CHAPTER 12: A DELAYED VOYAGE, PREPARATIONS FOR THE ENDLESS OCEAN ⛵🌊🔥
Several weeks had passed since the day they first planted the ship's frame into the sand. Now, at last, the vessel stood complete. Its wooden hull was solid, the animal-hide sail stretched tight, and several simple crates were lashed firmly to the deck. Most importantly, the ship could bear Rocky's immense weight without bending even slightly. 🪵⚓
Erik inspected every joint with a sharp, practiced eye. He tapped each plank one by one, listening the way a mechanic listens to an engine's heartbeat.
"It'll survive the open sea," he said quietly. "As long as we don't act foolish."
Inside one of the crates, Erik stored something that seemed trivial yet vital: lemons. 🍋
"I'm not dying slowly from some stupid disease," he muttered as he placed the yellow fruits inside. "At sea, your body can rot from the inside before you even realize it."
That morning, the waves were calm. The sky was clear, and the wind gentle. It was a perfect day to sail. Rocky positioned himself behind the ship, ready to push it into the water. Sand shifted beneath his massive feet.
Then, just as the hull was about to touch the first wave, Arden froze.
"Wait."
Erik turned. "What is it?"
Arden stared at the sea, then at the half-empty crates on the deck. His expression hardened with sudden realization.
"We don't have enough long-lasting food. Weeks in an ocean with no ports… we'll die before we ever see land again."
The sea breeze whispered, as if agreeing. 🌬️
Rocky stopped pushing.
The voyage was delayed.
The days that followed were filled with work more exhausting than building the ship itself: hunting and preserving food.
Erik and Arden ventured deeper inland, hunting wild cattle and other large beasts. The meat was not eaten right away. Fat, muscle, and bone were separated with care. 🔪
Arden focused on making sausages from cleaned intestines, washed repeatedly, cured in salt and simple herbs, then slowly smoked over low fire. The flames were watched day and night to keep the heat steady. Thin smoke hung over the shoreline, carrying the sharp scent of meat. 🔥
Erik went even further.
He ground beef finely, mixed it with salt, and dried it on wooden racks, sliced thin like shards.
"This isn't luxury food," he said as he flipped the drying strips. "But it's survival food. Lasts for months. Small, dense, and life-saving."
Rocky worked without rest. He carried firewood, guarded the flames, and stood watch against wild beasts. His stone body loomed like a watchtower at the edge of the camp. 🪨
Days later, the crates were full.
Sausages hung neatly. Dried meat was packed tight. Lemons were stored separately. Fresh water had been filtered and sealed.
On the night before departure, they sat beside the campfire. The dark sea stretched endlessly before them. 🌌🌊
There was no laughter. Only the heavy silence of those who knew that tomorrow would change everything.
Arden looked at their ship.
"Tomorrow," he said softly.
Erik nodded. "Tomorrow, we leave the land."
Rocky gazed at the ocean, his voice deep and calm. "And we do not know when we will return."
The fire dimmed. The stars shimmered.
At dawn, they would sail into an ocean that showed no mercy.