Rupee. Tom, you may be chin-deep, but water can never reach your lips unless mixed with brandy—brandy! apropos, now for the ladies.
Grog. Well, sheer off; d’ye see, I have business at the Admiralty, and then I bear away for Tower Hill, to meet some Hearts of Oak.
Rupee. Adieu, my Man of War; my vis-a-vis is at St. James’ Gate, so, Tom, farewell; and now, hey for the land of love. [Exit.
Grog. Now must I cruise in the channel of Charing Cross, to look out for this lubber that affronted me aboard the Dreadnought. I heard he put in at the Admiralty—Hold! is Rupee gone? If he thought I went to fight, mayhap he’d bring the Master-at-Arms upon me, and have me in the bilboes—Smite my timbers! there goes the enemy.
Enter Stern (crossing).
I’ll hail him—yo! ho!
Stern. What cheer?
Grog. You’re Sam Stern?
Stern. Yes.
Grog. Do you remember me?