Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 411 Looking at each other from afar
"Did they hear that?"

"You should have heard me, First Mate." The sailor licked his lips; the cold horn had just rubbed off a layer of dry skin, and it felt like being bitten by cast bronze.

Looking at the first mate's face, stiffer than frozen meat, he suddenly realized something, and in a strange tone that could effectively increase the hardness of a fist, he seemingly inadvertently "awakened":
"Oh, no, now I should call you Captain. Hey, Captain Oliver, what a great title, how does it feel?"

Oliver clenched his fist, which was harder than frozen rock. In the past, he would have taken the time to help the man recall where the first mate's authority came from.

But not now.

He is now the interim captain of the Iceberg, and a composed captain would not literally mingle with the sailors.

He stood by the helm, his hands far from the familiar cable, yet he still hadn't found a suitable place to put them on the steering wheel.

The twelve polished wooden handles were either too slippery or too rough, none of them fit the hand well. They seemed to have become accustomed to their former owner's steady hand, and could not tolerate even the slightest difference in the palm lines.

Every first mate has imagined what it would be like to be at the helm. They are familiar with the shipping routes, know the wind direction, and can even recite the water depth figures of ports in different seasons. At least 80% of them believe that they know as much as the captain.

But the appointment didn't happen gradually; it happened overnight. Because of William's sudden idea to buy a ship, the captain's cabin key was thrown into his hands, much like arranging a regular watch.

With the sudden change in personnel, most of the old crew members were transferred to new ships, and new crew members took over the old positions.

When this group of familiar and unfamiliar faces looked at him, no matter how much experience he had accumulated, it all seemed too shallow and superficial, like loose leather goods, with gaps that always needed to be filled.

He never doubted his ability to start and move the ship. What kept him up at night was whether everyone would still believe he had the ship under control should the situation change or his judgment be wrong.

Such as the current situation.

The sea fog grew thicker, and the blizzard's skirts brushed against the late-returning visitors, as if trying to keep them there forever.

Something that seems as soft as milk can, in its most extreme form, turn a careless lookout into an ice sculpture, causing him to fall from the mast the next morning and shatter into pieces like plaster.

Their connection with the ship ahead became increasingly weak. At first, they could communicate by flags, but later they could only communicate by horns, and even the fire pits used to judge distances became intermittent.

But getting too close is not a good idea; two heavy behemoths are best kept at sea, especially in bad weather.

"Aren't we a little too far?" the sailor asked.

Too close, and a turbulence or a brief loss of control could cause the two ships to collide; too far, and the signal could be swallowed up by wind and fog, or even completely lost.

In fact, similar questions have been raised far too many times. Some disgruntled old troublemakers and new problem children are discussing and criticizing the new captain's judgment in private.

“Don’t rush to get closer. We’re still accelerating. The boat won’t be as obedient if it goes too fast.” After much hesitation, Oliver made what he considered the safest decision. “Besides, it’s getting late, so the fire pits will be more noticeable.”

"Okay, whatever you say, Captain."

"Could you please stop calling me that?"

“That won’t do. We’ll listen to you, but not everyone on this ship is willing to be bossed around by you.” The sailor’s joking expression faded. “Take on the captain’s airs, think about what William will do, and stop being so paranoid.”

"..."

Oliver looked at the firelight and slowly nodded. He had never imagined that he would so desperately want to see William outside of shift changes and billing.

"you're right."

“Go ahead, do what you need to do. We’ve done this route so many times. Even if we lose track of them, it won’t stop us from getting back on our own.” “Okay, I’ll go check the cargo hold.” The new captain stretched his shoulders, put his hands behind his back, and tried to appear more confident.

However, the cramped cabin quickly ruined this impression. He squeezed sideways into the hatch, down the steps, and above the sailors' bunks arranged on the hull, an oil lamp swayed back and forth, illuminating the haphazardly piled clothes, blankets, and spare ropes.

Heavy snoring, hushed conversation. In the dim light, someone glanced up at him, then the conversation ceased, as if unsure whether to rise and greet him.

Oliver lit a lamp, didn't linger, and continued onward through this territory that hadn't yet fully accepted him.

The air was more humid, the steps were steeper, and the long-term damp wooden planks had darkened in color, like an inescapable shadow.

The oil lamp went into the lower compartment before him. He waited for the flame to burn normally for a while before stepping down the creaking wooden planks.

The scent preceded the space itself; the smell of mineral dust and rock powder was cold and astringent, partially masked by the lingering stench of fur and fat, like iron ore wrapped in flesh, heavily pressed against the ground.

The Iceberg's cargo hold was not very spacious, with all kinds of goods piled together, and only simple separation could be made in terms of placement.

The ore barrels were neatly pressed down on both sides of the keel, with wedges at the bottom to secure them, acting as ballast.

He kicked the wedges one by one to make sure they were firmly in place and wouldn't roll away due to lateral shaking. Next, he inspected the nailed lids, especially the ones that had been specially marked, checking for signs of tampering.

The result was very good; most importantly, the goods were properly placed and sealed, and there were no problems whatsoever.

We can breathe a little easier now. Besides the voyage, the biggest worry is some greedy newcomers who think they can tamper with the cargo without anyone noticing. If we don't keep an eye on it once, it will happen again.

He examined the furs placed high up, but found no unusual moisture. He wasn't worried about them being stolen, but rather about them getting damp.

Before leaving, there was one last thing I needed to check.

To be precise, they weren't exactly the same; they were just some goods used to make up the numbers. The Ice People seemed to have gotten clever, figuring the fleet wouldn't want to transport the remaining grain back the way it came, so they exchanged it for a large pile of miscellaneous items.

With the idea that the cabins would be empty anyway, William agreed to the deal.

So after a simple sorting, these items were randomly packed into the remaining empty buckets. The precious metal ores and potentially valuable beast fangs had been picked out, leaving behind only some miscellaneous items of unknown origin.

It might just be a simple rock and scrap, or it might even have recycling value, but William didn't care and was too lazy to even cover it up.

Feeling it was his duty, Oliver decided to check it again.

The buckets were piled up in a dark corner at the far edge of the cabin. He walked over and kicked them casually a couple of times. The buckets shook, and a rustling sound of debris being rummaged through them could be heard.

He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but the bucket didn't seem to be stable, even though he was certain it had been adjusted when he came to check it yesterday.

Looking into the bucket, there were several shiny pieces of low-grade ore, pressed on top of the sawn-off bones, with a torn, neatly rolled-up pelt of a young animal stuffed underneath.

The heavier items are on top and the lighter items are on the bottom, and the arrangement seems more like filling up the volume, which doesn't quite fit the habit of casually dumping things.

"Ok?"

The author is battling the flu and has been working at a terrifying intensity lately.

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