Chapter 360: Taking Full Stock of the Dutch Fleet

Jiang Wei stepped onto the dock and was immediately hit by a thick, strange stench—something like nutmeg mixed with rot, layered over a heavy fishy smell. Relson led the way ahead, and after several dozen paces, Jiang Wei found the source of the odor.

Beside the main road of the dock stood a gallows, with three corpses hanging from it. Judging by the degree of decomposition, they had died only two or three days ago. Swarms of green bottle flies buzzed around the bodies, a sight that made one's scalp crawl.

The heads of the three corpses were twisted to one side in unnatural positions, their faces impossible to make out, but from their clothing, they appeared to be one Dutchman and two Han Chinese. Around each corpse's neck hung a placard, written in three languages—Dutch, Malay, and Chinese: "Spice smugglers, this is their fate."

Beside the gallows stood Dutch soldiers in navy-blue uniforms, muskets shouldered on guard. These soldiers stood ramrod straight, eyes fixed forward, completely unlike the lackadaisical Spanish soldiers of rumor.

Jiang Wei deliberately took a look at that musket—it was clearly of flintlock construction, nearly identical in form to the Great Xia flintlock.

After all, the Foye Type-01 flintlock had been made in imitation of the Dutch firearm.

Relson quietly reminded him from the side: "Your Excellency the Envoy, please do not look around."

Jiang Wei gave a cold snort and withdrew his gaze.

On the short stretch between the city's front gate and the dock, there were nothing but the low thatched huts of the natives and the shops of Han merchants. He followed Relson through the city gate, and on both sides of the gate tunnel were plastered countless trilingual notices.

Jiang Wei glanced at them—all were harshly worded administrative decrees: curfew moved up an hour earlier, death by hanging for those concealing weapons, collective punishment for Chinese communities when one of their number committed a crime, execution of entire families for trading with Great Xia merchants, and the like.

Recalling that nine-tenths of the goods at Hoi An port were bought up by Dutch merchants, Jiang Wei couldn't help but find it amusing, muttering to himself: "Only the magistrate may set fires, but the common folk may not light their lamps." The interpreter translated this literally, and Relson said: "What does that mean?"

Jiang Wei gave a light laugh and did not answer.

Batavia's inner city had an almost obsessive-compulsive grid layout. The entire city was divided by canals into different sections, each reserved for people of different status.

Relson brought Jiang Wei into the city through the northwest corner of Batavia. This area was home to Europeans and Dutch commoners—along the entire road, one could hardly find a single native or Chinese face.

The cleanliness of the streets was like a different world from the outer city.

The streets were paved with flat stone slabs, flanked by brick-and-stone buildings two or three stories tall. The architecture was uniformly red-tiled roofs and white walls, fitted with louvered shutters and small balconies, with palm trees planted along the roadside.

However, the canal water was black-green and foul-smelling—clearly the entire city's sewage was dumped into the canals.

Batavia's administrative district lay on the eastern side of the city, south of the northeastern bastion, requiring one to cross a canal.

While crossing the bridge, the stench from the river nearly made Jiang Wei choke. He summoned his courage and glanced at the water, only to see an oily film floating on the surface, along with palm fronds, dead fish, and dead rats bobbing in the current.

Maintaining the dignity befitting a Great Xia envoy, Jiang Wei gritted his teeth and pressed on.

Relson, walking ahead, gave an uneasy laugh: "Apart from the canals, this great city is still very clean."

That remark simply made Jiang Wei laugh in spite of his anger.

Batavia's administrative district was also the residential quarter for senior officials and military officers of the Dutch East India Company, and its streets were clearly fitted out to a higher standard. The Governor-General's residence sat at the very center of the administrative district, protected under the cannon fire of the bastion.

The Governor-General's residence, together with its outer walls, was itself a brick-and-stone fortress—the outer walls a full three chi thick, with a cannon mounted at each of the four corners.

The guards at the gate wore iron helmets and carried long halberds, their breastplates gleaming brightly—an imposing sight.

From Jiang Wei's arrival to the completion of the body search and his entry inside, the guards did not move a muscle the entire time.

Through the rear gate was a spacious stone courtyard, sparsely planted with palm trees, with soldiers marching in formation within.

At the far end of the courtyard stood a Western-style building with red-tiled roof and white walls, two stories tall, topped with a small church-style dome bearing a cross, with slightly lower wing buildings on either side. The overall style was extremely austere—a stark contrast to the ornate, elaborate decorative style of the Spanish.

Relson brought Jiang Wei to the door of the Governor-General's residence. Jiang Wei presented his envoy's credential, and before long a guard led him inside. After passing through several staircases and corridors, they arrived before a sandalwood door.

The guard pushed open the door, invited Jiang Wei and the interpreter inside, then snapped to attention and reported: "Your Excellency the Governor-General, the Great Xia envoy has arrived."

Lucas Son, who had been bent over his desk writing, waved a hand, and the guard closed the door.

Jiang Wei surveyed his surroundings—the room was exceptionally austere. No lace curtains, no crystal chandeliers, no porcelain ornaments.

Only a simple writing desk, at which Lucas Son was bent over, writing on official documents with a quill pen.

On the desk, the ink bottle, pen rest, and water cup were all arranged in a single line, each spaced at exactly the same interval. Even the document Lucas Son was currently reviewing was aligned perfectly with the stack of documents awaiting review.

Lucas Son kept his head down, reviewing documents, making no move for a long while—as if he had entirely forgotten Jiang Wei's presence.

Such rudeness was hard even for the interpreter to stomach.

But Jiang Wei was traveling in the capacity of an envoy, and the decorum and propriety of Great Xia could not be cast aside. He first clasped his hands in salute: "I am Jiang Wei, envoy of Great Xia. I pay my respects to Your Excellency the Governor-General."

Lucas Son did not even raise his head, as if he had heard nothing.

Jiang Wei took a deep breath, suppressed his fury, and reminded himself repeatedly in his mind to endure humiliation for the sake of his mission. He then called out again in a louder voice.

Only then did Lucas Son tap the chair before him with the tip of his quill and say: "Please, sit."

Jiang Wei sat down at the desk, with the interpreter standing behind him.

Lucas Son appeared to be around forty years of age. His dark brown hair was combed back immaculately, he wore a pointed goatee, and his mustache was trimmed sharp as a blade. Dressed in a brown linen shirt, his frame was lean and wiry, with straight shoulders and an upright bearing.

"Since this is a peace negotiation, where is your sincerity?" Lucas Son said slowly, his voice low and hoarse.

Jiang Wei forced a smile and said: "This envoy is merely here for preliminary contact. Whatever demands Your Excellency may have, this envoy can relay them all."

In truth, he said this simply to survive and return home.

Lucas Son let out a contemptuous snort: "Your pirate Prince has had enough of being plundered, hasn't he? The Hirado trade is the financial lifeline of Great Xia, while the Nagasaki cannon foundry is merely an idle asset of the Company."

Jiang Wei said: "Since your side has already gained the upper hand, why must you be so aggressive?"

Lucas Son set down his pen and looked up. His eyes were deep-set, his gaze sinister and piercing, fixed on Jiang Wei as he said: "The terms for peace are simple. First: compensation for the death of Governor-General Coen and the damage to the Company fleet, and the handing over of the perpetrators.

Second: compensation for the property and reputational losses caused to the Dutch Hirado trading post by the Hirado delivery notes.

Third: compensation for the raiding of the Nagasaki cannon foundry shipping route, and the handing over of the perpetrators.

Fourth: Great Xia shall hand over control of the city of Malacca and issue a public apology for its brazen military interference in Aceh.

Fifth: Great Xia forces shall withdraw from Guangnan, and Great Xia shall sever all dealings with the English.

Sixth: Great Xia shall abandon its colony on the island of Luzon and hand it over to Dutch administration.

Seventh—"

"Don't push your luck!" Jiang Wei said through gritted teeth, the veins at his temples bulging with rage.

"Surrender, or war—the choice is yours." Lucas Son said contemptuously, tearing a page from his document and pushing it across to Jiang Wei. Jiang Wei picked it up—it was entirely in Dutch, handwritten by Lucas Son just moments ago. The edges of the Latin letters were sharp as knives, like rows of nails, grating on the eyes.

Jiang Wei handed the paper to the interpreter, who glanced at it and said quietly: "These are the terms he just raised, and he also says he wants one million Dutch guilders in war reparations."

One million Dutch guilders was roughly equivalent to two hundred thousand taels of silver.

Jiang Wei felt a surge of fury rush upward. He snatched the paper back, glared at Lucas Son, then said through clenched teeth: "I will certainly relay this!" "Clap! Clap!" Lucas Son said nothing further—he simply clapped his hands twice.

Immediately a guard opened the door and said: "Your Excellency the Governor-General."

Lucas loosened his grip and said, "Have Royce take him away."

"Yes, Your Excellency the Envoy, please follow me!"

Jiang Wei rose and left. At the gate of the Governor-General's residence, Reiersen was no longer there—instead, a bald, burly man over six chi tall waited at the entrance. The guard said, "Commander, the Governor-General orders you to escort the envoy gentleman out."

The burly man grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth: "Understood."

He then stepped forward and said, "This way, please."

After the burly man had led the way for a few steps, Jiang Wei sensed something wrong: "This doesn't seem to be the road we came by."

Royce said in broken Chinese: "Hok-kien only allowed to walk the outer city."

"Hok-kien" is the Hokkien pronunciation of "Fujian"—the Dutch used this word to refer to all Han Chinese, a slur unique to Batavia, just like the Spaniards' "Sangleys."

Jiang Wei said angrily, "I am an envoy of Great Xia—how dare you insult me so?"

Royce only sneered, then led Jiang Wei to a low city gate on the eastern side of the town.

Jiang Wei indeed saw many Han Chinese passing through the gate. These people all kept their heads bowed and chests tucked in, walking in quick, short steps, and they avoided Royce from afar. Although the administrative district was home to the dignitaries of the East India Company, someone still had to clean the rooms, do the laundry, empty the chamber pots, and tend the gardens—that was why these Chinese came and went here.

"Crawl on through—your countrymen are waiting for you." Royce said mockingly.

He was Saxon by birth and spoke German, which the interpreter could not understand.

Jiang Wei drew a long breath and walked into the gate tunnel, while Royce did not enter, merely watching from the inner city.

Batavia's outer city was also laid out in a neat, rigorous grid, yet within that grid, everything was in a shambles.

Dense clusters of thatched huts squeezed together, many with bamboo pole frames and palm-leaf roofs, low and damp. Sewage ran across the alleys, garbage was casually dumped in corners, mosquitoes and flies buzzed around in swarms, and barefoot children ran through the mud and water, all sallow and gaunt.

This was where the Han laborers outside the city lived. Further out still, away from the gates and closer to the farmland, lay the residential area of the native Javanese—even more dilapidated, its stench detectable from a great distance.

Every Han Chinese outside the city was cautious and timid. As Jiang Wei walked along, not a single person dared raise their head to meet his eyes.

The closer he got to the docks, the tidier the buildings on both sides of the streets became. Brothels and gambling dens were everywhere, their signboards all written in uniform Chinese characters. Just like the landlords and tenant farmers of the Great Ming, the Han Chinese of Batavia were strictly stratified.

The Dutch had propped up a comprador called the Kapitan to rule over the Chinese on their behalf, and tax collection was also wholly delegated to the Kapitan—similar to the Mongols' tax-farming system, except the Kapitan collected even more ruthlessly, sub-contracting the burden layer by layer.

The Kapitan and the tax-farming bosses clustered around him thus became men above other men, while the common folk at the bottom could only endure layer upon layer of exploitation. Batavia also had a system of debt slavery—those who could not pay their taxes were reduced to slaves, forming a perfectly closed loop at the institutional level.

Perhaps because the outer city was too filthy and chaotic, Royce did not follow, only assigning two Germanic mercenaries to trail behind. Their surveillance was not strict—for Jiang Wei, this was a godsent opportunity.

He was currently in the eastern part of the city. After leaving the gate, he made his way north toward the docks at top speed.

Sympathetic as he was to the plight of Batavia's Han Chinese, the Dutch were no fools—they would not let him linger in the outer city for long. He had to save his time for observing the harbor.

To the northeast of Batavia lay vast stretches of marsh and mangrove forest, and every possible landing spot lay within range of the bastions' guns.

At the junction between the docks and the mangroves, Jiang Wei could already make out the Dutch fleet's disposition.

Batavia's harbor had very few piers. Roughly twenty-odd large ships lay at anchor on the sea near the port, while further out, about twenty-odd li from the docks, another ten-odd large ships were anchored—clearly the outer anchorage.

The only vessels actually moored at the piers were unarmed cargo boats.

Jiang Wei looked at a large galleon near the harbor. The ship was fourteen zhang long and three and a half zhang wide, with two gun decks. Judging from the gunports, its broadside carried roughly thirty to forty cannons.

Such a massive galleon had never been seen on the South Sea before. The Spaniards had ships of comparable tonnage, but their hull forms were quite different.

Unfortunately, this ship's gunports were all closed, so he could not discern the poundage of the broadside guns.

Fortunately, its open deck also carried cannons. Jiang Wei stole a glance—they looked like three-pounder or six-pounder guns. Under the sunlight, the cannons gleamed with a golden sheen, clearly bronze pieces as well.

"No loitering here!" The Dutch guard responsible for the escort shoved Jiang Wei roughly in the shoulder, sending him stumbling.

Jiang Wei immediately let himself fall to the ground, clutching his ankle, rolling and writhing. In his heart he had resolved: so long as he could see the Dutch fleet's deployment, he would gladly forgo this bit of dignity.

"What are you doing—get up!" The Dutch guard grew instantly tense, gripping his halberd and barking sternly.

The interpreter immediately retorted gravely, "The envoy was injured by your shove. If you ruin the peace talks between Great Xia and the Company, you will be a criminal."

The Dutch guard instantly showed a flustered expression and dared not press further, though he still muttered curses under his breath: "Damnable cunning Chinese, go to hell!" Meanwhile, taking advantage of their argument, Jiang Wei finished counting the ship's guns: thirty-six cannons on the broadsides, eight swivel guns on the open deck, and one cannon each at bow and stern—forty-six cannons in total.

Its hull was somewhat longer than Great Xia's fourth-rate ships, with slightly fewer cannons—likely just a difference in safety margins—and the two vessels' tonnage should be roughly the same.

Jiang Wei committed these figures to memory with all his might, then slowly rose and had the interpreter support him as he walked on.

Seeing that Jiang Wei had not seized the opportunity to make trouble, the two Dutch guards breathed a sigh of relief. They exchanged a glance and quietly sneered in Dutch: "What a little junk."

The Dutch called Fujian junks "junk ships." Because Han merchants prized harmony above all and believed that peace bred profit, they tended to swallow their grievances when bullied. Over time, the Dutch of Batavia had coined this mocking nickname—"little junk."

These slurs and nicknames were things the Dutch would never dare use in Hoi An harbor when facing Great Xia's treasure fleet.

But Batavia was Dutch territory. These low-ranking Dutch guards had never been to Hoi An, had never seen Han Chinese strutting with pride—only the cowering laborers of the outer city. Seeing a Great Xia envoy swallow his humiliation just like those laborers, they naturally felt no respect.

Jiang Wei had no mind to spare for these two Dutch guards. Pretending to limp while supported by the interpreter, he walked extremely slowly, all the while casting sidelong glances and committing the Dutch fleet's entire deployment to memory.

In the harbor were three ships resembling fourth-rate vessels, all moored along the harbor's edge.

Another eight armed yachts lay in the port area near the canal, some in the midst of loading and unloading cargo.

These ships all had a single gun deck, nearly identical in form, with roughly twenty broadside cannons each plus six-pounders on the open deck. Beyond these, there were a dozen or so small and medium yachts and gunboats, each carrying around ten cannons—weaker than Great Xia's yachts but stronger than the Sea Wolf ships. Most of these vessels were tasked with patrol, sentry duty, and short-range shuttling.

Royce was waiting at the Sea Wolf ship's berth. Seeing Jiang Wei covered in dirt and being helped along, he curled his lips and made a snide remark: "How was the scenery along the way?"

The guard translated his words into Dutch, and the interpreter then rendered them into Chinese.

Jiang Wei squeezed out a fawning smile and said, "Your side's military might is formidable and your land is prosperous—I am deeply impressed."

"Hahaha..." Royce laughed smugly, pointing at the Sea Wolf ship. "Get on board, little junk."

Jiang Wei was overjoyed inside. If he could return aboard a Sea Wolf ship, he could seize the chance to survey the vessels at the anchorage—no doubt his constant show of weakness had lulled the Dutch into dropping their guard.

After he returned aboard his ship, an armed Dutch sloop led the way, heading north along the main channel.

Jiang Wei could not deviate from the course, but no one stopped him from using his eyes while on board. He had the entire crew keep their eyes wide open and commit everything they saw to memory. Meanwhile, Jiang Wei himself went to the bow to study the armed sloop. That vessel was six zhang long and one and a half zhang wide, fitted with three masts of soft sails—similar in size and tonnage to the Sea Wolf ship, but about two knots faster.

The armed sloop carried seven cannons: one three-pounder at the bow, with the rest being one-pounder swivel guns arranged along the broadsides. Its firepower was also slightly stronger than the Sea Wolf ship's.

Jiang Wei ordered his men into the cabin to record the Dutch firepower layout in full.

Before long, the Sea Wolf ship drew near the anchorage.

Jiang Wei poked a hole through the cabin's paper window and instructed his men: "You two count the ships; you count the cannons..."

After assigning the tasks, he himself looked out at the anchorage. The vessels anchored there were all yachts of varying sizes, among which two ships resembling fourth-rate vessels stood out like cranes among chickens, especially eye-catching.

The Dutch built their ships in modular batches, so vessels of the same specification looked nearly identical—very easy to identify.

Jiang Wei calculated in his heart: "This kind of fourth-rate ship must be the Dutch's strongest vessel. There are three in the harbor, two at the anchorage—five in total!

The Great Xia fleet has eight fourth-rate ships. In numbers, displacement, and firepower alike, Great Xia wins completely!"

At the same time, his subordinate also said: "There are four armed yacht-class ships!"

Another person added: "All of them are around twenty-six guns!"

Jiang Wei was overjoyed, and said to the crewman holding the pen: "Write it down quickly—large armed yacht-class ships, twelve in total..."

Then the crewmen added a jumble of details all at once, and together they tallied thirty-five ships of various types, with roughly seven hundred cannons in total. This included light guns of twelve pounds or less, which were generally placed on the open deck where the crewmen could see them clearly.

Seeing that they had already sailed away from the anchorage, Jiang Wei held the paper recording the Dutch fleet's deployment and laughed: "Excellent! Our humiliation was not in vain!" Suddenly, a crewman said: "Look! More ships are coming!"

Hearing the voice, Jiang Wei immediately went to the window, and saw that from behind a small island northwest of the anchorage, a ship had indeed sailed out.

From the Sea Wolf's position, they could just see its broadside.

A crewman said: "Another fourth-rate ship!"

Someone objected: "It seems a bit different..."

Because there was no reference point on the sea, it was very difficult to judge a ship's size from a distance.

Jiang Wei said in a trembling voice: "Quick—the telescope!"

His subordinate crewman immediately presented the telescope. It had been hidden in a compartment within the watertight bulkhead, so the Dutch hadn't found it in their search.

After taking it, Jiang Wei looked at the ship and silently counted its gunports: "One, two, three... twenty-three, twenty-four!"

This ship had a full twenty-four gunports on its broadside—forty-eight broadside cannons in total, only four fewer than the Candle Dragon.

Jiang Wei's body trembled slightly. He hadn't expected the Dutch to possess such a powerful warship—thank goodness he had discovered this in time.

Gripping the telescope with both hands, he looked toward the upper part of the ship and saw twelve small guns on its open deck. Counting it all up, this was a sixty-gun warship. From the arrangement of its firepower, it was undoubtedly the Dutch's main flagship.

Jiang Wei then looked at its rigging—it was likewise equipped with a bow spritsail and jib sails, but the sail area was much smaller than the Candle Dragon's, and the sail shapes had also been adjusted. It was clearly a case of stealing from Great Xia but not learning it well, or perhaps modifications made to traditional masts and sail designs.

At that moment, the main flagship was turning around, sailing south toward the anchorage. Below its sterncastle, a row of Latin letters was written in gold.

Jiang Wei knew that must be the ship's name. He hurriedly handed the telescope to the interpreter, pointing at its sterncastle.

"Quick—look! What does it say?"

The interpreter took the telescope, looked for a moment, and said: "Hercules—Heracles."

"What does that mean?" Jiang Wei said.

"It seems... it seems to be a person's name—the god of strength of the Western barbarians," said the interpreter.

Jiang Wei laughed: "A fine 'god of strength'! What we're fighting is precisely this bunch of brainless brutes!"

He reasoned that since the Hercules had sailed out from the northwest of the anchorage, and was alone, it clearly hadn't returned from a voyage—the most likely possibility was that it had just finished repairs.

The direction it came from was Onrust Island.

This also indicated that Batavia's main channel was not as narrow as rumored—there was also a deep-water passage between Onrust Island and the anchorage and main channel. This was precious room for fleet deployment.

The Dutch seemed to be on strict guard, but in reality Jiang Wei had already gotten a complete read on them.

As they spoke, the Sea Wolf had already reached the open sea. The Dutch seven-gun sloop turned back, and Jiang Wei gave the order to sail toward the main fleet's anchorage.

Seven days later, at dawn, on the outer edge of the Thousand Islands, at the Dutch East India Company's watchtower.

The company's new recruit Hendrik was dozing off while holding his matchlock musket. Before he knew it, he fell dead asleep, his head drooped down, and he jolted awake again.

He quickly looked out to sea—a thin layer of advection fog clung to the surface, and the pale white mist blurred sea and sky into the same expanse of gray, with visibility of less than five li.

Beside him, the veteran manning the tower with him yawned and mocked: "No need to be nervous—in the time it takes to doze off, those little junks can't fight their way in." Hendrik relaxed at the words. The smell of toasted black bread drifted up from the galley below the tower. Holding his stomach, he sidled up to the veteran and said: "I heard the little junks from the north sent people to negotiate peace?"

All the supplies for these watchtowers had to be delivered by ships sent from Batavia, and these bits of gossip traveled to the island along with the flour and bananas. The veteran laughed: "Don't dream about it. Even if the little junks surrender, His Excellency our Governor-General won't let them off."

Hendrik said: "Can we... actually defeat the little junks' country? I heard that the country to the north called Great Xia is extremely powerful—completely different from these natives."

The veteran said disdainfully: "Aceh, Banten, Surabaya, Mataram, and those Indian princely states—before a real fleet arrived, which of them didn't claim to be incomparably powerful? Don't worry about those things. When the end of the month comes, we'll return to Batavia, find a girl to keep you company, and all your worries will be gone." For a time there was no conversation on the watchtower, only the ceaseless sound of waves crashing against the shore.

A bell rang from the galley—the signal that breakfast had begun. The veteran stood up, brushed the dust off himself, and prepared to go downstairs.

Hendrik reminded him: "It's not time for the shift change yet."

The veteran said carelessly: "Haha, so what? It's not like a fleet could suddenly appear on the sea in the time it takes to eat breakfast..." As he spoke, the veteran looked out at the sea and froze on the spot. First he was puzzled, then his face turned deathly pale, his eyes bulged wide, and his lips trembled incessantly, as if he had seen a ghost.

Seeing this, Hendrik said in a trembling voice: "Wh-what's wrong? This joke isn't funny..."

The veteran didn't answer him. His expression grew worse and worse, and then he said in a low voice: "Go sound the signal cannon—two blasts!"

According to Batavia's warning system, in foggy weather, warnings were conveyed by firing signal cannons.

One blast meant scattered unidentified ships were approaching—mostly pirates, spice smugglers, and the like.

Two blasts meant a fleet was approaching, and the company's main fleet had to be dispatched to meet it.

Since Batavia's founding, the two-blast signal had been sounded only once—in 1629, when Mataram besieged Batavia for the second time. Hendrik said angrily: "I told you, don't joke like that..."

"N-no... no! Three blasts! Sound three blasts! Go quickly!" The veteran's voice was already choked with tears.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen