Though Selkirk now wore clean clothes, he still looked battered. Alongside the scar Barbarossa had left on his face were fresh, obvious burn marks. When Felton's unfriendly question reached him, his eye twitched, and he glanced at William.
William gave him a meaningful look before turning to Felton with a cheerful smile. "I've spoken with Selkirk. He's agreed to join our pirate crew."
Selkirk nodded politely toward Harden, Clow, and the others. They acknowledged him in turn, but Felton ignored him and muttered under his breath, "Another damn rookie."
His voice was so low only he could hear it.
Ship's doctor Wood, along with Hutchinson and Harden, accepted wine from William and sat down. Felton also grabbed a chair for himself. Diego, Clow, and Selkirk remained standing a short distance behind them, speaking quietly among themselves.
William had called his officers to the captain's quarters not to single out Felton, nor merely to make them scapegoats. He truly had matters to discuss. Still, in William's style, "discussion" often meant giving instructions, then letting his subordinates polish the details. But for men who had lived under Barbarossa, this was already a vast improvement.
"I think what happened in Kalmar City was a good lesson," William said, lounging in a broad chair behind his desk. He looked relaxed, his tone easy. "Aimless raids like before don't do much for our growth."
The others, affected by his demeanor, also relaxed. Hutchinson gulped down wine and asked curiously, "Didn't we always have plans and targets?"
As an old pirate, Hutchinson had long suspected their raids were prearranged. He guessed Barbarossa had ties to powers on shore. After the Kalmar incident, when their captain's quarters were looted, their treasure map stolen, and their ship damaged, forcing Barbarossa to beg Arcadio for help, the truth became clear.
Everyone in the room knew their past raids were rarely random. Their "targets" had been chosen in advance, unlike the aimless wandering of other crews.
"I mean our own plans," William clarified. "Running around to hit targets chosen by our so-called partners may have been safer, but it hasn't helped us grow. And hoarding treasure in some moldy hideout, like before, was foolish even if we hadn't been robbed."
Felton scoffed. "And where should we put it? A bank? You think they'd take it? Even if they did, I wouldn't dare. We're pirates. Our income is illegal. Those bloodsucking merchants would happily work with the government to swallow our wealth whole. Safer my ass."
William wagged a finger. "It's not about banks yet. I mean investing part of our loot into businesses on land. I have connections. You won't need to worry about setting it up."
Felton shook his head without hesitation, and the others looked doubtful too. They were pirates, after all. Wood might be educated, but none of them knew business. It was unfamiliar ground, and even men who prided themselves on daring adventure grew cautious when their hard-won loot was at stake.
Only Clow froze for a moment, then his eyes lit up. He straightened in his chair, staring at William with surprise.
"What if someone cheats us? What if we lose money?" Harden asked cautiously.
William smiled. "And what then? If someone dares steal from us, we'll tear them apart. As for losing money, why would we? Business depends on trade, and we're one of the strongest pirate crews in the East Blue. Who could compete with us? Are your blades made of paper? We're willing to raid ships and villages for strangers, but for our own trade, we'd shrink back?"
The great East India companies of history had no remarkable technology, no special products. Spices, tea, opium, slaves—that was all. Their true advantage was military might, and their empires grew only because of the monopoly granted by force.
William had no intention of dealing in drugs or slaves, but he was no saint. Capital was always built on blood. Even in his previous life, so-called "fair trade" was only words. Competition still meant sabotage. And in earlier times, capitalists fought with bullets and bayonets.
The Morgan Pirates could never match the backing of a nation, but the logic was the same: use force to secure trade, use trade to strengthen force.
The officers still looked doubtful now, but William knew once they tasted profit, they would embrace the plan.
He understood well how fast and powerful this beast of progress could be.
"Besides, this gives us a way to care for our men," William added, swirling his glass. "In our line of work, injuries are inevitable. If someone dies, that's the end of it. But what if they're crippled? What if they can't fight anymore? Or when they grow old? If we build businesses, we can give them a place."
Felton sneered. "You think far ahead, even worrying about retirement."
The others didn't share his sarcasm. They looked thoughtful. Wood especially was moved. He was older and not particularly strong. William's words struck him deeply.
They believed William truly cared about their futures, that he was a captain willing to think for his crew.
Without realizing it, Wood felt genuine respect. He adjusted his posture, ready to hear more, when William calmly sipped his drink and said, "One more matter. It concerns the crew's positions."
Suddenly, William turned his head toward Felton, who had opposed him at every turn. His expression went cold.
"I hear you've been gathering followers on this ship. Do you defy me? Are you plotting rebellion?"
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