BIMBO (frowning)
His son?
LYDIA
His son-in-law. We were married the night before we sailed from Jamaica!
(Driscoll struggles fiercely and utters sounds.)
BIMBO (staring at Lydia)
Oh—oh, pshaw!
(He utters this with the vehemence of acute disappointment and throws himself in a chair, completely disheartened.)
THE GUNNER (peevishly)
Well, if that isn’t news to make a man sick! Just when we thought we had a fellow could pilot us on the richest coast in—well, it is—it’s a nuisance! (To the struggling Driscoll.) Come along, you!
DRISCOLL
I won’t. (Escaping for an instant, he makes at Robert.) Now, blast your vitals, I’ll——
THE GUNNER (again securing the captive and silencing him)
Stop it!
DRISCOLL
Bla——
THE GUNNER
Shame on you! It’s worse, him being your son-in-law and almost your own flesh and blood. Shame!
DRISCOLL (indistinctly)
He’s a bloody pirate! He’s a bl——
BIMBO (rising, gloomily)
No. No, he isn’t—not unless the lady consents. (He turns to Lydia appealingly.) Now, if he joins us, he might make a very good living and maybe a snug fortune before middle age. (Hopefully.) Wouldn’t you consent to it?