“What does that guy want to do?” The captain of the frigate was stunned when he saw Henry Clark and the others escorting the baron, the ship’s captain, the first mate, and the rest to the stern rail.

“Spanish soldiers, listen up! All around you, many warships are approaching. If you attack, then every Spaniard on this ship will meet God because of your foolish actions, and the wealth on board will sink to the bottom of the sea with the explosion of the powder magazine. I give you two choices: surrender, or perish!” The sea breeze seemed to cheer for Henry Clark’s vow, carrying his roar deep into the soul of every Spanish soldier.

Chapter 11: I’ve Struck It Rich

Silence filled everyone’s hearts, as if even the howling of the sea wind had quietly faded away. The Spanish soldiers, who had thought they held the upper hand, suddenly felt a sense of powerlessness rise within them. The imposing figure standing atop the tall sterncastle of the great sailing ship seemed like a god capable of destroying heaven and earth.

The captain of the frigate, his face ashen, struggled to look up and saw Henry Clark holding the ashen-faced Spanish baron, standing tall atop the towering sterncastle. From his commanding height, he looked down coldly at the Spanish soldiers on the frigate with a gaze that seemed to look down on all things, as if those dark muzzles and gleaming sabers were nothing but decorations. It was as if he was not a desperate outlaw trapped with no way out, but a man in power, holding the fate of the battle in his hands.

In the eyes of every pirate, there was a resolute light—the light called “never surrender.”

“I demand you release the hostages and lay down your arms in surrender.” The captain of the frigate shouted again, but this time his response sounded pale and weak, even tinged with guilt and lack of confidence.

“Idiot! In my dictionary, the word ‘surrender’ does not exist. Answer me, Spanish soldiers, make your choice quickly! My patience is running thin.” Henry Clark roared again. The hand with which Henry Clark gripped his blade was as steady as a motionless mechanical arm. When the frigate captain drew his saber, hesitating whether to give the order, he met Henry Clark’s terrifyingly calm and intense gaze, and couldn’t help but shudder deep in his soul. He saw seriousness—a seriousness that left no room for negotiation.

The captain’s hand froze in midair, as if giving the order would not bring the enemy’s blood and death, but instead would plunge himself into the terror of hell.

At this moment, several burning torches appeared on the mid-deck of the Spanish galleon, next to a few barrels of gunpowder. The sight made the Spanish soldiers gasp—these people were all madmen.

“Captain, I think we should seriously consider their proposal first.” The first mate, his heartbeat almost matching the rhythm of an infantry drum, offered his suggestion to the frigate captain, who was holding his saber aloft but unsure whether to give the order.

The captain’s face alternated between blue and white. From Henry Clark’s gaze, he understood one thing: this man absolutely meant what he said. If they really launched an attack, the baron, Lieutenant Colonel Luis, and the soldiers on that ship would all be corpses before his side could claim victory. If they blew up the powder magazine, then both the wealth and the baron sent by the royal family would be lost. Even if he managed to kill all the pirates and return to Spain, all that would await him would be the gallows in the public square.

Some of the pirates who understood a bit of Spanish caught Henry Clark’s words and couldn’t help but feel their blood boil with excitement, as if, in that moment, the whole world had become their young master’s dazzling stage.

Just then, Henry Clark’s gaze fell on the distant horizon, and a smile appeared on his face, for he saw the masts and familiar hulls already emerging above the sea—victory was within reach.

While the captain and first mate of the frigate were still arguing, a thunderous boom sounded in the distance. Accompanied by a shrill whistle, a huge column of water suddenly shot up near the frigate, startling all the Spanish soldiers, who turned to look in the direction of the sound.

Not far away, four sailing warships, already in battle formation, had taken up their positions. William Clark had long since stripped off his jacket, the aura of a merchant completely buried beneath the iron-blooded wildness he now exuded. Eyes red, musket and saber in hand, he stood at the bow, commanding the four armed merchant ships as they closed in.

“Surrender and you won’t be killed! Surrender and you won’t be killed!” All the pirates shouted this phrase in Spanish. The captain of the frigate was finally speechless. He realized in despair that the balance of power had completely shifted. He did not lack the courage to fight the enemy, but the Western way of thinking led them, when victory was impossible, to rationally choose surrender.