Chapter 375: The Mess Hall
In the Narwhale's galley, Planck expertly handled the slender kitchen knife and neatly sliced through the slightly wilted cherry tomatoes on his chopping board.
Though his hands were occupied with chopping ingredients, his eyes were firmly on his assistant cook, who was washing the greens in the nearby sink.
"Eggers, rinsing them once will do. Hurry up! the crew's about to come to the mess for their meal."
"Planck, why is it a full vegetarian meal today?"
"We have been out at sea for quite some time, and these veggies are close to spoiling. It'd be wasteful if we don't finish eating them. So let's clear them first. Be quick!"
The turbine chamber was located right beneath the kitchen. Heat was needed for cooking, and such a setup was the most energy-efficient, but it also came with a trade-off: it was uncomfortably warm in the kitchen due to the burning fuel below.
Amid the sweltering heat, beads of sweat formed on the foreheads of the Narwhale's cook and assistant cook. After a period of hassle, they finally managed to finish the meal preparations just in time.
Planck dabbed the sweat off his brow with a towel. A smile of satisfaction appeared on his face as he watched the crew members fill the mess hall and enjoy their meals while they converse.
Even with his chubby figure, Planck was fit enough for the job despite its considerable physical endurance requirement. After all, the preparation of three meals daily for more than a dozen was not an easy chore.
"Hey! Fattie! Why isn't there even a single canned meat today? Are you saving it all for yourself or what?" a sailor grumbled in discontent over the served menu.
"Just eat what's on the table. These are the last of the fresh vegetables in our storage. After this, there will only be the mushrooms that I planted."
The sailor muttered a curse under his breath before reluctantly dipping a piece of biscuit into his vegetable soup and stuffing it into his mouth.
"It's the same old every single time. Veggies at the start of the voyage, canned meat and fish by the end. Not even a single leaf of green on the plate, and I can't even shit. Can't you balance things out a little?"
"Quit your complaining and eat up. If you don't want to eat it, then leave it for the mice," Planck retorted.
With that, the sailor stopped his grumbles and focused on his meal. It wasn't wise to offend the hand that feeds.
Though meals had been served, the cook's work was far from complete. Planck began to collect the leftover food from the crew's plate. He then mixed the scrapes with crushed biscuits and dried mushrooms before pouring them into a large basin set aside in the hall corner.
Squeakkkkk!
Having now returned to their original brown hue, the mice scurried out from the various corners and gathered around the basin to devour their meal.
Just then, a place stretched out overhead. It was Weister. He emptied the scraps on his plate into the mice's basin.
Together, he and Planck squatted in place to watch the mice feast on their food.
As Weister watched the mouse, he mumbled under his breath, "Have your fill, eat more."
He noticed that the mice displayed more order than humans; they were not picky with food and would eat anything that was given to them. After having their fill, they wiped their mouths with their tiny paws before scurrying back to their hiding places.
Suddenly, a touch of melancholy hit him as he watched the mice leave.
"Planck, say, Lily was fine all along; why would she pass away all of a sudden just like that? I was quite fond of that cheerful little mouse."
Plack let out a heavy sigh. His gaze turned to the crew, who were still eating in the mess hall.
"Let's not dwell on her passing. We're all in the same boat here. Look at those people; we have no idea who would be the unlucky ones this time."
Planck's remark caused Weister's heart to skip a beat. Suppressing his nervousness, he asked, "This journey should be safer, right? I mean, there's the Pope from the Divine Light Order with us and all."
"What effing use is there in numbers? Concluding from all my accumulated experience, in some places, the more people we have, the quicker danger finds us."
Just then, the sound of familiar footsteps interrupted Weister's thoughts.
He turned around and saw Charles entering the mess hall. The Captain seemed to be deep in thought.
Weister's expression shifted instantly. He immediately rose to his feet and said, "Planck, talk to you later. I I should head back to the crew quarters."
Weister then attempted a discreet exit. He lowered his head and stuck close to the wall, trying to make his way out without attracting any attention. Unfortunately
"Halt!"
the command sent a chill down Weister's spine.
Weister raised his head to meet a pair of eyes, one black and one white. Fear gripped him, and a chilly sensation coursed through his body.
"You seem afraid of me. What are you afraid of?"
"Captain! N-no! I'm not afraid!" Weister replied with both hands clasped tightly on his thighs, and every muscle in his body tensed up.
Ever since he found out that the lunatic that had been loitered in front of their house in the past was now the Governor of Hope Island, he had been worried that the Governor would recall all his memories from that period of madness.
Back then, he naturally wasn't kind to a madman. Disregarding the kick he had given Charles when his mother gave the latter food, he had even cursed and kicked Charles whenever Charles blocked his path as he was on the way to the docks for work.
If the Captain really recalled all these miserable encounters, would he even be able to stay on board?
Meanwhile, his explanation didn't dispel Charles' suspicions. In fact, it deepened them.
"Did we see each other a lot during the time I was mad? For some reason, you feel really familiar."
Weister's face paled instantly, and cold sweat started beading on his forehead.
"Th-th-that's because you spent so much time in front of my house, Captain. It's only natural that you find me familiar."
"Is that so? But something feels off." Charles took a step forward and gripped Weister's chin, turning it from left to right to observe the latter in detail.
"Erm, right! Together with my mother, we have always brought leftover food to you. Maybe that might be the reason why you find me familiar!"
Weister was screaming in his mind; he thought he was a genius to be able to cook up such a reason.
And it seemed like Charles bought it; he no longer paid attention to Weister's appearance and gently raised his hand toward his right eye. The black and red spider in his right eye leaped out of its dwelling and landed in his palm.
"Weister, is your mother doing well?"
Weister stared wide-eyed in astonishment at the spider in Charles' grasp, only snapping back to reality when Charles reiterated the question. Weister shouted out with awkward enthusiasm, "Great! She's doing really well! She is happy living on Hope Island!"
Charles acknowledged Weister's reply with a nod and moved toward the dining table.
"That's reassuring. I promised her a family portrait the last time we met. I'll make sure to find time and paint one for your family."
From the distance, Planck wore a look of ingratiation as he approached Charles and extended a palm-size fish toward the latter.
However, before Planck could get close, the spider in Charles' hand leaped off with its eight crimson legs. It landed on the fish and began to secrete digestive fluid.
As for what happened after that, Weister was clueless as he had used that moment to make his exit.
Relieved to have escaped from his run-in with the Captain, Weister let out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness he didn't remember that I had kicked and cursed at him, else I would be dead."
Cosyjuhye's Thoughts
Finallywe get some chill.
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