Chapter 120: The Sea Battle of the Twenty-Eighth of the Twelfth Month

Lin Qian explained to Chu Shijiang the improvements needed for the cement mortar, then returned to the dock, just in time to receive the report from the guard who had earlier gone to sound out the peddlers.

"Helmsman, I asked around the dock — a dozen or so peddlers who used to come to the island regularly have stopped coming lately.

Some of them set up stalls on shore, and others no one has seen at all — they're probably at home preparing for the New Year."

Lin Qian nodded: "Understood."

The guard withdrew, and Lin Qian said to Lü Zhou: "Send someone sharp to Shen'ao to ask about Huang Hetai's reward for wiping out Li Zhong, and call Bai Qing to the captain's quarters."

Lü Zhou: "Yes, sir!"

A quarter of an hour later, a knock sounded at the door of the Santa Ana's captain's quarters.

"Enter." Lin Qian stood with his hands clasped behind his back, facing the window.

Bai Qing walked in: "Helmsman, you wanted to see me?"

Lin Qian turned to look at her. Since Bai Qing had joined Lin Qian's command, though she had been through several dangers, she had at last gained a place to settle on shore, and with ample nutrition, her complexion had grown much fairer — she now looked somewhat like a woman.

"Have a seat." Lin Qian gestured at the oval dining table. "Pour yourself some tea."

Bai Qing picked up the teapot from the charcoal brazier and poured a cup of tea. The captain's quarters were filled with the fresh fragrance of Longjing tea. She thought to pour a cup for Lin Qian as well, but he declined.

"Are you getting used to life on the island?" Lin Qian made small talk.

Bai Qing held her teacup and smiled: "Used to it. The life I have now is something I wouldn't have dared dream of back on the ship."

Lin Qian chatted with her about household matters for a while longer, then suddenly shifted the topic and asked: "What plans do you have for the future?"

Bai Qing was a little puzzled: "Naturally, to continue serving the helmsman."

Lin Qian: "With your abilities, being just an ordinary crewman — don't you think it's a waste of your talents?"

"Helmsman, I..."

Lin Qian raised a hand, cutting off Bai Qing's words.

"I've decided to make you the master of the Sea Wolf Number One."

Bai Qing was overjoyed, rose to her feet, and clasped her fists: "Thank you, Helmsman!"

Counting the Haicang vessels armed with Folangji cannons from the fifteenth of the eleventh month, Lin Qian now commanded ten Sea Wolf-class escort warships in total.

None of the ships had yet confirmed a permanent master — all had only acting ones. Bai Qing was the first to be formally appointed, which showed how much she was valued.

Lin Qian: "Once you're a ship's master, you can't stay an illiterate. When you have free time from now on, learn your characters from the scholar on the island, understand?"

"Yes!" Like Bailangzai, Bai Qing had no aversion to reading and learning characters.

Lin Qian continued immediately: "There's a matter that requires you to make a trip."

"Please give your orders, Helmsman."

"Return to Huangyan for a visit, inquire about news of the Lin household, and while you're at it, go see that mad concubine of the Lin family."

Bai Qing asked: "Does the helmsman mean to silence her?"

Lin Qian shook his head: "Just a visit. Even if someone has already gone to question her, don't touch her. Act discreetly — don't let anyone notice."

Lin Qian said: "Go on. And call Third Brother in for me."

Bai Qing acknowledged and left. After a while, Lei Sanxiang pushed the door open and came in, rubbing his hands together, saying: "What does the helmsman want with me?"

Lin Qian: "I've appointed Bai Qing as master of the Sea Wolf Number One. Sea Wolf Number Two will be captained by Zheng Aqi, Number Three by Shi Kai, and Number Four by Mu San."

Apart from Bai Qing, the other three had all been acting captains before, and had performed excellently during the siege of the caravel.

Appointing these three as ship masters was both a reward and an affirmation of their abilities.

Lei Sanxiang acknowledged and noted it down.

Lin Qian continued with his instructions: "There's one more matter — I plan to recruit more crew."

He originally had four hundred crewmen, and when the Four Offices were established, he had already expanded by a hundred men.

Now, with the refitting of the ten Sea Wolf-class escort warships complete, these five hundred men were stretched thin.

Counting the gunners and sailors needed for the ten Sea Wolf-class escort warships, this time they would need to recruit another three hundred men, bringing the total crew to eight hundred.

During this period, the fleet had been going out to open waters for training every few days. When they were short-handed, ordinary islanders were often used to fill in. In the process, quite a few good sailors had been trained, so selecting crew was not a problem.

Lei Sanxiang accepted the task.

Lin Qian said: "Along with this crew recruitment, I want a roster of all crewmen compiled as well. The roster should note each man's age and family situation."

Lei Sanxiang looked troubled: "Helmsman, we're all a bunch of roughnecks — what's the point of compiling a roster?"

Lin Qian rapped him: "The island's literacy drive has been going on for over a month now, and you still call yourself a roughneck? How many characters can Third Brother recognize now?"

Lei Sanxiang scratched his head and said with a roguish grin: "I can write my name."

Lin Qian sighed: "Third Brother, don't forget — your position as Director of the Military Guard Office is only acting. After the year-end exam, if you still can't read, you'll be replaced."

Lei Sanxiang said in a gruff voice: "Replace me if they want. I still say firing cannons at sea is more satisfying."

Lin Qian smiled. Lei Sanxiang, though unlearned, was also straightforward and had no greed for power.

The Four Offices on the island were only temporary institutions to begin with — having his sworn brothers serve as acting directors was pure overkill. Since Lei Sanxiang didn't care for the position anyway, replacing him when the time came would cause less awkwardness. There was nothing wrong with that.

Lin Qian said: "Regardless, until the Director of the Military Guard Office is replaced, you need to do the job well. If there's no literate clerk in the Military Guard Office, go find one on the island — you'll think of a way."

"Fine." Lei Sanxiang agreed.

Shortly after Lei Sanxiang left the captain's quarters, Lü Zhou knocked and came in.

"Helmsman, the brother who went to Shen'ao has returned."

Lin Qian was reading the latest issue of the Capital Gazette. Without even raising his eyes at the news, he asked: "The court's reward hasn't come down yet, has it?"

Lü Zhou was startled, then said: "No, it hasn't."

"Because of the turmoil at court?"

Lü Zhou's eyes went wide. He couldn't understand how the helmsman, who had never set foot in Shen'ao harbor, seemed to have heard the news with his own ears. He praised sincerely: "The helmsman's foresight is divine — that's exactly what Garrison Commander Huang said."

"Understood." Lin Qian said flatly.

Lü Zhou withdrew from the captain's quarters with reverence, closing the door softly behind him.

Lin Qian set down the Capital Gazette, turned to face the window, and saw that between the mountains and the sea, the sky had darkened, leaden clouds hung low, and ink-black waves churned — the look of a coming storm.

The Gazette on the table was the edition of the tenth day of the eleventh month of the first year of Taichang, more than half a month old.

The Gazette's contents were extremely bold and direct, its wording utterly unsparing, and between every line one could smell the treacherous currents of the imperial court.

The Gazette opened with the "Memorial Directly Exposing the Traitorous Clique," jointly submitted by Censors Zheng Zongzhou, Ma Fenggao, and others, which named Li Kezhuo and Cui Wensheng by name and denounced them as quack doctors who had misled the state, pointed straight at the two men's backers among the bureaucrats of the Chu clique, demanded severe punishment, and in passing also attacked Chief Grand Secretary Fang Congzhe of the Grand Secretariat.

The memorial's wording was biting, as if it wished to write in plain speech that the Chu clique had presented the Red Pill and poisoned the Taichang Emperor to death.

Next came Yang Lian's "Memorial Demanding Investigation of the Palace Removal Case," its spearhead aimed directly at the eunuch faction of the inner palace, naming and cursing Li Xuan's trusted eunuch Li Jinzhong, and in passing also loudly condemning Chief Grand Secretary Fang Congzhe for being too weak and cowardly.

There was a strong intent to use the occasion to suppress the eunuchs and the Zhe clique.

Fang Congzhe, leader of the Zhe clique, found himself caught between two fires, and submitted repeated memorials requesting retirement, none of which were granted.

In the Gazette, memorials concerning the Red Pill Case and the Palace Removal Case piled up one after another in splendid profusion, and by comparison, even the memorial of Yuan Yingtai, Military Commissioner of Liaodong, seemed utterly insignificant.

With factional strife at its blazing height, the court could not even spare attention for Liaodong, so the minor achievement of exterminating the sea bandit Li Zhong being buried among it all was naturally only to be expected.

Lin Qian's gaze fixed on the northeastern sea. Though everything his eyes could reach was ink-black seawater, he knew that forty li away lay Zhelin Bay.

The ships that the Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao used for hauling cargo all moored at Zhelin Bay.

He had already had Bailangzai watching Zhelin Bay for more than half a month. With the New Year approaching, few cargo ships were leaving the harbor at Zhelin Bay, and most of the naval officers and men stayed in their barracks — it looked as though they were preparing to welcome the New Year.

Everything was a little too perfectly reasonable.

The twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month, night.

With the New Year near, the people of Fujian and Guangdong lit oil lamps and candles, and from every household came the sound of pounding rice and making cakes.

Even after nightfall, the north wind carried the sweet fragrance of fried dates and baked cakes.

At the naval stockade of Zhelin Bay, Ma Chenglie, Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao, stood facing the sea with his hands clasped behind his back, brows knit tight.

Ma Chenglie was nearly fifty, and having lived on shore year-round, he had kept himself well — only a few white hairs at his temples.

Now he wore cotton armor, his finely polished iron arm guards gleaming coldly, and even his paunch was hidden by his imposing armor, making him look as valiant as he had at thirty.

Before Ma Chenglie, three large Fujian junks lay moored in the harbor, one of them fitted with more than ten heavy Folangji cannons.

Beyond the Fujian junks were two ordinary Fujian junks, more than twenty Haicang ships, and beyond those more than twenty Cangshan ships, with several dozen Bird ships scattered among them.

On the dock gangways, soldiers of each ship were being mustered by roll call and boarding, while others carried weapons and equipment aboard, bustling without pause.

These were all of Ma Chenglie's assets. Today he staked everything, determined to wipe out the sea bandits of Nan'ao Island!

For today's battle, he had prepared a full two months.

Two months earlier, at his mansion in Chaozhou Prefecture city, he had been fondling the jade lips of his concubine when he suddenly received an official dispatch from the Ministry of War.

Opening it, he saw it was a copy of the merit-report memorial of the Guard Commander of Haimen Guard, and the account it gave of "raiding the Lin estate" was nearly identical to the merit report Huang Hetai had written before.

Ma Chenglie immediately guessed that Huang Hetai had been hiding something from him. Setting aside his dalliance at once, he hastily gathered his men, went to Zhelin Bay, and took a small boat to the island.

Halfway there, seeing the busy coming and going of ships at Houjiang Bay's docks and a Nan'ao city that had risen from flat ground, Ma Chenglie felt as if he had fallen into an ice cavern — dizzy, hands cold, feet numb.

Combining this with the two merit reports for killing Li Kuiqi and Li Zhong, Ma Chenglie could vaguely guess what had happened on the island.

To fail in guarding one's territory — the crime deserved death!

After a spell of panic and shortness of breath, Ma Chenglie steadied himself and carefully analyzed the causes and consequences.

As of now, the shore officials still did not know that Nan'ao Island had been taken by bandits, and the court was too busy with daily factional attacks to spare attention for anything else.

As long as he could retake Nan'ao Island quickly, everything could still be salvaged.

Therefore, Ma Chenglie did not report the matter. As soon as he returned to shore, he recalled the warships from their cargo runs, and meanwhile secretly searched among the common folk for merchants who had been to the island, seizing them for harsh interrogation under torture.

From the merchants' mouths Ma Chenglie learned that the bandits on the island numbered only a few thousand rabble, and that apart from one large barbarian ship, their largest vessels were no bigger than Haicang ships — his heart immediately settled.

Ma Chenglie had eighty household troops under his command, and borrowing soldiers from familiar Guard Commanders of the Fujian and Guangdong guard stations, he assembled a household force of nearly two hundred men — more than enough on their own to sweep the bandits of Nan'ao Island.

And he still had over a thousand camp soldiers besides. He had not embezzled their pay too harshly, and following behind the household troops to fight an easy battle, they would pose no problem at all.

To ensure complete safety, Ma Chenglie had deliberately chosen the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month to strike, seizing the moment when the rabble on the island would be lax with holiday celebrations to deliver a single killing blow.

At this moment, everything was ready. More than two months of fear and dread, of swallowing humiliation and bearing burdens, had finally come to the hour of harvest.

"Ship Jia Three, deck crew all present."

"Ship Jia One, deck crew all present."

"Ship Jia Two, deck crew all present."

The loud roll calls of each ship echoed ceaselessly across the harbor.

Shi Jun, a household soldier, jogged over from the harbor, his face armor clanking, and saluted with clasped fists as he approached: "Commander, all ships are fully crewed. Please board."

"Mm." Ma Chenglie stepped forward and climbed onto the stern deck of the large Fujian junk Jia One, took his position before the five-colored flags, and drew a deep breath: "Set sail!"

Behind him, the signalmen sent out the corresponding flag signals.

The fleet formed a long dragon, leaving the harbor slowly and steadily.

After clearing the harbor, Ma Chenglie directed the Fujian junk Jia One eastward, so as not to be detected by the bandits on Nan'ao Island.

After sailing east for a little over half an hour, he ordered the fleet to turn south.

He intended precisely to imitate Qi Jiguang's tactics in attacking Nan'ao Island — avoiding a naval battle, landing at the Yundang area south of the island, first seizing Mount Guolao to cut the bandits' connection with Shen'ao Harbor, then descending from the heights to destroy the bandits' fortress.

There was no moon tonight, and the sea was very dim. By the faint starlight, the rough outline of Nan'ao Island could already be made out.

In the distance, the bandits' fortress on the island showed bright lamplight, as if they were pounding rice and making cakes by lantern light.

On the bay outside the harbor, only a few dim ship lanterns of sporadic patrols could be seen.

All is fair in war — since ancient times, festivals have been the first choice for surprise attacks. The bandits on the island, far from tightening their patrols, wore the look of relaxed holiday celebration. They truly were a pack of rabble!

Ma Chenglie was utterly contemptuous at heart, even regretting the debts of favor incurred from borrowing troops.

Sailing south for another half hour or so, the fleet arrived east of Mount Guolao, where Qing'ao Bay could be seen in the distance.

Seeing the beach at Qing'ao Bay completely empty with not a single guard, Ma Chenglie's contempt grew even greater.

The household soldier Shi Jun said: "Commander, since Qing'ao Bay has no defenders, why not land here?"

Ma Chenglie shook his head: "The beach here is gentle, but the mountain paths are steep and hard to climb. It is not the first choice for landing."

The defenses at Qing'ao Bay were this lax, so the defenses on the south side of the island couldn't be much stricter either—landing on the south side was naturally the most appropriate choice.

His route was exactly the same as the one Qi Jiguang had taken to the island back in the day; with the Young Guardian Qi having set such a fine precedent, he had full confidence of landing on the island successfully.

"Once we land at Yundao in a moment, Shi Jun, you take fifty household retainers plus two hundred camp soldiers to hold Zhenxiong Pass." Ma Chenglie had already begun arranging matters after the landing. "And send thirty household troops to Shen'ao Harbor to capture Huang Hetai for me!"

"Yes!" Shi Jun clasped his fists in acknowledgment.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

As they spoke, a string of cannon fire suddenly rang out from the sea.

By the time Ma Chenglie reacted, his ears were already full of the splashing sounds of cannonballs striking the sea.

One cannonball landed beside the large Fujian junk Jia-1, and the column of water it kicked up was blown by the north wind into a sky full of chilling rain, cold to the bone.

"Forward squadron, engage the enemy!" Someone on the ship immediately shouted.

Shi Jun shouted up at the mast: "Enemy ship's bearing?"

The lookout was so anxious that sweat beaded on his forehead; he swept his gaze back and forth across the sea, but all around was pitch black, with no trace of an enemy ship.

Ma Chenglie calmed down: "The enemy ship hasn't lit its lanterns—everyone watch for the flash of cannon muzzles!"

Another string of cannon fire rang out, and the sounds of cannonballs crashing into the sea continued all around.

The nearby ship Jia-2 took a hit to its stern; wooden planks shattered and flew everywhere, the cannonball punching straight through from bow to stern—the entire ship was pierced clean through by a twelve-catty solid iron shot.

Fortunately, Jia-2 had high freeboard, and the point of impact was above the waterline, so it didn't take on water.

After the cannon fire ceased, all that remained in their ears were the screams of the wounded aboard Jia-2.

"Enemy ship is astern off the quarter, about two to three hundred paces away!" the lookout shouted.

No need for the lookout's warning—the moment the cannons had fired, Ma Chenglie had already looked toward the stern, and under the dim starlight, he indeed saw a pitch-black mass floating on the sea, like a deep-sea leviathan.

Soon, red flashes appeared around that dark silhouette, and another volley of cannon fire thundered out like rolling peals of thunder.

Off the port quarter of the Fujian junk Jia-1, a bird boat took a hit; before the sailors aboard could even let out a scream, they were reduced to a spray of blood and flesh along with the shattered planks.

The enemy ship was too far away and positioned behind the fleet; the large Fujian junks Jia-1, Jia-2, and Jia-3, which carried heavy Folangji cannons, could hardly return fire.

For a time, the fleet could only passively absorb the beating.

Ma Chenglie's mood plummeted, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He couldn't understand how the sea bandit fleet had suddenly appeared off their stern—it was as if... as if they had been waiting there specifically.

"Commander, what do we do?" Shi Jun asked.

Ma Chenglie forcibly suppressed his unease. Though he had been ambushed, at least the enemy wasn't numerous—just a single cannon ship, and at several hundred paces, its hit rate would be low. Not yet a cause for concern.

He pondered for a moment, then gave the order in a low voice: "The fleet continues forward; once we reach open water, turn around and face the enemy!"

"Yes!" Shi Jun loudly relayed the order.

Ma Chenglie's naval force had too many ships of varying speeds; turning the whole fleet around required a large expanse of open water.

Moreover, the distant cannon ship was clearly presenting its broadside to engage; turning to chase after them would also take time, and the fleet could use that time to turn around without being harassed by cannon fire.

But heaven did not grant their wish—the cannon ship behind them kept doggedly pursuing off the fleet's port quarter, occasionally turning its hull to bombard them with its starboard guns.

Few of the fleet's ships were actually hit, but being chased like this the whole way severely damaged morale.

The fleet sailed all the way to the southwest of Nan'ao Island, and Ma Chenglie saw that not only had the pirate cannon ship not been shaken off, its cannon fire was actually growing closer.

Ma Chenglie realized the enemy ship was simply too fast—this lumbering fleet could never shake it off. They had no choice but to steel themselves and turn around.

At his command, the Fujian junk Jia-1 turned in place, shifting its sails.

Visibility on the sea was too poor; the five-color flag signals were impossible to make out. Every ship had lit its lanterns, and among the many lights, the flare commands were also indistinguishable. Cannon fire, wind and waves, and screams filled their ears—even shouting orders was extremely difficult.

For a time, the fleet fell into chaos.

Two Haicang ships collided while turning; one suffered damage to its bow, seawater poured in, the hull listed, and several soldiers fell into the water, struggling desperately.

The other had a hole in its hull, two compartments flooding; its freeboard was visibly reduced by a large margin, the deck nearly level with the sea, waves washing directly over it.

Just as the fleet was scrambling in confusion, ten Sea Wolf ships lit their lanterns, filled their sails, and came sailing in line astern, cutting diagonally to within thirty paces of the fleet.

Suddenly, guns and cannons fired together, the sound like hail pounding the ground, continuous and unbroken. From a distance, the broadsides of the ten Sea Wolf ships flashed without cease, truly like a giant python writhing wildly across the sea.

The nearby fleet ships were in for terrible luck—their decks looked as if they'd been swept by an invisible scythe. Blood sprayed from soldiers' bodies; the sea surface, gunwales, bulwarks, masts, and sterncastles were all struck by shot, splinters flying everywhere.

One fleet bird boat was riddled with holes by Folangji cannon fire; seawater poured into its hold, and most of the hull sank beneath the waves. Not a single living person remained on its deck.

The Sea Wolf ships did not slow their momentum, sailing from the northeast to the southwest along the outer edge of the fleet, always maintaining a distance of twenty to thirty paces. Wherever they passed, the fleet's officers and men fell like wheat before a scythe.

At the same time, the Santa Ana's cannons thundered without pause. The fleet's formation was scattered across a vast expanse of sea, so there was no worry at all about friendly fire.

In an instant, the fleet was caught between two enemies—before battle had even truly begun, it was already on the verge of collapse.

Bai Qing stood on the stern deck of Sea Wolf No. 1, personally at the helm. The Sea Wolf ship moved under her hands like an agile dolphin, deftly dodging even the occasional fleet ship that charged at her.

Beside her, the port-side gunners were operating the Folangji cannons.

The gunners worked in teams of five, standing on either side of the cannon. After each shot, the gunner on the right pulled out the breech wedge, while the gunner on the left used a specially made iron hook to draw out the chamber and drop it into a water basin beside them, producing a sharp hiss.

Two other gunners handled the tasks—one cleaning, drying, and reloading the chamber from the water basin, and one installing a fresh chamber.

Each chamber held nine solid iron shot wrapped in canvas and secured with rope, beneath which sat a specially made tin sabot. The foreigners called this thing grapeshot, used specifically for clearing enemy decks at close range.

Once the chamber was loaded, one gunner on the right re-secured the breech wedge while another adjusted the wedge beneath the cannon's breech to control the barrel's elevation angle.

At present, the Sea Wolf ship's port side was entirely enemy vessels, so there was no need to adjust the horizontal aim at all—the moment a cannon was loaded, it fired.

The gunners had undergone long training; their movements were fluid and practiced, and the cannons fired at a rapid pace.

During the intervals between Folangji reloads, the matchlock musketeers kept firing without stop.

Wherever the Sea Wolf ships passed, the fleet's decks were awash in bloody carnage, leaving behind only shrill screams.

After a little less than an hour, the Sea Wolf ships reached the southwest of the fleet, when a fleet Haicang ship suddenly broke formation and rammed straight toward the Sea Wolf squadron.

Bai Qing immediately turned the helm to starboard to avoid the collision, while directing the sail trimmers to shift sails and shouting to the gunners: "Aim at that incoming ship and fire!"

"Yes!" The ship's gun captain loudly relayed the order.

In moments, the Haicang ship was engulfed in a storm of shot, and seven or eight soldiers in fine cotton armor were instantly riddled like beehives.

Others hid behind the bulwarks, only to be easily pierced through by grapeshot—the bloody mist in the air was so thick it seemed almost solid.

Bai Qing piloted Sea Wolf One past the bow of that Haicang ship, and the gunners aboard pulled their triggers, beginning to sweep its other side's deck.

Sea Wolf Two, following in Bai Qing's wake, fired at the Haicang ship as well—and so the cycle repeated, over and over.

This Haicang ship, having stuck its neck out, was ravaged in turn by all ten Sea Wolf vessels. Its hull was riddled with holes, and only its large size kept it from sinking. Not a single living man remained on its deck, and it drifted southeast with the sea breeze—like a warhorse whose master had died on the battlefield, wandering off to graze on its own.

Bai Qing turned the helm to port, always keeping a firing distance of twenty or thirty paces from the naval fleet.

By now the Sea Wolf vessels had sailed to the south side of the fleet, and in the distance could be seen three tall naval Fujian junk warships.

In naval combat, the number of ships mattered little—what mattered was tonnage. A big ship naturally crushed a small one.

The great Fujian junks had high bulwarks, forcing the Sea Wolf vessels to fire at an upward angle. They could not sweep their decks the way they had the Haicang ship's.

Moreover, the galleons' bulwarks and deck timbers were thicker; musket lead balls and Folangji grapeshot could not easily penetrate them. Even firing at them was a waste of gunpowder.

Bai Qing kept firmly in mind the tactical positioning Lin Qian had set for the Sea Wolf vessels. Seeing the great Fujian junks, he turned and sailed out to the open sea, disengaging from the fight.

Suddenly a volley of cannon fire rang out from the great Fujian junks—the five heavy Folangji cannons on the starboard side of Jia Number One opened fire.

In an instant, the sound of cannonballs tearing through the air surrounded the Sea Wolf vessels. Shells kicked up several columns of water, and cold spray scattered across the decks.

Bai Qing turned the helm while shouting loudly: "Course due south—change sails!"

The great Fujian junks kept up their bombardment. The Sea Wolf vessels fled south under the cannon fire, mist hanging thick along their route. Fortunately, the distance was great, and no ship was hit—they were merely drenched with seawater, looking somewhat bedraggled.

The Sea Wolf battle line sailed more than five hundred paces south, then turned about and headed due north, avoiding the broadside fire of the three great Fujian junks, and continued seeking out the softest targets among the naval fleet.

(End of chapter)

Yahei

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