BURKE—[Following her—with fierce, pleading insistence.] I'm telling you there's the will of God in it that brought me safe through the storm and fog to the wan spot in the world where you was! Think of that now, and isn't it queer—
CHRIS—Anna! [He comes toward them, raging, his fists clenched.] Anna, you gat in cabin, you hear!
ANNA—[All her emotions immediately transformed into resentment at his bullying tone.] Who d'you think you're talking to—a slave?
CHRIS—[Hurt—his voice breaking—pleadingly.] You need gat rest, Anna. You gat sleep. [She does not move. He turns on BURKE furiously.] What you doing here, you sailor fallar? You ain't sick like oders. You gat in fo'c's'tle. Dey give you bunk. [Threateningly.] You hurry, Ay tal you!
ANNA—[Impulsively.] But he is sick. Look at him. He can hardly stand up.
BURKE—[Straightening and throwing out his chest—with a bold laugh.] Is it giving me orders ye are, me bucko? Let you look out, then! With wan hand, weak as I am, I can break ye in two and fling the pieces over the side—and your crew after you. [Stopping abruptly.] I was forgetting. You're her Old Man and I'd not raise a fist to you for the world. [His knees sag, he wavers and seems about to fall. ANNA utters an exclamation of alarm and hurries to his slde.]
ANNA—[Taking one of his arms over her shoulder.] Come on in the cabin. You can have my bed if there ain't no other place.
BURKE—[With jubilant happiness—as they proceed toward the cabin.] Glory be to God, is it holding my arm about your neck you are! Anna! Anna! Sure it's a sweet name is suited to you.
ANNA—[Guiding him carefully.] Sssh! Sssh!
BURKE—Whisht, is it? Indade, and I'll not. I'll be roaring it out like a fog horn over the sea! You're the girl of the world and we'll be marrying soon and I don't care who knows it!