novelAbuy Chapter 59 A "Polite Visit" at the Gates of Mumbai
Chapter 59 A "Polite Visit" at the Gates of Mumbai
"The intelligence department just sent a briefing," Wilson said, his voice dry. "A Chinese force has been established in the Persian Gulf. They... they've built a warship even more advanced than the 'Dreadnought.' That warship is now on its way to Mumbai and is expected to enter the main channel in two hours."
Clark slumped into his chair. His first reaction was disbelief—could the Chinese build warships more advanced than the British? It was as absurd as saying monkeys could build cathedrals.
But the telegram was right there in his hand, with the rear admiral's signature on it.
"Notify the port authority to suspend all vessels entering and leaving the port." He forced himself to calm down. "Notify the police to increase security in the port area. Notify...notify the newspapers that all news about the port today must be censored."
"Anything else?"
"Anything else?" Clark smiled wryly. "Just praying, praying that the ship is just passing by and won't do anything crazy."
20 nautical miles off the coast of Mumbai
On the bridge of the INS Kwangfu, Li Te was observing the coastline through binoculars. The morning mist was dissipating, and the outline of India's west coast was gradually becoming clear. In the distance, the Mumbai port lighthouse was already visible, along with the densely packed docks, warehouses, and colonial buildings.
"Captain, report the situation."
Lin Hai stood at the chart table: "Eighteen nautical miles from the entrance to the main channel of Mumbai, speed 15 knots. The British fleet is two nautical miles behind us, maintaining the same speed. Also..." He paused, "The lookout indicates that a large number of small boats are gathering in the direction of the port, possibly fishing boats or sightseeing boats."
Li Te nodded. He had received radio signals from those small boats last night—they were local Chinese chambers of commerce and overseas Chinese organizations, who had been waiting in the open sea since they heard that "their own warship" was coming.
"Signal Soldier."
"exist!"
"Send a message on a public frequency, in plaintext," Li Te said. "The Lanfang Republic Navy warship, Guangfu, is about to enter the waters off Mumbai for a friendly visit. The ship needs to replenish its fresh water supply and is willing to pay the market price. Please coordinate with the port authority. Repeat, this is a friendly visit."
Wang Xiaohua was taken aback: "Captain, a plaintext message... the whole of Mumbai can hear it."
"We need to make sure all of Mumbai hears us." Litt put down his binoculars. "We need to be polite, we need to be formal, we need to let everyone know: we are not pirates, we are not invaders. We are a regular navy, conducting a visit in accordance with international practice."
"But what if they refuse?"
"Then we'll stay outside the main channel and wait." A slight smile appeared on Li Te's lips. "Wait until everyone in Mumbai crowds onto the beach to see why this ship is anchored there. Wait until the phone lines in London are ringing off the hook, asking why a ship that just wants some fresh water won't be allowed into port."
The signal has been sent.
Almost simultaneously, on the bridge of the USS Dreadnought, the communications officer, holding the translated telegram, walked toward Abbasnot with a strange expression.
"Sir, the 'Restoration' has sent a message in plain text. The content... you can see for yourself."
Abbasnot took the telegram, glanced at it, and then closed his eyes.
Friendly visit. Replenishment of fresh water. Payment at market price.
Each word is in accordance with international law, each word is polite and appropriate, but put together, it is the ultimate provocation against the British colonial authorities in India.
"They're going to make a big deal out of this," the gunnery officer whispered. "They want all of India, no, the whole world, to see that the Royal Navy can't do anything to them, and neither can the Viceroy's Office."
"What choice do we have?" Abbasnot opened his eyes, his voice weary. "Fire? Fire at a ship that is merely 'requesting fresh water' twenty nautical miles from the port, in front of thousands of fishermen and merchant ships? That would be a diplomatic disaster."
"But sir, are you really going to let them just swagger around like this..."
“We have no choice,” Abbasnot interrupted him. “London’s latest order is ‘avoid conflict, maintain contact.’ Maintaining contact means, wherever they go, we go. They stop, we stop. They go into port… Good heavens, they’re not really going to go into port, are they?”
Before the words were even finished, the lookout shouted, "They've changed course! Adjusted their course, heading towards the main channel entrance!"
Mumbai Port, Colabah District Chinese Chamber of Commerce
Chen Jinfu put down his binoculars, his hands trembling slightly. This fifty-year-old Fujian businessman had been in India for thirty years, rising from a street vendor to the owner of a trading company, but he had never been as excited as he was today.
"It's true...it's true!" He turned to everyone crowded on the second floor of the Chamber of Commerce and said, "That ship! That big ship! Flying the yellow dragon flag! It's our Chinese ship!"
A suppressed cheer erupted from the room. More than thirty Chinese businessmen, workers, and students crowded at the window, eagerly peering out. Although they were still far away and could only make out a gray outline, they recognized the flag—yellow background, blue dragon, and a gear—from newspapers and secretly circulated photographs.
That was Lanfang's flag.
"Mr. Chen, what do we do now?" a young student asked, his eyes practically glowing. "Should we organize a group to go to the port to welcome him?"
"No," Chen Jinfu shook his head. "The British will arrest us. But..." He thought for a moment, "but we can 'just happen' to work at the docks, 'just happen' to be near the port. Also, notify all Chinese shops to open for business today, and to open earlier than usual."
Why?
"Because today is a special day." Chen Jinfu walked to the window, looking at the giant ship getting closer and closer, his voice choked with emotion. "Because today, our Chinese warships have sailed to the most important colonial port of the British Empire. Because today, we want everyone to see—the Chinese can also build such ships, the Chinese also have such power."
He turned around and looked at the excited faces in the room:
"Go and inform them. But remember, no gatherings, no chanting slogans, and no giving the British a pretext to arrest people. We just need to... stand there and watch. Let our eyes tell the people on that ship: We saw it, we know it, we've waited too long for this day."
The crowd dispersed. Chen Jinfu remained alone in the room and raised his binoculars again.
The ship was closer. Now its outline was clear—so long, so big, so… beautiful.
He recalled his first visit to Mumbai thirty years ago. He was not yet twenty, standing on the deck of a British ocean liner, looking at the massive warships in the harbor, filled with awe and a sense of inferiority. He wondered: When will we Chinese be able to have ships like these?
Now, the answer is right before your eyes.