Chapter 33: The Galleon's Harvest

Physician, crew, base of operations.

This trip to the Ming Empire, Lin Qian had come for these three things.

If all went smoothly, then his maritime hegemony would have a solid foundation laid beneath it.

Lin Qian picked up the bamboo pen and solemnly wrote these three things in the ship's log, then circled them.

After finishing the log, Lin Qian walked out of the cabin and stretched in the damp sea breeze.

At this moment, half of the morning sun had risen above the sea surface, casting a dazzling golden glow between sea and sky.

Chen Jiao's voice urging the crew to get up rang out from below the deck.

A dozen or so minutes later, the crew finished breakfast and climbed onto the deck one after another, beginning preparations to set sail.

Chen Jiao climbed out of the cabin and, seeing Lin Qian already standing by the gunwale, was briefly taken aback, then walked over and teased: "Helmsman, did you rise early, or sleep late?"

"Either way works." Lin Qian said with an easy laugh.

Chen Jiao patted Lin Qian on the shoulder: "Don't push yourself too hard."

Lin Qian squinted toward the morning sun: "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

Hearing this, Chen Jiao stopped trying to persuade him and asked: "Still sailing northwest today?"

"Use the Hai-Ren bearing; we're heading for the Pearl River estuary." Lin Qian said.

The Hai-Ren bearing was a directional notation based on the Chinese compass, roughly equivalent to 15 degrees west of north.

"Right away, Hai-Ren bearing." Chen Jiao took out the compass from his bosom and directed the crew to raise the sails and get underway; the helmsman turned the rudder, and moments later, the galleon slowly moved forward.

While Chen Jiao directed the sailing, the cook, Uncle Chen, came over carrying breakfast. Seeing Lin Qian standing by the gunwale, he said apologetically: "Helmsman, the Fujian junk's dry rations never got loaded aboard; the Franks' ship only has this."

Lin Qian glanced at the meal—on an exquisite porcelain plate sat a few hard biscuits and some salted cured meat.

Since the galleon hadn't reached its departure day, no fresh ingredients had been stocked aboard, only things that could be stored for a long time.

"It's fine, is there enough water and grain aboard?" Lin Qian had a high tolerance for food.

"Enough, enough..." Uncle Chen's face showed some difficulty, "it's just that the appearance is truly pitiful... most of it's got worms... ah, helmsman, why don't you eat first and we'll talk later."

"Wriggling" hardtack and "maggot-flavored" salted meat—this was the classic "eyes-closed meal set" of European navies. No description needed; Lin Qian could well imagine what it was like.

"No matter, put the breakfast in my cabin." Lin Qian said.

Uncle Chen acknowledged and carried the plate into the captain's quarters.

Lin Qian moved his body in the sunlight, feeling a faint ache in his lower back. He wondered whether that blow last night had hurt his bones—once they made port, he definitely needed to find a physician to take a look.

Then Lin Qian walked into the captain's quarters, sat down at the table, and inspected his breakfast.

The good news was there were no wriggling surprises; the bad news was it was truly hard to swallow.

The hardtack was too tough to bite into dry, and soaked in water it tasted like eating wall plaster.

The salted meat, whether soaked in water or not, tasted like a lump of salt.

It seemed his self-assessment of "having a high tolerance for food" was somewhat inflated.

To be fair, hardtack and salted meat did have methods for further processing; in most cases they weren't meant to be eaten directly.

But Lin Qian felt that even a skilled housewife couldn't cook without rice—further processing wouldn't improve things much either.

In comparison, the Ming people, who treated food as heaven, were far ahead when it came to maritime provisions.

For example:

Fried rice, fried flour, dried cakes, naan bread.

Cured meat, salted fish, pickled shrimp paste.

Fermented bean curd, fermented black beans, dried tofu.

Pickled vegetables, tea leaves, preserved fruit, sugar.

These provisions on Ming sea vessels not only stayed unspoiled for long periods but also balanced taste and nutrition—especially supplying the crew with vitamins to prevent scurvy.

Speaking pragmatically, these provisions were also a guarantee of combat effectiveness.

Lin Qian silently resolved that once they made port, he would definitely stock up on a batch of dry rations suited to a Chinese palate, and then the Spaniards' rations would go to where they belonged—the pig trough.

While he was wrestling with the hardtack, Scholar Zhou knocked and entered with an account book in hand.

"Helmsman, the cargo tally is done... oh, you're eating breakfast. Take your time, I won't disturb—"

"It's fine, let's talk while I eat. Second Brother, have you eaten? Want some?"

"No need, no need." Scholar Zhou waved his hands hastily.

Scholar Zhou sat down at the table and spread open the account book: "The cargo holds contain: 10 chests of pearls, 30 chests of cloves, 30 chests of cinnamon, 50 chests of lacquerware, 80 bales of silk, 100 bales of raw silk, 150 chests of porcelain, plus a dozen or so chests of miscellaneous goods. According to that naked Frank's estimate, the cargo is worth 500,000 pesos. He said he has connections in Macao and could sell it for roughly 200,000 taels of silver."

Lin Qian took a big gulp of the hardtack mush and said: "Did you look into that naked Jose's 'connections'? Are they reliable?"

Scholar Zhou: "He said it was a friend of his family from before, someone with real influence among the Franks. He also said that when we put into port for repairs, we could go to him as well. I think it sounds fine."

"Better to anchor in the open sea first and probe the depths of these 'connections' before committing." Lin Qian tore off a large piece of salted meat and swallowed it like taking a pill.

"That works too, it's the safest approach... if you can't stomach it, don't force yourself—nobody managed to finish their breakfast today..."

"We'll probably have to eat this until we make port, so better to get used to it early." Lin Qian said expressionlessly, then tore off another large piece of salted meat.

Everyone aboard eating from the same kitchen but with separate portions was a rule Lin Qian had set.

The harder the food was to swallow, the more Lin Qian needed to lead by example, to show he shared hardships with the crew.

Otherwise, if morale scattered, the crew would be hard to lead.

"Have the weapons, ammunition, and personal belongings been tallied?" By now Lin Qian had finished off the salted meat and was focused on swallowing the hardtack mush.

"The ship has 30 cannons in total: 28 on the gun deck, 1 on the forecastle deck, and 1 on the sterncastle deck. 1,500 cannonballs, 10 barrels of gunpowder..."

"That little?" Lin Qian was somewhat surprised.

Ten barrels of gunpowder probably wouldn't even be enough for 200 shots—far too little compared to the 1,500 cannonballs.

"That 'naked one' said that once a galleon puts into port, the powder magazine and armory must all be emptied. So not only is the gunpowder scarce, there are only 12 matchlock muskets aboard, and all of them were seized when the ship was taken."

The Spaniards had gone to great lengths for the safety of their galleons.

Yet in the end, it was precisely because of all those strict and cumbersome regulations that they grew complacent, assuming a galleon would never be seized—and that was how Lin Qian managed to take it. Truly laughable when you think about it.

Lin Qian finished the last mouthful of hardtack mush, wiped his hands, and said, "All of these things, including the galleon itself, need to be appraised and tallied up, so that once we make port, we can distribute shares and pay out silver accordingly... By the way, have the spoils from the captain's cabin been counted yet?"

The captain's cabin was furnished with extreme luxury, filled with countless chests and cabinets of every size. Since seizing the ship, Lin Qian had been bogged down with one matter after another and had never yet had a chance to go through them.

"The captain's cabin is just odds and ends of personal effects—surely there's no need to enter them into the accounts?"

"No. Not only must they be entered into the accounts, they must also be fairly appraised and clearly itemized." Lin Qian refused without hesitation. "Then deduct the amount from my share—consider it as me buying them."

Any capitalist understands that a company's earnings must be recorded in the corporate accounts.

On the surface, it's lawful operation, showing fairness.

Beneath the surface, the company's money and the capitalist's own money aren't really all that different.

Since you can have both the surface and the substance, only a fool would stuff the money directly into his own pocket.

Yahei

Pink Round