ANNA CHRISTIE

ORIGINAL PRODUCTION

ANNA CHRISTIE opened at the Vanderbilt Theatre on 2 November 1921.

It was produced by Arthur Hopkins. The cast and creative contributors

were:

JOHNNY-THE-PRIEST James C Mack

FIRST LONGSHOREMAN G O Taylor

SECOND LONGSHOREMAN John Hanley

A POSTMAN William Augustin

CHRIS CHRISTOPHERSON George Marion

MARTHY OWEN Eugenie Blair

ANNA CHRISTOPHERSON Pauline Lord

MAT BURKE Frank Shannon

JOHNSON Ole Anderson

SAILORS Messers Reilly, Hansen & Kennedy

Director Arthur Hopkins

Design Robert Edmond Jones

CHARACTERS & SETTING

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

ACT THREE: Cabin of the barge, at dock in Boston. A week later

ACT FOUR: The same. Two days later

ACT ONE

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. It is late afternoon of a day in fall. 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. 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.)

FIRST LONGSHOREMAN: (As they range themselves

at the bar) Gimme a shock. Number Two. (He tosses a coin on

the bar.)

SECOND LONGSHOREMAN: Same here.

(JOHNNY sets two glasses of barrel whisky before

them.)

FIRST LONGSHOREMAN: Here's luck!

(The other nods. They gulp down their whisky.)

SECOND LONGSHOREMAN: (Putting money on the bar)

Give us another.

FIRST LONGSHOREMAN: Gimme a scoop this time--lager

and porter. I'm dry.

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.)

LARRY: (Nodding to JOHNNY--cheerily)

Hello, boss.

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.)

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.)

THE <P255>POSTMAN: Addressed care of you, Johnny. Know

him?

(JOHNNY picks up the letter, adjusting his spectacles.

LARRY comes and peers

over his shoulders. JOHNNY reads very slowly.)

JOHNNY: Christopher Christopherson.

THE <P255>POSTMAN: (Helpfully) Square-head name.

LARRY: Old Chris--that's who.

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.

THE <P255>POSTMAN: It'll get him all right then?

JOHNNY: Sure thing. He comes here whenever he's in port.

THE <P255>POSTMAN: (Turning to go) Sailor, eh?

JOHNNY: (With a grin) Captain of a coal barge.

THE <P255>POSTMAN: (Laughing) Some job! Well,

s'long.

JOHNNY: S'long. I'll see he gets it.

(THE POSTMAN goes out. JOHNNY

scrutinizes the letter.)

JOHNNY: You got good eyes, Larry. Where's it from?

LARRY: (After a glance) Saint Paul. That'll be in

Minnesota, I'm thinkin'. Looks like a woman's writing, too, the old

divil!

JOHNNY: He's got a daughter somewheres out West, I think

he told me once. (He puts the letter on the cash register.)

Come to think of it, I ain't seen old Chris in a dog's age. (Putting

his overcoat on, he comes around the end of the bar.) Guess I'll

be getting home. See you tomorrow.

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.)

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....

JOHNNY: (Shakes CHRIS by the hand) Speak

of the devil. We was just talkin' about you.

LARRY: (Coming to the end of the bar) Hello, Chris.

Put it there.

(They shake hands.)

CHRIS: (Beaming) Give us drink.

JOHNNY: (With a grin) You got a half-snootful now.

Where'd you get it?

CHRIS: (Grinning) Oder fallar on oder barge--Irish

fallar--he gat bottle vhisky and we drank it, yust us two. Dot

vhisky 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.)

JOHNNY: (With a laugh) Same old Yosie, eh Chris?

CHRIS: You don' 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.)

LARRY: (With a professional air) What's your pleasure,

gentlemen?

JOHNNY: Small beer, Larry.

CHRIS: Vhisky--Number Two.

LARRY: (As he gets their drinks) I'll take a cigar

on you.

CHRIS: (Lifting his glass) Skoal!

JOHNNY: Drink hearty.

CHRIS: (Immediately) Have oder drink.

JOHNNY: No. Some other time. Got to go home now. So you've

just landed? Where are you in from this time?

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.)

CHRIS: Ay go open, Larry. Ay forgat. It vas Marthy. She come

with me.

(He goes into the back room.)

LARRY: (With a chuckle) He's still got that same cow

livin' with him, the old fool!

JOHNNY: (With a grin) A sport, Chris is. Well, I'll

beat it home. S'long.

(He goes to the street door.)

LARRY: So long, boss.

JOHNNY: Oh--don't forget to give him his letter.

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 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.)

MARTHY: (Grumblingly) What yab tryin' to do, Dutchy--keep

me standin' out there all day? (She comes forward and sits at

the table in the right corner, front.)

CHRIS: (Mollifyingly) Ay'm sorry, Marthy. Ay talk

to Yohnny. Ay forgat. What you goin' take for drink?

MARTHY: (Appeased) Gimme a scoop of lager an' ale.

CHRIS: Ay go bring him back. (He returns to the bar.)

Lager and ale for Marthy, Larry. Vhisky for me. (He throws change

on the bar.)

LARRY: Right you are. (Then remembering, he takes the

letter from in back of the bar.) Here's a letter for you-- from

Saint Paul, Minnesota--and a lady's writin'. (He grins.)

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.

LARRY: (Jokingly) That's a fine fairy tale to be tellin'--your

daughter!

Sure I'll bet it's some bum.

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 a minute. You bring drinks in back

room, Larry.

(He goes into the room on right.)

MARTHY: (Angrily) Where's my lager an' ale, yuh big

stiff?

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 joy and bewilderment.)

LARRY: Good news?

MARTHY: (Her curiosity also aroused) What's that yuh

got--a letter, fur Gawd's sake?

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 Saint 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 girl

in Sveden five year ole.

MARTHY: How old'll she be now?

CHRIS: She must be--lat me see--she must be twenty

year ole, py Yo!

LARRY: (Surprised) Yon've not seen her in fifteen

years?

CHRIS: (Suddenly growing somber--in a low tone)

No. Ven she ms 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 yen 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 fa'der like me.

LARRY: (With a wink at MARTHY) This

girl, now, 'll be marryin' a sailor herself, likely. It's in the blood.

CHRIS: (Suddenly springing to his feet and smashing his

fist on the table in a rage) No, py God! She don't do dat!

MARTHY: (Grasping her schooner hastily--angrily)

Hey, look out, yuh nut! Wanta spill my suds for me?

LARRY: (Amazed) Oho, what's up with you? Ain't you

a sailor yourself now, and always been?

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.

LARRY: (As CHRIS remains sunk in gloomy

reflection) Is your daughter comin'? Soon?

CHRIS: (Roused) Py yiminy, Ay forgat. (Reads through

letter hurriedly) She say she come right avay, dat's all.

LARRY: She'll maybe be comin' here to look for you, I su'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.)

CHRIS: Ay gat speak with Larry. Ay be right back. (Mollifyingly)

Ay bring you oder drink.

MARTHY: (Emptying her glass) Sure. That's me. (As

he retreats with the glass she guffaws after him derisively.)

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!

LARRY: (With a chuckle) Serve ye right, ye old divil--havin'

a woman at your age!

CHRIS: (Scratching his head in a quandary) You tal

me lie for tal Marthy, Larry, so's she gat off barge quick.

LARRY: She knows your daughter's comin'. Tell her to get

the hell out of it.

CHRIS: No. Ay don't like make her feel bad.

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?

CHRIS: She stay on dem cousins' farm 'till two year ago.

Dan she gat yob nurse gel in Saint Paul. (Then shaking his head

resolutely) But Ay don't vant for her gat yob now. Ay vant for

her stay wit me.

LARRY: (Scornfully) On a coal barge! She'll not like

that, I'm thinkin'.

MARTHY: (Shouts from next room) Don't I get that bucket

'o suds, Dutchy?

CHRIS: (Startled--in apprehensive confusion) Yes,

Ay come, Marthy.

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!

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 whisky 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.)

CHRIS: Marthy--

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? Lemma 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!

CHRIS: (Miserably) Ay don't start nutting, Marthy.

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.)

CHRIS: (With childish pique) Ay don't see nutting

for laugh at.

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 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.)

MARTHY: 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!

CHRIS: (Seriously) Ay don' tank dat. You vas good

gel, Marthy.

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 the bar.)

CHRIS: (Beaming now that he sees his troubles disappearing)

Yes, py golly.

MARTHY: That's the talkin'! In all my time I tried never

to split with a guy with no hard feelin's. But what was yuh so scared

about--that I'd kick up a row? That ain't Marthy's way. (Scornfully)

Think I'd break my heart to lose yuh? Commit suicide, huh? Ho-ho!

Gawd! The world's full o' men if that's all I'd worry about! (Then

with a grin, after emptying her glass) Blow me to another scoop,

huh? I'll drink your kid's health for yuh.

CHRIS: (Eagerly) Sure tang. Ay go gat him. (He

takes the two glasses into the bar.) Oder drink. Same for both.

LARRY: (Getting the drinks and putting them on the bar)

She's not such a bad lot, that one.

CHRIS: (Jovially) She's good gel, Ay tal you! Py golly,

Ay calabrate now!

Give me vhisky here at bar, too.

(He puts down money. LARRY serves him.)

CHRIS: You have drink, Larry.

LARRY: (Virtuously) You know I never touch it.

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. Tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee,

tchee-tchee."

MARTHY: (Grinning, hands to ears) Gawd!

CHRIS: (Sitting down) Ay'm good singer, yes? Ve drink,

eh? Skoal! Ay calabrate! (He drinks.) Ay ealabrate 'cause Anna's

coming home. You know, Marthy, Ay never write for her to come, 'cause

Ay tank Ay'm no good for her. But all time Ay hope like hell some

day she vant for see me and den she come. And dat's vay it happen

now, py yiminy! (His face beaming) What you tank she look like,

Marthy? Ay bet you she's fine, good, strong gel, pooty like hell!

Living on farm made her like dat. And Ay bet you some day she marry

good, steady land fallar here in East, have home all her own, have

kits--and dan Ay'm ole grandfader, py golly! And Ay go visit dem

every time Ay gat in port near! (Bursting with joy) By yiminy

crickens, Ay calabrate dat! (Shouts) Bring oder drink, Larry!

(He smashes his fist on the table with a bang.)

LARRY: (Coming in from bar--irritably) Easy there!

Don't be breakin' the table, you old goat!

CHRIS: (By way of reply, grins foolishly and begins to

sing) "My Yosephine, come board de ship--"

MARTHY: (Touching CHRIS' arm persuasively)

You're soused to the ears, Dutchy. Go out and put a feed into you.

It'll sober you up.

(Then as CHRIS shakes his head obstinately)

MARTHY: 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?

CHRIS: (Aroused--gets unsteadily to his feet) Py

golly, yes.

LARRY: That's good sense for you. A good beef stew'll fix

you. Go round the corner.

CHRIS: All right. Ay be back soon, Marthy. (He goes through

the bar and out the street door.)

LARRY: He'll come round all right with some grub in him.

MARTHY: Sure.

(LARRY goes back to the bar and resumes his newspaper.

MARTHY sips what is left in 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 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.)

ANNA: Gimme a whisky--ginger ale on the side.

(Then, as LARRY turns to go, forcing a winning smile

at him)

ANNA: And don't be stingy, baby.

LARRY: (Sarcastically) Shall I serve it in a pail?

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 pulp. Then, after

a moment, as the alcohol begins to rouse her, she turns to MARTHY

with a friendly smile.)

ANNA: Gee, I needed that bad, all right, all right!

MARTHY: (Nodding her head sympathetically) Sure--yuh

look all in. Been on a bat?

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!

MARTHY: (With a start--looking at her intently)

Where'd yuh come from, huh?

ANNA: Saint Paul--out in Minnesota.

MARTHY: (Staring at her in amazement--slowly) So--

yuh're-- (She suddenly bursts out into hoarse, ironical laughter.)

Gawd!

ANNA: All the way from Minnesota, sure. (Flaring up)

What are you laughing at? Me?

MARTHY: (Hastily) No, honest, kid. I was thinkin'

of somethin' else.

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?

MARTHY: Sure I will. T'anks. (She calls.) Hey, Larry!

Little service!

(He comes in.)

ANNA: Same for me.

MARTHY: Same here.

(LARRY takes their glasses and goes out.)

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.

MARTHY: Sure thing.

(She shuffles over to ANNA's table and sits down

opposite her. LARRY brings the drinks and ANNA

pays him.)

ANNA: Skoal! Here's how! (She drinks.)

MARTHY: Here's luck! (She takes a gulp from her schooner.)

ANNA: (Taking a package of Sweet Caporal cigarettes from

her bag) Let you smoke in here, won't they?

MARTHY: (Doubtfully) Sure. (Then with evident

anxiety) On'y trow it away if yuh hear someone comin'.

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.)

ANNA: Ain't nothing wrong with me, is there? You're looking

hard enough.

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.

ANNA: (Her eyes narrowing) Ain't you smart! Well,

I got yours too, without no trouble. You're me forty years from now.

(She gives a hard little laugh.)

MARTHY: (Angrily) Is that so? Well, I'll tell you

straight, 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?

ANNA: (Shakes her hand gladly) Only too glad to. I

ain't looking for trouble. Let's have 'nother. What d'you say?

MARTHY: (Shaking her head) Not for mine. I'm full

up. And you--Had anythin' to eat lately?

ANNA: Not since this morning on the train.

MARTHY: Then yuh better go easy on it, hadn't yuh?

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.

MARTHY: Yuh said yuh was just outa the hospital?

ANNA: Two weeks ago. (Leaning over to MARTHY

confidentially) The joint I was in out in Saint 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!

MARTHY: (After a slight pause) Did yuh say yuh got

to meet someone here?

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.

MARTHY: (Astonished) Janitor!

ANNA: Sure. And I was thinking maybe, seeing he never done

a thing for me in my life, he might be 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?

MARTHY: Oh, off and on.

ANNA: Then maybe you know him--my Old Man--or at least

seen him?

MARTHY: It ain't old Chris, is it?

ANNA: Old Chris?

MARTHY: Chris Christopherson, his full name is.

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?

MARTHY: (Evasively) Seen him about for years.

ANNA: Say, what's he like, tell me, honest?

MARTHY: Oh, he's short and--

ANNA: (Impatiently) I don't care what he looks like.

What kind is he?

MARTHY: (Earnestly) Well, yuh can bet your life, kid,

he's as good an old guy as ever walked on two feet.

ANNA: (Pleased) I'm glad to hear it. Then you think

he'd stake me to that rest cure I'm after?

MARTHY: (Emphatically) Surest thing you know. (Disgustedly)

But where'd yuh get the idea he was a janitor?

ANNA: He wrote me he was himself.

MARTHY: Well, he was lyin'. He ain't. He's captain of a barge--

five men under him.

ANNA: (Disgusted in her turn) A barge? What kind of

a barge?

MARTHY: Coal, mostly.

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.

MARTHY: What d'yuh mean?

ANNA: I s'pose he lives on the boat, don't he?

MARTHY: Sure. What about it? Can't you live on it too?

ANNA: (Scornfully) Me? On a dirty coal barge? What

d'you think I am?

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.)

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.

MARTHY: Well, he's got queer notions on some things. I've

heard him say a farm was the best place for a kid.

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 be must be nutty.

MARTHY: He is on that one point. (Casually) So you

didn't fall for life on the farm, huh?

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 stayed. So I run away--to

Saint Paul.

MARTHY: (Who has been listening sympathetically) I've

heard Old Chris talkin' about your bein' a nurse girl out there. Was

that a buff yuh put up when yuh wrote him?

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 onlya 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?

MARTHY: Oh, I dunno. There's good ones and bad ones. 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.

ANNA: (Skeptically) He'll have to show me.

MARTHY: Yuh kept right on writing him yuh was a nurse girl

still even after yuh was in the house, didn't yuh?

ANNA: Sure. (Cynically) Not that I think he'd care

a darn.

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.

ANNA: Aw, quit the kiddin'!

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.)

MARTHY: Ssshh!

ANNA: What's up?

CHRIS: (Who has entered the bar. He seems considerably

sobered up) Py golly, Larry, dat grub taste good. Marthy in back?

LARRY: Sure--and another tramp with her.

(CHRIS starts for the entrance to the back room.)

MARTHY: (To ANNA in a hurried, nervous

whisper) That's him now. He's comm' in here. Brace up!

ANNA: Who?

(CHRIS opens the door.)

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.)

MARTHY: 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.

ANNA: (Nervously) So long.

(MARTHY goes quickly out of the family entrance.)

LARRY: (Looking at the stupefied CHRIS

curiously) Well, what's up now?

CHRIS: (Vaguely) Nutting--nutting.

(He stands before the door to the back room in an agony of embarrassed

emotion-- then he forces himself to a bold decision, pushes open

the door and walks in.

He stands there, casts a shy glance at ANNA, whose brilliant

clothes, and,

to him, high-toned appearance, awe him terribly. He looks about him

with pitiful nervousness as if to avoid the appraising look with which

she takes in his face,

his clothes, etc.-- his voice seeming to plead for her forbearance.)

CHRIS: Anna!

ANNA: (Acutely embarrassed in her turn) Hello--father.

She told me it was you. I yust got here a little while ago.

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.)

ANNA: (A trace of genuine feeling in her voice) It's

good to see you, too.

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)

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

up 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--

CHRIS: (Who has been staring down at her face admiringly,

and 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!

ANNA: (Repelled--harshly) Cut it! You talk same

as they all do.

CHRIS: (Hurt--humbly) Ain't no harm for your fader

talk dat vay, Anna.

ANNA: (Forcing a short laugh) No--course not. Only--it's

funny to see you and not remember nothing. You're like--a stranger.

CHRIS: (Sadly) Ay s'pose. Ay never come home only

few times ven you vas kit in Sveden. You don't remember dat?

ANNA: No. (Resentfully) But why didn't you never come

home them days? Why didn't you never come out West to see me?

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 why but dat's vay with most sailor

fallar, Anna. Dat ole davil sea make dem crazy fools with her dirty

tricks. It's so.

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!

CHRIS: (Embarrassed but lying glibly) Oh, Ay vork

on land long time as yanitor. Yust short time ago Ay got dig yob cause

Ay was sick, need

open air.

ANNA: (Skeptically) Sick? You? You'd never think it.

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!

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.

CHRIS: (Immediately all concern) You, Anna? Py golly!

(Anxiously) You feel better now, dough, don't you? You look

tired, dat's all!

ANNA: (Wearily) I am. Tired to death. I need a long

rest and I don't see much chance of getting it.

CHRIS: What you mean, Anna?

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.

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!

ANNA: (Surprised and pleased by his eagerness--with

a smile) Then you're really glad to see me--honest?

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.

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?

CHRIS: (Shaking his head emphatically--after a pause)

Ay love your mo'der too much for ever do dat, Anna.

ANNA: (Impressed--slowly) I don't remember nothing

about her. What was she like? Tell me.

CHRIS: Ay tal you all about everytang--and you tal me

all tangs happen to you. But not here now. Dis ain't good 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.

ANNA: (Half rises to her feet, then sits down again)

Where're you going?

CHRIS: Come. Ve gat on board.

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?

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!

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--maybe I'll take a chance. Gee, I'd do anything

once.

CHRIS: (Picks up her bag again) Ve go, eh?

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.

CHRIS: (Sets down her bag immediately--hastily)

Ay'm sorry, Anna. What you tank you like for drink, eh?

ANNA: (Promptly) I'll take a-- (Then suddenly

reminded--confusedly) I don't know. What'a they got here?

CHRIS: (With a grin) Ay don't tank dey got much fancy

for young gel in dis place, Anna. Yinger ale--sas'prilla, maybe.

ANNA: (Forcing a laugh herself) Make it sas, then.

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

vine, 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.

ANNA: (With a half hysterical laugh) All right. I'll

take port.

CHRIS: Ay go gat him.

(He goes out to the bar. As soon as the door closes, ANNA

starts to her feet.)

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.)

LARRY: (Putting down his paper as CHRIS

comes up--with a grin) Well,

who's the blond?

CHRIS: (Proudly) Dat vas Anna, Larry.

LARRY: (In amazement) Your daughter, Anna?

(CHRIS nods. LARRY lets a long, low

whistle escape him and turns away embarrassedly.)

CHRIS: Don't you tank she vas pooty gel, Larry?

LARRY: (Rising to the occasion) Sure! A peach!

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.

LARRY: (As he gets the drinks) Small beer for you,

eh? She's reformin' you already.

CHRIS: (Pleased) You bet!

(He takes the drinks. As she hears him coming, ANNA

hastily dries her eyes, tries

to smile. CHRIS comes in and sets the drinks down on

the table--stares at her for a second anxiously--patting her

hand.)

CHRIS: You look tired, Anna. Veil, Ay make you take good

long rest now. (Picking up his beer) Come, you drink vine.

It put new life in you.

(She lifts her glass--he grins.)

CHRIS: Skoal, Anna! You know dat Svedish word?

ANNA: Skoal! (Downing her port at a gulp like a drink

of whisky--her lips trembling) Skoal? Guess I know that word,

all right!

(The curtain falls.)

END OF ACT ONE

ACT TWO

(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. 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.)

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!

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?

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.

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.

CHRIS: (Spitting disgustedly) Fog's vorst one of her

dirty tricks, py yingo!

ANNA: (With a short laugh) Beefing about the sea again?

I'm getting so's I love it, the little I've seen.

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?

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.

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.

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.)

ANNA: It makes me feel clean--out here--'s if I'd taken

a bath.

CHRIS: (After a pause) You better go in cabin read

book. Dat put you to sleep.

ANNA: I don't want to sleep. I want to stay out here--and

think about things.

CHRIS: (Walk: away from her toward the cabin--then

comes back) You act funny tonight, Anna.

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.)

CHRIS: (Sits down beside her with a sigh) It's gatting

pooty late in night, Anna. Must be near five bells.

ANNA: (Interestedly) Five bells? What time is that?

CHRIS: Half past ten.

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!

CHRIS: You don't like live on farm, Anna?

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.

CHRIS: (Moodily) Ay've done dat many year, Anna, when

Ay vas damn fool.

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?

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!

ANNA: Were all of `em yust plain sailors?

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.

ANNA: Bo'sun?

CHRIS: Dat's kind of officer.

ANNA: Gee, that was fine. What does he do?

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 falla; 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.

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?

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.)

ANNA: (After a pause--dreamily) Funny! I do feel

sort of--nutty, tonight.

I feel old.

CHRIS: (Mystified) Ole?

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 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.

CHRIS: (Gruffly) Anybody feel funny dat vay in fog.

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.)

ANNA: It's nutty for me to feel that way, don't you think?

CHRIS: (A grim foreboding in his voice) Ay tank Ay'm

damn fool for bring you on voyage, Anna.

ANNA: (Impressed by his tone) You talk--nutty tonight

yourself. You act 's if you was scared something was going to happen.

CHRIS: Only God know dat, Anna.

ANNA: (Half-mockingly) Then it'll be Gawd's will,

like the preachers say--what does happen.

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.)

ANNA: (Jumping to her feet) What's that?

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.)

CHRIS: 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?

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?

CHRIS: Ay hear dem rowing. Dey come up by bow, Ay tank. (Then

shouting out again) Dis ray!

THE VOICE: Right ye are!

(There is a muffled sound of oars in oar-locks.)

ANNA: (Half to herself--resentfully) why don't

that guy stay where he belongs?

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 in a similar fashion. ANNA turns

to look at them. CHRIS stops for a second--volubly.)

CHRIS: Anna! You come help, vill you? You find vhisky in

cabin. Dese fallars need drink for fix dem. Dey vas near dead.

ANNA: (Hurrying to him) Sure--but who are they?

What's the trouble?

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'

voice shouts after him.)

CHRIS: Go gat oder fallar, Yohnson.

JOHNSON: Yes, sir.

(He goes. The door is closed again. MAT BURKE

stumbles in around the port side

of the cabin. He moves slowly, feeling his way uncertainly, keeping

hold of the port bulwark with his right hand to steady himself. He

is stripped to the waist, has on nothing but a pair of dirty dungaree

pants. He is a powerful, broad-chested six-

footer, his face handsome in a hard, rough, bold, defiant way. He

is about thirty,

in the full power of his heavy-muscled, immense strength. His dark

eyes are bloodshot and wild from sleeplessness. The muscles of his

arms and shoulders are lumped in knots and bunches, the veins of his

forearms stand out like blue cords.

He finds his way to the coil of hawser and sits down on it facing

the cabin, his back bowed, head in his hands, in an attitude of spent

weariness.)

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.)

BURKE: 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.)

BURKE: I'm bate out--bate out entirely.

ANNA: (Comes out of the cabin with a tumbler quarter-full

of whisky 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.

BURKE: (Lifting his head slowly--confusedly) Is

it dreaming I am?

ANNA: (Half smiling) Drink it and you'll find it ain't

no dream.

BURKE: To hell with the drink--but I'll take it just the

same. (He tosses it down.) Ahah! 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.

ANNA: (Coldly. Stepping back from him) Cut that.

BURKE: But tell me, isn't this a barge I'm on--or isn't

it?

ANNA: Sure.

BURKE: And what is a fine handsome woman the like of you

doing on

this scow?

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.

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!

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.

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!

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.)

ANNA: You're all in, you might as well own up to it.

BURKE: (Fiercely) The hell I am!

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.

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.)

BURKE: Aisy, now! You're not the old Squarehead'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.)

BURKE: 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.

ANNA: (Scornfully) Lads like you, eh?

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.)

ANNA: (Struggling fiercely) Leggo of me, you big mutt!

(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.)

BURKE: (Stirring a bit--mutteringly) God stiffen

it! (He opens his eyes and blinks up at her with vague wonder.)

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.

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.

ANNA: (Rather remorsefully) Forget it. I'm sorry it

happened, see?

(BURKE rises and sits on bench. Then severely:)

ANNA: 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.

BURKE: The old square--the old Swede, I mean?

ANNA: Yes.

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.

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?

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!

ANNA: (With amused sarcasm) I see. You mean you're

a lady-killer and

they all fall for you.

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.)

BURKE: 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.)

ANNA: (Looking queerly at him, perplexed and worried,

but moved and pleased in spite of herself--takes his hand uncertainly)

Sure.

BURKE: (With boyish delight) God bless you! (In

his excitement he squeezes her hand tight.)

ANNA: Ouch!

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.

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.

BURKE: (Delighted) It's no lie, and why shouldn't

I be, with me shoveling a million tons of coal in the stokeholes of

'hips 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.

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.

BURKE: (Flattered) I'll tell you, surely. But can

I be asking you one question, Miss, has my head in a puzzle?

ANNA: (Guardedly) Well--I dunno--what is it?

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.

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.)

ANNA: Well, I'll tell you. I'm a governess, see? I take care

of kids for people and learn them things.

BURKE: (Impressed) A governess, is it? You must be

smart, surely.

ANNA: But let's not talk about me. Tell me about the wreck,

like you promised me you would.

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.)

ANNA: (Concealing a smile--amused by this boyish boasting

of his) You did some hard work, didn't you?

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.

ANNA: (In a subdued voice) Then all the others was

drowned?

BURKE: They was, surely.

ANNA: (With a shudder) What a terrible end!

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.

ANNA: (Struck by the word) Yes, clean. That's yust

the word for--all of it--the way it makes me feel.

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.

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.

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.

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.

BURKE: (Stoutly) Yes, thank God, though I've not seen

a sight of it in fifteen years or more.

ANNA: (Thoughtfully) Sailors never do go home hardly,

do they? That's what my father was saying.

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.

ANNA: (Her face averted--rising to her feet--agitatedly)

I think--I guess I'd better see what's doing inside.

BURKE: (Afraid he has offended her--beseechingly)

Don't go, I'm saying! Is it I've given you offense 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.

ANNA: (Turning to him again--forcing a smile) I'm

not sore at you, honest.

BURKE: (Gratefully) God bless you!

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?

BURKE: (Surprised) Work on land, is it?

(She nods. He spits scornfully.)

BURKE: Digging spuds in the muck from dawn to dark, I suppose?

(Vehemently) I wasn't made for it, Miss.

ANNA: (With a laugh) I thought you'd say that.

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.

ANNA: (Turning away from him with a short laugh--uneasily)

Why, sure.

Why not?

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?

ANNA: (In the same tone) Why, sure.

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.

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.

BURKE: I have found her!

ANNA: (Half-frightenedly--trying to laugh it off)

You have? When? I thought you was saying--

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.

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.)

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--

CHRIS: Anna! (He comes toward them, raging, his fists

clenched) Anna, you gat in cabin, you hear!

ANNA: (All her emotions immediately transformed into

resentment at his bullying tone) Who d'you think you're talking

to--a slave?

CHRIS: (Hurt--his voice breaking--pleadingly)

You need gat rest, Anna.

You gat sleep.

(She does not move. He turns on BURKE furiously.)

CHRIS: 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!

ANNA: (Impulsively) But he is sick. Look at him. He

can hardly stand up.

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.)

ANNA: (Taking one of his arms over her shoulder) Come

on in the cabin.

You can have my bed if there ain't no other place.

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.

ANNA: (Guiding him carefully) Sssh! Sssh!

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!

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 desperately.)

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.)

END OF ACT TWO

ACT THREE

(The interior of the cabin on the barge, Simeon Winthrop

[at dock in Boston]--

a narrow, low-ceilinged compartment the walls of which are painted

a light brown with white trimmings. In the rear on the left, a door

leading to the sleeping quarters. In the far left corner, a large

locker-closet, painted white, on the door of which a mirror hangs

on a nail. In the rear wall, two small square windows and a door opening

out on the deck toward the stern. In the right wall, two more windows

looking out on the port deck. White curtains, clean and stiff, are

at the windows.

A table with two cane-bottomed chairs stands in the center of the

cabin.

A dilapidated, wicker rocker, painted brown, is also by the table.)

(It is afternoon of a sunny day about a week later. From the harbor

and docks outside, muffled by the closed door and windows, comes the

sound of steamers' whistles and the puffing snort of the donkey engines

of some ship unloading nearby.)

(As the curtain rises, CHRIS and ANNA

are discovered. ANNA is seated in the rocking-chair

by the table, with a newspaper in her hands. She is not reading but

staring straight in front of her. She looks unhappy, troubled, frowningly

concentrated on her thoughts. CHRIS wanders about the

room, casting quick, uneasy side glances at her face, then stopping

to peer absent-mindedly out of the window. His attitude betrays an

overwhelming, gloomy anxiety which has him

on tenterhooks. He pretends to be engaged in setting things shipshape,

but this occupation is confined to picking up some object, staring

at it stupidly for a second, then aimlessly putting it down again.

He clears his throat and starts to sing to himself in a low, doleful

voice:)

CHRIS: "My Yosephine, come board de ship. Long time Ay

vait for you."

ANNA: (Turning on him, sarcastically) I'm glad someone's

feeling good. (Wearily) Gee, I sure wish we was out of this

dump and back in New York.

CHRIS: (With a sigh) Ay'm glad vhen ve sail again,

too. (Then, as she makes no comment, he goes on with a ponderous

attempt at sarcasm.) Ay don't see vhy you don't like Boston, dough.

You have good time here, Ay tank. You go ashore all time, every day

and night veek ve've been here. You go to movies, see show, gat all

kinds fun-- (His eyes hard with hatred) All with that damn

Irish fallar!

ANNA: (With weary scorn) Oh, for heaven's sake, are

you off on that again? Where's the harm in his taking me around? D'you

want me to sit all day and night in this cabin with you--and knit?

Ain't I got a right to have as good a time as I can?

CHRIS: It ain't right kind of fun--not with that fallar,

no.

ANNA: I been back on board every night by eleven, ain't I?

(Then struck

by some thought--looks at him with keen suspicion--with rising

anger) Say,look here, what d'you mean by what you yust said?

CHRIS: (Hastily) Nutting but what Ay say, Anna.

ANNA: You said "ain't right" and you said it funny.

Say, listen here, you ain't trying to insinuate that there's something

wrong between us, are you?

CHRIS: (Horrified) No, Anna! No, Ay svear to God,

Ay never tank dat!

ANNA: (Mollified by his very evident sincerity--sitting

down again) Well, don't you never think it neither if you want me ever to speak to you

again. (Angrily again) If I ever dreamt you thought that, I'd

get the hell out of this barge so quick you couldn't see me for dust.

CHRIS: (Soothingly) Ay wouldn't never dream-- (Then

after a second's pause, reprovingly) You vas gatting learn to svear.

Dat ain't nice for young gel, you tank?

ANNA: (With a faint trace of a smile) Excuse me. You

ain't used to such language, I know. (Mockingly) That's what

your taking me to sea has done for me.

CHRIS: (Indignantly) No, it ain't me. It's dat damn

sailor fallar learn you

bad tangs.

ANNA: He ain't a sailor. He's a stoker.

CHRIS: (Forcibly) Dat vas million times vorse, Ay

tal you! Dem fallars dat vork below shoveling coal vas de dirtiest,

rough gang of no-good fallars in vorld!

ANNA: I'd hate to hear you say that to Mat.

CHRIS: Oh, Ay tal him same tang. You don't gat it in head

Ay'm scared of him yust 'cause he vas stronger'n Ay vas. (Menacingly)

You don't gat for fight with fists with dem fallars. Dere's oder vay

for fix him.

ANNA: (Glancing at him with sudden alarm) What d'you

mean?

CHRIS: (Sullenly) Nutting.

ANNA: You'd better not. I wouldn't start no trouble with

him if I was you. He might forget some time that you was old and my

father--and then you'd be out of luck.

CHRIS: (With smoldering hatred) Veil, yust let him!

Ay'm ole bird maybe, but Ay bet Ay show him trick or two.

ANNA: (Suddenly changing her tone--persuasively)

Aw come on, be good. What's eating you, anyway? Don't you want no

one to be nice to me except yourself?

CHRIS: (Placated--coming to her--eagerly) Yes,

Ay do, Anna--only not

fallar on sea. But Ay like for you marry steady fallar got good yob

on land. You have little home in country all your own--

ANNA: (Rising to her feet--brusquely) Oh, cut it

out! (Scornfully) Little home in the country! I wish you could

have seen the little home in the country where you had me in jail

till I was sixteen! (With rising irritation) Some day you're

going to get me so mad with that talk, I'm going to turn loose on

you and tell you--a lot of things that'll open your eyes.

CHRIS: (Alarmed) I don't want--

ANNA: I know you don't; but you keep on talking yust the

same.

CHRIS: Ay don't talk no more den, Anna.

ANNA: Then promise me you'll cut out saying nasty things

about Mat Burke every chance you get.

CHRIS: (Evasive and suspicious) Vhy? You like dat

fallar--very much, Anna?

ANNA: Yes, I certainly do! He's a regular man, no matter

what faults he's got. One of his fingers is worth all the hundreds

of men I met out there--

inland.

CHRIS: (His face darkening) Maybe you tank you love

him, den?

ANNA: (Defiantly) What of it if I do?

CHRIS: (Scowling and forcing out the words)Maybe--you

tank you--

marry him?

ANNA: (Shaking her head) No!

(CHRIS' face lights up with relief.)

ANNA: Continues slowly, a trace of sadness in her voice)

If I'd met him four years ago--or even two years ago--I'd have

jumped at the chance, I tell you that straight. And I would now--only

he's such a simple guy--a big kid--

and I ain't got the heart to fool him. (She breaks off suddenly.)

But don't never say again he ain't good enough for me. It's me ain't

good enough for him.

CHRIS: (Snorts scornfully) Py yiminy, you go crazy,

Ay tank!

ANNA: (With a mournful laugh) Well, I been thinking

I was myself the last few days. (She goes and takes a shawl from

a hook near the door and throws it

over her shoulders.) Guess I'll take a walk down to the end of

the dock for a minute and see what's doing. I love to watch the ships

passing. Mat'll be along before long, I guess. Tell him where I am,

will you?

CHRIS: (Despondently) All right, Ay tal him.

(ANNA goes out the doorway on rear. CHRIS

follows her out and stands on the deck outside for a moment looking

after her. Then he comes back inside and shuts the door. He stands

looking out of the window--mutters--"Dirty ole davil, you."

Then he goes to the table, sets the cloth straight mechanically, picks

up the newspaper ANNA has let fall to the floor and

sits down in the rocking-chair.

He stares at the paper for a while, then puts it on the table, holds

his head in his hands and sighs drearily. The noise of a man's heavy

footsteps comes from the deck outside and there is a loud knock on

the door. CHRIS starts, makes a move as if to get up

and go to the door, then thinks better of it and sits still. The knock

is repeated--

then as no answer comes, the door is flung open and BURKE

appears. CHRIS scowls at the intruder and his hand instinctively

goes back to the sheath knife on his hip. BURKE is dressed

up--wears a cheap blue suit, a striped cotton shirt with a black

tie, and black shoes newly shined. His face is beaming with good humor.)

BURKE: (As he sees CHRIS--in a jovial

tone of mockery) Well, God bless who's here! (He bends down

and squeezes his huge form through the narrow doorway.) And how

is the world treating you this afternoon, Anna's father?

CHRIS: (Sullenly) Pooty goot--if it ain't for some

fallars.

BURKE: (With a grin) Meaning me, do you? (He laughs.)

Well, if you ain't the funny old crank of a man! (Then soberly)

Where's herself?

(CHRIS sits dumb, scowling, his eyes averted. BURKE

is irritated by this silence.)

BURKE: Where's Anna, I'm after asking you?

CHRIS: (Hesitating--then grouchily) She go down

end of dock.

BURKE: I'll be going down to her, then. But first I'm thinking

I'll take this chance when we're alone to have a word with you. (He

sits down opposite CHRIS at the table and leans over

toward him.) And that word is soon said.

I'm marrying your Anna before this day is out, and you might as well

make up your mind to it whether you like it or no.

CHRIS: (Glaring at him with hatred and forcing a scornful

laugh) Ho-ho!

Dat's easy for say!

BURKE: You mean I won't? (Scornfully) Is it the like

of yourself will stop me, are you thinking?

CHRIS: Yes, Ay stop it, if it come to vorst.

BURKE: (With scornful pity) God help you!

CHRIS: But ain't no need for me do dat. Anna--

BURKE: (Smiling confidently) Is it Anna you think

will prevent me?

CHRIS: Yes.

BURKE: And I'm telling you she'll not. She knows I'm loving

her, and she loves me the same, and I know it.

CHRIS: Ho-ho! She only have fun. She make big fool of you,

dat's all!

BURKE: (Unshaken--pleasantly) That's a lie in your

throat, divil mend you!

CHRIS: No, it ain't lie. She tal me yust before she go out

she never marry fallar like you.

BURKE: I'll not believe it. 'Tis a great old liar you are,

and a divil to be making a power of trouble if you had your way. But

'tis not trouble I'm looking for, and me sitting down here. (Earnestly)

Let us be talking it out now as man to man. You're her father, and

wouldn't it be a shame for us to be at each other's throats like a

pair of dogs, and I married with Anna. So out with the truth, man

alive. What is it you're holding against me at all?

CHRIS: (A bit placated, in spite of himself, by BURKE's

evident sincerity--but puzzled and suspicious) Vell--Ay don't

vant for Anna gat married. Listen, you fallar. Ay'm a ole man. Ay

don't see Anna for fifteen year. She ras all Ay gat in vorld. And

now ven she come on first trip--you tank Ay vant her leave me 'lone

again?

BURKE: (Heartily) Let you not be thinking I have no

heart at all for the way you'd be feeling.

CHRIS: (Astonished and encouraged--trying to plead

persuasively) Den you do right tang, eh? You ship avay again, leave

Anna alone. (Cajolingly) Big fallar like you dat's on sea,

he don't need vife. He gat new gel in every port, you know dat.

BURKE: (Angrily for a second) God stiffen you! (Then

controlling himself--calmly) I'll not be giving you the lie

on that. But divil take you, there's a time comes to every man, on

sea or land, that isn't a born fool, when he's sick of the lot of

them cows, and wearing his heart out to meet up with a fine dacent

girl, and have a home to call his own and be rearing up children in

it. 'Tis small use you're asking me to leave Anna. She's the wan woman

of the world for me, and I can't live without her now, I'm thinking.

CHRIS: You forgat all about her in one veek out of port,

Ay bet you!

BURKE: You don't know the like I am. Death itself wouldn't

make me forget her. So let you not be making talk to me about leaving

her. I'll not, and be damned to you! It won't be so bad for you as

you'd make out at all. She'll

be living here in the States, and her married to me. And you'd be

seeing

her often so--a sight more often than ever you saw her the fifteen

years she

was growing up in the West. It's quare you'd be the one to be making

great trouble about her leaving you when you never laid eyes on her

once in all them years.

CHRIS: (Guiltily) Ay taught it vas better Anna stay

away, grow up inland where she don't ever know ole davil, sea.

BURKE: (Scornfully) Is it blaming the sea for your

troubles ye are again,

God help you? Well, Anna knows it now. 'Twas in her blood, anyway.

CHRIS: And Ay don't vant she ever know no-good fallar on

sea--

BURKE: She knows one now.

CHRIS: (Banging the table with his fist--furiously)

Dat's yust it! Dat's yust what you are--no-good, sailor failar!

You tank Ay lat her life be made sorry by you like her mo'der's vas

by me! No, Ay svear! She don't marry you if Ay gat kill you first!

BURKE: (Looks at him a moment in astonishment--then

laughing uproariously) Ho-ho! Glory be to God, it's bold talk you

have for a stumpy runt of a man!

CHRIS: (Threateningly) Vell--you see!

BURKE: (With grinning defiance) I'll see, surely!

I'll see myself and Anna married this day, I'm telling you. (Then

with contemptuous exasperation)

It's quare fool's blather you have about the sea done this and the

sea done that. You'd ought to be 'shamed to be saying the like, and

you an old sailor yourself. I'm after hearing a lot of it from you

and a lot more that Anna's told me you do be saying to her, and I'm

thinking it's a poor weak thing

you are, and not a man at all!

CHRIS: (Darkly) You see if Ay'm man--maybe quicker'n

you tank.

BURKE: (Contemptuously) Yerra, don't be boasting.

I'm thinking 'tis out of your wits you've got with fright of the sea.

You'd be wishing Anna married to a farmer, she told me. That'd be

a swate match, surely! Would you have a fine girl the like of Anna

lying down at nights with a muddy scut stinking of pigs and dung?

Or would you have her tied for life to the like of them skinny, shriveled

swabs does be working in cities?

CHRIS: Dat's lie, you fool!

BURKE: 'Tis not. 'Tis your own mad notions I'm after telling.

But you know the truth in your heart, if great fear of the sea has

made you a liar and coward itself. (Pounding the table) The

sea's the only life for a man with guts in him isn't afraid of his

own shadow! 'Tis only on the sea he's free, and him roving the face

of the world, seeing all things, and not giving a damn for saving

up money, or stealing from his friends, or any of the black tricks

that a landlubber'd waste his life on. 'Twas yourself knew it once,

and you a bo'sun for years.

CHRIS: (Sputtering with rage) You vas crazy fool,

Ay tal you!

BURKE: You've swallowed the anchor. The sea gives you a clout

once, knocked you down, and you're not man enough to get up for another,

but lie there for the rest of your life howling bloody murder. (Proudly)

Isn't it myself the sea has nearly drowned, and me battered and bate

till I was that close to hell I could hear the flames roaring, and

never a groan out of me till the sea gave up and it seeing the great

strength and guts of a man was in me?

CHRIS: (Scornfully) Yes, you vas hell of fallar, hear

you tal it!

BURKE: (Angrily) You'll be calling me a liar once

too often, me old bucko! Wasn't the whole story of it and my picture

itself in the newspapers of Boston a week back? (Looking CHRIS

up and down belittlingly) Sure I'd like

to see you in the best of your youth do the like of what I done in

the storm and after. 'Tis a mad lunatic, screeching with fear, you'd

be this minute!

CHRIS: Ho-ho! You vas young fool! In ole years when Ay was

on windyammer, Ay vas through hundred storms vorse'n dat! Ships vas

ships den--and men dat sail on dem vas real men. And now what you

gat on steamers? You gat fallars on deck don't know ship from mudscow.

(With

a meaning glance at BURKE) And below deck you gat

fallars yust know how for shovel coal--might yust as vell vork

on coal vagon ashore!

BURKE: (Stung, angrily) Is it casting insults at the

men in the stokehole ye

are, ye old ape? God stiffen you! Wan of them is worth any ten stock-fish-

swilling Square-heads evershipped on a windbag!

CHRIS: (His face working with rage, his hand going back

to the sheath-knife on his hip) Irish svine, you!

BURKE: (Tauntingly) Don't ye like the Irish, ye old

baboon? 'Tis that you're needing in your family, I'm telling you--an

Irishman and a man of the stokehole--to put guts in it so that

you'll not be having grandchildren would be fearful cowards and jackasses

the like of yourself!

CHRIS: (Half rising from his chair--in a voice choked

with rage) You look out!

BURKE: (Watching him intently-- a mocking smile on

his lips) And it's that you'll be having, no matter what you'll

do to prevent; for Anna and me'll

be married this day, and no old fool the like of you will stop us

when I've made up my mind.

CHRIS: (With a hoarse cry) You don't!

(He throws himself at BURKE, knife in hand, knocking

his chair over backwards. BURKE springs to his feet

quickly in time to meet the attack. He laughs with the pure love of

battle. The old Swede is like a child in his hands. BURKE

does not strike or mistreat him in any way, but simply twists his

right hand behind his back and forces the knife from his fingers.

He throws the knife into a far corner of the room--tauntingly.)

BURKE: Old men is getting childish shouldn't play with knives.

(Holding the struggling CHRIS at arm's length----with

a sudden rush of anger, drawing back his fist)

BURKE: I've half a mind to hit you a great clout will put

sense in your square head. Kape off me now, I'm warning you!

(He gives CHRIS a push with the flat of his hand

which sends the old Swede staggering back against the cabin wall,

where he remains standing, panting heavily, his eyes fixed on BURKE

with hatred, as if he were only collecting his strength to rush at

him again.)

BURKE: (Warningly) Now don't be coming at me again,

I'm saying, or I'll flatten you on the floor with a blow, if 'tis

Anna's father you are itself! I've no patience left for you. (Then

with an amused laugh) Well, 'tis a bold old man you are just the

same, and I'd never think it was in you to come tackling me alone.

(A shadow crosses the cabin windows. Both men start. ANNA

appears in the doorway.)

ANNA: (With pleased surprise as she sees BURKE)

Hello, Mat. Are you here already? I was down-- (She stops,

looking from one to the other, sensing immediately that something

has happened.) What's up? (Then noticing the overturned chair--in

alarm) How'd that chair get knocked over? (Turning

on BURKE reproachfully) You ain't been fighting with

him, Mat--after you promised?

BURKE: (His old self again) I've not laid a hand on

him, Anna. (He goes and picks up the chair, then turning on the

still questioning ANNA--with a reassuring smile)

Let you not be worried at all. 'Twas only a bit of an argument we

was having to pass the time till you'd come.

ANNA: It must have been some argument when you got to throwing

chairs. (She turns on CHRIS) Why don't you say

something? What was it about?

CHRIS: (Relaxing at last--avoiding her eyes--sheepishly)

Ve vas talking about ships and fallars on sea.

ANNA: (With a relieved smile) Oh--the old stuff,

eh?

BURKE: (Suddenly seeming to come to a bold decision--with

a defiant grin at CHRIS) He's not after telling you

the whole of it. We was arguing about

you mostly.

ANNA: (With a frown) About me?

BURKE: And we'll be finishing it out right here and now in

your presence if you're willing. (He sits down at the left of

table.)

ANNA: (Uncertainly--looking from him to her father)

Sure. Tell me what it's all about.

CHRIS: (Advancing toward the table--protesting to

BURKE) No! You don't do dat, you! You tal him you

don't vant for hear him talk, Anna.

ANNA: But I do. I want this cleared up.

CHRIS: (Miserably afraid now) Vell, not now, anyvay.

You vas going ashore, yes? You ain't got time--

ANNA: (Firmly) Yes, right here and now. (She turns

to BURKE) You tell me, Mat, since he don't want to.

BURKE: (Draws a deep breath--then plunges in boldly)

The whole of it's in a

few words only. So's he'd make no mistake, and him hating the sight

of me, I told him in his teeth I loved you. (Passionately)

And that's God truth, Anna, and well you know it!

CHRIS: (Scornfully--forcing a laugh) Ho-ho! He

tal same tang to gel every port he go!

ANNA: (Shrinking from her father with repulsion--resentfully)

Shut up, can't you? (Then to BURKE--feelingly)

I know it's true, Mat. I don't mind what he says.

BURKE: (Humbly grateful) God bless you!

ANNA: And then what?

BURKE: And then-- (Hesitatingly) And then I said--

(He looks at her pleadingly.) I said I was sure--I told

him I thought you have a bit of love for me, too. (Passionately)

Say you do, Anna! Let you not destroy me entirely, for the love of

God! (He grasps both her hands in his two.)

ANNA: (Deeply moved and troubled--forcing a trembling

laugh) So you told him that, Mat? No wonder he was mad. (Forcing

out the words) Well, maybe it's true, Mat. Maybe I do. I been thinking

and thinking--I didn't want to, Mat, I'll own up to that--I

tried to cut it out--but-- (She laughs helplessly.) I

guess I can't help it anyhow. So I guess I do, Mat. (Then with

a sudden joyous defiance) Sure I do! What's the use of kidding

myself different? Sure I love you, Mat!

CHRIS: (With a cry of pain) Anna! (He sits crushed.)

BURKE: (With a great depth of sincerity in his humble

gratitude) God be praised!

ANNA: (Assertively) And I ain't never loved a man

in my life before, you can always believe that--no matter what

happens.

BURKE: (Goes over to her and puts his arms around her)

Sure I do be believing ivery word you iver said or iver will say.

And 'tis you and me will be having a grand, beautiful life together

to the end of our days! (He tries to

kiss her. At first she turns away her head--then, overcome by a

fierce impulse of passionate love, she takes his head in both her

hands and holds his face close to hers, staring into his eyes. Then

she kisses him full on the lips.)

ANNA: (Pushing him away from her--forcing a broken

laugh) Good-by.

(She walks to the doorway in rear--stands with her back toward

them, looking out. Her shoulders quiver once or twice as if she were

fighting back her sobs.)

BURKE: (Too in the seventh heaven of bliss to get any

correct interpretation of her words-- with a laugh) Good-by,

is it? The divil you say! I'll be coming back at you in a second for

more of the same! (To CHRIS, who has quickened to

instant attention at his daughter's good-by, and has looked back at

her with a stirring of foolish hope in his eyes) Now, me old bucko,

what'll you be saying? You heard the words from her own lips. Confess

I've bate you. Own up like a man when you're bate fair and square.

And here's my hand to you-- (Holds out his hand) And let

you take it and we'll shake and forget what's over and done, and be

friends from this out.

CHRIS: (With implacable hatred) Ay don't shake hands

with you fallar--

not vhile Ay live!

BURKE: (Offended) The back of my hand to you then,

if that suits you better. (Growling) 'Tis a rotten bad loser

you are, divil mend you!

CHRIS: Ay don't lose. (Trying to be scornful and self-convincing)

Anna say she like you little bit but you don't hear her say she marry

you, Ay bet.

(At the sound of her name ANNA has turned round

to them. Her face is composed and calm again, but it is the dead calm

of despair.)

BURKE: (Scornfully) No, and I wasn't hearing her say

the sun is shining either.

CHRIS: (Doggedly) Dat's all right. She don't say it,

yust same.

ANNA: (Quietly--coming forward to them) No, I didn't

say it, Mat.

CHRIS: (Eagerly) Dere! You hear!

BURKE: (Misunderstanding her--with a grin) You're

waiting till you do be asked, you mane? Well, I'm asking you now.

And we'll be married this day, with the help of God!

ANNA: (Gently) You heard what I said, Mat--after

I kissed you?

BURKE: (Alarmed by something in her manner) No--I

disremember.

ANNA: I said good-by. (Her voice trembling) That kiss

was for good-by, Mat.

BURKE: (Terrified) What d'you mane?

ANNA: I can't marry you, Mat--and we've said good-by.

That's all.

CHRIS: (Unable to hold back his exultation) Ay know

it! Ay know dat vas so!

BURKE: (Jumping to his feet--unable to believe his

ears) Anna! Is it making game of me you'd be? 'Tis a quare time

to joke with me, and don't be doing it,

for the love of God.

ANNA: (Looking him in the eyes--steadily) D'you

think I'd kid you? No,

I'm not joking, Mat. I mean what I said.

BURKE: Ye don't! Ye can't! 'Tis mad you are, I'm telling

you!

ANNA: (Fixedly) No, I'm not.

BURKE: (Desperately) But what's come over you so sudden?

You was saying you loved me--

ANNA: I'll say that as often as you want me to. It's true.

BURKE: (Bewilderedly) Then why--what, in the divil's

name-- Oh, God help me, I can't make head or tail to it at all!

ANNA: Because it's the best way out I can figure, Mat. (Her

voice catching)

I been thinking it over and thinking it over day and night all week.

Don't think it ain't hard on me too, Mat.

BURKE: For the love of God, tell me then, what is it that's

preventing you wedding me when the two of us has love? (Suddenly

getting an idea and pointing at CHRIS--desperately)

Is it giving heed to the like of that old fool ye are, and him hating

me and filling your ears full of bloody lies against me?

CHRIS: (Getting to his feet--raging triumphantly before

ANNA has a chance to get in a word) Yes, Anna believe

me, not you! She know her old fa'der don't lie like you.

ANNA: (Turning on her father angrily) You sit down,

d'you hear? Where do you come in butting in and making things worse?

You're like a devil, you are! (Harshly) Good Lord, and I was

beginning to like you, beginning to forget all I've got held up against

you!

CHRIS: (Crushed feebly) You ain't got nutting for

hold against me, Anna.

ANNA: Ain't I yust! Well, lemme tell you-- (She glances

at BURKE and stops abruptly) Say, Mat, I'm s'prised

at you. You didn't think anything he'd said--

BURKE: (Glumly) Sure, what else would it be?

ANNA: Think I've ever paid any attention to all his crazy

bull? Gee, you must take me for a five-year-old kid.

BURKE: (Puzzled and beginning to be irritated at her

too) I don't know how to take you, with your saying this one minute

and that the next.

ANNA: Well, he has nothing to do with it.

BURKE: Then what is it has? Tell me, and don't keep me waiting

and sweating blood.

ANNA: (Resolutely) I can't tell you--and I won't.

I got a good reason--

and that's all you need to know. I can't marry you, that's all there

is to it. (Distractedly) So, for Gawd's sake, let's talk of

something else.

BURKE: I'll not! (Then fearfully) Is it married to

someone else you are--

in the West maybe?

ANNA: (Vehemently) I should say not.

BURKE: (Regaining his courage) To the divil with all

other reasons then. They don't matter with me at all. (He gets

to his feet confidently, assuming a masterful tone.) I'm thinking

you're the like of them women can't make up their mind til they're

drove to it. Well, then, I'll make up your mind for you bloody quick.

(He takes her by the arms, grinning to soften his serious bullying.)

We've had enough of talk! Let you be going into your room now and

be dressing in your best and we'll be going ashore.

CHRIS: (Aroused--angrily) No, py God, she don't

do that! (Takes hold of her arm)

ANNA: (Who has listened to BURKE in astonishment.

She draws away from him, instinctively repelled by his tone, but not

exactly sure if he is serious or not--

a trace of resentment in her voice) Say, where do you get that

stuff?

BURKE: (Imperiously) Never mind, now! Let you go get

dressed, I'm saying. (Then turning to CHRIS)

We'll be seeing who'll win in the end--me or you.

CHRIS: (To ANNA--also in an authoritative

tone) You stay right here, Anna, you hear!

(ANNA stands looking from one to the other of them

as if she thought they had both gone crazy. Then the expression of

her face freezes into the hardened sneer of her experience.)

BURKE: (Violently) She'll not! She'll do what I say!

You've had your hold on her long enough. It's my turn now.

ANNA: (With a hard laugh) Your turn? Say, what am

I, anyway?

BURKE: 'Tis not what you are, 'tis what you're going to be

this day--and that's wedded to me before night comes. Hurry up

now with your dressing.

CHRIS: (Commandingly) You don't do one tang he say,

Anna!

(ANNA laughs mockingly.)

BURKE: She will, so!

CHRIS: Ay tal you she don't! Ay'm her fa'der.

BURKE: She will in spite of you. She's taking my orders from

this out,

not yours.

ANNA: (Laughing again) Orders is good!

BURKE: (Turning to her impatiently) Hurry up now,

and shake a leg. We've

no time to be wasting. (Irritated as she doesn't move) Do you

hear what I'm telling you?

CHRIS: You stay dere, Anna!

ANNA: (At the end of her patience--blazing out at

them passionately) You can go to hell, both of you!

(There is something in her tone that makes them forget their quarrel

and turn to her in a stunned amazement. ANNA laughs

wildly.)

ANNA: You're just like all the rest of them--you two!

Gawd, you'd think I was a piece of furniture! I'll show you! Sit down

now!

(As they hesitate--furiously)

ANNA: Sit down and let me talk for a minute. You're all wrong,

see?

Listen to me! I'm going to tell you something--and then I'm going

to beat

it. (To BURKE--with a harsh laugh) I'm going

to tell you a funny story, so pay attention. (Pointing to CHRIS)

I've been meaning to turn it loose on him every time he'd get my goat

with his bull about keeping me safe inland. I wasn't going to tell

you, but you've forced me into it. What's the dif? It's all

wrong anyway, and you might as well get cured that way as any other.

(With hard mocking) Only don't forget what you said a minute

ago about

it not mattering to you what other reason I got so long as I wasn't

married to no one else.

BURKE: (Manfully) That's my word, and I'll stick to

it!

ANNA: (Laughing bitterly) What a chance! You make

me laugh, honest! Want to bet you will? Wait 'n see! (She stands

at the table rear, looking from one to the other of the two men with

her hard, mocking smite. Then she begins, fighting to control her

emotion and speak calmly.) First thing is, I want to tell you two

guys something. You was going on 's if one of you had got to own me.

But nobody owns me, see?--'cepting myself. I'll do what I please

and no man, I don't give a hoot who he is, can tell me what to do!

I ain't asking either of you for a living. I can make it myself--one

way or other. I'm my own boss. So put that in your pipe and smoke

it! You and your orders!

BURKE: (Protestingly) I wasn't meaning it that way

at all and well you know it. You've no call to be raising this rumpus

with me. (Pointing to CHRIS)

'Tis him you've a right--

ANNA: I'm coming to him. But you--you did mean it that

way, too.

You sounded--yust like all the rest. (Hysterically) But,

damn it, shut up!

Let me talk for a change!

BURKE: 'Tis quare, rough talk, that--for a dacent girl

the like of you!

ANNA: (With a hard laugh) Decent? Who told you I was?

(CHRIS is sitting with bowed shoulders, his head

in his hands. She leans over in exasperation and shakes him violently

by the shoulder.)

ANNA: Don't go to sleep, Old Man! Listen here, I'm talking

to you now!

CHRIS: (Straightening up and looking about as if he were

seeking a way to escape--

with frightened foreboding in his voice) Ay don't vant for hear

it. You vas going out of head, Ay tank, Anna.

ANNA: (Violently) Well, living with you is enough

to drive anyone off their nut. Your bunk about the farm being so fine!

Didn't I write you year after year how rotten it was and what a dirty

slave them cousins made of me? What'd you care? Nothing! Not even

enough to come out and see me! That crazy bull about wanting to keep

me away from the sea don't go down with me! You yust didn't want to

be bothered with me! You're like all the rest of 'em!

CHRIS: (Feebly) Anna! It ain't so--

ANNA: (Not heeding his interruption--vengefully)

But one thing I never wrote you. It was one of them cousins that you

think is such nice people--the youngest son--Paul--that started

me wrong. (Loudly) It wasn't none of my fault. I hated him

worse'n hell and he knew it. But he was big and strong-- (Pointing

to BURKE) --like you!

BURKE: (Half springing to his feet--his fists clenched)

God blarst it! (He sinks slowly back in his chair again, the knuckles

showing white on his clenched hands, his face tense with the effort

to suppress his grief and rage.)

CHRIS: (In a cry of horrified pain) Anna!

ANNA: (To him--seeming not to have heard their interruptions)

That was why I run away from the farm. That was what made me get a

yob as nurse girl in Saint Paul. (With a hard, mocking laugh)

And you think that was a nice yob for a girl, too, don't you? (Sarcastically)

With all them nice inland fellers yust looking for a chance to marry

me, I s'pose. Marry me? What a chance! They wasn't looking for marrying.

(As BURKE lets a groan of fury escape him--desperately)

I'm owning up to everything fair and square. I was caged in, I tell

you--yust like in yail--

taking care of other people's kids--listening to 'em bawling and

crying day and night-- when I wanted to be out--and I was lonesome--lonesome

as hell! (With a sudden weariness in her voice) So I give up

finally. What was the use?

(She stops and looks at the two men. Both are motionless and silent.

CHRIS seems in a stupor of despair, his house of cards

fallen about him. BURKE's face is livid with the rage

that is eating him up but he is too stunned and bewildered yet to

find a vent for it. The condemnation she feels in their silence goads

ANNA into a harsh, strident defiance.)

ANNA: You don't say nothing--either of you--but I know

what you're thinking. You're like all the rest! (To CHRIS--furiously)

And who's to blame for it, me or you? If you'd even acted like a man--if

you'd even had been a regular father and had me with you--maybe

things would be different!

CHRIS: (In agony) Don't talk dat vay, Anna! Ay go

crazy! Ay von't listen! (Puts his hands over his ears)

ANNA: (Infuriated by his action--stridently) You

will too listen! (She leans over and pulls his hands from his

ears-- with hysterical rage.) You--keeping me safe inland--I

wasn't no nurse girl the last two years--I lied when I wrote you--

I was in a house, that's what!--yes, that kind of a house--

the kind sailors like you and Mat goes to in port--and your nice

inland men, too--and all men, God damn 'em! I hate 'em! Hate 'em!

(She breaks into hysterical sobbing, throwing herself into the

chair and hiding her face in her hands on the table. The two men have

sprung to their feet.)

CHRIS: (Whimpering like a child) Anna! Anna! It's

a lie! It's a lie! (He stands wringing his hands together and

begins to weep.)

BURKE: (His whole great body tense like a spring--dully

and gropingly) So that's what's in it!

ANNA: (Raising her head at the sound of his voice--with

extreme mocking bitterness) I s'pose you remember your promise,

Mat? No other reason

was to count with you so long as I wasn't married already. So I s'pose

you want me to get dressed and go ashore, don't you? (She laughs.)

Yes, you do!

BURKE: (On the verge of his outbreak--stammeringly)

God stiffen you!

ANNA: (Trying to keep up her hard, bitter tone, but gradually

letting a note of pitiful pleading creep in) I s'pose if I tried

to tell you I wasn't--that--no more you'd believe me, wouldn't

you? Yes, you would! And if I told you that yust getting out in this

barge and being on the sea had changed me and made me feel different

about things, 's if all I'd been through wasn't me and didn't count

and was yust like it never happened--you'd laugh, wouldn't you?

And you'd die laughing sure if I said that meeting you that funny

way that night in the fog and afterwards seeing that you was straight

goods stuck

on me, had got me to thinking for the first time, and I sized you

up as a different kind of man--a sea man as different from the

ones on land as water is from mud--and that was why I got stuck

on you, too. I wanted

to marry you and fool you, but I couldn't. Don't you see how I've

changed? I couldn't marry you with you believing a lie--and I was

shamed to tell you the truth--till the both of you forced my hand,

and I seen you was the same as all the rest. And now, give me a bawling

out and beat it, like I can tell you're going to.

(She stops, looking at BURKE. He is silent, his

face averted, his features beginning to work with fury. She pleads

passionately.)

ANNA: Will you believe it if I tell you that loving you has

made me--clean? It's the straight goods, honest! (Then as he

doesn't reply--bitterly) Like hell you will! You're like all

the rest!

BURKE: (Blazing out--turning on her in a perfect frenzy

of rage--his voice trembling with passion) The rest, is it?

God's curse on you! Clane, is it?

You slut, you, I'll be killing you now!

(He picks up the chair on which he has been sitting and, swinging

it high over his shoulder, springs toward her. CHRIS

rushes forward with a cry of alarm, trying to ward off the blow from

his daughter. ANNA looks up into BURKE's

eyes with the fearlessness of despair. BURKE checks

himself, the chair held in the air.)

CHRIS: (Wildly) Stop, you crazy fool! You vant for

murder her!

ANNA: (Pushing her father away brusquely, her eyes still

holding BURKE's)

Keep out of this, you! (To BURKE--dully) Well,

ain't you got the nerve to do it? Go ahead! I'll be thankful to you,

honest. I'm sick of the whole game.

BURKE: (Throwing the chair away into a corner of the

room--helplessly) I can't do it, God help me, and your two eyes

looking at me. (Furiously) Though I do be thinking I'd have

a good right to smash your skull like a rotten egg. Was there iver

a woman in the world had the rottenness in her that you have, and

was there iver a man the like of me was made the fool of the world,

and me thinking thoughts about you, and having great love for you,

and dreaming dreams of the fine life we'd have when we'd be wedded!

(His voice high pitched in a lamentation that is like a keen)

Yerra, God help me! I'm destroyed entirely and my heart is broken

in bits! I'm asking God Himself, was it for this He'd have me roaming

the earth since I was a lad only, to come to black shame in the end,

where I'd be giving a power of love to a woman is the same as others

you'd meet in any hooker-shanty in port, with red gowns on them and

paint on their grinning mugs, would be sleeping with any man for a

dollar or two!

ANNA: (In a scream) Don't, Mat! For Gawd's sake! (Then

raging and pounding on the table with her hands) Get out of here!

Leave me alone! Get out of here!

BURKE: (His anger rushing back on him) I'll be going,

surely! And I'll be drinking sloos of whisky will wash that black

kiss of yours off my lips; and I'll be getting dead rotten drunk so

I'll not remember if 'twas iver born you was at all; and I'll be shipping

away on some boat will take me to the other end of the world where

I'll never see your face again! (He turns toward the door.)

CHRIS: (Who has been standing in a stupor--suddenly

grasping BURKE by the arm--stupidly) No, you don't

go. Ay tank maybe it's better Anna marry you now.

BURKE: (Shaking CHRIS off--furiously)

Lave go of me, ye old ape! Marry her, is it? I'd see her roasting

in hell first! I'm shipping away out of this, I'm telling you! (Pointing

to ANNA--passionately) And my curse on you and

the curse of Almighty God and all the Saints! You've destroyed me

this day

and may you lie awake in the long nights, tormented with thoughts

of Mat Burke and the great wrong you've done him!

ANNA: (In anguish) Mat!

(But he turns without another word and strides out of the doorway.

ANNA looks after him wildly, starts to run after him,

then hides her face in her outstretched arms, sobbing. CHRIS

stands in a stupor, staring at the floor.)

CHRIS: (After a pause, dully) Ay tank Ay go ashore,

too.

ANNA: (Looking up, wildly) Not after him! Let him

go! Don't you dare--

CHRIS: (Somberly) Ay go for gat drink.

ANNA: (With a harsh laugh) So I'm driving you to drink,

too, eh? I s'pose you want to get drunk so's you can forget like him?

CHRIS: (Bursting out angrily) Yes, Ay vant! You tank

Ay like hear dem tangs. (Breaking down--weeping) Ay tank

you vasn't dat kind of gel, Anna.

ANNA: (Mockingly) And I s'pose you want me to beat

it, don't you?

You don't want me here disgracing you, I s'pose?

CHRIS: No, you stay here! (Goes over and pats her on

the shoulder, the tears running down his face) Ain't your fault,

Anna, Ay know dat. (She looks up

at him, softened. He bursts into rage.) It's dat ole davil, sea,

do this to me!

(He shakes his fist at the door.) It's her dirty tricks! It

vas all right on barge

with yust you and me. Den she bring dat Irish fallar in fog, she make

you like him, she make you fight with me all time! If dat Irish fallar

don't

never come, you don't never tal me dem tangs, Ay don't never know,

and everytang's all right. (He shakes his fist again.) Dirty

ole davil!

ANNA: (With spent weariness) Oh, what's the use? Go

on ashore and get drunk.

CHRIS: (Goes into room on left and gets his cap. He goes

to the door, silent and stupid--then turns.) You vait here,

Anna?

ANNA: (Dully) Maybe and maybe not. Maybe I'll get

drunk, too. Maybe I'll-- But what the hell do you care what I do?

Go on and beat it.

(CHRIS turns stupidly and goes out. ANNA

sits at the table, staring straight in front of her.)

(The curtain falls.)

END OF ACT THREE

ACT FOUR

(Same as ACT THREE, about nine o'clock of a foggy night two days

later. The whistles of steamers in the harbor can be heard. The cabin

is lighted by a small ramp on the table. A suit case stands in the

middle of the floor. ANNA is sitting in the rocking-chair.

She wears a hat, is all dressed up as in ACT ONE. Her face is pale,

looks terribly tired and worn, as if the two days just past had been

ones of suffering and sleepless nights. She stares before her despondently,

her chin in her hands. There is a timid knock on the door in rear.

ANNA jumps to her feet with a startled exclamation and

looks toward the door with an expression of mingled hope and fear.)

ANNA: (Faintly) Come in. (Then summoning her courage--more

resolutely) Come in.

(The door is opened and CHRIS appears in the doorway.

He is in a very bleary, bedraggled condition, suffering from the after-effects

of his drunk. A tin pail full

of foaming beer is in his hand. He comes forward, his eyes avoiding

ANNA's.

He mutters stupidly.)

CHRIS: It's foggy.

ANNA: (Looking him over with contempt) So you come

back at last, did you? You're a fine l