Swim toward the pleasure boat? John Foster was on guard against water bandits sneaking up from the river to steal the boat, making the possibility of mistaken killing even greater. Besides, with seventy or eighty strong water bandits surrounding the pleasure boat, and fewer than twenty oarsmen and boatmen on board, if the Baisha County swordsmen and archers on shore couldn’t get the boat over in time to rescue them, their fate was all too clear.

At this moment, although Edward Sullivan also felt pity and concern for the women, and still remembered the kindness Grace Bennett had shown him, he was not a hot-blooded fool who would rush to his death on impulse.

The water bandits wasted no more time. Over a dozen bows gathered at the bow of the three-masted ship and fired a furious volley, while others hurled pottery jar-like objects at the bow of the pleasure boat. When smashed, they burst into clouds of lime, scattering everywhere. Taking advantage of the chaos at the bow, dozens of water bandits leapt from the three-masted ship and the other three hijacked merchant ships, charging onto the pleasure boat...

The pleasure boat had been dragged nearly two hundred meters from the riverbank before archers finally arrived at the ferry to provide covering fire, but it was too late—their arrows could not reach. No one jumped into the river to help, either. Edward Sullivan knew the pleasure boat was doomed; no matter how skilled John Foster was, in the chaos of battle he could do little—at best, kill a few bandits in anger. If he didn’t have the sense to abandon ship and jump into the water, he would not escape death.

Listening to the cracking of the black-awning boat as it was consumed by fire, Edward Sullivan worried that the hull would soon fall apart. He waited a moment longer, and when most of the water bandits had boarded the pleasure boat and their attention was no longer on the water, he picked his moment, dove in, and swam underwater toward the pleasure boat. He figured the bandits wouldn’t burn the pleasure boat right away after capturing it, so it would be safer to cling to the bottom of the boat, swim downstream for a while, and then come ashore.

Surfacing for air, he found himself right beneath the pleasure boat’s hull, which was covered in black-green river moss. Edward Sullivan stabbed his broken knife into the seam between the planks for support so he could catch his breath. Just then, a dark shape crashed down in front of him, splashing water into his face and making him choke—a person had fallen in, their fate unknown.

Edward Sullivan gripped the broken knife, hesitating whether to wait for the person to surface and then finish them off. Just then, he heard someone shouting above his head: “John Foster is dead! Go below and kill the oarsmen!”

Was the one who fell John Foster? Edward Sullivan was startled. He knew that even a martial artist could do little in such chaos, but he hadn’t expected John Foster to fall so quickly. He dove underwater, using the faint firelight filtering through the river to spot the unmoving dark shape below. Without waiting for him to surface, Edward Sullivan grabbed John Foster and dragged him away underwater.

The spot where John Foster fell would draw the bandits’ attention. Edward Sullivan didn’t think he could dodge their powerful bows in the water, so he dragged John Foster’s limp body to the stern, under the steering oar, before surfacing. This spot was deeply recessed and shielded by the oar, so the firelight couldn’t reach it, making it much more concealed than elsewhere.

Edward Sullivan was about to untie his belt to bind John Foster to the steering oar when he felt the body in his hands move. The head turned aside, dodging a weak punch from John Foster. Turning his head, Edward Sullivan saw John Foster looking at him in astonishment, apparently unable to believe he was still alive, and that someone had even saved him.

Well, no need to explain. Edward Sullivan whispered, “Master Fu, where are you hurt…” Earlier, he’d only seen blood seeping from John Foster’s back in the water, but it hadn’t hit any vital spots. Now he saw two deep gashes on his right arm, the flesh turned white from soaking in the water, and blood still oozing from his left shoulder. None of it seemed life-threatening, but he didn’t know if there were more serious injuries elsewhere.

“The water bandits brought a battering ram on board and hit me in the chest. I lost my breath and fell into the water.” John Foster hooked the steering oar with one hand, weakly explaining how he’d ended up in the river.

Edward Sullivan had never seen a battering ram before, but he could imagine it. The sides of the pleasure boat were long and narrow; if John Foster tried to make a stand there, the bandits could just ram a big log at him and force him into the water.

Grace Bennett’s cabin was at the bow, while Edward Sullivan and John Foster hid at the stern, unable to hear what was happening up front. They only noticed the sounds on the boat gradually quieting down, suggesting the bandits had taken control. After a while, bodies were thrown overboard one after another. Counting the splashes, Edward Sullivan and John Foster exchanged glances—apart from Grace Bennett and her maid Little Grace, not a single other survivor remained.

After the Baishui River flooded, its surface was two or three li wide. The pleasure boat was dragged to the middle of the river and tied to the bandit ship, while the remaining three merchant ships were set ablaze by the bandits. Though swordsmen and archers ran along the riverbank trying to help, they were powerless. By the firelight, they could just make out a few people on horseback on the distant shore. It was unclear whether the famed William Brooks, known for resisting the She family rebellion in the southeast, and Mr. Brooks were among them.

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“Damn those bastards.” William Brooks watched the burning merchant ships on the Baishui River and the pirate three-masted sand ship escaping toward the river mouth with the pleasure boat in tow, pounding his fist in anger. These pirates had dared to commit robbery right under his nose—how could he not be furious?

“It looks like a sea vessel, probably pirates from the East Sea. I’m afraid we can’t catch up if we just follow along the shore. Should we send urgent word to the Ninghai garrison’s naval forces?” In the torchlight, Baisha County magistrate Samuel Foster looked pale, shivering in the wind. With pirates rampaging in his jurisdiction, as the chief official of Baisha County, he could hardly escape responsibility.