Talk Like a Pirate Day: First Sea Lord Explains the Situation

(As he understands it, hiding the Barky in breaker-pocked bays off the Spanish Main, gathering news from passing ships.)

Gather 'round, mateys! You! Crinkley Pete-show a leg there! And afore the new moon rises, ye moss-backed sea-sloth! A-Midships, not aft, you pie-for-brains anchor toad! Right, then. Listen all ye close, we's got the news for ye, fresh off a dutch herrring buss - and aye you'll get yer share - aye it's just molasses again, and aye, we will make more rum. S'Blood, Man, clap an iron on it! Yer chattier than a Bristol whore who ain't been paid right!

So's I understands her, the banks in Ol Brighty and the American coast are a-foundering, lads, foundered on the breaking bars of short-selling, so those o' ye gots yer treasure with the usurers and feather-pushin' wig-wearers back in London or New Amsterdam might find yer chests emptier than a Friday night rum cask after all-day grapplin' an Indianman. Nay, that's not what I meant, ye snot-faced powder boy! Stop yer snickering or I'll have yer bones for pianoforte keys!

And no, I daren't guess what short sellin' means, other than it's kind-er like selling a lubber the Spanish gold-fleet without ever havin a-took her a'tall, save maybes a ship's boat with a leak in her, a starvin' cabin boy and a hapenny under the mast-step. So's all yer coin was invested with a bunch of bleary, fog-eyed, forked-tongued hedgehog-buggerers who'd sell yer own mother to you without even buying her supper.

'Vast that blubberin', Quantos! Yer rated Able, even if you're from Ulanbatar and ne'er saw a salt sea til you was grown. A seaman should have 'is dignity! Oh, for Neptune's small clothes! Get a hold of yerself, man! What cork-headed lubber puts all his money with a couple of shifty-eye, pimple-butted jakers called "Lehman?" Arr. Look...Quantos..I didn't mean... arr, someone get him small beer Now!

Anyhooos, here's a news corker for ye- Gold! GOLD ye dogs! Gold is rising faster than sun at the equator! What? No- take yer piece of eight. It WAS worth a piece of sixteen. Now it's worth a piece of Four. Or did I get that backwards? What I means is ye board two Jamaica whores for the price of one - piece...of eight?

Arrrrrrrr....

BUt who has the gold, lads? No, not Johnson there. Aye, Aye, I know ye boys were a-tossin' the knuckles. I'm...I'm...blast ye, ye scurvied barn bat, stow that lubber-talk...I'm making a more general points: The Pirates have the gold! This is Our time, boys! (and yes, you too, Mary- I make my oaths, Zwounds!) But we can get more! So make sail, lads, make all sail for the Azores! I heerd from Captain Black the last Manilla Galleon may call there, and we'll take her at the shoaling bay, drive her aground, and off-load the booty at low tide! And the Dagos will call us: Dastardly...Sea...Egrets....! the Egret a fierce bird o' prey, Raoul? No?

Send aloft the royals, man the tacks and sheets, we'll come about right smart about 12 points off the bow! Larboard. LAR-board. L-L-L-L-LAR-board!!! Are ye deaf, Deaf Zeke? Arr, aye then, I forgets sometimes. Yes, I knows yer called Deaf Zeke, but it just be sort of a name after a times. Ye smoke it? Ye don't? Arr...

For Gold!