A Pirate's Advice

Laddies, o'erwhelming was yr response to me last post & for good reason at that indeed, for what comes of a man when 'is very livelihood paints the terrestrial billboards in such a vast array of flattering colors, aye? What comes of a man when 'is mission becomes defense, when, e'en at sea, borne aloft 'pon the dark waves, the wintery albatrosses flying o'erhead, he must define 'isself against the common misconceptions? Aye, lads, 'tis a miserable thing, wont to defend oneself, e'en as the very act cries of caring, when me crew, me foes, me heart does know what little me thoughts are riddled by that outside me sabre's sphere. There be no facsimile, lads, nay, nor a seat from which one may comfortably sympathize e'en unto the point of empathy. What knows yr cap'n of a pilot's life, of that of a civil war soldier's, of a baker's? Naught! I'll aspire to me own script, lads, writ in the blood of me foes, the cast a mutinous lot of scurvy would-be privateers, the plot unfurling e'en unto the horizon's edge, e'en as each day folds into each next, e'en as me heart pounds me dirty blood through me dirty veins, & e'en as that blood pours o'er the dirty planks of me dirty enemies' brigates! Life! What there is of it!