Pew. I’ll risk it. Well, then, see here, my son: another swallow and we jog.
Kit. No, not to-night, Pew, not to-night!
Pew. Commander, in a manner of speaking, wherefore?
Kit. Wherefore, Pew? ’Cause why, Pew? ’Cause I’m drunk, and be damned to you!
Pew. Commander, I ax your pardon; but, saving your presence, that’s a lie. What? drunk? a man with a ’ed for argyment like that? Just you get up, and steady yourself on your two pins, and you’ll be as right as ninepence.
Kit. Pew, before we budge, let me shake your flipper again. You’re heart of oak, Pew, sure enough; and if you can bring the Adam—Admirable about, why, damme, I’ll make your fortune! How you’re going to do it, I don’t know; but I’ll stand by; and I know you’ll do it if anybody can. But I’m drunk, Pew, you can’t deny that; I’m as drunk as a Plymouth fiddler, Pew; and how you’re going to do it is a mystery to me.
Pew. Ah, you leave that to me. All I want is what I’ve got: your promise to stand by and bear a hand (producing a dark lantern). Now, here, you see, is my little glim; it ain’t for me, because I’m blind, worse luck! and the day and night is the blessed same to David Pew. But you watch. You put the candle near me. Here’s what there ain’t many blind men could do, take the pick o’ them! (lighting a screw of paper, and with that, the lantern). Hey? That’s it. Hey? Go and pity the poor blind!
Kit (while Pew blows out the candles). But I say, Pew, what do you want with it?
Pew. To see by, my son. (He shuts the lantern and puts it in his pocket. Stage quite dark. Moonlight at window.) All ship-shape? No sparks about? No? Come, then, lean on me and heave ahead for the lovely female. (Singing sotto voce)—
| “Time for us to go, Time for us to go, And when we’d clapped the hatches on, ’Twas time for us to go.” |