The batteries in the harbor had tried several times to stubbornly fight back against the overwhelming rain of shells, even launching one or two organized attacks. But when they discovered that their coastal guns had shorter range than the Li family fleet's naval guns and couldn't reach the enormous ships at sea, the coastal artillerymen had no choice but to retreat from their gun positions in disarray under the fierce bombardment. The entire harbor was left beneath a sea of shells, raining down like a storm.
At the order of one second admiral and with the approval of another troublesome grand admiral, the Li family fleet's ten super-battleships fired nearly ten volleys at the harbor. After the terrifying onslaught of more than ten thousand shells, not a single ship or building remained intact anywhere in Nagasaki Harbor. There were hardly any living people left, either.
That was because, by then, under the terrifying bombardment—like a dreadful natural disaster at the end of the world—the soldiers, sailors, and laborers of the Hizen family had long since fled to the city or somewhere far from the harbor. Nobody was willing to remain in that terrifying inferno of artillery fire and face utter destruction. Even their officers couldn't keep them in line.
Even the daimyos in the city had fled early to seek refuge!
After the bombardment ended and every sailing ship in Nagasaki Harbor had been utterly destroyed, the Li family fleet stopped firing. It continued to sit at anchor on the waters outside the harbor.
It wasn't until the following afternoon that a little skiff, dragged out of some forgotten corner, came wobbling toward the Li family fleet's flagship with a white flag raised. It carried several men who looked like officials. The sailors lowered a rope ladder, then hauled them