Oy! Boy! You there! That's no way ta be tyin' a knot. Do it like the one next ta ya. Thats right. Now pull that tail tight. Thats got 'er. Be yer first time ta sea boy? Aye! I can tell. Yer a bit unsure of yerself. But don't you go worryin' 'bout that. That there feelin' won't be stayin' with ya fer long. No. Not fer long at all.
Come on over and sit by an ol' sailor fer a bit. Whilst I mend these here sails. I gots to be gettin' 'em done in time afore we set back ta sea. Why you ask? Why boy, don't ya be a knowin' where we be? We'll be needin' full sail and not one yard less, to get through these waters tonight.
Well, I'll tell ya. See this here port? Where'n the Capt'in went off to be makin' deals? Why, we be at the very bottom edge of a slice of water called the Devils Spit. What's the Devils Spit ya be askin'? Oy! Your still wet behind the ears ya are. Why, I can count on me nine fingers and what's left of me toes, the number of men what's not heard of the Devils Spit. And I be all out of fingers and toes to be addin' ya to the list. So I best be a tellin' ya.
Here. Have a seat and hold on to this here end of sail edage for me. That's a good lad. Comfy? Good.
Ya see, the Devils Spit is a nasty bit o' sea. Shaped like a triangle. Connectin' three ports. Why, it's no bigger'n this on the Capt'ins charts. But out there...lad, it's vast. Vast dark and frightenin'. Course I see the sun a shinin'! But I'm talkin' 'bout night. Deep night. When the moon is high and full. Like it'll be when we sail tonight. Cause, it be night that brings up the dead. Now listen up whilst ol' Tips Slived here tells the tale.
Aye! The tortured souls upon the waves, do dance and call from watery graves.
They call to other pirates that be, out livin' a life 'pon the sea.
When ya sail within the Devils Spit, you take yer chances with the rest.
Fer they rise up, as ya near their eternal tomb. Ta beckon and wail, out in the gloom.
They have eyeless sockets. Aye! Tis a gruesome sight.
Plucked out by the ocean scavengers bite.
To have those wraiths look t'wards yer ship, marks it fer death.
You'll not beat their grip.
Thier spectral forms of festering rot, once be pirates, one and the lot.
Each dead soul picks itself a victim. Then SWOOPS down on the decks ta collect 'em.
They be dragged, kicking and screaming, beneath the depths.
But Davvy Jones, these souls he won't accept.
A pact was made 'tween the Devil and he, fer those taken here within this Devil sea.
For the pirates chosen by the dead, are taken deeper down, past the sea bed.
To wail and burn on the Devils spit. To be fed to his minions and his pets.
Then their souls belong to he, that claims this triangle of the sea.
A pirates soul be the blackest kind. A more murderous bunch, you'll never find.
So now, ther be a full ship more, of tortured souls to settle scores.
With their ship sunk past the bottom, there they stay til the Devil calls 'em.
Up to dance 'pon the waves, to take other pirates to thier graves.
So when you sail with the full moon lit. Sail not into the Devils Spit.
Now Lad. How's that for a bit of an old salts tale? Good one ay lad? Here, hold this bit of sail up while I thread this here bobbin. Higher now. That's a good lad. Ha! Ha! You'll not be feelin this way fer long. No. Not long at all.
Hey! Boy! yes YOU! Your the only boy here 'board ship be ya not? What are ya doin' over there in them torn sails? Don't I be givin' ya enough work ta do?
Talkin' ta who? We have no hand 'board this ship by that name. Besides, there be no one there but you. Take a look a round.
Boy? You alright? Your as white as them sheets there. Ha! Port sick are ya? But, don't be worrin' lad. We set sail on the tide, to do us a bit 'o piratin' on our way to the next port.
Now go check on them skull and cross bones. make sure she's ready ta hoist when Capt'in calls fer 'em. Yes. sir, white as them there sheets he is.
MEN! Make ready ta sail. Tonight, we sail through the Spit!