Wind Rises in North America 1625

Chapter 615 Difficult Negotiations (Part Two)
On November 15, when the Spanish negotiating delegation arrived at the port of Acapulco, the members' feelings were a complex mix of emotions, like a jumbled mess of flavors.

This port city has been occupied by the new Chinese for two years and one month!
Marquis Mendoza of Villarta sat in a luxurious carriage, his gaze sweeping over the scene outside through the window with a somber expression.

The closer you get to the city, the clearer that glaring and unpleasant reality becomes.

The soldiers standing guard at the city gate were no longer the familiar colonial soldiers, but squads of Xinhua soldiers dressed in black uniforms, wearing peaked caps, and carrying muskets with bayonets fixed.

They stood tall and straight, their sharp, wary eyes watching the pedestrians and vehicles passing by.

The gleaming bayonets and the dark uniforms pierced Mendoza's nerves, reminding him of a cruel reality—this most important and prosperous port city on the Pacific coast of the Viceroyalty of New Spain was completely under the control of the invaders.

His eyes, accustomed to surveying his own territory and servants, now carefully swept over every corner, trying to find the wounds left by war, the decay caused by infidel rule, and the miserable plight of the Spanish people.

Yes, if Acapulco were to become ravaged, littered with corpses, and filled with an atmosphere of fear and oppression under the rule of the new Chinese, then Mendoza might only be filled with the fury of revenge and the contempt of a conqueror, and would gain a moral high ground in future negotiations.

However, the scene that came into view was like a series of sharp thorns, piercing through all his preconceived notions.

Acapulco remains... prosperous, even more "lively and bustling" than before.

The streets were clean and tidy, even more so than when he visited twenty years ago.

Most of the buildings on both sides are intact, and in some places new houses are even under construction.

The streets were bustling with pedestrians, but their faces did not show much of the fear, pain, or hatred that one would expect under pagan rule. Instead, most of them looked calm and were busy with their own lives. They only cast slightly surprised and curious glances at the motorcade carrying the Spanish royal flag before immersing themselves in their own affairs.

“Oh God…” Baron Cruz, sitting opposite the Marquis, also looked out the window. He sighed softly, his tone complicated, “They… seem to have managed this place quite well.”

“Not bad?” Mendoza flinched, as if stung by a scorpion, his half-closed eyes snapping open as he glared at Cruz. “Baron Cruz, watch your words! This is a false prosperity, a bubble built on the plunder of our Spanish kingdom’s wealth and the condoning of illicit trade. Look at those people…”

He pointed out the window to several well-dressed Hispanic businessmen who were chatting together, "Do they have even a shred of shame on their faces? They are doing business in the enemy's port, making deals with the devil. This is the greatest betrayal of God and the King!"

"I bet that the oriental silks, porcelains, and spices still available in Mexico City, as well as those exotic items that clearly come from Xinhua, are most likely smuggled there by these shameless scoundrels!"

He grew angrier as he spoke, a blush rising on his pale cheeks: "Hmph, just wait! Once the ceasefire is signed and the kingdom regains its rule over this land, we will establish the most severe religious and royal courts to severely punish these greedy parasites and traitors! We will make them know the consequences of betraying the king and God!"

Baron Cruz remained silent and offered no rebuttal.

He knew the source of the Marquis's anger; it was not merely moral indignation, but more profoundly, a venting of a sense of powerlessness in the face of reality.

The city's "normality" and even "far exceeding its previous prosperity" serve to highlight the potential inefficiency of past Spanish rule and also demonstrate that the new Chinese immigrants are not simply disruptors; they seem to possess a certain... sophisticated management ability.

This is more frustrating than a simple military defeat.

The entire Spanish negotiating delegation, consisting of more than forty people, traveled in more than ten horse-drawn carriages and was escorted by a team of Xinhua cavalrymen as they entered the city square in a grand procession.

In addition to Chief Representative Mendoza and Deputy Representative Cruz, there were seven or eight senior clerks from the West Indies Affairs Committee and capable officials from the New Spanish Viceroyalty, who were responsible for the negotiation details in the political, trade, military and religious fields, respectively.

In addition, the entourage included ten personal male servants to take care of his daily needs, four skilled chefs, three dedicated servants to manage the marquis's fine clothes and wigs, two scribes to record negotiation details and itinerary, and even an accompanying physician and a priest to attend daily Mass.

This group, which should have been showcasing the majesty of the Spanish royal family and the grandeur of a noble traveler, now resembled uninvited guests who had intruded into someone else's banquet. As arranged by the host, they stayed at a hotel in the port area that had been temporarily requisitioned and was guarded by Xinhua soldiers.

The hostel was clean enough, but far from comfortable, and certainly not comparable to the luxury of Mexico City.

The three meals a day were provided by Xinhua. Although the food was enough to fill their stomachs, it had a very different flavor and lacked the rich olive oil and garlic aroma of Spanish cuisine, which made the nobles and officials, who were used to the local tastes, complain in private.

What humiliated them most was that Xinhua soldiers were stationed inside and outside the hotel, ostensibly for "protection," but in reality for surveillance.

A strange thought arose in everyone: they were not the masters of this land, but guests, or even... prisoners awaiting execution in some sense.

This port city, which once belonged to the Spanish kings, seems to be the territory of the new Chinese.

In this oppressive atmosphere, the delegation only stayed in Acapulco for one day to rest before eagerly requesting to continue their journey to the negotiation location—San Diego, or as the Chinese call it, Nanping.

However, when they arrived at the dock and prepared to board the ship, they faced a very awkward reality.

The port of Acapulco, once filled with masts and flying Spanish flags, now has not a single ship belonging to the Kingdom of Spain to be found!
Many ships were moored at the dock, several of which were clearly Spanish-style galleons or small caravels, but without exception, they all flew the Xinhua flag on their masts.

They lay there quietly, their hulls perhaps still bearing the coats of arms of their former Spanish owners, but now they were merely spoils of war captured by the Xinhua Navy.

"We...are we going to board the ship of the new Chinese?" Marquis Mendoza stood on the dock, the sea breeze ruffling his graying temples, his face extremely grim.

"I'm afraid so, Your Excellency," Baron Cruz confirmed in a low voice. "The Chinese have already arranged for us to travel to San Diego."

Yes, the Xinhua Navy prepared a 700-ton transport ship for the Spanish negotiating delegation. The ship had a rugged hull and mottled paint, giving it a sense of weathering from long sea voyages.

There were only five or six independent cabins on the ship, and they were extremely rudimentary, consisting of just a few fixed hardboard beds and a small table.

This limited "preferential treatment" could only be reserved for a few high-ranking representatives, such as the Marquis of Mendoza and the Baron of Cruz.

Everyone else, including the pampered clerks, clerks, and even the priest, had to "miserably" squeeze into the stale, dimly lit hold, sharing living space with a group of Xinhua sailors.

This was undoubtedly a huge humiliation for the Spanish gentlemen, who were accustomed to a strict hierarchy and a sense of superiority. What put them under even more pressure was that this small fleet was escorted by two Xinhua warships.

Because this looks more like a form of military intimidation by the new Chinese.

As the two warships slowly approached and joined the transport ship, the Spaniards on deck, especially the military personnel, were involuntarily drawn to them.

These two warships are quite different from the mainstream warships of the Spanish Navy.

Spanish galleons or larger battleships were typically tall and imposing, like floating castles, with multiple decks and numerous gun ports along their sides, aiming for powerful frontal firepower and the oppressive feeling of boarding action.

The Xinhua warship in front of us appears to be longer and lower, with smooth lines, and its bow and stern towers are not as tall and exaggerated as those of the Spanish warships.

Their masts are taller, and their rigging systems appear more complex and efficient.

Based on a rough calculation using the neatly arranged gun ports on the sides, each warship was equipped with approximately 30 to 36 cannons.

"Their firepower... seems inferior to our 'Saint Philippe' class battleships," a military affairs officer whispered to his companion, trying to regain some confidence. "In a head-on gun battle, our 74mm gun ships should be able to completely suppress them."

“But Pedro, look at their ship design…” Another more observant officer pointed to the warships’ waterline and sleek hull, “and their sails. I bet they’re faster than our warships.”

"Moreover, look at the layout of their gun ports; they pay more attention to firing efficiency and field of fire... This is definitely a professional naval warship, incomparable to those temporarily converted armed merchant ships."

"In terms of firepower, they may not be as powerful as our largest warships, but they are definitely more powerful and... more professional than most of our ships patrolling the Americas."

His words silenced the Spanish soldiers around him.

The destruction of the Peruvian detachment, and the humiliating defeat of the special task force that had traveled thousands of miles across two oceans to reach Peru, have proven that the strength of the Xinhua Navy is sufficient to challenge the Kingdom of Spain.

Three ships departed from Acapulco port and entered the vast Pacific Ocean.

Soon, the Spanish people's speculation was confirmed.

Both the transport ship they were on and the two escorting warships were indeed significantly faster than the traditional Spanish galleons.

The sea breeze billowed the full sails, and the slender hull cut through the azure sea, leaving a long trail behind it.

Some Spanish military personnel secretly took out their notebooks and scribbled down the details they observed: the length-to-width ratio of the hull, the style of the sails, and a more scientific arrangement of the rigging...

"High speed means shorter sailing time and higher efficiency, which is an unparalleled advantage in dispatching fleets, transporting supplies, and conducting trade." Baron Cruz stood on the ship's side and whispered to the displeased Marquis Mendoza beside him, "Perhaps, after the war we really need to seriously consider improving our shipbuilding technology."

On the fourth day of their voyage, the fleet reached the desolate coastline of the California Peninsula.

Just when the Spanish thought the fleet would continue sailing along the narrow peninsula coastline toward San Diego, they were surprised to find that the lead Xinhua warship fired a signal flag, and the fleet began to turn, heading straight toward a seemingly deserted shore.

As they drew closer, a striking group of man-made buildings nestled beside the small bay came into view.

It was a small fortified outpost, with a rough wooden fence enclosing an area, and a watchtower standing in the corner, from which the figures of sentries could be vaguely seen.

Inside the fence were dozens of neatly arranged wooden and rammed-earth houses, and even a few conspicuous brick and stone structures, which looked like warehouses or command posts. A bright red Xinhua flag fluttered in the wind on the flagpole in the center of the fortress.

A wooden pier extends into the sea, forming several berths, enough to accommodate a number of ships.

“When...when did a base get here?” an officer from the governor’s district exclaimed, his face showing disbelief.

In their minds, this coastline should be a desolate wasteland with only a few indigenous tribes active in it.

Unexpectedly, the Xinhua people quietly established an outpost in this "barren land".

The fleet sailed into the dock one after another and slowly pulled into the berth, where more than a dozen Xinhua soldiers were already lined up and waiting.

Through questioning and communication with the accompanying interpreter, the Spanish learned that the stronghold was called "Jingyuanbao" (now San José del Capo), where the Chinese had set up a secret supply point at the beginning of the war, making full preparations for the invasion of the Americas.

The fortress was not large, with few soldiers and seventy or eighty residents. Some fields had been cultivated nearby, and hundreds of cattle and sheep roamed the surrounding area.

“They established a base here not only to provide fresh water and food supplies for ships traveling north and south, and to repair their equipment,” Baron Cruz analyzed in a low voice to the somber-faced Marquis of Mendoza, “but more importantly, it served as a springboard, an eye, firmly controlling this stretch of coastline and monitoring any maritime activity that might originate from New Spain.”

"No wonder... no wonder they can launch attacks on our American territories so frequently and seemingly effortlessly. Their logistical network is far more sophisticated and...deeper than we imagined."

Marquis Mendoza did not answer; he simply stared intently at the fortress that stood out starkly against the desolate backdrop, and the Xinhua flag fluttering in the wind atop it.

The anger that had arisen from Acapulco's "prosperity" was now replaced by an invisible anxiety.

These new Chinese were not merely a group of plunderers relying on bravery and luck; they possessed a long-term vision and a solid plan.

Faced with such an opponent, can we rest easy simply by restoring the transport of Peruvian silver?

Where will the Americas go in the future?
The end of the war may not be the end of the trouble, but rather the beginning of an even more difficult situation.

The negotiations in San Diego ahead are destined to be anything but easy.
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(End of this chapter)