Building from the Ashes

The rhythmic clanging of hammers and the hum of saws cutting through timber filled the air as The Abyss and La Fortune sat docked, awaiting their rebirth. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the busy harbor, and the sound of men at work was a steady undercurrent to the bustle of the port. Old Wood, Barret Hawkins, paced along the deck of The Abyss, shouting instructions to his team of shipwrights, his hands constantly moving, demonstrating the precision required for each repair.

Jacob stood on the dock, arms folded across his chest, watching as the men worked on the critical repairs that would not only restore his ships but also secure their future. He knew that this was more than just fixing sails and patching holes—it was about building the foundation for the next step in his grand plan.

Barret spotted Jacob and made his way down the gangplank to where the captain stood, wiping his hands on a cloth before tucking it into his tool belt. "Captain," Barret began, his voice steady but with a hint of urgency. "We've done a full assessment. The Abyss needs reinforcement along the hull where she took the cannon fire, and La Fortune's in better shape, but she's still got her share of issues."

"How long until we're ready to sail?" Jacob asked, his voice calm but carrying the weight of the decisions that lay ahead.

Barret furrowed his brow. "If we push hard, I'd say about ten days for both ships to be fully seaworthy. The Abyss can move sooner, but she won't be in top shape. La Fortune's repairs will take time if we want to get any real coin out of her sale."

Jacob nodded, taking in the information. "And what's the cost?"

Barret scratched his chin, glancing at the ships and the crew bustling around them. "It'll set us back a fair bit. We've negotiated for the timber and materials—good quality, nothing second-rate—but it's not cheap. We're looking at close to 2,000 silver for The Abyss and another 1,500 for La Fortune if you want them in fighting shape."

Jacob let out a low whistle. "3,500 silver… that's a fair sum, but it'll pay off when La Fortune's sold."

"Aye, it will," Barret agreed. "But keep in mind, Captain, we'll need more than repairs. The crew's been through a lot, and if you're planning another raid soon, we'll need provisions, powder, and ammunition. We're running light on all fronts after the last battle."

Jacob absorbed this, already calculating the numbers in his head. They had earned 28,000 silver from the sale of the silks and spices. After covering the cost of repairs, they would still have a hefty sum left—enough to provision both ships and prepare for the next raid, but it also left room for something more. Something that had been gnawing at Jacob since he first stood in front of the chained slaves in La Fortune's hold.

They needed a way to legitimize some of their operations—a legal arm of the business to launder their pirate gains. Pirates could not operate freely forever, and the long-term survival of his crew, and the people he intended to save, relied on more than just plundering the seas. If Jacob was going to continue rescuing slaves and avoid simply dumping them back into a life of servitude, he needed a base of operations. He needed legitimacy in the eyes of those who traded on the fringes of the law.

He turned back to Barret. "Make sure everything is done right—no shortcuts. I'll make sure the funds are available. How's Kofi settling in?"

Barret's face softened slightly. "Kofi's a good worker. Quiet, but sharp. He's got the hands of a master carpenter. He doesn't say much, but he doesn't need to. I can see the way he reads the wood—he's got a gift."

"Good," Jacob said. "Keep him close. He's valuable, and I have a feeling we'll need his skills for what's coming."

Barret nodded and turned back to his crew, barking another round of instructions as Jacob walked toward Garrett, who was overseeing the offloading of supplies.

Garrett looked up as Jacob approached, his expression thoughtful. "We're making progress, but we've got a decision to make, Captain."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

Garrett gestured toward the ships. "The repairs will take time, but we've got another opportunity on the horizon—if we're going to intercept that merchant convoy. We can't wait too long if we want to catch them, but we can't leave until The Abyss is at least in fighting shape."

Jacob glanced back at the shipyards, the sails of the docked vessels fluttering in the wind. Timing was crucial—if they waited too long, the convoy would slip through their grasp, and if they left too early, The Abyss could be vulnerable in a fight.

"What's our window?" Jacob asked.

"The convoy will be passing through the lanes in twelve to fourteen days," Garrett replied. "That gives us a tight window to finish the repairs and make our move. If we push The Abyss, we can get her seaworthy in seven to eight days, but it'll be tight."

Jacob weighed the options. If they could intercept the convoy, it could mean another significant payday, perhaps even more valuable than La Fortune. But rushing the repairs could leave them exposed, and he couldn't afford a disaster on the open sea.

"We'll do it," Jacob said finally. "Push the repairs on The Abyss. La Fortune can follow us to the rendezvous if she's ready in time, or we'll leave her here under guard. I'll have Kwame arrange for a legal buyer to take her off our hands. We can use the funds to set up a legitimate front—something to handle our more... refined goods."

Garrett's eyes narrowed slightly. "A legitimate business?"

Jacob nodded. "We can't stay in the shadows forever, Garrett. If we're going to rescue slaves and protect our crew, we need more than just plunder. We need a base of operations—a place where we can sell our goods openly, where we can build something that lasts."

Garrett scratched his chin. "A pirate fleet with a legitimate business. That's bold, Captain."

"Bold is what we need," Jacob said firmly. "I'm not just building a pirate empire—I'm building a future. For us, for the crew, for the people we rescue."

Garrett studied him for a moment before nodding slowly. "All right. I'll start planning the raid, and we'll make sure The Abyss is ready to sail in time. You want me to start looking into how we can set up this legitimate arm?"

Jacob shook his head. "Leave that to Kwame. He's got the connections. He'll find a way to move our goods through legal channels without raising suspicion."

As Garrett moved off to rally the crew, Jacob turned back toward the harbor, his mind racing with the plans he was setting in motion. The repairs were costly, and the next raid was crucial, but the real work lay ahead. He had to secure more than just wealth—he had to secure power. Power that would allow him to rescue more slaves, to protect his crew, and to build the kind of legacy that would outlast any pirate empire.

He needed to create something that would endure. Something that would allow him to make a difference in a world that too often crushed the weak beneath its heel.

But first, they had a convoy to intercept.

As evening settled in, Jacob gathered his officers in the captain's quarters. The lantern light flickered against the wood-paneled walls, casting long shadows over the maps and ledgers spread across the table. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as they prepared for the next raid.

Garrett, Briggs, Renard, and Cedric sat around the table, each man deep in thought as they pored over the charts and discussed the logistics of the upcoming interception.

"We've got seven days to finish repairs and provision the ship," Garrett began, his eyes scanning the room. "If we push the crew, we can be ready to sail on the eighth day. That'll give us five days to reach the convoy's projected route."

Renard nodded, his cool, tactical mind already assessing the risks. "The convoy's escorts won't be lightly armed. We'll need to be at full strength—cannons, powder, and men ready for a fight."

Briggs folded his arms across his chest, his face set in its usual stern expression. "Discipline needs to be tight, especially with the new recruits. We can't afford any mistakes."

Jacob leaned forward, his eyes flicking to the map. "We'll hit them hard and fast. If we strike at night, we'll have the advantage. They won't expect us."

The officers murmured their agreement, but there was still an underlying tension. The repairs, the timing, the logistics—it all had to come together perfectly. Any misstep could cost them the raid, or worse, their lives.

"We'll make it work," Jacob said, his voice steady but filled with resolve. "We've been through worse, and we'll come out of this stronger. Keep the men focused. This convoy will set us up for the next stage."

The officers nodded, the plan set in motion. As they filed out of the cabin, Jacob remained seated, his mind racing with the possibilities of what lay ahead. The pirate fleet, the legitimate business, the future he was building—it was all within his grasp.

But for now, they had a raid to execute, and Jacob knew that the path to power was paved with both gold and blood.