Chapter 41: The Ship (Part 1)
For the past few days, Guo Yi had been running around everywhere. The more he knew, the less he understood.
He had originally thought it would be a short business trip of two or three days. Now, he had reported to his superior that he needed to stay longer. From the tone of the voice on the phone, Guo Yi knew his leader thought he was being meddlesome, or perhaps just using the opportunity for a vacation. But the developing situation had become more and more interesting to him.
First, he discovered that people were arriving almost every day. Not many, but they came from all over the country, speaking different dialects. Most were young, and almost all were male. They were not the typical migrant workers seen in the labor-intensive enterprises of this area; each of them carried a large amount of luggage.
Second, in the process of visiting the local enterprises that the company had contacted, he discovered another unusual thing.
In the various professional wholesale markets around the city, the sales volume of certain commodities had skyrocketed over the past three months. A preliminary summary showed significant increases in: various foods, medical equipment and drugs, tools, water pumps, electric motors, small power machinery, various specifications of high-quality carbon steel, alloy steel materials, electrolytic copper and other metal raw materials, measuring instruments, ready-made clothes, shoes, and socks, and so on.
Connecting this to Transmigration Trading’s nationwide procurement, Guo Yi had no doubt that these purchases were also made by them. It was clear they had divided their procurement into two parts: ordinary, simple items were sourced locally, while items with higher technical content or significant regional price differences were purchased directly from other parts of the country.
Guo Yi couldn’t be bothered to guess what they were planning to do anymore. He decided to go directly to the company and see for himself.
He took a motorcycle taxi to the base. The training base looked quite old, mostly built in the 60s and 70s. An office building in the middle was slightly newer but was still over a decade old. He saw no signs of any new construction by the company, even though he had found that Transmigration Trading had purchased a lot of construction machinery. The main gate of the base was wide open. In the gatehouse, two old men were chatting and smoking. Everything looked as normal as could be. Guo Yi worried that flashing his credentials and going in directly would alert them. So, he climbed a small hill nearby and observed with his binoculars for a while.
On the training ground, he could see teams in grass-green training uniforms, divided into several groups, conducting drills. His lens suddenly stopped. He could clearly see that several rows of people were holding short bamboo poles. Some had military drums slung over their shoulders. Although he was too far away to hear the sound, it was obvious they were marching to the rhythm of the drums. The formation would expand into a line, then a column, and then suddenly a square. Then, the front row would half-squat, pointing their bamboo poles diagonally upwards, while the people behind them stood and held their poles level, forming a strange posture.
What were they doing? Guo Yi had undergone military training in high school, university, and when he started his job, but he had never seen these drills before.
Guo Yi desperately adjusted the focus. He saw them perform a whole set of movements: handling the bamboo poles, taking something from their chests, bringing it to their mouths as if biting it, and then fiddling with the top of the pole… The more he watched, the more confused he became—these people had nothing in their hands but the bamboo poles.
“Strange,” he muttered, unable to comprehend the meaning behind these bizarre, ritualistic movements. He moved his binoculars to other areas. By the sandpit, a group of people was practicing unarmed combat. The instructor-like figure in the middle was clearly from a field army unit—Guo Yi had many demobilized soldiers in his own department. The honed physique and aura of a professional soldier were palpable even from a distance.
He adjusted the focus to its maximum. On the pier, he saw many iron barrels and angle steel piled up. Some people were welding something, sparks flying. There were also two small rowboats on cradles on the pier.
“What on earth is this company up to…”
Guo Yi wandered around for most of the day and finally returned to the city in disappointment. He had gained nothing but a growing pile of questions.
That night, Guo Yi left the hotel and wandered the streets, finding a small restaurant where he drank two bottles of beer. He was thoroughly frustrated. He had never doubted his intelligence, and he had handled many cases over the years. Usually, he could get a good grasp of a situation in a short time. But this time, he was still completely in the dark.
“I should just go back,” Guo Yi thought. Hiding out here wasn’t a solution. It had been four days already, and the investigation couldn’t go on indefinitely. From the information he had gathered, this company was a bit suspicious, but they hadn’t done anything to disrupt social stability. Their massive purchases were their own business. Whether it was money laundering or some other issue, he could let the relevant departments handle it.
News of Guo Yi’s investigation, through Zhong Lishi’s and other local contacts’ social activities, had more or less reached the ears of the Executive Committee. However, the fact that the news could leak out at all showed that no one was taking it too seriously. Xiao Zishan was somewhat worried. They were at the final step, and no one wanted a last-minute failure. In the morning, after breakfast at the cafeteria, he hurried to find Wen Desi.
“I don’t think it’s a big deal,” Wen Desi said after some consideration. “Let him investigate all he wants. We haven’t done anything illegal. He won’t find anything.”
“We should still hurry. Delays can bring trouble.”
“Have all the expected arrivals been confirmed?”
“All confirmed. There are still 19 people who will all arrive by next Thursday. I’ve also confirmed with those who are not coming.”
“Then we will hold the general assembly next Friday.”
“Are all the relevant proposals ready?”
“The various groups have been discussing and putting forward suggestions these past few days. Everyone’s morale is quite high.”
As they were talking, the office door opened, and a travel-worn Wang Luobin walked in. He was currently in charge of project initiation, approval, and procurement of materials for the Executive Committee. He was often traveling. For the past three months, he had been concentrating his efforts on the problem of the ship.
During their trade missions, the transmigrators had discovered that the wormhole’s energy decayed over time as it was kept open. The longer the wormhole was open, the more energy it consumed.
A small-scale trade mission involved at most a few truckloads of goods. But when the main transmigration began, thousands of tons of materials would have to pass through the wormhole. The plan to use a fleet of trucks to transport materials and personnel was clearly not feasible—the transit time would be too long, and they would likely run out of energy before everything was transported.
The only way to transport a large amount of material through the wormhole in a relatively short time was by ship—the largest ship possible. The transmigrators’ procurement list was ever-expanding. Without a large ship, it would be impossible to send several hundred living people and thousands of tons of equipment and materials to the 17th century all at once.
Besides transportation, a modern cargo ship was a microcosm of a modern industrial society, with main and auxiliary engines, high and low-pressure pipelines, pumps, cables, electronic communication and observation equipment, desalination equipment, a small machine repair shop, a clinic… With a ship, they would have a complete modern world before the land base was built, providing power and processing equipment support. The biggest benefit was that it could maintain basic modern living conditions for a considerable time, preventing these people, accustomed to modern comforts, from having a mental breakdown due to the sudden hardship.
Finally, there was its considerable military value. A giant iron ship would be enough to create a shocking sense of oppression. Its steel body feared no cannonballs or incendiary weapons. Even if brave men wanted to board for close combat, they would have to climb the towering freeboard, which was like a city wall.
Without any weapons, just ramming at full speed would be enough to make any warship of that era lose its nerve. Smaller ships would be sunk by its wake, and larger ships could not withstand a collision with its steel bow. They would have no way to escape. Even a very old ship could easily reach speeds of 11-14 knots. Except for certain fast sailing ships with favorable winds, most ships could only be ravaged at will.
A magnificent multi-turreted battle-freighter! With such a ship, wouldn’t they be the masters of the ocean?
But behind the glorious dream often lies a terrible reality. The reality was brought by a graduate of a maritime university.
It was at this time that Meng De appeared.
Meng De only found out about the chat group after the second batch of core personnel had already reported. He had stumbled upon the news that a real time-travel portal had appeared on a BBS he frequented, and that they were secretly recruiting comrades to go back to the early Chongzhen era to change history. After confirming the authenticity of the news, Meng De resolutely decided to join, dreaming of becoming a true history-altering figure.
He was the only graduate of a maritime university among the transmigrators, and his work often involved ships.
His education and work experience immediately caught the attention of the Executive Committee. Although the committee suspected his ship-handling skills might be half-baked, there was no one else who understood large cargo ships.
The maritime university and the wormhole’s energy, two completely unrelated factors, destined him to be one of the people who would leave a separate chapter in the history of the transmigration.
At a special meeting convened to discuss the ship problem, he was hired as a consultant. This made the young man, who had graduated only a few years ago, feel highly valued for the first time.
“Director Wen, this is not going to be easy,” Meng De said after listening to the Executive Committee’s plan. “The crew. We don’t have a crew.”
“How many people are needed?”
“For an older ship under 5,000 tons, it’s generally 40 people. For one up to 10,000 tons, it’s over 50,” Meng De said. “Even a new ship with an unmanned engine room needs more than 20.” He spread his hands. “These are all technical positions. The transmigrators can’t do it.”
A Chinese merchant ship, if not carrying passengers, is basically divided into two main departments: deck and engine. The deck department alone has a captain, chief, second, and third mates, chief radio officer, radio officers, cargo officers, tallymen, boatswain, assistant boatswain, able seamen, ordinary seamen, chief cook, second cook, third cook, and deck service staff.
The crucial engine department has: chief engineer, second, third, and fourth engineers, electrician, chief mechanic, chief fireman, mechanics, assistant mechanics, coppersmith, electrician, oilers, firemen, and so on.
“If we want to operate this ship long-term, even if we don’t have a full crew, we need at least half of them, especially for the engine department.”
The Executive Committee members looked at each other. A ship was this complicated? Then what was the point? It was already a stroke of luck to have one maritime professional join; how could they hope for a whole crew of sailors?
“What if it’s just for the one-way trip?”
“That’s also very difficult, although we could do with fewer people.” Meng De proposed his suggestion: set up a freight forwarding office at a port on the Leizhou Peninsula and rent a warehouse. All the necessary materials would be transported to that port to await loading. They would rent or buy a coastal bulk carrier, with the destination set as Bopu Port in Hainan. Some transmigrators could pose as backpackers and hitch a ride, a common phenomenon on coastal freighters. The others would take several fishing boats to the rendezvous point first. When the ship was at sea and approaching the port, the transmigrators would take over the ship, force the crew off, and pilot the ship through the time gate themselves, then run it aground on Hainan Island.
“The Qiongzhou Strait is very narrow. I personally think my ship-handling skills are up to the task. As for the engine and basic deck crew, I suggest the Executive Committee send some people to get some training. But the ship will be basically unusable after that.”