Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The two gunner warrant officers seemed very dissatisfied with the effects of the bombardment.

In this era, cannons didn't have anything like a depression angle because the shot was smaller than the bore; if the cannon was tilted down, the shot would simply roll out.

In a hurry and without proper cannonballs, the warrant officers used musket balls as cannon shot. Wrapped in pieces of sackcloth to prevent the lead from falling directly out when the muzzle was pointed downward.

But the problem was that the lead shot was still smaller than a cannonball and sealed poorly, allowing the gas from the burning powder to spray out through the gaps. That's why when gunners used canister shot, they added a sabot.

But where could they find sabots in such haste? There was no time to carve wood on the spot, so they had to go ahead with thick skin, and naturally, the power of the rotating cannon was greatly reduced, lacking the expected effect of mowing down a row with a single shot.

"Keep going! Don't stop," the gunner warrant officer called off the ongoing damage assessment. Having something was better than nothing, even if it was just for the sound, it was a great deterrent to the enemy.

After swabbing the bore, a new chamber was loaded and Winters lit it again. Sparks hissed into the chamber, but it only emitted smoke.

The rotating cannon did not roar; the sound was like a damp fart.

Misfire?

The loader warrant officer, unfazed, immediately knocked out the wedge and loaded a new chamber.

Upon igniting it again, there was still no reaction.

"(Expletive)! That stingy captain must have stored the powder for too long without use, causing it to separate," the loader warrant officer sent his kindest regards to the fat captain's entire family. But his hands did not stop; he loaded another chamber.

Upon igniting it again, this time it sounded.

All twelve chambers were quickly spent, with only five successful shots; the remaining seven were duds.

The alarming rate of misfires infuriated the loader warrant officer, who cursed loudly, while the gunner warrant officer said nothing and picked up the slow match gun that was set aside, handing it to Winters and the loader warrant officer.

From his high position, Winters had a clear view of the situation. The shouting had ceased, now only the dull sounds of blades entering flesh and screams could be heard. The pirates who had leaped onto the Bandit Gull's deck were all dealt with, and on the crowded deck, one could no longer see the pirates' filthy hair, only the clean heads of the warrant officers.

The Bandit Gull's combined land and sea forces were attacking the Good Fortune's deck, and even three of the four passengers who had been hesitant were now wielding weapons and fighting pirates on the frontline. But with limited space, only a few in the front ranks were desperately fighting, the rest could only push from behind.

And at the Good Fortune's bow hatch, pirates were continuously pouring out, turning what started as an ambush into a bloody tug-of-war, each exchanging blows.

Winters watched as Andre, along with the fiercely aggressive Major, charged into the Good Fortune's cabin from the aft hatch.

He felt tense; with the way things were, there surely were a large number of pirates inside the cabin, and with just Major and Andre entering, the odds were more perilous than not.

Winters and Andre were originally only acquaintances from the same hometown, but over the past few days, with Winters injured on board, Andre had taken good care of him. Regardless of what Andre thought, at least Winters now considered this loud-voiced fellow a friend.

Seeing Andre enter the danger, Winters could no longer stay in a safe place to provide support with a slow match gun.

He threw down the gun, and with a shout of "Eh? What are you doing?" from the gunner warrant officer, Winters leaped down onto the aft deck of the Good Fortune, gritted his teeth, and followed Andre's path into the Good Fortune's cabin.