British hegemon

Chapter 75 The Abandoned Workshop

It was not yet noon when we came out of the Baron's Castle.

Roger led Olaf and the young horseman to the large pond on the outskirts of Brodick town to conduct a site survey of the former workshop area of ​​Arlen Island.

Around the large pond, there were about a dozen tall houses. Of course, the term "tall" was relative to the thatched cottages of the farmers. Some of the houses were supported by thick timbers that extended into the pond.

A cobblestone alleyway leads from the town to the Shuitangfang residential area, where two workshops survive in the area closest to the town.

One of them was a wool binding and processing workshop, but since the peak season for wool trading had passed, the workshop was temporarily converted into a dyeing and bleaching workshop.

The dyeing workshop was built of stone, but it had no interior walls or floors—it was just an outer shell. Two large iron pots were placed over a large fire, and next to each pot was a lifting frame used to lift large bags of wool and lower them into the dyeing vat.

The ground was always damp, the air was thick with steam, and the filthy apprentices, barefoot and wearing rough undershirts, were all sweating profusely, their hair dripping wet.

A spicy smell shot straight to the back of Roger's and his companions' throats, and they quickly stepped forward.

These few quick steps did not save them from their misery; the tanning workshop was right in front of the dyeing workshop.

Compared to the heavy, nauseating stench of the slaughterhouse and tanning plantation, the smell of the dyehouse was quite refreshing.

The smells and filth here are intolerable to the town's prominent residents, despite the fact that this place generates some of the island's limited industrial wealth.

Roger wasn't disgusted, but he really didn't want to linger. Under the astonished gazes of the craftsmen and apprentices, he quickly walked towards the inner side of the pond.

The pungent stench gradually faded, while a pervasive, rotten smell filled Roger's nostrils once again.

The smell might not be that strong, but everywhere you looked, there was definitely an aura of decay and decline.

In the past, men and women worked in every workshop courtyard here, doing jobs that required a lot of water: washing wood, tanning leather, starching or dyeing fabrics. Even woolen workshops were located here.

Now, the abandoned courtyard houses, which have been abandoned for many years, are overgrown with weeds that are half a person tall.

Vines have climbed up the eaves of some walls, the roof tiles are cracked due to lack of maintenance, and rainwater has eroded the walls with grooves.

The wooden beams of several houses broke and began to collapse, and many more houses had their walls, wooden planks, and roof beams stolen by unscrupulous townspeople and used as firewood.

Wild cats, dogs, and rats have made this place their home, raising several generations of families here.

Roger had visited this place when he last met with Baron John to discuss trade with them in the south. He had inspected all seven or eight abandoned workshops, and found that most of the buildings were still intact, which would save a lot of money compared to rebuilding new workshops.

However, only two places can be put into use after slight repairs.

One of the sites, located near the water intake of a pond, was originally a textile workshop, with two courtyards adjacent to the irrigation canal.

Another location, at the downstream outlet of the pond, is a specialized dyeing workshop. The two large pots we saw in the binding workshop and dyeing workshop were originally two of the many iron pots in that large dyeing workshop.

Pushing open the door of the textile workshop, clouds of dust fell. Roger waved his hand, "Much better than last time, at least I wasn't buried in dust."

Arriving at the inlet of the pond and entering the workshop, this courtyard was built for wool spinning. The front courtyard was where the wool was washed and beaten, while the main building's spinning room was large enough to accommodate at least twenty spinning and weaving machines and the female textile workers operating them at the same time.

The front yard is the work area, while the back yard is smaller and mainly used for storing raw materials such as wool and bleach, as well as providing a place for textile workers to rest and eat.

Of course, this two-courtyard house has now been repeatedly ransacked by local thugs, including the bald man with the ponytail, and unscrupulous townspeople. Almost everything that was not taken or sold by the original owner has been looted.

The only evidence that this place was once a textile workshop are the large stone troughs used for bleaching cloth, broken bleaching rods, wooden poles used for drying woolen fabrics, and the woolen threads embedded in the soil.

"Sir, there's nothing here. How much money would it cost to turn it into a textile workshop? And how much time would it take to make money for you?" Olaf didn't want to dampen the enthusiasm, but the reality before him made him unable to hold back.

"No, no, Olaf, this courtyard has already saved me a lot of money. With just a little repair, some equipment, and some recruiting craftsmen, it will be up and running soon."

"As for making a profit, that's only a matter of time."

"The sooner this matter is settled, the better. After returning to the manor this time, I will have the old butler do it. There are quite a few women on the island who know how to weave. Anyway, they don't have much land at home, so they might as well do nothing. I will recruit them to work."

"Textile equipment is a bit difficult to obtain, but Glasgow has so many textile workshops, we can always find some equipment in exchange."

Roger knew that expecting the textile workshop to make money at the moment was pure nonsense, but he still decided to invest some money to repair the workshop, purchase some equipment, and then ask a few islanders who had worked as textile workers to try to resume production.

We're not looking to make money; our main goal is to cultivate and attract technical talent.

Some things must be planned and arranged in advance.

After leaving the abandoned textile workshop, the group went to the dye house near the outlet of the pond.

There is no courtyard here, just a large wooden house. The iron pots and other utensils are long gone, leaving only some earthen stoves piled up in the empty space.

Roger plans to use the large house as a "heavy industry" factory, utilizing the water stored in the pond to build a water-powered heavy processing workshop.

Roger only had a rough idea of ​​how to use water as a power source, so it was too early to explain it in detail to the two people beside him.

He dusted himself off, dipped his hands into a puddle and rubbed them a couple of times, and said, "Alright, let's go to the Moulin Rouge. I'll treat you to a night of wine and women."

Olaf didn't know what "flower wine" was, but the bright lights and bustling Moulin Rouge were something he longed for.

The young horseman was no child, and he was well aware of his master's inappropriate manners, but the wine and food at the Moulin Rouge were so delicious that he couldn't bear to refuse.

Mrs. Kate, the manager of the Moulin Rouge, personally received Roger, which was a very high honor. It should be noted that Mrs. Kate usually does not personally appear except for Baron John and some dignitaries.

Roger had a good impression of Mrs. Kate, finding her alluring yet refined, with a sharp, worldly-wise look in her eyes.

Twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old is a bit old for a young man who has just turned twenty, but Roger's body contains the soul of a man in his thirties. Therefore, compared to the seventeen or eighteen-year-old waitresses, Roger is more interested in the still charming Mrs. Kate in front of him.

Unfortunately, rumors circulated that she was Baron John's mistress, and Roger dared not act recklessly at the moment.

"Sir Roger, what do you think of my suggestion?" A soft, gentle voice pulled Roger back from his daze.

Olaf was pretending to drink while suppressing a laugh, and the young horseman also had a strange expression.

Roger then realized he had been staring blankly at Mrs. Kate's chest while holding the empty wine glass, and quickly shifted his gaze, asking without a hint of embarrassment, "What suggestion did you give while you were so engrossed in the scenery?"

Mrs. Kate was quite generous; she puffed out her chest, leaned forward, and filled Roger's empty wine glass with wine from the earthenware jar. "I asked if I could buy some refined salt from your Milk House Estate to resell. Several wealthy merchants from outside the island have recently tasted food made with this refined salt and praised it highly; they want to buy some."

With commerce on the Isle of Arran declining and the Moulin Rouge's business getting worse every day, it seems that Mrs. Kate is looking for other options.

Or is this what Baron John meant?

The main market for refined salt from the sea salt flats is currently the southern countries, and the northern market is estimated to be small, and will shrink even more when war breaks out. But even a small amount is still something, so Roger readily agreed.

Mrs. Kate looked pleased.

"But you don't need to buy from Milk House Manor and resell it. I can let you act as my agent for the salt market of traveling merchants on Arun Island. You can pick up the goods directly from my salt workshop, and we'll split the net profit 30/70."

"Net profit? 30/70 split?" Mrs. Kate looked completely bewildered.

Roger then realized he had miswritten the code and explained, "It means that after deducting the production cost of refined salt, which is roughly a quarter penny per pound (and will decrease in the future), I will take seven-tenths of the net profit, and you will take three-tenths."

Mrs. Kate, being from the big city and worldly-wise, knew that the refined salt produced by Milk House Estate must be very profitable; a 30% profit share was already quite substantial. "Everyone, this lunch is on me," she said, thus agreeing to the offer.

"Mrs. Kate, you should also invite Lord Roger to dinner," Olaf said with a smile, deliberately emphasizing the word "dinner."

"It seems the Olaf brothers are eyeing dinner at the Moulin Rouge. Alright, I'll treat all three of you." Mrs. Kate, having secured a lucrative deal, was naturally generous.

"Um, sir, I won't be having dinner. I have to go to the salt flats this afternoon to register the refined salt we've been making lately." The young horseman was already considered a man in this era, and being quick-witted, he naturally knew what the "dinner" they were talking about meant.

Actually, he was somewhat eager for it, but also a little embarrassed, so he made up an excuse to avoid "dinner".

"Alright, go to the church later and pick up young master Louis and bring him back to the manor." Roger had no intention of rushing the groom's growth.

After lunch, they needed to rest for a while before they could eat "dinner," so the group chatted and laughed for a while longer.

Roger inquired about outside news from Mrs. Kate, intentionally or unintentionally. The Moulin Rouge was a bustling hub of activity, so its sources of information were naturally more readily available than in other places.

When Roger mentioned that he was going to reopen his wool processing workshop but was struggling to find enough help, Mrs. Kate suggested that he consult Jenny.

"Who is Jenny?" Roger seemed not to have heard of the name.

Mrs. Kate glanced at him. "And all that time she served you for several nights, and you don't even know her real name."