As he spoke, Wayne Dote had already stepped forward, looking expectantly at Byron.
The others were more concerned with the opportunity cost: was the chance to distinguish themselves within the next three months worth it?
But this indigenous slave thought differently.
The white-skinned indentured servants from the countries of the Old Continent were primarily sold not in Iron Anchor Bay, but in the various national colonies on the Bantaan Archipelago.
The indigenous people of the Bantaan Archipelago, in turn, were not originally destined for here, but for the slave markets of the various countries in the Old Continent.
The primary purpose of selling them in different locations was to remove the slaves from their familiar environnts, thereby significantly increasing the difficulty and cost of escape, making flight less likely.
And this strategy proved effective.
Now, the only person these indigenous slaves on board could rely on was Captain Byron.
They were also more desperate than anyone to seize any opportunity to turn their fortunes around!
Byron gazed intently at this young man, who held considerable prestige among the indigenous slaves, then glanced over the Sailing Logbook to review the special skills recorded for each crew mber.
He then decisively nodded, accepting the young man’s eager offer:
"Then I shall await eagerly, Mr. Wayne Dote."
"Thank you for your benevolence, Captain!"
After the indigenous youth emulated the Old Continent’s etiquette, pressing a hand to his chest in salute, he imdiately led his kinsn toward the 32-pound carronade, replacing the original gun crew.
A gun crew typically consisted of five n. Wayne Dote personally took on the role of the number one gunner, also known as the gun captain or commander.
After the previous shot, the cannon’s recoil had sent the carriage sliding sharply backward on its tracks.
The number two gunner imdiately stepped forward, using a long rod tipped with a wet sponge to swab the barrel, extinguishing any lingering sparks to prevent premature ignition of the powder charge.
Nearby, other support crew mbers, part of the logistics team, were already heating solid iron cannonballs in a furnace until they glowed cherry-red.
The number three gunner then sequentially loaded into the muzzle: the powder charge, a wad to secure the projectile, a large lump of wet clay, the glowing-hot cannonball, and a second wad.
In a normal firing procedure, wet clay was not used. Its inclusion here was clearly to prevent the red-hot cannonball from prematurely igniting the powder charge.
Blazing Bombs were troubleso to use, but their destructive power more than compensated for this minor inconvenience, making them a favorite among gunners.
Once the number three gunner completed loading, the number two gunner used a ramr to drive everything firmly down to the breech of the cannon.
The number four gunner then pierced the powder charge inside the barrel through the touchhole and prid the pan with gunpowder.
Gunners on either side pulled on tackles to run the cannon out, while Gun Captain Wayne Dote adjusted the elevation and traverse, finally aiming at the *Rainbow*.
The final crew mber, the number five gunner, stood ready with a flintlock igniter, awaiting the fire command once the aim was set.
These indigenous n worked with remarkable skill and coordination, completing the entire sequence in just one minute, much to the amazent of the assisting Old Continent pirates.
This fundantal skill alone was enough to firmly secure their place on board.
However, the Great Nautical Age had comnced seventy years prior, and the indigenous people of the Bantaan Archipelago could no longer be dismissed as primitive.
Many indigenous Great Pirates had already carved out formidable reputations on the new shipping routes; thus, no one found their presence strange, nor was there any discrimination against them.
"North wind, speed eight ters per second, wave height one-point-four ters, distance one hundred and five ters, both ships relatively stationary..."
While using his "Riding" skill to control the *Golden Deer* and maintain distance, Byron relayed the firing solutions to him, derived from his "Weather Intuition" and the Sailing Logbook.
If there had been a Lighthouse Sequence "Artillery Expert" on board, even just a First Rank Attendant, none of this would have been so cumberso.
For an "Artillery Expert," "Intuition" itself was the most powerful targeting sight.
Byron couldn’t help but recall the "Gunpowder Artist" from Iron Anchor Bay, lanting inwardly:
He’s even more skilled. I truly want him. It would save so much effort compared to training soone from scratch.
Just as the ship’s hull rhythmically rose to the crest of a wave, Wayne Dote gave the decisive command.
"Fire!"
BOOM!
A visible, fiery red streak—the Blazing Bomb—tore through the air, leaving a bright trail before crashing heavily onto the forecastle of the *Rainbow*.
As expected, the Blazing Bomb easily penetrated the wooden hull.
Unfortunately, it missed the powder magazine, instead passing clean through the hull and exiting on the other side.
"Reload!"
Wayne Dote remained composed, as did Byron.
Even in the era of Dreadnoughts in his past life, it took at least six warship cannons, coordinated by a Fire Control System and firing in salvo, to guarantee a basic hit probability.
In his view, the value of training the crew far outweighed the imdiate goal of sinking the enemy.
If the gunners failed, he could always intervene and rectify the situation himself.
The two pirate ships, one pressing the attack while the other gave ground, settled into a battle of attrition.
Through this practical, almost sniper-like mariti engagent, the crew’s individual abilities rapidly began to ld into a cohesive unit.
Their Artillery Skills, warship maneuverability, turning performance, and ability to sail against the wind gradually coalesced, forging the comprehensive combat effectiveness befitting a true pirate ship.
Seven shots had been fired, and the fact that two had struck below the *Rainbow’s* waterline was enough to demonstrate the indigenous Wayne Dote’s exquisite artillery expertise.
Yet, they were just that tiny bit short of luck, still failing to trigger a catastrophic secondary explosion in the magazine.
The young indigenous man, his forehead beaded with nervous sweat, clutched the eagle-beak pendant around his neck and prayed ceaselessly in his native tongue.
Byron realized that the task he had assigned might indeed be too difficult for his current mortal crew mbers.
So, he decided to lend them a hand once more.
He handed the ship’s helm to Bruh, the Oath Knight who also possessed the basic "Riding" skill. After instructing everyone not to panic regardless of what they might witness, Byron walked alone to the stern.
Facing the Man-Faced Barnacles on the *Rainbow*, a Divine Light shone in his eyes as he began to murmur:
"I am a Baleen whale, I am a Baleen whale..."
[Cognitive Revision] activated!
Under everyone’s gaze, he seed to truly transform into a Baleen whale, the favorite prey of the whale lice.
Humans possess Wisdom; even if they couldn’t see through the illusion, they could sense it was false. But those foolish Bizarres could not.
Squealing, they all sward at once towards the sterncastle of the *Rainbow*—the point closest in a direct line to the "Baleen whale."
The combined weight of hundreds of crew mbers and the nurous whale lice imdiately shifted the Privateer Ship’s center of gravity.
This caused its bow to lift high out of the water, exposing more of the pitch-black hull beneath the waterline, which was coated with a black substance to prevent shipworm infestation.
And this ti, Wayne Dote finally seized the opportunity.
"Fire!"
Along with the cannon’s roar, two massive explosions blood in quick succession.
A scorching fireball erupted skyward, carrying with it countless shattered limbs, insectile carapaces, wooden planks, and even Bronze Cannons.
The countless Man-Faced Barnacles hidden within the ship had no ti to leap into the sea before being utterly consud by the roaring Blaze.
The Privateer Ship was critically damaged!
"The magazine blew!"
ROAR—!
The crew cheered, thrusting their arms into the air, and the mbers of the gun crew who had fired the decisive shot leaped up in exhilaration.
"Here, divide this among yourselves."
Byron dispelled the [Cognitive Revision] and, without another word, tossed a bottle of [Angel’s Kiss] to Wayne Dote.
He adhered to his own set of managent principles: define the result, assign individual responsibility, inspect the process, and provide imdiate incentives!
Regardless of whether clever tactics were employed, as long as the designated result was achieved, the responsible party would be rewarded on the spot; rewards were never delayed until the next day.
Seeing their captain honor his promise, adhering to the [Pirate’s Ten Commandnts], the crew’s cheers grew even more fervent.
Byron nodded to Wayne Dote, who bowed deeply in return. Byron felt the young man truly had the potential to beco a Lighthouse Sequence [Artillery Expert].
Far from regretting the reward he had given, Byron was filled with the distinct pleasure of having discovered a talent worth cultivating.
The battle was over.
The indigenous youth, surrounded by his companions, entered the cabin, eager to drink down the [Angel’s Kiss].
He paid no mind to its side effect: "An extre longing for maternal affection today."
But that was alright.
Although no one here could sing Wayne Dote a lullaby or pat his back to coax him to sleep.
Byron had, however, already prepared a lactating cow in the cabin, hoping it might be of so assistance to him.
I always operate with prudence, Byron thought with satisfaction. No need for thanks, just call the Good Captain of the North Sea!
At that mont, a school of Man-Eater Sharks also swam over.
While gorging themselves, they didn’t forget to retrieve all the intact spoils of war, including the two octopus-marked silver coins that had dropped from the offerings.
This brought the number of silver coins in Byron’s possession to three, further supplenting the information he had.
Beyond the first effect he had initially observed:
"Effect One: Within a one-hundred-ter radius of a silver coin, whenever a murder occurs, the victim’s essence will be collected. Their most representative group identity marker will be tagged, bringing them to the attention of so unknown entity. As long as one carries a silver coin, they cannot be scried upon by Divination arts below High Sequence, nor can they be tracked by mundane law."
The Sailing Logbook then revealed a second effect:
"Effect Two: Once the [Black Mass] comnces, all beings holding silver coins beco part of the ritual. They will inevitably pursue the predetermined group ’essence,’ ultimately causing the silver coins to converge. During this period, not even the creators of the silver coins can control or spy on them, unless they too wish to be targeted and beco part of the ritual!"
And there was Effect Three: "It is said that thirty pieces of silver was the price for betraying the Saint Heir. The full na of the One True God in this world is [The Shackled Creator], who bears the sins of all humankind through His own suffering. If the Bizarres can collect a complete set of all thirty silver coins, they can fully enact the [Black Mass] ritual and achieve their own ’redemption.’ However, in doing so, they will also awaken the true master to whom the ritual ultimately points."
Simultaneously, the Decryption Rate of [Secret: The Navy Departnt’s Conspiracy, Historical Influence 20] advanced from 70% to 75%.
Byron felt that if he could just learn the na of that entity, he would fully comprehend York’s and the Navy Departnt’s conspiracy.
He was on the verge of acquiring a third title, in addition to [Historical Reviser] and [Heartfelt Trouble].
After hearing Byron share this Intelligence, Gus—whose hotown, friends, and acquaintances were all in Iron Anchor Bay—was the first to beco agitated.
"Regardless of what the ritual ultimately summons, even a chaotic battle involving a dozen or so of those Bizarres would be a catastrophe for Iron Anchor Bay."
"Captain, we must go and inform Uncle Weber, so the Sheriff and the law enforcent teams can prepare."
Byron, of course, had no intention of letting Red Beard’s plans proceed smoothly either.
"The Privateering Alliance is using the [Black Mass] ritual to collect ’essence,’ preparing to welco that... entity."
"York and Red Beard are terrified of becoming part of the ritual, of falling under that entity’s gaze, so they dare not get further involved."
"But I and the Bayfolk here are already targeted by that entity. We don’t care if it watches us a little more. We can completely... usurp the Evil Spirits."
Byron’s eyes lit up as a plan ford, and he imdiately ordered:
"Return to port! I think I know how to break this deadlock."
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