Makin’ a fool of myself in the holds.
So I meandered on over to the holds hopin’ fer a fight when I saw that scalywag, The Lone Amigo, all pretendin’ e’d just lost a duel. I figured I’d play along and let him think I believed his story, but I guess I was overconfident—he whupped me pretty bad, and I didn’t even get a cool scar. I went back to sulk in the Crew’s Quarters.
The Lone Amigo:
Har, th’ cap’n I may yield to, in rec’g'nishun of his… advancin’ yeers, but ye, yer landlubber, yer’ll feel the edge o’ me blade an’ no mistake.