From Robinson Crusoe

"what are you doing!"

The first to be disarmed was Javier, with his fiery temper.

He could not tolerate this lowly "wild monkey" who had just been crawling on the ground behaving so humiliatingly towards him.

Seeing Risoben's filthy, black hands grab his weapon, Javier wanted nothing more than to slap the offender to the ground.

But under Sunday's gaze, even though he was furious, he had to suppress his inner impulses.

……

Even the most troublesome Javier didn't dare to resist, so the other sailors naturally had no objections either.

Even those accustomed to their arrogance at sea would have to bow their heads and temporarily suppress their bad temper when faced with a gun pointed at them by an enemy whose whereabouts are unknown.

Nobody likes to risk their own life.

……

Sunday was quite surprised to see the Spanish sailors, their hands bound by belts, struggling to pull up their trousers, and obediently lined up in a row.

He had expected to be ambushed and encounter fierce resistance, but he never imagined that things would go so smoothly.

"It seems that people from the 'civilized world' are indeed smarter than the natives."

At least they won't fight a battle with no hope of victory, and they certainly won't reveal their weapons to an opponent far stronger than themselves.

I thought of it on Sunday.

However, another question immediately popped into his mind—

If one day their island encounters a group of invincible enemies, will he lay down his weapons and surrender?
In the blink of an eye, Sunday provided its answer—

He would rather die fighting than surrender like this.

From the moment he was saved by the leader, he completely entrusted his life to the leader.

He had already died once, so he was no longer afraid of death; he was only afraid that his death would be meaningless.

……

With all the Spanish sailors under control, Sunday finally brought a sigh of relief.

There are two objectives for landing on the island.

The first step is to defeat the native warriors, capture the tribal chief alive, and select suitable tribal members to bring back to the island.

This task is relatively easy.

Muskets beat spears. The well-trained troops faced a rabble who were well-prepared for an attack and had to fight back hastily. They had no chance of losing. The only thing they needed to be careful about was avoiding casualties.

The second goal is a bit more difficult.

Both sides were acting out of mutual intent, but their opponents were the Spanish, a group of intelligent men with extensive experience in maritime life and combat.

This group of opponents also possessed firearms. Although the matchlock guns were far inferior to Chen's rifles, they were still terrifying weapons that could injure someone with a mere graze and kill someone with a single touch. One had to be extremely careful when fighting against this group.

If the Spanish had any backbone and insisted on fighting to the bitter end, there was no guarantee that none of the sailors would be injured on Sunday.

Before taking action, Sunday envisioned many possibilities, including the worst-case scenario.

He never imagined that he would encounter the Spanish in the dense forest ahead of time, and that he would be able to set up an ambush and capture all the Spanish sailors in one fell swoop.

Although the unexpected outcome was quite unbelievable to him, it was undoubtedly the best result.

……

After putting all the confiscated matchlock guns together, Sunday looked at the tribal chief, whose face was stiff with a smile that made him look particularly ugly and ferocious. He didn't speak to him again, but simply raised his arm and waved.

That was a signal to the other sailors, indicating that the situation here was resolved and they needed to come and help.

While waiting for the sailors to arrive, Sunday removed the Spanish sailors' cold weapons, including long knives and daggers. He then found gunpowder bottles and lead bullet bags, essential shooting tools, from the sailors' pockets.

Without these weapons, a matchlock musket is just a fire poker; even if it fell into the hands of the Spanish, it wouldn't have that terrifying killing power.

……

Having become fish on the chopping block, the Spanish sailors showed a high degree of tolerance towards their much stronger opponents.

Just moments ago, when Lisobben merely touched the gun in Havel's hand, Havel was so eager to kick it over. Now, Sunday was groping him, taking not only the gunpowder bottles and lead bullet bags, but even his prized high-quality tobacco, and Havel dared not show any sign of resistance.

The mentality of bullying the weak and fearing the strong was almost ingrained in the bones of these sailors. They knew very well who they could offend without consequence, and who they could offend with certain death.

……

After capturing the Spanish sailors, the sailors were divided into two teams of 10 men each on Sunday.

One team was responsible for escorting the captured prisoners, excluding tribal chiefs.

Once the Spaniards boarded the ship, they were locked in pre-prepared cells. Compared to the native prisoners, their cells were more spacious and tidy, and even had sofas for resting.

The reason Chen Zhou treated them well was not because he thought highly of them, but because he wanted to know where the treasure on the island was buried and what kind of strength these Spaniards possessed.

First, offer a sweet treat, then gradually apply pressure, intimidation, or even torture.

Chen Zhou hoped the Spaniards would be sensible and not refuse a polite offer only to be forced to drink a forfeit.

Having lived on the island for many years and managed a group of natives, his mindset was quite different from when he first took on the challenge.

Many cruel methods, which he knew about but couldn't bring himself to do before, can now be carried out by his subordinates.

Information that was once impossible to extract from a brown-haired man may now be readily available through questioning.

……

As for the other team, they will be led by Sunday himself. They will take the captured tribal chief throughout the tribe to spread the news.

Meanwhile, taking advantage of the chief's diminished prestige, they observed the reactions of the ordinary natives, identifying those with a weak sense of belonging to the tribe, and brought them to the island to begin a new life for them.

A wonderful life, a meaningful life.

……

Arranged in a neat line and escorted by sailors in blue overalls, Javier and his men made their way through the dense jungle to the beach.

The group of yellow-skinned people, who looked somewhat like the natives, did not treat them very rudely.

At first, Havel was a little reserved, but gradually he found that even if he secretly looked at these people, it wouldn't offend them, so he would occasionally glance at them sideways.

What surprised Havel first was the age of this group of people—

The sailors all had youthful faces, no beards, and looked to be seventeen or eighteen years old, most of them no older than twenty.

Although we are currently in a prosperous era of maritime trade, the age of sailors active at sea is not so young; most are young and middle-aged people between twenty and forty. Inexperienced young sailors are not easily noticed by captains. They usually have to work at the dock for one or two years to become familiar with the work on board and understand life at sea before they gradually gain recognition and board a ship to begin their sea voyage.

This journey was by no means glamorous.

Storms, disease, loneliness, alcohol, and death are always with sailors; many young sailors die at sea and never return to land.

Therefore, it was very rare for Havel to see a group of very young sailors.

What impressed Javier next was the group's discipline.

To be honest, Javier felt they were more like a real army than the Spanish navy.

The group of people dressed in strange blue clothes were all tall and straight, and walked with a very similar pace. During the escort, they never whispered to each other, and no one fell behind to go to the toilet or do anything else boring.

Havel had seen all sorts of sailors, but neither British nor Dutch sailors behaved this way.

The oppressive feeling emanating from this group of silent, uniformly dressed, young people armed with more advanced weapons was far greater than that from the pirates. Walking alongside them, Havel even felt suffocated, as if these people were not living beings, but machines.

Besides these two points, Havel was even more curious about the group's weapons—

He wanted to know what kind of matchlock gun could be so accurate from such a distance without losing any power.

Having been active at sea for many years and visited many places, Havel considered himself a knowledgeable person.

He had even heard that there was a very large country in the far east, with endless treasures and a legendary "emperor" who ruled over hundreds of millions of people, but he had never heard of such a force at sea.

"Where did these people come from?"

How did they end up on this island? Isn't it very remote?

Havel, filled with unanswered questions, could only utter one sentence in the end—

"Kilian, I'll fuck your mother!"

While sending heartfelt greetings to all of Killian's female relatives, Havel observed the long guns on the sailors' backs.

At first glance, Havel's first impression of the Chen rifle was that it was beautiful.

The long, thin barrel was jet black, with no pits from forging or natural corrosion on its surface, and it did not reflect light. It was like a unique long stick, unusually neat.

Behind the barrel, the attached stock follows an elegant curve; just looking at it makes you imagine how it would feel to hold it.

That would be fantastic!

Besides their unusual barrels and elegantly sculpted stocks, these firearms share another common characteristic—

Neat and orderly.

Just like these enemies with identical paces, every gun looks exactly the same; at first glance, you can't even find any difference between them.

This made Havel feel that these guns might not have been forged by humans, but rather created by some mysterious creature, or perhaps an angel or a devil.

But that doesn't matter anymore. Now that he's in their hands, it's no longer up to him whether he goes to heaven or hell.

……

On Sunday, while the tribe was selecting suitable "next batch of islanders," the Spanish sailors arrived at the beach with the seamen and boarded the Steelbone in small boats.

……

The Steelbone, docked near the coast, brought a deep shock to many Spaniards, especially Javier.

The massive ship's hull is not made of wood; most of it is covered in metal, making it gleam from a distance.

Any experienced sailor could tell that this uniquely shaped ship, resembling a long knife, had only recently been launched.

Yet this nearly brand-new ship had sails made of cloth that looked like it had been salvaged from a garbage dump.

Once on board, the contrast between the "new" and the "old" becomes even more pronounced.

The deck of the Steelbone was cleaned spotlessly by the sailors, and even the masts were coated with a layer of varnish, revealing the distinct yellow wood grain beneath.

There was no toilet at the bow of the ship, and apart from the unique fishy smell of the sea, there was no other odor on board. Even royal warships did not have such an environment.

Moreover, many of the structures on the Steelbone were made of metal, giving Havel and the others the impression that the craftsmen who built the ship were exceptionally skilled.

With such advanced technology, using metal to build ships, and such extravagant spending, why couldn't they even spare a piece of good fabric?

Judging from the fineness of the fabric used in the sailors' clothing, there's no way these people couldn't weave cloth...

What is the purpose of hanging up such a dirty, tattered canvas?
"Could it be a unique custom of theirs, or does the old canvas have some special meaning?" Havel was completely puzzled.

……

The sailors had no idea what the prisoners were thinking. Most of the time they remained silent, only exchanging a few words when necessary.

The fact that they used Chinese when communicating confirmed the Spanish sailors' suspicions that they were natives.

Although both are languages ​​that the Spanish cannot understand, there are clear differences between Chinese and the indigenous language. Even without knowledge of linguistics, one can tell just by listening that the sailors are using a different language system.

The Spanish sailors thought that perhaps the sailors had learned the indigenous language.

The sailors were so different from the natives that who would have thought their native language was their mother tongue?

……

Havel's observation of the ship did not last long; he was soon taken into the cabin and locked in a cell.

He only caught a fleeting glimpse of the ship's interior, but the awe it evoked in him never ceased—

The spacious and bright corridors inside the ship, the walls with a completely uniform color scheme, and the flat and clean floors—all of this made him feel as if he had not come to a ship, but had entered a unique palace.

He gradually realized that this group not only had completely different weapons, but also had taken a different path in their concepts of navigation and shipbuilding technology.

……

boom!
The door was slammed shut, and the cell was unusually quiet, with no sound except for the sound of the ocean waves outside.

On one side of the room, long, narrow windows with welded iron grilles let in light cut into squares.

As the footsteps faded away in the corridor, Havel finally couldn't contain his impulse and uttered his first words.

"That damn native chief tied it so tight, it hurts my hands. Can anyone help me loosen the belt?"

The other sailors, with their backs turned, struggled to place their companion, who had been shot in the leg, onto the sofa by feel. Only when they heard Javier speak did one of them move over and loosen the leather straps binding Javier's hands.

After his hands were able to move more freely, Havel cautiously glanced at the door. Seeing that no one pushed the door open to scold them because of the noise, he became a little bolder.

He lowered his voice and made a bolder suggestion—

"Could you untie my hands? They don't seem to care about us." (End of Chapter)