MTL - My British Empire-Chapter 577 It's windy (below)

  Chapter 577 The Wind Rises (Part 2)

   Without the tracking of the English fleet, the Spanish fleet continued to move forward in a tight formation, and seemed to be much freer.

   "It seems that the group of Spaniards are about to escape. This time, we also returned without success! It will be hard next time!"

  Charles, commander of the English Channel Fleet, looked at the fading Spanish fleet and sighed.

  The Spaniards who saved their strength will definitely not let them have an easy time next time.

   "The weather in the north of Scotland is not so good, huh—"

   James stared straight ahead, put his hands together, and snorted coldly, full of disdain and displeasure.

  Failed to eliminate the Spaniards once, there will be endless troubles, and the joy of winning cannot reach full marks.

  Charles rolled his eyes when he saw this, curled his lips, and said comfortingly: "You are right, the weather in northern Scotland is more capricious than women's tempers, and the Spaniards must be uncomfortable!"

   Now, everyone can only look forward to God's blessing.

   "Damn it! My God..."

   "It's so windy—"

   "I'm going home, Mom—"

   Sure enough, after less than a day of driving, the speed of the weather changes became more and more alarming.

  There will be heavy rain, strong wind, and even hail. High latitude areas are just so tormenting.

  The sailors on the deck stared wide-eyed, full of horror, and clung to everything in front of them to ensure their own safety.

  Because at this time, even the largest ship is shaking, every moment, someone is thrown down, and then they struggle continuously in the icy sea water, and finally they are inevitably buried in the belly of the fish.

  As the leader of the sailing fleet, Hugo looked bruised and swollen at this time, with his wide skirts all torn, without the elegance of an aristocrat at all.

   "Damn it, stop crying, take off the sails and paddle, my God!"

  The strong wind and the raindrops kept beating everyone's bodies and faces. The sailors could only wear wet clothes, wiped the rain from their faces, and forcibly unloaded the sails.

   Hugo stayed on the shaky deck, and the wide cloak could not give him much warmth. On the contrary, he was more likely to be blown off on the shaky ship, so he could only hold on to the side of the ship tightly, not daring to relax in the slightest.

   Seeing that several sails were unloaded, and the shaking of the ship was no longer so serious, Hugo was relieved.

   "Your Excellency, the captain, something is wrong—" the first mate did not give Hugo more buffer time, but reported loudly in an eager and fearful tone.

   "What's the matter?" Hugo asked nervously, he felt that the next news would be even worse.

   "We, we've deviated from the course!" The first officer's tone suddenly rose, and then fell instantly.

   "Then how far are we from the fleet?"

  The night's violent wind and rain, as well as the sudden temperature of fried sauce, made Hugo miserable. He has been busy until now, and he realizes that he has deviated from most of them!

   This was no less than a thunderbolt from the blue sky, which made him scorched black and tender. He deviated from the main force, and there was only so much food and supplies. In this kind of weather, wouldn't he be waiting to die?

   "A conservative estimate, about five hundred miles!"

   "What? Overnight, five hundred miles? You're kidding me, aren't you? It's not true!"

   His eyes widened, and he stared hard at his first mate. Hugo was full of disbelief.

  Although it was estimated that the strong wind yesterday was strong, Hugo never imagined that he would blow away more than 500 kilometers. Doesn't that mean that he is almost in Norway.

   "Your Excellency, look quickly, there is land ahead, there is land!"

   When I was surprised, the sky had cleared up, the foggy weather disappeared, and the sun began to appear in front of everyone.

  Not far ahead, several small boats were sailing, with vague figures on board, which looked like fishing boats.

   "Quick, go and have a look!" Hugo said impatiently.

  How could those fishermen withstand the interrogation of such a huge ship? In a few minutes, Hugo already knew his location: Norway.

   As for the Sidoni Navy Commander and his party, they still braved the continuous storm and moved forward with difficulty.

  The violent storm caused the Spanish ship to drift on the unknown sea. The crew could not measure the latitude, so they could only continue southward according to the instructions of the magnetic compass.

  By July 3, there were only more than sixty ships gathered around the flagship "St. Martin".

  The rest were either blown to Norway and other small islands, or to the North Sea, or buried in the belly of fish and kept company with the sea.

   Of course, there are still many ships that are still on the journey, not far from the flagship.

   Admiral Sidoni wrote in his diary that day:

"I pray to the merciful God to grant us a good weather to call in, for the fleet is so little supplied that if God still refuses to forgive our sins and keeps us lingering at sea, none of us will be able to Surrender to the fate of death."

  With this thrilling weather, Commander Sidoni led his navy to the Irish waters in the second week of July.

  Because the wind direction is changing every day, except for the more than 60 ships around the flagship "St. Martin", there are scattered ships dangling behind, so they can only dock to seek supplies.

"Look, there's a ship over there!" A tall Celtic man with a bow and a dog was walking through the dense forest when he suddenly saw a ship with a flag of another country approaching the shore. Down hundreds of people.

  They were drenched all over, their faces were full of exhaustion, they fell to the ground, breathing air heavily.

   "Hurry up and inform the Earl that there are foreign enemies invading here!"

  The tall Celtic ordered softly, and then stared at the group of sailors who seemed to have escaped from hell.

  The sailors who breathed the free air, after getting rid of the torment of the weather, laughed wantonly, forgetting the danger.

   In this way, a dozen ships were successively captured throughout the west of the island of Ireland, with nearly 3,000 sailors and soldiers.

  The naturalized Celts hurriedly transported these captives to Dublin, and then presented them to London as a gift to His Majesty the King.

  So, with the end of the month-long Great Battle between Britain and the West, His Majesty Edward, who was staying in London, received nearly 3,000 prisoners one after another, and it is said that the number is still rising.

   "Your Majesty, what should we do with these captives?" Prime Minister Anthony felt very troublesome when he heard that there were 3,000 captives.

   "You can't let them go, unless Philip II is willing to redeem them at a price of 100 pounds per person, otherwise don't think about it!"

  Three hundred thousand pounds, how can the Spanish government on the verge of bankruptcy get it out.

   But it can’t just be left like this, it’s not a waste of food.

  Edward scratched his head, thinking twice.

   "Let them become mercenaries! Isn't there a shortage of manpower in the New World? Let these thousands of people become mercenaries, and after five years, they will be free!"

  (end of this chapter)