Chapter 1473 - Vanity at Sea

Andrade couldn't laugh. Minutes earlier, he had been sitting on a comfortable sofa in the aft cabin, sipping a cool and delicious Mojito, thanking the Count for providing such a pleasant way to reach the shipyard and sparing him the agony of a half-day bumpy ride on the coastal road. But the Count had steered the conversation toward the Malay pirates who aided the Dutch and threatened the colony's security.

The more he spoke, the more emotional and indignant he became. "Do you know what I'd do if I encountered those savages? I'd crush them like bedbugs!" Before Andrade could even interject, the Count dragged him out of the cabin onto the deck. The ship's bell rang urgently. A surge of sailors rushed up from the deck hatch like a wave. Their uniforms were neat, their movements swift but never chaotic. The captain, who looked Japanese or Chinese, shouted orders in a strange language. Moments later, the cannon covers on the bow's short guns were removed, ammunition loaded, and gunners cranked the traversing wheels. With a boom, the thick, short barrel recoiled violently along the carriage. Exploding canister shot struck the calm sea surface, churning up waves as if the water were boiling.

From the ringing of the bell to the firing of the shell, Andrade estimated only two or three minutes had passed. The Count held a pocket watch much smaller and more exquisite than a Nuremberg Egg. The Treasurer followed his gaze and craned his neck to look up. The sails had been partially lowered, revealing masts reinforced with iron hoops and massive fighting tops now filled with armed sailors holding muskets, ready to snipe at any target that might appear.

Before its most recent return from Bopu, the Esmeralda had taken the opportunity of maintenance at the naval shipyard to swap its armaments. The 68-pounder carronades at the bow were replaced with lighter 48-pounders, and the weight saved was used to install Type 34 machine guns in the two fighting tops, replacing the Chicago Typewriters. These weapons were either dismantled and hidden in the hold on Weiss's orders or wrapped tightly under oilcloth gun covers. Even a single live fire from just the 48-pounder carronade was impressive enough.

A fleet of sailboats originally heading toward the yacht panicked at the cannon fire, turning their rudders one after another and fleeing toward the depths of Manila Bay. Weiss noted that the ships varied in size, the largest seeming to be one or two hundred tons. All were junks in type, but their masts were rigged with European square sails and lateen sails. Viewed through a telescope, a white flag bearing a red Cross of Burgundy fluttered at the top of each mast.

"What strange ships. They look quite interesting." The Count handed his telescope to the Treasurer.

"Those are Mr. Delgado's ships," Andrade explained. "He always buys old vessels on the verge of scrapping from the Chinese, along with those disposable trade ships built from unseasoned wood. With a little patching, they can load cargo and sail. It's quite cheap—provided you don't count the cargo that sinks to the bottom of the sea along with the rotting planks. A few years ago, Mr. Delgado was the richest shipowner in the colony, but now he's far behind Mr. Sanabria."

"A marvelous businessman. So what treasures are loaded on his ships?"

"Let me think. Such ships can only sail close-shore routes between the islands." The Treasurer raised the telescope again. "They seem to be coming from the Visayas. The cargo should be corn."

"Corn?"

"His Excellency the Governor's order." Andrade made a gesture of helplessness. "He ordered the transfer of corn and sweet potatoes produced in the Visayas, and is even prepared to use rice grown in Luzon to barter for these things."

"Damn it. If I gave soldiers corn instead of bread and rice for dinner, they'd definitely revolt. Corn, sweet potatoes—that stuff is only fit for horse feed."

Andrade nodded sincerely. "This practice is terrible, truly. Right now, we still have to send ships to Siam or Malacca to purchase rice. We even have to issue rations to the Japanese now, and they absolutely won't eat corn."

"Are there many Japanese here? Mr. Salamanca even needs to worry about their rations?" The Count responded casually, putting down the telescope and waving for the orderly. "Bring drinks up."

"At most, there were over three thousand. With their families, they gathered in several sizeable villages near Manila. All devout Christians. Thirty years ago, it was they who formed a volunteer corps and fought alongside His Majesty's soldiers to quell the great rebellion started by the Chinese. That was truly terrifying."

"I'm afraid there are fewer and fewer of these good people. The Japanese Emperor and the ruling Shogun have issued edicts forbidding people from leaving their country again." The Count personally poured rum mixed with sugar and fruit juice into a cup. The Treasurer drank it all in a few gulps, smacking his lips with satisfaction.

"Those fit for service remain more than half. These poor believers don't live well; they can only survive by working as soldiers for hire—some even have to serve cheese-eaters or other god-knows-what heretics." Andrade held the empty cup, looking eagerly to see if anyone would pour him another. The Count's attendant immediately obliged.

"My dear Count, you must know that there are fewer than 700 European soldiers in all of Manila. We spend money every year to recruit poor devils to fill the army. But half are thrown into the sea on the voyage over, and half of the remainder die after arriving at their duty stations. The rest are tormented by fever and dysentery, unable to fight. No company has ever been at full strength—let alone now that we must pull three companies to station in Baguio to guard the gold mines. We have to dig out the gold to recruit more troops. At the same time, more soldiers are needed to guard the arsenals and shipyards. Lord Salamanca believes the only way now is to reenlist Japanese soldiers—not as volunteers, but to form new companies in the colonial army and train them with firearms."

"Even if recruited, quite a few of them are already too old to be soldiers."

"Yes, isn't that what you say. But the Governor has no choice. There are only this many Japanese in the Philippines. Even if we recruit all healthy males among them, it's hard to raise a sufficient army." Andrade sighed. "And we've encountered a competitor."

"Competitor?"

"The Australian pirates on Hainan Island. Their agents are recruiting Japanese throughout Asia to serve as mercenaries—with generous treatment. Even Japanese in the Philippines have gone to join them."

"That's detestable!"

"Who says it isn't? The Australian pirates are both powerful and wealthy, so much so that their ambition is large enough to invade China." Andrade looked worried. "I heard they've already killed the Chinese Pirate King and swallowed his fleet. God bless—fortunately, they're only satisfied with robbing a few galleons in the Philippines, rather than sailing to Manila to loot the colony. Otherwise, I fear we wouldn't have enough time to gather resources to train a new army."

"I believe His Highness the Governor will hand the task of training the new army to the most excellent Japanese immigrant currently in Manila."

"No, not Paul. Lord Salamanca never regards that man as Japanese, but as a messenger—a savior sent by God. As soon as he descended, the financial and security crises facing the colony disappeared like ice and snow under the blazing sun." Andrade leaned against the gunwale, trying to steady himself on the deck that began to sway as the wind intensified. The alcohol seemed to be taking effect. "And Mr. Paul is very busy. He works day and night, eats and lives in the factory, constantly making demands of the Governor: more craftsmen, more coolies, more iron, copper, wood, and more saltpeter. But after demanding so much, what results has he shown us? One expedition exhausted the rockets and explosive shells produced. Right now, each rifled cannon can only be allocated two conical shells on average. Of course, Mr. Paul would swear before a holy icon that newer machines are about to be completed, and new shells will be manufactured by the hundreds and thousands, as fast as mushrooms popping up in the woods after rain! Hopefully, the gold dug from Baguio can afford that many shells."

"Then who is responsible for supervising and commanding the Japanese company?"

"It's the lucky Captain Pilar. Ah, help!"

The Cavite Peninsula was already in sight. Over the dark green rocks, one could see the staggered masts behind the cape, sails not yet lowered. For many large ships with deep drafts unable to enter the Pasig River, Canacao Bay behind the cape was a fine sheltered anchorage. The wind direction began to shift at this moment, blowing stronger and stronger. The yacht was carried off its usual course by the gusts. The helmsman turned a compass point upwind to bypass a cluster of reefs in the channel.

Unexpectedly, a four-masted galleon suddenly darted out from behind the cape. The Esmeralda jerked half a circle to avoid collision. If the sailors under the Count hadn't reacted in time to catch hold of him, Andrade would inevitably have tumbled across the sharply tilting deck. That would have been far too undignified for a colonial official of Peninsular noble origin.

"Hey, bastards—what do they want?"

A cloud of white smoke puffed from near the poop deck of the large galleon, and the rumble of a cannon echoed over the roiling waves.

"It was a blank shot—probably warning us to stay further away." Andrade walked over, supported by a sailor, and found the Count staring at the galleon. The yellow and red Cross of Burgundy flag hanging from its masthead was dazzling, a size larger than on other ships. Another flag extravagantly embroidered a griffin perched upon a castle.

"It's Don Sanabria's badge." Andrade deliberately avoided the word "coat of arms." "This isn't the Mercury—just one of his merchant ships, probably returning from Goa or the Coromandel Coast."

(End of Chapter)