Chapter 1434 - Arson

The victims were stripped quickly. The two perpetrators deftly collected the uniforms and weapons, then carried the bodies into the dry dock, dragging them all the way to the Nautilus. Refurbishment of the submersible had only just begun; the area was piled high with ship timber, planks, and copper and iron components. Wooden barrels brimming with tar and pitch lined the stone steps inside the dock wall.

One Chinese man climbed onto the deck, lifted the hatch cover, and slipped inside with an agility that would have astonished Captain Fernando. After a rapid inspection—including turning the crank twice to observe how the propeller worked, noting various key details—he opened every hatch and opening on the hull that could be opened. His partner immediately began handing up prepared wooden buckets, pouring pungent wood tar into the cabin. The two labored for some time, heaping flammable planks, felt, and abaca twine used for caulking beneath the craft. They carefully left air channels in the fuel pile. Whole barrels of pitch and tar were tipped down from the deck, flowing across the hull and soaking the accumulated combustibles.

Finally, the saboteurs discovered a stack of strange black strips among the sundries, reeking of foulness. They didn't know these were deerskins soaked in wood tar, intended for waterproof sealing around hatches—but they took them anyway to wrap the soldiers' corpses, then tossed the bundles into the pyre prepared for the Nautilus.

One saboteur climbed back into the cabin. He opened a paper bag, revealing two small tin tubes. In the moonlight, one was painted white, the other red; they were the same thickness, though the red tube was longer, with threads cut at one end like a fountain pen and the other end sealed with a celluloid waterproof cap. He withdrew several copper alloy disks from the bag, examined them briefly, selected one of suitable thickness, and placed it carefully inside the iron tube. Finally, he screwed the two tubes tightly together. A pair of special small pliers clamped down hard on a certain point of the white tube. As the tin dented, the faint sound of a glass ampoule breaking and liquid flowing came from within.

This tube was left in the tar-filled cabin. His companion did the same, placing another in the firewood pile beneath the Nautilus. In the lumber stacks and material yards where they had worked, they planted several more similarly treated tubes.

After completing all tasks methodically, the two saboteurs stripped off their tar-stained trousers and cloth shoes and threw them into the dry dock, removing the last traces of their disguise. Then they slipped into the sea and swam eastward, rounding the headland. A small boat waited by a desolate rocky beach to collect them.

Unnoticed chemical reactions continued inside the tin tubes. The faint hiss of copper alloy disks corroding in acid was drowned entirely by the noise of the tide against the shore. After nearly four hours, the disks finally dissolved. Concentrated sulfuric acid seeped into the red halves of the tubes, where mixtures of sugar and potassium chlorate erupted into violent spontaneous combustion. Flames burned through the celluloid caps in an instant, spraying onto planks already soaked in tar.

Within minutes, the Nautilus had become a gigantic torch. Sparks burst everywhere; fierce tongues of fire curled upward. Soon the wooden shed over the dry dock was ablaze as well. The entire shipyard lay shrouded in a trembling red glow, black shadows darting across the ground. Workers, roused from sleep, either sat howling on the earth or ran wildly in circles, gasping desperately, shaking too violently to speak.

Geronimo Paño arrived pale with terror. As if to celebrate his hurried appearance, the roof of the dry dock collapsed into the inferno with a thunderous boom. Red flames soared heavenward, their tips rising a full two pesos high. He shouted for his subordinates to fight the fire, but no one heeded. Everyone simply ran, shoving one another, falling—total chaos.

Order was restored only after an officer from Fort San Felipe arrived at the shipyard with a squad of soldiers. Geronimo divided his manpower into two groups: one to save the burning lumber yard; the other straight to the dry dock. A strange scene awaited them there: although the inside of the dock had become a massive brazier, accumulated seawater filled a low-lying passage at the head of the dock. The flames could not cross, and the water gate had escaped the fire. But when Geronimo ordered the gate opened to let in seawater and douse the blaze, they discovered that the ingenious mechanism Paulo Takayama had built for the heavy gate had been deliberately sabotaged. No matter how they pulled and cranked, it refused to budge. They hurried to bring water pumps—only to find the hoses had been pre-cut.

By the time the fire was extinguished, the only remains of the "Demon Ship of Manila"—the Nautilus—were a deformed propeller and a few twisted, charred copper skeletal frames.

Several charred human bones were cleared from the ash heap in the dock. A Chinese cloth shoe was found in the accumulated water at the dock's head. These, undoubtedly, were the final traces in the human world of two poor Chinese craftsmen. As for the two missing Pampangan soldiers, they were initially thought to have deserted. A few days later, their spears and matchlocks were fished from the sea near the dock, along with a bundled uniform—its bloodstains already discolored. Though the bodies were never recovered, it could be concluded they had been murdered by the arsonists.

Geronimo Paño was summoned before the Manila Audiencia. Though the interrogation ultimately absolved him of responsibility and he was released, his spirit had collapsed since the blow. Beyond muttering prayers to the Virgin Mary, he could no longer speak other words.

The vacant position of shipyard director was sold according to custom. The Governor set a price of one thousand pesos. After several lively rounds of bidding, Mr. Geronimo Paño's nephew and assistant, Carucio Paño, purchased the post for fifteen hundred. Everyone rumored that Carucio could only produce such a large sum with Takayama's financial backing. Carucio was a close friend of Takayama's and frequently visited his estate and factory.

Attention to the new shipyard director didn't last long—a fresh homicide quickly captured public interest. On the night of the second day after the fire, Captain Fernando, the most fanatical cockfighting gambler among Manila's whites and a man recently flush with cash, was assassinated in the Parian district.

The night watchmen reported finding the captain lying in a gutter by the roadside, the smell of alcohol on him even overpowering the scent of blood. What had taken his life was a strangely shaped kris dagger driven into his chest—a weapon favored by Malays. The scene showed evidence of struggle: the captain's right hand was clenched in a fist, tightly gripping a small scrap of cloth torn from his attacker's garments—a fragment of Dutch linen.

The search of the captain's residence proved disappointing. In his inn room, this drunkard and gambler had nothing left—not even a single small coin. The priests all declared it a sin created by gambling.

Rumors that Dutch scoundrels had hired Malay assassins to infiltrate Manila for sabotage caused a brief sensation throughout the city. But apart from the Governor and a few others who worried over it, these tales merely added some excitement to the overly leisurely and lazy lives of most Spaniards. For most self-proclaimed Iberian nobles in the Oriental archipelago, how could such trifles as a ship burning in the shipyard or a murdered gambler lying in a gutter compare to tonight's banquet and ball?

Work at the shipyard did not stop despite the sabotage. With the Nautilus destroyed, manpower and resources could actually be concentrated on the patrol boats. Lando noticed the Spaniards displaying unprecedented efficiency. The newly appointed director supervised workers personally and transferred many native soldiers to "urge" the Tagalog coolies along. Within a week of the dry dock fire, the coolies had drained the water, repaired the gate, cleared all debris, and brought in new timber. According to reports from Jimide and others, the shipyard had apparently not restarted submarine construction—all energy now went to the patrol sloops.

Even someone like Lando, who knew nothing of shipbuilding or sailing vessels, could see that these craft gradually taking shape bore striking resemblance to the twin-masted patrol sloops mass-equipped by the Lingao Navy. Even the reserved gun positions were exactly the same as the originals. Lando quickly realized: the patrol sloop the Navy had once lost was not in Zheng Zhilong's hands—nine out of ten, Hale had taken it and brought it to Manila.

What use is it for him to build submarines and these patrol boats? Lando wondered. Pointless. Though this could indeed strengthen Spanish rule in the Philippines, against the Council of Elders it was merely a mantis trying to stop a chariot.

While considering how to compose his next report, a rhythmic knock came at the study door. It was Mimi.

"Come in."

"Chief, Jimide just came back from the dock. He has something to report." Mimi spoke in a whisper.

"Call him in."

Jimide reported that seven or eight foreigners had disembarked from a ship, carrying a great deal of luggage.

Foreigners arriving in Manila was nothing unusual—but for the Governor's servants to specifically welcome them was very special indeed.

"Hair color? Eyes?"

"Black, yellow, and red! Didn't notice the eyes well—some blue, some green, maybe black too..." the lad said.

"What did these people look like they did for a living?"

"They didn't look wealthy, but they seemed sturdy—not poor folk either." Jimide gestured. "I took a look—some had very thick fingers and wrists. Looked like craftsmen!"

"Craftsmen? Then they must be artisans." Lando thought it over. European artisans coming to Manila was unremarkable; the issue was that the Governor's Palace had sent people to welcome them—indicating they held these newcomers in high regard.