plays [55]
at Lagos, and almost slashed the shoulder off of him one
morning before breakfast?
ARETHUSA. You leave this house.
PEW. Hey? (HE CROSSES AND SEIZES HER AGAIN) Don't you fight, my
lovely one: now don't make old blind Pew forget his manners
before a female. What! you will? Stop that, or I'll have the
arm right out of your body. (HE GIVES HER ARM A WRENCH.)
ARETHUSA. O! help, help!
PEW. Stash your patter, damn you. (ARETHUSA GIVES IN.) Ah, I
thought it: Pew's way, Pew's way. Now, look you here, my lovely
woman. If you sling in another word that isn't in answer to my
questions, I'll pull your j'ints out one by one. Where's the
Commander?
ARETHUSA. I have said: he is abroad.
PEW. When's he coming aboard again?
ARETHUSA. At any moment.
PEW. Does he keep his strength?
ARETHUSA. You'll see when he returns. (HE WRENCHES HER ARM
AGAIN.) Ah!
PEW. Is he still on piety?
ARETHUSA. O, he is a Christian man!
PEW. A Christian man, is he? Where does he keep his rum?
ARETHUSA. Nay, you shall steal nothing by my help.
PEW. No more I shall (BECOMING AMOROUS). You're a lovely woman,
that's what you are; how would you like old Pew for a sweetheart,
hey? He's blind, is Pew, but strong as a lion; and the sex is
his 'ole delight. Ah, them beautiful, beautiful lips! A kiss!
Come!
ARETHUSA. Leave go, leave go!
PEW. Hey? you would?
ARETHUSA. Ah! (SHE THRUSTS HIM DOWN, AND ESCAPES TO DOOR, R.)
SCENE VII
PEW (PICKING HIMSELF UP). Ah, she's a bouncer, she is! Where's
my stick? That's the sort of female for David Pew. Didn't she
fight? and didn't she struggle? and shouldn't I like to twist her
lovely neck for her? Pew's way with 'em all: the prettier they
was, the uglier he were to 'em. Pew's way: a way he had with
him; and a damned good way too. (LISTENS AT L. DOOR.) That's
her bedroom, I reckon; and she's double-locked herself in. Good
again: it's a crying mercy the Admiral didn't come in. But you
always loses your 'ed, Pew, with a female: that's what charms
'em. Now for business. The front door. No bar; only a big lock
(TRYING KEYS FROM HIS POCKET). Key one; no go. Key two; no go.
Key three; ah, that does it. Ah! (FEELING KEY) him with the
three wards and the little 'un: good again! Now if I could only
find a mate in this rotten country 'amlick: one to be eyes to
me; I can steer, but I can't conn myself, worse luck! If I could
only find a mate! And to-night, about three bells in the middle
watch, old Pew will take a little cruise, and lay aboard his
ancient friend the Admiral; or, barring that, the Admiral's old
sea-chest - the chest he kept the shiners in aboard the brig.
Where is it, I wonder? in his berth, or in the cabin here? It's
big enough, and the brass bands is plain to feel by. (SEARCHING
ABOUT WITH STICK.) Dresser - chair - (KNOCKING HIS HEAD ON THE
CUPBOARD.) Ah! - O, corner cupboard. Admiral's chair -
Admiral's table - Admiral's - hey! what's this? - a book -
sheepskin - smells like a 'oly Bible. Chair (HIS STICK JUST
AVOIDS THE CHEST). No sea-chest. I must have a mate to see for
me, to see for old Pew: him as had eyes like a eagle!
Meanwhile, rum. Corner cupboard, of course (TAP-TAPPING). Rum -
rum - rum. Hey? (HE LISTENS.) Footsteps. Is it the Admiral?
(WITH THE WHINE.) Kind Christian friends -
SCENE VIII
PEW; to him GAUNT
GAUNT. What brings you here?
PEW. Cap'n, do my ears deceive me? or is this my old commander?
GAUNT. My name is John Gaunt. Who are you, my man, and what's
your business?
PEW. Here's the facks, so help me. A lovely female in this
house was Christian enough to pity the poor blind; and lo and
belold! who should she turn out to be but my old commander's
daughter! 'My dear,' says I to her, 'I was the Admiral's own
particular bo'sun.' - 'La, sailor,' she says to me, 'how glad
he'll be to see you!' - 'Ah,' says I, 'won't he just - that's
all.' - 'I'll go and fetch him,' she says; 'you make yourself at
morning before breakfast?
ARETHUSA. You leave this house.
PEW. Hey? (HE CROSSES AND SEIZES HER AGAIN) Don't you fight, my
lovely one: now don't make old blind Pew forget his manners
before a female. What! you will? Stop that, or I'll have the
arm right out of your body. (HE GIVES HER ARM A WRENCH.)
ARETHUSA. O! help, help!
PEW. Stash your patter, damn you. (ARETHUSA GIVES IN.) Ah, I
thought it: Pew's way, Pew's way. Now, look you here, my lovely
woman. If you sling in another word that isn't in answer to my
questions, I'll pull your j'ints out one by one. Where's the
Commander?
ARETHUSA. I have said: he is abroad.
PEW. When's he coming aboard again?
ARETHUSA. At any moment.
PEW. Does he keep his strength?
ARETHUSA. You'll see when he returns. (HE WRENCHES HER ARM
AGAIN.) Ah!
PEW. Is he still on piety?
ARETHUSA. O, he is a Christian man!
PEW. A Christian man, is he? Where does he keep his rum?
ARETHUSA. Nay, you shall steal nothing by my help.
PEW. No more I shall (BECOMING AMOROUS). You're a lovely woman,
that's what you are; how would you like old Pew for a sweetheart,
hey? He's blind, is Pew, but strong as a lion; and the sex is
his 'ole delight. Ah, them beautiful, beautiful lips! A kiss!
Come!
ARETHUSA. Leave go, leave go!
PEW. Hey? you would?
ARETHUSA. Ah! (SHE THRUSTS HIM DOWN, AND ESCAPES TO DOOR, R.)
SCENE VII
PEW (PICKING HIMSELF UP). Ah, she's a bouncer, she is! Where's
my stick? That's the sort of female for David Pew. Didn't she
fight? and didn't she struggle? and shouldn't I like to twist her
lovely neck for her? Pew's way with 'em all: the prettier they
was, the uglier he were to 'em. Pew's way: a way he had with
him; and a damned good way too. (LISTENS AT L. DOOR.) That's
her bedroom, I reckon; and she's double-locked herself in. Good
again: it's a crying mercy the Admiral didn't come in. But you
always loses your 'ed, Pew, with a female: that's what charms
'em. Now for business. The front door. No bar; only a big lock
(TRYING KEYS FROM HIS POCKET). Key one; no go. Key two; no go.
Key three; ah, that does it. Ah! (FEELING KEY) him with the
three wards and the little 'un: good again! Now if I could only
find a mate in this rotten country 'amlick: one to be eyes to
me; I can steer, but I can't conn myself, worse luck! If I could
only find a mate! And to-night, about three bells in the middle
watch, old Pew will take a little cruise, and lay aboard his
ancient friend the Admiral; or, barring that, the Admiral's old
sea-chest - the chest he kept the shiners in aboard the brig.
Where is it, I wonder? in his berth, or in the cabin here? It's
big enough, and the brass bands is plain to feel by. (SEARCHING
ABOUT WITH STICK.) Dresser - chair - (KNOCKING HIS HEAD ON THE
CUPBOARD.) Ah! - O, corner cupboard. Admiral's chair -
Admiral's table - Admiral's - hey! what's this? - a book -
sheepskin - smells like a 'oly Bible. Chair (HIS STICK JUST
AVOIDS THE CHEST). No sea-chest. I must have a mate to see for
me, to see for old Pew: him as had eyes like a eagle!
Meanwhile, rum. Corner cupboard, of course (TAP-TAPPING). Rum -
rum - rum. Hey? (HE LISTENS.) Footsteps. Is it the Admiral?
(WITH THE WHINE.) Kind Christian friends -
SCENE VIII
PEW; to him GAUNT
GAUNT. What brings you here?
PEW. Cap'n, do my ears deceive me? or is this my old commander?
GAUNT. My name is John Gaunt. Who are you, my man, and what's
your business?
PEW. Here's the facks, so help me. A lovely female in this
house was Christian enough to pity the poor blind; and lo and
belold! who should she turn out to be but my old commander's
daughter! 'My dear,' says I to her, 'I was the Admiral's own
particular bo'sun.' - 'La, sailor,' she says to me, 'how glad
he'll be to see you!' - 'Ah,' says I, 'won't he just - that's
all.' - 'I'll go and fetch him,' she says; 'you make yourself at