The Fox of France

 Though the ship continued to sway violently, Captain Morel, who had just finished his night shift, quickly dozed off in his hammock. This was a fundamental skill for any sailor. However, just as he had closed his eyes for a brief moment, a shrill alarm jolted him awake.

"What's happening?" Captain Morel climbed up the ladder, pushed open the hatch, and the intense sunlight streaming in made it difficult for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, given he had grown accustomed to the darkness of the ship's interior.

Captain Morel, one hand shielding his eyes, shouted, "What's going on?"

"In the captain's quarters, we've spotted a strange British vessel!" called Leclerc, who was on duty by the helm.

"Where?" Captain Morel, now adapted to the outside light, quickly made his way to Leclerc while asking.

Leclerc handed Captain Morel a brass telescope, saying, "Captain, look over there, where the smoke is rising. That ship looks quite odd!"

By this time, Captain Morel had also spotted the billowing smoke. "Is their ship on fire? Or did our Greek fire scorch them?" Captain Morel wondered aloud as he raised the telescope to his eye.

"That ship is really ugly!" Captain Morel couldn't help but exclaim.

It was a gray vessel with a tall smokestack spewing thick black smoke. Two large paddlewheels turned on each side of the ship, generating considerable wake. Most notably, an English flag fluttered from the ship's bow.

"They're from our direction," Captain Morel said. "I'm curious to see whether they're faster than us."

Captain Morel checked the sails – all of them were unfurled. But due to the scarce wind at sea, the ship's speed remained sluggish.

When confronting other sailing ships, the lack of wind wasn't a significant issue, as if the wind was weak for the flying clipper, it would be weak for others as well. However, the pursuing ship behind them was an exception – it had no sails but was still racing at a considerable speed.

"I'll take the helm," Captain Morel said, and Leclerc stepped aside.

Captain Morel controlled the wheel, making slight adjustments to the ship's direction, but it didn't seem to significantly increase the ship's speed. Leclerc was also an experienced helmsman, and Captain Morel wasn't necessarily better. Switching helmsmen at this point was more of a superstitious notion, hoping for a change in luck. Perhaps the new helmsman would bring the wind with them?

However, Captain Morel's luck didn't seem to be much better than Leclerc's. The wind continued to be frustratingly weak. The ship's speed remained slow, and the pursuing vessel seemed to be getting closer.

"Leclerc, it seems we have to jettison some cargo now," Captain Morel told Leclerc.

"Captain, dumping cargo will lead to a significant loss for us. If we lose our cargo, and then a wind picks up, that's... Besides, the pursuing ship is still far away. If we can hold out until evening..." Leclerc said.

Chasing each other on the sea often consumed a lot of time. If both ships had similar speeds, a chase could last for hours or even days. According to the contract Captain Morel signed with the "Military-Industrial Complex," losing cargo meant he had to pay compensation.

"Leclerc, this time we got insurance," Captain Morel replied.

"But the insurance folks might not necessarily agree that we're throwing cargo overboard out of necessity. The last time Captain Letellier lost cargo due to a storm, the insurance people said he 'mishandled' it and only paid the minimum compensation. What was that, a pittance? Besides, have you really read through every word of the contract we signed with the insurance company, including the disclaimers in the appendix?"

Captain Morel hesitated for a moment and then said, "That document is several dozen pages long..."

"So, are you sure that the Amodeo Insurance Company will compensate us if we discard cargo now?"

"Unless my ship is riddled with British cannonballs, these blokes... Alright, we'll keep running like this. If the British ship closes in by over a kilometer in an hour, we'll jettison some of the cargo... We've made enough money from all our trips. At any time, our safety is more crucial than money. Leclerc, you have to understand that one of life's tragedies is amassing a fortune and not living long enough to enjoy it."

"Captain," Leclerc replied, "I believe there's a greater tragedy in life—having not a single cent left but still not dying..."

"Alright, Leclerc, I'm sure you'll make plenty of money before you kick the bucket," Morel said. "Take the wheel, and I'll go down to fetch the rangefinder."

Leclerc took over the wheel as Morel descended below the deck. After rummaging around for a while, he came back with a brass device in hand. It was a rangefinder, used to measure the distance between objects. Its small size meant the accuracy was only average, but it sufficed for Morel.

The wind at sea remained weak, with no sign of strengthening. The flying clipper's speed slowed down further, while the pursuing British ship remained relentless, getting closer.

"Leclerc, let's discard some cargo. They're getting too close. If we don't get rid of something, we won't last until nightfall," Morel said.

"How about using 'Greek fire' to fight back?" Leclerc was reluctant to part with the cargo because he had invested in the ship as well.

"Leclerc, think clearly!" Morel said. "Look at their ship's design, their bulwark height. That's not a flying clipper, and they definitely have cannons on board. They still have the advantage in speed and can maintain a safe distance while blasting us to the seabed with their cannons. Leclerc, making a fortune at sea is a risky business with a strong gambling flavor. But once you make this bet, you can't afford to gamble recklessly because your wealth and life are at stake."

Leclerc was convinced by Morel's words, and the crew started removing cargo from the hold and throwing it into the sea.

As more cargo was cast overboard, the ship lightened, and its speed improved somewhat. However, the sea remained windless, and the British ship continued to close in. Even though they had jettisoned all their cargo, it appeared that they wouldn't escape the pursuing British ship unless an unexpected strong wind saved them.

"Enemy ship firing!" cried the lookout from the mast. Everyone gazed aft and saw a plume of smoke rising from the British ship's bow. After a while, the deep roar of cannon fire echoed, followed by the whistling of cannonballs through the air.

A water column surged from the right side of Morel's ship, but it was still far from the vessel. If it weren't for the relatively calm sea at the moment, such a small splash might have gone unnoticed.

Firing at such a distance was indeed a challenging feat, primarily a warning and a show of force. It essentially meant, "You can't escape; surrender quickly!"

But for Morel and his crew, surrendering was not an option. If they surrendered, they would lose their ship, plunging them into the tragic state of having no money but not being dead.

So, Morel and his crew continued to run, the British ship pursued, and the bombardment continued.

The British ship got closer, and the cannonballs landed increasingly near Morel's vessel. At this point, binoculars were unnecessary; they could see the British ship and the thick, massive cannon mounted on its bow.

One 24-pound cannonball accurately struck the mast of the flying clipper, snapping it into two pieces.

The mast, with the sails attached, fell into the water, but the ropes remained connected to the ship. The fallen mast essentially became an impromptu anchor, drastically slowing down the ship.

"Quick! Cut the lines!" Morel shouted, dropping the wheel and grabbing an axe himself. Leclerc's face turned pale, his expression one of despair, for losing the mast meant they had no chance of escaping the British.

"Oh my God!" Leclerc cried out. At the same time, a thunderous noise echoed from the approaching British ship.