ou? You find vhiskey in cabin. Dese fallars need drink for fix dem.
Dey vas near dead.

ANNA--[Hurrying to him.] Sure--but who are they? What's the trouble?

CHRIS--Sailor fallars. Deir steamer gat wrecked. Dey been five days in
open boat--four fallars--only one left able stand up. Come, Anna. [She
precedes him into the cabin, holding the door open while he and JOHNSON
carry in their burdens. The door is shut, then opened again as JOHNSON
comes out. CHRIS'S voice shouts after him.] Go gat oder fallar, Yohnson.

JOHNSON--Yes, sir. [He goes. The door is closed again. MAT BURKE
stumbles in around the port side of the cabin. He moves slowly, feeling
his way uncertainly, keeping hold of the port bulwark with his right
hand to steady himself. He is stripped to the waist, has on nothing but
a pair of dirty dungaree pants. He is a powerful, broad-chested
six-footer, his face handsome in a hard, rough, bold, defiant way. He
is about thirty, in the full power of his heavy-muscled, immense
strength. His dark eyes are bloodshot and wild from sleeplessness. The
muscles of his arms and shoulders are lumped in knots and bunches, the
veins of his forearms stand out like blue cords. He finds his way to
the coil of hawser and sits down on it facing the cabin, his back
bowed, head in his hands, in an attitude of spent weariness.]

BURKE--[Talking aloud to himself.] Row, ye divil! Row! [Then lifting
his head and looking about him.] What's this tub? Well, we're safe
anyway--with the help of God. [He makes the sign of the cross
mechanically. JOHNSON comes along the deck to port, supporting the
fourth man, who is babbling to himself incoherently. BURKE glances at
him disdainfully.] Is it losing the small wits ye iver had, ye are?
Deck-scrubbing scut! [They pass him and go into the cabin, leaving the
door open. BURKE sags forward wearily.] I'm bate out--bate out entirely.

ANNA--[Comes out of the cabin with a tumbler quarter-full of whiskey in
her hand. She gives a start when she sees BURKE so near her, the light
from the open door falling full on him. Then, overcoming what is
evidently a feeling of repulsion, she comes up beside him.] Here you
are. Here's a drink for you. You need it, I guess.

BURKE--[Lifting his head slowly--confusedly.] Is it dreaming I am?

ANNA--[Half smiling.] Drink it and you'll find it ain't no dream.

BURKE--To hell with the drink--but I'll take it just the same. [He
tosses it down.] Aah! I'm needin' that--and