December 30th

The weather is unknown, the course is unknown, there is no rain, a light wind, the temperature is cold, there are no waves, fog

On the forty-fifth day of the voyage, everything was as usual. (Logbook)

Today we are still wandering in the fog, two days have passed, and if there is any difference between today and usual, it is that we have finally found hope to get out. If the previous speculation is correct, we should be able to get out of this area by this evening.

The night before, after I had figured out how to get out of the sea, I had sent someone to be on the deck every day, day and night, in turns, to make sure that there was someone on the deck at all times.

And everyone's task is to feel if there is a sea breeze blowing nearby, and I have been looking forward to it and praying all the time.

There is only a very slim hope, but it is much better than despairing like this.

My Lord seemed to hear my prayers, and heard the thoughts of my heart, and finally, in the early hours of this morning, a sailor shouted on deck that he had found the sea breeze.

When I came out on deck and felt the wind, it was very small, almost negligible. But it was a real wind, and the breeze brought a gust of cold air that swept past me, after all, I had just come out of the relatively warm captain's quarters, and the cold wind blew my skin with goosebumps.

The wind was light, but it was a good feeling for me, after all the days had passed, and I had almost forgotten what it was like to be a breeze, except for the breeze that might have been brought up by pedestrians on the deck.

At that time, I even wondered if the wind just now was my own delusion.

The light breeze that continued to blow, and the fine layer of goosebumps on my arms seemed to tell me that it wasn't an illusion, but that there was real wind.

Since the course had long been lost, I could not be at all sure what kind of wind it was by relying only on the direction from which it was blowing, except that it was blowing from the port side of the ship.

I decided to turn the boat to port side, feeling the strength and direction of the wind along the way to determine the next course of the boat.

More and more evidence seems to tell me that the direction we choose is the direction of the exit, because, as the ship moves forward, the breeze blowing is gradually getting stronger, from a light wind that can only be faintly felt, to a breeze that can now be felt.

For several days in a row, the sense of anxiety brought by the dense fog, or the sense of urgency brought to us by the mermaids under the ship, or the mysterious sense of crisis brought to us by the crew who suddenly disappeared on the shipwreck, at this moment, was gently blown by the breeze, and most of it was instantly reduced by half.

I've been pretending to be serious for the past few days, but before I know it, I've finally eased up.

The sailors, who had a wealth of seafaring experience, naturally understood what this gust of wind represented, and the original sad face was instantly swept away, and their hearts were filled with the excitement that they were about to get out of this thick fog, and they became full of energy, and while they worked, they sang all kinds of classic sailors' songs, and interestingly, they sang and sang, and the tune became unified, and even I couldn't help but sing along.

We sang 'Brave sailors, sail away,' a very classic sailor's ballad, and the sailors of the Eastern countries might sing this song, right? I don't know exactly, but at least in all the coastal states west of the Union, most sailors sing this song, and the lyrics are written in Brandon.

I was in a certain port, and I don't remember where, but I heard a Carolingian captain sing this song, and they translated the lyrics into Carolingian, and it sounded strange, but it wasn't unpleasant.

As for the first time to go to sea, they were naturally very curious to see us so happy, and only after asking did they know what was going on, they hid their heads in black cloaks all day, and although I rarely had the opportunity to see their faces, their mannerisms and actions also revealed their relaxed mood.

Although these masters don't know how to sing the ballads we say, and maybe even hear them for the first time, they seem to be humming along to suit the warm atmosphere we have created.

It's just that this trip was not as smooth sailing as expected.

We didn't have time to rejoice for long, when the ship seemed to hit something hard and came to a complete stop.

The huge inertia makes us involuntarily fall forward.

This is not the first time we have experienced this familiar feeling, and in the past few days, we have encountered such a situation almost every day, and sometimes four times a day.

The original cheerful singing was completely stopped by such a blow, and then there was only a terrible silence on the deck.

I think we're going to hit that damn mountain wall again.

Sure enough, I looked up and saw that the position of the bow of the ship was vertically hit against a mountain wall, which was very flat, like a piece of tofu that had been cut with a knife, but what I saw in front of me was not tofu, but stones, all black stones, as for what kind of stone I had never seen, at least not granite.

But at this time, I was not disturbed by this habitual feeling, for I found that standing at the stern of the ship, I could see the distant mountain wall vaguely, that is, the concentration of the dense fog dissipated a lot at this time.

I glanced around, and sure enough, I don't know when I started, I could already see the sea more than ten meters away.

It can be a time-consuming task for the ship to turn around and turn around again, but it doesn't seem like a big deal at the moment, after all, as long as you can get out of this damn place, it doesn't matter how many times you hit it.

The fog was getting thinner, the wind was getting stronger, and the ship was still moving slowly.

We drove almost all the way to the mountain wall, and as our view widened, we realized that the mountain wall was not only on the starboard side, but also on the port side, two of which stretched diagonally ahead, but the end was hidden in the dense fog ahead.

The gap between the two mountain walls became narrower and narrower as the ship moved forward, from a few dozen meters to only a dozen meters now.

If it weren't for the constant cold wind blowing in front of us indicating that there was an exit ahead, according to this momentum, we would definitely feel that the road ahead was a dead end blocked by two mountain walls.

Because the speed of the ship was so slow, from the early hours of the morning to now, the sky has gradually darkened, and the night has come, until now, we are still sailing close to these two mountain walls.

After all, we were sailing against the wind, and no matter how hard we rowed against the wind, compared to the calm sea before, the speed was not much faster than walking. After all, due to the width of the canyon, even the traditional Z-line navigation cannot be done. (Captain's Diary)