SCENE II.
Another part of the Forest.—A ship at anchor in the bay at a small distance.—Mouth of a cave.
Enter Sailors and Mate, as returning from foraging.
Mate. Come, come, bear a hand, my lads. Tho'f the bay is just under our bowsprits, it will take a damned deal of tripping to come at it—there's hardly any steering clear of the rocks here. But do we muster all hands? All right, think ye?
1st. Sail. All to a man——besides yourself, and a monkey——the three land lubbers, that edged away in the morning, goes for nothing, you know—they're all dead, may-hap, by this.
Mate. Dead! you be—Why they're friends of the captain; and if not brought safe aboard to-night, you may all chance to have a salt eel for your supper—that's all—Moreover the young plodding spark, he with the grave, foul weather face, there, is to man the tight little frigate, Miss Narcissa—what d'ye call her? that is bound with us for Barbadoes. Rot'em for not keeping under weigh, I say! But come, let's see if a song will bring 'em too. Let's have a full chorus to the good merchant ship, the Achilles, that's wrote by our captain.