Chapter 306: Naval Ensign

The sailors had completely finished scrubbing the deck. They used mops to dry the wet deck, making the entire surface as smooth as a mirror, without a speck of dust or debris. Ruan Xiaowu, as the officer of the day, inspected the condition of the deck.

Following the regulations set by the Navy’s General Advisor, President Wen, he took off his shoes and walked across the deck in a pair of white cloth socks that he had just changed into that morning.

The sailors knew that if he lifted his foot and there were gray-black marks on the bottom of his white socks, the entire deck would have to be scrubbed again. All ships moored in the harbor had to meet this standard—this was also a regulation from President Wen. President Wen’s concern for naval construction had reached a point that the sailors found “outrageous”—he had even designed a complete set of procedures for cleaning the deck to achieve this standard. For example, when mopping the deck, the specific procedure was clearly stipulated: two buckets must be used for mopping, marked with the characters for “clean” and “dirty” respectively. The mop had to be strictly cleaned in the dirty water bucket and squeezed as dry as possible before being dipped into the clean water bucket to absorb water, not too much, and then used to mop the floor. After mopping a certain number of square meters, the dirty water bucket was emptied, the clean water bucket became the dirty water bucket, and then a new clean water bucket was brought in… and so on in rotation.

As Wang the Beard once commented when he was drunk: “The navy is a place where there are regulations even for farting.”

After walking across the entire deck, Ruan Xiaowu’s socks were as white as ever. He put on his shoes with satisfaction, recorded the deck’s condition in his handbook, and then announced that the deck cleaning was over. The sailors, who had been waiting with buckets, mops, and brushes, began to put away their cleaning tools. Ruan Xiaowu then inspected the condition of the deck facilities—as the ship’s gunnery officer, he paid special attention to the weapons and equipment.

Limited by the ship’s original structure, all the gun positions on the Linyun 7 were on the deck. The deck was more susceptible to salt spray and seawater, which placed high demands on the maintenance of the cannons. Each cannon had to be kept clean inside the bore at all times, and there could not be a speck of rust on the inside or outside of the cannon.

He inspected the muzzle and barrel of each cannon one by one, checking if the touchhole was blocked or corroded. He tested the wheels of the gun carriages to see if they rolled stiffly, and felt the axles to see if they had been lubricated according to regulations. Finally, he checked the condition of the pulleys and ropes fixed to the ship’s side to restrain the recoil of the cannons—as the ship’s gunnery officer, he had to ensure that all weapons were in optimal condition.

He also tested the flexibility of the traverse and elevation of the two newly installed typewriters. This brand-new weapon had just been commissioned. Ruan Xiaowu had already witnessed its power when he was a cadet on a patrol boat. With this thing on the sterncastle, any enemy who wanted to board would be slaughtered. Even the fire ships, which were considered the ultimate attack method by pirates and government troops alike, and which even the red-haired foreigners feared, were nothing to be afraid of. No sailor could steer a ship to ram their own under the sweeping fire of the “typewriter”; they would all be shot dead from a hundred meters away.

However, this weapon was still not very convenient to use. The gunner had to have great strength to hold the muzzle steady on the target. Most people who fired it for the first time would either shoot the bullets into the sky or into the ground. Ruan Xiaowu himself had practiced for a long time in the training team before he learned the knack of controlling the muzzle jump, and then he taught it to the gunners of the gun crew.

After the inspection, the sailors of the gun crew covered the guns with waterproof covers painted with tung oil and tied them tightly.

He looked at the hourglass and the scale hanging next to the helm on the sterncastle. In half an hour, the captain would come to the deck for inspection, and then it would be breakfast.

However, last night, all the captains here had been summoned to a meeting at the naval headquarters in the port. Ruan Xiaowu knew that the navy was about to carry out a major mission, and it was likely that the specific details would be announced today.

As for what the specific orders were, Ruan Xiaowu knew nothing, not even the captain. The captain of the Linyun 7, Qian Changshui, was one of the first pirates to surrender to the Australians—captured during Liu Xiang’s night raid on Bopu. After screening, he was deemed “reformable” and became a sailor. Later, due to his outstanding performance and diligent study, he was recommended to the first class of the military and political school’s naval NCO program. He became one of the first natives to be promoted to a naval officer and the first to become a naval captain. In the past, he had commanded nothing more than a dilapidated tugboat, but now he was the captain of a two-hundred-ton ship, striding around the deck in a uniform with officer’s sleeve stripes, giving orders with an air of authority, which made Ruan Xiaowu very envious—if only he could become a captain someday.

However, this was a bit of a pipe dream. He was only sixteen this year. Were there any sixteen-year-old captains? But he had already become a naval cadet with the status of a candidate officer and the gunnery officer of a large ship. He was one of the fastest in the second class of the naval NCO program. His future… At this thought, a smile spread across his face.

Qian Changshui returned and patted him on the shoulder with a grin—this gesture, which was not in accordance with military etiquette, surprised Ruan Xiaowu. This Qian Changshui had always been full of officer’s airs. When had he become so friendly?

“Congratulations, kid!” Qian Changshui said. “You’re about to become a captain!”

“What?!” Ruan Xiaowu’s eyes widened. A captain? A sixteen-year-old captain?

“Don’t open your mouth so wide you could swallow a watermelon,” Qian Changshui suddenly became very friendly to him. “Come, let’s talk in the sterncastle.”

The dazed Ruan Xiaowu only came to his senses when he was in the captain’s cabin in the sterncastle. Qian Changshui told him that the Linyun 7 had received orders to set sail on a mission in a week, and he had been promoted to captain and would soon be transferred from the Linyun 7.

“You’ll probably get a special service ship,” Qian Changshui said. “It’s not big, but at least it’s a ship! You’ll be the boss on board! To be a captain at such a young age, you’re one of a kind at sea! The orders will be delivered soon. Hurry up and tidy up your personal affairs, change your clothes, and prepare to go to the Holy Ship to receive your new appointment.”

A messenger brought him the order to attend the promotion ceremony on the Holy Ship. The Fengcheng was now called the “Holy Ship” in standard “Newspeak.” It was not only the holy land of the Transmigration Group but also the holy land of the navy. The naval headquarters occupied a part of the Fengcheng’s cabins. Because of its comfortable facilities, it was known as the “Fengcheng Hotel,” and also “Dock-hugger.” Some people jokingly called it the “Yamato of Lin’gao.”

Ruan Xiaowu had been on the “Holy Ship” for observation and study when he was a naval cadet. The grandeur of the Holy Ship had excited the three Ruan brothers, who were then cadets, so much that they couldn’t sleep for several days, and from then on, they were determined to follow the Australians to the end.

As soon as he stepped on the gangway, a blonde foreign woman popped out from the side, pointing a dark thing at him and making a clicking sound. Ruan Xiaowu already knew this thing was called a “camera,” used for “taking pictures.” The Lin’gao Times they read every day often had such “photographs” in it, taken with this thing. Ruan Xiaowu was no longer afraid of the camera and had learned to smile in front of it.

Ruan Xiaowu looked at the large breasts swaying under the foreign woman’s tight-fitting blouse, and his face turned red. He quickly lowered his head and tried to walk past.

“Head up! The fifteen-year-old captain!” the foreign woman shouted with a loud laugh, and some people on the deck also laughed. Ruan Xiaowu became even more shy and rushed towards the cabin in two or three steps.

The promotion ceremony was quite grand. In the banquet hall of the Fengcheng, the “March of the Warships” was playing loudly from the speakers. More than a hundred naval cadets from the military and political school’s naval NCO class were lined up neatly. The promotion ceremony for the second batch of naval ensigns was underway. On the rostrum sat the Naval People’s Commissar Chen Haiyang, the Naval General Advisor Wen Desi, and other senior transmigrator naval officers.

This was the second time a native had been promoted to an officer in the navy. To build a sense of honor and enhance loyalty among the native soldiers, the army and navy held grand ceremonies for every promotion.

“Actually, this is nothing. If these ensigns don’t die or aren’t too incompetent, they should all be vice admirals and admirals in twenty years. This kind of pomp is still necessary,” Ma Qianzhu had always been a supporter of this kind of “strengthening our military prestige” activity, both spiritually and materially.

However, this time, he did not attend the navy’s promotion ceremony because he felt he had attended enough times. He had attended three out of four for the army, and once for the navy—his exposure frequency was too high, which could easily attract criticism.

Chen Haiyang read out the names of the ten newly promoted naval ensigns one by one. Most of them were from the first class of the military and political school’s naval NCO program, with a few second-class students like Ruan Xiaowu.

The naval ensigns whose names were called went up to the stage one by one, receiving their officer’s certificate from Chen Haiyang and a naval officer’s short sword from Wen Desi. Although hanging an officer’s short sword on the simple cotton Year One naval uniform looked a bit comical, the navy insisted on issuing this symbolic weapon because the army awarded a command sword during their officer commissioning ceremonies. If the army had it, the navy certainly couldn’t be without it.

“Second-class Naval NCO, Ruan Xiaowu!” Chen Haiyang shouted in a powerful voice. “Promoted to the rank of Naval Ensign! Chairman of the Executive Committee, Wen Desi; Naval People’s Commissar, Chen Haiyang. December 1629.”

Ruan Xiaowu stood up reflexively and walked onto the rostrum with trembling steps, saluting and receiving his officer’s certificate from Chen Haiyang.

Then, Wen Desi presented him with the officer’s sword. Looking at this small, child-like new officer, Wen Desi knew he was the youngest to be promoted to ensign. Such young men were the backbone of the future imperial navy. No wonder the propaganda department was planning to use him as a subject for a large-scale propaganda campaign.

“Congratulations,” Wen Desi said.

“Thank you, President Wen!” Ruan Xiaowu, seeing the god-like and rarely seen President Wen congratulating him, was moved to tears.

This was the first time in Wen Desi’s life that someone had shed tears over a single word from him. His sense of leadership was greatly satisfied.