Chapter 269: Indentured Servants
Thanks to the Qiwei Escort Agency's efforts, the sugar-boiling masters and workers for the various mills were finally recruited. The hiring season had grown late—the best masters long since snapped up—and the remaining candidates ranged from too old to too young, with skills to match. Still, every sugar mill managed to be ready for the crushing season.
Wen Tong issued instructions to his five mills: any outside sugarcane brought in for toll processing would be charged only three-tenths of the output as a processing fee. This competitive rate was designed to attract small cane farmers lacking their own mills, thereby funneling more raw brown sugar into the company's hands. He also ordered each mill to purchase every sugar product available—raw brown sugar, slab sugar, even leftover molasses.
"Tell them we want the bagasse too!" Wen Tong called excitedly to Wen Xiu and Wen Qing, who now served as his messengers. The two brothers, semi-literate and fluent in Mandarin, had become his secretaries and couriers, constantly racing across Leizhou to deliver orders. Their faces had darkened considerably under the sun. Every day, Wen Tong drafted letters to the newly recruited sugar mill and estate managers, issuing detailed instructions and demanding regular reports. To facilitate message delivery, Liao Dahua purchased several sedan chairs and kept a team of bearers on standby.
Finding day laborers for the cane fields proved more difficult. During the sugarcane harvest, wages for day labor skyrocketed, and because Wen Tong had started late, the rural labor surplus had already been claimed by other farmers and estates. He had no choice but to wait for workers from Guangzhou.
The first batch would number two hundred. Originally, Wen Tong had requested more, but the dilapidated buildings across the estates simply couldn't house them. The few existing structures required repairs; supporting facilities like kitchens and latrines had to be built from scratch. Food and water needed preparation—they even had to purchase cooking pots. Arranging food and lodging for hundreds of people in the seventeenth century was a logistical nightmare. Everything had to be managed personally.
Fortunately, the local Qiwei branch was there to assist. Liao Dahua handled purchasing supplies, hiring craftsmen, and negotiating with the government—an indispensable aide.
In Guangzhou, Zhang Xin tasked Sun Chang with organizing the first migrant column to Xuwen. Knowing from dispatches that conditions in Leizhou were crude and that the work would involve not just harvesting sugarcane but all manner of hard labor, Sun Chang selected only able-bodied adults free of illness. Moreover, he specifically chose those with families. Single men were rejected outright.
Zhang Xin didn't understand. "Why?"
"This humble one has heard that conditions in Leizhou are quite harsh," Sun Chang explained. "If unattached men go there, they'll scatter at the first sign of trouble. All our effort and money would be wasted. Those with families are more stable."
"You really think of everything." Zhang Xin admired the thoroughness of this former household servant turned steward.
"It is not that I am particularly clever. When I served the Gao household, though I was only a minor servant, I witnessed much of their hiring and recruiting practices. I am familiar with the pitfalls."
Sun Chang also asked Guo Yi to personally visit the Governor-General's yamen to call on Advisor LĂĽ Yizhong. For a hundred taels of silver, he bought one of LĂĽ's visiting cards. Although the migrants could travel by ship to Leizhou, once they landed, they would inevitably pass through cities and villages where local authorities might interrogate them. Carrying a high official's visiting card would smooth the way.
The first batch of migrants was organized into a military-style formation—squads, platoons, and companies—with appointed leaders at each level. Everyone carried their own bedding, utensils, and five days' worth of emergency rations.
The route ran from Guangzhou by ship, disembarking at Hai'an in Leizhou, then proceeding on foot to Xuwen. Upon arrival, the migrants would be dispersed among the nine sugarcane estates.
The Qiwei Escort Agency had made thorough preparations at its branches along the route. They managed the journey in segments, handing off responsibility at each leg. As soon as the migrant column entered Leizhou, guides met them. Rest stations provided boiled water and steamed buns. In remote areas lacking proper facilities, the cooking team set up field kitchens. Strict hygiene rules were enforced—no drinking unboiled water—and secure accommodations were arranged every night. Sleeping in the open was forbidden.
This relay system ensured the migrants ate well, rested properly, and didn't get lost. Protected by escort guards, armed with the government's visiting card, and carrying bamboo staves and short swords for self-defense, no one dared trouble them in the lawless lands of Leizhou. They reached Xuwen in under two days, all in good physical condition. Not a single person fell sick or was injured. After a brief rest, they were ready to work.
Wen Tong dispersed the two hundred migrants by squad to the various sugarcane estates. Though they lived in patched-up thatched huts, the warm Leizhou weather meant they wouldn't freeze. The migrants immediately threw themselves into the frenzy of the sugarcane harvest. Per Wen Tong's instructions, sufficient rice, vegetables, and meat were purchased from nearby villages to keep the workers well-fed during the grueling season. Harvesting sugarcane was backbreaking work; without adequate food, desertion would be inevitable.
After the first batch had settled in and worked for half a month, morale proved stable enough for Guangzhou to send the second batch. This group included the wives and children of the first wave—women sent primarily to support logistics: cooking, mending clothes, keeping the camp running.
In total, about four hundred people—men, women, old, and young—were transported from Guangzhou. Wen Tong, Chang Shide, and Liao Dahua settled them across the estates as long-term laborers. In reality, their status was that of indentured servants. Each person signed a contract acknowledging a debt of fifty taels of silver to the Zishi Enterprise—a sum to be worked off over time. Guo Yi believed this model would curb the tendency of vagrants to run away once their bellies were full.
The refugee recruitment policy had worked well initially, especially when transport to Lingao was frequent. Starving refugees were eager to go anywhere offering food and work. But as the transfer rate slowed and the Guangzhou camp population swelled, the dynamic shifted. Once refugees had eaten a few good meals and recovered their strength—and learned they were being sent to Qiongzhou—many began pining for home. They had come to Guangzhou to escape starvation; now that spring approached and they were fed again, they started drifting away. At first, the Guangzhou Station was helpless; they lacked personnel to guard everyone. But the issue couldn't be ignored, or mass desertion would follow. Guo Yi and the others concluded: carrots alone were insufficient. They needed a stick.
To minimize escapes, besides intensifying "re-education" efforts and promoting the bright future awaiting them in Qiongzhou, Guo Yi finally obtained Executive Committee approval to implement an indentured servant system.
All sheltered refugees were required to sign contracts, taking on debt to cover their food, clothing, lodging, and medical care. In exchange, they committed to serving the Zishi Enterprise for at least seven years. Only after the term expired could they reclaim their freedom.
According to the contract, during this period meals were free and wages were paid. Upon completion of the term, no additional redemption fee was required.
With these contracts, Guo Yi could leverage the government's power in Guangzhou to control the workforce. The commoners' innate fear of officialdom deterred many from running. After Guo Yi used Liang Cunhou's visiting card to report a case at the Nanhai County yamen—resulting in the arrest and flogging of a dozen escapees—the desertions stopped. The harsh reality crushed any lingering thoughts of returning home. Others began to question the logic of fleeing: going back meant eating chaff and wild vegetables while struggling to pay rent. Working for Manager Guo meant full bellies and new clothes. Why run?
After a month of frantic activity, the Transmigration Enterprise's sugar production in Leizhou finally stabilized. Despite occasional hiccups—inexperienced boilers ruining batches of sugar—operations ran steadily. Raw brown sugar flowed in. Following Wen Tong's instructions, all raw brown sugar, molasses, and bagasse were transported to the central sugarcane estate in Xuwen. Liao Dahua even managed to purchase land extending the estate to the riverbank, preparing for water-powered crushing should steam or diesel engines remain unavailable.
Wen Tong planned to build a demonstration plantation here, complete with a factory using new equipment. He named it the South China Demonstration Sugar Factory—in honor of the "Hua Nan" factory, the earliest modern sugar plant in Xuwen. The four other mills he named after shareholders who had contributed to China's sugar modernization: Guoxin, Qichong, Zhi'an, and Qiwen. For now, these would operate with traditional methods; upgrades would follow once the demonstration factory proved successful.
The South China Demonstration Estate hosted the most migrants—nearly one hundred fifty people. Since Chang Shide knew nothing about sugarcane, he took charge of civil affairs. Following Wu De's Handbook for Civil Affairs Administration and Organization, he registered households, established grassroots organizations, and appointed respected elders as village heads. Adhering to the principle of universal military service, he established a militia—locally called "township braves"—equipped with cold steel and matchlocks shipped from Lingao. Under the escort guards' tutelage, the militia drilled in their spare time. Wen Tong didn't expect a professional fighting force—only enough capability to repel bandits. Though he and Chang Shide doubted the militia's loyalty, the security situation left them no choice. Relying solely on a few escort guards to protect nine properties across two counties was impossible.
"Even if not for us, hopefully they'll fight for themselves," Chang Shide said. "At least here they have food, clothes, and their families. They ought to want to protect their new homes."
"That requires them to see this as their home." Wen Tong remained pessimistic.
"The two shopkeepers worry too much," Liao Dahua soothed. "There's food and shelter, the weather is warm, and they have good-hearted Australian masters. What more could these refugees hope for?"
"Let's hope so." Wen Tong surveyed the scattered thatched huts. "After this crushing season, we'll build proper houses for all the estates. Standard Type B residences."
"That's a huge investment—" Chang Shide recalled the Type B buildings in Baitu Village. They were practically fortresses, far larger than the barracks-style Type A structures.
"The sugar factory will be our cash cow. To establish a foothold in Leizhou, we need self-defense capabilities," Wen Tong insisted.
Next, he turned his attention to process and machinery improvements. That was how he would make the South China Sugar Factory live up to its name.
Wen Tong had two main goals. First: manufacturing white sugar. He knew several modern processes, but without proper equipment, he had to rely on the traditional method from the Tiangong Kaiwu—using yellow clay as an adsorbent. The key property of the "yellow clay" was its porosity; from that perspective, activated carbon or diatomaceous earth would work even better.
Second: increasing raw sugar output. The simplest approach was raising the juice extraction rate. Wen Tong estimated that the traditional wooden rollers extracted no more than 40% of the juice, even after three pressings. The bagasse still contained enormous amounts of sugar—a massive waste. Modern factories achieved extraction rates above 70%.
After deliberation, he decided to start with white sugar. The profit margins were simply higher.
There was no point experimenting with exotic adsorbents. They couldn't produce activated carbon yet, and shipping diatomaceous earth from Lingao was inconvenient. Yellow clay was readily available locally.
Following the Tiangong Kaiwu, Wen Tong had the raw brown sugar melted and poured into wa liu molds plugged with rice straw. Once the sugar solidified, the straw was removed. Chang Shide had workers prepare a slurry of pure yellow clay and water. After letting it settle briefly, he scooped up the solution and drizzled it over the sugar in the molds.
"This method is bizarre." Chang Shide was skeptical. Pouring muddy water over brown sugar to make white sugar? It seemed counterintuitive, to say the least.
(End of Chapter)