Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End Page #4

friendly words you'll hear.

Tie her off.

[Muttering]

Hard aport.

[Men shouting]

Hold on!

- [Music playing]

- [Cannons firing]

[Man laughs] Strike your colors,

you blooming cockroaches.

[Man 2] Dead men tell no tales.

[Echoing]

[Man sniffing]

[Gunshot]

My peanut.

Haul the halyard. Slacken braces.

Aye, captain.

Slacken braces.

Step lively with a will.

- Aye, aye.

- Right away, sir.

I want a fire down below!

- Help.

- Man the yards, you filthy toads.

[Muffled groaning]

[Clucking]

[All] Haul! Haul!

Haul the sheets handsomely.

Scandalize the lateens.

- Aye, sir.

- Right away, sir.

- Mr. Sparrow?

- Aye, cap'n.

What say you about

the condition of this tack line?

- It be proper to my eyes, sir.

- Proper?

Lt is neither proper nor suitable, sir.

It is not acceptable nor adequate.

It is, in obvious fact, an abomination.

Begging your pardon, sir,

but if you gave a man another chance.

- Shall I?

- [Unsheathes sword]

Lt's that sort of thinking

got us into this mess.

We have lost speed and, therefore, time.

Precious time,

which cannot be recovered once lost.

Do you understand?

- [All] Aye, aye, captain.

- Do you now?

Lt will all have to be redone.

All of it.

And let this serve

as a lesson to the lot of you.

Doldrums, sir,

has the entire crew on edge.

I have no sympathy

for any of you feculent maggots,

and no more patience

to pretend otherwise.

Gentlemen, I wash my hands

of this weirdness.

No wind.

Of course, there's no bloody wind.

My soul I do swear for a breeze.

Gust. Whisper. A tiny, miniature lick.

Yes, sir, I know, but why?

Why would he do that?

Because he's a lummox, isn't he?

We shall have a magnificent

garden party and you're not invited.

Shoo.

A rock.

Now we're being followed by rocks.

Never had that before.

Oh.

A rope.

[Grunting]

[Panting]

[Rumbling]

[Coughing and gagging]

This truly is a godforsaken place.

I don't see Jack.

I don't see anyone.

He's here.

Davy Jones never once

gave up that what he took.

And does it matter?

We're trapped here by your doing.

No different than Jack.

Witty Jack is closer than you think.

Impossible.

Boat.

Slap me thrice

and hand me to me mama. It's Jack.

- It's the captain!

- A sight for sore eyes.

[Parrot] Hide the rum.

- Mr. Gibbs.

- Aye, cap'n.

I thought so.

I expect you're able

to account for your actions, then.

Sir?

There's been a perpetual and virulent

lack of discipline upon my vessel. Why?

- Why is that, sir?

- Sir, you're...

You're in Davy Jones' Locker, cap'n.

I know that.

I know where I am.

- And don't think I don't.

- Jack Sparrow.

Oh, Hector.

It's been too long. Hasrt it?

Aye. Isla de Muerta, remember?

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