"Of course, sir. They usually go to the tavern after dinner for a while. After you bought out the remaining four years of whiskey from the tavern last time, they've always wanted to buy a portion from you. Now, if you treat them to drinks, I'm afraid every man in Pittsburgh will want to come here," Greenspan said fawningly.
He was very rational and knew that no matter whether Charles would lay hands on his daughter or not, he had to maintain a good relationship with his young master.
"Oh?" Charles smiled.
He thought to himself, I was wondering why Jonathan told me he took two pounds to drink last time. At that time, the pound was very valuable; its original price was one pound equal to one pound of silver. That local whiskey, no matter how much you drank at once, couldn't possibly cost more than two pounds. So, it turns out he bought good liquor and hid it at home.
However, that 'good liquor' was only good relative to Americans. For Charles, who had been accustomed to high-proof spirits back in the 21st century, it was too weak, too young. In his time, he'd often drunk whiskey neat, expensive bottles with years of aging, complex flavor profiles that took time to appreciate. American bourbon at four years old was barely broken in, hardly worth the name.
He'd tried the famous brands, the prestigious labels. Red Label 12-year? He'd had better. Bourbon was respectable enough, but it lacked the depth he was used to. The alcohol content in these colonial spirits was nothing compared to what he'd known, back home, there were spirits that could burn a hole in your throat if you weren't careful.
Naturally, he wasn't particularly interested in the four-year whiskey Greenspan mentioned.
Dinner in Pittsburgh was a bit rough; food was plentiful, but the variety was limited to black bread, bean soup, stewed corn, and a few slices of something like cured meat. This wasn't about money; although Charles' family didn't have much money now, Pittsburgh currently lacked a large supply of production and living materials.
Many things, even if you had money, you couldn't buy. A bottle of local whiskey, which might sell for a few shillings in the East, only cost a few pennies here. But if you wanted a bottle of original French red wine, even if you offered a few pounds, no one would be willing to sell it to you.
Fortunately, Charles had an incredibly strong tolerance. When he took out a loan for college, he once ate instant noodles and steamed buns for a month straight. Later, he could still eat those two things with his eyes closed.
The stewed corn and black bread now were made very fragrant and sweet, so much better than his previous conditions. He simply regarded it as returning to his former hard years and felt no resentment. His generous demeanor, however, secretly surprised Greenspan, who had been worried about the food: "The sir is really very different from before!"
During the meal, Charles also asked Greenspan about the slaves and learned that not a single one had been sold yet. He simply told Greenspan not to sell these people for now and to wait until he had inspected them.
As an initial understanding and also a test for Greenspan, Charles asked:
"Greenspan, do you know if there are any special talents among these indentured servants?"
"Special talents?" Greenspan looked at Charles doubtfully and said with some hesitation, "Speaking of special, not a single one of these white indentured servants isn't special. Except for a few ordinary people, everyone else has a skill. But it's hard to say who is truly a talent. At least their current status as indentured servants indicates that they are not particularly intelligent."
"Haha! What if they are indentured servants? Gold will always shine. Like the famous Mr. Paine, and you, I think you manage this trading center very well. But among those with skills, are there no engineer-level figures?"
Charles' demands were clearly too high, and Greenspan could only shake his head apologetically:
"Sir, those indentured servants are basically people who couldn't be sold in Philadelphia. The real talents were actually picked out long ago, and all that are left have various flaws."
"Oh!" Charles felt a little embarrassed.
He knew that Godfrey's diary mentioned these indentured servants were educated white people, specifically left for sale. He thought past Charles had left him a good resource this time, but it turned out to be a bunch of troublemakers.
"Then send a few without skills to the mill and the iron foundry, and leave a few people to help at the trading center. Make sure the workshops are running well; after all, we can't support idlers."
"Yes, sir. However, sending a few to the mill is no problem, and we can keep two here for grain trading, but at the glass and iron foundries, I'm afraid they'll just be idle if we send them there," Greenspan gently shook his head.
"Why?"
"It's been idle for a long time and can no longer produce glass and cast iron."
"I remember the equipment there is still quite complete, and many of the slaves were from that workshop. Others who can't work immediately can learn slowly, right? Even if the ironware and glass produced can't be sold, they'll have an extra skill, and the price can be higher when they are sold," Charles questioned.
"The equipment is certainly not a problem, but without blacksmiths or glassmakers to guide them, these slaves simply can't start work. Even if they want to learn, there's nowhere for them to learn," Greenspan could only give a wry smile.
"Those slaves at the iron foundry originally only moved ore materials and couldn't actually make anything. The ones who really knew how to make things were the original workshop owners and workers. Now that they're gone, no one knows how to use the equipment. And when I went to look a while ago, the abandoned furnace already had many cracks. I don't even know if it can still be used."
Hearing Greenspan's reply, Charles also frowned, nodded, and said nothing more.
He knew that modern steel and iron smelting was very complex. Although he didn't know the level of iron smelting in America at that time, he imagined it wasn't as simple as piling iron ore on charcoal to get molten iron. As for glass manufacturing, that was even harder to explain. It seemed that Venice in Europe had kept the manufacturing of glass and mirrors a secret for several centuries without leaking it. Indeed, it was not feasible for an ignorant layman to continue the work.
Just as the dinner table was being cleared after dinner, footsteps and clamor could be heard outside.
As soon as Greenspan opened the door at Charles' signal, a coarse, laughing and scolding voice rang out from the doorway.
"Greenspan, you old ghost, why are you so slow opening the door? Is Godfrey inside?"
Greenspan, having stayed in Pittsburgh for a long time, was clearly very familiar with these people outside. He smiled and greeted the newcomers:
"Are you still decent gentlemen? All this shouting and yelling is truly improper. The sir is already waiting in the living room; please come in quickly."
"Good evening, everyone." Charles also hurried out to greet them.
"Good evening, sir Godfrey!" The guests, guided by Greenspan, filed into the living room.
Some took off their hats, some bowed, their expressions varied, and their clothing and attire were also very different. The most proper wore hats and formal suits with cravat-like scarves around their necks; the improper had messy, uncombed hair, and their clothes were just loosely buttoned ordinary linen shirts, with large sections of underwear visible through the seams. This mixed bag of people made Charles somewhat doubt whether they could be considered respectable figures in Pittsburgh.
The tall, red-nosed man in the lead, without any semblance of a guest, walked and loudly shouted:
"Sir Godfrey, we're not here to be polite with you. Quickly bring out the good liquor; we can talk about other things later."
"Haha! The liquor is already on the table; friends who want to drink can help themselves," Charles said with a smile, waving his hand and pointing to the liquor bottles and a pile of wooden wine glasses on the table.
At the same time, he gave Greenspan a look, wanting him to introduce the newcomers.
Jonathan had been with Charles for two days and understood his glances well. Before Greenspan could react, he walked to Charles' side and leaned down to introduce him:
"That's Mr. Patrick, the notary public and tax officer. That's Mr. Hans from another iron foundry. That's Mr. Thompson from another glass workshop, who is also a grocery store owner. That's Mr. Spencer, the tavern owner. That's…"
Jonathan introduced them honestly, but Charles could still sense his aversion to these guests from his tone. It made sense; Jonathan had already found the old militiamen impolite, even though they were somewhat decent. Now, these guests' behavior could only be described as uncivilized. As an old-fashioned, conservative man, he was now forced to politely entertain guests invited by his master, so he was naturally very annoyed.
Unable to bear seeing his honest old butler suffer here, after Greenspan finished his introductions, Charles whispered:
"You go down and rest first; Greenspan can accompany them here."
Jonathan immediately bowed to Charles gratefully: "Yes, sir."