I’s ‘preshiatin’ yer spirit Mr ace22 but I’s be’en thinkin the lads be so rum weary the lash be a feather. Be it best t’ be remindein’ em whots they got an’ whot’s they gots not? This squall be not fer whips! Many a man chose the briney fer instead whots ‘head. ‘nDeed many’s prefered!
I still says, one oye mind ye, this starm this ev’nin be mor’n jus’ a a squall!
Skipper! If be this no natures storm be, who call’t it? Be we fearin the nameless Jack ye speaks?
Cap?! NoClueBoy did just run crosst the deck. But Liser-go-Blind be not haven his wash. Poor fellow, whot an embarassment, whar be his rags?
Where be KN(whotisitnow)ckers? May’s I bare a pistol? Not to be presumptious but I’d like me bunk safe wit me Port oye gone an’ me starboard t’ make sures the mutinous Kn(she got a couple a points me loiks but I be’s beware)ckers be scoudrellin?
MS ace22, get these scabb’r’us dogs to work! Get us prepared for that thar storm what be comin’ our way. And TAaN arisu ftSP, what sort of delay can we be ‘spectin’ from this storm?
Of course I don’t sound like a pirate! I’m the cat for crying out loud. You want sommat sounds like a pirate, get a parrot.
And watch the rats pile up. Ya thought the bunnies were bad?
DD
Ay ay, Cap’n. Low’rin’ the sail and battenin’ down the ‘atches and all else. That there storm looks to be a right nasty one, e’en to my eye which be none too experienced at readin’ the sky. But Cap’n, looks like we be runnin’ short o’ rope. That damned monkey must’ve stolen it. I’ll 'ave 'is guts for garter belts, I will, the furry little scoundrel!
Ye be the cat, eh? Then how did ye come to be called DesertDog ya scurvy swab?
'E’s a very ugly cat.
The bilge is cleared, Cap’n, and the ballast is centered. I found the monkey’s rope stash, too. Seems soon as 'e found out it be made of hemp, 'e got rather a fetish about it, don’t ya know.
See how tall that storm must be? We caught sight of it hours ago and still no change in the wind here. When we do finally get overtook, it’s going to be a battle.
Now would be a good time to be undead.
The starm be nigh ‘pon us now, this be one tempest it be! I know not whot ye be thinkin NoClueBoy sar, it be a gale up here! E’en the whitecaps be ‘aven’ whitecaps. These seas whot were calm just mere minutes ago be built to a four feet chop they be, four feet bein’ nothin to the Ted, but’ I’ll not be surprised if in no times ‘t all we be seein’ seas a might bit bigger. Big enough to toss this ‘ere ship like a cork in a babes tub. We best be hopin’ ta see t’other soide o’ this ‘ere starm soon.
Remembers I whot me jailer whot raised me said:
Red skois at night sailors deloit’
Red skois at mornin sailors takes a warnin’
or was it feed a cold and starves a fever?
Yarr!!!
NOW the wind’s be achangin’! And blow’n mighty hard, too!
Captain! Shall we be deploy’n our sea anchor?
Yarr!! belllch!
stumbles up the stairs from below decks
Me humblesht appologiesh Cap’n sir, ma’am. It sheemsh oi took a bit much ale in port and wot with the free flowin’ rum when oi came aboard, oi lost me 'ead til now.
looks 'round the decks
Seems yer needin’ a new lookout. Oi saw the skurvy fella wot got fished out o’ the drink earlier down below with the good doctor. ‘e’s not likely to be up ‘n’ about any time soon. Oi’m yer man, oi am. Oi may likes a drink er two off duty, but oi never touch the stuff while oi’s in the riggin’. Wot say you Cap’n Ferry sir, ma’m? Up to the crow’s nest is it? You’ll be needin’ someone up there when that thar storm hits us, make no mistake.
Aye, El Marko, up in the riggin’ ye get. Keep a shrp eye, and only dome down iff’n ye can’t hol’ through the storm.
First Mate NoClue, take all precautions necessary to keep us afloat!
Anyone what has nothin’ to do, either find somethin’ to do or get below decks. This be a rough one, says I.
We arrrren’t ignore’n ye. Jest a wee bit preoccupied, what with the storm,the sharks, the ghost ship, and the Japanese monster and all, don’t ya know.
Well, get unpreoccupied. Ye want to be tossed overboard? Get to.
That’s whot I’m meanin’, Cap’n Sir Ma’am. I am preoccupied with my duties durin’ the storm.
What with have’n to make sure the bow stays in the wind (thank the Pheonecians for inventing the sea anchor), and keeping the sails from unfurlin’ in the high winds (thanks to ye mates up on the riggin’), I kin barely find the time to put two or three words t’gether in a row, don’t ya know.
Feels odd in this eye of t’ storm, now doesn’t it?
Cap’n, these seas ‘pears to seelin’ a might, still be a gale but I thinks Port Royal still be only a day or so away. 'Twas and is a nasty blow but the Ted be up to it.
How be we? This storm be lookin’ to end soon?
*Oh, can’t you see the morning after?
It’s waiting right outside the storm
Why don’t we cross the bridge together
And find a place that’s safe and warm?
There’s got to be a morning after
We’re moving closer to the shore
I know we’ll be there by tomorrow
And we’ll escape the darkness
We won’t be searching anymore*
Okay–who rescued Shelley Winters?
::Jots down note to find NoClueBoy’s hammock, sit on his face, and suffocate him later tonight while he sleeps.::
DD
Cpa’n t’ weather be nothin’ t’ be guesn at as ye knows well, just be these seas may’t be to our favor indeed. Whot says ye oll to a wee bit o’ not so bad luck? I’m not be seein the ghastly glow o’ the dreaded Dogzilla and the compas be spinnin’ no more.
I thinks we can set 110 an onward bound!
Shelly Winters hast floatation devices she does. No one bein’t need’n ta save 'er. She wash’t aboard she did.
Cap? Mights’t we have a speacial place in tha brig for them whos be singin o’ ta mornin after?
A blood curdlin curs’ed wail that it be an oll.