A new file named "church" appeared in the Ghost folder, filled entirely with English text. However, this wasn't a problem for Qingmu; his English was excellent, so much so that he could even understand some outdated English slang. Although he was puzzled by his knowledge of so many foreign languages, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
The document in the file is indeed Captain Church's diary, but it's quite short. Logically, given that the research vessel has been out of the sea for so long and the captain liked to keep a diary, there shouldn't be only a few entries. I don't know if the diary was too damaged to be repaired after being soaked in water, or if it was filtered out of useless information and only this many entries remained.
Church's Diary, Part 1:
New Zealand winters aren't very cold. Look at my first mate, Anderson, he's only wearing a vest over his shirt, the sleeves rolled up high, revealing skin as bronze as his face. But I know his body isn't like that. He's quite pale!
He went fishing again, rod and bucket in hand. To be honest, his fishing skills weren't great. His method was only suitable for fishing from a small Venice gondola; this was the open sea, and the fish there weren't as docile as those in the river. But Anderson wouldn't listen to me; he just loved using his little rod and bucket, sitting like an old man on the rocks or the gunwale of the boat. I knew he didn't care about catching anything; he just enjoyed the feeling. Don't let his childlike demeanor fool you; he's a seasoned sailor with extensive experience at sea. If he weren't so passionate about fishing, I think he would have been a captain long ago! Instead, he's still my first mate, and maybe I'll be his first mate!
We've been in Port of Auckland for two weeks now. The Discovery has refueled and acquired some new equipment. The reason we haven't left yet is that we're waiting for an important person—the leader of this expedition team—Mr. Stephen Mr. Robbins.
I have no idea who this gentleman is, but everyone on the ship is waiting for him, so he must be someone important. However, I don't care whether he's a saint or a god; I just hope he has a good temper and isn't like Mrs. Larry, who's already on board, with her perpetually stern face, as if everyone owes her two hundred pounds.
Of course I know the Discovery is a research vessel, and the people on board are all scientists and professors. I respect them and wish them good luck. However, on the ship, they all have to listen to me regarding sea voyages, otherwise everyone will run into big trouble.
To be honest, I'm not too happy with the name of this ship. Isn't "Discovery" the name of a spacecraft? I can't quite remember, was it going to Mars or Pluto, but it was definitely a child released by NASA. I think it's better for ships to be named after navigators, like the Magellan or Zheng He —the names of heroes who conquered the seas are enough to terrify any sea monsters. " Discovery"? It's like we're heading not to the sea, but to the stars, to another universe. Good heavens, why do I have this vague unease? What's wrong with me!
Church's Diary, Part Two:
Auckland looks so vibrant! If I hadn't spent so many years sailing the Pacific Ocean, I would never have believed that the entire New Zealand is actually just one island. Of course, compared to where we're headed now, New Zealand Island is quite large.
In the days leading up to my departure from Port of Auckland, I've been observing my crew and trying to build rapport with them. Keep in mind, we'll be spending many more days together on the ship.
Our destination is 1,750 nautical miles from Port of Auckland, and it will take the Discovery at least six days to get there, assuming everything goes smoothly under the protection of the sea god. However, sea voyages are never so smooth, just like today, when it suddenly started snowing. This wouldn't normally be a problem; the New Zealand Meteorological Service told us not to worry, as there would be no severe weather within 300 nautical miles of Port of Auckland in the next few days, just a cold front snow.
But we were heading to a remote place 1,700 nautical miles away. Fortunately, we had scientists on board, and they contacted the United States Weather Bureau to confirm that the weather along the way wouldn't be too bad. However, the widespread cold front and snow still dampened everyone's spirits; no one wanted to leave, and of course, no one wanted to go back to Port of Auckland to take shelter, because turning back was not a good omen for a ship about to embark on a long voyage.
Seeing snow on New Zealand's North Island is quite rare. I've heard it snows frequently on the South Island, but I'd rather not go there. It's close to the Antarctic Circle, and there's often ice floes at sea. Sailing there isn't a pleasant experience.
We temporarily docked the Discovery at Port Fitzroy. Compared to Auckland, Great Barrier Island is much smaller. There are no bustling coastal cities or busy shipyards here; apart from the dark reefs, all you can see is the vast ocean. The way it snows here is quite different from Auckland, not to mention compared to the distant mainland.
We watched the snow all day long, and everyone was very excited.
Yes, the snowscape at sea is captivating. I've seen the raging blizzards of Siberia and Alaska, the snow along the River Thames as gentle as a woman's skin, the hard, resounding snow of the Alps, and the wet, melt-in-your-hand snow of southern China... but no snow has ever fascinated me as much as the snow of the Pacific Ocean.
When large clumps of cold, low-lying clouds are blown in by the wind, the bright sunshine, the azure sky, and the magnificent cold clouds complement each other. The snowstorm over the sea ahead is like a huge velvet shawl draped down by the gods, dancing in the gale. And if you just turn your head slightly, the sunlight will break through the clouds, revealing large expanses of blue sky.
Low-hanging clouds blanketed the sea like a witch's blanket, and large snowflakes fell from the sky, landing on the water and sparkling before magically disappearing. The people on the boat cheered excitedly, like children finding Christmas presents in their stockings. Even Mrs. Larry, usually so serious, grinned. Only my first mate, Anderson, was different; he set up his fishing rod and net and sat on the gunwale to fish. I told him, "Anderson, you're such a spoilsport! "Anderson replied, "It's called being in harmony with nature." I guess nothing, except a thunderstorm, could deter him from fishing.
The snow was falling more and more, swirling and obscuring our vision, leaving only a vast expanse of white. I told the crew to return to their cabins, because winters in the South Pacific are usually not very cold, so everyone was dressed lightly. I was really worried they would get sick; getting sick on a long voyage is a real headache.
Mr. Robbins said, "Let them wait a while, for God's sake!"
I knew they were all scientists and had plenty of medical knowledge, and there was enough medicine on board, so I said okay, but everyone had to drink a bowl of ginger tea in a little while.
This is a method taught to me by an old China sailor: if you fall ill at sea due to the cold and dampness, immediately boil a bowl of soup with ginger and brown sugar and drink it. It would be even better if you could add a little Sichuan peppercorn. This ancient method is very effective and has helped me and my crew get through many difficult times. Even if you are not sick, it can warm you up and is more effective than alcohol.
As I write these words, the snow is still falling. Everyone's excitement seems to have worn off, and they have all gone back to their cabins to rest. Only Anderson is still fishing, though he hasn't caught a single fish. And Mr. Robbins is there, occasionally coming up to the deck to look into the distance, looking somewhat worried.
I told him, "Sir, don't worry, it will only delay you by one day at most, and our itinerary will not be affected."
Mr. Robbins said, "No, I'm not worried about the trip. I just think this cold snap is too strange."