Chapter 836: Merchant's Report (III)

Skaed evaded the Senate's artillery fire and, incidentally, left the Dutch—whose quarantine had already expired—waiting an additional ten or so days. When he returned from Hongji, he already carried a thick stack of plans for accelerating Hongji's development and strengthening local defense forces. Relying on the pretext of submitting this plan to the Executive Committee and Senate for review, he claimed he needed to "fully engage in negotiations with the Dutch" and went into hiding once more.

Reinforcing Hongji and expanding Hongji Station's scale rested within the Department of Colonization and Trade's authority to recommend and propose plans. But matters involving material allocation, personnel deployment, and military mobilization still required specific discussion by the Executive Committee before implementation. Skaed wasn't particularly concerned about bombardment from the Senate side—he possessed sufficient evidence to prove that Hongji's inadequate equipment was entirely due to "limited national strength." If one wished to discuss important targets being inadequately defended, Sanya, given its importance and investment amount, was especially vulnerable. He simply didn't want to deal with the Standing Committee because he felt it was a waste of time. Many people on the Senate Standing Committee, according to him: "The professionals are too professional, and the amateurs are too amateur"—all were difficult to deal with.

"Alright, we need to find some people who understand German," Skaed said to himself in his office. "Dutch is a minor language after all." Dutch, commonly called Low German, wasn't dramatically different from German. The Dutch East India Company employed a large number of Germans. Skaed reasoned that quite a few Senators understood German, and most were affiliated with the Department of Colonization and Trade.

Second Report from Junior Merchant Van der Lanthroon of the Dutch East India Company ship Magdeburg to Governor-General De Carpentier of Batavia

Respected Excellency:

After enduring a quarantine period of more than twenty days, we were at last permitted to go ashore. Thanks be to God, no one died while we remained aboard the ship. Everyone is in excellent health.

Originally, we should have completed quarantine by the end of February, but when the period expired, port officials informed us that the high official who was to receive us—they call him an "Executive"—was currently absent from Lingao, so we remained on the ship for an additional week.

We discovered that the Australians, like us, employ the concept of "week." When their personnel boarded the ship to converse with us, they frequently mentioned "what day of the week" and "next week." They also referenced "Sunday."

However, an official sent us a document permitting us to leave the ship. With this document, crew members could go ashore and lodge in accommodations on land. The sailors and soldiers were overjoyed to finally set foot on shore. I ordered the Captain to leave a third of the sailors and soldiers aboard the ship and promised them they would rotate every three days thereafter.

The Executive had issued orders to the port officials, including instructions to supply us with all necessities without shortage, and to confine our personnel to the port area without written permission to leave.

The port officials issued a stiff paper card to everyone going ashore. The card bore their name, the ship they belonged to, and their port of departure. And everyone was required to affix their fingerprint to the card. Your Excellency surely knows that this practice of fingerprinting is very popular among the Chinese and appears to serve as their mark of credit.

When we went ashore, the common people and workers in the port area crowded along the roadside to observe us. Some even climbed onto cranes. The large crowd of spectators made us feel quite uneasy. The officials noticed this and dispatched guards to escort us. We departed the wharf and were immediately taken to a building not far from it.

This building was quite large. It was said to be specifically intended for receiving sailors. The structure was a particular kind of longhouse. Many rows of such longhouses occupied the courtyard. Each longhouse contained rows of double-tiered bunks. One building could house forty people or even more—some longhouses were two stories.

We, as senior crew, were separately housed in a courtyard where similar two-story buildings stood, constructed of brick and tile like the longhouses but more exquisitely arranged inside. Each room was furnished with various furniture. As for whether each room accommodated one or three people was entirely at our discretion; they had rooms with different numbers of beds. Up to four people could sleep in one.

Whether ordinary sailors' longhouses or the small buildings we occupied, the structures were all remarkably clean and tidy. The beds lacked bedding, but were provided with grass mats and straw-woven pillows—quite sufficient in Lingao's climate. Every building was equipped with toilets. The building manager strictly warned us that any defecating or urinating anywhere other than the designated facilities would be subject to heavy fines and other punishments. For this, I was obliged to communicate with the purser on the ship and request him to strictly manage the conduct of the sailors and soldiers—you know most of them are German.*

The sailors' lodge had a cafeteria supplying cooked meals. There was also a large store here, furnishing various commodities specifically for sailors and fishermen stopping here to purchase.

The Australians seem less hospitable than the Chinese. The Xibanks and some others said that every time they traveled to the Chinese coast, as long as they claimed to be on "tribute" missions, they could receive official hospitality. But here among the Australians, all supplied items—from lodging to food—required payment. However, the prices were acceptable.

We learned that this place is called "Bopu." We were notified that we could move freely within Bopu town. Those going out must return to the lodge before nine in the evening. But those locations listed as "restricted areas" could not be entered. Overall, the Australians placed few restrictions upon us. Besides permitting us to move freely in Bopu, they imposed no other restrictions on the coins and other items we carried—only reminding us that shopping required first exchanging for local currency. Carrying weapons was prohibited. Additionally, he required sailors and soldiers to swear to respect local laws before going out.

A piercing whistle sounded throughout the town every hour—the sound was so loud it could be heard across the entire town. Among these, the whistles in the morning, noon, and evening lasted a long time. The Australians employed this timekeeping system with great proficiency, so that everyone could know the current time. The Australians' work operated strictly according to the clock. After living together with them for just one day, one could roughly predict what they would do the next day.

After all personnel settled at the sailors' lodge, the person responsible for receiving us—the one they call Trade Minister—wished to meet with us. To discuss matters, we three decided to go together for the meeting.

On the morning of March 1st, we washed early and changed into our finest formal attire. In addition to Mr. Gonzalez and Mr. Leibtrini, we each brought an attendant and carried relevant gifts.

Led by the young official dispatched from the "Trade Ministry," we came to the main street. A most beautiful four-wheeled carriage awaited us there! Yes, a carriage—this was the most surprising thing for me. In all of East Asia, I do not know where else one could encounter such a light and beautiful carriage. Even in Macau or Batavia, such a vehicle could not be found. I believe even in Europe, similar vehicles cannot be found. This was truly an exquisite work of art! No, calling it an exquisite work of art does not mean it was ornately decorated or finely carved; on the contrary, the carriage had almost no decoration or painting. The body was black. Besides the glass embedded in the car door and a pair of beautiful carriage lamps, there was nothing worth mentioning as decoration. But the size of the entire body, the structure, and the proportionately balanced proportions of every part upon it, the perfection of the design—all produced an incomparably powerful impression. Your Excellency, please forgive me for being unable to describe such sensations in words.

The carriage passed through Bopu town and proceeded to the town they call "Bairencheng." That is the center of Australian rule. Bopu town is a most prosperous small town with many houses, worthy of being called a thriving city. We could observe a large number of chimneys, astonishingly tall, each chimney emitting black and white smoke. The air bore a strong, pungent smell. Along the way, we saw a majestic castle—though it was not on the street we traversed, it was entirely built of red bricks, with tall towers and gun platforms. There, white and black smoke was also rising, and from time to time came loud metallic clanging sounds. I asked the accompanying official what that place was, and he refused to answer my question. I believe this should be the Australians' smelting plant, arsenal, or mint. If true, the Australians have invested a great deal of capital here.

The road from Bopu to Bairencheng was constructed along a large river. But this channel was currently in a half-dried state. The Australians appeared to be conducting some kind of dredging and construction work on this channel. The water volume in the channel was low and malodorous. The road was well-constructed, paved with black gravel. The carriage rode upon it without feeling any bumps whatsoever. Along the road lay carefully cultivated lands. Every inch was meticulously tended, with not a scrap of land uncultivated or unplanted with crops. The fields, like many places in Tuscany, had perfect canals, dams, and waterwheels built to fully irrigate the soil. This irrigation project was so ingenious that Mr. Leibtrini praised it endlessly.

Like in Batavia, this place could be cultivated year-round. The fields had already been planted with green rice seedlings or vegetables. The slopes where rice could not be grown were planted with various crops and fruit trees we did not recognize. Even along the roadside, many coconut saplings had been planted.

What surprised us most were some objects of unknown purpose by the roadside: completely lifeless wooden poles, painted pitch black. The poles stood in rows along the roadside like roadside trees, connected to each other by black iron wire. On each pole were also affixed some bottles made of glass.

The three of us discussed the purpose of these poles and reached no conclusion whatsoever—none of us had ever seen such a thing. We inquired of the accompanying official and once again received a silent answer.

Note: Germans at that time were famously unhygienic in Europe.

(End of Chapter)