Seeing the slavers all lay down their weapons and surrender, Lister said to Rocky, "Tie them up and line them to the side."
"Aye." Rocky led Second Division to herd the surrendering traffickers to one side.
"Go reap my spoils," Lister told Johnson.
"Aye."
Johnson took First Division and rushed into the holds for a thorough sweep.
Nami came over, eyes bright with expectation. "I wonder how much money a slaver ship carries."
"Should be a lot. Traffickers tend to be rich," Lister said with a smile.
"I'm going in to look too." The itch was too strong; she wanted to get her fix herself.
"Go on. But any Beli you find comes to me," Lister said casually.
"Got it." Knowing how Lister worked, Nami didn't kick up a fuss. She answered and headed below.
Lister had a chair brought and sat on the deck to wait for the tally.
Before long, crates were hauled out one after another. It took nearly twenty minutes to finish.
"Captain, we looted eight million Beli and twenty jin of gold. Besides that, there's…" Johnson stood before Lister and reported the haul.
"Not quite what I hoped, but it'll do," Lister nodded. "Send all the Beli to my cabin. The gold goes to Nami. Where is she?"
Not seeing her, he asked.
"Big Sis Nami's below. Bottom deck of the black ship had thirty-two slaves locked up. Twelve are women. She's talking with them. I don't know the details," Johnson said.
"Twelve women? No one touched them, right?" Lister shot Johnson a look.
"No, no. Two of the boys tried, but Big Sis Nami got there in time, so nothing happened," Johnson said quickly.
"Good. Take a few men and ferry the loot back to the Money. Then take another team below and bring the slaves up on deck," Lister ordered.
"Aye." Johnson led men back into the ship. Others rigged lines, slid the crates across to the Money, then carried them where they belonged.
Lister didn't wait long. Johnson and Nami brought all thirty-two slaves to the black ship's deck, the twelve women at the front under Nami's wing. With so many people standing together, the deck felt crowded.
Lister stood on the raised foredeck and looked them over, especially the women. Each was easy on the eyes. If they hadn't been, the slavers might have cut them down on sight. Being taken meant they had looks the slavers coveted.
Soon his eye picked out a pair of twins among them, fifteen or sixteen, fresh-faced and lovely.
He pulled his gaze back, cleared his throat, and smiled. "Anyone here have a home to return to?"
At that, eyes lit up. A man in his early thirties shoved out of the crowd, dropped to his knees before Lister, and begged, "Captain, I want to go home. I haven't seen my family for half a year."
"Name, trade, and how you were taken?" Lister asked.
"My name is Charles, a musician. I was touring with an ensemble. I went out alone once and someone threw a sack over my head," the man said sadly.
"A sad story," Lister said, genuinely moved. "All right. I'll give you a small boat, fifty jin of rations, and a barrel of water. I hope you make it back and reunite with your family."
"Uh?" Charles' face froze. Something felt off. Isn't a good man supposed to see him safely home? Row himself back on a dinghy?
"Kind Captain… did I mishear?" he asked, aggrieved.
"You heard right. A skiff, fifty jin of meat, a barrel of water, so you can return. Isn't that generous?" Lister smiled.
"No. Captain, shouldn't you send me back yourself?" Charles protested.
"When did I say I'd escort you home?" Lister asked.
"Captain, if you're kind enough to free me, finish the kindness and take me home. Alone on the vast sea, how can I find my way? Please," Charles pleaded again and again.
"Should a 'good man' have a gun shoved in his face?" Lister laughed in anger and pointed at the flag flying on the Money. "Look closely. A Jolly Roger. I'm a pirate through and through. I'm letting you go out of goodwill; count yourself lucky. And you dare ask me to deliver you? Aren't you afraid I'll follow you back and loot your hometown after?"
"I don't care. You must send me home." Charles' eyes went red. He sprang up and glared at Lister. "You gave me hope. You have to take responsibility."
"Kill him," Lister said lightly, giving the man a glance.
Johnson walked toward Charles.
"What are you doing?" Charles backed away, frightened.
Johnson couldn't be bothered to answer. He brought his wrench down on the man's skull. Bone shattered. Charles died on the spot. Johnson hauled the body to the rail and tossed it overboard. Clean. Brutal.
All the slaves shivered. Many were like Charles, toying with the same idea of morally blackmailing Lister into personally escorting them. With Charles' death, they woke up. Lister could not be bound by moral chains. He might show charity now and then, but at the end of the day he was a pirate.
"Anyone leaving now? Make it clear: if you go, you get a small boat, fifty jin of meat, and a barrel of water. If you were dreaming of me escorting you, wake up. I'm a pirate. Letting you go is generosity. Don't ask for more," Lister said again.
They looked at one another. A long time passed. No one stepped forward.
"Anyone leaving? Last call. If you're not leaving, you join the Money Pirates," Lister said.
Silence. No one stepped out. No one said a word. As if taking a skiff alone was more dangerous and terrifying than staying with pirates. In truth, it was. Stay, and you became a pirate against your will. Go, and who could guarantee a skiff, fifty jin of rations, and one barrel of water would get you to the next island? Too many unknowns and accidents. No one dared gamble. They could only accept the fate Lister laid out.
"Good. Since no one is leaving, from today you're all members of the Money Pirates." Lister made the call.
"Nami, those twelve girls are under your command," Lister said.
"Good," Nami said quickly, eyes lighting up. With the girls assigned under her, it would be easier to protect them. The twelve brightened as well. Being under Nami was far better than being scattered. They had met her briefly and she'd left a good impression. With her protection, perhaps they could stop living in fear.
"As for the rest, anyone have a specialty? Music, smithing, brewing, medicine—speak up and I'll assign you separately. If not, you go to the two combat divisions as fighters," Lister said.
Among the twenty men there were a few with skills, and Lister assigned them to independent roles. The remaining pretty boys were sent to the two divisions.
With the slaves sorted, Lister looked to the surrendering slavers. They had no right to choose. He didn't let any go, but assigned them to the divisions as well, to be drilled hard by Johnson and Rocky. Now each division had thirty-five men. In headcount alone, the Money Pirates had tripled in strength.
With the captives handled, Lister ordered a full cleaning of the Money and the newly commissioned Black Gold. Then he moved both divisions onto the black ship, told Bija to paint the Money Pirates' insignia on its sails, and raised the Jolly Roger. All twelve girls were moved to the Money.
At that point, aside from Lister, only three men remained aboard the Money. One was Michelin, the head chef, handling meals for the dozen-odd people aboard. The other two cooks were reassigned to the Black Gold to feed the seventy to eighty there. Of the remaining two men, one was the butler type who managed logistics for the Money Pirates, and one was a runner handling contacts and errands.
Night on the Black Gold. A banquet.
Lister stood at the prow. "Today the Money Pirates expand again. We've gained another ship. This is not our final form. We'll expand further. There will be a third ship, a fourth… all the way to a hundred. Our divisions will grow—one hundred, one thousand, ten thousand—the First Division, Second Division, Third Division, all the way to the Fiftieth. So work hard. Keep up with me. Step by step, we climb to the summit and share the splendor of the world with me."
The big pie he drew was huge, round, and tempting. The men of both divisions were fired up like they'd been shot full of chicken blood.
"Long live the Captain."
"To my dream, cheers."
"Cheers."