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. Chart your course back to the origins of this substance at n0v^lbin
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.
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."