Peering out the window to get a glimpse of the sky, although it was quite dim, visibility was not an issue.
Taking advantage of the remaining daylight, Chen Zhou planned to start a fire in the kitchen to cook something, not only to warm himself but also to check the ship's grain reserves and fresh water resources.
Fortunately, his leather boots were quite waterproof, keeping the insides dry, saving him the trouble of finding new shoes.
Wearing a wide-brimmed hat against the rain, he dashed down the corridor, quickly entering the stairs on the side of the ship that led to the cabin's interior. After a moment to adjust to the darker lighting below, Chen Zhou followed the general direction according to his memory of where the chimney was.
The overhead grating used for ventilation and light was tightly shut, and the cabin relied only on small portholes on either side for illumination. Where light reached, objects could still be discerned, but where it didn't, it was pitch black, as if harboring some unknown demon.
Chen Zhou widened his eyes, wishing his pupils could gather more light like a cat's, enabling him to see more clearly.
The inside of the cabin was slightly messy, with all the cannons leaning towards the bow, skewed in a row, and some toppled onto the ground.
The large wooden barrels, once stacked neatly together, were also rolling all over the place.
The lower cabin was already quite narrow, further restricted by the cannons and barrels on either side, making it even more cramped.
Unfortunately, two gunpowder barrels lay directly in the path to the chimney.
Wearing Robinson's coat, which didn't fit well, Chen Zhou found it hard to move; the buttons fastened at the hem clung to his thighs, making it impossible to stride over the large barrels. So he painstakingly lifted the gunpowder barrels, moved them aside, and placed them against the wall, finally clearing a path.
As he approached a separate room by the wall, Chen Zhou suddenly sniffed, catching a whiff of a stench.
Moving closer, he discovered the source of the foul odor.
It originated from a small room in the ship's middle section, near the wall, the door tightly closed. The smell seeped through the cracks, reminiscent of decomposing corpses, with a faint hint of something rusty and bloody.
The rain had not ceased; in the dim and gloomy environment, the strange odor shook Chen Zhou's mind.
He tried to restrain his imagination from veering into horror stories, convincing himself there was no danger on the ship, nor any wild beasts detained.
But in this atmosphere, who could truly master the fear and unease lurking deep within?
Chen Zhou knew that the book never mentioned Robinson encountering any danger on the ship.
But then again, is there truly anything in this world identical in every respect?
Is it reliable to stake his life on trust in the original description?
What if there really were beasts or Cannibal Tribes who swam aboard in the calm early morning, hiding in the room to ambush him, leaving him defenseless and with no chance of survival?
To be safe, Chen Zhou quietly retreated from the cabin and returned to the carpenter's room to grab the crossbow.
After drawing the string and readying the crossbow arrow, he realized he still needed a melee weapon.
So Chen Zhou fastened Robinson's belt, chose a handy spot, and slung the thrusting sword at his waist, ready to draw it swiftly after the crossbow arrow was shot.
These two weighty weapons bolstered Chen Zhou's confidence.
Crouching low, he quietly retraced his steps back to the lower cabin.
With his right hand holding the crossbow in an aiming posture and his left hand on the trigger, ready to shoot, like a bandit entering a village, he slowly approached the foul-smelling cabin door.