GBP Chapter 297 A Clash of Fighting Will
Chapter 297 A Clash of Fighting Will
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With a death wish, Zheng Zhibao's face was filled with tragic resolve. He gripped his heavy tiger-headed saber, oblivious to the cannonballs whistling past him and overhead, his eyes fixed on the approaching large warships. These warships, even larger than the red-haired barges, spewed flames of death from countless dark cannon ports on their sides, reaping the lives of Zheng's sailors like mowing grass. He estimated that by the time they reached him, four or five out of ten of Zheng's ships would be gone.
Before even getting close to the enemy, more than half of them had been killed or wounded. Zheng Zhibao had never experienced such a battle before. Even when facing the Dutch, who were known for their strong ships and powerful cannons, the gap between the two sides had never been this large.
After an unknown amount of time, the Zheng family's troop transport ships finally closed to within two hundred meters of their opponents, at the cost of losing a third of their ships and men. The distance closed, and hand-to-hand combat seemed imminent. The surviving elite soldiers of the Zheng family were eager to fight, taking out grappling hooks and other tools for scaling the ships, anticipating a spectacular counterattack—in the Battle of Liaoluo Bay, they had used this same brutal boarding maneuver to drag the Hongmao into a fighting mode they were not suited for. If it weren't for Liu Xiang, equally formidable in close combat, leading his troops to the scene, and Zheng Zhihu's unexpected death and subsequent drop in morale, that offensive might have ended the battle. The Qiongzhou camp now clearly lacked a fighter like Liu Xiang; even with a few musketeers on board, they were outnumbered. Perhaps their chance to turn the tide was about to arrive.
They simply forgot that the enemy, whether large or small, was equipped with Caron cannons, veritable deck killers, and their large-caliber shotgun shells were a nightmare for their boarding operations.
On the "Guangdong", Gao Jie asked Liu Ye: "Should we send over the army's transport ships? After all, there are too many people from the Zheng family. We can't kill them all. And the distance is too close. If their fighting spirit is strong enough, even shotgun shells won't stop their frantic boarding. Our sailors will inevitably suffer casualties. Most importantly, if they manage to board this flagship, I can't guarantee your absolute safety."
The transport ships carrying the army were anchored far behind the battlefield, their mission to wait for the naval battle to end and then land at Zhongzuosuo and Anping Town to clean up the mess. The original plan did not include the army participating in the naval battle, but Gao Jie, concerned about unnecessary naval casualties and Liu Ye's safety, wanted the army, equipped with close-combat weapons, to join the fighting and relieve some of the pressure on the navy.
Liu Ye flatly rejected William's suggestion, saying resolutely, "The naval battle is to be handled by the navy. The army cannot waste its strength and energy on such matters. They must be in the best combat condition to fight on land. We will soon be attacking a local Ming Dynasty military town, not pirates on a desolate island. The battle must be ended as soon as possible. We must eradicate the Zheng family's power and then retreat quickly. Otherwise, things will become complicated when the local government has to take action and get involved in the war."
Gao Jie shrugged and said helplessly, "Fine, you decide on the strategic matters, and I must carry out your orders."
Liu Ye glanced at the densely packed troop transport ships ahead—the decks were teeming with people, and you could almost see their faces twisted and contorted with fear and despair without even needing binoculars. Rather than saying they possessed a strong fighting spirit, it would be more accurate to say they had managed to hold on until now without collapsing. Most of them were thinking that if they boarded the ship, killing one would be enough, and killing two would be a bonus.
He drew his sidearm—a specially made Qionghai Type 5 pistol inlaid with gold fittings—and calmly said, “I don’t believe that with a casualty rate approaching 50%, these pirates could have managed to board the ship with such high morale after braving the barrage of fire from the Caron cannons. I’ve only ever seen such inhuman fighting spirit in an army armed with faith, and these pirates clearly have no faith. So, even if they manage to get close, it’s just luck, and it doesn’t mean they can still resolutely carry out combat orders. Of course, if anyone is lucky enough to board the ship, I’m willing to join the battle and send them back to hell. Gao Jie, would you like to have a marksmanship contest with me?”
Liu Ye's confidence inspired Gao Jie, who smiled, shrugged, and pulled out his sidearm: "Although I don't agree with commanders personally participating in battle, I still greatly admire your courage. You have a strong heart! Everyone on the ship, including myself, the first mate, and the boatswain, is honored to fight alongside you. Let's greet the pirates with bullets!"
At this moment, as the cannon fire intensified, the battle reached its climax—the enemy had closed to within 100 meters, and the cannons' firing rate and caliber were insufficient to stop the countless troop transports. All fire ceased, leaving only the charon guns to fire grapeshot at top speed. To ensure uninterrupted fire, the gunners in charge of all gun crews transferred the cannon crews to the charon gun crews, taking turns carrying shells, loading, and igniting them, striving to maintain a high-intensity, high-efficiency bombardment.
No matter how fearless Zheng Zhibao was, he had no choice but to hide in the cabin at this moment. He could remain calm in the face of the relatively sparse solid shot, but no one could stand still without changing their expression in the face of the overwhelming rain of grapeshot. One shot would turn a person into pieces, leaving no trace of their body.
Even inside the cabin, Zheng Zhibao could feel the power of the shelling: raindrops pounded against the outer walls, occasionally piercing wooden planks, sending sawdust and broken pieces flying everywhere. Sailors on deck, with nowhere to hide, screamed in despair and pain. The shells struck with a series of muffled thuds. The entire ship seemed like a tree struggling in a hailstorm, on the verge of collapse.
With the war at this point, there was no point in talking about command anymore. Most of the ships' sails had been riddled with holes by bullets, rendering them essentially unable to carry wind. Troop transport ships were moving forward slowly, relying almost entirely on inertia, and every meter they advanced came at a heavy cost.
Within this narrow, elongated space, the intensity of the battle reached its peak. The attackers advanced relentlessly, almost as if their lives were the sole propellant, with someone dying every second. The defenders were forced to unleash their full potential, firing even beyond their best training levels. Many gunners were forced to withdraw from the battle after being accidentally burned by the hot gun barrels.
Many seasoned pirates were also frightened. They were not afraid of death, but only of a spectacular, open death. Who could bear to die so obviously, without even a complete corpse? They retreated and wanted to escape the battlefield, but under such intense bombardment, they would die whether they fled or not. They could only cower in the hold, trembling as they awaited the moment of their fate.
After an unknown amount of time, with a muffled thud, the battered troop transport finally rammed into the enemy's deck. The familiar jolt told the pirates hiding in the hold that their chance for hand-to-hand combat had arrived.