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Pissed me off, though, when she’d fleece me mates. One night, Gibbs—poor sod—lost his boots to her! Boots! She traded ‘em for gin, laughin’ like a hyena. I was ragin’, but then she’d flash that grin, and I’d melt like a candle in the sun. Happy? Aye, when she’d sing—voice like a siren, but rough, ye know? Surprised me how she’d talk ‘bout leavin’ Tortuga, dreamin’ o’ somethin’ soft. Whores don’t dream, I thought—wrong, mate!

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But then, outta nowhere, I see this guy tryin’ to fish. He’s got this huge net, and he’s all serious. I’m like, “Dude, you catchin’ anything?” He looks at me, deadpan, and says, “Just my dreams.” I can’t help but laugh. Like, what a line!

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