Chapter 1416 - Chatter in the Carriage
"As for SantafrĂa's wealth, probably only the port customs officer can give you an exact figure. His residence is even more famous in Manila than the Governor's mansion. What the captains of the Royal East Indies Fleet envy most is SantafrĂa's private yacht. He likes to show off the fastest, most luxurious carriage in the region—of course—" the treasurer made a dismissive gesture, "that would not be in comparison to yours."
"Ah, if only His Majesty Philip II had known that such vast wealth could be obtained simply by extorting and robbing the Chinese—how he would have regretted abandoning his plan to conquer China." Vince lit a cigar for Andrade. Though somewhat bleary-eyed from drink, the treasurer still stared curiously at the gilded Australian lighter in the Count's hand, trying to get a closer look.
"Conquering China—that's an impractical fantasy." Andrade exhaled smoke. "There are too many Chinese. Even the tens of thousands of Chinese in the Parian—timid and endlessly factional though they are—the Governor still lives in constant fear, terrified that some Chinese agitator will stir them up into revolt."
"After that uprising thirty years ago, they should know what cannons taste like."
"They say thirty thousand Chinese died in that uprising; the blood stained the rivers red. Many people thought the Chinese would never come to Manila again—but look, the population of the Parian is now several times what it was then. From a purely utilitarian perspective, the Chinese make better subjects than any of the local natives."
"But they are all superstitious heathens who don't believe in God..."
"Yes, I quite agree. The Chinese certainly have all manner of vices. But what use are pious lazy people to us? Besides, they can hardly be called pious." After drinking and smoking, Andrade was in high spirits. "Whether it's building roads, constructing houses, doing business, or farming—we rely entirely on the Chinese! Carpenters, brickmakers, blacksmiths, sugar refiners, iron workers... any job you can think of, the Chinese must do it. They're the ones paying the head tax, too. And so they keep pouring in."
"More Chinese have arrived recently?"
"Although the Governor worries day and night about the number of Chinese, he has recently been recruiting large numbers of Chinese artisans to come to Manila. This is all due to the beguiling influence of some fellow who popped up out of nowhere, spending money freely on all sorts of new gadgets, as lavishly as the Marquis of the Valley."
At this point he fell silent, as if realizing it was not quite proper to discuss the Governor with someone he didn't know well.
Lando deliberately changed the subject:
"Please tell me, who exactly is Don Esteban SantafrĂa? If he's a country gentleman, how much land does he own? If he's a merchant, what business is he in?"
"According to Royal decree, Manila applies the wholesale transaction law to Chinese goods. The goods brought by the Sangleys (Note) are valued in bulk by an official appointed by the Governor, then sold to local Spanish merchants in proportion. Private trading is forbidden before the valuation. Generally speaking, the port customs officer is sent to do the valuation. But Don Basilio and Don SantafrĂa are obviously very good friends." Andrade smiled meaningfully. "So he always knows the lowest price in advance and gets the largest share of the best Chinese goods. He also has his own merchant ships, sailing between Manila and Coromandel. Chinese silks and porcelain, Indian ivory and spices fill the cargo holds he occupies on the Royal galleons. The Viceroy of New Spain has ordered that each galleon may carry only four thousand bales of cargo to Acapulco, yet Señor SantafrĂa alone accounts for nearly that number. Other merchants cannot compete with him at all; on the contrary, they often have to borrow money from him. He has failed only twice: once when the galleon San Ambrosio was sunk by the Dutch, costing him three hundred thousand pesos' worth of cargo. The other time was because of the Australians—some strange people living on an island in the China Sea."
"Careful there—you're sitting in a carriage made by those strange people."
"I don't mind the goods those strange people make at all. Their products are excellent—not only in short supply here, but welcomed everywhere from India to the Near East." Andrade said indifferently. "If I could get a steady supply of Australian goods, I would have been the richest man in all the Philippines long ago."
At this point, the carriage drove past extensive coconut groves and bamboo forests, passed through several Tagalog villages, and sped past thatched huts. These dwellings were extremely crude—the walls were merely bamboo fences woven from village bamboo, topped with banana leaves for roofing. Women bustled in and out; men gathered in groups along the roadside and at corners, almost every one carrying a rooster under his arm. Vince had known even three hundred years later that cockfighting was a national pastime of the Filipinos. A group of mischievous children chased after the carriage begging for coins. The red-flag carriage sped on and in the blink of an eye had left them far behind.
The road from the Parian through Binondo to Manila was highly valued by the colonial authorities and regularly maintained—yet even so, the unpaved surface was full of ruts and potholes. Thanks to the double cushioning of shock-absorbing springs and upholstered seats, even when the coachman whipped the horses into a gallop, the passengers inside felt only a slight swaying.
"The strange thing is, these people occupy only an island about the size of Formosa—in the eyes of the Chinese Emperor, such a remote island is just a tiny grain of sand at the edge of the world. Yet these people have built prosperous cities on the island, and all Chinese goods, after passing through their hands, become at least ten times more refined. When the Southeast Asian Company's first fleet arrived in Manila, the whole city was in an uproar. The Governor was shaken too, because the salute they fired even drowned out the cannon of Fort Santiago. So when the Australians refused to accept the wholesale transaction law, Governor Salamanca agreed to their demands. Señor SantafrĂa prepared to make a killing the old way—and ended up with nothing at all. He hates them to the bone. He's always lobbying the Governor to seize the Southeast Asian Company's ships and cargo—or at least fine them a large sum..."
"Why? Just because he didn't get any benefits?"
"You could say that." The treasurer sneered. "Of course, everyone knows that the major shareholders of the Southeast Asian Company are actually the Australians. Ever since the Australians seized our two ships, Don SantafrĂa's proposal has gained quite a bit of support. But the Governor is still hesitant—trade with the Southeast Asian Company is essential for the colony..."
Andrade did not mention that he himself was strongly opposed to this proposal: the abaca shipped and sold by the Southeast Asian Company accounted for half of his current annual sales.
Vince knew that the trading fleet of the Southeast Asian Company was valued highly by the Planning Institute because the Manila trade could bring back much-needed timber, abaca, tobacco, and copra. He wanted to steer the conversation away from the Australians, but just then there was a sudden low, muffled boom, as if an enormous drumstick were pounding the ground. The former mercenary reflexively threw himself against the carriage window.
"Señor Salamanca is off admiring his new toy cannons again," Andrade said.
The scattered woods on both sides of the road flashed past as the carriage sped along. The delicate, bright banana trees and the tall, somber coconut palms wove together into an endless green hedge. Through gaps in the branches, a few ochre-colored barracks seemed visible, but they passed in an instant beneath broad banana leaves. The cannon fire continued volley after volley. Vince's heart clenched. He heard the drawn-out whistling tail of a cannonball—reminding him of that very common 76mm Tito gun from his service in the Balkans—followed by the roar of an explosion. A cloud of white smoke billowed up above the hedge, mixed with flying grass and clods of earth.
Vince impulsively wanted to stop the carriage immediately and get out for a look. But he quickly changed his mind, reached out, and pressed a bell in front of the seat twice—the signal to hurry on. At the coachman's urging, the two pairs of horses seemed to sprout wings. The dust churned up by the wheels swallowed everything else on the road. Several Spaniards galloped up on horseback, hoping to get a glimpse of this dazzling carriage streaking by like a meteor, but were all left behind.
Crossing the narrow wooden bridge over the Pasig River, below the gray city walls, the soldiers at the gate seemed quite familiar with this carriage and its coat of arms. As it rumbled through like a whirlwind, they even saluted. The red-flag carriage rolled through the cobblestone streets of the city with a thunderous clamor. Pedestrians scattered to the sides of the road, gazing with astonishment and envy at the Count's carriage and the fine horses with their flowing manes.
"Only now do I know that speed can produce pleasure," Andrade said, his drunkenness somewhat fading. "Ah, watch out, Count—there's a carriage ahead!"
The carriage ahead bore a large coat of arms with an extremely elaborate design. Although the driver was trying his hardest to maintain his lead, his efforts were completely futile. The overly wide body, the greatly mismatched front and rear wheels, and the leather-strap suspension all ensured this was not a vehicle suited for high-speed travel. Amid exclamations from onlookers on the street and in the buildings, the red-flag carriage easily swerved around the one in front and left it behind.
As the two carriages passed, the white satin window curtains of the other parted, revealing a greasy, shiny head with only a few strands of hair, the high cheekbones, hooked nose, and a pair of fierce eyes that Vince recognized well from the banquet at the mayor's residence.
"It appears," said Andrade, "that Don Esteban SantafrĂa has become your enemy."
Note: Sangley refers to Chinese immigrants to the Philippines, as well as their mixed-race descendants with locals.