McAllister: "Arr, matee, narry a warning light to be seen. Clear
sailin' ahead for our precious cargo."
Sailor: "Uh, would that be the hot pants, sir?"
McAllister: "Aye, the hot pants."
McAllister: "Yarr, it's kind of you to deliver these copies of 'Jugs.'
They'll keep my men from resorting to homosexuality...
fer about 10 minutes. Harr, Harr, Harr."
Sailor: "You should talk!"
McAllister: (bashful) "Yarr."