Part 2
MILDRED--[_Protesting with a trace of genuine earnestness._] Please do not mock at my attempts to discover how the other half lives. Give me credit for some sort of groping sincerity in that at least. I would like to help them. I would like to be some use in the world. Is it my fault I don't know how? I would like to be sincere, to touch life somewhere. [_With weary bitterness._] But I'm afraid I have neither the vitality nor integrity. All that was burnt out in our stock before I was born. Grandfather's blast furnaces, flaming to the sky, melting steel, making millions--then father keeping those home fires burning, making more millions--and little me at the tail-end of it all. I'm a waste product in the Bessemer process--like the millions. Or rather, I inherit the acquired trait of the by-product, wealth, but none of the energy, none of the strength of the steel that made it. I am sired by gold and darned by it, as they say at the race track--damned in more ways than one, [_She laughs mirthlessly_].
AUNT--[_Unimpressed--superciliously._] You seem to be going in for sincerity to-day. It isn't becoming to you, really--except as an obvious pose. Be as artificial as you are, I advise. There's a sort of sincerity in that, you know. And, after all, you must confess you like that better.
MILDRED--[_Again affected and bored._] Yes, I suppose I do. Pardon me for my outburst. When a leopard complains of its spots, it must sound rather grotesque. [_In a mocking tone._] Purr, little leopard. Purr, scratch, tear, kill, gorge yourself and be happy--only stay in the jungle where your spots are camouflage. In a cage they make you conspicuous.
AUNT--I don't know what you are talking about.
MILDRED--It would be rude to talk about anything to you. Let's just talk. [_She looks at her wrist watch._] Well, thank goodness, it's about time for them to come for me. That ought to give me a new thrill, Aunt.
AUNT--[_Affectedly troubled._] You don't mean to say you're really going? The dirt--the heat must be frightful--
MILDRED--Grandfather started as a puddler. I should have inherited an immunity to heat that would make a salamander shiver. It will be fun to put it to the test.
AUNT--But don't you have to have the captain's--or someone's--permission to visit the stokehole?
MILDRED--[_With a triumphant smile._] I have it--both his and the chief engineer's. Oh, they didn't want to at first, in spite of my social service credentials. They didn't seem a bit anxious that I should investigate how the other half lives and works on a ship. So I had to tell them that my father, the president of Nazareth Steel, chairman of the board of directors of this line, had told me it would be all right.
AUNT--He didn't.
MILDRED--How naive age makes one! But I said he did, Aunt. I even said he had given me a letter to them--which I had lost. And they were afraid to take the chance that I might be lying. [_Excitedly._] So it's ho! for the stokehole. The second engineer is to escort me. [_Looking at her watch again._] It's time. And here he comes, I think. [_The SECOND ENGINEER enters, He is a husky, fine-looking man of thirty-five or so. He stops before the two and tips his cap, visibly embarrassed and ill-at-ease._]
SECOND ENGINEER--Miss Douglas?
MILDRED--Yes. [_Throwing off her rugs and getting to her feet._] Are we all ready to start?
SECOND ENGINEER--In just a second, ma'am. I'm waiting for the Fourth. He's coming along.
MILDRED--[_With a scornful smile._] You don't care to shoulder this responsibility alone, is that it?
SECOND ENGINEER--[_Forcing a smile._] Two are better than one. [_Disturbed by her eyes, glances out to sea--blurts out._] A fine day we're having.
MILDRED--Is it?
SECOND ENGINEER--A nice warm breeze--
MILDRED--It feels cold to me.
SECOND ENGINEER--But it's hot enough in the sun--
MILDRED--Not hot enough for me. I don't like Nature. I was never athletic.
SECOND ENGINEER--[_Forcing a smile._] Well, you'll find it hot enough where you're going.
MILDRED--Do you mean hell?
SECOND ENGINEER--[_Flabbergasted, decides to laugh._] Ho-ho! No, I mean the stokehole.
MILDRED--My grandfather was a puddler. He played with boiling steel.
SECOND ENGINEER--[_All at sea--uneasily._] Is that so? Hum, you'll excuse me, ma'am, but are you intending to wear that dress.
MILDRED--Why not?
SECOND ENGINEER--You'll likely rub against oil and dirt. It can't be helped.
MILDRED--It doesn't matter. I have lots of white dresses.
SECOND ENGINEER--I have an old coat you might throw over--
MILDRED--I have fifty dresses like this. I will throw this one into the sea when I come back. That ought to wash it clean, don't you think?
SECOND ENGINEER--[_Doggedly._] There's ladders to climb down that are none too clean--and dark alleyways--
MILDRED--I will wear this very dress and none other.
SECOND ENGINEER--No offence meant. It's none of my business. I was only warning you--
MILDRED--Warning? That sounds thrilling.
SECOND ENGINEER--[_Looking down the deck--with a sigh of relief._]--There's the Fourth now. He's waiting for us. If you'll come--
MILDRED--Go on. I'll follow you. [_He goes. Mildred turns a mocking smile on her aunt._] An oaf--but a handsome, virile oaf.
AUNT--[_Scornfully._] Poser!
MILDRED--Take care. He said there were dark alleyways--
AUNT--[_In the same tone._] Poser!
MILDRED--[_Biting her lips angrily._] You are right. But would that my millions were not so anemically chaste!
AUNT--Yes, for a fresh pose I have no doubt you would drag the name of Douglas in the gutter!
MILDRED--From which it sprang. Good-by, Aunt. Don't pray too hard that I may fall into the fiery furnace.
AUNT--Poser!
MILDRED--[_Viciously._] Old hag! [_She slaps her aunt insultingly across the face and walks off, laughing gaily._]
AUNT--[_Screams after her._] I said poser!
[_Curtain_]
## SCENE III
SCENE--The stokehole. In the rear, the dimly-outlined bulks of the furnaces and boilers. High overhead one hanging electric bulb sheds just enough light through the murky air laden with coal dust to pile up masses of shadows everywhere. A line of men, stripped to the waist, is before the furnace doors. They bend over, looking neither to right nor left, handling their shovels as if they were part of their bodies, with a strange, awkward, swinging rhythm. They use the shovels to throw open the furnace doors. Then from these fiery round holes in the black a flood of terrific light and heat pours full upon the men who are outlined in silhouette in the crouching, inhuman attitudes of chained gorillas. The men shovel with a rhythmic motion, swinging as on a pivot from the coal which lies in heaps on the floor behind to hurl it into the flaming mouths before them. There is a tumult of noise--the brazen clang of the furnace doors as they are flung open or slammed shut, the grating, teeth-gritting grind of steel against steel, of crunching coal. This clash of sounds stuns one's ears with its rending dissonance. But there is order in it, rhythm, a mechanical regulated recurrence, a tempo. And rising above all, making the air hum with the quiver of liberated energy, the roar of leaping flames in the furnaces, the monotonous throbbing beat of the engines.
As the curtain rises, the furnace doors are shut. The men are taking a breathing spell. One or two are arranging the coal behind them, pulling it into more accessible heaps. The others can be dimly made out leaning on their shovels in relaxed attitudes of exhaustion.
PADDY--[_From somewhere in the line--plaintively._] Yerra, will this divil's own watch nivir end? Me back is broke. I'm destroyed entirely.
YANK--[_From the center of the line--with exuberant scorn._] Aw, yuh make me sick! Lie down and croak, why don't yuh? Always beefin', dat's you! Say, dis is a cinch! Dis was made for me! It's my meat, get me! [_A whistle is blown--a thin, shrill note from somewhere overhead in the darkness. Yank curses without resentment._] Dere's de damn engineer crakin' de whip. He tinks we're loafin'.
PADDY--[_Vindictively._] God stiffen him!
YANK--[_In an exultant tone of command._] Come on, youse guys! Git into de game! She's gittin' hungry! Pile some grub in her! Trow it into her belly! Come on now, all of youse! Open her up! [_At this last all the men, who have followed his movements of getting into position, throw open their furnace doors with a deafening clang. The fiery light floods over their shoulders as they bend round for the coal. Rivulets of sooty sweat have traced maps on their backs. The enlarged muscles form bunches of high light and shadow._]
YANK--[_Chanting a count as he shovels without seeming effort._] One--two--tree--[_His voice rising exultantly in the joy of battle._] Dat's de stuff! Let her have it! All togedder now! Sling it into her! Let her ride! Shoot de piece now! Call de toin on her! Drive her into it! Feel her move! Watch her smoke! Speed, dat's her middle name! Give her coal, youse guys! Coal, dat's her booze! Drink it up, baby! Let's see yuh sprint! Dig in and gain a lap! Dere she go-o-es [_This last in the chanting formula of the gallery gods at the six-day bike race. He slams his furnace door shut. The others do likewise with as much unison as their wearied bodies will permit. The effect is of one fiery eye after another being blotted out with a series of accompanying bangs._]
PADDY--[_Groaning._] Me back is broke. I'm bate out--bate--[_There is a pause. Then the inexorable whistle sounds again from the dim regions above the electric light. There is a growl of cursing rage from all sides._]
YANK--[_Shaking his fist upward--contemptuously._] Take it easy dere, you! Who d'yuh tinks runnin' dis game, me or you? When I git ready, we move. Not before! When I git ready, get me!
VOICES--[_Approvingly._] That's the stuff!
Yank tal him, py golly!
Yank ain't affeerd.
Goot poy, Yank!
Give him hell!
Tell 'im 'e's a bloody swine!
Bloody slave-driver!
YANK--[_Contemptuously._] He ain't got no noive. He's yellow, get me? All de engineers is yellow. Dey got streaks a mile wide. Aw, to hell 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, brass-buttoned, Belfast bum, yuh! Come down and I'll knock yer brains out! Yuh lousey, stinkin', yellow mut of a Catholic-moiderin' bastard! 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 boob, 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:_] God damn 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 attitude 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 hell 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 nigger, 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 attitude 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, hell! 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 bloody cow! And them bloody 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 bloody 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 bloody Capitalist! 'E's got enuf bloody gold to sink this bleedin' ship! 'E makes arf the bloody steel in the world! 'E owns this bloody 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 bloody daughter and we're all 'er slaves, too! And she gives 'er orders as 'ow she wants to see the bloody 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._] Hell! 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 bloody governments--
YANK--[_With abysmal contempt._] Hell! 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 God--
YANK--[_With abysmal contempt._] Hell! God!
ALL--[_Repeating the word after him as one with cynical mockery._] God! [_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! Damn 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 damned if you won't hear some of thim saying they like it! [_He glances scornfully at Yank._]
YANK--[_With a bewildered uncertain growl._] Aw!
PADDY--And there was Yank roarin' curses and turning round wid his shovel to brain her--and she looked at him, and him at her--
YANK--[_Slowly._] She was all white. I tought she was a ghost. Sure.
PADDY--[_With heavy, biting sarcasm._] 'Twas love at first sight, divil a doubt of it! If you'd seen the endearin' look on her pale mug when she shrivelled away with her hands over her eyes to shut out the sight of him! Sure, 'twas as if she'd seen a great hairy ape escaped from the Zoo!
YANK--[_Stung--with a growl of rage._] Aw!
PADDY--And the loving way Yank heaved his shovel at the skull of her, only she was out the door! [_A grin breaking over his face._] 'Twas touching, I'm telling you! It put the touch of home, swate home in the stokehole. [_There is a roar of laughter from all._]
YANK--[_Glaring at Paddy menacingly._] Aw, choke dat off, see!
PADDY--[_Not heeding him--to the others._] And her grabbin' at the Second's arm for protection. [_With a grotesque imitation of a woman's voice._] Kiss me, Engineer dear, for it's dark down here and me old man's in Wall Street making money! Hug me tight, darlin', for I'm afeerd in the dark and me mother's on deck makin' eyes at the skipper! [_Another roar of laughter._]
YANK--[_Threateningly._] Say! What yuh tryin' to do, kid me, yuh old Harp?
PADDY--Divil a bit! Ain't I wishin' myself you'd brained her?
YANK--[_Fiercely._] I'll brain her! I'll brain her yet, wait 'n' see! [_Coming over to Paddy--slowly._] Say, is dat what she called me--a hairy ape?
PADDY--She looked it at you if she didn't say the word itself.
YANK--[_Grinning horribly._] Hairy ape, huh? Sure! Dat's de way she looked at me, aw right. Hairy ape! So dat's me, huh? [_Bursting into rage--as if she were still in front of him._] Yuh skinny tart! Yuh white-faced bum, yuh! I'll show yuh who's a ape! [_Turning to the others, bewilderment seizing him again._] Say, youse guys. I was bawlin' him out for pullin' de whistle on us. You heard me. And den I seen youse lookin' at somep'n and I tought he'd sneaked down to come up in back of me, and I hopped round to knock him dead wit de shovel. And dere she was wit de light on her! Christ, yuh coulda pushed me over with a finger! I was scared, get me? Sure! I tought she was a ghost, see? She was all in white like dey wrap around stiffs. You seen her. Kin yuh blame me? She didn't belong, dat's what. And den when I come to and seen it was a real skoit and seen de way she was lookin' at me--like Paddy said--Christ, I was sore, get me? I don't stand for dat stuff from nobody. And I flung de shovel--on'y she'd beat it. [_Furiously._] I wished it'd banged her! I wished it'd knocked her block off!
LONG--And be 'anged for murder or 'lectrocuted? She ain't bleedin' well worth it.
YANK--I don't give a damn what! I'd be square wit her, wouldn't I? Tink I wanter let her put somep'n over on me? Tink I'm goin' to let her git away wit dat stuff? Yuh don't know me! Noone ain't never put nothin' over on me and got away wit it, see!--not dat kind of stuff--no guy and no skoit neither! I'll fix her! Maybe she'll come down again--
VOICE--No chance, Yank. You scared her out of a year's growth.