"Do as I say! I know my own ship!!"
After yelling towards the boiler room, Charles looked down at the first mate on the ground, "John! Go unload half the cargo from the ship!"
He knew that this was not a time for hesitation, that staying alive was more important than anything.
"Yes!" The portly old man kicked open the cockpit door and charged out.
Listening to the sound of the cargo splashing into the water, Charles's heart bled.
Fortunately, a series of measures proved to be effective, and after several more collisions, the lightened Rat began to pick up speed and gradually pulled away from whatever was behind it.
It wasn't until the true navigation markers appeared at the bow that a drenched Charles finally slowly released his grip on the ship's wheel.
The trembling youth crawling on the deck made his way to Charles's feet and clung tightly to his legs.
"Captain... Captain, I just... I just saw—"
Charles pinched his cheek with his hand, stopping him from continuing.
"Before you came aboard, what did I tell you was the third rule?"
"Not to look or think about the creatures in the water unless they come close to our ship... even if you see them, don't speak of it..."
"Good, now stand up and drop the anchor, then go inform everyone on board to assemble on deck; I need to count heads."
After giving orders, Charles let go and walked out of the cockpit. The deck was a mess, water everywhere, with ropes that had been securing the cargo floating aimlessly on the surface.
Wading through the thigh-deep seawater, Charles reached the stern, where the spindle-shaped aft end was dented inward as if hammered, covered with an unknown black, foul-smelling viscous substance.
Judging by the deformation, it was easy to imagine the size of the creature that had struck the ship, but Charles, whose eight years at sea had dulled his curiosity, was contemplating other matters.
"Fixing this is going to cost a fortune..." Charles muttered, irritated, feeling his dream slip further away.
It was then that the murmuring sound crept up again, seemingly emanating from the surrounding darkness.
"ph...nglui mglw...nafh..."
"F**k!" Charles, his brow furrowed, clenched his fist and thumped his forehead repeatedly, the pain diluting the agitation the murmuring had brought.
Upon seeing the other crew members gathering on the deck, Charles lowered his hand and walked over.
As the crew saw their captain approaching, several men of varying heights quickly formed a line, their complexions as white and scared as Charles's.
"John, the first mate, assisting the captain and organizing various work plans, responsible for compiling the cargo stowage plan, the helmsman from 12 to 24." The portly old man was the first to report.
Standing next to old John was a tall, strong man in blue clothes stained with machine oil. As soon as the first mate finished, he quickly followed suit.
"James, Chief Engineer, responsible for maintaining the normal operation of the boilers; also responsible for the upkeep of propulsion devices, auxiliary equipment, boilers, lubrication cooling, and fuel."
Beside the tall man was a skinny one, a spindly beanpole of a man.
"Frey, the chef, in charge of the crew's meals."
Following the chef was a pale-looking Deep, swaying slightly as if he hadn't yet recovered.
"Deep... Deep, Able Seaman, responsible for deck cleaning and the maintenance and repair of anchors, cables, and loading equipment."
Quickly scanning the four men before him, Charles immediately noticed someone was missing. "Where's the sailor chief?"
The four men looked at each other but no one answered.
"Aaaaaah!" Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream emanated from below deck.
"Something's gotten on board! Grab your weapons!" Charles led the group as they quickly rushed over.
When they arrived at the dim crew's rest area, everyone immediately felt a chill run from the base of their spine straight to their brain.
Only two people were in the dimly lit cabin, one standing—that was the sailor chief of the Rat, his expression one of terror.
One person was lying down, unrecognizable, because the skin on his body had been stripped completely. Without the protection of skin, every contact with the ground caused the bloody figure to shiver in agonizing pain.
He lay there indistinctly on the ground, screaming in pain and desperately struggling, his breath growing weaker by the moment.
"Jim! Go ask for his identity!" Charles quickly pulled out his revolver from his waist.
The sailor chief, with a face full of fear, crawled over and leaned in close to the bloody, indistinct head to listen.
After a few seconds, he turned back in panic, pointing at Charles and said, "Captain... he says he's you!"
"Me?"
Hearing the panicked footsteps of the crew behind him, Charles decisively aimed the gun at the sailor chief.
"Charles, acting captain, responsible for the safe transport and administration of the ship, ensuring the maximum safety of the ship and crew and their property, handling all affairs decisively and steadily in emergencies, helmsman of the 0-12 shift! Sailor Chief! Report your duty now!"
"You need to kill him!! He's no longer your captain!" the sailor chief said frantically, pointing at Charles.
"Bang!" With Charles pulling the trigger, a bloody hole appeared in the sailor chief's forehead, from which oozed not blood, but a semi-solid dark yellow liquid.
Realizing his cover was blown, the shot sailor chief's body began to twist and transform. His mouth split back to his skull, his limbs started to swell rapidly, and with a strange howl, he charged at Charles.
"Bang bang bang!" Bullets rained down on the sailor chief swiftly; his human skin was torn like a tattered sack, exposing the dark, rotting, toad-like twisted trunk underneath.
After six bullets were fired, the monster still wasn't dead and lunged at the human in front with its limbs outstretched.
Charles seemed to have experienced this many times; his face remained calm as he rolled aside, dodging the monster's attack.
While dodging, he didn't stop reloading; the revolver's chamber was refilled, and he turned it over for another six shots in quick succession.
Under the assault of twelve bullets, the monster's reverse-jointed legs buckled, and it collapsed powerlessly to the ground.
Catching his breath, Charles glanced at the corpse that instinctively revolted humans, then turned to look at the frightened crew behind him.
"Don't just stand there; throw this damn thing overboard," said Charles, then walked over to the now motionless blood corpse.
Ignoring the pungent smell of blood, he adjusted the head with his hands. When he saw that a front tooth was missing, Charles knew this was his real sailor chief, and the one he just encountered was the sea monster in disguise.
A trace of pain appeared on Charles's face, but he quickly composed himself, reloaded his revolver, and began to patrol his own ship, seeking any others that might have slipped through.
Deep followed First Mate John as they struggled to move the body.
The boy said in amazement to his companion, "The captain's incredibly tough."
"Ha, of course, why else would he be captain, and you're just a sailor. He was just like you when he first came aboard."
"Really? What was Captain Charles like when he first came aboard?"
"That's a long story, maybe seven or eight years ago. I was on another ship as third mate then, and Charles just drifted over from the sea. When we first found him, he couldn't even speak."
"Really? So how did he become captain?"
"The old captain took pity on him, let him follow at a distance behind the ship. When we got back to the dock and found out he wasn't a monster, he stayed with us. He learned to talk while learning to be a sailor. Not long after he learned to speak, he announced his intention to get a ship of his own and lead all of humanity back to the Land of Light. We all laughed at him, thinking he was crazy."
"And then?"
"Then, he worked his way up from sailor to sailor chief, and from sailor chief to third mate. Just when we thought he was going to move up to second mate, he actually saved enough money to buy a second-hand cargo ship. Look, it's this very Rat we're on now."