The sun rose slowly over Dead Man's Bay, casting warm light across the makeshift fortress. Smoke curled lazily from the previous night's campfires, the scent mingling with the tang of salt and the faint, earthy odor of freshly hewn timber. Men stirred in their tents, their bodies heavy with the ache of days spent laboring to tame the wilderness.
Jacob was already awake, standing at the edge of the encampment, surveying the progress made under the moonlit hours. The newly dug water basin glistened in the morning light, its surface rippling faintly with the steady flow from the widened channel. The first trench for waste runoff stretched nearly complete toward the cliffs, its path reinforced with raw timber cut from the jungle.
Barret approached, his burly figure dusted with sawdust and sweat. His voice carried the rasp of a man who hadn't stopped barking orders since dawn. "The logging teams made good headway last night, Captain. We've cleared enough to start securing the guns, but the housing's going to take more time."
Jacob turned, his expression thoughtful. "The guns come first. If we can't hold the line, the houses won't matter."
Barret nodded, wiping a thick hand across his brow. "Aye, I've already got the lads working the branches for bracing. The trunks'll make solid platforms—those guns'll be locked tighter than a miser's purse."
"Good," Jacob said. "I want them secured and sighted by nightfall. Any delay could cost us."
Barret hesitated, glancing toward the treeline. "What about the housing, Captain? These men need more than canvas if we're staying put."
Jacob followed his gaze, the dense jungle standing like a dark wall on the horizon. "We'll start framing the first shelters as soon as the guns are in place. Small teams, working close to camp. I don't want anyone exposed without cover."
Barret grunted his approval. "Understood. And for the houses? Any special design in mind?"
"Keep it simple," Jacob replied. "Raised floors to stay dry, reinforced walls in case of an attack. Build them in clusters around the central basin, so the men always have access to water."
Barret scratched his beard, his eyes narrowing in thought. "I'm no architect, Captain, but I'll make it solid."
"I'm counting on it," Jacob said. "This place isn't just a camp anymore. It's our foothold."
The morning stretched on, the sounds of progress filling the air as axes bit into wood with steady rhythm, the crash of falling trees echoing across the plateau. The logging teams worked methodically, stripping branches and hauling timber toward the encampment where Barret's men transformed raw logs into usable materials. Garrett moved among the teams, keeping a watchful eye on the jungle while offering curt nods of approval at the crew's efforts. Jacob remained near the growing water basin, observing the steady flow from the channel with quiet satisfaction.
Garrett returned, brushing sawdust from his coat, his lips tightening as he gestured toward the treeline. "The men are working hard, but you can feel it. They're watching us, Jacob. Waiting for a moment to strike."
Jacob's gaze lingered on the dark canopy swaying in the breeze. "They'll come," he said evenly. "And when they do, we'll be ready. Every plank we secure, every trench we dig, makes us harder to uproot."
By midday, the gun platforms were taking shape. Barret's team worked tirelessly, using the freshly cut timber to build sturdy frames, their hands moving with the confidence of men who knew their craft. The platforms were anchored deep into the soil, braced with crossbeams to absorb the cannons' recoil. Renard prowled between the positions, his sharp eyes inspecting every joint and brace. He barked orders with his usual precision, ensuring each cannon was perfectly aligned to cover the approaches.
"This one's too loose!" Renard snapped, gesturing at a brace that wobbled under pressure. "Fix it now, or it won't hold when it matters!"
The gunners scrambled to make adjustments, sweat dripping from their brows under Renard's critical gaze. Jacob watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable, but there was a faint glint of approval in his eyes. He turned his attention to the housing efforts, where Barret and Kofi were leading the charge to frame the first shelters. Stakes were driven into the ground to mark boundaries, and planks were fitted together with the rough efficiency of men who had no time for artistry but plenty of skill.
Barret's voice boomed over the sounds of hammers and saws. "Tighter joints, lads! These walls need to stand through storms and cannon fire, not crumble at the first gust!"
Kofi worked alongside the men, his movements sure and steady as he helped guide the construction. His quiet competence seemed to inspire those around him, easing the tensions that still lingered between veteran pirates and newer recruits. Jacob noted this as he walked among the crews, offering a few sharp commands but mostly observing as the camp slowly transformed.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, the encampment began to take on a new shape. The guns were secured, their black barrels glinting faintly in the fading light. The first shelters stood near the water basin, their rough-hewn frames casting long shadows across the churned earth. The logging crews had cleared enough space to expand the perimeter, and the men moved with a sense of purpose that spoke to their growing confidence.
Jacob stood at the edge of the camp, his arms crossed as he surveyed their progress. Garrett joined him, his face lined with exhaustion but bearing a faint smirk. "Not bad for a ragtag lot, Captain. It's starting to look like a real fort."
"It's a start," Jacob replied, his voice calm but resolute. "But we're not done yet. Not even close."
Garrett nodded, the smirk fading. "You're right. Complacency's a killer out here."
Night fell, and the camp settled into an uneasy quiet. The fires crackled softly, casting flickering light over the weary faces of the crew as they shared their meager rations. Jacob lingered at the edge of the camp, his eyes fixed on the jungle beyond. The dark canopy swayed gently in the night breeze, but he could feel its weight pressing against them—a reminder that their work was far from over.
Tomorrow, they would push further. But for now, they had taken another step toward securing their foothold on the island.