The Shadow of Great Britain

108: Chapter 68 Barbary Pirates Attack!

108: Chapter 68 Barbary Pirates Attack!

On the brilliant blue waters of the English Channel, the Beagle’s bow cleaved through the waves, pushed by the wind.

Colonel Fitzroy, holding a monocular, observed the surroundings and ordered the helmsman, “Hard to port.

Take the weather gauge first; no rush to close the distance.”

Under his command, the Beagle quickly turned its hull to face north.

Immediately after, Colonel Fitzroy loudly commanded the deck crew, “Gunners, musketeers, load your ammunition!

Quartermaster, how many Congreve rockets do we have on board this time?”

The quartermaster shouted back, “Reporting, sir, we prepared two hundred for this naval exercise!”

“Good!

Don’t you all dare skimp, bring them all out!

Set up the rocket launchers first; if the situation changes later, fire two rounds of cannon shots.

After closing in to one hundred fifty yards, blast them with rockets!

We must fire all two hundred rockets within eight minutes!”

“Aye, sir!”

As the Beagle turned around, two ships in the forward waters seemed to have also noticed the Beagle.

Soon, Arthur saw the tri-color flag of red, white, and blue through his telescope.

He frowned and muttered, “The French flag?”

Eld, standing beside him, chuckled and corrected, “What?

Arthur, the French flag is white.

That’s a maritime signal flag requesting us to keep our distance.”

As Eld finished speaking, they heard Colonel Fitzroy order, “Inform them that we request a dialogue.”

Soon, the Beagle’s main mast also raised a yellow and blue communications flag.

Meanwhile, on the opposing ship, Fred, with his hands on his hips, was conversing with a man wearing a white turban, a full beard, and a curved dagger at his waist.

The Black Thorn’s first mate, upon seeing the flag on the Beagle, quickly came over and whispered something to him.

Fred spat out the straw he was chewing and cursed, “Goddamn it, why does this damn ship have so many issues?

Tell them to scram, I don’t have time to fuss with them.”

Upon hearing this, the first mate had to respond, “Mr.

Fred, they are flying the Royal Navy reserve flag; perhaps it’s not proper to speak like this?

They might just want to escort us.”

Fred glared and said, “It’s just crossing a damn Dover Strait; what pirate wouldn’t have the sense to try and rob in the English Channel?”

The man in the white turban heard this and couldn’t help but stroke his beard, asking in half-cooked English flavored with the smell of roast meat, “Mr.

Fred, isn’t it a bit improper saying that?

After all, I am standing right in front of you.”

At this, Fred burst into laughter, hooking his arm over the other man’s shoulder as he said,

“Brother, you’re different!

This is a special case, isn’t it?

Ah, to think you’re just unlucky, not born in the right era.

If it were the 16th century, when ‘Silver Hand’ Barbarossa Hayreddin was alive, not even a hundred Frenchmen would dare to destroy your base!

But the French got their payback quickly!

That son of a bitch Charles X just destroyed Algiers, and the next month, the revolutionaries toppled him.

So you see, Allah does actually bless you, your bad luck is just Him occasionally nodding off.”

The other man, upon hearing this, fell silent for a moment, then placed his right hand over his left chest and slightly bowed, sighing, “Ansalom is empty; let’s hope we both have better luck in the future.”

When Fred heard this, he took a puff and said, “But you know…

brother, selling a few slaves to you before, that was no issue.

But taking on your shipload of people now, that’s a bit…

after all, you know, my resources are quite tight too.”

The man with the white turban, unable to restrain himself, pushed his hand downward, but just as he was about to touch the waist knife, Fred’s voice rang out again.

“But you’re lucky this time, to tell you the truth, I’m not planning on sticking around in London.

The Black Thorn is heading to America.

I’ve already invested in some properties there a few years back, and if you’re interested, you could join me in making a fortune.”

“I’ve got a bunch of dead-end poor bastards on this ship.

Although they can’t be sold as white slaves like in the Ottoman, they can still be used as labor for seven or eight years in America, and then we can replenish with some black slaves.”

“Later, whether we establish a tobacco plantation in the West Indies or start a cotton plantation, there’s big potential!

During the planting season, you guys can run some trade orders, smuggle goods; during the harvest season, you help me transport the products.”

“By the time you save up some money, you could also move on to some legitimate businesses.

Isn’t that much better than floating around the sea every day?

Let me be frank, ever since the Napoleonic Wars ended, the crackdown on piracy has become increasingly severe.”

“Even if you hadn’t brought this up today, as an old buddy, I would have still advised you.”

The other person listened, unable to resist asking, “You were doing pretty well in England, weren’t you?

Why stop?”

Fred broke into a wide grin, revealing his gold teeth.

“Mate, the situation in Britain is not the same as you Barbary Pirates.

You guys just need to keep the Pasha of Algiers happy, and all is well.”

“But the shitpot of Britain is different.

You not only have to please Scotland Yard but also the parishes, Magistrates’ Court, and various private detectives and thief catchers.

If anything goes wrong in any of these areas, it’s easy to fall into a pit.”

“Brother, think about it, I’m just doing small businesses like slave trading, selling stolen goods, smuggling, bribing judges, clearing channels.

After a year, deducting labor costs and networking expenses, the profit is just a tiny amount.”

“Busy all year round, sometimes earning less than the dozens of looms in a textile factory.

For such small money, I have to keep this busy, you think it’s easy for me?

Unlike you guys.

You Barbary pirates make a big score, go back, and can easily enjoy life with a few beautiful female slaves.”

“Ah, me, I’m doomed to a lifetime of toil!

On that note, believing in Allah sure beats believing in God.”

After hearing this, the man with the white turban pursed his lips twice and finally couldn’t help but speak, “Mr.

Fred, Allah and God are actually the same being.”

“Oh?

Is that so?” Fred warmly hugged him and said, “No wonder I always thought you looked like my own brother.

Turns out we believe in the same thing.

Say, why don’t you tell me about the Koran over lunch, and we can have a good chat about this topic.”

Fred was in the middle of a lively conversation with the pirate leader when suddenly, the first mate couldn’t help but interject in a low voice, “Sir, that ship is continuously approaching us, and their behavior seems a bit off.”

“Off?” Fred cursed aloud, “I’m even more off than they are!

What, are they thinking of robbing me?

A genuine pirate is my brother, let them dare to come closer and try!”

Upon hearing this, the first mate was nearly at his wits’ end with Fred’s complete lack of maritime common sense.

At that moment, it was the pirate leader who first noticed something unusual about the situation.

He pulled a telescope from his pocket and observed the direction of the Beagle for a while, then suddenly he mumbled.

“They’re signaling us to stop immediately and allow them to board for inspection.”

“What?” Fred was almost beside himself with laughter, “They’ve got a death wish?

Ahmed, my brother, fancy making one last score before we head to America?”

Ahmed eyed the size of the Beagle, pondered for a moment, then slowly nodded and said, “We can do it, but after that, we must escape quickly.

If the Royal Navy hears of this, even ten lives wouldn’t be enough.”

Fred scoffed, “That’s exactly the impact I want!

The Royal Navy?

It was our glorious Army, veterans of the Battle of Waterloo, that defeated Napoleon!

Pass down my order, let ’em in, and I’ll show them what a charge from a lieutenant of the 18th Dragoon Regiment looks like!”