A lone jong ship, its sails tied to its mast, rose up and down with the ebb and flow of the blue waves under the noon sun. While half a league away, seven balangays pierced and cleaved the same waters, avoiding the rocky outcrops of Opon Matan's pristine shallows and closing in on their target in cruising speed.
The seven war boats' arrow formation split apart. Three balangays approached from the right while the others moved to mirror their counterpart on the left, flanking the junk ship like a pack of hungry witch dogs. Salip Pulaco's boat, on the other hand, kept its course and went straight towards the target. The datu himself, sat at the center of the deck with his kampilan sword nestled on his lap and his kalasag on his shoulder. While his companions, Mingming and Lam stood on his side, one armed with a spear the other with an oversized sword.
Mingming pounded the deck with the dull end of his spear. "Brother, I think they see us!" He turned to Pulaco.
"Good, let them know we're coming for them," replied the chieftain. He eyed their visitors warily. He could see movement on the jong ship's deck as one of the crew tried to lower the sail and another one tried to raise the ship's anchor. It's futile, Pulaco thought. The wind was against them and even if the junk managed to deploy their sails the balangays could outrun them in the familiar waters around Opon Matan. The only choice was to fight or surrender.
"Prepare your shields!" Mingming ordered as Pulaco raised a fist.
All kalasags rose up in unison, all painted with Pulaco's standard; a red bird of prey frozen in mid-flight. They were held together with as little space between them, making the mass of shield look like a bakunawa's interlocking scale. But not a minute passed when arrows began to fall towards the balangays like rain. Some of Pulaco's men shouted in pain as a couple of them went down, struck by the initial volley. But the rest stood with their kalasag raised high, deflecting the sharp projectiles with ease. And slowly, the balangays narrowed the gap between them and the jong ship.
All the while, the shield wall stood strong giving enough time for one of the warrior serf's hook to gain purchase on the junk's wide wooden deck. The taut rope tied to the hook tensed as the warriors on the balangays began to pull, inching their way to the ship's side. The others had similar success, roping their balangays to the foreign vessel. And with the blaring conk horns, they boarded the junk ship, screaming their war cries at the archers who tried to kill their fellow warriors.
Mingming was one of the few who boarded the jong first. In the initial chaos, he raised his kalasag, catching a couple of arrow bolts with it. "I thought I was going to be late," he said, making his Daragangan warriors nervously laughed as they assumed their formation. He then stood at the middle of their line, side by side with his dauntless men as they pushed the Chi'ns towards the other end of the ship with their lacquered shields.
Salip Pulaco and Lam joined them a moment later, directing the lagging timawas from their balangays to spread and occupy the deck. But a contingent of their foes stayed firm, resisting their advance with cold steel and misplaced confidence. They were ready to defend their vessel, threatening the warrior serfs with a variety of crescent shape blades. A majority of them, were hardy scarred men, conscripted to fight for their master's wares while the rest looked like they were underfeed peasants, plucked by force and made to do the menial chores on the junk.
As they stared each other down, one of the narrow-eyed crewman panicked and drew his blade at Mingming. But it was a mistake he would not do again. As he drew close to the line of Daragangans, they reacted with speed and mastery, sending him bouncing off their shield wall. As he fell, he was quickly dealt with a thrust from a blackened spear, igniting the close quarters battle between the two factions. As their clash began, blood flowed, bones broke and flesh tore apart. Dreams were hastily dashed as blades bowed men equally.
Soon enough, dying and injured Chi'ns littered the deck of the jong ship. Those who foolishly fought back went to the mud, their spilt blood sipping through the spaces between the wooden deck. Curses turned to cries as the natives advanced with furious ferocity against the foreigners, trampling them with their sheer numbers. Those of them who survived the initial confrontation formed a small circle, using wooden crates to bolster their defense, hampering the advance of the Daragangans. They fought with more advanced weapons like pole axes and flatbows, wounding and discouraging some warrior serfs who weren't protected by the shield wall. While a few of the Chi'ns who held curved swords with ornate designs cut through some of the boarder's shield, slowing their progress. But the cramp space of the deck made every swing of their weapons awkward, hindering them from truly breaking the natives' spirit. Placed on a desperate corner, they employed their flatbows more, but the chieftain of Mandawili anticipated their deadly tactic.
"Raised your shields higher," Pulaco screamed as arrows struck their kalasags, punching through them almost half-way. Some of the timawas cried in pain as the sharpened projectiles passed through their thin defense line. But a little bit of blood did not dissuade the Mandawilians as they inched closer to their foes, uwavering in the midst of their enemies' effective barrage. Mingming opened a small gap between the shields, but quickly closed it before a pole axe struck him. They were close, he thought. Close enough to teach their foes the art of the blade. He nodded towards Pulaco and the chief cried, "Push!"
With a singular purpose, the warrior serfs of Datu Pulaco shoved their enemies with their shields held aloft. Some Chi'n fell down on the deck upon impact and were struck dead before they could stand back.
Pulaco shook his head, letting one enemy stand and run away from him. There had to be a better way, he thought. If this fight continued on.. more lives would be wasted. There had to be a way to overcome these men without killing them all. He cursed. But how? Pulaco stood back as his men gave another push against the Chi'ns.
The chieftain paused and suddenly turned his back when he realised what he had to do. He dropped his shield and began carving the lone mast of the ship behind their defense line. Mingming turned towards him face full of concern.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he said. But Pulaco did not reply. He only kept on swinging his blade on the mast like a man gone insane. Lam quickly realised the purpose of Pulaco's actions and joined in without explanation.
"You, too?" Mingming said, face in confusion. Lam ignored him as his giant sword bit through wood, sending splinters in the air and carving a good chunk from the mast.
"Give it your best!" Pulaco said to the waylander. "Let the others hold the line. We can do this! Together!" He struck with all his best. But Pulaco knew it still wasn't enough to hasten things up and save lives. He had to give more.
Confusion turned to mockery, as the Daragangan leader stood near the two. "Hey, am I the only person here who understand that were in the middle of something far more important than chopping wood?" Mingming added as he endured a barrage of stray flatbolts with his shield.
"Join us if you want to," Pulaco finally said. "Or hold firm against our enemies. Doing nothing will get you nothing, brother."
"Aw, now you want me to join your crazy lot?"
"Hey, you'd be in with the surprised if you do..." Lam said, teasing the leader of the Daragangan as he chopped off the biggest chunk of the mast so far.
"Ah, fuck this!" Mingming signaled one of his men to take his place as he turned to join his brother-in-law and the waylander. "This better be worth it."
"It will," Pulaco said, a smile edging his lips, "I promise."
Without their leaders guidance, the Daragangan and the other warrior serfs were barely able to hold their lines. But they were still capable men and so, they relied on their experience, harassing their enemies with every opportunity they saw. But their foes were crafty men as well, using the length of their pole axes with efficiency they punched through the Daragangan's defenses, pushing them back. While their nasty flatbolts kept the natives from gaining an inch, creating a bloody stalemate.
After a few minutes, Pulaco and the other two warriors were already half way through the thick mast.
"Now, I get it," Mingming finally said with a smile as he realised what was going to happen. Pulaco shook his head and Lam almost laughed.
"Hey, it took you that long?" the waylander said.
Mingming did not answer back as Pulaco gave the signal to drop their blades. And so, with all their strength, the three began pushing the mast. Wood creaked as the three warrior's tried to fell it like a tree with mere force and a little bit of help from gravity.
"Keep pushing!" Pulaco said, straining with the effort.
"That's what I'm doing," Lam answered as he gave his best, leaning on the mast and using his own weight to get it to its breaking point. Suddenly, the sound of breaking wood followed.
"Finally..." Mingming said as the mast slowly gave in. Another push and it would fall.
"Get out of the way!" Pulaco cried out as the wooden pole dangerously leaned towards his warrior serfs.
The Chi'ns soon realized what was happening and some of them began a hasty retreat towards the lower deck of their ship, breaking their defensive line and exposing weak spots for the Daragangan to exploit. With a signal from Mingming the warrior serfs opened a gap in the middle of their line and retreated back to the side of the mast. Those who recognized Pulaco's plan helped their leader pushed the mast to their intended direction, making short work of it. With more hands, the mast was on the verge of falling.
Pulaco sa w it and cried, "Lam, cut the rigging!" His gnarly-haired friend hastily obliged.
With the agility of a feral beast, the waylander leaped up high, slashing his giant blade to cut the ropes that wrapped around the mast with surprising speed. And like an old balete tree falling in the middle of the forest, the mast collapsed towards the remaining Chi'n's direction. And as it fell, its sails opened up to cover those who stayed behind to fight. Made of canvass, it fell upon them like a rogue wave, trapping them all. The hewed mast itself thunderously crashed towards the piled crates on the deck, shattering them and spilling cargo all over the place.
As the commotion ensued, Pulaco whispered something to his brother-in-law. Mingming nodded back, face a bit confused. "You sure?"
"Definitely," the chieftain replied.
"Don't fuck them up!" Mingming said to the Daragangan warriors. "Just disarm and hold them down."
And with that, their warrior serfs rushed against the disoriented Chi'ns not like dogs of war unleashed by their master. No. They've made use of that tactic ages ago and it only brought more destruction to friends and foes alike. This time, they were more precise and methodical... perhaps, more forgiving than what their dark reputation portrayed them to be.