ll of fallar, hear you tal it!

BURKE--[Angrily.] You'll be calling me a liar once too often, me old
bucko! Wasn't the whole story of it and my picture itself in the
newspapers of Boston a week back? [Looking CHRIS up and down
belittlingly.] Sure I'd like to see you in the best of your youth do
the like of what I done in the storm and after. 'Tis a mad lunatic,
screeching with fear, you'd be this minute!

CHRIS--Ho-ho! You vas young fool! In ole years when Ay was on
windyammer, Ay vas through hundred storms vorse'n dat! Ships vas ships
den--and men dat sail on dem vas real men. And now what you gat on
steamers? You gat fallars on deck don't know ship from mudscow. [With a
meaning glance at BURKE.] And below deck you gat fallars yust know how
for shovel coal--might yust as veil vork on coal vagon ashore!

BURKE--[Stung--angrily.] Is it casting insults at the men in the
stokehole ye are, ye old ape? God stiffen you! Wan of them is worth any
ten stock-fish-swilling Square-heads ever shipped on a windbag!

CHRIS--[His face working with rage, his hand going back to the
sheath-knife on his hip.] Irish svine, you!

BURKE--[Tauntingly.] Don't ye like the Irish, ye old babboon? 'Tis that
you're needing in your family, I'm telling you--an Irishman and a man
of the stokehole--to put guts in it so that you'll not be having
grandchildren would be fearful cowards and jackasses the like of
yourself!

CHRIS--[Half rising from his chair--in a voice choked with rage.] You
look out!

BURKE--[Watching him intently--a mocking smile on his lips.] And it's
that you'll be having, no matter what you'll do to prevent; for Anna
and me'll be married this day, and no old fool the like of you will
stop us when I've made up my mind.

CHRIS--[With a hoarse cry.] You don't! [He throws himself at BURKE,
knife in hand, knocking his chair over backwards. BURKE springs to his
feet quickly in time to meet the attack. He laughs with the pure love
of battle. The old Swede is like a child in his hands. BURKE does not
strike or mistreat him in any way, but simply twists his right hand
behind his back and forces the knife from his fingers. He throws the
knife into a far corner of the room--tauntingly.]

BURKE--Old men is getting childish shouldn't play with knives. [Holding
the struggling CHRIS at arm's length--with a sudden rush of anger,
drawing back his fist.] I've half a mind to hit you a great clout will
put sense in your square head. Kape off me