Patch: Me stomich 's turned keel up.
Captain: Patch, yer ain 't got spunk ter be a pirate. Yer as soft as Petey's pussycat.
Patch: I ain 't, ain 't I? Was n't it me as nudged the Captain o' the Northern Star off his poop—when he were n't lookin'? Him with a pistol in his boot! Did n't I hit Bill, the bos'n, with a marline-spike—jest afore he woke up? Sweet dreams, I says, and I tapped him gentle. I got a lot o' spunk. Bill did n't wake up, he did n't. Was n't it me, Captain, that started that mutiny? Was n't it me? I 'm askin' yer.
Captain: Still braggin' o' that ol' time. It was more 'n four years ago. What yer done since? Jest loadin' yer stomich—jest gruntin' and wallerin' in the trough—jest braggin'.
Patch: I ain 't 'fraid o' nothin'—'cept a gibbet. (For a moment the ugly word sticks in his gullet.) But the ol' lady kinder got me. Yer looked down yer nose yerself, Captain—askin' yer pardon.
Captain: Struck me, Patch, she was jest a wee bit flustered by Red Joe. Did yer notice how she sat and looked at the glass? And would n't say nothin'? Jest nothin' at all.
Patch: And then the ol' dear's fingers slipped and the glass was broke.
Captain: It looks almost as if she done it a purpose.
(The Duke has been thinking all of this time with necessary contortions of the face. It is amazing how these help on a knotty problem.)
Duke: Course she done it a purpose. It was ter stop me lookin' 'cross her shoulder in the glass.