Krafft's Anomaly Notes

Chapter 412 Thief
Oliver snorted. It seemed that someone really had some improper thoughts.

This is nothing new; the port's new recruits are of varying quality, and in his relatively short career, he has seen many self-important newcomers.

The lax management style on board often creates a misconception that no one is paying attention to their actions, treating the cabins like a marketplace where they can come and go as they please, and the cargo like loose change that hasn't been counted yet.

Foolish, impatient—it fits the stereotype perfectly. Several new faces come to mind, and it's safe to say that the thief is one of them, or perhaps more than one.

He did the math for that guy: risking huge profits for a month or two in an environment with almost no privacy, all for a worthless, hard-to-sell stolen item.

Any seasoned sailor with a brain could see the math and wouldn't try to provoke him in this way.

When faced with such a situation, besides feeling angry, I mostly just find it ridiculous.

One can almost picture the scene: the cunning thief sneaked down into the warehouse in the dark while everyone else was asleep. He dared not touch the perfectly sealed silver mine, and knowing he couldn't hide the large fur coats, he hurriedly took some things from the unsealed barrel and carried them away.

There is reason to believe that the other party did not even think about what to take, but only flipped through the surface and then tidied up the surface in a guilty conscience. They did not pay attention to what the original arrangement was like. Instead, the fact that it was too neat attracted attention.

He reached out and wiped his hand, the uneven layer of ash confirming his guess.

In the past, before informing William, he would have immediately and furiously identified the suspects, throwing them and their belongings onto the deck, usually catching them red-handed as a warning to others.

For the first mate, this is quite reasonable. Even if he makes a mistake occasionally, it's normal. He can just say a few harsh words and give himself a way out.

But for the captain, there is no room for "probably," "maybe," or "more or less."

A public blunder severely undermines an already fragile authority. He can't point at the barrel and say someone laid a hand on it, yet be unable to pinpoint the hand that reached out.

Moreover, it is currently impossible to determine whether there was only one person or what exactly was lost.

The little anger that had been building subsided was replaced by more consideration.

He can't act out yet, at least not now. He needs absolute certainty to let everyone know that this isn't doubt, but the truth itself standing on the deck.

Patience always trumps impulsiveness.

Don't worry about not finding opportunities. Greed and impatience are the hardest things to hide. Once you take the first step without paying the price, few people can stop. Next time, you'll act faster and bolder.

Those unstable factors will slowly rise to the surface and eventually have nowhere to hide.

At that time, Oliver, who is well-prepared, will solve the problem completely in one fell swoop.

He calmed down and didn't disturb the goods, leaving them as they were. He peered through the gaps between the items to the lower level, trying to recall what was missing.

Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly a person with a great memory. The contents of the bucket were too varied, and the departure was too hasty, so he couldn't recall many details.

I can only vaguely remember that a lot of unidentifiable fragments of ore were thrown inside, and since there was still space, some other miscellaneous items were added.

These low-value goods mostly come from newly established trading tribes that live deep in the ice fields, closer to the mountains. They have little contact with the coastal areas and have very different values, so the things they bring are also very strange.

Perhaps due to a decrease in prey and the pressure to make a living, they had no choice but to break away from their familiar lands to obtain what they needed for the winter.

Oliver didn't like dealing with them. Compared to his increasingly North Americanized and rule-abiding old clients, they always carried an unsettling and strange quality.

At first, he thought it was an instinctive aversion to barbaric habits, but in retrospect, that was not the case.

On the contrary, these people possessed a kind of "consistency" no less than that of sailors. Regardless of age or gender, they tacitly adhered to some unspoken rule, the exact nature of which was impossible to pinpoint. When interacting with them, it was as if something ancient, something that should only exist in the depths of ice, snow, and mountains, had reached out to the outsiders through their gaze, without them being aware of it.

Fortunately, I shouldn't have to experience that feeling for a long time after returning home.

Oliver shook his head, banishing the unpleasant memory from his mind, and turned to leave the warehouse and return to the upper level.

Before blowing out the lantern and hanging it back in its place, he casually glanced at the newlyweds' berth.

According to unspoken rules, newcomers are usually assigned to positions near the deck hatches, where the cold drafts and noise from people moving around make it difficult to get a proper rest.

Three sailors on their day off huddled together, using stacked bundles to shield themselves from the wind.

As footsteps approached, they kept their eyes tightly shut, their exhaustion leaving them no time to think about anything else.

One of the suspects was among them; his eyeballs rolled behind his eyelids, his expression shifting slightly, as if he were dreaming. The loud snoring drew angry glares from several veterans, ready to strike at any moment.

The clothes, which didn't fit well, were tight, but no suspicious bulges were visible at the moment.

Oliver's scrutinizing gaze lingered on his fingernails for a moment, hoping to see fresh mineral dust or cracks caused by handling heavy objects, but to no avail.

There were only some brownish marks in the gray-black nail crevices, looking like bloodstains left from scratching an itch. From the nails to the fingertips, both hands were stained quite a bit.

He probably has some kind of skin condition. Oliver silently noted it down, abandoning his decision to beat him up himself.

Of course, that doesn't stop you from finding a reason to vent your anger first.

He shuffled his feet, lifted his leg, and slammed his pointed leather boot into the backside of the guy who had angered the crowd.

"Quiet down, you're waking up the barrels in the warehouse!"

The captain got his wish and witnessed the expected panic. The man fell from his dream back into the damp, cold cabin, enveloped by the huge drop, his hands flailing and pounding against the cabin walls as if searching for a lifeline in his descent.

When he finally regained his senses from the confusion of waking up from a deep dream and saw the captain in front of him, his first reaction was not instinctive anger or fear, but rather a bewildered sense of relief.

Oliver raised an eyebrow, dissatisfied with his own intimidation. Just as he was about to speak again, the other person suddenly lowered his head and began to cough violently.

It seemed as if a deep breath was unexpectedly blocked in the throat, turning into a series of broken and uncontrollable coughs, like shattered ice blocks rolling and colliding in the cabin.

He turned to the side, his shoulders trembling, his body leaning forward with each cough. The more he tried to inhale, the more violently he coughed. His dry throat had no phlegm, but his lips were turning purple from the stuffiness.

After a while, his chest slowly regained its rhythm, but he still couldn't squeeze out a complete word.

Everyone around covered their mouths and noses and quickly backed away, afraid of getting even the slightest bit of it on them. Getting sick at sea is not like getting sick on land; it can be fatal.

Seeing his reaction, Oliver didn't say much, just told him "Don't pass it on to anyone else," and quickly left, pushing open the hatch leading upwards.

The cold wind howled, whipping up icy particles that stung his face. In the white expanse, it took him a few seconds to spot the outline of the sail.

【Snowing】

Sorry, I've been so busy lately that I'm practically delirious.
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Influenza, norovirus, one after another—autumn and winter are truly peak seasons for emergency rooms.