Chapter 1483 - Who is Helping Hale
The supply of sulfur from Japan via the Tokugawa Shogunate's Sakoku envoys had been cut off, leaving only a small trickle from northern Taiwan. But the business of purchasing processed sulfur from the indigenous people of Tamsui had always been handled by Chinese merchants, and the Spaniards considered it economically unviable. Moreover, since the Australians established their trading fortress in southern Taiwan, they too had begun purchasing sulfur on a large scale. Chinese merchants were quickly drawn to Kaohsiung, which offered far better trading credit and a wider variety of trade goods. Spanish purchasing conditions deteriorated by the day.
Although Governor Salamanca had dispatched orders commanding the colonial troops stationed in Keelung and Tamsui to seize the sulfur-producing areas by force and control the trade—shipping reinforcements along with large quantities of new guns and ammunition regardless of cost—distant water could not quench immediate thirst. Hale could only try to open sources and reduce expenditure. The former meant attempting to manufacture sulfur by roasting pyrite with charcoal. As for the latter, that meant reserving No. 1 black powder—ground to fine grains for gun firing and detonator ignition—while all other black powder used a sulfur-free formula of eighty percent saltpeter and twenty percent charcoal.
"Allocate the entire inventory of No. 1 powder to filling fuzes and cannon friction primers. We must ensure supply for the artillery. You heard what I told His Highness the Marquis." Hale continued instructing his sailor henchman: "Suspend gunpowder supply for muskets until the new mixing drum is installed and begins operation."
"But so many rifles have been manufactured. The Spaniards will—"
"Marcos, you need to continue strengthening your professional knowledge. First, by my standards, those are just smoothbore guns—not rifles. Second, they don't count as our own manufacture. We merely made slight modifications to old matchlocks the Spaniards dug out of their armory: replaced the lock, re-bored the barrel. Captain Pilar has been pestering me to design new cavalry pistols for him. But those are all insignificant gadgets, incapable of changing the course of a war. Compared to cannons, they are nothing. Artillery is the true god of war."
Exiting the gunpowder production workshop, Marcos attempted to persuade his patron to inspect the starch factory as well.
"I went yesterday," Hale said with evident disdain. "I see no necessity to go again today."
"Those Chinese either don't know how to work at all, or they are intentionally stealing raw materials. I believe the former is more likely. They've ruined all the corn in inventory—turned it into piles of garbage fit only for fertilizer—and the resulting starch was so meager it wouldn't feed rats. Now they've started ruining our sweet potatoes—"
"Enough. I know those Hokkien men were originally arrowroot starch makers. What—never heard of arrowroot starch? Marcos, you are a pitiful man who has never tasted Japanese wagashi. What I mean is: their former trade involved extracting starch from sweet potatoes to pass off as arrowroot starch. The work I assigned them is their own trade. Of course, without my guidance and your supervision..." He paused. "There is good news to tell you. I've found a new source from a place you would absolutely never expect. Readymade, high-quality starch—enough for me to produce explosives to level an entire city."
"Yes, Sir." Marcos swallowed. Coming from the twenty-first century, he found no mystery in his patron's schemes, but the fanaticism burning within this man often frightened him.
"Also, your fiancée asked me yesterday when you might come to see her." Marcos hesitated. "I feel she misses you very much..." He drew out a letter wrapped in a Chinese silk handkerchief. "She asked me to pass this to you."
"I don't have time." Hale frowned, making no move to accept the bundle—his hands were pitch black.
"But, Sir—"
Hale knew what his assistant wished to say: the "fiancée" could not be slighted.
This noble illegitimate daughter the Spaniards had prepared to install in his bed—he had no need for her, spiritually or physically. But the "fiancée" was of noble birth. She symbolized not only his acceptance by the Spanish gentry of the Philippines as "one of their own" but also recognition by the nobility of New Spain and even the Peninsula. Ignoring her excessively was indeed unwise.
"Very well, my dear Marcos. In any spacetime, women are sentimental creatures. We have plenty of things to do—why does she wish to see me? To have me play the mandolin beneath her boudoir window? Where would I find the time?" He thought for a moment. "Come to my office tomorrow morning; I will have a reply ready."
"Yes, Sir. I suggest you also prepare a small gift."
"Marcos, you are absolutely right. Spanish blood must flow in your veins."
"Ready to serve you!"
"Enough about women. Is everything I asked you to arrange in place?"
"All ready."
"You are certain no one knows?"
"I am. I personally took your students and servants. They are all entirely reliable."
Hale's so-called students and servants were a group he had personally selected and trained—Japanese, Chinese, local natives, and mixed-bloods. They formed Hale's "inner circle."
Hale nodded. The Spanish dignitaries of the Philippines harbored a morbid sense of crisis, forever convinced that Chinese, Dutch, and English were scheming to seize their colony. Though the man he was to meet tomorrow no longer commanded the prestige of former days, if the Spaniards learned he had quietly come to Manila, endless suspicions would inevitably arise, and cooperation between them would be completely ruined.
"It seems we underestimated this Japanese kid far too much. Single-handed, he not only rallied a following but also stirred up quite a scene in the Philippines while we weren't paying attention."
The External Intelligence Bureau's secure conference room was modeled on the Political Security Bureau's style. Windows opened near the ceiling on the walls; at the moment, they were tightly closed. The indoor temperature made everyone sweat, yet representatives from the various departments attending the joint meeting silently flipped through folders, reading recent intelligence clips about Manila. Even if someone uttered a comment or cracked a joke, the silence quickly returned for lack of response. The atmosphere in the room was near freezing point.
"This material can't be trusted." Wang Ruixiang slapped the folder shut and threw it onto the table before him. "Leaving aside everything else, the numbers don't match. Monthly production figures for the Little Jap's so-called factory—shells, fuzes, gunpowder—appear here and there, and no two are alike."
"Correct—because the numbers have different sources. Some are what Hale verbally reported to Spanish officials; some come from colonial government records of munitions receipt and allocation; some are estimated based on reports of raw material consumption at the Manila factory. The notes following the report list everything. Accuracy is debatable, but blanket denial won't suffice." Jiang Shan spoke only after the decibel level in the room dropped slightly. Office life all day had left his face gaunt, his eyes sunken; his gaze appeared increasingly sharp and aggressive. "Contrasting these numbers, it is undeniable that Hale has inflated his output to the Spaniards considerably. But even after squeezing out the water, by seventeenth-century standards the output of this semi-mechanized munitions factory already surpasses those European manual workshops. It must command our attention; after all, the Philippines is far closer to us than Europe."
"Output isn't the most critical issue." Another voice offered a view: "If Hale were producing spherical solid shot for the Spaniards, it wouldn't matter if he turned out thousands a month. But since this kid can rifle smoothbore guns, manufacture explosive shells with contact fuzes, and even build submarines—in short, bring about a qualitative leap in the white skins' armament level—that is an entirely different matter."
"Leap? At best it counts as hopping twice." Wang Ruixiang sniffed with disdain. "I don't believe this kid can produce anything approaching modern weapons and ammunition with empty hands. Without the necessary instruments, it's virtually impossible. Without conical gauges and angle gauges, how does he process qualified conical projectile bodies? Without thermometers and hygrometers to measure and control temperature and humidity, how does he synthesize mercury fulminate without blowing himself to bits?"
"He has all of it. Or rather, Hale can obtain all of it."
"Obtain from where? Who would provide him with precision instruments?"
"The Spaniards. Or Europeans. Of course—us too." Wu Mu's tone was placid, yet it instantly drew the gaze of everyone present—curiosity, astonishment, and perhaps a trace of fear.
Wu Mu had evidently prepared. Leisurely, he drew several sheets of paper from a file case. "The Political Security Bureau and the Navy recently joined forces to root out a criminal gang that had been lurking within the Southeast Asia Company, targeting Senate property. Preliminary interrogations reveal that the gang's organizers include members who formerly belonged to Zhu Cailao's bandit outfit and later surrendered to us, as well as multiple naturalized cadre members involved. Initially, the gang's main crimes were believed to be the theft and sale of Nanyang-style rifles, pistols, typewriters, percussion caps, and ammunition—goods allocated for merchant ship self-defense. Subsequently, it was discovered that various instruments and tools were also targets, including magnetic compasses, thermometers, psychrometers, barometers, sextants, nautical slide rules, and drafting tools—they didn't even spare screwdrivers. These stolen materials were generally written off equipment registration lists as damaged or lost due to wind, waves, pirate attacks, or theft by locals in port. Weapons buyers include pirates and certain officials of Southeast Asian kingdoms. As for instruments, interested customers are almost exclusively European merchants and captains. Coincidentally, records show that during two stopovers at Manila port, the Southeast Asia Company ships Meifu, Lishun, and Tunan were unfortunately visited by thieves—all lost navigational instruments. Is this merely coincidence?"
(End of Chapter)