Seeing all the slavers drop their weapons and surrender, Lister said to Rocky beside him, "March them off to the side under guard."
Rocky led the Second Squad to line the surrendered traffickers up to one side.
"Go reap my spoils," Lister told Johnson.
"Aye!"
Johnson took First Squad and stormed into the cabins for a thorough sweep.
Nami came over, a touch of eagerness in her voice. "I wonder how much money a slaver ship carries?"
Before long, crates were hauled out one after another. It took nearly twenty minutes to finish.
"Captain, in total we gathered eight million Beli, and twenty catties of gold. Besides that, there are…" Johnson stood before Lister and reported the haul.
"Among them, twelve are women," he added. "Big Sis Nami is talking with them. I don't know the details."
"No, no! Two of the boys were about to try something, but Big Sis Nami arrived in time, so nothing happened," Johnson hurried to explain.
"Enough. You—take some men and send these crates back to the Money. And you—take a few down and bring those slaves up to the deck," Lister said.
Several pirates expertly slung the crates on ropes and slid them, one by one, over to the Money, then returned and carried them to where they belonged.
Lister didn't wait long. Johnson and Nami brought the thirty‑two slaves up onto the black ship's deck, the twelve women led at the front by Nami. Each of those twelve was very good‑looking. Otherwise, if some had been plain, the slavers wouldn't have bothered to take them—maybe they'd have cut them down on the spot. Being chosen by slavers proved they had some beauty.
Lister drew back his gaze, cleared his throat, and smiled lightly. "Among you, who wants to go home?"
Hearing him, the slaves' eyes lit up. A man in his early thirties squeezed out at once and dropped to his knees before Lister, begging loudly, "Captain, sir, I want to go home. It's been half a year since I've seen my family. I…"
"Name, trade, and why you were captured?" Lister asked.
After hearing him out, even Lister couldn't help feeling a pang of sorrow. "Alright then. I'll give you a small boat, fifty catties of provisions, and a barrel of water. I hope you make it back to your hometown and reunite with your family," Lister said with a smile.
"Uh…?" Charles froze. Something was off. If he was a good man, shouldn't a good man go all the way and send me back himself? Make me row a little boat home?
"Kind captain, sir? Did I hear you right?" Charles looked at Lister with wide, innocent eyes.
"You heard right. I can give you a small boat, fifty catties of meat, and a barrel of water so you can return home. Isn't that moving?" Lister smiled.
"No! Captain, sir—shouldn't you send me back?" said Charles the musician.
"When did I promise to take you home?" Lister said, looking at him.
"Captain, a good man—since you're willing to let me go, then be a good man to the end and send me back. Alone on the vast sea, it's hard to find my way home. Please!" Charles pleaded again and again.
"Should a 'good man' be staring down a gun barrel?" Lister let out an angry laugh, pointing at the flag flying on the Money. "Look—our Jolly Roger. I am a pirate, through and through. I'm kind enough to let you go; you should be grinning. You dare demand I personally escort you home?"