The remains of the Chinese blocking force drifted across the Pearl River in smoke and broken timber.
So of the wrecked junks were still burning. Others had already vanished beneath the surface, leaving only scattered planks, torn sailcloth, and n struggling in the water. The sharp sll of burned wood and black powder hung over the river.
From the bridge of the Napoleon I, Admiral Maisonneuve watched the destruction through his telescope.
The channel ahead was open now.
His first officer lowered his own glass and exhaled slowly.
"There is nothing left of the line."
Maisonneuve handed the telescope to a waiting marine without taking his eyes off the river.
"No," he said calmly. "There is not."
He turned toward the signal officer.
"Signal the squadron."
The man straightened.
"Yes, Admiral."
"Advance."
Within monts, fresh flags rose above the mast of the flagship.
The ssage carried down the line of the French squadron.
Move north.
Maintain formation.
Proceed through the cleared passage.
The great engines of the Napoleon I pushed harder. The battleship moved first, her armored hull cutting through the smoke-stained water with slow, implacable force. Behind her ca the battlecruisers Austerlitz and Trafalgar, then the heavy cruisers, the destroyers, and the rchant vessels farther back under escort.
On the shoreline, the Chinese crowds had broken apart.
So had fled into the streets. Others remained on rooftops and embanknts, unable to look away from the iron ships moving past the wreckage their own river craft had beco.
Remy stood beside Villeneuve near the starboard rail of the flagship’s upper deck.
For a ti neither spoke.
Then Remy said quietly, "There is no going back now."
Villeneuve kept his eyes on the river ahead.
"There was never going to be."
Remy nodded, though his expression remained tense.
The French squadron pressed north.
Days passed at sea and along the coast.
They did not linger in southern waters. The fleet maintained steady speed. The rchant ships stayed protected at the center of the formation, while destroyers screened ahead and outward. The battlecruisers remained on either flank of the Napoleon I, their sleek hulls rising and falling in disciplined rhythm with the swell.
At night, the ships traveled beneath dark skies broken only by moonlight and the faint glow of signal lamps. During the day, the northern coast of China slowly changed as they sailed farther from the south—flatter shorelines, broader estuaries, ports less crowded with foreign rchants and more clearly under the direct shadow of Qing authority.
Every harbor they passed sent out watchers.
Every fishing village spread word inland.
A foreign battle fleet was coming north.
And it had already fought its way out of Canton.
By the ti the squadron neared the approaches to Tianjin, the weather had changed. The air felt drier than in the south, the waters darker and more restless. Mudbanks and shifting channels complicated the navigation, forcing the French officers to rely on constant soundings and careful scouting.
From the bridge of the Napoleon I, Maisonneuve studied the horizon through his glass.
"There," he said.
His first officer stepped closer.
Ahead, beyond the mouth of the Hai River and the approaches toward Tianjin, low fortifications could be seen near the port installations. Warehouses stood along the waterfront. Several smaller Qing vessels were moored near the piers. Signal flags had already begun rising from towers and shore positions.
"They know we are here," the first officer said.
"Of course they do," Maisonneuve replied.
Behind them on the upper deck, Villeneuve approached.
"We have arrived?"
Maisonneuve lowered the telescope and turned.
"At the approaches," he said. "Not yet inside, but close enough that the port can see us clearly."
Villeneuve looked toward the coast.
This was no longer Canton, no longer a southern trade city accustod to foreigners. This was the northern gateway. Beyond this region lay the roads to Beijing itself.
"Will they move against us?" he asked.
Maisonneuve glanced back toward the shoreline.
"If they are sensible, no."
"And if they are not?"
The admiral’s expression remained flat.
"Then we remind them what happened in the south."
A signalman hurried up from the bridge staff and saluted.
"Admiral, shore batteries are visible at the port approaches."
Maisonneuve nodded once.
"Range?"
"Within reach of the main battery if we close another few hundred ters."
Villeneuve heard that and turned toward him.
"You intend to open the port by force?"
Maisonneuve answered with the sa calm voice he had used in the Pearl River.
"I intend to ensure we are not denied passage a second ti."
The Napoleon I moved forward alone at first.
The rest of the fleet slowed behind her.
The battlecruisers held position at a respectful distance while the cruisers and destroyers adjusted formation, leaving the flagship clear room to maneuver. Smoke rolled from the funnels of the squadron in dark columns, visible for miles.
Onshore, alarm spread quickly.
Chinese laborers ran from the piers. Smaller governnt craft began cutting mooring lines in panic. Soldiers could be seen moving near the batteries and waterfront positions, though from the deck of the French flagship they looked small and disorganized.
The admiral raised his hand.
"Signal the fleet. Hold position and observe."
His first officer nodded to the signal team.
Behind the Napoleon I, the entire French squadron slowed.
The great battleship now stood forward of them all, alone in the water like an iron executioner.
Villeneuve watched in silence as the forward quadruple turrets began to turn.
"Do you think they understand what is about to happen?"
Maisonneuve did not turn.
"They will."
Onshore, so of the Chinese soldiers had clearly seen the turrets move. Confusion spread across the battery line. n ran between cannon positions. Officers shouted. But the French had no intention of waiting for a proper reply from Beijing now. They had co north precisely because the answer from the Qing court had already been given.
Maisonneuve looked once more through his telescope.
He could see the port clearly enough now—river defenses, moored patrol craft, supply sheds, and what appeared to be a command building near the waterline.
He lowered the glass.
"Target the batteries and waterfront facilities," he said.
The gunnery officer standing nearby saluted sharply.
"Yes, Admiral."
The order went below.
Inside the forward turrets, the crews moved with drilled precision. Breeches opened. Massive shells were rolled into position. Charges were ramd. Elevation and bearing were confird. chanical systems locked with heavy tallic sounds that could be felt through the deck.
The first officer glanced once toward Villeneuve.
"The port is about to cease existing."
Villeneuve did not answer.
He simply watched the coast ahead.
Maisonneuve lifted one hand.
The bridge fell silent.
Even the n nearby seed to hold their breath.
Then he gave the order.
"Fire."
The Napoleon I answered with violence.
The two forward quadruple turrets discharged in a single devastating salvo that shattered the northern air. Fla burst from the muzzles. Smoke exploded outward in thick white clouds. The concussion slamd across the deck and rolled over the water in a physical wave.
The sea around the flagship shuddered.
Behind her, the crews of the Austerlitz, Trafalgar, Marseille, Bordeaux, and the destroyers watched as eight heavy shells scread toward the port.
They struck seconds later.
The first impact landed directly inside one of the shore batteries and erased it in a column of smoke, dirt, shattered timber, and stone. Another shell smashed into a cluster of river craft moored at the quay, lifting an entire vessel into splinters. A third hit the waterfront warehouses and blew them apart in a chain of collapsing beams and fire. The rest of the salvo tore through the port defenses with such force that, for a mont, the shoreline disappeared behind rising smoke and debris.
The officers on the observing ships stood in stunned silence, even though they had expected destruction.
From the deck of the Trafalgar, one young lieutenant muttered under his breath,
"My god..."
Beside him, a senior gunnery officer did not take his eyes off the impact zone.
"That," he said quietly, "is what happens when a port refuses to understand."
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