Chapter 73: How Much Compensation? How to Pay? Who Pays?

The motor launch climbed the side gangway. The first to come up were two Dutch sailors, who skillfully secured the rope. Then a middle‑aged man in a white colonial civil‑service uniform stepped onto the gangway. He was about fifty, his hair neatly combed, gold‑rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and he carried a black briefcase.

"Fan Dewei Er," Lin Hai glanced at the list, "Port Authority Director of Batavia."

Fan Dewei Er stepped onto the deck and was stunned by the sight at first glance. He had seen warships before—though the Dutch navy had declined, the home fleet still possessed a fair number of decent vessels. But this ship… it could no longer be described as "decent."

The deck's steel plates were astonishingly thick, the weld seams smooth as if cast in one piece. The secondary‑gun turrets were larger than many main guns he had seen. Not to mention the four massive main‑gun turrets in the distance, their barrels so thick a man could be jammed inside.

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Fan Dewei Er." Lin Hai said in fluent English, polite yet cold. "I am Lin Hai, first officer of the Restoration Ship. Please present your credentials."

Fan Dewei Er recovered, pulled a document from his briefcase. Lin Hai took it, carefully checked the photo, name and position, then handed it to the clerk behind him for the record.

"Please understand, we need to conduct a security check." Lin Hai nodded to the marines behind him. "Please spread your arms."

Two marines stepped forward and, with practiced professionalism, searched Fan Dewei Er's entire body. Apart from a fountain pen, a pocket watch and a set of keys, no weapons were found.

"Clear." Lin Hai gestured for Fan Dewei Er to step aside. "Please wait a moment; your companions will be inspected one by one."

Next to board was the garrison commander, Major Fan Dehaiden. The man in his early forties wore a crisp uniform, his chest covered with medals. His face was flushed—whether from nature or anger, it was unclear.

"You have no right to search a Dutch Royal Army officer!" Fan Dehaiden's first words upon stepping onto the deck were a protest. "This is an insult to the Kingdom!"

Lin Hai's expression did not change: "Major, according to international naval convention, anyone boarding a foreign warship must undergo a security check. If you refuse, you may return now."

"You—"

"Fan Dehaiden," Fan Dewei Er whispered, "don't forget the Governor's orders."

Fan Dehaiden clenched his teeth, but finally spread his arms. The search was rougher than Fan Dewei Er's, as the marines clearly recognized him as the commander who had ordered the shooting the previous day. Yet they remained professional and did not overstep.

The five people behind them were, in order: colonial finance officer De Rong, judicial officer Fan De Sante, a translator (a young Indonesian), a clerk, and a surprising figure to Lin Hai—a Dutch East India Company representative in Batavia, an elderly white‑haired man named Fan De Bo Ge.

After all seven had been inspected, Lin Hai made a beckoning gesture. "Everyone, follow me. The captain is waiting in the conference room."

The bridge conference room was small but arranged with extreme simplicity and professionalism.

The long conference table was solid wood, polished to a shine that reflected one's silhouette. Seven chairs were placed on one side, the other side held only five—reserved for the Lanfang delegate. A sea chart of the South Ocean hung on the wall, alongside a cross‑section diagram of the Restoration Ship. Two electric lamps dangled from the ceiling, bright but not glaring.

Li Te sat in the chief seat, already waiting there.

He was not dressed in formal attire but in a dark‑blue captain's uniform; two golden stars on his shoulder boards indicated his rank. Xu Wen sat to his left, notebook and fountain pen spread before him. Zhao Tieshan sat to his right, back perfectly straight, hands resting on his knees. Two seats remained empty—one for Lin Hai, and one for a translator, though Li Te's English was sufficient.

The door opened.

Lin Hai led the seven Dutch men inside. Li Te did not rise, merely gestured, "Please, sit."

Fan Dewei Er hesitated briefly, then took the seat opposite first. The others followed, chairs scraping the floor with a faint sound.

"I am Captain Li Te of the Restoration Ship," Li Te said bluntly, without small talk or courtesy. "Time is precious; let's get straight to the point. You all know about yesterday's massacre in Batavia, right?"

His English carried a slight accent, but was extremely fluent and precise.

Fan Dewei Er cleared his throat. "Captain, first, on behalf of Governor Fan De Linden, I extend a… welcome to your vessel's visit. Regarding yesterday's incident, we need to clarify one thing: it was not a 'massacre,' but a lawful act of the Dutch colonial authorities maintaining order."

"A lawful act?" Li Te raised an eyebrow. "Forty‑seven civilians shot dead, including nine women and three children, the youngest only six years old—does Dutch law call that a lawful act?"

"Those people were rioters!" Fan Dehaiden interjected, "they attacked soldiers and police, disrupting public order!"

"Any evidence?"

"All the soldiers and police present at the time can testify!"

Li Te smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.

"Major, if I let my sailors testify that you attempted to attack me after boarding, would you consider that testimony valid?"

"You—this is slander!"

"No, I'm merely illustrating a simple principle." Li Te leaned forward, hands crossed on the table. "When comrades testify for comrades, it holds no weight in an international tribunal. Moreover, to our knowledge, at least two hundred Chinese witnesses were present. Have you taken their testimonies into account?"

Fan Dewei Er quickly tried to smooth things over: "Captain, we understand your concern. But please understand that colonial security management is a complex matter. Sometimes… regrettable misjudgments occur."

"Misjudgment?" Li Te repeated. "What a 'misjudgment.' So, Mr. Fan Dewei Er, may I ask: if the forty‑seven dead yesterday had been Dutch instead of Chinese, would you still call it a 'misjudgment'? If a Dutch little girl had been shot in the back and died in her mother's arms, would you still sit here discussing 'security management'?"

The conference room fell silent for a few seconds.

Finance Officer De Rong spoke, his voice calm yet imbued with the smoothness typical of bureaucrats: "Captain, today's meeting is to seek a way to resolve the issue, not to inflame tensions. The Governor has authorized us to negotiate the compensation matter."

"Compensation?" Li Te looked at him. "How much? How to compensate? Who pays?"