Novels online

Chapter 1092: Perfect Synergy

Chapter 1092: Perfect Synergy

After queuing for a full day and night, Mike and Sean finally received their land purchase application forms. There were simply too many people buying land, and even with the San Domingo government's clerks working fourteen hours a day, they could hardly keep up with the demand.

However, once they submitted their application to purchase eighteen acres of arable land, things began to move much more smoothly.

The San Domingo Department of Agriculture dispatched a dedicated official to assist them. From bank settlements to land surveys, the entire process was completed in less than ten days.

Soon after, Mike Grant took a walk around the docks and returned with over eighty robust Black laborers, all of whom had experience working on plantations.

Their wages were a mere two francs a month plus three meals a day. This was only because the San Domingo Parliament had mandated a minimum wage; otherwise, these men would have been willing to work for almost nothing.

Next came the purchase of agricultural tools and sugarcane seedlings, followed by a frantic rush to plant the crops.

To Mike Grant's surprise, after he and his workers finished the sowing, officials from the Port-au-Prince municipal government approached him. They informed him that for an experienced planter like himself, the government could provide an interest-free loan to help him purchase an additional ten acres of land.

It was a literal windfall!

What Mike Grant didn't know was that the French Crown Prince had promised the President of San Domingo, Ogé, that if the colony's sugarcane production increased by fifty percent this year, the latter would be granted a title of nobility.

Ogé was currently in a state of extreme excitement. Every day, he personally sent representatives to inspect the newly established plantations and inquired about the supply of tools, seedlings, and food to ensure the sowing went off without a hitch. That was a French peerage at stake! A president only served for a few years, but a title could be passed down through the Ogé family forever.

In reality, the plantation area in San Domingo had already expanded by more than thirty-five percent compared to the previous year. More people were still streaming in from all over the Caribbean.

With the existing plantations gradually shaking off the effects of the earlier social unrest and the abundance of labor, the goal of a fifty-percent increase was highly likely to be met.

Port-au-Prince.

Inside the presidential office, Ogé frowned at the report in his hand, speaking in French to the trade official before him. "Those shameless Americans. This is nothing short of extortion!"

According to the latest quotes from American grain merchants, the prices of corn and wheat had risen by thirty-eight and twenty-five percent, respectively.

San Domingo's food supply relied primarily on the United States, with a small portion purchased from Mexico. As the population surged recently, the demand for food skyrocketed, and the Americans immediately seized the opportunity to hike their prices.

Brissot, standing nearby, chimed in. "We cannot allow food prices to rise too much. The newly arrived plantation owners might reduce their hiring because of it. I will seek a loan from the French Reserve Bank to provide food subsidies."

If the refugees couldn't find work, hunger might drive them to theft, robbery, or even full-blown riots.

Just then, Brissot's assistant knocked and entered, handing him a letter. "Sir, it is from the Governor of Saint-Louisiane."

Brissot quickly used a small knife to slit the envelope and read the contents.

Soon, a smile touched his lips as he turned to Ogé. "We need to have a proper negotiation with those American profiteers. Otherwise, we will just replace their wheat with bison meat."

The latter was taken aback. "Bison meat?"

Brissot waved the letter. "Yes. Very cheap bison meat, only slightly more expensive than American wheat. Pumpkins and vegetables, too."

In the letter, Governor Ciolac informed him that the first group of Native Americans had settled down, and their speed at hunting bison was faster than harvesting wheat. He hoped Brissot could buy a few ship-loads of bison meat to help him establish a market.

Once Ogé heard the explanation, he nodded enthusiastically. "Then let us buy two shiploads every month. This is incredibly timely."

"Buy?" Brissot shook his head with a smile. "No, we will trade those flintlock muskets in our warehouse for it. The Native Americans are very fond of them."

During the abolitionist movement, Joseph had shipped nearly fifteen thousand flintlock muskets to San Domingo. Combined with those captured from the British expeditionary forces, there were over twenty-six thousand rifles sitting in the warehouses of Port-au-Prince.

San Domingo currently only had an army of a few thousand men; they had no use for such a massive surplus.

Food for weapons—Saint-Louisiane and San Domingo were in perfect synergy.

A week later, when the Native American tribes of Avoyelles learned that the bison meat they usually discarded as trash could be traded for flintlock muskets, they went wild. Entire tribes mobilized to start hunting. Previously, only bison hides were sold as a commodity; they only ate a few choice cuts from the hump and ribs, throwing most of the rest away.

On the other hand, faced with competition from an unknown source of rations, the American grain merchants were forced to return the prices of corn and wheat to last year's levels.

...

November 27, 1796.

Nancy Industrial Development Zone, Lorraine Province, France.

The French United Steam Engine Company had continued to expand, now a behemoth occupying over a hundred acres.

In fact, the Industrial Development Zone itself had been expanded three times because of it.

Currently, in a demonstration workshop on the west side of the company, a bidding event for Medium-to-Large Scale Metal Precision Machining Equipment was underway.

Eli Whitney watched as several technicians from a rival firm entered the demonstration workshop. He turned to the general manager of Bryce Steel Company beside him, his expression relaxed. "Don't worry, Mr. Crouzet. The order will certainly be ours. I bet there isn't a milling machine in the world that can reach a precision of 0.3 millimeters."

Indeed, his carefully designed turret milling machine could only barely manage a precision of 0.4 millimeters. Although it had not met the United Steam Engine Company's requirements, if the other bidders could not do it either, his new machine would win by virtue of its ability to precisely machine complex concave shapes.

A continuous rasping and grinding sound echoed from the demonstration workshop as a prototype milling machine processed a part.

Suddenly, Whitney heard a series of gasps from the bidding judges, their voices actually drowning out the noise of the machinery.

He could not help but feel a twinge of nervousness.

After a moment, a friend of Crouzet's pretended to walk past them, whispering, "I heard that machine just achieved a precision of 0.2 millimeters."

Whitney's eyes widened instantly. 'What? That is impossible!'

Before he could think further, a staff member called out loudly, "Next up, Bryce Steel Company. Please complete your prototype adjustment within thirty minutes."

Whitney hurriedly led several of the company's technicians toward the demonstration workshop.

He was quietly discussing technical issues with Crouzet when he suddenly noticed the surrounding crowd becoming agitated.

Crouzet's friend approached again, his voice filled with both excitement and tension.

"It looks like His Royal Highness the Crown Prince has arrived!"