Gibbs had reached a state beyond drunk.
This was not the loud, boisterous drunk where sea shanties were sung off-key and tankards slammed against tables. This was not even the melancholy drunk, where a man stared into his rum and muttered about lost ships and lost years.
This was about a man lamenting over his fate and cursing his crew- mostly the captain.
Gibbs sat hunched over the table in the Black Pearl's lower deck, an empty bottle rolling from his fingers and clattering softly against the wood. His coat was half-off, his hair disheveled, and his face red with drink and resentment.
"—and another thing!" he barked suddenly, slamming his palm down. "If that blasted compass of his points to one more cursed place, I swear by every tide and devil—"
Ragetti and Pintel exchanged a look.
Pintel shrugged.
Gibbs continued, words slurring but sharp with feeling. "Captain Jack Sparrow. Luckiest idiot to ever float. Walks into trouble like it owes him money. Leaves his crew behind, all because some shiny needle says 'go that way.' That damn compass is broke. Which compass doesn't point north!"
He grabbed another bottle, found it empty, and growled.
"And don't get me started on deserts," he muttered darkly. "Who in their right mind walks into a desert willingly? No rum. No water. Just sand and heat."
Ragetti leaned closer to Pintel. "He's spiraling."
Pintel nodded sagely. "Happens when the captain wanders off."
Gibbs squinted at them. "You two. Don't think I don't see you. Useless, the both of you. One falls into the sea every other day, despite being a devil fruit user—"
"That's not my fault," Pintel protested.
"—and the other eats candles like they're sweets!"
Ragetti opened his mouth. Closed it. "Only once."
Gibbs snorted. "Jack leaves, maybe the pirates attack, gold's sitting on deck like a cursed beacon, and I'm stuck babysitting—"
His head dropped forward.
The slam was sudden and final.
Silence followed.
Ragetti blinked. "…Is he dead?"
Pintel leaned in, listened, then recoiled as Gibbs snored loudly. "Nope. Just drunk enough to be knocked out cold."
They hoisted him between them with some effort—Gibbs was heavier than he looked—and dragged him to the men's quarters. After some fumbling, they managed to wedge him into a hammock, which immediately began swaying dangerously.
"Goodnight, first mate," Ragetti muttered, tying a knot for safety.
They left him there, snoring loudly.
When they returned to the deck, the sky was beginning to pale. Dawn crept in slowly, soft and deceptive.
Pintel yawned. "I'm exhausted."
"Same," Ragetti said. "But someone's gotta keep watch."
They stared at each other.
A long pause.
"…You," Pintel said.
"…You," Ragetti replied.
"At least I don't fall asleep standing up."
"At least I don't drown every other week."
Pintel bristled. "That was one time."
"Five."
"Four and a half!"
Their civil tone dissolved quickly.
Ragetti stepped closer. "I watched last time."
Pintel scoffed. "You slept. You didn't warn us about the storm. And you even slept through the entire storm!"
"I was tired that day."
Pintel rolled his eyes. "I'm not trusting the ship to a man who thinks eats a flaming candle like it is a sweet. Seriously, how did you not burn?"
Ragetti's face darkened. "Say that again."
The punch came suddenly.
Ragetti swung—but his fist slowed, the air thickening unnaturally around it.
Pintel grinned.
"Ohhh, that's right," Pintel said smugly. "Slow-Slow fruit."
Ragetti's arm crawled forward at a snail's pace, his face contorting in rage as his body refused to obey him.
"You—!" he snarled, voice stretched, drawn out, ridiculous.
Pintel circled him, laughing. "Look at you! Like you're moving too.... slowly!"
Ragetti growled something unintelligible.
Pintel, emboldened, tugged Ragetti's trousers down just enough to humiliate him.
"That's for calling my face unhealable! And your penis's not even visible."
He released the power.
Ragetti lurched forward, lost balance, and toppled straight over the edge of the upper deck with a yelp, crashing onto the lower deck in a tangle of limbs.
Pintel doubled over laughing. "Oh, that was beautiful!"
He didn't see the punch coming.
Pain exploded across his jaw.
Pintel stumbled backward, stars in his eyes, barely catching himself as Ragetti grabbed his collar.
"I got you now," Ragetti said, grinning savagely.
They grappled, rolling across the deck in a flurry of curses and elbows, neither really winning—until Pintel froze.
"Ragetti," he said slowly.
Ragetti paused. "What?"
Pintel pointed.
Ships. Not one. Not two.
Many.
Dark shapes on the horizon, cutting across the pale morning sea.
Ragetti squinted. "…That's not normal."
They scrambled to their feet, squabbling forgotten.
As the ships drew closer, details sharpened.
"These aren't merchants," Pintel muttered.
"No navy markings either," Ragetti added.
Then he noticed something else.
"They've all got the same flag."
Pintel frowned. "That's… a lot of coordination."
The ships stopped just short of the port.
Several moved forward, turning deliberately.
Cannons faced Nanohana.
Ragetti's stomach dropped.
"They wouldn't actually fire right?," he whispered.
The first cannon fired.
The boom shattered the morning.
Both men ducked as stone and wood exploded along the port. Flames erupted. Screams followed.
The Pearl rocked from the shockwave but was spared the brunt of the assault—positioned just far enough to the side.
More cannons roared.
Pintel slowed a stray shot midair, its momentum dying as Ragetti punched it aside, sending it harmlessly into the sea.
"Who are they?!" Pintel shouted.
Ragetti had no answer.
The bombardment ended as suddenly as it began.
Smoke billowed.
The pirate ships advanced.
Smaller vessels peeled off, docking amidst the wreckage.
Men poured onto the burning docks, laughing, shouting, blades drawn.
"Carragher Pirates!" someone bellowed.
The name spread like poison.
Pirates already in Nanohana reacted instantly—some knelt, swearing allegiance. Others drew weapons, desperate or defiant.
Steel clashed.
Guards fell.
Buildings burned.
Pintel and Ragetti watched, stunned, as Nanohana descended into chaos.
A pirate on a passing ship waved cheerfully at them.
Pintel waved back, awkward and confused.
Ragetti swallowed.
"…Captain's going to miss this," he said.