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As the darkness deepened, the cold of the night became unbearable for the group, who were not used to such conditions, forcing them to take refuge inside the ship. The icy wind cut through their clothes, making Terry shiver despite the thick layers he wore.
Once in their cabin, they shed their heavy coats and headed towards the ship’s dining room for dinner. The dining area was small and plain, showing signs of wear from years of use. The metal tables and benches were scratched and smeared with oil from dirty hands. The white-painted walls were peeling in places, revealing the metal beneath. A small window, fogged by salt and time, gave a faint view of the shimmering sea under the full moon. The overhead light flickered, casting faint shadows around the room.
Tonight’s menu, as usual on the ship, offered only one option: a hot soup made from cheap cuts of guanaco meat and vegetables—parts deemed unfit for commercial sale by the town’s butchers. The sight and taste of the dish were far from what they were used to or would have chosen, but it helped warm and fill them.
After dinner, around nine o’clock, they headed back to their cabin, agreeing to take turns keeping watch every four hours.
Alexander took the first shift. He stood on deck, his eyes fixed on the moonlit landscape and the mountain peaks that stood out against the starry night. Wrapped in his heavy coat, with his collar turned up and his head tucked inside, his breath fogged up his glasses in the icy air, so he took them off and carefully placed them in his inner pocket, close to his heart.
Around midnight, his attention was drawn to a sudden flurry of activity on the ship. Five crew members took positions around the vessel, moving with an air of tense alertness. Alexander’s mind raced, recalling historical accounts of pirate threats in these waters and the lawless stories he’d read in his youth.
Curiosity gnawed at him. He cautiously approached a sailor at the stern, the ship rocking heavily from the waves. When he asked about the commotion, the sailor, with a calm and steady voice, assured him it was just routine—a precaution taken every time the ship entered these waters.
“When there’s enough moonlight, it’s possible we might be attacked by pirates. It’s easier for them to navigate their boats in the dark.”
Indeed, the brightness of the moon tonight was strong, bathing the ship in an ethereal glow.
As Alexander turned to return to his post, he noticed something beneath the sailor’s fur coat—the distinct outline of a relic from a bygone era: a military-grade automatic rifle! The sight sent a shiver down Alexander’s spine, shattering any illusion of a carefree voyage.
“You have a gun?” he asked.
“It’s either them or us, señor,” the sailor replied nonchalantly. “In your lands, thieves and murderers are hunted. Here, south of Punta Arenas, it’s their paradise.”
“Have you killed people?” Alexander asked, disturbed and shocked by the sailor’s casual demeanor.
The sailor smiled knowingly, asking a question to which he already knew the answer, seeing Alexander’s unease. “First time in these parts?”
Alexander nodded, tightening his coat as he returned to his position, doubting whether he would be able to sleep after what he had learned.
The sailor’s words echoed the harsh reality of lawlessness in the southern seas, in places beyond Daemon’s influence. The sailor’s indifference hinted at the routine nature of such encounters, leaving Alexander to grapple with a hard truth. They were in a world where survival meant having the deadliest tool. The high cost of their journey was starting to make sense.
At one o’clock, Alexander woke Terry and shared the unsettling revelations with him. He then took his place on the bottom bunk, trying to sleep.
Dressed warmly, Terry stepped outside, his anxious gaze following the crew’s activity as his eyes scanned the sea’s surface for any sign of movement. His philosophical mind found solace in the teachings of Epictetus, about endurance in hardship and maintaining calm. Thankfully, the night passed quietly, interrupted only by the waves crashing against the ship’s hull.
As dawn approached, the sky began to lighten, casting a soft glow over the landscape. The tension that had gripped the ship throughout the night began to ease, replaced by a sense of cautious optimism. Terry decided to remain on watch a little longer, just until daylight made them safer.
At six, the light was strong enough to reveal the horizon clearly for miles. The sailors who had stood guard all night withdrew, and everything seemed to return to its normal rhythm.
Terry gently woke Ria with a kiss on the cheek, choosing not to tell her what had happened during the night, to avoid worrying her. Ria’s face and almond-shaped eyes were swollen with sleep, a sign of good rest. Afterward, he lay down on the top bunk to rest while Ria splashed water on her face, got dressed, and went outside.
When Ria took her watch, there were still about three hours of sailing left, as they had estimated, before they reached Tolhuin. The day was clear, despite the biting cold that made her cheeks flush.
The ship sailed through the Strait of Azopardo, an area that had once been land, with the namesake river connecting Lake Fagnano to the sea. Now, the river and lake had merged, and the narrow passage had become a canal, its width ranging from four hundred to twelve hundred meters.
The light conditions now allowed for a clear view of everything. On her right, Ria noticed a group of about ten men moving parallel to the ship. They were no more than three hundred meters away. Almost immediately, excited shouts erupted from the crew, but since Ria didn’t understand Spanish, she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Within moments, armed crew members took positions on the side of the ship facing the men on foot. Without wasting time or hesitation, they opened fire on them.
Panic-stricken, Ria ran inside and burst into the cabin where Terry and Alexander had already been awakened by the loud gunfire. Panting, she described the scene unfolding outside, and together, they cautiously made their way to the deck to witness the chaos firsthand.
The group on land scattered, desperately seeking cover behind rocks. Two figures lay motionless on the ground, either wounded or worse.
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