The Shadow of Great Britain
Chapter 113 - 113 73 The Sound of the End

113: Chapter 73: The Sound of the End 113: Chapter 73: The Sound of the End As the crew of the Black Thorn indulged in laughter, the deck of the Beagle was still a hive of hurrying activity.

Colonel Fitzroy, while observing the course of the Barbary pirate ship through his telescope, ordered an adjustment of the cannon positions.

“Set the range!

Elevation 30 degrees, 15 degrees east by south, four shots, fire in unison!”

The thunderous roar of the cannons could be heard, causing a series of splashes on the sea surface.

The Barbary pirate ship was hit in two places, but the damage was all above the waterline and did not affect its mobility.

But as soon as the barrage from the Beagle ended, the Barbary pirates’ retaliation came swiftly.

They unveiled six guns in a row, firing fiercely at the Beagle.

With a loud boom, wood splinters flew all over the deck and smoke billowed.

Eld lay on the deck covering his head and it took him a while before getting up, spitting out a mouthful of wood splinters, he cursed loudly, “Bloody sons of whores, if you’ve got the guts, come board us!

Hiding behind superior firepower and bullying us, what kind of rubbish is that!”

Darwin also wiped the soot from his face, muttering, “Eld, you didn’t say that when we were shelling the Black Thorn!

Didn’t you say then that firepower is justice?”

Eld glared and grabbed the musket beside him, bristling, “Charles, whose side are you on?

Of course, our firepower advantage is justice, but when others have the advantage, it’s bullying the weak, so of course I must protest!”

Perhaps the Barbary pirates had seen the billowing white smoke rising from the Black Thorn, for after several rounds of cannon fire at the Beagle, they eventually couldn’t resist closing the distance, hoping to use their numerical advantage to rescue the Black Thorn.

However, as soon as the pirate ship drew closer to the Beagle, the sailors aboard both ships couldn’t wait to raise their muskets and attack each other.

Under the command of the Barbary pirate captain Ahmed and Colonel Fitzroy, both ships furled their sails, almost coming to a standstill while sailing parallel to each other.

After completing a round of firing, sailors from both sides violently threw their guns to the deck.

Then, several planks were laid between the two ships and the Barbary pirates, drawing their curved swords, charged toward the Beagle’s deck, shouting “Allah Akbar” (God is greatest).

The sailors of the Beagle also drew their swords, yelling “God wills it” to meet their opponents’ charge.

Watching this scene from the deck of the Black Thorn, Agares couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose and shake his head, “Believers in the same God, what’s the point of this?

Besides, He can’t manage you guys, you might as well shout my name, at least I can give you some response.”

However, both parties evidently couldn’t hear the Red Devil’s sighs, and in an instant, the deck of the Beagle was drenched with blood.

Almost everyone joined the fight, including the nine-year-old cabin boy who, with all his might and in coordination with his fellow mates, fought against a Barbary pirate.

Eld at this moment also wrestled with a pirate in a sword clash, but his strength was clearly inferior and even his stance lacked the pirate’s stability.

The pirate kicked Eld’s ankle, causing him to stagger, and took advantage of his unsteady balance by mounting him, ready to claim his life with a raised blade.

In desperation, Master Eld thrust his knee forward, and though he didn’t manage to knock the pirate off, he severely struck his adversary’s private area.

The pirate reeled from the pain and dropped his curved sword.

Eld was quick to knock the sword away, and then lying on the ground, he grabbed the pirate’s throat with all the force he could muster.

The pirate, clenching his teeth against the pain, grabbed Eld’s neck as well.

Both men held on tight, their faces turning blue, but Eld saw from the corner of his eye someone clinging to the mast in front of him—it was Charles Darwin, who claimed he was somewhat squeamish about blood.

Eld shouted angrily, “Charles, come and give me a hand!

And look at yourself, you still claim you’ve got no connection to monkeys!”

Darwin’s head felt dizzy, but on hearing this, he leaped angrily from the mast, crashing heavily onto the back of the Barbary pirate.

The pirate spewed a mouthful of blood, drenching Eld’s face.

Just when Eld was about to praise Darwin, he saw Darwin angrily flipping him the bird.

“Eld, you can question my courage, but without any evidence, you cannot suggest I’m related to monkeys!

You’re not only insulting me but also Lamarckism!”

Eld, holding his neck, shook his head, “Thank heavens, thank the monkeys, and more so Lamarckism, for they have saved my life!”

As the sailors were entangled in the fierce fight, there came a series of gunshots from behind them, and seven or eight Barbary pirates were struck by bullets, falling one after another, clutching their chests.

Looking back, they saw the reinforcing marines and Arthur standing on the plank, arms raised and guns aimed.

Arthur straightened his sailor cap slightly, lifted the muzzle, and blew away the pale smoke.

“Phew…”

As the gun smoke gradually dispersed, emerging behind Arthur, in addition to the marines, were scores of shadows—countless, liberated, angry contract slaves from the Black Thorn armed with various weapons.

Seeing this, the Barbary pirates realized their situation was hopeless, and Captain Ahmed put two fingers in his mouth and blew the whistle for retreat.

He shouted in Arabic, “This one’s botched, let’s retreat!”

They wanted to retreat, but the sailors of the Beagle had no intention of letting them go.

Colonel Fitzroy kicked a pirate in front of him, then lifted his arm and shouted, “Counterattack on all fronts!”

Tom and Tony pulled out their muskets and shot at the pirates retreating across the plank: “For justice and righteousness!”

At the same time, the war cry “For Nelson!” echoed through the Beagle.

Following closely behind Arthur, and having boarded the Beagle, Great Dumas also picked up the flintlock pistol that Arthur had given him and violently opened fire, shouting, “The Irish represent the highest level of British intelligence!”

The sailors, initially filled with nothing but fiery zeal, felt a surge of rage rise to their heads upon hearing this, and even Captain Fitzroy couldn’t help but roar, “Damn it!

Which son of a whore of a pirate shouted that?

I think they don’t want to live!

Clean them out for me!”

Under the relentless assault of the sailors, the Barbary Pirates were forced to retreat step by step.

Seeing the angry sailors and indentured slaves about to chase over the gangplank, the pirate leader Ahmed had no choice but to order, “We can’t wait any longer, remove the gangplank, let us retreat!”

At his command, the pirate ship unfurled its sails again, and, with the help of the monsoon winds, quickly put distance between itself and the Beagle.

Without support, the gangplank collapsed, and those Barbary Pirates still on it fell into the sea, splashing and desperately crying out for help in terror.

And Colonel Fitzroy, with a wave of his Sword of Honor, bellowed the order, “Fire the cannons!

Don’t let them live!!!”

At his command, the cannons at the bow of the Beagle roared simultaneously.

Several cannonballs struck the pirate ship’s cabins in an instant, but, unfortunately, failed to break the sails that powered them.

Colonel Fitzroy, looking at the full array of Congreve rocket launchers on his ship, gritted his teeth in frustration, “I should have saved some for backup!”

He wanted to order a pursuit, but turning his head and seeing the Beagle’s damaged sails and a fallen mast, he let out a begrudging sigh.

“Alas!

Such a pity, we had the chance to take down two ships!

These Barbary Pirates, how dare they insult us by saying we only have the intelligence of the Irish!”

No sooner had he spoken than he saw Arthur approaching him with a bloodied towel in hand.

The battle had been so fierce that Arthur’s arms were coated with blood, his palms so slippery that he couldn’t hold on to anything.

Arthur, looking at an unsatisfied Colonel Fitzroy, said, “Colonel sir, you needn’t worry, those pirates are as good as dead.”

“How do you know that?”

Arthur cleaned his hands, then pulled out a telescope from his chest and passed it over, pointing to the sea ahead, “Just look there.”

Colonel Fitzroy took the telescope and glanced up, only then noticing several black dots appearing on the sea ahead.

As the black dots drew closer, he could clearly see the pennants flying on those ships.

At the very top was the navy’s headquarters flag, with a large red background and three gold anchor emblems.

Below it flew a white field with a red cross and a union flag in the upper left corner, symbolizing the front-line forces of the Royal Navy with the white squadron flag.

Following were the divisional flags signifying the English Channel fleet and the fork-tailed divisional commander’s flag bordered in red on a white field.

But these flags weren’t Colonel Fitzroy’s primary concern; his focus was entirely on the special pennant that fluttered in the wind and was adorned with a small red sun on the Saint George’s flag.

That was the flag symbolizing the rank of the highest commander of the fleet.

And as the ships slowly approached, Colonel Fitzroy could finally see which massive vessels from the Royal Navy were arriving.

The English Channel fleet’s 74-gun third-rate battleship, the ‘Glasgow,’ the fleet’s 98-gun second-rate battleship, the ‘Reckless,’ and the flagship of the Channel fleet, the 114-gun first-rate battleship, the ‘Conqueror.’

Colonel Fitzroy let out a slight breath, the information sufficient for him to realize who exactly was on board the ships opposite him from the Royal Navy.

The commander of the Channel fleet directly under the headquarters of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland’s navy, the Royal Navy’s white-flag Lieutenant General—General Edward Codrington.

At this point, some knowledgeable sailors had begun to smirk with laughter, and Colonel Fitzroy couldn’t help but make the sign of the cross over his chest.

“What was the point for those pirates, I wonder?

General Codrington and the Ottoman Turkish Empire have some complicated grievances; falling into his hands would be worse than surrendering directly to me.”

On the distant horizon, a navy officer donned with a silver wig, a cocked hat atop his head, shoulder boards bearing three shiny sun-shaped epaulettes, wearing a red and black uniform with white trousers, sat cold-faced with his hands crossed atop the pommel of a longsword on the deck, seated on a deep red velvet chair at the bow of the ship.

The briny sea breeze grazed his profile, lifting his silver curls.

The venerable officer stood up, slightly raising his right hand.

Behind him, the signalman saw this and immediately bellowed with a deafening shout, “To Your Station!”

Soon, a ruckus arose across the sea, with the sounds of cannon port covers being thrown open.

From top to bottom, cannons of various calibers were pushed out one by one, 12-pound, 24-pound, 32-pound, and the largest caliber of 68-pound, the black muzzles densely filling 114 gun ports.

As a gust of wind passed through his cuffs, that raised right hand casually waved downward.

“Fire!!!!!!!”

A thunderous roar like a flash of lightning resounded.

The distant sea was suddenly enveloped in a thick fog so dense it seemed it could not be dissolved, reminiscent of the mysterious clouds of the Bermuda Triangle, completely swallowing the pirate ship into the unknown.

As a gust of wind swept through, the fog gradually dispersed and the sea remained calm, as if there had never been anything there.

Only, a few floating, bobbing planks still served as a reminder that perhaps something had once existed here.