Ahoy and avast, mateys! 'Tis old Looooooooooooooooooooong John Sliver come back to haunt ye! Did I ever tell ye about the night that I was ship's ghost to HMS Pinupfore? Aye, and that was a time! The Royal Navy was shippin' a ship load o' tarts from Liverpool to Scapa Flow for the enjoyment of Admiral Lord Nelson and the crew of HMS Victory Victory O! She was the first ship of her class, she was, and the Admiralty had taken to numbering the names of the ships, since they'd reuse the good ones over and over, and someone had pointed out to the Godalmighty Chief High Lord of the Admiralty that numbering should start with zero, only the person has said "Oh" instead. Eventually THAT scheme was scrapped, and good riddance to it, says I.

Well, this shipload of tarts was bound for Scapa Flow and Nelson when an iceberg struck Pinupfore as we were rounding John O'Groats. Terrible big, it was, and it crushed the ship between rocks and ice.

Bein' a ghost, I wasn't worried, but the young ladies were quite upset, not knowing what was going to happen to them. There was no help in sight, even though the Cap'n shot off rockets every five minutes, and fired the minute gun, and yelled for help. The ship was going down, for the aft forecastle was stove in and the fire had nearly reached the magazines in the passenger lounge.

Gi' a salty old ghost a tot o' rum, now, would ya?