Jacob leaned against the window in his quarters, watching the small port as it flickered with the last lights of evening. The Abyss sat quietly at anchor, her battle-worn hull blending into the shadows of the bay. Repairs were ongoing, though the ship still creaked under her scars. She wasn't ready for a long journey, but she'd be enough for a quick strike.
At the worn table behind him, Garrett spread a hand-drawn map of the nearby shipping lanes. His expression was grave, but a glint of excitement flickered in his eyes.
"Got some word from the docks," Garrett began, his voice low, as if the wind itself might overhear them. "A dockhand spilled it after a bit of rum. There's a merchant ship, and not just any ship—one loaded with high-value goods. French silks, jewels, maybe even weapons bound for some noble's coffers."
Jacob turned, his interest piqued. "And why would a ship like that be anywhere near a port like this?"
Garrett smirked. "That's the thing. She's avoiding the major ports, cutting through the quieter lanes to avoid the eyes of both the Navy and other pirates. Apparently, she's tryin' to dodge some rival merchants. She's got light protection—a couple of small escorts. She's here to offload a bit of 'unofficial' cargo, you might say. That's why she's keepin' low in a place like this."
Jacob's brow furrowed. "And you trust this info? A drunk dockhand isn't the most reliable source."
Garrett nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. "Normally, I wouldn't. But this fella had details—too many to be makin' it up. He even knew the captain's name and the fact they've had to lay low because of some skirmish with the British over near Havana. They're being careful, but not careful enough."
Jacob circled the table, eyeing the map. "So, they leave in three days?"
"Aye," Garrett said. "Three days. But we can't just rush out at dawn. If we leave too soon, they'll get wind of us. The escorts will be on guard if they spot us too early."
Jacob tapped the table with a finger, his mind turning over the details. "No, we stay put. We let them think we're sticking around for repairs. We set sail just before dusk, stay in the shadows, and tail them from a distance once they leave. We'll wait until they hit open waters, far enough from any port or patrol. That's where we strike."
Garrett grinned, satisfied. "Now that's a proper plan. Let them feel safe for a while."
Jacob nodded. "And the crew?"
Garrett's expression darkened slightly. "They're ready, but they need this, Jacob. They need a victory, somethin' to put the mutiny behind 'em once and for all. A taste of plunder will do that."
Jacob moved to the window again, watching the distant port where shadows moved beneath the dim lamps. "A victory, yes. But we can't be reckless. We'll need more than just swords and cannons for this. Spread the word quietly among the crew. Tell them there's a prize coming, and it's worth waiting for."
Garrett stood, straightening his jacket. "Consider it done. I'll keep an eye on the ship, make sure no one stirs up trouble before we leave."
Jacob nodded. "And keep ears out. If anyone else in this port hears about our plans, it'll be the last thing they speak of. We can't have our target spooked."
Garrett chuckled darkly. "No one's going to spill. Not unless they fancy swimmin'."
Jacob allowed a small grin to touch his lips. "Good. Then let's make sure we're ready to move when the time is right."
Garrett continued. "The ship's called La Fortune—big merchant vessel, French, three masts with a red-and-gold lion figurehead at the bow. You won't miss it. Captain flies a tattered old Bourbon flag, which should make it easier to identify from a distance."
Jacob raised an eyebrow. "A damaged flag?"
"Aye," Garrett replied. "Captain's a proud bastard, or so the dockhand says. Seems he thinks flaunting his half-torn symbol of the old French monarchy is some kind of badge of honor. Makes him stand out, but that'll work in our favor."
Jacob studied the map, his fingers tracing the shipping lanes that led toward Havana. "La Fortune, you said? She's carrying more than just silks?"
Garrett nodded, his expression darkening. "Word is, she's got weapons, maybe gold, too. That's why they're avoiding the bigger ports. Don't want too many eyes on that cargo. If we take her, Captain, it'll be more than just a nice payday."
Jacob's mind raced. A successful raid on a ship like La Fortune could change the tides for The Abyss. They needed a victory. The crew needed to know that they could trust him, that this cursed ship wasn't their doom, but their salvation. Taking down a well-armed, valuable prize would be the perfect way to cement his reputation.
"We leave just before dusk, two days from now," Jacob said, finally. "We'll tail her escorts and stay just far enough that they don't get spooked. Once they're out of sight of land, we strike."
Garrett grinned widely. "Aye, Captain. I'll make sure the crew's ready. They'll be eager for this one."
Jacob watched as Garrett headed for the door, already thinking of how to spread the word quietly among the crew. A successful raid would be the first step in building not just fear of his name, but respect.
He moved back to the window, his gaze drifting over the port again. The faint lights of the dock shone dimly in the distance, casting long shadows over the water. This wasn't just about gold or silks—it was about more than that. Black Jack Jacob had to become more than a captain with cursed powers. He had to become a legend.