The door knocked three times, and Father Augustine, who was reading in the morning under the lamp, put down the book in surprise. The cabin shook slightly with the waves. He took off his golden silk-edged glasses and wiped them, put them back on and straightened them.

There are few visitors to visit. Apart from official duties and dying confessions, the soldiers ignored this long-lasting and old-fashioned missionary.

He opened the door and saw a pair of shiny black eyes. The priest widened his eyes: "Geronemo!?"

The person outside the door squeezed into the room and untied the scarf covering his face. He dragged his chair and sat on it: "That's the name of the past. Call me Yousuf."

"Yusuf..." The priest was a little disappointed, "How did you find me?"

"You wrote those letters," said Yousuf. "I recognize your handwriting." He picked up the half-copied report letter on the table and carefully looked at the priest's handwriting. "So I guess Pedro left you as a clerk in the fleet."

The priest did not respond and waited quietly for Yousuf to continue speaking. He was a smart child since he was a child. However, this excessive intelligence often brought him sensitivity and pain.

"I don't believe you agree with what they did from the bottom of your heart. At least you never taught me that way." His low tone seemed to be talking to himself. "Of course, you can get up and go out and call soldiers now. I didn't bring anyone else here."

The priest whispered to him: "You are taking a big risk! Why? I thought it would not be so, but I didn't expect you to sneak attack on Fort Jesus and be completely enemies of Portugal."

"For there, the one who plundered us asked us to sing, and the one who plundered us wanted us to have fun."

Yusuf replied in response to the priest's questioning gaze. He quoted the original text of the Bible, which Father Augustine once taught him.

The priest lowered his head in shame.

The sound of soldiers patrolling came from the aisle, and the priest looked at the hatch door alertly.

"The last time you came to tell me about Pedro's arrest plan, I'm really grateful." Yusuf looked at the priest solemnly, "I hope you can help me again."

The priest sighed softly as the swaying light reflected on the lens.

It was just dawning and the sea was raining heavily.

The rope was thrown from the side of the ship and silently hung to the sea. An unmanned boat was waiting there, shaking with the waves. Yusuf tied the knot and handed the end of the lasso to his mother.

"Since you're here, don't rush to leave."

That cold voice that seemed to never have the warmth of human beings came from the rain behind me.

Pedro, the governor of the Mombasa Navy, appeared on the deck with his guards. Behind them, two soldiers were escorting Father Augustine, one left and one right, and two sharp bayonets overlapped between his throat.

"I didn't expect you to be motivated by a pagan," Pedro said in a deep voice without looking back, "Father, you are betraying your country."

He turned around gloomyly, walked slowly to the priest, and stretched out his remaining half of his right palm: "Look at what the soldiers have experienced. Have you even betrayed your own faith?"

"It is precisely because I do not want to betray my faith," the priest with a red face looked solemn and filled with tears. "The God I believe in will never allow the atrocities of torture and killing to happen!"

The Navy Governor shook his head helplessly and signaled the soldiers to lift the priest to the side of the ship. He twitched his lips and prayed silently, and finally pushed the priest with his own hands down with a righteous face.

The sound of water splashes only sounded for a short moment, and the sea surface fell silent again.

Yousuf frowned in pain. He gritted his teeth and restrained his anger: "Let my mother leave here. She does not have any threat to you."

Pedro had no expression on his face: "You are not qualified to negotiate with me."

"Let her go. Otherwise we will die together."

Yousuf took two steps to protect his mother, and behind him was the gunpowder warehouse.

He pulled open the scarf on his body and exposed a string of iron balls covered under it. This explosive firearm, called a pomeraire, was found from the Ming-style arms left by the Chinese, and could be detonated by just throwing or shaking hard.

Hundreds of years ago, the Chinese began to use similar gunpowder weapons against Mongolian cavalry, which was powerful enough to penetrate the partition and ignite all explosive reserves in the gunpowder warehouse.

The Portuguese soldiers opposite were first confused, and then gradually showed a look of fear.

But their commander still looked like he was putting life and death aside: "Let her go, you will only be less scruples. Keep her with her." He raised his hand and ordered the musketeers lined up in the shelter of the rain, "Military men are ready!"
Chapter completed!