Chapter 10: The First Fight

Sanchez’s expression hardened.

“Morgan Company, huh…”

He slowly took out a cigar and lit it.

“Mr. Lee, I think you’re gravely mistaken.”

He exhaled a long plume of smoke.

“This isn’t New York. This is Cuba.”

“What does that mean?”

“In Cuba, Cuban laws apply.”

Fernandez chimed in.

“Our families have lived on this land for 300 years. We received this land directly from the Spanish Royal Family.”

“So?”

“An American company? Morgan? What makes you think that means anything?”

Gomez, one of the landowners, snorted disdainfully.

“Just because you have some money, you think you can act like the owner of this land?”

Lee calmly surveyed them all.

None of the five men were hiding their hostility.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? Your very existence is wrong. How dare an Oriental be here…”

Sanchez stopped mid-sentence.

But the unspoken insult was clear enough.

“Racism isn’t good business practice,” Lee said coldly.

“Business?”

Lopez slammed his hand on the table.

“This isn’t about business, it’s a matter of tradition!”

“Calm down,” Sanchez stopped Lopez, then turned back to Lee.

“This is my final offer: $1,000, cash, right now.”

“I refuse.”

“You’ll regret it.”

“That won’t happen.”

Sanchez stood up.

The other landowners followed suit.

“Whatever happens from now on, don’t expect mercy from us.”

As they turned to leave, Lee called out.

“Wait.”

Sanchez looked back.

“What?”

“Anyone interested in buying molasses?”

A tense silence filled the room.

“Molasses?”

“There are 200 tons in stock. I’ll sell at market price.”

Fernandez laughed incredulously.

“Why would we buy from you?”

“Business is business.”

“Mr. Lee,” Sanchez stepped closer.

He pushed his face near, mixing the scent of cigar and whiskey.

“We don’t trade with you. Not now, not ever.”

“Then I’ll sell it myself.”

“Hah!”

Everyone burst into laughter.

“Who would buy it? How will you handle shipping?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“Find out if it’s even possible.”

They left.

No one spoke until the sound of horses’ hooves faded into the distance.

“Señor…”

Jose was the first to speak.

“What will you do now?”

Lee looked out the window.

“Carlos, is there a place in Matanzas where I can send a telegram?”

“There’s a post office.”

“Good. I need to send a telegram to Thomas Morgan.”

“For what?”

“For urgent support on selling 200 tons of molasses.”

Carlos nodded.

“And Jose.”

“Yes?”

“Start the harvest at dawn tomorrow. Mobilize all eight men.”

“But transportation—”

“I’ll handle it.”

Lee’s eyes gleamed sharply.

“If they want war…”

He clenched his fist.

“We’ll give them war.”

Jose and Carlos exchanged glances.

Their faces showed worry, but also a hint of hope.

No one had ever stood up to them like this before.

***

Inside the carriage returning to Matanzas.

Carlos spoke with concern.

“Are you sure about this? If we turn them into enemies…”

“They already are enemies.”

Lee spoke firmly.

“From the start, they never intended to acknowledge us.”

“But if we openly antagonize them, we won’t be able to do anything. Recruiting laborers, buying supplies—”

“There’s a way.”

The carriage jolted over rough roads.

The suspension was terrible.

But Lee had no time to care.

One thousand dollars… such a ridiculously low price.

The land alone would be worth more, not to mention the warehouse holding 200 tons of molasses.

“Thieves without shame.”

The carriage arrived in Matanzas.

The post office was near the central plaza.

It still used a building from the Spanish colonial era.

“Wait here,” Carlos said as he entered first.

Lee sat on a bench in the plaza.

4 p.m.

The sun was starting to set but the heat lingered.

The plaza had a fair number of people—merchants, laborers, and those strolling leisurely.

“There’s some life here.”

About ten minutes later, Carlos returned.

“I sent it. It should arrive in New York by tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.”

“Any other plans?”

Lee stood.

“Let’s go to the harbor.”

“The harbor?”

Matanzas harbor was on the city’s north side.

Smaller than Havana’s but still busy.

Ships loaded with sugar and molasses were docked.

“What’s that over there?”

Lee pointed.

“That’s the Chinese Quarter.”

“Chinese?”

“Yes, quite a few Chinese immigrants live there. Mostly small-scale traders.”

Lee’s eyes sparkled.

“Let’s go.”

The Chinese Quarter was at the eastern edge of the harbor.

Small shops crowded tightly together.

Signs were written in Chinese.

The signs were in Cantonese.

“Do you speak Chinese?”

Carlos asked.

“A little.”

Lee didn’t actually know Chinese but could recognize some characters.

Most people his age wouldn’t know either unless they worked in related fields or were scholars.

They entered a shop.

Inside were all sorts of sundries—Chinese tea, porcelain, textiles, and medicinal herbs.

“Welcome!”

A man in his fifties greeted them in Cantonese.

Lee replied in English.

“Hello. Do you speak English?”

“Ah, English? A little.”

The man spoke in halting English.

“How may I help you?”

“My name is Lee Junhyuk. I’m Korean.”

“Korean?”

The man’s eyes widened.

“Oh, nice to meet you! I am Wei Liang.”

They shook hands.

“How did you come all this way…?”

“I run a farm—the Santa Rosa Plantation.”

“Oh, I’ve heard. An Oriental bought a plantation.”

Rumors had already spread.

“Are you interested in trade?”

Lee asked directly.

“Trade? What kind?”

“Molasses. About 200 tons.”

Wei Liang’s expression turned serious.

“200 tons of molasses… what’s the price?”

“At market rate.”

“Shipping?”

“That’s the problem.”

Lee was honest.

“The Spanish landowners won’t cooperate.”

“I see.”

Wei Liang nodded.

“Those people have always been like that. Many of us Chinese have suffered from them.”

“Do you have any independent shipping routes?”

Wei Liang paused, then said,

“There’s a small boat. Originally used for Chinese goods…”

“Can it carry molasses?”

“It can. But…”

His voice lowered.

“…it could be dangerous. They won’t leave us alone.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

Lee said firmly.

Wei Liang studied him carefully.

It was rare to see a young Oriental show such resolve.

“Wait a moment.”

Wei Liang went inside the shop.

Voices speaking Cantonese were heard—probably family.

About five minutes later, he returned with another man.

A younger Chinese man in his early thirties.

“This is my son, Zhen Hao. He speaks English better.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Lee shook hands with Zhen Hao.

“Father told me you want to ship 200 tons of molasses?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Our boat is small. It can only carry about 50 tons at a time.”

“Then we make four round trips.”

“That’s the issue…”

Zhen Hao hesitated.

“Please, speak.”

“The Spanish landowners control the harbor. Small operators like us have to stay quiet.”

“I’ll pay enough.”

“It’s not about the money.”

Zhen Hao shook his head.

“If we confront them, we won’t be able to do business either.”

The atmosphere grew heavy.

Carlos watched with a helpless expression.

Wei Liang spoke to Zhen Hao in Chinese.

They argued briefly before sighing.

“My father says we should help fellow Orientals.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but there are conditions.”

“Tell me.”

“First, shipping costs $5 per ton. Cheaper than market but comes with risk.”

“Fine.”

“Second, shipping only at night. Between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m.”

“No problem.”

“Third…”

Zhen Hao looked at Lee.

“If something happens, we won’t be responsible. Understand?”

“I understand.”

Zhen Hao looked to his father.

Wei Liang nodded.

“Good. When do you want to start?”

“As soon as possible. Even tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s too soon. How about the day after tomorrow at dawn?”

“Fine.”

They shook hands.

“Oh, and…”

Wei Liang took something from the counter.

A small wooden carving.

A symbol of good fortune was engraved on it.

“Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

They left the shop.

Darkness had already fallen outside.

“It’s settled.”

Carlos breathed a relieved sigh.

“This is the first step.”

“But it could be really dangerous. If they find out…”

“They mustn’t.”

Lee smiled.

“Only Jose will know. We’ll only use two or three trustworthy workers.”

“Still…”

“Carlos.”

Lee looked at him.

“It’s already started. No turning back.”

***

On the train back to Havana.

Lee did the calculations.

200 tons shipping cost: $1,000.

Molasses sells for about $130 per ton.

Total: $26,000.

After deducting shipping and other expenses, $24,000 remains.

“With this money…”

He could restore the plantation and still have some left.

Of course, it wouldn’t be easy.

The Spanish landowners wouldn’t just stand by.

But there was a way.

“They must have a weak point.”

Monopolies, collusion, price fixing.

They were surely engaging in illegal activities.

When the train arrived in Havana, it was past 9 p.m.

Returning to his lodging, Maria waited anxiously.

“Señor! You haven’t eaten dinner…”

“I’m fine. I’m tired and just want to sleep.”

“You should eat something, at least a little.”

Maria brought him warm milk and bread.

The warm milk soothed his stomach.

His spirits lifted a bit.

At 5 a.m. the next day, Lee was already awake and prepared.

He had to leave earlier than yesterday.

There was much to do on the plantation.

He sipped coffee and opened the notes he made the day before.

Check harvestable areas.

Begin work with laborers.

Organize warehouse and inspect molasses.

Select trustworthy workers.

“Señor?”

Maria appeared.

“You’re up early.”

“I need to get to the plantation soon.”

“What about breakfast?”

“I’ll eat something quick on the way.”

Maria busied herself preparing breakfast.

Fried eggs, toast, and fruit.

“Maria.”

“Yes?”

“Are there any available workers around here? I need people for work.”

Maria thought for a moment.

“I have some farmhands, but plantation work is tough…”

“I’ll pay well.”

“Really? I’ll ask around.”

At 6 a.m., Carlos arrived.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, let’s depart.”

***

On the way to the train station.

Carlos spoke anxiously.

“The news probably spread yesterday.”

“I expected that.”

“I don’t know what will happen on the plantation.”

“That’s why we have to move faster.”

On the train, Lee reviewed his plans again.

First shipment scheduled for dawn the day after tomorrow.

Until then, they had to select and pack the molasses.

They also needed trustworthy laborers.

“I hope Jose cooperates.”

Arriving in Matanzas, they took a carriage.

On the way to the plantation, Lee recalled the agreement with Zhen Hao.

At 2 a.m., molasses had to be transported from the plantation to the harbor.

“Attention!”

As soon as they arrived at the plantation, Lee called out.

Jose came out of the office.

“You’re early.”

“What about the laborers?”

“They’ll be here soon.”

“Good. Let’s go to the warehouse.”

They opened the doors.

Lee could see more clearly than before.

Sacks of molasses lined the walls.

“We need to inspect these sacks.”

Lee opened one.

Fortunately, it wasn’t damp.

The quality looked good.

“Jose, who can we trust?”

“Trustworthy?”

“Yes. Someone who can keep secrets.”

Jose thought briefly.

“Miguel, Pablo… and Ramon.”

“Call the three.”

Ten minutes later, three laborers arrived.

Miguel was the sturdy man Lee had seen yesterday, in his forties.

Pablo was in his thirties, Ramon in his late twenties.

“I have a special task for you.”

Lee spoke.

“It may be dangerous, but I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”

The three looked at each other.

“What kind of task?”

Miguel asked.

“It’s transporting molasses. But…”

Lee lowered his voice.

“It must be done at dawn, in secret.”

“Why secret?”

“Don’t you see? The Spanish landowners are interfering with us.”

Miguel’s expression hardened.

“So we have to avoid those people.”

“Yes. We’re trading with Chinese merchants.”

Silence fell.

Ramon spoke first.

“I’ll do it.”

“Ramon!”

Pablo was surprised.

“It’s dangerous.”

“Still… how long has it been since I had a job and got paid?”

Miguel sighed.

“How much will you pay?”

“Five pesos per day. More than double usual.”

The three’s eyes widened.

“Five pesos…”

“And a bonus if it succeeds.”

Miguel nodded decisively.

“Alright, I’m in.”

Pablo nodded as well.

“Thank you.”

Lee said sincerely.

“Then let’s begin. First, inspect the molasses sacks…”

At that moment, the sound of hooves came from outside.

Several horses.

Looking out, Lee saw it wasn’t the Spanish landowners.

They wore uniforms.

“It’s the Police.”

Jose said in a tense voice.