h good--'cept fer washin'. And washin' 's not
much good.

DUKE: Now then, Captain, hold hard on yer tiller agin wobblin', and
get ter port.

DARLIN': We 're hangin' on yer lips.

CAPTAIN: Yer need n't keep shovin' me. I kicks up when I 'm riled.
They say down in the village--

(_It is now a sneeze that will not dislodge. He has hopes of it for a
breathless moment, but it proves to be a dud._)

CAPTAIN: There 's Petey--

PATCH: We 're jest fidgettin' fer the news.

CAPTAIN: The news? Oh, yes. Now yer hears it. (_He draws the pirates
near._) A great merchantman has jest sailed from Bristol. The Royal
'Arry. It 's her. With gold fer the armies in France. She 's a brig o'
five hundred ton. This night, when the tide runs out, she slips away
from Bristol harbor. With this wind she should be off Clovelly by this
time termorrer night.

DARLIN': Glory ter God!

DUKE: And then Petey will douse his glim. And we 'll set up the ship's
lantern.

PATCH: Smash!

DUKE: Then Petey will light hisself.

PATCH: And we 'll be jest as innercent as babies rockin' in a crib.

[Illustration: "The Royal 'Arry. It 's her."]

DUKE: And lay it on the helmsman fer bein' sleepy.

CAPTAIN: And I 've other news. Down in the village they say--fer a
fishin' sloop brought the word--that his 'Ighness, the Prince o'
Wales, left London a month ago.

DUKE: And him not givin' me word. I calls that shabby. He was me fag
at Eton.

PATCH: Does yer think, Captain, he 'll spend a week-end with us,
ridin' to the 'ounds, jest tellin' us the London gossip--how the
pretty Duchesses is cuttin' up?

DUKE: I thought he was settin' in Whitehall, tryin' on crowns, so as
ter get one that did n't scratch his ears.

CAPTAIN: They say he 's incarnito.

PATCH: What? Is it somethin' yer ketches like wollygogs in the
stomich?

DUKE: Igerence. I 'm 'shamed o' yer, Patch. Ain 't yer been ter
school? Ain 't yer done lessons on a slate? Ain 't yer been walloped
so standin' 's been comfertabler. The Captain and me soils ourselves
talkin' to yer. Incarnito is dressed up fancy, so as no one can know
him.

DARLIN': Like Cindereller at the party.

DUKE: If yer wants Patch ter understand yer, Captain, yer has got to
use leetle words as is still pullin' at their bottles.

DARLIN': When words grow big and has got beards they jest don 't say
nothin' to Patch.

CAPTAIN: This here Prince o' Wales is journeyin' down Plymouth way.

DUKE: What 's that ter us? I