novelAbuy Chapter 129 The Second Moroccan Crisis
Chapter 129 The Second Moroccan Crisis
Chen Feng walked to the railing and looked towards the port. At Pier No. 3, a battleship flying the Chilean flag was slowly departing—it was the "Admiral Cochrane," built by Lanfang and delivered just three days ago, now embarking on its long voyage back to South America. (South America will not be discussed in the short term, but the arms race continues; this is just to save space.)
"What about the French side?"
"The telegram from Paris has just arrived," Wang Bo said. "French Prime Minister Joseph Cayo has convened an emergency cabinet meeting and decided to send two additional colonial infantry regiments to Morocco. The Mediterranean Fleet is now on high alert."
Chen Feng nodded, turned, and walked back inside. A huge world map hung on the office wall, with Wang Bo having circled Morocco in red.
"What are the Germans thinking?" Chen Feng asked. "Is it worth risking war with Britain and France for a piece of African colony?"
Uncle Wang carefully chose his words: "Young Master, Major General Muller called yesterday afternoon and said he would visit me in person this morning."
"As expected." Chen Feng glanced at the clock on the wall. "He should be arriving soon. Prepare tea—use our own Fujian black tea, not the German kind."
"Yes."
At 11:00 a.m. sharp, Rear Admiral Müller, the German Consul General in Lanfang, appeared on time at the door of Chen Feng's office. Today, he was wearing a full naval officer's dress uniform; the dark blue woolen fabric looked heavy in the July sun, and the medals on his chest were polished to a gleaming shine.
"Your Excellency the President," Müller said in German with a Prussian accent, but he tried to speak clearly, "thank you for taking the time to see me."
Chen Feng stood up and shook hands: "Major General, please sit down. I heard you have urgent business?"
Muller did not sit down immediately. He opened his black briefcase and took out a folder bearing the imperial eagle emblem.
"A telegram from Berlin." His Chinese was broken, but it conveyed the meaning: "The Imperial Government hopes that the Lanfang Republic can demonstrate the strength of the Franco-Latin American friendship in this Moroccan incident."
Chen Feng took the folder but didn't open it immediately: "Major General, please be more specific."
Müller took a deep breath, seemingly organizing his thoughts. He was forty-six years old and had served in the German Navy for twenty-eight years, participating in the First Sino-Japanese War and the Eight-Nation Alliance invasion—though as an observer, of course. When he was sent to Dubai three years ago, he had thought it would be a sinecure, but now he was one of the Empire's most important diplomats in the Far East.
"Agadir Port." Muller walked to the map. "Our 'Leopard' is just a 900-ton gunboat with only two 105mm guns and 120 sailors. But its symbolic significance... you understand."
"It symbolizes Germany's presence in Morocco."
"Yes." Müller nodded. "The French want to monopolize Morocco, which violates the resolutions of the 1906 Algeciras Conference. The Empire is merely upholding the dignity of international treaties."
Chen Feng smiled slightly. He certainly remembered that period of history—in 1906, the European powers met in Algeciras, Spain, ostensibly to discuss the Moroccan question, but in reality to divide spheres of influence. Germany was then marginalized by the combined forces of Britain and France.
"So what does Berlin want Lanfang to do?"
Müller pulled a sheet of paper from the folder, which contained a formal request printed in German.
"First, dispatch one or two capital ships to the Mediterranean to conduct 'joint exercises' with the German Mediterranean Squadron. Time: Mid-July. Location: Waters east of Sicily."
"Second, publicly express support for Germany's position on the Moroccan issue."
"Third, if the situation escalates, allow German warships to use Lanfang's ports in the Persian Gulf for resupply and repairs."
Chen Feng listened quietly, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. After Muller finished speaking, he didn't respond immediately, but got up and went to the tea set to brew tea.
"Major General, try this." He pushed a cup of amber-colored tea toward Muller. "It's Lapsang Souchong from Wuyi Mountain in Fujian. One of our immigrants is an old tea farmer who tried planting it in the mountains of southern Arabia last year, and it actually succeeded."
Muller paused for a moment, clearly not expecting Chen Feng to bring up tea at this crucial juncture. But he still took the teacup and took a sip.
"...a very unique flavor."
"It has a smoky flavor, right?" Chen Feng picked up a cup himself. "This kind of tea is smoked with pine needles during the production process. That's why some people call it 'Smoked Lapsang Souchong'."
He put down his teacup and looked at Muller.
"Like the current Moroccan issue," Chen Feng said, "On the surface, it's a dispute between France and Germany, but in reality..."
He pointed to London and Paris on the map.
"It was Britain that was pushing this from behind. When Sir Grey said 'support France,' what he really meant was 'we cannot allow Germany to gain a foothold in the Mediterranean.' Because whoever controls the Strait of Gibraltar and the western Mediterranean holds the lifeline of the British Empire's shipping route to India in their hands."
Muller's expression changed. He put down his teacup and leaned forward slightly.
"The President sees things very clearly."
"So here's the question," Chen Feng said, "Why did Lanfang get involved in this dispute? We have no interests in the Mediterranean, and no expatriates in Morocco. What benefit would sending ships to conduct exercises bring us?"
Muller was prepared. He then took another document from his briefcase.
"Berlin has authorized me to make the following commitments: First, the Imperial Government will support Lanfang's claim to sovereignty over its ancestral lands in Borneo in all international forums. Second, Krupp will transfer its latest special steel smelting technology to Lanfang—including the surface hardening process for armor steel. Third…"
He paused, then emphasized his words.
"If Lanfang agrees to send ships, the Imperial Navy will order four 'Seagull-class' destroyers for a total price of £2.4 million, with a 50% prepayment." (Fengfeng-class)
The office fell silent. Only the sound of the sea breeze outside the window and the distant sound of ship horns from the harbor could be heard.
Chen Feng stared at the three documents for a long time. Then he looked up and asked, "Major General, how long can I consider this?"
"Berlin expects...a response within forty-eight hours."
"Too short," Chen Feng shook his head. "Mobilizing the main warships takes time. The 'Kuangfu' has just completed its major overhaul and is still undergoing sea trials. The 'Fuxing' is on a patrol mission protecting overseas Chinese in the Java Sea, and it will take at least two weeks to return."
"That……"
"Give me a week," Chen Feng said. "I will give you a formal reply before July 8th."
Muller frowned: "President, the situation may have changed drastically in just one week..."
"Then we need to be even more cautious," Chen Feng interrupted him. "Major General, Lanfang is a small country. We need to think carefully about whether we'll step on a landmine with every step we take."
The two looked at each other for a few seconds. Finally, Muller nodded: "Okay. One week. But please do it as soon as possible."
"I will."