Patch: We 're jest fidgettin' fer the news.
Captain: The news? Oh, yes. Now yer hears it. (He draws the pirates near.) A great merchantman has jest sailed from Bristol. The Royal 'Arry. It 's her. With gold fer the armies in France. She 's a brig o' five hundred ton. This night, when the tide runs out, she slips away from Bristol harbor. With this wind she should be off Clovelly by this time termorrer night.
Darlin': Glory ter God!
Duke: And then Petey will douse his glim. And we 'll set up the ship's lantern.
Duke: Then Petey will light hisself.
Patch: And we 'll be jest as innercent as babies rockin' in a crib.
"The Royal 'Arry. It 's her."
Duke: And lay it on the helmsman fer bein' sleepy.