"Whish whoosh!..."
The raging fire devoured the thatched village. The rising smoke could be seen clearly from the entire island. The Portuguese patiently waited for half a day, but ultimately, the natives did not walk into the trap, only the faint sound of crying drifted from the jungle. Perhaps the fear from the cannon was too intense, or maybe the village was too small to gather enough manpower to resist.
"Damn! These damned natives! If it weren't for that sinister Black Oil Lake... Even if they hid in the forest... they wouldn't escape!"
The Portuguese sailors transported the food found in the village onto the ship, adding a few days' supply. If not for the "sinister" nature of the Black Oil Lake, they surely would have gone ashore for a thorough hunt!
With the terrain of such archipelagos, the Portuguese fleet held an overwhelming advantage over the natives on each island. The fleet could easily sever connections between the islands, leaving small islands with no room for maneuver and unable to gather enough manpower to resist. The colonizers' slaughter of the island's natives was like catching a bird in a cage, with absolutely no obstacles. And killing in the na of the Almighty would never be in short supply...
"Holy Mother protect! May your souls be saved by the Lord's rcy!..."
The Lesser Antilles, like a string of clear coordinates, guided the fleet further north. After completing a simple sea burial, Bruno again counted the sailors.
On this long journey, five were lost in the storm, four on the Black Oil Island, leaving the original fifty-four-mber fleet with only forty-four, including a native guide. As for the newly captured prisoners, they were not considered people, but rather laboring hands and reserve food.
"May the Lord protect! This is ocean voyage… the bravest pressing on without fear, for faith and loyalty!"
Of course, such slogans were only effective for the upper ranks of the fleet. In ocean voyages, the lower-level sailors were re expendables, sacrifices must be offered to the Sea God in the pursuit of wealth and new routes. Unlike the captain and core crew, of the lower-level sailors, only a finger among a handful could survive until retirent. To control such a group without a future, without faith, and utterly ruthless, it was necessary to train them like hunting dogs!
"Sailors are the captain's hounds, bound by strict discipline, maintaining their hunger, yet uplift their spirits by occasionally feasting them well, as wealth, slaughter, and won were the ans to boost morale… but everything should be under the captain's command, never allowing the hounds to act on their own, turning into wild dogs!..."
Bruno stood at the bow, recalling Dias's guidance. The Portuguese fleet's mariti discipline stood significantly higher than those of Spain's two kingdoms at that ti. The key to maintaining this discipline was the establishnt of strict hierarchical obedience and the organization of plunder with clarity in the division of spoils...
"After drifting at sea for three months and encountering this ambush, the fleet's morale had indeed descended to the point where action was needed!..."
The sailboat swiftly headed north, with the sea breeze bringing the scent from afar. Bruno squinted his eyes, watching the approaching northern island, a cold smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. For he saw several native canoe boats, and a native coastal village should be here.
"Full sail, increase speed! Sink these boats to the seabed and capture two alive for interrogation! Rember to let one go, follow it, and find the native village!..."
"Ah! Forward!…"
Upon hearing such orders, the sailors imdiately beca elated, their morale rejuvenated. Soon, amidst the Caribbean's panic escape and cries, the flagship captured two alive. But after so interrogation, the two of them turned into corpses and were tossed back into the sea.
"Boss! They didn't understand the guide potato, have no clothes, no ironware, their fishing canoes are very crude... These barbaric natives are certainly unrelated to the Native Kingdom Columbus encountered!..."
"Hmm… Let's take a look at their village! Check the population and see if there's any military force… If not, after being restrained for so long, it's ti to excite the sailors a bit!…"
"Alright! Boss!…"
Soon, the Caribbean village appeared on the island's edge. This tribe was similar to the previous ones encountered, numbering around one to two hundred, with only dozens of strong n and a bunch of naked won and children. Seeing the fleet's appearance, the tribe did not flee imdiately; instead, it gathered dozens of strong n, holding stone spears, soft bows, and blowguns, attempting to resist.
"Hmm, a village without ironware, simple thatched huts, no clothes… It's ti to take action! Clean thoroughly, don't leave any escapee alive!..."
"Yes, captain!…"
"Bang bang bang!"
"Boom boom!"
"Aha! Kill all the n!…"
After a round of matchlock gun and cannon fire, the sailors eagerly jumped off the ship, scimitars in hand. The two ships divided into two directions, landing for an encirclent to prevent any native from escaping.
Bruno did not personally lead the team off the ship; as a noble captain, he had to maintain his dignity and composure, especially in front of the sailors. Seeing Sir Silvira personally leading, donned in steel breastplate, wielding the Knight's Cross Sword, slaughtering the natives ruthlessly, he sneered and muttered in disdain.
"Ha! Truly crude and barbaric! Just like those sheep-shagging Castilians!... We are naval nobility officers, how can we mix with these low-level sailors in such deeds?..."
The village resounded with shrill screams, then abruptly ceased, growing fewer. Then it was n's laughter, won's cries. Thereafter, all sounds once again vanished, leaving only the burning flas beneath the pure blue sky, turning every trace of wickedness into scattered ashes.
And a Caribbean village just disappeared entirely on the island. This disappearance was so complete: no witnesses, no records, not even a story left behind. As if, that rainbow lost on the horizon never existed...
"Ah Lord! The white sandy beach, the lush green forest, and the island's central small hill... truly a beautiful island it is! That small hill is a natural spot for a cannon turret, and the flat land beneath is quite suitable for building a fortress!..."
Bruno's gaze didn't linger long within the burning village nor did he look at those "hounds" who returned satisfied after stuffing themselves, carrying various shabby spoils. He rely watched the distant hills, sizing up this exploitable island with a professional eye. After a long while, he finally raised a satisfied smile.
This island had enough potential value to establish a decent port fortress! He decided to personally na the island, representing the Kingdom of Portugal in claiming this distant sea territory. As for the island's na…
"Holy Mother protect! The patron saint of Lisbon is Saint Vincent, and outside the city lies the highly influential Saint Vincent Monastery… Then, this first island of overseas royal conquest shall be nad 'Saint Vincent Island' in the Lord's na!..."
"Haha! This na would not only please the Church but Lord Joao surely would find it satisfactory. And my na should also be entered into the Saint Vincent Monastery posthumously, adding a piece of honor for posterity!..."
"Witness, O Lord! Craft a wooden cross, erect the mark of conquest! From today, this is the territory of the Kingdom of Portugal, Saint Vincent Island!"
Bruno prayed devoutly for the Almighty's glory and power. And the sailors, satisfied after their vent, felt uplifted with morale restored, their steps light-footed, even singing crude sailor ditties. But the songs soon were silenced; they were once again tightly chained like hounds, obediently following the captain's command. The na "Saint Vincent Island," carved in Portuguese on a wooden board, now stood on the prominent hill proclaiming the colonizers' occupation. Below the hill lay the native village turned to ashes.
From the Southern Continent to the New Continent, such things kept occurring, from before to now, and from now to long after. If the Spaniards had reached this island first, nothing would have been different: the sa slaughter, the sa destruction and occupation, just like in another stretch of history. They might've even used the sa na, to commorate "Saint Vincent," the Iberian Peninsula's jointly revered Christ Saint!
As for the island's original native na, "Youlouman" (Youloumain), "the beautiful island where the Rainbow God Youlou dwells," ultimately would fade away like the rainbow lost on the horizon, silently disappearing in the wind~
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