— «Letters of Marque». You will offer what amounts to a full pardon. Jack will be free, a privateer in the employ of England.
— Somehow I doubt Jack will consider employment the same as being free.
— Freedom. Jack Sparrow is a dying breed. The world is shrinking, the blank edges of the map filled in. Jack must find his place in the New World or perish. Not unlike you, Mr Turner.
— That's the Flying Dutchman? She doesn't look like much.
— Neither do you. Do not underestimate her.
— Sad. This is madness! That chest must be worth more than a shiny penny.
— Terrible temptation.
— If we was any kind of decent, we'd remove temptation from their path.
— I say it was Divine Providence what escaped us from jail.
— And I say it was me being clever. Ain't that right, poochie?
— Well, how'd you know it weren't Divine Providence what inspired you to be clever? Anyways, I ain't stealing no ship.
— It ain't stealing. It's salvaging. And since when did you care?
— Since we're not immortal no more. We gotta take care of our immortal souls.
— You know you can't read.
— It's the Bible. You get credit for trying.
— Pretending to read the Bible's a lie. That's a mark against...
— Aye, the Pelegostos made Jack their chief, but he only remains chief as long as he acts like a chief.
— So he had no choice. He's a captive as much as the rest of us.
— Worse, as it turns out. See, the Pelegostos believe that Jack is a god in human form, and they intend to do him the honour of releasing him from his fleshy prison. They'll roast him and eat him.
— I have faith in you. Both of you. Where will you find him?
— Tortuga. I'll start there and I won't stop searching till I find him. And then I intend to return here to marry you.
— Properly?
— Eagerly, if you'll still have me.
— If it weren't for these bars, I'd have you already. I'll wait for you.
— Keep a weather eye on the horizon.
