LARRY--Good-night to ye, boss. [As JOHNNY goes toward the street door, it is pushed open and CHRISTOPHER CHRISTOPHERSON enters. He is a short, squat, broad-shouldered man of about fifty, with a round, weather-beaten, red face from which his light blue eyes peer short-sightedly, twinkling with a simple good humor. His large mouth, overhung by a thick, drooping, yellow mustache, is childishly self-willed and weak, of an obstinate kindliness. A thick neck is jammed like a post into the heavy trunk of his body. His arms with their big, hairy, freckled hands, and his stumpy legs terminating in large flat feet, are awkwardly short and muscular. He walks with a clumsy, rolling gait. His voice, when not raised in a hollow boom, is toned down to a sly, confidential half-whisper with something vaguely plaintive in its quality. He is dressed in a wrinkled, ill-fitting dark suit of shore clothes, and wears a faded cap of gray cloth over his mop of grizzled, blond hair. Just now his face beams with a too-blissful happiness, and he has evidently been drinking. He reaches his hand out to JOHNNY.] CHRIS--Hello, Yohnny! Have drink on me. Come on, Larry. Give us drink. Have one yourself. [Putting his hand in his pocket.] Ay gat money--plenty money. JOHNNY--[Shakes CHRIS by the hand.] Speak of the devil. We was just talkin' about you. LARRY--[Coming to the end of the bar.] Hello, Chris. Put it there. [They shake hands.] CHRIS--[Beaming.] Give us drink. JOHNNY--[With a grin.] You got a half-snootful now. Where'd you get it? CHRIS--[Grinning.] Oder fallar on oder barge--Irish fallar--he gat bottle vhiskey and we drank it, yust us two. Dot vhiskey gat kick, by yingo! Ay yust come ashore. Give us drink, Larry. Ay vas little drunk, not much. Yust feel good. [He laughs and commences to sing in a nasal, high-pitched quaver.] "My Yosephine, come board de ship. Long time Ay vait for you. De moon, she shi-i-i-ine. She looka yust like you. Tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee, tchee-tchee." [To the accompaniment of this last he waves his hand as if he were conducting an orchestra.] JOHNNY--[With a laugh.] Same old Yosie, eh, Chris? CHRIS--You don't know good song when you hear him. Italian fallar on oder barge, he learn me dat. Give us drink. [He throws change on the bar.] LARRY--[With a professional air.] What's your pleasure, gentlemen? JOHNNY--Small beer, Larry. CHRIS--Vhiskey--Number Two. LARRY--[As he gets their drinks.] I'll take a cigar on you. CHRIS--[Lifting his glass.] Skoal! [He drinks.] JOHNNY--Drink hearty. CHRIS--[Immediately.] Have oder drink. JOHNNY--No. Some other time. Got to go home now. So you've just landed? Where are you in from this time?