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Be it quartermaster ye be orderin' to kiss th' gunner's daughter, ye swab? Ye'll keep a civil tongue in yer head when speakin' to yer betters, or I'll ha' it out wi' ye meself. I be still a fair hand wi' a dagger, even if me deadlights be not what they were.~Nerwen
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Betters huh? Ye best be watchin' who ye ar' talkin' to, ye haf-blind rapscallion. Aye, 'specially when we gunners can blast a' 8 inch hole in yer belly Gar.
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But speak, ye silent 'uns! Yer quartermaster commands ye to.~Lommy
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Ye be might' quick complainin' about yer weak pirate speak.
Arr, whar is the rum? A pence for a' old man Cap'n?