Outnumbered? I'll conquer America with an unlimited number of suicide soldiers.

Chapter 67 The Great Gold Robbery

San Francisco.

Montgomery Street.

Headquarters of Polaris Mining Company.

This is a three-story building constructed entirely of brick and stone. The facade, in particular, is made of pure white marble, adorned with enormous stained glass windows and magnificent reliefs, making it appear extremely luxurious.

Ezekiel Ferguson, the owner of the mining company, sat relaxed on the sofa in his office.

Boom!Boom!Boom!

There was a knock at the door, and someone said, "Boss, a telegram has arrived from the gold mine."

To ensure smooth communication, Ferguson spent a lot of money to run three cables from San Francisco to the mining area.

In the event of any emergency in the mining area, he can immediately send people to provide support once a wired telegram is sent.

On ordinary days, when transporting supplies or escorting gold, they would communicate in advance via telegram to arrange the time and route.

"Wait a moment."

Ferguson slapped the table, and soon, a blonde woman kneeling under the desk in front of him crawled out.

The woman wore a floor-length dress stretched taut by a tight corset, and her hair was styled in an updo.

He patted the woman's buttocks, gesturing for her to wait in the room next to the office.

The young woman walked quickly through the small door into the room. Ferguson withdrew his gaze, straightened his appearance, and said in a deep voice, "Come in!"

A young man in a white collared shirt walked in and handed Ferguson a telegram: "Boss, a telegram from the gold mine says that this month's gold harvest has started loading onto trucks and is scheduled to depart in three days."

Ferguson took the telegram, pondered its contents for a moment, and then slowly said, "Reply to the gold mine, but given the recent tense situation, the company will send additional personnel to escort the shipment. Tell them to be on high alert these days."

"By the way, make arrangements for the convoy to take more ammunition, gunpowder, and other supplies to replenish the mining area."

The young man paused for a moment, then said, "Boss, these supplies were just replenished last month."

Ferguson said impatiently, "I know, but you also have to consider the recent situation."

"If Southern and Northern California go to war, the prices of ammunition, gunpowder, and other supplies will definitely skyrocket. Why don't you buy more now while the prices are still low? Are you going to wait until they're expensive?"

"Even though I'm a gold miner and the money really did fall from the sky, I can't just ignore it!"

The young man nodded repeatedly in agreement and wrote down the request.

"As for the selection of additional personnel—"

Ferguson thought for a moment and asked, "Has the company recently hired a batch of cowboys who are really good marksmen?"

The young man nodded and said, "That's right, boss. Should we put them all in the convoy?"

Ferguson shook his head upon hearing this, saying, "We don't even know how loyal they are yet. What if they're all spies sent by someone else?"

"Just select a few to be assigned, and strictly prohibit them from going out alone. That way, even if there are problems, the risk can be minimized."

"Alright, that's all. Go do it."

The young man noted everything down and quickly left.

Ferguson got up and went through the small door into the room next to his office.

Soon, sounds of ecstasy such as "god," "jesus," and "ohyes" filled the room.

Meanwhile, in the dock area.

Many of the Van der Linde gang's best men gathered in a tavern here.

The tavern was run by his fellow assassins, so there was no need to worry about unauthorized personnel barging in.

John picked up a glass of rum, downed it in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and asked, "So, we're going to hijack their gold convoy?"

"certainly----"

Dutch, standing at the bar, drawled, "No!"

He looked at the astonished John and laughed, "John, use your brain. If we were to hijack a convoy, we should be in the Sierra Nevada Mountains right now, not here."

Arthur shrugged and said, "Spare John. You can't force him to have something he doesn't have."

.

John snapped, "Fuck you, Arthur."

"Fuck you too." Arthur chuckled.

Dutch took out a bottle of whiskey, poured himself a glass, and then revealed the answer: "What we're going to hijack is their fleet!"

"A hijacking fleet?"

The middle-aged man sitting at the table behind raised an eyebrow. "This is much more difficult than hijacking a caravan."

"But the profits will also increase many times over."

Dutch smiled slightly and said, "Every year at this time, Polaris Mining Company loads most of the gold it has mined onto ships and transports it to Britain."

That's over 200,000 ounces of gold, weighing eight tons. If we succeed, our lord's cash flow problem will be solved.

Arthur said, "So now there's only one problem: how are we going to get on the ship?"

"The method of sneaking onto the ship is no longer feasible."

Hosea suddenly spoke in the Red Dead Redemption group chat.

He stood in the city police department's archives and took out a dusty roll of documents.

As he flipped through the contents, he said, "Since the Yankee Blade incident last year, Polaris Mining Company has been paying close attention to preventing this kind of situation."

"From the captain to the crew, and even the ship itself, it all belongs to this company. It's practically impossible to climb the ranks."

The Yankee Blade incident was a gold robbery that occurred last year.

The ship was carrying three million dollars worth of gold. The robbers, who had received advance notice, boarded the ship and bribed the crew.

When the ship was sailing near the southern coast of California, it deliberately veered off course and struck a reef.

After the ship ran aground, the scene descended into extreme chaos.

Many passengers panicked and only thought about survival. Taking advantage of this, the hijackers, under the guise of "helping with the transfer," took the ship's gold and passengers' valuables and disappeared in the chaos aboard lifeboats.

"Sneak up? Who said we were going to sneak up?"

Dutch took two sips of his whiskey and said, "Gentlemen, don't forget, we have people at customs."

"Before the ship leaves port, we can board it openly and legitimately under the pretext of inspecting the cargo."

"With the help of those colleagues who successfully applied for sailor and guard positions, taking over the entire ship will be a piece of cake."

As he spoke, Dutch took out a picture from his body; it was information about the ship they were going to rob.

"HMS Lily, a two-gun sailing ship with a deadweight tonnage of 800 tons. It had a crew of 80 and was equipped with 22 cannons. It was a retired sixth-class ship of the British Navy."

"Eight hundred tons and twenty-two cannons? That's some serious firepower," John exclaimed.

Arthur said, "It's normal for a decommissioned warship to have this level of firepower, but they won't have the chance to fire."

A week later.

The dock area, the customs office.

Dutch, dressed in a crisp customs officer uniform, stood in front of the mirror adjusting his collar.

The uniforms were just taken out of the warehouse today, and all the procedures were followed.

"How is it?" he asked Arthur, turning to him.

Arthur looked him up and down, then nodded: "He looks like a decent person now."

"I've always been a decent person."

Dutch raised an eyebrow, picked up a silver badge from the table, and pinned it to his chest. It was the identification badge of a customs inspector, finely crafted with a clearly visible serial number.

John also came out from the inner room, dressed in the same uniform.

He walked along, tugging at his collar, looking uncomfortable. "This thing is so tight I can barely breathe. Don't you have a bigger size?"

"Just bear with it."

The middle-aged man followed behind him, carrying a stack of documents. "Or you can choose not to tie him up, John. Anyway, you don't look like a good person with your fierce appearance."

Dutch walked to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain, and looked outside.

The dock was bustling with people, porters carrying goods back and forth, and several ships were being loaded and unloaded.

Further away, at the berth they had specially arranged, a two-masted sailing ship was quietly moored, its masts towering, its hull long and slender, and its black gun ports neatly arranged.

It was the Lily.

The middle-aged man flipped through the documents in his hand and said, "The Lily is departing at 3 PM today. The cargo manifest has been submitted, and we have ample time to board and inspect it."

"Where is the accomplice on the ship?"

"Three. One in the engine room, one on the deck, and guess who the third one is?"

"Who?"

First Mate.

Dutch paused for a moment, then laughed: "This is interesting."

He lowered the curtains and turned to look at the people in the room.

Arthur, John, the uncle, and seven other assassins disguised as customs inspectors, eleven people in total.

Including the three inside agents on the ship, there were a total of fourteen people.

"Fourteen against eighty, the advantage is in my hands!"

"Does it really have an advantage?" the middle-aged man scoffed.

"Just kidding. Once the people on the ship have our attention drawn, our other companions disguised as customs officers nearby will come over."

Dutch shrugged and said, "Once on board, proceed according to plan."

The first mate will lead us into the cabins for inspection; the engine room crew will make the noise, and the deck crew will provide support. Remember, our signal to act is for the first mate to drop his pipe.

"Set off."

At 2:00 PM sharp, at the pier.

On the gangway of the Lily, several sailors were making final preparations for departure.

The captain stood on the stern deck, holding up binoculars and gazing at the sea.

He was an old man in his fifties, with a weathered face and sharp eyes. He had served in the Royal Navy for thirty years and was hired by Ferguson at a high salary to command the ship after his retirement.

"Captain," the first mate approached, "the customs officers are here."

The captain lowered his binoculars and looked towards the dock.

A group of people in uniforms were walking up the gangway, led by a man in his thirties who walked steadily and had a capable demeanor.

"Inspect the cargo?" The captain frowned. "Didn't Mr. Ferguson say he'd already spoken to customs and they wouldn't inspect our cargo?"

The ship was carrying a lot of smuggled goods, and it would be troublesome if it were discovered.

"They said it was a random check."

The first mate shrugged and said, "You know how tense things are lately. Both sides are fighting, and I guess customs is worried about things going wrong."

The captain clicked his tongue and said, "Have the sailors put our cargo at the very bottom. Hopefully, we won't be discovered."

Soon, customs officers stepped onto the deck.

Dutch nodded to the captain: "Good afternoon, Captain. I am Tacitus, a customs inspector, here to conduct a pre-departure inspection of the Lily. Excuse me."

The captain returned the greeting, somewhat impatient, but following protocol: "Please go ahead. Would you like me to send someone to accompany you?"

"The First Mate can accompany you," Dutch said with a smile. "We will try our best not to delay your departure time."

The captain waved his hand, signaling the first mate to lead the way.

Dutch led his men and followed the first mate toward the cabin.

The cabin was dimly lit and the air was damp.

The first mate walked at the front, explaining as he went: "This is the cargo hold; the gold is all here."

He pushed open a heavy wooden door, revealing neatly stacked wooden crates inside. Each crate was stamped with the sealing wax mark of the Polaris Company.

Dutch went inside, pretended to inspect a few boxes, and nodded: "No problem."

Just then, a muffled thud came from deep inside the cabin, as if something had fallen over.

Several sailors nearby were attracted by the sound and walked deeper into the ship's cabin.

"What's that sound?" Dutch asked.

The first mate frowned. "It's probably from the engine room. The machines have been having some problems lately, they keep breaking down."

"Inspector, if there are no problems, please come back with me to see the captain."

He turned and walked outside.

After walking a few steps, he took a pipe out of his pocket, put it in his mouth, lit it, and took a deep drag.

Then, he let go.

The pipe fell to the ground with a crisp sound.

At that very moment, Dutch moved.

The revolver hidden under the uniform was drawn in the blink of an eye, aimed at the two sailors at the door, and the trigger was pulled.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two gunshots rang out, and the two sailors fell into pools of blood before they even had a chance to turn around.

At the same time, Arthur, John, Uncle, and the other seven assassins also drew their revolvers from under their uniforms and began firing at the sailors.

"Enemy attack—!"

As soon as a sailor shouted, Arthur shot him dead.

Another sailor who was nearby grabbed a wooden stick, but before he could swing it, John shot him through the head.

The cabin was in complete chaos.

Three minutes later, only corpses and blood remained in the cabin.

"Let's go, up there!" Dutch shouted.

They rushed out of the cabin and ran up the stairs to the deck.

On deck, the captain had already heard the gunshots. He drew his revolver and pulled the trigger at Dutch, who was charging at him.

"Bang!"

The bullet grazed Dutch's ear and struck the bulkhead behind him.

Dutch didn't stop, firing as he charged, a bullet hitting the captain's shoulder and causing him to stumble.

At the same time, Arthur, behind Dutch, aimed a shot at the captain's chest and fired.

The captain's eyes widened, his lips moved, and then he fell to the ground and remained motionless.

The sailors on deck were stunned by the sudden attack.

But their ferocity, honed by over a decade of experience at sea, led them to draw their guns and exchange fire without hesitation.

But as more and more customs officers rushed in from the dock, they were all quickly apprehended.

Fifteen minutes later, the Lily was completely in Dutch's hands.

Dutch stood on the ship, looking at the twenty-odd prisoners tied up in a string on the deck.

The rest either jumped into the sea to escape when things went wrong, or died directly from being shot.

"Take a headcount."

Arthur said, "We lost two and were wounded three. Forty-odd sailors died, a dozen or so jumped into the sea and escaped, and the rest are all here."

Dutch nodded.

"Let's set sail. Before the docks react, let's get the ship out of the harbor."

The first mate nodded and ran towards the steering wheel.

The Lily slowly departed from the port and sailed towards the vast Pacific Ocean.