Patch: If I was ter look up and see that pendulum swingin'—Horrers! Yeller elephants would be nothin'!
Duke: Pooh! I 'd give a month o' grog jest ter hear the ol' dear tickin', and ter know that Flint was restin' easy in his rotten coffin—swappin' stories with the pretty angels.
Patch: I loved Flint like a brother. (He is quite sentimental about this.) It was him knocked this out. (Pointing to his missing eye.) But it was jest in the way o' business. We differed a leetle in the loot. He was very persuasive, was ol' Flint.
Duke: Yer talks like a woman. They loves yer to cuff 'em. Them was 'appy days, Patch.
Patch: Blast me gig what 's left, Duke, but me and you has seen a heap o' sights. I suppose I 've drowned meself a hundred men. It 's comfertin' when yer lays awake at night. I feels I ain 't wasted meself. I 've used me gifts. I ain 't been a foolish virgin and put me shinin' talent inside a bushel. But me and you is driftwood now, Duke.
Duke: Aye. But it ain 't no use snifflin' about it, ol' crocodile. Darlin' is certainly handy at mixin' grog. And we 've a right smart cabin with winders on the sea. Since I stuffed yer ol' shirt in the roof it hardly leaks.
Patch: My shirt! Next week is me week fer changin'. How could yer ha' done it? I 'm a kinder perticerler dresser. I likes ter wash now and then—if it ain 't too often.
Duke: Darlin', me friend Patch is thirsty. And a drop meself. (The cups are filled.) Yer a precious ol' lady, and I loves yer.
Darlin': Yer spoils me, Duke.
(Lightning and a crash of thunder.)