The Food in the Cthulhu World is Really Bad

In the misty sea fog, on the deck of the ghost ship, Hern Iheroa gazed into the distance, using a brass telescope inlaid with inhuman eyeballs, at a geometrically indefinable outline. He mechanically tore at the rotting fish flesh in his hands, stuffing it into the relatively neat slit in front of his skull, known as the "mouth." At that moment, only two questions occupied Hern's mind. First, when would he find a doctor? Second, what about the remaining 1,278 mouths on his body after he had eaten his fill—"So, doctor, is there... any hope for us?"