The Hairy Ape Part 6

Always got too big a head on Sunday mornin', dat was dem. [_With a grin._] Dey was sc.r.a.ppers for fair, bot' of dem. On Satiday nights when dey bot' got a skinful dey could put up a bout oughter been staged at de Garden. When dey got trough dere wasn't a chair or table wit a leg under it. Or else dey bot' jumped on me for somep'n. Dat was where I loined to take punishment. [_With a grin and a swagger._] I'm a chip offen de old block, get me?

LONG--Did yer old man follow the sea?

YANK--Naw. Worked along sh.o.r.e. I runned away when me old lady croaked wit de tremens. I helped at truckin' and in de market. Den I s.h.i.+pped in de stokehole. Sure. Dat belongs. De rest was nothin'. [_Looking around him._] I ain't never seen dis before. De Brooklyn waterfront, dat was where I was dragged up. [_Taking a deep breath._] Dis ain't so bad at dat, huh?

LONG--Not bad? Well, we pays for it wiv our b.l.o.o.d.y sweat, if yer wants to know!

YANK--[_With sudden angry disgust._] Aw, h.e.l.l! I don't see noone, see--like her. All dis gives me a pain. It don't belong. Say, ain't dere a backroom around dis dump? Let's go shoot a ball. All dis is too clean and quiet and dolled-up, get me! It gives me a pain.

LONG--Wait and yer'll b.l.o.o.d.y well see--

YANK--I don't wait for noone. I keep on de move. Say, what yuh drag me up here for, anyway? Tryin' to kid me, yuh simp, yuh?

LONG--Yer wants to get back at her, don't yer? That's what yer been saying' every bloomin' 'our since she hinsulted yer.

YANK--[_Vehemently._] Sure ting I do! Didn't I try to git even wit her in Southampton? Didn't I sneak on de dock and wait for her by de gangplank? I was goin' to spit in her pale mug, see! Sure, right in her pop-eyes! Dat woulda made me even, see? But no chanct. Dere was a whole army of plain clothes bulls around. Dey spotted me and gimme de b.u.m's rush. I never seen her. But I'll git square wit her yet, you watch!

[_Furiously._] De lousey tart! She tinks she kin get away wit moider--but not wit me! I'll fix her! I'll tink of a way!

LONG--[_As disgusted as he dares to be._] Ain't that why I brought yer up 'ere--to show yer? Yer been lookin' at this 'ere 'ole affair wrong.

Yer been actin' an' talkin' 's if it was all a bleedin' personal matter between yer and that b.l.o.o.d.y cow. I wants to convince yer she was on'y a representative of 'er clarss. I wants to awaken yer b.l.o.o.d.y clarss consciousness. Then yer'll see it's 'er clarss yer've got to fight, not 'er alone. There's a 'ole mob of 'em like 'er, Gawd blind 'em!

YANK--[_Spitting on his hands--belligerently._] De more de merrier when I gits started. Bring on de gang!

LONG--Yer'll see 'em in arf a mo', when that church lets out. [_He turns and sees the window display in the two stores for the first time._] Blimey! Look at that, will yer? [_They both walk back and stand looking in the jewelers. Long flies into a fury._] Just look at this 'ere bloomin' mess! Just look at it! Look at the bleedin' prices on 'em--more'n our 'old b.l.o.o.d.y stokehole makes in ten voyages sweatin' in 'ell! And they--her and her b.l.o.o.d.y clarss--buys 'em for toys to dangle on 'em! One of these 'ere would buy scoff for a starvin' family for a year!

YANK--Aw, cut de sob stuff! T' h.e.l.l wit de starvin' family! Yuh'll be pa.s.sin' de hat to me next. [_With naive admiration._] Say, dem tings is pretty, huh? Bet yuh dey'd hock for a piece of change aw right. [_Then turning away, bored._] But, aw h.e.l.l, what good are dey? Let her have 'em. Dey don't belong no more'n she does. [_With a gesture of sweeping the jewelers into oblivion._] All dat don't count, get me?

LONG--[_Who has moved to the furriers--indignantly._] And I s'pose this 'ere don't count neither--skins of poor, 'armless animals slaughtered so as 'er and 'ers can keep their bleedin' noses warm!

YANK--[_Who has been staring at something inside--with queer excitement._] Take a slant at dat! Give it de once-over! Monkey fur--two t'ousand bucks! [_Bewilderedly._] Is dat straight goods--monkey fur? What de h.e.l.l--?

LONG--[_Bitterly._] It's straight enuf. [_With grim humor._] They wouldn't b.l.o.o.d.y well pay that for a 'airy ape's skin--no, nor for the 'ole livin' ape with all 'is 'ead, and body, and soul thrown in!

YANK--[_Clenching his fists, his face growing pale with rage as if the skin in the window were a personal insult._] Trowin' it up in my face!

Christ! I'll fix her!

LONG--[_Excitedly._] Church is out. 'Ere they come, the bleedin' swine.

[_After a glance at Yank's lowering face--uneasily._] Easy goes, Comrade. Keep yer bloomin' temper. Remember force defeats itself. It ain't our weapon. We must impress our demands through peaceful means--the votes of the on-marching proletarians of the b.l.o.o.d.y world!

YANK--[_With abysmal contempt._] Votes, h.e.l.l! Votes is a joke, see.

Votes for women! Let dem do it!

LONG--[_Still more uneasily._] Calm, now. Treat 'em wiv the proper contempt. Observe the bleedin' parasites but 'old yer 'orses.

YANK--[_Angrily._] Git away from me! Yuh're yellow, dat's what. Force, dat's me! De punch, dat's me every time, see! [_The crowd from church enter from the right, sauntering slowly and affectedly, their heads held stiffly up, looking neither to right nor left, talking in toneless, simpering voices. The women are rouged, calcimined, dyed, overdressed to the nth degree. The men are in Prince Alberts, high hats, spats, canes, etc. A procession of gaudy marionettes, yet with something of the relentless horror of Frankensteins in their detached, mechanical unawareness._]

VOICES--Dear Doctor Caiaphas! He is so sincere!

What was the sermon? I dozed off.

About the radicals, my dear--and the false doctrines that are being preached.

We must organize a hundred per cent American bazaar.

And let everyone contribute one one-hundredth percent of their income tax.

What an original idea!

We can devote the proceeds to rehabilitating the veil of the temple.

But that has been done so many times.

YANK--[_Glaring from one to the other of them--with an insulting snort of scorn._] Huh! Huh! [_Without seeming to see him, they make wide detours to avoid the spot where he stands in the middle of the sidewalk._]

LONG--[_Frightenedly._] Keep yer bloomin' mouth shut, I tells yer.

YANK--[_Viciously._] G'wan! Tell it to Sweeney! [_He swaggers away and deliberately lurches into a top-hatted gentleman, then glares at him pugnaciously._] Say, who d'yuh tink yuh're b.u.mpin'? Tink yuh own de oith?

GENTLEMAN--[_Coldly and affectedly._] I beg your pardon. [_He has not looked at YANK and pa.s.ses on without a glance, leaving him bewildered._]

LONG--[_Rus.h.i.+ng up and grabbing YANK's arm._] 'Ere! Come away! This wasn't what I meant. Yer'll 'ave the b.l.o.o.d.y coppers down on us.

YANK--[_Savagely--giving him a push that sends him sprawling._] G'wan!

LONG--[_Picks himself up--hysterically._] I'll pop orf then. This ain't what I meant. And whatever 'appens, yer can't blame me. [_He slinks off left._]

YANK--T' h.e.l.l wit youse! [_He approaches a lady--with a vicious grin and a smirking wink._] h.e.l.lo, Kiddo. How's every little ting? Got anyting on for to-night? I know an old boiler down to de docks we kin crawl into. [_The lady stalks by without a look, without a change of pace. YANK turns to others--insultingly._] Holy smokes, what a mug! Go hide yuhself before de horses shy at yuh. Gee, pipe de heinie on dat one! Say, youse, yuh look like de stoin of a ferryboat. Paint and powder! All dolled up to kill! Yuh look like stiffs laid out for de boneyard! Aw, g'wan, de lot of youse! Yuh give me de eye-ache. Yuh don't belong, get me! Look at me, why don't youse dare? I belong, dat's me! [_Pointing to a skysc.r.a.per across the street which is in process of construction--with bravado._] See dat building goin' up dere? See de steel work? Steel, dat's me! Youse guys live on it and tink yuh're somep'n. But I'm IN it, see! I'm de hoistin' engine dat makes it go up!

I'm it--de inside and bottom of it! Sure! I'm steel and steam and smoke and de rest of it! It moves--speed--twenty-five stories up--and me at de top and bottom--movin'! Youse simps don't move. Yuh're on'y dolls I winds up to see 'm spin. Yuh're de garbage, get me--de leavins--de ashes we dump over de side! Now, whata yuh gotto say? [_But as they seem neither to see nor hear him, he flies into a fury._] b.u.ms! Pigs!

Tarts! b.i.t.c.hes! [_He turns in a rage on the men, b.u.mping viciously into them but not jarring them the least bit. Rather it is he who recoils after each collision. He keeps growling._] Git off de oith! G'wan, yuh b.u.m! Look where yuh're goin,' can't yuh? Git outa here! Fight, why don't yuh? Put up yer mits! Don't be a dog! Fight or I'll knock yuh dead! [_But, without seeming to see him, they all answer with mechanical affected politeness:_] I beg your pardon. [_Then at a cry from one of the women, they all scurry to the furrier's window._]

THE WOMAN--[_Ecstatically, with a gasp of delight._] Monkey fur! [_The whole crowd of men and women chorus after her in the same tone of affected delight._] Monkey fur!

YANK--[_With a jerk of his head back on his shoulders, as if he had received a punch full in the face--raging._] I see yuh, all in white! I see yuh, yuh white-faced tart, yuh! Hairy ape, huh? I'll hairy ape yuh!

[_He bends down and grips at the street curbing as if to pluck it out and hurl it. Foiled in this, snarling with pa.s.sion, he leaps to the lamp-post on the corner and tries to pull it up for a club. Just at that moment a bus is heard rumbling up. A fat, high-hatted, spatted gentleman runs out from the side street. He calls out plaintively: "Bus! Bus! Stop there!" and runs full tilt into the bending, straining YANK, who is bowled off his balance._]

YANK--[_Seeing a fight--with a roar of joy as he springs to his feet._]

At last! Bus, huh? I'll bust yuh! [_He lets drive a terrific swing, his fist landing full on the fat gentleman's face. But the gentleman stands unmoved as if nothing had happened._]

GENTLEMAN--I beg your pardon. [_Then irritably._] You have made me lose my bus. [_He claps his hands and begins to scream:_] Officer! Officer!

[_Many police whistles shrill out on the instant and a whole platoon of policemen rush in on YANK from all sides. He tries to fight but is clubbed to the pavement and fallen upon. The crowd at the window have not moved or noticed this disturbance. The clanging gong of the patrol wagon approaches with a clamoring din._]

[_Curtain_]

SCENE VI

SCENE--Night of the following day. A row of cells in the prison on Blackwells Island. The cells extend back diagonally from right front to left rear. They do not stop, but disappear in the dark background as if they ran on, numberless, into infinity. One electric bulb from the low ceiling of the narrow corridor sheds its light through the heavy steel bars of the cell at the extreme front and reveals part of the interior.

YANK can be seen within, crouched on the edge of his cot in the att.i.tude of Rodin's "The Thinker." His face is spotted with black and blue bruises. A blood-stained bandage is wrapped around his head.

YANK--[_Suddenly starting as if awakening from a dream, reaches out and shakes the bars--aloud to himself, wonderingly._] Steel. Dis is de Zoo, huh? [_A burst of hard, barking laughter comes from the unseen occupants of the cells, runs back down the tier, and abruptly ceases._]

VOICES--[_Mockingly._] The Zoo? That's a new name for this coop--a d.a.m.n good name! Steel, eh? You said a mouthful. This is the old iron house.

Who is that b.o.o.b talkin'? He's the bloke they brung in out of his head.