"Do you see it... is the sea turning red?" His voice was somewhat tense, instinctively lowered, yet it still betrayed his unease.
At first, it was only the edges that turned red, as if something was slowly stirring it open.
Then that red color quickly deepened, becoming murky and thick, with the waves reflecting a dim shine.
A fishy-sweet smell began to mix in the air.
On the supply ship at the rear, a new sailor, Billy, gulped: "This smell... something's wrong, isn't it?"
Beside him, a weathered old sailor spat, reaching out to press the brim of his hat down: "What are you panicking for."
The old sailor squinted his eyes, watching the white flocculent objects gradually floating up on the sea surface, his tone somehow confident.
"Remember, lad. If something really happened, we'd have been ordered to turn back by now. The fleet still sailing forward means this thing..."
The old sailor grinned, showing his smoke-stained yellow teeth: "Can't stop steel."
