Chapter 1202 - Running Aground

Just as they were discussing how to proceed with a night operation, the San Raimundo suddenly came about and headed toward the shore.

"She's beaching herself!" Lin Chuanqing exclaimed.

Sure enough, the San Raimundo lowered her sails, and her hull drove straight onto a sandy stretch of beach in a small bay, quickly coming to rest.

"Beautifully done!" Lin Chuanqing said involuntarily. The timing was impeccable—the tide had just begun to ebb, and they'd ridden it to ground the ship on the beach. This stretch of sand was remarkably smooth, minimizing both damage to the hull and the difficulty of later refloating.

"How so?" Zhou Weisen was puzzled.

"This captain is highly skilled!" Lin Chuanqing said. "Thoroughly considered, expertly executed!"

"Why would they beach here? They're at most two or three days from Manila."

"With only one mast, they'd need seven or eight more days to get there—besides, the ship may have other damage." Lin Chuanqing explained. "They're probably planning to repair here."

In the age of sail, every large vessel carried spare ship's timber and carpenters. Stopping at islands or coastlines for emergency repairs after a storm was common practice, sometimes using locally sourced materials. Given the San Raimundo's condition, the captain had probably decided to cut timber from Samar's forests to repair the masts.

Now that their quarry had run herself aground, it would be unconscionable to let such meat slip away. Lin Chuanqing felt his blood stirring.

"Let's hit them hard!" he said, baring his teeth in a grin. "Seek battle when you find the enemy! We can't afford to be timid!"

Zhou Weisen nodded. "Let's do it!"

Lin Chuanqing returned to camp and summoned Sun Xiao and Mendoza to brief them on the situation and his decision. Though Mendoza worried for Zhou Weisen's safety, she'd completely lost her own will by now and basically agreed with whatever Zhou Weisen said. Sun Xiao also voiced his support.

So Lin Chuanqing gathered all the officers and petty officers and ordered them to assemble the troops for battle.

"All hands, check weapons and prepare for combat!" he commanded. "Issue combat rations!" To conserve food, the camp had been on half-rations according to field supply standards.

Officers and sergeants immediately sprang into action. Lin Chuanqing ordered the lookouts to maintain constant surveillance on the Spanish. He then dispatched a five-man patrol to reconnoiter along the coastline.

"If terrain permits, we'll attack from the stern; otherwise we'll switch to the bow." Lin Chuanqing sketched a rough diagram on the ground. "According to our intelligence and what we saw on the San Luis, this ship has two demi-culverins or falconets at the stern, plus two one-pounders on the poop deck—relatively weak firepower compared to the broadside."

Attacking from astern was a basic principle for small vessels engaging larger ships in boarding actions—the same applied to attacks from land. But since the enemy had beached bow-first, the stern likely faced chest-deep shallows, making a stern attack impractical.

Regardless of attack direction, they faced the problem of scaling the hull. Whether by stealth or assault, marines and sailors would need tools to climb onto the deck. Lin Chuanqing's solution was to have the sailors build light ladders and storm the ship like besieging a fortress.

"We have M240 machine guns and typewriter guns. Even without those, a volley from Minié rifles would easily suppress the enemy on the upper deck and broadside—our weapons have the advantage in range and rate of fire," Lin Chuanqing said. "However, casualties during boarding are inevitable if they're determined to resist—especially during the charge toward the ship, when a single grapeshot volley could cause significant losses."

"If only we had a cannon," Zhou Weisen said regretfully. "What a shame about our 75-millimeters."

The 75mm secondary guns on the Nongchao had been designed to be dismountable and remountable on wheeled field carriages. But with the hull capsized, they'd either fallen into the sea or been twisted beyond use—not a single one was salvageable. Even the wheeled carriages in the cargo hold couldn't be retrieved.

However, the three typewriter guns they'd removed from the ship beforehand were still functional. Lin Chuanqing decided to leave one to guard the camp and take the other two.

"Here's my plan." He sketched a rough diagram in the sand.

"We'll attack in two prongs—by land and sea. I'll lead a mixed force of sailors and marines along the coast. You take the Feiyun by sea." His stick traced lines on the ground. "The Feiyun's mission is to provide fire support from the water with the typewriter guns. Both guns go with you."

"That doesn't seem right. I've had small unit tactical training, and I organized the last boarding action—I should lead the ground force for the boarding while you take the Feiyun."

Lin Chuanqing nodded. That made sense too. "Take one typewriter gun then."

"That thing's too heavy, and we couldn't salvage its wheeled mount. The troops would have to carry it. The distance may look short on a straight line, but the actual march will be quite difficult. The ammunition isn't light either—the men will be exhausted. You on the ship can carry more ammunition. The M240 will be enough for me."

After a final roll call, the camp had 154 marines, sailors, and special recon personnel. Of these, 128 were deemed fit for combat. Zhou Weisen decided to take 80 men, including all special recon personnel. The Feiyun would have a crew of 20. The rest would guard the camp.

"Old Sun, I'm leaving the camp in your hands. If anything happens, I'll contact you immediately." Lin Chuanqing entrusted him.

"I understand—I'll guard it well!" Sun Xiao watched them preparing for battle with rising emotion. He strode forward and shook hands firmly with both of them. "I'll be waiting for your triumphant return!"

Mendoza watched her man don his tactical vest, sling on his submachine gun and that large revolver—she knew he was heading into battle again. Tears welled in her eyes. In this timeline, Zhou Weisen was her only family. During their farewell kiss, love and resentment mixed as she bit him hard, leaving his lip swollen for quite a while.

The overland force was code-named "Nongchao Team." Zhou Weisen reorganized the soldiers into new combat groups, appointed commanders for each, and assigned specific tactical tasks to every group.

Both teams departed before noon. The overland column had one M240, and Zhou Weisen ordered all ammunition and spare barrels brought along. Since the special recon team had deployed for boarding action with their combat loadout, they had only two scoped Mosin-Nagants besides Scorpion submachine guns—their long-range suppression capability was somewhat lacking. They'd have to rely on marine Minié rifle volleys.

Around two in the afternoon, the Nongchao Team linked up with the advance reconnaissance patrol and concealed themselves in the jungle less than three hundred meters from the San Raimundo.

The San Raimundo sat beached on the sand, her hull sitting level—with coordinated tides and winches, the Spanish would have no difficulty refloating her.

Up close, the San Raimundo looked even more battered: not only were masts broken and rigging largely destroyed, but the hull had sustained multiple breaches. Only continuous pumping had kept her afloat this far. If they hadn't beached for repairs, she'd never have reached Manila.

On the beach, a simple camp had been set up. Freshly-cut timber was piled together, and sailors bustled about processing wood. A makeshift forge clanged and smoked as it went to work.

At either end of the beach, simple gun emplacements had been erected with one-pounder deck guns offloaded from the ship. A dozen or so matchlock-armed soldiers stood guard.

Clearly the Spanish hadn't devoted much attention to security and defensive works. The local Samar people, while "savages," posed little threat to Spanish arms. As long as the Spanish didn't venture inland, the coast was quite safe.

Zhou Weisen made a "prepare for combat" gesture. The troops deployed behind him according to plan. He personally designated firing positions for the machine gunner and snipers, then rechecked each combat team's readiness.

The walkie-talkie crackled. Zhou Weisen picked it up.

"Old Zhou! We're in position—any further and their lookouts will spot us. Do we go?"

Zhou Weisen took a deep breath. "Begin the operation!"

On the hot, quiet Samar Island coastline at midday, an engine suddenly roared to life. With the diesel engine's thrum, the Feiyun began to accelerate, bursting from concealment along the shore and appearing suddenly in the strait, racing toward the Manila Galleon at a "high speed" of twelve knots.

The galleon's lookout spotted the strange small craft almost immediately. Zhou Weisen noticed the deck erupting in frantic activity. Suddenly a puff of white smoke rose from the stern, followed by the boom of a cannon.

"Pretty alert," Zhou Weisen remarked, watching intently through his binoculars.

The Spanish in the camp stopped working. Sailors stirred in confusion—some reached for axes, others drew blades. Just then, the Feiyun's two typewriter guns opened fire.

The typewriter guns lobbed rounds at an upward angle. Water spouted in a line along the galleon's waterline, and then bullets swept across the deck, shredding the gunners and matchlock men gathered on the poop. Wood splinters and flesh flew everywhere amid screams and wails; men kept getting hit and tumbling from the deck.

"Maintain fire!" Lin Chuanqing stood on the Feiyun's observation platform, watching intently as the galleon drew ever closer. According to their pre-arranged plan, the Feiyun would use her typewriter fire to suppress the ship's weapons from the strait while drawing Spanish attention, allowing Zhou Weisen to launch his assault.

(End of Chapter)