The Hairy Ape Eugene O’Neill (best novels of all time TXT) 📖

to a point opposite the door; tiptoes softly up to it, listens, is impressed by the silence within, knocks carefully, as if he were guessing at the password to some secret rite. Listens. No answer. Knocks again a bit louder. No answer. Knocks impatiently, much louder. Secretary Turning around on his stool. What the devil is that⁠—someone knocking? Shouts: Come in, why don’t you? All the men in the room look up. Yank opens the door slowly, gingerly, as if afraid of an ambush. He looks around for secret doors, mystery, is taken aback by the commonplaceness of the room and the men in it, thinks he may have gotten in the wrong place, then sees the signboard on the wall and is reassured. Yank Blurts out. Hello. Men Reservedly. Hello. Yank More easily. I tought I’d bumped into de wrong dump. Secretary Scrutinizing him carefully. Maybe you have. Are you a member? Yank Naw, not yet. Dat’s what I come for⁠—to join. Secretary That’s easy. What’s your job⁠—longshore? Yank Naw. Fireman⁠—stoker on de liners. Secretary With satisfaction. Welcome to our city. Glad to know you people are waking up at last. We haven’t got many members in your line. Yank Naw. Dey’re all dead to de woild. Secretary Well, you can help to wake ’em. What’s your name? I’ll make out your card. Yank Confused. Name? Lemme tink. Secretary Sharply. Don’t you know your own name? Yank Sure; but I been just Yank for so long⁠—Bob, dat’s it⁠—Bob Smith. Secretary Writing. Robert Smith. Fills out the rest of card. Here you are. Cost you half a dollar. Yank Is dat all⁠—four bits? Dat’s easy. Gives the Secretary the money. Secretary Throwing it in drawer. Thanks. Well, make yourself at home. No introductions needed. There’s literature on the table. Take some of those pamphlets with you to distribute aboard ship. They may bring results. Sow the seed, only go about it right. Don’t get caught and fired. We got plenty out of work. What we need is men who can hold their jobs⁠—and work for us at the same time. Yank Sure. But he still stands, embarrassed and uneasy. Secretary Looking at him⁠—curiously. What did you knock for? Think we had a coon in uniform to open doors? Yank Naw. I tought it was locked⁠—and dat yuh’d wanter give me the once-over trou a peephole or somep’n to see if I was right. Secretary Alert and suspicious but with an easy laugh. Think we were running a crap game? That door is never locked. What put that in your nut? Yank With a knowing grin, convinced that this is all camouflage, a part of the secrecy. Dis burg is full of bulls, ain’t it? Secretary Sharply. What have the cops got to do with us? We’re breaking no laws. Yank With a knowing wink. Sure. Youse wouldn’t for woilds. Sure. I’m wise to dat. Secretary You seem to be wise to a lot of stuff none of us knows about. Yank With another wink. Aw, dat’s aw right, see. Then made a bit resentful by the suspicious glances from all sides. Aw, can it! Youse needn’t put me trou de toid degree. Can’t youse see I belong? Sure! I’m reg’lar. I’ll stick, get me? I’ll shoot de woiks for youse. Dat’s why I wanted to join in. Secretary Breezily, feeling him out. That’s the right spirit. Only are you sure you understand what you’ve joined? It’s all plain and above board; still, some guys get a wrong slant on us. Sharply. What’s your notion of the purpose of the I.W.W.? Yank Aw, I know all about it. Secretary Sarcastically. Well, give us some of your valuable information. Yank Cunningly. I know enough not to speak outa my toin. Then resentfully again. Aw, say! I’m reg’lar. I’m wise to de game. I know yuh got to watch your step wit a stranger. For all youse know, I might be a plainclothes dick, or somep’n, dat’s what yuh’re tinkin’, huh? Aw, forget it! I belong, see? Ask any guy down to de docks if I don’t. Secretary Who said you didn’t? Yank After I’m ’nitiated, I’ll show yuh. Secretary Astounded. Initiated? There’s no initiation. Yank Disappointed. Ain’t there no password⁠—no grip nor nothin’? Secretary What’d you think this is⁠—the Elks⁠—or the Black Hand? Yank De Elks, hell! De Black Hand, dey’re a lot of yellow backstickin’ Ginees. Naw. Dis is a man’s gang, ain’t it? Secretary You said it! That’s why we stand on our two feet in the open. We got no secrets. Yank Surprised but admiringly. Yuh mean to say yuh always run wide open⁠—like dis? Secretary Exactly. Yank Den yuh sure got your noive wit youse! Secretary Sharply. Just what was it made you want to join us? Come out with that straight. Yank Yuh call me? Well, I got noive, too! Here’s my hand. Yuh wanter blow tings up, don’t yuh? Well, dat’s me! I belong! Secretary With pretended carelessness. You mean change the unequal conditions of society by legitimate direct action⁠—or with dynamite? Yank Dynamite! Blow it offen de oith⁠—steel⁠—all de cages⁠—all de factories, steamers, buildings, jails⁠—de Steel Trust and all dat makes it go. Secretary So⁠—that’s your idea, eh? And did you have any special job in that line you wanted to propose to us. He makes a sign to the men, who get up cautiously one by one and group behind Yank. Yank Boldly. Sure, I’ll come out wit it. I’ll show youse I’m one of de gang. Dere’s dat millionaire guy, Douglas⁠— Secretary President of the Steel Trust, you mean? Do you want to assassinate him? Yank Naw, dat don’t get yuh nothin’. I mean blow up de factory, de woiks, where he makes de steel. Dat’s what I’m after⁠—to blow up de steel, knock all de steel in de woild up to de moon. Dat’ll fix tings! Eagerly, with a touch of bravado. I’ll do it by me lonesome! I’ll show yuh! Tell me where his woiks is, how to git there,