The Jackdaw headed due south out of port, feinted west toward the Americas, then snapped ninety degrees and shot straight south.
"Let the navy chase us!"
"Hahaha!"
Joy filled The Jackdaw's deck.
Because the ship had swapped flags and changed course almost immediately after leaving port, by the time the Royal Navy thought to sweep the south, The Jackdaw had vanished without a trace.
Piracy in the Atlantic thrived mainly in the north; on the Triangular Trade route the holds of south-Atlantic merchantmen carried only cheap goods—or Black Slaves—nothing worth stealing.
Exploiting that blind spot, The Jackdaw slipped the Royal Navy's net and pulled off the feat of bombarding London itself.
[Reputation: 36 (Known)]
That single broadside netted Fang Yuan nearly twenty points of fame, and as word spread he would gain even more.
A huge win.
The bombardment also left his pirates fired-up and proud.
After England beat Spain, the Royal Fleet had become the sea's undisputed ruler; for a pirate crew to rampage in its very lair and escape intact was unheard-of.
Back in the fleet, however, the mood was anything but festive.
The fleet Commander was berated to within an inch of his life by King George I.
"You crushed the Armada, yet a lone pirate slips through your guard to shell the capital—are they superhuman, or have you grown slack?"
"London last suffered a pirate raid back in Viking times!" George roared.
The Commander could barely lift his head. Though England had become a constitutional monarchy, the king still carried great weight—and in truth the navy had bungled badly.
Letting a pirate sneak in was one thing; letting him cannonade London and sail away scot-free was a national humiliation.
Yet the Commander had his excuses.
London Port lay a hundred-odd miles from the navy's base at Portsmouth; without telegraph, by the time the fleet got word and set out, The Jackdaw had disappeared.
Worse, the navy first swept westward. The Jackdaw, converted from a merchantman, looked little different from honest traders, and her southerly heading let her slip through.
"Signal every overseas station," George I snarled. "Put the Black Emperor Pirates on the wanted list—Captain Fang Yuan, four thousand gold!"
"Four thousand?" the Commander gasped.
Four thousand was no trifling sum; many legendary pirates carried smaller bounties, and four of the Nine Pirate Lords were priced lower.
For an obscure crew like the Black Emperor and an unknown like Fang Yuan, the figure was staggering.
Still, the Commander understood: whoever shelled London must be crushed with overwhelming force, or Britain's maritime prestige was finished.
Yet before the bounty even reached the out-stations, the newly minted four-thousand-gold Captain Fang Yuan had already made landfall on Africa's west coast.
The pirates dropped anchor at a lonely inlet; Fang Yuan left Sakazski and ten others to guard the ship while he led twenty-odd men inland.
He sought a village the Third Mate claimed was a Voodoo stronghold.
Soon they met a band of Africans who leveled spears and jabbered at them.
The pirates raised their muskets, but after the mate jabbered back the warriors grinned, lowered weapons, and cheerfully pointed the way.
"I told them we're traders—they love that," the mate explained.
Fang Yuan eyed him with new respect; the man was a rare talent who spoke the local tongue.
He had even readied Sakazski's cannon to "negotiate" if talks failed.
"What's your name again?" Fang Yuan asked as they walked.
Cold sweat beaded the mate's brow.
So the Black Emperor Captain still didn't know his name—had he planned to dispose of him once he was no longer useful?
But since Fang Yuan now asked, he probably meant to keep him alive.
"White Britz, sir."
"White Britz?"
Fang Yuan's face twitched; the name sounded like "White Police."
A white cop?
Fitting, given Britz's trade—selling blacks, the bane of every black man.
"These locals like to trade?" Fang Yuan asked, watching the cheerful tribesmen. "I expected spears and screams."
"That was ages ago," Britz said hastily. "When slavers first raided, the tribes fought back hard."
But the merchants soon discovered that buying slaves directly from the natives was far more efficient.
Fang Yuan raised an eyebrow. "They'd sell them?"
"Not from the same tribe, but these tribes attack each other all the time and take plenty of captives; we just buy prisoners from the winning side."
White really had done his homework and spoke with easy authority.
"Later on we even supplied them with weapons on purpose, to stir up more fights."
"And we don't worry about cooperation—if one tribe won't deal, plenty of others will."
Fang Yuan shook his head with a wry smile; no matter the era, blacks' worst enemies were other blacks.
Of course, as White said, against such overwhelming tech and civilization, even tribes that saw the trap couldn't escape exploitation.
You had to stay on the winning side forever, or advance fast enough to repel invaders; otherwise the weak were beaten and wiped out.
But the fate of these black brothers had nothing to do with Fang Yuan.
The party entered the village, where the chief greeted them in person; seeing the five chests Fang Yuan's men carried, he broke into a grin.
"&%*￥!"
"&%*￥!"
He gurgled and gestured wildly.
Fang Yuan glanced at White, who quickly translated: "Thirty—he says the chests buy thirty slaves."
Fang Yuan was quietly stunned.
Five chests, not even opened, could buy thirty people?
But White shook his head. "The chief's getting greedy; haggling used to get us seven per chest."
Fang Yuan waved it off—they weren't really here for slaves… wait, wasn't The Jackdaw short-handed?
Wasn't The Jackdaw still short of crew?
Ordinary blacks didn't interest him, but a carefully brain-washed selection might be useful.
He promptly ordered more chests—twenty-odd they'd looted earlier—brought over; luckily he'd kept them as supplies instead of selling.
With a sweeping gesture he said, "Tell him I want to learn their black magic, and I want a hundred slaves—but I'll pick them myself!"
The chief hesitated at White's translation; Fang Yuan knew the remedy.
"Tell him we'll up the price!" He chose to play the generous patron.
White hurried to remind him, "We don't have much cargo left on board."
Fang Yuan gave him a meaningful look. "What are we? With so many ships at sea, how can we run out of goods?"
White nodded hastily, inwardly groaning.
Fang Yuan clearly counted him as part of the pirate crew now.
What could he do?
Tell Fang Yuan no?
He feared the man might trade him as cargo.
After all, these pirates had dared bombard London Port—what wouldn't they do?
White translated at once; only then did the chief agree, though he rattled off another string.
"He'll teach you to craft witch-doctor fetishes, but he can't promise you'll master them," White explained. "Some items even he only vaguely knows."
Another disclaimer.
"Fine—as long as he teaches." Fang Yuan merely wanted deeper exposure so he could deduce the spellcasting system himself.
So he raised the stakes: "Tell him if he knows other tribes with such lore, point them out and I'll pay finder's fees!"
Hearing this, the chief mimicked White, nodding eagerly.
Where profit beckons, neither language nor race matters.
For the next half-year Fang Yuan stayed in the village studying witchcraft with the locals.
The chief held nothing back—or rather, couldn't.
Fang Yuan drew inferences instantly and sensed exactly where details were missing, leaving the chief no way to conceal anything.
All of which tormented White; as translator he had to attend. Fang Yuan didn't forbid him to learn, so in theory he should have progressed too.
Yet Fang Yuan advanced so fast he could already fashion voodoo dolls, while White still couldn't grasp the first step.
Worse, The Jackdaw's pirates assumed he was to be their wizard and pestered him constantly, driving him to distraction.
First Mate Sakazuki, in particular, glared at him as if a giant sign read—
"I was here first!"
But an urgent report shattered the routine.
"East India Company warships are heading this way!"
They were pirates, after all; half a year of low-key activity had still drawn notice, so the Company's arrival was no surprise.
Fortunately Fang Yuan had learned most of the local witchcraft, so he finally gave the order—
"The Jackdaw, set sail!"
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