British hegemon

Chapter 112 The Trip to Wells

Chapter 112 The Trip to Wells

At this moment, the young horseman Igor, the weakling Gildonan, and two newly recruited business assistants also mustered their courage and boarded the Three Lions flag ship to begin taking inventory of the cargo.

Roger stopped them from their futile efforts, "No need to count anymore, all of these things, along with this merchant ship, are to be burned."

He spoke loudly enough that everyone on the ship heard him, and they all froze, unable to fathom Roger's intentions.

"Sir? Everything was burned? Including this ship and all these weapons and armor?"

"Yes! Apart from the payments for the goods, everything else was burned."

"Why?" Bald Neil voiced everyone's question.

"Because it is my order." Roger rarely used such a commanding tone without reason.

"Sir, these twenty bags of wool alone are worth eighty pounds. It's such a waste to burn them all." The newly recruited Mann also mustered up his courage to speak up. He stared at the wool piled up on the deck and in the cabin with a face full of regret.

"You can have all this wool, but you have to stay on this ship." Roger didn't mind making an example of this newcomer.

After these words were spoken, no one dared to say anything more.

Roger was tempted by the ship full of cargo and the weapons and armor of the guards, but the wool bindings and cloth bags had obvious markings, and the guards' clothing and weapons could easily expose their identities.

If someone with ulterior motives were to seize upon these flaws, the slightest carelessness could implicate his uncle Jeffrey or even bring about his own death.

Roger hardened his heart. "Penny wise, pound foolish. Take the gold and silver, and don't touch anything else. Marne and Olaf, you two, stay and watch everyone evacuate. I'll personally set the ship on fire."

Roger decided to have Marne and Olaf, who knew the whole story, supervise their men to prevent them from taking advantage of others.

The bald man, along with Earl with the ponytail and Sigurd the black dog, took all the gold and silver coins out of the barrel and transported them back to the Seawolf. A rough count showed that there were at least fifty-five pounds.

The others were naturally reluctant to part with the cargo and weapons and armor that filled the ship, so Roger had to publicly promise that, in order to make up for the losses, two-fifths of the gold and silver brought back to the Seawolf would be distributed to everyone.

Marne and Olaf stood guard by the gangplank, watching over the crew and soldiers as they retreated, preventing any greedy individuals from smuggling in their own goods.

The "sailor" stayed behind last, finishing off each of the corpses with a final blow. He then took out a flint and steel and set the wool on the ship ablaze. Only after the fire was fully blazing did he jump onto the gangplank and return to the Seawolf.

Flames gradually rose on the boat, and with the help of more than twenty bags of wool, they were quickly engulfed by the fire.

After some time, the ship began to sink, and the Seawolf only left when the tip of its main gun disappeared into the vast ocean.

According to Roger's plan, the Seawolf was to continue eastward. The "sailor" who had completed his mission asked Roger to dock and let him go.

Toran and the old fisherman rowed their boat closer to the shore. Before the "sailor" could disembark, Roger stopped him. "Buddy," Roger said, "I'm not one to keep things to myself. Whatever your master gave you, this is a token of my appreciation. Take it." Roger handed over a brown cloth purse containing a whole pound of silver.

The "sailor" wasn't one to mince words. He took the money pouch and held it in his hand. "Thank you, Lord Roger. My name is Gawain, a skinner from the outskirts of Dublin." With that, he flipped over the deck and leaped into the waves.

After three to five minutes, Roger spotted a figure among the jagged rocks not far away; it was "Sailor."

"A master!" Roger couldn't help but exclaim. "To jump like that in this freezing weather."

"How are the wounded?" Roger pulled his thoughts back.

"My lord, they are all minor injuries, no one will die," Olaf replied.

"The road ahead is still long, we can't be careless. Let's go check on the guys."

37

After leaving the ambush area, the Seawolf turned its bow and headed east.

Roger planned to secretly land in northern Wales while the English were staying home to avoid the cold winter.

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One reason was to see if they could bring Captain Tolan's family back to Arun Island, even though all that remained of his family was his mother, who sewed clothes for others in the flea-infested town.

Secondly, Roger also hoped to recruit some sailors in Wells who were skilled in steering and sailing, as he was about to focus his attention on land, and he needed some capable assistants for things at sea.

The trip to Wells went very smoothly.

Tolan had lived in this region since childhood and later worked as a sailor; there was no place along the entire Wells coast that he was unfamiliar with.

Led by this "local expert," the Seawolf successfully arrived at Lantedno Cape on the northeastern side of Anglesey Island in northern Wales, where Roger and his party were received by a distant uncle of Toland.

Sometimes luck is a very mysterious thing. During a casual conversation with his host, Roger learned that there were many mines on Cape Landideno, and these mines mainly mined a mineral called "malachite".

Malachite is a high-quality copper ore.

However, the mining caves on the cape have just been seized by a ruthless bandit named Grafard, one of the leaders of the Wells resistance.

They were said to be elite troops under Madog, son of Loirene, but were severely annihilated by the local English baron last autumn. They retreated to Cape Lantideno with only twenty or thirty remaining soldiers, barely surviving.

Roger originally intended to befriend this Grafard, but no one dared to introduce him.

Not far from the castle that the English were building, Roger, in unfamiliar and dangerous circumstances, dared not be too conspicuous and could only make a note of this person to tell another story in the future.

They stayed on the northern coast of Wales for a day and a half, picked up Toran's mother, and with Toran's help, recruited three Welsh sailors and two fleet guards. They had all made a living in Ireland, spoke basic Gaelic, and most importantly, they all harbored hatred towards the English.

With these men, along with a few fishermen from Ramrush, and Captain Toran and the first mate, an old fisherman, in charge of piloting the two ships, Roger would have a relatively reliable naval force.

The journey from Wales back to Ireland was unremarkable. It was the dead of winter, and shipping was slow; we didn't see a single ship on either of our two voyages.

Roger had to thank his uncle Jeffrey for giving him the opportunity to have a night of piracy; otherwise, the Seawolf's supposedly fruitful "pirate voyage" would most likely have ended empty-handed.

When Jeffrey arrived back at Skellys, he had already gone to Dublin to handle urgent matters, presumably indicating that his business war with his rivals had entered its second phase.

Jeffrey's butler gave Roger a warm welcome.

The rocky island was already stocked with all the goods on Roger's "list"—including 30,000 pounds of grains such as wheat, barley, oats, and rye; and raw materials for production such as refined iron, alum, red dye, indigo, sulfur, and nitrate, among which sulfur and nitrate were mainly used to make leather.

In addition, there are small amounts of spices such as pepper, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, as well as medicinal products such as aloe vera and senna leaves.

Sea pine resin, purple onion root, frankincense, as well as flavorings, oils, waxes, and fruit wines from Castellí vineyards.

After tasting the malt beer Roger brought from the Isle of Arran, Jeffrey felt that adding hops would make it taste even better. So he added a few bags of hops to the goods he sent to Roger and asked his steward to tell him that he could brew more high-quality malt beer to send to Ireland for trade next time.

These "free" goods cost more than thirty pounds to produce, and if sold in places like Glasgow, Scotland, the profit would at least double.

It has to be said that wealthy businessmen are indeed extravagant, or perhaps the cost of business competition is very high.

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