Chapter 233: March on Cavite

At this moment, fifteen li west of the Governor-General's residence, on the broad waters of Manila Bay.

The Zhulong, Tianyuan, and Zheng He led the way, followed by four yachts from Zhang, Chao, Quan, and Hui. Seven ships formed a battle line, starboard sides aimed at Manila, all gunports open, bronze cannon barrels thrust out, pouring shells across the empty sea.

Together, the seven ships mounted one hundred twenty-three main guns on their broadsides.

The thunder of a full volley shook heaven and earth, clearly audible at Manila's harbor.

Around the seven ships, five whale boats carrying troops, over ten Fujian junks, and ten eagle ships patrolled on guard.

Looking out, the entire surface of Manila Bay seemed to have been seized.

Zheng Hongkui stood at the starboard rail of the Zhulong, gazing at the tiny city of Manila between sea and sky, listening to this "wooden coffin" he had called home for half a month roar with deafening cannon fire. In his heart surged a conqueror's spirit, and he felt his blood boil through his veins.

"Boom-boom-boom..."

Another string of thunderous blasts came from beneath his feet—the world-shattering roar of black powder exploding—shaking the deck beneath him until the soles of his feet tingled.

"Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!" Zheng Hongkui cupped his hand over his mouth and poured a strange cry of all his strength into the cannon thunder.

The twelve cadets who had boarded the Zhulong with Zheng Hongkui saw this and joined his shouting.

It was both a release of their pent-up frustration and a way to add voice to their navy's bombardment.

The boatswain, who had spent half a month cursing the cadets without pause, saw this and let a smile steal across his taut face, muttering, "A bunch of little brats!"

The guns fell silent. Gray-white smoke rose over the deck, its smell sharp and bitter, like scorched wood mixed with metal, making throats itch until one wished he could stick a finger down to scratch.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Some cadets doubled over, coughing without end.

The boatswain immediately wiped the smile from his face and bellowed, "What's there to cough about? Scared of gunpowder smoke, then why be a sailor? Get the hell home and go fishing!" Since boarding, the boatswain had been in charge of the cadets, and over half a month, they had heard this kind of scolding more times than they could count.

At this moment, though resentment and defiance still simmered inside, no one dared disobey orders, and no one dared talk back.

They all clamped their mouths and noses with both hands, not daring to make another sound.

Zheng Hongkui was different from his classmates. He did not cover his mouth and nose. Choked by the smoke until his throat tightened and his eyes streamed tears, he bore it all without reaction. Since coming aboard, he had striven to be first in everything—to prove himself, and to bring no shame to his elder brother or the Zheng family! His birth name was Zheng Zhifeng, fourth brother of Zheng Zhilong, and a cadet of the Nan'ao Naval Academy.

Zheng Zhilong had not originally wanted his brother to join the military. The helmsman kept a very tight grip on the armed forces; imagining one could turn the army into private property as in the Great Ming was impossible.

Moreover, military discipline was strict, and there were none of the Ming army's various ways of lining one's pockets.

For the family's sake, having Zheng Zhilong alone in the military was enough. The remaining brothers were best off studying or going into trade—that was the proper path. But the Zheng brothers were all of a temperament that could not abide a dull life. From the moment Zheng Hongkui read in the newspapers of the Nan'ao Navy's glorious victories, he could not sit still, and the obsession only deepened.

He often came to the island under the pretext of visiting his elder brother, secretly gazing at the warships, memorizing their performance, dimensions, and firepower.

From the annihilation of Li Kuiqi to the destruction of the Formosa Expeditionary Force.

Not a single battle of the Nan'ao Navy had he missed hearing about; he could recite them almost backward.

Once, so lost in a story that after coming ashore and climbing into a carriage, when the servant asked, "Fourth Young Master, shall we go home or stop by a teahouse?" Zheng Hongkui replied, "Sail northwest, starboard tack with the wind—weigh anchor and hoist sail!"

Through his persistent pestering, and with Lin Qian having founded the Nan'ao Naval Academy, Zheng Zhilong agreed to let him try his hand—with one condition: he had to earn his place through his own training and make a name on his own merits, with no help from his brother's standing.

Zheng Hongkui was beside himself with excitement, agreeing readily and swearing again and again that he would make a fine sailor.

Clutching the dream of commanding a warship, he gave himself the new name Zheng Hongkui and joined the Nan'ao Navy.

On the first day of enrollment, Lin Qian's bold speech on the "Navy's Lance Doctrine" stirred Zheng Hongkui's heart into surging waves—he could hardly wait to find an enemy ship and trade broadsides, to taste the romance of blood and fire.

After the opening ceremony, he should have been in the classroom studying books.

But it happened that the Nan'ao Navy was about to set out on a mission. The mission was not arduous, though it carried some danger, but Lin Qian judged that in all likelihood no real fighting would break out. Moreover, this mission perfectly embodied the navy's duty to protect overseas Chinese, making it an excellent educational lesson.

Besides, who said study had to happen in a classroom? Sailors made their homes of ships—reading on deck under the sun with sea wind blowing was study just the same! Thus the first batch of naval cadets was distributed among the ships on the mission. Few went to the capital ships; most were assigned to Fujian junks and yachts. Zheng Hongkui was luckier—he was placed aboard the flagship Zhulong.

The Zhulong almost never moored at the Front River Bay or Rear River Bay docks. Most of the time she lay at Shen'ao Bay, the former garrison camp, now the Nan'ao Naval barracks.

Ordinary people could not approach freely.

Zheng Hongkui had come to the island several times, longing for a close look but never managing it—he could only climb a hilltop and gaze at the Zhulong from afar.

He never imagined that on his very first day as a cadet, he would step aboard the Zhulong. His excitement knew no bounds.

He thought to himself, being a soldier really is the life.

But soon the novelty faded, and he regretted it. Life at sea was unbearably dull; often sailing for days with not the slightest change in the scenery around.

Cadets read in the mornings and worked in the afternoons.

The boatswain had an almost pathological obsession with deck cleanliness and the tautness of the rigging.

Damn it! One bucket of seawater, one mop, one sandstone block, one entire deck—twelve cadets could spend a whole day scrubbing it!

The cadets were full of resentment, scrubbing with all their might, wishing they could wear a whole layer off the deck.

The teak was too good a quality; they never succeeded.

During this time, if anyone complained that scrubbing the deck was too tedious and meaningless, the boatswain would send him to inspect the rigging.

That job was even more of a torment. The ship's rigging had several thousand fastenings, and every single one had to be checked and tightened.

Cadets often climbed the shrouds seven or eight zhang above the deck to retie knots, and by the time they came down their legs had turned to jelly, unable to stand.

Besides those two tasks, there was chipping rust, painting, caulking, charting, lookout duty, maintaining the guns, polishing shot, and a hundred other odd jobs. Damn it, these petty, worthless chores were simply endless!

Any small mistake brought the boatswain's furious curses, his great voice carrying through three decks so half the ship could hear. Since coming aboard, the twelve cadets had suffered torment of body and mind alike. Sometimes they truly wished they could sneak down to the hold and knock a hole in the hull, so the whole ship could go down together and be done with it!

Of course, that was only a fantasy. No one would actually do it.

Having endured so long in this "wooden coffin," today they had finally reached their destination. Hearing the cannon fire they had dreamed of, the cadets' discontent and frustration were swept clean away by the guns' roar.

Though their target was a wide stretch of open sea, with Manila harbor still more than ten li from the impact zone.

But in their minds, the cadets had already imagined enemy warships sitting right at the impact point—shells throwing up great fountains of spray, ricochets skipping across the surface, every shot smashing enemy vessels to splinters with irresistible force.

"Boatswain, what city is that?" one of the cadets asked.

For reasons of secrecy, the Nan'ao Navy never told its crew their destination.

Old hands could guess the destination with near certainty from the wind, the heading, and the time sailed.

But these cadets naturally lacked that skill.

Though they used sextants daily to measure latitude and each carried a logbook, recording entries with great pretense, when it came to the real thing they were still completely in the dark.

The boatswain laughed. "That's the island of Luzon. The Franks call that city Manila."

"I know—in the thirty-first year of Wanli, the Franks on the island massacred Han Chinese!" one trainee said through gritted teeth.

This massacre was something Lin Qian had spoken of at the opening ceremony, and the trainees still remembered it.

The cannons were still firing at a slow rate.

The military academy instructors had told them of the oppression the Chinese had suffered in Luzon over the years, and of the atrocities committed by the expeditionary force on Dongning Island.

The trainees listened, burning with righteous indignation.

Someone asked: "Instructor, why are we firing from the open sea instead of closing in to bombard the harbor?"

The instructor said: "Today I'll teach you an iron rule of naval warfare—at no time should gunboats trade fire with shore batteries!

Our mission is to seize command of the sea, deliver the army safely to shore, and then provide covering fire.

Taking cities and forts—that's the business of the army and the marines."

In the Governor-General's palace conference room, the Spaniards pressed to the window and looked at the line of warships stretching for miles along the horizon, their hearts struck as if by a heavy blow. "What's going on? Why was there no warning?" the fleet commander asked in a panic.

The messenger soldier said: "The enemy came too fast. When the patrol boat spotted them, it turned back to report, but it was already too late."

Pablo asked: "How many warships do we have sailing in the open sea?"

"Only... only one, protecting the shipping lanes and suppressing pirates. The remaining six are all anchored in the harbor... and the main warships' cannons and numbers are no match for the enemy."

The fleet commander painfully admitted his failure.

Pablo turned to the garrison commander: "How many troops does Manila have? Can it hold?"

The garrison commander said: "Your Excellency, there are one hundred Spanish soldiers, two hundred Mexican soldiers, and two hundred native mercenaries in the city. If Your Excellency requires, we can also immediately recruit militia within the city."

He saw the Governor-General's hesitant expression and urged: "Your Excellency, Manila is not what it was fifty years ago. No random sea pirates can break in anymore. With the bastion walls and Fort Santiago, I can turn any enemy into planks and floating corpses on the Pasig River."

Pablo hesitated. The navy was now completely unreliable—if the land defense failed, the lives of everyone in the city and Manila, this pearl of the Far Eastern colonies, would all be handed over to others.

But he also dared not immediately negotiate surrender—the furious royal court would surely send him to the guillotine.

A flash of despair crossed his eyes, and he thought to himself: "So the Great Ming is truly such a powerful nation!

Manila survives in the cracks between two great powers, the Great Ming and the Dutch. This Governor-General's seat is far too hard to sit in!"

He was wavering, unable to decide.

Suddenly someone behind him cried out in alarm: "The cannon fire has stopped!"

Pablo looked up and saw the southwest wind blowing the gunpowder smoke from the sea away, and that fleet slowly disappearing from view.

They were withdrawing just like that?

Pablo was just beginning to feel relieved when his heart suddenly began to pound with uneasy alarm!

Manila had the tight protection of its bastions—even without five hundred defenders, five hundred monkeys who knew how to light a fire could exhaust the enemy's ammunition and supplies.

But there was one place in the colony that was very weak.

That was the Cavite shipyard at the southwestern end.

This place was the largest shipyard in all of Southeast Asia. The Manila galleons were built here, and all the Spanish naval vessels of the Southeast Asian colonies were repaired here.

Once it fell, the galleon trade would be blocked, Spain's military presence would be weakened, and in Southeast Asian waters, they would no longer have any qualification to compete with the Dutch.

Pablo was truly afraid now. He wished he could slap himself twice—the enemy ships firing at the sea surface earlier was clearly giving them a chance to negotiate, and he had let the opportunity slip away.

The others also guessed the enemy's purpose. The fleet commander said mockingly: "I hope recruiting militia now is still in time, Mr. Leon." The garrison commander ignored him and said to the Governor-General: "Your Excellency, please let me take men to reinforce the shipyard."

Pablo nodded in agreement.

The fleet commander, who had been constantly mocked by the garrison commander Leon, now felt immensely pleased and thought: "I hope that in a few days, we won't need to go reinforce you."

After the fleet stopped its bombardment, it sailed southwest for about twenty li and arrived near the shore.

On the deck of the Zhulong, the five-colored flag waved, and an eagle ship went forward to reconnoiter the shore conditions.

Bailangzai stood beneath the five-colored flag, raised his telescope, and looked toward the east side of the fleet—about ten li away, there was a peninsula.

The Spaniards called it the Cavite Peninsula, while the local Chinese, according to the peninsula's shape, called it "Hook Cape."

The peninsula was shaped like an "F" overall, and the Cavite shipyard was located on the short horizontal stroke at the bottom of the F.

Up to this point, everything the fleet had done was according to Lin Qian's plan—first, firing to intimidate the enemy.

Seeing that the Governor-General's palace showed no intention of negotiating, they immediately launched an attack on the shipyard.

Manila's fortifications were solid, and the bastion cannons in the walled city had no firing dead zones—they would need the Vauban siege method, digging zigzag trenches to attack. The Nan'ao forces had no ability to take a major city for now, nor the time to grind away with the Spaniards.

Moreover, taking Manila would do Lin Qian no good. Luzon had resources, but could timber and farmland compare to the importance of silver? If Manila fell, who would the Great Ming sea merchants sell their goods to?

Go to Mexico? The Spaniards' power there was even stronger. Rather than sending ships thousands of li for trade, it was better to keep Manila. This fleet was dispatched for two reasons: first, to demand an explanation for the Spaniards' brazen invasion of Dongning; second, to knock some sense into the Spaniards—times had changed, and in the South China Sea, they needed to recognize who was the boss.

Seven years ago, when Lin Qian first set foot on Manila's soil, he had already seen that the Cavite shipyard was the Governor-General's palace's weak point.

At that time, in order to hijack a galleon, Lin Qian had even designed a backup plan to capture the Cavite shipyard.

It just had never been executed in the end.

As the saying goes, no effort is ever wasted.

The backup plan from seven years ago was now being put to use.

On the Zhulong, Zheng Hongkui and the other trainee soldiers all looked tense. They had sailed to the shore—clearly preparing to land. This was getting serious.

The instructor stood among the trainee soldiers, pointing at the eagle ship working near the shore, and asked: "Does anyone know what they're doing?"

Zheng Hongkui said: "Reporting to the instructor, this is beachhead reconnaissance—measuring the tides, reefs, and water depth!"

The instructor nodded and said: "Correct. Not only that—they also need to check the shore's defensive fortifications and firing points, measure the beach's slope and type. Does anyone know how many types of beaches there are?"

Zheng Hongkui was just about to answer first when another trainee said: "Reporting to the instructor, there are three types—sandy, muddy, and rocky—each with different landing methods. What we're looking at now is a sandy beach, the best for passage and the first choice for landing, but the terrain is open and requires artillery cover."

The instructor nodded repeatedly, thinking that leading the top class was truly satisfying, but still encouraged them: "Currently our ship bears the tasks of command and auxiliary cover. The Tianyuan and Zhenghe handle intercepting enemies from the sea, while the four ships Zhang, Chao, Quan, and Hui provide the main fire cover.

That was precisely the order just issued by the five-colored flag signals.

Naval combat is not like combat on land—on the same ship, to hear orders clearly, you rely on a loud voice.

But to relay orders between ships, you rely on sharp eyes.

When the order was just issued, three signal flags were moved, and many people were already dazzled by the sight.

Bai Qing's most complex command involved moving five flags at once—spin, wave, shake, spin-shake, and sway. Only those who could read such commands clearly were considered qualified.

The fact that you just failed to read the five-color flag commands doesn't matter, because you are trainees.

But in the future, when you become helmsmen, ship captains, or even fleet commanders, if you can't read the commands, the flagship will never repeat them just for you!

When that day comes, you'll be endangering everyone on the ship!

Don't want to harm others? Then you learn, and you train!"

"Yes!" The twelve trainees, stirred by competitive spirit, answered loudly.

Soon, the Eagle Ship completed its beachhead reconnaissance over a distance of five li. Someone stood at the stern of the Eagle Ship, using two triangular flags to send semaphore signals to the Candle Dragon. This semaphore system was a Ming-dynasty version developed by José based on Spanish flag signaling, and the meanings it could convey were very limited.

In the future, as the military academy developed and talent emerged, a new semaphore system would certainly need to be established.

On the deck of the Candle Dragon, the helmsman said, "Captain, the beachhead waters are clear. We can land."

"Send the order to the Whale Ships."

Zheng Hongkui looked toward the stern deck, and saw green flags waving. The five Whale Ships slowly moved forward, lowering their sails at two li from shore.

Centipede boats were continuously lowered into the sea from both sides. The marine soldiers on the Whale Ships, agile as apes, quickly climbed down the rope ladders and took their seats in the centipede boats. Soon each boat was filled.

Under unified commands, the full crews rowed toward the beachhead. A dozen or so oars swung rapidly, making the boats truly resemble centipedes covered in legs. Looking across the entire sea surface, there were more than thirty such centipede boats.

Once the centipede boats reached the beach, the soldiers aboard jumped off quickly, drew their weapons, and formed mandarin-duck formations to stand guard on the beachhead.

Each boat left one soldier to row it back and ferry more soldiers over.

After two hours, all one thousand marines had come ashore, forming a great hedgehog-like formation that sealed off the entire beachhead.

Some soldiers held telescopes, climbing trees or rocks to gaze into the distance.

Next to land were the army troops. These men were much slower at boarding and rowing than the marines, and some even fell straight into the water. Fortunately, those selected for the ships all knew how to swim, so none drowned.

After four hours, more than four hundred army soldiers had also landed. The two forces gathered on the beachhead, and looking out, it was truly a dense, dark mass. Then the centipede boats ferried ashore ten three-pounder cannons and the Jeju horses that pulled their carriages.

After the fourteen hundred men formed up, they advanced in mighty force toward the shipyard.

Ten li due south of Manila, garrison commander León led three hundred men along the road to the Cavite shipyard.

In the glow of the evening sunset, a column of black smoke rose into the air—the shipyard's signal for help to the Governor-General's palace.

León could hardly believe his own eyes.

My God, how long did it take those Sangley to land? Less than half a day?

His three hundred men hadn't even needed to land—just mustering, forming up, and marching here had taken them half a day!

Were these Sangleys grown out of the mud?

León ordered his cavalry to scout for information, while his three hundred reinforcements rested in place.

Most of these three hundred men came from the Mexican colony—descendants of mixed-bloods, natives, and criminals. Their morale, training, and loyalty were all poor. Such a long march was more than they could endure; they had to stop and start constantly.

After resting for about two or three hours, the cavalry returned to report.

"Your Excellency, a Sangley army has surrounded the shipyard. Approximately one to three thousand men, armed with spears, branches, and matchlock muskets. Most wear armor, and they have ten to twenty cannons. They are currently arranging their positions."

"My God..." León muttered.

These three hundred men he had brought were originally meant to garrison the Cavite shipyard, but he never imagined the Sangley army's amphibious landing would be far faster than his own relief force's march.

Now that two thousand men had surrounded the shipyard, sending his three hundred in would be pure suicide.

The only option now was to return to Manila and hire mercenaries.

León, dejected, led his men back into the city.

That evening, when Pablo learned of the situation, he was so furious he nearly spat blood. If this was how supporting the shipyard would end, why had they bothered at all? When the Sangley army was landing, they should have gone to negotiate, rather than dragging things out until now.

The shipyard was a shipbuilding base. Though it had a bastion fort, its thickness, height, and number of cannons were nothing compared to Manila's.

In the past, among the Spaniards' opponents in Southeast Asia, the Ming people had numerous land armies but no navy, making it difficult to project forces, and they lacked cannons, making it hard to besiege cities.

The Dutch had a powerful navy but very few land troops, so they too could hardly threaten Manila.

Who could have imagined that this Sangley army would hold overwhelming advantages on both land and sea, leaving the Governor-General's palace momentarily at a loss.

In the current situation, the longer they delayed, the worse it would be for the Spaniards. Negotiations had to begin as soon as possible.

At dawn the next day, a troop of cavalry rode out of Manila on fast horses. The lead rider carried the Burgundian cross flag, representing the Governor-General's palace. The negotiations proceeded very quickly—before noon, the envoy had already galloped back.

Seeing the anxious Governor-General, the envoy said, "Your Excellency, the greedy Sangleys have put forward several conditions. First: improve the treatment of Sangleys in Manila—no longer using the discriminatory epithet 'Sangley,' no more discriminatory taxation, and no other legally unequal treatment." Pablo said hurriedly, "That's no problem. What else?"

"Second: recognize the Ming dynasty's full rights over Dongning Island, and forbid Spanish ships from sailing to Dongning Island and the waters to its north." Since 1494, when Portugal and Spain had divided their spheres of influence along the papal line of demarcation, no one had dared restrict the Spanish Empire's freedom of navigation. The Sangley... the Ming people were damned well the first!

This condition damaged national honor, and Pablo dared not agree to it outright. He said euphemistically, "I can only offer assurances on behalf of the Governor-General's palace." "Third: they demand permission to..."

"There's more?" Pablo said in surprise.

The envoy squeezed out a smile more bitter than tears: "The third condition: the Ming people demand the establishment of a trading factory in the Parián market area, along with a small garrison."

Pablo clenched his jaw and slammed his fist on the table, rattling the precious blue-and-white porcelain cups.

"Let them build it!"

"Fourth: the Dongning Expeditionary Force's losses inflicted on Dongning Island, plus the military expenses of the Nan'ao Fleet's expedition to Manila, must be compensated by the Governor-General's palace—fifty thousand taels of silver."

"Are these damned bastards possessed by Judas?"

Pablo couldn't hold back and cursed: "What about the three warships Santiago, San Felipe, and Nuestra Señora de la Victoria? What about the lives of the Formosa Expeditionary Force?"

"The Dongning Expeditionary Force!"

"What?" Pablo, in his fury, didn't understand.

"The Dongning Expeditionary Force," the envoy corrected. "The Ming people forbid us from using the name 'Formosa' for their island."

"In fact, 'Formosa' has also been listed by the Ming people as a discriminatory term. They forbid us from using it to refer to anything within their sphere of influence." "Damned!" Pablo paced back and forth across the room, his face flushed crimson.

"So they can call us barbarians, red barbarians, and Frankish barbarians, and that's fine? God-damned bastards who belong in hell!"

"There is one final condition, Your Excellency."

"Fifth: forced conversion of Ming people in Luzon is forbidden. Missionaries are no longer permitted to operate in the Parián market. The Church is no longer permitted to forcibly collect any form of fees from Ming people."

Pablo was so angry that hallucinations swam before his eyes and his head spun in dizzy spells. He roared: "Tell León to conscript troops! Attack! Kill every last one of those damned heathens!"

The envoy said, "Yes, Your Excellency the Governor-General! However, the Ming men also asked me to convey one more message. Rest assured, it is not a condition—merely a piece of advice." "Speak." Pablo forced the words out through clenched teeth.

"The Ming men advise the Governor-General's office to make a decision soon. With the defenses of the Cavite shipyard, you cannot hold out much longer. Once the shipyard falls, the price will no longer be what it is now."

Pablo's fingers trembled. He suddenly clenched his fist and slammed it hard against the tabletop, roaring, "Raise troops for me! Kill them all! Kill them all!"

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen