Day Forty-Five: Another Exploration of the Ship’s Cabin (Part One)

Last night, I couldn't tell whether it was the cold or fear that kept me awake, but I heard the two little wild boars squabbling several times.

This morning, I found my left hand much improved—at least I could move it freely, and as long as I avoided touching the wound, there was no intense pain.

So I decided that today I would search the boat for some planks or something similar to build a shelter for the young wild boars.

The shelter must be waterproof; otherwise, I fear the piglets might fall ill and die. The pen must also be sturdy enough, for once they grow bigger, they might easily break out if it isn’t strong.

I tucked the pistol into my makeshift vine belt, slipped the wrench in as well, and carried the knife in my hand—once bitten by a snake, one fears even a rope for ten years. That’s exactly how I feel now.

For safety’s sake, ever since I learned wild boars roam here, I’ve grown extremely cautious. After all, just the other day, my carelessness nearly sent me to the gates of hell.

The seaside in the morning is the most comfortable. The sea breeze is cool against my skin, the air carries a salty tang, and breathing it in brings a cleansing, invigorating sensation.

I must admit, there’s a lot of trash along the shore, mostly plastics. Unable to decompose naturally, they drift across the sea and eventually wash up here, swept onto the sand by the tides.

Today, beside this reef, the beach is scattered with plastic bottles and slippers.

And fishing nets, too—there’s always so many of those. I don’t know why they frequently appear; since I arrived on the island, I’ve never seen a fishing boat nearby. Where do they come from?

But it’s not something I dwell on. For someone starved of resources, this rubbish is treasure. The key is figuring out how to make the most of it.

I picked up the fishing nets and plastic items one by one, wrapping them together in a net.

Later, I placed them under a nearby coconut tree, intending to take them back together.

Inside the cabin, the air was even more stale than before, with a strange, indescribable odor added to the mix.

The stench, combined with the damp, corroded, and moldy smell, was unbearable.

It must be that it rained two days ago, and yesterday’s intense sunlight turned the whole boat into a kind of steamer, evaporating the rainwater that had pooled at the bottom and mixing it into the cabin air.

Perhaps that’s why.

My first thought upon entering was to dismantle the cabinet. It looked wooden, but I knew it must be made from pressed plywood, just like the cabinets in my home.

Because it was plywood, it gave me a headache—if I smashed it apart carelessly, it would just become a pile of useless scraps, which wasn’t what I wanted.

While I was agonizing over it, I glanced into the cabin—and unexpectedly, that casual look led to a new discovery!

My mood shifted sharply with this surprise.

Suppressing my excitement, I walked over to investigate.

“Heavens, how did I miss this last time!” I berated myself. It was hung in such a prominent spot, yet I’d failed to notice it—how careless I was.

It hung on the cabin wall, gleaming with a chilling light; its edge was finely honed and terrifyingly sharp.

I ran my finger lightly along it—it was indeed razor-sharp.

I took it down and stepped outside to examine it more closely.

It was an axe, likely a fire axe; the handle was painted red near the grip, and part of the blade was white.

It was nothing like axes I’d seen before. The top had a sharp protrusion, almost like a sickle, but with no cutting edge, just a pointed tip.

The blade itself was an irregular quadrangle, and the very front was flat.

I hefted it—it was quite heavy.

I guessed that the people on the fishing boat used this axe to chop through ropes and such, or perhaps in emergencies, to escape—a fire on the boat, for instance.

I felt that with this axe, I could easily smash the cabinet, maybe even carve a hole in the cabin wall.

The skeletal remains at the cabin entrance still lay there, reeking—but for the sake of materials, I endured it.

I was about to remove a few panels from the cabin door when I suddenly noticed the fishing net covering the bones shift slightly.

Instantly, cold sweat broke out all over me!

I saw it clearly and unmistakably—it couldn’t have been my imagination.

It moved…

My scalp tingled, tightening around my skull.

I was highly tense. Though I profess to be an atheist, I still harbor a fear of the unknown.

Fighting the urge to flee, my reason struggled to persuade me.

“Don’t be afraid. When a person dies, the light goes out—they don’t come back.”

“Running before you even see anything? Coward!”

“Is the gun at your waist just for show? The knife? The axe?”

…

Thoughts flashed through my mind, halting my impulse to flee.

What was it, really? Overcoming my fear, curiosity surged to the fore.

Reason and impulse battled inside me—should I lift the net or not? The question circled in my mind.

Another faint rustling sounded, and the center of the net covering the bones bulged again.

To be honest, by this point, my fear had faded; curiosity had taken over entirely.

I slowly extended the axe toward the net—truthfully, I was still a little scared, worried some odd creature or hideous insect might leap out.

As soon as the axe touched the fishing net, several spots began to wriggle.

“Damn!” Focused as I was, I jumped, instinctively pulling my hand back.

Before I could react further, a swarm of red crabs scattered from beneath the net.

“Whew.” I hadn’t expected to be so startled by such a thing!

But I let out a long breath, and the tension and curiosity vanished.

This was my fourth time aboard the boat. The first time, I took a box and witnessed my first scene of carnage.

The second time, under threat and searching for anti-inflammatories for Little Black, I hurried away.

Later, delays kept me from returning to claim my treasures.

It was only on the third visit that I finally found much longed-for food, but after barely settling in, I was injured and forced to postpone everything until today.

I would not leave behind any usable material on the boat—whatever I could take, I would, unless it was impossible to remove…