There yar some tings you nevar farget. That night at the
orphanage be one of them. Arr captain pointed to the place on the map when we
asked where Davey Jones’s pendant be. It made sense at the time; hiding it at
sea would be too obvious. Hiding it in an orphanage on the coast, the bordar of
his domain and the place he dare not tread. It all clicked.
It be, or were, a large place. Little steeple for ringing
bells. They used it when we cannonballed the hell out of thar glass windows and
hollow bricks. Fire spread quickly. Nevar stood a chance. When we went inside
to plunder, thar be nothing but cold, white bodies. We showed the captain arr
work. He started blubbering like a baby pushing his head into my chest. Poor
soul. A deckhand put him down for a nap and we looked for the pendant.
The pendant was narwhere. We did find some interesting
documents regarrding arr captain. We know whar his brothar be. A land lubber,
lives on a farm. Not a life for a pirate like arr captain. We decided we’d keep
an eye on him until he be ready to make his own decision. Would you want to go
back to a family who abandoned ye to the like of me? Some child murderar! Yarh,
I’ve done bad tings in my time, but that was the warst.
But forget all that. Tell me stranger, where do I have to
cut this little baby’s throat to get to Davey Jones’s pendant?
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