Chapter 27

“What are you so smug about, you damn dog!”

When Miguel, guided by a kind-hearted crew member, stumbled and scrambled his way to the top deck where the marine observers worked, the luxurious decor and extravagant equipment inside made him doubt his eyes for a moment. But after about a minute, he believed it.

As he sat down on the fur-covered armchair, still in disbelief at his good fortune, the door was kicked open with a loud bang. Heavy sheepskin boots stepped onto the carpeted floor without making a sound. A tall, slender man with long legs strode in, his amber eyes quickly scanning the cabin before finally settling on Miguel.

“Get out of my seat, trash.”

…So, this was also the captain’s private cabin.

Fearing another bizarre reason for a wage deduction, Miguel scrambled out of the armchair in a panic. Caesar ignored him, brushing past him and walking straight to the desk. He forcefully pushed open the window behind it—a floor-to-ceiling window made of a movable wooden door. Bending slightly, Caesar stepped out into the sea breeze, onto a small platform—the highest point of the entire ship. From here, he could see everything happening in every corner of the ship.

“Raise the sails!”

“Tighten the ropes, report the wind direction!”

“Pull up the anchor! Pull it up! Put some muscle into it, did you skip dinner?!”

…

The crew below was busy, pulling up the anchor, raising the sails, helmsmen taking their positions, and gunners moving cannonballs in case of emergencies.

“The average speed of the Leoza Fleet is eight knots. With a tailwind, they’re using retrofitted three-masted merchant ships, which are fast with the wind. Our fleet has slower large sailing warships, so with a tailwind, we’re a bit slower, around six and a half knots…” Miguel, clutching a pile of navigational data handed up by the navigators, trotted behind the captain, reporting, “From here to Algiers, heading southwest, with the current southwest wind, it’s a perfect tailwind, Big Dog.”

“Why are you so cheerful?”

“I’m not,” Miguel said helplessly. “It’s just passion for the job—I just wanted to remind you that this is the usual speed of the Leoza Fleet. Today, they’re carrying a large cargo, so their ships are deeper in the water and will naturally be slower. With some luck, we might catch up to them tonight.”

“Now that’s what I call a proper report.”

“…I’m just reporting my work, Captain, not telling jokes to amuse you.”

Caesar nodded indifferently. By now, the ship was ready, waiting only for the captain’s order to set sail.

Curling his lips slightly, Caesar was about to give the command when a sea breeze blew in from the distance—

“Hmm?”

Under the bewildered gazes of the crew, the man hesitated. His high nose twitched, and he frowned deeply.

Miguel: “What’s wrong?”

A moment of silence.

“Tell them to drop anchor again.”

In the darkness, under the dim moonlight, the captain’s expression was unclear, but his tone suggested he was in a bad mood. Miguel was stunned, wondering if his Arabic had failed him again: “What did you say?”

“Drop anchor, and have everyone gather on the deck,” the man said through gritted teeth before turning away from the navigation post.

After everything was prepared, the sudden halt to the voyage left all the sailors on the main ship gathered on the deck. They exchanged uneasy glances, while people from the other ships, equally confused, dropped their anchors and leaned over the rails, whispering and gossiping.

When Miguel finished organizing the documents and came down the stairs to rejoin the group, he easily noticed that the captain, standing at the front with his hands behind his back, looked furious.

“Could it be that the captain found out I accidentally vomited on the ship this afternoon?” a tearful voice whispered beside Miguel. “Please no, will I be thrown overboard to feed the sharks?”

“…” Miguel, with black lines over his forehead, turned to see who the unlucky soul standing next to him was. To his surprise, it was a familiar face—

“It’s you!”

“How is it you?”

They spoke in unison.

The boy with dark brown hair, freckles, and big ears, who had no sense of shame in critical moments and bounced around like a rabbit—Berry. At this moment, he was staring at Miguel in disbelief: “You’re alive—ah, I get it! I heard they brought in an Easterner as a navigator, and it’s you?”

“…Unfortunately, yes. Don’t worry, I won’t sink your ship. I’m scared of dying too,” Miguel said, his face dark.

“Then can you plead for me!” Berry immediately switched to familiar mode. “I heard you’re close to the captain, even his personal slave! You can help me—I didn’t mean to vomit on the deck, really!” the brown-haired boy said urgently.

“Get this straight, kid. I’m a slave, not a pet. I’m being docked wages every day, barely surviving. I don’t have the authority to plead for you…and…don’t worry, as long as you didn’t vomit on his face, he probably wouldn’t stop the ship just for that.” Miguel said dryly—perhaps a bit too loudly, as he immediately felt Caesar’s angry gaze cutting into his face, bloody and sharp. The bloodied slave obediently shut his mouth.

Caesar walked back and forth among the crew expressionlessly, then suddenly stopped in front of one of them.

He twitched his lips, about to say something, when the pirate in front of him, a fat man, wailed and interrupted—

“Captain, I’m sorry! I admit I drank a sip of rum in my hammock after lights out yesterday! I’m sorry, Captain! Please spare me—”

Caesar: “…Nine lashes. Execute on the spot.”

Under the tense gazes of the sailors, Caesar’s steps continued, and with each pause, the deck erupted with—

“Sorry, Captain! I hid the playing cards in my pillow! Wuwuwu, I’m wrong, Captain. Bill, Mike, and Lajiat were gambling with me!”

“…Fifteen lashes each. Execute on the spot.”

“Boss, spare me! I shouldn’t have dared to curse under your window yesterday! But I wasn’t cursing you, I thought I saw something dirty while on watch, and I was trying to ward off evil!”

“…Dock five gold coins from your wages.”

“Captain, I secretly vomited on the front deck and covered it with the tarp! I’m sorry, Captain! Please spare me!”

“…Go clean it up right now.”

…

The heavy thud of the man’s sheepskin boots on the wooden deck made a terrifying creak. Amid Berry’s dramatic gasps, Caesar finally slowly walked up to Miguel.

He lowered his head slightly, and the two of them stared at each other in silence.

Miguel: “…If we’re talking about breaking rules, I guess I’m just accidentally in love with you. Does that count?”

A vein popped on Caesar’s temple, his handsome face slightly twisted. He took a deep breath and turned away.

“…Then I won’t apologize, okay?” Miguel’s gloating voice floated from behind Caesar. “‘Sorry, Captain’—I’m sure you’ve heard enough of that tonight.”

…

Tonight was destined to be a chaotic night.

The various petty rules Caesar had set were almost all broken by the undisciplined pirates—compared to being completely unaware of these infractions, Miguel was more inclined to believe that Caesar wasn’t entirely clueless. Most of the time, the man probably turned a blind eye. Setting these rules was likely just to ensure safer and more united sailing.

And now, on the deck, countless men were stripped of their pants and pressed onto small stools. Dozens of pale buttocks were lined up under the moonlight, much to the amusement of their comrades on other ships.

The salt-soaked whips lashed down, and the wailing began.

These pirates, who wouldn’t even flinch when half their heads were chopped off in battle, were now howling like a pot of boiling water. Half were crying for their parents, while the other half were begging, “Captain, I’m sorry,” “Boss, please spare me.”

Rick and his crew on the other main ship were doubled over with laughter. People from the other ships, though not as bold, were also thoroughly entertained—these light lashings were treated as nothing serious, just a spectacle to enjoy.

Everyone naively thought this was just the captain’s whim, a random outburst after a full meal.

After all the punishments were carried out, the men crawled off the stools one by one, enduring the mocking laughter of their comrades. The crowd was in chaos, and no one noticed Caesar walking alone to the helm on the second deck. He reached out and gently touched the smooth wooden wheel, worn from years of use.

Amid the laughter and noise, the man’s low, cold voice rang out in the sea breeze.

“Who remembers Article Six of the charter?”

The laughter quieted down a bit, and the crew exchanged confused glances.

On the neighboring ship, Rick stopped laughing. Scratching his chin, he seemed to recall something, and the red-haired first mate’s face turned pale.

“Speak up, trash,” Caesar ordered lazily.

Berry, standing next to Miguel, quickly raised his hand: “Report, Captain! ‘Women and children are strictly prohibited from living on the ship. Anyone who disguises a woman and brings her on board will be punished with the death penalty.'”

“Word for word.”

Caesar nodded approvingly, then dropped a bombshell in a casual tone—

“There’s a woman hidden on the ship. Bring her out before I lose my temper.”