Chapter 233: Arson
The victims were quickly stripped naked. The two assailants efficiently dealt with the uniforms and weapons, then carried the bodies into the dock, dragging them next to the submarine Nautilus. The submarine’s repairs had just begun, and the area was cluttered with shipbuilding materials, planks, copper and iron parts, and barrels of tar and asphalt lined up on the stone steps of the dock wall. One of the Chinese men climbed onto the deck, opened the hatch, and slipped inside with an agility that would have astonished Captain Fernando. After a quick inspection, he even turned the crank a few times to see how the propeller worked, noting down key points. He then opened every hatch and opening on the vessel. His partner immediately passed him a prepared bucket, and he poured the acrid-smelling wood tar into the hull. The two were busy for a while, piling all sorts of flammable planks, felt, and abaca fiber used for caulking under the submarine. They carefully left air channels for ventilation as they stacked the fuel. Entire barrels of asphalt and tar were poured from the deck, flowing over the hull and soaking the pile of combustibles. Finally, the two saboteurs found a stack of strange black strips among the debris, emitting a foul odor. They didn’t know it was deerskin soaked in wood tar, intended for waterproofing the hatches, but they used it to wrap the soldiers’ bodies and threw them into the pyre specially prepared for the Nautilus.
One of the saboteurs climbed back into the hull. He opened a paper bag, revealing two small metal tubes. In the moonlight, one could see that one was painted white, and the other, red, was the same thickness but longer, with a threaded end like a pen and the other end sealed with a celluloid waterproof cap. He took out several copper alloy discs from the bag, observed them for a moment, selected one of the appropriate thickness, and carefully installed it in the tube. Finally, he screwed the two tubes tightly together. A special pair of pliers clamped down on a specific spot on the white tube. The metal dented, and the sound of a glass ampoule breaking and liquid flowing could be heard from within. This tube was left in the tar-filled hull. His companion followed the same procedure, placing another tube in the firewood pile beneath the Nautilus. They also left several similarly prepared tubes in the timber piles and material yards where they had worked. After methodically completing their tasks, the two saboteurs stripped off their tar-stained clothes and cloth shoes, throwing them into the dock to completely remove their disguises. They then jumped into the sea and swam eastward, rounding the headland where a small boat waited for them by a deserted, rocky beach.
An unnoticed chemical reaction continued inside the metal tubes. The faint hissing sound of the copper alloy disc being corroded by acid was completely drowned out by the roar of the tide crashing against the shore. Nearly four hours later, the copper disc was finally eaten through. The concentrated sulfuric acid seeped into the red half of the tube, where a mixture of sugar and potassium chlorate erupted in a violent spontaneous combustion. Flames instantly burned through the celluloid cap and shot out onto the tar-soaked planks. Within minutes, the Nautilus became a giant torch. Sparks flew everywhere, and fierce tongues of flame leaped upwards, soon setting the wooden shed over the dock on fire. The entire shipyard was bathed in a trembling red glow, with dark shadows darting across the ground. The workers, awakened by the fire, either sat on the ground wailing hysterically or ran about aimlessly, gasping for breath and trembling too much to speak.
Genolino Pagnio was pale with fright. As if to celebrate his hasty arrival, the roof of the dock collapsed with a thunderous crash. Red flames soared, reaching a height of two pasos. He shouted for his men to fight the fire, but no one heeded his commands. They just ran around in chaos, pushing, falling, and creating a total mess.
The chaos continued until an officer from Fort San Felipe arrived at the shipyard with a contingent of soldiers and brought the situation under control. Genolino divided his men into two groups: one to fight the fire at the burning lumber yard, and the other to head straight for the submarine’s dock. There, a strange scene presented itself. Although the dock had turned into a massive fire pit, a low-lying channel at the entrance was filled with seawater, which the flames could not cross. The sluice gate at the dock’s entrance was untouched by the fire and remained intact. But when Genolino ordered the gate to be opened to let in seawater to extinguish the fire, they discovered that the ingenious machine Paul Ko-san had built to open the heavy gate seemed to have been deliberately sabotaged. No matter how they pulled and pushed, the gate wouldn’t budge. They hastily found a few water pumps, but when they brought them over, they found the hoses had been cut beforehand. And so, it was not until the fire burned itself out that the only remaining parts of “Manila’s magic ship,” the Nautilus, were a deformed propeller and a few twisted, blackened copper frames.
A few charred human bones were cleared from the ashes in the dock, and a Chinese cloth shoe was found in the water at the entrance. Undoubtedly, these were the last mortal remains of the two unfortunate Chinese craftsmen. As for the two missing Pampangan soldiers, it was initially thought they had deserted. A few days later, their spears and matchlocks were fished out of the sea near the dock, along with their bundled-up uniforms, the bloodstains on them having changed color. Although their bodies were never found, it was concluded that they had been murdered by the arsonists. Genolino Pagnio was summoned by the Manila Audiencia. Although the final inquiry found him not responsible and he was released, he had suffered a mental breakdown from the ordeal. He could say nothing more than to mumble prayers to the Holy Mother.
The vacant position of shipyard director was put up for sale as was customary. The governor set the price at one thousand pesos. After several rounds of spirited bidding, Mr. Genolino Pagnio’s nephew and assistant at the shipyard, Carluccio Pagnio, bought the position for fifteen hundred pesos. It was widely rumored that Carluccio Pagnio had received financial backing from Ko-san to be able to afford such a large sum. Carluccio was a close friend of Ko-san and a frequent visitor to his estate and factories.
The attention on the new shipyard head did not last long, as a new murder captured the public’s interest. On the night after the shipyard fire, Captain Fernando, one of the most fanatical cockfighting gamblers among the white population of Manila and recently quite flush with cash, was assassinated in the Parian district. The night watch reported finding the captain lying in a ditch by the roadside, the smell of alcohol on him even stronger than the stench of blood. The cause of death was a bizarrely shaped curved dagger, a weapon favored by the Malays, stuck in his chest. It was clear that the drunken captain had fought with his killer; his right hand was clenched into a fist, tightly gripping a small piece of cloth torn from his enemy’s clothing: a scrap of Dutch linen.
A search of the captain’s quarters proved disappointing. The alcoholic and gambling captain had left nothing in his inn room, not even a single small coin. The priests all said this was the evil wrought by gambling.
Rumors that Dutch villains had hired Malay assassins to infiltrate Manila and carry out sabotage spread like wildfire through the city. However, apart from the governor and a few other concerned individuals, these rumors merely served as a bit of excitement for the mostly idle and lazy Spanish population. For most of the self-proclaimed Iberian nobles in the East Indies, a burned boat in the shipyard and a murdered gambler in a gutter were trivial matters that couldn’t compare to tonight’s banquet and ball.
However, the work at the shipyard did not halt because of this act of sabotage. With the Nautilus destroyed, the shipyard was now able to concentrate its manpower and resources on building the patrol boats. Lando noticed that the Spanish were exhibiting unprecedented efficiency. The newly appointed director personally supervised the workers, and many native soldiers were brought in to “encourage” the Tagalog laborers. A week after the dock was burned down, the laborers had pumped out the water, repaired the sluice gate, cleared all the debris, and brought in new shipbuilding materials. According to reports from Gimid and others, the shipyard did not seem to be rebuilding the submarine, but was instead focusing all its efforts on the patrol boats.
Even Lando, who knew nothing about shipbuilding or sailing, could see that these gradually taking-shape vessels were very similar to the twin-masted patrol boats mass-produced by the Commonwealth Navy. Even the reserved gun positions were identical to the original version.
Lando soon realized that the patrol boat captured from the navy was not in the hands of Zheng Zhilong; it was more than likely taken by Hells and brought to Manila.
What is his purpose in building submarines and these patrol boats? It’s meaningless, Lando thought. While it would indeed strengthen Spanish rule in the Philippines, it was like a praying mantis trying to stop a chariot when it came to dealing with the Commonwealth.
As he was considering how to write his new report, there was a rhythmic knock on his study door. It was Mimi.
“Come in!”
“Sir, Gimid has just returned from the docks. He has something to report,” Mimi reported softly.
“Send him in.”
Gimid reported that seven or eight foreigners had disembarked from a ship, carrying a lot of luggage.
It was not unusual for foreigners to arrive in Manila, but the fact that servants from the Governor’s Palace had gone specifically to welcome them made it special.
“What color was their hair? And their eyes?”
“Black, yellow, and red! I didn’t pay close attention to their eyes, but there were blue and green, and I think black too…” the young man said.
“What do these people seem to do?”
“They don’t look rich, but they look sturdy, and not poor either,” Gimid gestured. “I looked, and a few of them had very thick fingers and wrists, like artisans!”