"Thank you, but please tell me what's going on with those windmills. They are connected one after another and look like woods. [Read the full text]"
The captain looked at the white-lit sea in confusion, and it took him a long time to understand that the count was pointing in the direction of Cavite.
"That's the Cavite Fortress, ah, no, you must be talking about the dock. The windmill was also made by the Japanese and was used to pump water to the dock. Do you like this?"
"I like it," Weiss said. "When I was a boy, I was lucky enough to travel to the Canary Islands, which is the home of windmills. So this scene seems very friendly to me. What kind of Japanese you mentioned?" I’d like to meet the characters.”
"You won't see him. Although he is a secular person, his behavior is similar to that of an ascetic or a hermit. He will not see anyone except the governor and the archbishop, not even his charming fiancée who has gone through all kinds of hardships to come to Manila. I'm afraid I won't even see him for a few times - what a pitiful beauty..." The captain's beard curled up ambiguously, "But the respected Commander Alfonso has frequent contacts with him, and you can ask him to serve as your assistant in the future. introduce."
"Mr. Alfonso, this venerable man is absent from our game today."
"He has a battle to fight," the captain said with a sour taste. "The governor gave him four companies and a thousand natives to attack the Ilocos in Pangasinan. The Japanese also followed, Responsible for taking care of the cannons and rockets he built."
Weiss was just about to follow Captain Pilar down the fort when suddenly, a distant and vague sound of gunfire seemed to be blown by the wind, followed by another sound.
"What's going on?" Pilar picked up the telescope. "Is the signal coming from Corregidor a lighthouse ship?"
The two people took turns watching with telescopes, and the sunlight reflected on the sea was extremely bright. The stabbed person could barely open his eyes, and could only vaguely see a few white sails twinkling on the horizon. Nearly an hour later, Weiss saw a puff of light smoke rising from the Cavite Fortress and the sound of a cannon shot.
"Damn it! A ship has broken into the bay!" cried the captain, holding his hands on the crenellation. "Ring the bell! Prepare for war!"
The sentry sounded the alarm bell, and the alarm bell tolled. The drummer of the company began to beat the assembly drum rapidly. The gunners poured out of the barracks and rushed to the gun emplacements. The infantry also put on their armor and began to line up. Weiss knew it was no longer suitable to stay here, so he walked down the stairs. Just walked out of the fort. Then he saw Basilio, who was so panic-stricken, galloping over on his horse.
"I'm sending people everywhere to look for you," the port tax officer said breathlessly, taking off his hat and wiping his sweat regardless of his grace. "Here's the Virgin Mary. Look at the good deeds your sailors have done. Your yacht will be alarmed. The Governor's."
"Don Mr. Basilio, you don't need me to teach you how to speak to a lord!" Weiss replied arrogantly, "What earth-shattering event happened?"
Half an hour later, Weiss was sitting in a sampan rowing out into the bay. The tax collector sat slumped next to the helmsman, talking ramblingly about how a clipper had entered despite the warning of the Corregidor sentry ship. Manila Bay, cruising in the harbor at "alarming speed". None of the patrol oars and warships in the harbor could catch up with the ship, and finally the sailors on board agreed to let an unarmed small boat approach. Port officials learned that the clipper belonged to the Earl.
The small sampan advanced through the waves amidst the chants of the oarsmen, and the two-masted yacht that was causing chaos in Manila Bay gradually appeared in front of us. Elegant and slender black hull with beautiful Victorian paint. As the sampan got closer and closer, Weiss looked up and saw a familiar weapon pointed at them in the mast - a typewriter.
On the bulwarks and poop, sailors with rifles were in place, controlling the surrounding waters and intimidating the native canoes not to approach.
The sailors lowered the gangway and Weiss climbed up from the sampan. When he reached the last step, a hand pulled him up to the deck.
"Wele back!" Xue Ziliang said.
The Esmedala, or the Esmedala as it was renamed to confuse the Spaniards, was originally a private speedboat built by a Hong Kong shipyard for the wealthy Portuguese businessman Landela in Macau. The always shrewd industrial port never misses any opportunity to cheat export customers, so Mr. Landela's order changed from the Hong Kong Shipyard to the perfect test product for the Bobu Shipyard. Some people even suggested that the yacht should be turned into a catamaran or trimaran. In the end, these too-scary suggestions were rejected. The final ship model was basically derived from the 200-ton two-masted patrol boat, using a mature iron-framed wooden shell structure. The displacement was slightly reduced, the aspect ratio was increased, and a bilge keel was installed to enhance stability. However, when the hull was basically completed and workers were nailing copper sheets to the bottom of the ship, unfortunate news came: Mr. Landela went bankrupt. One of his merchant ships ran aground and sank outside Makassar Port, and the other was fully loaded with Timor. The ships that produced precious sandalwood became trophies of the Dutch.
Naturally, Mr. Landella, who was bankrupt, was unable to pay off the remaining 40% of the balance. The speedboat, which was more than 90% completed, became the property of the Planning Institute.
The Navy fought a lot of lip service with the Council of Agriculture, the Special Reconnaissance Team, and the Remote Exploration Team, and finally got the boat as it wished for use in sailing training. The condition is that you must obey the call at any time and carry out the transportation tasks of dignitaries and important materials assigned by the Executive Committee. The Hong Kong shipyard carried out many large and small modifications in accordance with the requirements of the navy. In order to familiarize naval cadets with different sail rigs, the original design of the ketch eventually evolved into what Qian Shuiting called "brigantine", with the foremast hung horizontally. Sail, the main mast hangs the fore-and-aft sail. After many twists and turns, the sail training ship "Haiqi" evolved from the yacht and joined the navy at the Hong Kong base. As for the fact that it would change its appearance in the future and transform into the Esmedala, Count Vananova's private yacht, and play a role in the operation jointly led by the intelligence agencies, no one would have thought of it at the time.
"Don't drive the boat into the stinking ditch of the Pasig River." Weiss said.
The Esmedala lowered her sails and anchored near the beach at Tondo, keeping a careful distance from Fort Santiago's cannons firing fiery shells. Tangdu was the largest and most densely populated slum in the Philippines in another time and space, but now it is just an inconspicuous small village on the north bank of the Pasig River. Although there are few people around, the beautiful yacht is still quite eye-catching. More than a dozen canoes loaded with cargo gradually gather around. The swarthy natives wave their arms and shout in various incomprehensible languages to sell pineapples, bananas, and mangoes to the crew. and taro. The sailors on the yacht were unmoved, and just pointed the black muzzle at those who tried to approach. Taking advantage of the opportunity to sell goods to board the deck and rob the ship is a common tactic of Malay pirates. Chinese merchant ships and European merchant ships traveling here have suffered losses.
The captain of the patrol ship stepped on the wooden rail at the top of the small sampan. His body leaned forward so much that it seemed that he would fall into the water if he staggered. However, he always maintained this posture and stood there steadily, staring at the Esmedala, which was getting closer and closer.
From the perspective of an old Basque sailor who has drifted halfway around the world, the clipper yacht, as tall as a barracuda, is simply a rare beauty. Not only are the proportions perfect, every detail of the ship is exquisitely well-proportioned.
After the trireme patrol boat drove away the native canoes, it stowed its oars and faced the yacht, stopping two chains away. Before getting off the sampan, the captain ordered the cannons on the forecastle platform to be equipped for combat, and the swivel guns on both sides to be loaded with ammunition and to fire at any time. But his order failed. Except for the oarsmen below the deck, all the sailors and soldiers on and off duty rushed to the forecastle and stern, and even climbed up the mast that had lowered its sails to watch the tall and narrow mast that had never been seen before. A strange sailing ship.
"A mob," Xue Ziliang raised his chin at the forecastle fort that was packed with people on the galley. A Tagalog sailor stood astride the sharp iron on the bow of the ship, waving the matchstick used to light the cannons in vain. The cannon he was responsible for lighting was several meters behind him and not in front of the muzzle. It was full of people. "One turn of the typewriter and a few long bursts of fire, and the poor old boat will turn into a floating coffin, and those idiots won't even be able to fart."
The sampan ran alongside the yacht and made a few slight muffled sounds. The captain of the patrol ship grabbed the rope ladder on the side and jumped onto the deck in a few steps. He completely ignored the two fat-headed port staff who came in the same boat and still struggled to swing on the rope ladder until they were pulled aboard by the sailors on the yacht. The captain was puzzled. The line shape of this yacht was unique. It was slender, smooth and very smooth. There was no towering tower, no eye-catching bow image, and no common complicated tapestry extending from both sides to the poop. Sculpture. All I could see were neatly coiled cables, some machinery of unknown purpose, and a teak deck with human figures clearly visible.
Taking two steps forward, he immediately understood why the light on the deck was so discerning. A group of barefoot sailors, obviously Chinese, were scrubbing the deck following the dragging water hose; then they sprinkled sand and lay on the deck to polish it vigorously with stones. The Chinese in front of me are completely different from the sluggish compatriots on the Junk ships. They wear neat blue uniforms, with collars turned flat on the shoulders and back like the Dutch, and short hair exposed under the round-brimmed straw hats with white hatbands. Stubble, full of energy but rarely spoke, moved neatly to the bosun's whistle.
This situation made the captain couldn't help but think back to his days as a trainee seaman, but he failed to pay attention to the location of the drainage outlet next to the bulwark. The water sprayed from the water dragon spread across the deck and reached his boots. He hurriedly jumped to the side to avoid the dirty water, but unexpectedly bumped into someone. (To be continued...)
