Trinc. Try the pump, try the pump.
[Exit Vent.
Enter Mustacho at the other door.
Must. O master! six foot water in hold.
Steph. Clap the helm hard aweather! flat, flat, flat-in the fore-sheet there.
Trinc. Over-haul your fore-bowling.
Steph. Brace in the larboard.
[Exit.
Trinc. A curse upon this howling, [A great cry within.] They are louder than the weather.
Enter Antonio and Gonzalo.
Yet again, what do you here? Shall we give over, and drown? Have you a mind to sink?
Gonz. A pox on your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, uncharitable dog.