| Answer | % Correct |
|---|---|
| Let Neptune strike ye dead Winslow | 100%
|
| Bellow, bid our father, the sea king, rise from the depths, full foul in his fury | 67%
|
| black waves teeming with salt-foam, to smother this young mouth with pungent slime | 67%
|
| Hark Hark Triton Hark | 67%
|
| to choke ye, engorging your organs till ye turn blue and bloated with bilge and brine and can scream no more | 67%
|
| a nothing for the Harpies and the souls of dead sailors to peck and claw and feed upon | 33%
|
| only when he, crowned in cockle shells with slithering tentacled tail and steaming beard | 33%
|
| take up his fell, be-finnèd arm — his coral-tined trident screeches banshee-like in the tempest and plunges right through yer gullet, | 33%
|
| bursting ye, a bulging bladder no more, but a blasted bloody film now | 0%
|
| forgotten even to the sea… for any stuff or part of Winslow, even any scantling of your soul, is Winslow no more, but is now itself the sea | 0%
|
| forgotten to any man, to any time, forgotten to any god or devil | 0%
|
| only to be lapped up and swallowed by the infinite waters of the dread emperor himself | 0%
|