You can't sail the Caribbee if you can't talk to your crew.
|'So, Jim, lad, you be my new midshipman?'
'Apparently, Bosun, sir. Captain Flint said that I am not allowed on the poop deck until I can communicate clearly and precisely. And my name is Frobisher, sir.'
'It be Jim until I be telling you elseways.'
'I say! What was that for?'
'Don't ye be cheeky or I'll be clipping t'other ear!'
'Now, you be saying after me: shiver me timbers, Cap'n.'
'Shiver my timbers, Captain. Ouch!'
'Shiver ME timbers, CAP'N! And put a growl in it.'
'Shiver me timbers, Cap'n. By jingo! It does sound rather good with a touch of the jolly old growl in it.'
'Try this one: avast there, belay that order or I'll slice you from your gizzard to your vittals.'
'How wonderfully bloodcurdling, Bosun. Although I cannot see that I will have much use for it. Humnph! That hurt! And you used your crutch!'
'Listen you slice of shark bait, if'n you gives me any more backchat I'lI lay the flat o' me cutlass across them fancy breeks and you'll be sleeping in the crowsnest for a week.'
'With respect, Bosun, these britches were purchased from the Army and Navy Stores. They assured me that they are the correct uniform for a midshipman in Her Majesty's Royal Navy.'
'Her Majesty's Royal Navy? The Black Cat be a Privateer, you scurvy squirt.'
'But my orders were to report to Captain Clint on HMS Blackette. I wondered why there was that black flag with the skull and crossbones flying where the Union Jack should be. Am I aboard the wrong ship?'
'Bless, 'ee no, Jim lad, you're bound for a life of adventure on the high seas with the blackest blackguards as ever danced on a dead man's chest.'
'That sounds exciting. Mummy instructed my man to sign me on as an apprentice pilot in the navy. Daddy said that I needed a spell of... Golly is the cabin swaying?'
'We're bound for the Carribee. Get it in the bucket you numbskull.'
'You stay here and get the rest in the bucket and clean yersel' up. I've got to report to the Cap'n.'
'Permission to enter the bridge, Captain.'
'Granted, Bosun. How's the little landlubber shaping up?'
'Learning about buckets and getting his sealegs, sir.'
'From the grin on your face, Bosun, I guess he fell for it?'
'Arrr. It were like feeding chocolate to a chimpanzee. He thinks he's off to the Caribbean to be a black hearted terror of the seas! Arrr, Jim lad.'
'A rather more exciting life than plying around the Isle of Wight on a ferry.'
'Indeed. Shiver me timbers and so forth.'
'Bosun? Why are you pointing that pistol at me? Is it loaded?'
'Well, you see, Cap'n, me and me mateys in the crew reckon there's a bit of treasure right for the picking in the Carribee.'
'Mutiny! I want to speak to your leader!'
'That will be me.'
'Cap'n Frobisher, me hearty.'