Pre-Port Planning & Promotions

The sky was a deep shade of indigo as The Abyss cut through the gentle waves, its course set toward a distant port. The wind in the sails was steady, and the stars above gleamed like lanterns guiding their way. Below deck, the crew moved about their duties with a sense of calm after the chaos of battle. But despite the stillness of the sea, there was tension on the ship.

Jacob stood on the quarterdeck, gazing out over the horizon. His hand rested on the hilt of his cutlass, his mind racing with thoughts about the state of his crew. They had fought hard, but the losses were heavy, and the gaps in leadership were glaring. A chain of command was only as strong as its weakest link, and after the mutiny and the recent battles, there were too many weak links.

Garrett approached silently, as he often did. Jacob sensed his presence before he spoke.

"You're thinking about the crew," Garrett said quietly.

Jacob nodded. "We've lost good men, Garrett. But worse than that, we've got holes in our leadership. If we're going to reach port and come out stronger, we need to fill those gaps now."

Garrett folded his arms, his brow furrowing in thought. "Aye. If we don't solidify the chain of command soon, we risk cracks forming when we need unity the most."

Jacob turned, giving Garrett a nod. "Come to my quarters. We'll need to talk this through."

The soft flicker of candlelight illuminated the captain's quarters as Jacob and Garrett sat across from each other at the large oak table, maps and charts pushed to the side to make room for their discussion. A half-empty bottle of rum stood between them, untouched, as the gravity of the meeting took precedence over any indulgence.

Jacob took a deep breath, then spoke, breaking the silence. "We need to make these promotions official. The men need to know where they stand, and we need to trust those we put in place."

Garrett nodded. "Agreed. The crew's been waiting for the dust to settle, and they're looking to us for direction. If we don't act soon, they'll start questioning who's really in command."

Jacob leaned back in his chair, the weight of leadership heavy on his shoulders. "Let's start with the top. We need officers—men who can keep order and command respect. Briggs has earned his place, but there are others we need to talk about."

Garrett reached for the bottle of rum, pouring a small amount into a wooden cup, but leaving it untouched. "Briggs is steady, disciplined. He doesn't question orders, but sometimes I worry he's too rigid. He's got a good head for keeping the crew in line, though."

Jacob nodded thoughtfully. "Briggs is a solid officer, but he lacks flexibility. In a fight, you need someone who can think on their feet, not just follow protocol. Still, we need his steadiness, especially after the chaos of the mutiny. We promote him officially, keep him handling the day-to-day discipline. He'll follow orders to the letter."

Garrett grunted in agreement. "He's a safe choice. The crew respects him, and he's not the type to overreach."

Jacob took a moment before bringing up the next name. "Elias."

Garrett's face tightened slightly. "Elias is a fighter, no doubt about that. But he's a hothead, and quartermaster needs more than just muscle."

Jacob's eyes narrowed in thought. "He's dangerous, but that danger can be useful if it's directed right. He's loyal to me after the mutiny, and he knows how to get men to follow him. I've seen it. But I've also seen him lose control. The role of quartermaster might be a stretch for him."

Garrett leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "You're right, but Elias keeps the men in line when things get bloody. We just need to keep him focused. If he loses control again, we'll have to rein him in, maybe find someone else for the job."

Jacob considered this, then nodded. "For now, he stays quartermaster. We need his strength, but we'll keep an eye on him. If he proves himself, he stays. If not, we find someone else."

Garrett gave a slow nod of agreement. "Fair enough."

The discussion shifted as Jacob brought up the next crucial role. "Cedric. We need to talk about the sailing master."

Garrett let out a long sigh. "Cedric's getting old, Jacob. His experience is invaluable, no doubt, but I've seen him struggle. His hands aren't as steady, and sometimes he's a step behind. You can't fault the man for it—he's been sailing longer than most of us have been alive. But he won't be able to keep up forever."

Jacob leaned forward, his voice low. "I've noticed it too. He's still sharp, but the years are catching up. We'll need a replacement soon, but not yet. I want him to start training Thomas."

Garrett raised an eyebrow. "Thomas? He's green, Jacob. Eager, yes, but still learning. You think he's got what it takes?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Jacob's mouth. "Thomas has potential. He's sharp, and he listens. More than that, he's loyal. He looks up to me, and that kind of loyalty can't be bought. If Cedric starts teaching him the ropes now, Thomas will be ready when the time comes."

Garrett considered this. "Thomas is young. He's got fire, but he also needs to be kept grounded. If you think he's ready, let Cedric start training him. But don't push him too fast. We can't afford mistakes."

Jacob nodded. "Agreed. We'll start small—navigation, basic tactics. Cedric's knowledge will be passed down before he's ready to step aside."

The conversation turned toward the gunnery team. "Renard," Jacob said, "has proven himself. The last battle showed he's calm under fire. We've lost two lead gunners, and Renard is the right man to fill those shoes."

Garrett sipped his rum thoughtfully. "Renard's got the head for it. Doesn't say much, but when the cannons fire, you know he's got everything under control. The men respect him. He's already earned his place."

Jacob nodded, satisfied with the decision. "He's our lead gunner. We'll promote him, make sure the crew knows he's the one in charge of the artillery."

Finally, Garrett brought up the name Wicks, the boatswain. He sighed, taking a long pause. "Wicks… he's been with The Abyss for years, since long before you came aboard. He's always been skilled with the rigging, knows the sails like the back of his hand. But lately, I've noticed he's slipping. The rigging was a mess during the last storm, and he's been more distracted than usual."

Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you mention this sooner?"

Garrett shrugged, his expression grim. "Didn't seem serious enough at first. He's had a few lapses before, but they've become more frequent. Wicks was a good man in his day, but I'm starting to think his best days might be behind him. If we don't make changes, it could cost us next time."

Jacob drummed his fingers on the table. "He gets one more chance. We can't afford to lose too many senior men all at once, but if he falters again, we'll need to replace him."

Garrett nodded slowly. "I agree. We'll keep an eye on him. If he slips again, we'll start looking for someone else to take his place."

Jacob sat back, the weight of the conversation settling over him. "That's it, then. We'll gather the men tomorrow, make the promotions official. They need to see that we're not just surviving—we're growing stronger."

Garrett raised his cup. "To a stronger crew."

Jacob raised his own cup in return. "To a stronger crew."

The sun broke over the horizon, casting a golden light over The Abyss as the crew gathered on deck. Jacob stood at the helm, Garrett at his side, and the officers assembled in front of them.

The men were quiet, their faces a mix of curiosity and anticipation. They had fought hard, and they had lost men, but they were still standing. Now, they needed leadership. They needed to know who would guide them through the next storm.

Jacob stepped forward, his voice carrying across the deck. "We've come through fire and blood together. We've fought, we've bled, and we've lost. But we've survived. And now, we need to look to the future. We need strong leaders to guide us, to keep us on course."

He looked out over the crew, his eyes sharp. "Today, we fill those roles."

One by one, Jacob called the names of the newly promoted officers. Briggs stepped forward first, standing tall as Jacob confirmed his position as an officer. "Briggs, your discipline kept the crew together during the battle. You've earned your place."

Next was Elias, who gave a confident nod as Jacob spoke. "Elias, you're a fighter, and we need fighters. But as quartermaster, I expect you to lead with more than just your fists. Prove you can control your temper."

Cedric stepped forward, his expression proud but weary. "Cedric, your experience at sea is unmatched. You'll remain as sailing master, but you'll start training Thomas to take your place."

Thomas's eyes gleamed with pride as Jacob nodded at him. "Thomas, you've shown promise. Cedric will teach you the ways of the sea. Listen to him, and you'll go far."

Finally, Renard stood before the crew. "Renard, your cool head under fire saved us in battle. You're now lead gunner. Keep the artillery sharp."

As the promotions were made official, the crew nodded in approval. The chain of command was set, the officers in place. But Jacob knew the real test lay ahead. The men would follow, but only if their leaders proved themselves in the battles to come.

As the ceremony ended and the crew dispersed, Garrett approached Jacob. "Good choices. Now, let's see if they live up to them."

Jacob nodded, his gaze on the horizon. "They will. Or we'll find someone who will."

With the promotions set, The Abyss sailed on, toward the unknown, its officers ready for whatever awaited them on the horizon.