Pew. No chink, no drink? That’s your motto, is it? Well, that’s sense. Now, look here, ma’am, I ain’t beautiful like you; but I’m good, and I’ll give you warrant for it. Get me a noggin of rum, and suthin’ to scoff, and a penny pipe, and a half-a-foot of baccy; and there’s a guinea for the reckoning. There’s plenty more in the locker; so bear a hand, and be smart. I don’t like waiting; it ain’t my way. (Exit Mrs. Drake, R. Pew sits at the table, R. The settle conceals him from the upper part of the stage.)
Mrs. Drake (re-entering). Here’s the rum, sailor.
Pew (drinks). Ah, rum! That’s my sheet-anchor; rum and the blessed Gospel. Don’t you forget that, ma’am: rum and the Gospel is old Pew’s sheet-anchor. You can take for another while you’re about it; and, I say, short reckonings make long friends, hey? Where’s my change?
Mrs. Drake. I’m counting it now. There, there it is, and thank you for your custom. (She goes out, R.)
Pew (calling after her). Don’t thank me, ma’am; thank the act of parleyment! Rum, fourpence; two penny pieces and a Willi’m-and-Mary tizzy makes a shilling; and a spade half-guinea is eleven and six (re-enter Mrs. Drake with supper, pipe, etc.); and a blessed majesty George the First crown-piece makes sixteen and six; and two shilling bits is eighteen and six; and a new half-crown makes—no it don’t! O no! Old Pew’s too smart a hand to be bammed with a soft tusheroon.
Mrs. Drake (changing piece). I’m sure I didn’t know it, sailor.
Pew (trying new coin between his teeth). In course you didn’t, my dear; but I did, and I thought I’d mention it. Is that my supper, hey? Do my nose deceive me? (Sniffing and feeling.) Cold duck? sage and onions? a round of double Gloster? and that noggin o’ rum? Why, I declare if I’d stayed and took pot-luck with my old commander, Cap’n John Gaunt, he couldn’t have beat this little spread, as I’ve got by act of parleyment.
Mrs. Drake (at knitting). Do you know the captain, sailor?
Pew. Know him? I was that man’s bo’sun, ma’am. In the Guinea trade, we was known as “Pew’s Cap’n” and “Gaunt’s Bo’sun,” one for the other like. We was like two brothers, ma’am. And a excellent cold duck, to be sure; and the rum lovely.
Mrs. Drake. If you know John Gaunt, you know his daughter Arethusa.