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Mi capitn, not another ship in sight.
Tell me, who is more important to please...
the King of Spain or God?
Well, God, of course.
And who is God's personal representative
in this vicinity?
Well, you are, Your Blessed Rectitude.
Well, God wants to keep all of it.
God's personal representative...
will soon find his head pierced
and his neck stretched...
and will go on to meet God very quickly!
Which is more than anybody
could reasonably hope for...
Your Holy Ruthlessness.
Instead, you may bang your head
Congratulations, Captain Yellowbeard.
- I'm glad my plan was a success.
- Your plan, my gold.
Hands off my treasure, Bosun Moon!
I said hands off!
Do I have to do everything myself?
Come now, don't slow down.
- Step over him.
- Move it.
- Step out of the way.
- We've got another one here now.
Corpses, corpses, all day long. Never stops.
You know, Gilbert, being a prisoner's
not what it was when I came in here.
Here we go.
They get a leg broken and they faint.
they start crying.
When they stretched me on a rack
for a couple of years...
Pathetic. Taking the easy way out like that.
How do you mean exactly?
Dying. He'd only been in 15 years.
You won't catch me dying.
They'll have to kill me before I die.
Many a man has tried, Captain Yellowbeard.
And soon you will be at large again.
With a hand-picked crew
of the hardest buccaneers...
that have ever stained
It was most unjust I thought,
locking you up for...
merely doing your duty.
Betrayed by me right-hand man,
that bastard Moon.
where you hid the treasure, did he?
No! Nor will he ever.
Where did you hide the treasure, actually?
You won't catch me
- What is it now?
- You've got a visitor.
I expect that'll be the Queen
with my pardon.
- Hello, sugar drawers.
- What, you again?
Again? I haven't seen you for 15 years.
What is it this time?
Well, what with you being let out
I thought it was my duty as a wife
to bring you up to date on a few things.
Now, do you remember just before
- I was raping you, if that's what you mean.
- All right.
- Sort of half cuddle, half rape.
- Get on with it, woman!
Well, I haven't told you this before,
like a gentleman and not a pirate.
Who are you talking about?
- Are you mad, woman?
I haven't got fruit in my loins.
Lice, yes, and proud of them!
You have just become the father...
By the time I was 20, I'd killed 500 men.
- A thief?
- A rapist?
- Bloody hell. I give up. What is he then?
- He's a gardener.
A gardener? A Yellowbeard gardening?
I'll see about that when I'm out.
- What is it now?
- Time's up, sir.
So your son's a gardener, eh?
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