On June 10th, the town of Plymouth in the southwest of England ushered in another sunny Sunday. However, the Catholic Sunday atmosphere is not so strong here, and the religious atmosphere has been tainted by the smell of copper that permeates the streets.

It was full of men in sailor suits made of canvas and women dressed in flamboyant clothes, swords and Damascus scimitars with simple handguards on their waists. Of course, there were also well-dressed men who discussed the weather, ships, captains, overseas colonies, and cargo from time to time.

However, the most discussed among these men who appeared to be businessmen were the various cash crops, semi-manufactured goods and manufactured goods from the Americas. In addition, they are also more interested in the black "live goods" that can only be produced in Africa, because this kind of live goods can not only be sold to Spanish plantation owners, but also allow them to earn a higher return than any other cash crop.

Shortly after 1 p.m., two men with mustaches and beards, dressed in open-chested sailors' clothes, and each with a beautifully crafted handguard stabbing sword pinned to their waists, appeared on Pathington Street near the village of Stoker. It was evident from their stumbling appearance and the smell of liquor that they had just drunk a lot of ale and wine in a tavern on Packington Street.

The two men held each other in their arms, each carrying a rare glass wine bottle from Venice, and tilted their necks to pour the wine into their mouths as they walked. One of the men, with a brightly colored silk turban tied around his head, stared straight at the road in front of him with his eyes, almost completely wrapped his arms around the body of his bearded companion and muttered, "Hey, you... Know... Captain... When... Going? ”

The companion, who was also unsteady on his feet, his body tilted back and forth, and his eyes widened and he did not know where he was, turned his head and pressed his cheek to the big mouth of the man with the turban. Squinting unconsciously, he easily spit out a sentence with the strength of his eyelids, "You... Go ask Mary, yesterday... At night... You're not... In her bed... Belch... Slept? ”

"Who? Who... Is it Mary? ”

"Mary... It's yours... Wife. ”

"Nonsense, I... And my... Wife... Sleep to... Want... Do you have to pay? ”

Two drunken sailors staggered down the road, the man in the turban was unsteady on his feet, and one stumbled forward and fell to the ground. As he fell to the ground, he pulled his companion to the ground. The wine bottle in the hands of the two also fell to the ground, rolled several times, and hit the corner of the roadside with a bang, and did not move.

"Giggle...... Look at those two guys, just tie them up and send them to Captain Hawkins' ship and sell them to the Spaniards. At this moment, the voice of a woman with an extremely charming voice came from the side of the road. When I looked at it again, it turned out to be two young women wearing snow-white breasts and tights with a straight neckline that showed a large area of snow white breasts, standing on the side of the road and smiling coquettishly.

Another sexy-dressed young woman looked at the two guys lying on the ground and pouted, "The Spaniards need black people, and even if these two guys are sent to the plantations in the Americas, they will be buried in the soil as fertilizer and rot little by little." ”

"Gurgle... That's a good idea. ”

At this moment, two middle-aged men dressed in merchant clothes passed by the two drunkards. The man walking on the left frowned and glanced at the drunken man on the ground, "How does Captain Hawkins supervise his sailors?" How could you get drunk like this? ”

The companion next to the merchant shook his head and said with a smile, "They are also good sailors, and it is enough for Captain Hawkins to demand that they be loyal to himself." ”

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At this moment, Isabel was walking slowly down a street east of Packington Street with her northern team. As the procession walked south, it attracted all kinds of people on the side of the road to watch them curiously. Some of the merchants recognized the noble coat of arms on the swallowtail spear banner hanging from the light cavalry spears in the hands of the two flag guards, and immediately stood by the side of the road and nodded to the procession.

Isabel, who was riding in the middle of the procession, reined in her horse and bent down to look at a merchant standing on the side of the road on the left, "Good day, sir, does this road lead to Captain Hawkins' house?" ”

The merchant looked up at Isabel and said hesitantly, "Yes, miss, you are from... From the north? ”

"Sir, wait." Isabel said politely, then looked at the two flag guards in front of her, "Baldwin, Fast, stop." ”

After saying that, he turned over and jumped off his horse and walked to the merchant's side, and raised his head to look at the clear sky. Sniffing a deep breath of the air with a strong sea breeze, he turned his head to look at the merchant on the side, and said in a tone that was distinctly with a northern accent, "Sir, you are right, we are from the north. ”

The merchant looked at Isabel from top to bottom, and then at the hussar squad that was stuck on the street, "Miss, which nobleman from the north sent you to squire?" Why did I see only the coat of arms of the nobility and not the nobility? ”

Isabel smiled lightly, "Sir, we are guards sent by the Duke of Richmond, and we have urgent matters to find Captain Hawkins. You know where Captain Hawkins lives, right? ”

"Duke of Richmond? That's the one... The illegitimate son of His Majesty the King with red hair? The merchant's eyes widened as well, staring intently at Isabel's face.

"Yes, sir. Well, we have some urgent business to attend to, and if you don't know where the captain lives, my men and I are on our way. ”

"Wait, Miss, I know where Captain Hawkins lives. In Plymouth, almost everyone knows the captain and the captain of the Hawkins family. ”

As Isabel listened politely, the two drunken sailors came to the street in front of the team, holding each other. The turbaned sailor bent his neck with crooked eyes, his eyes staring straight at Baldwin on his horse, and he weakly raised his right hand and pointed at the other, "You... You are... Spain... People? ”

"These two bastards must be drunk, leave them alone." Baldwin frowned and whispered to Fast on horseback beside him.

Fast, who still had the characteristics of a savage, glared fiercely at the drunken two sailors, and cursed in a low voice, "If I were in Yorkshire, I would have whipped these two bastards with a horsewhip." ”

The two drunken sailors, who could still hear the curses of others, walked down the street on one side of the procession.