Chapter 28: The Curved Course

"Order the Holy Justice to fire on the galleon's deck!" Alonso commanded the soldiers.

"Yes, Your Excellency the Governor-General!" The soldier snapped to attention, then ran off to relay the order.

Per his earlier orders, the Holy Justice had already sealed off the bay's exit on the sea—shouted commands could not be heard, so the signal officer could only stand on the harbor's high platform and wave flag signals.

Unfortunately, the morning sun was rising in the east just then. From the Holy Justice's angle looking west toward the harbor, all they could see was the sun's blinding glare. The signal officer on the high platform was nothing but a blurry silhouette—the flags in his hands were utterly impossible to make out.

Thus, the signal officer repeated the flag signals more than twenty times, yet the Holy Justice remained unmoved.

"What's going on? Why won't they obey orders!" Alonso's temples throbbed as he roared.

"They're probably too far away to see the flag signals," an officer analyzed.

Alonso bellowed: "Then send a boat over and deliver the order verbally!"

Ten minutes later, a small oared launch slowly rowed toward the Holy Justice.

"Your Excellency the Governor-General, look! The galleon is sailing toward the shoals!" a soldier cried out in alarm.

Alonso snatched a telescope from his servant, extended the tube, and peered at the galleon—sure enough, it was heading straight for the shoals.

On the yards, a dozen pirates serving as sail handlers were furling the sails.

Unlike the easy-to-operate Chinese hard sails, the galleon's soft sails could not be furled in a short time by simply pulling a few ropes and relying on block-and-tackle systems.

If they didn't change course, it was only a matter of time before the galleon ran bow-first onto the shoals.

The galleon was an absolute giant of the sea. To increase sailing stability, its keel was sharply protruding—once it ran aground, under its own weight the hull would suffer tremendous damage, and the keel might even snap outright.

But compared to losing both ship and cargo, running aground was already the best possible outcome.

Alonso knew full well that the pirates couldn't remove the rudder lock, and the galleon running aground was now inevitable.

"Fools!" Alonso stowed his telescope and cursed viciously.

In his view, even more detestable than Lin Qian's gang's lawless deeds was their ignorance.

Alonso said to his subordinate officers: "Once they run aground, try to take them alive. I want to watch them hang on the gallows with my own eyes!"

Having said this, he casually tossed the telescope to his servant.

Catherine took the telescope from the servant's hands, then anxiously peered into the distance—her knuckles whitening from gripping too hard.

In the telescope's field of view, the galleon was drawing ever closer to the shoals, the sailors on deck scurrying about like ants on a hot pan.

By now only two sails had been furled—the mainmast's mainsail and its topsail. The fore and mizzen masts' sails still bulged full of wind, driving the ship swiftly forward.

Catherine knew in her heart that at such close range, even if every sail on the galleon were furled right now, the ship's momentum would still carry it onto the shoals.

Running aground was unavoidable.

Without even realizing it herself, she subconsciously even hoped Lin Qian could remove the rudder lock and steer the galleon through a successful turn.

But her reason told her that in the decades since the Manila galleon had first appeared, there had never been a successful case of forcibly removing a rudder lock.

The rudder lock was the crowning achievement of Spain's finest shipwrights—there was no way a pirate could crack it in such a short time.

"Damn pirate—see you at the gallows." Catherine closed her eyes.

A moment later, the crowd around her erupted in gasps.

Startled yet delighted, Catherine snapped her eyes open. With her naked eye alone she could see the galleon inexplicably turning hard to port—so sharply that the hull suddenly listed hard to starboard.

"This is impossible." Alonso's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "There's clearly a rudder lock—how did he turn? Did he remove the rudder lock? This is impossible!"

"Where's the telescope? Give me that damned telescope, now!" Alonso shouted at the servant behind him.

The telescope was in Catherine's hands. Out on the distant sea, the galleon just barely skimmed past the shoals, its white foamy wake tracing a perfect curved course.

Catherine's red lips parted slightly, and she couldn't help letting out a gasp at the perilously narrow escape.

She shifted the telescope, locking her view on the ship's wheel on the poop deck. A man was straining to straighten the wheel—his upper body bare, muscles taut, forming an extremely fluid line.

"Lin Qian..." Catherine murmured.

"Give me that damned telescope!" Alonso roared, snatching it away and frantically peering into the distance.

The two square sails the galleon had furled earlier were now lowered one after another. Sailing on a beam reach, the galleon angled to starboard, its port side riding high, its bow cleaving through the waves as it sped across the sea.

"What about the Holy Justice? Why isn't it firing?" Alonso shouted. "He's letting the enemy escape—it's a crime!"

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

As if answering Alonso's words, the Holy Justice out on the sea finally let loose a string of cannon fire.

Yet after the thunder of the guns, the galleon emerged completely unscathed—not even a splash of water rose around it.

Alonso scanned the sea in every direction before spotting several columns of water erupting roughly eight hundred paces off the galleon's starboard side.

Every single cannonball had sailed clean over the galleon, landing in the sea far beyond it.

Though in the age of sail, whether a warship's cannons hit their mark was entirely up to God's will, a gunner should at least aim his cannon at the enemy ship—not at the sky.

This volley hadn't been aimed at the galleon at all.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

Another round of cannon fire—this time the shots landed even farther away than the last.

"Damn bastard, what is he doing!" Alonso roared at the top of his lungs.

"Your Excellency the Governor-General, you ordered the bombardment of the enemy ship's deck. The Holy Justice is faithfully executing your orders," an officer explained.

The galleon's sides were tall. To shoot at its deck, the Holy Justice naturally had to elevate its cannon muzzles—so when the shots missed, the cannonballs would land over a thousand paces beyond.

"Damn it! That was an outdated order. Can't he see the galleon is about to sail out of the bay?" Alonso raged. "This is letting the enemy escape—aiding the enemy! Damn it, is that captain's head stuffed with whale blubber?"

The officer was somewhat displeased: "Your Excellency the Governor-General, saying that is a bit unfair."

Just then, another "Boom!" of cannon fire sounded across the sea.

It wasn't the Holy Justice's guns—it was the galleon firing.

Though it didn't hit, it made the Holy Justice feel the danger, and the ship dared not approach any closer to shoot, keeping a distance of five hundred paces to fire.

"One shot! A single shot made the Holy Justice cower! What a coward!" Alonso laughed in fury, then said to the officer, "Commandeer the fastest civilian sailing ship. I'm boarding the Holy Justice to take personal command!"

"As you command, Your Excellency the Governor-General."

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen