They loved my stew, again. Mr. Green and Harry both congratulated me. Neither of them suspect anything.
The storms around us are still there in the distance. A constant reminder not to get off course. Our ship is still moving towards wherever north-west leads us. We have enough stew for tomorrow, but after that, we'll run out of food again. I don't know what to do, now. There's no dead body in storage and I doubt I can find some giant maggots just waltzing around. I need to think of a way.
Well, maybe not. We may reach some island tomorrow.