Patch: Aye! The blessed, dear, ol' roarin' hulk. No better pirate ever lived than Flint. Smart with his cutlass. Quick at the trigger. Grog! A sloppin' pail o' it was jest a sip.
Duke: I used ter tell him that his leg was holler.
Patch: He was a vat, was Flint—jest a swishin' keg.
Duke: Grog jest sizzled and disappeared, like when yer drops it on a red-hot seacoal.
Patch: Fer twenty year and more me and you has seen ol' Flint march his wictims off the plank.
Duke: "Step lively!" he 'd say. "Does n't yer hear Davy callin' to yer?" There was never a sailorman ever sat in the Port Light at Wappin' wharf which could drink with Flint.
"Port Light" at Wappin' Wharf
Patch: Wappin' wharf and gibbets is nothin' ter talk about. Funerals even is cheerfuller.