Chương 119: Making Example
The next morning, Jack stood on a high vantage point overlooking the bustling square of Fish-Man Island, Otohime at his side. He kept his eyes focused, his calm blue gaze narrowing slightly as a group of pirates swaggered into the square. His family was safely at home, occupied with their own affairs—today was not a spectacle he wanted his daughters to witness.
Otohime clung to him, her body trembling. She had been just a child when these pirates first tore through their island on their way to the New World, kidnapping mermaids and mercilessly killing anyone who stood in their way. The trauma of that day had scarred many, and the memory alone was enough to make even the bravest citizens shudder.
The pirate crew was notorious, their infamy stretching across the seas. Led by Captain Barnabus, a towering man with a scarred face and icy eyes, they had a collective bounty of well over a billion Berries. Their reputation was as grim as their appearance; known for their cruelty and lawlessness, they seemed to take pleasure in the chaos and fear they spread.
Barnabus strutted into the square like he owned it, followed by his crew. There was Marla, his first mate, a tall woman carrying a broadsword, almost as intimidating as Barnabus himself. Then there was "Two-Gun" Tim, so named for his penchant for dual-wielding firearms. A few others trailed behind them, each exuding a palpable sense of danger and malice.
"I remember them," Otohime whispered, her voice tinged with fear and revulsion. "Especially him, Barnabus. His eyes were like those of a predator."
Jack said nothing but tightened his grip on Otohime's hand. His face was expressionless, but deep within his eyes, a storm seemed to be gathering. However, he refrained from descending to confront them. Today, he was not the one to mete out the justice they so richly deserved.
Barnabus and his crew moved arrogantly through the square, seeming to feed off the palpable tension and fear from the citizens around them.
Jack clenched his fists as he observed Barnabus's eyes lock onto a group of mermaids working at a nearby bar. The pirate captain's grin was a twisted contortion of his already ugly face, making his vile intentions unmistakably clear. To his side, Marla looked with predatory interest at a towering fish-man, his muscular blue form cutting through the crowd. Her expression was one of greedy anticipation, contemplating her cruel plans.
Yet, despite the palpable atmosphere of dread that spread over the square, none of the island's inhabitants fled or raised their voices in alarm. Jack, Fisher Tiger, and King Neptune had spoken to them the previous night; their fear had been replaced by a grim resolve, as they were now integral actors in a dangerous play, with a script written in the hopes of ensnaring the pirates.
Walking up to the mermaids, Barnabus leered, "Hello there, pretties. How about you come and serve me?"
It was all Jack could do to keep his stormy eyes from boiling over into physical action. His normally calm blue eyes darkened into the tumultuous hue of a raging sea. Still, he held back; his role was yet to come, and he trusted the plan that had been laid out.
From across the square, Fisher Tiger made his appearance, effortlessly moving through the crowd until he stood face to face with Barnabus. The tension was palpable, two tectonic plates of force meeting in a potentially explosive clash.
"Your presence is unwelcome here," Fisher Tiger said, his voice devoid of emotion but heavy with meaning. "Leave."
Barnabus laughed boisterously. "And who's going to make us, fish-man?"
As if on cue, a resonant laugh broke through the tension in the square. "Gurararara!" The voice was unmistakable. Every eye turned toward the sound, and what they saw left no room for doubt: Whitebeard, one of the most formidable pirates in the New World, stood towering at the far end of the square, his grin as wide as the gap in Barnabus' courage.
"Barnabus, you've grown bolder since we last crossed paths, haven't you?" Whitebeard's voice was a booming cascade, effortlessly drowning out any remaining bravado from the pirate captain.
Barnabus visibly paled, his eyes widening as he took in the full spectacle of Whitebeard's presence. He had long exploited the ocean's depths and its inhabitants when he was far away from Whitebeard's reach, but the tables had turned—here, now, he was utterly powerless.
It was common knowledge that Whitebeard had no tolerance for the slavery of Merfolk. His dislike had been made public, again and again, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Now, facing the might of the pirate whose very laughter could shake the New World, Barnabus was stripped of all his audacity.
From his vantage point, Jack's eyes shifted subtly, their hue a mix of stormy blue and subdued satisfaction. He had no love for pirates, no matter how just their causes seemed, but there was a certain poetic justice in watching Barnabus cower. His grip around Otohime's hand slightly loosened, giving her the unsaid comfort that the storm had been weathered, at least for now.
Fisher Tiger, who was still standing face-to-face with Barnabus, smirked. "Well, what's it going to be?"
Barnabus glanced back at his crew, who were looking equally dumbfounded and defeated. His mouth opened, but words eluded him, his reputation crumbling as quickly as his resolve.
Whitebeard stepped closer, his steps as measured as they were heavy. This was no coincidence. Whitebeard's fleet spanned the length and breadth of the Grand Line, from Paradise to the New World. He had been aware of Barnabus's approach to Fish-Man Island and knew he had to act. The agreement between him and Jack was straightforward: make an example of an evil crew to dissuade others from entertaining the same ideas. While Jack had little sympathy for any pirate crew—much less one as malevolent as Barnabus's—he agreed with the premise. Today, blood would be shed, reinforcing the unspoken law: Fish-Man Island was under Whitebeard's protection.
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