“Why, d—n my buttons,” said Derrick, “do we not weigh this tide?”
“Or to-morrow’s tide, at farthest?” said the Boatswain—“Why, what have we been slaving the whole company for, to get all these stores aboard?”
“Gentlemen,” said Bunce, “you are to know that Cupid has laid our Captain on board, carried the vessel, and nailed down his wits under hatches.”
“What sort of play-stuff is all this?” said the Boatswain, gruffly. “If you have any thing to tell us, say it in a word, like a man.”
“Howsomdever,” said Fletcher, “I always think Jack Bunce speaks like a man, and acts like a man too—and so, d’ye see”——
“Hold your peace, dear Dick, best of bullybacks, be silent,” said Bunce—“Gentlemen, in one word, the Captain is in love.”
“Why, now, only think of that!” said the Boatswain; “not but that I have been in love as often as any man, when the ship was laid up.”
“Well, but,” continued Bunce, “Captain Cleveland is in love—Yes—Prince Volscius is in love; and, though that’s the cue for laughing on the stage, it is no laughing matter here. He expects to meet the girl to-morrow, for the last time; and that, we all know, leads to another meeting, and another, and so on till the Halcyon is down on us, and then we may look for more kicks than halfpence.”
“By —,” said the Boatswain, with a sounding oath, “we’ll have a mutiny, and not allow him to go ashore,—eh, Derrick?”
“And the best way, too,” said Derrick.