Chapter 243: The Shopkeeper and the Artist

By Shan Daoqian’s standards, Lingao’s train could only be considered an urban rail transit system. It had grown from the factory rail lines originally used to transport goods, raw materials, and workers. This network had now evolved, from gas-powered locomotives to the “Meteor” steam locomotive, its route expanding from a small railway within the factory grounds to the entire county. The line now ran from the Wenlan Bridge station outside the county seat, along the Wenlan River to Bopu, and then from Bopu to Maniao, connecting all of Lingao’s main industrial and port areas.

Van der Lenteren and Trini rode in the first-class car. Due to the smoke and steam, the first-class car was always attached at the very end. It was a step above the cars in front, which were simple, open-top flatbeds used for both passengers and cargo. When serving as passenger cars, a fence was erected on all four sides. The passengers sat on the floor, and when there was no more room, they stood crowded together. Being completely open-air, ventilation was not an issue. Only on rare occasions, for major ceremonies or celebrations, would a few rows of wooden benches be temporarily installed.

Of course, the flatcars had no roof. In the rain or intense heat, a temporary canvas canopy would be erected. When the train was in motion, the smoke and steam were enough to suffocate the passengers in the first few cars. The rails were standard gauge, but they were light, forged iron, and the sleepers were simple. The entire system was outrageously rudimentary.

But this simple motorized transport was a revolution for Lingao’s industry. The small train allowed a large number of laborers to move quickly between locations, enabling workers to commute in the shortest possible time. Lingao’s factory areas were growing larger, and the workers’ residential areas had to be built farther and farther away.

The first-class car, reserved for Elders and those natives and naturalized citizens willing to pay a high price, was a different world. Though the chassis was the same as the flatcars, it had a proper car body, with glass-inlaid windows and blinds for ventilation and shade. It even had seats.

Van der Lenteren looked around the empty carriage with great interest. This time, they were the only two passengers.

“Is this the so-called first class?” he asked. The furnishings were simple, though practical. Even to his Dutch eyes, the Australians’ “first class” was far from worthy of the name.

“Yes,” Trini replied. “The Australians are naturally simple. And their ‘first class’ is only so in comparison to the cars in front.”

“Oh?” Van der Lenteren stuck his head out the window. Each car ahead was crammed with passengers and goods. Those who couldn’t squeeze in clung to the fences; some had even climbed onto the piles of cargo, perched high above.

“What a magnificent sight,” Van der Lenteren said with a smile. “But I have my doubts. With so many people and goods, what on earth pulls this train? And at the speed of a horse, you say? You mentioned in your report that it is a machine of fire and water. Is it truly so miraculous?”

“It is,” Trini said. “In my humble opinion, the Australians have mastered many of God’s secrets that we have not yet known…”

Van der Lenteren, a Protestant, sneered at the Catholic faith. “I think it is the devil’s secrets—just like your learned compatriot, da Vinci.”

Trini fell silent. He felt there was nothing to discuss with this small Dutch shopkeeper on the matter. Protestants were no more advocates of science than Catholics, sometimes even the opposite. The “father of blood circulation” had been burned at the stake by Calvinists in Switzerland. Trini knew it was best to keep his mouth shut on scientific issues. Though the Netherlands was the most religiously tolerant place in Europe, the East India Company in Batavia was not.

He had wanted to share his observations on the “train” with Van der Lenteren, but seeing the man was clearly unlearned, he abandoned the idea. Just then, the carriage shook violently, the steel creaked, and they began to roll slowly along the track.

Twenty minutes later, the Dutchman and the Italian disembarked at the “Trading Post” station. A two-wheeled Dongfeng carriage, a public car sent by the Colonial and Trade Department, was waiting for them.

The “Trading Post” was a joint project of the Colonial and Trade Department and the General Office. During a recent typhoon and rainstorm, Lingao had suffered a disaster. Though no one was displaced, many lands were flooded, including fields the Agricultural Committee had been preparing to reclaim. The “Trading Post” was one of these flooded lands.

The area was a low-lying patch behind a beach sandbar. Year after year, the land at the edge would slide into the sea, and the tide would bring back sand, forming a natural barrier several meters high and dozens of meters wide. Behind the sandbar was sunken land. After some leveling, the Agricultural Committee found that treating the saline-alkali soil was far beyond their current capabilities. Then the rainstorm came, and the investment in this land was written off as a tuition fee. The Agricultural Committee abandoned its agricultural development plans and handed the land over to the Forestry Department.

The Forestry Department decided to transform the entire coastal low-lying area into a mangrove forest to fix the sand and resist the wind, reducing coastal erosion. Further inland, they planned a coconut plantation.

To the east of this low-lying area was a low hill, and beyond that, Maniao. With the opening of the railway from Bopu to Maniao, the Executive Committee and the Colonial Department decided to transform this land into a future state guesthouse and embassy district. The first step was to invite the East India Company to move in, using the money they paid to build a small reservoir by damming a nearby mountain stream to supply water to the area. If generators could be mass-produced in the future, they could also generate some small-scale hydropower.

The carriage carried them along the road and soon arrived at the trading post area. It was still a barren landscape. Besides the leveled land, there were only a few isolated wooden houses, with more under construction.

The Dutch East India Company’s trading post was being built, or more accurately, its foundation was being dug. Trini had designed a rather sturdy and beautiful two-story brick and stone hall. However, the Lingao Construction Company had quoted a two-year construction period. So for now, the trading post consisted of two simple but elegant wooden houses, prefabricated structures designed by Zhang Xingpei. It had taken only a week to assemble and decorate them completely, a feat that amazed Trini.

One of the two houses was for office use, the other for living. The Prince’s flag and the company flag flew from the roof. Trini welcomed Van der Lenteren into the living room, which was already decorated with furniture and handicrafts purchased from Batavia and Guangzhou. The walls were hung with oil paintings of the Prince of Orange and the company’s directors, creating a grand impression.

Though an Italian lived here, the house maintained a Dutch love of cleanliness. One of Trini’s Dutch servants washed the entire house daily. Trini suspected the servant was a spy sent by the company to monitor him.

They sat, and the servant brought local soft drinks. They settled into Lingao-produced rattan sofas. Van der Lenteren had a bellyful of questions, and now that he was on his own turf, he began to ask them. Trini was clearly prepared.

“Mr. Trini, please tell me clearly, what is the military strength of the Australians?”

“Very great,” Trini said plainly. “Their potential is inestimable—terrifying.”

“Oh? What gives you that impression?”

“You have just taken their train.”

“Yes, the Australians’ train. Very special.”

“You must have seen the military applications of the train.”

“The train is indeed powerful, but it is merely a means of transport. No matter how fine a carriage is, it cannot fight a war.”

“You seem to have forgotten what our master relies on to dominate the seas—ships.”

“This is different. A train cannot go to sea. Besides, this kind of train must run on a track. I do not see much military value in it.”

“The train you just took can travel five leagues per hour. I have seen it travel ten. The Australians have now connected their core ruling area—Lingao, Bairen, Bopu, Maniao—with a railway…”

“It is just for transporting goods and craftsmen and farmers.”

“They can use the train to transport troops from one place to another in a few hours. And they have special combat trains, equipped with cannons and an evil weapon they call a ‘typewriter.’ Not even a thousand well-ordered Swedish infantry could stand for a quarter of an hour before an armored train. In fact, a hundred Australian soldiers with a few cannons could tear a thousand of Europe’s best infantry to pieces.”

“You exaggerate.”

“I swear to God, my words are not false.”

“Alright,” Van der Lenteren nodded. “I will write your exact words in the report.” He did not wish to continue on this issue. “Now, the company wants to know, are the Australians preparing any action against us?”

“As far as I know, no,” Trini hesitated, an expression that was quickly caught by Van der Lenteren.

“To be honest, Mr. Trini,” Van der Lenteren lowered his voice, “you know, a few months ago, an Australian ship went to Formosa…”

“Did it go to the port of Tayouan?”

“No. They did not enter the port, but continued south along the coast to a barren shore. And they landed there. According to the various reports we have received from the natives, it must have been the Australians.”