Chapter Forty: Setting Sail Once More

“Good” and “evil” are two opposing concepts, separated by a middle line whose position feels different to different people. If judged by the most common standards of right and wrong, the two Don Quixotes are undoubtedly far removed from this middle line.

These brothers appear to be on the same boat, but their goals are actually at odds—though Doflamingo is not yet aware of this. Despite sharing the same blood and childhood experiences, their adult personalities are polar opposites… The younger brother is “supreme good” disguised as “supreme evil,” while the elder is the very embodiment of “supreme evil.”

As Qiubai recalled information about Don Quixote Rosinante—otherwise known as Corazon—he also dragged the diligent Bepo from his room; the latter now had another chance to practice aboard ship. Considering that the North Sea was not the New World, and since it was merely an errand, Qiubai saw no need to bring Ain along.

The two were not conjoined twins; there was no reason they had to do everything together… Even if Qiubai wished to be joined at the hip, the other might not be willing. Though their behavioral patterns and direction were fundamentally similar, they were nonetheless independent individuals.

In fact, their personalities could not be more different.

“Is this the boat?”

Bringing Bepo to the shoreline, Qiubai addressed the subordinate waiting there.

The boat before them was not small. It was called a “skiff” perhaps because of its pronounced length-to-width ratio; one glance revealed it as a sailboat built for speed. Including the aft cabin, ten people could squeeze aboard, though seaworthiness would suffer.

Main sail, fore jib, and mizzen sail were all present, and the rigging was complex—a technical affair, not something Qiubai could handle by himself without guidance.

The faster the boat, the easier it is to capsize; this principle Qiubai understood—though his occasional capsizes had nothing to do with speed.

“Yes,” the subordinate replied earnestly.

By rights, the boat should be operated by this subordinate; otherwise, he wouldn’t have waited here. But Qiubai had no such intention, and the subordinate could see a rather dispiriting truth—Qiubai trusted the bear more than him.

A world where a man is less trusted than a bear—what times are these?

“No problem, Bepo?” Qiubai asked, unconcerned with the third party’s opinion. The only uncertainty was whether the white bear, who had only recently begun to learn navigation, could handle this boat.

“No problem!”

Bepo declared, puffing out his chest. Qiubai thought, you’re not a mother bear—or rather, there’s no mother bear here, so why are you puffing up like that?

Qiubai was often broad-minded, and Bepo seemed to have caught a bit of this “habit.” Though he said there was no problem, he looked anything but confident… Now, he held a compass in one hand and two books in the other—judging by their covers, probably “North Sea Climatology” and “Introduction to Navigation.” The chart marking their destination was wedged between the books.

This hardly looked promising, yet—

“Very well, let’s set sail.”

Qiubai decided to depart immediately. He had no idea how to train a navigator, but he knew this: only repeated practice leads to mastery.

With that, Qiubai boarded the boat. His first step caused the hull to sink slightly; as his second leg followed, ripples spread outward. Under the combined forces of reaction and buoyancy, the boat’s draft rebounded upward, then settled again—in scientific terms, the displacement had increased.

The two (one of whom was actually a bear) hurriedly raised the sails; the subordinate untied the mooring line, pushed the boat off with a long pole, and the skiff drifted away from the shore.

Soon, the sails caught the wind, and Qiubai and Bepo floated toward the open sea… It was all atmosphere and philosophy; Qiubai felt he should compose a poem to express his feelings:

The little boat gently drifts on the water, a cool breeze blows from the front…

But Bepo clearly did not share Qiubai’s mood: first, he was a bear, not a human, and lacked such sensitive feelings; second, once at sea, the fate of the boat rested entirely on him.

On any boat, the captain may be the highest authority, but the navigator is always the most critical.

This time was different from the last. Previously, Bepo had been at the helm without knowing anything; ignorance brought courage. But once he realized the vastness of navigation as a discipline, he became cautious.

Naturally so.

Bepo squeezed into the cabin, set a wooden box under his feet so he could reach the wheel, and spent some time studying the chart—though it looked like he was merely pretending, he was in fact being very earnest. Still, a bear reading a chart always seemed like an act. He then directed Qiubai to adjust the sails; the two novices fumbled around until they finally confirmed their heading.

Regardless of Bepo’s current level of navigation, Qiubai could be certain of one thing: the bear had an excellent sense of direction. At the very least, he could ensure their heading was absolutely correct… This was rare. Luckily, he was a white bear; had he been a green bear wielding a blade, the outcome would have been unthinkable.

Losing one’s way on the open sea without clear markers is perfectly normal… At least, it was for Qiubai; sometimes, even with a compass, he couldn’t read it, let alone interpret the needle.

After successfully setting out, Qiubai leaned against the cabin wall, where he could communicate with Bepo through a small window and make adjustments as directed by the navigator… Qiubai regarded Bepo as the navigator—even if only a novice, he was the most important and cherished navigator.

Thus, Qiubai decided to say something serious.

“Bepo, as your first formal voyage as an official navigator, this is a significant and solemn occasion, you understand?”

It was a bit of a platitude; in hindsight, most first times are important and solemn. More importantly, a poorly handled “first” can leave a shadow and affect one’s career happiness.

“?”

Bepo glanced at Qiubai, his expression asking, What trick are you up to now?

“But before that… You know, a name must be proper, so our words will carry weight. First, we need to name this boat…”

Bepo hadn’t realized that, whenever Qiubai said such things, he was not naming the boat, but naming the coffin floating on water.

But this was Qiubai’s habit. Though it brought trouble and ill omens, Qiubai enjoyed it nonetheless.

“Hmm… Let me think…”

He was already getting into character, filled with the spirit to set a new record, to achieve greatness.

“I’ve got it!”

“We’ll call it the Internationale.”

“…” Bepo had no idea what this name meant. “Is that someone’s name?”

Naming ships after famous figures was not strange to a bear.

“No, it’s the name of a belief.”

Qiubai often embodied a spirit of resistance, and whatever unscrupulous or unlucky attributes others assigned to him, he would fight to the end.

Qiubai refused to believe that a ship named thus could possibly sink.