Laconics

Yank
A Musical Adaptation of
Eugene O'Neill's The Hairy Ape

Samuel J. Bernstein
Northeastern University

SCENE FOUR

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?

I'M TRYIN' TUH THINK

CHORUS—Drink don't tink

Drink don't tink

YANK—(Singing.) I'm tryin' tuh tink

I'm tryin' tuh tink

I'm tryin' tuh figure out, to figure out

The ins and outs of what it's all about

Dat damn broad, dat skinny little tart

Dat twoip of a goil, I could crush rid my finger

Called me a filthy beast

Who duh hell is she

Tuh call me a filthy beast?

Who duh hell is she

Tuh call me a filthy beast?

CHORUS—Drink don't tink

Drink don't tink

YANK—I'm tryin' tuh tink

I'm tryin' tuh tink

I'm tryin' tuh figure out, to figure out

The ins and outs of what it's all about

Dat frail dame, dat bony little whore

Dat stick of a skoit, who's nothin' but a picture

Came down and did me doit

PADDY—(Spoken.) Sure, ’twas as if she’d seen a great hairy ape escaped from the Zoo!

YANK—(Spoken.) 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—(Singing.) Hairy Ape! Hairy Ape! Hairy Ape!

Who duh hell is she to call me a hairy ape?

What gives her the right to look at me like dat?

But duh trut is—she hurt me bad!

Like a tic, like a tic, like a tic,

She crept into my brain,

And I can't, and I can't, and I can't

Escape the pain.

CHORUS—Drink don't tink

Drink don't tink

YANK—I'm tryin' tuh tink

I'm tryin' tuh tink

I'm tryin' tuh figure out, to figure out

The ins and outs of what it's all about

Dat pale ghost, dat white faced little snip,

Dat make believe doll, I could smash wid my pinky

Don't scare me no more.

CHORUS—That's the stuff, Yank!

YANK—Why should I think twice about a piece of baggage?

She rides duh ship, but I make it move.

She's on the deck, but I'm in duh grove.

CHORUS—Right on, Yank!

YANK—She's got duh dough, but I got duh power.

She does nothin', but I moves dis ship

Twenty-five knots a hour.

CHORUS—That's right, Yank!

YANK—She don't belong!

She don't belong!!

CHORUS—Drink don't tink

Drink don't tink

YANK—Who is dat skoit, huh? What is she? What’s she come from? Who made her? Who give her de noive to look at me like dat? Dis ting’s got my goat right. I don’t get her. She’s new to me. What does a skoit like her mean, huh? She don’t belong, get me! I can’t see her. (With growing anger.) But one ting I’m wise to, aw right, aw right! Youse all kin bet your shoits I’ll git even wit her. I’ll show her if she tinks she—She grinds de organ and I’m on de string, huh? I’ll fix her! Let her come down again and I’ll fling her in de furnace! She’ll move den! She won’t shiver at nothin’, den! Speed, dat’ll be her! She’ll belong den! (He grins horribly.)

PADDY—She’ll never come. She’s had her belly-full, I’m telling you. She’ll be in bed now, I’m thinking, wid ten doctors and nurses feedin’ her salts to clean the fear out of her.

YANK—(Enraged.) Yuh tink I made her sick, too, do yuh? Just lookin’ at me, huh? Hairy ape, huh? (In a frenzy of rage.) I’ll fix her! I’ll tell her where to git off! She’ll git down on her knees and take it back or I’ll bust de face offen her! (Shaking one fist upward and beating on his chest with the other.) I’ll find yuh! I’m comin’, d’yuh hear? I’ll fix yuh, God damn yuh! (He makes a rush for the door.)

	VOICES—Stop him!
	He’ll get shot!
	He’ll murder her!
	Trip him up!
	Hold him!
	He’s gone crazy!
	Gott, he’s strong!
	Hold him down!
	Look out for a kick!
	Pin his arms!
	(They have all piled on him and, after a fierce struggle, by sheer weight of numbers have borne him to the floor just inside the door.)

PADDY—(Who has remained detached.) Kape him down till he’s cooled off. (Scornfully.) Yerra, Yank, you’re a great fool. Is it payin’ attention at all you are to the like of that skinny sow widout one drop of rale blood in her?

YANK—(Frenziedly, from the bottom of the heap.) She done me doit! She done me doit, didn’t she? I’ll git square with her! I’ll get her some way! Git offen me, youse guys! Lemme up! I’ll show her who’s a ape!

(Curtain)