You'd best start believing in ghost stories, Miss Turner. You're in one.
— We're going to steal the ship? That ship?
— Commandeer. We're going to commandeer that ship. Nautical term.
— Pearlie. Pa-la-la-leh-loo-loo. Parlinny. Parsnip. Parsley. Par... Par... No, partner.
— Parley?
— That's the one. Parley!
— Damn to the depths whatever muttonhead thought up parley.
— That would be the French.
— What code is Gibbs to keep to if the worst should happen?
— Pirates' Code. «Any man who falls behind is left behind».
— No heroes amongst thieves, eh?
— How far are you willing to go to save her?
— I'd die for her.
— Oh, good. No worries, then.
Come on, doggie. It's just you and me now. It's you and old Jack. Come on. Come on, that's it, boy. Good boy. Come and get the bone. That's a good boy. Come on. A bit closer. A bit closer.
That's it. That's it, doggie. Come on, you filthy, slimy, mangy cur. Oh, no. Don't do that. No, no, no, I didn't mean it. I didn't...
— Well, well, well. Look what we have here, Twigg. Captain Jack Sparrow.
— Last time I saw you, you were all alone on a godforsaken island shrinking into the distance. His fortunes aren't improved much.
— Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen. The deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers.
— I suppose in exchange, you want me not to kill the whelp.
— No, no, no. Not at all. By all means, kill the whelp. Just not yet.