Chapter 1260 - Dutch Congratulations
With the occupation of Xiamen and Gulangyu complete, Ming Qiu ordered the Forward Command relocated to Xiamen Island. The pacification campaign was not entirely over—no organized Zheng forces remained, and their fortresses had all fallen, but stragglers still lurked in the forests. Shi Zhiqi mobilized the Peace Preservation Corps to conduct search operations. Each team was assigned a few prisoners, with the promise of a silver dollar for every former comrade they caught. The prisoners threw themselves into the work with enthusiasm, leading the Corps over mountains and ridges to hunt down fugitives. Progress on Xiamen Island, Gulangyu, and Kinmen Island was swift.
Two-thirds of the mission was now complete. What remained was largely defensive—preventing enemy counterattacks and overseeing what official documents euphemistically termed "civil purge work" in Anping, Xiamen, and Kinmen. In practice, this meant large-scale looting and arrests.
The purge would take one to two weeks to finish. Until then, Ming Qiu had to ensure these occupied areas remained in Senate hands so the Planning Agency and Intelligence Bureau could carry out their tasks undisturbed.
Anping was the most likely point of counterattack. The Zheng family held vast lands and manors in Nan'an and Jinjiang, with numerous private soldiers and local militia. Unlike the Ming official troops—who remained immobile while friendly forces were crushed—these men could muster considerable combat power if someone provided leadership and silver. Ming Qiu therefore concentrated his defenses around Anping, deploying the main Army forces there and monitoring both counties at all times.
The raids on Anping and elsewhere had killed or captured many of the Zheng organization's upper echelon. Yet some had slipped through. In Kinmen and Xiamen especially, quick-witted individuals crossed the strait and fled to the mainland before the Navy could seal the blockade.
Exactly how many members of the "Eighteen Chi" had escaped remained unclear. Preliminary interrogations indicated that key figures such as Zheng Zhifeng, Zheng Zhibao, Zheng Lian, and Zheng Cai had gotten away. These men all wielded significant prestige and power—any of them could conceivably organize a large-scale counterattack.
As for Zheng Zhilong himself, the Wasp Team reported only a "suspected" kill. Though there was no conclusive evidence, the Intelligence Bureau analyzed Qian Shuixie's photographs and the collected materials and concluded that the headless corpse was very likely Zheng Zhilong. Confessions from several Japanese and black guard prisoners captured on Xiamen Island corroborated his escape route. However, the two groups attempting to slip through the blockade had been wiped out, leaving no survivors to provide strong testimony. Ming Qiu had ordered the body exhumed and sent a telegram to Kaohsiung requesting specialists for an autopsy.
In the Forward Command office at the Zhongzuo Garrison, Ming Qiu—who had not slept for days—received a special guest.
This visitor had blue eyes, blond hair, and a tall frame. It was Traudenius, the Senior Merchant of the Dutch East India Company stationed in Zhangzhou Bay—that is, stationed with the Zheng organization. He had been appointed by Hans Putmans, the Governor of the East India Company in Tayouan, specifically to handle trade with the Zheng group.
On D-Day of Operation Overlord, Traudenius's ship had been anchored at Gulangyu, and he was resting aboard. When word reached him that someone was attacking Zhangzhou Bay, he ordered the anchor raised immediately. But it was still before dawn, and he dared not act rashly. Besides, the Zheng organization's power in Zhangzhou Bay was formidable—external enemies might not necessarily breach the Xiamen Island area.
After daybreak, Traudenius grasped the severity of the situation. Thick black smoke rolled across the bay; the Zheng fleet appeared to be in serious trouble. Yet by then, he had received definite news: the raiders were Australian.
He decided not to risk flight. Fleeing during a firefight could easily be interpreted as hostile by the Australians and invite attack. Traudenius had visited Kaohsiung and witnessed Australian naval power firsthand—he understood that if they targeted his yacht, both ship and crew would certainly be destroyed.
The Australians had always honored their word and never killed indiscriminately. The Company had a trade agreement with them; so far, neither side had engaged in hostilities. Their fleet would likely spare his vessel. He immediately ordered the sailors to seal all cannon touchholes and hoist the East India Company flag and the Prince's Flag. He hung these banners on both sides of the hull to make his identity unmistakable.
The measures worked. The Australian fleet sailing from Kinmen did not fire a single shell at his ship. Traudenius stood on the poop deck and observed what he could only describe as a naval battle performance.
Yes, a performance. No other term would suffice. The Zheng fleet was less an opponent than a supporting player dancing with the protagonist on stage. The Australian formation was flawless, their gunnery devastating, and they branded terror permanently into the Dutch merchant's heart.
Zheng Zhilong is finished, he thought. Liu Xiang too. God bless the East India Company.
Traudenius removed his plumed hat and bowed. "My respects to you, Admiral."
Ming Qiu nodded in acknowledgment. Traudenius continued, "My masters and I offer our sincerest congratulations on your brilliant victory." He bowed again.
"Thank you for your congratulations." Ming Qiu was weary. He was over sixty, after all; days and nights of work had sapped his energy and strength. Now a Dutchman had materialized—couldn't he have simply stayed aboard his ship? Why come here? Yet as supreme commander, he was obligated to handle diplomatic matters.
"I trust your victory in Zhangzhou Bay will not affect our cooperation..."
"Very well. What is it you want?" Ming Qiu cut in, unable to mask his impatience.
"It is like this..." Traudenius explained his request. He had recently concluded a trade agreement with Zheng Zhilong to purchase a large consignment of sugar and silk. His ship had come to Xiamen to take on this cargo.
Part of the goods were already loaded, but the remainder sat in the Dutch warehouse in Xiamen—miraculously unburned. Traudenius requested permission to complete the loading and transport the stored cargo. He had warehouse receipts to prove the goods had been paid for.
Ming Qiu considered the matter. The question was sudden and somewhat delicate. He was not trained in law and could not immediately determine how such cases should be handled. Logically, ownership belonged to the Dutch, and since the Dutchman had ample documentation, his request seemed reasonable. Yet the issue was sensitive, and Ming Qiu did not know the relevant statutes formulated by the Tribunal. Making a unilateral decision felt imprudent.
"I cannot promise you anything at this moment," he said after some thought. "However, since you can provide evidence, I can order my subordinates to temporarily seal this consignment and refrain from registering it as war booty for the time being. You may send someone to the Maritime Court in Lingao to file the appropriate lawsuit."
Though Traudenius expressed disappointment, this solution left room for negotiation, so he accepted immediately. He then probed cautiously about the Senate's future plans for Zhangzhou Bay—whether they intended to replace Zheng Zhilong and monopolize Fujian's foreign trade. Specifically, did the Australians intend to occupy Anping and Xiamen permanently?
Ming Qiu had to brush aside the questions with "no comment." After some inconsequential small talk, he sent Traudenius on his way. As the door closed, he thought: The Dutch truly are first-class merchants of this era. No wonder a small nation with only a few million people became the Sea Coachman.
The morning sun rose as usual. Great Kinmen Island—once home to little more than fishing villages and the Zheng organization's camps and docks—now swarmed with activity. This was the material transfer station for Operation Overlord. Supplies transshipped from Taiwan were unloaded here, while plunder and prisoners scavenged from Xiamen and Anping were consolidated for registration before shipment.
Goods, gold, silver, and weapons piled up like mountains. Planning Agency staff counted items and called out figures to be registered by designated personnel before categorization and packing. The staff worked in three-hour shifts with one hour of rest to prevent errors from fatigue. Everyone understood the Senate had "struck it rich" again.
Ning Liujin wore a "New Life Suit"—the prison uniform—with a small wooden plaque hanging from his neck. He pushed a wheelbarrow back and forth, hauling "war booty." He had been captured on Kinmen Island. After fleeing ashore, he hid in the woods, hungry and parched, until the Peace Preservation Corps—aided by their big wolfhounds—flushed him out and forced his surrender. Everyone said that although the Vagabonds killed freely, they never killed indiscriminately and treated prisoners decently. For Ning Liujin, however bad things got, at least he wouldn't be beheaded.
Sure enough, shortly after surrendering, he was assigned to the labor team. The Vagabond captain in charge saw his ragged clothes and even found him a new set—though the garments were admittedly strange.
That evening, he ate his fill: a thick gruel cooked in a massive pot, salty with the taste of meat. Some kind of dried vegetable leaves floated inside. He didn't know what it was made of, but it was grain, and one could eat as much as one wanted. For Ning Liujin, who had spent his life filling his belly with sweet potatoes, this was nothing short of a feast. Sweet potatoes never truly staved off hunger.
Working for the Vagabonds seemed agreeable—at least better than serving that damned "distant relative" of his. He was full, and no one was interested in his backside. These thoughts drifted through his mind as he drained his sixth bowl of hot gruel.
(End of Chapter)