Chapter 453: The Capture

The Spanish returned fire. Even by 21st-century standards, their reaction speed was fast enough. Not long after the first cannonball flew over the Feiyun, a second puff of smoke rose from the stern. A cannonball came tumbling over, accurately hitting the dissipating wake behind the Feiyun. Lin Chuanqing estimated an error of about 50 meters.

The Feiyun was more than three hundred meters in a straight line from the stern. Although it was within the enemy’s effective range, with its speed and the limited firepower at the stern, the Feiyun was safe. The Spanish cannons aimed and fired very slowly, and it would take a stroke of luck to hit their target.

“Continue suppressive fire, target the enemy’s sterncastle gun ports!” Lin Chuanqing ordered while observing through his telescope.

Just as the Spaniards’ attention was drawn to the small boat that had suddenly appeared and its deadly firepower, under Zhou Weisen’s direction, two snipers opened fire simultaneously. The two gunners on a beach gun battery immediately fell.

The sound of the gunshots was drowned out by the roar of the Feiyun’s machine guns. The gunners and soldiers on the battery looked around in confusion. Then, with one sniper kill after another, men kept falling. Suddenly, the soldiers on the battery scattered and fled.

Zhou Weisen roared, “Fire!”

All the Minie rifles fired in unison, a spectacular sight. The edge of the forest was immediately shrouded in thick smoke. But the sea breeze quickly blew the smoke away, followed by a second and third volley. Although the marines’ and sailors’ marksmanship was not as good as the army’s, hitting a target like a large galleon at a distance of less than 300 meters was effortless.

A storm of lead balls rained down on the galleon’s hull, gun ports, and deck. Wood splinters flew, and sailors fell screaming everywhere. Zhou Weisen knew he couldn’t slowly “wear down” this ship with Minie rifles. If the 16 gun ports on one side of the ship opened fire, his 80-man battle line would be turned into a sieve.

“Machine gun team, suppress the gun ports!” Zhou Weisen roared. “All units, prepare to charge! Fix bayonets!”

With the sound of the charge, Zhou Weisen pulled on his riot helmet with a face shield, brandished his revolver, and was the first to charge out, roaring, “Charge!”

The marines and sailors behind him roared in unison, “Charge!” and they all rushed towards the galleon.

To avoid the enemy’s cannon fire as much as possible, the assault force charged towards the bow in a column. During this time, the M240 and snipers suppressed the enemy on the deck from the side, preventing them from firing the two cannons at the bow.

The M240 roared on their flank, bullets flying over their heads in streams, sweeping the bow deck like a carpet bombing. Zhou Weisen ran at full speed. The sailors and soldiers in the camp were stunned by the fire from both sides and were completely unable to react to the sudden appearance of the team. Except for a few who reacted quickly and fired a few random shots with their matchlocks regardless of the range, there was no effective resistance before they collapsed. Within minutes, the assault team had dispersed the soldiers and sailors in the camp. Those who put up a futile resistance were all killed. The rest either fled into the jungle or surrendered. The marines quickly set up ladders at the bow. The special reconnaissance team was the first to board. A corporal climbed onto the bow with almost no resistance and quickly fired a signal flare. The M240 machine gun immediately shifted its fire, sealing off the middle deck and preventing the enemy from counterattacking.

Zhou Weisen climbed onto the deck, slipped, and almost fell. Looking down, he saw that he had stepped on a piece of a shattered skull. He cursed under his breath. The bow deck was already covered in bodies, and blood was flowing along the drainage channels. The first few team members who had boarded had already suppressed the Spaniards who were trying to counterattack with continuous bursts from their submachine guns. The Spaniards fell almost entirely under the crossfire. Zhou Weisen fired a few more bursts, taking down the remaining few, and then quickly fired a “cease fire” signal flare.

The Feiyun and the M240 machine gun team all stopped firing. The deck was filled with gunpowder smoke, and the strong smell of blood made him feel nauseous. There were so many dead—a shocking number of bodies everywhere, with blood, brains, and various human tissues scattered about. It was even more gruesome than the battle to board the San Luis. Apparently, when they launched the charge, most of the sailors and soldiers had come out of the hold and gathered on the deck to enjoy the rare calm and sunny weather.

The marines quickly secured the entire upper deck. The Indian translator was called to shout. Without much trouble, the crew hiding in the sterncastle and on the lower decks surrendered, saving them the trouble of using the chlorine gas they had brought. When they were clearing the bodies, they found that the Spanish had left 150 bodies on the deck and in the camp. Less than 40 had surrendered, and a dozen had fled into the jungle.

The San Raimundo was smaller and did not carry infantry. It had only 250 crew members when it set sail. By the time it ran aground, only 200 were left.

In the battle, a total of four sailors and marines were killed, all of them hit by matchlock fire while climbing the ship. Another one had fallen while boarding and broken his leg, but it was not serious. The medic had splinted it for him.

Zhou Weisen had the captured sailors go into the jungle to call back the Spaniards who had fled, promising them the treatment of prisoners and that they would not be harmed.

The captain was brought before him. He was an old man with white hair. When asked his age, he was over sixty. In an era where the average life expectancy was just over fifty and a long voyage could kill half the crew, Zhou Weisen found it a bit hard to understand why a man in his sixties was a captain sailing across the ocean.

Perhaps sensing Zhou Weisen’s confusion, the old man said that although he was a bit old, there were still captains in their eighties sailing the seas, which was not surprising.

“So you are a professional navigator?”

“That’s right. My family has been sailors for generations,” the old captain said with great pride. “My ancestor, Alonso Hernández de Ávila, was the helmsman of a ship that followed the great Marquis of the Valley to conquer New Spain.”

He then went on to boast about his family’s glorious history of serving the “Catholic King,” as if to show that he was a man of “provenance.”

Zhou Weisen learned from the Indian translator that the San Raimundo had also encountered the same typhoon a few days ago. This was the second storm they had encountered on their journey. Not only were its masts and rigging almost completely destroyed, but its hull was also breached in several places. If it weren’t for the famously sturdy construction of galleons, it would have probably fallen apart long ago. They had only managed to get here by constantly pumping water by hand.

The breach had suddenly widened the day before, and the pumps could no longer control the inflow of water. That was why the captain had decided to temporarily run the ship aground here for repairs.

“Alright, I hereby declare on behalf of the Senate that you, your ship, your sailors, your soldiers, and all the cargo on board are the spoils of war of the Senate. Until your fate is ultimately decided, as long as you obey our orders, I will guarantee your personal safety.”

The captain bowed and then said, “May I be so bold as to ask, which country’s Senate?”

“The Senate of my great Australia.”

A look of confusion appeared on the captain’s face. He had obviously not heard of this term much—or perhaps the Indian translator’s translation was simply wrong.

But his status as a prisoner did not allow him to ask more. He could only say, “At your service.”

“Now, my first order to you is to organize your men to continue repairing this ship until it can sail again.”

“But, I don’t have enough men…” the captain objected.

“My men will help.”

So the camp was restored. The surviving prisoners, under the supervision of the marines, were reassembled to clear the deck and repair the ship. The Spaniards who had fled into the jungle also quickly came out and surrendered. They had no rations and no gunpowder. In the jungle, they would only become the prey of the savages.

After consulting with Lin Chuanqing, Zhou Weisen decided to move the entire camp here. He had a few rowing boats unloaded from the galleon and had Lin Chuanqing take some men back to move the supplies. He also sent a telegram to Lingao, informing them of the new camp’s location and the capture of the San Raimundo.

Although the elders were itching to see the cargo on the San Raimundo, they decided not to conduct a detailed inventory for now. They would just put seals on it for the time being and deal with it when they got back.

“Now we can wait for rescue in peace,” Zhou Weisen said.

The rescue came earlier than they expected. The Haitian, dispatched from Xiangshan’ao, had made good time with the favorable wind. On July 28th, the lookout’s telescope spotted the coastline of Samar Island. After contacting the camp by radio, they soon saw a plume of black smoke rising from the northern cape.

The Haitian immediately approached the coast. The plume of black smoke was the contact signal ordered by Qian Shuiting. Seeing the silhouette of the Haitian, a green signal flare was fired from the camp. Lin Chuanqing soon saw a green signal flare rise from the opposite side. Bei Wei couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. They had finally found them.

“They’re finally here. We can go home,” Zhou Weisen gasped, his hand holding the signal rocket launcher trembling. Lingao, the home he had been longing for day and night, suddenly seemed within reach again.

Mendoza was almost crazy with joy. As soon as she saw Bei Wei land on the beach, she was the first to rush up and throw herself into his arms, kissing his face frantically, much to his embarrassment.

“It’s alright…” Zhou Weisen appeared very “tolerant.” “Latin women are just so… passionate… like fire…”

“I know,” Bei Wei said with a wry smile. “You all look to be in good spirits. How was life as Robinson Crusoe?”

“Not bad, but we ate dry rations every day. I’m really getting tired of it,” Lin Chuanqing’s eyes were green with envy. “Does the Haitian have any special supplies for the elders?”