Five days passed quickly, neither too long nor too short. Soon, Charles, still wrapped in bandages, could slowly walk on the sand and bask in the sun.
However, every time he walked out, Charles felt his first mate giving him strange looks.
"Captain, it’s normal. If someone wore the same clothes as me every day, I’d be annoyed too," whispered Dipp, handing Charles a coconut.
"Never mind him. How’s your work going?" Charles asked, leaning against the shade of a tree.
"Ah, Captain, spare me. I’m not cut out to be a cop. When I was a beggar, I hated them the most."
"If you don’t know how, learn. Didn’t I find people to teach you? You’re only 17. What’s there to fear? If you fail, try again. One year, two years, three years—eventually, you’ll get it. Key positions on Hope Island must be filled by our people."
Dipp scratched his head, looking troubled. "But I’ll end up arresting the wrong people. Why does it have to be me? Doesn’t the second mate want this job?"
"Konar has his own responsibilities. You’re young and adaptable. The boatswain’s job is similar to a sheriff’s. With the island’s small population, it’s a good time for you to try. Once more people arrive, it’ll be harder to take over."
"Captain, are we really never going to sea again?" Dipp sprawled on the ground, his tone tinged with melancholy.
Charles took a sip of the sweet coconut water. "Maybe."
He had found the surface, and the Narwhal’s mission was complete. His sailing career seemed to have truly ended.
"Thinking about spending the rest of my life on the island, I suddenly feel like the sea was more comfortable."
"Isn’t living longer on land better than risking your life at sea? Didn’t everyone join the exploration ships for this day?"
"That’s what I thought too. But when the day finally came, I wasn’t as happy as I imagined. I still think sailing with you was more exciting."
Charles looked at Dipp lying on the sand with disdain. If he weren’t still recovering, he’d have kicked him.
Good days are here, and he’s still longing for the hard ones.
"Captain, do you remember when we first met? I was fighting with other beggars over a piece of black bread that fell on the ground. I was too weak and got beaten up. It hurt so much; I still remember it."
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"Then you asked me if I wanted to eat. I nodded, and you took me to the Rat Ship."
"It was nothing. A sailor had died, and I happened to need someone."
"*Chuckle* Whatever the reason, you saved my life."
As Dipp stretched on the ground, Charles suddenly noticed something black on the back of his neck.
"What’s that on your neck?"
Dipp immediately sat up, excitedly unbuttoning his shirt to show off. "I thought your tattoo looked cool, so I got the same one."
On Dipp’s neck was a tattoo of a curled-up dead spider.
"Thud!" The coconut shell hit Dipp. Charles scolded him sternly, "Do you even know what this is before you tattooed it? Get rid of it now!"
This mark was associated with a cult. Who knew what kind of negative effects it could have?
"Captain, it’s just a tattoo. It’s no big deal," Dipp said dismissively.
As Charles moved toward Dipp, he saw people holding makeshift umbrellas approaching from the grass hut. Leading them was his first mate, Bandages.
"There’s someone… you should see… he wants to meet you…"
Charles followed Bandages’ finger to a handsome young man with blue eyes and white hair. Dressed in a white shirt, black pants, and a blue sweater, he looked out of place.
"Good morning, wise and mighty Governor. I know you’re both excited and confused about occupying a new island. You’re unsure whom to hire or how to pay them. That’s when I come in," the young man said, instantly taking control of the conversation.
"Who are you?"
"I am Leonardo. With all due respect, leaving the island’s affairs to an amateur is highly unprofessional. If this continues, your island will turn into a pot of sticky mushroom soup."
Charles understood his purpose. He was here to apply for a job.
"If he’s an amateur, are you the professional?"
"Indeed. I was the Minister of Administration on Shadow Island. My expertise can solve your problems. My demands are modest: a 500-square-meter house in the island’s center and a weekly salary of 30,000 Echoes."
Charles walked up to Leonardo, looking at him calmly. "Minister of Administration on Shadow Island? At such a young age?"
"Does the Governor judge people by their age? An old beggar is still just a beggar," Leonardo said with confidence and composure.
Charles placed a hand on his shoulder. "I’ve been to many islands, including Shadow Island. I don’t recall you being the Minister of Administration."
"Governor, how long has it been since you visited Shadow Island? Positions change," Leonardo replied, unfazed.
Charles stared into his blue eyes, leaning closer. "You know that Governors are former desperados, right? If I find out you’ve lied to me, how do you think I’ll treat you? Former Minister of Finance of Shadow Island?"
As Leonardo looked into Charles’ cold, bandaged eyes and felt the iron grip on his shoulder, a drop of sweat slid down his forehead.
Leonardo clenched his hands tightly, and his confident smile returned. "There’s no doubt about it. I indeed held that position. You can ask any Shadow Islander."
Charles slowly released his grip and turned to Bandages. "Fine. He’s now the Minister of Administration of Hope Island. Hand over some of your tasks to him."
"Mm…" Bandages nodded and led Leonardo toward the grass hut.
Charles couldn’t tell if it was his imagination, but Bandages’ steps seemed lighter.
"Captain, you just appointed him? Isn’t that too hasty? What if he’s up to no good? What if he’s a fraud?" Dipp exclaimed, wide-eyed.
"That’s your job now, Chief Dipp. You know what to do next, don’t you?" Charles sat back down.
Dipp looked around, sighed in resignation, and headed toward the grass hut. "If he’s a fraud, I’ll hang him up as shark bait!"
"Don’t forget to remove that tattoo!"
"Got it, got it."