Chapter 84: Torrential Rain

Lin Qian stepped forward, helped Huang Hetai to his feet, and brushed the dust from his clothes.

"I trust I don't need to teach you how to write the report claiming credit for the Garrison Commander?"

Huang Hetai forced a smile and said, "Of course, of course…"

"After it's written, don't forget to show it to me first."

Huang Hetai nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Lin Qian finished speaking and left, his brothers following behind.

Only Huang Hetai remained in the room, with that severed head's hollow gaze fixed upon him.

Early the next morning.

The cargo hold of the Santa Ana was opened, and a stench of urine and excrement rushed out, making the crewmen opening the hatch wrinkle their brows.

Crewmen went below with torches, and saw the neatly stacked pirates, most of whom were already listless.

The pirates stacked at the top were better off, but many of those at the bottom had been crushed until they stopped breathing, and the living ones were soaked in filth, barely clinging to life.

The crewmen covered their noses, dragged out a string of pirates, untied the ropes on their feet, and hauled them up onto the deck.

It wasn't that Lin Qian deliberately locked them up overnight to torment them, but rather he feared someone might escape or cause trouble under cover of darkness.

For the sake of safety, even losing a few prisoners to death was worth it.

Moreover, in this campaign to wipe out the great bandits, intact corpses were too few—only a dozen or so heads—which would have looked too fake. It was convenient to use these men's heads instead.

By this time, the trestle pier at Houjiang Bay on Nan'ao Island had been extended more than ten meters, reaching into the deep-water zone.

The galleon could send men directly onto the trestle via the gangway, from which they could walk to shore—far more convenient than the previous back-and-forth ferrying by small boats.

The prisoners were brought ashore one by one and lined up. After counting, more than five hundred had survived.

The island was now in the midst of feverish construction, with a great deal of heavy, rough labor and a severe shortage of manpower. These men were ready-made labor.

To prevent them from escaping, Lin Qian specially borrowed leg irons from Huang Hetai, fitted each prisoner with them, and then bound every ten pirates together in a string with rope.

Five hundred prisoners made fifty strings.

Under Mute Huang's arrangements, forty strings went to level land and clear weeds on the island.

Ten strings went to the mountain to help carry timber.

Around the prisoners, islanders armed with weapons and whips supervised the labor, and at the slightest sign of trouble, a lash would come down.

Lin Qian had initially worried that the islanders, just liberated from forced labor themselves, might feel sympathy for these prisoner laborers.

But in fact, the islanders wielded their whips without the slightest mercy.

Watching others work was far easier than working oneself. No one could resist that temptation.

After settling the prisoners, Lin Qian ordered the pirates' corpses in the cargo hold to be buried, the heads to be cut off and sent to Huang Hetai, and the cargo hold to be thoroughly cleaned of the filth.

This was dirty work, and presumably none of the crewmen would be willing to do it.

Lin Qian had a flash of inspiration and told Mute Huang to send a string of prisoners to the ship to do the cleaning.

When it was done, Lin Qian led the crewmen below to inspect—it was spotless, and everyone wore satisfied smiles.

At lunch, Lin Qian called all his brothers to the officers' mess.

Today's lunch was steamed sea fish, tofu soup, and rice.

The sea fish had been caught fresh by the islanders and steamed—tender and delicious beyond compare, far better than the salted fish with hard biscuits they'd eaten before at the ship city.

The fish in each person's bowl was different, mostly mackerel, hairtail, pomfret, and other local catches.

Lin Qian took a taste of the sea fish, remembered something, and asked Zheng Zhilong, "What was the name of that man who watched the lookout tower at Mount Guolao before?"

"His name is Da Bing," Zheng Zhilong replied.

Lin Qian: "Bing as in 'biscuit'?"

Zheng Zhilong: "Perhaps it's the bing from 'jia, yi, bing, ding'—it's all about the same. Poor families are illiterate, so they just give a random humble name. His parents probably couldn't tell which bing it was when they named him either."

Zhu Yuanzhang was called Zhu Chongba as a child—common folk have always had the habit of naming children after numbers.

By comparison, names like Lin Qian, Bai Qing, and Bailangzai were already considered refined among common people.

Lin Qian took a sip of tofu soup and said, "I promised before that if he kept watch well, I'd reward him with a fishing boat. Now it's time to make good on that."

Zheng Zhilong: "I'll speak with Uncle Huang this afternoon and have a Tanka boat converted into a fishing boat to give him."

Lin Qian nodded. Zheng Zhilong handled matters very properly—no need to worry about him.

Lin Qian ate a couple bites of fish and asked again, "How is the construction of the island's houses coming along?"

"The craftsmen estimate that by mid-October, everything will be finished."

Zheng Zhilong thought for a moment and added, "Rest assured, Helmsman. In the Fujian-Guangdong region, it doesn't get cold until after the Great Snow solar term. Finishing by mid-October will be in time."

Perhaps the heavens heard them talking about the weather.

Suddenly, a rumble of thunder came from the sky—"Boom!"

Then rain came pelting down, crackling against the deck. Within a few breaths it had become a torrential downpour, the sound of raindrops striking filling heaven and earth, drowning out the sound of people's voices.

Lei Sanxiang was a northerner who had never seen such a drenching rain; every time it came, he would stare blankly, lost in thought.

Lin Qian continued, "After the houses are finished, we need to hurry and build the dry dock. The captured ships should be inspected and maintained over the winter."

José interjected, "Councilman Andrés has a dry dock."

Lin Qian said bluntly, "I don't trust him."

José fell silent, embarrassed.

Before the attack on the ship city, Mute Huang had already discussed ship repair matters with Lin Qian, and Lin Qian had brushed him off at the time.

Now that Li Kuiqi had been dealt with and his hands were free, it was time to tackle the ship repair problem.

Building a dry dock would not only make it convenient to conduct a thorough overhaul of the Santa Ana, but future shipbuilding could also be done within the dock.

Unlike wooden houses, building a dry dock required a solid accumulation of materials.

The process involved digging a basin pool, driving wooden piles, laying stone slabs, and so on—each step requiring large quantities of green bricks, mortar, and manpower.

Building on land was already costly enough; building on an island would multiply the expense several times over.

Hearing Lin Qian's engineering plans, Scholar Zhou's expression darkened.

Seeing this, Lin Qian knew the talk of investment was done and it was time to discuss revenue, so he said, "By the way, have many merchant ships been passing by the island these past few days?"

At these words, all the brothers perked up with interest, raising their heads to look at Lin Qian.

Zheng Zhilong: "Very few — we can barely spot one every two or three days."

On the August seas, the southeast and northwest winds shifted unpredictably, and few chose to sail at such a time — this was also why Lin Qian wanted to go ashore and raid.

But once on land, deprived of the Santa Ana's cannon cover, the danger would rise considerably.

Fortunately, the sea wasn't completely empty of ships, and Lin Qian decided to pick a vessel to practice on first.

Having made up his mind, Lin Qian scraped the last of his rice clean, set the empty bowl on the table, and said, "Post men at the watchtowers on Mount Guolao and Mount Dajian — whenever any ship sails from south to north, report it at once."

Two days later.

Rain poured in sheets.

A two-masted Fujian junk, sailing from south to north across the seas off Fujian and Guangdong, its deckhands scraping the deck with wooden squeegees to clear the accumulated water.

Others stretched oilcloth over the cargo hatch beams, while some stuffed deck seams with cotton wads soaked in tung oil.

The foreman stood on deck holding an umbrella, berating the crew without pause: "Move faster, stop dawdling! If the cargo hold floods and the goods get soaked, a beating to death wouldn't be enough to cover the loss!"

Spotting a crewman moving too slowly, the foreman strode over and kicked him.

The deck was slick; the deckhand fell hard, then rose and glared at the foreman.

"What are you looking at? Get back to work!" the foreman barked, eyes wide.

Seeing the dozen or so armed guards with blades standing around the deck, the deckhand forced down his anger and bent over to keep hauling the oilcloth.

Beside him, a deckhand caulking the seams had fingers trembling from the rain, unable to stuff the cotton into the crack no matter how he tried; irritated, he muttered under his breath, "The hold's full of silver ingots — what's the harm if they get wet? He's just putting on a show because the shipowner's around, the bastard!"

Another deckhand warned him in a low voice: "Watch your tongue — anger that wretch and he'll strike hard."

The foreman didn't hear them, and kept up his scolding on deck: "Work briskly! Anyone caught slacking off, beware the whip!"

The shipowner stood under the eaves of the sterncastle, watching the crew labor on deck, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

Just then the navigator came running through the rain and said, "Shipowner, this rain bodes ill — I fear a gale's coming behind it. Best we find a place to take shelter."

The shipowner asked, "Where are we now?"

The navigator looked toward the shore and saw a vast expanse of reeds, a white blur stretching beyond sight.

"Shipowner, we've reached Ma'er Cove — Nan'ao Island is just ahead."

Yahei

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