The endless historical battlefield that began with World War I

Chapter 416: A Comeback!

Paddy glanced back at him, then turned and yelled at the foredeck, "Did you all hear that?! Get ready, and get your act together!"

Five hundred yards away, the sails of the Polaris were billowing in the wind again, and the thirty-two gunboats turned their bows and headed straight for the Liberty.

The Grey Wolf are not going to give George time to regroup.

"Are we going to fight it with just our one ship?" a young gunner whispered to the person next to him.

Thomas slapped him on the back of the head: "Stop talking nonsense, load."

The Polaris fired its guns.

Sixteen twelve-pound shells flew toward the Liberty. The first grazed the hull, and the second slammed into it, shaking the ship violently and sending the sound of wood cracking through the deck.

"The hull held up!"

The third shot struck the carriage of the swivel gun on the deck, causing the entire carriage to overturn, the gun barrel to crash onto the deck, gunpowder to spill everywhere, and the sparking matchlock to fall onto it as well.

"Put out the fire!" Paddy rushed over.

Morgan was even faster; he had already poured a bucket of water on it, and the gunpowder hissed and emitted white smoke, thankfully preventing it from catching fire.

"Fire!" George ordered.

The Grey Wolf's gunners were still loading their second rounds when the Freedom's retaliatory fire arrived. Iron bullets swept across the North Star's upper deck, smashing a section of the bulwark.

Both ships were equipped with twelve-pound cannons, and their hulls were made of oak of roughly the same thickness, so neither could expect to penetrate the other in a single salvo.

Although the Polaris had a few more guns than the Freedom and fired more shells in each volley, the Freedom's gun crew was faster. Before the ramrods were even out of the breech, another volley had already fired. With more shells on one side and faster guns on the other, neither gained much of an advantage.

The two ships fought while simultaneously turning their rudders to gain position.

George wanted to go around to the stern of the North Star, but Grey Wolf wouldn't give him the chance, keeping the ship's gunwale facing him the whole time.

The Grey Wolf tried to press forward and seize the wind, but the Liberty took the initiative and changed course, controlling the wind.

No one can defeat anyone in one bite; everyone is grinding each other down round after round.

Fifteen minutes have passed.

The Freedom was missing two cannons on its starboard side, and the outer layer of one of the foremast's support cables was broken. Morgan temporarily tied it with a rope, and the tattered sails and ropes hung haphazardly from the rigging.

Below deck, Graves was treating wounded sailors. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his forearms were covered in blood.

A gunner's shoulder was pierced by a piece of oak wood. Graves held the man down with one hand, cut open his clothes with the other, and bit a tourniquet in his mouth.

After a cannon shot, the ship shuddered again, and someone outside shouted, "Two more!"

The Polaris was also bleeding. The Freedom fired two rounds, while the Grey Wolf only fired a little over one round. All the extra shells landed on its sails and upper deck.

The cannons roared from both ships, and finally, a shell from the Polaris pierced the deck of the Freedom.

The twelve-pound iron ball shattered the inner deck, splintered, and hurtled into the gun deck, grazing a loader's back. The man screamed and collapsed to the ground, his back a bloody mess.

"It's breached!" someone shouted.

Paddy's expression changed.

"Graves!"

Graves leaned halfway out of the hatch, took the wounded soldier from him, and then pulled back inside.

"George!" Paddy shouted from the foredeck, "We can't keep going like this!"

George knew perfectly well; his fingers gripped the binoculars tightly. "Hold on a little longer."

On the secondary battlefield, the Pied Dove was relentlessly pursuing the French 16-gun armed ship. When the enemy tried to retreat north to reinforce, the Pied Dove cut in front of it to block its path.

The Lucky came from the other side to block them, while the Adventure and the patrol boat entangled the light boat with ten cannons.

Ten minutes later, the two French auxiliary ships withdrew, but the gunfire from the main battlefield to the north intensified.

"Raise the sails," Reed ordered the helmsman. "Leave this to the Lucky and the Adventure. We're heading back."

Without waiting for a signal, the Pierrot turned around and headed north.

On the main battlefield, the Freedom had only eight cannons left on its starboard side.

Morgan had a cut on his face, which he wiped with his sleeve and continued tying the ropes. Thomas's artillery crew was missing two men; one was carried away, and the other sat in a pile of rubble, covering his eyes, blood seeping from between his fingers.

Another twelve-pound shell pierced through, the second time already. Splinters of wood exploded, and a sailor standing beside the powder keg was knocked down by the shrapnel, causing the keg to overturn.

Just then, a shout came from the masthead: "South! Sail!"

George looked up sharply; to the south, a small sail was approaching.

It's the Izayoi.

Paddy saw the look in George's eyes: "It's back?"

"I'm back."

From the stern of the Polaris, Renard also saw the Ikaruga returning to provide assistance.

If it does manage to reach it, the Freedom will be able to attack the Polaris from both sides. Last time, the situation was broken only with the help of auxiliary ships, but this time the auxiliary ships are tied up and can't return for the time being.

The battle must be finished before the Ikaruga arrives at the main battlefield.

Continuing to engage in this broadside exchange of fire would likely result in a stalemate. The Freedom has a high rate of fire and a hard hull, so this kind of attrition would be too slow; they can't afford to drag it out.

"Adjust the sails, veer to the right."

The North Star changed course; it was no longer facing the Freedom head-on, but instead turned right, cutting diagonally from the right rear of the Freedom, following an angled path.

"He's cutting us!" Zachary shouted.

The Polaris cut diagonally from the right rear of the Freedom, and at the current speeds of both ships, the end of this diagonal line would just pass the stern of the Freedom.

Once you get past the stern, you can fire a vertical shot from the stern.

If a 12-pound salvo hits the stern, the shells can sweep down the entire deck from bow to stern. One shell fired from the rear is equivalent to ten shells fired from the side. George often used this tactic against enemy nations and pirates when he was privateering at sea.

"He's going to cut our butts off!" Paddy shouted.

The atmosphere on deck changed instantly; everyone knew what it meant to be shot from the stern. A young sailor's hand began to tremble. Morgan patted him on the shoulder without saying a word.

George's eyes darted back and forth between the North Star and the Freedom, his mind racing as he quickly estimated the distance, angle, speed, and wind direction.

Finally, he turned around, stared at the still intact mainsail on his ship for a long time, and then turned back.

Thomas.

"exist!"

"Load all the guns on the starboard side. Wait for my order; no one is to move until I say fire."

Thomas paused for a moment. The Grey Wolf had cut in from the right rear, a direction completely outside the firing range of the broadside guns.

At a time like this, a normal person would either speed up or turn the rudder to dodge, but George wanted him to load the gun to starboard, even though the starboard gun was pointing at an empty sea.

"Did you hear me?"

"----clear!"

"Morgan".

"exist."

"Take two men and stand guard by the mainsail's mooring lines until I give further orders."

Morgan blinked; he didn't know what George was up to, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Ezra".

"I am here."

"When I give the order, press down two compass points to the left."

Ezra glanced at him.

If the enemy ship approaches from the right rear, turning the rudder to the left will cause the bow to turn left and the stern to swing to the right, essentially putting the ship more directly under the enemy's guns. How can that be considered defense?

But he didn't say anything, he just nodded. "—Understood, press the two dots on the left."

George stopped talking. He walked to the starboard aft section, stood on the steps of the sterncastle, and looked to the right rear. The North Star was in that direction, getting closer and closer.

300 yards.

Paddy followed him: "George, what exactly are you trying to do?"

George did not answer.

The North Star's sails were taut. Its rigging was damaged, making it much slower than at the start of the war, but it was traveling tangentially, and the distance was still gradually decreasing.

250 yards.

Paddy's voice changed: "George! It's coming! We have to—"

"Wait."

"What are you waiting for!"

George didn't look at him; his eyes remained fixed on the angle of the North Star's sails as he calculated in his mind.

At 200 yards, the gun ports of the Polaris were already open.

"George!" Paddy grabbed his arm. Several sailors on deck turned pale as they watched the North Star cut in from the right rear, the row of black holes getting closer and closer, about to pass over the stern.

150 yards.

The Polaris has cut 150 yards to its right rear. In a few dozen seconds, it will pass the stern of the Liberty.

At that time, the twelve-pound iron ball will smash through the thin stern plank and smash everything in its path down the deck.

Renard raised his right hand, ready to order a volley.

On the deck of the Freedom, some people were already praying quietly.

Just then, George turned around. He no longer looked at the North Star, but faced his own ship, faced Paddy, faced Morgan, faced everyone, and a roar exploded from his chest: "Lower the sails!"

Paddy hesitated for a moment, but he immediately reacted and yelled back, "Down the sails! Everyone down the sails! Now!"

Morgan didn't need to hear it a second time. He grabbed the mainsail's rope with both hands, pressing his entire weight onto it, while the two sailmen beside him exerted force simultaneously. The rope taut, and the windward side of the mainsail flipped over sharply.

The canvas bulged up backwards, and Ezra pressed down on the rudder almost simultaneously, veering two points to the left.

The Liberty suddenly slowed down, its bow veered to the left, and everyone on deck stumbled forward. Those who couldn't grab onto anything fell head over heels, a bucket of water overturned, and a loose cable dangled from the mast.

On the stern of the Polaris, Renard's right hand was still raised in mid-air, and before he could give the order, he saw the sails opposite him reverse, and the speed was dropping.

That's impossible.

But his mouth moved faster than his brain: "Correct course! Veering left!"

As soon as the order was given, the French sailors pulled the rope with all their might.

However, the North Star was cutting at high speed, with two fewer support cables on the foremast and a section of the mainsail jacking cable temporarily attached, making it a full third slower to adjust the sail than usual.

It couldn't stop.

All of Grey Wolf's calculations were based on the speeds and angles between the two ships. He calculated the rendezvous point precisely: the North Star would cut along the diagonal line, and at that point, it would pass right past the stern of the Freedom, at which point the North Star would have its sixteen cannons aimed directly at the stern of the Freedom.

But at this moment, the rendezvous point is still there, but the Freedom is gone.

Because of the reversed sails, it was subjected to the opposite wind force, and its speed immediately dropped sharply. The bow also veered off course, making it impossible to reach the rendezvous point predicted by Grey Wolf at its current speed. When the North Star passed that location, there was only an empty sea.

By the time the Grey Wolf came to its senses, the Polaris had already rushed to within a hundred yards of the Freedom's starboard side, its entire side exposed.

Grey Wolf had calculated the point of convergence for the stern-firing maneuver, but George used the reverse sails to move the Liberty away from that point.

"Fire on the starboard side!" George roared.

The ten cannons roared simultaneously.

At a distance of 100 yards, hitting the opponent is much easier.

Two shells struck the hull plating near the waterline of the Polaris, shattering the oak and sending fragments flying into the gun deck. One shell hit the anchor chain tube, causing the chain to rattle wildly. The remaining shells swept across the upper deck and foresail rigging, snapping a mainsail jack rope and causing the mainsail to droop limply at the top corner.

Two new holes have appeared at the bow of the Polaris, allowing water to be poured in.

Paddy stood on the foredeck and glanced back at George, who was shouting, "Restore the sails!"

The mainsail flipped back up, and the Freedom began to pick up speed again.

The North Star was desperately trying to turn, but its sails were damaged. French sailors were hanging from the mast and pulling on the ropes, but the sails just couldn't keep up with the rudder.

George watched this scene and let out a long sigh of relief.

"South! The Black Dove! Two nautical miles!"

The shouts from the masthead made everyone look up.

George raised his binoculars, and the sails of the Shokuhou were clearly visible in the southern sunlight; the Shokuhou's standard-bearer was standing on the mast.

Raise the hand flag.

It seems the situation on the secondary battlefield has stabilized. The French auxiliary ship won't be able to return for the time being, while the Ikaruga is rejoining the fleet.

Ten minutes later, the Ikaruga cut into the main battlefield from the port rear of the Polaris. The Ikaruga chose a diagonal line with the help of the wind, avoiding the Polaris's broadside firing range, and instead hovered diagonally behind it, keeping the Polaris's stern constantly under threat.

Now, the Freedom is attacking head-on, while the Ikaruga is watching from the side and rear.

The Grey Wolf reacted as well, and the Polaris veered sharply off course, heading straight for the Dove.

Renard abandoned the Liberty; the Dove was too close behind him. If it got any closer, it would eventually find an angle to attack his stern. He had to eliminate this threat first.

"He's turned towards the Dove!" Zachary shouted.

"Signal! Ikaruga, break away! Quickly!"

The signal flags were raised, and the Scabbard Dove saw them. Reed immediately ordered a rudder turn. But in trying to force the Polaris to stop, it had already gotten too close.

The North Star fired a salvo from its starboard side. Three or four shells struck the Pierrot's port side. A six-pounder gun and its carriage were blown off, and two gunners fell. A hole was punched through the midsection of the hull, very close to the waterline. One of the rigging lines on the aft mast broke, and the sail tilted to one side.

"Captain!" the flag bearer of the Pied Dove shouted from the masthead.

"We won't die! Change course! Get out of here first!"

The Ikaruga struggled to turn its bow. But on the Polaris, the Grey Wolf's gunners were already loading their second salvo.