Cornelius Frigon had recently come into the harbor and discovered it mostly empty. Not abandoned—there were signs of recent habitation everywhere—but empty nonetheless. As if everyone had simply... left.
He discovered the building that would become his headquarters: a structure that had once housed a long-successful publication run by academics. Scholars, he gathered from the papers left behind. Urban researchers. Geographers and sociologists who had studied cities with the same intensity that pirates once studied shipping lanes.
They all seemed to have passed away. Or vanished. The records were unclear.
But one figure remained. A shadowy presence named Meek—unassuming, unnoticeable, almost unmentionable. It was Meek who told them the story of the harbor and the town that had grown around it.
Samuel Blackwater, ever the scholar among pirates, took detailed notes. His specialty had always been geography, navigation, the academic side of seamanship. Here was a mystery worthy of his attention. Here was knowledge waiting to be claimed.
Captain Jack had other ideas.
"I have a hungry crew," he said. "Philosophy can wait. Food cannot."
His people were roaming around the town looking for eateries, for any kind of establishment that would satisfy their needs. Pirates from 1725 did not handle hunger well. They handled it with violence.
People flocked to Captain Jack. He seemed to have a plan—or at least the confidence that suggested one.
Cornelius Frigon had a completely opposite approach. Where Jack wanted to raid, Frigon wanted to rebuild. Where Jack saw resources to extract, Frigon saw a foundation to build upon.
The debate was vigorous. And in the end, surprisingly productive.