Shadow of great britain

Above the English Channel, the Beagle was in a favorable position upwind.

Through the lens of the monocular, Colonel Fitzroy was observing every move of the ship on the opposite side.

He saw that the gangplank between the two ships was put away, and then both ships displayed the signal flag of "willing to stop for inspection".

"this……"

Colonel Fitzroy looked at the two ships, which were almost the same in size. For a moment, it was difficult to tell which one was the Black Thorn they were looking for.

He thought for a moment and decided to follow the conventions of naval warfare and keep a certain distance before confirming the opponent's identity.

He ordered: "Send the sampan boat into the sea, and have eight marines board the boat to inspect it. If something is wrong along the way, wave the white flag, and we will go to rescue you as soon as possible."

Following Colonel Fitzroy's order, several Marines, led by two noncommissioned officers, jumped onto the two small boats tied to the sides.

With the push of the winch, the two small boats descended little by little with the hemp ropes, and finally landed smoothly on the sea.

Arthur stood at the bow of the ship, sniffing the cool sea breeze, but he always felt that there was a lingering smell of blood lingering in his nose.

Agares was standing next to him. He raised his right arm, and an illusory red-eyed raven flew from the sea and landed on his forearm.

Agares put his ear to the raven's beak and nodded repeatedly while listening to the raven's report.

"Yeah...well...nice job, my little baby."

The red devil took out a small colored ball from his pocket and fed it into the raven's mouth. He smiled and touched its head: "This is your reward."

When Arthur saw this, he held his pipe in his mouth and said calmly: "I'm quite willing to buy it!"

The red devil grinned: "Of course, do you think I'm a fool? Arthur. I'm always generous to people who work hard, but you don't give a cent to the devil who works hard. How about, do you want to make a deal, ten souls, in exchange for I have a message."

"A piece of information bought by a soul can be resold to make a huge profit of ten times. Agares, you are really better at doing business than the Jews."

Agares snorted after hearing this: "Arthur, you are belittling me! Back then, Judas sold Jesus for thirty silver coins. I can't negotiate such a low price! To the devil, the life of a prophet is worth far more than thirty silver coins!"

"Really?" Arthur asked, "What about my life?"

"Oh, my dear Arthur."

The Red Devil rubbed his hands and laughed: "Your question involves my business secrets. Although I can't answer your question, I can tell you that the news about the price of ten souls can save you more than Ten lives.”

"Yeah?"

Arthur thought about Agares' words for a moment, and after confirming that the guy was using a declarative sentence, he said: "It seems that a devil is going to make a fortune today."

The red devil smiled and said: "Arthur, look at what you said. All transactions between us are fair, and Professor Agares is an honest man."

Arthur didn't say anything, he just stretched out his hand and pressed a fingerprint on the contract conjured by Agares.

Almost instantly, his relaxed brows instantly wrinkled, and the scene of Fred talking to others just now suddenly appeared in his mind.

He quickly took off his pipe and cursed in his mouth: "Damn it, Fred is really doing a big business! Not only selling indentured slaves to North America, but also working with the Barbary pirates who specialized in transporting white slaves to the Ottoman Turkish Empire. It’s related!”

The red devil floated beside him, covering his mouth and smiling: "But how are you going to convince Colonel Fitzroy to trust you? You can't tell him that you know that the Barbary pirates made a deal with the devil, right?"

"Persuasion? Why should I convince him?"

"Then what are you going to do? Are you going to wait for the other side to attack?"

Arthur didn't say anything. He just came to the artillery mounted on the bow of the ship, smiled at the gunner and asked: "Are the shells loaded?"

The gunner was stunned by his question: "Of course."

Arthur nodded expressionlessly, then pointed to the sky and shouted: "Oh my God! Look, is that God?"

The gunner was fooled by him and raised his head, and Arthur took advantage of this moment to attach the burning pipe to the fuse of the artillery.

The gunner turned around, scratched the back of his head in confusion, and asked, "Sir, where is God?"

Arthur didn't answer either, he just counted down.

"Three, two, one..."

Only a bang was heard, artillery fire shot up into the sky, and the shells flew out rapidly along the barrel. However, due to the distance, they were unable to follow up, and finally had to hit the sea not far away from the Black Thorn.

White smoke filled the bow of the ship, and the gunner was frightened by the movement. It took him a long time to realize what happened.

He couldn't help but said angrily: "Are you crazy? The captain hasn't given the order yet, why are you doing this?"

Arthur put his hands in his pockets and shook his head: "I told you, it wasn't me, it was God."

Immediately afterwards, he walked towards Colonel Fitzroy.

Colonel Fitzroy was also frightened by the sudden cannon. As he walked towards the bow of the ship, he cursed angrily: "Which son of a bitch fired the cannon? I'll fucking skin him off." !”

Arthur stepped forward, re-stretched the folded monocular, and placed it in front of Colonel Fitzroy's eyes: "Mr. Colonel, don't be too quick to get angry. Take a look at what this is?"

From the perspective of the telescope, two flags were slowly raised on the two ships.

One side is a skull pirate flag with a silver-white arm logo painted on a blood-red background.

On the other side is the triangular bloody St. George flag.

As a sailor who has lived on ships for more than twenty years, Colonel Fitzroy certainly understands what these two flags mean.

The front side symbolizes the Barbary pirates who will kill everyone here.

The latter side represents that the British pirates will fight to the end.

"Son of a bitch!"

Colonel Fitzroy threw his boat hat to the ground. His cheeks turned red, whether from excitement or anger.

"Damn it, I really caught two big fish! Everyone obeyed the order, turned sideways on the ship, and calibrated the artillery!"

On the Black Thorn opposite, Fred was also observing the Beagle's movements with a telescope.

He threw the telescope down angrily and cursed: "How did they know we had a problem? Get closer to me, I'm going to go up and kill those idiots!"

However, before he could finish his words, he heard the sound of cannons on the sea.

"hidden!!!"

The first mate's voice echoed throughout the Black Thorn, but before he could finish shouting this sentence, four shells had already roared and hit the Black Thorn's hull.

One shot penetrated the collision angle, one shot broke the mast, and two shots directly took away the lives of three unlucky guys.

"Damn it!" Fred spat: "If the army artillery had this accuracy back then, Waterloo wouldn't have been so difficult to fight!"

He yelled: "Why are you still standing there? Fire back at me!"

But Fred roared and roared, and the first mate had no intention of following his advice.

Although the Black Thorn was an armed merchant ship, it was only equipped with two eight-pound guns, which were far from the range at this time.

As for the dozens of muskets on the ship, the effect of firing at this distance is limited to boosting morale.

At this time, he wanted to order a close approach, but after sailing for a while, he discovered that the Black Thorn was in a leeward position. Approaching the Beagle with a speed of twelve knots against the wind was nothing more than a dream.

At this time, the initiative to advance or retreat is almost completely controlled by the Beagle.

The Black Thorn was at a loss, but the Barbary pirates who were experienced in naval battles already had an idea.

They quickly drove away from the Black Thorn, intending to go around to the front of the Berger, which had weak firepower, to fight back.

But the battle-hardened Royal Navy naturally couldn't let him get what he wanted. Almost at the same moment that the Barbary pirates left the Beigel, Colonel Fitzroy ordered a rapid approach to the Black Thorn.

Fred couldn't help but be overjoyed when he saw this. He ordered: "Turn around quickly, I'm going to have a head-on confrontation with them!"

The first mate looked bitter when he heard this, but it was hard to refute.

They were downwind. Even if they were to play collision, it would be the Beagle hitting the black thorns. There would be no head-on collision at all.

But he still ordered to fire back after the Beagle came into range.

"Fire!"

There was a bang, and the shell landed on the Beagle's waterline, but it only left a dent in the Beagle's hull, which was reinforced with copper.

However, even if they did not suffer any damage, the gunners of the Beagle did not intend to indulge Fred's temper.

"FIRE!!!"

Bang bang bang bang! ! !

This was the second round of shelling in three and a half minutes.

In order not to sink the Black Thorn, the gunners chose very particular points of impact, either on the mast or on the canvas.

Their focus is not on killing people, but on trying to make the Blackthorn lose its ability to escape.

As Admiral Nelson famously said, the motto of the Royal Navy was 'If I had had the opportunity to capture twelve ships and only eleven were captured, I would not call it a victory'.

Just when Fred thought the bombardment was over and could finally calm down for a while, a strong smell of saltpeter suddenly came from the tip of his nose.

Before he could figure out what was going on, he noticed countless white spots lighting up on the deck of the Beagle, and then he heard bursts of shrill screams on the sea.

Fred's pupils shrank, he knew this thing, because the Army also used this thing to attack Napoleon at Waterloo.

He still remembered that the infantry only used a few hundred rounds of this thing to withstand several attacks from Napoleon's personal soldiers, the French Old Guard.

Congreve Rockets!

Fred didn't know its scientific name. He, an uncultured cavalryman, usually preferred to call it 'the whisper of death'.

Almost in an instant, the entire ship of the Blackthorn was on fire. The burned sailors were lying on the deck rolling around. The sound of explosions sounded in the ears from time to time. In addition to the smell of urine left in the air due to panic and fear, There is also a lot of aroma of mature meat after grilling.

The flames twisting like snakes and the screams one after another are enough to cover the blood on the feet and the charred corpses emitting white smoke.

Fred looked at the scene in front of him, wondering if he had inhaled too much smoke. In a daze, he felt as if he had returned to that day fifteen years ago.

The day he lost two fingers and a toe was June 18th.

Suddenly, the Blackthorn's hull shuddered violently, amid the frightened shouts of the first mate.

Fred saw three springboards set up in front of him.

On the gangplank, a dozen marines with swords in their mouths were rushing towards the deck of the Black Thorn.

And on the springboard directly opposite him, stood a young man with black hair and an officer's sword in his mouth.

He jumped off the gangplank and thrust his sword through the chin of the Blackthorn sailor who jumped at him.

He moved his steps again to avoid the slash on the left, then stepped on the shin of the enemy beside him, and smoothly inserted the sword down his throat, and with a little force, it penetrated the back of the opponent's head.

Just after taking one life, he twisted his body again and clamped the scimitar that was attacking him with his leather-gloved left palm. Then he dived forward and sent the blade in his hand into the heart of the enemy.

When Fred saw this, he suddenly felt that his blood, which had been silent for a long time, was boiling.

Although he occasionally killed a few people over the years, these were just one-sided killings and completely failed to arouse his interest.

Except for Willocks, who is more durable, he has not encountered a master of this level for a long time.

"There are actually such talented people in the Royal Navy?" He widened his eyes and grinned: "Mediterranean fighting style, Apennine swordsmanship, Fiore style?"