Ah, that does a man good, that does! Now, where was I? Ah, yes, I was tellin' ye about Captain Chance and how he suffered because he couldn't, wait, let me think of a word that won't offend the ladies present...ah, micturate. Well, mateys, one day, when we were seventeen long weeks from landfall at Hilton Head, Cap'n Chance's eyes turned yella. Bright yella. Awful, it was, to see him starin' at ye out of bloodshot yella eyes! One day, a hurrycane overtook us. We worked in hightops, takin' in sail, waves as high as the mainmast washin' o'er us, and the sea took three good sailors, too, that day, Thumbless Harry, Crawler, and Whalespit Jim, good men and women all.

More grog fer yer old ghostmate? NO!!??? Screw ya for a bunch of dirt-eating, land-lovin', swabs! No grog, no rum fer a thirst old ghost who...WATER?!?! Water's fer sailin' on, and beside, whales SHIT in water!

I'll finish no stories until I get me grog.