With a few exceptions, such as Kuzaemon, all of the passengers on the "Red Seal" ship were ninja, disguised as samurai, or servants of one sort or another. Most, like Kuzaemon, had been forced by the suspicious Spanish to take quarters outside Intramuros or had remained on board the ship. However, that meant that there was reason for a small party, including Kuzaemon, to visit the "daimyo" daily, so he could give instructions to his "vassals." Certainly, he couldn't be expected to travel to them.
Hattori gestured at a small lacquered table that bore two cups and a beaker of sake. "Please, Kuzaemon, pour yourself a drink while I refamiliarize myself with the map you made." As Kuzaemon reached for the beaker, Hattori spread a large map of Manila out on the floor and studied it.
As he sipped the sake, Kuzaemon couldn't help but look down at the map, and his eyes quickly picked out the places of importance. First and foremost, the triangular citadel of Santiago, where the Pasig River emptied into Manila Bay. It occupied one corner of the roughly pentagonal walled city, which was defended not merely by walls, but by sea, river, and moat.
One wall ran southeast, along the shore of Manila Bay, from the citadel to the Baluarte de San Diego. Another ran more or less eastward along the Pasig, to the Baluarte San Gabriel. The remaining walls curved, first east and then north, from San Diego to San Gabriel. These were interrupted twice by bastions, those of San Nicholas and San Francisco de Dilao.
It was not by chance that the pagan Chinese, who had rebelled before, were forced to live in the Parian, under the guns of San Gabriel, or that sometimes boisterous Japanese were settled in the Dilao, where the soldiers of San Francisco could keep a wary eye on them.
"Well, one change is pretty obvious, they've let their moat fill in."
Hattori nodded. "When they gave us the grand tour of the Intramuros, I noticed that they haven't kept the walls in good repair, either."
Kuzaemon set down his cup. "According to the Chinese traders, there are six Spanish companies in Manila. Nominally a hundred men apiece, but a fair number were conscripts sent here from Mexico on the last Acapulco galleon, and some have been lost through disease and desertion. Fresh troops will come on the next Acapulco galleon—as early as April, but most likely in July. That's why we need to strike quickly."
"Where are these companies located?"
"During the day, I would guess that there are three companies within the walls. At night, if there is no threat, three-quarters of the troops are quartered outside. But there will always be at least fifty to a hundred men in Fort Santiago, and there will be some soldiers in the main bastions."
Hattori smiled grimly. "Well, we have some surprises in store for them."
Dear Uncle Dragon, wrote Mingyu. We live in interesting times. A delegation has come from Japan, ostensibly about trade. The Spanish fear that the Japanese have warlike intentions, and, as they did in 1630, have paraded the troops in front of them and given them a tour of the defenses of the walled city.
No doubt they think that the Japanese will be impressed by the strength of Manila and once again decline to attack. But if the warriors of Nippon do attack, they now know the numbers of the Spanish troops and the conditions of all the walls and bastions.
Some of these Japanese visitors have made contact with some of the more unruly elements of our own people, here in the Parian, and I wonder where this will lead.
I continue to cultivate a useful contact among the Spanish garrison, the young lieutenant I previously wrote you about. He presently commands the Parian gate, but I have encouraged him to seek the command of the Puerta de los Almacenes, since it controls the access to the customs warehouse.
May heaven look with favor on all your endeavors.
The next day, the letter was on an outbound junk, to be delivered, in due course, to Zheng Zhilong, the Patrolling Admiral of Fujian Province, and formerly the leader of a pirate fleet. He was not, strictly speaking, her uncle—she was a Huang, like his own mother—but it was customary to use "uncle" to refer to older male relatives when you didn't want to be specific about the relationship. In any event, she was close enough to him in blood to be one of his most trusted spies in the Manila trade.
Later the same week, Mingyu's father, who skippered one of the ships in the Zheng family's merchant fleet, came to visit her, and he brought news sent to Manila a month or so earlier by Zheng Zhilong's agents in Nagasaki. He reported the seizure of the three large ships of Portuguese Macau's "Japan Fleet" and the Dutch naval activity and Japanese military buildup in Nagasaki.
Mingyu's father told her, "Putting this all together, I fear Manila is in grave danger of a joint Dutch-Japanese assault. Move our inventory out of the Intramuros and split it into several well-hidden caches within the Parian. Continue to monitor developments in the Intramuros, but be prepared to flee to our safe house if there is trouble, and leave a distress signal in the usual place at the first opportunity. I will come get you there if need be."
"Are we going to warn the Spanish?"
"No, not without Zheng Zhilong's permission. And I think Zheng Zhilong would prefer that the Spanish get humbled. After all, we can get silver from Japan rather than New Spain."
"May I at least give Juan a hint that he should be careful?"
"Absolutely not," admonished her father. "You don't want to be the dragon boat oarsman that pulls at the wrong time and spoils the race."
∞ ∞ ∞
Mingyu had to obey her father but that didn't stop her from worrying about Juan. At last she sought out Cut-Nose. The old sailor had known her since she first ran across the deck of a ship when she was two years old.
"Cut-Nose, I want you to have your agents keep an eye on Juan."
"What are we trying to find out about him?"
"This is not an intelligence mission," said Mingyu, emphasizing her point with a head-shake. "This is more of a, um, protective detail."
"I see. And if your father asks why we are protecting this Spaniard?"
"Uncle Dragon says that he is a valuable asset."
Cut-Nose raised his eyebrows. "He is certainly valuable to someone...."
She started stammering a denial of personal interest, but Cut-Nose held up his hand. "Don't worry, I'll have it done."
Chapter 4
Island of Corregidor
The island of Corregidor divided the entrance of Manila Bay in two: the two-mile-wide Boca Chica and the nine mile Boca Grande.
The ancient watchman, a sergeant who had received his post as a sinecure for decades of military service, spotted three galetas and recognized their design. Portuguese, he thought with surprise. Most likely from Macau, but perhaps they have come all the way from India. They should have some interesting tales to tell.
Corregidor was tadpole-shaped, with a head that rose to about 600 feet above the green waters of the bay, and a flat curved tail. The watchman headed down to the dock, at the northern base of the tail, to receive the visitors. He was looking forward to having company; the island was a rather lonely place to live.
Only one of the galetas had docked; the other two remained offshore. A contingent of a dozen sailors disembarked. They were strangely silent, not chattering as sailors usually did when they reached land.
"I am Sergeant Bautista. Welcome to Corregidor and Manila Bay, señors! Were your ships in trouble, or is this a trade visit?"
"We are here to make repairs," said the sailors' apparent leader. He spoke in Spanish with an odd accent. It wasn't Portuguese, but Bautista couldn't quite place it. It was a point of curiosity, rather than of suspicion: perhaps one of out of three of Spanish sailors were born elsewhere in Europe, and Bautista had no reason to think that Portuguese crews were any different.
He was taken completely by surprise when the "Portuguese" drew their weapons.
"Give me your knife and pistol, sergeant," said the lead sailor.
Bautista froze in shock. "You are pirates? How could you have captured not one but three galeta?"
"I am a Dutch E
ast India Company officer. And I must insist that you hand over your weapons now, and quietly."
Bautista complied. "Even with three galeta, you cannot take Manila," he declared defiantly.
"That is not your concern," said the Dutchman. "Now, as you value your life, tell me truly, how many Spanish soldiers are on this island, and where are they located? And remember, we have spies among you, and if your answer doesn't agree with what they have told us--" He made a neck-slicing gesture with his forefinger.
My corporal is at the signal fire, on topside, facing Manila," Bautista said sullenly, pointing west toward the hilltop. "There is a gunner and two mates at the battery on the point just to our northwest."
"And the guard boat?" the Dutch officer prompted.
"It is at the South Dock, just across the tail of the island. There is a sentry on guard there and sailors on board or nearby to sail it when needed."
At a hand signal from the Dutch officer, more of the Dutch sailors disembarked from the galeta. One party went to Battery Point and secured the battery there. Another took control of the signal post. Still other invaders rounded up all the inhabitants, even the indios, and appropriated the watchman's guard boat, just to make sure that no one would carry a warning to the mainland.
At last the captain of the galeta came ashore. "All secure?"
"Aye aye, sir," said the officer.
"Set the signal fires, and then we will set sail for Manila. You will remain here with twenty men and make sure that our prisoners cannot escape."
The officer saluted and ran to the signal post high on the hillside facing Manila. "Set two signal fires, there and there," he ordered, pointing.
That told Manila that the incoming galetas were friendlies, Portuguese ships from Macau. And as ships under the Spanish Crown, they did not need an escort.
Manila, Governor's Residence
Governor Salamanca stood before one of the windows of his palace on the Plaza de Armas. The window in question faced Manila Bay, and for the moment it was letting in a refreshing sea breeze that rustled the curtains that Salamanca had brought with him from Mexico City. Salamanca moved the curtains aside so the breeze could more readily enter the room. Even in March, Manila was warm and rather humid.
He heard a cough behind him and turned.
"Your Excellency," said one of the governor's aides, "the three Portuguese ships came up to the bar of the Pasig and were there hailed by your representatives. They are not in fact come directly from Macau. Rather, they are the fleet last sent by Macau to Japan."
"How curious," said Governor Salamanca. "Why have they come here?"
"They say they made an unsuccessful attempt to return from Nagasaki to Macau but were driven far out to sea by a great storm. They are not asking for permission to sell any goods here in Manila but wish to take advantage of the shipyard in Cavite to make repairs before they try again for Macau."
Well, that was a relief, the governor thought. He had arrived in Manila in 1633. Within a week, Joseph de Navada Alvarado, regidor of Manila, had with great gravity presented him with seventeen articles explaining why the governor should ask King Philip to forbid the Macaunese from transporting goods from China to Manila. The governor had included Alvarado's memorandum with his first report to the king.
"If they are not going to be trading here, then there is no need for an inspection of their cargo. Have my galley lead them to Cavite." The port of Cavite lay near one tip of the claw-shaped Sangley Peninsula, which reached out to the northeast, like the pincer of a crab, in the general direction of Manila.
"The master of the galley is to advise the commander that it is my will they be allowed to purchase whatever ship stores can be spared. But he is also to remind the commander that his first priority is to assure that the Manila Galleon can leave on schedule." Cavite was called the Ciudad de Oro Mazico, the City of Solid Gold, because it was the Manila Galleon's home port.
The aide bowed and hurried down to the Almacenes gate, where the galley was docked.
∞ ∞ ∞
Juan Cardona left the Intramuros by the Puerta de Parian, the gate facing the Chinese district to the east of the walled city. He walked several blocks and came at last to the Puente Grande, the bridge over the Pasig River separating the Parian district from Binondo. The bridge had nine stone piers and a wooden deck. The water arch below had its peak less than twice the height of a man above the waterline, so most sailing ships could not go upstream on the Pasig past the bridge unless they unstepped their mast.
Which is not to say that there was no river traffic. Juan had led patrols across the bridge into the Binondo, or along the Pasig, from time to time. He knew what he would find along the Pasig and its tributaries: thousands of people living in boats that looked like giant dugout canoes, drifting slowly downstream or being poled even more slowly upstream by Filipinos standing on bamboo platforms just above the waterline. The bow of these boats was reserved for paying cargo and the family would reside aft, together with a couple of roosters, a rice kettle, and a fire pot.
As Juan had hoped, Mingyu was waiting for him at the bridge, eating some kind of Chinese pastry.
"Hello, Mingyu, I brought you some presents." These were silver earrings from Mexico, as it would have made no sense to give her Chinese goods.
"Thank you, Juan."
Suddenly, he noticed something about her outfit. "Is that a cross you are wearing?"
"Yes, and a medallion of the Virgin Mary."
"How wonderful. Does that mean that you have now been baptized?"
"I am sorry, Juan. I have been reading your Catechism, but I can't officially convert. If I did so, I would have to live across the river in the Binondo, and I would be forbidden by Spanish law to return to China. It would be bad for business." The law had been intended to prevent backsliding by converts.
"Do you wear it when you are back in China? Or would you get in trouble if you did?" asked Juan.
"No trouble," said Mingyu. "The pagans take the medallion to be an image of Guanshi'yin, She Who Hears the Cries of the World, The Buddhist Goddess of Mercy and a Taoist Immortal. And the cross is set in a ring, and thus is an ancient Chinese symbol for celestial energy."
Juan glanced at the articles on the table in front of her, then looked back at her. "I've been meaning to ask you, what exactly is your family business? I can't quite tell by looking at your shop. You have too many different things on sale."
"Oh, my business is so boring, I think I would turn to stone if I talked about it. I would much rather hear more about you. I am sure your life as a Spanish officer is much more exciting than mine." She batted her lashes at him.
"What's new at the fort?"
Juan told her about the arrival of the three Portuguese ships and their redirection to Cavite, and she asked how the negotiations with the Japanese embassy were progressing. "Are the Japanese going to be coming here to trade? Or are they going to let Spanish traders return to Nagasaki?"
"Well... They're secret," he stammered, "I am not sure that I should tell you.... Not that I believe that you would, or could, do any harm with the information, but I hope you understand my position."
She pouted.
Anyway, I really don't know much more than that they are moving slowly."
"Fine," she sighed, and changed the subject. ''Have you been in any battles?"
"Well, when I was down in Terrenate, these three Dutch ships sailed by the native village I was visiting...."
Chapter 5
It was a Sunday night, and the streets of the Intramuros quieted quickly. No taverns were open, of course, and if there were any partying going on, it was discreet, within the private courtyards of the Spanish homes.
The chunin Norihiro lay quietly on the rooftop, studying the guards two stories below him. One of the first things the ninja had done was to cut a hole in the roof of their building, so that they could come and go unseen. From one of the eaves they could jump to an adjoining building, roofed in the native
style with soft nipa leaves, and descend to street level out of the field of view of the guards.
Of course, they had not been able to conduct a proper reconnaissance, since they would be immediately suspect if spotted. Fortunately, there were Indians and even Chinese who worked in Intramuros during the day and had very interesting stories to tell to Kuzaemon.
Stories about many things, but one thing in particular arrested his attention: Gunpowder. Apparently, Manila had it, but only in short supply.
The ninja couldn't do anything about the gunpowder in Fort Santiago, unless they were very lucky. Even at night there was at a full company in the fort, and the gunpowder was stored in a bombproof magazine.
But other storehouses were rather more vulnerable. In the Baluartes of San Diego, San Andres and San Gabriel, it was stored in a simple shed for the sake of convenience.
Finally, there was the powder-house itself. The Spanish made some of their own gunpowder, from local sulfur and charcoal and imported saltpeter. It was ground by convicts in thirty mortars. The powder-house was part of the royal arsenal, which fronted the parade ground leading to, and thus outside of, the gates of Fort Santiago.
The Japanese embassy had been quartered near the church of San Agustin, which in turn was near the Baluarte de San Diego. This had once been a free-standing circular tower, the Nuestra Señora de Guia. In 1593 it had been given an outer wall and that joined to the city walls, and the dilapidated old tower became its keep. The bastion had only one gate, and it opened north, into the Intramuros.
When the city was not under siege, the San Diego's garrison was twenty soldiers, six artillerymen, and their officers. The keep, the old tower, held their lodging quarters and some workshops. The powder shed was in the courtyard, between the new walls and the keep, on the keep's southern flank. A dozen large and medium artillery pieces were positioned on one platform, facing southwest toward the bay, and four more, all heavies, were on a second platform, which faced southeast. On the city side, there was just a pair of swivel guns.
The Chrysanthemum, the Cross, and the Dragon Page 3
