The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 678 This is the first shot fired by Chinese in California!
On the night of August 1859, 8, warm winds from the Sacramento River blew into the Old Oak Tavern next to the Stockton Wharf.

The wooden door creaked open, and Xianfeng and Lei Laohu, led by a Mexican in a big hat, crossed the threshold and entered the tavern. The old Mexican man who was cooking beans behind the counter raised his eyelids and glanced at the Mexican who was taking off his big-brimmed hat. He knocked the iron spoon on the pottery pot three times with crisp sounds, and a scarred man immediately flashed out of the secret door in the back kitchen, with silver ornaments on his waist jingling.

The pungent smell of pickled peppers wafted through the dark room of the tavern. The scarred face of Joaquin Murrieta, a well-known Mexican gang leader in California, looked particularly ferocious under the oil lamp. He rested his feet on the oak table, the soles of his cowhide boots were stained with dried blood, his left hand held half a tortilla, his right hand was on the handle of a Colt revolver, and his triangular eyes stared at the two men in front of him: "Mr. Lei, Mr. Zhao, what are you going to gamble with my brother's life?"

Lei Lao Hu unfolded a map on the table, and then tapped the Sacramento River on the map with his knuckles: "I bet this river can transport Mexican gold in the future, and I bet the Murrieta family can become a wealthy family like the Stanford family and the Huntington family, who can call the shots in California and eat at the table!"

Joaquin Murrieta snorted coldly: "If I sell you to Weller and Bigler now, they will give me those things, right? Mr. Lei, Mr. Zhao, you probably don't know yet? Weller has already offered a reward of 15,000 US dollars for the two of you, and the total is 30,000 US dollars for the two of you!"

"But no one can get the $30,000 alive!" Xianfeng laughed. "Joaquin, I understand those American masters better than you! In their eyes, you Mexicans are not human. Because you lost the Mexican-American War! If you lose, you are not human! You can bully them however you want. Their sacred laws cannot protect you, let alone their promises."

Joaquin Murrieta's single eye suddenly became bloodshot. He recalled the stormy night five years ago when his wife Maria was beaten by six drunken white miners on the street, and a white policeman was watching not far away. From then on, he knew that Mexicans in California were not real Americans, although in theory they had the same citizenship rights as white Americans!
So from then on, he took up arms and became a dreaded gold thief. Gradually, he became a chivalrous thief who robbed the rich and helped the poor in the eyes of Mexicans who were bullied by white Americans in the Stockton area, and he had two or three hundred followers under him.

These two or three hundred followers and his influence in Stockton, a key location that controls the water and land transportation lines between San Francisco and Sacramento, made him an object that the California True Protestant faction wanted to win over.

As long as they could win him over, the California True Protestant faction would be able to control the key point of Stockton, thus blocking the California white militia's path to the San Francisco Bay Area. With the Bay Area as a base, the True Protestant faction would have the capital to fight a protracted war with the white people in California.

In order to win over such a key figure and the Mexicans behind him, the True Yorkists are certainly willing to spend a huge amount of money!
Xianfeng took out an oilcloth bag from his bosom. He untied the three layers of hemp rope, revealing a yellowed contract: "30% of the gold mine shares, witnessed by God." He pointed his finger at the Crocker Mine on the north bank of the map, "The direction of the vein was discovered by the Chinese three years ago, and it is 30 feet deeper than the white people's survey."

Murrieta picked up the contract, glanced at it, and suddenly grinned: "You Chinese are more honest than the Anglos - at least you are willing to share the spoils." His face suddenly darkened: "But it's not enough!"

Xianfeng took out another piece of paper and spread it in front of Murrieta: "This is the list of the six beasts who defiled your wife. After the deed is done, they will be hanged on the church bell tower."

"I'll slit their throats myself." Murrieta pulled out a knife and thrust it into the crack of the table. "And eighty guns from the Stockton Police Department."

"It's a deal!" Xianfeng grinned and took out the oath he had prepared long ago.
In the early morning of August 8, when the sky was just beginning to brighten, Lin Shu's knife had already chopped into the crack of the door of the Stockton Police Station. The old man had great strength in his hands, and he cut off the door bolt with one stroke, making a sharp clicking sound.

"May God bless you, Father God!" Lei Lao Hu shouted, then kicked open the door of the police station, causing the flames in the kerosene lamp inside to run wild.

Sheriff Thompson rolled off the camp bed, his fat belly stuck on the edge of the bed. Just as his fingers touched the revolver under the pillow, the dagger thrown by Murrieta stabbed into his palm - the sharp dagger pierced into the back of his hand and came out from the palm, which hurt Sheriff Thompson so much that he let out a heart-wrenching scream.

"Damn, you're still sleeping!" Lin Shu kicked over the gun cabinet, where eighty Mississippi 1841 rifled rifles were neatly arranged. Several Mexican bandits pulled down the curtains in the duty room to wrap the guns, and their movements were as swift as tying salted fish at the dock.

Suddenly, a horse neighed from the back window. Lei Laohu opened the blinds and saw several night patrol policemen holding kerosene lamps running over the wooden bridge over the Sacramento River. It seemed that they had discovered that their police station had been robbed.

"Ignite! Ignite quickly." Lei Lao Hu shouted at the top of his voice.

Under the pier on the south bank of the bridge, Lei Laohu had his men bury twenty kilograms of black gunpowder!

Jin A Bing, a miner who was in the first rebellion, squatted under the bridge, holding a torch, but his hands were shaking like sieves, and he failed to light the fuse three times. Sushun grabbed the torch and kicked him: "Coward! You can't even blow up a bridge properly, and you come to America?"

The former Su Zhongtang was now really experienced. He lit the fuse in one go, threw away the torch, and ran with Jin Abing, completely ignoring the gunshots and English curses coming from behind his ears. The two of them ran less than fifty steps when a loud rumbling sound came from behind them.

When the bridge over the Sacramento River was blown up, California militia Colonel Sherman's cavalry was stabbing straight at Stockton like a sharp knife. He had just received the order to enter Stockton from the state militia commander-in-chief Bigler, the former governor, yesterday morning. He then spent half a day gathering hundreds of elite cavalrymen, and then marched west along the south bank of the Sacramento River, not even resting at night, but he was still a step too late. "Colonel Stockton's big wooden bridge was blown up!"

Sherman's adjutant, a blond, blue-eyed young man from the Crocker family, pointed at the black smoke rising in the distance and exclaimed loudly.

"I'm not blind," Sherman gritted his teeth, turned around and yelled to his men, "Boys, see? The True York rebels are very professional. They blew up the wooden bridge over Stockton at the first opportunity. In this way, they don't have to worry about the California militia advancing from the main road on the north bank of the Sacramento River for the time being. But they certainly didn't expect us to come so soon, and to march from the small road on the south bank of the Sacramento River." He paused, "So, we have to catch them off guard now!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Give the order, sir!"

"Kill all these yellow monkeys!"

The cavalry in the California militia were all elite. Except for some of them who came from wealthy white families in California, the rest were cowboys. California was the lawless West! They often fought with Indian tribes and exchanged fire with Mexicans (Mexicans in the United States) from time to time. They were well-trained.

The lack of cavalry is a shortcoming of the Chinese True Contract Faction!
"The first squadron will lead the charge, target the dock warehouse!" Sherman's voice was particularly clear in the morning breeze, "After setting fire, immediately turn to the City Hall!"

Anderson, the captain of the first squadron, was a veteran of the Mexican-American War. He touched the small portrait of his wife in his chest pocket and drew his saber: "Follow me!" Hundreds of cavalrymen spread out in a fan shape, their horses' hooves trampling across the wet beach, splashing mud.

"The second squadron will attack from the left wing and head straight for Chinatown. Once inside, they will set fire and create chaos!"

"Yes, sir!"

Lieutenant McClellan, captain of the second squadron, agreed and led his men to the south of Stockton at lightning speed.

"Third and fourth squadrons, follow me!" Sherman drew his saber, "We will charge into Stockton from the front and kill all the yellow monkeys there!"

"kill"

Amid shouts, Sherman led 200 cavalrymen and rushed towards the east of Stockton.

Stockton is a town with no outer walls, no trenches, and only a few thousand residents. Most of the residents are Mexicans, and the rest are half Chinese and half white.

So Sherman estimated that even if the Chinese in the city launched a riot, it would be difficult for them to take over the town immediately. As long as he acted quickly enough, he could recapture this key stronghold.

With Stockton as a support, the California militia cavalry can advance into the Bay Area at any time. Even if they cannot capture San Francisco, they can still kill and burn people everywhere in the Bay Area to create panic. All towns in the Bay Area have no walls or trenches, and the True New Yorkers only had time to deploy defenses on the San Francisco Peninsula. Aren't other towns at the mercy of the California cavalry?
At the same time, on the second floor of Stockton's City Hall, Xianfeng was folding his arms, looking at three streams of dust rising from the east. Suddenly, he heard hurried and heavy footsteps behind him. He knew without looking that it must be the big guy Linshu who was coming.

"Bishop Lai just sent someone to report that he is coming with 300 cavalrymen. Let us hold out until the afternoon!" Lin Shu's voice was a little anxious, and it seemed that he was not sure about it - the California militia came too quickly, and there was no time to set up defense!

"I see." Xianfeng smiled slightly, "Then let's prepare for a street fight to see if the Chinese and Mexicans in Stockton are worthy of American freedom and democracy?"

(End of this chapter)