Anna Christie Part 4

ANNA--[Pleased.] I'm glad to hear it. Then you think's he'll stake me to that rest cure I'm after?

MARTHY--[Emphatically.] Surest thing you know. [Disgustedly.] But where'd yuh get the idea he was a janitor?

ANNA--He wrote me he was himself.

MARTHY--Well, he was lyin'. He ain't. He's captain of a barge--five men under him.

ANNA--[Disgusted in her turn.] A barge? What kind of a barge?

MARTHY--Coal, mostly.

ANNA--A coal barge! [With a harsh laugh.] If that ain't a swell job to find your long lost Old Man working at! Gee, I knew something'd be bound to turn out wrong--always does with me. That puts my idea of his giving me a rest on the b.u.m.

MARTHY--What d'yuh mean?

ANNA--I s'pose he lives on the boat, don't he?

MARTHY--Sure. What about it? Can't you live on it, too?

ANNA--[Scornfully.] Me? On a dirty coal barge! What d'you think I am?

MARTHY--[Resentfully.] What d'yuh know about barges, huh? Bet yuh ain't never seen one. That's what comes of his bringing yuh up inland--away from the old devil sea--where yuh'd be safe--Gawd! [The irony of it strikes her sense of humor and she laughs hoa.r.s.ely.]

ANNA--[Angrily.] His bringing me up! Is that what he tells people! I like his nerve! He let them cousins of my Old Woman's keep me on their farm and work me to death like a dog.

MARTHY--Well, he's got queer notions on some things. I've heard him say a farm was the best place for a kid.

ANNA--Sure. That's what he'd always answer back--and a lot of crazy stuff about staying away from the sea--stuff I couldn't make head or tail to. I thought he must be nutty.

MARTHY--He is on that one point. [Casually.] So yuh didn't fall for life on the farm, huh?

ANNA--I should say not! The old man of the family, his wife, and four sons--I had to slave for all of 'em. I was only a poor relation, and they treated me worse than they dare treat a hired girl. [After a moment's hesitation--somberly.] It was one of the sons--the youngest--started me--when I was sixteen. After that, I hated 'em so I'd killed 'em all if I'd stayed. So I run away--to St. Paul.

MARTHY--[Who has been listening sympathetically.] I've heard Old Chris talkin' about your bein' a nurse girl out there. Was that all a bluff yuh put up when yuh wrote him?

ANNA--Not on your life, it wasn't. It was true for two years. I didn't go wrong all at one jump. Being a nurse girl was yust what finished me.

Taking care of other people's kids, always listening to their bawling and crying, caged in, when you're only a kid yourself and want to go out and see things. At last I got the chance--to get into that house.

And you bet your life I took it! [Defiantly.] And I ain't sorry neither. [After a pause--with bitter hatred.] It was all men's fault--the whole business. It was men on the farm ordering and beating me--and giving me the wrong start. Then when I was a nurse, it was men again hanging around, bothering me, trying to see what they could get.

[She gives a hard laugh.] And now it's men all the time. Gawd, I hate 'em all, every mother's son of 'em! Don't you?

MARTHY--Oh, I dunno. There's good ones and bad ones, kid. You've just had a run of bad luck with 'em, that's all. Your Old Man, now--old Chris--he's a good one.

ANNA--[Sceptically.] He'll have to show me.

MARTHY--Yuh kept right on writing him yuh was a nurse girl still, even after yuh was in the house, didn't yuh?

ANNA--Sure. [Cynically.] Not that I think he'd care a darn.

MARTHY--Yuh're all wrong about him, kid, [Earnestly.] I know Old Chris well for a long time. He's talked to me 'bout you lots o' times. He thinks the world o' you, honest he does.

ANNA--Aw, quit the kiddin'!

MARTHY--Honest! Only, he's a simple old guy, see? He's got nutty notions. But he means well, honest. Listen to me, kid--[She is interrupted by the opening and shutting of the street door in the bar and by hearing CHRIS' voice.] Ssshh!

ANNA--What's up?

CHRIS--[Who has entered the bar. He seems considerably sobered up.] Py golly, Larry, dat grub taste good. Marthy in back?

LARRY--Sure--and another tramp with her. [CHRIS starts for the entrance to the back room.]

MARTHY--[To ANNA in a hurried, nervous whisper.] That's him now. He's comin' in here. Brace up!

ANNA--Who? [Chris opens the door.]

MARTHY--[As if she were greeting him for the first time]. Why h.e.l.lo, Old Chris. [Then before he can speak, she shuffles hurriedly past him into the bar, beckoning him to follow her.] Come here. I wanta tell yuh somethin'. [He goes out to her. She speaks hurriedly in a low voice.]

Listen! I'm goin' to beat it down to the barge--pack up me duds and blow. That's her in there--your Anna--just come--waitin' for yuh. Treat her right, see? She's been sick. Well, s'long! [She goes into the back room--to ANNA.] S'long, kid. I gotta beat it now. See yuh later.

ANNA--[Nervously.] So long. [MARTHY goes quickly out of the family entrance.] LARRY--[Looking at the stupefied CHRIS curiously.] Well, what's up now?

CHRIS--[Vaguely.] Nutting--nutting. [He stands before the door to the back room in an agony of embarra.s.sed emotion--then he forces himself to a bold decision, pushes open the door and walks in. He stands there, casts a shy glance at ANNA, whose brilliant clothes, and, to him, high-toned appearance awe him terribly. He looks about him with pitiful nervousness as if to avoid the appraising look with which she takes in his face, his clothes, etc--his voice seeming to plead for her forbearance.] Anna!

ANNA--[Acutely embarra.s.sed in her turn.] h.e.l.lo--father. She told me it was you. I yust got here a little while ago.

CHRIS--[Goes slowly over to her chair.] It's good--for see you--after all dem years, Anna. [He bends down over her. After an embarra.s.sed struggle they manage to kiss each other.]

ANNA--[A trace of genuine feeling in her voice.] It's good to see you, too.

CHRIS--[Grasps her arms and looks into her face--then overcome by a wave of fierce tenderness.] Anna lilla! Anna lilla! [Takes her in his arms.]

ANNA--[Shrinks away from him, half-frightened.] What's that--Swedish? I don't know it. [Then as if seeking relief from the tension in a voluble chatter.] Gee, I had an awful trip coming here. I'm all in. I had to sit up in the dirty coach all night--couldn't get no sleep, hardly--and then I had a hard job finding this place. I never been in New York before, you know, and--

CHRIS--[Who has been staring down at her face admiringly, not hearing what she says--impulsively.] You know you vas awful pooty gel, Anna? Ay bet all men see you fall in love with you, py yiminy!

ANNA--[Repelled--harshly.] Cut it! You talk same as they all do.

CHRIS--[Hurt--humbly.] Ain't no harm for your fader talk dat vay, Anna.

ANNA--[Forcing a short laugh.] No--course not. Only--it's funny to see you and not remember nothing. You're like--a stranger.

CHRIS--[Sadly.] Ay s'pose. Ay never come home only few times ven you vas kit in Sveden. You don't remember dat?

ANNA--No. [Resentfully.] But why didn't you never come home them days?

Why didn't you never come out West to see me?

CHRIS--[Slowly.] Ay tank, after your mo'der die, ven Ay vas avay on voyage, it's better for you you don't never see me! [He sinks down in the chair opposite her dejectedly--then turns to her--sadly.] Ay don't know, Anna, vhy Ay never come home Sveden in ole year. Ay vant come home end of every voyage. Ay vant see your mo'der, your two bro'der before dey vas drowned, you ven you vas born--but--Ay--don't go. Ay sign on oder ships--go South America, go Australia, go China, go every port all over world many times--but Ay never go aboard ship sail for Sveden. Ven Ay gat money for pay pa.s.sage home as pa.s.senger den--[He bows his head guiltily.] Ay forgat and Ay spend all money. Ven Ay tank again, it's too late. [He sighs.] Ay don't know vhy but dat's vay with most sailor fallar, Anna. Dat ole davil sea make dem crazy fools with her dirty tricks. It's so.

ANNA--[Who has watched him keenly while he has been speaking--with a trace of scorn in her voice.] Then you think the sea's to blame for everything, eh? Well, you're still workin' on it, ain't you, spite of all you used to write me about hating it. That dame was here told me you was captain of a coal barge--and you wrote me you was yanitor of a building!