Chapter 21

After the recruitment, the Wind Fury had three more days of docking time at Djerba Island.

Thankfully, the Saint Monarch, captained by the troublemaking captain, didn’t scare the new recruits out of their wits. This time, the Black Sea Wolf’s fleet recruited a total of 132 crew members, including one navigator and two drummers. The quality of the remaining sailors varied, and they were picked up by other fleets that had come to join the fun. Although they were left with the scraps, these ship captains were still quite pleased for a few days.

During the remaining time, the new crew members would no longer return to their homes on Djerba Island. At the request of First Mate Rick, they had to quickly familiarize themselves with every corner of the ship—after all, for a long time to come, their companions would no longer be the joyful island of nightly revelry. They were about to bid farewell to their past comfortable lives, strap their heads to their belts, and from this moment on, the ship would be their only home.

As for the fleet’s mascot who had already been tricked onto the ship…

Under Rick’s strong protest, Miguel was temporarily left in the first mate’s fleet, which was short of a navigator. “That guy is my slave,” the man said with a sour face in the captain’s cabin, “I’m just lending him to you for now. Once we recruit a new navigator at the next port, return him to me immediately.”

“You look like a brooding hen, Captain.”

“That’s because you’re acting like a sneaky weasel.”

Having gained a new navigator and a barrage of insults, Rick slammed the door in anger under Caesar’s smug gaze.

Meanwhile, Miguel, the fleet’s mascot, was experiencing his first-ever skip from duty—it was the final day of the Wind Fury’s docking. Before dawn, he sneaked off the ship in the dark, thinking no one would notice. When he clumsily kicked over a container on the dock, creating a deafening crash, he had no idea that the captain, who had a habit of rising early, was standing on the deck of the Wind Fury, expressionlessly watching his escape.

Watching the mouse-like figure disappear into the distance, the captain, in a good mood, curled his lips and chose to turn a blind eye.

…

At Old Fante’s house.

“Can’t you guys at least pretend to be happy?” Miguel mumbled through a mouthful of rye bread, “I’m going to be a pirate, not to die.”

The blind Fante sat silently at the table. The quiet room was lit by a kerosene lamp, its light falling on his scarred eyes. The years had carved deep lines into his face… He finally had to admit that he was old. The Fante who once yearned for the sea had died in the pirates’ gunfire a few days ago.

Miguel’s attempt at levity did little to lighten the mood. The Fante who had haggled over a small fishing boat at the dock half a month ago was gone. The Fante who had threatened to beat him from front to back was gone. The man sitting at the table now seemed like nothing more than a blind old man.

Fortunately, Lake broke the silence, pouring Miguel half a glass of rum with his good arm. He held a plate of hardtack and sat down next to the black-haired young man. “Which fleet were you assigned to?”

“I think it’s Rick’s,” Miguel scratched his chin, unsure. “I remember the pirate flag on Big Dog’s ship looked different from Rick’s.”

“Caesar’s flag is the ‘Black Wolf Flag,’ a symbol of himself,” Fante finally spoke, his voice hoarse. His head tilted slightly as if listening to the chewing sounds of the two at the table. “Rick uses the ‘Jolly Roger.’ If you can’t even tell that apart, are you planning to eat the cat o’ nine tails for dinner?”

“Rick has a temper, but I hear he’s a good leader,” Lake chimed in absentmindedly.

Miguel chuckled dryly, unsure how to respond, and the room fell into an awkward silence again.

“I remember the Black Sea Wolf’s fleet doesn’t sign lifetime contracts,” Fante said. “…My son is useless, dragging me down and hurting you in the process. I know you’d rather be a stripper than a pirate… Do a couple of jobs, pay off Lake’s debt, and come back. I’m just an old man with blind eyes. I can’t go anywhere. I’ll wait for you here.”

“…Don’t talk nonsense, old man. Even if you sprout flowers, your name won’t be on the list for my back tattoo!”

Miguel laughed hoarsely. Unseen by Fante, he exchanged a surprised look with Lake—this was the first time in days that Fante had directly mentioned Miguel taking Lake’s place on the ship. Before this, they had almost formed an unspoken agreement to avoid the subject.

The guilt in Lake’s eyes made Miguel’s skin crawl.

He began to wonder if skipping work to listen to this father-son melodrama was worth it.

“If you hadn’t fished me out of the sea, I’d have drowned long ago,” Miguel said, shaking the glass of alcohol. He stood up unsteadily, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

He straightened his clothes, thought for a moment, and lifted the rag at his waist. A finely crafted sheath hung at his side, its obsidian gleaming in the dim light of the house, just like its owner’s eyes.

“I’m leaving.”

“So soon?” Lake finally broke out of his stoic expression, glancing out the window with a complex look in his eyes. “It’s barely dawn.”

“Yeah, can’t help it. The captain’s a possessive freak… If he opens his eyes and doesn’t see me waiting on him, his first reaction is to dock my pay—and the ship hasn’t even set sail yet. I’ve already lost a third of this month’s wages.”

He downed the remaining alcohol in one gulp and walked to the door in a few strides. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, he paused for a moment, then mumbled, “You two take care of yourselves. Don’t stir up any more trouble.”

Without waiting for a response from the room’s mix of the old, weak, and disabled, he yanked the door open and strode out of the suffocating place.

Miguel never told Fante and Lake that, in order to take Lake’s place, he hadn’t just signed a crew contract—he’d also signed a slave contract.

Leaving the fleet?

There were only two possibilities.

He died, or Caesar died.

…

Miguel returned to the Djerba Island dock with the first rays of morning light.

The morning was overcast, and the sea breeze felt cool against his exposed skin. The entire dock was shrouded in a thin mist. The dockworkers hadn’t arrived yet, and the ships moored at the dock were silent. The crew members lay sprawled on the decks, clinging to bottles of alcohol. Some had just crawled out of the arms of the ladies from the special industry, their mouths smacking as they greeted the new day with dreams of pleasure.

Everything was quiet. Miguel silently righted the wooden crate he had kicked over during his early morning escape. As the fragmented orange light of dawn filtered through the mist, it fell on his impassive face. The young man squinted, yawning long and lazily, raising his arms to stretch—

What a beautiful scene—seagulls, morning light, the dock, a lazy Easterner…

Splash—

Until a bucket of icy seawater poured down from above, drenching the black-haired young man to the bone.

Miguel: “…”

Thud.

“Leaving the ship without permission. Fifty gold coins docked from your pay.”

A deep, magnetic voice came from above. The bucket was tossed aside casually as the captain of the Wind Fury leaned lazily against the ship’s railing, looking down expressionlessly at the young man below.

Drenched from head to toe, Miguel swallowed the curse that had been on the tip of his tongue. He grinned, his smile somewhat forced. “Morning, Captain.”

“Get on board.”

The unimpressed captain snorted, his words brief, before turning away from the railing, leaving his slave with only a majestic back view.

Five seconds later, the sound of a gunshot shattered the quiet dawn, sending seagulls screeching and flapping their wings across the water—

“Wake up, you trash—all of you, assemble! Tighten the ropes, set sail!”

…

“Tighten the ropes, prepare to set sail!”

“Sailors in position! Long live the captain!”

“Good morning, Captain!”

“All hands on deck! Helmsman, back to your post!”

“Where’s the drummer? Damn it, can we get some music—”

The bow of the ship cut through the white waves. Bare chests, bloodied blades, and as the horn of attack sounded, even the raging sea god trembled before these men!

On this morning, they set sail once more with pride and freedom, accompanied by the beat of drums!