Chapter 54

Gunnery Chief Jack Robinson didn't answer. He was also looking, his expression complex. As a veteran, he knew too well——at a Distance of 3800 meters, a 12‑inch armor‑piercing Shell struggled against 11‑inch armor. And the opposing ship's armor slope, thickness, material……looked far superior to 11‑inch.

Even more terrifying was the enemy's gun.

380‑mm caliber. One Shell could weigh twice as much as theirs, and its armor‑piercing capability could be three times theirs. At this Distance, if they opened fire……

"Do your job, Tom." Robinson finally said, "Load, aim, wait for orders. The rest……leave it to God."

But even he wasn't sure which side God was on today.

Restoration Ship bridge

"Distance 3500 meters." the navigator reported, "Should we continue closing in?"

Li Te stared at the voice pipe, silent for a few seconds. At this Distance, he could already make out the expressions on the Yingguo sailors' faces—shock, fear, confusion, and a hint of resentful anger.

He knew Chen Feng's order: show strength, but don't provoke.

3500 meters was enough.

"Stop approaching. Maintain this Distance and sail parallel." He ordered, "Notify all turrets: stay ready, but disengage direct aim. Turn the guns to the beam."

"Understood!"

The massive warship traced a graceful arc on the sea, eventually sailing parallel to the Fearless at a steady Distance of 3500 meters. The two warships steamed side by side—one a gray‑painted, sleek steel leviathan, the other a traditionally painted, heavy‑built maritime hegemon.

Two eras sailed side by side on the sea.

Restoration Ship starboard deck

A few young sailors were permitted to go up on deck for a brief breather. They leaned on the rail, gazing at the not‑far Yingguo warship.

"That's the Fearless." said a sailor named Aqiang, "I saw its drawings in technical school. Back then I thought it was impressive—all‑big‑gun design, steam turbines……Now seeing it in person, I feel……"

"Kind of small?" another sailor interjected.

"Not small, but……old." Aqiang thought, "Look at its funnel—black smoke pouring out, clearly a coal‑fired boiler. Look at us—hardly any smoke."

"And speed. We just accelerated with ease, while they strained to reach 22 knots."

"I heard they need over 800 crew per ship, while we have only 1,200, but our displacement is more than twice theirs." (The standard complement of the Fearless varies in the data I found; anyone who knows the exact number can let me know.)

The sailors chattered excitedly. There was no mockery, no contempt, mostly sheer disbelief—disbelief that the warship they operated was actually far more advanced than the flagship of the world's foremost navy.

"What are you all doing gathered here?" the bosun's voice came from behind, "Return to your stations!"

The sailors scattered in a rush. But as they ran off, each straightened his back even more than before.

After several hours of sailing side by side in the Arabian Sea,

"London has replied!"

On the Fearless's bridge, the signal officer almost came running in, holding the freshly decoded message.

Abbas Nott snatched it up and read it quickly. The message was very short:

"Maintain contact, continue observing. Avoid conflict, but preserve a deterrent posture. The Cabinet is in emergency discussion. Report any new developments at any time. —Naval Department"

A typical bureaucratic reply. In plain terms: we don't know what to do either, you hold the line for now. Keep up.

Abbas Nott crumpled the message into a ball and threw it on the deck. He cursed inwardly, "Damn it, our speed is 21 knots, theirs is 30, and they expect us to keep up? Screw you!"

"They don't know what to do." he sneered, "Because they've never faced this situation before. For three hundred years, the Royal Navy has never been technologically outmatched like this."

The gunnery officer asked hesitantly, "Sir, what about us…?"

"Continue 'maintaining contact.'" Abbas Nott walked to the observation window, watching that gray shadow‑like giant, "If they go, we 'follow'; if they stop, we 'wait'. Anyway we can't catch up or beat them."

When he said that, everyone on the bridge lowered their heads.

Humiliation.

But more terrifying than humiliation is helplessness.

"Signal officer," Abbas Nott suddenly said, "send a message by signal lamp."

"Content?"

"Ask what their ultimate intention is. What exactly do they want to do?"

The signal lamp flashed again. This time, the Yingguo sailors had lost their earlier confidence and didn't even dare expect a reply.

But a reply still came—and quickly.

Restoration Ship bridge

Wang Xiaohua translated the signal lamp: "They're asking about our ultimate intention."

Li Te thought for a moment, picked up the voice pipe and replied: "Our ship is about to head to the Indian Ocean for long‑range training. If you're interested, you may join us to observe."

"Captain…" the navigator couldn't help saying, "Will this be too……"

"Too arrogant?" Li Te laughed, "The president once said that humility can be mistaken for weakness. We need to make the Yingguo understand two things: first, we don't fear them; second, we can go wherever we want, even into their backyard."

The signal was sent.

The Yingguo fleet fell silent again.

Five minutes later, the Fearless's reply arrived—just two words:

"Received."

Neither agreement nor refusal, just "Received." This is the subtlest diplomatic reply—I don't endorse it, but I don't oppose it.

Li Te knew that in the first round, Lanfang had won.

"Notify the whole ship," he issued the new order, "change course to 120, destination……Bombay. Speed 25 knots, we'll 'invite' the Royal Navy for a cruise in the Indian Ocean."

The order passed through the entire ship. The young Lanfang sailors burst into a restrained cheer.

Meanwhile on the Fearless, Abbas Nott watched the gray warship turn slowly, its stern pointing at him, the white wake stretching longer and longer on the sea.

He knew he had to follow.

Because London's order was "maintain contact."

But he also knew he could never catch up.

"All ships, follow." His voice weary, "Course 120, speed……maximum speed."

Commander, sailing at maximum speed will seriously wear out the engines.

Carry out the order.

Yes.

Two groups of warships, one ahead and one behind, sail toward the depths of the Indian Ocean. The ship ahead is calm and composed; the group behind is desperately chasing.

On the log of the Restoration Ship, Li Te wrote neatly with a steel pen: "March 17, 1906, 1:20 PM, successfully intercepted the Yingguo deterrent fleet in Oman Bay. The enemy did not dare to open fire. Now, following the plan, we turn toward the Indian Ocean; the Yingguo ship Fearless and its escort formation are tailing us. All crew morale is high." He closed the log and looked out the porthole. In the distance, the Fearless's smokestack was belching thick black smoke, the strain of its coal-fired boiler working at full capacity. Meanwhile, in the Restoration Ship's engine room, the gauge panel showed the oil-fired boiler operating steadily at 65% of its rated power, with temperature and pressure both in the optimal range.

Li Te wondered whether, by playing like this, he would blow up the engine of the Yingguo's newly commissioned Fearless!

The young duty officer stared at the gauges, then suddenly told the apprentice beside him: "Remember today. Remember that we are sailing a warship built by us Chinese, and letting the Royal Navy chase behind us." The apprentice nodded vigorously, his eyes shining like stars.