As was typical after a pirate victory, a celebration was held on deck. Rum flowed freely, and those who still had strength lifted their mugs and toasted to their triumph. Laughter echoed between sails and ropes, while some pirates sat on the floor swapping stories of past exploits. Others, less interested in material wealth, had already thrown themselves into the more festive aspects of the loot—playing instruments, dancing, and singing popular sea shanties.
The atmosphere was noisy, cheerful, and somewhat chaotic, with several men staggering from exhaustion or drink. Crew morale was high, and the celebration only strengthened the sense of camaraderie among the pirates. Still, amid all this, Captain Skippy gave strict orders to maintain vigilance and keep watch for signs of other ships or potential threats. He also sent the carpentry team to assess the damage under the supervision of the boatswain, who, though he had allowed some loosening of discipline, now had to coordinate the repair count. Meanwhile, Secretary Paine was giving instructions to initiate a preliminary inventory in order to later calculate the distribution of the loot and the share owed to the colony.
While some were tending to their wounds and Mr. Nigel Knox was helping with the headcount, Sammy, Cody, and Kayin were also treating their injuries and sharing stories over slices of Spanish ham—taken from the galleon—served with bread and a tankard of ale.
"That was horrible. I don't even know how I'm still alive… Maybe I'm dead. Maybe I'm already in limbo," said Cody as he chewed.
"I'll admit it was different from the novels. Exciting, sure… but there was a moment I truly feared for my life," Sammy said.
"So this is what awaits us for the next twelve months? Really, Sammy? We got lucky this time. What if next time we're not so fortunate?"
"We knew what we signed up for. Or did you think they'd have us peeling potatoes?"
"I think… I finally understand why they asked me if I feared the noose."
Kayin remained calm, chewing quietly and occasionally inhaling the sea air as he gazed at the starlit horizon.
"I just hope I never shipwreck in a Spanish colony," Kayin said. "I've got two sentences hanging over me now: one for being a runaway slave, and the other for being a pirate. Either way, if they didn't hang me for one, they'd hang me for the other. Not much difference… Have any of you ever wondered what lies beyond the stars?"
"I suppose… nothing," Sammy replied.
"I wonder if there are other worlds, with beings like us."
"That's what Giordano Bruno thought," she said. "He believed in an infinite cosmos. If the universe has no limits, then surely other stars must have planets too—and maybe life."
"You think they'd have the same pettiness and wickedness we do?"
Sammy shrugged. "I wonder if they'd need pirates too… Maybe sailing through other worlds in flying ships," she said, looking up at the stars.
"That's absurd," Kayin said flatly.
"On the contrary, it's an interesting idea," came a voice.
It was Captain Skippy, who had approached the three young pirates unnoticed, accompanied by Boatswain Trumper. Kayin and Sammy stood immediately and began nudging Cody, who was lying fast asleep.
"Let him sleep. It's been a long day," said Skippy.
"Captain," said Sammy. "Do you need something?"
Skippy smiled. "Just wanted to thank you all for your bravery. Mr. Worthy, you proved yourself as promised. Capturing that little queen was a fine move."
"It was a proper queen's gambit, no doubt," Sammy replied with a grin.
"You play chess, Mr. Worthy? I wonder what else you know."
"I try to learn, Captain."
Skippy nodded. "Give these sailors a couple more bottles," he ordered, then turned to continue his rounds beneath the lanterns.
Moments later, Secretary Paine arrived—sweaty and flushed from being down in the stifling hold, even during the tropical night. He was without his wig, and his bald head gleamed in the lamplight, drenched in sweat which he wiped with a dirty handkerchief.
"Captain, we've completed a preliminary inventory," he said, panting.
The captain gave a gesture, dismissing the boatswain with a nod so he could resume his patrol.
"Tell me the news," Skippy said.
The secretary handed him a sheet with the detailed inventory. Skippy scanned it quickly.
"Where's the gold?" he asked, surprised. "This is all trinkets!"
"All the trunks, boxes, and cargo were high-end goods, yes, but... not enough to secure a decent profit for Sylvandria, not after splitting it with the crew."
"How much, Paine?" Skippy asked quietly.
"That depends on how much the colonial merchants are willing to pay," the secretary muttered.
"For the gods of the sacred groves, Paine, give me the number in coin."
"In pieces of eight… not much, Captain. Forty thousand."
"This won't even patch the holes in the Gárnor. I can already hear Hugo screaming when we report to him."
Secretary Paine lowered his eyes. "I already did, Captain."
Skippy frowned. "And?"
"He wasn't pleased. I think he went hoarse from yelling."
The captain straightened his back, adjusted his coat, and breathed in the warm, damp night air.
"That elf is never easy to please."