Surviving as the Captain of a Mad Cthulhu Deep Sea - Chapter 4

chapter 4

Target Island

Chapter 4: Target Island

Chapter 4: Target Island

Without wasting time, Charles hurried after Hook to the largest bank in the Coral Archipelago.

Seeing the bald man write “Church of the Cannonball” on the contract, Charles felt reassured. The legality of the agreement was now backed by the Governor of the Coral Archipelago. The Church of the Cannonball wouldn’t dare break their promise; the consequences would far outweigh the million Echo Notes they were paying.

“Captain Charles, I heard your First Mate has left the ship?”

“What does that have to do with this matter?”

Charles frowned slightly and tucked the contract into an inner pocket of his coat.

“Of course, that’s perfectly fine,” Charles replied. “However, to ensure you complete the mission quickly, the Cannonball Cult has specially selected a First Mate to accompany you. He has extensive sailing experience, so please don’t refuse him.”

Charles frowned slightly as he looked at the bald man before him. “Are you trying to spy on me?”

“Not at all. He’s merely here to guide you. The island is quite remote, and we were worried you might have trouble finding it.”

Charles wasn’t particularly concerned. Their interests aligned for the moment, and even if these people were crazy, they wouldn’t send someone to deliberately sabotage the mission now.

“We’ll depart in three days at six o’clock.”

With that, Charles turned and left immediately.

This wasn’t a simple cargo transport; it was bound to be dangerous. He needed to prepare thoroughly. Moreover, he should use this opportunity to gather more information about the mission.

Three days later, the harbor was already bustling with activity, workers swarming like ants to haul cargo.

Charles stood at the bow, waiting, while the other crew members idled on deck, chatting casually. Among them were two unfamiliar faces, both newly arrived deckhands. Dip, the former deckhand, had already been promoted to Boatswain.

The suddenly promoted youth looked thrilled, hands clasped behind his back as he lectured the new deckhands like a seasoned veteran, despite them being much older than him.

The First Assistant Engineer and Cook beside him were less naive. They knew this mission wouldn’t be as simple as it seemed.

“James, I thought you’d be getting off the boat with John too,” said Fred, the bamboo-thin cook.

“The Captain saved my life. He’s my savior. Wherever he goes, I’ll follow. Besides, he said the compensation for this mission will be substantial. With that money, I can finally propose to Monica.”

The burly cook’s face glowed with happiness as if he were already picturing the wedding.

“What if you die? This isn’t just a cargo run. Strictly speaking, island exploration is the work of explorers.”

“I’m not afraid. Going with you all doesn’t sound so bad.”

The First Assistant Engineer suddenly turned to his colleague, as if remembering something. “Fred, why did you come?”

“You know my personality. I hate moving.”

Fred said, turning his gaze to the Captain’s back. His eyes were filled with calm.

In truth, the reason he hadn’t left was that he had secretly glimpsed the Captain holding a rectangular object years ago. It wasn’t just a music box that could play songs; ghosts also performed plays on its surface.

He didn’t know what it was, but he sensed it was some powerful relic, and he guessed its price was tears. After all, the normally rational Captain had wept like a child that day.

From that moment on, he resolved to follow this Captain. He believed that following a captain with such a powerful relic would guarantee his safety.

In this Subterranean Sea, high pay was irrelevant, and the amount of work didn’t matter. Survival was paramount.

Ultimately, his choice proved correct. Nearly everyone who had set sail with him at the same time had died, yet he alone had survived.

Charles, standing at the bow, suddenly narrowed his eyes. From a distance, a group of black-robed Cannonball Believers was pushing through the workers toward the pier, led by a bald man known as Hook.

“Where is the person? Hurry, time is short.”

Charles’s expression was slightly annoyed.

Hook smiled and clapped his hands lightly. A man behind him stepped forward.

When Charles saw the man’s attire, he thought he was looking at a mummy. Yellow-brown bandages completely wrapped his body, leaving no skin exposed.

“You can call him Bandages or any other name you prefer. He served as First Mate and knows the island’s location. He’ll be of great assistance to the Captain on this voyage.”

“Is he even alive inside?” Charles’s tone was wary.

“Ha ha, don’t worry. He’s human—flesh and blood.”

Hook pulled out a dagger and slashed it forcefully across the bandages on the man’s face. Dark skin was visible beneath the loosened bandages, and crimson blood flowed from the cut.

“Black? Are there still black people left in this world?”

Charles looked closer and realized he’d been mistaken. The man’s skin wasn’t black, but covered in densely packed tattoos. The tattoos were so dense they gave the illusion of black skin at first glance.

Charles pointed at the Old Rat beside him with his finger, then turned and climbed the stairs.

Bandages, completely unconcerned about the blood seeping from the wound on his face, followed Hook up the stairs after offering the Cannonball Cult the proper courtesy.

The moment the two men boarded the ship, Hook extended his right hand and plunged the blood-stained dagger into the chest of the left-hand Cannonball Believer.

“Kuaaaah!”

A scream echoed across the entire harbor.

The other people in the harbor dared not intervene upon seeing the black robes of the Cannonball Believers, keeping their heads down and busying themselves with their work.

Disgust filled Charles’ face as he looked back at the scene. This was precisely why he had wanted nothing to do with the Cannonball Cult. He turned and shouted at Dip, who had rushed over to watch:

“Stop gawking and raise the anchor! Set sail!”

Hook yanked hard, seizing the throbbing mass of flesh in his hand. He approached the Old Rat, the ship, and began rubbing something against the hull, muttering under his breath:

“Get out of here now. Don’t touch my ship with that filth.”

Charles immediately drew his revolver and aimed it at Hook’s head.

“Captain Charles, if you accept this item, your ship will be protected by the Great Being.”

“I don’t need it!”

Charles rested his finger on the trigger.

Seeing that Charles wasn’t joking, the heart-holding Hook smiled faintly, bowed slightly, and stepped back half a pace.

“Captain Charles, we Cannonball Believers always act with courtesy and kindness. Why do you always hold such prejudice against us?”

Looking at the blood-soaked heart in Hook’s hand, Charles didn’t feel it was worth explaining.

Under Hook’s gaze, black smoke began to rise from the Old Rat’s chimney, and the ship slowly turned towards the dark sea.

“Dip, take the helm.”

After shouting at the boatswain, Charles led Bandages to the Captain’s Cabin.

A yellowed nautical chart lay spread across the table. It was crude, with only a few scattered islands marked in the vast expanse of black.

This was the only map they could buy at the port. More detailed charts were managed by the Explorers’ Association.

“Where are your supplies? How far is Coral Island?”

Bandages, his right hand wrapped in bandages, pointed precisely at a spot in the unmarked darkness.

“An unexplored area…”

Charles had anticipated this answer. If the island had already been charted, it wouldn’t be worth such a high reward.

“What does your Relic look like?” Charles pressed.

Bandages fumbled with his bindings for a long moment before slowly replying, “The Holy Lord’s statue, made of gold…”

His words were halting, but his voice, surprisingly, was young, like a boy in the midst of puberty, contrary to Charles’s expectations.

“Could that be a Relic?”

“……”

“What dangers are there on that island?”

“……”

Charles’s follow-up questions were met with silence.

“You’ll be in charge of the key now. Your shift is from midnight to noon. If you need to use the restroom during your shift, you can temporarily hand it over to Dip. I’ve taught him how to handle it.”

Bandages rose without a word and left the room.

Charles tapped his fingers on the table, organizing his thoughts. On the surface, it seemed simple: find and retrieve an object. But if it were truly that simple, the Cannonball Cult wouldn’t have hired outsiders.

The place must be extremely dangerous, and there were two possible reasons why the First Mate sent by the Cannonball Cult hadn’t given any clues. First, he might genuinely know nothing, with all previous envoys having sunk to the bottom of the sea and been unable to relay any information.

Second, the danger might be so immense that he was deliberately hiding it, fearing he would scare Charles away. Either way, it wasn’t good news. Now, he had no choice but to proceed one step at a time.

The voyage across the sea was stifling. The Old Rat was so small that their living space was severely limited. Fortunately, everyone except the two new deckhands had grown accustomed to it.

Charles was initially wary of the new First Mate, secretly keeping a close watch on him. But after spending a few days together, he discovered that this man, known as Bandages, was perfectly normal apart from his slow speech and peculiar attire.

When at the helm, he was remarkably steady and appeared highly skilled. Charles eased his guard slightly, but didn’t let it drop completely.

As the sea marks gradually disappeared, the Old Rat entered uncharted territory, a region not marked on any human nautical chart.

As the distant light disappeared, tension began to grip everyone on the ship. There’s a saying in the Subterranean Sea: “When a ship enters uncharted waters, the depths already have a place prepared for the crew.”

Yet, days passed without the fierce battle Charles had anticipated. The sea remained as calm as a lake’s surface, and gazing down from the bow, the surroundings seemed like still, black ink.

This tranquility offered no comfort. It felt like the stillness before a storm, suffocating and oppressive.

Charles maintained a state of heightened vigilance, patrolling the deck day and night, fearing something might rise from the water onto the ship.

The ship’s searchlight cut through the darkness like a pillar of light, offering the crew a faint sense of security.