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Anna Christie, a play by Eugene O'Neill |
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Act 2 |
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_ ACT II 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.
Anna! [Receiving no reply, he calls again, this time with apparent apprehension.] Anna! ANNA Yes, here I am. What d'you want? CHRIS Don't you come turn in, Anna? It's late--after four bells. ANNA [With a trace of strange exultation.] --[She hesitates, groping for a word.] CHRIS Fog's vorst one of her dirty tricks, py yingo! ANNA CHRIS 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.] [With a placating grin.] ANNA. CHRIS 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.] ANNA I love it! I don't give a rap if it never lifts! [CHRIS fidgets from one foot to the other It makes me feel clean--out here--'s if I'd taken a bath. CHRIS You better go in cabin--read book. Dat put you to sleep. ANNA. CHRIS You act funny to-night, Anna. ANNA 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.] [She points to the coil of rope.] CHRIS It's gatting pooty late in night, Anna. Must be near five bells. ANNA Five bells? What time is that? CHRIS. ANNA. CHRIS. ANNA. [Decidedly.] [She makes a sweeping gesture seaward.] CHRIS Ay've done dat many year, Anna, when Ay vas damn fool. ANNA Oh, rats! [After a pause she speaks musingly.] Was the men in our family always sailors--as far back as you know about? CHRIS 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.] [Defiantly.] ANNA. CHRIS. [With a certain pride.] [Then after hesitating a moment--shyly.] ANNA. CHRIS. ANNA. CHRIS Hard vork all time. It's rotten, Ay tal you, for go to sea. [Determined to disgust her with sea life--volubly.] ANNA Good sports, I'd call 'em. [Then hastily.] CHRIS 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.] [He relapses into an attitude of somber brooding.] ANNA Funny! I do feel sort of--nutty, to-night. I feel old. CHRIS Old? ANNA. [Frowning perplexedly.] CHRIS Anybody feel funny dat vay in fog. ANNA 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.] CHRIS Ay tank Ay'm damn fool for bring you on voyage, Anna. ANNA You talk--nutty to-night yourself. CHRIS. ANNA Then it'll be Gawd's will, like the preachers say-what does happen. CHRIS No! Dat ole davil, sea, she ain't God! [In the pause of silence that comes after his defiance a hail "Ahoy!" [CHRIS gives a startled exclamation.] ANNA What's that? CHRIS 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 Sound from dis side. She come in from open sea. [He holds his hands to his mouth, megaphone-fashion, and shouts back.] THE VOICE Heave a rope when we come alongside. [Then irritably.] CHRIS. [Then shouting out again.] Dis vay! THE VOICE. [There is a muffled sound of oars in oar-locks.] ANNA Why don't that guy stay where he belongs? CHRIS Ay go up bow. All hands asleep 'cepting fallar on vatch. [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 ANNA Sure--but who are they? What's the trouble? CHRIS. [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 [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 [Then lifting his head and looking about him.] [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 ANNA Here you are. Here's a drink for you. You need it, I guess. BURKE Is it dreaming I am? ANNA Drink it and you'll find it ain't no dream. BURKE. [He tosses it down.] [Looking up at her with frank, grinning admiration.] [He reaches out to feel of her arm.] ANNA Cut that. BURKE ANNA BURKE ANNA Never you mind. [Then half-amused in spite of herself.] BURKE [He laughs.] [Then, more seriously but still in a boastful tone, confidentially.] ANNA Gee, you hate yourself, don't you? [Then turning away from him indifferently.] BURKE 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 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 [He sits down weakly.] BURKE The hell I am! ANNA 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 Ladies! Ho-ho! Divil mend you! Let you not be making [As ANNA attempts to go to the cabin, he lurches into her path.] [Seeing the cold, hostile expression on ANNA's face, 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 Lads like you, eh? BURKE Ye take the words out o' my mouth. I'm the proper [With a quick movement he puts his arms about her waist.] Whisht, now, me daisy! Himself's in the cabin. It's wan [He presses her to him and attempts to kiss her.] ANNA 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 God stiffen it! [He opens his eyes and blinks up at her with vague wonder.] ANNA You're coming to all right, eh? BURKE 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.] ANNA [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. ANNA. BURKE Sure I might have known it, if I wasn't a bloody fool ANNA Say, nothing stops you, does it? [Then attempting a severe tone again.] BURKE Mush! [Then bending forward toward her with very intense earnestness.] Indade and I will ask your pardon a thousand [Resentful again for a second.] ANNA BURKE Leave off your fooling! 'Tis that is after getting my back up at you. [Earnestly.] [Ruefully.] [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.] [He holds out his hand to her shyly.] ANNA Sure. BURKE God bless you! [In his excitement he squeezes her hand tight.] ANNA. BURKE Your pardon, Miss. 'Tis a clumsy ape I am. [Then simply--glancing down his arm proudly.] ANNA Gee, you're some strong, all right. BURKE It's no lie, and why shouldn't I be, with me shoveling a [He pats the coil of hawser invitingly.] [He pulls at her sleeve shyly.] ANNA Well BURKE I'll tell you, surely. But can I be asking you one question. ANNA Well--I dunno--what is it? BURKE. ANNA No--of course I ain't. [She searches his face suspiciously, afraid there may Well, I'll tell you. I'm a governess, see? BURKE A governess, is it? You must be smart, surely. ANNA. BURKE '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.] [He glances at her anxiously, eager for her approval.] ANNA You did some hard work, didn't you? BURKE 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 Then all the others was drowned? BURKE ANNA What a terrible end! BURKE 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 Yes, clean. That's yust the word for--all of it--the way it makes me feel. BURKE. [Interestedly.] ANNA. BURKE 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 ANNA There you go kiddin' again. BURKE Yes, thank God, though I've not seen a sight of it in fifteen years or more. ANNA Sailors never do go home hardly, do they? That's what my father was saying. BURKE. ANNA I think--I guess I'd better see what's doing inside. BURKE 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 I'm not sore at you, honest. BURKE God bless you! ANNA But if you honestly think the sea's such a rotten BURKE Work on land, is it? [She nods. He spits scornfully.] [Vehemently.] ANNA I thought you'd say that. BURKE 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 Why, sure. Why not? BURKE Then you think a girl the like of yourself might maybe not ANNA Why, sure. BURKE 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 All you got to do is find the girl. BURKE. ANNA You have? When? I thought you was saying-- BURKE This night. [Hanging his head--humbly.] [Then raising his eyes to hers--simply.] ANNA Say--are you--going crazy? Are you trying to kid me? [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 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. [He comes toward them, raging, his fists clenched.] ANNA Who d'you think you're talking to--a slave? CHRIS You need gat rest, Anna. You gat sleep. [She does not move. He turns on BURKE furiously.] [Threateningly.] ANNA But he is sick. Look at him. He can hardly stand up. BURKE 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.] ANNA Come on in the cabin. You can have my bed if there ain't no other place. BURKE 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 Sssh! Sssh! BURKE. ANNA 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 Dat's your dirty trick, damn ole davil, you! [Then in a frenzy of rage.]
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