Chapter 118: The Ming Navy's Galleon Fleet

Five or six days later.

The Santa Ana loaded all its cannons, gunpowder barrels, and furniture back aboard, re-rigged the cables and sails, and returned to anchor in Back Bay harbor.

It happened to coincide with the fourth convoy of traded goods returning from Macao.

After the convoy docked at Back Bay, it unloaded firearms, silver, and other cargo in order.

Lin Qian frowned: "This batch of firearms seems a bit short?"

Jose flattered him: "The helmsman's eyes are truly sharp. This time we indeed only purchased ammunition; the number of cannons and muskets is somewhat fewer than before."

"What happened?"

"The Bocarro Foundry's inventory has been bought out." Jose said with a wry smile, "The foundry is stepping up production."

In these times, firearms were all custom-made to order; even a large foundry like Bocarro's wouldn't keep much stock on hand.

Producing while selling off inventory—sustaining four deliveries was already no small feat.

Jose said: "This subordinate has placed the order with the foundry according to the helmsman's earlier instructions. If the helmsman finds it unsuitable, this subordinate will go make changes."

At present, Lin Qian commanded ten Haicang junks, of which seven had already been refitted into Sea Wolf-class escort ships. Counting this purchase, the remaining three could now be armed.

Ten Sea Wolf-class escort ships would suffice for the short term.

So, according to Lin Qian's earlier instructions to Jose, the subsequent deliveries would focus on purchasing matchlock muskets, shot and shell, and gunpowder.

Once the Santa Ana completed its cargo hold refit and built the second gun deck, then they would buy more large-caliber cannons.

Lin Qian said: "Keep the current order as is. Come to the Santa Ana tomorrow morning."

The next morning at dawn, Jose arrived as promised. Upon reaching the deck, he found Huang Hetai was also there; the two exchanged awkward greetings.

On the poop deck, Lei Sanxiang looked at Huang and Jose and said: "Helmsman, this is training day—why did you call these two here?"

Lin Qian glanced at the two men on deck and said calmly: "Naval combat training cannot be done behind closed doors. These two each understand the naval tactics of the Ming and of Europe—they might prove useful."

Chen Jiao walked over from the bow and said: "Helmsman, all participating ships have assembled."

Lin Qian gave the order: "Set sail."

Chen Jiao relayed the command in a loud voice: "Wind from the northwest, course due west, weigh anchor!"

Lei Sanxiang hurried down to the gun deck in three quick strides and ordered the crew up on deck to wind up the anchor.

Half an hour later, the mainsails on the Santa Ana's several masts unfurled one after another; the brand-new canvas reflected dazzling white light under the winter sun.

"The ship's speed seems a bit faster?" Chen Jiao said in surprise, holding his hand up to the wind.

This was no illusion—after the overhaul, the barnacles on the Santa Ana's hull had been scraped clean, reducing forward resistance, which naturally increased speed.

This was Lin Qian's first time aboard since the galleon's refit was completed, so he said casually: "Come, let's take a look around the deck."

With that, Lin Qian stepped down from the poop deck, Chen Jiao following behind him.

Seeing this, Huang and Jose came up, saluted Lin Qian, and fell in behind as well.

Lin Qian stopped at a section of deck amidships, noticing that the color of the deck planks there differed from elsewhere.

During the campaign to wipe out Li Kuiqi, this section of deck had been smashed with a hole by a plank from the exploding ship-fortress.

The now-flat deck had been patched with camphor wood.

Lin Qian crouched down and ran his hand over the deck, feeling it oily and smooth without being sticky, able to sense the grain of the wood.

He knocked around the surrounding deck as well—the sound was no different anywhere.

Lin Qian rose and walked toward the bow, passing the Folangji cannons along both sides of the bulwark; the bronze barrels gave off a cold gleam under the sunlight.

Beside each Folangji cannon stood a water bucket and five pre-loaded breech chambers.

Five gunners stood arrayed around each Folangji cannon; seeing Lin Qian approach, they all stood at attention and saluted.

At the bow, three triangular sails bellied out to port; ahead lay an overcast sky and a deep blue expanse of ocean, with a faint line of land visible in the distance.

The bow cut through the waves, throwing up a chill spray mingled with a fresh, briny scent that invigorated the spirit.

The Santa Ana had gradually passed Great Point Mountain; Chen Jiao ordered the course changed to southeast, turning the rudder and shifting sails.

Lin Qian felt the hull tilt slightly to the right—the combined result of centrifugal force from the turn and the following wind on the port side.

The sail handlers came to the bow and hauled on the sheets as the ship came about.

With a whoosh, all three triangular sails shifted to belly out to starboard, catching the full wind and driving the ship southeast.

Helmsman and sail handlers worked in perfect coordination; even with such a sharp turn, the hull remained perfectly steady.

Lin Qian inspected the deck, bulwarks, sail locks, and shrouds—not a single spot that wasn't soaked in tung oil, not a single spot that hadn't been properly repaired.

He also checked the main anchor at the bow; the anchor chain that had snapped before had been re-spliced, while the anchor itself had been stripped from an old Haicang junk—ill-matched to the galleon's size, but serviceable enough.

Lin Qian walked all the way back to the stern deck, the others climbing up with him.

Behind the galleon, seven Sea Wolf-class escort ships followed in formation, flanked by a dozen or so single-bird boats escorting alongside.

Gazing out from the stern deck, the masts stood like a forest, the sails blotting out the sky, covering a vast stretch of sea—quite an imposing sight.

To accommodate the Sea Wolf ships' speed, the galleon's three masts had not lowered their topgallant sails.

After sailing southeast for about two hours, they reached an open expanse of sea.

Lin Qian ordered the sails lowered and the ship brought to a halt.

Several sailors carried a wooden frame down below the stern deck and set it against the wall of the captain's cabin, while other sailors brought five large flags and inserted them into the frame.

The flagstaffs were about one zhang six chi long, each flying a square flag of red, blue, green, black, or yellow—the flags seven chi long and three chi wide, hung vertically from the staffs with wooden slats nailed across both ends so they could not flutter in the wind.

The flag faces were all made of Chaozhou silk, vividly colored, catching the sunlight and gleaming with striking brilliance.

While the Santa Ana busied itself with the five-colored flags, sailors on the bird boats brought out rafts made of coconut husks, fitted them with simple red sails, and set them adrift on the sea.

After the time it takes to burn one stick of incense, a spread of coconut-husk target rafts had appeared on the water, sailing grandly southeastward under the northwest wind.

Aboard the galleon, the five signal flagmen had already taken their positions before the flag frame.

Everyone stood in silence, awaiting Lin Qian's command.

Lin Qian pulled out his telescope and looked toward the target rafts, estimating they had drifted one or two li out. He put away the telescope and said in a low voice: "Begin."

"Training begins!" Chen Jiao shouted the order.

The lookout was already prepared and immediately replied, "Off the starboard bow, one thousand paces, enemy ships sighted."

Lin Qian said, "Order the fleet to hold the line, course southeast, engage with the starboard side."

Chen Jiao shouted, "Raise the red flag! Course southeast, raise half sail!"

At the command, the entire deck of the Santa Ana burst into activity—riggers scrambling up the yards to unfurl the sails.

The flag bearer in charge of the red flag grabbed it and ran to take his position on the stern deck.

The great crimson banner gleamed with a blood-red light under the cold winter sun.

The ships behind saw the red flag and raised sail one after another, forming a single line as they followed the Santa Ana, the bird boats trailing behind the Sea Wolf ships.

"Enemy ships, five hundred paces."

"Enemy ships, three hundred paces."

The lookout updated the distance.

Lin Qian lowered his telescope and said to Chen Jiao, "Hold the distance at two hundred paces, open fire."

Chen Jiao said, "Open the starboard gun ports, engage with the starboard side!"

"Enemy ships, two hundred paces."

Chen Jiao immediately said, "Port, easy rudder—hold two hundred paces! Wave the red flag—fleet opens fire!"

At the command, the flag bearer standing at the stern waved the red banner left and right.

The Folangji cannons of the Sea Wolf ships and the Siren cannons of the galleon fired almost simultaneously.

Several dozen cannons thundered at once, roaring like heavenly thunder, the deck trembling faintly beneath their feet.

The entire starboard side of the line was shrouded in thick gunsmoke, the acrid smell of gunpowder choking nearly to the point of suffocation.

Around the target ships, great splashes of water erupted—a fearsome spectacle—yet only a scant few took hits.

Most of the cannonballs landed short, and the waves they kicked up pushed the target ships even farther away.

The Siren cannons were still being reloaded when the Sea Wolf ships behind had already loosed two more volleys—only three or four ships were struck.

The target ships were admittedly very small, but two hundred paces might also have exceeded the effective range of the Folangji cannons.

Lin Qian said, "Order the Sea Wolf ships to close in and bombard."

Chen Jiao said to the flag bearer, "Spin the blue flag!"

The blue flag bearer heard the order, pulled the flagpole free, and strode up to the stern deck, arm muscles tensing as he whirled the great blue banner in circles.

At the bow of Sea Wolf One, Bailangzai hugged his great miao saber, squinting as he made out the spinning blue flag, and said to his men, "Turn to starboard—close in!"

Sea Wolf One immediately turned to starboard and charged straight at the target ships, the remaining six Sea Wolf ships following close behind.

Lin Qian watched the Sea Wolf ships' movement and said aloud, "Galleon—cease fire!"

"Cease fire!"

"Cease fire!"

The command was relayed layer by layer through Chen Jiao and Lei Sanxiang, and the Siren's song fell silent.

The biting northwest wind scattered the thick smoke, revealing the Sea Wolf ships drawn up in a line like a sea serpent coiling around the target ships.

The Sea Wolf line sailed from east to west, and at fifty paces from the targets, the lead ship opened fire, followed in turn by each ship behind.

The Folangji cannons lacked great power—their splashes were small—but the intervals between volleys were short and their numbers many, so impacts struck the water without cease, churning the sea around the target ships as if it were boiling—a magnificent sight.

Amid the seething water, the target ships met with disaster—ship after ship took hits, blasted to splinters, coconut husks flying everywhere, sails riddled with holes.

Soon, each cannon had expended its five chambers, and the Sea Wolf guns fell silent.

In theory, once a Folangji cannon's chambers were spent, they should be immediately cooled in water and reloaded with powder and shot for the next volley—five chambers ought to have kept the guns firing in an unbroken cycle.

But the gunners were not yet skilled with the Folangji cannons and could not achieve such a fast reloading pace.

On top of that, this was everyone's first fleet action—everything from fleet command to cannon performance needed to be worked out through practice.

This was precisely the purpose of Lin Qian's training.

After a pause of half a joss stick's burn, the thunder of the Folangji cannons rang out once more, and the remaining target ships suffered another calamity.

After five chambers, the bombardment halted again—by now, only half the target ships remained on the sea.

The Santa Ana lay downwind of the Sea Wolf line, and the northwest wind carried wave after wave of gunsmoke toward her—the sulfur stench in the sea breeze was thick enough to feel solid, boring up the nostrils and into the lungs, stinging eyes until tears streamed down.

This time the pause between bombardments was shorter—less than half a joss stick before the guns roared again—but the intervals between individual shots grew longer, clearly because they were loading and firing at the same time, leaving the gunners flustered and unable to keep up the supply.

Lin Qian did not call a halt, and the bombardment continued for nearly an hour.

Only a scattered dozen or so target ships remained on the sea.

On the Santa Ana's stern deck, everyone was steeped in the smell of sulfur, their skin feeling sticky and unclean.

Lin Qian's throat itched, and he said in a suppressed voice, "Order the Sea Wolf ships and bird boats to board!"

Chen Jiao said, "Wave the blue flag and the black flag."

The black flag bearer heard the order, pulled his flag from its socket, and climbed onto the deck, standing shoulder to shoulder with the blue flag bearer as the two banners swung back and forth.

On the distant sea, the Sea Wolf ships and bird boats split from their line, each vessel spreading full sail and charging at the scattered target ships.

Accuracy at sea was very low, and since the cannonballs were all solid shot, even a wooden ship struck by a hundred rounds would be hard to sink.

Thus, the end of a sea battle almost always had to be decided by boarding.

The greatest value of the Folangji cannons was to kill as many of the enemy crew on deck as possible before the boarding action began.

In everyone's view, more than twenty warships charged at the target ships like horses freed from their reins, and in but a moment, they had rammed and sunk the scattered remnants.

This was only a drill—there was no true close combat.

In truth, what Lin Qian worried about most with this fleet was precisely the boarding action.

Most of his crew were Tanka boat people—fierce and brave to a fault—but they lacked training in close-order formation fighting, and boarding actions at sea above all demanded paired dueling and simple formations, like the mandarin duck formation.

His crew might best guard station soldiers or camp soldiers in a boarding fight. But against the true elite of the Great Ming they would stand no comparison—and compared to the household retainers of the Haimen Guard Commander he had seen last time, they fell far, far short.

That was why Lin Qian trained his gunners with live ammunition regardless of cost—to narrow the disadvantage in boarding actions.

Seeing that the "boarding action" had been won, Lin Qian said, "Order the entire fleet to withdraw."

"Sound the gong, raise the red flag!" Chen Jiao shouted.

Soon the red-flag bearer climbed back up to the stern deck with the red flag raised, while the other two flag bearers went down carrying their flags and reinserted the flagpoles into their wooden stands.

The sound of the bronze gong drifted far across the sea.

The Sea Wolf and the bird-boat squadron received the order and disengaged one after another, turning back to re-form a single line behind the galleon.

By then, the thick gunsmoke on the sea had been blown away, and scattered snowflakes were drifting down from the sky.

Lin Qian turned to face Jose and Huang Hetai and asked, "What do you think?"

Jose flattered him: "So this is the flag signaling of the Great Ming's ships? Today I've truly broadened my horizons."

Lin Qian said: "Say something useful."

Knowing Lin Qian's temperament, Jose straightened his face and said: "Spanish fleet command usually consists of flag signals, lights, dispatch-boat messages, and the captains' improvisation.

Because Spanish words are made up of letters, simple commands can also be sent by flag signal—in that respect, perhaps it's more convenient than the Great Ming."

Perhaps because he had spent a long time in the Great Ming, after speaking his true thoughts, Jose shifted tack and started flattering again: "But the helmsman's five-color flags are clearly more convenient for transmitting orders—the whole drill used only three colors, far more convenient than Spanish command signaling!"

A crewman handed over a wet towel; Lin Qian took it and wiped his face. When he finished, the towel was covered in thick, gray-black grime.

"These five-color flags weren't invented by me. I learned them from the *New Book of Effective Discipline*."

Jose gave a thumbs up: "The Great Ming truly produces talented men in abundance!"

Lin Qian wiped his hands as he asked: "What does Garrison Commander Huang think?"

Huang Hetai was about to cup his hands and offer praise when Lin Qian cut him off: "No need for flattery—just tell me directly what problems you see."

Huang Hetai paused, then said: "This set of five-color flags was indeed passed down by Grand Commander Qi back in the day, and is still used in the southeastern naval forces today—though it differs slightly from the helmsman's flag signals."

Lin Qian returned the used towel to the crewman and explained: "I made modifications."

The words were simple, but Huang Hetai still read from them Lin Qian's resolve to stand against the court, and couldn't help feeling somewhat tense.

Lin Qian said to Chen Jiao: "Please continue the drills, Brother."

Chen Jiao clasped his fists: "Yes!"

Lin Qian led Huang and Jose to the officers' mess. After they sat down, a crewman brought hot tea.

"If the Ming navy fought a sea battle, what tactics would they use?" Lin Qian raised his teacup, blowing away the steam as he asked.

"This humble officer is shallow in learning and dare not—"

"Say whatever you know." Lin Qian's voice was flat.

He actually had some understanding of the Ming navy's tactics, but theory and practice always differed, so it was better to confirm with a professional.

"Then this humble officer will speak boldly. The Ming naval forces mainly use the tactics established by Grand Commander Qi, which can be summed up in two phrases: firearms first, boarding after; the small strike the great, the many overwhelm the few.

The *New Book of Effective Discipline* says: 'If the enemy vessel is small, our large ships press upon it, rushing forward to force it. Strictly array the soldiers to first release firearms, then shoot arrows and crossbows, followed by javelins and stones…'"

As he spoke, dense crackling sounds came from outside the cabin—the ships conducting live-fire musket drills.

Amid the gunsmoke, Lin Qian also asked about the course of Qi Jiguang and Yu Dayou's attack on Nan'ao, and about the rewards for Li Kuiqi's and Li Zhong's two previous campaigns against sea bandits.

Huang Hetai smiled bitterly: "The merits for exterminating Li Kuiqi came down half a month ago—the court rewarded some silver. Li Zhong's merits haven't been answered yet. Affairs at court have been complicated lately; I imagine it's been delayed in the Grand Secretariat and the Directorate of Ceremonial."

"Oh." Lin Qian took a sip of tea, noncommittal.

The drills continued until noon. After lunch, the gunfire started up again, and Lin Qian remained in the cabin with Huang and Jose, discussing the naval tactics of the Great Ming and the West.

It wasn't until the sun set over the western mountains that the advancing fleet gradually came to a halt.

Then Chen Jiao walked into the cabin and said: "Helmsman, a ship has come from the south."

"Oh?" Lin Qian rose to his feet.

The place he had chosen was seven or eight nautical miles from shore—what the Great Ming's maritime merchants considered open sea, where almost no ships ever passed.

Encountering a ship here was rather strange.

Lin Qian left the officers' mess, walked up to the stern deck, pulled out his telescope, and looked in the direction Chen Jiao had indicated.

There, between sea and sky, was indeed a sail—clearly showing a two-masted Western lateen rig, obviously not a Ming merchant ship.

As the ship drew closer, Lin Qian recognized it as a caravel.

This type of ship had weak firepower but was fast and extremely maneuverable, much favored by explorers. In the fleet Columbus used to explore the Americas back then, there had been two caravels.

Lin Qian frowned slightly, pondering inwardly.

In this era, England had not yet extended its hand to East Asia. On the seas off Fujian and Guangdong, only three nations had caravels: Spain, Portugal, and Holland.

The northwest monsoon was currently prevailing—clearly not a good time to sail north for trade with Japan, and a caravel wasn't suited to be a merchant ship anyway.

So this ship wasn't Portuguese.

Of the remaining two, the Spanish were currently Lin Qian's enemies, and the Dutch were enemies of the entire Great Ming.

In short, whoever was coming meant no good.

While Lin Qian observed the incoming ship, the caravel also lowered its sails—clearly observing Lin Qian's fleet from afar. The atmosphere between the two sides was extremely delicate.

"Helmsman, what do we do?" Chen Jiao asked.

Lin Qian naturally wanted to capture the incoming ship, but the caravel was nimble and light, and its lateen sails had excellent windward performance—a direct chase would never catch it.

He had to think of a way.

Lin Qian looked at the wind pennant on the mast. The northwest wind was blowing strong, and the air was full of scattered snowflakes.

The most favorable winds for sailing were broad reaches and close reaches; few ships sailed dead downwind, especially lateen-rigged vessels like the caravel, where running dead downwind made it hard to exploit the Bernoulli principle and reach maximum speed.

So the incoming ship most likely wouldn't flee to the southeast.

Lin Qian glanced at the sky again—leaden clouds hung low, fine snow whirled through the air.

In this weather, heading out to the open sea was extremely dangerous if one lost one's bearings, so the caravel wouldn't sail due east either.

And due west was the shore—for a caravel, that too was a dead end.

So, once Lin Qian's fleet gave chase, the incoming ship would most likely flee toward the south-southwest.

In this stretch of sea, due south-southwest lay the coral reef lagoon where the ship-city stood—perhaps it could be used to slow the incoming ship.

Lin Qian made a quick mental calculation of the two ships' speeds and the reef's position, and decided it was worth attempting a chase.

With that in mind, Lin Qian said to José: "Do you know Spanish flag signaling?"

José nodded: "Only a little."

Lin Qian: "Go to the bow and signal them—tell them we are the Ming navy, and they must heave to for inspection."

José acknowledged, grabbed two triangular flags, and headed to the bow.

Lin Qian then said to Chen Jiao: "Order the fleet to spread out in a line. The galleon is to set full sail and pursue the incoming ship at full speed."

"Red flag, raised at an angle!" Chen Jiao shouted. "Set sail, heading southwest, pursue the incoming ship!"

The red-flag signalman obeyed and worked the flags on the stern deck. The Sea Wolf and the bird ships flanked the galleon on both sides, gradually forming a line as they sped southwest after the Santa Ana.

The Santa Ana was fast, and soon shot ahead of the formation like an arrow from a string.

By now, José had taken the two triangular flags and was continuously signaling from the bow.

If the flag signals could sow confusion, so much the better; if not, it hardly mattered—the Santa Ana was already charging at full speed, and they couldn't expect the incoming ship to sit there like a fool.

Sure enough, after a moment's hesitation, the caravel raised sail and fled southwest.

At the same time, aboard the caravel, Spanish Vice Admiral Juan was observing the enemy fleet through a telescope, his brow deeply furrowed.

The first mate had read the incoming ship's signals and said with relief: "Your Excellency, the ship says they are the Ming navy, here only for a routine inspection."

Juan lowered his telescope and swore: "You fool—have you ever seen a Ming navy sailing a galleon?"

The first mate froze, then hastily raised his telescope. Sure enough, the lead ship had a tall freeboard, its Western-style soft sails bellied full, cutting through the waves at great speed, leaving the hard-sailed ships on either side far behind.

The first mate said nervously: "Could they be... pirates?"

Juan licked his lips and gave a tense smile: "And a big pirate at that. It should be Lin Qian."

"Lin Qian..."

At the sound of that name, the first mate and the officers around him all tensed up.

Less than half a year ago, the pirate Lin Qian had seized a Manila galleon with just sixty men—that deed was still seared deep into everyone's memory.

(End of chapter)

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen