William plunged into the chaotic wreckage, desperately searching for Dixon, Cedric, and Thom. Yet, he found no trace of them. Apprentices, covered in soot and blood, excavated bodies buried under debris everywhere, while others propped up beams to improvise tents. The damage was even more devastating than William had imagined; the ship groaned under the weight of its injuries.
Seeing him shout his friends' names, several apprentices recognized him. A young man with a pale face and makeshift bandages on his arm approached, pointing inside. "They're in the makeshift infirmary, young man! Badly wounded but safe. We set it up over there, near the stern mast, where the hull is less damaged." Another apprentice, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, added hoarsely, "Yes, we pulled them from the rubble. They were unconscious, but breathing. You're lucky, William! For a moment, we thought the worst."
