Byron looked up. The speaker was a low-ranking sailor in tattered clothes. His unkempt hair, seemingly ungroomed for ages, was greasy and matted like hemp rope. His weathered face couldn't hide the sallow yellow of malnutrition. He was a typical deep-sea sailor and appeared not to have had sufficient rest or fresh food for a very long time. Judging by the "Teapot," their ship had likely just arrived at Banta'an with a long-distance fleet. They were likely rushing to purchase supplies, preparing to return to the Old Continent during the monsoon shift at the turn of spring and summer.

However, this sailor was still in good spirits, and his speech was logical, making him much better off than the other illiterate sailors who looked numb and couldn't even speak coherently. Additionally, the information the [Nautical Logbook] read from him piqued Byron's interest in what he was about to say.

"Ron, shut up!"

Most of the other sailors also showed a faint sense of anticipation. Only Pritt, the shipowner's clerk and second mate, had a fierce, threatening look in his eyes.

But Byron simply waved his hand. "Let him speak."

Pritt immediately grew alarmed. He approached Byron, flailing his arms to stop him. "Your Excellency, don't listen to his nonsense! Our ship definitely doesn't have... UGH!"

Before Pritt could finish, Eight Fingers darted forward and slammed the butt of his axe handle into Pritt's abdomen. The man, clearly guilty and flustered, had his eyes bulge as he slid to his knees on the deck. He knelt, clutching his stomach, his face deathly pale as he gasped for breath. "GASP... GASP..." Large beads of cold sweat dripped from his forehead onto the deck.

"Get lost! If you dare disobey my captain's orders again, I'll chop your head off!"

The Bayfolk Berserker now stood nearly two meters tall, his body radiating the wild, feral aura of a beast. A single grim look from him was enough to make half the ship's crew afraid to breathe too loudly. However, calling him "Eight Fingers" was now somewhat of a misnomer. The two missing fingers on his left hand had been completely restored thanks to treatment with Blood Brew Cinderella. Byron had restored not only his fingers but also the dignity that Bloody Eye Salman had bitten away from the Honest Man. If many natives had become followers of the Father of Healing out of gratitude for saving their lives, then Eight Fingers' loyalty to Byron had transformed into... devotion. He revered Byron as a god!

Byron took the [Pirate's Ten Commandments] from his Snake Skin Bag. Invoking the Silver Law, he solemnly promised the sailors from various countries on the merchant ship:

"In accordance with the Pirate Code, pirates of the Lighthouse Sequence are obliged, when conditions allow, to serve as a beacon, illuminating the dim lives of sailors and all the oppressed.

"I will hold a public trial for the crew of this merchant vessel to uphold justice for you.

"Afterward, you may choose freely to join us or continue to honor your contracts with the merchant vessel."

Seeing the light return to the sailors' numb eyes, he couldn't help but reflect.

To dominate these seas, mass-produced cannons and warships are important, but sailors, who take one or two decades to train, are even more vital! Whether for the People of Castilia or other naval powers, an ample supply of sailors was always one of their mainstays in the struggle for maritime hegemony. Without a relatively abundant domestic supply of sailors, even countless warships and merchant vessels couldn't leave port to fulfill their missions. Only with sufficiently high-quality sailors could the Navy command its warships, and trading companies establish maritime trade routes to compete with rival nations on the high seas. Otherwise, Lancaster's ancestors would not have enacted the Fish Act, investing the nation's resources into training sailors. However, once they joined a merchant ship or a Navy vessel, their treatment—worse than that of prisoners—and a horrific mortality rate made many sailors want to escape. Thus, kidnappers, deceivers, and conscription squads employed all sorts of methods, both soft and hard, emerging incessantly solely to get the required number of sailors onto ships. On these seas, many sailors had tragic pasts. Ron, huh? The [Nautical Logbook] shows he's a former soldier of the Invincible Fleet? No, it seems this whole group in front of me are former Navy men. Interesting!

Many sailors were kidnapped and tricked onto ships. Conscription squads of the various Royal Navies were the primary means by which navies acquired sailors. That's right. It wasn't voluntary national recruitment but the forcible seizure of able-bodied men!

When a Navy warship was short of sailors, the commanding officer would order some officers to lead squads of soldiers ashore to "capture" any suitable men they laid eyes on, filling the vacancies on the ship. In ports, streets, taverns, lodging houses, and anywhere imaginable, they would search for any vagrants or sailors they might encounter. Then, they would use violence to force them to enlist. If a sailor was unwilling to comply, the conscription squad would give him a beating. If he still refused, they'd beat him again, until he submitted. They were naturally enthusiastic because each sailor they captured earned them a Gold Pound from the Navy Department, equivalent to an ordinary sailor's monthly wage. The conscription squads would even raid weddings, sometimes even newlyweds' bedrooms, snatching away the groom. They showed no pity, leaving the bride, often naked, sobbing and chasing them to the door.