Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 582 Contact (Part Two)

January 1643, 10, Mexico City, Viceroyalty.

The chill of late autumn seemed to have crept into the capital of New Spain ahead of time. Although the afternoon sun struggled to penetrate the thick clouds and shine on the magnificent Baroque facade of the Governor's Palace, it could not dispel the solemnity and coldness that permeated the air.

Inside the council chamber, the heavy oak table, the deep red velvet curtains, and the solemn portrait of King Philip IV of Spain hanging on the wall all seemed to exert a silent pressure.

Count Diego López Pacheco, the Governor-General of New Spain, was engrossed in his luxurious high-backed leather chair inlaid with ivory and tortoiseshell, as if trying to hide himself in its soft shadow.

His face appeared sharply defined in the flickering candlelight, yet it also carried a numbness as if all vitality had been drained from it.

Those once sharp eyes, filled with the governor's authority, now seemed somewhat empty, fixedly staring at the person sitting opposite him—Baron Antonio de la Cruz, the king's special envoy from the Madrid court.

He wore a flawlessly tailored black velvet tuxedo with intricate white lace trim on the collar and cuffs, and a gleaming gold Order of St. James pinned to his chest, symbolizing his distinguished status on the peninsula.

However, his well-maintained face was now clouded with gloom, his tightly pursed lips and slightly furrowed brows revealing his extreme dissatisfaction and... a hint of undisguised surprise.

Alonso Pablo Garza brought new terms of truce from Acapulco: cession of territory, reparations, full trade, and free passage. These were essentially peace terms offered by the victor to the utterly defeated, each word lashing at the dignity of the Spanish Empire like a whip.

In Baron Cruz's view, these conditions were less a basis for peace talks than a declaration of victory, a list demanding unconditional submission from the Kingdom of Spain.

Baron Cruz's face was very unpleasant. He held an exquisite silver goblet in his hand, filled with dark sherry from Jerez, but he did not taste it. Instead, he unconsciously rubbed the cold glass with his fingertips.

He felt extreme dissatisfaction and a near-humiliating disappointment with the performance of Governor Pacheco and the entire New Spanish colonial authorities.

“Your Excellency…” Baron Cruz’s voice broke the suffocating silence, carrying the reserved and aloof critical tone characteristic of the Madrid court, “I still find it hard to understand why the Kingdom of Spain, with its vast resources of two viceroyalties and over a hundred years of New World heritage, would suffer such a series of humiliating defeats against a… a ‘republic’ supposedly built by a mix of refugees from the East and some natives.”

He deliberately emphasized the word "republic," with undisguised contempt, then paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over Governor Pacheco's unmoving face.

"This goes beyond a simple military defeat; it is the collapse of the kingdom's prestige. His Majesty the King and the Duke of Olivares were furious upon learning of the great defeat in Mexico, the devastating news of the Peruvian squadron, and the horrific state of the Chilean Caribbean task force in the waters off Chile... I think you can imagine."

Governor Pacheco's eyelids twitched almost imperceptibly, as if stung by the sharpness of the words.

He slowly raised his head, his gaze seemingly passing over the special envoy and landing on the central square outside the window, a symbol of colonial power and order.

His voice carried a hint of weariness, yet remained exceptionally clear: "Your Excellency, whether you understand or not, the facts remain the same. The conditions Alonso Garza brought back, though harsh, are the most realistic demands made by the new Chinese based on the stark contrast in power. They... are by no means the politically ignorant barbarians we initially imagined. On the contrary, they are extremely shrewd, their calculations of interests and power chillingly precise."

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the armrests of the chair, his fingertips touching: "Let us set aside those useless complaints and accusations and face the bloody reality, Your Excellency. The reality is that the main force of the army in the Viceroyalty of New Spain, in Guadalajara and in Puebla, has been utterly defeated."

"The loss of more than six thousand soldiers is not just a number on paper; it means that we have lost effective control over vast rural areas, countless towns and villages, and most of the coastline. Now, all we can rely on is Mexico City, a huge but now fragile island."

He pointed to another document on the table: "As you know, I have issued the strictest orders, mobilized all citizens and militiamen in the city who can take up arms, and stockpiled as much gunpowder, shells, and food as possible. Perhaps we can hold out for a while with the city walls, waiting... waiting for a slim chance of a miracle."

"But, Your Excellency, please tell me, if the Xinhua people are truly determined to disregard casualties, gather all their current forces, and even, as the Xinhua generals have hinted, request more reinforcements from their homeland to forcibly besiege Mexico City, what are our chances of victory? Once Mexico City falls..."

Governor Pacheco's voice suddenly turned heavy: "That will not only be a disaster for New Spain, but a signal of the collapse of the entire Spanish colonial system in the Americas. It will prove to all the Indians we have conquered and enslaved that the lion of Spain will not only be wounded, but will also be killed and devoured."

Baron Cruz frowned deeply. He took a sip of sherry, but the spicy liquid brought no warmth; instead, it made his throat even drier.

He had already learned of the military defeats on Mexican land and the bad news from Peru and Chile at sea through documents sent back to his homeland by the colonial authorities, but hearing the governor describe the current predicament so bluntly, even with a hint of despair, still shocked him.

Governor Pacheco did not stop there; he continued to exert pressure, listing even more dire chain reactions: "Moreover, if the war continues, it will not only threaten Mexico, but also expose the Viceroyalty of Peru to the threat of the Xinhua Navy."

He stood up, walked to a huge map of the Americas hanging on the wall, and pointed to several regions in turn: "But what's even more terrifying is the Native American forces that have been lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce! Have you thought about that?"

"Deep in the Guatemalan jungle, in the Peténica Kingdom, which we have never fully conquered, will they behave themselves?"

“In northern Mexico, will those seemingly docile Pueblo people who have converted to God, when they see us so weak, once again tear off their masks of piety, trample the cross underfoot, and raise the spears of rebellion?”

"And the Cichua people in the mountains of Peru, the Araucan people in southern Chile... these sparks of resistance, like tiny sparks, once they see hope because of the victory of the new Chinese, could they ignite into a prairie fire? At that time, what we will face will not only be the offensive of the new Chinese army, but also the surging indigenous uprisings throughout the New World!"

Finally, he pointed heavily to the narrow landmass connecting North and South America: "And here, Panama. What would be the consequences if the Xinhua Navy marched south and captured the port of Panama?"

"They will sever our land route connecting New Spain and Peru, and more importantly, completely cut off the flow of silver from Peru into the country every year—which accounts for half of the kingdom's vital revenue!"

"Yes, I know that the Peruvian fleet no longer exists, and this year's treasure ship transport is likely to be forced to stop. But what about next year? The year after? As long as the war continues, as long as the Xinhua Navy continues to ravage the Pacific coast, this lifeline will always be in danger of being cut off!"

As Baron Cruz listened to this series of analyses that struck him like a hammer blow, his face gradually turned from gloomy to pale.

When he set out from Spain, he did indeed have a condescending and questioning mindset, believing that the colonial officials must be exaggerating the enemy situation to cover up their incompetence.

But now, sitting in this governor's mansion, which was filled with an atmosphere of failure and anxiety, listening to Governor Pacheco's clear yet alarming deductions, he had to begin to believe that the situation might be ten times worse than he had imagined when he arrived.

The disaster facing them may be a full-blown crisis far beyond Madrid's comprehension, one that could overturn the very foundations of the new imperial world.

He put down his wine glass, and his hands, which were used to gracefully swaying at court balls, were now unconsciously clasped together tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The former pride of the empire clashed fiercely with the harsh reality of his present predicament. After a long silence, he finally spoke with difficulty, his voice somewhat hoarse: "Your Excellency, the situation you described... is indeed worrying, even chilling. However, we must both be soberly aware that, given the kingdom's current... dire situation, dispatching a large-scale fleet capable of turning the tide of the war and tens of thousands of experienced soldiers from the mainland to the Americas is simply impossible; it is nothing short of a pipe dream."

He sighed, a helpless look on his face: "The kingdom is mired in the quagmire of war in Europe. The struggle with France and Sweden is consuming almost all of our financial resources and energy. Every copper coin, every warship, and every soldier is as precious as gold."

"The rebellions in Portugal and the Netherlands are like festering sores that have never fully healed, and Italy's territories also need to be heavily guarded to prevent unforeseen events... Madrid has no extra ships, let alone extra financial resources to support a war that may be seen by many officials in the court as just a 'colonial uprising.' His Majesty the King and the Duke of Olivares' primary considerations are always the interests of their homeland and the affairs of Europe."

A barely perceptible sneer crossed Governor Pacheco's lips. This answer was exactly what he had expected, and even more ruthless than he had anticipated.

He slowly sat back in his chair, his tone calm and resigned: "Then, Your Excellency, since we cannot obtain full support from our homeland, our only rational choice is to start substantive peace talks with the Chinese as soon as possible and end this war that we are destined to lose."

“If we delay any longer, we will lose more with each passing day, just as the Xinhua News Agency warned. At that time, even the current ‘harsh’ conditions may become a luxury.”

Baron Cruz remained silent.

He recalled what he had seen and heard in the month or so since he arrived in Mexico City.

He, like other nobles in Madrid, initially scoffed at the so-called "New Continent Chinese Republic," considering it nothing more than a collection of lucky pirates and heretical merchants.

But through visiting and questioning some merchants who had escaped from Acapulco, and even interrogating soldiers who had been captured and managed to escape, he gradually pieced together a completely different picture: this country was not a rabble; they could cast their own sophisticated cannons and muskets, build large sailing ships that were no less impressive than those in Europe, organize an efficient production and trade network, and their army was disciplined, tactically innovative, and incredibly powerful.

The defeats on land in Mexico and the disastrous naval battles in Peru and Chile serve as stark and bloody proof.

This is by no means an opponent that can be easily deterred by Spain's past glory or dealt with by the existing power of its colonies.

“I… understand what you mean, Your Excellency.” Baron Cruz finally spoke again, his voice low. “Although it is hard to accept, the reality… may indeed be as you say. I will return to Madrid as soon as possible and report everything that has happened here, as well as your… your warning, to His Majesty the King and the ministers of the Indian Affairs Council, verbatim and without any embellishment.”

He paused, his expression growing even more grave: “However, I must say frankly, given His Majesty’s pride and the stubbornness of those ministers within the court who are far removed from the realities of America, getting them to accept such… such humiliating conditions is probably harder than climbing to heaven. They are more likely to ask you to ‘hold out and wait for aid,’ or to hope to appease the new Chinese with some small concessions.”

Upon hearing this, Governor Pacheco's face showed a clear emotional fluctuation for the first time, an expression that was a mixture of despair and anger.

“Your Excellency the Special Envoy!” His voice rose slightly. “‘Hold firm and await reinforcements’? The problem is, where are our reinforcements? As for minor concessions… can’t you see the appetite of the new Chinese through these four conditions? What they want is to establish themselves on this continent and break our century-old colonial system.”

"Do you think that when the other party has already put a knife to our throats, we still have the right or the bargaining chips to negotiate with them and beg them to give up the meat that's already in our mouths?"

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his agitated emotions, and said in an almost pleading tone, "Your Excellency, I implore you, please do everything you can to make the people of Madrid understand that this is not a border conflict that can be dealt with lightly."

"This is a war that concerns the life and death of the Spanish American colonies. We are facing a formidable adversary with great strength, unwavering will, and clear strategic objectives."

"Either we must wage war with the full force of the nation, which would cripple our cause in Europe; or we must muster real political courage and engage in painful negotiations to exchange temporary, partial concessions for the survival of the colonies and the preservation of the kingdom's long-term interests."

"Besides this, all hesitation, procrastination, and fantasy will be the third path to utter destruction! And that path will be... a dead end!"

Baron Cruz looked intently at Governor Pacheco, sensing the weight and truth in his words.

He knew that the governor's political life was likely over with this series of defeats, and that His Majesty's decree to relieve him of his post could arrive at any moment.

His words at this moment, while containing an element of self-defense, were probably more a helpless cry born from a clear understanding of the colonial reality.

“I will do my best, Your Excellency.” Baron Cruz finally nodded solemnly. “I will report the true situation here to His Majesty the King in as much detail as possible.”

"However, you also need to be mentally prepared that Madrid's decision... may be slow, and the final decision... may not meet the minimum requirements for ending the war."

"Therefore, during this period, the maintenance of the Viceroyalty of New Spain, the defense of Mexico City, and the immense burden of preventing the colony from collapsing completely while we await a response from Madrid will likely fall on your shoulders."

Governor Pacheco slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He knew that the envoy was stating an unavoidable truth.

He could almost picture himself being dismissed from his post and sent back to Madrid to face a humiliating trial.

But at this moment, he is more worried about the future of this land he has ruled for several years.

A long wait, uncertain decisions, and the ever-watchful Xinhua Army...

The future of Mexico, and indeed the whole of Spanish America, is like the gradually darkening sky outside the window, shrouded in a thick and hazy gloom.

We can't win; the blood and corpses have already proven that.

They can't talk about it, yet they have no say in the matter. Madrid, thousands of miles away, holds the power of decision, but is completely oblivious to the crisis that is right in front of them.

This fatal deadlock seems to be dragging the Spanish Empire's glory in the New World step by step into an unknown abyss.

The oppressive atmosphere of impending doom hung over the entire governor's palace and over the hearts of everyone who cared about the fate of New Spain.

Is there anything worse or more desperate than what we are seeing now?
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(End of this chapter)