"I don't care—you have to send me back!" Charles' eyes were bloodshot as he sprang to his feet and glared at Lister. "You gave me hope, so you're responsible to the end!"
Bang.
Charles' skull was smashed, and he died on the spot. Johnson grabbed the corpse with one hand, walked to the rail, and heaved it overboard.
Every slave shuddered at the sight. With Charles dead, they sobered completely. Lister might show mercy now and then, but he was a pirate at his core.
"Does anyone want to leave now? Make it clear: if you leave, I'll give you a small boat, fifty catties of meat, and a barrel of water. One time only."
A long silence. No one stepped forward.
"Anyone leaving? Last call. If you don't, then all of you will join my Money Pirates," Lister said.
Silence. Not a single person spoke. Staying meant being forced into piracy, but they could only accept the fate Lister laid out.
"Good. Since no one's leaving, then from today, you're all members of the Money Pirates." He made the decision without hesitation.
"Nami, those twelve girls are under your command from now on," Lister said.
"Alright!" Nami's eyes lit up and she nodded quickly. Being assigned under Nami made it easier to protect the twelve girls; better by far than being scattered elsewhere. Nami left a very good impression. With her protection, they might finally stop living in fear.
"As for the rest of you—any special skills? Music, smithing, brewing, medicine, anything—speak up and I'll assign you separately. If not, you'll be split between the two combat squads as fighters," Lister said.
Among the twenty male slaves, not all were just pretty faces; a few had real skills. The remaining delicate-looking ones were ultimately assigned to the two combat squads.
After settling the slaves, Lister turned his gaze on the surrendered slavers. They weren't given a choice; he wasn't letting them go.
By then, each of the two squads had grown to thirty‑five men. In numbers alone, the Money Pirates had tripled their strength.
Once the slaves and slavers were handled, Lister ordered a thorough cleaning of the Money and of the newly christened Black Gold. Then he transferred every fighter from the two combat squads onto the black‑sailed ship, had Biga paint the Money Pirates' emblem on its sails and raise the Jolly Roger, and moved the twelve girls aboard the Money.
Thus, on the Money, aside from Lister, only three men remained: Michelin, the head chef—responsible only for the dozen or so mouths on the Money—while the other two cooks were reassigned to the Black Gold to feed the seventy or eighty aboard. The other two men on the Money were a steward in charge of logistics and a runner handling errands and contacts.
On the Black Gold, a banquet.
Lister stood at the bow. "Today, the Money Pirates expand again—we've gained another ship. And this is nowhere near our final form. We'll keep growing. Our squads will grow too—one hundred, one thousand, ten thousand men. First Squad, Second Squad, Third Squad… the Fiftieth Squad. So work hard and keep up with me. Step by step, we climb to the peak together and share the world's splendor."
He drew a big, alluring vision in their minds.
"For my dream—cheers!"
"Cheers!"