The sun climbed steadily toward its zenith, casting a bright, relentless light over the bustling port of Isla de los Perdidos. The Abyss sat anchored just off the coast, its dark silhouette a stark contrast against the vibrant blue of the sea. The morning had been filled with the final touches of the ship's refit—repairs completed, the hull strengthened, and the sails patched where necessary. Yet, even with the fresh repairs, Jacob couldn't shake a lingering sense of unease as he made his rounds.
The crew had started their day early, energized by the success of the recent ventures and eager to prepare for the next leg of their journey. Jacob had been up before dawn, overseeing the last stages of the ship's maintenance. The shipwrights had done an admirable job, given the conditions and the limited resources of the island, but Jacob's keen eye caught the details that others might miss—the slight groan in the newly replaced timbers, the way the mainmast still leaned ever so slightly to port, and the fresh tar that had yet to fully set.
He wasn't a shipbuilder, but after months at sea and numerous battles, he had developed an acute awareness of The Abyss's needs. The ship had been their salvation more times than he could count, and he knew that understanding its strengths and weaknesses could be the difference between life and death in the open ocean.
As the first light of dawn had broken over the horizon, Jacob had walked the deck, feeling the slight give in the planks beneath his boots, noting the patches of new wood that stood out against the weathered grain of the old. The ship was seaworthy, but it was still wounded, and Jacob knew that every decision they made in the coming days would have to account for that.
By midday, the crew had shifted their focus to restocking the ship. Barrels of fresh water, crates of food, and bundles of ammunition were being loaded aboard, each item carefully inventoried and stored. Jacob had personally ensured that several barrels of citrus—lemons and limes—were included in the provisions. He knew all too well the threat of scurvy, and while the men might grumble about the sour taste, they would be grateful when their health held steady during the long weeks at sea.
The men worked with a renewed vigor, their spirits lifted by the prospect of fresh supplies and the promise of new adventures. Yet, despite the bustling activity, Jacob's attention remained divided between the logistics of the moment and the potential dangers that lay ahead.
Garrett approached him, wiping sweat from his brow, a satisfied look on his weathered face. "Everything's coming together nicely, boatswain," he said, his voice carrying a note of approval. "We should be ready to sail by nightfall."
Jacob nodded, his eyes scanning the deck. Despite the recent refit, he couldn't help but notice the signs of wear that still lingered. "Good. The sooner we leave this place, the better. The ship's been patched up, but there's still work to be done. We don't need any more surprises before we set sail."
Garrett grunted in agreement, glancing at the bustling market beyond the docks. "Aye, the men are eager to get going. The island's been good to us, but it's time we moved on."
Jacob smirked, though a hint of concern flickered in his eyes. "Aren't we all? But until we're out on open water, we need to stay sharp. The ship's in better shape, but she's not invincible. We'll need to be careful."
Garrett studied Jacob for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "You've done well, Jacob. The men respect you, even those who are wary of your… abilities."
Jacob met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "Respect is important. But loyalty is what we need if we're going to survive what's ahead."
Garrett gave a short nod, understanding the unspoken implications. "Loyalty's earned, and you've done plenty to earn it. Just keep your head on straight, and the men will follow you."
With that, Garrett turned back to oversee the loading of the final supplies, leaving Jacob alone with his thoughts. He appreciated the veteran's words, but he knew that loyalty was a fragile thing, especially in the cutthroat world of piracy. His recent actions had certainly gained him respect, but there were still those who eyed him with suspicion or jealousy.
As the afternoon wore on, Jacob moved through the ship, checking in on the crew and ensuring everything was in order. He made a point to speak with the men, offering words of encouragement or subtle reminders of the rewards that awaited them if they remained loyal and focused. His presence was a constant, quiet force, shaping the mood aboard The Abyss.
By late afternoon, the ship was nearly ready. The supplies had been loaded, and the crew was finishing their final tasks on the island. Some of the men had taken the opportunity to visit the taverns and brothels one last time, while others were bartering for trinkets or souvenirs to take with them on the journey.
Jacob, however, had other plans. He slipped away from the main group and made his way through the winding streets of the port town, heading for a small, dimly lit shop tucked away in a narrow alley. The shop belonged to a local fence, a man who dealt in stolen goods and information. Jacob had met him once before, and he knew that the fence could be useful for planting the cursed coin.
The bell above the door jingled as Jacob entered, the musty smell of old wood and dust filling his nostrils. The fence, a wiry man with sharp features and a greedy gleam in his eyes, looked up from behind the counter.
"Well, well, if it isn't the boatswain of The Abyss," the fence said with a sly grin. "What can I do for you today?"
Jacob approached the counter, his expression cold and businesslike. "I have something that needs to disappear. Quietly."
The fence's grin widened, his curiosity piqued. "I see. And what might that be?"
Jacob reached into his pocket and pulled out the cursed coin, placing it on the counter. "This. It's just a simple coin, but it has a history. I need it circulated—passed through as many hands as possible. No questions asked."
The fence picked up the coin, examining it closely. He couldn't feel the curse embedded within it, but he knew better than to underestimate the value of a request from a man like Jacob. "Consider it done. This little trinket will be making its way through the market by tomorrow."
Jacob nodded, satisfied. "Good. Make sure it moves quickly. And remember—this stays between us."
"Of course, of course," the fence replied, slipping the coin into his pocket. "You have my word."
Jacob turned to leave, his business concluded, but as he reached the door, the fence called after him. "By the way, where's The Abyss heading next? Heard anything interesting from the captain?"
Jacob paused, his back to the fence. "If I knew, I wouldn't tell you," he said evenly. "But trust me, wherever we're going, it won't be quiet."
With that, Jacob left the shop and made his way back to the docks, satisfied that the cursed coin was in motion. It was a small step, but it was part of a larger plan—a plan that would unfold over time, piece by piece, as Jacob continued to build his power and influence.
By the time he returned to The Abyss, the sun was dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows across the deck. The crew was nearly ready, and Jacob could feel the anticipation in the air. Whatever the captain had planned, it was clear that it would be significant.
As night fell, Jacob stood at the helm, his eyes on the horizon. The future was uncertain, but he knew that he was prepared for whatever came next. The cursed coin, the maps, the growing influence among the crew—all of it was coming together, leading him toward his ultimate goal.
And as The Abyss prepared to set sail, Jacob felt a deep sense of purpose. The journey ahead would be filled with danger and challenges, but it would also be an opportunity to solidify his power.