World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chapter 61 The British compromised

Dubois nodded. He understood the nuance: France needed Lanfang's technology, but not a Lanfang that was too powerful and could potentially threaten France in return. Britain was an enemy, but also a potential ally to counterbalance Germany.

"And what about the meeting this afternoon..."

"I will tell them that the French Republic respects the freedom of navigation and trade rights of all nations," Delcas said with a smile. "As for the matter between Lanfang and Britain, that's their business. Of course, if Britain is willing to show 'flexibility' on certain issues—such as Morocco, or colonial borders—then perhaps we can... exert some positive influence."

"Old fox," Dubois thought to himself. But he had to admit, this was diplomacy.

"By the way," Delcas suddenly asked, "any new information from Chen Feng? What's his reaction to the situation in Mumbai?"

"There's no direct news yet. But according to our people in Dubai, things are calm inside Lanfang. Chen Feng seems to have anticipated all of this, and it's even possible... this was part of his plan."

"Part of the plan?"

"Sending the 'Revival' to Mumbai is not only about breaking the blockade, but also about demonstrating our strength to Chinese people around the world," Dubois said. "Minister, you may not know that there are nearly one million Chinese expatriates in India, and tens of millions throughout Southeast Asia. When these people see their nation's warships appearing in Britain's most important colony..."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle:

"Then it's no longer just about a warship. It's a signal to all overseas Chinese: times have changed."

Delcas remained silent for a long time.

"This Chen Feng... he wants more than just a few ships, or just that piece of land in the Persian Gulf," he said slowly. "He wants the rebirth of a nation. And we, unknowingly, have become pawns on his chessboard."

"But we also got what we wanted."

"For now, yes." The minister nodded. "So we have to keep playing this game. Inform our ambassador in London that the afternoon's talks... can be friendly, but the stance must be firm. France will not give up the advantages it has already gained unless the British offer a price we cannot refuse."

Mumbai offshore

The "Guangfu" ship stopped one nautical mile outside the entrance to the main channel. This distance was close enough that people on shore could see the details with the naked eye; yet it was also far enough that it would not be considered a direct threat.

On the bridge, Litt received a reply from the Indian Governor's Office. The telegram was long and formally worded, but its core message was the same: entry into port to replenish fresh water was permitted, but the following fifteen restrictions had to be observed.

"They made a list." Lin Hai handed the telegram to Li Te and couldn't help but laugh. "From the number of people landing to the scope of activities, from the length of stay to communication restrictions... the British have really taken bureaucracy to the extreme."

Li Te quickly glanced at the message: "Accepted. Reply: We fully understand and respect your regulations. This ship will dock at the designated pier for only fresh water and necessary food replenishment. No more than ten personnel will be on shore, and activities will be limited to the pier area. The estimated stay is twenty-four hours."

"They just agreed like that?" Lin Hai was somewhat surprised. "I thought they would try to negotiate..."

"The President said our purpose is not provocation, but demonstration." Little put down the telegram. "We've demonstrated speed and firepower; now we need to demonstrate discipline and professionalism. We need to show the British that we are not bandits or pirates, but a regular, disciplined navy."

He looked out the window at the port that was getting closer and closer:

"Moreover, sometimes following the rules is more powerful than breaking them. When we comply with every single one of their rules, yet still make them feel threatened, that threat is real and lasting."

The order was given. The "Guangfu" slowly entered the main channel, its massive body casting a long shadow on the sea. On both sides, countless small boats—fishing boats, sightseeing boats, and merchant ships—gathered at a safe distance, their decks filled with people.

There were Indians, Europeans, and mostly Chinese.

They held up binoculars, rudimentary cameras, and some even sketchbooks, wanting to record this historic moment.

On the bridge of the USS Intrepid

Abbasnot watched this scene with mixed feelings. His fleet was anchored outside the main channel, "escorting and monitoring" as ordered by London. But in reality, there was nothing they could do but watch as the gray behemoth swaggered into the Imperial port.

"Sir, look at the shore," the artillery sergeant whispered.

Abbasnot raised his binoculars. Thousands of people had already gathered on Mumbai's seaside promenade. What alarmed him even more was that many of them were Chinese—they were well-dressed and restrained, but everyone's eyes were fixed on the "Guangfu" ship, their emotions indescribably complex.

That wasn't the look of someone watching a spectacle.

Those were eyes filled with hope.

"We lost." Abbasnot lowered his binoculars, his voice so soft that only he could hear it. "Not in a battle, but in a performance. The moment that ship sailed into Mumbai, the myth of the invincible British Empire in Asia shattered."

He recalled General Nelson's famous quote: "Britain expects everyone to do their duty."

He did his duty. His sailors did their duty. They chased for over thirty hours, from the Persian Gulf to the Indian Ocean, with all their might.

But sometimes, even being conscientious and responsible cannot change the outcome.

"Send a final report to London," he told the communications officer. "Say... mission accomplished. Contact maintained, conflict avoided. But strategic objectives... strategic objectives not achieved. The enemy has successfully demonstrated its power and entered Mumbai port. A comprehensive reassessment of the Indian Ocean defense strategy is recommended."

"Yes, sir."

The telegram was sent. Abbasnot knew that his naval career might be over. As the first fleet commander to "fail to prevent enemy warships from entering the Empire's main ports," his best outcome was early retirement.

But he doesn't regret it.

Because sometimes, admitting defeat takes more courage than pretending to win.

Mumbai Port, Pier 9

The "Revival" slowly approached the shore. Its massive hull almost occupied the entire deep-water berth, its gray armor reflecting a cold, austere light in the sunlight. On the dock, British colonial officials, military police, and port personnel were on high alert, but their expressions were less of vigilance and more of... bewilderment.

They had never seen a warship like this before.

I have never handled such an "access" before.

Little led nine officers and sailors down the gangway. They were dressed in neat, dark blue uniforms, their steps were synchronized, and their demeanor was impeccable. Little, who was at the front, saluted the approaching British port officials and then handed them a document.