Chapter 43: The Most Expensive Reef in the Caribbean
The display popped up instantly.
James stared at the list for a moment, then found himself wondering why the voice was always so forthcoming whenever he asked it to do something.
It mocked him. Dodged his questions. Refused to explain itself. Yet ask it to filter the shop, open the status, or display a menu, and it obeyed without hesitation. Like a retail worker who hated every customer that walked through the door but still did the job perfectly.
Adjusting the catalog to reflect your considerably more modest means required no effort at all. I want that understood plainly, since I suspect you would otherwise convince yourself this constituted some manner of sacrifice on my part.
"Aye, I’m sure it nearly broke ye."
James grinned at the swinging lamp. "Terrible burden, bein’ asked to do the one thing you’re actually built for."
He let the exchange drift away. It lingered in the back of his mind like a cool breeze through a room, noticeable without demanding attention.
There was a rule buried somewhere beneath all that contempt.
Patron, jailer, partner... none of those names fit. Whatever the thing truly was, it answered to something, just as James answered to the wind and the tide.
Worth thinking about later, on a night when his head wasn’t still full of smoke, silver, and too many decisions.
For now, he looked at what sixty Fate could actually buy.
The list stretched farther than he’d expected, scattered through categories that had looked nearly empty an hour before.
Rope that repaired itself faster than it should.
A surgeon’s kit that never ran out of clean bandages.
Corrections for charts.
Reliable rumors.
Small advantages that wouldn’t win a battle but might spare a man trouble afterward.
James scrolled through them with the same dangerous lack of discipline he’d once brought to late-night online shopping. His attention kept moving from one curiosity to the next. Most cost more than he’d ever willingly spend and none seemed necessary until he found himself wanting them anyway.
Then three entries stopped him.
[PROVIDENCE — FEATURED]
Twin Swivel Guns
A pair of rail-mounted swivel cannons designed to fire grapeshot, musket balls, or scrap iron. Light enough for one man to turn and reload, deadly against boarding parties and exposed decks.
Cost : 40 Fate
[PERSONNEL — FEATURED]
The Havana Network
A name and a password granting entry to a network of merchants and officials who quietly exchange shipping schedules, patrol routes, and reports on the health of Spanish commerce. Membership is normally granted only through trusted introductions.
Cost : 35 Fate
[INTELLIGENCE — FEATURED]
Hidden Anchorage
A secluded bay on the eastern coast of Andros Island. A coral reef bars every ship of the line, but a winding channel allows shallow vessels to pass in safety. Within lie protected anchorage, fresh water, hardwood forests, fertile soil, and a natural refuge fit for a growing pirate haven.
Cost : 50 Fate
Three choices. Every one within reach of a man who’d play with a currency that could change reality.
James snorted. "Now that would’ve been worth havin’ six hours ago, when San Felipe was starin’ down my stern and Rose’s guns couldn’t answer in time."
He could almost feel the weight of the swivel cannons mounted along the rail. They would have been priceless during the earlier fight, when smaller ships closed too quickly for the main guns to respond.
But there would be other battles. Other prizes.
Swivel guns could always be taken from someone else’s deck. That was cheaper.
His attention moved down.
He gave a low whistle. "Now that’s the sort of thing a man normally spends years earnin’. You don’t just stroll in and ask."
His knowledge of history gave him the broad outline of the era. He knew who would rise, who would hang, and roughly when Nassau’s luck would finally run out.
Shipping schedules, patrol routes, merchant traffic... that was different. Information like that stayed valuable because it changed every day. Only a network like this could provide it.
He read the description again before dragging himself onward.
Less than an hour ago the voice had declared his reputation was climbing fast. Trouble already had a habit of finding him.
Sooner or later someone from Havana might come looking for him instead.
If that happened, he’d gain the access without spending a single point of Fate.
The island kept drawing him back.
"Och."
A grin spread across his face before he knew why.
"There ye are."
He weighed the three options as though playing with coins in his palm before handing them across a counter.
The swivel guns could wait. There would be more cannons after the next fight.
The Havana Network tempted him every time he looked at it, but he kept setting it aside. His name was already spreading. Opportunity might come to him instead.
The island was different.
It wouldn’t wait.
He knew what was coming for Nassau the way an old sailor knew about a storm before the first drop of rain.
The gulls disappeared.
The sea darkened.
The air changed.
Beneath the loose alliance of pirates, merchants, and mutual convenience, cracks had already begun to spread.
James knew exactly how long that fragile peace would last.
A man handed knowledge of the future who refused to spend a single coin preparing for it deserved whatever fate eventually caught him.
A reef no warship could cross.
A hidden harbor waiting beyond it.
A place the Royal Navy might never reach.
That opportunity wouldn’t come twice.
"Aye, that one."
He looked toward the lamp.
"I’ll have the anchorage. Whatever’s behind that reef... show me."
Fifty Fate, deducted. A purchase of this nature carries no theatrics, regardless of how much you may have hoped for one.
The knowledge arrived without spectacle.
Nothing like the overwhelming flood that had once dropped him onto the floor.
Instead, certainty settled gently into his mind.
He simply knew.
A hidden stretch of coast on the eastern side of a larger island.
A reef like white teeth, blocking any ship that drew too much water.
Calm anchorage beyond it for shallow-drafted vessels.
Fresh water.
Timber enough to build.
Enough animals to feed a growing settlement.
The place lived inside his memory now as completely as the deck of his own ship. He knew its existence with absolute certainty despite never setting foot there.
Ten Fate remained.
He could live with that bargain.
"Right then."
James rested his head against the bulkhead, already feeling sleep pull at him. "That’s the night’s work finished. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t wake me before Pensacola unless somebody’s actually dyin’."
He didn’t bother changing position. His boots still hung over the edge of the bunk.
Above him, the lamp continued its lazy swing.
The timbers groaned with familiar complaints while the sea lifted and lowered the hull beneath him.
The ship felt heavier now, her hold full of silver, her course set by a captain who finally knew exactly where he intended to go.
A sheltered bay hidden within the reefs of Andros.
A contact waiting in Pensacola with friends inside the Spanish armory.
The Revenge somewhere off the starboard bow, keeping steady pace through the darkness.
He’d come below expecting to wake broke, bruised, and without much of a plan.
Morning, it seemed, had something else in mind.
James was asleep before the thought had finished.
