Chapter 555 - 60: Havier’s Shock (Part 2)
At the same time, taking advantage of the Leader’s disgraced presence, observe the reactions of ordinary natives, and look for those who lack a strong sense of belonging to the tribe. Bring them to the island and let them start another Chapter of life—
A beautiful life, a meaningful life.
...
In a single file, under the escort of the sailors dressed in blue work uniforms, Havier and others made their way through the dense jungle to the beach.
This group of yellow-skinned people, who somewhat resembled the natives in appearance, did not have a particularly rough attitude towards them.
Initially, Havier felt a bit restrained, but gradually he realized that even secretly observing these people wouldn’t irritate them, so he occasionally cast sidelong glances to study them.
The first thing that surprised Havier was the age of this group—
The faces of the sailors were very young, beardless, looking around seventeen or eighteen, most no older than twenty.
Even though this was a flourishing period of navigation, sailors active at sea were not typically this young, with most being young adults aged between twenty and forty.
Inexperienced young sailors wouldn’t easily catch the Captain’s eye. They usually had to work at the docks for a year or two, familiarize themselves with the ship’s tasks, and understand life at sea before gradually gaining approval to embark on their maritime journey.
And this journey was not glamorous.
Storms, diseases, loneliness, alcohol, and death always accompanied the sailors, and many young and inexperienced sailors would perish at sea, never returning to land.
Therefore, seeing such a group of very young sailors was a rarity for Havier.
What impressed Havier next was the discipline of these people.
Honestly, Havier felt they seemed more like a real army than the navy of Spain.
This group of people in strange blue clothing stood tall, walked with highly synchronized steps, never whispered during the escort, and no one fell behind to relieve themselves or do anything idle.
Having seen sailors of all sorts, whether British sailors or Dutch sailors, none had such mannerisms.
This silent, uniformly dressed young group, armed with more advanced weapons, imposed a pressure on him much stronger than pirates, giving Havier an almost suffocating feeling, as if they weren’t living beings but machines.
Besides these two points, Havier was even more curious about the group’s weapons—
He wanted to know just what kind of matchlock gun could hit targets so accurately from such a distance without any loss of power.
Having been active at sea for many years and visiting numerous places, Havier considered himself quite knowledgeable.
He had even heard that in the far East, there was an immense country, possessing endless treasures and a legendary "Emperor," ruling over billions of people, but never had he heard of such a powerful force at sea.
"Where did this group emerge from?
How did they end up on this tiny island? Isn’t this place rather remote?"
With questions unanswered, Havier could only resign to—
"Kilian, fuck your mother!"
While affectionately cursing all of Kilian’s female relatives in his mind, Havier continued to study the rifles slung on the backs of the sailors.
At first glance, the Chen Family rifle gave Havier the impression of beauty.
The long and slender barrel was jet black, without any dents from hammering or natural corrosion, nor did it reflect light, resembling a uniquely straight stick, exceptionally well-formed.
Behind the barrel, the stock formed an elegant curve, just by looking at it, one could imagine the feel of holding it—
It must be fantastic!
Apart from the unusual barrel and the gracefully lined stock, these guns had one more common feature—
Orderly.
Just like these enemies with synchronized steps, every gun looked identical at a glance, so much so that it was hard to find any differences among them.
This made Havier feel that these guns might not have been crafted by humans, but by some mysterious beings, whether Angels or Devils.
But none of that mattered now, as he was already in the hands of these people. Whether he went to Heaven or fell into Hell was no longer for him to decide.
...
On Sunday, while selecting the "next batch of islanders" in the tribe, the Spanish sailors had already arrived at the beach with the sailors and boarded small boats to the Steel Bone.
...
The Steel Bone, anchored near the shore, brought even greater shock to all the Spaniards, especially to Havier.
This enormous ship was not made of wood; most of it was covered in metal, gleaming from a distance.
Any sailor with sea experience could see that this uniquely shaped ship, resembling a Long Saber, had just recently been launched.
Yet such a nearly brand-new ship was using sails that seemed to be pulled out of a garbage heap.
After boarding the ship, the contrast between "new and old" became even more apparent.
The Steel Bone’s deck was impeccably clean thanks to the sailors, and even the masts were coated with a layer of varnish, revealing distinct yellow wood grains underneath.
The bow had no toilet; apart from the unique fishy smell of the sea, there was no other odor on the ship, which even royal warships could not boast of.
Moreover, many of the Steel Bone’s structures were made of metal, giving Havier and the others a sense of extraordinary craftsmanship in the ship’s construction.
But with such advanced technology, using metal to build ships, wouldn’t they afford to use even a piece of fine fabric?
Judging by the fine texture of the sailors’ clothing, this group surely could weave cloth...
So why did they raise such dirty, worn-out sails?
"Could it be a unique custom of theirs, or does old sailcloth hold some special significance?" Havier was completely baffled.
...
The sailors had no idea what thoughts were running through the minds of the prisoners they were escorting. Most of the time, they remained silent, speaking only when necessary.
And the fact that they communicated in Chinese confirmed the Spanish sailors’ suspicion about them not being natives.
Though both languages were unintelligible to the Spaniards, there was a clear distinction between Chinese and the native language; even without understanding linguistics, one could tell by listening that the sailors were using a different language system.
The Spanish sailors thought, perhaps the sailors had learned the native language.
The differences between the sailors and the natives were so vast; who would have thought native language was their mother tongue?
...
Havier’s observation of the ship’s structure did not last long as he was soon escorted into the ship’s cabin and locked in a detention room.
He only caught a glimpse of the ship’s interior, but the shock it delivered never ceased—
The spacious and bright interior corridors, walls in entirely consistent tones, flat and tidy floors, all these gave him the feeling he wasn’t aboard a ship but inside a unique palace.
He gradually realized that not only were their weapons vastly different, but their maritime concepts and shipbuilding technology had taken a completely different path.
...
Bam!
The door was slammed shut, leaving the detention room extraordinarily quiet, with only the sound of the ocean waves outside.
On one side of the room, a long rectangular window with welded iron bars cast grid-shaped beams of light into the room.
Listening to the footsteps recede down the corridor, Havier could no longer suppress his urge and spoke his first words.
"That damn native leader tied it so tight, my hand hurts. Can anyone help loosen my belt?"
The other sailors, with their backs turned, laboriously placed their wounded comrade on a sofa by feel, and hearing Havier speak, one person finally came over to loosen the belt binding Havier’s hands.
With his hands able to move more freely, Havier cautiously glanced at the door, and seeing that no one entered to scold them for the noise, his courage grew.
He lowered his voice, proposing a bolder suggestion—
"Can you untie my hands? It seems they’re not really watching us."