The gale pushed the twin-mast ship, rocking it on the ocean, and the sailors on the deck tied themselves with ropes to avoid being buried at sea with the next wave.
The storm blurred their vision.
"Damn it, our ship has a huge hole!"
The storm swallowed many voices.
With another "boom," the bow of the ship shattered like glass under the storm, and a giant wave hammered the bottom of the ship from an angle, lifting the entire vessel into the air.
Mayer felt disoriented, drenched by the incoming seawater, and a round object hit his face—it was an apple.
Then the splintered wooden debris scattered from the destroyed bow, like dense steel needles, penetrating his wet clothes and stabbing his skin.
However, the storm did not stop there. It was only the beginning. The sails, which had not been stowed away in time, turned into tentacles dragging them towards the abyss of death, flapping in the air and making the unstable ship shake even more.
