CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. The sound of bullets being loaded echoed as the crew of the Narwhal gathered, their expressions tense.
The atmosphere on board grew increasingly anxious. Anyone who made their living at sea knew what it meant for the compass to be tampered with. When there were no stars to navigate by, the compass was the only tool that confirmed a ship's direction. If someone had sabotaged it, then all of their recorded data would be wrong—they were lost.
At sea, there is nothing more terrifying than losing your way. It means the entire ship becomes a floating iron coffin.
"Deep… Bandage… James… Linda… Audric…" With a grim expression, Charles held the logbook, quickly checking off the crew names one by one.
The headcount had neither increased nor decreased. After they cross-checked their duties, it was clear no one among the crew had assumed a false identity.
