Chapter 3: A New Beginning

“Captain, there’s firelight on the beacon tower!” reported Mei Wan, who was on observation duty.

Bei Wei looked up. A bonfire was already burning on the beacon tower, a column of thick smoke rising straight into the sky in the dim light of dawn.

Although this situation was expected, he was still somewhat frustrated—it would have been better if they could have silently eliminated this warning post. But his plan had been shot down by Xi Yazhou—the preparations for a special operation would take too much time. The transmigrators needed to launch their landing operation as quickly as possible and establish a firm foothold on shore before the news could spread. The Qiongzhou Strait was a major maritime route and fishing ground in ancient times. Once the sun was fully up, such an anachronistic fleet could not be hidden from anyone. Eliminating the beacon tower versus not eliminating it would only make a difference of an hour or two.

“Ignore it, continue measuring the water depth,” Bei Wei commanded. The real priority now was to get the ships into the harbor as soon as possible.

However, the people on the boat were still a little nervous. As Mei Wan recorded the depth readings, he whispered to Bei Wei:

“Will the Ming army send reinforcements?” When the beacon is lit, reinforcements from all directions come rushing in—this was a common plot point they had seen in movies and novels.

“They won’t.” In truth, Bei Wei wasn’t entirely sure himself. Yu E’shui had sworn that there was no garrison in Lingao county town, and that the beacon tower only served as an early warning system. Although he wasn’t afraid of a small contingent of Ming troops or any local armed force, it was always better to have as little unnecessary bloodshed as possible.

The small boat proceeded, measuring the water depth and dropping navigation buoys along the way to mark the channel for the ships to enter. The tide was rising, and the waves were flowing back into the river. The boat hardly needed to be rowed; it was carried by the tide to the pier in front of the beacon tower. Below the tower was a cluster of low-tiled houses with a flagpole in front—this was probably the Bopu Inspection Office mentioned in the intelligence reports.

The area in front of the inspection office was deserted. A lantern with the characters for “Inspection Office” was still hanging from the tall flagpole, its light not yet extinguished.

Bei Wei waved his hand. “All hands, fix bayonets! Reconnaissance team, target is the buildings directly ahead. Groups one, two, and three, advance with me!” With the command, Bei Wei switched off his safety and was the first to leap from the boat onto the pier.

Although the assault was executed perfectly by everyone, the first Ming Dynasty government office occupied by the transmigrators was completely empty. On the beds in the side rooms, the straw mats were still warm. In the kitchen, a pot of water was already on the stove, the fire not yet out. The occupants had left only a few minutes ago.

The inspection office’s duty was interrogation and early warning; there was certainly no need for them to fight to the death with ferocious pirates. They were familiar with the terrain and could just leave. Anyway, the pirates wouldn’t stay long. They could just come back and clean up after they left—the inspection office had nothing but tables, chairs, and some kitchen utensils, nothing worth much money. The pirates also knew there was nothing valuable in this government office and would simply pass it by.

But this group of 21st-century transmigrators not only searched everywhere but also enthusiastically examined everything—in their minds, these were all antiques. They also planned to take over the place—the building, backed by the commanding height of the beacon tower on the coast, and the pier, was a ready-made landing command post.

Bei Wei ordered one group to go up the beacon tower to search, extinguish the fire, and then stand guard. Another group took up positions on the roof of the inspection office to cover the surrounding area. He himself reported to the flagship via walkie-talkie that the landing was successful, the Bopu Inspection Office had been occupied, and there were no casualties during the operation.

After the report, he called over two team members. “You two go back to the boat and lay smoke buoys along the channel to guide the follow-up ships into the port.”

In the superstructure of the Fengcheng, the people who had been nervously watching the column of smoke breathed a sigh of relief. Bopu Port—the gateway to Lingao—was now open to the transmigrators.

Ma Qianzhu suppressed his excitement and, feigning composure, said to Wu De, “Let’s begin!”

This order was immediately relayed to all the ships. The same command was repeated on every vessel: “Weigh anchor!”

With two fishing boats in the vanguard and two in the rear, the Fengcheng and the self-propelled barge sailed side by side, while the North American branch’s sailboat unfurled its snow-white sails. The fleet, leaving a trail of white wake, sailed majestically towards the harbor. Behind them, a red sun was bursting forth, dyeing the sky red. The surface of the South China Sea glittered with golden light. The dawn of a new world shone upon the transmigrators for the first time. The transmigrators on deck involuntarily stood up, their hearts filled with an incomparable excitement:

I am witnessing history, and I am also creating history!

This feeling intoxicated them. Someone started singing “Ode to the Motherland”:

The five-starred red flag flutters in the wind, How loud the songs of victory sound, Singing of our beloved motherland, From now on, marching towards prosperity and strength.

…

At first, it was one person, then many, and finally, everyone. The loud and clear song soared into the sky, echoing throughout the new world.

“Sound the horn!” the Executive Committee ordered as they were about to enter the harbor.

“Woooo—” The ship’s horn blared. This was the horn of a civilization from another time-space, announcing the arrival of a new era—history was about to be changed.

Although everyone was eager to set foot in the new world, for the time being, they had to endure being on the ship until the pier construction was finished. Professional engineering personnel and unskilled basic laborers—the latter organized into groups of five—were transported ashore in batches on small boats.

The engineering personnel first had to plan and build a port area to serve as a base of operations for their advance inland.

Bopu Port was not an ideal location for a seaport—although the bay had a deep-water channel of ten meters, and Hongshi Island and the estuary sandbars served as natural breakwaters, its shelter was not all-weather. It was almost completely exposed to the northwest, and when a northwest wind blew, the waves in the bay would be very large. The transmigrators could not use it as a main base. The annual storm surges caused by typhoons also made it unsuitable for settlement.

The modern Bopu Port is located at the southern end of the bay, where the water is deepest. The engineering personnel also chose the same location as the landing site and cargo stacking area. Conventionally, such a port would require the construction of breakwaters, various forms of piers and jetties, unloading machinery, and large areas of warehouses and yards. All of this was a fantasy for the transmigrators.

Of course, they could also use the landing craft for ship-to-shore transport, but the speed was too slow. If they were to build a jetty manually, the construction period would be very long, and they would have to make some specialized equipment themselves to work effectively. Therefore, Yan Quezhi, who was in charge of port planning and design, and several other engineering technicians had discussed and decided before the transmigration to adopt the simplest method—a floating pier.

Floating docks are most commonly used in modern times for the berthing of small boats for passengers, and rarely as cargo unloading piers. However, anyone with a little knowledge of military history knows that the British and Americans used floating harbors on a large scale during the Normandy landings, allowing the Allies to land hundreds of thousands of tons of supplies and fifty thousand vehicles of various types on shore without capturing a port. Although the floating harbors were severely damaged in the subsequent hurricane and quickly lost their function, their effectiveness was fully proven.

The transmigrators did not have such luxurious conditions—the Mulberry harbors at Normandy even had breakwaters—nor did they need such a large scale. They just needed to be able to transfer the materials and personnel from the ships to the shore as quickly as possible. Therefore, the floating pier was made of rows of sealed 200L iron drums, connected and welded with angle iron to form small units. The connecting parts of each unit were also hung with old tires for buffering. The top was then welded with corrugated steel plates. According to the engineering group’s calculations, the buoyancy of each unit could support 40 tons. General vehicles, machinery, and materials could all pass through.

The problem with this type of iron drum floating pier was the difficulty of connection. If they were standard pontoon bridges, they would have special connecting bolts and could be connected very accurately. Although these iron drum piers had outer frames welded with angle iron and pre-welded exposed steel lugs for connection, no one could guarantee the level of precision.

The floating pier sections, towed by the fishing boats, were brought into the bay one by one. The transmigrators did not have the powerful motorized pontoons of combat engineers. The small motorboats on the Fengcheng had limited power. With several small boats towing and pulling, they finally managed to get the units roughly into position. The Fengcheng was anchored about 150 meters from the nearest point on the shore. The number of units was sufficient, but assembling them was much more difficult than imagined. The rise and fall of the waves made it difficult to align the connecting bolts. The engineering personnel had no experience in this area. In the chaos, people frequently fell into the water because they were too focused on their work. Fortunately, everyone had life jackets and whistles, and the landing command had organized a group of good swimmers to patrol the bay in rowboats to rescue them. The engineering department managed to avoid becoming the first department to have a martyr.

The grappling anchors, installed on the floating pier sections with reference to floating bridges, played a decisive role. The four small grappling anchors on each unit successfully reduced the pier’s rocking. By late morning, a 150-meter-long, 8-meter-wide floating jetty had taken shape. Although cracks that could snap a person’s ankle would still appear between the units as they rose and fell with the waves, accompanied by a terrible tearing sound.

The members of the Executive Committee watched the completion of the transmigrators’ first project from the Fengcheng, their hearts filled with irrepressible excitement. Ma Qianzhu said loudly, “I propose that this jetty be named ‘Project Number One’ and that a monument be erected by the bridge to be recorded in the annals of the Transmigration Nation forever!”

“A monument is fine,” said Wen Desi. “But this thing must be replaced with a permanent facility before the typhoon season next year. If a typhoon comes and blows it away, our losses will be great—so many iron drums and steel!”

Ma Qianzhu was about to speak when suddenly a foreign woman burst into the wheelhouse, snapping pictures furiously with a camera. Everyone was stunned for a moment, then they remembered that this was Ding Ding’s Western girlfriend, Panpan. Then Ding Ding also came in, holding a voice recorder, and immediately asked Ma Qianzhu to talk about his feelings on the landing. This restless media reporter had already gathered a few people who knew printing and was preparing to publish the transmigrators’ first newspaper. He had even allocated the shares and given his future newspaper a completely uncreative name: the Lingao Times.

“No feelings,” Ma Qianzhu said with an uncooperative attitude. In fact, his heart was surging with emotion today, but he just didn’t like this kind of interview. He would rather write his memoirs quietly and mention his feelings then, rather than being poked with something and asked.

“What about Director Wen? Your thoughts?” Ding Ding immediately switched targets. Panpan came over and started snapping pictures of Wen Desi.

“A historic day,” said Wen Desi.