likely want to stay ashore anyway. [Curiously.] What does she
work at, your Anna?

CHRIS--She stay on dem cousins' farm 'till two year ago. Dan she gat
yob nurse gel in St. Paul. [Then shaking his head resolutely.] But Ay
don't vant for her gat yob now. Ay vant for her stay with me.

LARRY--[Scornfully.] On a coal barge! She'll not like that, I'm
thinkin'.

MARTHY--[Shouts from next room.] Don't I get that bucket o' suds,
Dutchy?

CHRIS--[Startled--in apprehensive confusion.] Yes, Ay come, Marthy.

LARRY--[Drawing the lager and ale, hands it to CHRIS--laughing.] Now
you're in for it! You'd better tell her straight to get out!

CHRIS--[Shaking in his boots.] Py golly. [He takes her drink in to
MARTHY and sits down at the table. She sips it in silence. LARRY moves
quietly close to the partition to listen, grinning with expectation.
CHRIS seems on the verge of speaking, hesitates, gulps down his whiskey
desperately as if seeking for courage. He attempts to whistle a few
bars of "Yosephine" with careless bravado, but the whistle peters out
futilely. MARTHY stares at him keenly, taking in his embarrassment with
a malicious twinkle of amusement in her eye. CHRIS clears his throat.]
Marthy--

MARTHY--[Aggressively.] Wha's that? [Then, pretending to fly into a
rage, her eyes enjoying CHRIS' misery.] I'm wise to what's in back of
your nut, Dutchy. Yuh want to git rid o' me, huh?--now she's comin'.
Gimme the bum's rush ashore, huh? Lemme tell yuh, Dutchy, there ain't a
square-head workin' on a boat man enough to git away with that. Don't
start nothin' yuh can't finish!

CHRIS--[Miserably.] Ay don't start nutting, Marthy.

MARTHY--[Glares at him for a second--then cannot control a burst of
laughter.] Ho-ho! Yuh're a scream, Square-head--an honest-ter-Gawd
knockout! Ho-ho! [She wheezes, panting for breath.]

CHRIS--[With childish pique.] Ay don't see nutting for laugh at.

MARTHY--Take a slant in the mirror and yuh'll see. Ho-ho! [Recovering
from her mirth--chuckling, scornfully.] A square-head tryin' to kid
Marthy Owen at this late day!--after me campin' with barge men the last
twenty years. I'm wise to the game, up, down, and sideways. I ain't
been born and dragged up on the water front for nothin'. Think I'd make
trouble, huh? Not me! I'll pack up me duds an' beat it. I'm quittin'
yuh, get me? I'm tellin' yuh I'm sick of stickin' with yuh, and I'm
leavin' yuh flat, see? There's plenty of other guys on other barges