Yarr, been a while since I updated, me hearties. I’ve been up tae the usual: Pillagin’ an’ plunderin’, drinkin’ me grog when I gets the chance, causin’ general mayhem o’ all sorts.
We be havin’ a newcomer at t’ workplace–arrr, an’ a scurvy lubber he be, at that. I knowed he was trouble the moment I laid me eyes on him, an’ I was right, o’ course. He had a creepy look in ‘is eyes, mateys, creepy. ‘Twasn’t five minutes intae our conversation he asked me tae drink grog wit’ him over t’ weekend, yarr. But the rest of me good sea dogs be havin’ me back, they be. Cap’n Dann be havin’ a chat wit’ him abou’ consortin’ wit’ the workers–particularly the younger ones, yarr–an’ Bosun Big Steve, he be tellin’ him a thing or two abou’ heavin’ tae the younger lasses. Black Bob o’ t’Kitchens be checkin’ in wit’ tae Cap’n if’n he be witnessin’ anythin’ strange, as is First Mate Jasper, yarr. An’ Maggie, Maid o’ t’Mediterranean, she be tellin’ the scurvy cur all abou’ his ass, she be.
It be good tae have a loyal crew, it be. Heave to an’ prepare tae be boarded, Scurvy Cur! We be keelhaulin’ ye wit’in an inch o’ yer life, if’n yehs don’ watch yerself. Ye be seein’ yer way tae Davy Jones’s Locker, so avast now, ye scurvy dog o’ t’ sea!