'Well, well, someone grow up' I lifted up the right corner of my mouth and moved my eyebrows, measuring a seventeen-year-old with a funny look. 'Say, companion, where are you going?'
'I want to get a crew!' A red-haired boy pulled his hat on his eyes and smiled widely; a familiar combination of gestures that made me look away. 'And I'm going to go out to sea...'
'To be the Pirate King?' I mocked and patted the sand next to each other. 'Sit down, Shrimp, and have a drink with the old captainess.' I pulled a bottle of rum out of the box and handed it to sitting Shanks.
'No, me, king? All I had to do was sail with the captain, I guess I wouldn't be good at it.' He smiled melancholy and drank alcohol.
'It's a matter of dispute. If I were to be honest, I'd see you more in this position than Buggy' I was serious about it. I lit a cigarette on a long cigarette holder, watching Shanks from the angle of my eye. He grew up, his facial features became more sharp, although he was still a brat, but his cheerful smile and calm tone didn't change a bit.
He twisted his head stubbornly, as if this ridiculous argument didn't find its way to him and looked at me with shiny, black eyes.
'I will be the Emperor'he whispered in secret.
'You measure up high, Shrimp, but I see no reason why you shouldn't become one' I said with an emphasis.
'Yeah, I guess I've got all the right skills, starting with tying the ropes.' We both laughed out loud, cheerful as in the good old days.
'Oh, you were so stubborn! You didn't want to learn that, my God, how I got mad at you! How many times has Ray defended you from beating.'
'I'm grateful to him for that until the end! But, Captainess, what are you going to do?'
I had an imitation of a smile stuck to my face, pretending I couldn't see his rushing stare, looking at the horizon and puffing a cigarette over and over again.
That kid! First he amuses me and then he tries to get information, what will grow out of him in a few years?
'I'll stay here because what's left of me? Atlantis is my favorite island, why don't I start knitting? I've always wanted to support orphans and widows, and that would be fair business, the Navy could kiss my hand!'
'Nah! I can't believe you're going to start living an honest life like ordinary people, captainess!' He protested vividly 'Mr Rayleigh once told me that there are people in the world who are made for great things, and that captainess and the late captain, may Jones give him peace, are such people.'
'That old fool has got your mind confused as usual, and you believe like a nitwit. Quiet, Shrimp!' I banged at the end, seeing that the kid was looking at me with a protest written on his face. 'Sail your way, kid. Become Emperor. I'll bless you from the heart, but you won't hear about me, like Grand Line long and wide. If waves ever bring you to Atlantis, you'll always find shelter from the Navy, may hell consume it, a bottle of rum and food, that's enough.' Then I took a look at the straw hat decorated at the roundabout with a red ribbon. 'He would be proud of you' I sighed yet, looking at a kid with a melancholy, which I probably wouldn't get rid of for the rest of my life. Or so I thought then.
I remember I was still drunk in the harbor. I was staggering in such a way that I almost fell into the water, and when I finally got aboard "Harpy", I threw up, leaning overboard at the last minute. And yet, the alcoholic freeze, as strong as it would have been, never fooled my sense of navigation, and even after a three-day libation I was able to say with full accuracy that a storm was approaching Atlantis. A wonderful moment to sail out, and to one of the Cursed Islands!
- Captainess, the storm will tear the sails! People don't want to go!...' The petty officer told me, shouting as the wind was getting stronger. I looked at him like a madman and leaned overboard again, swearing in my mind like a million times before that not a drop of alcohol for the rest of my life.
Pious wish, Pebble, tomorrow you'll get drunk again, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and over and over again, because you're an alcoholic. It's sad that Ray was right. He always fucking was.
The sky was navy blue, although it just hit the afternoon. Just like in the battle of Edd. Then we won, so now we will again. I'm gonna win. I'll win.
'Everyone! Sails!' I was yelling, wobbling dangerously, and I grabbed him by his dirty shirt, pulling in my direction. 'I'll swim out, even if that ship were to drown at the end. If somebody doesn't want to, then overboard!' I pushed him away, sending a furious look, and at the same time I felt that the whirlpool in my stomach stopped, at least for a while.
The storm accompanied me from the beginning of my expedition. And literally, because while leaving Logue Town I was running away from it. And since I survived all this turmoil, this one will be no exception! Not now, that a glimmer of hope for a change of my lousy life has dawned. Not after all I've been through. I won't drown! A pebble never goes down!
I walked on a rocking ship without losing balance even when the waves began to strike with more fury. People were afraid, doubly, if they listened to the gossip and didn't dare to resist, even though they were stuck between a hammer and an anvil - the storm or an angry captainess. Most decided that I was worse, however, and they obediently rolled the sails, the rest followed the group, like rams, which in my opinion they were. I was going to send this ship down, together with the crew, and I didn't need them for anything.
The waves would first hijack the bow, crashing dangerously against the falcon, lift it up and reach the rear, rocking Harpy at a dangerous angle.
'We'll break through!' I decided and grabbed the helm myself, feeling the recurring nausea.
'And don't be fucking surprised, Jones, if you don't see me in your Locker today!'
According to legends the Forbidden or Cursed Islands were a handful of tiny beaches where nothing grew. From one shore you could see the other, even more, you could see all the other islands. They were nothing special, but all the demons in hell witnessed that on the Grand Line nothing ever looked like what it really was! Apparently, something unusual happened there when it was getting dark. They say bad things were happening there when a storm raged to prevent sailors from entering the lands of the mysterious archipelago.
Edward once told me that only fools go there in search of anything but death. I respected him and his opinion, but when I sailed towards them, I spit on everything that was reasonable. Nevertheless, something inside me was protesting, something that suggested that all that voyage was worth nothing, and that in the Cursed Islands I would find nothing and no one. Fact, no one lived there. And there was nothing. So why did I go there?
In pursuit of a dream, hope. Something that wasn't and couldn't be real. And yet I was determined to get this unattainable thing. I was going to bet everything on one card, I didn't hesitate and nothing could take me away, not even a quiet voice saying "Ralagan, give up".
After all, I could go back! I could leave peaceful Atlantis, find that fool, Silver, and figure out how to spend the rest of life rather than drinking to death.
When I thought of an old friend, someone I loved, I felt this sweet melancholy that accompanies us when we think of something that has passed, but only in some part. Which we can go back to. Because I could come back to Ray any day and night, he was waiting for me, but when I remembered my condition, I was in disgust. Of course! Show up to him! Now, after all these years, where I look like some drunken old lady who's got mad!
The idea was categorically out of the question, or at least I didn't take it into account at the time when I was still able to do something. Besides, I was planning to come back for Silver anyway once I had reached my goal. And then we'll finally be together again and I can live the life I wanted.
Ha! I played it! But what I paid for it and how much...
When I finally stood on a sandy beach, after four days of a murderous voyage, I looked much worse, although it seemed impossible. I gathered a dull mass of hair into a tight knot on my neck and took off my sweaty, dark blue coat. My white shirt turned into a yellow rag, my corset was thrown away a long time ago because my shoelaces broke and my skirt resembled a collection of torn sheets from donations to widows and orphans. Not to mention that it was all stained with blood, because the crew rebelled and demanded to return to the port. Out of thirty-five people, seven survived, plus a petty officer, and actually returned to some port, which I didn't really care about. All that mattered was that I reached my destination. Cursed Islands where I could meet Davy Jones!
Except for a box of booze, a sack of tobacco, a pipe and a deck of cards, I had nothing. Not even an idea of what to do next. The heat was pouring out of the sky, there was nothing around that would give a shadow and there was a deadly ocean around the land with a diameter of forty meters.
So what now? Should I do some dancing? Exorcism? A virgin sacrifice? You could always shed innocent blood if I could find one.
I walked on the beach, along and wide, strangely calm about the property left on the shore, and I was yelling until my throat ached. The longer I screamed the name of the mythical sea devil, the more I wondered about its existence. Because in the end I've been sailing in the damn ocean for about twenty years, and I haven't seen Davy Jones once, what I'm told should happen when I enter the New World.
Tere-fere, because I've been in the New World for seventeen years and I haven't seen anything incredible. Okay, well, I've seen, but not someone who introduced themselves as old Jones.
I finally went back to my box, covered with a coat, got a pipe, and I remembered with a brilliance that I didn't have anything to fire that pipe. With a moan, I sat by the box, unforgettable for the oaths I had taken four days earlier, and reached for the first bottle.
Two and a half litres of booze from Atlantis later, I was anaesthetized enough to tell myself about the happiest years of my life, without howling like a wolf. Yeah, half a litre then I sang shanties loudly, and the setting sun was too nice a background.
'Come all ye young fellows that follows the sea! To me, way hey, blow the man down! Now please pay attention and listen to me! Give me some time to blow the man down!'
I fell asleep and I was aware of it. I remembered when I fell on the sand and saw vodka soaking into the hot sand. I also remembered the colourful smudges in the sky, which I watched for a while in my reverie, and compared them with those seen from my ship a long time ago.
I was woken up by the light and the heat only felt on my face, shoulders and cleavage. I was in the mood to murder someone, my guts were twisting painfully with every movement and my head was pulsating mercilessly as if it was about to fall apart. I slowly rose, first to my knees, then I sat on my heels and led around with a tired look from under my half-closed eyelids.
'First you call me, then you fall asleep, and now you can't wake up.' A quiet, hoarse voice came from my left and should make me get up on my feet ready to fight, but the actual result left a lot to be desired.
'I don't know where the fuck you, camaraderaman, came from, but I'll tell you one thing, a bad place to rest' I started with a tired, squeaky voice and only then I noticed that the fire burning carelessly on my left, was burning on the sand. No wood, no coal, just on the sand. I watched it hypnotized, trying to explain this phenomenon in a mind dulled by alcohol, and a stranger, looking away, laughed at the gullet and nodded his head. He looked like an old sailor, with a broken hat on his head, some carelessly made tattoos and a nose like a potato. In a word; an unpleasant type, snatched as if under the weight of life or something equally philosophical.
'You called me' he started by showing me his blackened teeth and he didn't hide them even when I had loathing written on my face.
'Did I? When?' I massaged my headache.
'Four hours ago. What can I do for you, Captainess?'
'How do you know who I am?'
'Oh, I sail a little bit in these waters. Personalities like you attract my special attention. Almost like your brother! I've had a lot of chitchat with him. In my Locker', I mean.
'You're... Jones.'
'Davy Jones, devil of the Grand Line and the surrounding area, at your service.' He wouldn't even bother to lift his hat, which I'd probably take as an insult and punish him if he was any other man. As long as Jones can be counted as a man. 'And you have a business with me, but I don't know what you're going to pay me for it, because all good things are limited to empty bottles and tobacco.' He looked around, allegedly worried about the condition of my property, which I've squandered with a shrug of my shoulders.
'I know that such fancies are ash to you. Your usury is a different measure, don't make a fool out of me' I've been growling, signalling the knowledge about the price of any service from his side. 'Well, as long as you're really Jones.'
'That's not enough proof?' He pointed a fire and spat somewhere to the side. I did the same thing, getting rid of the bitter taste of vodka from my mouth, and I remembered a loaded pipe, resting safely in my coat pocket. It could be fired after a few attempts, to the second laugh of the old one, and when I pulled myself in with the smoke, my mind was completely lightened up. Well, one could say that I was sober.
'I want to play Scythe with you.' I threw a deck of cards tied with a leather strap under his feet and watched him react from underneath my squinted eyes. The expression on his face changed dramatically in a second. He looked at my with strangely burning eyes and black teeth flashed in a truly devilish smile. My heart stopped for a second and my hand trembled when I put the pipe in my mouth - I was afraid of his human gestures, which he parodied in such a terrible way. Looking at this smile, I knew that it didn't belong to man and that I'm not dealing with man - only demons can look like that when they have business with man in front of them. And only demons can cheat like Jones did.
'Pirate Scythe.' He didn't pretend to be a reverie or a surprise, he seemed to be waiting for my challenge, which he noticed after a while, written on my face. 'I accept. What do you bet?'
'What do you take?'
'Your soul.' He smiled. 'Something for which you are responsible and duty.'
'It's not much.' I agreed, to his misguided joy. The price didn't really mattered, I just wanted Jones to agree to my terms in case I win. 'In return, I want power, a crew on the fastest ship and the resurrection of someone with a D in their name.'
'To get someone out of my Locker, you have to find him first.' He made a condition. 'The crew will be neither alive nor dead. And the ship will breathe. What about the power... You've got your fruit, don't you?'
'I'm helpless in the water.' I explained trying to make sense of his part of the deal. Jones's eyes were shining mysteriously when he pretended to ask:
'Would you like to hold the depth in your hands?
'Yes. Exactly.
'Your soul, Ralagan' he purred with pleasure 'is far too low a price for such favors. You know what you'll get, so now find out how you'll pay for it. I'll give you years of life to bring souls to my hatch, but only those who have died at sea; a thousand every year - that's a duty. In due time, I will take something for which you are responsible, and the loss of which will lead yo to madness.' Suddenly, he stopped, as if he were giving me time to think, but he knew that I would not go back. When he spoke again, his voice rustled in the air, to the second swoosh of flames. 'But you won't get into the Locker yourself. You won't get into the Immensity, either, for people like you I have a special place,' he added mysteriously and his attention was drawn to the sky, again giving me time to think about my position.
I had considered it for too long to hesitate now, and I knew that Jones wouldn't just walk away after he came to me. But I felt something that want me to rethink the idea, whispering "Ralagan, don't" as if in the last failed attempt to give me back my senses. It wasn't the price and consequences that mattered to me, the logic wasn't about me, and the tragic vision of my future was too far away that night in the Cursed Islands. The present was to belong, again, to me, and I wasn't going to give it up.
'You know the rules, you cursed wraith?
'I made them.' I saw his black teeth in the corner of my eye and then I focused on shuffling the cards.
'Thach!
'Wha...? Fuck, Namur, what was that for?!' The seventeen-year-old called up from a semi-lying position at the tavern table, with a throbbing headache that he couldn't figure out exactly why. It could have been a hangover or the result of Namur's hitting, a fisherman, standing right next to him. 'You want to rip my head off, bastard?!' He looked at his companion with a muzzle and knocked the glass mug down on the floor with a quiet moan.
'He's no use anyway. Get going, the old man wants to go, but you can't, because Marco didn't come back.'The shark-like creature snapped its sharp teeth at Thach's ear, seeing him go to sleep again.
'So go look for him' a disgruntled pirate growled, ignoring the powerful jaws.
The whole room smelled of smoke, urine, and old oil, which was a great irritation of Namur and didn't bother Thach at all. The barmaid in a white shirt, which did not resemble the shirt, approached the pirates with beer, not reacting to the warning look of the fisherman.
'Boys, have fun tonight, don't sleep!' The lying man lifted up as if at the command and with a snowy smile he took the liquor, soaring a black-haired girl with the look of nice, beer eyes.
'Pops will kill you if you don't come to the port with Marco. You both went to that hovel yesterday, and now you are, and he's gone' Namur made an excuse when the girl left with a giggle and Thach pulled from the mug.
'And it's his problem, not mine. Let him handle it himself, alpha male! He ripped out yesterday, before my nose, you understand, the prettiest girl in the port. I thought I'd take him out!' The boy hit the table with the vessel, smashing it to the ground, which the bartender commented on with a dissatisfied snout, and the pirate didn't even quit to apologize. Namur snapped his teeth again, only less aggressively, and twisted his head, unable to take the course of Thach's thinking. In every port it was the same thing, the war for women, the problem with going back on the ship and a half-day hangover, from which the whole crew mocked. But this time Marco, Edward Newgate's right hand, got lost, and that was the problem.
The tavern started to fill up, girls in long skirts and nicely exposed arms were hanging around, Thach was in a champagne mood and was looking for something prettier, not paying attention to the fisherman, who was running out of patience. Seeing that the younger one was unwilling to cooperate, he drowned him with a big, membranous hand behind his neck and lifted him out, not caring much for the rest of his dignity.
Marco woke up with a headache, without a shirt, and felt the bitter taste of beer in his mouth. Thank God, it was evening, the ocean side was blowing nicely and he was lying on the sand... Wait, what fucking sand?!
'Thach!' He got up, looking around in panic, and seeing port lights in the distance and nothing else, he had a headache and moaned back to his previous position. 'I'll kill that motherfucker. Where did he get me out? Where's my shirt? Fucking... I don't even have cigarettes?' He shoved his pockets with little hope, but he didn't expect anything. He knew for a long time that Thach was stealing his cigarettes but didn't say anything, waiting for the right moment. But there were, in the other pocket and, Jesus Christ, the last cigarette miraculously survived from last night. Last night? No, how? He... He slept all day?!
'And I'm fucked. The old man's gonna get mad and I'll be grounded for the next million ports, yoi.' He moaned, clinging to a lighter that insisted on refusing to cooperate. When after a minute he finally succeeded, he enlisted strongly and summed up his situation aloud. 'Yesterday I drank seven queues, then I played scythe, then four queues... That's eleven, and dice, then four again, that's fifteen... No, wait a minute, first there was this girl, good, fifteen... Thach said... What did he say?' The boy scratched his shaved hair and looked at the dark ocean, forgetting about counting, Thach and everything else. Only after a while did he realize that something was disturbing the sleepy atmosphere and it was... Crying?
He looked around and, unable to see anything, took advantage of the power of the recently acquired Devil's Fruit. He didn't quite control it yet, but the blue flame effectively illuminated the beach within a radius of three meters, and there was nothing outside the sand.
He rose and would have headed for the harbor, where Moby Dick was probably planning a strategy with him as a target, but a thin cry continued to vibrate in his ears and Marco had the unpleasant impression that it was a baby crying. With a sigh, he turned left, back to his original target, and walked a slow step, writing down a powerful beating to Thach in his mind.
He walked only a few steps, and in the blue glow beating from his left shoulder, he noticed...
'A basket? What the fuck did I find, Moses?' Actually, there was crying from the little basket, and when the eighteen-year-old raised the lid, he saw the baby. The crying baby fell silent at the sight of light and stared at the flames with wet eyes. 'Hey, what kind of circus are you doing here, yoi?' He looked around, trying to find kid's parents or anyone who knew where the baby came from, but the beach was empty. The baby, unnaturally blue in the glow of the flames, remained silent, absorbing an unknown view, and Marco wondered what to do. It's not common to find a kid on an empty beach, and this little thing was roaring, probably it was hungry... Maybe he should leave it alone? But it's weird to take it with him. What would a baby do on a pirate ship? On the Emperor White Beard's ship?
'Hey, do you have a name?' It was idiotic to ask an infant about anything, but on a hangover a man is allowed everything. The kid started to squeak and squeak, and when he disappeared from sight, sitting in front of the basket, it started a warning scream. 'All right, all right, don't cry! I'm sitting here, yoi.' He rolled up some rags that "something" was wrapped up in, and this clever creature took advantage of the situation and grabbed the boy by the finger, squeezing its fist with all fragile powers. Marco automatically pushed the cigarette away from his mouth and looked with his eyes wide open for the baby's treatments, while feeling the previously unknown heat inside. The child squeaked and squeaked like before, but his finger didn't want to let go. 'Well,we need to find out what do we do? Your parents didn't want you? What are you doing here at this hour, yoi?' The little one was silent and listened carefully, without understanding a word, but it liked the voice of the stranger. It also liked the blue flame and the company. After all, how much can you sit in the dark in a closed basket? The infant's patience, and so little, was completely exhausted, and now this strange stranger came and gave light.
Marco finished smoking, sighed several times and decided that his father would know best what to do. He pulled out of the basket, finding out the sex of the screamer by the way, and with his face pressed, he moved to the harbour, a little incompetently but instinctively pressing the baby to the chest. The only possible scenario at that moment was entitled "Ask the locals if someone had lost the baby", but with each step the boy was wondering more intensively who could leave the baby alone? And if they recovered the toddler, wouldn't they do the same in a while?
But to leave the kid on the beach just like that, instead of giving it to someone... 'No, I understand everything, an unwanted pregnancy or something, but people, have some responsibility.'
'Four aces. 'Jones's clattering voice was silent, commenting on the cards lined up. He tried to play annoyed, but the grimace on his face informed me clearly of his joy. I was nodding my head in thought and looked at him with my lips clenched so as not to yell out of happiness. I couldn't believe my victory, let alone the prize. I triumphed, as many times before, but now I have won with the devil himself.
Davy was laughing, and the laugh turned into a cough. He threw the cards into the fire with anger, the flames willingly accepted the victim without making the slightest sound. The devil leaned back a little and scratched on the chinking beard without letting me out of his sight.
'You won.
'You... I won' I admitted in a voice that was thin from emotion.
On Moby Dick was the gathering of all those who went into port last night, and Edward Newgate, the most powerful man in the world, was looking out of his place under the main mast for Marco. When the eighteen-year-old finally showed up on the ship's gangway, first the Thach, then Jozu, and finally the Emperor himself, whose voice sounded like thunder.
'What do you have in your hands, son?' A strong North Blue accent was vibrating in the ears, and the bass was stifling the others.
'A girl.' It was laconic, which caused a wave of surprised shouts and remarks.
'Well, you were first to beget the kid, and now we will take care of it?' Thach, still angry at the older pirate that he got somewhere, mocked without mercy, for which he only got a hard look.
'And it looks like mine? I found it on the beach.' Here he turned to his father. 'There was nobody but me and her, so I thought you'd know what to do with that, old man'
The little one started a warning cry as if he understood it, but when Marco put it on his father's big outstretched hand, it muddled joyfully and squeaked several times.
Newgate's yellow eyes looked at the crumble, no bigger than a loaf of bread, and flashed, and a stubborn look on his serious, white moustached face.
'You sure there was nobody?' He did not take his eyes off the little one, following her clumsy movements, and when the baby's blue eyes looked straight at him, he ran out of air for a moment. The little one laughed again, and she jotted joyfully, showing her toothless gums in a smile.
'No, if there was anyone, I would not take her with me.
There was silence on the ship, everyone on board focused their eyes on the captain. Thach was snorting dissatisfied under his nose, but he didn't dare, yet, to say something louder, only when Edward yelled and smiled at the girl, he snapped:
'So what? We'll take the brat to the sea?!
'It would be dangerous for her'Jozu turned his head in thought and looked at Marco, scratching his shaved head.
'Do whatever you want, I can take her to the beach or to town, but I won't entertain her, yoi!' He raised his hands in a full resignation gesture. 'Nobody's gonna play the kid on a pirate ship, people!'
'Yeah? Then why the hell did you even take her from there, you bastard?' Thach jumped closer to the blond and stabbed him with his index finger in the sternum, then angrily clenched his jaws and looked at his friend with a cloudy stare.
'Because you left me there, and I'm not you, and at least I'm trying to help...
'Pff... Ha, help?! You brought the kid on a pirate ship, that's help, you good Samaritan?! Who?!' He mocked the younger one, and Marco grabbed him by the collar and moved him in with his hissing air.
'What the fuck do you want? You left me the hell knows where, I woke up on the beach, with no money and no cigarettes, my head hurts as if Jozu hitted me...! You better take a look at your position, yoi' he snorted and pushed the pirate away, not wanting to fight.
'You wanted power on the ocean, so I'm giving it to you. You won't drown even if you're in the deepest depths of this world.' His voice was getting stronger and sharper with every word he spoke, the air thickened a little and vibrated, giving a sign that something unnatural was happening. 'At your command, a storm would appear.' The whisper of the waves turned into their screams, hitting the sandy shore with anger, as if they were a harbinger of the coming rage of the Grand Line power. 'You'll be above the glare and whirlpool, I give you the opportunity to give orders to the ocean I created.' It leaned towards me, squinting its eyelids. 'The first condition has been met.'
Apparently, the ocean calmed down to give out a loud bubble after a while, and although I didn't see it, I knew something was coming out of the depths.
'I give you the fastest ship sailing in these waters - the Banshee, will be the maraud of your enemies. The crew of a hundred convicts who made similar pacts to yours with me years ago, will be at your command. They will not be alive or dead, so they will not see death.'
'Resurrect my...!' I tried to enforce the third condition, but Jones was angry.
'To get him out, you have to swim to the hatch alone!' He's crazy! Or I'm the one who's crazy! How can I find hell?
'How?!
'You got a ship and a crew, you have power over the ocean and the Devil Fruit - More than you can accept and more than you can bear. The human heart does not know moderation, it cannot draw boundaries. Your heart, Emeral D. Ralagan, is imbued with greed, like the heart of the devil," he whispered and, after a short while, drew a small map, almost entirely made up of triangles and circles, on the sand, amidst total silence. 'You are a wayfinder, you will find your way.'
When I raised my eyes, Jones was gone. I was left alone with a new feeling playing in my soul - with a feeling of winning.
'She drank almost half a liter of milk. Half. A liter.
'Kids probably eat a lot, yoi.
'It's still half a litre.
'Shut up, you damn hypocrite.
'Quiet, brats!'White Beard's tubal voice silenced the argument and awakened the girl Josh put to sleep. Edward still hasn't made a decision about the child, although Marco seemed to know what the father was thinking.
The little one believed, dissatisfied with her being pulled out of her sleep and ready to cry, but eventually she swung her hands and again closed her eyes, allowing her to sway in the pirate's powerful arms. The atmosphere was tense, and Thach knew it from the hold of his breath, which everyone on board was taking as soon as the child moved.
'So you're saying she was alone.' Whitebeard spoke slowly, with a distinctive North Blue accent, emphasizing hard sounds. Yellow eyes looked at Marco, who was measuring Thach with an angry look.
'Yeah, all alone, yoi' he answered, then raised his eyes to his father and scratched his shaved head. 'Well, what would be the point if I took her from parents or something? I'm not playing babysitter, old man.'
'I could have you find her family, because the child is certainly from Bethesda,' said Newgate thoughtfully, and knocked his finger on the armrest of the chair, 'but I'm afraid they would abandon her again. Nevertheless, a pirate ship is no place for a child. We need to find her home on this island, someone will take care of her.'
'If someone were to take care of her, the kid wouldn't be on the beach, old man.
Fossa, so far sitting quietly, looked at her father from above the cigar and let the smoke out of her mouth.
'Besides, Bethesda is not one of the richest islands, who would like to take another mouth to feed, especially as she can drink half a litre of milk? 'The pirate looked at the sullen Thach, who was already gathering the answer, but Edward did not allow him to speak.
'In other words, you want to take this crumble with us?
'You're fuckin' mad, Fossa!
'Sit down, old man, on your ass and don't get fucked up!
'Kid on the Emperor's ship, congratulations!'
'Shut your mouth, she's crying because of your darts!' Jozu's reprimand was only so successful that the girl screamed even louder, as if she wanted to demonstrate the strength of her tiny throat.
'Take her to the First Division's quarters.
'What? Why there, yoi?!' Marco looked at his father with his eyes wide open, but then he capitulated and purried something under his nose. Joshua got up but the baby didn't stop crying for a moment, which led Thach almost to passion.
'Give me that monster.' He took over the crying and snorted the whole mankind under his nose, carrying the child to the indicated cabin. 'You're all the same: if you don't get something, it's best to cry about it. You're going to blow up the world one day and it's obviously our fault! I'll throw you overboard! If you grow up and I meet you somewhere, you're gonna get such a beating...! - It's a strange thing but kid calms down, like knowing he was talking to him. Thach stood indecisive on the stairs leading below and looked over his shoulder. - What's the kid's name anyway?' Seeing the bewildered words on the faces of the others, he shrugged his shoulders and left as if the question had never been asked.
Marco was delayed from his hammock in the morning, knowing that someone was looking at him and only after a few minutes he saw the big, blue eyes of the girl he found.
'What's up, cuttlefish? Are you hungry?' He smiled underneath his nose when the child mulled joyfully and squealed loudly as soon as he took it in his arms. 'Thach will give you milk, but don't drink it too much. And if he barks, tell me... However you want.
Ever since he went to bed, Thach's words about the girl's name echoed in his head, which Marco tried not to pay much attention to. However, he had already spent several years at sea and knew that only things that do not matter have names. And there are no such things in the world.
Feeding the little one was not a problem, it appeared when the child had to be rewound and somehow nobody wanted to do it. Eventually, Izou solved the problem and dressed the girl in a fast-tripping diaper and an undersized shirt. The baby seemed to be satisfied with this turn of events and announced it with a loud bubble, of course after breakfast. Fossa put the cigar away for a few minutes, the fourth this morning, and the baby was rocking in his arms. Pirate was laughing under his nose as the girl joyfully stretched her hands towards him. But it was only when she was in White Beard's hands that she had a real attack of joy, and the her joyful laughter was heard by all those gathered.
Edward looked at the believing little girl with a strange warmth in his yellow eyes, and was pleased to see that the baby was warningly screaming as soon as the Emperor wanted to pass her on to someone else.
'She will stay here, and you're gonna find someone who will know something about her' he decided, feeling the baby's little hands pulling the long, white mustache. Marco felt that the father, before giving the baby to someone, would make sure that the little one was in good hands. Especially after what the two divisions on the outlying heard:
'Her name will be Lerena.
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Ralagan sang 'Blow the man down'.448Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwYE4C7vHyh
Sorry for any mistakes!
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