Chapter 134: The Inevitable Route of the Dutch Merchant Ships

The artemisia took effect extremely quickly. After Su Kang drank it, in only half a day, most of his symptoms were gone, and after twenty hours, he only felt a slight oddity remaining.

In the quarantine ward on Tayouan Islet, Su Kang sat blankly on the ground, remorse crashing over him like mountains and seas, tears and snot streaming down his face.

In the course of a day, he thought about many things.

Why did so few people on Tayouan Islet fall ill, yet he alone contracted malaria?

It was because only he stubbornly believed that malaria was spread by miasma, and insisted on not guarding against mosquitoes.

So it turned out malaria really was spread by mosquitoes.

So it turned out artemisia really was effective.

So it turned out everything the helmsman had said was true.

Su Kang slapped himself hard across the face, punishing his own arrogance and ignorance, his stubborn adherence to his own views.

The helmsman had plainly told him the complete correct treatment for malaria, yet he had clung to old ways and wouldn't even try it.

Nine lives thrown away for nothing!

Su Kang slapped himself again. At this moment, Su Kang only wanted to die to repay those nine lives.

Compared to living under the torment of inner guilt, death would actually be easier.

But Su Kang could not die yet — the preparation method, efficacy, and dosage of artemisia were known best only to him, and he had to cure the several dozen patients who had also contracted malaria.

He also had to pass down the method of treating malaria with artemisia.

At noon, the physician of Tayouan Islet came to see Su Kang. The moment he entered, he saw Su Kang sitting blankly on the ground, expression dull, face wretched, both cheeks swollen high.

The physician said, "Disaster! The artemisia must be poisonous!"

Su Kang smiled bitterly and shook his head, murmuring, "The helmsman was right..."

"What?"

"What the helmsman said was right — artemisia is a specific medicine for malaria. I, Su Kang, was wrong!" Su Kang said loudly. "Go gather artemisia, gather lots of it! This medicine can save lives! And be sure to guard against mosquitoes!"

The island of Dongfan was rich in produce, and artemisia was abundant in the mountains. In only half a day of going into the hills, the physicians filled their medicine baskets.

Su Kang personally went to Chikan to direct the physicians in preparing the artemisia medicinal juice, and watched with his own eyes as several dozen malaria patients drank it.

Like Su Kang, the vast majority had their symptoms greatly relieved after only half a day, were clearly improved after one day, and within two or three days were no different from ordinary people.

And unlike the Changshan bupleurum decoction, the artemisia juice had no such strong side effects, nor did it cause the illness to relapse — once cured, it was rooted out.

In Su Kang's heart, shock was beyond measure. The helmsman's method not only took effect quickly, it also eliminated the root cause — truly worthy of the name "specific medicine."

Ever since the Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon, malaria had been an ironclad stubborn disease.

And now the helmsman had eradicated this disease at its root in one stroke — it could be called a revolutionary feat in the medical world!

In civil governance, the helmsman had pioneered Nan'ao and Dongfan; in military achievement, he had the various sea battles — and now he could even make contributions in the medical field?

With a single move, he reached a peak Su Kang could never attain in a lifetime!

If those civil and military achievements were things Su Kang could dismiss, artemisia curing malaria was his own professional domain — this was a matter of benefiting ten thousand generations!

Malaria was not unique to Dongfan; the Lingnan region had been rife with miasma since ancient times and was a high-incidence area for malaria. Su Kang understood all too well the true value of this artemisia juice!

At this moment, in Su Kang's heart, there was no longer any contempt for the sea bandit chief — only reverence for a senior in the medical way.

If the person Su Kang respected most was his master Chen Shigong, then the second he revered was, without question, Lin Qian!

Once upon a time, seeing the crew of the Santa Ana defer to Lin Qian so obediently, Su Kang had felt deeply unimpressed.

Now, Su Kang finally fully understood those crewmen.

Moreover, through contact with the Liaodong refugees, Su Kang learned of what Lin Qian had done in Liaodong.

It simply made Su Kang regard him as a being beyond mortal measure.

A man with such concern for the common people, such care for all living beings — and he was a sea bandit chief?

How could he be a sea bandit chief?

Even if he truly was a sea bandit chief, then where should the swarming officials of the court be placed?

Su Kang involuntarily recalled his daughter's judgment: "Father, you'll see — he really is a good man!"

At the time, Su Kang had thought those words were merely a young girl's wishful thinking. Now it seemed the wishful one was himself.

A girl of barely ten-some years saw people more clearly than he did!

Su Kang was consumed with regret. If he had set aside his prejudice earlier, those nine people might not have died.

For this reason, he went specially to Chen Jiao to confess his fault, and begged to meet the families of the nine dead to apologize.

Unfortunately, those nine had all been solitary men with no relatives, so the matter could only be dropped.

Chen Jiao, as Governor-General of Dongfan, held the power of life and death; nine deaths meant nothing to him.

Since the opening of the island of Dongfan, those killed by snake bites, drowned in marshes, lost in the mountains, or slain by the wokou from the north — those far outnumbered the nine who died of illness.

What truly displeased Chen Jiao was Su Kang's attitude of treating the helmsman's orders as wind past his ears. Now that he saw Su Kang sincerely repent, he no longer pursued the matter.

Moreover, the island of Dongfan was short on physicians, with all manner of diseases and injuries in great number; in the future he would rely heavily on Su Kang. So he set aside all past grievances and treated him as usual.

Although those several dozen patients had recovered, Su Kang still strictly followed the helmsman's instruction, having them drink the artemisia juice for a full seven days to prevent relapse.

At the same time, Su Kang kept improving the preparation method and method of administration of the artemisia juice, and was also attempting to cultivate artemisia artificially.

On this day, a three-masted Fujian junk sailed in from Nan'ao Island and docked at Tayouan Islet.

Chen Jiao came personally to welcome it.

On the Fujian junk, Lü Zhou jumped down from the gangway, smiling and cupping his hands: "Governor-General Chen."

After exchanging greetings, Chen Jiao looked toward the cabin: "What has the helmsman sent this time?"

"Fifteen hundred dan of rice, shipped from the port of Hoi An in the kingdom of Annam," said Lü Zhou.

Chen Jiao laughed heartily: "Arrived just in time. This place of Dongfan has no shortage of venison and fish, but meat without rice won't do. Shipmaster Lü, please come into the camp tent to talk."

Lü Zhou waved his hand: "Can't be done. The helmsman ordered that after the rice is unloaded, we must set sail immediately to return."

"So urgent?" Chen Jiao was taken aback.

Lü Zhou: "That's not all—when we return, the Long Wind must come back with us too."

Chen Jiao understood: "The helmsman wants to go fishing?"

"It's a big fish!" Lü Zhou said mysteriously.

Chen Jiao clapped his hands: "Since the helmsman has given the order, I won't keep you. When you return, bring me some dried venison and deer antler!"

A few days later, at the home of Bai Qing and Bailangzai in Nan'ao town.

Ever since the Santa Ana entered port for refitting, Lin Qian had been staying here temporarily.

As the island's civilian housing continued to develop, the Bai siblings' house had now been upgraded to the "four-point gold" style.

Simply put, it was a southern version of a courtyard house, with many rooms—far better living conditions than the previous three-bay layout of one bright hall flanked by two dark rooms.

In the main house's side room, Lin Qian sat at his desk, working.

During the time Su Kang had gone to the East Fan Island to treat malaria, Lin Qian had been constantly thinking about how to solve the problem of shipbuilding timber.

The fire-roasting and smoke-curing method proposed by Mute Huang was a solution that addressed the root cause, but it was slow to show results.

Lin Qian planned to build ten more Type-II Eagle Ships after the Santa Ana was completed.

For this design, Lin Qian had increased the length-to-width ratio, further expanded the sail area, deepened the keel, and improved speed and seaworthiness.

For this, he needed a large amount of timber—he couldn't just slowly wait for the smoking and roasting.

As a sea bandit, Lin Qian's first thought was to go plunder. The southeast had no shortage of shipyards, and while the government-run ones were inconvenient to rob, why couldn't he rob the private ones?

Just as Lin Qian was plotting his raiding operation, José returned from the Indochinese Peninsula.

According to José's report, maritime trade around the Indochinese Peninsula was extremely prosperous, with large numbers of Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, and English ships gathering there.

Such a bustling scene of maritime trade was rather different from Lin Qian's stereotyped impression.

At the same time, this reminded Lin Qian of something—why did he want to steal timber? To build ships.

In that case, why not go all the way and just steal the ships themselves?

And if he was going to rob, he should rob European ships—striking at his competitors while conveniently taking their ships, firearms, and valuables all at once. Wasn't that much more convenient?

According to the intelligence José had gathered, Spain, Holland, and England not only traded frequently in the Indochinese Peninsula but also had trade relations with Japan—especially the Dutch, who had established a trading post in Hirado as early as 1602.

The Dutch and the Spanish and Portuguese—those were old enemies from history, far more than just trade disputes.

Lin Qian keenly smelled a business opportunity tinged with blood, and a scheme of linked traps began to take shape in his mind.

He immediately dispersed all his Bermuda Sail Eagle Ships to scout, covering the East Fan Strait, the Bashi Strait, and the East China Sea coast—and sure enough, traces of European ships were discovered.

So he had ordered Lü Zhou to transfer the Long Wind back to Nan'ao while delivering grain to East Fan Island.

Even European merchant ships were equipped with muzzle-loading smoothbore cannons, so they had to be treated with caution.

Lin Qian ordered Zheng Zhilong and Bai Qing to each take the Long Wind and the Cloud Sail and wait along the European merchant ships' inevitable route.

What he was doing right now was deducing exactly what that inevitable route would be.

The navigation log lay open before Lin Qian, with a map of East Asia's seas and lands drawn on it.

The map stretched from Liaodong, Joseon, and Kyushu in Japan in the north, down to the Bashi Strait north of Luzon in the south.

On the map, dashed lines represented wind direction—blowing from the mainland, gradually curving across the southeastern sea, and passing through the East Fan Strait.

It was now September; the Central Plains and North China were dominated by northwest winds, which, affected by the Coriolis force of the Northern Hemisphere, gradually turned into northeast winds over the East Fan Strait—exactly the most favorable wind for returning from Hirado to the South Seas.

On the map, solid lines represented ocean currents. Two currents converged in the East Fan Strait—the one closer to East Fan Island flowed from south to north, while the one near the coast was the China Coastal Current flowing from north to south.

The place where these two currents met was the fishing ground that Da Bing had shown Lin Qian during their earlier fishing trip at sea.

For European fleets sailing from Japan to the South Seas, to travel with favorable winds and currents, they would inevitably have to ride the China Coastal Current.

So this inevitable route was actually already very clear—it was the waters around Nan'ao Island.

European fleets generally stayed far from shore, which was why they had never been spotted by Nan'ao Island's lookout towers.

Ever since the Eagle Ships Lin Qian designed had been put into service, he had occasionally received reports from fishermen who went out to the open sea and spotted European vessels.

Having finished his deduction, Lin Qian set down his bamboo pen, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling.

By now, Zheng Zhilong and Bai Qing had probably already cast their nets and caught a fish.

It was only because the Santa Ana was being refitted in the dry dock that Lin Qian definitely wouldn't have missed this otherwise.

Oh well, he'd just consider it a training opportunity for the young men.

At this moment, fifty nautical miles southeast of Nan'ao Island.

The Long Wind and the Cloud Sail, like two hungry sharks, patrolled back and forth across the sea.

Within a radius of over ten li around the two ships, three Sea Wolf vessels were deployed as lookouts.

In the farther waters beyond, four Eagle Ships skimmed rapidly across the surface.

The sea was open and unobstructed; on a clear day, a lookout at the masthead could typically see ten to thirteen nautical miles.

With that field of vision, combined with the number of vessels, it was no exaggeration to say the entire area was sealed off.

The Long Wind and the Cloud Sail were not simply waiting idly on the sea.

At this moment, a European three-masted ship was crossing the East Fan Strait from northeast to southwest.

The ship had been detected by an Eagle Ship on its very first day entering the strait. The Eagle Ship was fast, and the intelligence was immediately delivered to Nan'ao harbor. The Long Wind and the Cloud Sail, which had been standing by in port, set out at once and reached the exit of the East Fan Strait, waiting for their prey.

On the Cloud Sail's stern deck, Zheng Zhilong stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm.

On this fishing expedition, the Cloud Sail was the consort ship, coordinating with the flagship Long Wind, whose acting captain was Bai Qing.

Although this was Zheng Zhilong's first time commanding a cannon ship, the moment he stepped onto the stern deck it felt as natural as coming home. He issued orders with unruffled composure and soon had the entire ship responding to his command like an extension of his own arm.

Zheng Zhilong had a faint feeling deep down—perhaps he, like the helmsman, was born to eat this rice!

"Boom!" In the northeastern sky, a signal rocket burst open.

Zheng Zhilong thought to himself: "Finally!"

On the Long Wind's stern deck, a red flag spun and waved, while a white flag slowly rose at the same time.

Zheng Zhilong shouted to his crew: "Raise the sails, raise the flags! Follow the flagship!"

Zheng Zhilong's voice was naturally deep and resonant, like a great bell or giant chime, carrying his commands clearly to the ears of every sailor on deck—so clearly that having the first mate and boatswain repeat the orders seemed entirely redundant.

Three square Chinese hard sails came down, and the Cloud Sail followed behind the Long Wind, forming a line astern.

At the top of both ships' masts flew a white flag with a red shield-shaped emblem at its center, surrounded by a ring of yellow castle motifs and crowned with a royal diadem at the top—the Portuguese flag, unmistakably.

At this time, Portugal had the closest relations with the Great Ming and had purchased quite a number of Chinese vessels.

So even though both the Long Wind and the Cloud Sail were Ming ships with not a single Portuguese aboard, flying the Portuguese flag would still make any attacked convoy think of Portugal.

Zheng Zhilong looked up at the Portuguese flag fluttering overhead, imagining the fury of the robbed merchant ships' home nations as they stormed off to demand reckoning from the Portuguese—he nearly laughed out loud.

This dirty trick was, naturally, Lin Qian's idea.

Though it was a dirty trick, Zheng Zhilong harbored not the slightest disrespect toward Lin Qian for it—if anything, he felt a touch of inferiority for not having thought of such a brilliant scheme himself.

"Bang!" Another signal rocket burst in the northeastern sky, this time closer than before.

Zheng Zhilong took a deep breath and called out in a clear voice: "Enemy contact soon—stay sharp, and blow your matchcords red-hot!"

Such words would normally come from the boatswain or the gunner's mate, but Zheng Zhilong's voice carried so well that it felt perfectly natural coming from him.

Soon, a mast appeared on the northeastern horizon above the sea, with snow-white soft sails unfurling beneath it.

The lookout called out: "Enemy ship sighted to the northeast!"

The enemy ship was heading straight toward the Long Wind and the Cloud Sail, and before long both sides came fully into each other's view.

Zheng Zhilong shaded his eyes with his hand and peered at the enemy vessel, judging that its size was roughly comparable to that of the Long Wind and the Cloud Sail.

According to intelligence, this was an armed merchantman—no match for the Long Wind and the Cloud Sail in an artillery duel, and that was not even counting the three Sea Wolf ships supporting them.

They sailed toward each other for an hour.

The lookout began updating the distance: "Enemy ship off the port bow, two thousand paces!"

Zheng Zhilong looked at the enemy ship and saw that it showed no intention of lowering sail or turning away—instead it charged straight at them, as if it did not regard them in the slightest.

After a long while more, the lookout called: "Enemy ship off the port bow, one thousand paces!"

At this distance, one could already faintly make out a flag of red, white, and blue flying high from the enemy's mainmast.

Zheng Zhilong recognized it at a glance—this was a Dutch ship, precisely the most suitable target for plundering.

"Enemy ship off the port bow, five hundred paces!"

As the distance closed, the Long Wind turned its helm to port, bringing its starboard guns to bear on the Dutch vessel.

The Cloud Sail executed the same maneuver in tandem.

Five hundred paces away, aboard the Dutch armed merchantman the Wanderer, Captain Dirk lowered his telescope and sneered softly: "Overreaching fools."

He then turned to his crew and shouted: "Lads, let's go catch ourselves some more slaves!"

The crew cheered in delight.

First mate Pieter cautioned: "Captain, those two ships are larger than the usual Ming vessels, and they're flying Portuguese colors—best to be careful."

Dirk waved it off dismissively: "So what if they're big? Compared to the twenty serpentine guns aboard the Wanderer, Ming firearms are nothing but a little boy pissing his pants!

Whether they're Portuguese or—even better—Ming men, these yellow-skinned monkeys are obedient and hardworking, perfect for labor!

Don't forget, in Batavia, a decent Ming laborer fetches a full fifty pesos!"

Hearing that a single man was worth fifty pesos, first mate Pieter could not help licking his lips, and his worries about the two Fujian junks flew straight out of his mind.

"Three hundred paces!" the lookout shouted.

Dirk raised his telescope again and studied the enemy ships' movements closely, seeing that both had already turned broadside on the sea, apparently preparing for a side-mounted volley.

Dirk was both astonished and amused.

Astonished, because since when had the Ming navy learned the tactic of broadside volleys?

Amused, because with the range and accuracy of Ming firearms, hitting the Wanderer at three hundred paces was nothing short of a pipe dream.

Dirk said: "Hold course—sail around to their stern and fire!"

First mate Pieter bellowed the order.

The Wanderer had wind and current in her favor and was moving fast; just a few minutes later, voices called down from the mast.

"Two hundred paces!"

"One hundred fifty paces!"

"One hundred paces!"

At that moment, first mate Pieter raised his telescope, and the excited expression on his face suddenly froze—because he saw something that should never have appeared on a Ming ship: the gaping black muzzles of Siren cannons!

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The Cloud Sail's and Long Wind's starboard guns fired in sequence, hurling a total of twelve solid iron shot around the Wanderer, sending up enormous splashes of water and drenching everyone aboard.

The confident smile on Dirk's face froze solid...

"Damn it, they have cannons! They really are Portuguese!"

"Turn to port, starboard to the enemy! Load the powder!"

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

"Bloody hell, the Portuguese reload fast!"

"Ahh—my arm!"

"Turn the helm, shift the sails, open the gunports!"

The deck of the Wanderer was thrown into chaos.

Dirk was utterly horrified—these two Ming warships not only shot with remarkable accuracy but reloaded with incredible speed; even the finest Dutch gunners would struggle to match such artillery discipline.

Were the Portuguese gunners truly this terrifying? Was this the depth of a naval power with two hundred years of history?

A storm of shock raged in Dirk's heart.

He shouted orders for the Wanderer to turn as quickly as possible.

The bow and stern were the most vulnerable parts of a sailing warship—if cannon fire penetrated from either end, it would cause a through-and-through wound to the entire vessel, with dire consequences.

He had assumed the Ming warships carried no cannons, which was why he dared to be so bold as to meet the enemy bow-first. Now he was reaping the bitter fruit of his arrogance, forced to turn about in a panic.

Boom! The whole ship shuddered, followed by the sound of the hull splitting.

On the gun deck, the gunnery chief shouted, "Bow hit!"

Fortunately, the Voyager was already turning about; the shot pierced through the bow and the port side without causing too much damage.

Dirk ordered, "Load chain shot!"

"Load chain shot, aim for the enemy's masts!" The Voyager's first mate was also an old sailor—whatever order the captain gave, he could break down the strategic intent behind it.

At present, the two enemy vessels and the Voyager were roughly equal in firepower, yet the enemy held the advantage of striking first, and they had more crew—whether in an artillery duel or a boarding action, they held the upper hand.

The Voyager had to break off the engagement as quickly as possible, which was why chain shot was being loaded into the gun barrels—to shoot at the enemy masts and cripple their maneuverability.

Soon, the Voyager had brought her hull broadside.

"Fire!" the gunnery chief roared.

The distance was too great; all ten chain shots missed.

The Voyager kept turning without pause, and soon her bow was pointed due east.

Dirk knew that due east lay the island of Formosa, and that to shake off the enemy ships he ought to sail north.

But the wind was blowing from the northeast, so for the Voyager to turn due north, she would have to come about against the wind—and coming about against the wind required the vessel to have a certain initial speed, which was why she had no choice but to first sail due east.

Fortunately, the two Ming warships had their bows pointed northwest and also lacked initial speed; to give chase, they too would need to come about against the wind, or else they could only turn the helm to port and swing around in a wide arc.

With this slender advantage, Dirk could shake off the pursuit, and a confident smile returned to his face.

Alas, the smile lasted less than half a minute.

Dirk discovered in horror that the enemy ships were turning far too quickly!

From pointing northwest, to due west, then southwest, due south, due east—such a wide range of turning, and they had done it in only half the time the Voyager needed.

Though Dirk had traveled the Hirado–Batavia route many times, he knew very little about Chinese-style junks.

The Chinese hard sail that catches wind from all eight directions was no empty reputation.

Combined with the balanced rudder and the wash-board design, a Fujian junk could turn quickly at a small angle with little resistance.

If the Voyager were sailing with the wind on her quarter, the Long Wind and the Cloud Sail might not necessarily catch her—but when it came to coming about, turning, and sailing against the wind, Chinese vessels held a steady advantage.

So when Zheng Zhilong saw the Dutch fleeing due east, half the worry in his heart had already settled.

The Long Wind and the Cloud Sail quickly came about and gave chase.

Soon, the Dutch ship came about against the wind, heading due north.

Under Bai Qing's command, the Long Wind and the Cloud Sail, sailing close-hauled at a small angle, headed straight for the northeast.

The suffering the Spaniards had tasted—now it was the Dutchmen's turn to swallow it.

(End of chapter)

Yuan Round

Pen