Chapter 399: Gazing at Each Other from Afar

"Did they hear it?"

"They must have heard it, First Officer." The sailor licked his lips; the cold horn had just peeled off a layer of dry skin, the sensation like being bitten by cast copper.

Looking at the First Officer's face, stiffer than frozen meat, he suddenly thought of something and, with a mischievous tone capable of effectively hardening a fist, seemingly casually "realized":

"Oh, no, it should be Captain now. Hey, Captain Oliver, what a wonderful title, how does it feel?"

Oliver clenched his fist, harder than frozen rock. In the past, he would have taken some time to help this fellow properly recall where the First Officer's authority came from.

But not now.

Now he was the temporary captain of the Bingshan, and a steady captain does not fraternize with sailors in the literal sense.

He stood by the helm, hands far from the ropes he had known best, yet still hadn't found a suitable place to rest them on the wheel.

Twelve polished wooden handles were either too slippery or too rough; none fit the hand, as if they had grown accustomed to the old master's confident grip and could not tolerate even the slightest difference in palm lines.

Every first mate had imagined what it would be like to steer; they knew the routes, understood the winds, and could even recite the water depth numbers of the ports in different seasons, at least eighty percent believing they knew no less than the captain.

But the appointment did not come gradually; overnight, because of William's sudden whim to buy a ship, the key to the captain's cabin was thrown into his hands, much like arranging a routine shift.

Personnel changed abruptly; most of the old comrades were transferred to the new ship, and new crew members filled the old posts.

When these faces, half familiar and half strange, looked at him, no matter how much experience he had accumulated, it all seemed too shallow and fleeting, like unpressed furs with gaps left to be filled.

He never doubted his ability to get the ship moving and take it away. What kept him tossing and turning every night was whether, if the situation changed suddenly or his judgment proved wrong, everyone would still believe the ship was under control.

Like the situation right now.

The sea ice fog grew denser; the skirt of the blizzard brushed against the late-arriving visitors, intending to keep them forever.

Something that seemed as soft as milk could, at its most extreme, turn a careless lookout at night into an ice sculpture, falling from the mast the next morning and shattering into pieces like plaster.

Their connection with the ship ahead also grew fainter; at first they could still convey messages with flags, then only with horns to notify each other, and even the brazier used to judge distance flickered in and out of sight.

But getting too close was not a good idea; two Clumsy and heavy behemoths were best kept at a distance at sea, especially in such恶劣 weather.

"Are we a bit too far?" the sailor asked.

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

In fact, similar questions had been raised too many times. There were stubborn old-timers and new troublemakers talking privately, critiquing the new captain's judgment.

"No need to rush closer yet; we are still accelerating. Once a ship picks up speed, it becomes harder to obey." Oliver hesitated repeatedly before making what he considered the safest decision, "Besides, night is falling soon; the brazier should be more visible then."

"Alright, we'll listen to you, Captain."

"Can you stop calling me that?"

"That won't do. We listen to you, but not everyone on this ship is willing to take orders from you." The sailor dropped his joking expression. "Show some captain's authority. Think about what William would do. Don't be so suspicious."

"..."

Oliver looked at the firelight and slowly nodded; he had never thought he would want to see William so much outside of shift changes and settling accounts.

"You're right."

"Go on, do what needs doing. We've sailed this route countless times; even if we truly lose them, it won't stop us from getting back on our own."

"Alright, I'll check the cargo hold." The new captain stretched his shoulders, clasped his hands behind his back, and tried to appear more confident.

However, the cramped cabin quickly ruined this demeanor. He sidled through the hatch, descended the stairs, and above the sailors' bunks arranged along the hull, an oil lamp swayed back and forth, illuminating the messy piles of clothes, blankets, and spare ropes.

Heavy snores, hushed conversations. In the dim light, someone looked up at him; the conversation stopped, as if unsure whether to rise in greeting.

Oliver took a lamp with him, didn't linger, passed through this territory that had not fully accepted him, and continued downward.

The air grew more humid, the steps steeper; the long-immersed wooden planks darkened in color, like shadows that could not be dispelled.

The oil lamp entered the lower hold ahead of his steps; he waited for the flame to burn normally for a while, then stepped down on the creaking planks.

The smell appeared before the space itself; the cold, astringent scent of mineral dust and rock powder was partially covered by the lingering fishy smell of undissipated fur fat, like iron ore wrapped in flesh and blood, lying heavily on the ground.

The Bingshan's cargo hold was not particularly spacious; various goods were piled together, with only simple separation in their arrangement.

Ore barrels were neatly pressed against both sides of the keel, with wedge blocks placed underneath to fix them, serving as ballast stones.

He kicked the wedge blocks in turn to ensure they were firmly fixed and would not roll due to lateral swaying. Then he checked the nailed barrel lids, especially the few marked specially, looking for signs of having been pried open.

The results were excellent; the main cargo was properly placed and sealed perfectly, with no problems whatsoever.

He could breathe a little easier; besides the voyage, the most worrying thing was certain newcomers who, seeing wealth, would move the cargo thinking no one noticed. If not watched once, it would happen again.

He rummaged through the furs placed high up; he didn't feel any moisture that shouldn't be there. These weren't afraid of theft, only of dampness.

Before leaving, there was one last thing to check.

To be accurate, it wasn't one thing, but rather some goods brought in to make up the numbers. Those Ice Plain people seemed to have learned their lesson, certain the fleet wouldn't want to transport the remaining grain back the way it came, so they used a huge pile of miscellaneous items as an exchange.

Operating on the idea that an empty cabin was still empty, William agreed to this transaction.

So after these items were simply sorted, they were randomly packed into leftover empty barrels. The precious metal ores and beast tusks that might have collectible value had already been picked out; what remained were just miscellaneous items of unknown nature.

Perhaps they were just simple stones and scrap, or perhaps they still had recycling value; William didn't care and was too lazy even to seal the lids.

Duty bound, Oliver still decided to check them.

Those barrels were stacked in the darkest corner at the very edge of the cabin. He walked over and casually kicked them twice. The barrels shook, emitting a rustling sound of miscellaneous items shifting.

Whether it was an illusion or not, it seemed the barrels weren't placed steadily, yet he was certain he had just adjusted them when he came to check yesterday.

Looking into the barrels, he saw several pieces of low-grade ore with shiny surfaces, pressed onto sawed-off bones, with a torn young beast pelt stuffed underneath, rolled too neatly.

Heavy on top, light on the bottom; the arrangement looked more like filling volume, not very consistent with the habit of casually dumping things.

"Hmm?"

?? The author is fighting the flu; the recent work intensity is a bit terrifying.

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