"What shall we do
with a drunken sailor?
What shall we do
with a drunken sailor?
What shall we do
with a drunken sailor
Early in the morning?"

I don't know how we all knew the words, but we did. A nasty sneer — I think it may have been his smile — overtook Blackbeard's face. He closed his eyes, then lay back and began to snore. Unfortunately, he now clutched The Book even more tightly.

Oh, well. Back to the drawing board. Or in this case, the rowboat.