Chapter 266: Crossing the Doldrums

"Mother, look! That... that... that fish is flying!"

Zhang Fengyi stood at the starboard rail of the Candle Dragon, excitedly reaching toward the water.

Qin Liangyu and her son followed her outstretched hand and indeed saw something skimming close above the surface.

At first glance it seemed to be a seabird, but on closer look, the thing had a long slender tail, and the tail bore fins.

It was plainly a sea fish with spread wings!

The fish's pectoral fins were spread almost as wide as its body, and it flew across the sea surface with great speed.

Whenever its body dipped a little, the flying fish would beat its tail fin twice in the water, and then it could rise higher again — in this way it flew for dozens of seconds in one breath without ever dropping into the sea.

Even Lin Qian, who knew the flying fish was merely gliding, could not help but find it wondrous.

And behind that flying fish, the sea surface suddenly churned as if slightly boiling; in an instant dozens more flying fish burst from the water, spread their pectoral fins, and glided — like so many long shuttles skimming across the surface.

The beauty of their posture, the speed, the grandeur of the scene — it was intoxicating.

Even the sailors aboard the Candle Dragon could not resist watching from the ship's side.

Lin Qian walked closer and said, "So many flying fish taking to the air at once — there are probably swordfish or sailfish chasing them from behind."

The words had barely left his mouth when a huge dark shadow moving at high speed swept past the ship's side. The shadow's dorsal fin stood tall, thrusting above the water, cleaving the sea like a sharp sword. The shadow was about the size of a man; unable to leap clear of the surface, it rode the waves, cutting through the water, close on the heels of the flying fish school.

One flying fish, exhausted, dropped down — before it had fully entered the water, the dark shadow behind swallowed it whole.

It all happened so fast — in the blink of an eye a flying fish had met its end; if you blinked even once, all you saw was a splash.

And that was not the end of it — cries of birds sounded from the sky above.

Zhang Fengyi looked up and saw five or six seagulls that had somehow appeared overhead.

The gulls spotted their chance and dove sharply, incredibly fast; one snatched a flying fish in its claws and rose into midair, while the other gulls kept pressing in to fight over it — for a time, dramas unfolded in the sky, on the surface, and beneath the waves alike, too much for the eyes to take in.

The school of flying fish, caught between sea and sky, suffered heavy losses; only after flying nearly one or two hundred paces did they finally sate the predators with their comrades' corpses, and the rest dove into the sea and escaped with their lives.

The surface returned to calm, only the gulls still tussling endlessly in the sky.

One flying fish had not even reached a gull's mouth before it was torn apart in the squabbling; fragments of fish kept falling from the sky, and before they could reach the water they were snatched up by gulls rushing over — their flying skill was so exquisite it was breathtaking.

After a long while, every gull finally got its share of fish, gulped it down desperately, and with nothing left to fight over, gave up at last.

Some gulls flew off toward the southwest, while a few others spotted the Nan'ao fleet, flew over to circle above it, and when tired of flying, perched boldly on the ship's railings.

"Wow!" Only now did Zhang Fengyi let out her exclamation. "This, this... wow! Is this the roc?"

Something that could transform between bird and fish — Zhang Fengyi could only think of the kun-peng described in the Free and Easy Wandering.

Qin Liangyu said, "The kun-peng is not this small. This should be the wenyao fish recorded in the Classic of Mountains and Seas. According to the record, this fish is shaped like a carp, with a fish's body and bird's wings; its flesh tastes sweet and sour and can cure madness; and when one is seen, the five grains will ripen abundantly across the land."

"Ugh!" Ma Xianglin hurried to the ship's rail, bent over, and vomited endlessly into the sea.

Zhang Fengyi patted her husband's back as she complained, "We've been at sea eight days — how are you still throwing up!"

Ma Xianglin: "Ugh—"

Qin Liangyu gazed at the vast sea and sky, feeling how high the heavens and wide the earth, how boundless the cosmos; compared to this shoreless expanse, not only she herself, but even the Great Ming seemed a single grain in the ocean.

Lin Qian walked to the windward side, looked at the horizon, and said, "Seasickness differs from person to person. Some are born prone to it — after vomiting a few more times it passes. Everyone goes through it."

Zhang Fengyi patted her husband's back as she asked, "Helmsman, was what we just saw really the wenyao fish?"

"The fishermen of the South Sea generally call it the flying fish. Its flesh is fine-textured and fragrant — you'll be able to taste it tonight."

Zhang Fengyi's eyes lit up: "We caught fish?"

"A fleet under way can't fish. It means we're nearing Xinquan Harbor."

Lin Qian pointed at the circling gulls as he spoke: "Seeing flying fish doesn't mean a bumper harvest of grain, but seeing seagulls means land is near." "How marvelous," Zhang Fengyi marveled.

Shizhu lay deep in the mountains of Sichuan, and Qin Liangyu and her two children had always traveled between Liaodong and the southwest — they had never been to the seaside, let alone sailed the open ocean. Now experiencing it firsthand, even the most ordinary things felt novel, everything interesting.

As Lin Qian had said, the fleet reached Xinquan Harbor that afternoon.

Xinquan Harbor was mainly a cargo port for grain shipments, and having been built not long ago, it was hardly imposing; most of the buildings in the harbor were made of bamboo and timber, looking even a little shabby.

But when Qin Liangyu and the other two disembarked and saw the mountain-high stacks of sacks on the warehouse docks, they were still stunned.

Zhang Fengyi stammered, "What's inside these... it can't, it can't all be..."

Zheng Zhilong, as Governor-General of the Agricultural Reclamation Company, walked at the front guiding the party. Hearing this, he smiled calmly and said, "That's right — inside are all rice. The rainy season came early this year, so the rice ripened early too; we're right in the middle of the harvest now. These five thousand dan in the warehouse aren't even a fraction of this year's yield." "See over there?" Zheng Zhilong raised his hand and pointed. In the town not far from the docks stood over a hundred brick-and-tile buildings, about two or three stories tall, cylindrical, windowless, with walls gray and bare — unremarkable to look at.

Aboard the ship, Qin Liangyu and the others had paid them no mind, but now that Zheng Zhilong pointed them out, the more they looked, the more those brick buildings resembled granaries.

Zheng Zhilong said, "Those are grain transfer silos. Each one holds a thousand dan of rice, and they're already a little under half full. No matter how fast we ship this year, we won't manage — we'll have to build thirty more at least."

Qin Liangyu and the other two were speechless for a long while. Hearing Lin Qian say that Water Chenla could produce three hundred thousand dan of grain this year was one thing; seeing it with their own eyes was another.

Anyone who saw over a hundred granaries would feel shaken.

According to the operational plan, the fleet would anchor at Xinquan Harbor for one day to replenish supplies.

Zheng Zhilong, as host, invited everyone ashore to sample the delicacies of Water Chenla.

The Mekong Delta lacked many things, but fruits, river delicacies, and rare treasures of sea and land were available in abundance.

That evening, dish after delicacy was brought to the table: Nine Dragons River Eight-Treasure Soup simmered in a clay pot, red-fermented freshwater grouper, poached geoduck, coconut-scented winter melon cup, wild bamboo fungus in superior broth, and more.

These dishes were all prepared in the Min-Yue style, but the ingredients were all local.

Before the Agricultural Reclamation Company developed it, Water Chenla had been no different from a wild rainforest, and even now vast tracts remained untamed.

These ingredients would be gourmet treasures in the Great Ming, but in Water Chenla they were nothing more than local produce.

At the banquet, Qin Liangyu noticed a dish of steamed flying fish, picked up a piece, and tasted it — just as Lin Qian had said, the flavor was light, the flesh firm, carrying only the faint saltiness of seafood.

Far from the sweet-and-sour taste described in the Classic of Mountains and Seas.

Ma Xianglin took a bite and sighed, "Read ten thousand volumes, travel ten thousand miles. Truly, many things written in books can only be proven right or wrong by trying them." Qin Liangyu's heart stirred, and she looked at her son without speaking.

Ma Xianglin said guiltily, "Did your son say something wrong again?"

Zhong Aqi, seeing the flying fish, told an amusing tale: "Fishermen tell a legend that among the flying fish there is a fish king, purple-blue all over, larger than the others, that flies farther.

If you can catch this fish king, then all the flying fish in the sea will leap onto your boat, and in no time at all they'll pack it full.

If the fisherman is greedy and refuses to release the fish king, the fish will keep flying up until they sink the boat."

Zheng Zhilong complained, "Don't say such inauspicious words."

Lin Qian smoothed things over, saying, "It's merely a small tale warning the younger generation not to drain the pond to catch all the fish. I've heard that when fishermen of the South Sea see flying fish leap from the water, they take it as an auspicious omen."

Zheng Zhilong said, "Exactly so! When they see flying fish, even in the open sea, fishermen will eat something nice to celebrate. Seeing flying fish on the march to battle, our victory in this campaign is all but assured."

Lin Qian raised his cup and said, "Well said — cheers!"

At noon the next day, the fleet finished replenishing supplies and continued southward.

Four days later, the fleet arrived at Patani.

By all rights, having sailed only four days, there was no need to replenish supplies again — but from here on, there would be no port where they could anchor. The Nan'ao fleet would be penetrating deep behind enemy lines, so even four days' worth of provisions was best topped up.

Moreover, Patani bore a blood-deep grudge against the Acehnese for the murder of their Sultana, and its royal house was manipulated by the Agricultural Reclamation Company.

Patani sent twenty oared galleys and thirteen hundred soldiers to join the campaign.

While waiting for supplies to be replenished and troops to muster, the Candle Dragon did not enter port, remaining anchored in the open sea outside the harbor.

From the ship, one could see the bastion fort under construction, like a grey beast covered in spikes, crouching beside the harbor and howling at the sea. Qin Liangyu and her two companions watched from the deck for an entire morning without taking their eyes off it.

After lunch, the fleet weighed anchor once more, leaving the port, supplies, and support all behind, setting course toward the unfamiliar equator. From this moment on, the mood aboard grew ever more somber, and the accompanying hawk ships spread farther and farther out, until they were nearly invisible to the naked eye.

As the ships pressed ever southward, the temperature climbed higher and higher. On the occasional small islands they passed, the flowers, birds, and vegetation were visibly transformed, as if they belonged to a different world from the Central Plains.

For this expedition, the captains of the three main warships — the Candle Dragon, the Tianyuan, and the Zheng He — were respectively Bailangzai, Bai Qing, and Zheng Zhilong.

As fleet commander, Lin Qian no longer directly managed the sailing. He spent most of each day in the stern conference room, discussing battle plans with the staff officers aboard. At noon and at midnight every day, someone would take a sextant up to the quarterdeck to measure the latitude and determine their position.

Two days later, the wind at sea had clearly begun to weaken.

Lin Qian knew they had reached the equatorial doldrums. He stepped out of the conference room and climbed up to the Candle Dragon's quarterdeck.

Everyone on deck, including Captain Bailangzai, snapped to attention and saluted.

"Helmsman."

Lin Qian wasted no words, asking the navigator directly, "What's our position?"

"5 degrees north latitude, wind force 2, wind speed 5 knots, fleet speed 2 knots."

What does a speed of two knots mean on the open sea? It's practically standing still.

Bailangzai looked toward the rear of the fleet, where Patani's oared galleys were following behind.

"Helmsman, time to let these men earn their keep, isn't it?"

Towing the fleet out of the doldrums was precisely the most important duty of those oared galleys.

Lin Qian said, "Let's bring out the secret first and give it a try."

The northwest mouth of the Strait of Malacca, at roughly 5.5 degrees north latitude, sat at the northern edge of the equatorial doldrums' core zone, where the wind was hardly strong either. The secret weapon for sailing in low winds could be brought out when the time came — if it failed to work, the entire fleet would be lost, so it was better to test it in advance. Bailangzai acknowledged the order, then called out, "Raise the sky sails and the wing sails!"

"Aye!" the boatswain acknowledged, then bellowed the order.

The riggers, agile as monkeys, scrambled swiftly up the shrouds, soon reaching the main lower yard.

Two of the riggers rose to their feet, stepped onto the yard, and trotted toward either end.

Even though the main lower yard sat at the very bottom of the mainmast, it was still nearly ten meters above the deck, and close to twenty meters above the water.

Walking along it with no protection whatsoever made even Qin Liangyu and her two companions break out in a cold sweat just watching.

The two riggers reached the ends of the main yard, where an extra length of slender spar had been added beyond what was usual — this was the wing-sail yard.

They released the sail locks, and two long strips of wing sail unfurled on either side of the ship.

Horizontally, these two wing sails now extended completely beyond the hull — a tremendous test of the wooden spar structure's strength.

And it wasn't over yet. After lowering the wing sails on the main lower yard, the riggers continued climbing, scaling the main upper yard and the main topgallant yard, repeating the same operation.

The foremast was the same. Once the wing sails were opened, the Candle Dragon's sail area seemed to have doubled to the eye.

"Look!" Zhang Fengyi cried out in surprise, pointing at the top of the mast.

There, at the very summit of the mast, nearly forty meters above the deck, a figure could still be seen laboriously climbing upward.

Seen from the deck, the rigger's form was the size of a grain of rice, vanishing behind the thick, dense rigging until he was almost impossible to make out. "Good heavens!" Zhang Fengyi stood frozen.

The mere sight of this scene was enough to make one's heart race with fear.

Not just Qin Liangyu and her son — everyone on deck now looked up.

That height was far above the crow's nest, higher even than the main topgallant yard. Unless the hull was undergoing major repairs or rigging was being fitted or removed, no one would ever climb that high. Anyone who had ever climbed a mast knew that the mainmast, though it looked thick as a pillar holding up the sky, grew thinner toward the top, and swayed violently — with every step upward, the intensity of the sway doubled.

The creaking of the wood came ceaselessly up through the mast, while the wind howled past one's ears, freezing and numbing the limbs.

That sensation was truly not something an ordinary person could endure.

Under everyone's gaze, the rigger finally reached the very top of the mast, where there was an extremely slender yard — one that was nearly invisible unless you looked closely.

The rigger no longer dared to sit on the yard. With one arm wrapped around the mainmast, he released the sail lock with the other, and snow-white canvas tumbled down, greedily filling the last bit of space at the mast's summit. This was the sky sail.

The wing sails and sky sails were specially designed to catch the faint breezes on the sides and at high altitude. Because they sat at the very ends of the masts and yards, and were made of lightweight canvas, their structural strength was very weak — they could only be used in light wind conditions (force 1–3).

Lin Qian had been planning this expedition for a long time. As early as the Battle of Guangxi, all naval warships had completed their rigging refits, adding wing sails and sky sails, and had rotated through dry dock for maintenance, scraping the hull bottoms clean of barnacles.

Now the bottoms of the ships were smoother than a eunuch's chin.

With even the faintest push, they could glide forward.

After raising the sky sail, that rigger slid slowly down the mainmast. When he reached the deck, his legs were so weak he could barely stand.

No one laughed at him. The crewmen came up one after another and clapped him on the shoulder, saying little — everything was understood without words.

Then, as if by unspoken accord, everyone looked up at the sails. The heavy main sails and jibs had all but gone slack.

The crewman on the port side hauled in the log line and reported loudly, "Ship's speed: 3 knots!"

The crewman on the starboard side reported at the same time, "Ship's speed: 2 knots!"

In truth, they needn't have reported at all — one could feel the ship slowing with the naked eye.

It wasn't an abrupt stop, but a gradual fade from a slow shuffle to near stillness.

Because of their curved, billowing shape, the sails could exploit the Bernoulli principle to generate thrust like an airplane wing, pulling the ship forward.

Put simply, the faster the ship moves, the faster the relative airflow, and the greater the thrust.

Correspondingly, once the wind dropped, the sails could not even stay puffed and full, Bernoulli's principle failed, and the ship's speed would fall again and again. At such times, everyone—including Qin Liangyu and her son and daughter-in-law—was hoping the skysails and wing sails would do their job.

This was not just the ship's motive power; it was the very confidence that allowed Lin Qian to dare fight the Aceh oared galleys near the equatorial doldrums.

If these sails failed, the odds of victory in this battle would be cut by another two-tenths.

"Whump—"

A faint sound of canvas came from overhead.

The wind was light here, the waves small, and the world between heaven and sea was very quiet—even the faint sound of the wing sails could be heard on deck.

"Whump—" Another rustle of canvas.

In everyone's gaze, the skysail suddenly billowed open, and then the wing sails filled with wind one after another, forming a graceful crescent shape. "It's moving, the ship is moving!" someone cried out in surprise.

"Throw the log line!"

"All sail-trimmers to your stations, mind the sheets!"

"Correct the course!"

Like clear water splashed into a pot of hot oil, the whole deck boiled into action—the helmsman and the boatswains shouted orders without cease.

Qin Liangyu stood at the ship's side, feeling a faint breeze gradually coming against her face. She looked down and saw layers of whitecaps appearing along the hull.

The ship was indeed moving forward, and faster and faster—even the already-flaccid jib sail showed faint signs of beginning to swell.

"Splash—" With a sound of water, crewmen on both sides hauled in the log lines.

"Ship's speed: four knots!"

"Four knots!"

The two men reported the same speed.

This speed was nothing to boast of, but for crossing the doldrums, it was enough!

Lin Qian let out a breath of relief, and a cheer went up across the deck.

The sail-trimmer who had raised the skysail happily slapped his thigh in delight. Just then a marine walked up to him and handed him a bowl of wine.

"Drink up—the helmsman's treat." said the marine.

The sail-trimmer was startled. He looked toward the stern deck and met Lin Qian's gaze directly.

The helmsman gave him a slight nod.

The sail-trimmer's legs no longer felt weak; strength filled every limb. He rose, clasped his fists, and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Thank you for the reward, Helmsman!"

With that he took the bowl of wine and raised it to his lips.

"Glug, glug, glug… Ah!"

Not a single drop was wasted. The sail-trimmer wiped his mouth with a flourish.

This was Dongning honey wine—low in proof, and even a full bowl would only leave one slightly tipsy—yet the sail-trimmer drank it as if it were the strongest liquor, his face flushed red.

Watching this, Ma Xianglin said to Qin Liangyu: "This helmsman knows a thing or two about commanding men."

Qin Liangyu smiled faintly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Soon it was deep into the night, and the fleet was still sailing. This was open sea, where running aground was unlikely, and since the wind was still blowing, they had to pass through the doldrums as quickly as possible. The danger of being becalmed and dead in the water was far greater than that of striking a reef.

As the flagship, the Candle Dragon had many private cabins prepared for officers, and Qin Liangyu's three family members could each have one to themselves.

The next morning, the moment Zhang Fengyi stepped onto the deck, she was stunned by the sight before her.

The sea surface was as smooth as a mirror, without a single ripple—even the waters of West Lake had never been this flat.

The entire sea was like one enormous blue sapphire, its color perfectly uniform, stretching without end.

The sky was pale blue, with clouds appearing only as a thin line where sea met sky.

Looking out in every direction—east, west, south, north—it was all the same: no land, no islands, no seabirds or fish, and not a single sound. The beauty between sea and sky was so unreal that one felt as if standing in a fairyland.

On the stern deck, Lin Qian was in discussion with the navigator and his staff officers. Seeing Zhang Fengyi emerge from her cabin, he greeted her.

"Helmsman, what is this?" Zhang Fengyi looked utterly bewildered. Had she not seen Lin Qian standing there, she would have thought she was dreaming.

Lin Qian said helplessly: "Our good luck ran out in a single day—there's not a breath of wind today."

The navigator pointed at the mainmast and added: "Wind force zero, zero knots—even up high there isn't the slightest breeze."

Zhang Fengyi looked up and saw that the skysail, which had been full and billowing yesterday, now hung limp and motionless, and the ship's wind vane likewise pointed straight down.

Sail-trimmers had already climbed the mast to furl the sails.

It was just past the hour of Mao, and crewmen were emerging one after another for roll call. For the vast majority of them, this was the first time in their lives they had seen the wonder of the doldrums, and they could not help exclaiming in amazement—carrying on even more dramatically than Zhang Fengyi.

When Qin Liangyu came on deck, she too was utterly stunned by the scene, and thought to herself: "The world is vast and full of wonders, but this is too strange…" Then Qin Liangyu saw her daughter-in-law standing on the bow deck, conversing with Lin Qian.

She knew the ship's rules well—the stern deck was for command, and unauthorized persons were not allowed to set foot on it—so she hurriedly called her daughter-in-law down.

But Lin Qian stopped her: "No harm done. With no wind today, there's nothing to command. The view is good from here—no harm in her coming up to look." Zhang Fengyi asked: "Helmsman, when will the wind come?"

"I can't say for certain. If we're lucky, it'll come tonight. If we're unlucky, it might not come for ten-odd days."

Zhang Fengyi grew anxious: "Then wouldn't we be…"

She had meant to say "trapped at sea," but remembering the taboos aboard ship, she swallowed the words.

Lin Qian already understood what she meant to say. He pointed behind him, where the Pattani oared galley that had been following at the fleet's rear was now sailing unhurriedly toward them.

These oared galleys had fragile hulls, insufficient firepower, and consumed enormous manpower—the Nan'ao navy had always looked down on them.

Only now did everyone realize that the oared galley had its own unique merits.

Lin Qian explained: "An oared galley will come to tow us by cable. Don't worry."

Back when Lin Qian had decided to attack Pattani, it was because Pattani sat on the edge of the equatorial doldrums, and its local sailors had great experience sailing in windless weather. Even if Pattani had not provoked them, Nan'ao would still have conquered Pattani for the sake of this decisive battle.

Even as he spoke, an oared galley had already pulled up to the bow of the Candle Dragon. Sailors tossed a tow cable down from the bow, the galley made it fast to its own stern, and then dozens of oars began to pull together. The Candle Dragon gave a slight shudder and began to move slowly forward.

Qin Liangyu looked around with concern: "If there were an ambush here, our forces would be in danger."

The naval staff officers burst into laughter.

Qin Liangyu did not understand why. Lin Qian explained: "The open sea is vast. Without landmarks to navigate by, even if you told the enemy our course and asked them to come find us, they might not be able to."

Aceh oar-sail ships are not suited to open-ocean voyages, and the Dutch warships will likewise avoid the doldrums, so we will be safe."

Qin Liangyu clasped her hands and said, "I have been instructed."

"You are too kind."

Over the following days, the fleet advanced in this combined sail-and-oar manner—slow but steady.

Late that night, as the fleet rested and all was silent on the decks, the wind flag suddenly stirred.

Without any warning, ripples rose on the sea surface, and the hull swayed slightly.

"Whoosh—" a southeast wind blew in fiercely, snapping the wind flag taut.

Yahei

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