It be mighty strange aboard this ship.
I'd gotten used to me old shipmates givin' me a wide birth and leaving me to me own stormy mind. They all knew there was a fire in me' brain and and a bolt of lightning in me' cutlass arm.
Now they've been dragged to the depths and only the Dogfish swims on. Old Davy Jones and the rest o' the devils quaked in their mouldy boots at the thought of me coming down to lord it o'er them. They pushed me up and I floated like a champ-ayne' cork.
Here the sailors, aaare untouched by black fins and black sails. They h'attempted to talk ter' me as if the seas was the same thing they always was and they knew naught o' the curse that clamps me jaws t'ge'her. I can't tell the poor sods what will happen ter' them. Thar' seems ter be no runes or magic what stops the Pink Daffadil from being o'errun with phantoms. Mayhaps they just sailed with a good does of luck for all this time.
After I couldn't ne speak ter' them the captain forgot about me. They've mostly gone ashore now. Mayhaps I'll try me hand at some fishing. Might as well relieve me pleasures while the ghosts are quiet!