Reborn As a Pirate

　　 Jingle Jingle!

　　 With the crisp ringing of the rattle, a drunken sailor rushed out of the door of the tavern and staggered against Acharin.

　　Acharin took a step back in disgust.

　　 The sailor opened his distressed eyes and made sure that he was not in the black-and-white dress of a big man, so he began to roll up his sleeves: "Aren't you long eyes?"

　　Acharin reluctantly drew his belt, revealing the leather holster on his back.

　　 The sailor awoke most of the time immediately: "Yes... I'm sorry, sir."

　　 "Don’t you have eyes?"

　　 "Off the bar, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"roll."

　　 The sailor rolled swiftly and neatly, and Yacharin dusted his silk shirt and pushed open the wooden door of the tavern casually.

　　 Jingle Jingle!

　　 noisy, dim, and dirty, port pubs all over the world are mostly chaos carved out of a mold, because its guests are sailors.

　　 Yacharin rubbed the greasy floor with disgust, and raised his head to look at the scenery of the tavern.

　　 The huge hall is about 200 square meters, with a burning fireplace on both sides, and a messy round table in the middle.

　　 There are candles on the table, and the dark candlelight and orange-red fireplace fire are the only light sources in the hall. They are torn apart by the shadows, and there are shadows everywhere.

　　 Those shadows are places where dirt and dirt are hidden. Some people gamble, some sell stolen goods, and some sell intelligence. If you look carefully, you can even hear the moans of prostitutes and see the sensation of white flowers.

　　 The brightest place in the pub is the bar counter.

　　 There is a fireplace next to it, and there are rows of candles on the arc-shaped tall cabinet, and there are tall round stools on the outside. Most of them are empty, with only a few, sitting alone.

　　Acharin whistled, avoided the red-faced drunks all the way, and sat on the edge of the bar with his belt.

　　 "A cup of Bledsoe, sir."

The sturdy tavernkeeper put down the huge wine barrel with a bang and hammered his fist on the tall cabinet. The urn sounded violently and had a vicious appearance: "There is no such kind of sour filth, only the hillbillies of the New World and the French pigs on the other side of the strait can do it. Put chicken tails in the sacred wine glass!"

　　 "Barkley is right!" The drunks in the hall groaned, "To Barkley, this glass is free!"

　　 "Long live the French pig!"

"cheers!"

There was a toast to the audience. Yacharin heard two plops and fell to the ground. Then someone started to fight with the question of who would pay the bill. The opening of the market was set to leave. From the boss to the customer, there was no One person tried to stop the fight that happened before his eyes.

　　 Ya Charin loosened the button awkwardly: "Boss, what do you have?"

　　 "Malt fresh beer!" Barkley patted the half-person-high wooden barrel at his feet. "If you want something to eat, we also have bread, salted fish, bacon, leg meat, and bran broth."

　　 Yacharin popped a shilling: "You look at the arrangement."

　　 "Francisica!"

　　 Barkley yelled at the back chef, and immediately found a freckled aunt wearing a black and white maid costume with a sturdy back.

　　 Her arms were thicker than Charin, and she was holding a huge wooden wine glass and a head-sized wine barrel in one hand, and slammed it on the high cabinet with two chucks.

　　 Wow!

　　 She lifted the lid of the wooden barrel easily, poured a full glass of malt beer, and pushed it casually.

　　 The wooden cup slid down the bar and stopped in front of Acharin. Francesca yelled: "The wine is coming!" Then there were four more bangs.

The bread was toothy hard with mildew stains; the salted fish was smelly, and the oil and salt were sticky; the bacon and the leg meat were burnt, and the bran broth looked fragrant. Acharin tried to take a sip. But from the taste there is a shocking murder...

　　 The salt seller was killed!

　　He tried his best to express gratitude to Francesica with dignity, and tried his best to keep his eyes from paying attention to the long slide on the bar, which was mixed with ash and juice, and started tasting the wine.

　　 Thank God, the malt beer is really for people to drink, not for poisoning anyone!

　　 He sips alcohol and has nowhere to put his hands and feet. He waited for a while before a brunet rhinoplasty with a big beard sat next to him.

　　 "Barkley, fresh beer." The man yelled at the bar.

　　 Barkley stared at him for a long while, gritted his teeth and said, "Amman, Southampton does not welcome Frenchmen during this time!"

　　 "War is the business of those wealthy businessmen, isn't it?" Amman didn't care, and took three pennies from his pocket and placed them on the high cabinet.

　　 Barkley put away the pennies angrily, and said viciously: "For the sake of the patrons, get out of my tavern after drinking. Otherwise, I can't guarantee that you can walk out alive tonight."

　　 "Just have a drink and leave, my old friend."

　　Françesika just like a gourd to bring Amman a glass of fresh beer, wiped a dirty towel and ran to the hall to clean up the table, the bar became a lonely corner, even if it is bright, still can not win any attention.

Amman finished half a glass of fresh beer in one gulp, breathed comfortably, and said abruptly: "Former...Mr. Admiral, I hope you have brought me a surprise. You have also seen it, Southampton at this time... French people are not welcome. ."

　　 There was no change in Yacharin's face.

　　 "The English are organizing a trap."

"Um?"

　　 "In two days, the family will receive information that the Drake Chamber of Commerce will transport tens of thousands of pounds worth of goods to Spain along the seams between the Celtic Sea and Cantabrian. This is a trap."

　　 Yacharin held the wine glass in both hands, covering most of his face.

"The actual situation is that Lorraine Drake is leading an empty ship, seven Brigentine, can attack, retreat and defend ~ www.wuxiamtl.com ~ Weilun that idiot can't catch him. The real cargo ship The team is in his ten o'clock direction, 25 kilometers away from him. This is the farthest distance that the Karak-type lookout can see, and Brigentin can't see that far."

"this……"

"This batch of goods was ordered by the Grand Duke of Victoria in the Basque Country, including a batch of ancient Roman gold and other luxury goods. The English merchants did not dare to neglect, so this trap was set up. Their purpose was to draw Velen away. It can not only vacate the Cantabrian route for delivery, but also set up an ambush in the Celtic Sea to pinch the family's fleet, with more victory than less, the final word."

　　 Amman breathed a cold breath: "Is your news... accurate?"

　　 "I'm on the Pansy! Does Lorraine Drake's fleet carry cargo, don't I know?"

　　 "This is the crux of the problem." Amman looked at Acharin calmly, "Acharin, you are now a seaman in the Drake Chamber of Commerce, a traitor to the family, why betray your employer?"

　　 "Employer? If it wasn't for that stupid Velen that hurt me, I need to work for the British?" Acharin showed hatred on his face, "Do you know what contract I signed?"

　　 "What contract?"

"A self-foreclosure contract! For two years, no matter how well I do or how good my performance is, Lorraine Drake, a vampire, doesn't need to give me a penny. On his boat, I am a laughingstock, even an ordinary sailor. You can drink to me!"

"This situation must be changed." Yacharin took a deep breath. "You immediately bring the news back to the family, and let the family arrange for Weilun to count. This time we must capture the butterfly flower! Wait for you to take Lorraine Drake. Hanged, I will be free! With this great achievement in my body, I will definitely be reused when I return to the family. At that time, the account with Weilun... we will calculate it slowly!"