After the fury of the storm, the Caribbean sea transformed into a vast, unblemished sheet of sapphire. The sky was a searing, clear blue, and the air was heavy with the humid warmth of the tropics. While the Sea Serpent had emerged from the Devil's Triangle with shredded rigging and several deep gouges along her hull, her keel remained true. She was a battered survivor, but she was still very much a ship of war.
The atmosphere on the deck, however, had undergone a transformation more profound than any repair.
Hugo was no longer the "drowned rat" or the "pauper" they had fished from the drink. He had become the pivot upon which the entire ship turned. His status had subtly, almost imperceptibly, eclipsed that of Captain Barbossa himself. The crew no longer addressed him with sharp barks or casual insults; they spoke his name with a reverence usually reserved for the saints or the Devil.
"Master Hugo, sir... a bit of tobacco to settle the nerves?" Billy, the bearded giant who had once kicked Hugo's bucket, now approached with a sheepish grin, offering a hand-rolled cigar as if it were a king's ransom.
"Sir, parched? I've a skin of fresh water, recently drawn and cool," a young sailor piped up, hovering nearby with an eager, pleading expression.
Even Gibbs, the one-eyed petty officer who had once relished in punishing Hugo, now followed him like a loyal hound. He stayed a respectful two paces behind, holding a tattered, coffee-stained sea chart and consulting Hugo on every minor adjustment of the trim.
"Master Hugo, if you'd be so kind... do you truly believe our heading holds true?" Gibbs asked, leaning in and pointing a calloused finger at the scribbled lines on the parchment.
Hugo glanced at the chart, which was little more than a collection of guesses and folklore then checked the sun's meridian and the subtle shift of the swells against the bow. He shook his head. "We're drifting into the doldrums if we stay this course. Adjust five degrees to the southeast. If we catch the trade winds properly, we'll see the peaks of Tortuga in two days' time."
"Five degrees southeast! You heard the man!" Gibbs bellowed, spinning around to face the helmsman. "Bring her about! Master Hugo has spoken!"
The helmsman didn't hesitate. He leaned into the wheel, the Sea Serpent responding with a grace it hadn't possessed just days prior.
Captain Barbossa stood by the door of the Great Cabin, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the scene with a wry, complicated smile. He was the Captain, yet he was currently little more than a passenger on his own quarterdeck. However, there was no malice in his gaze. He was a pragmatist, and a pragmatic pirate valued a living navigator over a dead ego.
A subordinate leaned in, whispering, "Captain... the boy. The men follow his word like it's scripture. His prestige is... well, it's higher than your own, sir."
Barbossa turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing. "And do you have a complaint, Thomas?"
The man blanched. "No! No, Captian! Just... it's a strange thing to see, is all."
"There is nothing strange about survival," Barbossa said, his voice low and gravelly. "In these waters, the man who finds the gold and keeps the wood beneath our feet is the man who holds the power. That is the only law of the Brotherhood. If Hugo stood up tomorrow and claimed this deck as his own, I'd hand him the glass without a second thought."
He looked back at Hugo, who was currently showing a group of sailors how to better brace a yardarm. "Look at her, Thomas. We're making better time than we ever have. Since he took the wheel, we're cutting through the water twenty percent faster. That means we outrun the Navy and we catch the merchantmen. He's not just a boy; he's a nautical genius. We've found ourselves a gold mine, and I don't intend to let it go."
Over the next forty-eight hours, Hugo's "instructional sessions" became the highlight of the day. He didn't use magic; he used physics. He taught the crew how to read the "ratch" of the water to find hidden currents and how to trim the sails to utilize the aerodynamic lift he had mentioned during the storm. He even rigged a simple "chip log", a weighted board and a knotted line to precisely measure their speed in knots, a concept that seemed like high sorcery to men used to guessing by the foam.
"By the saints! Look at her fly!" Billy cheered, watching the wake of the Sea Serpent churn into a white frothing line. "I used to think you just hoisted the canvas and prayed. Master Hugo, where did you learn such things? Were you a high officer in a King's Navy?"
Hugo smiled, his eyes reflecting the sunlight. "I learned in a place very far from here, Billy. A place where the sea is respected, but understood."
The mystery of his origin only added to his legend. The crew whispered that he was a fallen noble, a secret student of the Great Navigators, or perhaps something more ancient. Whatever the case, he was their luck.
On the third morning, a cry erupted from the crow's nest, filled with raw, unadulterated joy. "Land ho! Tortuga! I see the fires of the port!"
The deck became a hive of activity. Pirates who had been lounging in the sun scrambled to sharpen their cutlasses and check their pistols. Tortuga was the heartbeat of the Caribbean, a lawless, vibrant sanctuary where gold changed hands as fast as blood was spilled.
As the island's jagged, green coastline rose from the sea, Hugo stood at the bow. He could see the bay filled with a forest of masts, sloops, brigs, and the occasional captured frigate. The air carried the scent of roasting meat, woodsmoke, and the sharp, cloying tang of fermenting sugar.
Barbossa walked up to Hugo and handed him a heavy, salt-stained leather pouch. It clinked with a substantial, rhythmic weight.
Hugo opened it. Inside, the dull glint of gold doubloons and silver pieces caught the light. He counted twenty gold coins and a handful of smaller silver. It was far more than a double share.
"Captain, this is too much," Hugo said, looking up.
"It is exactly what you are owed," Barbossa replied, his tone final. "Without you, this ship is a reef and we are fish food. Gold is useless in the locker, Hugo. Take it."
He paused, looking out at the nearing docks. "And listen well. This is just the start. From this day forward, as long as you sail with the Sea Serpent, you take a twenty-percent cut of every prize. No man on this ship, including myself, has a word against it."
Twenty percent. That was the share of a partner, a King of the Sea.
Hugo gripped the pouch, the cold metal pressing into his palm. "Thank you, Captain."
"Don't thank me, boy. Just keep us out of the Triangle," Barbossa chuckled, clapping him on the back. "Ashore now! To the Mermaid's Rest! The first three rounds for the 'Great Navigator' are on my coin!"
The pirates roared in approval, surrounding Hugo as the gangplank was lowered. Hugo stepped onto the sun-baked wood of the pier, his hand still clutching the pouch. In the corner of his eye, the blue panel flickered.
[Wealth: 20 Gold Doubloons]
[Binding Condition Met: System Core Activation... 10%...]
He looked at the chaotic, beautiful mess of Tortuga. He had his gold. He had his crew. Now, it was time to build an empire.