Blackbeard's Ghost Page #5

---

A remark spoke slighted like that...

could raise a man's blood now,

could it not?

I've been on the road since 5:00

this morning. I'm just tired.

Nothing to eat. Miss Stowecroft

gassed me up with pirate stories.

I'm all right. I'm just tired.

Boy, am I tired!

I don't think you're real.

I don't think that sword is real!

And I'm gonna walk right through it

and go to bed!

Try it, mate.

- It's real.

- Who called me out?

- What?

- Who invoked me?

Aldetha's writing. No!

Aldetha done it.

"Beware," cried me shipmates.

"Sheer off. That girl,

she be a true witch".

And I paid no heed.

Oh, Aldetha.

To do that to your legal

spoke husband. Oh!

The story is,

Blackbeard had her burned.

Burned? I never

put a taper to her. Never.

Oh, I own that down in the horse

latitudes, on a dull day...

I might've keel-hauled a wife or two,

or else walked one off the end

of a plank, yes.

But I never did it for spite.

Funny thing about me.

Never did it for spite.

I might've done it out of, uh, jest...

to keep the spirit

of me shipmates up.

And now to real business.

Where'd you stow it?

- What? What?

- Your rum.

- I don't drink.

- Don't drink?

Ship's stores.

Have to seek succor there.

Ah, Mrs Stowecroft,

your humble servant. Servant.

A bottle of rum

No glasses are left

I'll drink from the bottle

with you, sir

You don't know

what you're missing, son.

- She didn't see you.

- Aye?

- She didn't even hear you.

- Oh, why should she?

I'm a kind of a ghost, you know.

In limbo, caught twixt

this world and the next...

beholden to that spell

which brings me to your eyes only.

You mean, no one can see you

except me?

That's about the shape of it, son.

And that's why I'll be sailing

alongside of you, see?

Wheresoever thou goest,

there also will I go.

So let's drink to that. Are you sure

you don't want to freshen your spleen?

Now, let's get one thing straight!

I want nothing to do with you!

I'm go...

I'm gonna go to bed...

and you can go back into the woodwork

or wherever it is you came from!

Belay that tongue! One thing

old Blackbeard don't take kindly to...

it's them sort of "insinuendos".

Come to think of it, I don't care

for the cut of your jib, neither.

If I were to lay this course,

I'd choose myself a companion...

a hearty companion,

with a little blood on his sleeve...

and a predilection

for rum, for song...

and for the occasional wench.

But what have I got? Hmm?

I've got a shindly little beanrake.

- Now, wait!

- Yes, I have. With the shakes

and the whimpers.

- What do you mean the sh-shakes and...

- Doesn't even want to join me

in a drink.

We're stuck with one another,

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes