July 29th, 1835.
The French squadron reached the mouth of the Pearl River shortly after sunrise.
Morning mist still hung low over the water, but the silhouettes of the ships were already visible long before the sun fully rose above the horizon.
At the front of the formation, the battleship Napoleon I pushed steadily through the calm waters.
Behind her followed the battlecruisers Austerlitz and Trafalgar, their long hulls slicing through the river current with practiced precision.
The rest of the fleet followed in orderly formation.
Cruisers.
Destroyers.
rchant vessels.
And beneath the surface sowhere ahead, the submarines moved silently through the deeper channels.
From the shoreline, the first to notice them were the fishern.
Dozens of small wooden fishing boats were scattered along the river as n cast their nets into the water.
One of them looked up when he heard the distant rumble.
He squinted toward the horizon.
"What is that?"
Another fisherman turned his head.
At first it looked like dark shapes erging from the mist.
Then the shapes grew larger.
Much larger.
The man lowered his net slowly.
"That... that is not a junk."
Junk is a term used for Chinese naval warships at this ti. It was a wooden ship unlike what they were seeing that looked like it was made out of steel.
More fishern began to notice.
A young boy standing in one of the boats pointed toward the water.
"Father, look!"
The mist continued to clear.
The enormous steel hull of the Napoleon I slowly erged from the morning haze.
It looked nothing like the ships the fishern were used to seeing.
Its towering hull rose above the water like a moving fortress.
Thick armor plates lined its sides.
And mounted along its deck were enormous gun turrets that none of them had ever seen before.
One of the older fishern stared in disbelief.
"By the heavens..."
Another boat drifted closer as the fishern gathered together to watch.
"What kind of ship is that?"
"I have never seen anything like it."
"That is no rchant vessel."
One man shook his head slowly.
"It looks like a floating city."
Then the sound reached them.
A deep chanical rumble.
The engines of the Napoleon I echoed across the river.
Several of the fishern instinctively pulled their boats back.
"That thing is moving without sails."
"How is that possible?"
"Foreigners," one man muttered.
"They must be foreigners."
"Look at the flags!" one of the fishern shouted, pointing toward the tall mast of the lead ship. It was blue, white, and red.
Several of the n stared at it, trying to recognize the symbol.
"I’ve seen that before," one of the older fishern said slowly.
"Where?"
"At Canton... on the warehouses near the foreign quarter."
Another man frowned.
"The Western rchants?"
"Yes. The ones who co every year to trade."
He looked again toward the approaching fleet.
"But they never bring ships like this."
The fishern fell quiet as the battleship continued moving upriver.
The size of it beca clearer with every passing mont.
Its dark hull towered above the small fishing boats scattered across the water.
n could be seen walking along the upper deck.
Strange tal towers stood along the ship, and the enormous gun turrets slowly rotated as if scanning the horizon.
One of the younger fishern swallowed.
"Those look like cannons."
"They are cannons," another man replied quietly.
"But I have never seen cannons that large."
Behind the Napoleon I, more ships erged from the mist.
Two long warships followed closely behind.
Then more vessels appeared one after another.
Cruisers.
Destroyers.
Steam drifting from their funnels as they pushed steadily through the river current.
The fishern watched as the entire fleet entered the Pearl River.
"How many ships are there?" one man asked.
"I cannot count them."
"That is a war fleet," another fisherman muttered.
One of the older n quickly began pulling his nets back into the boat.
"We should move."
"Move where?"
"Away from them!"
Several of the small boats began rowing toward the riverbanks, trying to give the massive warships space.
As the fleet passed, sailors could be seen standing along the rails of the ships, observing the river and the surrounding countryside.
So of them pointed toward the fishing boats.
From the deck of the Napoleon I, the captain of the ship, Admiral Pierre François Étienne Bouvet de Maisonneuve, stood beside the forward railing with a spyglass raised to his eye.
He watched the small fishing boats scatter across the river.
"They are clearing the channel," he said calmly.
Beside him, a young naval officer nodded.
"They look frightened, Captain."
Maisonneuve lowered the spyglass slightly.
"Well imagine you are a French fisherman and a British ship similar to this arrived in the Port of Brest, how would you respond?"
"I would be shocked, Captain."
"The sa here. The only good thing is that the British won’t have this type of ship."
His gaze moved across the riverbanks.
Villages were beginning to appear along the shoreline. Wooden houses stood on stilts above the water while small docks extended into the river.
People had begun gathering along the banks, n, won, and children. All staring toward the approaching fleet.
He raised the spyglass again and scanned the river ahead.
He scanned the outline of the city of Canton.
It was very different from the cities of Europe.
Instead of tall stone buildings and wide boulevards, the city stretched low along the riverbanks. Rows of tiled rooftops spread across the landscape while several tall pagodas rose above the surrounding structures.
Wooden watchtowers stood along the waterfront.
Junks filled the smaller harbors along the riverbanks, their large square sails folded as their crews stared toward the approaching fleet.
Maisonneuve lowered the spyglass slowly.
"That must be Canton."
The young officer beside him nodded.
"It is larger than I expected."
Maisonneuve studied the city quietly.
Smoke rose from hundreds of chimneys while the busy waterfront stretched far along the river.
Cargo boats moved slowly between docks.
Markets were already opening along the shoreline.
Yet now much of that activity had slowed.
The arrival of the fleet had drawn attention.
People were gathering along the riverbanks.
Junks were drifting away from the main channel.
And from several watchtowers, signal flags had begun to rise.
"They have seen us," the officer said.
Maisonneuve gave a small nod.
"Of course they have."
Behind the Napoleon I, the rest of the French squadron continued advancing upriver.
The battlecruisers Austerlitz and Trafalgar followed closely behind the flagship while the cruisers and destroyers maintained formation further back.
Columns of smoke drifted above the fleet as their engines pushed steadily through the water.
From the deck of the cruiser Marseille, Villeneuve stood beside Beauvilliers watching the city ahead.
"So that is Canton," Villeneuve said.
Beauvilliers nodded slowly.
"Yes. Each western countries had their own quarters where they could trade. You can see the flag flying up there, the Dutch, British, Spain, Portugal, and our flag, France."
"So now that we make our appearance, who should we contact?"
"At first, we will invite a higher-up administrating Canton, which would be our key to the Emperor."
"And who might that be?"
Beauvilliers kept his eyes on the city as he answered.
"The Viceroy of Liangguang."
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