Chapter 215: A Chat in the Carriage

Don Esteban de Sanabria’s wealth was a figure that perhaps only the port tax collector could state with certainty. His residence was even more famous in Manila than the Governor’s palace. The captains of the Royal East India Fleet were most envious of Sanabria’s private yacht. He loved to show off the fastest and most luxurious carriage he owned in the area. “Of course—” the treasurer made a dismissive gesture, “that is by no means a comparison with your carriage.”

“Ah, if His Majesty Philip II knew how much wealth could be obtained by extorting and robbing the Chinese, how he would regret abandoning the plan to expedition to China,” Weiss said, lighting a cigar for de Andrade. The latter, though his eyes were somewhat hazy with drink, stared curiously at the gold-plated Australian lighter in the Count’s hand, wanting to see what it was.

“An expedition to China, that’s an unrealistic fantasy,” de Andrade said, exhaling smoke. “There are too many Chinese. Even the tens of thousands of Chinese in the Parián. They are both timid and constantly fighting amongst themselves. The Governor is always worried that they will be incited to revolt by some Chinese.”

“After the riot thirty years ago, they should know what a cannon tastes like.”

“It’s said that thirty thousand Chinese died in the riot thirty years ago, and their blood turned the river red. Many people thought the Chinese would never come to Manila again, but look, the population of the Parián now is several times larger than it was then. From a purely practical point of view, the Chinese are more suitable as subjects than any of the natives here.”

“But they are all superstitious and godless heathens…”

“Yes, I completely agree. The Chinese are indeed full of bad habits. But what use are those pious and lazy people to us? Besides, they are not pious at all.” De Andrade, having drunk wine and smoked a cigar, was in a talkative mood. “Whether it’s building roads, constructing houses, doing business, or farming, it all depends on the Chinese! Carpenters, bricklayers, blacksmiths, sugar refiners, iron smelters… any job you can think of has to be done by the Chinese. They are also the ones paying the poll tax. And so they keep pouring in.”

“Have many Chinese come recently?”

“Although the Governor is worried about the number of Chinese all day long, he has recently been recruiting a large number of Chinese artisans to come to Manila. This is all due to the influence of that fellow who appeared out of nowhere, spending money lavishly on all sorts of newfangled things, as if he were the Marquis of the Valley.”

He fell silent at this point, seeming to realize that it was inappropriate to discuss the Governor with someone he didn’t know well.

Rando deliberately changed the subject:

“Tell me, who exactly is Don Esteban de Sanabria? If he is a country gentleman, how much land does he own? If he is a merchant, what business does he do?”

“According to the royal decree, Manila implements a wholesale transaction law for Chinese goods. The goods brought by the ‘sangleys’ (Note) are appraised in bulk by an official appointed by the Governor, and then sold proportionally to the local Spanish merchants. No private transactions are allowed before the appraisal. Generally speaking, the port tax collector is sent to do the appraisal. But Mr. Don Basilio and Mr. Don Sanabria are obviously very good friends.” De Andrade smiled meaningfully. “So he always knows the lowest price in advance and gets the best Chinese goods in the largest share. He also has his own merchant ships, plying between Manila and the Coromandel Coast. Chinese silks and porcelains, Indian ivory and spices, fill the cargo holds he occupies on the royal galleons. The Viceroy of New Spain orders that each galleon can only carry four thousand bales of goods to Acapulco, but Mr. Sanabria’s goods alone are close to that number. The other merchants not only can’t compete with him, but often have to borrow money from him for their goods. He has only failed twice. Once, the galleon San Ambrosio was sunk by the Dutch, with a loss of three hundred thousand pesos worth of goods. The other time was because of the Australians, some strange people living on an island off the coast of China.”

“Be careful, you are sitting in a carriage made by these strange people.”

“I don’t mind the goods made by these strange people at all. Their products are excellent and in high demand not only here, but all over, from India to the Near East,” de Andrade said nonchalantly. “If I could get a stable supply of Australian goods, I would have been the richest man in the Philippines long ago.”

At this time, the carriage passed through large groves of coconut and bamboo, through several Tagalog villages, and sped past huts. These huts were extremely simple, with walls made of woven green bamboo from the village and roofs of banana leaves. Women were busy inside and outside the houses, while men gathered in groups by the roadside and at the corners of the houses, almost all of them with a rooster tucked under their arm. Weiss knew from three hundred years in the future that cockfighting was a national pastime of the Filipinos. A group of mischievous children chased after the carriage, begging for money, but the red-flagged carriage sped away and left them behind in a flash. The road from the Parián through Binondo to the city of Manila was highly valued by the colonial authorities and was frequently repaired. Nevertheless, the unpaved road was still full of ruts and potholes. Thanks to the dual effect of the shock-absorbing springs and the sofa seats, even when the coachman cracked his whip and urged the horses to a gallop, the passengers in the carriage only felt a slight sway.

“The strange thing is, these people only occupy an island about the size of Formosa. Such a remote island is nothing more than a small grain of sand on the edge of the world in the eyes of the Chinese emperor. But it is these people who have built a prosperous city on the island. All Chinese goods are transformed by them, becoming more than ten times more exquisite. When the first fleet of the Southeast Asia Company, which deals in Australian goods, arrived in Manila, the whole city was in an uproar. The Governor was also shaken, because the salute they fired was even louder than the cannons of Fort Santiago. Therefore, when the Australians refused to accept the wholesale transaction law, Governor Salamanca agreed to their request. So Mr. Sanabria prepared to make a big profit in the old way, but ended up with nothing. He hates them to the bone. He often lobbies the Governor to seize the ships and goods of the Southeast Asia Company, or at least to fine them a large sum…”

“Why? Just because he didn’t get any benefit?”

“You could say that,” the treasurer sneered. “Of course, everyone knows that the major shareholder of the Southeast Asia Company is actually the Australians. Since the Australians took two of our ships, Don Sanabria’s proposal has gained the support of many people, but the Governor is still very hesitant—the trade of the Southeast Asia Company is essential to the colony…”

De Andrade did not point out that he was strongly opposed to this proposal: the abaca sold by the Southeast Asia Company now accounted for half of his annual sales.

Weiss knew about the Southeast Asia Company’s merchant fleet that de Andrade mentioned. The Manila trade was able to bring back much-needed timber, abaca, tobacco, and copra. The Planning and Development Council had a high opinion of the Manila trade voyages. He wanted to steer the conversation away from the Australians. Just then, there was a low, muffled sound, as if a giant drumstick were beating the ground. The former mercenary instinctively lunged towards the window.

“Mr. Salamanca is admiring his new toy cannon again,” de Andrade said.

The mixed woods on both sides of the road flashed by as the carriage sped along. The delicate, bright banana trees and the tall, somber coconut trees intertwined into an endless green hedge. A few yellowish barracks seemed to be visible through the gaps in the branches, but they were gone in a flash, hidden by the broad banana leaves. The sound of cannons continued, and Weiss’s heart tightened. He heard the long, whistling tail of a cannonball, which reminded him of the common 76mm Tito cannon from his service in the Balkans, followed by the roar of an explosion. A cloud of white smoke, mixed with flying grass and dirt, billowed up from above the hedge.

Weiss had the impulsive urge to stop the carriage immediately and go see what was happening. But he quickly changed his mind and reached out to press a bell in front of his seat twice, a signal to hurry. The two pairs of horses, urged on by the coachman, seemed to sprout wings. The dust kicked up by the wheels obscured everything else on the road. A few Spaniards on horseback galloped over, wanting to get a glimpse of the dazzling carriage flying by like a meteor, but they were all left behind. After crossing the narrow wooden bridge over the Pasig River, under the gray city walls, the soldiers guarding the gate seemed to be familiar with the carriage and its coat of arms. They even saluted as it rumbled past the gate like a whirlwind. The red-flagged carriage rolled through the cobblestone streets of the city with a thunderous noise. Pedestrians scurried to the side of the road, watching with a mixture of surprise and envy at the Count’s carriage and the horses with their flowing manes.

“I never knew one could get pleasure from speed until now,” de Andrade said, his drunkenness somewhat abating. “Ah, be careful, Count, there’s a carriage ahead!”

The carriage in front of them was adorned with a large, intricate coat of arms. Although the coachman tried his best to stay ahead of the newcomer, his efforts were in vain. The overly wide body, the disparate sizes of the front and rear wheels, and the leather-strap suspension system all determined that this was not a vehicle suitable for high-speed travel. Amid the cries of the onlookers on the roadside and in the buildings, the red-flagged carriage easily overtook the one in front and left it behind. As the two carriages passed each other, the white satin curtain of the other carriage was drawn back, revealing a shiny, balding head with only a few strands of hair, high cheekbones, a hooked nose, and a pair of fierce eyes—all of which Weiss recognized from the banquet at the mayor’s residence.

“It seems,” de Andrade said, “that Don Esteban de Sanabria has become your enemy.”

Note: “Sangley” refers to Chinese who came to the Philippines, and can also refer to their mixed-blood descendants with the local population.