Hands clasped behind his back, Blitzmann marched resolutely back and forth before the three deckhands. With their backs pressed up against the ship's railing, they formed in a line that was not quite straight. Blitzmann shook his head. This pitiful rabble was not the courageous crew he'd had in mind.
'Now!' He said, making the three jump. 'What have you got to say for yourselves?'
The man on the left hesitantly raised his hand .
'Wha' 'ave we go' t'say fer wha', cap'n?' He asked, his toothless mouth making his speech almost unintelligible.
Blitzmann could hardly believe his ears. 'The state of the Blitzkrieg!' He shouted. 'The state of you lot! That state of the harpoons, catapults and cannons!'
The man on the right raised his hand.
'We don't... We don't have any harpoons, captain. Or catapults. Or cannons.'
Blitzmann leaned close, so their faces were just inches apart.
'Exactly!' He hissed. 'How can you call yourself pirates when you don't have any weapons!?' He stepped back, looking the men in the eyes. 'Well?' he said expectantly.
The man in the middle raised his hook.
'We don't, cap'n.'
'You don't what?'
'We don't call ourself pirates. You ordered us not to.'
Blitzmann frowned. 'I did?'
'Yes, cap'n. You ordered us to call ourselves "The Marvellous Blitzing Corsairs Mark Two".'
'Oh. Right.' He stared blankly into the air for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought. His eyes grew vacant as he recalled his old crew. Good lads. And such warriors! He shook his head. 'What was I talking about?' The deckhands shrugged. 'Right. Well.' He waved his hand. 'Dismissed!'
The three men ran off; Jonesy clambering into the crow's nest, Roblins trotting down to the hold and Mathews staggering about the deck on his two wooden legs, a mop in his one remaining hand.