GOVERNESS.  Pinniger.

1ST PIRATE (writing).  Pincher.

CHIEF.  Christian names, if any?

GOVERNESS.  Letitia.

1ST PIRATE (writing).  Letisher—­how would you spell it, Captain?

CHIEF.  Spell it like a sneeze.  Age?

GOVERNESS.  Twenty-three.

CHIEF (to 1ST PIRATE).  Habits—­untruthful.  Appearance—­against her. 
Got that?

1ST PIRATE.  Yes, sir.

CHIEF (to GOVERNESS).  And what are you for?

GOVERNESS.  I teach.  Oliver and Jill, you know.

CHIEF.  And what do you teach them?

GOVERNESS.  Oh, everything.  Arithmetic, French, Geography, History,
Dancing——­

CHIEF (holding up his hand).  A moment!  I would take counsel with Percy. (to 2ND PIRATE) Percy, what shall we ask her in Arithmetic?  (The 2ND PIRATE whispers to him.) Excellent. (To her) If you really are a teacher as you say, answer me this question.  The brigantine Cocktail is in longitude 40 deg. 39’ latitude 22 deg. 50’, sailing closehauled on the port tack at 8 knots in a 15-knot nor’-nor’ westerly breeze—­how soon before she sights the Azores?

GOVERNESS.  I—­I—­I’m afraid I—–­You see—­I——­

CHIEF (to 1ST PIRATE).  Arithmetic rotten.

1ST PIRATE (writing).  Arithmetic rotten.

CHIEF (to 3RD PIRATE).  Basil, ask her a question in French.

3RD PIRATE.  What would the mate of a French frigate say if he wanted to say in French, “Avast there, ye lubbering swab” to a friend like?

GOVERNESS.  Oh, but I hardly—­I—–­

CHIEF (to 1ST PIRATE).  French futile.

1ST PIRATE (writing).  French futile.

CHIEF (to 4TH PIRATE).  I don’t suppose it’s much use, Francis.  But try her in Geography.

4TH PIRATE.  Well now, lady.  If you was wanting a nice creek to lay up cosy in, atween Dago Point and the Tortofitas, where would you run to?

GOVERNESS.  It-run to?  But that isn’t—­of course I—–­

CHIEF (to 1ST PIRATE).  Geography ghastly.

1ST PIRATE (writing).  Geography ghastly.

CHIEF (to 5TH PIRATE).  Give her a last chance, Mervyn.  See if she knows any history.

5TH PIRATE.  I suppose you couldn’t tell me what year it was when old John Cann took the Saucy Codfish over Black Tooth Reef and laid her alongside the Spaniard in the harbour there, and up comes the Don in his nightcap.  “Shiver my timbers,” he says in Spanish, “but there’s only one man in the whole of the Spanish Main,” he says, “and that’s John Cann,” he says, “who could—–­”

(The GOVERNESS looks dumbly at him.)

CHIEF.  She couldn’t.  History hopeless.

1ST PIRATE.  History hopeless.

CHIEF (to GOVERNESS).  What else do you teach?

GOVERNESS.  Music, dancing—­er—­but I don’t think—–­

CHIEF.  Steward!

STEWARD (coming in).  Yes, sir, coming, sir.