Vikings: Lords of the Ice Sea

Chapter 323 Route
In Vig's memory, during the Age of Exploration, European merchant ships heading to the Americas first had to sail south to the coast of Africa, then follow the North Equatorial Current westward to reach the Caribbean Sea.

Here, merchant ships could travel north along the Gulf Stream, trade in North American ports, and finally return to Europe along the North Atlantic Current.

The entire route is equivalent to going around in a clockwise direction. The difficulty lies in how to find the distribution areas of these ocean currents.

There had long been calls within the Navy to open new shipping routes. The Minister of the Navy once approached Viggo, asking where he got his knowledge of these ocean currents. Viggo lied, claiming he heard them in his sleep, and managed to get away with it.

Out of trust in the king, or even blind obedience, the Admiralty devised an exploration plan and built a three-masted sailing ship specifically designed for ocean exploration, which they named the Voyager.

In July, with the Voyager's sea trials progressing well and everything ready, it set sail south with its sixty crew members, embarking on this dangerous yet glorious exploration journey.

A month later, the expedition ship arrived at the Canary Islands, where the Earl hosted a banquet for the warriors. Three days later, he personally went to the dock to see them off.

"I really want to join this expedition, but unfortunately I'm too busy with things in the Canary Islands. Oh well, I wish you all the best."

With everyone's well wishes, the Voyager sailed south along the African coast. Two days later, a steady northeasterly wind began to blow across the sea. After consulting with everyone, the captain ordered the ship to sail west.

Soon, the coastline disappeared completely from view, leaving only the boundless sea all around. The wind blew from behind, filling the sails and propelling the Voyager westward.

Gradually, they felt an unseen force propelling the boat. Even when the wind was weak, the boat was still steadily propelled forward by this force.

As time went by, everyone got used to the monotony. Their daily tasks included: looking out over the boundless sea from the top of the mast, adjusting the angle of the sails to let them catch the wind, and checking the ropes for wear.

If there was really nothing else to do, Major Lake would have the crew clean the deck with stone slabs to expend their excess energy and prevent fights from breaking out.

On this voyage, the Voyager carried ample supplies, with the bottoms of the water barrels luxuriously covered with a layer of silver foil, supposedly for sterilization. Every three days, the captain distributed a fixed amount of beer or sugarcane wine to slightly boost the morale of the sailors.

After thirty-two days and nights of travel, the lookout saw many small black dots floating in the western sky. After some time, an island covered with dense vegetation appeared ahead.

"Look, a flock of birds, we've arrived."

The lookout's shouts alerted everyone, and they all rushed onto the deck to gaze upon this unfamiliar land they had never been before.

At noon, the Voyager docked in a bay, and the crew took small boats to the beach. They ran around excitedly, the warm seawater washing over their ankles. Some people were fishing nearby with nets and hooks, and then lit a bonfire. The orange flames greedily licked the fish skewered on branches, dripping oil and sizzling, filling the air with a rich aroma.

"Hey, give me some."

The starving crew huddled together, their eyes burning, cutting into the scalding hot fish with their daggers and stuffing it into their mouths, barely chewing.

That night, the crew set up hammocks near the beach and had a rare good night's sleep. The next day, an expedition team ventured inland along the stream and discovered that the island was inhabited by many slow-moving giant tortoises. They were enormous and slow-moving, with adult individuals weighing more than five sailors.

"By Odin, what is this thing?" A daring crew member picked up a light crossbow and tentatively pulled the trigger. The bolt pierced the tortoise's hind leg. Sensing the danger, the remaining tortoises slowly fled to the surrounding area.

Finding that these behemoths were powerless to fight back, the crew swarmed forward, easily flipping over the heavy shells, and the tortoises' thick limbs futilely flailing in the air.

The crew dragged the tortoise back to shore with ropes, its shell scraping against the rough ground with a dull thud. After a lottery, someone was forced to become a taster. He reluctantly ate a small piece of stewed tortoise meat, chewed it a few times, found it tasted good, and then finished the whole pot of stew in one go, along with the broth.

After three days of observation, the taste testers were still lively and active, so Major Lake ordered the capture of tortoises to supplement the crew's meat supply.

During the rest period, in addition to hunting animals, the crew also needed to repair the sails, explore the islands, and erect a runestone on the beach and a high place on the islands to record the Voyager's arrival time.

Assuming the ship sinks midway, these runestones will be their last trace left in the world.

In late September, just before departure, the crew captured a large number of tortoises and stuffed them into the hold as a meat reserve for later. The Voyager then set sail again, heading due north.

One night, with a light breeze, Major Lake noticed that the ship was moving much faster. He immediately took out his astrolabe, calculated the current position, and then recorded the position of the ocean current in the logbook.

A little over a week later, the sky was no longer a clear azure blue, but had turned gray and gloomy. The coastline was also completely different; towering coniferous forests replaced swaying palm trees, jagged black reefs replaced white sand beaches, and the air was filled with a damp, cold, and salty smell.

Along the way, Major Lake and his officers drew detailed maps, and at each stop they would erect a runestone on the shore, declaring the land as the property of the Tyneburg family, even though all that could be seen was a desolate coastline and circling seabirds.

The North Atlantic in late autumn is turbulent. Without warning, in early October, the Voyager encountered a violent storm. Thick clouds loomed overhead, giant waves relentlessly crashed against the ship's sides, and icy rain poured down, reducing visibility to a minimum.

The situation was critical. Major Lake changed course and, taking advantage of a lull in the wind, steered the boat toward the nearest shore, luckily reaching a relatively calm estuary.

After reaching the shore, there was no cheering, only a silent relief at surviving the ordeal. They were exhausted, many had caught colds, and coughs filled the air.

"Alas, only forty-nine people remain."

After holding funerals for the two crew members who died of illness, Major Lake was in low spirits. He arranged for the stronger crew members to cut down trees and, taking advantage of the rising tide, to tow the badly damaged Voyager onto the beach for a long period of repairs.

After sailing for more than three months, the wooden hull of the Voyager was densely covered with a layer of gray-green barnacles and oysters, and occasionally some holes eroded by ship maggots could be seen, which was shocking to see.

"Damn barnacles!"

The crew cursed and swung their shovels with all their might, scattering barnacle fragments like raindrops, each shovel blade striking the hull with a piercing scraping sound.

(End of this chapter)