The whaling ship had been stuck in the ice-bound ocean for over half a month.
On this day, a heavy snowstorm descended upon Antarctica once again, smothering the already frozen seascape with a thick new layer of snow and ice. The whaling ship could hardly move, trapped and struggling to find a way forward or back.
Several sailors found the captain: "Mr. George, the weather is getting colder, and this damn Antarctica is freezing over. Why don't we sail back to port? If we keep waiting like this, our ship will be immobilized."
"We've taken the Asian man's money, and according to the contract, we are obliged to wait here for him for a month," the captain frowned.
The captain's gaze pierced through the blinding snow, fixed toward Antarctica's direction, where the silhouette of the Asian man had yet to appear. The ice and snow on the sea surface thickened, and he didn't blame the sailors for harboring such thoughts.
