Chapter 62: Bombarding Mount Guolao

Several days passed in the blink of an eye.

Huang Hetai never saw the sea bandits leave, and his unease grew stronger by the day.

He decided to lead his men up Mount Guolao on the eastern side of the island to see what this lot was up to.

No sooner had he reached the summit than he cast a single glance westward.

Huang Hetai was stunned speechless, nearly losing his footing.

The formerly barren land had been utterly transformed—the tangled vegetation along the coast had been cleared away, and over a thousand makeshift huts had been erected.

Even more frightening, many craftsmen were still cutting timber and building houses; over a dozen dwellings were already finished, with wisps of cooking smoke rising from their chimneys.

On the ground, tamped-earth roads divided the entire clearing into several large blocks, within which crisscrossing paths ran—clearly the embryonic form of a great city.

Along the paths, men and women bustled back and forth, a scene of intense activity.

By the shore… by the shore, Tanka boats stretched for miles in neat rows, and damn it all, there were even people building a dock and plank walkway!

Huang Hetai was truly panicking now.

Weren't they supposed to just be airing out their cargo?

Who airs out cargo and ends up building a whole city?

They were treating his Nan'ao naval base like their own home!

Judging by the scale of it, the few thousand people who had landed weren't enough—this city was being built to hold ten thousand or more.

If the court got wind of this, it would count as failure to hold one's territory, and the Vice Regional Commander would be the first to face charges.

And before the Vice Regional Commander was charged, he would certainly take this Nan'ao Garrison Commander out first.

Only now did he realize he'd been deceived. He hurriedly said to his subordinates, "Let's go—back to camp, muster the troops and prepare for battle!"

Aboard the Santa Ana, Lin Qian was in his cabin reading a Spanish sheepskin book.

Suddenly a subordinate came to report: "Helmsman, the brothers watching White Sand Bay have sent word—there's movement at the naval camp."

Lin Qian closed the book: "Understood."

The subordinate withdrew.

Lin Qian paced to the window. He had expected Huang Hetai to come crying and cursing him for breaking his word.

Unexpectedly, this Garrison Commander Huang actually had some spine—he dared to attack on his own initiative.

After all, the Nan'ao naval force numbered only a thousand men, while Lin Qian had nearly three thousand under his command.

To be sure, those three thousand were all pearl folk with families in tow.

But thanks to the pearl-pond eunuch, there were no elderly or feeble among those three thousand.

There were women and children, yes—but women who had survived such a brutal environment were even quicker with their hands than men.

Bai Qing was a prime example.

If Huang Hetai thought they'd be easy prey just because they had many women, he was sorely mistaken.

Lin Qian wasn't afraid of close combat, and what's more… he had cannons.

At that thought, Lin Qian pushed open the door and gave the order: "Weigh anchor and raise sail—course for White Sand Bay!"

Chen Jiao relayed the order in a loud voice.

The entire crew sprang into action.

An hour later, the Santa Ana sailed into White Sand Bay.

Lin Qian stood on the stern deck and raised his telescope. In the distance, he could indeed see large numbers of men scurrying about the camp, though they looked somewhat disorganized.

The boats of all sizes in the harbor were also bunched together, seemingly preparing to leave port.

From the look of it, they were exactly like the patrol post soldiers at the Nazhou pearl grounds.

Just then, Lei Sanxiang poked his head out from the gun deck ladder: "Helmsman, the cannons are loaded."

Lin Qian said, "Raise the barrels—aim at the mountain."

"Understood!" Lei Sanxiang shouted back, then ducked down and relayed the order at full volume.

A moment later, Lei Sanxiang's voice rang out: "Fire!"

The Santa Ana's starboard cannons fired in succession, the hull shuddering as thick gunsmoke blanketed the starboard side.

The smell of gunpowder made one's throat itch.

When the smoke cleared, Lin Qian raised his telescope again.

He saw that on the green mountain behind the naval camp, dust and smoke filled the air; the trees where shells had struck were shattered to splinters, exposing brown earth beneath.

A few more shells landed inside the camp itself, plowing deep craters into the ground.

The soldiers in the camp grew ever more frantic, thrown into complete chaos.

After a while, Lei Sanxiang shouted again: "Fire!"

Another string of heart-stopping cannon blasts.

The Santa Ana carried fourteen cannons on a single broadside—three more than Yuan Chonghuan had when defending Ningyuan.

Using them against these soldiers who spent their days owed pay and doing hard labor was nothing short of an era-gap beating.

After this round of fire, a few soldiers had already begun to flee.

Lin Qian didn't call for a halt, so the bombardment continued unabated—an hour passed in the blink of an eye.

The northern slope of Mount Guolao had been riddled with holes.

The occasional stray shell landed in the camp, collapsing over a dozen buildings.

Though the soldiers in the camp hadn't all scattered in rout, not a single warship dared put to sea anymore.

During a lull in the bombardment, a fast boat was seen approaching from the harbor, flying its sail at half-mast—the standard practice when Ming sea bandits surrendered to government forces.

Lin Qian ordered the bombardment to cease and waited quietly for the fast boat to draw near.

After the time it takes to eat a meal, Huang Hetai came aboard, covered in dust and looking utterly defeated.

"Why did your leader attack my forces without cause?" The moment he saw Lin Qian, Huang Hetai began to accuse him angrily.

"Without cause?" Lin Qian sneered. "Garrison Commander Huang, let's speak plainly. Your naval forces are no match for me. Accept your fate."

Huang Hetai knew well that Lin Qian had deliberately aimed every cannon at the mountainside, holding back—had he not, an hour of bombardment would have already inflicted heavy casualties on Nan'ao's naval forces.

But he was a dignified Garrison Commander of the Great Ming—how could he willingly surrender and submit to a sea bandit?

At this moment, Huang Hetai could only resent how greedily the Regional Commander, Assistant Regional Commanders, and roving commanders had padded their payrolls with phantom soldiers.

On the Ministry of War's books, Nan'ao Island should have five thousand naval troops and three hundred warships of various sizes.

Even at half that strength, it would have been more than enough to defeat the sea bandit before him.

But in reality, phantom payroll alone had already eaten away half of that force.

Of the remaining troops, half were split off to sail the best warships away to haul cargo at sea.

The thousand or so men left on the island were all the old, weak, sick, and crippled, and their warships were no better than fishermen's sampans.

And even so, their supplies and pay were constantly docked and embezzled.

Faced with such an approach to military governance, he felt that even if Yue Wumu were reborn, he could not turn the tide.

Of course, the officials of the Great Ming were all shrewd operators.

Although the Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao held high rank with little real power—a lofty title with a humble post—he was no fool either.

How could the Regional Commander not know that Nan'ao's geographic position was vital? If he could build a powerful naval force, simply taking toll money from sea merchants would earn him more than padding payrolls and running cargo ships?

But officialdom prized going along with the crowd. If everyone else padded their payrolls and played the corrupt courtier, could he alone be the loyal minister, the capable minister, the virtuous minister?

Loyal ministers, capable ministers, and virtuous ministers were not unheard of—in the distant past there were Lan Yu, Fu Youde, Feng Sheng, and Yu Qian; in recent times there were Hu Zongxian and Qi Jiguang. Which of these men came to a good end?

So as Vice Regional Commander, the things he did—some called it corruption, but he himself considered it political wisdom.

Now this heavy "political wisdom" had thoroughly ruined Huang Hetai.

He could only resign himself to his fate and say, "Since your leader fired at the mountain, you clearly don't want the infamy of rebellion. In that case, lead your men and withdraw at once."

"And if I don't?" Lin Qian asked with a smile.

"Then kill me!" Huang Hetai, goaded by the exchange, grew furious and remembered the integrity befitting a Garrison Commander of the Great Ming.

Lin Qian's expression gradually turned cold.

Huang Hetai's heart cried out in alarm, and he hastily tried to backtrack: "But think carefully—killing a court-appointed official without authorization is tantamount to rebellion. When the imperial army arrives, how will your leader fare?"

"No need for your concern. Tie his hands and feet, throw him overboard!" Lin Qian said in a frigid voice.

Huang Hetai stood frozen on the spot. While they tied the ropes he still maintained some backbone, not uttering a sound.

But when he was lifted up and carried step by step toward the ship's railing, he began to beg for mercy: "Leader, let's talk things over!"

"Put me down, I still have things to say."

"Your leader can stay on the island, I have no objections anymore. That pearl, and those dozens of taels of silver—I'll offer them all to your leader as tribute..."

"The Regional Commander only visits the island a few times a year. If your leader spares my life, I can cover for you—I'll make sure the court never finds out!"

"Hold on, bring the man back." Lin Qian said.

More than half of Huang Hetai's body had already been pushed past the railing before he was hauled back. His heart was full of the terror of having narrowly escaped death.

Lin Qian untied Huang Hetai and said warmly, "Garrison Commander Huang, if you'd only said this earlier, you could have spared yourself the physical suffering."

Huang Hetai's mouth tasted more bitter than if he'd eaten coptis root.

Lin Qian beckoned to Zheng Zhilong, who brought out a box the size of an arm and set it on the table, opening it.

Huang Hetai stepped forward to look. Inside the box lay a coral ornament, its color deep as ox blood, its texture as translucent as glass—truly a treasure of the finest grade.

With a single glance, he could no longer move his feet.

"A gift for the Garrison Commander. And from now on, protection money will be delivered every month as well." Lin Qian added.

Huang Hetai felt the coptis in his throat turn sweet on the aftertaste.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen