Chapter 16

BOATSWAIN. Where's his Lordship?

SERVANT. He's in the state-room.

BOATSWAIN. It's time for him to turn out; tell him I want to speak to him.

SERVANT. I dare not do it, Boatswain; it's more than my life is worth.

BOATSWAIN. Damn your squeamish stomach, go directly, or I'll go myself.

SERVANT. For God's sake! Boatswain--

BOATSWAIN. Damn your eyes, you pimping son of a bitch, go this instant, or I'll stick my knife in your gammons.

SERVANT. O Lord! Boatswain. [_SERVANT goes._]

BOATSWAIN [_solus_]. What the devil--keep a pimp guard here, better station the son of a bitch at the mast head, to keep a look out there, lest Admiral Hopkins be upon us.

_Enter KIDNAPPER._

KIDNAPPER. What's your will, Boatswain?

BOATSWAIN. I beg your Lordship's pardon [_Aside. But you can soon fetch up Leeway, and spread the water sail again._], please your honour, here's a boat full of fine recruits along side for you.

KIDNAPPER. Recruits, Boatswain? you mean soldiers from Augustine, I imagine; what reg'mentals have they on?

BOATSWAIN. Mourning, please your honour, and as black as our tarpawling.

KIDNAPPER. Ha, ha, well well, take 'em on board, Boatswain, I'll be on deck presently.

BOATSWAIN. With submission to your honour, d' ye see, [_Scratching his head._] I think we have gallows-looking dogs enough on board already--the scrapings of Newgate, and the refuse of Tyburn, and when the wind blows aft, damn 'em, they stink like polecats--but d' ye see, as your honour pleases, with submission, if it's Lord Paramount's orders, why it must be so, I suppose--but I've done my duty, d' ye see--

KIDNAPPER. Ha, ha, the work must be done, Boatswain, no matter by whom.

BOATSWAIN. Why, aye, that's true, please your honour, any port in a storm--if a man is to be hang'd, or have his throat cut, d' ye see--who are so fit to do it as his own slaves? especially as they're to have their freedoms for it; nobody can blame 'em, nor your honour neither, for you get them for half price, or nothing at all, d' ye see me, and that will help to lessen poor Owld England's taxes, and when you have done with 'em here, and they get their brains knock'd out, d' ye see, your honour can sell them in the West-Indies, and that will be something in your honour's pocket, d' ye see--well, ev'ry man to his trade--but, damn my impudence for all, I see your honour knows all about it--d' ye see.

[_Exit BOATSWAIN._