Chapter 572: Beibu Gulf Rectification
Fangcheng lies on the border coast of Guangxi.
As the name suggests, this so-called Fangcheng is surely a border pass. The ancients named this place Fangcheng precisely to convey the meaning of standing guard and repelling enemies beyond the national gate.
In this late Ming era, the imperial court is decrepit, Fangcheng's troop strength has slackened, and it can no longer maintain order on the sea.
This has caused the pirate enterprise plying between the Great Ming and the Annam coast to flourish vigorously.
Especially in the last two years, large numbers of Ming Nation pirates have, for some reason, all headed south, throwing the Annam coast into turmoil and worsening the environment in the Beibu Gulf by the day.
That is, until the arrival of a certain army.
Time: high noon. Location: the open sea off Fangcheng.
Thick clouds blanketing the sky stain everything on the sea surface in tones of gray and black. The gray air and rain-mist, the black waves, even the soaring seabirds and the ships below — all seem daubed with ink, fading into the darkness, shadowy and indistinct, their true features impossible to discern.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning pierces the cloud layer and slashes down from the sky.
Following the thick blue electric light comes the golden sun. In this moment, the dense cloud layer is split open, revealing a huge fissure; the golden sunlight that streams through dyes everything it touches with a layer of gold: the rain has stopped.
Wind and rain on the sea surface, flaring up and dying down in an instant, are utterly commonplace. But the things that come "surging over" from the horizon together with the sunlight are not so commonplace.
Having broken away from the main fleet, three White Sails warships unfurl the large triangular sails at their prows, and with the golden sun at their backs, facing the monsoon wind blowing in from the direction of the Philippine Sea, they charge toward the shore like arrows.
Only at this moment do the large mass of native vessels — numbering thirty to forty — that were originally hidden in the darkness and sailing along the coast first catch sight of the approaching ships within visual range.
Unexpectedly, the native fleet instantly boils over. At least twenty percent of the vessels immediately execute all manner of tactical maneuvers: some haul their sails and turn about on the spot, some abandon their companions and head south or north, and some, even more recklessly, disregard the reefs and shoals that might exist near the shore and plunge straight in — stranding and running aground seemingly no longer a concern.
The remaining troops, who have no idea what is going on, are thrown into flustered chaos in the face of this sudden pandemonium: helmsmen desperately wrenching their rudders to dodge the maddened ships, large numbers of crewmen surging up from below decks at the commotion, and bosses cursing in an unintelligible Annamese tongue as they hop about on the prows.
In short, the scene is one of utter chaos.
Time waits for no one. Just as the large fleet is adjusting its formation, the White Sails warships, charging over with the speed of wind and lightning, flash a dazzling red light from a distance of a li and a half away. Then, the black specks flying in from afar turn into iron balls that smash viciously into the large fleet.
The three sailing warships consist of one Youguang-class and two Taijiang-class vessels. That means, on average, each broadside fires about fifteen cannonballs.
On the heaving sea surface, even the final impact points of a neatly arranged volley become unpredictable. And the reason the attackers fired their cannonballs at maximum range is that the large fleet is currently packed together — there is no worry about the hit rate.
The next moment, accompanied by muffled "thud thud" sounds, hull planks are smashed apart, boatmen are sent flying, sails are torn to shreds, and the odds and ends aboard the ships are sent spraying in all directions by the bouncing iron balls — a gory mess of blood and flesh.
Immediately after, wails of agony erupt on a large scale. Crewmen whose arms or legs have been torn off will not die right away; their screams mingle with the panicked roars of the ship bosses and echo above the fleet.
Soon, the booming cannon fire drowns out the natives' shouts. As the fleet rapidly closes in, the interval between the flash of cannon fire and the arrival of the cannonballs grows shorter and shorter. Now, as soon as a row of red dots lights up on the approaching ships, the roar of cannon fire is heard an instant later.
The ferocious and relentless assault leaves the victims stupefied.
Volley after volley of cannonballs smashes down on them headlong, followed by shattered hull planks and flying human body parts — all of this makes the pirates feel as though they have fallen into hell. The large fleet suffers grievous death and injury.
At this moment, whatever individual thoughts the native vessels may have harbored before, everyone instantly unifies their thinking: escape. And so, large numbers of panic-stricken crewmen begin jumping into the sea.
Yet the nightmare is far from over. The three fast ships charging straight at them, just as they rush to within two hundred paces of the main force, execute a light and graceful turn and begin circling the large pirate fleet — throughout this entire process, no matter how the fleet maneuvers, the cannon fire never ceases, continuously launching cannonballs at a precise time interval. This mechanical, icy coldness especially drives the natives to collapse.
The ferocious assault lasts for a full one hour. After this, the sea surface is everywhere covered with hull plank fragments and floating humans — among them, dead people bobbing with the waves, and living people bobbing with the waves.
The former large fleet has long since disintegrated. Apart from the vessels floating forlornly on the sea surface and slowly sinking, the majority of the rest have already sunk.
Only a few old acquaintances who recognized the opponent early and fled successfully managed to preserve their own lives and those of their underlings. They flee, carrying with them an infinite terror of the transmigrators. Before long, these people will transform into volunteer propagandists, spreading the dire tidings to every corner of the Beibu Gulf.
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"This can truly be considered sweeping through a pear orchard and scouring out a den!"
One hour was enough time for the transport fleet following behind to catch up. Thus, the passengers on the guest ship got to watch, for free, the final decisive battle chapter of the seventeenth-century Caribbean... Beibu Gulf Pirate Trilogy.
Seeing the miserable state of the pirate gang, these investors from the north aboard the ship all stroke their beards and smile.
Even the household staff sent by a certain member of the gentry are household staff clad in silks and satins — they are agents of the ruling class. And the ruling class is inherently the mortal enemy of all manner of bandits and brigands. Therefore, not a single spectator aboard the ship now shows a trace of pity on their faces; instead, they all sing praises and loudly flatter Lord Cao for the hard work he has put into maintaining peace in the Beibu Gulf.
With the guests so supportive, the host naturally must come out to thank them. One of the transmigrators from the Southward Group responsible for escorting the ships, a former Meituan delivery rider named Shang Qi, hurriedly steps forward.
After a round of mutual commercial flattery, Shang Qi immediately stands at the prow and solemnly declares his stance regarding the current vile environment of the Beibu Gulf: This place is already beyond the borders of the Great Ming State, so the Great Ming's set of conciliatory policies is hereby suspended. According to the latest spirit from the Regional Commander's Office: towards Annam and the Annam coast, overwhelming force shall subdue all trickery! We must "cleanse the demonic miasma" and make the uncivilized savages beyond our borders understand the stakes!
In view of the fact that the King's Army currently has no time to distinguish between Annamese fishermen and pirates, for a period of time going forward, warships will continue to conduct "dragnet cleansing operations" here. Note: cleansing means sweeping away, not tidying up. The ultimate goal is: not a single plank shall be allowed to set sail in the Beibu Gulf!
Shang Qi finally states his position: The above "Beibu Gulf Rectification" policy for protecting the safety of investors' trade routes will continue until the Annam coast is thoroughly "purged."
Faced with such a killing-intent-laden declaration for attracting investment, the passengers on the large guest ship all express that their emotions are stable. Indeed, no matter what, this place is already beyond the borders of the Great Ming State. No matter how heavy Cao's killing karma is, it is not the place of these Great Ming officials to interfere.
Besides, purging these uncivilized "fisherman-bandits" — who are neither quite fishermen nor quite bandits — is certainly beneficial to everyone's future transport environment. Why would they not support it?
The post-rain sea surface is a boundless azure. Accompanying the passengers' grandiose chatter is the fleet hurrying south, and the shipwrecks and corpses left behind in the fleet's wake.
By the next morning, the enormous, slow-moving transport fleet has covered the remaining two-hundred-odd li of sea route and anchors within Ha Long Bay.
It is nearly August, and the Annam rainy season is at its peak. Yet amidst the hazy rain-mist, the formerly desolate Ha Long Bay is now brimming with vitality and filled with the bustle of humanity.
After over half a month of frantic construction by the outsiders, Ha Long Bay, and even the harbor and Hongji Fort, have already become a vast construction site scene teeming with people.
Lured by generous pay in money and grain, large numbers of local farmers who came upon hearing the news battle the heavens and earth beneath the endless rain, forcibly altering nature's original appearance into the planned man-made structures.
At this very moment, towering water spouts from reef blasting erupt from time to time in Ha Long Bay. On the shore is an unending stream of human walls; the natives are chanting work songs as they haul over large stone blocks and throw them into iron wire trap cages extending deep into the sea — this is laying the foundation for a large jetty.
The outer construction site is a scene of bustling activity. As for the core structure, Hongji Fort — in just a short span of days, the fort walls have already been built up.
In fact, when building city walls during Annam's rainy season, the greatest difficulty lies in laying the foundation. Once the foundation is repaired and waterproofing is properly done, the speed of stacking bricks upward is actually quite fast.
The city wall of Hongji Fort is still far from completion. The side facing the interior has the highest priority, and its height has already reached 1.5 meters. Although the height is still insufficient, the thickness of this wall is quite considerable, a full half-meter thick... one can see that at intervals, protruding circular cannon bastions are also under construction.
Inside the fort, there are now at least a few brick-built houses. The largest one among them is being used today to receive guests.
Among the guests arriving this time, the two with the highest status are undoubtedly Ma Min, Secretary of the Ministry of Revenue, representing the Emperor and the court, and Eunuch Du Shangbao, Vice Commissioner of the Inner Palace Treasury.
Below these two are a group of retired advanced officials from Beijing and Jiangnan, and further down, "minor" figures such as the brother-in-law of a certain Duke, the wife's brother of a certain Marquis, and the steward of a certain Earl.
Shao Qiang, serving as the temporary Fort Lord, upon hearing of the arrival of the Great Ming gentry investment group and the supply fleet, hurries out to welcome them. In a short while, the truly high-status bigwigs within the investment group are ushered into the fort by Shao Qiang.
"Set out the wine, cut the noodles, slaughter a chicken — today, this old master shall properly entertain these honored guests!"
In the current Hongji Fort, seafood is worthless; what is truly precious and valuable is, on the contrary, the flour-based foods from the north.
So it can be said that Old Master Shao has brought out sincerity this time to entertain his honored guests... attracting investment always requires putting up some capital. Who can blame him, when their cellars are buried with silver? Rather than having Li Zicheng dig it out and ultimately hand it over to the Tartars, wouldn't it be far better to invest it in Annam to grow some mangoes?
When the host is enthusiastic, the guests naturally must show their appreciation. Those who can travel ten thousand li all the way to this foreign land of Annam are certainly no Daoist scholars; every single one is a person of sharp perception and tact.
And so, within the newly built large brick house with a rear hall, everyone is in harmony, draining their cups at every toast, as host and guests together look forward to the future of the great development of Annam.
Unexpectedly, just at this moment when the atmosphere is warm and enthusiastic, someone outside announces: "Report~~~ The Annam County Magistrate is outside seeking an audience!"
"What? The County Magistrate?" Shao Qiang is somewhat taken aback. Then, with a strange laugh to those around him, he explains: "My lords may not be aware, but a few days ago, this Annam officialdom sent two minor clerks here to pester us, and I drove them out. I never thought that after the sesame seeds left, here come the mung beans."
Shao Qiang thought it over, then decided he would see this Annam County Magistrate after all: "Then invite the Annamese in... It's fortunate that all you esteemed lords have graced us with your presence today; it bolsters my position somewhat."
"Lord Shao is ever the jester. A mere Annam County Magistrate, a figure no more significant than an ant..."
End of Chapter
