BIMBO (severely)
I hope that at least you, madam, are aware that this is the Sabbath.
LYDIA (vacantly)
Sunday? It’s Sunday?
BIMBO (sternly)
It is. (To Driscoll.) We allow no profanity on this vessel on the Sabbath Day. According to our interpretation, “Blast your vitals” is profanity. Old man, if you can’t speak without profanity—and on the Seventh Day too—we won’t let you speak at all. Shame on you!
(Driscoll struggles and mumbles under the Gunner’s hand.)
LYDIA (aghast)
But you’re pirates! What difference does it make to a pi——
BIMBO (annoyed, interrupting quickly)
Pray use another term. We are a commonwealth of free seamen.
LYDIA (breathlessly going on)
But what have you to do with Sunday?
BIMBO
There it is!
(The Gunner groans, shaking his head, and Bimbo sinks despondently into a chair.)
LYDIA
But what could pi——
BIMBO (quickly)
Be silent, mistress! You but show your ignorance and rub salt in a galled wound. (He clasps his forehead, suffering; then rises, returns to his table, and speaks resignedly.) ’Tis the way o’ the universe, so why should we complain? In all the world no man has full understanding of any other—nor has any woman—(with a resentful side glance at Lydia)—of anything, I think. Hark ye, mistress; you’re young and may learn a little. What is the common error of mankind?
LYDIA
Why, sin.