Chapter 132: Yacht Holiday

With the typhoon season fast approaching, the Liaodong fleet carrying over three thousand refugees was sailing against the southeast monsoon, making the open-sea route far too dangerous.

The fleet therefore chose the safest option—hugging the coast.

The Santa Ana had initially sailed alongside the fleet, but by the time they reached the vicinity of South Zhili, the fleet had consumed all the supplies the Santa Ana had carried. Lin Qian then took a direct shortcut back to Nan'ao Island.

Deep in the night. The captain's cabin.

Lin Qian sat at the navigation table reviewing official documents; beside him, the papers had piled up three inches high.

These documents had all been brought aboard the moment they docked at Houjiang Bay, their contents covering everything that had happened during his time in Liaodong.

Among them: personnel changes among the clerks of the four departments, the latest detailed accounts for the island, progress on the Four-Point Gold residential construction in Nan'ao City, the May cargo handover and firearms procurement in Macao, and recent shipping traffic passing through Nan'ao waters.

One could say nothing was too trivial to escape notice.

Reviewing these documents was, admittedly, hard work—but it also carried a pleasure that ordinary people could never understand.

This was the feeling of controlling information, of wielding power.

This kind of pleasure could not be felt by anyone not in such a position.

Just as an ordinary person working as a cog in a corporation would find poring over financial reports and writing PowerPoints tedious, yet in a management simulation game—especially a hardcore strategy game—would happily review mountains of data without complaint.

This was also why most entrepreneurs and officials worked extraordinarily long hours—not because they were born workaholics, but simply because they genuinely enjoyed it.

Lin Qian could burn the midnight oil night after night for such work for the same reason.

The document he was currently reading, for instance, came from Zhelin Bay—a thought report from Ma Chenglie, Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao.

Among Lin Qian's subordinates, if one spoke of formal loyalty, Ma Chenglie ranked first.

The man sent a thought report to Nan'ao Island every half month on average, covering the imperial court's governance, Chaozhou Prefecture's governance, Ma Chenglie's responses, the reasoning behind those responses, and the benefits to Nan'ao Island.

His writing dissected his own thoughts with remarkable thoroughness, giving the impression that he wished he could cut open his chest and lay his heart and lungs bare for Lin Qian to see.

In his latest thought report, Ma Chenglie gave a detailed account of the court's reaction to the Great Victory at Zhenjiang, as well as the full story of how that victory came about.

Lin Qian's journey to Liaodong had never been mentioned to Ma Chenglie, and it was kept highly confidential on the island.

Whether Ma Chenglie truly hadn't caught wind of it or was merely pretending, at least in his report he showed complete ignorance of Lin Qian's activities in Liaodong.

After finishing the report, Lin Qian couldn't help but chuckle—he had to admit, that fellow Ma Chenglie truly possessed some political savvy.

Lin Qian pinched the bridge of his nose. That the court would credit the Great Victory at Zhenjiang to Mao Wenlong was entirely within his expectations.

His choice to enter Liaodong in the fourth month, leave in early seventh month, and target Zhenjiang specifically—all of it was calculated to let this "great merit" go to someone else.

Empty fame was poison to Lin Qian; the refugee settlers of Liaodong and the satisfaction of venting their anger against the Tartars—those tangible benefits were what he truly needed.

Setting down the document, Lin Qian trimmed the wick of the white insect-wax candle to brighten the light, then picked up a new document.

This one was sent from Dongfan Island—a report from Chen Jiao, Governor-General of Dongfan.

Following Lin Qian's arrangements, Chen Jiao had landed on the southwest coast of Dongfan Island and chosen a place the natives called Tayouan Islet to establish a stockade.

At this time, Dongfan Island was very different from what it would become in later ages. Around Tayouan Islet there was no land—only a vast lagoon, which the locals called the "Inner Sea."

Building a camp at Tayouan Islet had several advantages.

First, the Inner Sea of Tayouan was a natural deep-water sheltered harbor, suitable for anchoring a fleet.

Second, the area around Tayouan Islet was all water, making conflict with the local natives unlikely; and even if conflict did arise, they could defend from the water, and later when building a city on land, Tayouan Islet could serve as a defensive barrier.

Third, on the eastern shore of the Inner Sea of Tayouan lay the Chikan region—flat land with freshwater streams providing irrigation, suitable for building a major city and developing agriculture.

Fourth, the waters around Tayouan Islet were all connected to the sea and thus flowing, so mosquitoes would not breed; and the mosquitoes on the Dongfan shore could hardly fly across the water, reducing the spread of malaria and other diseases.

Chen Jiao had been on Tayouan Islet for nearly four months now, and the fort had already taken initial shape.

Currently, Tayouan Islet boasted one hundred twenty-four houses, three watchtowers, one warehouse, and a simple palisade wall.

Chen Jiao had already opened preliminary negotiations with the natives of Dongfan Island, and trade exchanging iron tools, implements, and cloth for deer hides was proceeding steadily.

The report also mentioned difficulties in developing Dongfan, including too few settlers, malaria, and hostile forces to the north.

These problems couldn't be solved by writing a few words, so Lin Qian set this document aside for the moment.

He picked up a new document.

This one came from the Administrative Affairs Hall, jointly drafted by the Construction Bureau and the Armaments Bureau, reporting on the three new fort batteries built on the island.

The three new batteries were located at Wind Islet, Garden Islet, and Shrimp Tail Reef, guarding the waters west of the island, Qing'ao Bay, and Qianjiang Bay respectively.

Counting the three batteries previously completed at Official Islet, Case Islet, and Hunt Islet.

Nan'ao Island now had six batteries in total, providing comprehensive defense of the entire island with essentially no defensive gaps.

This way, even without warship protection, relying on the batteries alone, Nan'ao Island would not fall in the short term.

The report on the battery construction was written in great detail, covering specific site selection, materials used, and construction duration.

Lin Qian skimmed through it, then yawned. Glancing at the documents remaining in his hand, there weren't many left—he decided to finish the last one and then go to sleep.

The final document came from the Yandun Bay shipyard, reporting that ten hawk ships had been completed.

Lin Qian perked up. He read the document carefully and learned that of the ten hawk ships, five were fitted with Chinese-style hard sails and five with Bermuda sails, all docked at Yandun Bay awaiting their sea trials.

The feeling of personally handling the sails at sea was completely different from commanding from the stern deck of the Santa Ana—Lin Qian suddenly felt his hands itch with eagerness.

Though he still had meetings scheduled tomorrow with shipwrights, stonemasons, and physicians, with a fully packed schedule—but who said he couldn't hold meetings on board a ship?

He had worked so long without properly enjoying himself; Lin Qian decided to give himself a day off tomorrow.

Early the next morning, before the Green Plum Workshop had even opened, someone came knocking at the door.

Su Kang pulled on his clothes as he went to answer it.

"Who is it?" Su Kang asked irritably.

Standing behind the door was a crewman from the Santa Ana, whom Su Kang recognized. A sense of dread immediately welled up in his heart.

This scene felt strangely familiar—hadn't he and his daughter been seized and brought to Nan'ao Island exactly this way back in Guangzhou?

"Father, has a patient come?" Su Qingmei's voice rang out from the back courtyard.

"Stay in your room! Don't come out!" Su Kang said urgently.

Seeing this, the crewman laughed and said, "I've been sent by the helmsman to invite the two of you out for a pleasure cruise."

Su Kang's face was full of suspicion.

From the back courtyard came Su Qingmei's delighted voice: "Really?"

The sailor laughed: "How could it be false?"

Su Qingmei: "I'll pack my things right away."

The sailor: "No need..."

Su Kang: "Hold on!"

The two spoke at the same time; the sailor smiled and gestured for Su Kang to speak first.

Su Kang said coldly: "The Qingmei Clinic has many patients and I can't leave. Please thank the helmsman for his kind intentions on my behalf."

"Father, I want to go!" Su Qingmei poked her head out from behind the curtain.

Su Kang said irritably: "Go back inside!"

The sailor laughed: "The helmsman said that if Dr. Su can't get away, bringing Miss Su along is fine too."

Then the sailor leaned in closer, his warm smile turning somewhat sinister: "The helmsman's invitation is something no one on the island can refuse. Dr. Su should think this over carefully."

Su Kang felt helpless and could only nod in agreement.

Su Qingmei gave a cheer and went to prepare food, but the sailor called out to stop her: "No need to prepare anything. The helmsman has already arranged everything. Let's go."

"Alright, let's set off!" Su Qingmei said excitedly.

Father and daughter followed the sailor to the pier and took a boat to Yandun Bay.

After disembarking, they discovered five or six others already waiting there. Su Kang recognized among them Mute Huang and his apprentice; the rest he didn't know. Everyone exchanged greetings with Su Kang.

Su Qingmei had never been to Yandun Bay before and was curiously looking around. Besides the dry dock, the most striking sight at Yandun Bay was the row of ten new-style seagoing vessels lined up across the water.

Su Qingmei hadn't ridden on many ships, but having lived on Nan'ao Island for so long, she had absorbed enough knowledge to recognize all the various ship types of the Great Ming—yet she had never seen vessels like these before.

Just as she was wondering about this, a small boat came rowing up, with Lin Qian standing at its bow.

After disembarking and receiving everyone's salutes, Lin Qian surveyed the ten hawk ships on the sea. Their size and form were already not far off from modern sailing yachts—a ship type Lin Qian knew intimately.

He immediately ordered everyone aboard.

Lin Qian, Bailangzai, Su Kang, Su Qingmei, Mute Huang, Xiao Jiu, and Da Bing all boarded the same ship.

The remaining sailors boarded the other two hawk ships.

Once aboard, Lin Qian, Bailangzai, and Da Bing were the only three crew members. Under Lin Qian's direction, the three worked together to raise the Bermuda sail and the bow Latin sail.

In a no-wind state, the two sails could almost fold together, forming an isosceles triangle shape.

Lin Qian took the lines himself, pulling the sheets and adjusting the sail angle. With a sharp "crack," the sail surface adjusted to the optimal angle, suddenly billowing with wind, forming a smooth, outwardly curved airfoil shape.

The hawk ship began to move slowly. Lin Qian stood at the stern manning the helm, laughing loudly into the wind: "Everyone hold tight—we're setting sail!"

As the words left his mouth, the hawk ship's speed gradually increased. The bow cut through the waves like a blade, and the sea wind rushed to meet them head-on.

Lin Qian glanced at the wind pennant. The southeast wind was steady, and with the bow heading east, this was exactly the close reach that the Bermuda sail loved best—and that Lin Qian loved best too.

The wind coming over the bow was split by the two airfoil-shaped triangular sails, creating a pressure differential. Using Bernoulli's principle, it generated forward thrust, allowing the ship to reach actual speeds far exceeding the wind speed itself.

Bailangzai and Da Bing were both seasoned sailors. Each handled one sail, and without Lin Qian needing to remind them, they maintained the optimal wind angle.

The three worked together with remarkable coordination, and the hawk ship's speed grew faster and faster. Everyone on board gradually felt the strong wind pressing against their faces—this was the relative wind created by the hull's movement through the air. When this wind struck the sails, it also used Bernoulli's principle to further boost the ship's forward speed.

This created a positive feedback loop: speed increases → relative wind strengthens → thrust generated by the sails increases → speed increases further.

Thanks to this, the hawk ship grew faster and faster, almost like a dolphin sprinting across the sea's surface.

The bow split the waves, and the salty spray kicked up was blown straight onto the deck by the bow wind, drenching everyone in a chill of seawater.

It was midsummer, and the spray and strong wind dispelled the heat, lifting everyone's spirits along with it.

As the ship's speed increased, the starboard side of the hull rose higher and higher into the air.

This was the combined force produced by Bernoulli's principle. This resultant force generally pushed toward the bow on the leeward side, and could be resolved into two forces—one being the forward thrust that drove the sailboat onward.

The other was a force perpendicular to the hull—and it was this force that pushed the starboard side upward.

If left uncontrolled, this force could even capsize the vessel.

Lin Qian smiled and called out loudly: "Don't just sit there—go sit on the rail!"

Only then did Su Kang and the others realize that they actually had a role to play on this ship.

Lin Qian hadn't said which side to sit on, but no one was stupid—they all rushed to the starboard side.

With the added weight of Su Kang, Su Qingmei, Mute Huang, and Xiao Jiu on the starboard side, plus Lin Qian, Bailangzai, and Da Bing also standing there, the starboard side finally stopped rising further.

It still maintained a right-high, left-low attitude, but the ship continued to slice swiftly through the waves.

This aesthetic of danger and stability, balance and imbalance, speed and excitement, was truly intoxicating—and it was exactly why Lin Qian loved sailing.

The hawk ship's speed was still climbing. It had already far surpassed the Great Ming's hard-sail ships, exceeded the Santa Ana, and even outpaced the Carrier Pigeon.

If the Santa Ana's speed could be compared to normal driving, then this Bermuda-sail hawk ship was practically street racing.

And especially when the "road" for this racing was an endless open ocean—it truly gave one a feeling of soaring heroism and boundless freedom.

"Ahhh—" Da Bing at the bow let out a joyful cry.

"Hahahaha..." Lin Qian and Bailangzai exchanged looks and burst into laughter.

The hawk ship's speed gradually stabilized. The positive feedback loop of Bernoulli's principle couldn't just keep stacking forever—when water resistance, wind resistance, and thrust canceled each other out, the sailboat reached its speed limit.

Lin Qian turned to look back. The white foam wake stretched out long behind them. A few seagulls in the air flapped their wings desperately, barely keeping up with the hawk ship, while the two hawk ships with Chinese-style hard sails had fallen far behind.

Judging by experience, their ship's speed was over ten knots.

Amid the howling wind, Lin Qian shouted: "Bailangzai, deploy the tow log!"

Hearing this, Bailangzai fetched an hourglass and a wooden board from the cabin. One end of the board had a rope wound around it.

Bailangzai found a line on the mast, hung the hourglass from it, tossed the board into the sea, and flipped the hourglass over at the same moment.

Under the drag force, the rope attached to the board rapidly paid out into the water. Along the rope, at regular intervals, knots were tied.

After roughly thirty seconds, the hourglass ran out. Bailangzai hauled the board back, counted the knots that had gone into the sea, and shouted: "Eleven knots!"

This hourglass and knotted rope were the Spanish instruments for measuring a ship's speed. The length between knots was carefully calculated—however many knots ran into the water in half a minute corresponded to that many knots of speed.

Of course, this method had its margin of error and wasn't always accurate, but it was far more reliable than eyeballing it, or the method of pissing over the side to gauge speed.

Lin Qian was overjoyed to hear this. A fast ship was a priceless treasure of immense strategic significance in this era.

A speed of eleven knots could practically look down upon all rivals in this age.

And this wasn't even the final form of the Eagle Ship. Lin Qian still had ways to modify it further, pushing the speed even higher.

Thinking of future improvement goals, Lin Qian felt nothing but boundless drive.

At this moment, Su Qingmei could no longer hold back and finally asked: "Helmsman, where exactly are we headed?"

Lin Qian was in an excellent mood and joked: "To East Fan Island! Ever been?"

Su Qingmei shook her head like a rattle-drum.

Lin Qian continued teasing: "Head east from here, six hundred li, and we'll be there. Don't worry—at our speed, we'll arrive by tomorrow at the latest!"

"Ah?" Su Qingmei was both surprised and worried, and asked cautiously: "Then... will we come back?"

"Hahaha..." Lin Qian burst into hearty laughter, then called out to Dabin, who was handling the lateen sail at the bow: "Find us a spot where the fish are plentiful!"

"On it!" Dabin's reply came riding back on the wind.

An hour later, Dabin found a stretch of sea and turned back: "Helmsman, right here—there's bound to be plenty of fish here!"

Lin Qian and everyone else on board looked out at the sea before them.

"Wow!" Su Qingmei let out an exclamation of wonder.

There on the surface, indigo-blue and deep-blue waters interwove, forming a sharply demarcated front, as if the entire sea had been sliced with a single knife stroke. The marvels of nature's creation were truly breathtaking.

Dabin said: "This is a tidal front—fish are guaranteed to be plentiful here!"

Lin Qian had Bailangzai and Dabin lower the sails and stop the ship, then went into the cabin to fetch fishing gear and hand it out to everyone, joking: "Anyone who can't catch a fish gets no lunch."

Everyone took the gear with smiles and sat along the gunwale to fish. In just a moment, they were landing fish one after another.

Lin Qian noticed that even with no bait on the hook, fish could still be caught, and he couldn't help but marvel again at nature's bounty.

Su Qingmei was pulling in fish after fish, grinning so wide she couldn't close her mouth, and asked: "Uncle Dabin, how did you know there'd be so many fish here?"

Dabin scratched his head: "The old folks always said things like 'When the water's colors are clear and distinct, cast your nets' and 'A tidal front like a thread, a sheet of golden scales.' Hear it enough times and you just know. It's just that fishing boats mostly can't venture into the deep sea, so such places are rarely reached by them."

Lin Qian knew that what they called a tidal front was a natural phenomenon caused by the convergence of warm and cold currents.

Specifically, the Kuroshio Current that forms the Japan Warm Current flows northward along Luzon Island, then splits into eastern and western branches past East Fan Island. The western warm current meets the cold freshwater outflow of the Yangtze and Qiantang rivers, forming an oceanic front.

In such places where warm and cold currents converge, bait organisms abound, and so do schools of fish.

In fact, the Zhoushan fishing grounds and the northern East Fan Island fishing grounds were formed exactly this way.

But knowing the principle and seeing it with your own eyes were two entirely different things.

No matter how much was written in books, nothing was as memorable as the struggling force of a fish tugging on your line.

Dabin knew such places had plenty of fish, but he hadn't imagined there could be this many. In less than an hour of fishing, the catch had already piled up like a small mountain—enough for three meals.

He regretted it so much he kept exclaiming that he should have brought a fishing net.

Lin Qian consoled him, saying that once they returned to shore, he'd give Dabin one of these Eagle Ships.

Of course, what he'd give was the standard version of the Eagle Ship—the Bermuda rig's strategic value was too high to waste on a fishing boat.

Even the standard Eagle Ship used a combination of hard sails and lateen sails, and with its V-shaped hull and streamlined body, its speed, range, and seaworthiness all surpassed ordinary Ming fishing vessels.

It was only at this point that the two Eagle Ships flying hard sails finally caught up.

While Dabin went below deck to prepare the fish, Lin Qian strolled over to Su Kang's side.

"Malaria—how do you treat this disease?"

Su Kang unhooked a large yellow croaker from his line and answered casually: "The *Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon* states that malaria arises from external invasion of miasmic pathogens and internal loss of righteous qi—a condition of half-exterior, half-interior. One must use changshan and bupleurum in the prescription, supplemented by..."

Lin Qian fished while patiently listening to the whole explanation, then said: "What about sweet wormwood?"

Su Kang stared wide-eyed at Lin Qian, thinking to himself: "This helmsman—whatever kind of man he is, his learning is certainly not lacking. He understands houses and seagoing ships alike, and now even herbal medicine. I merely omitted the sweet wormwood that the *Compendium of Materia Medica* mentions in passing, and the helmsman caught it immediately."

Su Kang set down his fishing rod and clasped his hands in salute: "The helmsman speaks truly!"

Lin Qian: "Hey, don't let go of your rod!"

Before the words even faded, a fish had already taken the line. The fish here were all large and full of strength—in the blink of an eye, the rod was dragged into the sea.

Su Kang watched the departing rod, his expression awkward.

Lin Qian waved and said: "Bailangzai, fetch Doctor Su another one."

Su Kang took the new rod, knowing Lin Qian was about to discuss serious matters. He held it in his hands without resuming fishing, and said gravely: "The *Compendium of Materia Medica* states that this herb is known both as sweet wormwood and as fangkui, and it treats the chills and fevers of malaria. There are two methods of use: pressing the juice, and decocting in water..."

Lin Qian strained to recall a documentary about Tu Youyou extracting artemisinin that he'd watched in his later life, and after a moment spoke: "I'll speak, and you remember."

"Please instruct, Helmsman."

"The effective compound in sweet wormwood for treating malaria—let's provisionally call it artemisinin—cannot withstand high temperatures. Decocting in water is useless; it must be extracted at low temperature. There are two methods.

One: chop and mash fresh sweet wormwood, wrap it in gauze, soak in cold water for one hour, then wring the gauze to squeeze out the juice, and swallow it directly.

Two: soak fresh sweet wormwood in wine or vinegar for two hours, then swallow directly.

Take it in small amounts at frequent intervals, continuing for several days without interruption, and malaria can be cured at the root."

Su Kang's face flushed red with anger, clearly full of contempt. Only out of respect for Lin Qian did he refrain from erupting, and he suppressed his temper to say: "The *Handbook of Prescriptions for Emergencies* does indeed record the juice-pressing method, but the wine-soaking method... that is truly preposterous and unheard of. From which classic does it come? Where did the helmsman learn it?"

"I've cured people with this method before." Lin Qian said casually.

Su Kang was immediately rendered speechless. Chinese medicine prized practicality above all, and Su Kang's "Orthodox School" in particular advocated surgical treatment, valuing actual results above all and never blindly trusting medical texts.

Hearing Lin Qian say this, Su Kang swallowed back all hundred of his doubts about the artemisinin preparation method.

Lin Qian continued: "And malaria isn't contracted by inhaling miasmic vapors as the medical texts claim. The disease is transmitted by mosquitoes. As long as you actively drive away and eliminate mosquitoes, you can reduce this disease at its very source."

Su Kang's temper flared again. That malaria originated from miasmic vapors was established consensus.

To Su Kang's ears, Lin Qian's words were no less absurd than telling a modern person that the earth was flat.

Were it not for the fact that Lin Qian had treated his family reasonably well, Su Kang with his foul temper would have already erupted into a torrent of abuse.

As he spoke, Lin Qian felt another fish bite the hook. He stood up and, while reeling in the line with effort, said, "If you don't believe me, go try Dongfan yourself in a month."

Malaria spreads widely in Lingnan, and countless people have died from it. Chinese medicine has studied it for thousands of years yet has never been able to eradicate it.

If what the helmsman said is true—that it can cure malaria at its root—then he, Su Kang, would be not quite the equal of Bian Que or Hua Tuo, but at least a master on par with his own teacher, Chen Shigong.

Such a temptation was simply irresistible to a man like Su Kang, who was devoted to the art of medicine.

Even if it couldn't cure malaria at its root, it would at least prove that everything the helmsman said was nonsense, vindicating the miasma theory—either way, he couldn't lose.

With that thought, Su Kang also stood up and declared loudly, "It's a deal!"

(End of chapter)

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen