Retreat (5)

"Captain, I didn't realize those Ireland were so rich! They can just knock off so much money with a single tap," a military policeman said to the captain. As he spoke, he glanced sideways at Jarvis and his men.

"Exactly, that's enough for our whole village to go out for a meal," another military policeman said, licking his lips.

"Hack, you're really spineless," the military police captain said. "Think about it, those guys can easily be extorted by us and they can come up with fifteen or sixteen pounds, and in gold coins no less. What does that tell you?"

As he spoke, the military police captain took out a one-pound gold coin and tossed it in the air. The coin tumbled upwards and then plummeted downwards, a ray of sunlight shining through the hole in the sail illuminating the coin before it tumbled, making it gleam.

A one-pound gold coin in that era weighed approximately eight grams, though considering purity, the actual gold content was probably a little over seven grams. For the average worker, a month's income was around three pounds. Female workers might earn less than two pounds a month, while child laborers might only receive one pound. Military police, of course, earned more, receiving one pound per week in pay, and with combat allowances, their weekly pay reached 1.5 pounds. This amounted to six pounds a month—considered middle-class income.

Of course, this is only theoretical income, because the economic situation is bad, and even the genuine British Army is now starting to default on its pay.

"What does that mean?" Hack still didn't understand the captain's meaning.

"Did you know? The Duke of Norfolk owns a golden retriever." The captain, seemingly unaware of the context, brought up an unrelated matter. "I saw him take this dog hunting. He shot down a wild duck, and the dog ran over and brought it back for him. That dog is so gentle and beautiful, far superior to Robson's silly dog that chases after cats."

Mentioning Robson's silly dog made everyone laugh.

"Later, I went to a pet shop in London to visit a friend. There, I saw a dog that looked almost exactly like it. Out of curiosity, I asked my friend about the price. Guess how much a hunting dog like that would cost?" the captain asked.

"How much?" Hack asked.

"You guess!"

"Fifty pounds? Captain Smith, am I right?" another military policeman said.

"You bunch of country bumpkins who've never seen the world!" Captain Smith said. "The selling price alone is about four hundred and fifty pounds, plus the professional training fees, it'll be about two hundred pounds. Ha, that's a lot of money, isn't it? But for rich people, it's just the price of a dog. Think about it, these guys can casually pull out fifteen or sixteen pounds, what does that say?"

"Ah, Captain, I understand!" a military policeman exclaimed in sudden realization. Then, realizing his voice might have been too loud, he quickly lowered it, covered his mouth with his hand, and glanced sideways at Jarvis and his men.

"Captain!" he whispered, "You mean these guys are all rich, so they don't care about this little bit of money?"

"Leonard, you've finally figured it out," Captain Smith said in a low voice as well.

"But they carry all their money with them?" Leonard asked again.

"Who knows," Captain Smith said. "But look at that guy, see his belt? It's thick, it's digging into his waist. There's probably something wrong with it. And look at him, all wet from the sea, he took off his shirt and laid it out, but he didn't take off his pants, to avoid us noticing something wrong with his belt. And look at that guy over there. He's taken off his shirt and pants, but he won't take off his shoes. And look at the way he walks, those shoes are probably something wrong with them too. And..."

As Captain Smith pointed out the odd things about each of the men, everyone's eyes turned yellow, as if countless gold coins were glittering inside.

"Captain, how about we..." another military policeman said in a low voice. His voice was as deep as a hyena howling in the dead of night, and his eyes gleamed with a predatory light.

"Yeah, anyway, the ship is full of our people, and nobody knows they boarded our ship."

"The crew knows," someone said.

"Who would want to cause trouble for a few Ireland if they were given hush money?"

The group spoke in increasingly lower voices, their eyes growing more and more menacing.

Jarvis, however, paid no attention to any of this. He took off his wet shirt and spread it out on a wooden tub, waiting for the sun and sea breeze to dry it. His trousers were also wet, but considering that taking them off might reveal the secret hidden in his belt, he decided to keep them on. Fortunately, the gold coins in the belt were waterproof, and the land deeds for the properties in the belt were wrapped in oiled paper from the Confederation of the Rhine, making them equally waterproof.

The wet trousers were naturally uncomfortable, but far from the flames of war in Ireland, and finally on a ship bound for spring... ah, for Britain, Jarvis's heart was filled with happiness. He had money in his belt, a full 10 kilograms of gold coins, and several properties.

"Once I'm in Britain, I can finally live a peaceful and comfortable life," Jarvis thought, feeling the sky was so blue, the sunshine so warm, and the sea breeze so gentle... Then he thought of the house he had bought in Britain.

"I have a house facing the sea, where spring is warm and flowers bloom..." Jarvis's happiness was almost overflowing. He almost wanted to cheer and tell his family and everyone else about the lightning bolt of happiness.

Like Jarvis, the other "die-hard traitors" were also immersed in the happiness of surviving a near-death experience, and they were all looking forward to a happy life in the future. Like Jarvis, they had also exchanged a lot of money for the blood of their compatriots, much more than Judas had obtained; similarly, the land they bought in Britain with this money was much larger than the blood-soaked land of Judas.

Now these guys are lazily sunbathing and enjoying the sea breeze on the deck, but they don't hear the ominous cries of blood emanating from their gold.

While Jarvis and his men were dreaming about the future, the military police on board were also communicating with each other. The ship wasn't large, and now it was packed with about a dozen sailors, more than thirty military police, and eight "die-hard traitors."

Soon, the military police learned that these "die-hard traitors" were all big targets. After discussing it, they all felt this was God's blessing upon them. As the saying goes, "What God gives you, you cannot refuse." Refusing God's kindness might—no, it certainly would—have bad consequences. So, their opinions quickly reached a consensus. Then the sailors joined in, also expressing their willingness to accept God's goodwill.

Therefore, having religious faith is a wonderful thing. Because no matter what you do, you can always blame it on the gods.

"Captain, let's get started!" Leonard was impatient, so he always said that.

"Don't rush, they can't escape anyway," Captain Smith said. "However, they must have their valuables with them. They're all on deck. If we just attack them directly, and they jump into the sea, what if we don't get anything? That would be a loss! So we need to think of a way to get them all down into the hold, and then we can kill them there to make sure we get the money!"

"We were only allowed on deck originally, but now if we let them down, they'll likely become suspicious since they have money on them," Captain Zillings said. "I'd rather claim the ship is leaking and we need everyone's help, then we can take them off the ship. We can then control them, get the money, and get rid of them."

The suggestion received unanimous support, and the matter was settled. By afternoon, the sun had already begun to set in the west, and all the ships in the retreating fleet were faster than this old vessel. So, at this point, only this lone ship remained on the vast sea.

By this time, Jarvis's clothes and pants were dry. They were just covered in a layer of white salt, and not very comfortable to wear. However, compared to the happiness that was about to arrive, this was nothing.

At that moment, a military policeman, drenched in sweat, came up from below deck. He'd barely peeked out when he shouted, "Get down! Get down and help... This damn ship is leaking! Damn it, get down and help, and you damn Ireland! Get down here right now!"

Since it was the Japanese commander's order, the "die-hard traitors" naturally had to obey. Several of them had no doubts and followed him into the cabin. Compared to the outside, the cabin was quite dark, and the people who had just gone down could hardly see anything.

In the pitch black, a hand grasped Jarvis's wrist. Jarvis assumed the person was worried he might fall and was reaching out to help him. So, even though the other person might not be able to see clearly in the dark, he still smiled and said thank you.

However, the man ignored all of that, grabbed his hand and twisted it violently behind his back. Another person pounced on him, grabbed his other hand, and then the two of them together forced him to the ground.

"Sir, sir, I'm one of our own! One of our own!" Jarvis shouted, clinging to a sliver of hope. But the man holding him down ignored him, reaching out to his waist, unbuckling his belt, and then pulling it away.