Jack leaned casually against the rail, peering down at the debris and drifting wreckage where the proud East India Company fleet had been moments ago.
"Terribly tragic," he said, adjusting his hat as splintered wood and cannon barrels bobbed in the swell. "An entire fleet reduced to decorative flotsam. Poor things. They were so confident this morning."
Daniel dropped onto the deck behind him.
"If you're feeling sentimental," Daniel said calmly, "I can tie a stone to your ankles and drop you in. You can keep Beckett company while you mourn."
"While I do appreciate the offer," Jack replied smoothly, "I find I prefer observing maritime disasters from above the waterline. It's a personal policy. Very firm. Quite inflexible."
Daniel gave him a flat look.
Jack straightened, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve as though he had personally arranged the battle's outcome.
"Besides," he continued smoothly, "if anyone is to recount this historic event to future generations, it ought to be someone with charm, style, and a heroic talent for surviving. And that someone is decidedly not floating face-down."
Daniel glanced at him, unimpressed. "So what would you narrate?"
Jack's eyes lit up immediately.
"Why, of course," he declared, gesturing broadly at the smoking horizon, "how under my brilliant leadership the mighty East India Company fleet—terrifying, well-armed, dreadfully organized—met its tragic end."
Daniel folded his arms. "Under your leadership?"
"Absolutely," Jack replied without hesitation. "It was my strategic foresight that positioned us here. My presence that unsettled them. My reputation that undoubtedly weakened their morale."
Daniel stared at him.
Jack continued, warming to the performance. "I shall describe how I stood at the helm, wind in my hair, coat billowing heroically, calmly directing the chaos while lesser men panicked."
"History, my friend, is not written by the powerful. It's written by the survivors. Preferably the ones with better storytelling skills."
He tapped his chest proudly.
"And between us, I'm far better at fooling the masses with my natural charisma."
Daniel gave him a flat look. "I've handled your Kraken, your debt, and your inconvenient octopus. Now you handle my problem. Take me to the Fountain of Youth—or I'll toss you overboard and let the sharks negotiate."
Jack didn't even blink. "No need for such marine hostility, mate. I've already got a solution."
Daniel crossed his arms. "This should be good."
"There's a chart," Jack said, lowering his voice slightly. "Not an ordinary map. The Mao Kun Map. It shows routes most sailors don't even know exist. And it happens to be in the possession of the Pirate Lord of Singapore."
"And I will be the one borrowing it," Jack said calmly. "If I go alone, Sao Feng will smile, pour tea, and have me shot before I finish the second cup. So you will be coming with me . And do your thing on him "
***
With that decided, the Black Pearl cut eastward, her black sails swallowing wind as she sailed into the waters of the South China Sea.
Days later, the air grew heavier, thick with humidity and the scent of spice and smoke. The sea traffic changed as well—leaner junks with red sails, silent sampans gliding low over the water, and watchful eyes tracking the Pearl from a distance.
Singapore did not greet strangers with open arms.
They entered at dusk.
Lanterns flickered to life along crooked piers built over dark, sluggish water. The harbor was a maze of timber walkways, hanging nets, and ships anchored so close their masts seemed tangled together.
The glow of hundreds of red lanterns reflected off the water like scattered embers, casting everything in restless gold and crimson.
Men watched from balconies carved with intricate patterns. Blades flashed briefly in the lamplight before being tucked away again. No one waved. No one smiled.
Jack stepped onto the deck rail and surveyed the dense sprawl of rooftops and lantern-lit piers. "Ah," he murmured with satisfaction, "Singapore."
Evelyn wrinkled her nose. "It smells dreadful."
Elizabeth nodded, glancing toward the crowded walkways and shadowed alleys. "And damp. Permanently damp."
Jack looked mildly offended. "It's character. Atmosphere. Culture. Pirates are not widely known for sanitation."
Daniel gave the harbor a brief, assessing look. Armed men stood along the piers, pretending not to stare at the Black Pearl. They were being watched from the moment they dropped anchor.
"Well," Daniel said calmly, "this is a pirate stronghold. Expecting fresh air was optimistic."
He turned toward Evelyn and Elizabeth. "You two should remain aboard for now. The air here isn't exactly pleasant, and negotiations with Pirate Lords tend to… escalate."
Evelyn crossed her arms lightly. "We can handle ourselves."
"I know," Daniel replied, unbothered. "That's precisely why I'd prefer not to level half of Singapore before dinner."
Elizabeth suppressed a smile.
Evelyn tilted her head thoughtfully. "The Mao Kun map," she said. "Drawn centuries ago. A cartographic record of voyages beyond recorded borders. I would very much like to see it."
"You will," Daniel assured her. "After we borrow it."
*****
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