RPAGF Chapter 77 Armory in Fort France
Chapter 77 Armory in Fort France
The next day.
The morning sun shines on Boston Harbor, and the sea ripples with light.
Accompanied by Fiona, Isabella took over the warehouse area at Pier 7 that was hers.
It was a row of five connected brick and stone warehouses. Although they were somewhat old, the main structure was very sturdy and the location was excellent, with independent deep-water berths.
When Fiona handed her a parchment document that smelled of ink, Isabella visibly paused for a moment.
She saw the bright red wax seal at the end of the document, belonging to the Massachusetts Bay Colony Governor's Office, and the clerk's flamboyant signature.
Yesterday, she thought that what Li Wei gave her was just a piece of land on the black market, valuable but not very valuable.
It was only at this moment that she truly understood the weight of this "gift".
What Li Wei gave her was a "legal identity" in Boston.
A way to change her identity from "pirate" and "smuggler" to "legitimate merchant" in the governor's archives.
She looked at the blonde woman in front of her, whose expression was calm and unwavering, as if she were simply handing over an ordinary batch of goods.
Isabella suddenly felt that this mysterious Easterner was far more terrifying than any of the bloated governors she had ever met.
For the next two days, the "Viper" enjoyed unprecedented VIP treatment at the pier.
The freshest freshwater, the finest smoked meats and vegetables, and well-packaged rum were delivered to the ship in a steady stream at a price she couldn't believe.
Finn's workers worked as efficiently as a group of slaves constantly being whipped. They not only completed the loading of all the supplies in half a day, but also took the initiative to repair two sails that had been damaged in the previous storm.
Her sailors no longer needed to constantly grip the hilt of their swords and be wary of thieves and swindlers on the dock.
They could even go to the tavern in twos and threes, and as long as they showed the name "Viper," they could get a friendly smile from the bartender.
Isabella experienced firsthand the efficiency and convenience brought by "order".
All of this made her think more deeply about Li Wei's suggestion.
On the morning of the day of departure, a messenger delivered Livy's second letter to the "Viper".
The letter was simple, containing only a reminder about Cuban cigars and a message to the Governor of Havana, along with a thin piece of paper tucked inside the envelope.
It was a draft for fifty silver pounds, issued by the Peabody Bank of Boston, payable to "the valiant crew of the Viper".
The note read: "I sincerely apologize for the emotional distress caused by the conflict at the dock a few days ago."
Isabella held the light yet heavy draft in her hand, listening to the cheers erupting from the crew behind her, and remained silent for a long time.
She licked her slightly chapped lips. The Caribbean sun and sea breeze had never given her such a complex feeling.
Isabella turned around and looked at her first mate, whose face was scarred.
"Weigh anchor!"
Her voice was once again filled with the decisiveness and ferocity that belonged to the Caribbean queen.
"Target: Havana! Go and bring back some good stuff for our new comrades!"
The Viper, with its sails fully unfurled, sailed away from Boston Harbor like an arrow released from a bow.
Isabella stood at the stern, watching the city recede into the distance, clutching the letter in her arms tightly.
The first mate walked up to her, looked at the draft, and asked in a low voice, "Captain, are we... really going to cooperate with this Easterner? He's different from the guys we've dealt with before."
"They are different."
Isabella carefully tucked the draft and letter into her bosom and turned to look at the boundless sea.
She felt like a gambler who had been adrift at sea for too long, finally meeting a dealer willing to gamble against her and even offering to increase her bets.
She wasn't sure if the bookmaker ultimately wanted the gold coins she had won, or everything she had.
Nevertheless, Isabella decided to visit another old friend, an arms dealer who had a large stock of cheap French goods, before meeting the governor of Havana.
Li Wei wanted war, so she brought him war.
She, Isabella, never disappoints.
……
The third day of our return journey.
The sails of the "Viper" billowed in the wind, carving a long, unforgettable trail across the deep blue sea.
Following the "deposit" nautical chart from Boston, the old helmsman Manuel directed the ship to narrowly miss the edge of a group of reefs at midnight.
The boat was only a few feet away from the underwater reef, and you could even hear the dull thud of the seawater being squeezed.
Less than fifteen minutes after they passed through this dangerous waterway, the lookout on the Viper spotted the silhouettes of two British frigates in the moonlight on what should have been an empty sea.
They are slowly blocking the wide main channel, and any ship that tries to pass through will have nowhere to hide.
"God..." Manuel made the sign of the cross, his face, gaunt like a walnut from the sea wind, filled with lingering fear and awe.
"Captain, that nautical chart... it's amazing."
Had it not followed this seemingly absurd route, the HMS Viper would likely be prey for the British Navy right now.
Isabella didn't speak, but stood at the stern, letting the cold sea breeze blow through her curly hair.
She pressed her hand to her chest; the nautical chart and the fifty-pound draft were pressed against her skin, radiating a warmth that both comforted and unsettled her.
This was not the first time she had worked with important figures on land, but it was the first time someone had been able to manipulate the British Empire's proud navy at will.
This feeling is far more intoxicating than conquering a merchant ship with scimitars and cannons.
Her first mate, "Bloody Hand" Juan, a burly man with a face full of scars and an octopus tattooed on his arm, walked up to her.
"Captain, are we really going to risk our lives for that Easterner? He's just a spider on the shore, while we're eagles at sea." Juan's voice was rough, tinged with dissatisfaction.
"Juan," Isabella turned to look at her trusted confidant of five years, "that spider gave us a sky without hunters."
Juan remained silent, only lowering his head to wipe the curved knife at his waist, which had been stained with the blood of countless people. The octopus tattoo on his arm seemed to twist in the seawater as his arm muscles bulged.
Ten days later, in Fort-de-France, Martinique, a French territory.
The humid air was thick with the sweetness of rum and the spiciness of spices, and the harbor was filled with a cacophony of shouts in French, Spanish, and various Creole languages.
Using her connections, Isabella quickly met a French merchant named Pierre Beaumont at a trading company that flew the tricolor flag.
Pierre wore an elegant silk waistcoat, a large sapphire ring on his finger, and exuded the scent of perfume.
"Miss Isabella, my friend," Pierre said in heavily accented Parisian English, "I heard you've brought in a big deal, and... gold?"