Chapter 7: What Are Great Ming Sea Bandits?
“Is there really such a thing?” Lin Qian was somewhat incredulous.
In the Thirty-first Year of Wanli, the Battle of Sarhū had not yet begun, and Great Ming’s national power was at its peak.
Was the sea defense already so weak at that time?
They didn’t even dare to fight back against mere hundreds of Spaniards?
Lu Dongzhu nodded dejectedly: “In my opinion, even the sea bandits seen by the Imperial Court have more backbone than that old emperor in the capital city.”
He was over forty, had lived overseas for a long time, knew he would hardly return to Great Ming in this life, and his wariness of the Wanli Emperor in his words was far less than his wariness of the Spaniards.
Hearing the words sea bandit, Lin Qian perked up his ears and asked nonchalantly: “What do you mean?”
“Lin Laodi, do you know Lin Feng?”
Among late Ming sea bandits, the only one Lin Qian could call familiar was Zheng Zhilong.
He also knew names of others like Li Dan, Yan Siqi, Liu Xiang, etc., but as for Lin Feng, he had never heard of him.
This wasn’t because Lin Qian had shallow knowledge; Chinese history always favored grand narratives without dwelling on details, so many brilliant statesmen were glossed over, let alone a mere sea bandit.
“In the second year of Wanli, Lin Feng led over four thousand troops into Manila, once storming the Governor’s Mansion, but unfortunately was finally jointly attacked by Franks and the Great Ming Imperial Court, falling short at the last step…”
Lu Dongzhu seemed quite regretful in his words.
Luzon Han People both feared and hated Franks, were utterly disappointed in the Great Ming Imperial Court, so no wonder they saw sea bandit Lin Feng as a savior.
In contrast, the Great Ming Imperial Court was willing to send troops against one sea bandit but turned a deaf ear to the massacre of thirty thousand subjects, which was truly ironic.
Lin Qian sighed along with Lu Dongzhu for a while, then steered the topic back to sea bandits.
Speaking of it, Great Ming sea bandits were completely different from Western pirates.
The most famous Western Caribbean Sea pirates were usually single-ship gangs, captains elected by crew members, and plundered treasure divided proportionally among all crew members.
Chinese sea bandits were more like armed merchant groups, with numerous ships and subordinates, and a more complex, reasonable, sustainable distribution system.
This was why one sea bandit could gather over four thousand troops and nearly topple the Spanish colonial regime.
Historical sea bandit king Zheng Zhilong commanded tens of thousands, controlled entire seas, no different from feudal lords or warlords.
In terms of fame, Caribbean Sea pirates were renowned.
But in organization and combat power, Caribbean Sea pirates probably weren’t worthy to carry shoes for Great Ming sea bandits.
After Lu Dongzhu finished telling Lin Qian about Lin Feng’s exploits, he introduced local customs and traditions of Luzon and Nanyang.
Lin Qian kept prompting Lu Dongzhu, all questions at key points, and Lu Dongzhu felt they chatted more and more congenially.
They talked nonstop for an hour and a half, refilled tea three times, and called a shop assistant to brew fresh tea.
Near noon, he even wanted to keep Lin Qian for lunch.
Lin Qian couldn’t refuse and had to stay.
The lunch arranged by Lu Dongzhu had strong local flavor.
Staple was coconut milk rice, sides included tamarind sour soup fish, shrimp corn crumb pancakes, charcoal-grilled pork with chili sour sauce, etc., mainly sour-sweet with mild spice.
Besides local ingredients, it used many American crops like corn and chili, and plenty of precious spices like Nanyang pepper and nutmeg.
This meal, ordinary in later times, was a feast in this era.
Bai Langzai had never seen most foods on the table and devoured them like a storm sweeping clouds.
After lunch, Lu Dongzhu kept Lin Qian for tea until afternoon before parting.
“Lin Brothers, rest assured, all goods and payment will arrive at the dock tomorrow.” As he left, Lu Dongzhu cupped hands in assurance.
Lin Qian smiled and bid Lu Dongzhu farewell, then headed to the Royal City.
Bai Langzai said: “This isn’t the way back to the dock.”
“I want to stroll the city and buy some things.”
“Why not buy from Lu Dongzhu?”
“The things I want are somewhat sensitive.”
Though Lin Qian and Lu Dongzhu called each other brothers, merchants often spoke deeply on shallow acquaintance; better to wait for time to reveal character.
Bai Langzai fell silent, and Lin Qian led him into the Royal City.
The Royal City lay within a ring of European-style walls, Manila’s inner city where Spaniards mostly gathered.
Entering the gate showed clear difference: passersby were all Spaniards in ruff-collar shirts, hardly any Han faces.
Streets flanked by mostly Baroque stone buildings: residences or various bars.
As if instantly on Madrid’s streets.
Spaniards loved drinking and gathering; all sorts congregated in bars, good for intelligence.
But daylight now meant sparse crowds at bar doors; they’d liven after dark.
Lin Qian headed straight to the city’s tallest church.
Churches usually had shops selling religious items like Bibles.
“Do you have paper and pens?” Lin Qian asked. Western European churches differed from commoners by holding knowledge, so paper and pens were church-sold.
The old priest in the shop glanced at Lin Qian, slightly surprised.
Great Ming folk used brushes and rice paper, so few bought quill pens and linen paper here.
“Paper and pens only for God’s people,” the old priest said firmly.
Lin Qian smiled: “I was baptized three years ago, Christian name Raphael. Also, a cross please, respected priest.”
Chinese traditionally worshiped all gods, believing whichever showed spirit.
For his goal, Lin Qian didn’t mind temporarily embracing the Lord.
Learning Lin Qian was Catholic, the old priest joyfully produced the items: “Quill pen one peso each, linen paper one rial per sheet, cross half rial.”
Lin Qian placed silver coins on the table, just exchanged that morning.
Compared to brushes and rice paper, quill pens and linen paper were far pricier.
But he couldn’t use brushes; on rocking ships they were inconvenient, rinsing consumed precious freshwater, rice paper hated damp.
Overall, Spaniards’ writing tools suited sea voyages better.
Lin Qian spent eleven pesos total: five pens, one ink bottle, over forty paper sheets.
With easy-writing paper and pens, recording sea logs was far simpler.
In this era without nautical clocks, only sea logs recorded voyages to estimate longitude.
Navigation blended courage and wisdom, needing math, geography, astronomy; without recording sea logs, using sextants, compasses, lunar distance, basic geometry, mere guts and experience meant doom at sea.
Lin Qian left the church, wearing the cross on his chest.
In Spaniards’ turf, a cross eased actions.
Now short one sextant.
In later times a teaching tool, here absolute high-tech.
So advanced Lin Qian unsure if invented yet.
Manila shipyards didn’t sell navigation gear outside; try general stores, pawnshops.
Strolled till near dusk.
No sextant, but two single-tube telescopes, four sea charts of Manila area, several Spanish sea logs.
Still bountiful harvest.
Silver pesos nearly spent; hurrying to dock, sudden hourly bell.
Dong dong dong… exactly seventeen from church afar.
Lin Qian startled, looked: clock tower loomed, hour hand at Roman five.
Lin Qian’s eyes brightened; nautical clocks gauged longitude by local-Greenwich time difference.
With era’s pendulum clocks, minor tweaks for double-pendulum symmetry could birth first nautical clock.
Though accuracy minorly short, vs astrolabe Westerners or needle-road song Great Ming folk, precise as GPS.
