The Carpenter of Cartagena

Cartagena, 1680. The harbor is a ring of fire and iron. The Spanish armada blocks the mouth of the bay, their massive galleons raining mortar fire down upon your fleeing privateer vessel, the Sea-Oak. Worse still, a jagged shot has ripped through the hull below the waterline. The Caribbean is rushing in, cold and relentless. You are the ship’s carpenter. While the captain bellows orders above and the crew panics in the smoke, you are down in the dark, rib-cracked belly of the ship with nothing but your adze, your hammers, and a dwindling supply of oakum and tallow. If you cannot plug the wound, you will all feed the sharks before the sun sets. But beyond the Spanish blockade lies the open sea, and somewhere past the horizon lie the fabled islands of pirate lore—a place of unimaginable wealth and sanctuary. To reach them, you must keep this splintered bucket of wood afloat, survive the treacherous currents of the Spanish Main, and manage a desperate, mutinous crew who look to you to keep the sea from swallowing them whole.