All de engineers is yellow. Dey got streaks a mile wide. Aw, to h.e.l.l wit him! Let's move, youse guys. We had a rest. Come on, she needs it!

Give her pep! It ain't for him. Him and his whistle, dey don't belong.

But we belong, see! We gotter feed de baby! Come on! [_He turns and flings his furnace door open. They all follow his lead. At this instant the Second and Fourth Engineers enter from the darkness on the left with Mildred between them. She starts, turns paler, her pose is crumbling, she shivers with fright in spite of the blazing heat, but forces herself to leave the Engineers and take a few steps nearer the men. She is right behind Yank. All this happens quickly while the men have their backs turned._]

YANK--Come on, youse guys! [_He is turning to get coal when the whistle sounds again in a peremptory, irritating note. This drives Yank into a sudden fury. While the other men have turned full around and stopped dumfounded by the spectacle of Mildred standing there in her white dress, Yank does not turn far enough to see her. Besides, his head is thrown back, he blinks upward through the murk trying to find the owner of the whistle, he brandishes his shovel murderously over his head in one hand, pounding on his chest, gorilla-like, with the other, shouting:_] Toin off dat whistle! Come down outa dere, yuh yellow, bra.s.s-b.u.t.toned, Belfast b.u.m, yuh! Come down and I'll knock yer brains out! Yuh lousey, stinkin', yellow mut of a Catholic-moiderin' b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

Come down and I'll moider yuh! Pullin' dat whistle on me, huh? I'll show yuh! I'll crash yer skull in! I'll drive yer teet' down yer troat!

I'll slam yer nose trou de back of yer head! I'll cut yer guts out for a nickel, yuh lousey b.o.o.b, yuh dirty, crummy, muck-eatin' son of a--

[_Suddenly he becomes conscious of all the other men staring at something directly behind his back. He whirls defensively with a snarling, murderous growl, crouching to spring, his lips drawn back o'ver his teeth, his small eyes gleaming ferociously. He sees Mildred, like a white apparition in the full light from the open furnace doors.

He glares into her eyes, turned to stone. As for her, during his speech she has listened, paralyzed with horror, terror, her whole personality crushed, beaten in, collapsed, by the terrific impact of this unknown, abysmal brutality, naked and shameless. As she looks at his gorilla face, as his eyes bore into hers, she utters a low, choking cry and shrinks away from him, putting both hands up before her eyes to shut out the sight of his face, to protect her own. This startles Yank to a reaction. His mouth falls open, his eyes grow bewildered._]

MILDRED--[_About to faint--to the Engineers, who now have her one by each arm--whimperingly._] Take me away! Oh, the filthy beast! [_She faints. They carry her quickly back, disappearing in the darkness at the left, rear. An iron door clangs shut. Rage and bewildered fury rush back on Yank. He feels himself insulted in some unknown fashion in the very heart of his pride. He roars:_] G.o.d d.a.m.n yuh! [_And hurls his shovel after them at the door which has just closed. It hits the steel bulkhead with a clang and falls clattering on the steel floor. From overhead the whistle sounds again in a long, angry, insistent command._]

[_Curtain_]

SCENE IV

SCENE--The firemen's forecastle. Yank's watch has just come off duty and had dinner. Their faces and bodies shine from a soap and water scrubbing but around their eyes, where a hasty dousing does not touch, the coal dust sticks like black make-up, giving them a queer, sinister expression. Yank has not washed either face or body. He stands out in contrast to them, a blackened, brooding figure. He is seated forward on a bench in the exact att.i.tude of Rodin's "The Thinker." The others, most of them smoking pipes, are staring at Yank half-apprehensively, as if fearing an outburst; half-amusedly, as if they saw a joke somewhere that tickled them.

VOICES--He ain't ate nothin'.

Py golly, a fallar gat gat grub in him.

Divil a lie.

Yank feeda da fire, no feeda da face.

Ha-ha.

He ain't even washed hisself.

He's forgot.

Hey, Yank, you forgot to wash.

YANK--[_Sullenly._] Forgot nothin'! To h.e.l.l wit washin'.

VOICES--It'll stick to you. It'll get under your skin. Give yer the bleedin' itch, that's wot. It makes spots on you--like a leopard. Like a piebald n.i.g.g.e.r, you mean. Better wash up, Yank. You sleep better.

Wash up, Yank. Wash up! Wash up!

YANK--[_Resentfully._] Aw say, youse guys. Lemme alone. Can't youse see I'm tryin' to tink?

ALL--[_Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery._]

Think! [_The word has a brazen, metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter._]

YANK--[_Springing to his feet and glaring at them belligerently._] Yes, tink! Tink, dat's what I said! What about it? [_They are silent, puzzled by his sudden resentment at what used to be one of his jokes.

Yank sits down again in the same att.i.tude of "The Thinker."_]

VOICES--Leave him alone.

He's got a grouch on.

Why wouldn't he?

PADDY--[_With a wink at the others._] Sure I know what's the matther.

'Tis aisy to see. He's fallen in love, I'm telling you.

ALL--[_Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery._]

Love! [_The word has a brazen, metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter._]

YANK--[_With a contemptuous snort._] Love, h.e.l.l! Hate, dat's what. I've fallen in hate, get me?

PADDY--[_Philosophically_] 'Twould take a wise man to tell one from the other. [_With a bitter, ironical scorn, increasing as he goes on._] But I'm telling you it's love that's in it. Sure what else but love for us poor bastes in the stokehole would be bringing a fine lady, dressed like a white quane, down a mile of ladders and steps to be havin' a look at us? [_A growl of anger goes up from all sides._]

LONG--[_Jumping on a bench--hecticly_] Hinsultin' us! Hinsultin' us, the b.l.o.o.d.y cow! And them b.l.o.o.d.y engineers! What right 'as they got to be exhibitin' us 's if we was bleedin' monkeys in a menagerie? Did we sign for hinsults to our dignity as 'onest workers? Is that in the ship's articles? You kin b.l.o.o.d.y well bet it ain't! But I knows why they done it. I arsked a deck steward 'o she was and 'e told me. 'Er old man's a bleedin' millionaire, a b.l.o.o.d.y Capitalist! 'E's got enuf b.l.o.o.d.y gold to sink this bleedin' ship! 'E makes arf the b.l.o.o.d.y steel in the world! 'E owns this b.l.o.o.d.y boat! And you and me, comrades, we're 'is slaves! And the skipper and mates and engineers, they're 'is slaves!

And she's 'is b.l.o.o.d.y daughter and we're all 'er slaves, too! And she gives 'er orders as 'ow she wants to see the b.l.o.o.d.y animals below decks and down they takes 'er! [_There is a roar of rage from all sides._]

YANK--[_Blinking at him bewilderedly._] Say! Wait a moment! Is all dat straight goods?

LONG--Straight as string! The bleedin' steward as waits on 'em, 'e told me about 'er. And what're we goin' ter do, I arsks yer? 'Ave we got ter swaller 'er hinsults like dogs? It ain't in the ship's articles. I tell yer we got a case. We kin go ter law--

YANK--[_With abysmal contempt._] h.e.l.l! Law!

ALL--[_Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery._] Law!

[_The word has a brazen metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter._]

LONG--[_Feeling the ground slipping from under his feet--desperately._]

As voters and citizens we kin force the b.l.o.o.d.y governments--

YANK--[_With abysmal contempt._] h.e.l.l! Governments!

ALL--[_Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery._]

Governments! [_The word has a brazen metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter._]

LONG--[_Hysterically._] We're free and equal in the sight of G.o.d--

YANK--[_With abysmal contempt._] h.e.l.l! G.o.d!

ALL--[_Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery._] G.o.d!

[_The word has a brazen metallic quality as if their throats were phonograph horns. It is followed by a chorus of hard, barking laughter._]

YANK--[_Witheringly._] Aw, join de Salvation Army!

ALL--Sit down! Shut up! d.a.m.n fool! Sea-lawyer! [_Long slinks back out of sight._]

PADDY--[_Continuing the trend of his thoughts as if he had never been interrupted--bitterly._] And there she was standing behind us, and the Second pointing at us like a man you'd hear in a circus would be saying: In this cage is a queerer kind of baboon than ever you'd find in darkest Africy. We roast them in their own sweat--and be d.a.m.ned if you won't hear some of thim saying they like it! [_He glances scornfully at Yank._]