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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
- Doctor, have you seen the bird? - What sort of bird?
Here we go again. Scrape-scrape, screech-screech.
15-inches-long neck.
Sharpshooters to the tops, Mr Howard.
That's where I saw my flightless cormorant.
Combined Ops Any activity whatsoever
- Have some water. - Thank you.
Well done Rich
And I've never met a live one that you bought one for, neither.
Cut him down.
Well, Stephen, the bird's flightless?
Gun crews, you must run out and tie down in double-quick time.
For God's sake, don't drop anything.
Mr Allen, make ready.
Barret Bonden, put your helm hard to starboard.
Down!
Gangway for the captain, lads.
More sand on the floor.
In Boston, sir. During the peace. But she's Yankee-built, sir.
I can harness the wind, but I ain't its goddamn creator.
I want good work now.
Sergeant. Take your section into the main top.
When she responds quickly
Sir.
hurry past wonders, bent on destruction. I say nothing of the corruption of power...
Thank you, sir.
Man the starboard battery.
Ugly devils, aren't they?
Lads, that's not good enough. We need to fire two broadsides to her one.
Very good, Sir.
Seize your weapons and wait for the word.
- Mr Howard, stand your men down. - Royal Marines, trail arms.
Dec 22nd TO THE SUN!
It's just to get my bearings, that's all.
says they can hunt down anything with our flag.
But we must bring him right up beside us before we spring this trap.
Really. Weevils.
Name a shrub after me. Something prickly and hard to eradicate.
- Nor do you need to be a tyrant. - No, sir.
- My division, follow me. - For England, for home, and for the prize.
It's a rare Phasmid
Told you it would work, Will. We'll have them by nightfall.
Still hasn't said a word, sir.
Tosh. Name a shrub after me. Something prickly and hard to eradicate.
Last gun fired, sir.
Privateer gets a piece of paper from the Frenchies
Swab.
- Wouldn't want to lose you. - Aye, sir.
- Am I not correct? - Would you call me an aged man of war?
Strike the bell.
looking for the resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up her dead,
Sir, it's Mr Hollom.
Neither. There's no difference between them. They're the same species of curculio.
- Handsomely on the yards tackle. - Topmen aloft.
You did the right thing, Mr Hollom. Go to your stations.
Mr Mowett, Mr Pullings, starboard battery.
John Antonio, quartermaster's mate.
Gently there.
She's taken the bait. Let's come about.
I'll be damned.
What do you mean?
That young man was a casualty of war.
Sir?
- Is it an insect? - Yes.
Fend her off.
And by way of anticipation of this event,
Aye, sir.
By all that's holy, I think that's unknown to science.
- I'll need more men, sir. - Yes. Go.
For we've received orders to sail for old England
losing her
- It's a rare phasmid, sir. - A phasmid?
I want more. Have all the spare hands placed on the windward rail.
I'll manage. You'll see.
Relieving-tackles on the tiller. You men, collect these wounded.
- Due south, please, Mr Bonden. - Due south, sir.
But therein lies the problem. You're not accustomed to defeat.
Mr Blakeney.
Run out the boarding planks.
Yes, it's all right.
Mr Mowett, Mr Allen, calmly now. You know his orders.
Note for the log, Mr Watt. "Engaged enemy frigate at six bells."
Is them his brains?
Should you really be getting up, sir?
Royal Marines posted every 20 yards, sir.
- That'll be all. - Yes, sir.