The Sea Serpent sailed for Tortuga riding low in the water, her hold laden with a weight that would have made a King's tax collector weep with envy. Yet, the atmosphere on board had turned stagnant and cold, far removed from the exuberant victory at Razor Reef.
The pirates were no longer the boisterous, singing pack of wolves they had been. They gathered in small, tight circles, their voices hushed as they sharpened their steel and sized each other up with narrowed eyes. A thick, suffocating air of suspicion permeated the ship. The source of this rot was visible through the open hatch of the hold: a dozen iron-bound chests, their contents radiating a dull, golden glow that seemed to seep into the very wood of the deck.
Wealth of this magnitude was a corrosive thing. It made brotherhood fragile and turned long-standing loyalty into a temporary inconvenience. Every man was performing his own lethal arithmetic, calculating his share of the Santa Trinidad's silver.
Captain Barbossa had retreated into his cabin, appearing only for meals and to bark essential orders. He spent his hours staring at the mountain of gold, his eyes growing increasingly bloodshot and wild. He had the look of a man who had seen the sun for too long and could no longer bear the shadow.
Gibbs, looking ten years older and twice as worried, found Hugo at the bow. Hugo was currently focused on the maintenance of one of the new twelve-pounders they had liberated from the Spanish frigate. He was meticulously greasing the touchhole, his movements calm and methodical.
"Master Hugo," Gibbs whispered, glancing over his shoulder. "Something's afoot. The Captain... he's turned dark. He hasn't spoken to me since we cleared the reef."
Hugo didn't look up from his work. "He hasn't changed, Gibbs. He's just finally found enough gold to reveal who he's been all along."
"But the men," Gibbs pressed, his voice trembling. "Half of them have been with Hector for a decade. If he decides to... to settle the accounts in a way we don't like, we're outmatched."
Hugo finally stopped his work, patting the cold iron barrel of the cannon. "The Sea Serpent is a different ship than the one we sailed out on, Gibbs. These cannons? The men who fire them spent the last three days asking me about windage and elevation. They don't worship the man who signs their pay anymore; they worship the man who shows them how to hit a target. Hector might own the hull, but I own the bite."
Gibbs's heart steadied, though the fear remained.
Finally, when the blue peaks of Hispaniola were a day's journey away, Barbossa summoned the crew to the main deck. He stood atop a stack of treasure chests, his hands resting on his belt, his coat flapping in the salt breeze.
"Brothers!" Barbossa's voice boomed, though it lacked its usual warmth. "We have achieved the impossible! The silver of the Trinidad is beneath our feet! We are kings of the Caribbean!"
A sparse, guarded cheer went up. Every eye was locked on the chests.
"I know what occupies your thoughts," Barbossa continued, a thin, oily smile appearing on his face. "The division of the prize. According to the code, the Captain takes his share, the officers theirs, and the rest is split among the brave souls who worked the lines."
Most of the pirates nodded. That was the law. That was the standard.
"However!" Barbossa's tone sharpened, turning like a blade in the light. "This was no ordinary run. I provided the ship. I bore the risk of the investment. I led us through the Spanish hunters. Therefore, the old rules do not apply to a fortune of this scale."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the men before settling on Hugo. "I have decided on a new distribution. I will take ninety percent of the total haul. The remaining ten percent will be divided among the crew according to the usual proportions."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush a man. Then, the deck erupted.
"Ninety percent? That's madness!" an old pirate shouted. "We bled for that gold!"
"I did the diving!" another roared. "You sat on the quarterdeck while we scraped the muck!"
Barbossa's loyalists, a handful of veterans who had already been promised a larger "private" cut stepped forward, their hands on their cutlasses. "Shut your mouths! Without the Captain's ship, you'd still be rotting in a Tortuga gutter! Be grateful you get a copper at all!"
"Quiet!" Barbossa roared, drawing his sword. The steel sang a deadly note. "Anyone who wishes to debate my ownership of this prize can do so with my blade. Are there any volunteers?"
The dissent died down, replaced by a simmering, poisonous resentment. The pirates looked at the ground, their spirits broken by the sheer arrogance of the man they had followed. Barbossa turned to Hugo, his expression softening into a false, paternal warmth.
"Hugo, my lad. I know we spoke of a different arrangement. Thirty percent of a mountain is a lot of gold for a boy to carry." He chuckled, a dry, joyless sound. "And I haven't forgotten the debt you owe me. So, here is my offer: your debt for the Sea Fairy is forgiven. I will personally grant you an extra hundred doubloons for your services. You'll be a rich man, Hugo. Richer than you've ever been."
A hundred doubloons. It was a king's ransom to a peasant, but compared to thirty percent of the Trinidad's millions, it was an insult so vast it bordered on comedy. Gibbs and Billy were red-faced with fury, their hands twitching toward their hilts.
Hugo stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He didn't draw his sword. He didn't even raise his voice. He simply looked at Barbossa with a calm, penetrating gaze that made the Captain's smile falter.
"Captain," Hugo said softly. "Are you certain this is the course you wish to steer?"
"You're not satisfied?" Barbossa's face darkened, his grip tightening on his sword. "A hundred gold coins for a boy who was drowning a week ago? Don't let your ego outrun your luck, lad."
"It's not about the money, Hector," Hugo replied, a thin, dangerous smile touching his lips. "It's about the contract. I agreed to find you a treasure. I've done that. I've fulfilled my end of the bargain."
He stepped closer, his voice carrying clearly across the silent deck. "But I think you've forgotten the most important detail. I am a navigator. I don't just find gold; I find the path. I find the next treasure. And the one after that."
Hugo's smile grew colder. "I found the Trinidad because I chose to. But the Caribbean is a vast ocean, Hector. It is full of shipwrecks that haven't been touched in a hundred years. Do you think you can find them without me? Do you think your ninety percent of this pile will last forever?"
Barbossa's expression shifted. The greed in his eyes was suddenly warred upon by a cold, dawning realization. He looked at Hugo and saw not a boy, but a living map, a human key to every vault in the sea. If he discarded Hugo now over a few chests of silver, he was killing the goose that laid the golden doubloons.
A fine sheen of sweat appeared on Barbossa's brow despite the ocean breeze. He looked at the gold, then back at Hugo. He realized he had walked into a trap of his own making. He had tried to play the hunter, but Hugo had lured him out into the open with a bait he couldn't resist.
"I find the path, Captain," Hugo whispered, his voice for Barbossa's ears alone. "But only for men who keep their word."