Anna Christie
Eugene O'Neill
ACT IV Page 1
SCENE--Same as Act Three, about nine o'clock of a foggy night two days later. The whistles of steamers in the harbor can be heard. The cabin is lighted by a small lamp on the table. A suitcase stands in the middle of the floor. ANNA is sitting in the rocking- chair. She wears a hat, is all dressed up as in Act One. Her face is pale, looks terribly tired and worn, as if the two days just past had been ones of suffering and sleepless nights. She stares before her despondently, her chin in her hands. is a timid knock on the door in rear. ANNA jumps to her feet a startled exclamation and looks toward the door with an expression of mingled hope and fear.
ANNA--(Faintly.) Come in. (Then summoning her courage--more resolutely.) Come in. (The door is opened and CHRIS appears in the doorway. He is in a very bleary, bedraggled condition, suffering from the after effects of his drunk. A tin pail full of foaming beer is in his hand. He comes forward, his eyes avoiding ANNA'S. He mutters stupidly.) It's foggy.
ANNA--(Looking him over with contempt.) So you come back at last, did you? You're a fine looking sight! (Then jeeringly.) I thought you'd beaten it for good on account of the disgrace I'd brought on you.
CHRIS--(Wincing-faintly.) Don't say dat, Anna, please! (He sits in a chair by the table, setting down the can of beer, holding his head in his hands)
ANNA--Well, what d'you expect after being soused for two days? (Resentfully.) It serves you right. A fine thing--you leaving me alone on this barge all that time!
CHRIS--(Humbly.) Ay'm sorry, Anna.
ANNA--(Scornfully) Sorry!
CHRIS--But Ay'm not sick inside head vay you mean. Ay'm sick from tank too much about you, about me.
ANNA--And how about me? D'you suppose I ain't been thinking, too?
CHRIS--Ay'm sorry, Anna. (He sees her bag and gives a start) You pack your bag, Anna? You vas going--?
CHRIS--Anna!
ANNA--I went ashore to get a train for New York. I'd been waiting and waiting 'till I was sick of it. Then I changed my mind and decided not to go to-day. But I'm going first thing to-morrow, so it'll all be the same in the end.
CHRIS--(Raising his head--pleadingly) No, you never do dat, Anna!
ANNA--(With a sneer.) Why not, I'd like to know?
CHRIS--You don't never gat to do--dat vay--no more, Ay tal you. Ay fix dat up all right.
ANNA--(Suspiciously.) Fix what up?
CHRIS--(Not seeming to have heard her question--sadly.) You vas vaiting, you say? You vasn't vaiting for me, Ay bet.
ANNA--(Callously.) You'd win.
CHRIS--For dat Irish fallar?
ANNA--(Defiantly.) Yes--if you want to know! (Then with a forlorn laugh.) If he did come back it'd only because he wanted to beat me up or kill me, I suppose. But even if he did, I'd rather have him come than not show up at all. I wouldn't care what he did.
CHRIS--Ay guess it's true you vas in love with him all right.
ANNA--You guess!
CHRIS--(Turning to her earnestly.) And Ay'm sorry for you like hell he don't come, Anna!
ANNA--(Softened.) Seems to me you've changed your tune a lot.
CHRIS--Ay've been tanking, and Ay guess it vas all my fault--all bad tangs dat happen to you. (Pleadingly.) You try for not hate me, Anna. Ay'm crazy ole fool, dat's all.
ANNA--Who said I hated you?
CHRIS--Ay'm sorry for everytang Ay do wrong for you, Anna. Ay vant for you be happy all rest of your life for make up! It make you happy marry dat Irish fallar, Ay vant it, too.
ANNA--(Dully.)--Well, there ain't no chance. But I'm glad you think different about it, anyway.
CHRIS--(Supplicatingly.) And you tank--maybe--you forgive me sometime?
ANNA--(With a wan smile.) I'll forgive you right now.
ANNA--(Touched but a bit embarrassed.) Don't bawl about it. There ain't nothing to forgive, anyway. It ain't your fault, and it ain't mine, and it ain't his neither. We're all poor nuts, and things happen, and we yust get mixed in wrong, that's all.
CHRIS--(Eagerly.) You say right tang, Anna, py golly! It ain't nobody's fault! (Shaking his fist.) It's dat ole davil, sea!
ANNA--(With an exasperated laugh.) Gee, won't you ever can that stuff? (CHRIS relapses into injured silence. After a pause ANNA continues curiously.) You said a minute ago you'd fixed something up--about me. What was it?
CHRIS--(After a hesitating pause.) Ay'm shipping avay on sea again, Anna.
ANNA--(Astounded.) You're--what?
CHRIS--Ay sign on steamer sail to-morrow. Ay gat my ole yob-- bo'sun. (ANNA stares at him. As he goes on, a bitter smile comes over her face.) Ay tank dat's best tang for you. Ay only bring you bad luck, Ay tank. Ay make your mo'der's life sorry. Ay don't vant make yours dat way, but Ay do yust same. Dat ole davil, sea, she make me Yonah man ain't no good for nobody. And Ay tank now it ain't no use fight sea. No man dat live going to beat her, py yingo!
ANNA--(a laugh of helpless bitterness.) So that's how you've fixed me, is it?
CHRIS--Yes, Ay tank if dat ole davil gat me back she leave you alone den.
ANNA--(Bitterly.) But, for Gawd's sake, don't you see, you're doing the same thing you've always done? Don't you see--? (But she sees the look of obsessed stubbornness on her father's face and gives it up helplessly.) But what's the use of talking. You ain't right, that's what. I'll never blame you for nothing no more. But you could figure out that was fixing me--!
CHRIS--Dat ain't all. Ay gat dem fallars in steam-ship office to pay you all money coming to me every month vhile Ay'm avay.
CHRIS--(Hurt--humbly.) It ain't much, Ay know, but it's plenty for keep you so you never gat go.
ANNA--(Shortly.) Shut up, will you? We'll talk about it later, see?
CHRIS--(After a pause--ingratiatingly.) You like Ay go ashore look for dat Irish fallar, Anna?
ANNA--(Angrily.) Not much! Think I want to drag him back?
CHRIS--(After a pause--uncomfortably.) Py golly, dat booze don't go veil. Give me fever, Ay tank, Ay feel hot like hell. (He takes off his coat and lets it drop on the floor. There is a loud thud.)
ANNA--(a start.) What you got in your pocket, for Pete's sake--a ton of lead? (She reaches down, takes the coat and pulls out a revolver--looks from it to him in amazement.) A gun? were you doing with this?
CHRIS--(Sheepishly.) Ay forgat. Ain't nutting. Ain't loaded, anyvay.
ANNA--(Breaking it open to make sure--then closing it again-- looking at him suspiciously.) That ain't telling me why you got it?
CHRIS--(Sheepishly.) Ay'm ole fool. Ay gat it vhen Ay go ashore first. Ay tank den it's all fault of dat Irish fallar.
ANNA--(With a shudder.) Say, you're crazier than I thought. I never dreamt you'd go that far.
CHRIS--(Quickly.) Ay don't. Ay gat better sense right avay. Ay don't never buy bullets even. It ain't his fault, Ay know.
CHRIS--(Placatingly.) Throw it overboard if you vant. Ay don't care, (Then after a pause.) Py golly, Ay tank Ay go lie down. Ay feel sick. (ANNA takes a magazine from the table. CHRIS hesitates by her chair.) Ve talk again before Ay go, yes?
ANNA--(Dully.) Where's this ship going to?
CHRIS--Cape Town. Dat's in South Africa. She's British steamer called Londonderry. (He stands hesitatingly--finally blurts out.) Anna--you forgive me sure?
ANNA--(Wearily.) Sure I do. You ain't to blame. You're yust--what you are--like me.
CHRIS--(Pleadingly.) Den--you lat me kiss you again once?
ANNA--(Raising her face--forcing a wan smile.) Sure. No hard feelings.
CHRIS--(Kisses her--brokenly.) Anna lilla! Ay--(He fights for words to express himself, but finds none--miserably--with a sob.) Ay can't say it. Good-night, Anna.
ANNA--Good-night. (He picks up the can of beer and goes slowly into the room on left, his shoulders bowed, his head sunk forward dejectedly. He closes the door after him. ANNA turns over the pages of the magazine, trying desperately to banish her thoughts by looking at the pictures. This fails to distract her, and flinging the magazine back on the table, she springs to her feet and walks about the cabin distractedly, clenching and unclenching her hands. She speaks aloud to herself in a tense, trembling voice.) Gawd, I can't stand this much longer! What am I waiting for anyway?--like a damn fool! (She laughs helplessly, then checks herself abruptly, as she hears the sound of heavy footsteps on the deck outside. She appears to recognize these and her face lights up with joy. She gasps:) Mat! (A strange terror seems suddenly to seize her. She rushes to the table, takes the revolver out of drawer and crouches down in the corner, left, behind the cupboard. A moment later the door is flung open and MAT BURKE appears in the doorway. He is in bad shape--his clothes torn and dirty, covered sawdust as if he had been grovelling or sleeping on barroom floors. There is a red bruise on his forehead over one of his eyes, another over one cheekbone, his knuckles are skinned and raw--plain evidence of the fighting he has been through on his "bat." His eyes are bloodshot and heavy-lidded, his face has a bloated look. But beyond these appearances--the results of heavy drinking--there is an expression in his eyes of wild mental turmoil, of impotent animal rage baffled by its own abject misery.)
BURKE--(Peers blinkingly about the cabin--hoarsely.) Let you not be hiding from me, whoever's here--though 'tis well you know I'd have a right to come back and murder you. (He stops to listen. Hearing no sound, he closes the door behind him and comes forward to the table. He throws himself into the rocking-chair-- despondently.) There's no one here, I'm thinking, and 'tis a great fool I am to be coming. (With a sort of dumb, uncomprehending anguish.) Yerra, Mat Burke, 'tis a great jackass you've become and what's got into you at all, at all? She's gone out of this long ago, I'm telling you, and you'll never see her face again. (ANNA stands up, hesitating, struggling between joy and fear. BURKE'S eyes fall on ANNA'S bag. He leans over to examine it.) What's this? (Joyfully.) It's hers. She's not gone! But where is she? Ashore? (Darkly.) What would she be doing ashore on this rotten night? (His face suddenly convulsed with grief and rage.) 'Tis that, is it? Oh, God's curse on her! (Raging.) I'll wait 'till she comes and choke her dirty life out. (ANNA starts, her face grows hard. She steps into the room, the revolver in her right hand by her side.)
BURKE--(Wheeling about a terrified gasp) Glory be to God! (They remain motionless and silent for a moment, holding each other's eyes.)
ANNA--(In the same hard voice) Well, can't you talk?
BURKE--(Trying to fall into an easy, careless tone) You've a year's growth scared out of me, coming at me so sudden and me thinking I was alone.
ANNA--You've got your nerve butting in here without knocking or nothing. What d'you want?
ANNA--(Sharply--raising the revolver in her hand.) Careful now! Don't try getting too close. I heard what you said you'd do to me.
BURKE--(Noticing the revolver for the first time.) Is it murdering me you'd be now, God forgive you? (Then with a contemptuous laugh.) Or is it thinking I'd be frightened by that old tin whistle? (He walks straight for her.)
ANNA--(Wildly.) Look out, I tell you!
BURKE--(Who has come so close that the revolver is almost touching his chest.) Let you shoot, then! (Then with sudden wild grief.) Let you shoot, I'm saying, and be done with it! Let you end me with a shot and I'll be thanking you, for it's a rotten dog's life I've lived the past two days since I've known what you are, 'til I'm after wishing I was never born at all!
ANNA--(Overcome--letting the revolver drop to the floor, as if her fingers had no strength to hold it--hysterically.) What d'you want coming here? Why don't you beat it? Go on! (She passes him and sinks down in the rocking-chair.)
BURKE--(Following her--mournfully.) 'Tis right you'd be asking why did I come. (Then angrily.) 'Tis because 'tis a great weak fool of the world I am, and me tormented with the wickedness you'd told of yourself, and drinking oceans of booze that'd make me forget. Forget? Divil a word I'd forget, and your face grinning always in front of my eyes, awake or asleep, 'til I do be thinking a madhouse is the proper place for me.
ANNA--(Glancing at his hands and--face--scornfully) You look like you ought to be put away some place. Wonder you wasn't pulled in. You been scrapping, too, ain't you?
BURKE--I have--with every scut would take off his coat to me! (Fiercely.) And each time I'd be hitting one a clout in the mug, it wasn't his face I'd be seeing at all, but yours, and me wanting to drive you a blow would knock you out of this world where I wouldn't be seeing or thinking more of you.
ANNA--(Her lips trembling pitifully) Thanks!
BURKE--(Walking up and down--distractedly.) That's right, make game of me! Oh, I'm a great coward surely, to be coming back to speak with you at all. You've a right to laugh at me.
ANNA--I ain't laughing at you, Mat.
BURKE--(Unheeding.) You to be what you are, and me to be Mat Burke, and me to be drove back to look at you again! 'Tis black shame is on me!
ANNA--(Resentfully.) Then get out. No one's holding you!
BURKE--(Bewilderedly) And me to listen to that talk from a woman like you and be frightened to close mouth with a slap! Oh, God help me, I'm a yellow coward for all men to spit at! (Then furiously) But I'll not be getting out of this 'till I've had me word. (Raising his fist threateningly) And let you look out how you'd drive me! (Letting his fist fall helplessly) Don't be angry now! I'm raving like a real lunatic, I'm thinking, and the sorrow you put on me has my brains drownded in grief. (Suddenly bending down to her and grasping her arm intensely) Tell me it's a lie, I'm saying! That's what I'm after coming to hear you say.