Surviving as the Captain of a Mad Cthulhu Deep Sea - Chapter 5

chapter 5

The Unseen

Chapter 5: The Imperceptible

Chapter 5: The Imperceptible

July 1st, Year 8 of the drift. Clear skies.

Everything remains normal, yet this tangible pressure is driving my crew to the brink of madness. Dip, that fool, is constantly kneeling on deck and praying to all sorts of gods.

I stopped him. The Gods of the Earth Sea are not beings to be served lightly. Speaking of them carelessly invites their wrath.

Fortunately, the Cook discovered a small mouse nest in the storeroom, diverting their attention. Watching them carefully feed the tiny creatures fills my heart with deep emotion.

They have companions, but what about me? Why am I the only one drifting alone? Being alone is truly lonely. I wish I had companions.

After the ink dried, Charles closed his journal and put it in the drawer. He reached to the bottom of the drawer and pulled out a square glass bottle filled with brown liquid, about the height of his forearm. He tilted his head back and took a long swig. The dizzying sensation eased the tension in his brain.

Charles had never understood why people liked alcohol before. It tasted like horse piss, after all. But now he knew.

An exhausted mind needed more alcoholic anesthesia. Yet Charles didn’t drink more. Two sips to relax were fine, but getting drunk could make him lose his resolve to return home.

Just then, a sudden cheer erupted outside. Startled, Charles hastily put away the bottle and rushed to the deck.

Boatswain Dip, his face flushed with excitement, rushed to Charles, dancing and unable to form a coherent sentence.

Charles gazed into the darkness beyond the ship’s railing. Under the beam of the searchlight, a massive object materialized before the bow of the Old Rat. It was an island. They had arrived at their destination.

As the steamship slowly approached the shore, the cheers gradually faded. Eight old steamships, large and small, were moored along the island’s coast. Judging by the corrosion on their hulls, the oldest seemed to be two or three years old.

The ships lay motionless on the water, like coffins floating on the sea.

“How… how can there be so many ships? Where has everyone gone?”

Dip’s voice trembled slightly with anxiety. No one answered his question.

As they gazed at the island again, a shadow fell over their hearts.

Charles, without rushing ashore, took Dip and James to the nearest steamship and boarded it.

There were no bloodstains, no signs of chaos. Fuel and provisions were plentiful. Everything was eerily normal, except for the missing crew.

Suddenly remembering something, Charles kicked down the door to the Captain’s Cabin and rummaged through every corner until he found a hidden journal.

January 11, 435

We’ve finally arrived. With the blessings of the Great Being, if we can retrieve the Relic and return, I will undergo the Anointing Rite and become a true servant of the Holy Lord!

This was the last entry in the logbook. The title suggested the captain was a believer in the Cannonball Cult. It wasn’t hard to guess that the cult had sent several of their followers to find Charles before he even arrived.

Charles ordered the crew to investigate the other ships, and they found the situation was the same on all of them. The captains’ logbooks recorded their final, frenzied moments.

As Charles racked his brain, unable to fathom the reason, Fred, the gaunt cook, handed him another logbook. “Captain, take a look at this. It’s different.”

The moment Charles opened the logbook, his pupils shrank to the barest minimum. The yellowed pages were filled with a chaotic jumble of words.

“Be careful! Don’t go to the island—they’re allies! They’re not human! They want to eat us! I hate it! We need to go back to the island—it’s safe! To the island!”

The jumbled, illogical phrases clearly indicated the writer’s mental instability. The journal sent a chill through everyone who read it, making them wonder what horrors the captain had endured.

Gulp.

Dip swallowed hard, his head hunched as he warily eyed his companions. The journal claimed the danger came from their allies—could that mean monsters were lurking among them right now?

Charles, sensing his thoughts, smacked him on the head with the journal.

“Don’t get any wild ideas. We haven’t even landed on the island yet.”

“Captain, should we continue then?” Dip’s voice held a hint of hesitation.

“Of course we must.”

They had come this far; they couldn’t give up now. No matter what dangers awaited on that island, they would not let it block their path home. If they had to die, they would die on this journey.

At least through the journal, they had gained one crucial piece of information: the island’s dangers might be as deceptive as the entity that had murdered the boatswain before.

“Once we land, everyone must stay within sight of another!”

“Yes, Captain!”

“Yes, Captain!”

The Old Rat slowly approached the beach. The rusted anchor struck the water, and the black smoke from its chimney gradually dissipated.

The wooden boat was lowered, and the entire crew approached the island together.

As they drew closer to the ominous island, Charles opened a wooden crate and distributed several flintlock pistols and revolvers he had prepared in advance. At the bottom lay tightly packed bundles of explosives.

He had purchased a special supply of items for this mission.

Once armed, everyone’s spirits immediately lifted.

Seven burly men, armed and ready, leaped from the wooden boat and strode across the beach toward the distant forest.

Though it was called a forest, not a single trace of green remained. The gnarled branches seemed coated in thick rust, and each trunk was grotesquely swollen in some places and suddenly sunken in others, as if afflicted with some terrible disease.

As they walked through the interior, it felt as if they were strolling through the human body.

The sailors knew their mission objective was the Shell God Statue, so under the torchlight, they constantly scanned their surroundings for anything that might gleam, but found nothing.

After walking a short distance, they noticed scattered footprints on the ground. The sight of human tracks brought a measure of relief to everyone. Footprints meant this path had been trodden by others, and was therefore likely safer.

Their assumption proved correct. The seven men walked for nearly two hours without incident.

When they gathered a pile of branches and lit a campfire, the tense atmosphere eased slightly.

The white bread, toasted over the fire, gave off a savory aroma, and as the sailors ate, they speculated about what had happened to the missing people.

“Do you think a monster ate them? Like one of the Sea Vampires?”

“I don’t think so. Some of those ships carried Cannonball Believers, and you know the Sea Vampires don’t usually attack them. I suspect there’s some other kind of danger on this island.”

Charles didn’t join the discussion, instead keeping a wary eye on his surroundings. This eerie forest was deeply unsettling. Apart from their own voices, there was no sound—no chirping insects, no birdsong.

The absence of danger on the island was undoubtedly strange. He had reviewed the records of many Exploration Captains, and not a single island above the Subterranean Sea was safe.

Even the Human Islands we inhabit now were only occupied after we had eliminated all threats through great effort.

The Coral Archipelago was no different. When humanity first encountered these coral islands, they discovered that the islands themselves were living organisms. It is said that over twenty Exploration Ships formed a fleet to wage a massive war against these colossal corals. Only after countless deaths were they barely able to kill the creatures and claim the islands.

“Enough talk. If you’re done eating, hurry up and search. The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it becomes.”

At Charles’s words, the sailors stopped their chatter, sped up their meal, and quickly regained some strength. Then, Charles and his crew set off again.

“Captain, will we get to ride a big ship when we get back?” Dip asked in a small voice, approaching him.

“Yes,” Charles replied.

“Wow, that’s great! When that happens, I’ll be able to manage over ten deckhands, just like the boatswain on a big ship. It’ll be different from now, with no deckhands under me at all.”

Charles glanced at the excited young man and smirked. Youth was a wonderful thing—always seeing the bright side of things.

Still, he had to admit they’d need to recruit some deckhands when they returned. The Old Rat wasn’t a large vessel, but having no deckhands at all was a bit absurd.

Charles and his group continued along the path, but the narrow trail seemed to stretch on endlessly.

If it weren’t for the scattered footprints on the ground, Charles would have thought they were walking in circles.

After nearly three hours of walking, their legs aching, the forest abruptly opened up before them, and the trees vanished. A stone structure, completely entwined with brown vines, suddenly appeared.

The building looked extremely dilapidated from the outside, and it was impossible to tell if it was a temple or a church. The wooden gate that should have been there was gone, leaving only a pitch-black void.

Charles pulled his bandage tighter, pointed at it, and asked.

“Is that thing inside?”

Bandages hesitated slightly and nodded.

“Probably… I think so… I’m not… sure… I’m sorry… My memory isn’t very good…”

Even without certainty, Charles decided to enter. At least the footprints on the ground continued straight toward the entrance, and there were no signs of disturbance, suggesting no immediate danger.

He turned to the First Assistant Engineer and the Cook.

“Alright, let’s all four go in and check.”

James and Fred nodded simultaneously and followed Charles with brisk steps into the building.

The torchlight illuminated the building’s interior. Contrary to its dilapidated exterior, the interior was remarkably clean and empty. The flat red floor was spotless, but the carvings on the walls sent chills down the spines of the intruders.

The walls were covered in layers of bizarre bas-reliefs, depicting grotesque creatures that defied human imagination, intertwined in a chaotic embrace. Some resembled hybrids of starfish and octopuses, with a single eyeball embedded in the center of their twisted torsos. Through their contorted postures, one could faintly sense a form of worship.

Yet these strange carvings failed to capture the attention of the three men. All eyes were drawn to the golden statue at the center of the room. This grotesque, tentacle-covered, human-shaped effigy was none other than the Shell God.