The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 649: What is the price? Is it worth it? (Subscription, votes)

"All ships, right rudder 68!" Chen Yongsheng shouted into the brass megaphone. The paddle wheel of the Shunchang made a harsh friction sound, and the hull drew a muddy arc on the waves. The -year-old lookout Ah Shui held the mast tightly, his eyes fixed on the Dutch flagship, and saw that the gun ports of the Qisheng were lighting up one after another - that meant that the -pound heavy gun had been loaded and was about to be fired.

"The distance is two thousand two hundred meters!" Ah Shui shouted in his Minnan accent.

Chen Yongsheng's eyes were flushed, and his Mandarin with a Minnan accent made everyone's eardrums buzz: "Grandpa and grandma are watching from the sky! Load the bitter acid bullets! Shoot the red-haired devils' gun bays!"

Eight 70mm Armstrong breech-loading guns roared at the same time. The pointed 70mm shells flew towards the solid oak planks of the "Seven Provinces" like spears thrown by the god of death. The oak planks that were strong enough to withstand 68-pound solid bullets were as fragile as paper in front of two picric acid pointed bullets. If there were no delayed fuses and the picric acid was too sensitive, the shells would explode immediately when they hit the planks of the "Seven Provinces", allowing the two shells to drill into the gun compartment and then explode. The "Seven Provinces" would probably have a fatal "implosion"! But now, two big holes are inevitable.

The shock waves caused by the explosion of the two picric acid shells interfered with the aiming and shooting in the gun bay of the "Seven Provinces", and for a moment all eight 8-pound cannons were silenced!

Vice Admiral Deville wanted to go to the engine room to check the situation. When he staggered down the bridge, he saw the chief engineer with a stained face climbing up from the bottom cabin: "General! The engine room is depressurized! The picric acid has burned through the steam pipe."

"Go fix it!"

"Boom boom boom"

The admiral's roar was drowned out by a new round of bombardment. The four Jianghai-class ships had already taken up the T-shaped position, and were only about 2000 meters away from the "Seven Provinces". The 24-pound rifled guns began to join the chorus. The Dutch flagship, whose steam pipes were damaged, became a sitting duck. With each salvo, one or two picric acid shells penetrated the hull. A Shui, the lookout standing high above, saw with his own eyes that a shell hit the bridge of the "Seven Provinces", and the Dutch officers on the bridge were instantly engulfed in green fire.

"The distance is 1,800 meters!" Ah Shui, who could judge the distance by sight, was so excited that his voice trembled. At this distance, he could even see the sailors running around in panic on the deck of the Seven Provinces Alliance - a blond boy was chopping off the burning cable with a fire axe, crying as he chopped, his face full of despair.

"Armstrong gun." Chen Yongsheng suddenly changed the order, "Aim at the deck crew!"

The gunners were stunned for a moment. According to the regulations, the expensive picric acid shells should be used to destroy enemy ships first. But they soon understood the general's intention - 70mm guns were not powerful enough to hit the hull, so it would be better to kill more Dutch! The two Armstrong guns on the "Shunchang" immediately changed their firing angles, and the open deck of the Dutch flagship suddenly became a living hell. The blond boy was pierced by several fragments, and the fire axe in his hand fell to the ground with a clang as blood was splashed.

Vice Admiral Deville was also injured. He struggled to climb back to the bridge, but the smell of burning on the bridge made him feel sick. Through the toxic smoke, he saw four Chinese armed merchant ships lined up in a column, facing the shells fired by the seven Dutch warships on the other side, and desperately smashed the picric acid shells on the head of their flagship "Seven Provinces".

"I'm sure you'll hit it!"

The lieutenant general dug his nails into the oak floor and prayed silently to God in his heart.

The side of the Prince William was finally loaded, and the 68-pound shells screamed towards the Shunchang.

"boom!"

A 68-pound picric acid bomb hit the Shunchang's foremast. Ah Shui was thrown onto the deck by the wind wave, and hot pieces of canvas rained down. He struggled to get up and saw that the first mate Hong Amao's single eye had turned into a bloody hole - half a piece of wood was stuck in that blind eye.

"A Shui." Hong Amao's hands tightly grasped the boy's collar, "Tell the general." The Minnan dialect suddenly turned into blood foam overflowing from the corners of his mouth. This man who was born as a pirate in Borneo maintained a charging posture until his death.

Chen Yongsheng struggled to get up from the rear deck, the burning sails scorching half of his face. "Keep loading!" He pulled the jammed breech block open with his bare hands, "After this round we'll abandon the ship and trade one for another."

The earth-shattering explosion drowned out the second half of the sentence. The ammunition depot of the Seven Provinces Alliance was finally ignited, and three hundred picric acid shells tore the two thousand ton wooden shell monster into pieces. Vice Admiral Deville's last memory was that he flew into the sky in the yellow-green flames.

"Raise the flagship flag!" Li Guofu's Hakka accent resounded throughout the Da San Yuan. He saw with his own eyes the "Qi Sheng" being blown to pieces, and the "Shun Chang" being engulfed in flames, with the crew jumping into the sea one after another - the "Shun Chang" also stored a lot of picric acid shells, and with such a big fire, it would explode sooner or later!
This Cantonese Hakka was shirtless, with blood still oozing from the wound on his chest caused by shrapnel. "Turn the ship to the left, and carve a bloody path for me!"

The three "Jianghai" class ships that were still able to fight on the sea had all been damaged to some extent. Now, led by the "Da Sanyuan", they launched a desperate charge against the fire of the Netherlands. When the 24-pound shell hit the stern, Li Guofu was personally commanding two Armstrong guns to bombard the "Netherland". The huge air wave threw him against the bulkhead, and his broken ribs pierced his lungs.

"Ah Chang" he groped and grabbed the trouser leg of the first mate Chen Yongchang. The left arm of this cousin of Chen Yongsheng had been cut off by the wind wave, and he was biting the tourniquet with his teeth and tying it to the stump. "Take the brothers home" Li Guofu's pupils began to blur, and the palm plantation in Borneo appeared in front of him - that was where he grew up. Five years ago, he joined Luo Dagang's Taiping Army in Borneo and vowed to exchange his life for others and drive the Dutch out of Southeast Asia. Today, he has fulfilled his oath.

Chen Yongchang spat out the blood foam in his mouth and raised the blood flag with his only remaining right hand. Behind him, the burnt cook Lao Zhou rushed onto the deck with a kitchen knife in his hand - the Dutch 68-pound shells were piercing the hull, but every living Taiping soldier followed the blood flag and charged.

Rear Admiral Van Helmer stood on the bridge of the Netherlands, the telescope in his hand trembling slightly. Three orange-red flares exploded in the northwest sky, which was the distress signal of the Van Hoven fleet encountering a strong enemy. His eyes moved back and forth between the burning wreckage of the Seven Provinces Union and the flares in the distance, and beads of sweat oozed from his forehead.

"General, we..." the adjutant's voice was hesitant.

Major General Helmer did not answer immediately, his thoughts drifted back to the Waterloo battlefield forty years ago. At that time, he was still a young second lieutenant, serving in the British Army as a volunteer, and witnessed the destruction of Napoleon's Guards. Those veterans who had experienced hundreds of battles fell in large numbers under the British artillery fire, and their blood dyed the wheat fields in Belgium red. That scene was deeply imprinted in his mind, making him understand the cruelty of war - human lives are not numbers, but living lives.

"The Dutch have only 3.2 million people," he muttered to himself, "and there are only 1.6 million men, and there are nearly 2,000 of them in Lieutenant General Hoven's formation."

The adjutant was stunned for a moment, then he understood what the general meant. Losing 2,000 people means losing 1.25% of the country's male population. This number is insignificant in front of China, which has a population of 450 million. But for the Netherlands, it is an unbearable price.

"Order," Major General Heimer finally made up his mind, "the entire fleet turns around to rescue the sailing fleet!"

"But General," the artillery chief couldn't help but interrupt, "the three Chinese armed merchant ships have been severely damaged."

"Let them go." Major General Heimer waved his hand tiredly, "I can't exchange the lives of two thousand Dutch for the lives of two thousand Chinese."

As the Netherlands began to turn, Rear Admiral Hemer took a last look at the bloody flag hoisted by the Grand Trident. The scarlet flag fluttered in the sun, as if mocking his retreat. A terrible thought suddenly popped up in his mind: the Netherlands can no longer afford to maintain the East Indies colony! Because the price of maintaining this rich colony will be the lives of countless Dutch people!

Sultan Agung XVII of Banten stood on the top of the cliff, pointing his kris sword towards the Dutch fortress for the first time. Behind him, hundreds of native warriors held their breath and watched the earth-shaking changes in the Java Sea.

"Your Majesty," the young Prince Nara said in a trembling voice, "Is that... the Dutch ship burning?"

Agon XVII did not answer, his eyes fixed on the huge fireball on the sea. The Seven Provinces Alliance was slowly sinking, the burning hull seemed to boil the surrounding seawater, and the rising steam and black smoke intertwined into a doomsday picture.

"The Celestial Empire." An old warrior suddenly knelt on the ground and shouted in a trembling voice, "It's the Celestial Empire's fleet!"

More native warriors followed suit and knelt down. They saw a scene that they would never forget: three burning Chinese armed merchant ships were chasing the Dutch steam fleet, and the scarlet battle flag was particularly eye-catching in the morning light.

"Freedom!" Agon XVII suddenly raised his Kris sword and shouted with all his strength.

"Freedom!" Hundreds of voices responded at the same time, and the sound waves shook the birds in the rainforest and scattered them.

On the other side of the cliff, several Dutch colonial officials looked pale. They had never seen the natives so enthusiastic, and they had never expected that the Dutch fleet, known as the "coachman of the sea", would be so vulnerable in front of the Chinese.

"Quick, hurry back to the fortress!" The leading officer trembled and ordered, "We must."

Before he could finish his words, a feather arrow pierced his throat. Agon XVII put down his longbow and looked at him with a sharp gaze: "Today, we will take back the land that belongs to us!"

(End of this chapter)