death; you
ran for it, turned slaver, and shipped with me, a green hand. Ay, that
was the craft for you; that was the right craft, and I was the right
captain; there was none worse that sailed to Guinea. Well, what came of
that? In five years' time you made yourself the terror and abhorrence of
your messmates. The worst hands detested you; your captain--that was me,
John Gaunt, the chief of sinners--cast you out for a Jonah. (Who was it
stabbed the Portuguese and made off inland with his miserable wife? Who,
raging drunk on rum, clapped fire to the baracoons and burned the poor
soulless creatures in their chains?) Ay, you were a scandal to the
Guinea coast, from Lagos down to Calabar; and when at last I sent you
ashore, a marooned man--your shipmates, devils as they were, cheering
and rejoicing to be quit of you--by heaven, it was a ton's weight off
the brig!

PEW. Cap'n Gaunt, Cap'n Gaunt, these are ugly words.

GAUNT. What next? You shipped with Flint the Pirate. What you did then I
know not; the deep seas have kept the secret; kept it, ay, and will keep
against the Great Day. God smote you with blindness, but you heeded not
the sign. That was His last mercy; look for no more. To your knees, man,
and repent. Pray for a new heart; flush out your sins with tears; flee
while you may from the terrors of the wrath to come.

PEW. Now, I want this clear: Do I understand that you're going back on
me, and you'll see me damned first?

GAUNT. Of me you shall have neither money nor strong drink: not a guinea
to spend in riot; not a drop to fire your heart with devilry.

PEW. Cap'n, do you think it wise to quarrel with me? I put it to you
now, Cap'n, fairly, as between man and man--do you think it wise?

GAUNT. I fear nothing. My feet are on the Rock. Begone! (_He opens the
Bible and begins to read._)

Pew (_after a pause_). Well, Cap'n, you know best, no doubt; and David
Pew's about the last man, though I says it, to up and thwart an old
Commander. You've been 'ard on David Pew, Cap'n: 'ard on the poor blind;
but you'll live to regret it--ah, my Christian friend, you'll live to
eat them words up. But there's no malice here: that ain't Pew's way;
here's a sailor's hand upon it.... You don't say nothing? (_GAUNT turns
a page._) Ah, reading, was you? Reading, by thunder! Well, here's my
respecks. (_Singing_)--

"Time for us to go,
Time for us to go,
When the money's out, and the liquor's done,