Chapter 67: Before Setting Sail, Part 2

The send-off scene was standard, even commonplace — just with a few more people in bizarre outfits, wearing everything from every era and every land. It felt like a film crew changing sets, the kind where the Emperor rides a motorcycle: solemnity mixed with absurdity.

According to the original plan, the expeditionary force formed by the transmigrators should have set out over ten days ago. The reason it dragged on until today, when you get down to it, is still the fault of management's inexperience — the shipboard equipment wasn't supplied on time.

But pinning all the blame on management isn't entirely fair either — the company's so-called management at present neither wields that much authority nor possesses much legitimacy. The current top leaders grew wild in an environment of new shareholders flooding in; aside from Xia Xianze, whom everyone tacitly accepts, the other Department Managers like Feng Jun and Wang Liguo still need tempering. For now, their prestige is simply not enough.

The consequence of a weak management is this: any material request involving "imports" must go through a round of buck-passing and squabbling between departments before it can be implemented. Nothing to be done — right now there's no one who can deliver the final word. The one person legally capable of settling all this, Chairman Cao, just happens to never meddle in these affairs.

Of course, Cao Zong has his reasons. Not to mention that he frequently vanishes for stretches of time — even when he doesn't, he can't very well swagger in and appoint whoever to whatever position. They really don't know each other well.

Although all the transmigrators were "recruited" by him from the Old World, Cao Chuan's sole criterion for selecting these people back then was "is this person convenient to 'invite' to the Ming Dynasty."

As for whether this person had leadership ability, could repair a car or drive one — none of that fell within consideration. Apart from Xia Xianze, the first one he practiced on, none of the others ever had any in-depth exchange with Cao Chuan.

All of the above are the reasons why the radar, weapons, diesel, and outboard motors the Navy requested ended up being delivered late. A bit lame, but that's the truth. By the time Cao Chuan finally got the Navy's list, returned to the Old World to finish purchasing, and came back to deliver the goods, it was already many days behind the original schedule.

After this, things briefly became smooth: the navigation radar, weather radar, sonar, including the machine gun mounts on the fore and aft decks, were all quickly installed. The blood-stirring Browning HB heavy machine gun also made its dazzling debut at this moment; in the scramble for the limited test-firing opportunities, quite a few individuals exposed their vulgar side.

The joy didn't last long before trouble arrived: never before had anyone mounted a Swedish E diesel outboard motor onto the stern of a medieval-era Sand Ship. Once the Mechanical Department people got the actual item and took measurements, they discovered they had to consider not only the removal and placement of the stern's movable wooden rudder, but also the structural strength of the stern, the mounting and dismounting of the outboard motor, and a whole series of other problems.

The final solution was: re-measure the three existing Sand Ships suitable for modification, then spend time having specialized steel slide rails custom-made from the Old World, along with reinforcement structures for the stern — only then was it sorted out.

This kind of problem, originally common in engineering, unsurprisingly drew another wave of complaints. Nothing to be done — the current situation is that no matter which department, as long as it takes extra "import quota," it will inevitably get criticized.

At present, the Transmigration Company looks strong in manpower and well-stocked in all kinds of equipment, but the most critical "delivery count" has actually not been saved up by much. The Ring on Cao Chuan's hand needs three days to accumulate enough energy for a one-way transmission. If you don't count the return trips to the Old World, which use up half the transmission count, then Cao Chuan can only deliver goods to the New World five times a month, each time a few cubic meters.

The company's growing personnel and supplies all depend on this meager transport volume to develop and expand. In the early stages it was fine — the largest transport unit by volume was people; other guns, ammunition, and daily necessities were mostly stored away, whatever amount there was. However, once you consider the endless equipment needed for future industrialization, this transport volume is clearly a drop in the bucket.

As of the day the fleet sets out, the situation is actually not optimistic. The transmigration count Cao Chuan has saved up over this half year is only eighteen times. This number must still be divided, meaning at most he can continuously "send nine boxes of goods" from the Old World right now, and after that he'll have to wait slowly, one trip every six days.

With such a severe situation, no wonder everyone guards the "import goods" with their lives.

The motor's performance after the final sea trial was actually not bad: once out on the open ocean, if needed, everyone could scramble to haul up the movable wooden rudder at the stern, then scramble to clamp the 00-horsepower outboard motor onto the external steel rail and lower it down. After that, precious diesel, measured in milliliters, would begin to be consumed, and the blunt-bowed, square-sterned Sand Ship would then transform, charging at the enemy at a speed of at least five knots against the wind — or making an escape.

With all matters prepared, looking back suddenly, one realized the original plan had been delayed beyond recognition. Bureaucracy kills.

You have to understand, the coming winter was extremely important in the transmigrators' plan: in winter there are no typhoons, Lord Mosquito is not so rampant, and the vegetation is relatively sparse, making it convenient to deal with the savages. This winter was the best window for the Crossing Faction to gain a firm foothold in Dayuan — every single day mattered.

Now that time has been wasted, hurry and mend the fold. Fortunately, the other common supplies in the plan had long been prepared, so all sorts of cargo were stuffed into the bottom hold overnight — grain, weapons and ammunition, tents, even daily items like Disinfectant, all were carried aboard.

Right now there isn't a single proper Soldier, yet the "Army" group, which despite its large numbers had long been reduced to prison guards, finally saw the dawn of hope this time. Without a second word they rounded up fifteen men to come out of the mountains, and in high spirits escorted eighty "workmates" from Moyun Temple overnight — in the pitch black they even popped one who tried to escape.

And so, in a rush, the pre-departure preparations were completed. The first to sail are two ships. The larger one, with the quirky name "Dog Eye," was jokingly named by some people when the ship was purchased.

This three-masted, eighty-percent-new Sand Ship is meters long and 7 meters wide. Although it's called a Thousand Liao vessel, its displacement is just over 100 tons, and its deadweight tonnage is less than 80 tons. It was bought at a premium from a Sand Ship firm in Songjiang that specialized in ocean voyages. After stuffing in a batch of trade goods — raw silk, porcelain, cloth, daily sundries — plus 0 Class B Laborers, 0 Class C Laborers, 15 transmigrators, and 50 crew members, it was already swaying heavily, stuffed to the gills.

The smaller "Yuandou" is only 700 Liao, its name given by the previous Ming owner, and now it's likewise crammed full of people and cargo. Both ships carry some later-era items inconvenient to show others, now tightly wrapped in oilcloth — no rush to unwrap them until after they've put to sea.

Among the zero-plus transmigrators in this first wave, the precious darling Chairman Cao is naturally not included. The confusion of an unknown road ahead, the barbaric wilderness a thousand li away, the myriad perils of the sea route — for such a high-risk journey, everyone agreed that only E taking the field could march from victory to victory.