  ANNA—Old Chris?    152   
  MARTHY—Chris Christopherson, his full name is.    153   
  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?    154   
  MARTHY—[Evasively.] Seen him about for years.    155   
  ANNA—Say, what’s he like, tell me, honest?    156   
  MARTHY—Oh, he’s short and——    157   
  ANNA—[Impatiently.] I don’t care what he looks like. What kind is he?    158   
  MARTHY—[Earnestly.] Well, yuh can bet your life, kid, he’s as good an old guy as ever walked on two feet. That goes!    159   
  ANNA—[Pleased.] I’m glad to hear it. Then you think’s he’ll stake me to that rest cure I’m after?    160   
  MARTHY—[Emphatically.] Surest thing you know. [Disgustedly.] But where’d yuh get the idea he was a janitor?    161   
  ANNA—He wrote me he was himself.    162   
  MARTHY—Well, he was lyin’. He ain’t. He’s captain of a barge—five men under him.    163   
  ANNA—[Disgusted in her turn.] A barge? What kind of a barge?    164   
  MARTHY—Coal, mostly.    165   
  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.    166   
  MARTHY—What d’yuh mean?    167   
  ANNA—I s’pose he lives on the boat, don’t he?    168   
  MARTHY—Sure. What about it? Can’t you live on it, too?    169   
  ANNA—[Scornfully.] Me? On a dirty coal barge! What d’you think I am?    170   
  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.]    171   
  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.    172   
  MARTHY—Well, he’s got queer notions on some things. I’ve heard him say a farm was the best place for a kid.    173   
  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.    174   
  MARTHY—He is on that one point. [Casually.] So yuh didn’t fall for life on the farm, huh?    175   
  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.    176   
  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?    177   
  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?    178   
  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.    179   
  ANNA—[Sceptically.] He’ll have to show me.    180   
  MARTHY—Yuh kept right on writing him yuh was a nurse girl still, even after yuh was in the house, didn’t yuh?    181   
  ANNA—Sure. [Cynically.] Not that I think he’d care a darn.    182   
  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.    183   
  ANNA—Aw, quit the kiddin’!    184   
  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’s voice.] Ssshh!    185   
  ANNA—What’s up?    186   
  CHRIS—[Who has entered the bar. He seems considerably sobered up.] Py golly, Larry, dat grub taste good. Marthy in back?    187   
  LARRY—Sure—and another tramp with her. [CHRIS starts for the entrance to the back room.]    188   
  MARTHY—[To ANNA in a hurried, nervous whisper.] That’s him now. He’s comin’ in here. Brace up!    189   
  ANNA—Who? [Chris opens the door.]    190   
  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.    191   
  ANNA—[Nervously.] So long. [Martha goes quickly out of the family entrance.]    192   
  LARRY—[Looking at the stupefied CHRIS curiously.] Well, what’s up now?    193   
  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 forebearance.] Anna!    194   
  ANNA—[Acutely embarrassed in her turn.] Hello—father. She told me it was you. I yust got here a little while ago.    195   
  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.]    196   
  ANNA—[A trace of genuine feeling in her voice.] It’s good to see you, too.    197   
  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.]    198   
  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——    199   
  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!    200   
  ANNA—[Repelled—harshly.] Cut it! You talk same as they all do.    201   
  CHRIS—[Hurt—humbly.] Ain’t no harm for your fader talk dat vay, Anna.    202   
  ANNA—[Forcing a short laugh.] No—course not. Only—it’s funny to see you and not remember nothing. You’re like—a stranger.    203   
  CHRIS—[Sadly.] Ay s’pose. Ay never come home only few times ven you vas kit in Sveden. You don’t remember dat?    204   
  ANNA—No. [Resentfully.] But why didn’t you never come home them days? Why didn’t you never come out West to see me?    205   
  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.    206   
  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!    207   
  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.    208   
  ANNA—[Sceptically.] Sick? You? You’d never think it.    209   
  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!    210   
  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.    211   
  CHRIS—[Immediately all concern.] You, Anna? Py golly! [Anxiously.] You feel better now, dough, don’t you? You look little tired, dat’s all!    212   
  ANNA—[Wearily.] I am. Tired to death. I need a long rest and I don’t see much chance of getting it.    213   
  CHRIS—What you mean, Anna?    214   
  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.    215   
  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!    216   
  ANNA—[Surprised and pleased by his eagerness—with a smile.] Then you’re really glad to see me—honest?    217   
  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.    218   
  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?    219   
  CHRIS—[Shaking his head emphatically—after a pause.] Ay love your mo’der too much for ever do dat, Anna.    220   
  ANNA—[Impressed—slowly.] I don’t remember nothing about her. What was she like? Tell me.    221   
  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.    222   
  ANNA—[Half rises to her feet, then sits down again.] Where’re you going?    223   
  CHRIS—Come. Ve gat on board.    224   
  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?    225   
  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!    226   
  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.    227   
  CHRIS—[Picks up her bag again.] Ve go, eh?    228   
  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.    229   
  CHRIS—[Sets down her bag immediately—hastily.] Ay’m sorry, Anna. What you tank you like for drink, eh?    230   
  ANNA—[Promptly.] I’ll take a— [Then suddenly reminded—confusedly.] I don’t know. What’a they got here?    231   
  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.    232   
  ANNA—[Forcing a laugh herself.] Make it sas, then.    233   
  CHRIS—[Coming up to her—with a wink.] Ay tal you, Anna, ve calabrate, yes—dis one time because ve 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.    234   
  ANNA—[With a half hysterical laugh.] All right. I’ll take port.    235   
  CHRIS—Ay go gat him. [He goes out to the bar. As soon as the door closes, Anna starts to her feet.]    236   
  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.]    237   
  LARRY—[Putting down his paper as CHRIS comes up—with a grin.] Well, who’s the blond?    238   
  CHRIS—[Proudly.] Dat vas Anna, Larry.    239   
  LARRY—[In amazement.] Your daughter, Anna? [CHRIS nods. LARRY lets a long, low whistle escape him and turns away embarrassedly.]    240   
  CHRIS—Don’t you tank she vas pooty gel, Larry?    241   
  LARRY—[Rising to the occasion.] Sure! A peach!    242   
  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.    243   
  LARRY—[As he gets the drinks.] Small beer for you, eh? She’s reformin’ you already.    244   
  CHRIS—[Pleased.] You bet! [He take 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. Vell, 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?    245   
  ANNA—[Downing her port at a gulp like a drink of whiskey—her lips trembling.] Skoal? Guess I know that word, all right, all right!


[The Curtain Falls]

II. Anna Christie   
Act II   
The barge, Simeon Winthrop, at anchor in the harbor of Provincetown, Mass. Ten days later   
     
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.      1   
  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.      2   
     
  CHRIS—[The glare from the cabin still in his eyes, peers blinkingly astern.] Anna! [Receiving no reply, he calls again, this time with apparent apprehension.] Anna!      3   
  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?      4   
  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.      5   
  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.      6   
  CHRIS—[Spitting disgustedly.] Fog’s vorst one of her dirty tricks, py yingo!      7   
  ANNA—[With a short laugh.] Beefing about the sea again? I’m getting so’s I love it, the little I’ve seen.      8   
  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?      9   
  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 yust love to work on it, honest I would, if I was a man. I don’t wonder you always been a sailor.     10   
  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.     11   
  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.     12   
  CHRIS—[After a pause.] You better go in cabin—read book. Dat put you to sleep.     13   
  ANNA—I don’t want to sleep. I want to stay out here—and think about things.     14   
  CHRIS—[Walks away from her toward the cabin—then comes back.] You act funny to-night, Anna.     15   
  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.]     16   
  CHRIS—[Sits down beside her with a sigh.] It’s gatting pooty late in night, Anna. Must be near five bells.     17   
  ANNA—[Interestedly.] Five bells? What time is that?     18   
  CHRIS—Half past ten.     19   
  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!     20   
  CHRIS—You don’t like live on farm, Anna?     21   
  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.     22   
  CHRIS—[Moodily.] Ay’ve done dat many year, Anna, when Ay vas damn fool.     23   
  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?     24   
  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!     25   
  ANNA—Were all of ’em yust plain sailors?     26   
  CHRIS—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.     27   
  ANNA—Bo’sun?     28   
  CHRIS—Dat’s kind of officer.     29   
  ANNA—Gee, that was fine. What does he do?     30   
  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.     31   
  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?     32   
  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.]     33   
  ANNA—[After a pause—dreamily.] Funny! I do feel sort of—nutty, to-night. I feel old.     34   
  CHRIS—[Mystified.] Ole?     35   
  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.     36   
  CHRIS—[Gruffly.] Anybody feel funny dat vay in fog.     37   
  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?     38   
  CHRIS—[A grim foreboding in his voice.] Ay tank Ay’m damn fool for bring you on voyage, Anna.     39   
  ANNA—[Impressed by his tone.] You talk—nutty to-night yourself. You act ’s if you was scared something was going to happen.     40   
  CHRIS—Only God know dat, Anna.     41   
  ANNA—[Half-mockingly.] Then it’ll be Gawd’s will, like the preachers say—what does happen.     42   
  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.]     43   
  ANNA—[Jumping to her feet.] What’s that?     44   
  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?     45   
  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?     46   
  CHRIS—Ay hear dem rowing. Dey come up by bow, Ay tank. [Then shouting out again.] Dis vay!     47   
  THE VOICE—Right ye are! [There is a muffled sound of oars in oar-locks.]     48   
  ANNA—[Half to herself—resentfully.] Why don’t that guy stay where he belongs?     49   
  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 as 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 vay.” 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.     50   
  ANNA—[Hurrying to him.] Sure—but who are they? What’s the trouble?     51   
  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.     52   
  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 fore-arms 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.]     53   
  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.     54   
  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.     55   
  BURKE—[Lifting his head slowly—confusedly.] Is it dreaming I am?     56   
  ANNA—[Half smiling.] Drink it and you’ll find it ain’t no dream.     57   
  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.     58   
  ANNA—[Coldly. Stepping back from him.] Cut that.     59   
  BURKE—But tell me, isn’t this a barge I’m on—or isn’t it?     60   
  ANNA—Sure.     61   
  BURKE—And what is a fine handsome woman the like of you doing on this scow?     62   
  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.     63   
  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!     64   
  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.     65   
  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!     66   
  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.     67   
  BURKE—[Fiercely.] The hell I am!     68   
  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.     69   
  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!     70   
  ANNA—[Scornfully.] Lads like you, eh?     71   
  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.]     72   
  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.]     73   
  BURKE—[Stirring a bit—mutteringly.] God stiffen it! [He opens his eyes and blinks up at her with vague wonder.]     74   
  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.     75   
  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.     76   
  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.     77   
  BURKE—The old square—the old Swede, I mean?     78   
  ANNA—Yes.     79   
  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.     80   
  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?     81   
  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!     82   
  ANNA—[With amused sarcasm.] I see. You mean you’re a lady-killer and they all fall for you.     83   
  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.]     84   
  ANNA—[Looking queerly at him, perplexed and worried, but moved and pleased in spite of herself—takes his hand uncertainly.] Sure.     85   
  BURKE—[With boyish delight.] God bless you! [In his excitement he squeezes her hand tight.]     86   
  ANNA—Ouch!     87   
  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.     88   
  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.     89   
  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.     90   
  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.     91   
  BURKE—[Flattered.] I’ll tell you, surely. But can I be asking you one question, Miss, has my head in a puzzle?     92   
  ANNA—[Guardedly.] Well—I dunno—what is it?     93   
  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.     94   
  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.     95   
  BURKE—[Impressed.] A governess, is it? You must be smart, surely.     96   
  ANNA—But let’s not talk about me. Tell me about the wreck, like you promised me you would.     97   
  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.]     98   
  ANNA—[Concealing a smile—amused by this boyish boasting of his.] You did some hard work, didn’t you?     99   
  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.    100   
  ANNA—[In a subdued voice.] Then all the others was drowned?    101   
  BURKE—They was, surely.    102   
  ANNA—[With a shudder.] What a terrible end!    103   
  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.    104   
  ANNA—[Struck by the word.] Yes, clean. That’s yust the word for—all of it—the way it makes me feel.    105   
  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.    106   
  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.    107   
  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.    108   
  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.    109   
  BURKE—Yes, thank God, though I’ve not seen a sight of it in fifteen years or more.    110   
  ANNA—[Thoughtfully.] Sailors never do go home hardly, do they? That’s what my father was saying.    111   
  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.    112   
  ANNA—[Her face averted—rising to her feet—agitatedly.] I think—I guess I’d better see what’s doing inside.    113   
  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.    114   
  ANNA—[Turning to him again—forcing a smile.] I’m not sore at you, honest.    115   
  BURKE—[Gratefully.] God bless you!    116   
  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?    117   
  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.    118   
  ANNA—[With a laugh.] I thought you’d say that.    119   
  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.    120   
  ANNA—[Turning away from him with a short laugh—uneasily.] Why sure. Why not?    121   
  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?    122   
  ANNA—[In the same tone.] Why, sure.    123   
  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.    124   
  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.    125   
  BURKE—I have found her!    126   
  ANNA—[Half-frightenedly—trying to laugh it off.] You have? When? I thought you was saying——    127   
  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.    128   
  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.]    129   
  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——    130   
  CHRIS—[He comes toward them, raging, his fists clenched.] Anna, you gat in cabin, you hear!    131   
  ANNA—[All her emotions immediately transformed into resentment at his bullying tone.] Who d’you think you’re talking to—a slave?    132   
  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!    133   
  ANNA—[Impulsively.] But he is sick. Look at him. He can hardly stand up.    134   
  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 side.]    135   
  ANNA—[Talking one of his arms over her shoulder.] Come on in the cabin. You can have my bed if there ain’t no other place.    136   
  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.    137   
  ANNA—[Guiding him carefully.] Sssh! Sssh!    138   
  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!    139   
  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.]    140   
  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!


[The Curtain Falls]