Desperate Affairs Require Desperate Measures.

Thank God I Have Done My Duty. Drink, Drink. Fan, Fan. Rub, Rub. Kiss Me, Hardy.

Laurels Grow In The Bay Of Biscay, I Hope A Bed Of Them May Be Found In The Mediterranean.

Something Must Be Left To Chance; Nothing Is Certain In A Sea Fight

In Honour I Gained Them, And In Honour I Will Die With Them.

I Am Of The Opinion That The Boldest Measures Are The Safest.