pappabearbooks Chapter 68 Java in Sight
Chapter 68 Java in Sight
Waves of shouts rose higher and higher, echoing through the night sky over the Indian Ocean. Some wept, some screamed themselves hoarse, and some threw their hats into the air. Emotions that had been suppressed for too long finally erupted at this moment.
Li Te stood on the platform, watching all of this. His eyes were red, but he didn't cry. He simply raised his right hand and gave a perfect military salute to his 1,200 brothers who had shared life and death with him.
After the ceremony, he turned and walked down the platform, saying to Lin Hai, who was already waiting beside him:
"Order the engine room—full speed ahead!"
"yes!"
Five minutes later, the massive hull of the "Revival" began to slowly turn. The four steam turbines roared, thick smoke billowed from the funnels, and the speedometer needle climbed from 18 knots—20, 22, 25, 28…
The steel behemoth tore through the sea, leaving a white trail several kilometers long behind it. The spray from the waves cleaved by its bow gleamed a ghastly white under the searchlights, like paper money scattered on this road of no return.
Inside the bridge, Li Te stood in front of the nautical chart, watching the symbol representing "Kuangfu" slowly move towards Java.
Lin Hai walked over and handed him a cup of hot tea: "Captain, go and rest for a while. You'll be busy for the next fifty hours."
Li Te took the teacup and shook his head: "I can't sleep. Old Lin, tell me... are we really doing the right thing?"
"What's right or wrong?"
"For the sake of forty-seven people in Java, the entire strategic plan has been disrupted." Little looked out at the darkness. "The British might use this as an opportunity to launch an attack, the Germans might reassess our reliability, and even the French... who knows? The President spent three years setting up this plan, and it might all be ruined because of this one operation."
Lin Hai remained silent for a long time.
Then he said, "Captain, let me tell you a story."
"Um?"
"My hometown is in Fujian. When I was a child, there was an old man in my village who fought in the Sino-French War." Lin Hai leaned against the bulkhead, his voice soft. "He said that during the Battle of Mawei, French shells rained down like rain. Our ships sank one after another, and people died one after another. He clung to the mast, watching his brothers, with whom he had spent every day, scream in the sea of fire, and he had only one thought in his mind: Why? Why couldn't we win?"
He paused:
"He survived and returned to the village. He never spoke of the naval battle when people asked him about it. Until his dying breath, he called me to his bedside and said, 'Ah Hai, the greatest pain in my life wasn't the physical wounds, but the pent-up frustration in my heart. We weren't afraid of death, but we felt it was pointless to die—because even if we all died, nothing would change.'"
Lin Hai turned his head and looked at Li Te:
"Captain, what do you think the Chinese in Southeast Asia will think of us three or five years from now, when we actually manage to return to Borneo? They'll say, 'Oh, Lanfang is back. But they didn't even dare to rescue their fellow countrymen in Java back then, so what are they doing back now?'"
Li Te's hand holding the teacup trembled slightly.
"So," Lin Hai patted him on the shoulder, "some battles aren't about whether they're worth fighting, but whether they absolutely have to be fought. Today's battle is one that we absolutely have to fight. If we lose, we accept it. But if we don't fight... we'll never get over that hurdle in our hearts for the rest of our lives."
After he finished speaking, he turned and left the bridge to check the readiness of various departments.
Li Te stood alone in front of the nautical chart, watching the point of light that kept moving south.
The sky outside the window gradually brightened.
The first rays of dawn shone on the gray armor plating of the "Revival" ship, on the thick gun barrels of the main turret, and on the yellow dragon flag fluttering in the wind at the top of the mast.
Li Te suddenly remembered the last sentence in Chen Feng's telegram:
"The motherland and 300,000 compatriots are your support."
He raised his teacup, looked at the rising sun outside the porthole, and said softly:
"Then let's fight. For the forty-seven people who will never be able to go home, and for the millions of people who are still waiting for us to come home."
The water in the teacup rippled slightly.
"Heading 165, speed 28 knots, 12 nautical miles from Batavia."
Navigation Officer Chen Qiming's voice rang out in the bridge, steady yet with a barely perceptible tension. Li Te stood before the observation window, high-powered binoculars in hand. Through the lens, the coastline of Java Island had already emerged from the horizon, like a dark green ribbon, appearing and disappearing in the morning mist.
"Visibility?" Li Te asked, his eyes never leaving the binoculars.
"The morning fog is expected to dissipate within an hour," Chen Qiming replied quickly. "Currently, visibility is about five kilometers, which is enough for us to observe the outline of the port."
Li Te nodded. He adjusted the focus, and the lens swept across the coastline. First, there were scattered fishing villages, their thatched roofs peeking out from the mist with blurry spires. Then, the buildings gradually denser—colonial-style white walls and red tiles, church spires, and cranes on the dock.
Finally, he saw the port of Batavia.
The port was larger than he had imagined. There were at least twenty berths, three of which were deep-water berths, with several cargo ships moored there. Further away, the clock tower of the port authority building stood tall, with a red, white, and blue tricolor flag—the Dutch flag—flying from its roof.
Li Te applied slight pressure with his hand, and the rubber eye shield of the binoculars pressed against his brow bone, causing some pain.
"Have you found the Dutch warships?"
"Searching." Gunner Zhao Tieshan stood in front of the fire control console, skillfully manipulating the optical rangefinder. "East side of the harbor, near Pier 3... Got it. A pre-dreadnought, judging from the outline, it should be a 'Seven Provinces' class. No smoke coming from the funnel, probably undergoing maintenance at the berth."
Li Te turned his binoculars in that direction. Indeed, a gray-blue warship was moored on the dock, its hull rusted and the canvas covers on its main gun barrels still in place. Compared to the merchant ships nearby, it looked old and dilapidated.
"That's it?" Little put down his binoculars, his tone tinged with disbelief. "The Dutch's most important colony in the Far East is guarded by this old relic?"
"Intelligence indicates that the main force of the Dutch East India Fleet is on the mainland," intelligence officer Xu Wen continued. "Their colonies in Asia rely more on diplomatic balancing than military force. This 'Seven Provinces' is more of a symbolic presence."
"A symbol?" Li Te sneered. "Then today we'll show them that some symbols need to be changed."
The bridge door was pushed open, and the vice-captain Lin Hai strode in, holding a newly translated telegram in his hand.
"Captain, the latest news on 'Dragon Eye' Nanyang-7." Lin Hai's voice was low. "Details of yesterday's conflict."
Li Te took the telegram. This time, the telegram was much longer, densely filled with small print. He quickly scanned it, his face growing increasingly grim.
"...Dutch colonial authorities, under the pretext of 'investigating smuggling,' forcibly searched the Chinese-owned shop 'Guangfahao.' The shop owner, Chen Afu, resisted but was knocked to the ground by military police with rifle butts. His son, Chen Wenjun (sixteen years old), stepped forward to reason with them and was shot dead on the spot. This act angered surrounding Chinese merchants, and about two hundred people gathered to protest. Dutch garrison Major Van der Heiden ordered the suppression by firing..."