Four Hundred and Sixtieth Chapters Meet the Angel

Through the narrow porthole, the little Queen Anne's Revenge overlapped with the big thumb, shaking with the sea waves, shaking, shaking, shaking...

"The distance is 160, the bearing is southeast and south, the port sides face each other, they are 30 meters parallel, the angle between the two ships is less than 3, and they are parallel."

Yacharin let out a sigh of relief, straightened up, tilted his buttocks and brushed his slender knees smartly.

"I declare that the captain is a friend of the artillery."

"Even if there are seventeen or eight minor problems, it doesn't matter. No one is perfect. If the captain is really perfect, why do we need the crew?"

Seeing that the accompanying assistant had finished recording all the data, Yacharin took the writing board, found a sail chair and stretched his legs.

"The difference in side elevation is 1.4 meters, the thickness is three levels, the armor gun is open to the air, and the upper sailors..."

"By the way, go and tell Mr. Captain that the current state is perfect and there is no need to change it. Please remain stable."

"Also, ask about the relative speeds of the two sides, the current speed difference, and the speed difference after they are in place. Shooting is art, gentlemen, and art is explosion."

"yes!"

After the salute, the deputy rushed out of the cabin. Yacharin wrote on the writing board for a while, then raised his head: "Go ahead, the upper layer is shot, the firing angle is 4 degrees, the lower layer is solid, the firing angle is 0 degrees, and the port side is full of gun ports. Ready to shoot, the standby time will not exceed 5 minutes."

The gun bay was busy.

The track lock of the gun carriage was opened, and as an alternative security measure, two fixed cables were added to each gun at the same time, so that the gun could slide back to about four meters to complete the tactical action of front loading.

Many people misunderstood Yacharin because of his reputation, thinking that he was a heartless gun machine, and the only thing he wanted in his life was "shoot".

In fact, this assessment is biased.

It's true that he is a cannon machine, but he is by no means a believer in consequentialism.

He has always admired the famous saying of probability, insisting that as long as there is a possibility of accidents, accidents will definitely happen.

The credo of the gun compartment is safety first, and the fixed requirement is twice the standard, the gun rails are required to be cleaned daily, and the sundries are required to be kept in order at all times.

In the upper and lower functional areas of the ship, the cleanliness of the gun cabin is second only to the carpentry room. This situation is rare in the whole world, because Lorraine has always paid attention to the condition of the kitchen cabin, and the sanitation under Wang Ye’s jurisdiction is top-notch. Charin's control area is super top level.

Cleaning, charging, reloading, and breech, the guns adjusted their shooting angles according to Yacharin's requirements, and the dark barrels were pushed out of the gun doors.

Kerry and another sub-gunner split up to perform the final calibration, and Yacharin clapped his hands to call the gunners in the cabin to him.

"Let the ladies feel fresh all night, gentlemen, this is our joint creation. I believe that you, like me, have fantasized about the spectacular scenes of tactical launches more than once."

"My biggest regret now is that we are not the first team in the world to launch this great tactic. In Africa, the lads in the special service formation have tried it before us."

"You all know Pierce Artis, right? Our honorable vice president, the admiral of the secret service formation, the most favored little guy on the board of directors, he gave our creation the highest evaluation, that is..."

Yacharin betrayed an official with a lewd smile.

"He was terrified."

The whole cabin roared with laughter.

"Okay, gentlemen, Admiral Artis is still young, and he hasn't had the opportunity to meet real ladies on the bed, in the carriage, on the grass, or on the city wall. He has never seen anything in the world, so we have to forgive him for making a fuss."

"But we can't do that."

The deputy trotted to him and whispered a few words, and he nodded and laughed.

"The distance is 60, the course is stable, and it is perfect. Let us also pray for our great captain when we praise God. It is he who has created the most perfect shelling environment for us."

"Everyone is in position now, count down for one minute, and get ready..."

"avoid……"

Indistinctly, Yacharin seemed to hear a strange yet familiar, distant yet approaching scream from outside the wall.

The voice seemed to be that of Lorraine.

But in my impression, Lorraine seems to have never behaved so badly. Even when he led the Butterfly to charge the Reindeer, he showed restraint and depression.

Could it be that some accident happened?

With a flash of thought, Yacharin was about to send someone to the deck to inquire about the situation, when the whole ship suddenly tilted!

The angle of the roll was so large, and the speed of the roll was so fast, in about half a second, the ship's tilt exceeded fifteen degrees.

Unprepared for the accident, Yacharin and the gunners flew up like toys discarded by children, flying backwards with their arms and legs outstretched.

Yacharin watched as a secondary gun he was particularly optimistic about hit the pillar of the gun cabin, his head exploded with a bang, and his neck twisted into a strange and exaggerated huge angle.

Kerry's luck was a little better than that of the secondary gunner. He flew high and crashed into the gunpowder piled up beside the bulkhead. His arm accidentally caught the metal hoop of the gunpowder barrel, and a large piece was torn off Flesh and blood flew everywhere.

Kerry screamed.

His screams were mixed with the continuous screams, pushing Acharin backwards like an accompaniment, until he hit the anti-collision net between the pillars.

The rough net rope made Yacharin groan, and before he could recover, more than a dozen thick and thick men descended from the sky, screaming and rushing towards him like swallows throwing themselves into the forest.

Boom!

The first one raised his knee and hit Yazag in the lower abdomen.

Boom!

The second raised an elbow and hammered him in the chest.

The third, the fourth, the fifth, and the sixth fell on both sides of him one after another, squeezing him like a retainer so that he couldn't move an inch.

The seventh one flew very high, straightened like a crossbow arrow, and hit Yacharin's nose with a thud.

For a moment, Yacharin seemed to have fallen into the hell of lemons. Thousands of sourness stimulated the tear film, and the snot flowed out immediately.

Click!

A crisp sound...

fracture? fall off? off the ground? Heavy?

Through the eyes of tears and the mist, Acharin saw a black figure soaring into the air through the cracks in the human wall. The shape was so round, except for the thirty-two pounds of Gate No. 7, there seemed to be no other similarities nearby.

"Oh, God……"

The derailed cannon slammed into the crowd like a cone, unable to move without screams. They huddled together on the anti-collision net, and could only watch helplessly as the cannon rushed towards them!

will die? dying? Dead?

Life flashed before Yacharin's eyes one by one like a revolving lantern. After hundreds of pictures of beauties with different shapes shy, it was finally fixed on that sunny afternoon on the lush grass in Bordeaux. Cecilia wore a Garland, beautiful appearance in a wedding dress!

She seemed to be shining, and the holy pure white wings spread from behind, and the plain feathers filled the sky.

"ah……"

stretch!

The safety line... is taut...

The heavy cannon was like a giant's dancing hammer, and it slammed on the solid ground of the gun cabin with unparalleled momentum, and the landing point was only a few feet away from the nearest gunner!

The roll finally subsided.

Kerry, with a pale face, dragged his injured arm and rolled to the crowd of Yacharin: "The gunner! The gunner?"

"Ah!" There was an affectionate chant from the crowd, and Yacharin was full of tears, "Thank God, if it weren't for your mercy, I almost forgot that I had met an angel!"

Kerry was about to faint from blood loss, but after hearing Acharim's prayer, he immediately felt no sleepiness.

"Gunner, do you remember Madame Cecilia?"

"It's not Madam, it's an angel!" Yacharin cried and pushed away the stinky men on his body. "In that wedding blessed by God, Cecilia shone like an angel!"

"Compared to her, that girl is too shy and too dim, hidden on the other side of that light, like a flawless gem buried deep in the center of the earth."

"Her chestnut-colored mid-length curly hair is well-behaved and restrained, and the small freckles on her face set off a youthful but youthful face. There are also moles at the corners of her eyes, even though her whole body is covered by Cecilia's light, That beautiful mole of tears is still successfully branded in the depths of my soul, until now!"

The flesh and blood flowed black lines on the floor of the gun cabin...

Kerry stammered and asked, "Uh... Gunner, are you thinking about other women even when you're reflecting back?"

"What is another woman!" Achalin was very angry, "She was one of the bridesmaids that day, Cecilia's beautiful best friend!"

"It's unbelievable. She is clearly within my reach, but because of her shyness, she just happens to avoid my sight, and we missed it perfectly..."

"Oh! God forbid such a tragedy, but God, I made a huge mistake not even asking her name!"

"shame!"

"shame!!!!!"