"[...] Bloody Dutchman! To-night on the for'ard square. I'll bet on Dutchy. He packa da wallop, I tella you! Shut up, Wop! No fightin', maties. We're all chums, ain't we? [A voice starts bawling a song.] "Beer, beer, glorious beer! Fill yourselves right up to here." YANK-[For the first time seeming to take notice of the uproar about him, turns around threateningly-in a tone of contemptuous authority.] "Choke off dat noise! Where d'yuh get dat beer stuff? Beer, hell! Beer's for goils-and Dutchmen. Me for somep'n wit a kick ...
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"[...] Bloody Dutchman! To-night on the for'ard square. I'll bet on Dutchy. He packa da wallop, I tella you! Shut up, Wop! No fightin', maties. We're all chums, ain't we? [A voice starts bawling a song.] "Beer, beer, glorious beer! Fill yourselves right up to here." YANK-[For the first time seeming to take notice of the uproar about him, turns around threateningly-in a tone of contemptuous authority.] "Choke off dat noise! Where d'yuh get dat beer stuff? Beer, hell! Beer's for goils-and Dutchmen. Me for somep'n wit a kick to it! Gimme a drink, one of youse guys. [Several bottles are eagerly offered. He takes a tremendous gulp at one of them; then, keeping the bottle in his hand, glares belligerently at the owner, who hastens to acquiesce in this robbery by saying: ] All righto, Yank. Keep it and have another." [Yank contemptuously turns his back on the crowd again. For a second there is an embarrassed silence. Then-] VOICES-We must be passing the Hook. She's beginning to roll to it. Six days in hell-and then Southampton. Py Yesus, I vish somepody take my first vatch for me! Gittin' seasick, Square-head? Drink up and forget it! What's in your bottle? Gin. Dot's nigger trink.[...]."
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