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Hoist the mainsail! |
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| Raise the mainsail, please. |
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Hard-a-starboard! |
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| Bored. Bored bored bored. It's rubbish at sea, there's nowhere to go at the weekend. I wonder what's for tea? Oh no, here comes Mr Mate. Bound to want something. No idea what I'm supposed to be doing, I only put on the hat and shouted "Cast off" for a joke, I just deliver desks. I know, I'll get in first. Turn right! That's done it, he's going away. It'd better not be fish again. |
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Avast behind! |
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| A vast behind! |
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Arrr, me hearty! |
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| I think I'm having a stroke. |
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Mutiny, Mr Christian! |
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Would you like a mutiny, Mr Christian?
Sorry, I mean another potato. |
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Man the fo'c's'le! |
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| What a terrific word is fo'c's'le. Best-contracted one in the language, y'know. Fo'c's'le, fo'c's'le, fo'c's'le. Wish someone would reply, "I sha'n't go to the fo'c's'le," but they never do. It'd be funny though. Fo'c's'le, fo'c's'le, fo'c's'le. Oh, we've crashed. |
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There! That's what I think of ye. Before an hour's out, I'll stove in your old block house like a rum puncheon. Laugh, by thunder, laugh! Before an hour's out, ye'll laugh upon the other side. Them that die'll be the lucky ones. |
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| Hello, vicar! |
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Stand by to repel boarders! |
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| With your revolting manners and uncleanliness, you shaming rabble. I expect the other captain's proudly addressing his merry rogues with their pressed trousers and polite dinner conversation. I ought never have taken this job, I wanted to drive trains. Toot! That's a call to stir the soul, not this honk! nonsense. I'm going to my cabin to listen to the gramophone. Let me know if we're scuttled, you loathsome tradesmen. |
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Fetch out the prisoners, lads - we'll make 'em walk the plank! |
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| But not the plank we usually have, I went straight down the hole when strolling around the deck last time and barked my shin. I've sent Idiot Bob below with a crowbar and pickaxe to prise one out from where it won't be missed. Tch - fetch my gum-boots someone, the underwater weather's turned and it's raining upwards; my ankles are steeped. |
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Hold hard, landlubbers! |
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| Keep your hair on, consarn ye, trail-dude tenderfoot, by gum and Custer's whiskers. Form the wagons into a circle, Mr Grimsdaaale, I'm taking the cannon for a stroll. No, I don't want my hat, the sun's pleasantly hot on my temples. |
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Fifteen men on a dead man's chest, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! |
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| A packet of crisps, please, and a bottle of washing-up liquid. |
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Engine room - half ahead! |
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| Turn left a bit, or we'll hit it. I told you it was nitrous oxide that temporarily improved engine performance, not kegs of gunpowder. And have everyone lean over the front rail to keep the hole out of the water. |
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Ahoy the harbour! |
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| Did you see a ship go by? About so big, on fire, probably flying flags saying, "Help, we are pursued by pirates." I'm... the first mate's cousin Billy with an important... cake. |
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What shall we do with the drunken sailor? What shall we do with the drunken sailor? What shall we do with the drunken sailor, early in the morning? Heave ho, and up she rises, patent blocks of different sizes, heave ho, and up she rises, early in the morning. Sling him in the long-boat until he's sober. Sling him in the long-boat until he's sober. Sling him in the long-boat until he's sober, early in the morning. |
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| I like my bath. |
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Steer a course nor by nor-nor-east! |
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| Of course, that ought to be, "Neither steer north, nor northeast." Education is wasted at sea. Oh, we've sunk again. |
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Raise the gangplank! Stow the cargo! Weigh anchor! We're abreast of the tide, lads, and beckoned by climes! Adventure for all and treasure to share! |
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| Have I left the gas on? |
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Pieces of eight! |
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| Doctor, I think I'm a parrot. |
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Cast off! |
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| Tsk - I think I dropped one. |
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There it is lads - the Bering Strait! |
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| Pity we're bearing left really. I knew I ought to have insisted on prescription sunglasses, or clip-ons. Damnable vanity. And these barely convex lenses are useless for bailing. |
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It's a privilege to be called to the Captain's table. |
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| And I didn't call you, so push off and find your own bobbing flotsam. And none of your Latin cracks - I heard that. Tch. |
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It's a fair wind and an open sea, my hearties. Let's see if they can take us over the horizon! |
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| It's a nice day. Let's go for a drive. |
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