The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 887 1882, the eve of the war!

In February of the 1882nd year of the Tianli calendar (18), the calm sea surface of San Francisco Bay was suddenly torn open by the steel bow. The flagship of the Pacific Fleet of the Western US Militia Navy, the Dinghai, plowed through the Golden Gate Strait at a speed of knots like a giant shark searching for prey at sea.

In the bridge command tower, Colonel Luo Xinhua's right hand was holding the cold copper shell of the observation instrument. He was less than 1 years old, but there were already fine lines at the corners of his eyes, which were the marks carved on his face by the Pacific Ocean breeze and the pressure of war preparation. He squinted his left eye, and his right eye was pressed against the eyepiece. The crosshairs were firmly locked on the No. 305 armored turret on the Tiger's Mouth Fortress on the south side of the strait - that was a project he personally participated in designing, equipped with the latest mm rapid-fire guns of the Jiangnan Factory. If the "Constitution-class" of the Eastern Federation of the United States dared to come up, it would be finished with just a few shots!
"Head due west, maintain a cruising speed of 16 knots." Lieutenant Colonel Shen Moqing, the deputy captain, spoke with a Ningbo accent while extending the track line on the chart to the open sea with a pencil. This former top student of the Taiping Naval Academy in Shanghai was Luo Xinhua's classmate. His shoulder badges were now decorated with the black, red and yellow star emblem of the West Coast. "Captain, according to the Militia Act of 1881, our Dinghai should be the property of the Federal Navy, right?"

Luo Xinhua nodded.

Shen Moqing sneered and turned his gaze to the 200mm twin turret outside the porthole: "Damn it, these foreign devils are quite thick-skinned. I wonder which one is more powerful, their 'Constitution Class' or our 'Dingyuan Class'!"

Luo Xinhua did not respond immediately. His eyes swept across the deck: the sailors were wiping the hydraulic elevation mechanisms of the six 6mm Jiangnan rapid-fire guns with tung oil. The barrels were well maintained and glowed blue in the sun. Most of these guys were under 200 years old, and some were even second-generation immigrants born in the West. They wiped the guns with a fierceness, as if they wanted to rub all their hatred for the federation into their steel armor - it seems that California's "anti-American education" in recent years is still quite useful.

"The Dingyuan class is a pretty good cruiser! Although it is an upgraded version of the Zhenyuan class, its performance is much better than the Zhenyuan class!" When talking about the performance of the Dingyuan class, Luo Xinhua knew everything about it: "8000 tons standard displacement, 10000 horsepower, and the main armor belt is equivalent to 228 mm wrought iron. The federal Constitution class main guns can penetrate us if they get closer, but they can't catch up - their maximum speed is only 18 knots, and we can reach 20 knots under high-pressure ventilation! And we have the more powerful Hailong II. That's the real killer! 15200 tons standard displacement, 2*4 240 mm main guns, 12 coal-fired water tube boilers, 3 vertical triple expansion machines, a single machine output of 5 horsepower, and can run at 000 knots without high-pressure ventilation. And it is strictly confidential to the outside world, the federal government in the eastern United States should not know about their existence!"

Shen Moqing suddenly lowered his voice: "I heard that the federal government of the eastern United States is expanding the military port in Panama Bay again?"

Luo Xinhua poked his finger heavily on the sea chart. On the narrow isthmus between the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific Ocean, two bright red marks were like unhealed wounds: "The Nicaragua Canal will be completed by the end of the year, and then the federal fleet will be stationed in the military port of Panama, ready to attack the federal army at any time." He suddenly sneered, "The masters in Washington are pretending to negotiate now, but they are just delaying time to transfer troops."

Shen Moqing smiled and said: "It's good to delay for a few more months. We can get another 'Hailong II' and a few 'Jinshan Class' light cruisers. Maybe there will be other surprises."

Before he finished speaking, the megaphone suddenly emitted a standard call signal of three short and one long beeps. Communications officer Lieutenant Zhou Mosheng immediately reported according to the standard procedure stipulated in the Provisional Regulations on Naval Radio Communications: "The bridge messenger station calls the command tower - priority level 2 communication!" His voice trembled slightly due to excitement, but he still maintained the standard reporting rhythm: "The Tesla Mark III radio station has completed its first effective reception. The message is as follows: The main station of the San Francisco Command calls the Dinghai, requesting the current sea weather data. The message number is Tianli 32027. Over!"

Luo Xinhua was also excited. He straightened his back and quickly pressed the copper switch of the megaphone with his right hand. He responded in person in standard naval communication terms: "Dinghai replies to San Francisco Command - Golden Gate Strait southwest wind level 1.2, wave height meters, visibility good." He paused for half a second and added: "Tesla system reception is clear, signal strength level ."

Shen Moqing walked quickly to the megaphone and added a report as required by the Interim Regulations on Naval Radio Communications: "The current ship position is 37°49′ north latitude, 122°25′ west longitude. The main engine is operating normally, and all gun positions are ready for combat." His Ningbo accent sounded particularly tense in his deliberately lowered voice.

In the radio room below the command tower, Lieutenant Zhou Mosheng, a communications officer who had graduated from the Tianjing Telegraph School a few months ago, immediately recorded in the communications log: "The first actual combat radio communication test was completed at 2:02 pm on the seventh day of the second month of the 32nd year of the Tianli calendar." His pen tip drew a heavy horizontal line under "Signal Strength Level 4" - this is the key marking method required by the Taiping Navy's "New Equipment Acceptance Specifications."

In the command post of the San Francisco Naval Command, Hong Tiangui was tapping the oak radio cabinet invented by Tesla with a whip. This "young king" in his thirties looked much harder than his father. Although he was young, his temples were already gray, but the big eyes inherited from Hong Tiangui were still frighteningly bright. When the buzzer suddenly exploded, the curve of his mouth made Lieutenant General Luo Zhongtian beside him laugh.

"Dinghai calls back: Southwest wind in Kinmen Strait is level 1.2, wave height is meters, visibility is good." The voice of the translator echoed under the granite dome, "Tesla system reception is clear, signal strength is level !"

The 2000-year-old Luo Zhongtian slammed the table, knocking over the teacup. The Taiping Navy veteran's beard trembled with excitement: "The sound transmission over a thousand miles has been accomplished! With this magical object, our fleet of twelve states can be controlled at will!" Hong Tiangui did not cheer immediately. He walked to the French window and looked down at the steel behemoths arrayed in the bay. The chimneys of the eight old-fashioned "Zhenyuan-class" ironclad ships spewed black smoke, like a group of black dragons ready to go. In the morning light, the newly launched "Jinshan" protected cruiser was on sea trials, and the -ton hull nimbly cut through the wave crests.

"Tell Mr. Tesla," he turned suddenly, "Give him another three months, and I want every capital ship to be equipped with this 'Wind-hearing Ear'!"

Luo Zhongtian noticed that the young commander's hand holding the knife was trembling slightly - not because of fear, but because of the fighting spirit that was suppressed to the extreme.

Mexican Republic, Mexico City, Presidential Palace.

The stained glass of the conference hall filtered the sunlight into blood red, shining on Nicholas Zhao Si's gray face. He was 51 years old and wrapped in a thick tuxedo. His cough sounded like a worn-out bellows. His health had always been not very good, otherwise he would not have been nicknamed "Mr. One Minute" by a lady. But a serious illness ten months ago made his health take a sharp turn for the worse, but he still dragged his sick body to Mexico.

But when he raised his eyes, Federal Secretary of State Frelinghuysen was still stabbed by the gaze - these eyes had seen too many deaths, from the bloody sea of ​​the Civil War to the "interstate war" between New Mexico and Texas. However, the health of this famous Confederate general in the Civil War was already quite worrying, and it was obviously impossible for him to go to the battlefield again.

Without him, the famous "Black, Red and Yellow Army" would not be able to exert its full strength, right?

"The President of the United States is willing to postpone signing the New Chinese Exclusion Act." Frelinghuysen pushed the gold-rimmed document over, his sleeves revealing the pale wrists of a New York banker, "as long as you accept the militia reorganization plan."

Across the long table, Mexican Secretary of State Reyes wiped his sweat. The fat mixed-race man kept fiddling with his jade cufflinks, obviously regretting taking on the hot potato of a mediator - one America is enough for Mexico to handle, and there might be two Americas in the future! Mexico's national destiny is worrying.
Zhao Si suddenly laughed. He pressed a plum blossom-like mark on the document with his blood-stained handkerchief: "Reorganize? Just like you reorganized the other black regiments of the Confederate Army?"

"All the black officers and soldiers of the Confederate Army have been properly resettled." Frelinghuysen took a sip of coffee and suddenly frowned as if he was scalded - he forgot that this was the hot chocolate that Mexicans were addicted to.

Reyes took the opportunity to interject: "Maybe both sides can make concessions? For example, postpone the deadline for the reorganization of the militia..."

"Postpone?" Zhao Si's cough suddenly intensified, his hunched back like a fully stretched bow, "Wait for the Nicaragua Canal to be opened to navigation? Wait for the fleet in the Panama naval port to be in place?" He stood up suddenly, murderous intent flashing in his triangular eyes, "The Twelve States will not hand over their militia. The Twelve States defend the supremacy of state rights!"

Frelinghuysen left the meeting with a sullen face, but a smile appeared on his face as soon as he left the conference room, because he received news from the embassy this morning: a fleet including the Constitution, with 4 battleships, 11 cruisers, 8 destroyers, 6 troop transports and other 12 auxiliary ships, had quietly sailed into the Chilean port of Valpaso, which is also the home port of the British Royal Navy's Pacific Squadron for many years. Along with this fleet, there were also 3000 US Marines.

The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom and the rebels in the western United States would never have dreamed that the US Pacific Fleet had already arrived in the Pacific Ocean without waiting for the Nicaragua Canal to be completed and the Panama military port to be completed, and their target was not the heavily guarded San Francisco Bay.
When two black guards helped Zhao Si leave, Reyes chased after him and whispered, "Sir, would you like to recuperate in Mexico? Our country has a holiday estate in Yucatan..."

“No need.” Zhao Si looked towards the north, where he saw the Denver Fortress that he had run for twenty years, many comrades who had fought with him in the eight-year Civil War, and the glory of his life... Being Zhao Si!
(End of this chapter)