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The Hairy Ape, a play by Eugene O'Neill |
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Scene 6 |
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_ SCENE VI SCENE--Night of the following day. A row of cells in the prison on Blackwells Island. The cells extend back diagonally from right front to left rear. They do not stop, but disappear in the dark background as if they ran on, numberless, into infinity. One electric bulb from the low ceiling of the narrow corridor sheds its light through the heavy steel bars of the cell at the extreme front and reveals part of the interior. YANK can be seen within, crouched on the edge of his cot in the attitude of Rodin's "The Thinker." His face is spotted with black and blue bruises. A blood-stained bandage is wrapped around his head.
Steel. Dis is de Zoo, huh? VOICES The Zoo? That's a new name for this coop--a damn good name! Steel, eh? You said a mouthful. This is the old iron house. Who is that boob talkin'? He's the bloke they brung in out of his head. The bulls had beat him up fierce. YANK I musta been dreamin'. I tought I was in a cage at de Zoo--but de apes don't talk, do dey? VOICES You're in a cage aw right. A coop! A pen! A sty! A kennel! [Hard laughter--a pause.] Say, guy! Who are you? No, never mind lying. What are you? Yes, tell us your sad story. What's your game? What did they jug yuh for? YANK [Then with sudden rage, rattling his cell bars.] VOICES. When you spit, it bounces! Aw, can it. He's a regular guy. Ain't you? What did he say he was--a ape? YANK Sure ting! Ain't dat what youse all are--apes? [A silence. Then a furious rattling of bars from down the corridor.] A VOICE I'll show yuh who's a ape, yuh bum! VOICES. Can de noise! Piano! You'll have the guard down on us! YANK De guard? Yuh mean de keeper, don't yuh? [Angry exclamations from all the cells.] VOICE Aw, don't pay no attention to him. He's off his nut from the beatin'-up he got. Say, you guy! We're waitin' to hear what they landed you for--or ain't yuh tellin'? YANK. [After a pause.] VOICES De old stuff, I bet. Your goil, huh? Give yuh the double-cross, huh? That's them every time! Did yuh beat up de odder guy? YANK Aw, yuh're all wrong! Sure dere was a skoit in it--but not what youse mean, not dat old tripe. Dis was a new kind of skoit. She was dolled up all in white--in de stokehole. I tought she was a ghost. Sure. [A pause.] VOICES Gee, he's still nutty. Let him rave. It's fun listenin'. YANK Her hands--dey was skinny and white like dey wasn't real but painted on somep'n. Dere was a million miles from me to her--twenty-five knots a hour. She was like some dead ting de cat brung in. Sure, dat's what. She didn't belong. She belonged in de window of a toy store, or on de top of a garbage can, see! Sure! [He breaks out angrily.] [He rattles the bars of his cell furiously.] VOICES Dat's de talkin'! Take her for all she's got! What was this dame, anyway? Who was she, eh? YANK. VOICES. Sure. I seen his mug in de papers. He's filthy with dough. VOICE. YANK. VOICE. YANK. VOICE. [He is in the cell next to YANK's. There is a rustling of paper.] [He reads:] VOICE Aw hell! Tell him to salt de tail of dat eagle! VOICE "I refer to that devil's brew of rascals, jailbirds, murderers and cutthroats who libel all honest working men by calling themselves the Industrial Workers of the World; but in the light of their nefarious plots, I call them the Industrious WRECKERS of the World!" YANK Wreckers, dat's de right dope! Dat belongs! Me for dem! VOICE [Reading.] VOICE. [They do.] VOICE. [Reading:] [A perfect storm of hisses, catcalls, boos, and hard laughter.] VOICES Hurrah for de Fort' of July! Pass de hat! Liberty! Justice! Honor! Opportunity! Brotherhood! ALL [With abysmal scorn.] Aw, hell! VOICE Give that Queen Senator guy the bark! All togedder now--one--two--tree--[A terrific chorus of barking and yapping.] GUARD [From a distance.] Quiet there, youse--or I'll git the hose. [The noise subsides.] YANK [With growling rage.] I'd like to catch dat senator guy alone for a second. I'd loin him some trute! VOICE [Reads:] VOICE Hey, you guy. There's your ape stuff again. YANK I got him. So dey blow up tings, do dey? Dey turn tings round, do dey? Hey, lend me dat paper, will yuh? VOICE VOICE YANK Tanks. I can't read much but I kin manage. [He sits, the paper in the hand at his side, in the attitude of Rodin's "The Thinker." A pause. Several snores from down the corridor. Suddenly YANK jumps to his feet with a furious groan as if some appalling thought had crashed on him--bewilderedly.] Sure--her old man--president of de Steel Trust--makes half de steel in de world--steel--where I tought I belonged--drivin' trou--movin'--in dat--to make HER--and cage me in for her to spit on! Christ [He shakes the bars of his cell door till the whole tier trembles. Irritated, protesting exclamations from those awakened or trying to get to sleep.] He made dis--dis cage! Steel! IT don't belong, dat's what! Cages, cells, locks, bolts, bars--dat's what it means!--holdin' me down wit him at de top! But I'll drive trou! Fire, dat melts it! I'll be fire--under de heap--fire dat never goes out--hot as hell--breakin' out in de night--[While he has been saying this last he has shaken his cell door to a clanging accompaniment. As he comes to the "breakin' out" he seizes one bar with both hands and, putting his two feet up against the others so that his position is parallel to the floor like a monkey's, he gives a great wrench backwards. The bar bends like a licorice stick under his tremendous strength. Just at this moment the PRISON GUARD rushes in, dragging a hose behind him.] GUARD I'll loin youse bums to wake me up! [Sees YANK.] [Noticing the bar.] YANK Or a hairy ape, yuh big yellow bum! Look out! Here I come! [He grabs another bar.] GUARD Toin de hoose on, Ben!--full pressure! And call de others--and a strait jacket! [The curtain is falling. As it hides YANK from view, there is a [Curtain] _ |
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