Chapter 115: Beaching at Qing'ao Bay

After the three Sea Wolf–class escort ships completed their refits.

The beach dry dock was completed at the same time.

Lin Qian ordered the Santa Ana to be sailed into Qing'ao Bay. To ensure safety and reduce pressure on the keel during the beaching, all of the ship's supplies—from cannons to powder kegs to swords, cannonballs, hammocks, and personal belongings—were carried off the ship.

Of course, large pieces of furniture such as the walnut bed and navigation table in the captain's cabin, and the long dining table in the officers' mess, were too bulky. To get them off would have meant sawing through the doors—far too much trouble—so they stayed aboard.

On the beach of Qing'ao Bay.

Watching the cannons being lifted one by one off the Santa Ana by its derrick, Lin Qian felt a distinct lack of security.

The Santa Ana was his absolute main force; with the ship in dry dock, his strength would be greatly diminished.

But there was no help for it—no matter how mighty the Santa Ana was, she was still made of wood.

It had already been nearly half a year since she set sail from Manila.

Not to mention the earlier damage to the anchor chain.

During the fight with Li Kuiqi, the deck had also been smashed with several holes.

After weathering several storms, several sails now had holes in them, and the rigging had worn considerably thinner.

Leakage in the hold had grown worse, to the point where water had to be pumped out every day.

On top of that, there were quite a few rats aboard.

If they waited any longer, things would only get worse—by then it would be too late to repair.

Just hoisting off miscellaneous cargo took the Santa Ana a full day, and unloading the cannons took another two days.

On the third day, the ship was finally completely cleared, and all personnel came ashore.

They took advantage of the high tide in the middle of the night.

Lin Qian stood on the Qing'ao Bay pier, with Chen Jiao and José behind him.

One of the two was currently acting as director of the Construction Bureau and had to be on site.

The other at least had some European seafaring knowledge—if anything went wrong during the beaching, he might prove useful.

Before the three men's eyes, the Santa Ana's hull was bound with several thick hawsers.

Those hawsers ran forward to the shore, where they split into multiple lines, and five hundred captives hauled on them, slowly dragging the Santa Ana toward the dry dock.

As a wave receded, the Santa Ana's bow was already resting on two rows of wooden slipways.

The timber slipways were squeezed sideways, and countless grains of sea sand churned up.

"Whoosh!"

A wave surged in.

Mute Huang immediately waved his hand.

Someone among the captives shouted: "Heave!"

The captives strained together, and with the aid of the wave's force, the galleon lurched forward a few more steps.

As the wave receded, Mute Huang clenched his fist.

The captives stopped straining, but did not slacken their grip.

At that moment, the carpenters waiting on either side of the galleon dashed forward through the surf with scrapers in hand, furiously scraping the barnacles off the hull.

Time was extremely tight. The carpenters worked their blades at lightning speed, clearing only the parts of the hull that touched the slipways, quickly exposing clean planking.

When they had scraped enough, they waited for another surge of the sea to come in.

Another command rang out across the beach: "Heave!"

The carpenters scraping barnacles heard the order and fell back.

"Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"

The captives chanted in unison, stepping forward together as they hauled on the towlines.

Against the sea wind, the beach, and the great waves, it had something of a spirit of wrestling with heaven and earth.

After many such pulls, the galleon advanced another dozen-odd steps, with nearly half her hull now resting on the slipways.

The clean planking the carpenters had scraped just happened to sit on the slipways, ensuring that there would not be too much resistance during the next haul.

As the tide fell, a distant shout rang out: "Stop!"

The carpenters waiting around the galleon rushed forward to scrape the rear half of the hull.

An older carpenter shouted: "Watch your feet, everyone—whatever you do, don't step into the gaps!"

Because of the galleon's repeated pressing, a deep crevice had formed between the timber slipways and the sand. If anyone stumbled in, when the next tide rose and the galleon moved forward, that foot would be crushed to pulp.

In the surf, the carpenters were soaked through, but they paid it no mind. Every one of them gritted their teeth with grim determination, and once they had scraped clean, they waited for the tide to surge in.

A voice rang out from afar: "Heave!"

The barnacle-scraping carpenters all fell back.

Watching this scene, José asked: "Why not scrape off all the barnacles first, and then haul on the lines?"

Chen Jiao explained: "Because the peak of the spring tide is very brief. We must haul the ship ashore while the tide is rising, and send her into the dock at the tidal peak.

If we're even a little late and catch the ebb, everything is lost, so we have to move fast."

The slipways were sloped. If the captives slackened and let go, the galleon would slowly slide back into the sea under her own weight.

Moreover, each wave was not the same size. Sometimes the crest of one wave would meet the trough of the next, the swells canceling each other out in what was called destructive interference.

Other times, crests would pile on top of each other—the technical term was "constructive interference"—forming an even larger swell.

Lin Qian noticed that the commands to heave were only given when a large swell from constructive interference arrived. This required precise mastery of the tides and meticulous observation—truly remarkable skill.

Then came another command.

By now the galleon was mostly out of the water, her bow already inside the dock.

Here there was only a gentle swell, and the bow could no longer float.

"Apply the grease!"

At the command, the dozen or so sailors waiting nearby rushed forward, packing the semi-congealed grease into the gaps between the hull and the slipway.

Several others took grease and smeared it liberally along the front of the slipway. This was no waste—compared to the cost of the grease, damage to the great ship or a failed beaching would be a far greater loss.

"Mind your footing!"

"Watch your step!"

Some among the shipwrights kept calling out warnings.

After several waves of mutually canceling surf passed, the greasing was just about done.

Repeating this several times, nearly half of the Santa Ana's hull had entered the dry dock.

At this moment, Chen Jiao glanced at the coastline and couldn't help breaking into a sweat, muttering softly, "The tide line has stopped moving—high tide has arrived!"

Mute Huang also noticed the high tide, and patted his apprentice on the shoulder. The apprentice took a look, swallowed hard, then drew a deep breath and shouted to the crowd behind him, "High tide is here! Put in more effort!"

"Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"

Everyone gritted their teeth and worked even harder.

The captives, though forced to labor—whether moved by the atmosphere or fearing the whip—all put in desperate effort.

As the waves surged into the slipway, the captives pulled together, physically dragging the galleon forward seven or eight paces.

The apprentice's eyes lit up and he said, "Master, there's a chance! If we keep pulling like this, we'll definitely make the beaching!"

Mute Huang remained steady and composed, making no move, his eyes fixed on the tide.

A moment later, he clenched his fist.

The carpenters and shipwrights around him rushed forward desperately, working against the clock.

José muttered, "You people really are a bunch of madmen!"

Europe also had this technique of beaching ships for repair, but usually the ship would only be beached for a single night—emergency patching—then sail away on the next day's rising tide.

As for using the surge to drag a great ship so far from the coastline to beach it, as he saw before him now—José had never witnessed such a thing in his life.

In just a few minutes' time, the tide line had already begun to recede.

Chen Jiao said in a low voice, "Damn, the tide's going out."

Lin Qian looked toward the galleon. At this moment, half of the Santa Ana's hull was still outside the dry dock. Once the tide began to ebb, that half of the hull could not be pulled into the dock by sheer brute force.

José watched with extreme tension and said, "Helmsman, I'll go pull the ropes too."

Lin Qian said, "Hauling lines is a craft as well—you couldn't do it. Just watch."

In the distance, the apprentice Xiao Jiu reminded, "Master, the tide's going out."

Mute Huang remained unmoved, and once again raised his hand with the surge of a wave.

"Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"

Several hundred men gritted their teeth, their low, muffled shouts striking the heart like war drums.

Lin Qian's expression did not change, but his hand unconsciously clenched into a fist.

"Almost there! Everyone, pull hard!" Beside the slipway, a craftsman risked danger, approaching to observe, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

At this moment, half of the Santa Ana's hull had left the slipway, slightly lifted—this was the most dangerous moment.

"Whoosh!" A great surge of tide came crashing in, with the force of sweeping away everything in its path, charging into the dry dock without ceremony.

Mute Huang waved his arm forcefully.

The apprentice Xiao Jiu shouted with all his might, "Lift!"

Then all the craftsmen, together with the captives, roared in unison. The sound of their voices overpowered the waves and the howling wind.

Finally, the Santa Ana slowly tilted forward and settled firmly onto the keel blocks. The ship's own weight pressed the keel blocks askew in all directions, but thanks to the deformation of the sandy soil, the keel blocks fit the hull perfectly.

The crowd hauled the lines with all their might, and the galleon was dragged along the keel blocks coated in thick grease.

At last, after several groaning creaks of squeezed timber, the Santa Ana was successfully beached.

Mute Huang ordered the wooden dry dock gate closed to block the tide, then waved his hand behind him, and the apprentice shouted loudly, "Release!"

The captives slowly let go of the ropes, and the galleon did not budge an inch.

Qing'ao Bay immediately erupted in a deafening cheer!

After the Santa Ana was beached for repairs, Lin Qian's workplace moved to Nan'ao Town, where he selected an ordinary dwelling on the southern side of the island.

All the buildings on the island had been constructed in haste; ordinary residences and shops had only just been completed. Though space for the government offices had been reserved, construction had not yet begun.

The offices of the four departments—Garrison, Civil Affairs, Works, and Justice—were scattered among the various civilian houses in town, which did indeed make them look somewhat lacking in official dignity.

There was no helping it—the repair of the Santa Ana was the top priority on Nan'ao right now, and most of the island's craftsmen had been transferred to the Qing'ao Bay dry dock.

Construction of Nan'ao Town would have to wait for now.

Even after the Santa Ana's repairs were completed, the reservoir, granary, and dry dock would still take priority over government offices and residences.

There were also the fort batteries. Lin Qian had not previously included them on his construction list because Nan'ao Island lacked cannons.

Now, trade with Fatty An was steadily underway.

By the eleventh or twelfth month, Lin Qian planned to purchase a batch of apostle guns from Fatty An. These guns were heavier, with larger bores, and were perfectly suited for use as coastal defense guns.

On Lin Qian's desk, there was now a dedicated basket for stacking various blueprints.

Among them were the fort design drawings. In this latest version, the initial fort sites were Lie Islet outside Shen'ao Harbor, Changwei Mountain in the southwest of Nan'ao Island, Yuan Islet in the east, and Guan Islet in the south.

At lunch, Lin Qian summoned Scholar Zhou and discussed the matter of getting Boss Hu to commit.

According to Scholar Zhou's report, Boss Hu had already accepted ten thousand taels as a deposit.

The oceangoing ship had finished loading cargo and was sailing to Macao. At most ten days before it would return to Chenghai County.

As long as this voyage went without trouble, Boss Hu would book more voyages—he would have been initially dragged into the water.

Lin Qian said, "For future voyages to Macao, remember to buy some canvas and rope on the way back."

These were consumables, and Nan'ao Island had no capacity to produce them itself. Large-scale purchases would easily arouse suspicion—the best approach was to bring some back on each trip to Macao.

"Understood." Scholar Zhou nodded. "Helmsman, when do we lay our cards on the table with Boss Hu?"

"Wait a while longer. Bind him tighter with silver first."

Lin Qian could choose to use force to make Boss Hu submit right now, but that was the inferior strategy.

Binding Boss Hu to the ship with shared interests was the more secure approach.

After finishing the talk about Boss Hu, Lin Qian then asked about the literacy campaign on the island.

Scholar Zhou smiled bitterly: "As the helmsman instructed, the literacy classes only teach reading, writing, and arithmetic. It's just that there aren't many teachers on the island—only five were recruited—and there are even fewer students. Fewer than a hundred come to listen each day, and fewer still come consistently."

Changing customs and habits is the hardest thing of all.

The islanders had survived until now by rowing, diving, and being nimble. Reading and writing meant nothing to them, so naturally no one was willing to learn.

Scholar Zhou suggested: "Helmsman, how about giving a meal to those who come to class?"

Lin Qian slowly shook his head. People attracted by a free meal would never listen attentively. If meals were actually given out, the literacy results might be even worse than now.

Lin Qian asked: "Where is the school located, and what time does class start each day?"

"It's on the open ground in the south of the island near the treeline. Class starts at the hour of Mao and ends at the hour of You."

Lin Qian clapped his hands: "That's exactly the problem—who can afford to study full-time? Starting tomorrow, switch everything to the evening, and shorten the class time to just four hours."

Scholar Zhou's mouth fell open. In his memory, no school had ever been run like this.

"Classes at night—how can anyone see the books clearly?"

Lin Qian smiled: "If you can't see clearly, light beeswax candles. Don't begrudge the candles—light one at every desk and make the school bright as day."

Scholar Zhou was utterly astonished.

Lin Qian continued: "The school's location should change too—move it north, right in the middle of a lightly traveled road. That way, islanders passing by on their way home can see it. If they're interested, they can stop and listen for a while. A single glance and they'll recognize one character. Even if they don't look at all, at least it can light their way."

What Lin Qian said was completely different from the school in Scholar Zhou's memory, but after thinking it over for a moment, he felt it made a great deal of sense.

After all, the school wasn't teaching the Four Books and Five Classics. Lin Qian only required students to recognize characters and numbers, read and write simple vernacular, and do addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division.

Perhaps, as the helmsman said, the method of glancing at lessons while passing by was the most effective after all.

After lunch, Lin Qian took four guards to the Houjiang Bay dock and took a boat to the Qing'ao Bay repair site.

The Santa Ana was his foundation for standing in the world, and Lin Qian took it very seriously. Every three to five days, he would come to check on the progress.

The beach at Qing'ao Bay was now a scene of bustling activity.

From afar, one could see the galleon sitting on the beach. Its sails and rigging had all been removed, and the hull was propped up on all sides by enormous round timbers.

Over a hundred craftsmen were busy all around.

Further away on the dry sand, sailcloth could be seen spread out to dry.

When these sails hung on the yards, they didn't seem like much, but spread across the beach to dry, one could see just how enormous they were—dozens of sails nearly covered Qing'ao Bay completely.

The small boat docked on the sand of Qing'ao Bay. Lin Qian disembarked and looked around the beach.

Several dozen carpenter apprentices were polishing planks on the beach, their planes flying rapidly across the wood, wood shavings scattered all around.

Seeing Lin Qian arrive, some people looked up to greet him, but most were too busy to even raise their heads.

In the distance, on the beach near the treeline, prisoners were hauling logs. Most of this timber had been felled when they first came to the island, or had been air-dried for years at Shen'ao Harbor.

A master carpenter was marking and cutting the logs to size.

Lin Qian walked over and saw the master holding a wooden template, measuring against the log for a long while. Then he put the template away, picked up an ink line, had an apprentice hold one end, and snapped a long straight line.

The master flicked the line, leaving a straight ink mark on the log. He moved the ink line down a few inches and flicked again, drawing two parallel lines. Connecting the endpoints with a charcoal stick, he had the outline of a vertical plank.

The master led his apprentices forward a few steps and snapped the ink line several more times in the same manner. In no time, one giant log was covered with design outlines for planks of various sizes.

Even the curved fork of the branches wasn't wasted. The master pulled out his charcoal and sketched the outline of a curved plank.

It looked like it would be used for ribs or bow planking.

Even though the island had an abundance of timber, the craftsmen didn't cut and waste it recklessly—every tree was used to its fullest.

"Helmsman?" Having finished marking and cutting, the master carpenter looked up and only then noticed Lin Qian standing nearby.

Seeing Lin Qian staring at the log, the master explained: "This is camphor wood, for deck planking. I'm laying out the patterns on the timber."

"No need to mind me—get back to work." Lin Qian said warmly.

"Yes." The carpenter acknowledged, then told the prisoners to carry away the log that had been marked.

In the next step, apprentices used axes and saws to cut the timber along the ink lines, roughing out the shape of the planks.

The rough-cut planks were either sent to be fire-bent into curves or to be planed smooth and have holes drilled.

Across the entire beach, the carpenters worked busily yet in an orderly fashion.

"Helmsman." At that moment, Lin Qian heard someone call him from behind.

Lin Qian turned around and saw Jose smiling obsequiously behind him.

Ever since the last beaching, Jose had stayed at Qing'ao Bay to help with the galleon's repairs.

Lin Qian asked: "How's the progress these past few days?"

Jose said: "We just finished scraping off the barnacles. These past few days we've been inspecting the hull bottom."

Jose led the way as he spoke, heading toward the beaching dock.

"It's been a while since the Santa Ana's last overhaul. Quite a few of the bottom planks have shipworm damage—quite a few need replacing."

As the two talked, they passed a stretch of hard-packed sand where several dozen cannons were arrayed. Most were covered with cloth, but a few were exposed, with shipwrights wiping them down with oiled rags.

Seeing Lin Qian's gaze fall on the cannons, Jose explained: "Cannons need regular oiling to prevent rust. A few have already rusted—luckily not badly, they can still be used."

Lin Qian asked: "Are the four new Siren cannons here?"

Jose called out to a shipwright to pull back the rain cover.

Four bronze cannons revealed their bodies, gleaming with a cold blue-green light in the sun.

The four cannons were about seven or eight chi long, with muzzles about half a chi across. Their bodies were slender—narrow at the head, thicker at the breech—and looked extremely well proportioned, already mounted on wooden carriages.

Lin Qian leaned in for a closer look. The surfaces of the four cannons were smooth, the barrels perfectly straight—clearly crafted with exceptional skill.

Near the rear of the barrel, close to the powder chamber, there was engraved ornamentation: a monster with a human head and a bird's body, seemingly the image of a Siren sea spirit, with a string of Portuguese inscription beneath it.

Lin Qian pointed at the inscription and asked Jose what it meant.

Jose said, "That's the name of a Portuguese cannon foundry—the Bocarro Foundry. Their craftsmanship is exquisite and quite renowned."

Lin Qian compared the Portuguese cannon with the Spanish cannons on board, and could see that the Portuguese cannon's surface was smoother, with fewer blowholes.

Lin Qian couldn't help but feel greatly satisfied with the Portuguese "craftsman's spirit."

Beside the cannon, five or six shipwrights were greasing and polishing cannonballs.

Lin Qian asked a shipwright for one round, and the moment it landed in his hand, it felt very heavy—a chill creeping up through his palm.

Lin Qian ran his hands over the cannonball's surface, finding it also very smooth, with no obvious protrusions or ridges.

He held it up against the muzzle to compare—there was basically no significant gap.

Lin Qian returned the cannonball to that crewman, grabbed a handful of sea sand, and wiped the grease off his hands.

Judging by weight, this cannonball was about ten-odd jin—by later generations' cannon classification, it could roughly be classed as a twelve-pounder.

Europe at this time had no habit of classifying cannons by the pound-weight of their shot.

The two Iberian kingdoms liked to name their cannons after angels and monsters from the Bible, so this cannon was called a Siren cannon, and those with larger bores were called Apostle cannons.

Other European countries preferred naming cannons after birds and beasts—such as eagle cannons, serpent cannons, falcon cannons, and so on.

By the continental European habit, this Siren cannon was basically equivalent to a demi-serpent.

Seeing Lin Qian's interest in the Siren cannon, Jose went on to explain the origin of the cannon's name, the history of the Bocarro Foundry, and such.

Lin Qian had someone cover the cannon with the tarpaulin, then walked back toward the galleon.

Reaching the edge of the temporary dry dock, he saw that a ring of wooden walls had already been installed around the sand pit to prevent collapse.

Water was seeping slightly at the bottom of the pit, but fortunately not badly.

The barnacles on the hull planking had by now been cleaned off, leaving only rings of white marks clinging to the planks.

A dozen or so shipwrights stood in the pit, hammering away at the hull planking.

Seeing Lin Qian arrive at the pit's edge, Mute Huang came forward to pay his respects.

Lin Qian simply jumped down into the pit and said, "Keep at your work—I'll just watch from the side."

Mute Huang led Lin Qian back to the hull, where he took a wooden mallet in hand and kept tapping the planking, very carefully—every single plank was struck.

The apprentice Xiao Jiu explained, "Helmsman, he's looking for shipworms."

Lin Qian nodded.

As the tapping continued, finally one plank gave out a different sound.

Mute Huang bent down, had someone bring an oil lamp to inspect, then made a few sounds and pointed at the spot, signaling Lin Qian to look.

Lin Qian likewise bent down with a lamp to look, and sure enough, he saw several inconspicuous little holes in that plank.

Mute Huang had the apprentice call people over, who brought axes and saws to remove that plank.

In the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the plank was removed, and Mute Huang brought it before Lin Qian.

Jose broke out in goosebumps and said in a low voice, "Helmsman, better not to look at shipworms."

Lin Qian said, "It's fine."

He knew what shipworms looked like—he just wanted to see how badly the Santa Ana had been infested.

With a small hatchet, Mute Huang split a gap in the plank without much effort, then wrenched it apart—the plank snapped in the middle.

On the cross-section were five or six holes, with noodle-like worms oozing out along them.

These creatures were shipworms.

They looked like maggots, but were in fact a kind of shellfish—and quite delicious, at that. Thinking of it that way, they weren't so disgusting.

At least, that was how Lin Qian got over it.

After all the shipworms had drained out, Lin Qian took the plank and saw several holes letting light through the cross-section; the thinnest part of the plank was only half a finger-width thick.

Shipworms fed on wood, constantly reducing its strength—that was why such a thick plank could be snapped by Mute Huang's bare hands.

Had they not dry-docked her for inspection and cleaning like this, within a year or two the shipworms would have eaten clean through the entire hull, and the ship would have taken on water and sunk.

Around the plank where shipworms had been found, shipworms were gradually discovered in other planks as well; the craftsmen removed plank after plank, and in a short while, a whole section of the hull lay bare.

The apprentice Xiao Jiu said, "Helmsman, the galleon's hull is made entirely of teak. This wood is oily and resistant to pests—it effectively guards against shipworms…"

Seeing Lin Qian looking at the plank where shipworms had been found, Xiao Jiu explained, "Once shipworms are found, they're usually all around. The galleon has been at sea this long—having only this much shipworm is already very little."

Shipworms were most prevalent in tropical and subtropical waters. The Santa Ana had sailed those two regions at high intensity for the better part of half a year—thank goodness for the teak hull, or she'd never have held up to the abuse.

Seeing that Lin Qian had no further questions, Xiao Jiu picked up where he'd left off: "Unfortunately, teak comes from the South Seas, and there's none on Nan'ao Island, so my master used camphor wood instead.

That wood is more brittle than teak and has less oil, but its advantage is that it resists rot and pests just the same—shipworms don't take to it easily."

Mute Huang nodded repeatedly upon hearing this—clearly what his apprentice said was exactly what he'd wanted to say.

Encouraged, Xiao Jiu continued, "The galleon's frames and wales use lychee wood. That wood resists rot and pests and is sturdy—no worse than teak—but it's so hard that it's difficult to cut, so it's only used at critical points."

Lin Qian didn't understand much of what Xiao Jiu said. He hadn't imagined that merely choosing wood for shipbuilding could involve such fine distinctions—indeed, professional matters should be left to professionals.

Lin Qian pressed further with questions about timber.

According to the apprentice, different woods had vastly different properties—for instance, the most expensive ironwood of the South Seas had strength approaching that of steel.

Lin Qian's sextant was made of ironwood; it had been in use for over half a year without the slightest deformation.

Fast-growing poplar and willow, by contrast, were soft, weak, prone to rot, cracking, and insect damage—basically useless for building oceangoing ships.

It could be said that the differences between woods were even greater than those between steels. To build great sailing warships, silver, skill, and productive capacity alone weren't enough—you also needed vast quantities of quality timber.

Lin Qian asked, "Then what's the best wood for building oceangoing ships?"

Mute Huang pointed at the Santa Ana.

The apprentice said, "My master says that would be the galleon's teak. Unfortunately, that wood is rare in the Great Ming—it all grows around Annam and the Mubang region in the South Seas."

"Oh." Lin Qian's face showed nothing, but he silently committed the teak's origin to memory.

(End of chapter)

Yahei

Pink Round

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