“You fear the flame!” Ashworth bellowed, grabbing a shattered lantern from the deck. Oil still pooled inside. He smashed it at his feet and drew his tinderbox. “I am Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Ashworth of the 43rd Foot! And I will not be taken by a pack of drowned cravens !”
He threw Ashworth onto his own ghostly deck. Around him, the crew materialized—skeletal Spaniards with cutlasses fused to their bone-hands, their uniforms rotted but their hatred fresh. Ashworth scrambled to his feet, his mind racing through every tactic manual he’d memorized. None covered this. pirates of the caribbean: dead men tell no tales redcoat
“Your blade is for the living,” Salazar whispered, lifting the lieutenant colonel like a child. “We are the dead , Redcoat. And dead men tell no tales.” “You fear the flame
Salazar’s eyes flared. “Kill him!” “I am Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Ashworth of the 43rd Foot
But he was a Redcoat. And Redcoats did not break.