Pirates Of The Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales Redcoat -

“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 !”

The flames spread across the dry-rotted deck like a living thing. Ghosts wailed, their forms flickering. Ashworth ran through the inferno, his red coat singed, his skin blistering, and threw himself over the side into the cold, merciful sea. pirates of the caribbean: dead men tell no tales redcoat

He spotted the anchor chain—real iron, still solid, still obeying the laws of the living world. He grabbed it and swung, kicking a skeletal bosun into a heap of shattering ribs. He fired his pistol point-blank into a wraith’s face. The shot passed through, but the powder flash—brief, bright, alive—made the creature shriek and recoil. “You fear the flame

She was a decaying man-o’-war, her sails like tattered funeral shrouds, her hull dripping with a phosphorescent green rot. At her bow stood a figure Ashworth recognized from wanted posters in Port Royal: Captain Armando Salazar. But the posters showed a dashing Spanish nobleman. This creature had a face half-skeletal, long black hair writhing as if underwater, and eyes that bled a dark ichor. He floated a foot above his own rotting deck. “I am Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Ashworth of the 43rd Foot