come, and took and knocked a bucketful of shivers right into
my poor daylights. "Damme," says the Admiral, "is that old Pew, _my_ old
Pew?" he says.--"It's old Pew, sir," says the first lootenant, "worse
luck," he says.--"Then damme," says Admiral Benbow, "if that's how they
serve a lion-'arted seaman, damme if I care to live," he says; and,
ma'am, he laid down his spy-glass.)

MRS. DRAKE. Blind man, I don't fancy you, and that's the truth; and I'll
thank you to take yourself off.

PEW. Thirty years have I fought for country and king, and now in my
blind old age I'm to be sent packing from a measly public-'ouse? Mark
ye, ma'am, if I go, you take the consequences. Is this a inn? Or hain't
it? If it is a inn, then by act of parleyment, I'm free to sling my
'ammick. Don't you forget: this is a act of parleyment job, this is. You
look out.

MRS. DRAKE. Why, what's to do with the man and his acts of parliament? I
don't want to fly in the face of an act of parliament, not I. If what
you say is true----

PEW. True? If there's anything truer than a act of parleyment--Ah! you
ask the beak. True? I've that in my 'art as makes me wish it wasn't.

MRS. DRAKE. I don't like to risk it. I don't like your looks, and you're
more sea-lawyer than seaman to my mind. But I'll tell you what: if you
can pay, you can stay. So there.

PEW. No chink, no drink? That's your motto, is it? Well, that's sense.
Now, look here, ma'am, I ain't beautiful like you; but I'm good, and
I'll give you warrant for it. Get me a noggin of rum, and suthin' to
scoff, and a penny pipe, and a half-a-foot of baccy; and there's a
guinea for the reckoning. There's plenty more in the locker; so bear a
hand, and be smart. I don't like waiting; it ain't my way. (_Exit MRS.
DRAKE, R. PEW sits at the table, R. The settle conceals him from the
upper part of the stage._)

MRS. DRAKE (_re-entering_). Here's the rum, sailor.

PEW (_drinks_). Ah, rum! That's my sheet-anchor; rum and the blessed
Gospel. Don't you forget that, ma'am: rum and the Gospel is old Pew's
sheet-anchor. You can take for another while you're about it; and, I
say, short reckonings make long friends, hey? Where's my change?

MRS. DRAKE. I'm counting it now. There, there it is, and thank you for
your custom. (_She goes out, R._)

PEW (_calling after her_). Don't thank me, ma'am; thank the act of
parleyment! Rum, fourpence; two penny pieces and a Willi'm-and-Mary
tizzy makes a shilling; and a spade