PEW. Now, I want this clear: Do I understand that you’re going back on me, and you’ll see me damned first? GAUNT. Of me you shall have neither money nor strong drink: not a guinea to spend in riot; not a drop to fire your heart with devilry. PEW. Cap’n, do you think it wise to quarrel with me? I put it to you now, Cap’n, fairly, as between man and man—do you think it wise? GAUNT. I fear nothing. My feet are on the Rock. Begone! (_He opens the Bible and begins to read_.) PEW (_after a pause_). Well, Cap’n, you know best, no doubt; and David Pew’s about the last man, though I says it, to up and thwart an old Commander. You’ve been ’ard on David Pew, Cap’n: ’ard on the poor blind; but you’ll live to regret it—ah, my Christian friend, you’ll live to eat them words up. But there’s no malice here: that ain’t Pew’s way; here’s a sailor’s hand upon it . . . You don’t say nothing? (GAUNT _turns a page_.) Ah, reading, was you? Reading, by thunder! Well, here’s my respecks (_singing_)— ‘Time for us to go, Time for us to go, When the money’s out, and the liquor’s done, Why, it’s time for us to go. (_He goes tapping up to door_, _turns on the threshold_, _and listens_. GAUNT _turns a page_. PEW, _with a grimace_, _strikes his hand upon the pocket with the keys_, _and goes_.) DROP. ACT II. _The Stage represents the parlour of the_ ‘_Admiral Benbow_’ _inn_. _Fire-place_, _R._, _with high-backed settles on each side_; _in front of these_, _and facing the audience_, _R._, _a small table laid with a cloth_. _Tables_, _L._, _with glasses_, _pipes_, _etc._ _Broadside ballads on the wall_. _Outer door of inn_, _with the half-door in L._, _corner back_; _door_, _R._, _beyond the fire-place_; _window with red half-curtains_; _spittons_; _candles on both the front tables_; _night without_. SCENE I PEW; afterwards MRS. DRAKE, out and in PEW (_entering_). Kind Christian friends—(_listening; then dropping the whine_.) Hey? nobody! Hey? A grog-shop not two cable-lengths from the Admiral’s back-door, and the Admiral not there? I never knew a seaman brought so low: he ain’t but the bones of the man he used to be. Bear away for the New Jerusalem, and this is what you run aground on, is it? Good again; but it ain’t Pew’s way; Pew’s way is rum.—Sanded floor. Rum is his word, and rum his motion.—Settle—chimbley—settle again—spittoon—table rigged for supper. Table-glass. (_Drinks heeltap_.) Brandy and water; and not enough of it to wet your eye; damn all greediness, I say. Pot (_drinks_), small beer—a drink that I ab’or like bilge! What I want is rum. (_Calling_, _and rapping with stick on table_.) Halloa, there! House, ahoy! MRS. DRAKE (_without_). Coming, sir, coming. (_She enters_, _R._) What can I do—? (_Seeing_ PEW.) Well I never did! Now, beggar-man, what’s for you? [PEW. Rum, ma’am, rum; and a bit o’ supper.