Chapter 82 Ice Mist

Siman pulled him into the cabin and hid in the dim cabin. When the shift sailor passed by, he disappeared on the stairs heading to the deck.

"Can it float to us?" The companion answered his question with another untuning question, glanced around, searching for the landing point, and finally gathered on Siman.

It can be seen that he needs a little recognition, a nod, or a affirmative word, but Siman can't give it to him.

I have never seen large icebergs, and there are many large floating ices. Floating ices can often be used as references for movement. They have no sails, and their limited movement is not worth mentioning compared to the speed of the ship. After a while, they will be thrown behind them. The crew will know that they are a little closer to their destination.

He had never seen an iceberg, but he felt that an iceberg should not be an exception. From the simple logical reasoning, a negative answer must be given, but Siman did not want to admit this, "Who knows? Maybe it's not the same at all."

This statement effectively convinced his companions and Siman himself. The probability of encountering two large icebergs that were unseen for ten years on the sea was so small that they could not be calculated, but it was much more likely than the icebergs that moved at the speed of the ship.

The two of them then touched the last light and decided to take a nap. The manager of this batch of shifts was the captain himself, and the trustworthy old Binghai was at the helm of Becker. Maybe the matter was solved when they woke up?

With this idea in mind, Siman sorted out his not-so-dry hay pad, shared the frozen meat left over yesterday with his companions in the dark, and went to bed with his own praying that he would not see it again when he woke up tomorrow morning.

The fatigued day labor failed to make the evening more stable. The bumps and undulations of the ocean interrupted the already tossing and turning sleep. He heard the scattered footsteps coming from the deck above his head, and he should have been adjusting the sails again.

What I saw during the day emerged from my memory more than once, and was remembered when my sleepiness came, and coincided with my companion's panic expression. He recalled those scenes, the sails unfolded, and the ship was moving forward at full speed, throwing pieces of floating ice behind his head.

The thing on that sea line was not thrown away. It was too far away, so far that she couldn't see any details, so far that Siman could handle herself and her companions with not the same thing in the morning and evening.

In the corner of his heart that was not easy to detect, I had an idea that I had only looked at it twice, otherwise I would not be able to find an excuse to avoid it. But he could not realize this by himself, and he was just two icebergs that happened to appear in similar directions, trying to empty the complicated memories.

Waking up from a light sleep for the third time, Siman heard the conversation of other sailors from earlier sleep. They thought they had lowered their voices. In the gaps between waves, these sounds were like moonlight patches shining outside the small window, and the environment determined that no matter how weak they were, they would be noticed.

The content of the conversation was something that I dare not say when I could see the sea and sails. The waves that slapped the cabins covered up some of them. The first half of the whisper was swallowed, and the second half was like cold water dripping into the ear holes of a silent eavesdropping person.

“…It seems that it will get bigger in the afternoon?”

Unintentional words penetrated into Siman's mind. He couldn't wait to compare the memories of looking at the icebergs in the morning and evening, forgetting that he had just comforted himself that they were two different places. The dark shadows embedded by the afterglow of the sunset were really bigger than what he saw in the morning.

After half a night of sleepiness, he swept away his sleepiness. Only then did he face his heart, admit that he could not deceive himself, and regard what he saw in the morning and evening as two different things.

Siman felt that the hay was covered with moisture, and the water stains wet a large area of ​​close-fitting clothes. He touched him behind him, and the surface of the fur coat was as dry as before, and cold sweat oozed out at some point.

He turned over and reached out to wake up his companion, but found that the other party was not asleep either. There was no snoring, and instead he was irregular, long and long breathing, indicating that he was not calm inside.

Not only here, the cabin, which used to snore, was so quiet that it could hear the whispers clearly. I don’t know how many sleepless people listened to the conversation late at night, recalling the foreign object that was inconvenient to talk about in a place where the sails and the sea level could be seen, without saying a word.

"Blessed by Father." Siman pulled open his collar, held the winged ring amulet hanging around his neck, put it on his forehead, plugged his ears and waited for dawn.

The same prayer came from his side, and Siman knew that it was the other sailors, hoping that the power of the Father could extend to this wilderness without a church, to drive away evil, and to stand on the deck again tomorrow morning and not see it.

An atmosphere spreads in the cabin, and prayers are heard everywhere, and some are a simple verse or two. People who are more devout on weekdays can recite fragments of exorcisms in the sacred texts.

The sacred verses have some psychological comfort, as if this small space has returned to the civilized world, and the glory of the Heavenly Father protects His believers, although witnessing this devout prayer is nothing but a dark and small cabin, not a church dome.

After receiving some comfort, the feeling of fatigue surged up, and Siman made a promise to go back safely to the church to donate. Close his eyes and heard footsteps scattered on the deck, and the slogans in unison pulled the cables, and the sails were adjusted again.

...

Siman thought he would be woken up by the urging of the shift sailor at dawn, but he was awakened by the chill on his naked skin.

The light shining through the small window is no longer the moonlight, but it is not as bright as normal during the day. It is similar to passing through a layer of gauze, becoming soft and weak, only for the minimum amount of lighting.

Having habitually supported the bulkhead, the slippery feeling almost caused him to fall back into the hay. Siman took a deep breath, and the low-temperature water vapor that was so heavy that it made his breathing sluggishly drifted, as if he was sneaking underwater.

"What's the situation?" The moisture was heavier than before the storm. Siman wiped his hands on his pants, and the clothes he applied were stained with a cold and dampness. The feeling of wetness and coldness soaked in the untied collar. The sweat was not dry until last night, and the sticky clothes were close to the back.

He lowered his head and walked away from his companions who were not sleeping well. His hands and feet spread all over the floor were staggered, and Siman held the bulkhead toward the exit leading to the deck.

The unclear lighting conditions took him more time to look carefully at the road and spent several times more time to find the ladder.

Looking up, Siman did not see the slight morning light he was thinking, but a chaotic white area, the light above passed through a long barrier, and it was now at the end of his strength and was exhausted.

Rubbing his eyes in confusion, Siman moved to the deck, climbing up the slippery wooden steps with his hands and feet and dipping into the water, and climbing to the extremely quiet deck.

He finally knew what the heavy cold water vapor in his breath was.

Endless mist surrounded them, and the rolling thick white surged towards the ship, with the sharp and sharp chill of the ice sea, covering all the condensable surfaces, conveying the coldness to the skin and the mood of everyone falling to the bottom of the valley at this time.

What is limited with vision is the speed of the ship. The wind speed is so weak that it cannot dissipate the heavy fog. There is no need for reference. From the sluggish sails, they can see that their speed will not be able to get out of this boundless ice fog for a while.

What was going on? Siman wanted to ask the sailors who were nervously staring at the outboards of the boat on both sides, and the people on the stern of the boat made him give up the idea.

Captain Becker leaned against the roulette and stared forward, performing his duty to control the rudder. Hearing the footsteps, he glanced at Siman and waved his hand with a stern face to signal him to go to the substitute.

Such captains are rare. Most of the time, Becker is a casual chatty person. He likes to take a little lazy and let the first mate and sailor take over. Go back to the captain's room to enjoy leisure time. He will also chat with the sailor on the deck.

There are no reefs and undercurrents on the ice sea, and no matter how bad the vision is, it can be straightforward. It is not worth his attention when hitting the floating ice that is slightly bumpy at most.

"Go to your post, Siman, you are not on the boat for the first day." Seeing Siman hesitating, Becker spoke out to remind him, and his eyes under the brim of the hat seemed to see through his thoughts, "I have seen a lot of fog."

Siman walked behind the nearest sailor and patted his shoulder. The man turned his head, his hand firmly grasping the edge of the boat, unwilling to leave, and his fingers that had been in the cold mist for a night were unconsciously exerting force, as if he was about to tuck the wood.

He glanced at Siman and looked at the captain again, rather than leaving after being frozen.

"Don't stop when changing shifts!" Becker scolded them. Everyone could notice that this casual and good old man was not patient today. He was consuming most of his energy and not having time to solve the sailor's small problems.

Forced by the captain's majesty, the man reluctantly let go of the edge of the ship, his nervous and fearful eyes were not separated from the white mist, until he left the deck under the command of the captain and disappeared into the hatch.

"If you see something on the sea, remind me to turn in time." Becker ordered.

This sentence was a bit redundant, and Siman could see what everyone was on guard. He took advantage of the captain's gaze and touched the palm of the sailor next to him, which was holding the edge of the boat, "What are you looking for?"

He didn't think that this visible distance could allow the captain to discover small things like floating ice in time, and he couldn't be able to avoid them even if he found them.

The frozen lips stuttered out the answer I had already guessed:

"That thing yesterday."

"Blessed by Father." Prayer habitually blurted out, and Siman immediately discovered the bad sense of humor, and to some extent, yesterday's prayer was fulfilled in a weird way.

As the saying goes, the sailors hope that they will not see things on the sea level again today. Unexpectedly, the cold fog suddenly dropped overnight. Not only can they not see it, but they can't see anything now.

"last night……"

"It's closer." He knew what Seaman was asking, interrupted with a brief answer, staring at the fog intently, as if this could penetrate the barrier and see its tracks.

An iceberg that I had never seen before, or something that looked like an iceberg, came towards them in the vast sea of ​​ice that could not be seen.

Siman touched the water on the edge of the boat, lifted it across the air, without feeling the wind he wanted.

(End of this chapter)
Chapter completed!