A Hospital in Another World? C.255

Improving the Health Conditions of the Crew?

Garrett Nordmark almost blurted out, "Lemons, bean sprouts, alright, I’ll go make some penicillin." However, after a moment of consideration, he still accepted the task:

Firstly, without investigation, there’s no authority to speak; any solution must be tried before determining its feasibility;

Secondly, what if there are other diseases affecting sailors’ health in this world?

Drawing conclusions rashly is not right!

Of course, Garrett couldn’t deny that the rewards for the task were appealing. Even if just for the reward, he should at least take a look...

"Very well." Archmage Carlisle smiled satisfactorily. "Since you’ve taken it, someone will visit you tomorrow. A fleet from the Council has returned and is currently resting in the port. The one coming tomorrow should be their fleet commander, James Delock, or someone like the logistics chief. Oh, is your house tidied up?"

Garrett: "..." So, they assigned me a mansion just to make a show?

No matter how rushed Garrett was in tidying up the house, when the guests arrived the next day, he still displayed appropriate and absolutely not shabby etiquette:

A level 7 warrior opened the door, also took care of the carriage for the guests, and looked after the horses;

A cook (borrowed from Aurora’s family) was busy preparing, boiling water, making tea, baking trays of fragrant cookies;

An invisible servant opened the door, moved chairs, served tea and water (congratulations, this was a level 1 magic of the illusion school, Garrett could finally contribute a bit);

A grand mage’s personal disciple, level 5 mage Aurora Worton, accompanied him to welcome the guests...

The two guests exchanged a glance, silently lowered their eyelids, concealing their surprise. Before they came, they had already received the news that the little mage sent by the council to solve the problem was from Newster County, some city—anyway, it was a city they hadn’t heard of. Selected to study at headquarters and arrived in Nevis just a year ago.

In short, he was a country boy.

Of course, with the rank of a fourth-circle arcane mage, plus the identity as a council envoy, he was already qualified to sit on an equal footing with them.

However, a country boy entertaining them in the city’s garden district villa. Though the etiquette was somewhat strange, it was by no means shabby. It seemed that the council’s attention to this little mage in the past year was even greater than they imagined.

The smiles of the two guests immediately became more genuine. The leader slightly bowed and extended his hand to Garrett:

"Hello. I am James Delock, commander of the third fleet of the Council, a ninth-level knight. I apologize for the intrusion."

"Hello, I am William Ganson, the logistics chief of the fleet." Beside Delock, a middle-aged man with a high hairline and a pointed chin also reached out his hand. Garrett shook hands with them one by one:

"I am Garrett Nordmark, a fourth-circle arcane mage, level three mage. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

Everyone took their seats in the living room. Invisible servants brought out a silver tray, serving warm red tea for the guests, and placing down two shiny silver cans. One can contained white sugar cubes, the other held fresh milk, obviously for the guests to add as they pleased.

Another invisible servant floated out from the kitchen, placing down a plate of pale yellow and a plate of brown, freshly baked cookies. Each cookie was adorned with twisted patterns, and the aroma wafted into the air with each step.

In the fireplace, the fire crackled and burned, warming the entire living room.

James Delock remained upright, sitting on the sofa like a long sword, full of military demeanor. The logistics chief, on the other hand, had relaxed, picking up a brown cookie, chewing, his eyes lit up:

"Coffee-flavored?"

Garrett nodded with a smile. William Ganson praised, "The cook at your place is really good. These coffee beans are good—unless I’m mistaken, they’re from Taras, right?"

Garrett didn’t give a direct answer. He didn’t understand coffee in his previous life, only knew about Blue Mountain coffee, cat poop coffee, and such, he couldn’t tell them apart. After crossing over, he understood even less.

Fortunately, in this world, as long as the mage’s level was high enough, not understanding anything else wasn’t a big deal. Garrett just smiled faintly:

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"Mr. Ganson is the fleet’s logistics chief, so he must be an expert. If you say so, then it must be true."

"Unfortunately, our fleet doesn’t sail that route." Ganson sighed suddenly. "Not only do we not sail, neither does the Council’s fleet, nor the kingdom’s fleet, or even merchant ships, sail to Taras. Otherwise, we could have brought some fine goods for Mr. Nordmark."

This was getting to the point. Garrett set down his teacup, focusing slightly: "Oh? Why is that?"

"The power of the Radiant Church is too strong." William Ganson sighed. "The Storm Islands and everything south of the Storm Islands are all occupied by them. We arrived late, with fewer ships, so we can only occupy some places in the north. For the specialties in the south, either small boats sneak over, or we buy them at high prices from them—"

Garrett listened attentively, refraining from speaking. Knight Delock finished half a cup of tea silently and then interjected:

"We had a good opportunity two months ago. We encountered one of their fleets north of the Storm Islands, presumably blown over by a hurricane. But at that time, we had been sailing for two months, with many crew members falling ill in droves, afraid to engage in battle, and could only keep our distance. If we could have them endure for three months at sea, that time, we could have defeated them!"

"Oh, do you have healers on board?"

"We do—" The two guests smiled bitterly. Knight Delock carefully explained to Garrett:

"Healers are indeed present, but they are very scarce. In the Council’s fleet, only the flagship is equipped with a healer, usually a level 3 to 4 war cleric, occasionally a level 5. Other ships—like our fleet, besides the flagship, there are three small ships, with over five hundred sailors—then it’s up to fate.

If a few crew members fall ill, or a few seriously injured are healed after a major battle, the cleric can manage. But if many crew members fall ill, the cleric can’t do much. Like the cleric in our fleet, already a seventh-level powerhouse, doing his best, can only support the fleet for another ten days."

Ten days?

Delaying the onset of scurvy for ten days?

Garrett immediately cast an admiring gaze. A fleet, four ships, nearly a thousand people, delaying for ten days?! Buddy, how did you manage that!

"So—what diseases are they suffering from?"

Logistics Chief Ganson silently pulled out a large leather-bound book. Spreading it out, he pushed it in front of Garrett, pointing to the book to explain:

"11 died in battle

; 3 fell into the sea due to accidents; 7 died from unknown high fever; 5 died from diarrhea; 8 died from a sea plague—"

"A sea plague?"

"Yes, after sailors spend a long time at sea, they start bleeding from the gums, weakness in limbs, muscle pain, gradually bedridden. The cleric doesn’t have a good solution. Even with Remove Disease, it can only provide temporary relief..."

Garrett began to massage his temples. Scurvy might be easy to deal with, but the number of deaths due to scurvy was not even half of the total deaths. It seemed that there were many things to be done to solve the health problems of the crew!

"Could I see your ships and crew?"

That afternoon, Garrett boarded the flagship of the fleet, the Pelican.

"So big..." Garrett exclaimed as he climbed the ladder. It was said that this flagship was "only" 500 tons, in his previous life, a ship of a thousand tons was considered a small ship, and tens of thousands of tons were fishing boats. Anyway, 500 tons wasn’t considered much. However, he realized he had to climb for quite a while even for a 500-ton ship.

Climbing up felt high, but when he reached the deck, he suddenly felt narrow. Garrett looked around, even spread his arms to measure, the main deck was less than two operating rooms wide, and in length, it was shorter than the corridor of their hospital—while the corridor of the old building was only over 50 meters long. Garrett looked around, then turned to the fleet commander:

"Where do the sailors live? I need to take a look."

"Uh..." Knight Delock pinched his nose and led him downstairs. Just one floor down, Garrett reflexively cast a spell, creating a bubble around himself: It stinks too much! It’s really too smelly! He thought for a moment, then dispelled the spell. Understanding the situation correctly was the most important thing now. Endure it, oh, it’s so smelly...

Sulfur permeated the air, making Garrett’s eyes water. He had to step back outside and cast the bubble spell again. The odor was overpowering!

As they went down further, the air became increasingly foul. Just after descending one flight of stairs, Garrett saw no less than ten rats, accompanied by cockroaches and other insects, and behind the stairs, in the corners of the ship’s hold, heaps of unidentified garbage piled up.

The rooms where the senior sailors lived were so narrow that only one bed could fit, not even enough space to turn around. And the sailors didn’t even have "rooms", they slept on the lower deck, either on hammocks or makeshift beds. Needless to say, with such poor sanitary conditions, the appearance of infectious diseases was normal.

Garrett turned his head. Knight Delock, the commander, followed behind him, his hand on his sword, his expression clearly saying, "Can we leave soon?" Garrett grabbed the commander, shaking his finger to inquire:

"Where do they go to the bathroom?"

"They go everywhere..."

Bernard, who followed into the cabin, worriedly added.

Garrett insisted on going down one more level. As soon as his foot touched the ground, he immediately ran back up:

The bilge pumps were pumping water! That smell, even the bubble spell couldn’t block it!

"Boss, I forgot to tell you, when the weather is bad, most of the sailors solve it in the bilge..." Bernard said with a sigh.

Garrett went to the kitchen again and saw that the large bucket of fresh water was almost used up, leaving only a small amount of water, which had clearly turned bad. The bread not only had mold but also maggots, flies buzzing everywhere. As for other food, Garrett dared not look anymore.

"The sanitary conditions of this fleet need to be improved comprehensively! Comprehensive! Otherwise, when people die, it’s a piece by piece!"