Chapter 284: Copper-Sheathed Hulls, Factions Revealed

He cautioned the military high command against arrogance and impatience, suppressed the calls for an immediate decisive battle, and confirmed the appointment of the Regional Commander of Guangxi.

With that, the main objectives of this joint military-political conference were essentially accomplished.

When Lin Qian proposed that the three fronts in Fujian, Guangdong, and Guangxi should focus primarily on defense, no one dared to object, and so this policy was temporarily settled.

After the meeting adjourned, Lin Qian rode on horseback to the Yandun Shipyard.

All seven dry docks at the shipyard were completely packed, and one of them was currently having its gate opened to let in water — the vessel inside had finished repairs and was rising gradually with the water level, waiting to be floated out of the dock.

Mute Huang and the others, having learned that Lin Qian had arrived, came out specially to greet him.

Lin Qian followed them to the front of the dock for a careful look and saw that the ship being floated out was the Zheng He. Having sustained the lightest damage in the Battle of Malacca, she had entered the dock last, yet was leaving it first. Out on the distant sea, the Bill of Lading was anchored, waiting to enter the dock.

Compared to the Zheng He, the Candle Dragon had entered the dock earliest, yet still had not come out. Aside from her heavier damage and the complexity of her repairs, there was another important reason: her hull was being sheathed in copper.

This technique was unprecedented not only in the Great Ming, but in the entire world, which was why Lin Qian had taken to dropping by from time to time lately.

At present, the bottoms of wooden sailing ships were protected only by tung oil, pitch, and the like, which did almost nothing to keep off barnacles and shipworms.

Before the Battle of Malacca, the entire fleet had just had its hulls cleaned in dry dock; after being out for over three months, barnacles had grown all over them again.

When the hulls were being cleaned, the Yandun Shipyard looked like a seafood market.

Copper is mildly toxic to marine organisms, so sheathing the hull in copper makes it hard for barnacles and shipworms to attach, greatly reducing the frequency of maintenance and increasing time at sea. It also keeps the hull smooth, slows the decay of speed, and helps preserve the vessel's performance.

In short, this technique had no flaws other than being expensive.

The group walked to the dock holding the Candle Dragon and looked down. The Candle Dragon's mainmast had already been replaced, and all manner of rigging had been removed. On deck, craftsmen were brushing tung oil onto the deck planks, while others were using hammers and saws to replace badly damaged boards.

At the bottom of the dry dock, even more craftsmen had gathered, most of them hammering away at the hull — the sound of the hammers was loud and dense, the work proceeding with great fervor. Apprentices were responsible for ferrying materials, passing sheets of copper forward one by one, and out on the open ground beyond the dry dock, large quantities of these copper sheets were stacked, with people hoisting them down into the dock.

Lin Qian walked over to inspect the copper sheets. Each sheet was roughly 1.5 meters wide, 3 meters long, and 1 millimeter thick, uniformly red in color and very regular in shape, stacked in five or six piles about half a person's height.

Xiao Jiu explained, "These plates were just shipped in from Zhangzhou, hand-hammered by the Standard Workshop. They were all measured before being put into storage — no problems." Lin Qian nodded. Thin as these copper sheets might be, behind them lay the pinnacle of Chinese and Western technology combined.

First, the smelting and hammering techniques for these copper sheets came from China.

Successive Central Plains dynasties had minted and recalled copper coinage in enormous quantities. Over thousands of years of accumulated technique, the fire-process oxidation refining method had reached perfection — no matter what the alloy, there was always a way to extract the copper and refine it to a purity of over 95%.

Furthermore, the Great Ming's cloisonné — that is, copper-body wire-inlaid enamel — technique was already highly mature, and through forging and annealing, ultra-thin copper vessels of 1 millimeter thickness could be produced. Simply hammering out copper sheets now posed no technical difficulty whatsoever.

Even ordinary civilian coppersmiths could take on the hammering work.

The only drawback was that hammering consumed enormous amounts of manpower. Sheathing the Candle Dragon was estimated to require roughly 14 to 17 tons of copper, and relying on manual hammering alone, who knew when it would ever be finished.

Fortunately, this era happened to be one in which European water-powered forging hammers were already quite mature. Nan'ao had recruited Portuguese craftsmen and captured Spanish ones, and Fujian had no shortage of rivers with swift, powerful currents.

The water-powered forging hammers built by the Standard Workshop beat copper ingots into rough plates three to four millimeters thick, which coppersmiths then hammered down from there — a perfect solution to the problem.

As for raw materials, Nan'ao controlled the sea lanes and had large reserves of Japanese copper ore. Of course, pure copper alone would not do — a small amount of tin had to be added, and the tin ore came from Patani.

Once all the above conditions were met, cost still had to be considered. Fortunately, Nan'ao's yuan-yang dollars were being issued in such vast quantities that Ming copper coinage had depreciated relatively sharply — in Jiangxi, the absurd exchange rate of one liang of yuan-yang dollars for 4,800 copper cash had even appeared.

Lin Qian exploited this by exchanging for Jiangxi copper cash, drawing back large amounts of copper ore and greatly reducing the cost of hull copper-sheathing.

Had even one of the above preconditions been missing, today's hull copper-sheathing could never have been done.

Lin Qian walked over to the copper plates again. Beside them sat several woven baskets filled with ship nails, used to fasten the copper plates to the hull. Lin Qian picked one up to examine it — it was about the length of a finger, slender and pyramidal in shape, and also red in color.

Xiao Jiu said, "The ship nails were also made per the helmsman's instructions, from the same material — low-tin red copper."

Lin Qian picked up a few more and compared them carefully before he was satisfied.

If traditional iron nails had been used, it would cause galvanic corrosion — not only would the copper sheathing be useless, it would actually drastically shorten the vessel's lifespan. Back in Manila, corroding the anchor chains of galleons was exactly the trick Lin Qian had used.

Historically, the English had needed over twenty years to solve the problem of galvanic corrosion, but Lin Qian simply copied the correct answer directly, without taking a single detour. The Candle Dragon had been designed from the very start with future hull copper-sheathing in mind, so all the fasteners on her hull were made of copper alloy — not a single piece of iron.

The Tianyuan and the Zheng He, however, were captured Spanish ships whose hulls used iron fasteners extensively, making them difficult to copper-sheath.

But that was hardly a big deal — copper-sheathing was an enormously costly undertaking to begin with, and there was no way to sheath every ship.

Even for the fifth-rate ships already launched at Yandun and the fourth-rate ships currently under construction, even with copper-alloy fasteners, it was uncertain whether every one of them could be copper-sheathed in the future. Thinking of this, Lin Qian tossed the ship nail back into the basket and said, "Let's go look at those two fourth-rate ships."

Xiao Jiu said, "Right away! Those two ships are in dry docks B-3 and B-4. Helmsman, this way, please."

A moment later, Lin Qian arrived before dry dock B-3. The warship there had already taken shape — the hull planking and deck were fully laid, the masts were raised, and even half the sails and rigging had been fitted.

Most of the craftsmen were busy inside the holds and the sterncastle.

Xiao Jiu pointed at the sterncastle and said, "Helmsman, what's mainly left on this ship now is the interior finishing of the compartments. Once that step is done, all that remains is laying the ballast stones, installing the cannons, and running the waterproofing tests."

Lin Qian then went to look at dry dock B-4 — the progress there was identical.

Both ships were built as copies of the Candle Dragon, essentially identical in appearance, only slightly reduced in size.

The fourth-rate ships were equipped with twenty-five twelve-pounder cannons and twenty-five eighteen-pounder cannons each, with Folangji breech-loaders on the upper deck and stern deck as well — a firepower configuration fully equivalent to that of the Zheng He.

Once they were launched, Nan'ao's main fleet would grow from three ships to five, a major boost in strength that would give them far more confidence in facing off against the Dutch. Mute Huang suddenly called out twice and gestured emphatically at the fourth-rate ships.

Xiao Jiu translated: "Helmsman, my master asks whether these two fourth-rate ships should also be copper-sheathed on the hull."

Lin Qian shook his head. "No copper-sheathing for now — get them launched as soon as possible. The first battle for these two ships is coming soon."

Mute Huang pointed into the distance and gestured again.

Xiao Jiu said, "Helmsman, should the Candle Dragon's cannons be upgraded?"

According to the Candle Dragon's design strength, her main battery should have been primarily eighteen-pounders and twenty-four-pounders.

When the Candle Dragon was first launched, out of caution, the gun calibers on both gun decks had been reduced by one tier, changed to twelve-pounders and eighteen-pounders. After so long of being tested in naval combat, the Candle Dragon had proven she could fully handle her current gun calibers — it was time to upgrade the cannons and restore her maximum firepower.

But Lin Qian shook his head again. "No rush to make the change."

In the near future, the Candle Dragon might have a major operation, and the battlefield would be in shallow waters. Increasing the gun calibers would increase the ship's draft, which would actually be a disadvantage. As for the slight weight of the copper sheathing on the hull, compared to swapping in larger cannons, its impact was negligible.

Xiao Jiu nodded in acknowledgment.

In the second month, spring had arrived with warmth and blooming flowers across the lands of Jiangxi.

In the fields, the rapeseed was growing splendidly, with early flowers already open — as far as the eye could see, a sea of golden yellow, intoxicating to behold.

The farmers, adapting to the season, had transplanted their early rice seedlings ahead of schedule.

In the mountains of Mount Lu, spring tea was sprouting, its leaves tender and glistening with freshness.

On the plains of Poyang Lake, fruit trees such as citrus, peaches, and plums were budding and about to bloom, while lettuce, cabbage, and eggplants were all bursting with vigorous life. In a chaotic age plagued by frequent extreme weather, the warm spring of the first year of Chongzhen was especially precious.

Though they had started their labors early, the farmers' faces were full of smiles, their hearts at ease, for it looked as though this would be a bountiful year.

The Jiangxi report first praised the celestial omens, then extolled the people's livelihood, and further invoked the doctrine of heavenly retribution, saying that favorable weather and good harvests were due to benevolent governance under an enlightened sovereign, and concluded with a sigh that "peace is within reach."

Under the expectation of a bountiful year, the gentry and common folk alike could not be bothered with the disputes between the Great Ming and Nan'ao—getting on with their own lives was what truly mattered.

With favorable market expectations, grain prices in Jiangxi stabilized and stopped falling, and the people no longer needed to hoard silver for survival. The exchange rate of silver coins stopped surging and instead fell slightly, as if the death spiral of deflation had resolved itself.

Inside the Governor-General's residence in Nanchang, Yuan Chonghuan's staff advisors received good news from all directions and could not help but breathe a sigh of relief.

Lately, Nan'ao silver dollars had been circulating widely throughout Jiangxi, draining the province's silver and copper cash like a bloodletting. The authorities had repeatedly banned them, but that only stimulated smuggling all the more fiercely, leaving everyone at their wits' end. Fortunately, Heaven blessed the Great Ming—a warm spring allowed Jiangxi to catch its breath.

What the advisors did not know, however, was that as civilian trade recovered and the exchange rate of the yuan-yang stabilized, its value as an investment hedge plummeted while its liquidity soared. The common folk took out the yuan-yang they had hoarded for survival and spent them, causing the number of yuan-yang in circulation to surge suddenly.

The scenes of commerce also expanded from the few major cities like Ganzhou, Nanchang, and Jingdezhen to prefectures, counties, and villages—and even showed signs of spilling over into other provinces.

Under this trend, the effect of good money driving out bad became even more pronounced, and monetary transactions throughout Jiangxi were almost completely monopolized by silver dollars. In some areas, to facilitate small transactions, people cut five-cent yuan-yang in half, calling the pieces "half-cuts"; some even cut them into four pieces, called "quarters."

The most extreme was cutting them into eight pieces, called "eight-petal bird coins." Each petal of silver dollar was then worth a little over six li of silver—equivalent to six wen of cash in the old days—which could already satisfy the needs of small-scale trade quite well.

Thanks to the Great Ming's long-standing tradition of weighing silver in transactions, the common folk were highly skilled at cutting silver and could perfectly produce even "eight-petal bird coins." Even the smallest denomination bird coin bore the complete wave pattern along its edge, and merchants would weigh the eight-petal bird coins on their scales when accepting them. These practices effectively raised the cost of edge-shaving and counterfeiting, allowing eight-petal bird coins to continue being counted by the piece.

Even Lin Qian, the designer of the Nan'ao yuan-yang, had never imagined that the people would solve the pain point of small transactions in this manner.

One could only say that the wisdom of the people is truly inexhaustible.

Of course, using eight-petal bird coins was only a stopgap measure—in the future, Nan'ao's silver foundries would certainly mint small-denomination currency.

But at the present stage, they were already too busy producing one-tael yuan-yang to have the capacity to mint small currency, so they could only let the people make do with eight-petal bird coins for now.

Against this backdrop, the Great Ming's silver ingots, loose silver, and copper coins withdrew from circulation faster than a galloping steed.

By the time the Nanchang Governor-General's residence realized what was happening, silver ingots and copper cash were already hard to find anywhere in Jiangxi.

And after Jiangxi was drained dry, the silver coins continued to flow along trade routes into Huguang, South Zhili, and Zhejiang, causing these provinces to begin bleeding as well. This bleeding was extremely covert—even those who knew of the yuan-yang smuggling could not perceive that they were being structurally exploited.

As Lin Qian had said, mixing thirty percent counterfeit into a silver coin and selling it as pure silver was exploitation of too low a grade, too tangible—anyone could see through it. From the Han dynasty to the Republic, every dynasty on the verge of death had done exactly that.

But selling a one-tael full-value silver coin for one tael and five qian—that became free trade, mutually agreeable, recognized by the market.

It was already difficult enough to notice that hard currency was flowing out in net terms; even fewer would think of concepts like currency hegemony, technological advantage, or credit monopoly.

Of course, if the enemy could not see it, even one's own people could see it only to a limited extent.

Just as Jiangxi enjoyed favorable weather and deflation slowed, Lin Qian began casting a wide net to catch big fish, while the maritime merchants wailed and cried for their fathers and mothers.

In the recent period, the maritime merchants had been able to obtain inland goods through mountain smuggling, more or less. Now that the yuan-yang exchange rate had stabilized and smuggling had slowed, they were getting fewer goods.

And with the summer monsoon arriving in just two or three months, what would the maritime merchants have to sell to Japan?

Nan'ao's maritime trade hegemony had been maintained for so many years that, in the psychological experience of the merchants, small profits counted as losses—how could they bear sending their ships out empty? Merchant representatives repeatedly came to the Administrative Hall requesting an audience with the Helmsman, but were always gently turned away by the clerks.

Before long, it was the end of the second month, and a family gathering was being held at Lin Qian's residence.

In mid-first month, Ye Zhen had given birth to a son, and now that she had just completed her month of confinement, the whole family hurried over to see the baby.

When everyone arrived, the little one was sleeping, so they did not disturb him.

In the large courtyard before the women's hall, Ye Xianggao had set up a go board under the eaves and was arranging pieces by himself.

Yu, Qin, Ye Zhen, and Ye Heng—four women of the household—gathered inside the hall, chatting together.

Lin Qian and Ye Yisun, meanwhile, busied themselves with arranging the charcoal fire.

All who came held no official posts, or else already served on Nan'ao Island itself.

The eldest brother-in-law, Ye Yifan, was now serving as Governor of Guangdong—a high official of a whole province—so he was unable to come.

Geng Wu brought over the grill rack and said to the two men, "Helmsman, how about I do the grilling?"

Lin Qian refused: "Barbecue is only fun when you do it yourself."

With that, the charcoal finally caught fire. Ye Yisun used iron tongs to transfer the charcoal into the grill rack, while Lin Qian took raw lamb skewers and placed them on the rack to roast. The rack was made quite large, enough for two people to grill side by side, and Ye Yisun also grabbed a big handful of lamb skewers to help.

Lin Qian demonstrated how to use the grill and cautioned: "Don't take too many at once, or they'll cook unevenly."

Ye Yisun said, "Don't worry, brother-in-law, I know what I'm doing."

In a short while, the outside of the lamb turned scorched golden, and fat dripped onto the charcoal, sending up a puff of flame with a pop. The air filled with the aroma of meat, making one's mouth water.

Ye Yisun picked up the seasonings and, imitating Lin Qian's manner, sprinkled them onto the skewers—only to be choked by the spices and turn away with a sneeze.

"Brother-in-law, what's in this?"

Lin Qian did not pause his hands, turning the lamb skewers as he replied: "The brown is cumin powder, the red is chili flakes, and the white is sesame." Ye Yisun was greatly astonished: "What is chili? Don't you use Sichuan pepper?"

Ming dynasty people loved lamb dearly, but their methods differed from later generations—they typically marinated it with Sichuan pepper. Cumin was mostly used medicinally and rarely appeared in cooking, and as for chili, Ye Yisun had never even heard of it.

Lin Qian explained the uses and origins of these seasonings, then said: "You have no idea how much chili to use—let me handle it."

Ye Yisun nodded in agreement. Since they were on the topic of the Americas and seafaring, he suddenly thought of something and asked: "Brother-in-law, why won't you see those maritime merchants? With your authority, one word from you and they wouldn't dare step out of line."

Lin Qian said: "It's not that simple. Behind them, there may well be people in the Administrative Hall supporting them."

"Ah?" Ye Yisun lowered his voice and said, "Brother-in-law... are you saying that within Nan'ao, someone is using these merchants to apply pressure? What audacity!" Lin Qian laughed: "They wouldn't dare pressure me, but there's always some dissatisfaction. Letting them vent their grievances is fine.

Once they've let it out, they won't trip each other up when problems arise in the future.

After all, factional strife is inevitable. The Nan'ao Times always says Nan'ao is of one heart—you don't actually believe Nan'ao is a single solid block, do you?" "Ah? It really exists?" Ye Yisun could not believe it.

Lin Qian thought to himself that his two brothers-in-law, though full brothers, had completely different temperaments—no wonder Ye Zhen had recommended Ye Yisun to be editor-in-chief of the Nan'ao Times rather than letting him enter officialdom. With such a naive disposition, even if he did enter officialdom, he would not fare smoothly.

Lin Qian knew full well that in human history, no organization had ever been without factions—even the so-called revolutionary parties had internal struggles over various lines. How much more so for Nan'ao, a union of bourgeoisie and landlords?

Nan'ao had never experienced internal strife before, all harmony and goodwill—first, because external pressure was immense, and one careless slip could bring destruction.

Second, because Nan'ao was developing at high speed, with an endless stream of silver and territory flowing into its coffers; compared to expansion, the returns from internal struggle were far smaller. But now that Yuan Chonghuan was Governor-General of Jiangxi, Nan'ao had entered an apparent state of developmental stagnation, and contradictions naturally began to surface.

According to Lin Qian's observations, the current factions within Nan'ao could be divided into two groups by origin.

The Old Guard faction consisted of the brothers who had fought alongside Lin Qian to build their power, whose core interest was seizing the realm and being enfeoffed as lords and appointed as ministers.

The Adherent faction consisted of surrendered Ming generals, bureaucrats, gentry, and maritime merchants who had submitted to Lin Qian, whose core interest was maintaining their privileges and expanding maritime trade. Additionally, from a line perspective, there were also the Radicals and the Conservatives.

From the direction of advance, there were also the Continental faction and the Maritime faction.

These factions were not strictly demarcated—Zheng Zhilong, for instance, was an Old Guard by seniority, but his family belonged to the Adherent faction. Nor were there severe conflicts of interest between factions, since conquering the realm was also a precondition for expanding trade, and naval and land warfare complemented each other. Overall, at the present stage, Nan'ao had merely revealed that factions existed, and cooperation remained the dominant mode between them.

When genuine disputes arose, they only came to Lin Qian to complain and weep—nowhere near the point of tripping each other up or fighting to the death.

This was inseparable from Nan'ao's clean politics and fair institutions.

It was also because Lin Qian kept a tight grip on the three great powers of military, finance, and personnel that even if any faction was dissatisfied, they dared not act rashly.

But the main reason was that they were still in the phase of conquering the realm—they had not even reached a bottleneck period yet.

Once the external threat dropped significantly and Nan'ao shifted toward consolidating its rule, factional infighting would inevitably break out, and no matter who sat in the helmsman's seat, it would be useless.

This was also the reason Lin Qian left the maritime merchants alone—if they failed to earn silver this year, so be it; the maritime merchants would not make trouble over it.

But if Lin Qian were truly foolish enough to force a quick decisive battle with Yuan Chonghuan and lost, Nan'ao would be plunged into a life-or-death crisis.

If he won, the gates of Jiangnan—the most prosperous region of the Great Ming—would be thrown wide open, and Nan'ao would be forced to swallow the two provinces of Jiangxi and Zhejiang, unable to digest them internally and powerless to expand externally. Those two great chunks of fat would draw every faction into endless contention, internal strife would erupt, and they would visibly be on the path to following the fate of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom.

Or worse—if every region surrendered at the sight of their banners, Ming rule would collapse, a power vacuum would open in the north, and the Jianzhou barbarians would seize the chance to pour through the passes—that would be repeating Li Zicheng's mistake.

"Brother-in-law, your lamb skewers seem to be burning..."

Hearing the reminder, Lin Qian only then noticed that the lamb skewers were already giving off black smoke. He hurriedly picked them up—fortunately only a few skewers were burnt; most were still fine. Thanks to his brother-in-law's timely warning.

Lin Qian smiled awkwardly, handed the cooked skewers to a servant, and had them set on the table.

Ye Xianggao and the womenfolk came out of the house, took the meat skewers to taste, and immediately showered them with praise.

Ye Heng took one bite, instantly showing a delighted expression, and said repeatedly: "Brother-in-law! This is delicious! With this skill, you could absolutely open a restaurant in Fuzhou!"

Lady Qin said: "Nonsense again—if your brother-in-law opened a restaurant, wouldn't that be using a cleaver to chop vegetables when it could cut through an ox?"

Ye Xianggao pulled a piece of meat off the skewer, chewed it slowly and carefully, then said: "It's seasoned with cumin and cornelian pepper, isn't it?"

Ye Yisun jumped in to answer: "It's chili pepper!"

Chili peppers were called "foreign peppers" in the Great Ming, grown only as ornamental plants. Only Lin Qian occasionally used them in cooking, and considering what Ming people could tolerate, he used very small amounts each time.

Lin Qian also went to pick up a lamb skewer to taste—the flavor was almost identical to what he remembered.

Geng Wu, showing good sense, took over Lin Qian's position at the grill.

The weather was warm that day. On Nan'ao Island, spring brought warmth and blooming flowers; bougainvillea cascaded like a waterfall of blossoms beneath the corner of the wall. With the spring breeze brushing past, eating barbecue amid the fragrance of flowers, meat, and charcoal smoke was utterly delightful.

Just as they were chatting and laughing, the wet nurse came out holding a little baby, smiling: "Master, the young master has woken up."

Everyone immediately put down their barbecue and went over to look. Yue Yi handed each person a wet towel to wipe their hands.

Ye Heng looked at the child and said softly: "He looks just like his elder sister!"

Ye Yisun asked: "Brother-in-law, what's this child's name?"

"His name is Lin Shaoying." Lin Shaoyuan, who was following beside the wet nurse, answered.

Everyone praised the baby for being adorable while also complimenting Lin Shaoyuan for being clever.

Perhaps because he had just woken up to see so many people, the little baby burst into loud crying, and the wet nurse carried the child back to the rear courtyard to soothe him.

Ye Xianggao sat back down at the table, looked at Lin Shaoyuan running and jumping around the courtyard, and asked abruptly: "Yuan'er is six this year, isn't he?"

Lin Qian said: "Counting by full years, he's just turned four."

"Mm." Ye Xianggao tossed down a skewer stick and mused, "He's at the age to begin his schooling."

"So early?" Lin Qian was somewhat surprised.

"Not early at all."

Ye Xianggao's tone was very solemn.

"Nan'ao has developed to where it is now, but Nan'ao Island as the seat of power is already stretched thin. Has the Helmsman considered moving to a larger city—Guangzhou, for instance? Furthermore, since the Helmsman has now formally stood in opposition to the Great Ming, perhaps it is also time to assume the title of king and reform the system of governance."

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen