Ming East India Company

The scorching flames collided with the gunpowder, instantly exploding into a ball of incandescent light! Thick black smoke billowed into the sky, and the heavy linen mainsail was instantly engulfed in flames. Flames spread wildly along the rigging, crackling and popping. The massive sail was reduced to a charred, mangled frame, and the entire ship suddenly lost its balance, its momentum abruptly halted.

The merchant ship suddenly stopped, coming to a complete halt, like a bird with its wings clipped, spinning in place on the sea.

The Spanish sailors on board turned around in shock, their faces filled with disbelief.

The firelight illuminated William's cold, stern profile. He drew a concealed dagger from his waist, stepped forward through the firelight, and pressed it against the throat of the panicked Spanish ship owner. His voice was icy and forceful as he harshly rebuked him in Spanish:

"I am Willem van Jansen, a Dutch sailor. Your ships' sails have been destroyed. If you want to live, obey my orders and surrender to the Dutch."

The kidnapped ship owner's words were filled with anger:

"Kill him, quick, kill this traitor."

William pressed the knife closer to his neck and continued speaking to the bewildered crew member before him:

"I am a spy sent by the Dutch to help seize the ship. If you kill me now, you will have no chance to escape. Just listen to me obediently, and I will ask the commander of the Dutch fleet to spare your lives."

His fierce and resolute aura intimidated the entire audience.

The Spanish crew, already fearful, saw their mainsail burnt out and escape hopeless. William's threat of suicide further shattered their will to resist. No one dared to draw their knives; some of the more timid had already dropped their weapons, heads bowed, their faces deathly pale.

William swept his cold gaze across the crowd and threatened, word by word, "Immediately throw away all your weapons, raise the white flag, and surrender to the Dutch!"

Faced with the threat of death, the Spanish ship owner realized that all was lost and had no choice but to grit his teeth and order everyone to hastily raise the surrender flag.

The flames on the mainsail were gradually extinguished by the sea breeze, leaving only the charred and tattered canvas frame dangling on the mast, with wisps of black smoke rising and dissipating in the clear skies of the South Seas.

The Dutch privateers, who were pursuing from a distance and were preparing to launch a strong attack with cannons, suddenly ceased fire upon seeing this sudden change.

The Spanish merchant ship was completely rendered maneuverable, its hull tilting and floating on the sea like a dead fish with its spine broken. Scattered bloodstains covered the deck; the sailors hung their heads in dejection, their weapons discarded at their feet, utterly devoid of any will to resist. The white flag flew limply in the sea breeze, a testament to their complete defeat.

The Dutch officers and soldiers all stood on the deck, witnessing in astonishment the astonishing scene before them:

The entire Spanish merchant ship was coerced by a Dutch sailor, and no one dared to resist.

The Dutch privateer slowly approached, its hull sturdy and its cannons menacing. Fully armed VOC soldiers boarded the ship one by one to take command.

With steel guns lined up and their footsteps resounding, they drove all the Spanish prisoners to the center of the deck to lie down and guard them.

William released the captain's throat, turned and strode to the bow, facing the Dutch sailors, raised his hands, and shouted in fluent Dutch:

"I am William van Jansen, a survivor of Adams' fleet seven years ago! I have been adrift on this sea for several years, and now I come to the United Provinces Republic with prisoners of war and war merits!"

The captain, holding a nautical telescope, stepped across the ravaged deck, his gaze sweeping over the charred mainsail before settling on William, who stood calmly at the bow.

In this age of exploration filled with intrigue and betrayal, no matter how well-crafted one's identity or rhetoric, nothing is more real than betrayal on the battlefield.

The Dutch captain examined William carefully for a moment, then slowly said:

"You did a great job. The East India Company needs excellent sailors like you."

William bowed his head respectfully and said, "As a Dutch sailor, I always remember the glory of the United Provinces Republic and have been waiting for the opportunity to serve the company and its shareholders again. This ship is the best gift I can give to the company."

The Dutch captain patted him on the shoulder, indicating his approval.

The soldiers then officially began to count the cargo and check the spoils of war.

This seemingly ordinary small Spanish transshipment vessel was carrying a considerable amount of cargo.

At that time, there was a secret smuggling route between Manila and the Spice Islands.

The Netherlands imposed strict trade protections on cloves and nutmeg, prohibiting any private merchants from smuggling them out of the country. Driven by huge profits, countless Spanish, Ming Dynasty, and even Muslim adventurers took the risk of sneaking into the small islands on the edge of Maluku to buy spices hidden by the locals and then secretly transport them to the Philippines by small boats for sale.

The hidden compartments at the bottom of the ship's hold were pried open one by one, revealing boxes of rare goods tightly wrapped in tarpaulins.

The wooden box was piled high with plump, dark brown nutmeg kernels, nutmeg skins with a dark red sheath, and bunches of dry, firm clove buds.

In an instant, a stimulating aroma filled the entire boat.

The soldiers' eyes lit up, and they exclaimed in hushed tones.

This shipment of smuggled spices was substantial, consisting of top-tier, highly profitable goods from Southeast Asia. Had it entered the market, it would have been worth at least 100,000 pesos. Unfortunately, it encountered a Dutch privateer and ultimately became VOC's spoils.

The captain immediately ordered that all smuggled spices be confiscated, sealed, stored, registered, and taken back to Ambon Port for confiscation.

After the inventory was completed, the next step was to deal with the prisoners and the wrecked ships.

The captain coldly issued the final order.

"Confiscate all weapons and strip the prisoners of all their possessions. Allow them to board any of the lifeboats on board and row themselves away from the shore to escape."

After hearing this, the Spanish sailors' eyes glazed over and their heads hung low.

During the Age of Exploration, the best outcome for captured sailors was to be used as spoils of war in exchange for ransom; this privilege was reserved for high-ranking prisoners such as captains.

Secondly, being captured and enslaved was tough, but at least their lives were guaranteed.

Another option is to be thrown onto a lifeboat and drift away into the turbulent Pacific Ocean. If you're unlucky enough to encounter a storm, you're doomed, unless you manage to reach the shore or encounter other friendly vessels before the storm hits.

The worst outcome would be exile, being stranded on a deserted island with no water or food, and no ships passing by for several days. In that case, the only option would be to become a mummy and wait for future archaeologists to collect it.

At this moment, the Spanish sailors were repeatedly making the sign of the cross, praying that they could be rescued before encountering a major storm.

Under pressure from the Dutch sailors, the prisoners hurriedly squeezed onto four lifeboats and rowed away from the sinking merchant ship, not daring to look back for even a moment.

Once all the small boats had sailed out of the safe waters, the Dutch soldiers immediately carried out the order to burn the boats.

Oil was poured onto the hull, and embers were thrown down.

In an instant, a raging fire engulfed the entire Spanish merchant ship. Flames spread wildly along the wooden planks, devouring the deck, cabins, and masts. The crackling of the flames echoed across the sea, and billowing black smoke blotted out the sun. The wrecked hull gradually deformed and cracked in the fire, finally listing heavily and slowly sinking into the deep blue sea, carrying with it the remaining debris.

The flames on the sea gradually died down, leaving only floating charred wood chips and a faint smell of smoke.

All traces were erased.

The fleet turned around, laden with rich spoils, and sped back towards Ambon, the port of the Spice Islands.

On the return journey, the captain asked William about his life in the years since the shipwreck.

William had already thought about it countless times in his mind, and his answer was flawless.

He didn't even hide things like Adams building ships for the Ryukyu people.

The captain exclaimed in surprise:

"That damned Englishman, I knew he couldn't be trusted. He's making galleons for these oriental monkeys, which is creating a competitor for our company."

After condemning Adams's actions, the captain formally finalized the appointment with William.

"We have now taken control of the Spice Islands, but those damned natives continue to rebel against the company's will. The islands are rife with hoarding of spices, tax evasion, smuggling, and even collusion with the Portuguese. The territory desperately needs reliable people to collect taxes and generate profits for us."

The captain looked at William, his tone resolute:

"You are a registered sailor of this country, and you have been stranded for many years. You still took the initiative to come to us. Such courage must be rewarded."

I recommend you to serve as a tax inspector at the Spice Islands Governor's Office. You can teach those damned natives a lesson for us. After you've paid the company's required taxes, all the remaining profits are yours.

If you don't want to work anymore, you can work for a while longer to save enough money for a ship ticket and return to Rotterdam.

The Dutch captain clearly did not fully trust William. Given William's merits, it would be unfair to make him a low-ranking sailor, raising questions about the unequal distribution of rewards and punishments.

But if we rashly grant him a higher position, what if he's just playing a "ruse" and is actually a Spanish spy?

After much thought, giving him a minor official position on land was the safest option.

William solemnly knelt on one knee and said, "Thank you for your guidance. I will certainly do my duty, fulfill the company's tax obligations, be loyal to God, and never betray your trust."

During this process, Chen Shouyi, who was William's only personal servant and followed him through his wanderings, rejoining the ranks, and making contributions, was naturally included in the ranks of public servants.

The Dutch didn't even conduct any investigation or inventory of Chen Shouyi. To them, these East Asian people with yellow skin were not considered human beings, and their intelligence was not even capable of thinking about being spies. Therefore, no one had the slightest suspicion of him.

In the eyes of all the Dutch officers and soldiers, he was just a taciturn, hardworking, and obedient East Asian servant. He knew nothing about Western politics or naval tactics, and his daily tasks consisted only of sweeping, washing clothes, and running errands. He was the most trustworthy low-level servant in the eyes of all the colonists.

On the day of arrival at Ambon Port, the sea breeze carried the sweet fragrance of lilacs.

The harbor was filled with fortified guns, and the Red Stone Fortress stretched along the coast, with the Dutch flag fluttering fiercely in the sky. Within the harbor, warships were densely moored, and merchant ships came and went in an endless stream. The island was dotted with layers upon layers of lush spice groves.

This forbidden land, which had been locked down by Dutch artillery fire, coveted by the whole world, and suffocated by strict blockade, was finally fully unfolded before Chen Shouyi's eyes.

Landing, entering the office, settling down.

……

The winds of Ambon Island carry the lingering, cool fragrance of lilacs year-round.

Several months have passed since William and Chen Shouyi officially became citizens of the Dutch Colonial Office and settled in the Spice Islands.

William was given the authority of a lower-level tax collector in the VOC, overseeing seven indigenous villages along the southwestern mountainside of Ambon Island, encompassing most of the mountainside lilac forests and valley nutmeg plantations.

With the power to levy taxes, investigate, and punish, and his military achievements to back him up, he became increasingly unscrupulous within the colonial system.

As agreed with Chen Shouyi, he fully displayed the condescending tyranny, arrogance, and cruelty of a colonizer.

The Dutch East India Company's spice tax was already extremely harsh.

By 1610, the Spice Islands were no longer a paradise where the indigenous people lived freely.

The East India Company stipulated that each household in Ambon had to pay 1 bahar (about 180–200 kg) of dried cloves per year; based on the clove tree, each tree produced about 1.5–2 kg of dried cloves per year, and to pay the full amount, it would be necessary to collect hundreds of clove trees.

The purchase price was only 56 riyals, which translates to about 150 kilograms of grain.

The conversion rate based on grain alone seems pretty good.

However, this price was a uniform purchase price set by the East India Company. Since the salaries of the lower-level tax inspectors were meager, their income depended entirely on how much they could negotiate a lower price.

In reality, the money received is often less than one-fifth of the acquisition price.

The situation is similar for nutmeg. If you grow nutmeg, each household can produce 200 kg of nutmeg and 20 kg of nutmeg skins per year. The purchase price is approximately 100-150 riyals.

After layers of exploitation, the indigenous farmers barely have enough to eat for a year.

In order to gather these spices, the indigenous people had no time to grow their own food, and many farmlands were even forcibly converted into spice plantations by the Dutch.

The tragedy of sheep eating people has been repeated in the Spice Islands.

The indigenous people, already exploited at every level, often suffer from reduced spice production due to floods during the rainy season and withered trees during the dry season. Every year, some villages are unable to pay their taxes in full.

For ordinary officials, the deadline for payment might be extended or the payment period postponed.

But William would never.

He knew that he was a foreigner who had surrendered and had a shallow foundation. If he wanted to gain a foothold in the Dutch bureaucracy, he had to be more ruthless and stricter than the local officials in order to show his superiors that he was "loyal and capable and decisive in killing".

As a result, he turned the tax administration of the seven villages into a brutal and oppressive system.

Every day at the crack of dawn, while the morning mist still shrouded the layers of lush green forests, William would go to the countryside with two armed Dutch auxiliary soldiers and Chen Shouyi following closely behind to inspect and collect taxes.

William rode his horse with an upright posture and a cold, hard expression. His black colonial official uniform accentuated his sinister and sharp eyes.

Chen Shouyi walked alongside the horse, dressed in plain clothes and shoes, holding a leather ledger, charcoal pencil, and registration wooden sign in his hands, always with his head bowed and eyes downcast, quiet and silent.

To outsiders, he was just an East Asian servant by William's side who only knew how to keep accounts, obey orders, and do odd jobs. He had no authority, no joy or anger, and was merely the shadow of his master.

He could see the true nature of everyone's hearts and minds in the entire Xianglin community.

On the day of tax collection, the village is always filled with a sense of oppressive fear.

The indigenous villagers gathered early in the village square, men, women, and children standing with their heads bowed, holding neatly bundled dried cloves and plump nutmeg kernels in their arms, trembling as they awaited inspection. Their skin was dark, their feet bare, and their hands and feet were covered with wounds from years of working in the humid forest. Their eyes reflected the numbness and fear etched on their faces by years of exploitation.