"Port Royal? Elizabeth Swann?"
Barbossa's mind was clearly struggling to keep pace with the cold, logical rhythm of Hugo's explanation. He repeated the names as if they were curses in a language he had forgotten, his face a twitching mask of confusion and mounting panic.
"What kind of madness is this, lad? Port Royal is a hornet's nest! The Royal Navy sits there like a fat spider! Why in the name of the abyss would we sail into the mouth of the King's lions when the gold is calling us to the island?"
To a man whose sanity was being eroded by the dry, ancient whispers of the dead, any delay was a form of torture. Barbossa wanted the cure, and he wanted it before the sun went down again.
"I told you, Hector," Hugo said, his voice lowering to a calm, patient tone used for taming a frightened animal. "There is another coin out there. A single fragment in the hands of the Governor's daughter. According to the laws of the debt, the circle must be complete. Eight hundred and eighty-two coins. If we go to the island with eight hundred and eighty-one, the chest will remain open, and the voices will only get louder."
In the world of the cursed and the superstitious, the more precise the rules, the more they are believed. Hugo was building a cage of logic around Barbossa, and the Captain was walking right into it.
"Then we go now!" Barbossa roared, his hand slamming into the cabin table, sending a silver goblet rattling to the floor. "We sail the Serpent into the harbor, we snatch the girl, and we burn the town if we have to! I'll not have another night of that scratching in my head!"
"You'll have a short drop and a sudden stop if you try that," Hugo countered, his eyes flashing with a sharp, warning light. "The Sea Serpent is a known pirate hull. You've got brass plates and gold flags now, you're a beacon for every frigate in the Caribbean. You'd be sunk before you cleared the outer shoals."
Barbossa deflated slightly, the reality of his situation hitting him like a bucket of cold bilge water. He was a wealthy man, yes, but he was still a man with a price on his head.
"Then what do we do? We can't just wait here for the madness to take me!"
"We don't use your ship," Hugo said, finally steering the conversation toward his true objective. He gestured through the cabin window toward the shipyard in the distance. "We use mine."
Barbossa's lip curled in a reflexive sneer. "Your ship? That pile of driftwood? Hugo, I've seen the work you've done, and it's a miracle of carpentry, I'll grant you. But she's a sloop! She's a babe among whales! You think a merchant scout can break the blockade of Port Royal?"
"She isn't a merchant scout anymore. She is The Explorer," Hugo corrected him firmly. "And she won't look like a wreck for much longer. Give me the time to finish her, and give me the gold to arm her, and I will give you the fastest, most elusive vessel in these waters. We'll slip into Port Royal like a shadow and be gone before the first alarm is even sounded."
"Gold? More gold?" Barbossa's hand went instinctively to his heavy money pouch, the predatory instinct of the pirate warring with the desperation of the cursed man.
"Think carefully, Hector," Hugo said, stepping closer until he was looming over the seated Captain. "Right now, you need me. I am the only one who knows the count of the coins. I am the only one who can navigate the path to the blood-debt. You can cling to your mountain of silver, but it won't buy you a night of silence. It won't stop your crew from noticing when you start to look like a corpse in the moonlight."
Hugo's words were a jagged blade. He was no longer a subordinate; he was the one holding the leash. He was pointing out the inevitable: Barbossa was becoming a liability to his own men. Once the crew realized their Captain was cursed, they would heave him overboard to save their own skins.
"Fine! Fine, damn ye!" Barbossa finally broke. He slumped back into his chair, looking smaller and more fragile than he had in the velvet coat. "Take what you need! I'll open the hold! I'll buy your cannons and your canvas!"
"I need the best twelve-pounders Tortuga has to offer," Hugo began, listing his requirements with cold efficiency. "I need triple-reinforced stays, the finest Dutch linen for the sails, and I need the authority to recruit a specialized crew. Men who answer to me."
"Take it all! Just make the whispering stop!" Barbossa choked out, his head falling into his jeweled hands.
"I'll be back at dawn to collect the first installment," Hugo said. He signaled to Gibbs and Billy, who had been watching the exchange in stunned silence.
As they stepped out of the oppressive, rotting atmosphere of the cabin and back onto the salt-washed deck of the Sea Serpent, Gibbs let out a long, shaky breath.
"By the powers, Master Hugo... I thought for a moment he was going to run you through."
"He's too afraid of the dark to kill the man holding the candle, Gibbs," Hugo said, his gaze fixed on the dark silhouette of The Explorer across the water.
"The Captain's gone," Billy whispered, looking back at the cabin door. "There's a rot in him. I've seen men go mad for gold, but this... this is like he's already dead and just hasn't realized it."
"Don't dwell on it," Hugo told them. "Barbossa's gold is our fuel now. We're going to turn that shipyard into a fortress. We're going to build a ship that this century isn't ready for."
Hugo felt a surge of cold, focused energy. Barbossa was his "ATM," his source of unlimited capital. He would use every doubloon to activate the Medieval Tech Tree, to buy the best steel and the most loyal men. The Aztec coin was a curse for the pirate, but for the Navigator, it was the key to a new world.
He walked toward the gangplank, his mind already scanning the next set of blueprints. The hunt for Elizabeth Swann was merely the beginning. He was going to turn the Caribbean into his own personal laboratory.