Shrouded Seascape

Chapter 208. Plight

A cacophony of gunshots, curses, and the rocking of the ship filled the air. The atmosphere was thick with tension as the crew engaged with the half-human, half-fish Deep Dwellers.

The Deep Dwellers countered the Narwhale crew's gunfire with an assortment of bizarre weapons fashioned from coral. Most were predominantly designed for close combat, though a few were capable of reaching distant targets.

Swoosh!

A whizzing sound cut through the chaos as a harpoon shot through the chaotic battlefield and embedded itself into a sailor's abdomen.

The rope tethered to the end of the harpoon snapped taut and dragged the poor sailor, with his intestines gruesomely unraveling, toward the Deep Dwellers.

The next moment, however, the rope went slack. The Deep Dweller pulling on the rope had its head blown clean off by Charles' accurate shot.

The Deep Dwellers' appearance was hideous, but their strength was not particularly formidable when compared to the other indigenous creatures Charles had encountered.

For a moment, both sides were equally matched in the battle. However, the equilibrium of the clash soon began to shift unfavorably for Charles and his crew. The Deep Dwellers emerged endlessly from the waters beneath while each wounded sailor diminished their dwindling forces.

Charles knew they couldn't prolong the fight. Kicking away the creature in front of him, he darted toward the cannon on the deck and started loading it.

Boom!

With a thunderous boom, the cannon roared, and a thick tentacle that had ensnared the ship was split cleanly in two. The Narwhale heaved upward from the released tension.

The cannon assault continued, rapidly severing all the tentacles and freeing the Narwhale from their grasp.

"Buddy, move now! Get us out of here!" Charles shouted.

The Narwhale immediately picked up speed. Like a speedboat, she sliced through the water above the submerged city of the Deep Dwellers.

Meanwhile, Charles and his crew continued to dispose of the remaining Deep Dwellers on the deck. Without any reinforcements, the creatures began to falter.

Just as Charles fired a bullet through the heart of a Deep Dweller, a dark shadow lunged from his lower left. Almost instinctively, he swiveled and pulled the trigger.

Ding!

The bullet was deflected by the dagger in the creature's hand. An average, ordinary Deep Dweller wouldn't possess such agility; it was Dipp.

The former boatswain charged at Charles. Seizing Charles, Dipp barrelled them both through the air in an attempt to hurl both of them into the churning sea beside them.

"Captain! Trust me just this once! I'm really doing this for your own good!" Dipp yelled.

Looking at the creature before him that was familiar yet alien, Charles gritted down hard on his teeth. He aimed his gun at Dipp's chest and pulled the trigger.

Despite the critical injury, Dipp refused to let go. With a pleading gaze, he looked at Charles. "Captain... trust me..."

"Get off me!" Using his prosthetic limb as a massive hammer, Charles smashed it down hard on Dipp's face. He coiled his legs beneath him and then sprung apart, propelling himself away from Dipp, and sent the latter into the icy depths.

Quick as lightning, Charles shot his grappling hook to the side of the Narwhale. The gear clicked into action, reeling him back to the safety of the ship with a rapid tug of the chain. As Dipp hit the water with a splash, the Narwhale had already put significant distance between them.

Just as Charles thought that they had successfully averted the crisis, black filth started bubbling before the ship's bow. A humanoid creature with tentacles for a face rose from the foam and hovered above the water's surface.

"Lily! Fire!" Charles commanded.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Cannon blasts thundered in quick succession; the initial shots plunged into the ocean, sending up towering columns of water. However, the final shot found its mark and struck the creature.

The black smoke dispersed quickly, but the creature was unharmed.

Charles' pupils contracted to the size of a needlepoint. "How is that possible?! What in the world is that thing made of? Even cannonballs don't work?!"

Just then, the octopus-head creature lifted a grimy, slime-covered finger and pointed at the bow of Charles's ship.

Even without any overt act of aggression, an oppressive tension and unease settled heavily upon all those aboard.

The suffocating sensation grew stronger as the Narwhale inched closer. All of a sudden, the tense atmosphere dissipated. The vessel and the creature passed by each other without any contact.

Charles met the gaze of a pair of eyes on one of the tentacles. He was certain that the creature was staring intently back at him.

It seemed as if that creature's appearance was their final assault. The Deep Dwellers around them began to retreat and dived back into the waters.

The Narwhale continued to sail at a high speed. They didn't know where they should be heading, but whichever direction it was, getting far away from their previous battlefield was their safest bet.

Looking at the chaotic aftermath on the deck, a deep sense of loss surged within Charles. It had never crossed his mind that his former comrade would betray him.

He inhaled a deep breath to steel his emotions. This was not the time to be brooding. His crew needed him.

The crew swiftly cleaned up the battlefield. Some gathered and rearranged the supplies, while others attended to the wounded.

The Narwhale crew suffered heavy losses this time. There were three casualties—the Third and Fourth Engineer and one sailor, while four other crew members were severely injured. It was fair to say that none of them had emerged from the battle unharmed.

Seated in the pilot house, Charles' visage was clouded with gloom. His agitation wasn't rooted in sorrow over the loss of his crew members, but rather, it stemmed from an entirely different matter that had him on edge.

If they had a reasonable chance of finding their way back home before, they were now utterly lost without any direction after that battle with the Deep Dwellers.

Staring at the complex sea chart before him, Charles had no idea of their location. In fact, moving in any direction seemed wrong.

"Do you have any solutions?" Charles asked his first mate with his arms folded across his chest.

"Sacrifice..."

Charles let out a sigh. "Let's ration our fresh water supplies for now. Unless absolutely necessary, let's not resort to such a cruel choice; we don't have many crew members left."

"Or... we could... bring a few... slaves on board... in the future... That's what... the Fhtagnists... always do when...they go on voyages..."

Charles remained silent and lowered his head at Bandages' reply.

From that moment, the Narwhale began its long, aimless drift on the open sea. They were heading south without any specific destination in mind.

As soon as the order to limit and ration freshwater was being passed down, the crew understood the gravity of their situation. No one objected, and they continued to silently carry out their duties.

A vaguely tangible sense of oppression weighed down on the Narwhale. Charles abhorred this feeling; he could feel an imminent pounding headache.

"Mr. Charles, please have this water," Lily offered a cup to Charles, who was penning an entry in his nautical journal.

"Where is this from?" Charles asked and licked his chapped lips to moisten them.

"My friends and I saved it from our ration. We mice can withstand the thirst. We can just drink the swill from the kitchen.

Charles tenderly picked Lily up and placed her in his palm. He knew all too well that the little lass was just lying to him to make him feel better. With their freshwater supplies running low, how could there possibly be leftover swill in the kitchen?

He picked up the cup and took just a tiny little sip before returning it to Lily. "I'm not thirsty anymore. Drink up," Charles insisted.

Holding the cup in her tiny paws, Lily didn't drink the contents. Instead, a worried expression appeared on her furry face. "Mr. Charles, will we die of thirst? There seems to be only a shallow layer left in the water tank."

Charles turned to face Lily. "Don't talk anymore. Finish the water in the cup."

"Mr. Charles, you can have it. I'm not thirsty," Lily assured.

The raspy dryness in Lily's voice didn't go unnoticed; it pricked at Charles' heart. He rose to his feet and brought Lily with him toward the kitchen.

When Charles appeared in the kitchen, he had a bucket of water in his other hand.

"Mr. Charles, that's seawater. We could die from drinking it."

"There's a way to turn seawater into freshwater. Perhaps we could then endure a little longer."

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