You lissssssssss'nnnnnnnn here. ( There's a sad beginning and no end to a drawl, smooth like a cat's licking. Worked hard to achieve it, did our man Eames, and won't be having no stranger question his craft. ) You listen'ere, yeah? Booooooooooys. He be listening.

( Grunts and heaving and the rare rum-addled salute from yonder back, where a gallery of bored sailors has now assembled, partly to watch the second mate put the discipline in man, partly to gawk at this frightening failure of... swabbing.

Mercy's a fair mistress, and Mr. Eames was a handsome lad once, also. He holds out his hand, landing it on the man's. )

You leave it soft. Grace o' God, I'll show ye, how it be done.