"What? You want to replace the entire ship with steel? Not leave a single piece of wood?" Jeremiah's eyes went wide. "I'm telling you, absolutely not! You're deceiving the great Captain Jeremiah! The Black Pearl has been with me for so many years. Even when I die, I'll stay with her!"
"Calm down, calm down, Lord Jeremiah." Ken beside him skillfully tried to persuade him. "This will greatly improve the structural stability of the whole vessel. Internal combustion engines are far more violent than Steam Engines. They burn Nitroglycerin, and a wooden frame can't withstand it."
"Still no!"
"The ship's acceleration will double, and it'll be able to withstand bombardment from small-caliber shells. Captain Jeremiah, don't you want the Black Pearl to be faster?
97
Jeremiah glared fiercely at Ken and the shipyard engineer, looking as though he would draw his flintlock and duel them the very next second.
But Ken remained unmoved. He knew this captain's thoughts far too well.
He would agree.
Sure enough, after Jeremiah had glared for so long that the engineer's legs were starting to go weak, he finally snorted coldly, turned around, and strode away.
"Uh... Ken, did Captain Jeremiah agree or not?" The engineer wiped away his sweat nervously.
"It's fine. Just wait a little."
Sure enough, before long, Jeremiah returned to the docks. A young girl followed behind him—Rebecca.
"You're lucky. I'm off today and happened to be nearby. After all, it's hard to find a photographer as good as me anywhere in Blood Port." As she spoke, Rebecca carried a huge camera on her shoulder and directed Jeremiah to strike a pose.
She had heard about this old captain. Ever since the Black Pearl's first refit, he had sought out a photographer to take a picture of himself with the ship.