[The Captain is prevailed upon to accept a tumbler of “the
    usual;” the Stout Lady says “Captin, your ’elth!” and pledges
    him in a whiskey-and-soda.

First Female Friend (to Second Do.  Do.).  That’s Mrs. EDLING, all over, puttin’ herself so forward!  Look at her now, ’anding him up two cigars in a paper-bag.  I call it sickenin’!

Second Do.  Do. I’m not surprised.  She’s a woman that ’ud do anythink for notoriety.  I’ve always noticed that in her.

Captain (to Mate).  Ease the brails!

Mate (frivolously, after obeying).  They’re feeling better now, darlin’!  If no one else’ll sing a song, I’ll give you “The Midshipmite.”

The Stout Lady. I do like the way those two go on together; it’s as good as a play.  I shall begin laughin’ presently; it takes a deal to set me off, but when I once am off, I can’t stop myself. (The Mate sings.) A sweet singer he is, too.  Lor! it’s like goin’ for a sail in a Music-’All!

The Chirpy Man. Yes, I’m comin’ to set down a bit.  Not so much motion ’ere, yer know.  No use trying to smoke in this breeze.  No, I was on’y yawning.  Makes yer sleepy, this see-saw does.  Don’t you find it so?

Mate (to Sailor).  Now, WILLIAM, it’s your turn—­you’re goin’ to sing us something?

William (gruffly).  No, I ain’t.  But there’s a gen’lman ’ere as says he’ll recite.

    [After some persuasion, a Mild Young Man is induced to step
    forward on the foredeck, and recite as follows:—­

The Mild Young Man (balancing himself with some difficulty). 
  “Pirate, that’s what I was, Sir.  Talk about Captain KIDD—­
  His cruellest acts were kindness, compared with the deeds I did! 
  Never a pitying pang felt I for youth, sex, age, or rank—­
  All who fell into my clutches were doomed to pace a protruded plank! 
  Yet the desperate demon of those days is now a Churchwarden mild,
  Holding the bag at Collections—­and all through a golden-haired
          child!”

[Here the Mate suppresses a groan, and is understood to remark that he “knows that golden-haired child;” the Stout Lady sighs, and inwardly reflects that you can never go by appearances; the Chirpy Man becomes solemn and attentive.

The Ex-Pirate (who meanwhile has sighted an East-Indiaman, and
given chase). 
  “Well, soon as we’d overhauled her, our ‘Jolly Roger’ we flew,
  We opened our dummy deadlights, and the guns gleamed grinning
          through. 
  And, panther-like, we were crouching—­”

[Here he attempts to suit the action to the word; the boat
heels over—­and the Pirate’s crouch becomes a sprawl.