Bloody unacceptable.

You'd figure a woman'd know how to keep her damn boat. Leaks in starboard, leaks in port, leaks in the bow, leaks in the bloody stern…I swear, if the mast could leak, it would. Never seen such a mess in me life.

I'm a Captain, savvy. And I like my ships like my women: well cared for. Don't like a needy wench-she'll only bring you trouble. Take your gold, take your rum, take your freedom, and before you can say I'm a nunkey's monkle she's fat an' wasted and you've got seven children, an' a steady land job and there's no leaving her.

A needy ship's even worse-although admittedly less permanent. You can ditch a ship faster than a wench, and you never need mind bein' careful in port fer fear o' running into her. And ol' Anna's got both the heart and fist of a man, as it were. Nearly broke me bloody jaw las' time I crossed her. But that's neither here nor there yet most certainly off the topic. You see the problem with a needy ship is that you need it. A wench you just want.

But a ship-or in this instance, a derelict and dysfunctional and otherwise hazardously constructed excuse what passes itself for a boat-you really need. I really need. An' there's nothing I hates worse than a needy ship.

No. That ain't true. There's only one thing worse than a needy ship. An' that's a mutinous crew what steals your ship. And that's why I need this needy ship, to commandeer another ship potentially and hopefully less needy and more speedful to overtake the crew what stole my ship-

To kill that murderous bastard what calls himself bloody Captain Hector Barbossa.

So yes. If it weren't for the fact that would mean ol' Anna got the best of me (not bloody likely), I would almost certainly and in nowise hesitantly suspect that the tart let me take her damn boat on purpose, jus' to watch me drown.

Not sure I deserve that. Leastaways not from her…

Bloody hell.

Pirates, ye be warned. They told me in Tortuga I wouldn't find the Caribbean as inviting as I left it. Some admiral, captain, person takin' over the seas. Got the fastest ship in the Caribbean-goes by the ungodly, unpoetic and thoroughly uninspiring name of Interceptor. Fastest ship in the Caribbean? Well, we'll have to see about that.

Pirates, ye be warned. I remove my hat in respect, bowin' my head to contemplate a moment of silence. Actually, it's more a moment of seeing it's now pointless to keep bailing the boat as there's more water in the damn thing than out. But what they don't know can't hurt 'em.

I climb up the mast again, standin' tall an' proud. A Captain's got to be proud of his ship as it represents him to the world. Shows off his character. Anna's damn boat is sinking faster than it's sailing, but I ain't ashamed.

After all, it's not my bloody boat.

Port Bloody Royal. Haven't been here in some time. Merchant sailors, crabbers, fishermen…the docks be loaded with people, the ships be laden, and the Union Jack flies high over the fort. The place is crawlin' with military and the like, Navy uniforms and EITC merchants…

But it's all part of the plan: Port Royal for the Interceptor. Interceptor to Tortuga. Tortuga for a crew, an' the crew for Revenge. It's been ten years since I watched that Bastard sail away with my ship…but Revenge, I've heard, when plotted correctly, is like a good wine: all the more sweeter for its age.

With a grinding halt the prow hits the pier and with one firm step I'm on dry land. Thanks darling, I say as a parting, but a Captain always and only goes down with his ship…and I'm sorry luv, but you just ain't the Pearl.