SCENE--Ten days later. The stern of the deeply-laden barge, "SIMEON
WINTHROP," at anchor in the outer harbor of Provincetown, Mass. It is
ten o'clock at night. Dense fog shrouds the barge on all sides, and she
floats motionless on a calm. A lantern set up on an immense coil of
thick hawser sheds a dull, filtering light on objects near it--the
heavy steel bits for making fast the tow lines, etc. In the rear is the
cabin, its misty windows glowing wanly with the light of a lamp inside.
The chimney of the cabin stove rises a few feet above the roof. The
doleful tolling of bells, on Long Point, on ships at anchor, breaks the
silence at regular intervals.
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 blinkmgly
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 just 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.] 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--[Walks away from her toward the cabin--then comes back.] You act
funny to-night, 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?
CHEIS--Able body seaman, most of dem. [With a certain pride.] Dey vas
all smart seaman, too--A one. [Then after hesitating a moment--shyly.]
Ay vas bo'sun.
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 fallar, dem fallar in our family. Dey all vork rotten
yob on sea for nutting, don't care nutting but yust gat big pay day in
pocket, gat drunk, gat robbed, ship avay again on oder voyage. Dey
don't come home, Dey don't do anytang like good man do. And dat ole
davil, sea, sooner, later she svallow dem up.
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,
to-night. I feel old.
CHRIS--[Mystified. ] Old?
ANNA--Sure--like I'd been living a long, long time--out here in the
fog. [Frowning perplexedly.] I don't know how to tell you yust what I
mean. It's like I'd come home after a long visit away some place. It
all seems like I'd been here before lots of times--on boats--in this
same fog. [With a short laugh.] You must think I'm off my base.
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.]
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 to-night 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.] 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 vay!
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 possible. She turns her back
on the proceedings and stares out into the fog. THE VOICE is heard
again shouting "Ahoy" and CHRIS answering "Dis way" Then there is a
pause--the murmur of excited voices--then the scuffling of feet. CHRIS
appears from around the cabin to port. He is supporting the limp form
of a man dressed in dungarees, holding one of the man's arms around his
neck. The deckhand, JOHNSON, a young, blond Swede, follows him, helping
along another exhausted man similar fashion. ANNA turns to look at
them. Chris stops for a second--volubly.] Anna! You come help, vill
you? You find vhiskey in cabin. Dese fallars need drink for fix dem.
Dey vas near dead.
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'S voice shouts after him.] 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.] Is it losing the small wits ye iver had, ye are?
Deck-scrubbing scut! [They pass him and go into the cabin, leaving the
door open. BURKE sags forward wearily.] I'm bate out--bate out entirely.
ANNA--[Comes out of the cabin with a tumbler quarter-full of whiskey in
her hand. She gives a start when she sees BURKE so near her, the light
from the open door falling full on him. Then, overcoming what is
evidently a feeling of repulsion, she comes up beside him.] Here you
are. Here's a drink for you. You need it, I guess.
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.] Aah! I'm needin' that--and 'tis fine stuff. [Looking
up at her with frank, grinning admiration.] But 'twasn't the booze I
meant when I said, was I dreaming. I thought you was some mermaid out
of the sea come to torment me. [He reaches out to feel of her arm.]
Aye, rale flesh and blood, divil a less.
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.] 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.] Aisy, now! You're not the old
Square-head's woman, I suppose you'll be telling me next--living in his
cabin with him, no less! [Seeing the cold, hostile expression on ANNA's
face, he suddenly changes his tone to one of boisterous joviality.] But
I do be thinking, iver since the first look my eyes took at you, that
it's a fool you are to be wasting yourself--a fine, handsome girl--on a
stumpy runt of a man like that old Swede. There's too many strapping
great lads on the sea would give their heart's blood for one kiss of
you!
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 mut! [She pushes him
away with all her might. BURKE, weak and tottering, is caught off his
guard. He is thrown down backward and, in falling, hits his head a hard
thump against the bulwark. He lies there still, knocked out for the
moment. ANNA stands for a second, looking down at him frightenedly.
Then she kneels down beside him and raises his head to her knee,
staring into his face anxiously for some sign of life.]
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.] 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.]
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 ships since I was
a lad only. [He pats the coil of hawser invitingly.] Let you sit down,
now, Miss, and I'll be telling you a bit of myself, and you'll be
telling me a bit of yourself, and in an hour we'll be as old friends as
if we was born in the same house. [He pulls at her sleeve shyly.] Sit
down now, if you plaze.
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.] 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 offence with my talk of the like of them?
Don't heed it at all! I'm clumsy in my wits when it comes to talking
proper with a girl the like of you. And why wouldn't I be? Since the
day I left home for to go to sea punching coal, this is the first time
I've had a word with a rale, dacent woman. So don't turn your back on
me now, and we beginning to be friends.
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.] 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.] 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 slde.]
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 helplessly.]
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]