Reborn As a Pirate

Black port is not a specific term, but a general term for a special type of port.

They often don't have official names, and are referred to as Black Harbor, Black Mirage, Mirage, and False Town, and among the sailors, they are more commonly called Herlo.

Herlo means whore.

Most of the black harbors had a prosperous past, but they were either destroyed by natural disasters, or died of man-made disasters, or because they were not prosperous enough, not open enough, or some activities that made those in power unhappy...

In short, they were abandoned.

Lost attention, lost investment, lost expectations...

They are becoming desolate like abandoned wives, and before they are completely ruined, they have received the attention of black market merchants, hooligans, pirates or enemy navy, thus gaining a twisted new life.

Like a down-and-out noble lady who has been reduced to prostitution.

This is the case with Port Noir in Cherbourg.

In the setting sun, the Artis Beauty jumped out of the sea level with its horizontal sails drumming, cut through the waves, and sailed into the waters of Black Harbor.

There are dense reefs and rocks here, and there are only a few hidden, winding, narrow channels with a width of less than fifteen meters that point far away to the peaceful harbor surrounded by twin peaks in the distance.

Hundreds of years ago, when sailing warships had not completely given up the flat bottom and got rid of the power of rowing oars, this place was favored by the French for a long time for its excellent defensive terrain and natural sheltered harbor.

At that time, her name was Cherbourg.

It was also from then on that the name Cherbourg was tied to the Channel Fleet of the Kingdom of France and became their residence.

The French invested a lot of manpower and material resources to build docks, piers, lighthouses and everything needed by the army. Merchants also gathered here, and the port has been prosperous for more than a century.

However, with the progress and development of the shipbuilding industry, the originally well-formed waterway has gradually become a burden to the passage of large ships.

The military port was moved first, and a new Cherbourg was built in a more open bay a hundred kilometers away, depriving her of her name.

Soon after, the merchants also abandoned here.

Here the rot begins.

The dock collapsed and the pier sank. It wasn't until a group of black market merchants settled in that she transformed into a black port and became a lawless place under the eyes of the French Channel Fleet.

Even, here is the secret supply point of the British Navy scout ship.

The nimble and slender Tier 6 ships can easily pass through the narrow waterways outside the port, and the black market merchants in the port regard the generous British soldiers as their top business partners.

The intelligence acquired by the spies from them is often much more accurate than that obtained by the scout ships themselves.

It is precisely because of this that Herlo of Cherbourg was majesticly boarded the military chart of the Royal Navy, and Lorraine also learned from this, which led to the trip to Cherbourg on the Artis Beauty.

Approaching the reef area, Lorraine stowed the sail and concentrated on steering the steering wheel.

The chubby hull of the Artis Beauty slid into the channel made up of buoys by inertia, gracefully and slowly turned the huge S-curve, followed the high tide waves, slowly moored into the pier, anchored, and docked.

The bow of the ship leaned lightly on the embankment, and as soon as it stopped, Lorraine heard a loud bang!

Lake passed by Lorraine like a fat wind, and flew off the boat like a rabbit: "Ugh!"

The sound shook the harbor!

Busy people on the pier looked over curiously as if looking at some western scene. Lorraine scratched her hair in embarrassment, glanced at the cockpit, and decided to go to the port area to hire two people to clean up the mess in the cockpit.

He whistled, put his rucksack on his back and disembarked lazily.

This is the first time that Lorraine has really set foot on the land of Black Harbor.

Different from normal ports, every inch of Black Harbor is full of chaos and dilapidation.

Next to the mansion are ruins, and next to the ruins is a storage yard. From time to time, you can see piles of garbage gathered on the side of the road, including rotten wood, broken bricks, and furniture.

There are even people living on the mountain.

Casinos, taverns, and brothels are dotted on both sides of the street, and all kinds of shacks wantonly invaded, turning the straight road into twisted alleys.

And the real alleys in the harbor are filled with another kind of abandonment.

All kinds of domestic garbage rotted among the houses, no one cares about it, and the smell is diffuse.

Everywhere you look, there are people...

Drunkards, drunkards, drunkards, drunkards, sober people seldom show their faces on the street, and even if there are, they are not gamblers who are stripped naked, but prostitutes who take off their clothes on their own initiative and stand by the door.

For a moment, Lorraine didn't know where to find the dock workers.

He walked on the street blankly, looked around in bewilderment, and finally saw a sober person in a side alley of a tavern.

That should be a girl.

She was wearing a linen smock that was so dirty that the original color could not be seen, and her body was tightly covered, and her slender fingers were exposed from the hem of the smock, brown in color, but unexpectedly clean.

She rummaged through the stinking rubbish, and in a short while found some fresh pieces of cod.

Just as she was about to stuff it into her mouth, she suddenly felt someone watching her.

She raised her head vigilantly, and showed her face to Lorraine who was a few steps away.

Black hair, green pupils, big eyes.

Her skin is indeed brown, and the short black hair exposed under the hood is thin and dense. Although the pointed chin looks thin, her face is not sickly, with a healthy and clean blush.

North African angels in the trash?

Lorraine was amused by his sudden thought, and before she laughed out loud, the girl's body tensed up, her teeth bared, her eyes widened, and she stood upright in a strange posture, protecting the cod in front of her.

Like a frightened stray cat...

Am I that scary?

Lorraine felt strange and embarrassed, subconsciously wanted to touch his nose.

He raised his hand, and the girl's body relaxed again. The thighs are slightly bent, the upper body is lowered, and the whole person is ready to go. The big eyes narrowed, and threatening gazes burst out of the emerald green pupils.

"I... didn't mean to attack you..."

Lorraine was taken aback, quickly opened his hands, squatted down slowly, and put down the skin bag.

He paused and said, "I have no malice... Look, there is no weapon, and the sword on the waist is also in the sheath, very honest."

He showed his palms to the girl, and in order to express his sincerity, he rolled up his sleeves in a steady and slow motion, exposing his arms.

The girl probably sensed Lorraine's sincerity, picked up the cod tentatively, and hid her hands in the overalls.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and asked in a hoarse, sandy voice, "Why are you laughing?"

"I just thought of something funny." Lorraine shrugged apologetically, "If I misunderstood you, I would like to apologize."

"Really?" She didn't believe it, "It's not because of the fish?"

"Uh... If it's not on a boat, I actually rarely eat fish."

"Then what do you eat?" the girl asked suspiciously.

"Most of the time, I eat bread." Lorraine slowly untied the skin bag, revealing the brick black bread inside, "Have you ever eaten bread?"

"Eat it." The girl took a step closer like a cat, stretched her neck to take a look, and added, "I ate it not long ago."

"Do you still want to eat?"

The girl withdrew quickly, her fingers deeply embedded in the trash, her face full of vigilance.

Lorraine couldn't help but smiled wryly, broke off half a piece of bread, put it on the ground, then got up and backed away until the entrance of the alley.

"I don't mean anything else, I just want to ask you something."

The girl stared at Lorraine motionlessly and asked, "What do you want?"

"Are you familiar with Black Harbor?"

"Part of it."

"I want to know where I can find an experienced cleaner." Lorraine looked into her eyes. "My boat needs to be cleaned, and maybe some goods need to be moved."

The girl frowned and thought about it.

"Beside the white ruins is Old Hansa's tavern. He has the most capable workers in Blackport. Although they are more expensive, they are honest and have clean hands and feet."

After saying this, she quickly picked up the bread on the ground, turned around, ran into the deep alley with a few vertical leaps, and disappeared in a blink of an eye.

"Leave as soon as you say, at least tell me where the white ruins are..."

Lorraine picked up her skin in depression, and swayed out of the alley with her arms on her head.

"Tch! Strange woman."