The endless historical battlefield that began with World War I

Six iron balls flew out, tearing through the air ahead. Four hit their mark, two struck the hull, and one snapped the foremast's support cables. The last, and most crucial, ball pierced the rudder post guard beneath the rudder wheel.

The escort ship began to veer off course; its rudder was damaged, and it lost steering ability.

Thick white smoke billowed from the front of the cannons and was pushed forward by the sea breeze.

George didn't rush to give the order. The reason he had ordered a half-bill salvo instead of a full-bill salvo was that if all eleven guns were fired at once, the black powder smoke would engulf the entire bulwark in an instant, blinding the gunners. In the current situation, a better approach was to wait for the smoke to dissipate before firing the second half of the salvo.

The sea breeze tore a hole in the smoke.

"Later stage—fire!" Thomas's voice was already hoarse from the gunpowder.

The last five cannons fired simultaneously through the gaps in the smoke, and the enemy's foremast fell.

Only twelve minutes passed from the moment the target was spotted to the moment the vanguard escort ship lost its combat capability.

Once the rear guard escort ships had finally shaken off the Black Dove's pursuit, the captain turned around to see the vanguard escort ships had lost their foremast and were spinning in circles on the sea. The four sugar merchant ships, now without forward protection, were frantically trying to change formation.

Meanwhile, the Freedom, accompanied by two armed ships, was heading towards them at full speed in a triangle formation.

Three against one.

The captain of the escort ship was a seasoned sailor. He took two seconds to assess the situation and then made the only correct decision in this circumstances—to raise the white flag.

Paddy stood on the foredeck of the Freedom, watching the white flag unfurl in the wind in the distance.

"That's it?" There was an undisguised disappointment in his tone. "I haven't even untied the rope hook for my team yet."

George walked over from the aft deck. "You think it's too fast?"

"Too fast, too easy." Paddy rubbed the knot in his hands. "I haven't even made a move yet."

Griffin led his men aboard and inventoried the cargo of the four sugar ships: a total of 160 barrels of molasses, 40 barrels of rum, 30 cases of indigo dye, plus the ship's canvas and rigging.

Armed merchant ships also came over and began transferring goods.

George boarded the captured vanguard escort ship. The deck still bore the marks of battle: shattered wood from shells, broken rigging, and a pool of still-wet blood, but no bodies. Thomas's shelling had hit the rigging and steering gear precisely; casualties on deck were minimal.

The captain of the Spanish frigate was waiting for him on the aft deck.

He was a man in his fifties, with a neatly trimmed black beard and his buttons fastened securely. He was still holding his sword, which, according to etiquette, should be handed over upon surrender, but he had not yet done so.

George stopped in front of him.

The Spanish captain handed over his sword, which was held horizontally across his hands.

George took the sword, but without drawing it to examine it, he handed it to Paddy behind him.

Paddy weighed the sword in his hand, snorted, and said, "All show and no substance. My short sword is much better."

The Spanish captain's lips twitched; he understood the English.

-----------------

That evening, in the captain's cabin of the Freedom.

Graves sat in the corner flipping through his notebook. Paddy sat on the windowsill, chewing on a piece of candy he'd smuggled from the spoils. Thomas stood at the chart table, recording the hit data for each volley of shots that day.

Graves looked up from his notebook. "Paddy, you're eating our spoils, they haven't been distributed yet."

Paddy moved the candy from one cheek to the other. "I just took my share early."

George didn't participate in the conversation; he stood by the window, looking out at the night sea.

The moonlight rippled across the sea, creating a shimmering path. In the distance, the lights of the Ikaruga flickered faintly in the darkness.

This is just the beginning; it's not enough yet.

-----------------

The days that followed became a regular rhythm.

The fleet departs port, cruises, spots the enemy, pursues them, collects cargo, then returns to port, and departs again...

A lone Spanish salt carrier lowered its sails immediately upon seeing the Liberty's flag. Its captain had clearly heard about the sugar convoy's plight.

Paddy stood on the foredeck, watching the white flag rise, and fastened the half-undone boarding rope hook back around his waist. "I'm going to be out of a job as the boarding captain sooner or later."

A few days later, two Dutch smuggling ships attempted to escape by diving into the shallow reef area.

Reed's Turtledove circled around from the side, while patrol boats and armed merchant ships blocked the exit from the other side.

Finally, the three ships herded the Dutch back into deep water like sheep, and the Dutch had no choice but to hand over their cargo.

After the fleet hijacked several more ships, a British sugar ship even came seeking escort. The ship's owner arrived safely in Barbados under the protection of the Free Fleet.

The warehouses at Snake Bay have expanded from three to five, and the excess goods are piled up under the palm trees at the dock, covered with tarpaulins.

Each time Thomas returned from a voyage, he would update the firing data on the chart table. The hit rate had climbed from 40% to 45%, and then to 50%. Zachary's flag signals were being raised faster and faster, and the time from raising the flag to the full formation responding had been shortened from four minutes to three minutes, and then to two and a half minutes.

Griffin was pleased that his damage control team had not been deployed to the field.

But Paddy was very unhappy about it.

"Can't you just let them shoot us?" Paddy said to George. "Even just one shot would do. I want to see how Griffin does his job."

"You can ask the enemy," George said.

That evening, Margo's intelligence network sent a different message.

A French smuggling fleet will depart from Martinique this week, transporting a shipment of weapons westward along the reef route on the southern edge of the Windward Islands.

Smuggling boats travel at night without escorts, relying on their familiarity with the reef routes. Because no one else dares to travel that route in the dark.

Besides them.

And those who possess nautical charts.

-----------------

As night fell, the Freedom, along with the Dove and a patrol boat, extinguished all their lights and, like three black fish, slid into the deep-water channel outside the reef area.

The information from the nautical charts appeared in George's field of vision. The location of every reef, the depth of every channel, and the direction and strength of every ocean current were all marked on that pale blue interface that only he could see.

He stood on the aft deck and issued the command: "Two compass points to the left."

"straight."

"Turn right half a point, maintain the heading for twenty seconds, then straighten out."

Ezra's hand steadily turned the steering wheel in the darkness.

Paddy huddled behind the bulwark on the foredeck, curled up in a ball. He could see nothing in the darkness; there was no moon, the starlight was obscured by thin clouds, and the sea and sky merged into one black expanse.

"I can't see anything," Paddy whispered.

"That's normal," Griffin's voice came from the darkness further away, as he lay prone a few steps behind Paddy.

They sailed in the dark for two hours.

The lookout on the masthead suddenly lowered his voice: "There are lights ahead. Three... no, four."

George straightened up on the aft deck. He picked up his binoculars, but they were useless in the darkness. All he could see were four faint points of light moving slowly about a nautical mile ahead.

Those were navigation lights on smuggling ships; they were very dim.

The captains of the French smuggling fleet were doing what they had done countless times: following the reef routes they remembered, guided by experience and the lights, they were slowly and cautiously navigating through the night.

Their attention was entirely focused on what was ahead and the reefs on either side.

No one looked to the side. Because the side was a reef area, no ship dared to come from there. Except for George's fleet.

"Lights signal," George whispered.

Zachary was nearby. He reached into the lightbox beneath the mast and pulled back the blinds. A lamp covered with a red cloth lit up and flashed twice to the rear, signifying "spread out to the sides, prepare to encircle."

In the darkness, they couldn't see the other two boats' reactions, but George knew they were moving because he could hear the canvas rustling.

Reed's Turtledove circled around to the right of the smuggling fleet, while patrol boats blocked their retreat from the left.

They formed a pocket, and without the smuggling fleet's knowledge, the three ships completed the encirclement in the dark.

"All ships, prepare to open the gun ports."

A dull thud came from the lower deck, and the gun doors were simultaneously flung open, the sound of hinges clearly audible in the night sea.

The lights ahead suddenly stopped. The smugglers heard the sounds of hinges, creaking wood, and clanging metal. They knew these sounds all too well; they were the sounds of gun emplacements opening.

But the sound came from an impossible direction: the reef area.

While they were still in shock, George's voice rang out through the darkness.

"This is the British privateer HMS Liberty. We have ships ahead of you and behind you. Now lower your sails and turn off your lights, or I will open fire."

After a few seconds of silence, the first navigation light went out, then the second, the third, and the fourth.

Paddy stood up from behind the bulwark. He couldn't see anything in the darkness, but there was a tremor in his voice as he struggled to suppress laughter.

"I still haven't done anything."

The French smuggling fleet consisted of four ships, carrying eighty barrels of gunpowder, thirty boxes of flintlock musket parts, and two boxes of fine Burgundy wine.

As they were leaving, the captain of the French smuggling fleet glanced back at the Liberty in the darkness.

"How did you get through the reef area?" he asked.

George stood on the ship's side, his expression obscured in the darkness.

"I know the way," George said.

The French captain remained silent for a long time, then shook his head and turned away. The fleet disappeared into the darkness.

Back in Freeport, George hung a new nautical chart on the wall of the port office.

On this nautical chart, the shipping route between Port Royal and Freeport is marked with two dotted lines in red ink, indicating the patrol area of ​​the Free Fleet.

The sea area between these two dotted lines belongs to him from this moment on.

-----------------

The area marked by red ink grew larger and larger, covering longer and longer shipping routes, and the name of the Free Fleet gradually began to appear in the gossip of taverns in various Caribbean ports.

Merchant ship owners would mention this name while drinking rum, their tone carrying a complex sense of peace.

They disliked privateers, but disliked pirates even more, and what they disliked most was that the Royal Navy was "too busy to escort them."

Gradually, new news spread through the nearby ports.

Port Royal, Kingston, Port of Spain… wherever merchant ship owners drank, the name “Free Fleet” began to be associated with a price: 5% of the total value of the cargo for each leg of the journey, to be delivered safely.

More and more people are coming to us requesting escort services from the Free Fleet.

This time, a major client has arrived. A British merchant fleet, consisting of six large ships fully loaded with sugar and cotton, will depart from Jamaica next week, passing through the Windward Channel to Barbados.

That morning, George set sail with the Liberty and three armed merchant ships. The Dove had already departed the day before, and Reed had gone ahead to patrol and scout the entrance to the Windward Strait.

On the second day of the escort mission, the Ikaruga sent a signal that two flagless ships had been spotted ahead.

George raised his binoculars. He saw two single-masted fast ships, each with about six to eight cannons. They were anchored behind a headland in the Windward Channel, their sails mostly down, clearly waiting for something.

They were pirates, waiting for merchant fleets that weren't escorted.

But they didn't expect that the merchant fleet would have someone accompanying them.

"Zakali, raise the flag, battle formation."

The flag was raised to the top of the mast. The six merchant ships immediately moved to the center of the formation and were protected by the Free Fleet.

The Liberty turned its rudder and headed towards the two pirate ships.

The gun ports of all twenty-four cannons were opened simultaneously, and the dark muzzles of the cannons protruded from the port side, the iron barrels gleaming coldly in the Caribbean sun.

The Liberty's gunwales were a man's height higher than the two speedboats. From the pirate ship's perspective, the row of cannons looked like a fire-breathing city wall.

Several armed ships also deployed in formation on the flanks. In less than two minutes, the fleet had spread out into a fan shape, covering the two pirate speedboats within its firing range.

The two pirate ships faced this formation and remained silent for a few seconds.

Then the car in front started to turn around, and the car behind followed suit.

The two boats hoisted their sails like cats with hot bottoms and raced desperately toward the headland. One of them was going so fast that it almost plunged its sail into the sea while turning, and only managed to steady itself after tilting slightly.

Paddy stood on the foredeck, watching the two ships scurry away and disappear behind the cape.

He slowly sheathed the short knife he had drawn, and then slowly re-tied the half-untied rope hook, his expression complex.

"You know what's the hardest part?" Paddy turned to Griffin beside him and said, "I even pulled out my knife, and he ran away. Now I think it was my knife that scared him away."

On the fourth day of the escort mission, an even greater threat emerged.

The Pierrot spotted a two-masted warship with eighteen cannons ahead. This ship was much larger and more ferocious than the two pirate ships they had encountered earlier.

It was not flying a flag, but there were clearly more people on deck than on a typical merchant ship, with gun ports open and sails fully unfurled.

It rushed straight in from the northeast, its target the six fully loaded merchant ships.