Chapter 825 - Merchant's Report (I)
"We are the Fubo Army Coast Guard!" The voice drifted across intermittently on the sea breeze. "You have entered our Maritime Security Zone! Stop your vessel immediately for inspection! State your destination—otherwise we will take all necessary actions—"
Van der Lanthroon summoned a Chinese sailor and asked him to translate the shouting. The man initially indicated he couldn't understand the words, but when the other party switched to Cantonese, comprehension dawned. He relayed the message word for word to the Merchant.
Van der Lanthroon's expression darkened. Stop for inspection? The Australians seemed remarkably presumptuous in these waters—acting as though they were lords of the sea. It reminded him of the English and their endless attempts to assert dominance over the English Channel. The comparison irritated him.
"Ignore them. Sail straight into the strait!" he ordered the Captain.
"Mr. Van der Lanthroon! Their ship is faster than ours, and far more agile..."
The opposing vessel had cannons on deck. With their speed and maneuverability, they could easily dodge the Magdeburg's clumsy fire, exploit the blind spots created by their low profile, and board at will. Pirates in the Mediterranean routinely sailed such small craft yet managed to capture large merchant vessels many times their size. Even galleons mounting more than thirty cannons had fallen to such tactics. For their ponderous "yacht," the odds would be even worse. The eight naval guns aboard were adequate for intimidating native pirates, but against an enemy like this, they might not avail at all.
Van der Lanthroon weighed his options briefly. "Have the Chinese man shout back: We are a trade mission from the Dutch East India Company, bound for Lingao. If they are truly the Australians of Lingao, we request that they pilot us to port. Once in Lingao, we will accept all proper inspections!"
The sailor shouted this message back and forth, the exchange dragging on for more than ten minutes amid much confusion. Eventually, the other party seemed to grasp their meaning. Van der Lanthroon watched the bow of the sloop veer outward—and then a burst of thick smoke and fire erupted from the small vessel. He and Gonzalez stood stunned as a rocket soared straight into the clouds, bursting open beneath the sky and spraying out a cloud of blue smoke.
"What does that signify?" Van der Lanthroon exclaimed.
"They're summoning reinforcements." Gonzalez was a veteran; he immediately understood the meaning of the sudden flare. "There must be several more of their ships in the area! Prepare for battle!" He drew his saber, his voice sharp with tension.
The ship dissolved into controlled chaos. Sailors and soldiers rushed to their positions, ready to open fire at any moment.
Time crawled by. Half an hour later, two more identical sloops appeared on the horizon. Three Type II single-masted patrol boats approached the Magdeburg in formation.
Gonzalez gripped his saber in one hand and a pistol in the other. His expression was grim. The opposing force was clearly well-prepared—the skill with which they maintained formation spoke of countless hours drilling such maneuvers. If these three vessels launched a coordinated attack, the capture of the Magdeburg would be a matter of minutes. Gonzalez noted that the enemy mounted four cannons on each deck, along with a strange square box fixed to the poop deck—probably some other type of weapon. In raw cannon numbers alone, the Magdeburg was already outmatched.
The three sloops arranged themselves in a loose triangle around the Magdeburg, their deck guns stripped of covers. Clearly, if firing commenced, the sluggish, lightly armed Magdeburg would be pounded to splinters by the enemy's crossfire long before any boarding could be attempted.
Leibtrini's face went pale with terror, and he retreated hastily into the poop cabin. Even an old soldier like Gonzalez recognized that the situation had slipped entirely into the enemy's control.
"The enemy is requesting that we follow them forward. They will escort us to Lingao." The Captain watched new signal flags rise on the opposing vessels. "What are your orders?"
The Merchant's lips pressed into a thin line. The enemy's dominance of these waters galled him deeply. But he knew this was not the moment to fight for Dutch freedom of navigation—just as the Company would not fight for religious freedom in Japan.
"Hoist the signal: We comply."
Thus the Magdeburg, under the "escort" of three patrol boats, entered the Qiongzhou Strait.
Report from Junior Merchant Van der Lanthroon of the Dutch East India Company ship Magdeburg to Governor-General De Carpentier of Batavia
Respected Excellency:
Pursuant to the orders of Your Excellency and our Masters, I commanded the yacht Magdeburg to Lingao on the coast of Guangdong, China, to establish trade relations with the maritime power occupying that territory—those who call themselves Australians.
God be praised, our voyage was very smooth. On Monday, February 3rd, at the entrance of a narrow strait, we encountered Australian naval warships. These were small vessels, very similar in appearance to the coastal Bermuda sloops we often see in the English Channel—though more beautiful and faster than those ships. Each mounted cannons, and their sailors were clearly well-trained.
The commander of these three warships ordered us to stop for inspection. I refused this demand immediately. Under the prestige of the Prince and the Company, the commander did not press his demand, but instead requested that we sail with his flotilla to Lingao. The Qiongzhou Strait, he explained, falls within Australian dominion—they term it the "Maritime Security Zone." Ships lacking prior authorization may not sail freely within the strait. Vessels entering for the first time must be escorted to Lingao to explain their purpose.
Under the escort of three warships, our ship arrived at Bopu Port in Lingao on the afternoon of that same day. Bopu Port is a handsome new township, said to contain 1,000 households. Two companies of infantry and some artillery are garrisoned there. The port is constructed with notable precision.
Particularly worthy of mention is an enormous stone pier extending into the bay—its scale nearly defies imagination. Built of lime and stone, its surface is paved with exceptional smoothness, wide enough to accommodate ten cavalrymen riding abreast. The foundation extending into the water is wider still. The sailors and soldiers of our ship marveled at the sight. Some speculated that this pier was not entirely man-made but had been built upon naturally piled stones. Even allowing for that, the engineering feat deserves to be called miraculous.
Atop the entire stone pier stand at least ten cranes. Some are wooden; others are built entirely of steel. Their sturdiness and magnificence left a deep impression upon me. But what struck me as most peculiar was that very few of these cranes employ human or animal power. Most are driven by a complex array of machinery. The machines themselves appear to run on some manner of fire-engine we cannot fathom—for we observed craftsmen continuously feeding coal into furnaces.
Beyond the stone pier, multiple wharves line the port. Every wharf possesses similar cranes, and chimneys belching black and white smoke are visible everywhere. Many vessels lie at anchor in the bay—mostly junks, though some European-style ships are also present. Opposite the stone pier, we beheld the rumored Great Iron Ship. Its size is truly astonishing. The largest ships of Europe—whether English or our own—do not approach such dimensions. Regrettably, we could not observe this vessel at close quarters: it lies within a restricted area. Even local residents of Lingao cannot approach without written permission from the Australians. They call it the "Holy Ship"—the precise meaning of this designation is unclear.
All houses in the port are constructed of stone or brick, well-pointed, and the streets are flat and wide. Before we dropped anchor, we observed groups of soldiers assembled on the wharf, all equipped with muskets. In outward appearance, they resembled a European army more than an Asian one. One of the leading officers, accompanied by three subordinates, represented what the Australians call the "Bopu Port Directorate." The Director himself did not appear, being indisposed by illness, but he assigned customs officials to host us and extend every possible consideration.
When the Magdeburg entered the port, we fired a three-gun salute as a mark of respect to the city; the shore immediately returned a salute of equal measure. Under the guidance of the warships, we dropped anchor at the quarantine anchorage. A customs official immediately boarded the ship. He bore explicit instructions: all personnel must remain quarantined aboard for twenty days. During this period, no one may set foot on land. During this period, the ship itself must also undergo their prescribed treatment.
The customs official inquired about our purpose, the number of personnel aboard, and the nature of our cargo. I reported our mission truthfully. The other party showed considerable interest. However, he stated that before any further proceedings, we must complete quarantine isolation.
Subsequently, they dispatched a small work party to board the Magdeburg. I believe their attire and procedures merit detailed description in this report.
Every member of the party wore a kind of robe-like garment in the color of unbleached cloth, covering their entire bodies. Upon their heads they wore hoods similar to those of monks, with openings only for the eyes. Yet unlike monastic robes, the garments included trouser legs, which were bound tightly into a kind of tall yellow boots that appeared to be made of leather. These boots were fashioned very clumsily and loosely, looking quite ill-fitting.
Sleeves and trouser legs—all openings—were tightly bound with cloth strips. Even the eye openings were covered with glass lenses. They all emitted a peculiar, acrid odor that was most irritating to the nose. It reminded me of cities where plague had struck—which made me very uneasy. I asked repeatedly whether pestilence afflicted this port. They assured me these were merely precautionary measures.
Note: "Our Masters" is the term by which employees of the East India Company customarily refer to the Company.
(End of Chapter)