Volume 4 Chapter 56 The Roaring Forties
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
What an indecisive man I am. Despite being acting captain, I hated the idea of shouldering that responsibility alone.
How should we return? There were two options: the east coast route, backtracking along the Southern Continent, or the west coast route, where the currents and winds would push us northward as far as the equator, letting us save fuel. In my heart, I’d leaned toward the west, but we had so little information. Vasco da Gama wasn’t around in this world.
”The southern tip of the Southern Continent has good climate and abundant crops, and many people live there,” Dwarf King Chuma XIV had told me. “But once you enter the eastern coastal region, it’s nothing but desert. Beyond that desert, they say, lies a forest of savage beasts and poisonous insects. Some people do live there, but it’s said to be nothing but a realm of carnage.”
Those were the words I’d heard from Dwarf King Chuma XIV. Something about them felt ominous.
Even with my previous life’s knowledge, when I thought of Africa’s west coast, all that came to mind was the slave trade and octopus. Professionally speaking, I could only recall nasty viruses like AIDS, Ebola, and Lassa.
Savage beasts? Lions, elephants, hippos. Poisonous insects? Not just literal venomous bugs and reptiles—also the endemic diseases carried by mosquitoes and ticks.
I’d heard that the black slaves taken to America weren’t captured by white men, but by black nations along Africa’s coast who attacked their enemies. The triangular trade hadn’t begun yet, but the groundwork was there—so maybe “realm of carnage” wasn’t wrong. Perhaps the Dwarf King’s words were accurate.
But that didn’t mean the east coast was a good choice either. All the way to the Red Sea, the currents would be nearly against us. Our ship was heavy, with a deep draft—the tidal flow was no joke. And if we burned fuel, resupply would be a problem.
On top of that, we’d sunk the ships of Barbadia, Barbarossa, and Charle. And Michea Empire’s forces were out there too—from Suez to the Inland Sea, it was enemy territory.
What was I supposed to do?
Unable to decide, I ended up consulting my subordinates in the dining hall, where flies swarmed. Of course, I relayed what Chuma XIV had said.
”From the Inland Sea, heading south into the Western Ocean, there’s a port town called Hanitra—I’ve been there myself. But trading ships only go that far. They say that ten days beyond that lies a volcanic island chain called the Singing Isles, where Elf Mages live. But that’s only hearsay—I’ve never met anyone who’s actually been there.”
That was Fredys, our deck crew foreman, adding her piece. In Earth terms, Hanitra would be a Moroccan city on the Atlantic. The Elf Mages’ island? The Canaries, maybe.
”Elf Mages on a volcanic island? That doesn’t really fit,” Maria said—beautiful, but with a nasty personality.
I’d heard there was an Elf Mage kingdom in the northern forests, so the idea of them living on southern volcanic islands didn’t match the image at all.
”Maybe that’s why it’s only hearsay,” she continued. “Nothing further south than that?”
”Who knows,” Fredys replied. “Across from the Singing Isles, the coast of the Southern Continent is desert as far as the eye can see. They say no one who’s gone beyond—by land or sea—has ever returned.”
Even those who’d favored the west coast route looked uneasy at those words.
”If you head north after leaving the Zambezi River, the currents weaken about fifty kilometers offshore,” one of the crewmen offered.
With that solution proposed, the meeting swung toward returning the way we’d come. In the end, the unknown west coast route was rejected, and the consensus was to head north along the east coast.
Even though we’d be sailing into pirate territory. No helping it, I suppose. But wait—was that all?
”Darran,” I asked, “have you ever heard of gombessa?”
”Not near the river mouth, but sometimes we catch them offshore,” he said. “Big black fish. They say they don’t taste very good.”
Gombessa was the local word for coelacanth. On Earth, their habitat would be the Comoros Islands—quite far north of here. The fact that we found them here suggested there were many of them. I’d asked because I’d noticed a pattern—the Basilosaurus we encountered in the Red Sea, now this. Ancient creatures seemed unusually active. They didn’t have Megalodon, did they?
I’d once heard Darran mention that even medium-sized dhows had been found shattered at sea, with no crew recovered.
But Fredys dismissed it as that kind of story you hear everywhere. More than that, once the return route was settled, everyone’s spirits grew impatient.
Their strong desire to return home showed in how they acted. We couldn’t waste fuel, so we were drifting downriver, but the deck crew worked hard to catch every scrap of wind, trying to squeeze out a little more speed.
Thanks to them, we reached Chinde—the port at the river mouth—in just two and a half days.
”Thank you for everything,” I said to Darran, giving him what local coins I had left along with some wine as thanks for seeing us off.
The sun was already low, but I couldn’t bear the thought of spending a night in that fly-and-mosquito-ridden port, so we set sail immediately after dropping him off.
The Izumo headed for the open sea where currents were said to be gentler. As the sun touched the faint line of land, an unsettling, warm wind began to blow.
”This feels like a storm’s coming,” Roland said.
And just as Roland, our bridge team leader, had said, the weather slowly worsened.
At first, the wind and rain weren’t so bad. But the waves grew from ripples into swells.
”Southwest wind—good for covering distance,” he observed.
Riding that wind, the Izumo picked up speed northward. Driven by our eagerness to return, we kept the sails up as long as possible—but by midnight, the wind had shifted due west, so we furled them in the dark.
At dawn, the weather cleared slightly, but the wind was against us. The sky was hidden by thin clouds.
By afternoon, the temperature dropped sharply, and the wind, rain, and swells intensified. I quickly ordered winter clothes and extra blankets distributed.
A cold front, maybe? If so, the storm would end soon. But I was wrong—the wind kept blowing from the same direction. The rain wasn’t severe, but the wind was stronger than any we’d faced, whipping up whitecaps and great swells that washed over the forward deck again and again.
”Should we deploy the sea anchor?” I asked.
A sea anchor—a kind of underwater parachute deployed from the bow—keeps the ship’s head pointed into the wind as it drifts. Ideally, we’d use the Craft Engine to adjust our heading, but to save fuel, I agreed to deploy the anchor, even if it made the ride rougher.
”When’s this storm going to end?” Fredys asked me. “I’ve lived at sea a long time, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”
By midday, with no sign of the weather letting up, she pressed for answers I didn’t have.
But at around six that evening, something serious happened. The temperature dropped further—and not just a little chill. I ordered extra coats and thick blankets distributed.
This was worse than I’d anticipated. We might have drifted further south than I’d thought. Even if I wanted to use the Craft Engine to head north, the strong waves and wind were coming from the west. Turning the bow even slightly north would expose us to the swells from the side.
This ship had no keel—large lateral rolls could capsize us. I didn’t want to risk it. So I held off on heading north.
Maybe because of that restraint, the rain finally stopped around midnight. The wind and swells were still brutal, but looking up through the dining hall’s stern window, stars glittered between the clouds.
”Hope it clears up tomorrow,” Tatyana said hopefully.
”Fingers crossed,” I replied, but being at the top meant I could only think of bad outcomes.
Sure enough, the next morning, the clouds were thick, and there was no chance of taking a position reading. Then came the bad news: the cows and goats that had been supplying milk for the crew had died, one after another.
”Probably exhaustion from the storm’s rocking and the temperature changes,” the maintenance department woman who tended them said sadly.
The chickens had been moved to the room where I’d once been tied up naked, but they weren’t laying eggs, and they too were weakening. And it wasn’t just the livestock—some of the crew, especially the deckhands, who hadn’t been able to handle the temperature changes, were starting to show symptoms. They couldn’t work on deck—no immediate hindrance to navigation, but a bad sign nonetheless.
The next day, and the day after that, the sky stayed cloudy, and the Izumo was tossed about by the west wind and heavy swells.
Then—on the sixth day since leaving Chinde port—it started snowing.
This confirmed my worst fear. In the storm, we’d been carried south toward Antarctic waters. We were still a long way from Antarctica itself, but it wouldn’t have been strange to see icebergs drifting by.
This relentless rough weather—I was certain we’d drifted south into the belt known as the “Roaring Forties.”
I remembered reading about it in a sailing book as a child.
At forty degrees south latitude, with few landmasses to block them, the wind and waves ran wild. Strong gales blew most of the year, and the seas were perpetually rough. And if you got closer to Antarctica, it only got worse—the “Furious Fifties” and “Screaming Sixties.”
If we didn’t head north soon, I had no idea how far we’d be carried.
”It’s not like rain—when it’s snowing, you can’t see the waves coming from ahead,” Roland said when I consulted him.
He told me that since we couldn’t see the waves, there was no point trying to push the Craft Engine to power through the big swells and head north. On top of that, the observation holes on the bridge—made from shed Ice Spider shells—were snowed over, and they couldn’t see ahead at all. Of course, we couldn’t open the windows.
With nothing to be done, the ship was carried along.
And then—the next day. A week after leaving Chinde port—the sky finally cleared about halfway.
I had them calculate our position immediately.
”Wow,” the dwarf bridge squad leader said with a tone of disbelief. “We’re in a crazy place.”
We were about twenty-five hundred kilometers southeast of Chinde port. That meant we’d been carried about three hundred sixty kilometers a day—fifteen kilometers per hour. And our latitude: forty-five degrees south. My prediction had been right—dead center of the Roaring Forties.
The calendar had turned to September—midwinter here in the southern hemisphere. Somehow, I had to get us north.
But the moment I gave the order to pull up the sea anchor, a blizzard hit, and the work was postponed.
That evening, with nothing to do, I went to the dining hall and saw Kenze for the first time in a while.
”You’ve gotten thin,” I said quietly.
Her muscular frame looked a full size smaller.
”No good food,” she replied. “And on top of that, I’m nursing.”
The constant rolling made it impossible to prepare anything that needed long simmering, and most of the provisions we’d taken on at Tete were root vegetables. Maybe they just didn’t agree with Kenze’s palate. On top of that, a lot of the crew couldn’t keep up with the temperature changes—about half of them had come down with something. Well, there wasn’t much to do anyway, so we were managing.
”In this rolling sea… how do you breastfeed?” — I asked, genuinely curious.
”Oh, we cork the jars with our breasts and feed ’em that way.” Her reply was matter-of-fact, her Appalachian drawl carrying the weight of generations of practical wisdom.
Mothers are something else.
”Is there anything you want to eat? I can ask around.”
”No point. We won’t get it anyway.” — She waved a gnarled hand dismissively, her rural cadence making the resignation sound almost cheerful.
So asking was just going to make them feel worse, huh.
Night fell, moonless and dark. Still adrift.
* * *
The next day, the temperature dropped further. Spray from the waves was starting to freeze onto the hull. We wanted to retrieve the sea anchor, but the deck was too slick to work.
On the sixteenth day out of Chinde, we finally got a position fix. Latitude: forty-three degrees. We’d drifted north without even realizing it. Longitude? Without a map, it was meaningless. Probably about four thousand kilometers from Chinde. The drift rate had slowed a bit.
Another two weeks passed without anything we could do. Thirty days out of Chinde. Then, suddenly, the ship was heading north. It had been bitterly cold until then, but now it was… slightly warmer. The swell had also eased.
Work began to knock the ice off various parts of the ship. By the next day, we were able to haul up the sea anchor. We fired the Boiler, ran the Craft Engine north, and the temperature gradually rose.
It still wasn’t warm enough to shed our winter gear, but the crew’s health improved. Life returned to the ship, and the Torpedo Department resumed their drills. The Deck crew spent the days repairing ropes and sails damaged by ice and frost, and watch duties from the crow’s nest—only during daylight hours—also restarted.
”Acting Captain. What now?” — Fredys, the section chief, approached with a clipboard clutched against her chest.
We were still south of forty degrees latitude. Longitude, if I converted it to my past life’s coordinates, was around 170 degrees east.
Two options. One: continue east, round the southern tip of the South American continent through the Drake Passage, and head north to return home. The other: go north, pass through Southeast Asia, skirt the southern coast of India, enter the Red Sea, and retrace our original route back.
But the crew knew nothing of South America, Southeast Asia, or India. How was I supposed to explain any of it?
”Land ho!” — The lookout’s cry rang out from the crow’s nest, sharp and electric with hope.
Just as I was struggling for an answer, a shout came from the crow’s nest. Everyone working stopped what they were doing. Even those off-duty came up from their cabins onto the deck.
It had been over a month at sea. And the ship had been tossed around relentlessly.
Everyone must have wanted to set foot on dry land—even just for a few minutes. We brought the ship closer to the coastline, searching for a cove where we could anchor. We sent out the fixed-wing drone to scout, but there was nothing for a while.
We found one deep inlet, but the water was too shallow for the Izumo to enter. Following the coastline, it became a sandbar promontory; rounding that, we came to a large bay. At the very back was a cove that looked good for anchoring—but there was something strange nearby.
On the mountainside above the winding inlet, we spotted something: a pure white, flattened dome-like shape. It felt vaguely like a giant mushroom—maybe a living thing? But we couldn’t rule out a structure. If people were there, we didn’t want to provoke them, so we recalled the fixed-wing drone.
As we slowly approached in the Izumo, we could see stone breakwaters showing signs of human hands, and a small rowboat moored nearby. Coming closer, two people in white clothes were running down a flight of stairs from the dome to the sea.
White people? And they were empty-handed.
Aren’t they being a little reckless?
Bringing the ship in closer, the water near the breakwaters didn’t look deep enough to moor alongside, and the channel was narrow. We dropped anchor about twenty meters offshore and launched a landing boat with me, Department Head Tatyana, Section Chief Fredys, and two Deck crew as rowers—Pole and one other.
As we approached the breakwater, the two people we’d spotted were waiting. Long blonde hair, blue eyes. They were beautiful, with figures like Teressa’s—and strikingly similar; they had to be identical twins.
They wore pure white off-shoulder sundresses of a silk-like material—cinched at the waist under the bust, with the skirt flaring out loosely. They didn’t seem to be wearing anything underneath; the outlines of their n**ples showed through the fabric.
And they were both smiling in welcome.
Wait… have I died and gone to heaven?
—
Summary:
The acting captain wrestles with indecision over the return route, ultimately letting his crew decide to take the dangerous east coast despite his private preference for the west. After departing Chinde, the Izumo is caught in a week-long storm that drifts them into the Roaring Forties, confirming his worst fears. As the crew struggles with cold, illness, and livestock deaths, the chapter closes with the protagonist’s quiet reunion with Kenze, who has visibly weakened from nursing—leaving him to confront the weight of his leadership and the cost of his hesitation.
After thirty days adrift in freezing conditions, the Izumo’s crew spots land and discovers an inlet with a mysterious white dome, where two beautiful blonde twins in sundresses await them, leaving the acting captain wondering if he’s died and gone to heaven.
—
Trivia:
The protagonist’s indecision is the central character flaw—he lets the crew decide the route rather than taking responsibility.
Vasco da Gama’s absence is a joke about how the protagonist lacks historical navigation advantages in this world.
The “Roaring Forties,” “Furious Fifties,” and “Screaming Sixties” are real-world sailing terms for the treacherous latitudes of the Southern Ocean.
The protagonist’s previous life knowledge includes modern geography, diseases, and history—he maps the fantasy world onto Earth’s Africa.
The “realm of carnage” translation for 修羅の国 reflects the Buddhist concept of warring Asura—not just chaos but a cycle of conflict.
Gombessa is the local term for coelacanth, a fish associated with the Comoros Islands—far north of their current position, suggesting high population density.
The Basilosaurus reference ties prehistoric whale sightings to a pattern of ancient creatures being unusually active in this world.
The ship has no keel, making it vulnerable to capsizing from lateral rolls—a key structural limitation.
The Craft Engine is a power source the protagonist uses sparingly to conserve fuel, prioritizing wind and currents.
The ice spider shells are used as observation ports on the bridge—they become snowed over during the storm.
September in the southern hemisphere is midwinter, making the cold and storm conditions seasonally logical.
Kenze’s nursing implies she has a child—a detail from earlier chapters that resurfaces here as a source of her weakness.
The protagonist’s inability to decide manifests literally in the storm—his failure to choose a route leads to drifting into danger.
The triangular trade reference ties the fantasy world’s Africa to historical slave trade patterns, grounding the “realm of carnage” description in real-world analogies.
Fredys is the most experienced sailor among the named crew, yet even she is overwhelmed by the severity of the storm.
The ship’s latitude is 43 degrees south after drifting north from Chinde.
The crew has been at sea for over a month without setting foot on land.
The Roaring Forties are the latitude band between 40 and 50 degrees south known for strong westerly winds.
The protagonist has memories of a past life, indicated by his reference to converting longitude coordinates.
The twin priestesses appear to be Caucasian in a setting where the crew is Japanese.
Tete is a trading post where the crew provisioned with root vegetables.
The fixed-wing drone is used for reconnaissance and appears twice in the narrative.
The Torpedo Department resumed drills once conditions improved.
The crew’s health improved significantly once the ship turned north and temperatures rose.
The author is serializing this work and posting chapters regularly on a platform with a point system called “Poi-nts.”
Notes:
• Ho – Ho is the family name of Oliver, a 17-year-old deck crew member and comrade of the protagonist. As a member of the military unit that defended Garao Village, the young man was ultimately murdered during a night watch, slaughtered alongside Marx-san.
• Dwarf King Chuma XIV – The Dwarf King who warned the protagonist about the dangers of the Southern Continent’s interior.
• Poi – A Dwarf welder and former carriage maker who applied his knowledge of mechanical stress to ship construction.
• Al – Alberto (Al), a massive red‑haired man recently wed to Mary, lives near the Dish Basin. He’s a companion of Hans, helping intimidate and rally elders as a villager and leader.
• Barbarossa – A naval combatant engaged by the ship.
• Charle – A mercenary and faction captain from Great Qin, referenced in passing. Associated with a group of remnants, their flagship and crew were involved in the conflict, during which their ship was targeted.
• Elf Mage – Elf mage and shut-in engineer who stands watch in the engine department, managing the ship’s boilers. They are highly reclusive, irritable, and fiercely resistant to any orders coming from the Torpedo Department.
• Mage – Elf mage and shut-in engineer who stands watch in the engine department, managing the ship’s boilers. They are highly reclusive, irritable, and fiercely resistant to any orders coming from the Torpedo Department.
• Elf – A reclusive, middle-aged mage who lives as a shut-in aboard the ship, where he tends to the boilers. He uses his own conjured fireballs to generate heat for the vessel and maintains a keen interest in studying the properties of asphalt as a potential fuel source.
• Fredys – Izumo’s section chief has a formal military bearing, carrying a clipboard and speaking in clipped tones. A reliable coastal sailor with a past in slavery and social awkwardness, she acts as Earnest’s subordinate but is asked to be acting captain due to her sharp command. This indispensable advisor is related to the Ullmans via Uncle Torge and lives with Roland and a maintenance assistant.
• Maria – A heavily pregnant woman serving on the crew. She speaks with practical directness and raises logical concerns about the acting captain’s lending period. A pregnant woman in Earnest’s group. She will give birth before the loan period ends.
• Mar – A battle‑hardened veteran, clad in worn armor, uses door panels as shields and captures enemy crossbows; Larry’s comrade who teases him about his sister‑in‑law’s pampering, known as Martin to his companion Edmond.
• Darran – A knowledgeable Dwarf pilot for the Izumo who served on the return journey, acting as a local informant and guide. He refuses handshakes with technology-holders due to Dwarven customs regarding telepathy. Well-versed in regional geography, fishing, currents, trade, and customs, he translates merchant speech and explains local goods. Before departing, the crew thanks him and gives him gifts.
• Izumo – The iron-hulled primary vessel, named and personified as a character herself, who loyally carries the protagonist and his crew throughout their journey.
• Roland – The Izumo’s Dwarf bridge squad leader is a competent, cautious, and indispensable navigator responsible for weather assessment and technical sailing advice. He once impressed passengers with a reverse docking maneuver. Identifiable by his practical nature, he is gay and lives with Fredys and a young boy. He uses telepathy, once explaining his purchase of a stimulant tonic through it.
• Tatyana – A 31-year-old divorced mother and Magic Academy Assistant Professor, this former 101st Golems Battalion mage is the inquisitive Torpedo Department Head aboard the Izumo. She maintains formal politeness and military decorum, showing blunt pragmatism and concern for others. Loyal to her Captain, she is Larry’s superior and is intimately bonded with her roommate, Katarina.
• Kenze – A muscular, brown-skinned Amazoness, former Takshurgan operative, and one of the women in Earnest’s history. This lethal crew member and dragon-tattooed guardian is deeply bonded with the protagonist, now quietly wasting away while nursing her newly laid egg and larva. Despite declining health and a rural background, she shows acceptance and strength, speaking warmly as she worries about the sea.
• Captain – The middle-aged commanding officer of the Izumo is outwardly calm, experienced, and traditional, masking a ruthless, pragmatic leader who prioritizes vessel survival over subordinates and civilians. While rarely reprimanding his men, he will execute deserters. Bebel reports directly to him, holding orders to return to Kure should the protagonist fail to return from their mission.
• Pole – An orphaned Celt soldier and anxious Izumo sail-handler, this youthful, enthusiastic deck crew member guides Earnest and the protagonist. Proficient in Turku and local terrain, he is a loyal, gossipy aide who rows the landing boat and leads the marlin hunt. Having left a gambling past behind, he seeks his first love’s freedom. Rafaela is his childhood friend.
• Teressa – A woman from Earnest’s history whose striking figure serves as a benchmark for the twin priestesses’ beauty.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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