human
For grog is our larboard and starboard, Our main-mast, our mizzen, our log, On shore, or at sea, or when harbour'd, The mariner's compass is grog.
gpt
But it arn't a compass to steer steady by, father,
human
Then don't you have nothing to do with it, Tom.
gpt
I only takes a little, father, because you mayn't take too much.
human
Thanky for nothing; when do I ever take too much, you scamp?
gpt
Not too much for a man standing on his own pins, but too much for a man on two broomsticks.
human
Stop your jaw, Mr Tom, or I'll unscrew one of the broomsticks, and lay it over your shoulders.
gpt
Before it's out of the socket, I'll give you _leg-bail_. What will you do then, father?
human
Catch you when I can, Tom, as the spider takes the fly.
gpt
What's the good o' that, when you can't bear malice for ten minutes?
human
Very true, Tom? then thank your stars that you have two good legs, and that your poor father has none.
gpt
I very often do thank my stars, and that's the truth of it; but what's the use of being angry about a drop of rum, or a handful of sugar?
human
Because you takes more than your allowance.
gpt
Well, do you take less, then all will be right.
human
And why should I take less, pray?
gpt
Because you're only half a man; you haven't any legs to provide for, as I have.
human
Now, I tell you, Tom, that's the very reason why I should have more to comfort my old body for the loss of them.
gpt
When you lost your legs you lost your ballast, father, and, therefore, you mustn't carry too much sail, or you'll topple overboard some dark night. If I drink the grog, it's all for your good, you see.
human
You're a dutiful son in that way, at all events; and a sweet child, as far as sugar goes; but Jacob is to sleep in the cabin with me, and you'll shake your blanket forward.
gpt
Now that I consider quite unnatural; why part father and son?
human
It's not that exactly, it's only parting son and the grog bottle.
gpt
That's just as cruel; why part two such good friends?
human
Well, but I forgives him; it's all done in good humour.
gpt
Tom, you're a wag; but you wag your tongue to no purpose. Liquor ain't good for a boy like you, and it grows upon you.
human
Well, don't I grow too? we grow together.
gpt
You'll grow faster without it.
human
I've no wish to be a tall man cut short, like you.
gpt
If I hadn't been a tall man, my breath would have been cut short for ever; the ball which took my legs would have cut you right in half.
human
And the ball that would take your head off, would whistle over mine; so there we are equal again.
gpt
And there's the grog fast, replied old Tom, turning the key, and putting it into his pocket.
human
That's a stopper over all; so now we'll go on deck.