The island was lit only by dim lamps, the firelight covered by canvas, and the sailors lowered their voices, as if silently awaiting some kind of ritual.
Some were sharpening their knives on the deck, while others hung fish bones in front of the mast, praying to the Sea God, without any noise.
They were usually boisterous, could get drunk to the point of being dazed, or fight over a piece of bread, but at this moment, each person knew exactly what they should do.
The gleam of blades flickered in the flames, and no one cracked a joke anymore.
This was the time they prepared for life and death, all indulgence and rawness collected at this moment.
They believed unconditionally in this mad king.
After all, countless times of pillaging, his intelligence was always accurate, each gamble with their lives always yielded a whole cabin of spoils.
Even though the sea surface was empty now, with no shadow of an enemy in sight, still no one doubted.
