Captain Ignatius Pigheart and the crew of the Grim Bastard are departing from the charming Isle of Letch. It falls to Mute Charlie, one of the cabin lads to do the ropey honours.
“Avast there lad, cast off and we’ll be on our way”
“Bring ‘em up swift lest we’re hauled backwise into ye port”
“Charlie, I’ve no grasp of what ye are seekin’ to convey”
“Demonstrate ye meanin’ through a finer mime”
“(Ever seen such gestures before Mick? Never mind)”
“For the love of the sea-”
“Grand, aye, tis righter for the rope’s in ye hand…”
“Have ye no sense?”
“I would have ye untie the rope from about yerself Charlie”
“Just- what have ye done?”
“Knots lad, get ye midget digits into “em”
“Learning o’ the the sailorly crafts’ll be firmly impressed on ye in a moment”
“My god, ye’ll be hanged if ye takes another tug”
“Now see what ye’ve done”
“Orphanin’ ye were never me intent, and indeed I’m awash with regret for it now”
“Perhaps if ye could loosen ye right hand first…?”
“Quell ye fears lad, I’ve some confidence in ye to avoid death”
“Right, well done.”
“So, havin’ en-looped yerself half to a mean fate through ill-mime perhaps we’ll try a fresh angle”
“Tis a charcoal stick and canvas”
“Unless ye fancy swimmin’ ye’ll place ‘em in ye feckless fists”
“Very good, now scrawl”
“Write! At least ye name – in lettering large enough for me old eye”
“X?”
“Ye have no letters do ye boy?”
“Zwounds! I’ll be-letter ye yet.”
