Words of the Constant
A porthole.
The gun ports.
'tbe a sturdy porthole!
Scuppers fer the house.
Tha gun ports.
Tha gun ports.
A porthole.
Scuppers fer tha house.
A porthole.
Brings th'storm down.
Keeps me noggin' from freezin'.
Thet don't help me now.
Arrr brrrrrr!
Me ship. She's me Sea Legs.
'Tis me lucky hat!
Thet's me sail!
'Tis a wretched thing.
A useless thing if ever there were one.
A useless thing if ever there were one.
A useless thing if ever there were one.
Woodlegs' acquired another poop deck.
Dirty dirt.
Ripe fer th'pickin'.
'Tis a worm!
Whut would possess me ta step into thet?
Whar'n Hades do thet lead?
Thet thar pit looks like it's on its last peglegs.
Set's a fire in yer belly.
Rest well, ye weary seafarer.
I be a walkin' lighthouse!
A gem th'color o'me teeth!
Th'stars aren't under th'domain o'man.
Been scuttl'd.
A seahorse'o'th'land.
Takin' tha caulk.
'Tis a... somethin'er tother.
There be booty within. I knows it.
Thar be somthin' wrong wit' these spyglasses.
'Tis like ta catch fire.
'Tis too dark ta spy wit' ye eye!
Inta' ma belly wit ya!
Not up here
Fire! Don't like fire!
Not now
Can't cook now
Get closer. Not too close
Draw what?
Busy
They are dead
Shhh...