It's not getting to the land of the dead that's the problem. It's getting back.
— Look at them all.
— There's not been a gathering like this in our lifetime.
— And I owe them all money.
— Close haul her. Luff the sails and lay her in iron.
— Belay that! Or we'll be a sitting duck.
— Belay that "belay that."
— But, captain...
— Belay. Belay. Stow. Stow. Shut it.
— I see my ship. Right there.
— Can't spot it. Must be a tiny little thing hiding somewhere behind the Pearl.
You'd best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner. You're in one.
You know, the problem with being the last of anything, by and by there be none left at all.
— Who is this betrayer?
— Not likely anyone among us.
— Where's Will?
— Not among us.