"Hmm...... Looks like you slept well last night. The steward said as he ate.

"I had some strange dreams." While eating, Bamkris told him about his dream last night:

In the dream, a storm hit the ship.

As the storm approached, and for a few hours they were lucky enough to run in front of the wind, when the western sky changed, then gray, and finally black, and a dark wall of clouds loomed behind them, tumbling like a pot of milk that had been boiling on a fire for too long, and Bam Criss was careful not to stand in the way of the captain and crew at the bow of the ship.

The final storm was thrilling, and a sudden gust of wind made him feel clean and cheered up, but this time it felt completely different. The captain sensed it too, and changed the route from northeast to due north, trying to get away from the storm's route.

It was a futile attempt, the storm was too big, the sea around them became more violent, the wind began to roar, and it tore high and low with the huge waves that hit the hull, and behind them was the lightning that tore through the sky, and across the sea was the purple dazzling electric light dancing in the grid, followed by thunder.

"It's time to hide." Bamkris went back below deck.

The dogs were all half-mad with fear, barking, barking, barking, barking, knocking Bam Criss to the ground when he entered the door, a pig pooping everywhere, Bamcris trying to clean up the filth as the crew tried to calm the animals, and then they bound or took away anything that was loose.

"I'm scared," one of the crew confessed, and the cabin began to tilt and jump, staggering as the waves hit me.

A worse way to die than drowning is, "We should play a game," Bamkris suggested. "That could divert our attention from the storm."

"Do you think it's just a storm game?" Another crew member asked rhetorically, no one heeding Bam Chris's suggestion.

The hull creaked, the deck shook, the pigs screamed sharply when they felt the danger, and a crew member climbed over the cabin floor, put his arm around the sow's head, whispered reassurance, looked at the two of them, it was hard to say who was comforting whom, the scene was so absurd that it should have been funny, but Bamcris couldn't laugh, he looked for the wine glass, and found that all the rum was spilled, and it was bad enough to be drowned, he thought sourly, but sober and sad drowning was too cruel.

In the end, they were not drowned...... But there were a few beautiful and peaceful prospects of drowning that looked more attractive, and the rest of the time storm continued to rage into the night, and the damp wind howled around them, and the waves were about to tear their decks apart like the fists of the drowning giants, and they later learned that two sailors had been thrown off the deck, that the ship's cook had been blinded by a pot of hot oil, and that the captain had broken his legs when he had been thrown to the deck from the front building, and below, the dogs barked and bitten, and the pigs began to again, Turning the cramped, wet cabin into a pigsty, Bamkris struggled to avoid retching and joining their army, thanks to not drinking wine.

By midnight the wind had subsided, and the sea had become quiet enough for Bamkris to climb back to deck, but what he saw there did not diminish his worries, the ships drifting on the sea, starry overhead, but the storm around them was still raging. Everywhere he looked, the clouds rose up like black mountains, their tumbling slopes and massive cliffs mixed with blue-purple lightning, and though it wasn't raining, the decks were wet and slippery.

Bamcris heard the hysterical screams of fear in a shrill voice below deck, and he also heard the rising prayers, and in the middle of the ship, the crew was desperately wrestling with the messy ropes and soaked canvas, but whether they were trying to raise it or lower it was not clear to him, whatever they were doing was not a good idea in his opinion, and it turned out to be so.

The wind swept across his cheeks like those whispering menaces, cold and damp, fluttering the soaked sails and rolling the crimson robes, Bamkrist's instincts reminded him to grab the nearest railing in time, and for two seconds the breeze evolved into a howling gale, followed by a torrential rain, and there was darkness all around, and everything was invisible, the front and rear ships were hidden under the rain wall, something huge swept overhead, and Bam Criss happened to see the sails open while the two men were still hanging on the ropes, and then he heard a cracking sound. Oh, he reacted, it must have been a mast.

He found a rope and clung to it, and struggled to get out of the storm and descend below, but a gust of wind lifted him from the ground and threw him to the fence, and he grabbed it, and the rain whipped its face so that it could not open its eyes, and his mouth was once again filled with blood.

Then, the mast shattered.

Bamkris didn't see it, but he did, followed by a cracking sound that caused a shriek of twisting wood, and in an instant the air was filled with wood shards. One of the flying pieces of wood was barely half an inch to his eye, while the other was stuck in his neck, and he screamed, but still clung to the rope, he could not believe that he still had the strength to do so, that perhaps the ship would never reach its destination, and then he laughed wildly and hysterically at the roar of the waves and the groans of wood.

When the storm subsided, the surviving crew crawled back to the deck like worms wriggling to the surface after the rain, and it was completely in tatters, barely floating on the surface of the water and tilting a lot, the hull was riddled with holes, the cabin was almost submerged by the sea, the mast was only a barbed pile, even the bow statue was not spared, and many people were missing.

The captain died the next day, and the cook only lasted three more days, and all the crew could do was make sure the tattered was floating.

The food and water dwindled day by day, and they drifted like this for many more days, the sun roasted them mercilessly, Bamcris kept getting food for the crew who were huddled with pigs and dogs in the cabin, he limped and dragged his legs, and at night he inhaled from his wounds, and when he had nothing else to do, he would poke his toes and fingers, and the mercenaries insisted on sharpening their swords every day until it was cold and shining, and someone lit a night fire after the sun set, where did they get the fuel...... Demolished the mast for firewood?

But when they led the crew in prayer, they would put on their richly decorated armor, and the spears never left their hands, and now no sailor was in the mood to make any jokes.