Chapter 23: Damn Pirates

Wanli 48th year, the 21st day of the fifth month, night.

Manila had not seen rain for several days, the weather weighing heavily, and tonight dark clouds veiled the moon—a storm was about to break.

Alonso stood in the Governor-General's residence gazing at the pitch-black sea, his heart restless.

These past days, he had sent his men out to gather intelligence in every direction, and had also dispatched warships to probe the waters around Samar Island.

There was not the slightest trace of Lin Qian and his "fleet."

This might well be proof that Lin Qian had spread false information—otherwise, a fleet of over a hundred ships simply vanishing from the sea would be too incredible.

In the bedchamber, Catalina lay tossing and turning on the soft velvet mattress.

Her mind kept replaying moments from aboard Lin Qian's ship, leaving her agitated and confused...

"Anne." Catalina called out.

After a moment, the door was pushed open, and a maidservant entered holding a candle: "Miss Catalina?"

"Fetch me some canvas—I want to rig a hammock."

Having served Catalina for so long, the maidservant had seen every kind of strange request and was no longer surprised by someone wanting a hammock in the middle of the night. She acknowledged the order and withdrew to prepare it.

"Wait." Catalina stopped her. "Leave the candle—put it on the dressing table... yes, right there."

Placing a candle before the mirror in the dead of night struck the maidservant as somewhat eerie, but she mustered her courage, set it down, and retreated into the darkness.

"Damn pirates." Catalina cursed bitterly.

Nine hundred nautical miles away, Jellyfish Island, among the southern reefs.

Vice Admiral Juan's telescope showed nothing but blackness. He lowered it in frustration and shouted up to the lookout at the masthead: "See anything?"

"Nothing at all, Your Excellency." The lookout's voice came down.

The silver coins had been laid out on the beach for three or four days now, and around Jellyfish Island, not even a stray plank floating on the sea had been spotted.

Vice Admiral Juan felt he was being played for a fool, but the Governor-General's orders had to be carried out—until his water and provisions ran out, he was bound to keep watch over this place.

"Damn pirates!" Vice Admiral Juan slammed his fist against the railing.

Northwest of Lingayen Gulf, the watchtower.

Two Spanish soldiers sat atop the tower playing cards.

As for keeping watch over the sea, a quick glance after each hand was enough.

If a fleet attacked tonight, the commander must have taken leave of his senses.

Tonight the clouds hid the moon and the sea was shrouded in darkness. Sailing blind, let alone finding the beach, even keeping the fleet from colliding at sea would be no easy feat.

"Raise—two reales."

"Call."

"Damn!"

The two put down their cards. The loser stood up, facing the sea breeze, and gulped down two mouthfuls of rum.

Just then, on the pitch-black sea, a grain-of-rice-sized spark of fire flickered.

The soldier rubbed his eyes, thinking he had drunk too much and was seeing things, then raised the bottle for two more gulps.

When he looked back at the sea, he saw several more points of fire. Those flames were extremely tiny, as if they might go out at any moment, yet against the abyssal blackness of the ocean, they stood out sharply.

"Look—what is that on the sea?" The soldier hurriedly shoved his companion's shoulder.

His companion was counting his reales and said offhandedly: "Drink a little less, and you won't have hallucinations."

"It's not a hallucination!" The soldier's voice carried a note of fear, because even as he spoke, a dozen more points of fire had appeared on the sea.

These starlike flames arranged themselves in rows across the water, slowly moving toward the bay.

His companion rose cursing, took one look at the sea, and froze. The fires on the water were multiplying, like a vast swarm of fireflies blanketing the surface—too many to count. His lips trembled as he choked out: "Ship lanterns!"

"Ship lanterns?" The soldier did not react at first.

"They're the pirate fleet's ship lanterns! Quick—light the fire, sound the alarm!"

Firewood had long been prepared atop the tower. The two doused it with oil, then struck flint and steel to ignite it. The flames instantly wrapped the wood in burning oil, and the two hurriedly scrambled down the ladder.

By the time their feet touched the ground, the entire top of the watchtower was engulfed in flames.

Moments later, a watchtower fifteen li to the south was lit as well, and then the watchtower thirty li beyond that.

The firelight pierced the thick darkness, racing southward at speed, until the beacon tower outside Manila was set ablaze.

In the Governor-General's residence, Alonso saw the beacon fire, gripped his wine glass tightly, and swept his gaze across the waters of Manila Bay—but saw nothing.

Ten minutes later, a young officer burst in: "Your Excellency!"

"What has happened?" Alonso pressed urgently.

"It is the signal fire from the northern watchtowers—an alarm from Lingayen Gulf, Your Excellency." The young officer reported.

"Lingayen Gulf?" Alonso frowned deeply, thinking to himself: "Does this pirate named Lin Qian truly have a fleet? Does he truly dare to attack Manila? Have I miscalculated?"

"Your Excellency, I recommend dispatching the army north immediately to meet the enemy!"

"No." Alonso let out a cold smile—after all, he had long since made preparations in the direction of Lingayen Gulf.

At present, the naval force in Manila harbor consisted of only one ship: the Holy Justice.

The San Felipe was lying in ambush at Jellyfish Island, and the San Juan and Nuestra Señora del Rosario, which had gone to Jellyfish Island with her, were still on their way back.

The remaining three warships—the Fury, the Golden Lion, and the Silver Wolf—were all anchored five nautical miles northwest of Luzon Island.

According to the original plan, when these three warships saw the watchtower's signal, they would sail southeast, charge into Lingayen Gulf, and engage the pirate fleet in a cannon duel.

Though two of these three ships were caravels with limited firepower, the Fury alone—a galleon—was more than enough to rout the pirates.

This had been his trump card held in reserve; he never expected it to hit the mark at the critical moment and save the situation.

Alonso pondered for a long while, then finally said in a deep voice: "The army does not move!"

"Yes, Your Excellency!" The young officer snapped to attention, acknowledged the order, and withdrew.

In truth, Manila, with its coastal artillery and city walls, was more than capable of repelling any threat from the sea.

Moreover, the Manila galleon was still anchored in the harbor—though it was an armed merchant ship, its firepower was in no way inferior to that of an ordinary warship.

Even if the enemy truly appeared in Manila Bay, commandeering the Manila galleon on short notice to cooperate with the Sacred Justice would be more than enough to handle it.

"Pirates, your end has come." Alonso gazed toward the northwest, savoring a sip of wine with a leisurely air, a smug smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

Pink Round

Pen