Pew. Do I mean what I say? Does David Pew? Ask Admiral ’Awke! Ask old Admiral Byng in his coffin, where I laid him with these lands! Pew does, is what those naval commanders would reply. Mean it? I reckon so.
Kit. Then, shake hands. You’re an honest man, Pew—old Pew!—and I’ll make your fortune. But there’s something else, if I could keep the run of it. O, ah! But can you? That’s the point. Can you; don’t you see?
Pew. Can I? You leave that to me; I’ll bring you to your moorings; I’m the man that can, and I’m him that will. But only, look here, let’s understand each other. You’re a bold blade, ain’t you? You won’t stick at a trifle for a lovely female? You’ll back me up? You’re a man, ain’t you? a man, and you’ll see me through and through it, hey? Come; is that so? Are you fair and square and stick at nothing?
Kit. Me, Pew? I’ll go through fire and water.
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.