Chapter 29: Ricochet

An hour earlier, in the galleon's steering compartment.

The rudder lock, with one side's nut removed, was jammed fast in the stern frame, and the crew was at a loss.

Whether they pried with iron bars or pulled with pliers, the rudder lock did not budge a single inch.

The galleon had been moored for nearly five months, and the rust inside the rudder lock had perfectly filled the gaps between it and the wood, making it seem as if it had grown into the timber.

Lin Qian had two shipwrights—one hammering violently at one side of the rudder lock with an iron mallet, the other nailing a pulley block to the wall of the steering compartment.

This was a spare anchor-chain pulley that Lin Qian had had José lead men to find in the cargo hold; it was as thick as an arm's length in diameter and built with extremely solid materials.

It could be fixed to the hull using several ship's nails similar to expansion bolts.

Once the pulley was secured, Lin Qian had someone fetch the rope that had long been placed in the captain's cabin—one end of this cable had already been fastened to the winch.

After the other end was sent down, it was passed around the pulley and tied behind the nut on the left side of the rudder lock, thereby converting the longitudinal pull into a transverse one.

After the shipwrights' vigorous hammering, the rudder lock finally shifted a small distance to the left—just enough to have the cable bound onto it.

Then Lin Qian led the two shipwrights out of the steering compartment.

After leaving the steering compartment, Lin Qian tugged at the rope; the men at the other end understood and slowly turned the winch. The rope snapped taut in an instant, emitting a grating creak that set one's teeth on edge.

After one full turn of the winch, the rope was stretched as rigid as an iron bar, giving off the faintest wisp of white smoke.

Lin Qian pulled the two shipwrights back with him, retreating all the way to a corner of the officers' mess, where they hid behind a pantry cabinet.

By now the force gathered on the cable was probably three or four tons—if it snapped, the flying fragments of rope could kill an ox outright.

The winch kept turning, and Lin Qian could already hear the crackling of timber splintering from the steering compartment. The sound grew louder and louder, until with a single loud *crack*, the tension on the cable suddenly released.

The entire cable coiled up like a writhing snake in an instant, and a puff of white smoke hung in the air.

Lin Qian had no time to check the condition of the rudder lock; he rushed toward the helm wheel on the sterncastle, shouting, "Hard aport! Change sails!"

Then, with all his strength, he spun the ship's wheel.

Ten minutes later, the galleon sailed clear of the shoal, and the helm was returned to center.

A crewman went down to the steering compartment and, a moment later, climbed back up clutching a solid cast-iron bar.

The iron bar was covered in rust, threaded along its entire length, and speckled with wood shavings—one end still had a seven-sided nut screwed on tight, while the other end was bare.

Seeing the culprit that had tormented the whole ship's company all night, the crew burst into excited cheers.

After the shipwright displayed the rudder lock for all to see, he was about to toss it into the sea when Lin Qian stopped him: "Put that thing in the captain's cabin."

The rudder lock was the perfect souvenir of this ship-seizing operation, and Lin Qian intended to keep it as a treasured memento.

"Boom! Boom! Boom…"

Cannon fire came from the port side. Lin Qian followed the sound and saw the *Holy Justice* firing—thick white smoke from exploding black powder shrouding her entire hull.

"Third Brother, you came out of the Divine Engine Battalion—do you know how to work the guns?" Lin Qian called out loudly.

Lei Sanxiang: "I've used a tiger-crouch cannon."

"Go to the gun deck and return fire!" Lin Qian ordered at full volume, then said to Chen Jiao: "Find two anchor hands to take the helm."

On a Fujian junk, the job of steering was usually done by the captain himself, which is why the captain was called the helmsman.

In those days, ship's rudders had few labor-saving mechanisms—the larger the ship, the more physically demanding the steering. The previous Fujian junk had displaced around two hundred tons, and Lin Qian could still manage on his own.

The Manila galleon's displacement was nearly five or six times that of the three-masted Fujian junk. Had Lin Qian not insisted on keeping fit, he wouldn't even have been able to turn the wheel hard aport just now.

Now that the crisis was over, it was only natural to switch hands—and one man wasn't enough; two had to work the helm together.

On a Fujian junk, anchor hands were responsible for raising and lowering the ship's anchors, and they had the greatest strength—they were the most suitable choice.

Chen Jiao called two anchor hands to take over the helm from Lin Qian.

Lin Qian had no time to massage his aching arms; he strode quickly to the port side, took out his telescope, and gazed toward the *Holy Justice*.

With Lei Sanxiang returning fire, the *Holy Justice* dared not approach, keeping a distance of roughly five hundred meters and exchanging shots with the galleon.

The ridiculous thing was, after several rounds of spirited exchanges, the cannonballs landed in all sorts of bizarre places—neither side had scored a single hit.

Among Lin Qian's men, the only one who knew how to use the cannons was Lei Sanxiang, the former Divine Engine Battalion soldier, so their rate of fire was severely insufficient.

As for the *Holy Justice*, she seemed to have swallowed something wrong—her cannonballs all flew into the sky, and precious few landed between the two ships.

It seemed the greatest purpose of firing was simply to hear the noise.

Seeing that the *Holy Justice* posed no immediate threat, Lin Qian commanded: "Spread all sails! Full speed out of the bay!"

"Understood." Chen Jiao acknowledged, then directed the sail handlers to climb the shrouds up to the yards and unfurl the sails.

Lin Qian looked up at the mainmast thrusting straight into the sky—the topmen on the middle yard already looked no bigger than a palm, and those on the topgallant yard were like grains of rice.

Climbing to such a terrifying height with no protection at all, and having to work the ropes on the yards besides—that truly was not something just anyone could do.

Lin Qian had anticipated this long ago, which was why, when he had Chen Jiao recruit crew, he emphasized selecting sailors who had served on Spanish ships before.

The topmen now climbing up and down were precisely these newly recruited sailors.

Thinking of this, Lin Qian walked to the starboard main anchor winch at the bow, felt around in the anchor chain, and pulled out a strand of copper wire.

At the spot where the copper wire wrapped the anchor chain, the corrosion was clearly worse than anywhere else.

This copper wire had been tied on by Bailangzai while they were docked at Manila harbor; seaweed had been used as cover at the time, but though the seaweed had since fallen away, the copper wire was still bound fast. (Chapter 11)

To keep rust from hindering the further reaction, Lin Qian also had Bailangzai brush vinegar onto the anchor chain every few days, creating an acidic environment to corrode the rust and continuously expose fresh cast-iron surfaces.

It was precisely through this galvanic corrosion method that the port anchor chain had been snapped so easily.

Though the starboard anchor chain hadn't broken, the area where the copper wire was wrapped had corroded severely, its strength greatly reduced—once they reached shore, it would have to be replaced and repaired.

At this point, Lin Qian had completed the third step of his plan—successfully seizing the galleon!

The galleon had suffered damage only to a single anchor chain and the stern planking; the ship was essentially intact—one could say it had gone very smoothly.

Of course, this was premised on the *Holy Justice* maintaining her touching 0% hit rate throughout the subsequent chase at sea.

"Helmsman!" a crewman shouted. "The Frank's ship has stopped."

Lin Qian pulled out his telescope and indeed saw the *Holy Justice* furling her sails, her speed gradually dropping.

Though her hit rate was touching and her cannon caliber small—even a hundred hits couldn't have stopped the galleon from putting to sea—still, it didn't seem right that she would give up the chase so soon.

Lin Qian searched the sea surface around it and indeed spotted a two-masted triangular-sail merchant ship heading toward the Holy Justice. The deck was packed with Spanish soldiers in red-and-yellow uniforms, and at the bow stood a signal officer waving flags.

Even a fool could guess that a high-ranking Spanish official must be aboard that merchant ship—someone of at least higher rank than the captain of the Holy Justice.

Lin Qian broke into a smile: "Port half rudder!"

Chen Jiao relayed the order, and two burly helmsmen strained to turn the wheel. The galleon gradually swung to port, giving Lei Sanxiang an excellent field of fire.

From the gun deck came Lei Sanxiang's arrogant laughter: "Hahaha, you thieving bastards, take a shot from your grandpa!"

"Boom!" A cannon roared.

On the distant sea, a plume of spray erupted off the Holy Justice's starboard bow.

A miss—a pity, but there was nothing to be done; that was simply the hit rate of naval guns.

But immediately after, another plume of spray burst off the Holy Justice's starboard quarter.

It was a ricochet shot!

The cannonball struck the water at high speed and a shallow angle, then skipped up like a stone skimming across a pond, creating a bounding trajectory across the sea.

Judging by the position of the two splashes, the cannonball was heading straight for that merchant ship!

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen