Here, the portly captain cunningly omitted any specific price he could sell for, only using vague quantifiers like "a lot" to describe it.
The portly captain also persuaded Major General Layton and Major Moritz from another angle:
On the Misfortune, there are more than thirty rowers. If we scuttle the Misfortune, what happens to these rowers? Where do we put them?
The Bandit Gull currently has about fifty people on board and is already overburdened. There really isn't any more room to accommodate over thirty rowers.
"To scuttle the Misfortune, it would be tantamount to killing this group of rowers; if we don't kill this group of rowers, then we can't scuttle the Bandit Gull." Through this chain of logic, the portly captain successfully tethered Major Moritz onto his chariot.
The ship couldn't be scuttled; to scuttle it, they would have to kill the portly captain first. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ novel※fire.net
But, how to bring the Misfortune back to port became a new problem.
All the pirates are dead, so there is nobody left on the Misfortune to handle the sails and helm.
Leave a few pirates as crew members? Major General Layton won't agree, and neither does the portly captain dare to.
Release the rowers to serve as crew? The portly captain firmly disagrees too, arguing: How can one know these rowers won't harbor ill will? These rowers, influenced by pirates aboard the pirate ships, may well harbor bad intentions, seize the ship, and sell it themselves. Wouldn't everyone on the Bandit Gull have worked for nothing?
This is a trust crisis created by the unique survival environment at sea. On the open ocean, there are no communications, no laws, no supervision. Only this ship exists between heaven and earth, and what happens aboard is unknown to outsiders, unreachable by their whips.
The portly captain didn't even dare to let his first mate take a few sailors over to the Misfortune to bring the ship back to port. Because one can't see into another's heart, who knows if this seemingly honest first mate might harbor some evil intention? If this first mate developed wicked thoughts, tomorrow the inland sea might be home to a new pirate ship named "Misfortune."
Eventually, the portly captain had a stroke of genius, proposing a brilliant solution:
He, along with half the sailors from the Bandit Gull, would go aboard the Misfortune. This way, they could just about manage to operate the ship;
The rowers on the Misfortune wouldn't be set free right away, but tied down in the cabin as before to prevent them from getting any ideas about seizing the ship and also because their services as rowers were still needed. Once in port, they would fetch a magistrate to release the rowers and let them disembark;
The first mate of the Bandit Gull, now acting as captain, would choose a few healthy-looking sailors from the Misfortune's rowers to fill the crew shortfall on the Bandit Gull, so that it too could function normally. With over thirty naval officers on board the Bandit Gull, any trouble could be easily suppressed.
In the eyes of Major General Layton and Major Moritz, this was a pretty good solution. The only drawback was that the crew on the Misfortune was too few; if the portly captain encountered pirates on the way back to port, they could end up... handing it over for nothing.
However, the money-hungry portly captain had already decided to take that risk, and considering the attraction of the Bandit Gull to the inland sea pirates, it's hard to say which ship was actually more dangerous at this point.
Taking half of the Bandit Gull's sailors and a letter detailing the Misfortune's full story, signed and sealed by Major General Layton and Major Moritz, the portly captain excitedly boarded the Misfortune, and the two ships went their separate ways.
Now, what Winters, Bard, and Andre heard was a chorus between the new and old sailors.
Andre had been quiet for a while, obviously having fallen asleep.
Bard's mind seemed to be preoccupied with many thoughts. He furrowed his brow and said to Winters, "I always feel like something is... odd, every event is baffling. Guidao City sees a few fires every year, yet this time specifically the armory caught fire and it was massive; every year people head overseas, yet this year not a single overseas assignment; and this so-called treasure transport ship—treasure transport? Do you believe that? Something we don't know about is definitely happening in the world."
"Hey, why overthink it? I'm the one who ended up unable to use magic," said Winters. He understood Bard's anxiety, but believed they should take things as they come: "Even if some earth-shattering change is happening, we can only be swept along by the current. Andre is right, we're just three junior officers; let's just focus on being tools, and let those with higher ranks brace for the sky's fall."
The first mate of the Bandit Gull—oh, no, now the captain—climbed up to the poop deck. He was there to deliver some liquor to the three junior naval officers, clearly thrilled even by the temporary assumption of the captain's duties.
"Drink up, esteemed officers, drink up. I saw you jump to help today; you're all exceptionally brave warriors. Even among seafarers who make their living on the ocean, it's hard to find a few as gallant as you. This round is on me," he said.
Winters accepted the bottle with a smile and casually asked, "What song are the sailors singing? It's pleasant to the ear, but I can't understand with their thick accents."
The acting captain laughed sheepishly: "Some call these ship songs, but they're really just vulgar sailor tunes, mostly about women and drink."
"I think these songs are naturally plain and simple. What's wrong with talking about women and drink? Aren't songs supposed to express emotions? It's a pity I can't understand what they're singing about..."
"Would you like me to sing it for you in the Vineta accent?"
"That would be wonderful!"
The first mate cleared his throat and joined the sailors in their song. His voice was rough and unrestrained, but the lyrics he belted out were laced with an unspoken sadness:
"Farewell forever, maidens of the isles.
Farewell forever, beauties of the isles.
For we are bound for old Vineta.
Never again will we see ones as fair as you.
We roar and laugh wildly, true sailors of Vineta.
We roar and laugh, amid the briny waves.
Until we've sailed the length of Senas Bay,
From the isles to Sea Blue, a full two hundred leagues.
Fill up the glass, drink it all down.
Fill up the glass, drain it to the dregs.
We drown our melancholy in alcohol.
Here's to the health of every lovesick soul, let's drink it to the last.
Amidst the sailors' singing, Winters grew closer to Sea Blue, where he would obtain his military rank and officially become a probationary officer.
He wasn't entirely a novice, but that was just the most basic education. Much, much more remained for him to learn through practical experience.