Stiver

One stiver would get you five liquorice roots, so every guilder would get you sixty!

’Tis not worth a single stiver, said the bandy-leg'd drummer.

[A]ll hands, including the captain, received certain shares of the profits called lays […] And though the 275th lay was what they call a rather long lay, yet it was better than nothing; and if we had a lucky voyage, might pretty nearly pay for the clothing I would wear out on it, not to speak of my three years' beef and board, for which I would not have to pay one stiver.