Chapter 91: A Captain’s Day Off
Dawn of the eighth day.
Leaving the sleeping beauty in her slumber, James made his way up the loose stone path to the formation overlooking the bay before the camp had time to awake and find some new topic to complain about.
From up there, the hideout finally looked like more than a wound carved into the greenery.
The Rose still rested diagonally in her cradle, her hull scraped clean and drying beneath the pale morning sun. Beyond her, the cistern rested idly, clear water that reflected the sky.
The storehouse had walls that enclosed it now, and a roof of split shingles sat neatly atop what had been bare posts only a week earlier.
Closer to the bay, the pier stretched nearly twice as far as before. Hardwood pilings reached into the water, though only part of them supported decking. The rest of the planks waited in tidy stacks along the beach for the work to continue.
Streets made out of dirt brought the settlement together. Beside them lay another stretch of cleared ground, marked at each corner with stakes and waiting for whatever came next.
James stood there for a moment, feeling a simple satisfaction that probably outweighed what the view deserved.
Before he’d finished admiring the settlement, the air before him thickened.
🏴 [AVAILABLE CONSTRUCTION - THE BAY]
Main Tavern
Purpose : A respectable place for drink, trade, and disputes that don’t need blades
Materials : Softwood Timber, Thatch
Labor : 15-20 Hands
Construction Time : 1 Week
Overseer : Skilled Carpenter Required
Settler’s Row
Purpose : Basic dwellings for those who mean to stay
Materials : Softwood Timber, Thatch
Labor : Small Crew (per dwelling)
Construction Time : 2-3 Days (per dwelling)
Overseer : Any Capable Hand
Brothel
Purpose : Morale, trade, and enthusiasm for future sailors
Materials : Softwood Timber, whatever silks and rum a man can trade for
Labor : Small Crew
Construction Time : 3-4 Days
Overseer : Volunteers Already Queued Up
Intermediate Infrastructure
Purpose : Upgrade existing roads with gravel, improve drainage, install culverts, and replace temporary street markers with permanent signposts
Materials : Stone, Gravel, Hardwood Timber
Labor : 20-30 Hands
Construction Time : 2 Weeks
Overseer: Sawyer Required
James let out a laugh.
"Reckon that means the plan’s finally runnin’ itself."
Whitlock already had the organization done without James hovering over his shoulder, and Sawyer hadn’t needed so much as a decision from him. As for Cudjoe, the man would probably rather chew through his own boot than let James anywhere near a pile of stone that might come down on somebody’s foot.
Which left James standing on a hill, looking over a bay that he claimed himself.
That was a feeling he’d never had in his whole bloody life.
A voice drifted through the trees, loud enough to send a pair of gulls flapping from the rocks below.
"Captain."
James turned toward the forest.
Perched in the fork of a pine sat Mark, at least to anyone else in the camp. Loose sailor’s clothes, weather-beaten tricorn, boots caked in dirt from climbing, nothing about the figure in the tree invited a second glance. Only James knew the man peering over the treetops was anything but.
Mary kept her eyes inland. "The pines run farther than I’d guessed. Near a mile before they thin out, and after that it all gives way to mangroves."
She pointed somewhere beyond the green canopy. "Couldn’t see a way through from up there, but there’s higher ground beyond the swamp. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a path once we’re in amongst it."
"So we’re not walkin’ blind," James said, "Only mostly blind."
"Aye, better than entirely."
She slipped from branch to branch with ease, dropping the last few feet without ceremony. Dusting her hands together, she wandered to the edge of the overlook and let her eyes drift across the hideout below.
For a while she said nothing.
Men crossed the camp carrying timber over their shoulders, others disappeared in and out of the storehouse, and somewhere nearer the shoreline came the steady knock of hammers.
Mary watched it all with a faint frown.
"I’ve been trying to decide whether I owe your lot an apology."
James looked sideways at her.
"That’s not somethin’ I expected to hear."
"No, nor me."
She scratched thoughtfully at her chin. "Truth be told, when ye first gathered this miserable collection of drunkards together, I gave ’em a week before they started stealin’ from one another and another week before the whole camp went up in flames."
"A generous estimate."
"I thought so at the time."
She nodded toward the settlement. "But there they are, swingin’ axes before noon without anybody standin’ over ’em, haulin’ stone instead of findin’ excuses to disappear behind a tree with a bottle."
She gave a amused shake of her head. "It’s disappointin’, in a way. I’d already decided they were hopeless."
James laughed.
"I’ll be sure to let ’em know they’ve failed to meet your expectations."
"Don’t you dare. I’d rather keep the mystery."
She folded her arms, still watching the camp. "I can’t quite decide whether you’ve got a rare gift for pickin’ good hands... or whether fortune simply delivered the only lazy bastards in the Caribbean who’ll work if somebody points in the right direction."
James considered that with all the seriousness it deserved.
"I’ve wondered the same thing myself once or twice."
"And?"
"I’ve decided not to ask too many questions while they’re still buildin’. Seems ungrateful."
That finally drew a laugh from her.
"A sensible philosophy."
He grinned.
"If they stop workin’, I’ll tell everyone it was your fault for not believin’ in ’em."
"I’ve enough crimes to answer for already. I’ve no interest in addin’ optimism to the list."
The joke lingered between them for another moment before Mary jerked her head toward the forest.
"Well, unless you’ve suddenly discovered a powerful fondness for watchin’ other people work, I’d rather spend the day seeing what’s hidden beyond those trees. I’ve had my fill of cuttin’ timber and carryin’ beams for one lifetime."
James looked toward the dark wall of pines. "I was beginning to think the island only consisted of forests, swamps, and men shoutin’ for more nails. It’d be nice to discover there’s somethin’ else on it."
"That’s the spirit."
Together they turned toward the forest, leaving the sounds of the bay behind as they disappeared beneath the pines.
"Huntin’ parties don’t go much farther than the first mile."
Mary ducked beneath a low branch without breaking stride. "The mangroves are thick enough a man could lose an entire ship in there and never see the mast again."
James slipped beneath the same branch. "Aye. Maybe there’s some wild hogs too if fortune’s with us. Whoever lived on this island before left enough runnin’ loose, or so I heard. Salt pork keeps a man alive, but I’d not complain about fresh meat over the fire."
"I heard stories about somethin’ else too, farther past the creeks."
Her tone stayed perfectly matter-of-fact. "Deep blue holes cut straight down into the rock with water so clear it’s like lookin’ into the sky itself. Some fools swear there’s somethin’ livin’ at the bottom, though none of ’em ever comes back with more than a tale."
James glanced sideways.
"You believe any of that?"
"I believe a hole that deep’ll drown a man just as dead as any monster would."
She shrugged.
"The rest’s just bastards wantin’ somethin’ to fear besides honest work."
James drew Verdict just enough to check its blade before sliding it home again. Then he adjusted Counterargument’s holster at his hip. If there was any monster, he was ready for it.
"Right then."
James smiled as he started forward again.
"Let’s see what’s been hidin’ from us."
Mary matched his pace without another word.
Together they passed the final marked stake and disappeared beneath the trees.