"That wouldn’t happen to be a cutlass, would it mate?" Questions. Always questions. That’s all I ever get from this scoundrel I try to call my friend. Always crazy obvious questions. "Are ye' dead?" "Did ye' just kill a Navy Ferret?" "Yes father." "Oh, and cury, one more thing." "Yes father?" "I AM a pirate, this IS a pirate ship, and I want ye to swear yer life that you will stop at nothing to kill A man named Cutler Beckett." "...Yes Father." ==Chapter 2: Johan == "oh my......" tears began falling down my face, but my thoughts were quite rudely interupted by cannos hitting the ship.