Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 593 The Attack (Part 4)

Castro, the core stronghold established by the Spanish on Chiloé Island, has suffered a tumultuous fate in the past decade, being attacked and ravaged by pirates twice.

The first calamity came from English pirates. Ten years earlier (1633), two ships flying the skull and crossbones flag—the HMS Beagle and the HMS Carmarthen—sailed into the bay like ghosts, and fierce sailors swarmed ashore.

They looted thousands of pesos that the town's residents had painstakingly saved, emptied the warehouses of grain, wine, and fresh fruits and vegetables, and then intimidated and extorted money from the residents.

Fortunately, their only goal was to make money.

Having satisfied his greed for wealth, he vanished quietly into the mist of the vast sea, just as he had appeared, leaving Castro with more financial losses and a lingering sense of panic.

However, the real nightmare began last April with the arrival of the Dutch West India Company fleet.

Unlike the English pirates who sought wealth, the Dutch brought a devastating storm.

Their goal seems to be not merely wealth, but to completely erase all traces of the Spanish presence here.

The town was ruthlessly destroyed, houses were set on fire, the hard-won defensive fences were toppled and demolished, and the wooden docks built over many years were turned into wreckage floating in the murky sea by the deliberate destruction by the Dutch.

The town of Castro was almost physically wiped off the island by the Dutch.

But more terrifying than fire and swords was the unintentional "bonus" brought by the Dutch—the plague.

The plague demon landed on the island, and like the scythe of death, began to reap the lives of the island's inhabitants.

Indiscriminately, it not only claimed the lives of more than eighty Dutch sailors within a few months, but also deeply imbued the land with the aura of death.

Spanish immigrants, Creoles, Mestizos, and the island's native Araucanians fell in droves.

The Spanish community, which once numbered over 150, was reduced to less than 70 under the deadly plague.

The harbor that was once teeming with life is now nothing but desolation. The entire island has almost become a ghost town that inspires fear, with only the sea wind howling through the ruins, telling a story of endless sorrow.

Now, ten months have passed, and time seems to be slowly healing this scarred land.

The dozens of surviving Spanish immigrants, with tragic expressions and deep psychological trauma, began to rebuild their shattered homes on the ruins.

They cleared the ruins, barely repaired the leaky sheds, struggled to plant some potatoes, and carefully looked after the dozen or so surviving cattle and sheep, trying to rekindle a glimmer of hope in their despair.

In their eyes, the pride and vigor of the Spanish colonists had long been lost, leaving only profound weariness and numb submission to fate.

The hope for life was as faint as a candle flickering in the wind, but they seemed to have no choice but to grit their teeth and persevere.

Because, along the Pacific coast where the Xinhua Navy was rampaging, they were unable to obtain any support from the mainland.

Of course, they couldn't escape this captivating island either.

However, just when they thought their fate couldn't get any worse, several ominous sails appeared again in the morning mist of the bay.

Two warships flying unfamiliar flags, with long hulls and sleek, cold lines, like silent sea beasts, sailed through the scattered, broken islands and into the narrow bay.

They are quite different in style from Spanish or Dutch ships, and carry a unique sense of oppression.

They did not fire any cannons or send any provocative signals; they simply remained quietly in the deep water, casting huge shadows that enveloped the town's dilapidated outline.

The survivors gathered on the beach, staring blankly at the new invaders.

They no longer fled, nor were they afraid, as if all their emotions had been exhausted in the successive calamities and plagues.

The man gripped the simple tools in his hands, and the woman held the bewildered child in her arms. They stood there blankly, like prisoners awaiting their final judgment.

What else could we possibly lose?

Aside from his own life, which was no longer favored by God.

"Pirates again?" the old fisherman Pedro muttered to himself, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Who knows... Perhaps, death has just arrived in a different guise." The mayor's widow, Mrs. Cecilia, subconsciously made the sign of the cross on her chest, her eyes devoid of emotion.

Several small boats were launched, fully loaded with fully armed soldiers, and began to land in an orderly manner.

These soldiers, dressed in uniform dark uniforms and carrying flintlock rifles, moved with strict discipline and coordinated steps, a stark contrast to the undisciplined and chaotic images of pirates or mercenaries I remembered.

The entire landing process lasted for more than an hour, and it is roughly estimated that there were more than 120 soldiers who landed.

Surprisingly, these soldiers did not resort to violence against the Spanish immigrants after landing.

A man who appeared to be an officer asked about the situation briefly in broken but understandable Spanish, then waved his hand dismissively, indicating that the dazed survivors could continue their meager tasks.

It seems that in their eyes, the original residents have already integrated with the surrounding natural environment and do not need much attention.

Immediately afterwards, the small boats began to shuttle frequently between the warships and the shore, continuously transporting boxes and bundles of supplies ashore. There was food, tents, a large quantity of processed planks, and various tools. In less than half a day, a small mountain had been piled up on the open ground on the shore.

The soldiers, or rather, the engineers at this point, immediately threw themselves into the bustling construction work.

Measuring, leveling the land, driving in wooden stakes, erecting beams, setting up tents... a temporary camp with clearly defined functional areas and an orderly layout is rising from the ground next to the ruins of the town at an astonishing speed.

All of this clearly shows that they were not here as guests, nor were they here for a brief plunder; rather, they intended to establish themselves here and take over this land, which was soaked in the blood and tears of countless people.

Indeed, the new Chinese wanted to occupy this island and use it as a forward outpost to wedge into the southwestern coast of Chile and even South America.

Although the town appears somewhat dilapidated, its advantageous geographical location is undeniable.

Backed by densely forested hills and facing an easily defensible deep-water bay, it has access to both fresh water and timber, as well as convenient access to the mainland and the vast Pacific Ocean.

After the camp was initially established, several naval officers also went ashore and began to carefully examine the territory that was about to be brought under their control.

"I must say, the Spanish have a truly discerning eye when it comes to choosing locations." Major Mao Yongshun, the fleet commander and captain of the "Haichang," stood on a slightly elevated slope, surveying the surrounding landscape of Castro with a hint of appreciation in his voice.

He pointed to the entrance of the bay, "You see, those broken islands on the outskirts form a natural first barrier, which can effectively reduce the wind and waves of the open sea and also block the view from the open sea, providing excellent concealment."

"Looking at this bay entrance, the waterway is narrow and the current is swift and unpredictable. If we build a sturdy diamond-shaped fortress at the best location on both sides of the cape, and station experienced gun crews and heavy artillery of sufficient caliber there, we can achieve great results."

He made a gesture of bringing his hands together, "which would create a formidable defense, enough to make any threat from the sea pay a heavy price."

“Hmm, the location is good, but… isn’t the price too high?” Captain Bai Yongfeng, the first mate of the “Haichang”, replied with doubt in his tone. “This place is more than 12,000 kilometers away from our homeland of Xinhua. Even to our southernmost Yongning Bay settlement (now California) is 10,000 kilometers away.”

"Even with our fastest ships, sailing with favorable winds and currents would take more than a month. With such a long and fragile supply line, how can we ensure timely support should we be besieged by a powerful enemy or encounter other unforeseen circumstances?"

He kicked a stone at his feet and continued, "Moreover, according to preliminary exploration and information provided by the natives, apart from forests and a small amount of arable land, no valuable minerals have been found on this island."

"Are we investing such enormous human and material resources merely to trade furs and grains with the poorly clothed Araukan people on the mainland?"

"The profits will probably be insufficient to cover the costs of our expedition. To be honest, it is truly puzzling that the commander insisted on ordering us to occupy this place."

"Puzzled? Xiao Bai, you need to broaden your perspective further." Upon hearing this, Major Lei Ping, the captain of the "Haiyan" and a burly, dark-skinned officer, smiled and shook his head. "Commander's move is far-sighted. It's a crucial move for Xinhua's maritime strategy and global layout for the next few decades!"

He walked to a higher reef and pointed south: "Look, this Chiloé Island is right on the throat of the road to the west coast of South America. Any ship that sails from the Atlantic Ocean around the Strait of Magellan to Peru, Panama, or even Mexico will almost inevitably pass through this area on its way north, and may even need to seek supplies or shelter from the storm here."

"By establishing a strong military outpost and supply depot here, we are essentially driving a sharp nail into the Spanish Pacific shipping lifeline!"

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over his colleagues, his tone becoming increasingly impassioned: "This means that in wartime, we can block the northward shipping lanes at any time according to strategic needs, monitor, intercept, or even capture any Spanish ships, pushing our military perimeter forward by thousands of kilometers!"

"Looking further ahead, once the strength of our new navy grows to the point where it can expand into the open ocean and we are determined to advance into the Atlantic, this will be our excellent forward base and springboard. Based on this, our fleet can advance into the Atlantic or retreat to guard the gateway to the Pacific. The strategic initiative lies entirely here!"

Mao Yongshun nodded slightly and added, "Old Lei is right. This place is like a thorn in the side for Spain, but for Xinhua, it is a fulcrum to leverage the entire South American region. Its strategic value cannot be measured by short-term economic benefits."

Bai Yongfeng was silent for a moment, then looked at the Spanish immigrants huddled under the dilapidated eaves in the distance, and the lush mountains and forests further away, and raised another concern: "I understand the strategic significance. But... we promised the Araucanians that we would help them reclaim the island from the Spanish."

"Now, we've taken it ourselves. Doesn't this seem like going back on our word? I'm very worried that if this isn't handled properly, it will seriously damage our already fragile cooperative relationship with the Araukan people."

"After all, they are important allies that we urgently need to win over in the southern part of South America, and they can help us effectively divert a lot of energy from the Viceroyalty of Peru."

Upon hearing this, Lei Ping scoffed dismissively: "Allies? Cooperative relationships? Little Bai, you need to remember that what ultimately sustains relationships between nations and ethnic groups is always strength and tangible interests, not empty promises."

"For over a century, the Araucan people have been suffocated by the Spanish. Although we and the Araucan people have jointly eliminated the strongholds south of the Biobío River, the Spanish forces in the north remain strong. Without our continuous supply of weapons and supplies, how could they possibly fight the Spanish for a long time?"

He paused, his tone revealing a stark and cold reality: "Under these circumstances, would they really risk turning against us and sacrificing crucial external aid for a small, destroyed, and economically devastated island? They can't afford that price!"

"Furthermore, even if we were to hand over the island to them now, given their current strength, would they have the confidence and ability to defend it against a possible naval counterattack by the Spanish? In the end, they would probably still lose it again."

Mao Yongshun took over the conversation, his tone relatively calm, but his stance equally clear and firm: "Old Lei's words may be straightforward, but they make sense. However, in order to maintain the stability of the cooperation, it is also necessary to appease their emotions."

"We can give them a suitable reason for this occupation, saying that it is to more effectively support their war against Spain by establishing a forward base and a transit point for supplies, and at the same time to facilitate larger-scale trade between the two sides."

"Well, we might as well give them some more weapons and ammunition as compensation, or symbolically pay a little 'rent' to gain their acquiescence. We need to achieve our strategic objectives while minimizing any unnecessary hostility they might develop."

“We came here not to experience the local customs and culture, nor simply for trade. We are pioneers and strategic executors.”

"This island will be the first permanent foothold for our Xinhua power to project to the southern tip of America. From here, we will make this ocean, and the land it connects to, gradually familiar with and respect our flag."

Over the next few days, the outline of the camp gradually became clearer, with living areas, storage areas, cooking areas, and even a small training ground.

A tall watchtower was built on the hillside, keeping a close watch on the entrance to the bay and the distant horizon.

Led by officers, several squads began limited exploration of the island's interior, carefully recording the terrain, water sources, vegetation, and possible resource distribution, and working to create more detailed military maps.

All actions silently and firmly proclaimed the arrival of a new order on this island.
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(End of this chapter)