Chapter 17: There Is an Old Chinese Saying

"I know a little."

"There is a Chinese idiom, 'A single spark can start a prairie fire.' Wilhelm II turned, his eyes flashing with a strange light, 'These six ships are the sparks. They will ignite the British's fear, ignite the naval race, ignite the whole world's frenzy for the next‑generation battleship. And when everyone is watching the North Sea…'"

He walked to the other side of the world map, his finger pointing to the distant East.

"That Chinese man named Chen Feng, what he built in the Persian Gulf is not just warships. He is building a nation. A Chinese nation. Do you know what that means?"

Tirpitz answered cautiously, "It means the balance of power in the Far East could be broken."

"Not only that." Wilhelm II shook his head, "It means the era of white domination of the world has its first crack. The Dutch, the British, the French, they have colonized Asia for three centuries, telling the world that the yellow race is destined to be ruled. But now, a yellow man has produced warships more advanced than any white's, and is using these ships to make money, build a country, accumulate power."

He paused, his voice lowered, "Alfred, what the German Empire wants is not to compete with that Chinese man. It is to cooperate. Use his technology, his shipbuilding capacity, to fight our common enemy—Yingguo. When we master the seas, the East… can be given a share."

Tirpitz took a deep breath. The emperor's strategic vision is sometimes mad, sometimes terrifyingly sharp.

"So you agreed to such a high price, even paying with gold."

"Gold will run out, but technology is permanent." Wilhelm II said, "and I need him to keep drawing Yingguo's attention. When the British discover that in that inconspicuous port in the Persian Gulf, the warships being launched are more advanced than the Westfalen class… guess what they'll do?"

Tirpitz understood instantly, "They will shift more fleet to the Indian Ocean, dispersing the force in the North Sea."

"Right." Wilhelm II smiled, "and then our second, third batches of new ships will already be in service. The balance of power in the North Sea will quietly change."

From outside the window came the guard‑change orders. Autumn sunlight in Berlin filtered through stained glass, casting colorful shadows on the floor.

Tirpitz watched the emperor's side face split by light and shadow, suddenly feeling a chill. The plan is too big, too complex, involving too many variables. Yet undeniable, it has a chance of success.

"One more thing, Your Majesty." Tirpitz said finally, "the Russians. They lost to the Japanese in the Far East, the Baltic Sea fleet was almost completely destroyed. The military attaché in St. Petersburg reports that Tsar Nicholas II urgently needs to replenish warships."

Wilhelm II's eyes brightened, "You mean…"

"We can bundle the old‑style main battleships we are replacing and sell them to the Russians." Tirpitz said, "the price can be raised, they are desperate anyway. This way we recoup some funds, make the Russian navy indebted to us, and give Yingguo another direction to be wary of."

"Good idea!" Wilhelm II slammed the table, "Do it at once! Tell the Russians we have four 1898‑designed main ships to 'discount' transfer, with half a year's ammunition and maintenance support included. But it must be cash, or exchanged for food, timber, minerals."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

When Tirpitz saluted and prepared to leave, Wilhelm II called him back.

"Alfred."

"Your Majesty?"

"You said…" The emperor's voice suddenly became a bit vague, "a hundred years from now, how will history books describe today? Describe the morning when six German warships passed through the Suez Canal?"

Tirpitz thought a moment, giving the most pragmatic answer a naval officer could give:

"They will say it was the last day of the old navy, and the first morning of the new navy."

Wilhelm II laughed, laughing like a child.

"I like that phrasing. Go, make that morning longer."

London, Naval Ministry building, First Sea Lord's office,

John Abbasnot Fisher, Lord, First Sea Lord of the Royal Navy of the British Empire, stared at the twelve photographs spread on his desk, having been silent for an hour.

The office was filled with smoke. The cigar ashtray was full, emptied, full again. The marine chronometer on the wall ticked, each second striking everyone's nerves.

Director of Naval Intelligence, Colonel William Reginald Hall stood at the table, sweat beading on his forehead. He received a secret telegram from Cairo at five p. m., got the photo negative sent by diplomatic pouch at six, developed it at seven, arrived at the Naval Ministry at eight. Then came a long silence.

"Explain." Fisher finally spoke, his voice terrifyingly calm.

Hall swallowed, "From 06:20 to 07:00 this morning, six German new battleships passed the middle of the Suez Canal. This is a photograph taken by dispatcher Johnson Evans. From the hull type they belong to the same class, completely unified design."

"I can see that." Fisher took a magnifying glass, leaning close to the most recent one, "five twin‑turret mounts. All main guns. No secondary battery. This is an all‑main‑gun design, exactly the same as I mentioned in my 1903 memorandum."

"Yes, sir."

"Displacement?"

"Based on draft depth and hull dimensions, at least 18,000 tons, possibly up to 20,000 tons."

"Main gun caliber?"

"Photo comparative analysis, barrel length about 45 times the caliber. Bore diameter…" Hall said with difficulty, "estimated around 12 inches."

Fisher's hand trembled. 12 inches (305 mm) is the Royal Navy's largest active caliber. The Germans mounted ten of them on one ship.

"Speed."

"Visually over 21 knots. Dispatcher report, smokestack exhaust pattern shows steam‑turbine propulsion."

Fisher put down the magnifying glass, closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his eyes were bloodshot.

"When did the Germans start building them?"

"We… don't know, sir." Hall's voice grew softer, "Naval Intelligence has no relevant report. Dockyard observers, steel procurement records, boiler orders… everything normal. It's as if these ships appeared out of nowhere."

"Out of nowhere?" Fisher slammed the table, the photos jumping, "Six 20,000‑ton battleships! Steel needed exceeds 100,000 tons! Workers needed over 5,000! Construction time at least two years! And you tell me the Germans could build six of them without us noticing?"

Hall dared not answer.

Fisher stood, pacing quickly around the office. He was short, but now resembled a lion trapped in a cage.

"Do you know what's most terrifying?" he suddenly stopped, "it's not the six ships themselves. It's what they represent."

He walked to the North Sea map on the wall, his finger pointing at Wilhelm Port and Kiel Port.

"The Germans have mastered all‑main‑gun design, steam‑turbine technology, unified fire control. That means their next batch, the batch after that, will all follow this standard. And our 'Dauntless'…" He turned, eyes sharp, "…won't be launched for another twelve months. When it enters service, the North Sea may already have twelve German ships of the same type."

"We can accelerate construction, sir." Naval Construction Director Sir Philip Watts spoke, "If we suspend other projects and concentrate resources, the 'Dauntless' construction period can be cut to six months."