Chapter 1196 - Boarding

"Damn it—how do the Spaniards store gunpowder? Hurry up and put out the fire, you idiots! Put some effort into it!" Lü Yang cursed involuntarily.

"This can't continue. The cannons are silenced quite a bit, but if there's a fire or explosion, we're finished. And if we punch a few more holes below the waterline, are we going to be fishing for silver on the seabed?"

"Cease fire! Formation turn left 180 degrees in sequence—boarding team ready!" Lin Chuanqing issued the order while praying the Spaniards would quickly extinguish the fire and plug the holes.

The distance had now shortened to less than 1000 meters. The galleon's broadside suddenly flashed with fire and emitted a puff of white smoke, followed by the sound of a cannon. Seven or eight more shots followed in rapid succession, each puff of white smoke tracking cannonballs that dragged white smoke trails and kicked up water columns not far from Nongchao.

Lin Chuanqing remained unmoving as a mountain. At this distance, the Spaniards would need incredible luck to hit his ship. However, the Spanish counterattack fully demonstrated their refusal to surrender obediently. And the guns on the gun deck weren't fully destroyed.

The formation turned again at the galleon's stern, cutting into a T-formation. The distance between the formation and the galleon had now shrunk to about 300 meters; the naked eye could clearly observe conditions on deck. Lin Chuanqing took out a steel helmet and handed it to Zhou Weisen.

"Safety first."

At that moment, four puffs of white smoke rose from the stern—the Spaniards fired a stern volley simultaneously. A loud "clang" immediately sounded from the rear of Nongchao. Zhou Weisen looked out and saw an iron ball bounce off the hull into the sea. Although the 901 wasn't made of oak, the texture of Southeast Asian teak was extraordinary; demi-culverin balls from the galleon's stern couldn't penetrate it. However, Zhou Weisen knew well that if a cannonball struck the deck, killing a few sailors would pose no difficulty.

"Distance 300 meters—load grapeshot! Fleet volley!" Lin Chuanqing roared. "Mast-top guns fire at will!"

In that instant, Lin Chuanqing clearly read the ship's name on the stern: it was indeed the San Luis.

The 130mm guns began raking the galleon's decks longitudinally; iron shot swept across the deck like a rainstorm. Then the "typewriters" on the masts spewed streams of bullets. Through telescopes, wood chips flew on the galleon's poop deck and other exposed areas; several bodies were even seen tumbling from the towering poop into the sea.

The formation slowed and swept past the galleon's port side, strafing continuously. After firing one or two completely inaccurate shots, the galleon went utterly silent, floating dead in the water.

"Try psychological warfare."

"Cease fire! Boarding team ready!"

The high-power loudspeakers specially installed on the flagship for this operation blared. Miss Mendoza's Spanish poured from the speakers:

"Ultimatum to surrender the San Luis:

"Captain, First Mate, Second Mate, all officers, all soldiers, all sailors of the San Luis: You are surrounded, with no hope of escape.

"You have seen that your firepower is meaningless. Our cannons and muskets are far more powerful than yours. Your cannons have been silenced, masts broken, sailors suffered heavy casualties. As captain and officers, you should consider the feelings of your subordinates and families, find a way to survive for yourselves and them, and cease making senseless sacrifices.

"We can pull alongside, board, and occupy your ship at any moment now. You should all lay down your weapons and cease resistance. We will guarantee the lives of all officers, soldiers, sailors, and families. Only this is your sole path to survival. If you still wish to fight, then fight—eventually you will all be dealt with swiftly.

"Hoist the white flag and surrender. The Lord is merciful; He will bless your safe return to your homeland."

"Is it working?"

"Who knows—let's see. Though I can't understand it, the Western mare's voice is quite nice to listen to."

"Truly hitting a rat in a china shop—tied hands and feet, walking on eggshells. Luckily these Spanish sailors are effective at firefighting."

Amid the chatter, several white spots appeared on the opposing ship. Through telescopes, they proved to be white shirts, white towels, and similar items, stuck on long poles extending from the poop deck portholes.

According to the intelligence briefings, Zhou Weisen—wearing a bulletproof vest inside and ragged pirate clothes outside, rubbing his fists at the boarding bridge—nearly fainted. Is this it? The chick spouts a few sentences of bird language, and I'm unemployed?

"Prepare to board!" Just as Lin Chuanqing was about to order pulling alongside, suddenly over a dozen puffs of white smoke rose from the opposing deck, and crackling gunfire was faintly audible.

"Fake surrender?" Lin Chuanqing shuddered and spat fiercely. "These bastards—looks like we'll have to hit them hard again, then kill everyone without mercy!" Saying this, he roared: "All typewriters fire at will! No living person allowed on deck. Sweep every gun port for me!"

After another round of rainstorm-like bullets, the San Luis was thoroughly paralyzed on the sea surface. Ship No. 1, which had been sailing with the wind, had almost stopped due to loss of wind propulsion—like a dragged whale helplessly awaiting butchering. From any angle, she no longer possessed the capacity to resist.

"Prepare to board!" Zhou Weisen roared. He donned his helmet and goggles and drew his M1911 pistol—this weapon had great power and reliable action, a deadly tool in close quarters. Because these pistols were so scarce, Zhou Weisen usually carried only a Glock 17. He had brought this one specially; to ensure the pistol wouldn't be dropped during combat, he had specifically attached a lanyard tied to his belt.

Nongchao's boarding ramp was already set up on the ship's side. The platform height matched exactly the galleon's upper deck. Nongchao's bow slowly passed the sailing ship, the distance dropping to only ten meters. Then Nongchao moved laterally, gradually closing in on the sailing ship, and maintained contact.

The first wave consisted of five Special Recon members carrying Skorpion submachine guns and shotguns, with an M240 machine gun team holding the line on the platform. Finally, an Ah San sailor who could speak Spanish would act as translator.

The second wave waited on deck. They were elites selected from the Marine Corps, each with four 1630 revolvers crossed on their chests, holding short-barreled Minié rifles or "double-taps"—shotguns handmade by Li Yiwo himself. Lacking qualified firing springs, he had adopted a double-barreled structure with percussion cap ignition, allowing the left and right barrels to fire separately.

The two ships drew ever closer. Zhou Weisen's heart was in his throat. The boarding platform had steel plate railings, sufficient to block matchlocks, flintlocks, and 1-pounder deck guns—but once the ramp door opened, they would be completely exposed to enemy fire. He could only pray the machine gunners and snipers on the mast tops and deck were sharp-eyed and quick-handed.

Now the miserable state of the San Luis's deck lay right before their eyes. The deck was scattered with every kind of oak splinter: shattered gun carriages, collapsed spars, rigging, lifeboats, yards—everything that had existed on the main deck had been swept by bullets, beaten into flakes and strips. Blood smeared the floor, scattered with incomplete corpses—a bloody scene of hell on earth.

The boarding bridge platform slowly approached the San Luis. Zhou Weisen's heartbeat accelerated as he flipped off the pistol safety. Suddenly the boarding bridge shook violently and stopped.

"Attention! Opening door!"

With a loud clang of the door swinging open, Zhou Weisen was first to jump out, rolling and steadying himself in a half-crouch on the San Luis's deck. Several team members quickly occupied combat positions, using alternating cover to search.

The deck was dead silent. Forget gunshots—there wasn't even a living person in sight.

"Clear!" he roared. The shout was transmitted via the walkie-talkie on his shoulder to Nongchao's deck. The second wave of Marine boarding team immediately surged up the ladder.

According to plan, Zhou Weisen led the Special Recon team to control the poop deck for security, while the boarding team secured the main deck and various access hatches in batches.

Zhou Weisen led the way, quickly ascending to the poop deck. Two men hiding in the corner of the poop deck roof, already trembling with terror, heard someone rushing up and immediately drew swords to resist. Zhou Weisen, already at the ladder entrance, fired two shots in rapid succession with his M1911, instantly dropping them both. Those following immediately secured the entire poop deck platform.

After ascending to the roof, obstacle clearers quickly chopped down the railings, lowered the spanker sail to clear lines of fire, and tied the cables thrown from Nongchao to bind the two ships more tightly together.

After controlling the entire roof platform, the assault team began expanding into the cabins below the poop deck. According to the intelligence at hand, the upper layer of such sailing ship stern cabins usually housed senior crew like the first mate and helmsman, while below near the stern was the captain's quarters. If prominent passengers traveled aboard, they would also be quartered in this area.

The assault team rushed down the stairs, first controlling the area at the poop deck cabin entrance. A battle seemed to have occurred here—the cabin door and nearby bulkheads were riddled with bullet holes. Four or five people lay dead on the deck in disorder, apparently killed correctly by bullets; some looked high-ranking. Zhou Weisen noticed one corpse still clutched a wooden stick with a white napkin tied to it.

"Breach!" At Zhou Weisen's call, one Special Recon member blasted the door open with a shotgun. Another agilely tossed in a chili tear gas grenade. "Bang"—it exploded.

"Don't throw bombs! We surrender!" Wails in Spanish came from inside the cabin, followed by sounds of violent coughing and sneezing.

(End of Chapter)