Chapter 219: Road Building and Slaves

During the Xianfeng reign, that "first well in Taiwan" — the Ming "pit master" at the time only dug down a little over three meters before it started producing oil, with a daily output of forty kilograms.

Although the exact location of that well has long since been lost in the river of history, and it may not necessarily be this very well beneath Pan Mingzhong's feet, that doesn't matter: any place on the same oil-bearing belt where oil sand is already seeping out of the ground will eventually yield petroleum if you dig.

Reality proved that three meters was the critical point for this oil reservoir's pressure: a little over two hours later, as an Exploration Team member's overjoyed shout rang out from the bottom of the pit, everyone rushed to the edge and peered down — a fist-thick jet of black liquid was gushing steadily from the pit floor.

From the initial strategy laid at Tangzhuang to this day when black gold emerged from the earth, the Transmigrators had spent a full year and one month to finally make their dream a reality.

And when Ning Wei leaned over and saw this scene, he hastily threw down several canvas folding buckets: "Fill them up, fill them and haul them up."

Off to the side, Pan Mingzhong, who had been bracing his hands on his knees and sticking his rear out to peer down, could no longer hold back his grin at this moment — he burst into open-mouthed, hearty laughter.

The Natives could not understand why the outsiders were laughing so hard. In their eyes, the black petroleum was nothing good. These black-water seeping pits would emerge from different places every few years, sometimes even pooling into an oil pit with a foul stench that drove away all plants and animals. Usually, the Natives would walk wide around such places: they always felt it was an ill-omened thing.

But today was different. Today, this stretch of Dense Forest was filled with the outsiders' jubilant shouts. The Natives first watched in bewilderment as they filled over a dozen cloth buckets with the sticky petroleum, and then these people proceeded to perform a strange deity-worshipping ritual: a group photo.

And so, the historic scene of a group of bare-crotched, spear-carrying primitives and the Exploration Team gathered around the black oil pit was frozen onto a photograph after a few "click-clacks."

After the photo, it was time to disperse — same principle as a graduation photo.

However, when Pan Mingzhong saw Ning Wei directing everyone to quickly pack up and leave, he was still slightly puzzled: "We're leaving, just like that?"

"Ah, what else? Camp out here overnight?"

"I mean... shouldn't we do more exploration, some assay tests or something... feels a bit slapdash?"

"Bullshit. We've got samples, we've logged the coordinates — what more is there to explore? Getting home fast is the real priority. Look at this godforsaken place: can't see the sun above, can't see the foot of the mountain below. We can't linger here; there's killing intent."

"Then what's the next step? Bring in the equipment to drill and extract?"

With a "Pfft," Ning Wei finally burst out laughing.

While directing the team members and Natives to hoist the oil buckets and head down the mountain, Ning Wei explained to Pan Mingzhong: "The next step is to do nothing at all. First, call in the labor contractor."

"Labor contractor?"

"Yeah, any one of Chen Dong's infrastructure crew will do." At this, Ning Wei turned and said to Pan Mingzhong with a serious face: "Don't you know 'If you want to get rich, first build a road'? If you want to extract oil, same thing — first build a road. Don't think about anything else."

"Damn." Pan Mingzhong was a bit dejected hearing this: "It's about 1.8 kilometers in a straight line from here to the camp. Building a road will probably require a bit more winding around. What a hassle."

"Didn't you read the materials before coming? Back then, the Japanese also built a flagstone road, and then relied on cable cars and ropeways to transport the oil down the mountain." Ning Wei sighed at this point: "We're even worse off than the Japanese. I figure in the early phase we'll build a makeshift access path, and then it'll have to be carried out on shoulders."

"Can't we lay a pipeline to send the oil directly down the mountain?"

Upon hearing such an idiotic statement, Ning Wei was forced to roll his eyes, then extended one finger: "First, look at those guys in the Kiln District who are still struggling to crack the tap water valves — do they look like they could produce petroleum pipelines and pressure valves?"

"Second, to start a petroleum pipeline project, the oilfield's annual output would need to be at least ten thousand tons, right? Don't you think that for our hundred-ton-class nano-oilfield, installing a pipeline is a bit..."

Ning Wei pinched his fingertip with his thumb, making a "tiny shrimp" gesture.

"Got it, got it. So it's just a primitive workshop, not fit for the big leagues." Pan Mingzhong now understood.

"Actually, the Japanese did build pipelines in the later period, but by then the well depths were all below 500 meters, and annual output had also reached ten thousand tons."

Ning Wei revealed an expression full of emotion: "We don't need to suffer that hard, because the whole world is in our hands. As long as our petroleum consumption reaches the thousand-ton level, wouldn't it be better to just sail an Ironclad Ship to Borneo and dig high-quality light crude? Who'd stay here digging oil? Way too inefficient."

"That seems to make a lot of sense."

"So, no need to build too big an operation here. Just scrape by for a couple of years and be done with it. Later, when the main force arrives, I'll drill a few more hundred-meter wells, and the output will be enough for those guys in the Kiln District to use."

"... The way you put it, I've lost all my passion."

"You're in exploration — what do you need passion for?"

"Well, you're in petroleum, and I don't see any passion from you either?"

"Nonsense. If you have passion, you have to shoot it out. Did you see that well today? Did it show the slightest sign of gushing?"

"..."

Accompanied by the two men's chatter, the merry "Joint Native-Foreign Mine Exploration Team" began heading home. And not long after, the radio waves emitted from the Yuan Dou immediately drew the attention of Dayuan — even during a period of war preparations thick with the clouds of battle, the news of discovering petroleum still hit the G-spot of the majority of the Transmigrators, so the Great Office promptly dispatched a second wave of two reinforcement ships.

What came with the ships this time were not only construction workers, but also a key figure: the labor contractor. As an authority in the field of infrastructure, a certain fellow wearing gold-rimmed glasses personally arrived in Miaoli two days later: Feng Guanjie.

Feng Guanjie's arrival directly altered the existing power structure in Miaoli: Pan Mingzhong and Lei Jian, including their Exploration Team and the Yuan Dou, had accomplished their mission and were to withdraw, returning to Dayuan that very day for reassignment.

And Feng Guanjie, the moment he stepped ashore, assumed the post of Mayor of Oilfield Town, as well as Vice President of the Oilfield Construction Command — with Ning Wei as the President.

Matters quickly got on track with Feng Guanjie's arrival. On his second day in Miaoli, 150 construction workers began the operation to expand the camp. Once the camp expansion was complete, these men, together with the Natives who had already reached agreements, would clear the forest and, following the blueprints Feng Guanjie provided after his on-site survey, build a dirt road leading straight to the oil well.

And Ning Wei, temporarily having nothing else to do, became the captain of the Security Team.

His daily task now was to lead fifty soldiers on patrol and to resolve disputes — the increasing number of ships on the Houlong River had already drawn over Natives from other nearby villages. Ning Wei now not only had to prevent the local bully, the warriors of Touyuan Society, from engaging in gang fights with the newcomers, but also had to arrange trade and negotiate the hiring of laborers with these new Natives.

After settling the temporary camp and the dirt road, Feng Guanjie quickly drafted the design plan for Oil Extraction Town — the location was very clear, overlapping with the town on the map of later generations.

For the convenience of docking, the Yuan Dou had originally chosen a landing point in a river bend to the south. In fact, that was not the optimal place to set up camp: there was a tributary flowing into the Houlong River from the mountain in the direction of the oil well, and the estuary where this stream met the Houlong River was the most suitable location for civil construction.

Of course, this estuarine plain in the 17th century was currently under the dominion of dense vegetation, contiguous marshes, and terrifying armies of leeches and mosquitoes: this was precisely why some people dared not dock their ships there. The petroleum town that would appear on maps in later generations was a place that, in the 17th century, required risking one's life to pioneer.

"Send 200 cannon fodder first." After surveying that estuarine plain of less than a hundred acres in person, Feng Guanjie succinctly sent a telegram to Dayuan. As his words fell, the Dayuan side, desperately thirsting for petroleum, uncharacteristically did not haggle, but without hesitation sent 200 extremely precious pieces of cannon fodder — Javanese.

The moment these 200 slaves arrived in Miaoli, they were dispatched to the most dangerous estuarine zone to clear away the vegetation, marshes, leeches, and mosquitoes there...

In truth, the working environment these slaves now faced was already considerably better. Because two days before their arrival, a rumbling Sand Ship had already docked at the estuary. And the vegetation on this plain had already been demolished by people wearing full-body protective suits, using electric saws and shovels.

So, what the slaves had to do now was, first, burn. Once the massive amount of plant matter was set alight, the slaves had to seize the opportunity while the mosquitoes were smoked away to quickly fill in all the marshes and raise the foundation: it was the rainy season now, and the future town needed its foundation raised a bit higher.

And so the arduous work of pioneering began.

These 200 slaves would soon be completely expended in the harsh environment. After finishing the estuarine plain, they would still have to continue clearing the riverbanks upstream and downstream, exterminating every mosquito and leech — this work would continue until every last one of them was dead.

So, to be honest, the Great Office had truly paid a bloody price for this oilfield reclamation: 200 Javanese slaves who wouldn't survive half a year cost 50,000 taels of silver — that was really not cheap.

As for the origin of these new slaves...

Let us turn back time to the second day after the Yuan Dou set sail for Miaoli to search for oil.

In fact, on the evening of the day the Yuan Dou departed, a fleet sailing from the southwest appeared on the radar station screen installed at the southeast corner of the Dayuan Trading Post.

Because a certain person capable of traversing space was unwilling to shoulder too much risk, the radars the Crossing Faction currently used were all civilian versions. As a result, the detection range naturally fell far short of the military version: less than 100 kilometers.

Fortunately, this was the 17th century, and a 100-kilometer early warning range was sufficient.

So when the Dayuan side learned that a fleet of no fewer than fifteen ships was approaching from the south, they immediately dispatched the two destroyers that were undergoing rest and reorganization to sail out and investigate.

News quickly came back via telegraph. The flag flown by the opposing fleet was the VOC flag — the Dutch.