Chinese culture is broad and profound, and "knowing etiquette and etiquette with modesty and food and clothing" is also meaningful in the early 20th century.

While Jeffrey Kiplin and Rex Lascoe were chatting, Hank Wesley, from Texas, had just stepped down the ramp of the Princess Mary.

Hank Wesley, an employee of Standard Oil who had just arrived in Port Elizabeth from New York, was a veteran cowboy who could fire six shots in two seconds to hit six targets in a row, so he was hired by Standard Oil to Port Elizabeth as a senior security employee at Standard Oil.

Under normal circumstances, the senior employees of oil companies are all well-mannered and polite in suits and leather shoes, which is completely different from the violent elements from the bottom.

Hank Wesley, on the other hand, was born into a poor family in Ireland, forced to immigrate to the United States, and then made a name for himself in the Westward Expansion of the United States, eventually becoming an employee of Standard Oil in the Middle East.

"Weak chickens (Chinese), British, Slavs, Persians, this is a land polluted by the devil, it exudes a disgusting smell from head to toe, I regret it now, I should not have accepted the employment of Standard Oil, the people here should be left to fend for themselves." Hank Wesley had a big opinion of Port Elizabeth.

"Don't be like this Hank, we're here to work-" Randall Lindbergh of Standard Oil was helpless, almost all whites could not accept the status quo of Port Elizabeth at the first time they arrived in Port Elizabeth, but the strength of the Chinese in Port Elizabeth was irrefutable, and personal opposition was meaningless.

"Randall, I don't mean to offend, but is this Port Elizabeth still the Port Elizabeth of the British Empire?" Hank Wesley is unrelenting, the staff at Port Elizabeth Docks are almost all Chinese, they are reviewing all the passengers who disembark one by one, if someone has a problem with their paperwork, they can't go ashore, the mercenaries of the umbrella company are eyeing up, and the fat and strong military dogs are all South African mastiffs, they now look harmless to humans and animals, but as long as they give an order, they will become bloodthirsty and crazy.

"I don't mean to offend Hanks, if you really can't take everything in Port Elizabeth, then you can go back to Texas and no one will force you-" Randall Lindbergh was very irritated, along the way, Hank Wesley had been chattering about the service of the "Princess Mary", in fact, the service of the "Princess Mary" was very good, and Hank Wesley was out of prejudice, so he would find fault everywhere.

"Hahaha, British! You are always as lenient as possible with British business, and wait and see, sooner or later the umbrella company will become your biggest problem. Hank Wesley avoided the important and the U.S. Supreme Court has begun to review Standard Oil's monopolistic behavior, and once the monopoly is confirmed, Standard Oil is likely to face a spin-off, so the situation for Standard Oil is also not good.

"I hear a strong sense of vinegar, Mr. Hank, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed, Port Elizabeth is still British territory, not American." Randall Lindbergh laughed that the GDP of the United States has surpassed that of the United Kingdom to become the world's first, and the British cannot be innocent.

But when he disembarked, Randall Lindbergh immediately felt what the Port Elizabeth standard was.

"Name?"

"Age?"

"Origin?"

"Why Port Elizabeth?"

A barrage of questions from immigration officers made Randall Lindbergh angry.

"Make it clear sir, I'm Irish, standard British nationality, and I have the right to move freely on British territory!" Randall Lindbergh was speechless, and Hank Wesley had already passed the checkpoint and was holding his arm outside the checkpoint with a mocking smile at Randall Lindbergh.

And what about the British?

In Port Elizabeth, too, there are inspections, and the procedures are more cumbersome.

"No one denies you the right, sir, but Port Elizabeth is not a British territory, but the private domain of Lord Nyasaland, so you must truthfully state the purpose of your visit to Port Elizabeth before you can clear the customs smoothly." The USCIS officer had a poker face and didn't look at Randall Lindbergh's work card at all.

"Bastard, even if your lord is here, he wouldn't dare speak to me like that." Randall Lindbergh was angry, in fact, a nobleman like Roque would not care about a corporate employee like Randall Lindbergh at all, Randall Lindbergh just felt too good about himself.

Therefore, the officials of the immigration bureau were very unkind and immediately blew the whistle at hand.

Soon five or six heavily armed policemen came running over, and several military dogs were on the sidelines.

"I'm British, I have the rights I deserve, I'm not breaking the law, I'm demanding fair treatment-" Randall Lindbergh is smart and now acts like a complete victim.

Unfortunately, the border police did not listen to Randall Lindbergh's statement, and the first thing must be to communicate with the immigration staff.

Then a dozen police officers turned their guns on Randall Lindbergh.

"I'm innocent—" Randall Lindbergh Khan rained down.

"Raise your hands, put them where I can see, stop all unnecessary actions, now follow my instructions, get down on your knees, lie on the ground, put your head behind your head with your hands, let me see your hands, or I will take further steps." The border police don't know how many of these situations they have been through, so they are very strict with the details.

"Falker, your father, I'll accuse you—" Randall Lindbergh had just shouted a few words when he hit the butt of a pistol heavily around his neck.

The brutality of the military and police in southern Africa is notoriously brutal, and it is a baton and tear gas at every turn, and the batons in Britain are made of natural rubber, and the batons in southern Africa are only rubber on the outside, and the steel bars inside are really frenzied, and there are no scars on people's bodies, but they may break their muscles and bones.

"Now shut your mouth, and be honest with me unless I ask you to speak." The attitude of the military and police in the port is rude, they are composed of three or four layers, the first layer is loaded with guns, a shield in one hand and a baton in the other, and they all wear gas masks on their faces.

In the second row were armed policemen armed with rifle shotguns, armed with bayonets and tear gas firing devices on their rifles, and their nicknames were "Hades", from which the brutality and violence of these policemen can be seen.

The armed police were followed by more ordinary police, who generally only wore pistols but carried more handcuffs at the same time, and whose main task was to make arrests.

In the face of immigration officials, Randall Lindbergh can still argue with reason.

But in the face of the border police, Randall Lindbergh was powerless.

Like beggars, vagabonds, thieves and robbers, Randall Lindbergh was imprisoned in a makeshift prison at the Port Police, about fifteen square meters per room, but fifteen people were to be accommodated, and the rights of the individual were not guaranteed.

Like those notorious prisons, Randall Lindbergh had three confrontations with his cellmates within half an hour of entering his cell.

With his strong personal strength, Randall Lindbergh won the best bed in the cell, neither inside nor outside, too close to the toilet if inside, too close to the corridor if outside, and not good at night.

"Fatty, why are you here?" Randall Lindbergh is interested in his fellow inmates.

"I made a mistake, I didn't obey the police, and then I was still in prison—" The former boss of the prison regretted it, and sometimes the slightest mistake can cause irreparable serious consequences.

"Bearded, what about you?" Randall Lindbergh knew as much as he could about everyone, which was a rare experience.

"I beat the tax collector—" the bearded man looked embarrassed, now he knew what the crime of beating the tax collector was, but to no avail, there was no one in Elizabeth Port who did not know that he was not guilty, and he who made a mistake must be punished.

There was a sudden sound of footsteps in the hallway, the soles of the guards' shoes were nailed, and the sound of the steel soles and the stone floor touching was unusually crisp.

"Randall, come out—" The expressionless prison guard was unusually indifferent.

"Sir, I'm Randall—" Randall Lindbergh was very well-behaved at this point.

"You're lucky, someone has come to protect you, you can go now." The prison guard's expression was actually a little regretful, and this expression made Randall Lindbergh creepy.

The man who came to guarantee Randall Lindbergh was Christopher Arnold, Geoffrey Kipling's secretary, and the bond in Port Elizabeth started at a thousand pounds, and this very expensive man worth a thousand pounds must have made a profit of more than a thousand pounds for his employer.

"Mr. Randall, you are very lucky, but even if someone is willing to vouch for you, you will not be able to leave Port Elizabeth for half a month, and every day before twelve o'clock in the morning, you must report to the port district police station, explain your movements the previous day, what you did, who you met, what you said, can you do it?" The officials of the port authority are serious and will not bend the law for personal gain after receiving money.

"Of course, I can do it." Randall Lindbergh was honest and didn't dare to stab at all.

That's right, those who know the times are Junjie.

(End of chapter)