Chapter 363: A Night of Black Wind and High Moon, a Time for Drawing on the Ship's Rail

On Anzu Island, the Dutchmen were bound by the hands and strung into a line, surrounded by a full contingent of Daxia marines.

Some marines were forcing water down the throats of these Dutchmen, who scrambled and fought over it.

Xiong Beizi, patrolling the island, frowned at the sight and said, "Behave yourselves! No grabbing!"

After gulping down the fresh water, the Anzu Island commander shouted, "I protest! We surrendered, and we never harmed any civilian lives! You should untie these ropes and let us return to Batavia!"

Xiong Beizi asked his subordinates, "Any deaths on the island?"

"A dozen or so natives came down with dysentery—one shat himself to death."

The commander hastily said upon hearing this, "I can pay a ransom! How much do you want? Two hundred florins, how about that? Three hundred? Three hundred?"

Xiong Beizi laughed. "Count yourselves lucky you're keeping your lives at all."

Meanwhile, a colossal warship approached Anzu Island—it was the Candle Dragon. Xiong Beizi hurried over to the pier to wait.

In the distance, among the laborers, Huang Gouzi said smugly, "That's our Daxia warship!"

The other laborers broke into murmurs of admiration, and the older ones had already begun to curry favor with him, their attitudes a world apart from before.

The Candle Dragon did not dock but anchored two li offshore. Lin Qian came ashore on a launch, and Xiong Beizi stepped forward to report: "Your Majesty, your subordinate has bound every Dutchman on the island and taken control of the laborers."

Lin Qian walked toward the two windmills, asking as he went, "Did you capture the Dutch technician?"

Xiong Beizi said, "According to those Dutchmen, the technician who designed the windmills lives in Batavia city."

Lin Qian said, "No matter." He continued walking toward the windmills.

A siege battle was measured in years as a matter of course, and judging from the Dutch reaction, they were dead set on dragging things out with Daxia to the bitter end.

That was why Lin Qian had time to come inspect the spoils on Anzu Island.

The windmill on Anzu Island was used for sawing timber, built right beside a square pond. The planks sawn by the windmill could slide down a chute directly into the pond for soaking. The windmill stood three stories tall, made entirely of wood, with a half-enclosed frame structure and wooden wind beams covered in linen canvas. Its rotor spanned roughly seven zhang in diameter. From afar it did not seem like much, but up close one could truly feel its towering height.

The windmill's structure was highly advanced. Beneath the body ran a circular track of rollers, allowing the tail pole and winch to drive the windmill through a 270° rotation, keeping the rotor always facing the wind for maximum energy efficiency.

Stepping inside, one could see gear structures where crudeness and precision coexisted.

Directly atop the windmill was a drive wheel about one meter in diameter, connected to the rotor, similar to a Daxia waterwheel, standing perpendicular to the ground. The teeth of the drive wheel jutted backward at a right angle to the gear itself, thereby redirecting the transmission direction.

The gear meshing with the drive wheel was a cage-shaped gear, using a dozen or so thick hardwood bars as its teeth for power transmission.

Lin Qian was woefully ignorant and had never seen such an odd-shaped gear before, so he could only temporarily name it the "cage gear."

If one judged purely by tooth profile, this windmill's gearing was exceptionally crude—far inferior to Daxia gears—but in sheer ingenuity, it far surpassed them.

Odd-shaped gears were hard to mesh precisely, so the Dutchman simply didn't bother meshing them, relying instead on sheer material bulk to keep things running.

The wooden posts of the cage gear were all made of hardwood, each as thick as an adult's arm. Because the teeth couldn't mesh precisely, every post bore deep wear marks—yet even worn down, posts this thick kept right on working.

And if a post wore out completely, they'd just swap in a new batch. Posts like these were obviously simple to make—an apprentice could do it—and wind power was free, so there was no fear of wasting energy.

Accompanying Lin Qian were gear craftsmen from Foozhi, who froze the moment they saw the cage gear. Someone exclaimed, "So that's how it's done!" Already, craftsmen were pulling out tape measures, paper, and pens to record the data.

The windmill's main drive shaft connected to the cage gear, running vertically downward, passing through multiple stages of gear reduction, then connecting to a crank and connecting rod that pushed the saw in a back-and-forth motion.

In the end, a single windmill could drive nine saws.

And the transmission of those nine saws was carefully designed—not to move in sync, but staggered apart, one saw pulling back while another pushed forward. This minimized vibration across the entire system as much as possible.

A single windmill combined ingenious design with rugged brute force, balancing cost and utility to perfection—truly a product of the windmill kingdom.

But that technology now belonged to Daxia.

The Foozhi craftsmen were still absorbed in studying the windmill, so Lin Qian didn't disturb them and withdrew. He looked at the square pond—though the water was grayish-green and foul-smelling, it was surely fresh water.

For this pond to sit on a sea island, so close to the shore, and even have a sluice gate leading straight to the sea, yet still maintain fresh water, was no small feat. The Dutch must have had some hydraulic techniques for preventing seepage and leakage. Combined with the inner canals of Batavia city, their expertise in reinforcing pond banks was evidently considerable.

If the Foshan waterways adopted this technique, future silt buildup would be greatly reduced.

Moreover, Daxia's traditional freshwater-retention projects emphasized blocking over draining, while the Dutch had deliberately built a drainage sluice leading to the sea—in soil desalination and managing saltwater intrusion in inland rivers, it should complement Daxia's technical system nicely.

In the future, Daxia's island bases could also use this technique, making it easier to cultivate islands and provide supply stepping-stones for the fleet.

Xiong Beizi said at this point, "Your Majesty, the engineer who built this pond is also in Batavia."

Lin Qian thought to himself: "Gears, hydraulics, glass—the keys to all these precious technologies still lie in Batavia."

According to the General Staff's plan, the original intention had been to use Anzu Island as bait to lure the enemy into a rescue attempt.

But the Dutch turned out to have a certain strategic resolve, stubbornly refusing to come to the rescue—while the Anzu Island garrison had no spine whatsoever, surrendering after a mere six days of siege, instantly scuttling the original plan.

Now, to force the Dutch fleet out for a decisive battle, the only option was a land invasion. But once the army landed, it would face pressure from Mataram, having to constantly guard against a stab in the back—the risk was enormous.

Moreover, Batavia's defenses were complete. Even using the Vauban siege method, it would take at least a month to breach, and all the while the Mataram were watching with hungry eyes—the longer it dragged on, the more likely something would go wrong.

The best approach was to find a way to force the Dutch to come out and fight without landing troops.

Lin Qian thought for a long time, and the answer lay in their joint-stock company system.

If Lin Qian were facing the Dutch regular army, then beyond a head-on clash, there truly was no other way.

But a joint-stock company pursued profit—that was its greatest weakness.

So what sustained the profits of the Dutch East India Company?

Aside from trade with Daxia, it was spices—their lifeline—and among spices, nutmeg reigned supreme.

At present, all the nutmeg in the world came from the Banda Islands.

In 1621, Governor-General Coen, to monopolize nutmeg, had not hesitated to carry out a massacre on the Banda Islands, nearly wiping out the entire native population. If Daxia were to set its hand on the Banda Islands, to the Dutch it would be far worse than violating the mother of a company director.

But the Daxia fleet was separated from the Banda Islands by nearly 2,600 kilometers, and they knew nothing whatsoever about the troop strength and defenses there. Sending a detachment to attack would be the height of stupidity.

The only option was a feint.

And the most important thing about a feint was making the enemy believe it.

At this thought, Lin Qian stopped on the pier, a clever scheme taking shape in his mind.

The corner of his mouth curled up. "Bring the captured Anzu Island commander up."

Before long, the commander was brought forward. He struggled and made a racket at first, but the instant he saw Lin Qian, he quieted down at once. Lin Qian was surrounded by layers upon layers of personal guards and marines, every soldier heavily armed and fierce-looking—anyone could tell at a glance that he was a man of importance.

Lin Qian said coolly, "You only need to answer one question. Answer it, and I'll let you go."

After the interpreter translated, the commander nodded frantically.

"What is the defense situation on the Banda Islands?"

The commander's hopeful expression froze on his face. The situation on the Banda Islands was the Company's highest secret—not only did a mere garrison commander of Onrust Island like him not know, even if he did know, he wouldn't dare say.

Leaking other Company secrets would at most result in dismissal or imprisonment, but leaking the situation on the Banda Islands would genuinely get a man hanged. Seeing his hesitation, Lin Qian spoke slowly again: "There are no other Dutchmen here. If you tell me, no one else will know. Even if others ask, you can say you paid the ransom."

The commander hesitated for a long while, and finally made up his mind, speaking in a low voice: "I only know that the Banda Islands have four large islands, of which the main island is called Neira Island, and the Company's defense center is located on that island.

The archipelago is protected year-round by one warship and four or five sloops, and during peak season there are three to ten armed merchant ships... I truly only know this much, I swear to God!"

Lin Qian had someone record the intelligence, then said: "Go wait at the jetty."

The commander was overjoyed and bowed repeatedly to Lin Qian, saying: "Thank you, Your Excellency the noble General. You are the most aristocratic, most chivalrous Eastern noble I have ever met! May God bless you!!"

The corner of Lin Qian's mouth curled slightly; he paid no mind to these Western flatteries.

Geng Wu reminded him in a low voice: "Your Majesty, letting him leave like this will surely leak secrets. Shall I—"

"No need. Let him return alive—we must have chivalry and aristocratic bearing." Lin Qian said jokingly.

What Lin Qian feared was precisely that this commander would not leak the secret. If he truly kept his mouth shut, wouldn't releasing him have been for nothing?

To increase the likelihood of a leak, Lin Qian also had someone summon the Dutch lieutenant and asked him the same questions.

The lieutenant was startled at first, then looked toward the commander waiting by the jetty to board. Confusion appeared in his eyes first, then understanding, and finally shock surged forth. After hesitating for a long time, the lieutenant ultimately shook his head, unwilling to divulge anything.

Lin Qian did not mind and had him return to wait among the prisoners.

For the Dutch, only those who had betrayed information could leave. That way, even upon reaching Batavia, everyone held leverage over one another, mutually restraining, unable to betray each other. This was quite reasonable.

And for Lin Qian, if he collected ransoms and released all these officers at once, treating them equally, it would appear reasonable. He had to release some and not others to arouse suspicion among the Dutch high command.

This rabble could not withstand scrutiny. As long as the high command grew suspicious, one investigation would expose them, and what Lin Qian had asked would no longer be concealable. Of course, Lin Qian's clever scheme was not this simple—there were many more moves in reserve. This was only the first step.

Afterwards, Lin Qian repeated the same method, questioning all twenty Dutch officers from Onrust Island. Seven people sold out intelligence on the Banda Islands. Of the remaining thirteen, some genuinely knew nothing, and others held their ground—in any case, they could not board the ship.

Lin Qian summoned a Sea Wolf warship, had the seven informers board, and also ordered his personal guards to bring all seven men's personal belongings and load them onto the ship as well. This act drew endless gratitude from the seven men, who praised Lin Qian without cease, lauding him as a saint on par with King Arthur himself.

The belongings were quickly loaded, and the Sea Wolf warship raised a white flag and sailed toward Batavia, stopping outside the range of the coastal defense guns.

After about an hour, the Dutch sent a sloop out of the harbor, also flying a white flag, approaching cautiously.

Another hour later, the two ships came alongside, completed the prisoner transfer, and each turned back.

In the Governor-General's residence, a harbor guard reported the situation to Lucas Son.

Lucas Son set down his pen and mused: "No abuse, no torture, and they were simply released?"

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"All of them were released?"

"Only seven were released. The rest could not pay the ransom and have been temporarily detained." The guard pulled out a list as he spoke and handed it to the Governor-General.

Lucas Son took the list, his brow furrowing even more tightly. Some senior officers had not been released, yet junior officers had returned—the whole affair reeked of peculiarity. He set down the list, aligned it neatly on the desk, then said: "Have the Minister of Justice see me."

A moment later, the Minister of Justice entered. Lucas Son produced the list and said: "Investigate these men. I suspect they reached some unspeakable deal with Daxia. Remember, interrogate them separately."

"Yes, Governor-General." The Minister of Justice took the list and withdrew.

These men had too many holes in their stories—they could not withstand investigation. By dusk the next day, the results were out.

The Minister of Justice handed over the interrogation report with a grave expression: "Your Excellency the Governor-General, I am deeply sorry. These men betrayed the Company's core interests. They are not merely traitors to the Company—they are sinners against the Netherlands."

Lucas Son took the interrogation report and read it with extreme care. The further he read, the worse his expression became.

The Minister of Justice stood to the side, feeling the office grow increasingly oppressive, not daring to breathe too loudly.

After a long while, Lucas Son set down the interrogation report and said calmly: "Who else has seen this report?"

"No one else. The councilors are not yet aware of this matter."

Lucas Son pressed on: "The enemy only asked about troop deployments?"

"Yes."

"They did not ask about shipping routes?"

"No. The seven men were all asked identical questions."

By this point, the Minister of Justice's voice carried a tremor. Clearly, the enemy's failure to ask meant they already knew the shipping routes to the Banda Islands.

The Company sailed from Batavia to the Banda Islands every year; this route was not a particularly difficult secret to uncover.

And the Banda Islands' defenses were only slightly better than Onrust Island's—under siege by a fleet, they absolutely could not hold out.

If the Banda Islands were lost, the entire Company leadership might face accountability. As Minister of Justice, having deliberately concealed this from the Council, he would face the gallows at worst and prison at best.

So he could only ask: "Your Excellency... what should we do?"

Lucas Son said calmly: "What do you mean, what should we do?"

"It's just... regarding the Banda Islands, the Council has the right to know the truth..."

"Merely a petty trick. The Banda Islands are fourteen hundred nautical miles from Batavia—the enemy will not divide their forces." As he spoke, Lucas Son continued bending over his documents.

"Thank God." The Minister of Justice breathed a sigh of relief, then withdrew from the Governor-General's office.

After the Minister of Justice left, Lucas Son's quill stopped. He took the interrogation report back out from the drawer and pored over it carefully, his expression growing uglier by the moment. After a while, he sent for Garrison Commander Royce.

"Your Excellency the Governor-General." A bald, burly man nearly one meter ninety entered the office.

Lucas Son dipped his quill in ink, wrote down the names of the seven informers in his notebook, then pressed a wooden ruler against the paper and tore it off cleanly, handing it to Royce.

"These seven men have committed grave crimes. They are currently held at the Ministry of Justice. Go retrieve them and lock them secretly in the dungeon. Until the siege ends, no one is permitted to speak with them."

The Governor-General of the Dutch East India Company could decide life and death over colonial subjects, but among the Dutch themselves, he was merely the Company's leader, without authority to execute subordinates.

"As you wish, Your Excellency." Royce took the paper and was about to carry out the order when the Governor-General called him back.

Lucas Son said calmly: "Tell Bosman he need not set sail. The Batavia fleet alone is sufficient to deal with the Daxia people." Royce acknowledged the order and withdrew.

Moments later, cannon fire sounded from the harbor.

Since the siege began, the Daxia fleet had every night positioned itself outside the range of the coastal defense guns, firing arcing shots at the harbor from their shipboard cannons, letting off a few rounds from time to time, then retreating far away whenever the Dutch fleet came out to drive them off.

Because the firing distance was nearly a kilometer, the current hit rate was zero. It was essentially a harassment tactic, and Lucas Son paid it no mind. He let out a deep breath and continued reviewing documents as if nothing were wrong, though his mind was unsettled—his peripheral vision caught that a chair was slightly askew.

Lucas Son rose, elegantly put on his gloves, then bent down and continuously adjusted the position of every chair.

At the same time, at the anchorage off Batavia, Lin Qian raised his telescope.

Tonight the sky was cloudless and the moonlight bright, allowing him to vaguely make out the silhouettes of the three fifth-rate ships—Lingcang, Hengcang, and Pocang—along with the flickering orange-red lights along their sides.

Beside Lin Qian, Zheng Zhilong and the others were all watching him, when an Eagle Ship sailed up alongside the Candle Dragon and shouted something over.

Bai Qing listened, then hurried over to Lin Qian and relayed: "Your Majesty, all ships are ready!"

A sly grin crept across Lin Qian's face: "Move out!"

The order was relayed to every ship via the Eagle Ships.

On the five Shark Ships, soldiers had long been waiting on deck. Upon hearing the command, they picked up buckets of pitch-black ink, tied ropes around their waists, and were lowered over the side. Once in position, they began painting rectangular frames.

These frames were not painted at random—their positions and dimensions were carefully planned, with outlines pre-marked by the ship's carpenters using charcoal and ink lines. The crew filled in the interiors by moonlight.

The ink came from the Candle Dragon—fine-quality ink prepared for printing leaflets, glossy black and resistant to fading, now put to use for painting instead. Before long, a black frame was finished. The frame was thin, forming a rectangle slightly larger than an ordinary window, with a black horizontal line across the middle and a black dot on each side.

Up close, it looked like nothing at all—utterly meaningless.

But from a distance, a remarkable illusion appeared: the black frame looked exactly like a closed gunport.

Gunports had a certain gap between them and the hull, and the thin outer frame simulated that gap.

And because a gunport was made of spliced planks, it typically had a reinforcing rib to strengthen the structure—usually iron, protruding from the hull. The black line in the middle mimicked that rib and its shadow.

As for the two black dots below, those were the gunport's pull rings.

A row of such black frames painted along the side—that was unmistakably a gun deck!

The Shark Ship's original design purpose was to create a transport vessel that could match a warship's speed, allowing for rapid troop deployment.

Thus the two shared nearly identical length, width, draft, full-load displacement, and rigging—only the internal structural strength differed. Now this design was perfect for disguising itself as a warship.

Moreover, the Shark Ship's bulwarks were already fitted with twelve swivel guns by design, and the deck layout was identical to that of a fifth-rate ship.

Once an entire row of gunports was painted on, not even the Dutch—nor Lin Qian himself—could tell the difference.

The anchorage was nearly twenty li from Batavia. Even at high noon, one could barely make out the ships' silhouettes from the city walls; counting the gunports of the Great Xia fleet was utterly impossible.

And now, in the dead of night, unless the Dutch had thermal imaging, there was absolutely no way they could see what the Great Xia fleet was doing.

Aboard the Candle Dragon, everyone knew the Dutch couldn't hear them at this distance, yet they still instinctively lowered their voices and snickered.

Mischief like this was only fun when done secretly, under a moonless, windy night!

Meanwhile, on the sides of the six Ming-class fourth-rate ships, crewmen were also hard at work.

They were removing the gunports' reinforcing ribs and pull rings, then sealing the gunport seams with putty. Once the putty dried, they coated the surface with tung oil and wood lacquer.

Gunports treated this way would blend seamlessly into the surrounding hull—though up close, they still looked obviously fake.

But how could the Dutch ever get close?

At the extreme range of cannon fire, the naked eye couldn't even make out the outline of a sailor, and even a telescope was a stretch.

A broadside with no shadows, no seams, just a stretch of reddish-brown—that meant no gunports. No gunports meant a transport ship. No threat.

And what about when it came time to fight?

The putty was applied thinly—one push with a pole and it would pop right open.

And what if, without the pull rings, the gunports hung loose, or without the reinforcing ribs, they fell apart?

In the heat of battle, who would care about a single gunport? Just blast the troublesome one to pieces with a cannon shot.

Win the battle, and the spoils would be enough to build a hundred thousand more gunports.

Outside Batavia, cannon fire echoed through the night, and the sailors on the Shark Ships and fourth-rate ships worked through the entire night as well.

By just before dawn the next day, everything was finally finished.

The six fourth-rate ships disguised as transports pulled into the transport berths and began playing possum.

Meanwhile, the one Shark Ship disguised as a fifth-rate ship sailed right up beneath Batavia's walls and began putting on airs.

At the same time, the three genuine fifth-rate ships also closed their gunports. The four ships anchored side by side in a row, like quadruplet brothers—even the Great Xia naval soldiers themselves were baffled.

In the early morning, a light mist hung over the sea.

Both the real and fake fifth-rate ships fired their open-deck cannons—hitting nothing, of course, but serving to wake the Dutch up.

The Dutch in Batavia had listened to noise all night. They'd finally gotten a brief respite just before dawn and tried to catch some extra sleep, only to be roused again. They stumbled out of their barracks with dark circles under their eyes, stood on the city walls, and hurled curses at the Great Xia navy.

Not a single person noticed that a pretender had appeared among the three real warships.

Soon, even Lucaszon was startled awake. A military man by background, he was thoroughly familiar with cannon fire and could sleep through gunfire—this was the first time he'd been jolted awake by artillery since the Great Xia siege began.

Lucaszon washed and dressed with his servant's assistance, then returned to the Governor-General's residence to handle official business. On the way, he spotted a harbor guard and casually asked: "Has the Great Xia navy not withdrawn yet?"

In previous days, the Great Xia had bombarded at night and retreated at dawn. Today seemed to be running later than usual.

The guard snapped to attention: "I was just on my way to report this to Your Excellency—the Great Xia has already withdrawn."

"Mm. How many warships did they send?"

"Four, all of identical specifications—forty-gun fifth-rate ships. Two of them were the ones that sank the Porter." The guard presented his observation report as he spoke.

Lucaszon took the report and leafed through it, his nerves somewhat settled. He praised: "Well done."

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen