Huangming

Chapter 496 Sailing on the Raging Sea, Smoke of War over Penghu

In the twelfth month of the second year of the Tianqi reign, the South China Sea resembled a piece of deep blue silk soaked in ink, stretching endlessly towards the horizon.

The leaden-gray clouds hung low over the sea, heavy and imposing, as if they might crash down at any moment and swallow the entire ocean.

The sea breeze, carrying a salty, chilly air, howled past the crests of the waves, whipping up whitecaps several feet high. The waves crashed against the ship's side, the splashing water scattering like shattered jade before being instantly swallowed up by the following waves.

In this vast and oppressive sea, seventeen three-masted sailing ships, like steel behemoths, cut through the waves. Their sails billowed in the wind like full moons, and the water stains on the canvas froze into thin ice, reflecting the cold light under the gloomy sky.

The fleet rose and fell on the waves, yet maintained a disciplined formation, like a lurking lion, silently approaching its prey.

The ships in the fleet were roughly divided into two categories, each displaying a menacing appearance.

One type is the galleon warship, which the Netherlands is proud of, with the flagship "Gunningen" being the best example.

This 700-ton behemoth is like a fortress in the sea. Its oak hull is 60 centimeters thick, comparable to a rammed earth wall on land. The hull has been eroded by sea winds and seawater, giving it a dark brown sheen, as if it can withstand any impact.

Thirty-two cannons were arranged on the multi-tiered deck, their muzzles as black as holes. Among them, several eighteen-pound cannons were particularly ferocious and terrifying, their barrels wrapped with reinforced iron hoops, silently pointing at the sea, as if they might spew out deadly tongues of fire at any moment.

The stern features a typical "square stern" design, engraved with the emblem of the Dutch East India Company. The heavy sterncastle not only enhances stability but also resembles a command tower overlooking the entire fleet.

On the deck, more than two hundred Dutch soldiers, wearing iron breastplates and holding matchlock muskets, stood solemnly in the cold wind. Occasionally, a soldier would rub his hands, which were red from the cold, but he dared not slacken his vigilance in the slightest.

Another type is the armed merchant ship that combines trade and combat functions, with the "Engelsen Beer" being a prime example.

These ships are slightly smaller, around 600 tons, but are faster and have smoother hull lines, making them more suitable for navigating complex sea areas.

The deck was equipped with twenty to twenty-four cannons. Although they were not as powerful as the heavy cannons of the galleons, they were more flexible and could provide fire support when raiding merchant ships, as well as launch a quick counterattack when encountering enemy forces.

Sealed cargo boxes were piled up on both sides of the ship, perhaps containing spices to be traded, or perhaps ammunition for supplies.

This is a microcosm of the Dutch strategy of "using commerce to support war," where each ship is a mobile fortress and a flowing treasure trove.

On the bridge of the "Gunningen", Dutch East India Company fleet commander Reyjoz was leaning over and staring at the nautical charts spread on the wooden table.

He wore a dark blue military uniform with gold anchor-shaped badges embroidered on his shoulder straps and a jeweled sword at his waist. The sea breeze blew in through the bridge window, lifting his cloak and revealing his taut muscles.

This seasoned commander had a furrowed brow and his eyes were filled with anxiety.

"Have we arrived in Penghu yet?"

He suddenly looked up, his gaze falling on Zheng Zhilong, who was leaning against the mast, his tone filled with suppressed anger.

More than a month has passed since the fleet departed from Batavia (Jakarta). The fleet, carrying over a thousand soldiers, was tasked with a surprise attack on the Penghu Islands of the Ming Dynasty, but it is still adrift in the vast ocean. This makes him doubt the guide's abilities.

When asked about the matter, Zheng Zhilong was leaning casually against the mast.

He wore a dark brocade robe with a short fur coat over it, and despite the cold wind, he appeared calm and at ease.

His eyes were deep, and a faint smile played at the corners of his mouth, as if the fleet before him and the impending battle had nothing to do with him.

This prodigy, fluent in Minnan dialect, Nanjing Mandarin, Japanese, Dutch, Spanish, and Portuguese, is now answering in fluent Dutch, his tone calm and composed, without the slightest hint of emotion:

"Commander, there's no need to rush. We're almost there. At our current speed, we'll reach Fengguiwei in Penghu in half a day."

Reyjoz's brow relaxed slightly, but he still let out a somewhat dissatisfied snort:
"I hope you're not lying to me, Zheng. We've already used up most of our supplies, and if we can't find Penghu soon, the morale of the fleet will collapse."

Zheng Zhilong chuckled softly and looked up at the distant sea:

"Rest assured, Commander, I have received benefits from the East India Company, so I will naturally handle the matter properly."

I could navigate the Penghu Islands by heart.

His tone carried a hint of confidence, but also a touch of indifference.

He had lived in Japan for many years, married a Japanese woman, and had long since tied his fate to the interests of this sea area.

As for the safety of the Ming Dynasty?
In his eyes, it was nothing more than a bargaining chip for making money.

As long as he could get enough pay, whether it was guiding the Dutch fleet to raid Penghu or passing on intelligence to the pirate Li Dan, it was just a business deal for him.

Reyoz stared at Zheng Zhilong for a moment, seemingly trying to read something from his face, but in the end he just turned back to look at the nautical chart.

His finger pressed heavily on the location of "Penghu" on the nautical chart.

Taking Penghu would allow control of the trade routes between the Ming Dynasty and Southeast Asia. At that time, it would be easy to force the Ming Dynasty to open its ports for trade or to monopolize the spice and raw silk trade.

This was a task assigned to him by the East India Company, and also his chance to make a name for himself; he could not afford to make any mistakes.

Zheng Zhilong leaned against the mast, his gaze fixed on the gloomy sea in the distance.

He knew that in half a day, this peaceful sea would be engulfed in war. The Ming Dynasty's Penghu garrison might still be asleep, unaware that a catastrophic disaster was about to befall them.

All he needs to do in this chaos is collect his share of the loot, then he can turn around and leave, continuing to be a "sea tyrant" in this region.

The Penghu Islands control the vital shipping route between Fujian and Taiwan, making them the most important strategic point on the southeastern coast.

In the past, this place was bustling with activity, with thousands of sails racing and merchant and fishing boats shuttling back and forth. Merchant ships carrying silk sailed to Luzon, while cargo ships carrying porcelain headed to Ryukyu. The evening songs of the fishermen could be heard from ten miles away.

But today, the 28th day of the twelfth lunar month, with the end of the year approaching, the once bustling port is now only filled with a few fishing boats drifting by. The sea breeze carries a salty smell as it sweeps across the empty dock, and even the seagulls on the rocks are less noisy, exuding a unique desolation characteristic of the end of the year.

Penghu is garrisoned by the "Penghu Patrol Army," with a fixed number of 850 officers and soldiers and 20 warships. They are under the jurisdiction of the Southern Route Assistant General and are responsible for patrolling the sea frontier in spring and autumn.

But now that it's the New Year, most of the officers and soldiers have taken leave to return to their hometowns. Only Shen Sanwan, the head of the Baihu household, and about a hundred people are left on the island. The warships are reduced to just four small sentry boats, huddled in the sheltered area of ​​Longmen Port, like four stranded cormorants.

Fengguiwei Battery is the most forward defensive fortification in Penghu.

At this moment, several iron pots were set up on the open ground inside the fort, and freshly caught lobsters and groupers were being cooked in the seawater. The steam, carrying the fresh aroma of seafood, filled the entire fort.

Shen Sanwan squatted beside the cannon mount, his brows furrowed, his face long and drawn. He held a dry, hard wheat cake in his hand, but had no appetite whatsoever.

"Commander, your face is as dark as a cannon barrel. Are you perhaps missing a hot meal at home?"

A lowly soldier with charcoal ash on his face approached him, holding up a golden-brown roasted grouper and smiling as he offered it to him.

"Try it, it's freshly grilled, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, it's almost as good as your wife's grilled fish!"

Shen Sanwan snorted coldly, snatched the grilled fish, and took a big bite. The fresh aroma of the fish could not dispel the vexation in his heart.

He swallowed the meat in his mouth, looked up at the sea, and said with a hint of impatience, "Stop talking nonsense! Where is the patrol team? It's been two hours, why haven't they returned yet?"

The soldier scratched his head and said nonchalantly:
"Hey, what could possibly happen? It's the Lunar New Year, even if those red-haired barbarians had the guts, they'd still be at home celebrating the New Year, right?"

"Maybe the brothers are collecting seashells on some island or reef. Don't worry, when they get back, we can have a seafood feast and a couple of cups of old wine to warm ourselves up!"

"fart!"

Shen Sanwan suddenly stood up and threw the half-eaten grilled fish on the ground.

"General Mao of the Tianjin Navy had sent a message earlier, saying that the Dutch red-haired barbarians were making strange moves in the South Seas and were very likely to launch a surprise attack on Penghu!"

The sea is calm and still; the patrol team would never delay without a valid reason.

Something must have happened!

He turned to look at the twelve cannons on the gun emplacement.

These twelve cannons were left behind last month when Mao Wenlong sent the Tianjin Navy to reorganize the defenses. The cannons were gleaming and were originally powerful weapons for guarding the sea frontier, but now, looking at the muzzles, he felt a sense of panic.

"you!"

Shen Sanwan pointed at the soldier who had just handed him the fish, his tone resolute.

"Immediately take the small scout boat to Longmen Port and inform the brothers in the Tianjin Navy who are stationed there, and have them set sail to investigate immediately! If they spot the Dutch fleet, report back immediately!"

The soldier paused, his smile freezing on his face.

"Commander, is it really that serious? With just over a hundred of us, even if those barbarians came, we couldn't stop them. Why make such a fuss..."

"Enough with the nonsense! This is a military order!"

Shen Sanwan's eyes widened, and his voice suddenly rose.

"If you dare to dawdle again, you will be court-martialed!"

"Yes, yes! Go right here, little one!"

The soldier shrank back in fright, not daring to say another word. He grabbed his knife and ran to the small dock outside the fort, jumped onto a small sentry boat, hoisted the sail, and sped off toward Longmen Port.

But not long after he left, a soldier on the watchtower suddenly let out a piercing scream:

"Commander! Look! There are big ships on the sea! So many of them!"

Shen Sanwan's heart sank. He rushed to the highest point of the gun emplacement and looked in the direction the soldier was pointing.

On the horizon, a dark mass of ships was rapidly approaching, like a group of giant beasts crawling out of the deep sea, their sails like a forest, their imposing presence terrifying.

Those ships were even taller than the Fujian ships of the Ming Dynasty, with cannons lined up densely on their sides, gleaming coldly in the gloomy sky.

"It's the Dutch! The Dutch have really come!"

Shen Sanwan's expression changed drastically, and cold sweat instantly soaked his back.

He turned abruptly and roared at the soldiers inside the gun emplacement:
"Brothers! Grab your weapons! The red-haired barbarians are here! Prepare to fire!"

The usually lazy soldiers were instantly awakened, dropping their seafood and grabbing their weapons as they rushed to their positions.

Although these twelve breech-loading cannons were newly refurbished, they were still difficult to operate.

The soldiers carried heavy shells, filled the cannon barrels with gunpowder, tamped it down with a ramrod, and then stuffed the shells into the muzzle. Their movements were so tense that they were almost distorted, but they were exceptionally fast.

"Aim at the foremost ship! Fire!"

Shen Sanwan personally adjusted the cannon muzzle and gave the order.

"Boom boom boom!"

The twelve breech-loading cannons roared simultaneously, the sound shaking the entire fortress. Thick smoke billowed as the shells, trailing flames, hurtled toward the Dutch fleet.

On the flagship Gunningen, Dutch East India Company fleet commander Reyjoz was observing the gun emplacements through binoculars, a hint of disdain on his face.

He thought Penghu was poorly defended and that the Ming army would be caught off guard, but he did not expect the other side to react so quickly.

Only when the shells came whistling in did his expression change drastically, and he shouted sharply:

"Fire back! Quickly!"

But the Ming army's cannonballs were faster than his orders.

"Boom!"

The first two Dutch armed merchant ships were hit instantly, with two large holes smashed into their sides. Seawater rushed in and the ships began to list.

Immediately afterwards, another round of shelling came, hitting the ammunition compartment of one of the merchant ships, causing an instant explosion. Flames shot into the sky, the ship broke in two, and quickly sank into the sea. Planks and the bodies of Dutch soldiers floated on the surface of the sea.

"Damn it!"

Reyoz's eyes widened in fury as he slashed his sword fiercely against the ship's side.

"Fire! Suppress their artillery!"

The cannons on the Dutch warships immediately roared.

These cannons had a range of over two kilometers, far exceeding that of the Ming army's breech-loading cannons, and cannonballs rained down on the Fengguiwei gun emplacement.

The sounds of explosions echoed one after another. The earthen walls of the gun emplacement collapsed, the gun carriages were overturned, and the gunners, unable to dodge in time, fell one after another into pools of blood.

Just a moment.

All twelve breech-loading cannons were destroyed; some cannon barrels were bent by the explosion, and some were thrown directly into the sea, turning the entire fort into ruins.

Shen Sanwan wiped the blood off his face, looking at the horrific scene before him, but there was no sign of retreat in his eyes.

He ripped off his helmet, revealing a face covered in sweat and soot, and roared:
"Brothers! Grab your swords! Grab your spears! Let's fight those red-haired barbarians!"
The longer we delay, the sooner the Tianjin Navy can arrive!
Protecting Penghu is protecting our home!

With that, he grabbed a waist knife and rushed toward the entrance of the fort.

Although only a few dozen soldiers remained behind him, they roared and picked up their weapons, following Shen Sanwan.

They were garrison soldiers, with the duty of guarding the territory.

If they lose this place, they'll be in deep trouble!
Even if they were afraid of death, they had no other choice.

the other side.

Penghu Main Island, Longmen Port.

"Boom—Boom—Boom!"

The sound of cannons came from across the sea, and although it had weakened a bit, it still exploded like thunder over Longmen Port.

The fishermen unloading fish at the dock froze, their nets clattering to the ground. The sugar painting vendor in town stopped scooping his ladle, looked up towards the stern of the harbor, and his smile instantly vanished. The Tianjin Navy's camp was located on the west side of the harbor, and at that moment, chaos erupted within the camp.

But inside the central command tent, guerrilla general Deng Shizhong remained unusually calm.

He was standing in front of the sand table, his fingers pressing on the topographical map of the Penghu Islands. When he heard the sound of cannon fire, his fingertips paused slightly, and then he looked up at the outside of the tent, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's.

The tent flap was suddenly flung open, and the guards stumbled in, their voices trembling:
"General! The cannons at Fengguiwei Battery... have fired! It must be the red-haired barbarians coming!"

Deng Shizhong didn't turn around, still staring at the sand table, his voice as steady as a rock:
"What's the panic? We expected them to come."

He turned around, the copper studs on his black armor gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

This armor was worn by his father, Deng Zilong, when he fought against the Japanese pirates in Korea. The shoulder armor still bears the marks left by the Japanese swords.

Deng Zilong's reputation was well-known throughout the Ming army.

From quelling rebellions in Jiangxi to suppressing uprisings in Guizhou, from driving out enemies in Burma to fighting against Japanese pirates in Korea, he finally fought a desperate battle against the Japanese army in the South China Sea near Busan. When he died from exhaustion, he was still clutching half a broken gun in his hand.

As his son, Deng Shizhong grew up in the military camp with his father from a young age. He went to war with his father at the age of seventeen, and the word "good at fighting" was already ingrained in his bones.

Last year, His Majesty reorganized the navy, allocated fine iron to build warships and cast new cannons, and specially summoned him to the palace, bestowed upon him a "Loyal and Brave" waist badge, and instructed him to "guard the sea borders of the Great Ming." He always kept this instruction in mind.

"Pass on my orders!"

Deng Shizhong walked to the center of the tent, drew the sword from his waist, and the blade reflected his resolute face.

"The infantry battalion shall assemble immediately, with sufficient muskets and bows and arrows, and rush to the aid of the Fengguiwei Fortress, making every effort to delay the arrival of the red-haired barbarians on the shore!"
The navy split into two groups:
Led by Commander Zhou, the left route included two Fujian ships, five Haicang ships, and ten grass-flying ships. They circled around the northern channel to the north side of Fengguiwei, cutting off the retreat route of the Hongmao barbarians.

"I will personally lead the remaining ships on the right flank from the south channel to encircle them!"

"General!"

A commander under the tent stepped forward, his face showing hesitation.

"General Mao is still in Taiwan clearing out pirates. Should we send a fast ship to deliver the message first? We'll be more confident if we wait for the general to return to reinforce us before launching a full-scale attack!"

"By the time General Mao returns from town, Fengguiwei will have been lost long ago!"

Deng Shizhong slammed the knife into the ground, sparks flying.

"The barbarians are attacking us at the end of the year because they are betting that our forces are scattered and our morale is low!"
But they miscalculated. His Majesty has allocated our Tianjin navy with the best ships and the most powerful cannons. We have ten thousand soldiers at our disposal; why should we fear a mere dozen or so red-haired ships?

He walked to the tent, lifted the curtain, and pointed towards the harbor.

At this moment, the soldiers in the camp began to assemble. The naval soldiers, dressed in blue uniforms, carried muskets and pushed cannonballs onto the ships. The masts of the Fujian ships were being rapidly raised, and the sails were unfurled in the wind, like pairs of eagles spreading their wings.

“Go and see, which of the brothers isn’t eager to get started?”
"Back then, my father fought the Japanese to the death with his remaining troops in Busan. Now that we have a strong and well-equipped army, are we really inferior to our predecessors?"

The commander blushed with embarrassment and immediately knelt on one knee:
"This humble general knows his mistake! He is willing to follow the general into battle!"

"it is good!"

Deng Shizhong patted him on the shoulder, his tone softening.

“Tell the brothers that we have driven back the barbarians today. After the New Year, we will reward each of us with two jars of fine wine and ten catties of pork, so that our families can also benefit!”

"If you achieve meritorious service, your wife and children will naturally be rewarded, and the benefits will be immense!"

Before long, the sound of orderly bugle calls rang out on the sea off Longmen Port.

The left flank of the fleet set off first, with two medium-sized Fujian-style ships leading the way.

This Fujian ship was modified by His Majesty's orders. The hull is three feet wider than the old one, and twelve newly cast breech-loading cannons are mounted on the deck, their muzzles pointing towards the sea and gleaming coldly.

Five Haicang boats followed closely behind; their light hulls and high speeds made them suitable for maneuvering.

Ten small boats darted across the water like arrows, tasked with reconnaissance and relaying messages.

Deng Shizhong stood on the deck of the flagship "Jinghai" on the right flank, holding onto the copper railing of the ship's side, gazing at the faint smoke rising from the direction of Fengguiwei in the distance.

He touched the knife scar his father had left on his shoulder armor, and silently recited in his heart:

"Father, today I will guard Penghu and will not let the barbarians set foot in the city. I will not disgrace you, nor will I fail His Majesty's trust."

The sea breeze whipped his battle robes, making them flutter loudly.

The sound of cannons could still be heard intermittently in the distance, but Deng Shizhong knew that it wouldn't be long before the Tianjin Navy's cannon fire would make those Dutchmen understand.

The Ming Dynasty's maritime borders are not places they can simply trespass upon.

The peace and stability at the end of the year is not something they can easily break.

The fleet sailed in a grand procession toward Fengguiwei.

Deng Shizhong drew his sword, pointed it towards the back of the gong, and his voice boomed like thunder:

"Target: Fengguiwei! Once the red-haired barbarians arrive, they won't be leaving!"

"Kill, kill, kill!"

The soldiers on deck shouted in unison, their voices drowning out the sound of the waves and echoing across the Penghu sea for a long time.

now.

Fenggui Tail Gun Platform.

The smoke was still billowing, the charred gun carriages lay crookedly on the ground, and the scorching hot gun barrels were emitting blue smoke, which mixed with the salty smell of the sea breeze, making people's throats tighten.

The stone walls of the fort were blasted with several large holes by the Dutch heavy artillery, and the limbs of Ming soldiers were still buried in the rubble, with blood flowing down the cracks in the stones.

On the deck of the Dutch flagship "Gunningham," Reyjoz gazed at the destroyed gun emplacements, a smug smile just beginning to form on his lips, when he abruptly waved his hand:
"Lower the small boats! Let those Luzon soldiers go first and wipe out the remaining Ming troops!"

As soon as the words were spoken, the cranes on both sides of the sixteen Dutch ships slowly lowered, and dozens of small boats slid into the sea like arrows released from a bow.

The soldiers on the small boat wore tattered linen shorts, stood barefoot on the deck, clutched rusty short knives, and looked terrified.

Most of them were Luzon natives and Southeast Asian refugees forcibly conscripted by the Dutch. They knew nothing about tactics and were merely cannon fodder used to wear down the Ming army.

As the soldiers' small boats approached the shore, Reyjoz gave another order:
"Dutch warriors, move out! Take the gun emplacements and secure the landing point!"

Three hundred Dutch soldiers quickly boarded the small boats. They were dressed in black armor, carried matchlock guns, stood in neat formation, and had sharp eyes like eagles.

This was the elite of the Dutch fleet, the main force used to consolidate their positions.

On the other side of the gun emplacement, Shen Sanwan was helping a wounded soldier retreat.

His left arm was lacerated by shrapnel, and blood soaked through his armor. His face was covered in soot and blood, but his eyes still shone brightly.

The hundred soldiers under his command had been reduced to more than half by the recent bombardment, and most of the remaining men were wounded. Their swords and spears trembled, but not one of them retreated.

"Commander, the soldiers are coming!" a soldier shouted hoarsely.

Shen Sanwan looked up and saw small boats densely packed with people approaching the shore on the sea, and soldiers howling as they charged over, like a pack of hungry wolves.

"Form ranks! Swords and shields in front, spears behind!"

He roared the order, grabbed a broken gun, and charged forward first.

The Ming soldiers gritted their teeth and formed a makeshift formation.

The swordsmen and shieldmen held off the soldiers' charge with all their might, their spears thrusting out from the gaps in their shields, each thrust sending up a spray of blood.

However, the number of soldiers was too large, and they surged in wave after wave like a tide. The Ming army's formation was gradually broken up, and soldiers kept falling.

"Retreat! Retreat to the back of the mountain!"

Seeing that he was no match for the enemy, Shen Sanwan made a decisive move.

He knew that a direct confrontation would only result in total annihilation; the only way to turn the tide was to buy time and wait for the Tianjin navy to arrive.

The soldiers fought and retreated, using corpses and broken blades to build a makeshift defensive line. With each step they retreated, they left behind several corpses of local soldiers.

Reyjoz stood atop the flagship's mast, watching the battle on the shore through his binoculars, his smile growing wider.

"The Ming army is nothing special; Penghu is already in our hands!"

But just then, the navigator beside him suddenly turned pale and shouted:
"Commander! Something terrible has happened! Large numbers of warships are approaching from the south and the north!"

Reyjoz turned his head sharply and looked in the direction the navigator was pointing.

On the sea surface to the north and south, countless warships surged in like a dark cloud, their masts like a forest, their flags waving, and the bright "Deng" flag fluttering in the wind.

Those are warships of the Tianjin Navy!
The number far exceeded his expectations; at a glance, there were dozens of ships, and they were still approaching in droves.

"How can it be!"

The binoculars in Reyjoz's hand fell to the deck with a clatter. He stared in disbelief, his smugness instantly replaced by shock.

"The intelligence says there are only five warships in Penghu! This... this means there must be at least a hundred!"

He had received information that the main force of the Ming army was in Taiwan, and that Penghu's defenses were weak, but the scene before him completely shattered his understanding.

Before he could think any further, Deng Shizhong's navy had already closed in to artillery range.

Reyjoz snapped back to his senses, drew his sword, pointed it at the sea, and roared:
"All ships, listen to my command! Divide your forces! Eight ships to deal with the north, and eight ships to deal with the south! We must stop the Ming army!"

The sixteen Dutch ships quickly split into two groups, turned around, and aimed their cannons at the approaching Ming warships.

At this moment, on the sea, on one side were the Dutch's powerful ships and cannons, and on the other side were the Ming army's naval tactics. The atmosphere was so tense that it was suffocating.

"Get within range! Fire!"

Reyjoz gave the order first.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The cannons on the Dutch warships fired simultaneously, the shells whistling through the air as they slammed into the Ming warships.

A ship from the Haicang was the first to be hit. The cannonball pierced through the hull, splinters flew everywhere, and seawater rushed into the cabin. The soldiers on board screamed and fled in all directions. In a short while, the ship began to tilt and slowly sank into the sea.

Immediately afterwards, several more Cangshan ships were hit, some with their sails ripped apart and their rudders damaged, leaving them spinning on the sea and rendered unable to fight.

The screams of Ming soldiers and the cracking of warships suddenly rang out on the sea, and blood spread across the water.

"Fight back! Give them a good beating!"

Deng Shizhong stood on the deck of the flagship "Zhenhai," letting the flying wood chips fall on his shoulders, his eyes still firm.

The Ming warships behind him immediately opened fire, the roar of the breech-loading cannons rising and falling, and shells raining down on the Dutch ships.

However, the Ming army's breech-loading cannons were far less powerful than the Dutch cannons. When the cannonballs hit the oak hull of the Dutch galleon, they only left shallow dents and could not penetrate it at all.

In contrast, the Ming army's Fujian ships were built with pine wood and had thin hulls. They would be severely damaged after being hit by the Hongyi cannons once and could not withstand more than a few rounds of bombardment.

After several rounds of fire, the Ming army had lost five Haicang ships and three Cangshan ships, while the Dutch only lost two armed merchant ships. Although the galleons were damaged, they were not fatal.

Deng Shizhong watched as his warships continued to suffer damage, his brows furrowing deeply.

He had intended to use his numerical advantage in warships to outflank the Dutch fleet, but now it seemed that numerical superiority was completely ineffective against the Dutch's powerful ships and cannons.

"General, we can't keep fighting like this! If we continue, our warships will all be sunk!"

The commander beside him shouted anxiously.

Deng Shizhong gripped the sword at his waist tightly.

He knew the man was right; continuing the artillery battle would only increase casualties.

However, if he retreated, Penghu would fall completely into the hands of the Dutch. His father Deng Zilong's loyalty and bravery in fighting the Japanese pirates in Korea, and His Majesty's high hopes for the Tianjin Navy, would not allow him to back down.

"The Dutch ships were sturdy, but they were slow and lacked maneuverability!"

Deng Shizhong suddenly looked up, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes.

"Pass on my order: all grass boats, advance and harass the Dutch ships!"
Under the cover of the Haicang and Cangshan ships, the Fujian ships circled around to the side and rear of the Dutch ships, seeking an opportunity to board them!

This is the only way!
Use small, agile grass boats to draw Dutch fire, then take the opportunity to get close and make up for the disadvantage of long-range artillery battles with close combat.

However, the Dutch arquebuses were extremely powerful, and boarding maneuvers would inevitably result in heavy losses.

But at this moment, he had no other choice.

On the sea, the Ming warships began to change formation, and the grass boats rushed towards the Dutch ships like a school of agile fish.

An even more brutal naval battle is about to unfold on the waters off Penghu.

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(End of this chapter)