But soon, another embarrassing situation overshadowed his anxiety.
As Chen Zhou swam forward, the all-pervasive seawater seeped through the gaps into his not-so-tight underwear, quickly gathering into a large water balloon at his backside, dragging his underwear down.
This sudden mishap quickly stripped Chen Zhou of the last piece of clothing on him, forcing him to become a bona fide "nudist swimmer enthusiast."
Every inch of skin exposed, an odd feeling of being out of place surged in his heart. Chen Zhou wanted to grab his "free-spirited and unrestrained" underwear but worried it would disrupt his breathing rhythm, so he had to bite the bullet and keep swimming forward.
The 400-meter distance gradually closed with each breath, as the wooden sailing ship built in the late Middle Ages slowly magnified in Chen Zhou's view, becoming more distinct.
Not yet approached, the breeze carried the ship's rotting smell towards Chen Zhou.
This scent, mixed with the fiber smell of sun-exposed wood, mildew, dampness, a fishy odor, and a hint of decaying corpses, invaded Chen Zhou's nostrils indiscriminately, nearly bringing tears to his eyes.
Just as most men harbor a vague yet perfect impression of their first love, since first reading "Robinson Crusoe" in elementary school, Chen Zhou had always fancied this sailing ship.
After all, in the original work, this ship provided Robinson with over ninety percent of the help needed to survive 28 years on a deserted island, akin to Noah's Ark in the Bible, saving the life of the lost lamb Robinson.
Moreover, in the limited passages where author Defoe described the ship and life at sea, he never mentioned its shortcomings.
Everyone who read "Robinson Crusoe" inevitably viewed this ship as a "first love-like beautiful" existence in their kindled nautical dreams and adventures' fantasies.
But after all, it was an ancient wooden sailing ship, whose construction techniques and materials highlighted the style and flaws of the late 17th century.
The ship's core components were supported by a wooden keel, and thirty-six pairs of ribs constructed the 28-meter-long hull. Below the less than 6-meter-wide deck, thousands of angle irons reinforced the stress points, with rivets also present in the structures.
From the ship's side to its bottom, the external hull was bonded with tar and asphalt, and the gaps between the wooden planks and the cabin walls were filled with hemp fibers and tarred canvas.
The outer shell below the waterline was also covered with a thin lead plate, used to fend off wood-boring worms and marine wood-eating organisms that threatened the hull in tropical seas.
The primitive and outdated waterproofing measures turned the ship's hold into a damp, hot, and stuffy large steamer.
The cargo hold and ballast used to maintain the ship's balance occupied most of the space, leaving ordinary sailors to crowd into the large shared quarters below the ship's forward deck, living in cramped rooms partitioned by wooden planks or cloth curtains.
There were no indoor toilets on the ship; some relieved themselves at the bow, others at the stern, and some used buckets or relieved themselves directly in the bilge. Plus, the sewage slowly seeping into the bilge from the deck brewed a "feast" filled with the stench of feces.
The harsh and humid environment also created a breeding ground for germs.
Fever, dysentery, headaches, skin swellings, scurvy, oral ulcers, and even cancer, these diseases feared by all, frequently visited the sailors.
Hundreds of rats, and more cockroaches, centipedes, lice, and fleas, even mold and mushrooms, wantonly spread on this free voyage, crossing the seas to the New Continent.
The dark hold was their shelter for survival, and even if the crew fumigated the lower decks for pest control during port rest stops, it was to no avail.
As long as the environment remained unchanged, they could not be completely eradicated.
In the early days of the slave trade, the shadow of death always loomed over the sailors' heads.
Amidst the endless ocean, with poor sanitation conditions and horrifyingly rudimentary medical means, their mortality rate was no less than that of the "dark-skinned cargo."
But in pursuit of the dream of getting rich, for that land paved with gold, flowing with milk and honey, full of opportunities—the New Continent—there was no shortage of people taking risks.
The sailors were long forced to accept the harsh environment and jokingly referred to the foul smell in the hold as the "breath of Hell" or "Demon's scent."
By comparison, perhaps Chen Zhou should feel lucky.
After all, he was only superficially experiencing the "charm" of the ship's exterior, not living year after year on this ship, enduring the baptism by wind and waves, facing the ocean's capriciousness.
Enduring the pungent smell, Chen Zhou slapped the water, craning his neck upward to gaze, and soon found the dangling cargo rope loop near the bow.
The loop was tied at the top to a sturdy anchor chain, its lower end about half a meter above the water surface.
The rope was woven from four hemp cords, nearly as thick as a small wrist, with a surface black and glossy, emitting a faint salty fishy odor.
Finally seeing this rope loop, Chen Zhou's suspended heart finally settled down.
Before this, he had always worried that the challenge details might deviate from the original work.
After all, this was a real world, and the occurrence of accidents was inevitable.
A sudden gust of wind, a few active seabirds, an old and neglected hull, or a broken anchor chain could all change the rope loop's position or even cause its disappearance.
Such unexpected events could at least alter his plans or at worst cost his life, so anxiety was naturally unavoidable.