Chapter 274: The Battle of Macau

The Dutch weren't aiming for Guangzhou — they wanted to seize Macau!

From India to China, the Dutch had only four colonial footholds.

Two on India's east coast, one at Batavia (Indonesia), and one at Fort Zeelandia (southwestern Taiwan).

For the world's foremost maritime power, the Dutch were faring rather miserably in the East.

Past the Cape of Good Hope, their only resupply point was Mauritius, a godforsaken rock where not even birds shit.

Look in every direction — all Portuguese colonial ports.

After leaving Africa, Dutch fleets had to bribe the Portuguese just to resupply in India. Even Denmark's colonial footholds in India were better situated than Dutch ports.

Reaching the Strait of Malacca, the Dutch had to pay the Portuguese again before they could resupply and sail on to Batavia.

Even more laughably, for trade in East and Southeast Asia, the Dutch had to pay protection money to Zheng Zhilong...

Never mind how gleefully Portugal was stirring for independence — the moment it broke from Spain, crushing blows would follow. A port on Ceylon (Sri Lanka), and the utterly vital Malacca, would all be seized by the Dutch.

Abel Tasman was thirty-five this year. His excellent performance on several expeditions had earned him a ten-year contract renewal with the Dutch East India Company last year.

Historically, one year from now, he would become deputy commander of the Company's North Pacific expedition. Then, sailing from Mauritius into unknown waters, he would discover New Zealand and numerous nearby islands, and circumnavigate Australia on a voyage of exploration.

At this moment, Abel Tasman was merely a senior civilian officer attached to an expedition.

Their mission this time was to explore the coastal regions of Taiwan, determine just how large the island really was, and survey and chart its coastline.

They had barely arrived in Taiwan when their exploration vessel was commandeered to sail with the fleet to a port in northern Vietnam, carrying Taiwan's cargo along the way.

After unloading in northern Vietnam, the fleet waited half a month for the Dutch Batavia squadron to arrive.

"Abel, do you think we can pull it off this time?" asked his friend Patric.

Abel Tasman answered, "I regard it with skepticism."

Neither spoke further. They leaned against the gunwale, gazing at the stars, both convinced their Governor-General was an imbecile.

Last year, the Dutch launched a surprise attack on Malacca. The raid bogged down into a grinding siege — they blockaded the strait for half a year and besieged Malacca town for three months. They accomplished absolutely nothing and only disrupted trade.

This year they were attacking Macau, as if they had forgotten how disastrously they lost the assault on Macau sixteen years ago.

Back then, Dutch soldiers, Japanese mercenaries, and Malay auxiliaries — a full 1,300 men — had landed. So confident of success, the Dutch commander refused British participation, leaving two British warships to stand by and watch the show.

Meanwhile, the Portuguese garrison and their Chinese auxiliaries had all gone to Beijing to serve as mercenaries for the Tianqi Emperor.

Macau's defenses were hollow — only eighty musketeers remained; the rest were all civilians and black slaves.

When the battle ended, 136 Dutch soldiers lay dead and 126 wounded. Japanese and Malay troops suffered over 600 casualties combined. On the Macau defenders' side, four Portuguese soldiers and two Spanish soldiers died, along with some black slaves killed or wounded.

Abel Tasman lay on the deck, gazing up at the brilliant starry sky.

He preferred exploring unknown regions, not coming here to fight a war — especially one so difficult to win.

The Governor-General of Batavia had received two pieces of intelligence.

First: Guangzhou had opened free trade — to everyone except the Dutch.

Second: the Portuguese in Macau had expelled the Spanish; the Macau Guard had been disbanded; Macau was now garrisoned by Chinese troops.

What was there to wait for?

Seize the opportunity at once, take Macau, and then force China to open trade.

Two days later, fifteen Dutch warships and twelve armed merchantmen began bombarding Macau's harbor and the Fortaleza de São Francisco battery. Abel Tasman's exploration vessel, relying on its speed advantage, circled Macau island on reconnaissance.

Boom-boom-boom!

Fei Ruhe had been stripped of his post and, with no fighting to do for now, was currently in Macau drilling troops.

The Macau garrison was now divided into two units.

One was the Coast Guard Division, with 100 musketeers, over 80 gunners, and 150 artillery auxiliaries. Its commander was Huang Yunxiao. Half the artillerymen had been recruited locally from Portuguese residents and fishermen of Xiangshan County.

The other was the Xiangshan Patrol Division, with 200 musketeers and 150 regular soldiers. Its commander was Tu Tingye. Their duty was to combat smuggling; though stationed in Macau, they periodically patrolled the coasts and rivers of Xiangshan County.

"Motherfuckers, give it to 'em!" Huang Yunxiao roared.

The São Francisco battery opened fire at once. Whether Han gunners or Portuguese gunners, every man burned with hatred for the Dutch.

The Portuguese of Macau, in particular, had been sickened by the Dutch for over twenty years.

These Dutch pirates, unable to purchase goods at Guangzhou, had taken to plundering Portuguese merchantmen every few days.

How badly had they bullied the Portuguese?

Macau's Portuguese merchantmen had abandoned European ship designs entirely, switching wholesale to Chinese-style coastal sail-oar vessels. These Chinese-style ships sped along the coast, and the moment they spotted a Dutch warship, they promptly fled.

Boom-boom-boom-boom!

After a half-hour exchange of fire, one Dutch warship and two armed merchantmen, badly mauled, broke off from the battle and slowly made for safer waters.

As for Macau's São Francisco battery — not a scratch.

While the artillery duel raged, over sixty Dutch launches, carrying 1,200 soldiers, landed near Danggouhuan under covering fire.

The Dutch ignited damp gunpowder, and dense smoke immediately billowed along the shore, shrouding the battlefield from both sides.

"Chinese general, I have come to fight alongside you!" declared Councilman Cavalinho.

This was Cavalinho's villa, the closest point to the Dutch landing site.

Huang Yunxiao shot him a glance and warned, "When this battle is over, you will surrender every firearm you've hidden!"

"No problem — let's drive off the Dutch bastards first," Cavalinho replied with a grin.

Cavalinho's entire household turned out, along with six black slaves — eight matchlocks in all.

The man loaded ammunition with practiced efficiency and said, smiling in broken Chinese, "Sixteen years ago, 800 Dutch bastards attacked from this very spot. I led 150 brave civilians and shot down over forty of the enemy on the beach."

"Not bad. Impressive," Huang Yunxiao said approvingly.

Cavalinho pointed to a female black slave and added, "In the final pursuit, she killed two Dutch bastards — one of them a Dutch colonel."

Huang Yunxiao looked over with curiosity. The woman appeared to be in her forties or fifties, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted — she clearly ate well.

Cavalinho boasted on: "That battle, the Dutch suffered nine hundred casualties, while we lost fewer than ten. Father Jerónimo — an Italian Jesuit — fired a single cannonball and struck the Dutch bastards' temporary powder magazine on the beach. The explosion was magnificent. Even when I had withdrawn to the fort, I could feel the earth shake."

"Boom—boom—boom—boom!"

Twenty field guns on the battery fired wildly toward the beach. With smoke so thick, no one could tell the result — Huang Yunxiao's side certainly couldn't see clearly.

From the direction of the beach, a burst of Japanese suddenly rang out.

Several hundred Japanese ronin, faces masked with gauze, came charging out of the dense smoke from the damp gunpowder.

At this time, the Dutch army's backbone was made up of Japanese and Malays. In Batavia, the old Dutch colonial nest, there were even Chinese soldiers.

When Batavia came under its first siege, twenty thousand of the Sultan's soldiers surrounded the fort, and the Dutch garrison numbered only a few hundred. They held out entirely thanks to the Chinese, Japanese, and Malays; otherwise, the Dutch would have had no foothold in the Southern Seas at all — their colonial port would long since have been taken by the Mataram Sultanate.

"Let them get close before firing!" Huang Yunxiao shouted.

"Bang-bang-bang-bang!"

Cavalinho and his household retainers and black slaves had already opened fire. They had no formal training and simply aimed at the enemy, shooting at will.

Eight muskets, firing wildly, brought down only a single Japanese soldier.

Cavalinho, clearing his barrel as he worked, shouted to Huang Yunxiao, "Huang, order your soldiers to fire!"

"No rush," Huang Yunxiao said with a smile.

Just then, several hundred Malay soldiers also burst out of the thick haze, intent on seizing the villa.

Huang Yunxiao had only one hundred Great Unity musketeers under his command — and even these hundred men he had divided into four groups for volley fire.

"First rank, raise muskets!"

"Fire!"

"Bang-bang-bang-bang!"

Twenty-five Great Unity musketeers, sheltered behind the villa's courtyard wall, fired a volley at the charging Japanese soldiers.

The moment they fired, they began reloading at once.

"Second rank, raise muskets!"

"Fire!"

"Bang-bang-bang-bang!"

"Third rank… no need to fire."

At a distance of about twenty meters, two successive volleys brought the Japanese ronin down like wheat before a scythe.

Before the third rank could fire, the remaining Japanese ronin collapsed entirely, sweeping the Malay soldiers behind them into a rout.

Cavalinho stared, dumbfounded. He knew close-range fire was deadly, but he had never seen any nation's army dare to let the enemy come this close before opening fire.

"Boom!"

A cannonball came flying and smashed a huge hole straight through the roof of Cavalinho's villa.

The Dutch had dismantled naval guns and were firing from somewhere on the beach, immediately drawing return fire from the Macau battery.

Over a thousand Dutch, Japanese, and Malay soldiers regrouped and began circling toward both flanks of the villa.

Just then, one hundred and fifty men from the Patrol Office were sent by Tu Tingye as reinforcements.

"Why didn't Old Tu come himself?" Huang Yunxiao asked.

A military officer answered, "Patrol Officer Tu says we should take our time fighting. Zheng Zhilong's fleet has been hiding over by Guanghai Guard all along — they're probably still on the way. If we drive the red-haired devils off now, how are we supposed to finish off their fleet? The Regional Commander has an agreement with Zheng Zhilong: we split the captured red-haired devil warships fifty-fifty."

"Then let's stop fighting. I'm afraid I won't be able to resist wiping out every last one of these red-haired devils," Huang Yunxiao said. "Withdraw through the back gate!"

Cavalinho, his entire family, and his black slaves were all forcibly taken away by Huang Yunxiao. The villa was abandoned to the Dutch.

Not long after they pulled out, they heard cheers erupt behind them.

The Dutch commander drew his saber: "Pursue while victory is fresh — the enemy has scattered!"

The thousand-strong enemy force split into two columns and attacked the two batteries separately.

The Japanese ronin, in particular, fought like madmen, thinking that once they broke into Macau they could loot the civilians there. The Dutch paid miserable wages; they relied entirely on plunder and shares for their income.

As they ran, the Malay native soldiers overtook them from behind and actually surged ahead of the Japanese ronin.

Huang Yunxiao withdrew to the battery and looked down at the enemy below, who had lost all formation. He felt an urge to launch a counter-charge after a volley.

One volley, then an immediate counter-charge — and he could annihilate this rabble completely.

(End of chapter)