Chapter 89: Master Architect
James let the last of the names slip away, one after another, like a man finally dropping a rope that had been burning his hands for no good reason.
Freeport. Port Liberty. Mariner’s Rest.
None of them belonged here, and trying to name the place now felt like naming a child before it had taken its first breath. The haven would reveal its name when it had earned one, and until then, just Andros would do.
Besides, he had better things to do than stand staring at a stretch of sand as though admiration alone could build a settlement.
He turned away from the water and went looking for Sawyer.
The loose sand gave way to firmer shingle a short distance inland. One of the lads had already hauled a table into place, holding some chart flat beneath a cup, a knife, and half a coconut shell to keep the sea breeze from stealing it away.
Sawyer stood over it with Cudjoe at one side and Whitlock at the other. Eleven sailors from the ships repair crew, men with carpenter’s hands and technical eyes, leaned in close enough to study every mark on the parchment.
Grey’s chart stretched across the boards, rough in its drawing but accurate where it mattered. The channel through the reef stood out clearly, the freshwater stream wound inland through the hardwood forest and one bend of the coastline had been crossed out and redrawn twice, as though Grey had refused to leave it alone even after the ink had dried.
Before James had finished taking it in, the space above the table shimmered.
🏴 [AVAILABLE CONSTRUCTION - THE BAY]
Careening Cradle
Purpose : Basic ship maintenance and repairs
Materials : Rollers, timber, cordage
Labor : 6-8 Hands
Construction Time : 1-2 Days
Overseer : Experienced Sailor Required
Raised Timber Storehouse
Purpose : Secure storage for supplies and trade goods
Materials : Softwood Timber
Labor : 10-15 Hands
Construction Time : 5-7 Days
Overseer : Skilled Carpenter Required
Wooden Pier
Purpose : Permanent docking and cargo handling
Materials : Durable Hardwood Timber
Labor : 20+ Hands
Construction Time : 2 Weeks
Overseer : Skilled Carpenter Required
Freshwater Cistern
Purpose : Reliable water storage during dry periods
Materials : Basic Construction Materials
Labor : Small Crew
Construction Time : 2-3 Days
Overseer : Capable Hand Required
Basic Infrastructure
Purpose : Paths, markers, and organized settlement layout
Materials : Timber, Stone
Labor : Small Crew
Construction Time : 3-5 Days
Overseer : Any Capable Hand
"Seen this before."
James waved a hand through the floating display. "Right then. I’ve given this a sweet think."
He touched the chart near the tideline, where longboats had spent the morning unloading cargo.
"Storehouse goes here. Keep it close to the ships, so the lads carrying crates aren’t walking a mile every trip."
His finger shifted to the broad formation of pale stone. "Pier goes there. Good solid footing and a man standing on it can watch clear past the reef while he waits for boats coming in."
Then he pointed toward the flatter ground where the campfires had already begun to spread.
"Cistern sits about there. Close enough that nobody has to hike across the island every time they’re thirsty."
Finally he gestured toward the open beach.
"Cradle goes on the sand, obvious enough. Can’t careen a ship anywhere else."
He dismissed the final entry with a careless flick of his hand. "And the streets’ll sort themselves out. Men walk the ground often enough, and the roads make themselves, no sense worrying over that today."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Cudjoe had folded his arms somewhere around the discussion of the pier and hadn’t unfolded them since. Whitlock’s quill hung motionless above his notes. Even the shipwrights had stopped studying the chart, exchanging glances instead.
James knew exactly what that silence meant.
They were impressed.
Sawyer scratched his jaw.
"Cradle’s right. Beach is beach, ships need beachin’. Can’t argue that."
James spread his hands with a grin. "Aye, see? Told ye."
"The rest’s shite." Cudjoe snorted loudly enough to reach a high note.
Sawyer nodded slowly. "Start with the storehouse, if you put it that close to the tide and the first spring surge or storm floods the whole thing, everything’s ruined. That’s why it’s called a raised storehouse, Captain. Higher ground. Further inland than you’re thinking."
James’s smile slipped just a little.
"Pier’s worse."
Sawyer tapped the stone formation. "Can’t drive pilings through solid rock with anything we’ve got aboard either ship. Needs deeper water too, so a ship can lie alongside without scraping bottom at low tide. The bay already got the depth, and that’s where it belongs. And use hardwood, pine won’t last a year in salt water."
Whitlock cleared his throat, "While we’re discussing the pier, I’d also recommend keeping the brothel somewhere else."
James blinked.
"Why in God’s name would we care about that?"
Whitlock remained perfectly serious.
"I’m simply planning ahead, Captain."
He tapped farther inland. "If it’s beside the docks, the first pair of a generous bosom or a shapely rear every sailor sees will stop him dead where he stands. Then the fool behind him stops too, cargo starts piling up, boats can’t unload, and before long the whole pier’s clogged with men who’ve forgotten they were supposed to be working."
His finger remained on the new location. "Build it inland instead, with one good road straight from the docks. The men clear the pier before temptation catches them, the cargo reaches the storehouse without delay, and once the work’s done, they can follow the road as often as they please."
A ripple of laughter rolled over the table.
"There." Sawyer pointed at Whitlock with approval. "That’s a man who understand pirates."
Then he returned to the chart and tapped James’s chosen site for the cistern.
He sighed loudly, "This one’s gonna kill more men than any broadside if ye leave it there. Put drinkin’ water downhill from hundreds of men cookin’, pissin’, and throwin’ out slops, and before long every barrel’ll taste like the crew’s arses. Build it upstream instead, above camp, just beyond the forest."
At last he drew a rough line from the future pier to the storehouse, then toward the camp.
He nodded satisfied, "And infrastructure means decidin’ where the streets go before every fool starts buildin’. Leave room beside ’em now, otherwise, when we need a warehouse later, we’ll be tearin’ down a tavern to make space because nobody used their bloody brain."
James watched the chart again.
It seems his ambitions of becoming history’s greatest architect had died a swift and merciful death.
"Right then."
He clapped Sawyer firmly on the shoulder. "You heard the man! He’s in charge of this side of things from now on."
James turned toward the crowd still around the table and raised his voice.
"Ground’s marked, plan’s done, and we’ve already planned the bloody brothel. The sooner you finish buildin’ the rest of the town, the sooner we can invite some respectable women to improve the place!"
That lit a fire under them far quicker than any speech about duty ever could. Laughter broke out across the camp, followed by a cheer, and the rest of the sailors scattered in every direction with axes over their shoulders and shovels in hand, suddenly discovering a remarkable enthusiasm for honest labor.
Apparently, nothing inspired progress quite like the promise of civilization’s oldest profession.
James shook his head as the sailors hurried away.
"Architect, my arse," he muttered. "Should’ve just drawn a brothel on the map from the beginning."