Chapter 826 - Merchant's Report (II)

First, they sealed our gunpowder magazine—using a long strip of paper inscribed with words and numerals in ink, which they pasted tightly across the door. To open it, one must necessarily destroy the paper. This seal appeared to possess legal significance, for our Chinese sailor informed us that it bore a stamp symbolizing official authority.

What surprised me most was that when they recorded the date upon the seal, they employed Arabic numerals—and they dated their documents according to the era of Our Lord's birth. This was truly puzzling. Clearly, these are no ordinary Asian barbarians.

This sealing procedure was also applied when they collected our weapons—from swords to matchlocks—and secured them in the armory. For the cannons aboard the Magdeburg, they merely sealed the touchholes with special wooden plugs.

The Australians did not confiscate our sails or rigging. Moreover, their sealing measures were entirely symbolic in nature. Compared to the Japanese practice of removing all weapons and gunpowder, and even dismantling sails and rigging, the Australians clearly possess supreme confidence in their own military power.

The Australians then sprayed a large quantity of some liquid potion everywhere aboard ship—except the cargo hold. It was neither wine nor vinegar, but a turbid white liquid. We immediately understood the source of the strange smell that clung to their protective garments; it emanated from precisely this milky substance. Their work left our entire ship drenched. The pungent odor was overwhelming. Several men grew dizzy and giddy from breathing it. We all had to flee to the deck to escape the noxious fumes.

After confirming that everything had been done according to their requirements, the officials boarded a second time and issued us the necessary documents. According to these papers, we were permitted to dispatch personnel to designated locations on the wharf to purchase various daily necessities during our anchorage. The customs officials explained the local tariff regulations and provided us with a booklet containing the tax rate table for all import and export commodities in Lingao. Such a convenient and transparent system was an eye-opening experience.

This is the most comprehensive customs tariff I have ever seen. Every import and export commodity has its own specific tax rate. The rates for most commodities are not high. Here I must note, however, that among the goods we brought, the tax rate on spices is quite steep: the Australians levy a 24% import duty—clearly, spices are not highly prized here. In contrast, the tax rates for raw timber, grain, linen, and woolens are extremely low; grain and raw timber are even duty-free.

The customs official asked whether I intended to sell all the cargo on the ship in Lingao. I replied that this was precisely my purpose in coming. They then proceeded to unload the Magdeburg's cargo—goods would be stored temporarily in dedicated warehouses on the wharf until a transaction was completed. I raised no objection to this arrangement.

The scene of unloading was magnificent. Your Excellency, every man present declared it a sight he would never forget. I have mentioned previously that the Australians employ cranes to load and unload cargo, just as we do in The Hague and Amsterdam. But their enormous cranes were so flexible and powerful that we all watched in fascination. Though constructed apparently from mere iron beams and wooden posts, they operated with remarkable sturdiness.

Your Excellency surely recalls the cranes used on the wharves of Amsterdam and other ports—huge as buildings, yet their lifting capacity is pitifully small. Cargo that would require three strong men running at full effort inside a squirrel cage to raise, the Australians lifted with ease using their mysterious fire-machines. The weight hoisted in a single lift was ten, even twenty times greater than our own equipment could manage.

The Australians employ several ingenious devices to improve transfer efficiency. The first resembles a giant fishing net. Cargo packed in bales—rice, spices—is loaded by the dozens into these net bags, then hoisted by crane. The second is a great tray—they call it a "pallet." It appears to be an iron frame covered with thick wooden planking. Raw timber, woolens, linen, and other crated goods are placed upon this tray and then lifted. To prevent goods from falling due to collision during the lift, they bundle a large net over the top each time.

I must confess that while this device is very simple—its function obvious at a glance—it holds no practical meaning for us, since we possess no cranes capable of lifting such weight.

The third device is the most peculiar. I scarcely know how to describe it to Your Excellency. Upon the stone pier runs a kind of "track," looking rather like a ladder laid flat upon the ground—except it is made entirely of iron. The Australians employ a linked train of vehicles upon it. The wheels of these vehicles are fixed onto the iron bars and can only roll along them. I am told this allows the cars to carry exceedingly heavy loads. The cars are mostly flatbed carts without side rails. Many goods lifted from our ship were placed directly upon these carts, and once a train was full, the whole assembly was pulled away.

Here I must describe the most astonishing thing we witnessed: these vehicles employed neither horses nor human power. After emitting a sharp trumpet blast, they moved of their own accord. We argued heatedly about what could possibly drive such vehicles. In our estimation, this train must have weighed at least ten thousand pounds; even using horses would require many. Several soldiers and sailors swore they had seen the devil pushing the cart from behind—I remain skeptical of this explanation. I believe the Australians have mastered some mysterious force. This force should be the same as that which drives their cranes: a kind of fire-machine.

After unloading was complete, the customs official presented us with a cargo manifest. At the same time, he reminded us that all imported goods must first be offered for purchase by the Australians after paying the import tariff, before we are permitted to sell them freely. We may not trade directly with the local natives until the Australians have purchased whatever they desire.

Another tax levied upon us was an anchorage fee. Here I must mention their system of weights and measures. They employ a unit of length called the "meter." The Australians calculated the "tonnage" of our ship using some formula based upon its length and width—this corresponds roughly to a unit of weight or volume in their system. The anchorage tax is collected per ton.

Overall, the Australian customs service is the finest I have ever encountered. They work quickly and do not extort the customary fees we encounter at all other ports.

Here I wish to remark upon their officials. In terms of dress, Australian officials are difficult to distinguish from ordinary people. They wear the same short hair and dress in the same blue, black, and natural-colored garments. This clothing is short, tight, and narrow—somewhat reminiscent of our fencing jackets. The garments open down the front and are fastened with buttons. There are generally four pockets on the jacket: this is the greatest visible distinction between officials and common people. According to their regulations, pockets of this sort are a privilege only officials may enjoy.

I do not know what specific function the two breast pockets serve, for the upper pocket appears to be little more than a piece of cloth fixed upon the front lapel. Aside from holding a pen, it seems entirely decorative. Nevertheless, these officials are universally obeyed and respected by the populace. They are commonly addressed as "Cadres"—much as we might say "Gentlemen" in our own language.

The officials' clothing is remarkably plain. They wear neither silk nor woolens, but garments fashioned from cotton or linen. No gold or silver thread adorns their clothes; there is no embroidery; the buttons are made of wood. That the Australian government would dress its officials identically to the lowliest commoners is a notion we cannot easily comprehend.

During the quarantine, we remained idle aboard ship. The Australians sold us a large supply of fresh provisions: various fruits, vegetables, and fish—but never meat, eggs, or milk. The soldiers and sailors complained bitterly about this. We had only salt meat aboard, and everyone longed for fresh meat. On this account, we requested permission to purchase pigs and cattle from the Australian officials who came to inspect us, but they replied that they could not meet our needs. Only after my repeated entreaties did they agree to provide chickens and geese—all already slaughtered.

The Australians appear to share with the Chinese a scarcity of meat. Yet even when sailing along the Chinese coast, one can usually purchase pigs and chickens—sometimes even cattle—by producing Spanish Reals. During our quarantine at anchor in Lingao, we could not buy a single pig regardless of the price offered. Everyone was most dissatisfied with this state of affairs. Fortunately, they agreed to supply chickens and geese once per week.

As for alcohol, the Australians are abundantly supplied. They furnish vast quantities of rum—enough for sailors and soldiers to bathe in. In addition, they supply a sweet and sour beer. The latter scarcely counts as proper alcohol, but because it froths richly and tastes cool and refreshing, everyone enjoys drinking it. The Australians call it "Kvass." They serve it in large, round-bellied glass bottles, stoppered with wooden corks and sealed with iron wire and wax. Before drinking, the bottles are soaked in seawater to chill them. It makes for a most refreshing beverage.

Following Your Excellency's instructions, Mr. Gonzalez, Mr. Leibtrini, and I observed the condition of the port each day. The port they call "Bopu" is not particularly large, but because the strait it overlooks is quite narrow, there are many anchorages suitable for mooring ships. It can therefore accommodate a considerable fleet. We observed the fort at the end of the stone pier—precisely as described in the pamphlet you provided. This fort is very tall; it more closely resembles a small hill than a fortification. But whether cannons are installed upon it, and whether those cannons can shoot to the distances mentioned in the pamphlet, we cannot determine—that is a restricted area, and no one may approach without a special identification document. Gonzalez expresses skepticism regarding the presence of artillery there. He believes the fort's position is too far inland; for a projectile fired from that point to reach the sea, it would have to travel a direct distance of more than one league. It is difficult to imagine a cannon capable of such range.

(End of Chapter)