Chapter 2094 - The Fleet Arrives
Yang Yi had made up his mind with crystalline clarity: regardless of whether Wuzhou could actually hold against the pirate assault, once chaos finally broke out in the city streets, he would rob several wealthy households and make himself a small fortune amid the turmoil and confusion. Someone had already recruited him for precisely this purpose; they'd strike together with coordinated timing once the city properly descended into chaos and the authorities lost control.
Thinking of this prospect, Yang Yi felt quite pleased with himself, suddenly half-wishing the Australians would hurry up and launch their attack so he could reap his windfall sooner rather than later. But before he could close his burning eyelids even for a moment, he saw several brilliant streaks of light arc dramatically across the southern sky—like brilliant shooting stars. The bright fiery trails soared over Wuzhou's southern wall and plunged deep into the city interior, trailing sparks.
Yang Yi gaped in stunned confusion, his tired mind struggling to process what he'd just witnessed. Only after several heartbeats did realization strike him: he'd heard stories that Australian rockets could fly far and strike true with uncanny accuracy. Years ago, Guangzhou itself had been struck by Australian rocket bombardment—entire neighborhoods set ablaze, devastation spreading everywhere in an unstoppable conflagration. The memory of those stories sent panic flooding through him.
Yang Yi frantically grabbed the conch horn used for alarm and blew into it with all his might, producing a ragged wailing note, then shouted with desperate volume toward the city interior:
"Enemy attack! The pirates are here!"
At his roaring cry, alarm gongs and drums thundered across the night sky from multiple directions. Lanterns and torches flared to sudden life everywhere throughout the city amid rising panicked voices and the tramping of running feet.
The Australians had finally arrived.
In the predawn darkness of April 12, under the concealing cover of night, Schneider led the Pearl River Advance Squadron's Western Detachment onto the West River waters immediately south of Wuzhou. The squadron's vessels dropped anchor on the spot with practiced efficiency, and crews immediately launched a dozen or so Hale rockets skyward to dramatically announce the Fubo Army's arrival. Several rockets struck boats moored at the civilian docks outside the city walls, instantly igniting roaring flames that lit the night.
Though he couldn't see clearly inside Wuzhou's walls from his position on the water, the spectacular roaring fires spreading along the riverbank provided satisfaction enough. Standing on the Zhujiang's forward deck, arms crossed, Schneider smiled with grim satisfaction. "Look at the generous gift we've sent Governor Xiong to welcome him to the new day!"
Ruan Xiaowu, standing nearby, appeared much calmer by comparison. He asked in his measured tone: "Commander, shall we engage the enemy naval forces immediately, or permit the crew to rest here until dawn?"
Schneider considered the tactical situation carefully: the Wuzhou Naval Battalion almost certainly wasn't capable of fighting the technologically superior Advance Squadron effectively at night and wouldn't risk coming out in complete darkness. Their commanders weren't suicidal fools. He decided: "Signal all ships: all personnel except those assigned to watch duty—rest for the remainder of the night."
"Yes, sir!" Ruan Xiaowu saluted crisply.
"Remind all ship captains to prepare adequate defenses against potential night raids though," Schneider added as an afterthought. "Fire-ships or commando boats."
The Zhujiang promptly sent lamp signals to the other vessels scattered across the dark water. Crews gratefully took the opportunity to rest and sleep; tomorrow would bring heavy sustained combat operations requiring everyone's full energy and alertness.
Fleet Commander Zhu Mingxia had given Schneider three primary mission tasks: first, to locate and destroy the Wuzhou Naval Battalion's fleet at the earliest opportunity and seize complete control of the river approaches; second, to conduct systematic fire reconnaissance of Wuzhou's defensive positions and accurately assess their strength and disposition; third, to guide the heavier bombardment vessels into favorable firing positions from which to shell Wuzhou's fortifications.
Wuzhou sat strategically at the confluence of the West and Gui Rivers, commanding the crucial waterways leading both to Guangxi's provincial capital Guilin and to the agricultural regions of western Guangxi—making it a vital transportation and commercial hub, effectively the gateway to the entire Guangxi Province. Having successfully taken Wuzhou, the campaign's next logical step would be to advance up the Gui River directly to threaten Guilin itself, or alternatively to move west and systematically control the vast fertile agricultural regions of western Guangxi. Thus the strategic master plan for the entire Two Guangs campaign made occupying Wuzhou a critical stage objective—essential preparation for the ambitious next phase of controlling all of Guangxi Province.
The Pearl River Advance Squadron's Western Detachment, as the first vanguard element to actually reach Wuzhou, bore the vital task of completely controlling the West and Gui River waterways and cutting the city's supply lines to the interior. Schneider understood acutely that his responsibility was immense. He dared not relax his vigilance for a moment; already keyed up with nervous energy, thinking of the weight of this responsibility made him even less able to contemplate sleep. So he simply settled into a rattan chair on deck, leaning on his command saber, eyes closed but mind racing, waiting for the first light of dawn.
But even with eyes closed, Schneider couldn't help bitterly recalling the recent Battle of Antelope Gorge. The engagement had technically been recorded as a great victory for the Western Detachment in official reports, but this particular "great victory" left Schneider personally embarrassed and resentful—two valuable gunboats lost unnecessarily, dozens of good sailors dead or wounded. For an experienced old hand like Schneider, losses like that were completely unacceptable and spoke to failures in his command judgment. Such a Pyrrhic victory would earn him only quiet ridicule from fleet colleagues, not honor or advancement. Every time his thoughts turned to Antelope Gorge, anger flared in his chest; he was actively planning to take out that accumulated frustration on the Wuzhou Naval Battalion.
Just wait until morning—tomorrow I'll slaughter you bastards to the last man and ship.
At precisely 0600 hours, battle stations sounded throughout the anchored squadron—not because the enemy navy was mounting any attack, but because Schneider had planned all along to wake Wuzhou with sustained cannon fire as a form of psychological warfare. His tactical calculation was straightforward: systematically shell Wuzhou's southern wall and riverside positions, thereby provoking and luring the Naval Battalion out to fight in defense of the city, then form the squadron into proper battle formation and annihilate the obsolete Ming warships in one decisive blow.
But as he confidently sailed the squadron farther up the West River toward optimal firing positions, Schneider found himself utterly dumbfounded. Not only were there no Naval Battalion warships visible anywhere—there wasn't even a single civilian sampan on the water. The entire river surface stretched completely empty in both directions; no vessels whatsoever were moored at the extensive docks lining either bank.
Probably the Naval Battalion simply won't venture out this early in the morning. Schneider consoled himself, forcing confidence into the thought.
Then an hour passed with no sign of activity. Two hours. Three hours dragged by. As ten o'clock in the morning approached, the Wuzhou Naval Battalion still hadn't made any appearance whatsoever. The multiple reconnaissance boats he'd sent ranging up and down the river were now returning with identical frustrating reports: no boats of any kind within nearly ten kilometers along the West River in either direction.
Something abnormal is definitely afoot here. Schneider's tactical instincts immediately suggested fire-ships. It seemed highly probable the enemy planned to repeat their old desperate trick from previous engagements. The West River at this point was admirably broad; the famous Battle of Ersha Point five years ago had conclusively proven that fire-ships were essentially useless on wide waters against the technically superior, maneuverable Fubo Navy. But the Gui River west of Wuzhou presented an entirely different tactical situation—only about five hundred meters wide at most points, far too narrow for comfort. The squadron couldn't spread out into proper defensive formation there easily; concentrated together, they'd become sitting ducks for masses of fire-ships. Since the West River surface was so conspicuously clear, the Naval Battalion must be lying in ambush somewhere up the narrower Gui River, perhaps with accumulated masses of prepared fire-ships waiting to be unleashed.
Yet the reconnaissance boats he'd promptly dispatched to scout the Gui River soon returned to report with equal bewilderment: no enemy vessels visible there either. The river appeared completely abandoned.
"What the hell—do they know they can't possibly win, so they're just lying down passively to take a beating?" Schneider muttered in genuine puzzlement, then decided to force a response. "Fire several ranging shells at Wuzhou's defenses first! Let's see if we can wake somebody up in there!"
Heavy shells screamed across the river in high arcs—the first salvo landing directly on the civilian docks outside the south gate, demolishing several warehouses and merchant buildings in spectacular explosions; subsequent salvos knocked down an entire stretch of stone battlement crenellations in clouds of dust; following volleys punched a dozen ragged holes through the gate tower's wooden superstructure and started a small but growing fire in the exposed timbers. But Wuzhou's walls remained stubbornly, eerily silent—no return cannon fire whatsoever, no visible troops marching out in formation to prepare for battle or sortie.
The Ming commanders had apparently finally learned some tactical wisdom. This had become the broad consensus across the entire Huanan Army during the ongoing Two Guangs campaign: Ming forces were no longer foolishly firing at targets well out of effective range, no longer randomly exposing their troops and gun positions to devastatingly accurate Fubo Army counter-battery artillery fire—this hard-learned battlefield wisdom had become common practice among surviving Ming commanders.
Schneider's original operational plan had been to locate and systematically destroy the Naval Battalion before cautiously entering the potentially treacherous Gui River, but as valuable time continued slipping away, he grew increasingly restless and frustrated. Speed remained essential in warfare; sitting idle on the West River waiting for rabbits to conveniently run into the tree only squandered precious operational opportunities. The First Brigade's troop-laden infantry transport boats had been waiting at the staging area a long time already. If he didn't commence full-scale battle operations soon, he'd not only fail to achieve his assigned mission objectives—the professional shame and career damage would be his alone to bear.
The Gui River presented far from ideal tactical terrain: dangerously narrow waters highly unfavorable for properly deploying the squadron's full strength, and the entire navigable channel completely covered by concentrated cannon fire from Wuzhou's formidable western wall fortifications.
Worst of all, according to detailed hydrological survey data recently provided by the Intelligence Department, the Gui River proved much shallower overall than the reliably deep West River. The main navigational problem was numerous shifting shoals and sandbars that moved unpredictably with seasonal floods, making consistently accurate navigation extremely difficult even with current charts. The reconnaissance boats had just returned with fresh reports of clear signs that enemy engineers had deliberately blocked key sections of the Gui River with sunken boats, chained logs, and piled stones. Though the obstructions reportedly weren't substantial enough to completely ground the shallow-draft gunboats, the deep-hulled Zhujiang flagship definitely couldn't risk entering safely.
But without penetrating into the Gui River and establishing control, he simply couldn't complete his assigned mission of blockading Wuzhou from the water approaches.
"Send Fifth Squadron into the Gui River immediately. Have one paddlewheel tugboat follow close behind as escort and emergency recovery vessel."
With insufficient time to fully and properly map the Gui River's complex and shifting hydrology, he'd simply have to push through and accept the risks. If any vessel unfortunately ran hard aground on a hidden shoal, the powerful paddlewheel tugboat could quickly maneuver in and tow it free before enemy forces could capitalize on the vulnerability.
Fifth Squadron's six large armed landing craft acknowledged the order and headed purposefully into the Gui River mouth, crews at battle stations ready to engage any threats. The ships quickly spotted the signal flags flying from the Zhujiang's mainmast and, executing the predetermined Plan B formation, advanced cautiously in two parallel columns with the tugboat bringing up the rear, sailing as grandly as conditions permitted into the uncertain waters of the Gui River.
"All vessels maintain maximum lookout! Watch for obstructions!" the signal flags ordered.
The two lead gunboats formed a protective angled formation, with the capable Boat 38 taking point at the very front. Boat 38's captain, newly promoted Ensign Yan Youcai, had only recently received his commission; given the honor of leading the advance, he was maintaining the highest possible state of alert. Not that Ensign Yan was being overly cautious by temperament—quite the contrary, he was actively eager to add more notable achievements to his service record, so he had to concentrate his full attention on the navigation to obtain excellent results and avoid any embarrassing mistakes.
But fate played a cruel joke on the ambitious Yan Youcai. Boat 38 had barely penetrated a hundred meters into the Gui River mouth when—thunk—it lurched violently and stopped completely dead in the water, hull grinding against hidden rock.
From the Zhujiang's elevated deck position, Schneider clearly saw Boat 38's emergency distress flag suddenly run up the mast in the middle distance and muttered a savage curse under his breath. "Damn it all—what the hell were those reconnaissance boats even doing out there?! How did they miss that?!"
Before he'd even finished speaking his frustration, the other lead gunboat following close behind also ran hard aground with an audible scraping sound that carried across the water. Two valuable gunboats now sat completely motionless and helpless at the Gui River mouth, their boilers still belching black smoke uselessly into the morning air, like beached whales.
Tomorrow's update—Volume Seven, Guangzhou Governance, Section 299
(End of Chapter)