possible. She turns her back on the proceedings and stares out
into the fog. THE VOICE is heard again shouting "Ahoy" and CHRIS
answering "Dis way" Then there is a pause--the murmur of excited
voices--then the scuffling of feet. CHRIS appears from around the
cabin to port. He is supporting the limp form of a man dressed in
dungarees, holding one of the man's arms around his neck. The
deckhand, JOHNSON, a young, blond Swede, follows him, helping
along another exhausted man similar fashion. ANNA turns to look at
them. Chris stops for a second--volubly.] Anna! You come help,
vill you? 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