They stripped Garp's warship down to the bone and raised sail.
Garp, of course, saw Roger's ship pulling away. But with only Roger and Rayleigh holding him back, sending additional patrols after them would have meant nothing but senseless death.
He had never imagined that this newly formed pirate crew would possess such terrifying strength.
Seizing the moment, Roger roared:
— Divine Departure!
The three opponents were blown apart. Using the recoil, Roger and Rayleigh leapt cleanly back onto their ship.
But Garp wasn't about to let them escape so easily.
Roger struck again—another Divine Departure, the slash carving through the sea itself. Towering waves surged upward, crashing violently against the Marine battleship. The vessel rocked so fiercely it looked ready to capsize at any moment. The lookouts had long since been knocked out by Reith and Gaban.
Garp rushed back onto the deck, stabilizing the ship with brute force. He watched Roger's vessel disappear into the distance and roared after them:
— I will arrest you one day, Roger's pirates!
Roger's laughter echoed across the waves.
— I'll be waiting, Garp!
After sailing for some time, the crew finally noticed the problem.
The stolen ship—already worn down by countless battles—was falling apart. The constant strain of the sea, even without direct attacks, had pushed it to the brink.
Rayleigh adjusted his glasses, staring at the spreading cracks in the deck where seawater seeped through.
"Captain, if this continues, we'll be swimming to Water Seven."
Roger burst into laughter.
— No problem! Reith, give us a hand!
Reith sighed and raised both hands.
— Misty Sea: Floating Platform!
"The abilities of my Fruit are basically glue," he muttered. "Wherever there's a hole, I seal it."
Thick fog surged up beneath the hull. The sea currents calmed as if pacified, and the ship's speed increased noticeably.
Gaban whistled.
— That's a neat trick, kid.
Reith lifted his chin proudly.
— Of course! Without me, this crew would've sunk ages ago! I came up with this move the moment I joined—who knew I'd be using it this often?
Right now, Reith desperately missed the Oro Jackson.
Lowering his voice to a whisper, he muttered:
"Those smooth lines… that dark red hull… the Adam Wood keel… refined yet dignified. What are you waiting for? Head to Water Seven, find Master Tom, and place your order now!"
Roger laughed, picking up on it immediately.
Ku-ha-ha-ha! Looks like we need some professionals. All right Water Seven it is!
When this former Marine battleship its sails and hull covered in countless patches sailed into Water Seven's harbor, the entire city froze.
Th-that's a Marine warship!
Why are people feasting on its deck?!
And that man in the straw hat… is that Roger? The one with the 200 million bounty?!
Roger leapt onto the dock and inhaled deeply.
Ah! The smell of the city of shipbuilders!
Nearby, Rayleigh quietly counted the bellies in his wallet.
I hope prices here aren't outrageous…
Roger grabbed the first shipwright he saw.
— Hey! Who's the best shipbuilder around here?
The man flinched at first, but the moment he heard the question, his nervousness vanished.
"That'd be Master Tom! The pride of Water Seven!
In Water Seven, shipwrights built ships for anyone—pirate or Marine alike. It was an unspoken rule. To be asked to build a ship wasn't an insult; it was the greatest honor. A ship was the foundation of one's life at sea. Entrusting someone with that task meant entrusting them with your future.
At the entrance to Tom's workshop, the fish-man himself stood with arms crossed, a cigar clenched between his teeth.
"So you're the ones who stole a Marine ship?" Tom said, his deep voice rumbling.
"You've got guts."
Roger grinned and scratched his head.
"We prefer to say we borrowed it. We heard you can build the best ship in the world."
Tom narrowed his eyes and exhaled a smoke ring.
— The best ship in the world? Let's see if you're worthy of it first.
Without warning, he threw a punch.
The blow carried terrifying force—but Roger casually swayed aside, the smile never leaving his face.
"Oh? Good reflexes!" Tom laughed, baring his sharp teeth, and followed up with a sweeping kick.
Roger jumped back, laughing loudly, and the two began tearing through the shipyard. Splinters flew, tools clattered, and the shipwrights abandoned their work to stare in awe at this bizarre "interview."
"Hey, hey, Master Tom," Rayleigh sighed, adjusting his glasses. "We came here sincerely to commission a ship. Do you think two hundred million beli is enough?"
"Less talk!" Tom roared, charging again. "If you want me to build your ship, show me what you've got!"
Reith watched from the sidelines, lips twitching.
— What a strange hiring process…
After more than ten minutes, Tom finally stopped, breathing heavily. He wiped his forehead and burst into laughter.
— Not bad! I like you, old man!
Roger stopped as well and extended his hand, grinning.
— So… about our ship?
Tom chuckled, clamped the cigar between his teeth, and turned away.
— Follow me, brats. I'll show you my greatest project.
Then he suddenly stopped and glanced back at Roger, expression serious.
— You won't let this ship lose its way, will you?
Roger's smile faded. He answered solemnly:
— I swear it. This ship's name will thunder across every sea.
Tom laughed loudly.
" Ha-ha-ha! It'll cost a fortune—but two hundred million should just about cover it!"
Inside the massive dock lay several unfinished ships. Blueprints, planks, and tools were scattered everywhere.
Tom stopped before a huge blue design and pointed at it.
"This is the ship I'm planning to build. I haven't named it yet. It will be the strongest ship in the world."
Reith's eyes widened.
'Oro Jackson?!'
(Mentally: Damn it—that's the Pirate King's ship!)
Tom continued:
"The keel will be made from a single trunk of Adam Tree. You'll have to find it yourselves. Without Adam Wood, the rest of the ship won't withstand the strain—and it won't deserve to be called the strongest."
Roger leapt toward the blueprint, eyes shining.
— Incredible! When can you build it?!
Tom shot him a sideways glance.
"What's the rush? Shipbuilding isn't child's play. And I don't have Adam Wood. Bring me the materials—and I'll build it for you."
Reith's jaw dropped.
— F-for free?!
Tom laughed heartily.
"What's so strange about that? Building a ship that conquers the seas—that's my dream. I know you, Roger's pirates. You don't slaughter innocents. You've got honor."
He fiddled with the hem of Reith's clothes as usual.
"Sometimes, you hardly look like pirates at all. Got that, kid?"
Reith swallowed hard.
— Got it, Uncle Tom.