Shrouded Seascape

Chapter 146. Photos and Charcoal

The soft click of the camera rang out in the room. Linda emerged from under the black cloth that shrouded her and the camera and handed the freshly captured photo to Charles, who was waiting by the side.

Unprocessed, the raw image was a vast expanse of white and had nothing to be seen.

Charles turned over the photo to reveal the black side on the back. Taking out a ruler and pen, he sketched a detailed nautical map using the Coral Archipelago as the anchor point.

A small pile of photos was already stacked up on the table next to him. Each and every one of them had the same detailed map drawn on the back. As long as anyone from the Divine Light Order got their hands on any one of these photos, they would be able to find this island of hope bathed in sunlight.

While he could delegate the task of drawing the map to someone else, Charles preferred to do it personally since he trusted his own hands above all.

"Captain, we're running out of film," Linda remarked in a calm tone.

"Hold on." Charles picked up the sunglasses next to him and swiftly removed both lenses. He then layered them atop one another and placed them over the camera's lens.

"Aim for that crack above and use up all the remaining film," Charles instructed.

He refused to believe that the Divine Light Order cultists would play dumb if such irrefutable evidence were placed before them.

Charles decided to give those fanatics irrefutable evidence; he aimed to tell them that the Land of Light that they had been yearning for was right here. If they wished to see their revered Light God, they better come over as soon as possible.

If there was any organization in the subterranean realm that was more desperate than Charles to find the Land of Light, it had to be the Divine Light Order that worshipped the Sun as their God.

The Order had vast influence in the Subterranean Seascape, and their intervention could dramatically change Charles' current predicament.

Putting aside the idea of building planes, should the Order offer their assistance, given their goal of reaching the Land of Light, they would likely mobilize all their forces to build a massive tower piercing the skies.

It was a trivial feat to them, and reaching that fissure could be accomplished much faster than Charles working alone.

Moreover, once the Divine Light Order disciples arrived, the threat of the Sottom pirates would naturally be resolved. In a face-off where both sides were on par in numbers, pirates were no match against fervent cultists.

Moreover, the number of Divine Light Order followers greatly outnumbered the pirates.

After finally finishing the last of his nautical sketch on a photo, Charles carefully stacked them together and handed the pile to the solemn-looking captain standing next to him.

"Monti, take these. I don't know your means of sending them, but these pictures carry the fate of us all. Make sure your father hands these photos to the lunatics at the Divine Light Cathedral and tell them that Kord is here and he has found the legendary Land of Light. These photos are the evidence."

The captain, Monti, received the photos, holding them with utmost care. However, he didn't leave and remained at his spot. Looking up at Charles, he said, "Three hundred nautical miles is a long journey. My ship doesn't have enough fuel to get us there. If we combine the remaining fuel from all thirteen ships, I might be able to make it."

"We can't have your ship going alone. Your vessel needs escorting, and we must ensure your safety," Charles asserted.

"How do we deal with the lack of fuel?" Monti asked.

Charles' gaze landed on the distant verdant forest standing under the warm sunlight.

"The lack of fuel? All of that is our fuel," Charles replied with a smirk while pointing an index finger at the forest.

Monti and Linda exchanged glances before Monti voiced out, "But none of us can go there except for you."

"There are many ways to block out the sun. Are we going to let the tail wag the dog? Even if there's no clever way, we can surely find a brutish one," Charles answered with a chuckle.

Soon enough, all thirteen exploration vessels placed their wooden pinnaces into the waters, and the crews rowed steadily toward the shore.

As they approached the boundary of sunlight, they plunged into the waters and overturned their boats to hold them above as they shuffled toward the shore. It was a surreal scene, as though land-bound submarines had sprouted legs and were walking onto the pristine white sand.

By the time they reached the shore, Charles had already set up a makeshift straw shed. Most boatmen aboard the ships dealt with the repairs and maintenance of a vessel on a daily basis; as such, constructing a pavilion that could block out the sun didn't pose much of a challenge.

Using the timber, palm leaves and banana leaves that Charles transported back, the shaded area was expanded rather swiftly.

In no time, a shaded area covered by leaves was established on Hope Island, and it was rapidly expanding.

Once the working area was set up, the crew got down to work. Making use of their land-bound submarines, they felled tree after tree and swiftly gathered the tough wood.

Simply transporting the fresh timber to the ships to be used as fuel would be pretty inefficient. So, it was imperative to turn them into charcoal.

Transforming timber into charcoal was a relatively simple task. First, they had to dig a pit in the ground. Then, they had to stack wood interspersed with layers of dry grass within. The final step was to seal the pit with wet mud.

They then lighted the bottom-most layer of dry grass through the opening at the bottom of the charcoal pit kiln, and white smoke started billowing from the vent. Under incomplete combustion, the wood would be swiftly carbonized and turned into high-quality fuel.

Under the shelter, charcoal kilns of various sizes were ignited. In less than forty-eight hours, the lush forestry had been scarred by Charles' ambitious project.

The once majestic and serene canopy had been reduced into bare stumps.

Environmental protection was far from Charles' consideration. His only concern was on maximizing the fuel output.

On the third day, the first batch of charcoal was ready and cooled down.

Charles eagerly dug a completely carbonized wood from the hardened mud.

Breaking it apart, he found that the charcoal piece had been thoroughly scorched. Its fractured surface had clear lines, and the color was a consistent jet-black throughout.

Charles was no charcoal specialist, but he could still discern that the produced charcoal was of good quality.

"Test them out in the turbines," Charles instructed as he handed the two pieces of charcoal in his hand to James.

The burly man nodded curtly before he gathered the charcoal into a sack and turned to head back to the ship.

By now, the straw shelter they had erected had extended into the waters. They could now directly walk from the island into the darkness.

Charles continued checking on the quality of the charcoal from the other kilns.

Just when he was checking on the third kiln, his peripheral vision caught sight of a silhouette dashing out from under the shelter to grab something from the nearby shrub and sprinting back into the shadows.

He recognized the individual in question to be his boatswain. He strode over and slapped Dipp on the back of his head. "What do you think you're doing? Do you want to die that badly?"

Only then did Charles notice the rusty piece of machinery in Dipp's hands. Judging from the item's appearance, it seemed to be something left behind by the Foundation.

A mischievous smile appeared on Dipp's face as he rubbed the back of his head. "Captain, it's fine. We tested it out over the last few days. Staying in the light for just a short while won't kill us."

Charles let out an exasperated sigh. He had always been wondering if Dipp had a few neurons short of a full brain. What was the point of risking his life to test out something like that? Just one mistake and his life would be cut short.

After sternly cautioning Dipp and giving the young lad a piece of his mind, Charles turned and walked toward the left of the shelter. He saw the twelve captains walking toward him, seemingly with something they wanted to discuss.

As usual, it was the ever-enthusiastic Feuerbach who spoke first. "Mr. Charles, my men have spotted freshwater nearby."

"And?" Charles raised an eyebrow. Given the lush greenery in this area, freshwater was undoubtedly present. Plus, the remnants of the Foundation could be found here as well.

The faces of the other captains lit up with ambition and greed. One of them quipped, "Can we talk about who will be the owners of this island?"

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