Chapter 381: The Sound of Cannons

Upon catching sight of the deeply engraved inscriptions, Lawrence and the first mate standing next to him experienced an instantaneous surge of surprise. The bizarre etchings seemed to hold a certain power, demanding the attention of those who beheld them.

The first mate couldn’t help but voice his astonishment, his question rising from the depths of his confusion, “Why does the statement ‘Humans only have two eyes’ appear here, inscribed into the stone?” His wide eyes bore into the mystifying message, attempting to discern its underlying meaning. A seemingly interminable silence stretched between them before the first mate could voice his perplexion again, “Isn’t this a basic biological reality? Aside from a few rare genetic conditions, don’t all humans possess just two eyes?”

Lawrence didn’t immediately answer, opting to deliberate over the perplexing assertion carved into the stone. At last, he broke the mounting silence, his question probing into the possible origins of the inscription, “Who do you believe might have authored this engraving?”

“Could it possibly be... the original inhabitants of this island?” The first mate speculated hesitantly, “There were people dwelling here before us, right?”

“It’s tough to confirm with certainty about this particular island, but it’s an undeniable fact that humans lived on Dagger Island in our known history,” Lawrence affirmed, his fingers lightly tracing the bold, deeply cut script. The raw, genuine feel under his fingertips seemed to reverberate with the forceful emotions and the determined intent that had driven the creation of the engraved message, “‘Humans only have two eyes.’ Someone purposely carved this phrase here, and it might symbolize something...”

“Symbolize something? Like what?” the first mate asked, his voice echoing the uncertainty in his mind.

“Possibly that this island was once inhabited by beings that were humanoid in appearance but differed in the attribute of ‘having only two eyes’,” Lawrence suggested, his gaze lifting to scrutinize the dense fog and the shadowy forms concealed within it, “These entities could blend unnoticed into human societies, avoiding straightforward identification.”

On hearing this conjecture, the first mate drew a subdued breath, his voice shaking slightly as he questioned, “Then... where did the author of this inscription vanish to?”

“I don’t know,” Lawrence confessed, shaking his head. His thoughts spontaneously veered towards the sticky black mud they’d come across during their exploration and the strangely deserted docking area. He pushed these seemingly unrelated thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing instead on the port office door, his hand resting on its handle, “Stay on high alert.”

The distinctive sound of firearm safeties being disengaged echoed behind him. As Lawrence composed himself, he gently pressed the door, gingerly pushing it open.

He deftly stepped aside, positioning himself away from a direct line of sight to avoid becoming an easy target for any potential threats hiding inside. The first mate moved forward, adopting a defensive crouch as he pointed his rifle into the room’s dimly lit interior. The sailors following them also raised their weapons, securing the door from various angles and vantage points.

The inside of the building lay enshrouded in an unnerving tranquility.

The first mate, positioned at the entrance, took a moment to steel his nerves before daring to peer into the interior.

“There’s no one in here,” he reported, his voice echoing in the silence, “Just an abandoned office, eerily well-lit.”

Following this assurance, Lawrence motioned to the sailors and, together with the first mate, ventured inside the vacant space.

The room was an unoccupied office devoid of any human presence. A few desks occupied roughly half of the room, with chairs arranged randomly as if the occupants had left in a rush. The overhead electric bulbs and the wall-mounted gas lamps were fully lit, casting a surreal, bright illumination across the room. One peculiar detail stood out – the floor was speckled with patches of the mysterious black mud they had encountered earlier.

“This dreadful sludge seems to have seeped in here too...” The first mate grimaced at the sight of the ominous, dark substance that contaminated the room, his face displaying clear repulsion. He skillfully sidestepped the mucky patches on the floor and proceeded towards the desks. His gaze darted over the cluttered array of paperwork and various office materials scattered haphazardly, “Captain, should we inspect these?”

“These are typical documents involved in port operations: cargo logs, staff transfers, patrol records, machinery, and equipment check reports...” Lawrence moved closer to the desks, briefly studying some of the papers. His brow furrowed in worry as he continued, “The dates... these are from just a few days ago?”

“It seems someone was operating here quite recently,” a sailor commented nervously, his voice barely audible, “Then they must have left in a hurry, not even sparing the time to tidy up...”

“A rushed departure?” Lawrence echoed, his gaze scanning over the disordered desk. An unfinished cup of coffee sat abandoned on a table, a thin layer of dust coating its surface. Near this table, a patch of the black mud had dried, some residue of the substance clinging stubbornly to a chair. His face adopted an increasingly grave expression, “Was it really an evacuation, or...”

The first mate caught the subtle change in the captain’s tone: “Captain, have you figured something out?”

Perched on the edge of a small inlet and buttressed by a rugged cliff face at its rear, the building exhibited unmistakable evidence of severe damage... it was clear that an immense explosion from within had led to its disastrous collapse.

From an elevated viewpoint, the first mate examined the remnants of the shattered structure, his voice filled with disbelief.

“What was this place... its magnitude is astounding...”

“Our focus should be more on the cataclysmic event that led to such an immense facility being obliterated without hesitation,” Lawrence retorted solemnly, advancing a few steps, “If the inhabitants of this island...”

“Stop,” a voice abruptly sliced through the air, causing Lawrence to stop in his tracks.

“Martha?!” He pivoted quickly towards the source of the voice, his tone imbued with a mixture of astonishment and apprehension.

But there was only the gently undulating fog devoid of the familiar figure he expected.

“Captain?” The first mate noted Lawrence’s unusual reaction and hurriedly scrambled down from his observation point, approaching Lawrence with visible worry, “What’s wrong?”

“...Hallucinations,” Lawrence admitted immediately, his face lined with severity, “Did any of you hear a voice?”

“We didn’t hear anything.” The sailors exchanged puzzled glances before one of them finally confessed.

“Perhaps it would be wise if we didn’t venture any further,” Lawrence suggested, his face adopting a thoughtful frown, “Let’s head back to the harbor first, and then...”

Once more, Martha’s voice echoed in his ears, but this time it felt closer: “Return to the ship, without delay.”

Lawrence was momentarily flabbergasted. He forced himself to resist the instinct to turn towards the source of the voice again. He was about to continue speaking when Martha’s voice interjected once more. This time it was as if she was whispering directly into his ear, her tone infused with urgency: “Get back to the White Oak, NOW! Lawrence, they’re coming!”

A fleeting expression of surprise darted across Lawrence’s face as he involuntarily shot back, “Who? Who’s approaching?”

The first mate tensely gripped Lawrence’s arm, “Captain, who are you conversing with?”

Instead of answering, Lawrence abruptly turned his gaze in the direction where their ship, the White Oak, was moored.

A feeling of dread started to bubble up within him.

And in the very next moment, a muffled thud reverberated from that direction as if giving credence to his growing fears.

It was the distinct sound of cannon fire.

“There’s cannon fire...” the first mate swiftly realized, “We’re under attack!”

“Back to the ship!” Lawrence ordered, spurring the team to dash towards the harbor. As the wind picked up its ferocity, swirling around them, Martha’s voice brushed against his ear like a soft whisper: “The Seagull has arrived...”