Chapter 375 Encounter

  The narrow sea between Westeros and Essos has always been full of huge waves.

  The complex and changeable climate makes this a monsoon-prone area, and storms come as soon as they are said, without the slightest sign.

  A fleet of forty-two warships and ten transport ships was sailing against the wind and waves on the pitch-black sea.

In fact, for a thousand-ton warship and a large transport ship, such a storm is not a threat, but those small six-hundred-ton warships bumped badly in the storm, and the bow was often submerged in huge waves, and the deck was full of Flowing sea water.

Another huge wave hit, several crew members were washed away, quite embarrassed, but Sir Lucas Dane was wet by the sea, but his feet seemed to be nailed to the deck, standing erect. Does not fall.

  Don't look at Sir Lucas's calmness and composure on the surface, but in fact, he hasn't slept well in the past few days as he is commanding a fleet for naval operations for the first time, and he has been worried all the time.

He knew that the new type of warship designed by His Majesty Caesar and Bachelor Coburn was actually rather cumbersome, coupled with the lack of excellent crew in the stormy land, the continuous storm for three days and three nights made the fleet's condition frequent, and even a small warship failed to turn in time Hitting a reef, the paddle wheel on the port side was completely damaged, and had to return alone.

  By the light of the lightning, Sir Lucas glanced back at the ships behind, especially those transport ships.

  Although this operation is a trap targeting the Qingting Island fleet, the bait is genuine.

   After all, the Yronwood family really needs support, and now that winter is approaching, every batch of food is precious.

   "How long until we cross the Ismond Strait?" Sir Lucas asked loudly, only in this way can he not let his voice be drowned in the storm.

   "I can leave Ismond Strait tomorrow, my lord!"

  The captain's words made Sir Lucas relax a little bit. After crossing the Ismond Strait, he will be able to enter the relatively calm Dorne Sea, so he no longer has to be so worried.

  As for the possible encounter with the Qingting Island fleet, he wasn't too worried.

  Although the enemy has a good reputation and is an old sea force that dominates Westeros, Sir Lucas is very confident in this new warship in his hands.

  He believes that this stormy fleet will surprise everyone.

   Entering the second half of the night, the storm gradually subsided.

  A round of crescent moon sticks out from behind the clouds, casting cool light on the sea.

   Wait until the moon sets and the sun rises, and a new day comes again, and this stormy fleet finally sails into the Dorne Sea.

   Sir Lucas, who was relaxed, took a nap and woke up again in the afternoon. He casually ate some oatmeal and a lemon, and came to the deck again.

  Several seagulls flitted across the sparkling sea, and the bow of the ship split the waves and rolled up white waves. The calm sea is like a blue mirror, reflecting the white clouds and the dazzling sun in the sky.

  Sir Lucas had just admired the beautiful scenery for a while, but he heard a hurried whistle.

  He suddenly raised his head and looked at the lookout post on the mainmast. He saw the sentry sticking out half of his body, and quickly waving the red flag in his hand.

  Sir Lucas understood the semaphore, and his face froze immediately, because the semaphore meant that a huge fleet appeared ahead.

   "Communication man!" he yelled immediately.

  The communications soldier hurried over and stumbled after hearing the words: "My lord, please give me an order!"

   "Notify all ships, prepare for battle!"

  The order was issued quickly, and there was a little confusion in all the ships.

   After all, this is the first official battle, and the crew members are inevitably a little nervous.

  But they still carried out pre-battle preparations in an orderly manner, quickly cleared the redundant things from the deck, opened the arsenal, and began to deliver ammunition.

  The transport ship separated from the fleet, slowly lowered its sails, reduced its speed, and withdrew to the rear of the battleship.

  The forty-two battleships began to line up, aiming their sides in the direction of the enemy's arrival.

   A few minutes later, Sir Lucas was able to see the sea surface in the southeast direction through the Mir lens, and white sail shadows appeared one after another, densely packed, almost filling the field of vision.

  When he saw the purple grape flag hanging on the opponent's mast, the last trace of luck in his heart disappeared completely.

   It really is the Qingting Island Fleet!

  And the number of warships is about twice that of your own side.

   The Stormland fleet was also spotted on the opposite side at this time. Sir Horace Redwyne stood on the bow of the flagship and said arrogantly:

   "Send a semaphore to let the Stormland Fleet on the opposite side lower its sails and anchor immediately, stop in place, and accept the inspection of the Qingting Island Fleet."

   "Yes." The semaphore soldier sent out a signal, and soon received the other party's message.

   "What did the other side say?" Sir Horace asked curiously, looking at his stunned subordinate.

   "They said...Let us die..."

   "Oh!" Horace smiled instead of anger, and immediately ordered, "Since the people of the Stormland are so ignorant, let's teach them a good lesson and let them learn to be humble! Pass the order and prepare to fight!"

"yes!"

  The sea breeze rattled the sails, and the horns rumbled, like the call of the devil, passed on from ship to ship.

  Sir Horace's flagship, the Purple Grape, is a large battleship with 300 oars, the largest in Westeros.

   "Down the oars!" The herald beat the snare drum, and three hundred oars entered the water at the same time, paddling in unison with the sound of the drum.

  The speed of the ship increased suddenly, and the bow of the ship broke through the waves, rolling up a piece of white snow.

  The sounds of shouts, drums, and wooden oars hitting the water surface blend together to form a blood-boiling symphony.

  Sir Horace stood at the bow of the ship in high spirits, and said to the mate beside him with a smile:

   "It's really not easy for Stormland to gather such a fleet in such a short period of time."

   "But a fleet is never just about ships."

   "Haha." Sir Horace laughed loudly, "Caesar probably doesn't understand this, so let us teach him a good lesson."

   "My lord, look. The ship on the opposite side is so frightened that it doesn't even know how to maintain its fighting posture."

  Sir Horace looked up, and sure enough, he saw that the warships on the opposite side had formed a strange semi-circular formation, and all of them aimed at him with the side of the ship.

   "The people of the Stormlands were scared stupid, right?" Horace sneered, "Is this just waiting to be broken by us?"

   "It's better to hang the white flag and surrender."

   "I'll sink them all if I hang the white flag!" Horace said viciously, thinking of his younger brother and the isolated Qingting Island, his face became extremely ferocious.

   "Accelerate!" Horace snarled as he pulled out the sword from his waist.

  Hey yo—puff—hey—puff—hey—puff!

  The sound of the drums accelerated, and the speed of beating the oars followed immediately. The leaves fluttered on the sea surface, and the fleet rushed forward like sharp arrows off the string.

  Horras clenched his long sword tightly and stared at the front, as if he had seen the scene where the battleship in Stormland was smashed by his own warship.

  But the next moment, he saw circles of white light suddenly lit up on the opposite battleship.

   Then there was a roaring noise, one after another.

   Horace was stunned for a moment, before he could react, he heard a sharp whistling sound in the air.

  Boom—

  A splash exploded from the water in front of him, startling Horace.

  But the next moment, the shock turned to fear—

  A dozen or so iron **** fell on the deck like a torrential rain, smashing holes one by one.

  An unlucky sailor was hit directly by the iron ball, his body was twisted into a terrifying angle, and he let out a miserable howl.

   Horace stared blankly at all this, and suddenly realized that his opponent was not as vulnerable as he imagined.

  (end of this chapter)