Chapter 27: “Insufficient Reserves of Common Sense of Life”
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Duncan was disturbed by the unsettlingly barren sky, devoid of stars or the moon, marked only by a single fissuring rift. The bizarre sight of a “sun” ensnared within enigmatic runic rings troubled him even more. This peculiar sun merely illuminated the world beneath his feet, just one among billions of celestial bodies familiar to a man from Earth. Any strange distortions seemed confined to the sun’s rays. Beyond its glow, there might still be countless stars, each a beacon of endless possibilities.
Now, Duncan found himself under a night sky stripped of any celestial bodies one might call “stars.” There were no constellations, no lunar presence, no distant galaxies—just a vast, rupturing fissure casting an unfamiliar pattern of light and shadow that baffled him. This scar seemed to claim the entire heavens, constantly shedding an eerie glow that turned the Boundless Sea a ghostly white, reminiscent of snow.
Beyond the sun lay the vast expanse of the universe, hinting at the potential for more unimaginable anomalies. Duncan stood silently, gazing upward, his mind swirling with questions and theories. Where were the other planets? Had they never existed, or was the world he stood on located in a cosmic abyss so remote that its night sky was devoid of stars? And the ghostly gash in the sky, what was it? A tear in the fabric of space-time? A tangible celestial structure? Or simply a hallucination looming ominously over the treacherous waters of the Boundless Sea?
“Captain?” Alice, the doll, interrupted Duncan’s contemplation with evident concern. The ghost captain had stopped abruptly, and his expression darkened by the moment, alarming her. “Are you alright? Is there a change in the weather? Perhaps a storm approaching? I’ve heard sailors mention…”
“No, nothing,” Duncan muttered, then suddenly shifted his gaze from the sky to meet Alice’s eyes. His expression softened, as if he was trying to reassure both her and himself, “Nothing at all.”
“So, we…” Alice hesitated.
“We should move on. I’ll show you to your cabin—where you can rest and freshen up if you like,” Duncan said, resuming his walk with a composed expression as if the strange events of moments ago hadn’t happened.
The peculiar world continued to unfold its mysteries to the newcomer, and it seemed the oddities were far from over. Duncan realized that many more bewildering anomalies awaited him. If he allowed himself to be constantly surprised, his life would be consumed by an endless series of startling discoveries.
Drawing on the wisdom he had accrued during his years on Earth, Duncan found one life lesson particularly relevant in this odd situation: If a problem truly existed, it must be confronted and resolved. Ignoring a problem would not make it disappear. Similarly, the strange sky would not transform into a normal, star-filled one simply because he found it disturbing or questioned its reality.
The world, as it existed, had undeniable reasons for its current state. Every object, event, and circumstance present was an irrefutable reality; no matter how surreal or inexplicable these phenomena appeared, they objectively existed in this world. If Duncan could not immediately grasp them, that was his deficiency, not the world’s.
As the captain of the “Vanished,” Duncan believed he might have ample time ahead to gradually decipher the enigmas of this new world.
Alice was uncertain what had caused the captain’s thoughtful silence during their voyage. She only perceived a sudden, intense tension surrounding Duncan, which seemed to dissipate almost as soon as they reached their destination.
Duncan led Alice to a facility where she could bathe, a bathhouse reserved for high-ranking sailors. On a traditional sailing ship, such a bathhouse represented a “luxury,” not typically accessible to ordinary sailors.
In earlier times, life on a sailing ship was bleak, especially during prolonged voyages. The lack of fresh water, decaying food supplies, poor medical conditions, and mental health issues from extended periods at sea plagued every bold sailor who ventured across the oceans. Even on Earth, many of these difficulties persisted until the industrial age began.
Duncan knew that early Earth sailing ships often lacked sanitation facilities for common sailors. Personal needs were typically managed over a grate facing the ocean, taking care to note the wind’s direction, and maintaining cleanliness was a formidable challenge. Using spare sails as makeshift bathtubs and bathing in seawater were frequent practices among hardy sailors. Others in the sailing era might choose not to bathe for weeks or even months.
After all, compared to severe ailments like scurvy, plague, and mass hysteria from intense psychological stress, minor hygiene issues seemed trivial.
Yet ironically, on this feared ghost ship, these dreadful living conditions had been alleviated.
The freshwater tank on the “Vanished” appeared to refill itself automatically, the food in the warehouse stayed perpetually fresh, the ghost captain was immune to diseases, and Alice’s stiff neck wasn’t caused by their sea journey.
Apart from occasional spikes in blood pressure when confronted with Goathead, the ship turned out to be unexpectedly welcoming…
“The pipe next to the bathtub connects to the freshwater storage. You could draw water directly from it. The bathtub plug is hanging over there; please be careful not to lose it. We can’t provide heated water onboard currently, but I assume that’s not a problem for you,” Duncan explained the cabin’s amenities to Alice. These daily details were the outcome of his investigations and adjustments over recent days.
“Just being able to clean myself is enough; it’s uncomfortable when seawater gets into my joints,” Alice responded, showing her simplicity. She surveyed the cabin with a mix of curiosity and anticipation, listening carefully to Duncan’s explanation, “I’m just a doll, I don’t really crave a hot bath.”
Duncan had acknowledged her response with a nod, but his expression quickly morphed into one of puzzlement. He glanced at Alice, hesitating for a brief moment before voicing his query, “On that note, did you know how to bathe? Did you have that kind of… ‘life experience’?”
Taken aback, Alice paused to consider this, then answered with a note of utmost seriousness, “It should have been… okay, right? I could just disassemble my joints, cleanse them, and reassemble them…”
Duncan was momentarily taken aback. He looked at Alice, who met his gaze with a naive expression.
“Did you think about how you would piece yourself back together after disassembling?” Duncan asked, realizing the relevance of his seemingly casual inquiry. The doll standing before him, who had spent her entire existence confined to a box, genuinely lacked this kind of experiential knowledge. “I couldn’t assist you with that.”
Contemplating this new perspective, Alice murmured, “…That was a valid point.”
“Furthermore, I would have strongly advised against repeatedly disassembling your joints,” Duncan added earnestly, “Even if your bodily structure allowed for such actions.”
Alice appeared confused. “Why would that be?”
“Repeated dismantling might have led to them loosening or falling off,” Duncan voiced his concerns. He hadn’t foreseen the need to address such “trivial matters” when cohabiting on a ship with an enchanted doll. Such an issue had never been depicted in books, films, or television series. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to be strolling on the deck one day only to suddenly disintegrate in front of me. No one aboard this ship knew how to maintain doll joints.”
After a brief pause, he added, “Your neck problem was already severe enough.”
Alice visualized the scenario Duncan described and instinctively retracted her neck, “Ah, I see, I understood… I think I had a grasp on what I needed to do now…”
“That was reassuring,” Duncan responded, casting a dubious look at the doll who seemed woefully underprepared for the practicalities of life. As he turned to leave, he concluded, “I had plenty of tasks to attend to, so try not to stir up too much trouble.”
“Understood, Captain. Thank you, Captain,” Alice replied with a cheerful demeanor. Just as Duncan was about to exit the cabin, she suddenly called out to him, “Ah, one more thing, Captain…”
Pausing mid-step, Duncan turned his head slightly, “Yes, what was it?”
“Captain… I came to realize that you weren’t as intimidating as I initially thought,” Alice studied Duncan’s retreating figure, selecting her words with care, “Mr. Goathead described you as the most fearsome captain in the Boundless Sea, the most unpredictable calamity on all sailing paths, but…”
“But what?”
“But you came across as rather approachable and somewhat reminiscent of a… fretful parent.”
Duncan didn’t pivot to face her, merely stopping in place for a few seconds before questioning, “Where did you acquire this notion of family… Did you have a family?”
Caught off guard, Alice hesitated briefly before slowly shaking her head, “I didn’t believe so.”
“Then let’s abstain from discussing familial themes. Maintain a low profile on the ship, and I will organize your living arrangements on board.”
“Oh, okay Captain.”
Captain be guiding her to be introspective lmao. Thanks for the chapter!
Yup called it. He is becoming her dad.
the food stored in the warehouse remained in a state of perpetual freshness didn’t his dry meat go past prime ?
Yes