The Fox of France

Chapter 177: The Fire Dragon

"Look, I've fulfilled all your requests!" Lavasie exclaimed with pride as he patted a machine beside him, addressing Joseph.

The machine wasn't particularly large; it was essentially a cast-iron container with a nozzle.

"How do you use this thing?" Joseph inquired.

"You pour fuel in through this opening," Lavasie explained. "The Greek fire of the Eastern Roman Empire was, in fact, a primitive version of petroleum. By simple distillation of petroleum, you can obtain highly flammable substances. These substances are lighter than water, so they can float on the surface and burn. I followed your suggestion and added some sugar, which made it much more viscous and sticky. When sprayed onto a target, it sticks and ignites. If it's sprayed on an enemy ship, haha, besides covering it with sand, there's hardly any way to extinguish the flames. But on a ship, where would you get that much sand?"

Joseph scrutinized the device and then asked, "How far can this thing shoot?"

"Under calm conditions, it can reach about sixty meters," Lavasie replied.

"So far? How did you manage that?" Joseph was taken aback.

"Of course, it's using gunpowder," Lavasie explained. "Gunpowder generates high pressure, and we use that pressure to spray the fuel. Otherwise, it wouldn't be possible to reach such distances."

"Can this thing be reloaded?" Joseph inquired.

"Absolutely not. This device can withstand gunpowder once, maybe, but a second ignition, and it might blow itself up. Besides, Joseph, let's get this clear, when you initially made the request, you didn't specify that it should be reusable," Lavasie promptly responded.

"Damn it! I let that old man take advantage of me!" Joseph cursed himself inwardly.

"Can we create a reusable version, then?" Joseph persisted.

"Impossible! At least, not within the volume and weight constraints you specified. Do you think I have nothing better to do than use gunpowder as a pressure source? A range of forty meters! It's beyond the realm of possibility to achieve it with any other method within such a small size. However, a range of twenty to thirty meters is achievable. But it'll cost you extra," Lavasie firmly rejected the idea.

"Well, I think that's not a bad idea. With two of these on a ship, it should be more than enough to give the British a hard time," Joseph conceded. Many of the technical challenges for this device had already been overcome, and it was entirely feasible to let others work on different types, which could lower the cost.

"Alright, can we experiment with it?" Joseph quickly changed the subject, noticing that Lavasie still had an intention to push for further projects.

Captain Morel's ship, the "Moonflower," was fully loaded and ready to set sail for Ireland. Lately, there had been an increasing number of British frigates in the waters near Ireland. These cunning British often disguised themselves as French vessels, and sometimes even feigned having just been through a battle, damaged by the British, and urgently needing assistance to deceive French frigates into approaching them, only to launch an attack.

Morel wasn't too concerned about this tactic since, after the recent incident with the Dutch one-eyed pirate, all captains bound for Ireland kept a little notebook. This notebook contained the identification numbers of their ships, along with the corresponding flags they should fly on specific dates. Because each ship had a unique set of signals, and the signals changed daily, it made the British ruse almost ineffective.

Of course, the British could still chase them directly. If they encountered the French ships en route to Ireland, the British frigates, being lighter, had the advantage, making it challenging to evade them. If it weren't for the British being relatively unfamiliar with these vessels, often not fully utilizing their potential, the French losses would be more than just the cargo thrown overboard to reduce weight.

As the "Moonflower" was preparing to depart from the dock, a carriage arrived alongside the ship. Four individuals presented credentials to Morel, exchanged words with him, and then proceeded to load two heavily sealed packages onto the ship.

Once aboard, these individuals took the packages to the bow and stern of the ship, where they began working on them. After several hours, these two peculiar items were securely installed.

"What are these?" Morel asked.

"Greek fire, ever heard of it?" one of the bearded men replied with a heavy accent, indicating that he was from the Lower Rhine region.

"Greek fire? That's the stuff from the Byzantine Empire, right? I thought it was lost to history," Morel said, clearly aware of this historical fact.

"It's resurfaced in our hands," the bearded man replied smugly. "With this, you don't have to fear the British anymore."

"It's the British who should be careful not to encounter us," another man, missing a finger on his hand, added.

"Encountering the British isn't easy," Morel said. "At least, I've never encountered them before."

Perhaps it was the flag that Morel had hoisted. Generally, at sea, it was best not to talk recklessly, as it could lead to problems. For example, if someone said, "Even if it were God, He couldn't sink this ship," God might send an iceberg their way.

On the morning following Morel's statement, just as the sun was rising over the horizon, the lookout on the "Moonflower" sounded the alarm: "Flying cutter sighted, thirty degrees starboard!"

Captain Morel hurried to the deck, raising his spyglass in the direction indicated and indeed saw a flying cutter approaching.

"Sail number 15, Edward, check to see which signal flags this ship should be flying today," Captain Morel instructed the first mate.

"It should be yellow from front to back, then blue, and at the highest point, it should be green," the first mate replied.

"Ha, the British. They've actually come," Captain Morel shook his head.

"Is it the British?" At this point, the four individuals who had boarded the ship just before departure emerged on deck.

"Yes, it's the British," Morel confirmed. While they had a secret weapon, avoiding combat was still preferable.

"Are they getting closer to us?" the bearded man asked.

"Yes, they're flying the flag for help. Haha, they think they can fool us," Captain Morel chuckled.

"Approach them, maintaining a distance of about fifty meters. We'll give them a surprise. Your ship isn't as fast as theirs, and outrunning them may not work. It's better to pretend to be fooled and then strike when they least expect it," the bearded man advised.

Captain Morel considered for a moment and asked, "Is your device reliable?"

"Don't worry, this thing is fantastic," the bearded man assured. "We've tested it many times."

So Morel ordered the "Moonflower" to approach and intentionally reduced its speed.

The other ship also slowed down. The two vessels drew closer, quickly closing the gap to less than a hundred meters.

"Shout to them, ask what's wrong, befuddle them for a moment," Morel said.

One of the sailors shouted, "What's happened to you?"

"We ran into the British; our doctor has died, and others are injured. Can your doctor come and help?" the other side replied in French.

"This French is quite good," the man missing a finger remarked. "Ardche's accent is even more authentic."

"Is his accent more authentic than mine? Are you praising him or making fun of him?" the bearded man chuckled nonchalantly.

"All right, come closer!"

Amidst casual conversation, the two ships continued to draw closer, and the distance quickly shrank to less than fifty meters, then less than forty meters.

Just then, the bearded man ripped away the canvas covering the flamethrower installed at the ship's bow, revealing the device. With a sharp whistle, a long streak of fire leaped across the sea, heading straight for the British flying cutter.

In the blink of an eye, the British ship turned into a blazing inferno.

"Full sail! Hard to port three!" Morel promptly gave the orders.

Now that he had ignited the British ship, the priority was to put some distance between them and the British, just in case they attempted to ram them.

However, this risk was not significant, primarily because this surprise attack caught the British entirely off guard. Additionally, the attack had been remarkably effective. The viscous fuel caused a massive fire and ignited the sails of the British ship, making it challenging to control.

A bit further away, the crew of the British ship initially tried to use buckets to scoop seawater for firefighting. However, their efforts had the opposite effect. The fuel floated on the water's surface, flowing with the currents, igniting more areas. In the blink of an eye, the fire spiraled out of control. British sailors began jumping overboard one after another. Many of them, while leaping into the sea, were already ablaze with orange flames.

The fire spread rapidly, and in no time, the ship's masts broke in the blaze, falling overboard. Then, the hull itself, too, quickly disintegrated into pieces amidst the inferno.

"What about those British sailors?" Morel pointed at some struggling in the water.

"Let them die!" the bearded man said.

"It's not good to ignore their plight," Morel said. "Besides, we're almost in Ireland. Once we arrive there, we can hand them over to the Irish."

"Oh, I see," the bearded man nodded. "Well, I don't disagree with that approach. However, from a humanitarian perspective, you might as well not save them."