With sleep now a distant hope, Jacob couldn't shake the captain's chilling words: "Curious. I sensed a power like my own." The phrase reverberated in his mind, heavy with implication. It wasn't just an observation—it was a recognition, a suggestion of something deeper, something Jacob wasn't yet ready to confront or fully understand. The thought gnawed at him, unsettling and unfinished.
The cabin around him felt too small, too confining, as if the air itself had thickened, suffocating him. He couldn't stay in the room any longer. He needed to move, to do something—anything—to push aside the overwhelming sense of dread the nightmare had left behind.
He pushed himself up from his chair, his legs still heavy with fatigue, and opened the door to the hallway. The Abyss rocked gently beneath him, no longer fighting the storm but cruising smoothly toward their destination. Outside, the light was fading quickly, though it wasn't yet dark. The lingering remnants of the storm were still visible on the horizon, but above, the sky was clear, with only streaks of orange and red from the setting sun.
Jacob made his way toward the galley, hoping a meal—something to occupy his body—would distract him from the dark thoughts swirling in his mind. The ship was quieter now, the crew working diligently, though the atmosphere was still tense after the ghostly encounter. Most of the men kept to themselves, avoiding unnecessary conversation as they went about their tasks.
As Jacob stepped into the galley, the scent of salt and preserved meats filled his nostrils. Finn "Cookie" Murphy, the ship's young and sharp-tongued cook, stood behind the galley counter, his arms elbow-deep in a barrel of salted pork. His wry grin faltered slightly when he saw the captain approach.
"Captain," Finn said, wiping his hands on a rag, "didn't think it was dinner time just yet. What can I do for ya?"
Jacob forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not here for dinner, Cookie. Just need something small—dry rations, whatever you have. Feeling a bit... off."
Finn cocked an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Aye, I've got some hardtack and dried fruit. Nothing fancy, but it'll keep the sea from gnawing at your gut."
Jacob nodded his thanks as Finn slid the food across the counter. He grabbed the small portion, finding a quiet corner of the galley to sit and eat. The hardtack crunched beneath his teeth, dry and flavorless, but it was enough to steady his nerves. He ate slowly, forcing himself to focus on the simple, mundane task of chewing, as if the act alone could anchor him in reality.
The minutes ticked by, and as the ship continued its journey, Jacob felt the familiar hum of the sea beneath him. His nightmare still clung to his thoughts, but the rhythm of the ship and the food in his stomach helped keep the worst of the panic at bay.
As he finished the last bite, Jacob stood and stretched, feeling the ache in his muscles from the tension he'd been carrying. He made his way back to the upper deck, the cool evening air a welcome relief against his skin. The wind had calmed, and the waves lapped gently against the hull. The storm was nothing but a distant memory now, its remnants far off in the horizon.
From his vantage point on the deck, Jacob saw something that gave him a sense of relief—the faint outline of the port coming into view. The low walls of the harbor and the distant shapes of ships docked in the harbor became clearer as they sailed closer. It was around 6 p.m., and the sun was sinking rapidly, casting long shadows over the water, but there was just enough light to make out the familiar signs of land.
Garrett stood near the helm, overseeing the final approach, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. He turned when he saw Jacob approach.
"Port's in sight, Captain," Garrett said, his voice steady. "We'll be docking soon. Should make it before the sun's completely down."
Jacob nodded, his thoughts still half in the dream world but grateful for the distraction of solid ground. "Good," he muttered. "The crew's ready?"
"Aye, they're tense, but they'll manage," Garrett replied, his gaze lingering on Jacob. He didn't ask what had happened below deck, but the concern in his eyes was clear.
Jacob leaned against the railing, watching as the port grew closer with each passing moment. The fading light gave the town an almost ethereal glow, the last rays of sunlight reflecting off the water as The Abyss cut smoothly toward the harbor. But even as the ship approached safety, Jacob couldn't shake the sense of impending danger that had taken root deep within him.
As The Abyss glided toward the port, the docks slowly came into focus—wooden piers stretching out into the water, bustling with the movement of dockworkers, sailors, and merchants. Lanterns flickered to life along the shoreline, casting golden hues on the calm waters as the last of the daylight faded. The distant sounds of the town—a mixture of laughter, shouting, and the clang of metal on wood—floated across the water, blending with the soft creaking of The Abyss's rigging.
Jacob straightened as they neared the dock, his eyes scanning the port for any signs of trouble. This was Port Serpent's Reach, a hidden pirate haven where transactions were conducted in shadows and back rooms, far from the prying eyes of any naval authorities. The town had a reputation for discretion, but it also held dangers of its own. Jacob knew they couldn't trust anyone here, especially with the valuable cargo they carried.
As the ship neared the pier, Garrett called out to the crew, his voice cutting through the fading evening air. "Prepare to dock! Bring her in slow!"
The crew sprang into action, their movements efficient as they guided The Abyss toward the pier. Heavy ropes were thrown overboard, and the ship creaked as it eased into place alongside a weathered wooden dock. The dockhands, hardened men with sun-scorched skin and sharp eyes, hurried to secure the lines and tie The Abyss in place.
Jacob's eyes drifted toward La Fortune, still in tow. The battered merchant ship was a valuable prize, but it needed to be handled delicately. It was too large to be kept for long—its presence would draw unwanted attention, even in a place like this. It would need to be sold off quickly before anyone took too much notice.
Once both ships were secured, Jacob motioned to Garrett, who joined him at the railing.
"Get the men moving," Jacob said quietly, his gaze flickering over the bustling docks. "Start offloading some of the smaller, easily sold goods—rum, spices, and weapons. Keep the finer stuff—silks, rare trinkets—under lock and key until we've negotiated a proper sale."
Garrett nodded, his face grim and focused. "And La Fortune?"
"We'll offload it once we've set up a trade meeting. I don't want anyone thinking they can make a move on it. Post a watch—Briggs, Hale, and Renard. Rotate them through the night. I don't trust anyone here with that much temptation sitting on the docks."
"Aye, Captain," Garrett replied, already moving to give the orders.
The crew got to work, their bodies moving with the familiar rhythm of offloading cargo. Heavy crates filled with rum, barrels of salt, and sacks of spices were carried off the ship and onto the docks, where a few local merchants had already gathered, eyes gleaming at the sight of fresh goods arriving in port. It wouldn't take long to sell off the basic supplies—Port Serpent's Reach thrived on trade, and the dockside merchants were always eager to buy and sell quickly.
Jacob remained by the railing, watching as the men worked. His thoughts were still clouded by the lingering nightmare and the mark the ghost captain had left on him. It felt as though the undead captain's gaze was still on him, even here, far from the storm and the haunted ship. He tried to push it aside for now—there were more immediate matters to deal with.
As the first round of goods was offloaded, Jacob spotted Cedric, the aging Sailing Master, moving toward him. His step was slow, his years of service weighing heavily on his body, but his eyes were sharp as ever.
"Captain," Cedric greeted with a nod. "We'll need to send someone ashore to arrange a trade meeting. Best to do it sooner rather than later, before word spreads that we've brought in such a large haul."
Jacob nodded. "You're right. Have you anyone in mind?"
Cedric's gaze swept over the crew, pausing for a moment before he spoke. "Kwame. The man knows how to negotiate. He's sharp, and he understands how these markets work. He won't be easily swindled."
Jacob considered this for a moment, then nodded again. Kwame, the former merchant who had joined them after being freed from La Fortune's hold, had quickly proven his worth. His knowledge of trade routes and connections in the underworld could be invaluable here.
"Send him ashore," Jacob ordered. "Tell him to meet with the local powers and arrange for a private negotiation. We'll need to offload La Fortune, and the finer goods—silks, jewels, and anything else worth top coin—should be sold in bulk. But tell him to be discreet. I don't want this turning into an auction."
Cedric gave a firm nod. "I'll see to it."
Jacob watched as Cedric moved off to relay the message to Kwame. The plan was set in motion, but the port held its own risks. Deals could turn sour in a place like Port Serpent's Reach, and while Jacob trusted Kwame's skills, he knew they would need to stay on their guard. For now, though, they had taken the first step toward turning their captured prizes into hard coin.
As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the dock, Jacob stepped back from the railing. His head still pounded with the remnants of the nightmare, but the busy work of the crew and the sight of solid land brought some comfort. It wouldn't be long before they could sell off their haul, make repairs, and set off for their next raid.
But as he turned to head below deck, the cold, eerie voice of the ghost captain echoed in his mind, reminding him that whatever business awaited them here in the port, the undead power that had marked him was far from done.