The Captain.
It's likely enough.
So it's really kind, as you promised just now,
To help eke things out.
Peer.
[Thumping the bulwark.]
I'll be damned if I do. Do you think I am mad? Would you have me fork out For the sake of a parcel of other folks' brats? I've slaved much too sorely in earning my cash There's nobody waiting for old Peer Gynt. The Captain. Well well; as you please then; your money's your own. Peer. Right! Mine it is, and no one else's. We'll reckon as soon as your anchor is down! Take my fare, in the cabin, from Panama here. Then brandy all round to the crew. Nothing more. If I give a doit more, slap my jaw for me, Captain. The Captain. I owe you a quittance, and not a thrashing;— But excuse me, the wind's blowing up to a gale.
[He goes forward. It has fallen dark; lights are lit in the cabin. The sea increases. Fog and thick clouds.
Peer.
To have a whole bevy of youngsters at home;—
Still to dwell in their minds as a coming delight;—
