Chapter 141: Ming Dynasty Pirate Ship

This was the transmigrators' first sea battle, and the captured pirate ship offered them an unprecedented opportunity to examine the actual equipment of late-Ming Chinese pirates—those feared marauders who had once dominated the southern coasts with a reputation stretching across Southeast Asia. Shortly after the vessel was brought to dock, a joint inspection team representing the Military, Intelligence, Industrial, and Agricultural departments arrived at Bopu by vehicle to conduct a thorough examination.

The Intelligence Group confirmed what the ship's construction had already suggested: this was unmistakably a "Guangzhou ship" type, meaning these pirates hailed from Guangdong rather than the Fujian territories that served as Yiguan's primary base of operations. The evidence pointed strongly toward Liu Xiang's gang.

The hull itself embodied the traditional strength of Guangzhou vessels—wood of exceptional hardness. At first, no one could identify the timber. It was Fa Shilu from the Agricultural Group who finally recognized it as lychee wood, renowned for its remarkable density. In 1927, the Hainan Red Army had fashioned all-wood muzzle-loading cannons from this very material. Without the time-transcending combination of the SKS and M43 round, the common small cannons and firearms of this era would have struggled to penetrate such construction.

The ship carried sixteen cannons, though their classification proved difficult. By European standards, they ranged roughly from four-to-eight-pounders. The casting was atrocious—mostly melted scrap iron, with one piece featuring an iron-barrel wooden-structure design that defied all logic. Clearly, whoever had made these weapons knew nothing about proper cannon manufacturing. The casting was so crude and the structure so primitive that—never mind bore polishing—the countless air bubbles alone made the Mechanical Group's jaws drop. Taking these into battle meant you were more likely to kill yourself than your enemies.

The cannons sat on simple wooden frames, roped through ports in the hull. There were no aiming devices, no mechanisms for adjusting position. The only way to aim was to constantly reposition the entire ship, maneuvering close enough for the shot to matter. This explained the eight or more oars aboard—beyond providing supplementary propulsion, they allowed for rapid repositioning during combat.

Test firing revealed that with the transmigrators' refined fine-grain powder, the largest eight-pounder could launch iron balls over five hundred meters. Higher angles meant greater distance, but the crude construction limited how much powder could safely be loaded. No battle shot exceeded two hundred meters—a clear indication that the pirates understood their cannons' limitations all too well. Poor ammunition further reduced effective range: besides a handful of lead musket balls, the main projectiles were stones. There were some small iron balls as well, but during the 1840-1842 conflict, when Qing forts bombarded British ships in the Pearl River, their stone balls couldn't damage English oak hulls despite what observers described as "bullets raining" upon the enemy.

The shipboard powder was even worse—a pure powder form with excessive sulfur content. Test firing produced massive clouds of smoke but disappointingly weak explosions. By comparison, the powder captured during the First Anti-Siege Battle had been the finest they'd encountered—clearly government arsenal quality. Gou Manor powder was slightly inferior. This pirate powder was obviously self-made in some underground workshop, probably sulfur-rich because nitrate was scarce.

Besides the cannons, the ship carried about a dozen matchlock muskets of various types—some clearly Portuguese or Dutch in origin, others local knockoffs—along with bird-guns and single-to-triple-barrel fire-tubes that had probably been issued by the Ming military. All were poorly maintained and looked thoroughly unreliable. Even the Mechanical Group's famously fearless weapon enthusiasts refused to test-fire them. They estimated that even the best original Portuguese or Dutch matchlocks, loaded with quality ammunition, probably had an effective range under fifty meters.

Cold weapons, however, were richly abundant—some of which the transmigrators had never seen before. The Intelligence Department assembled various historians to help with identification, and together they finally sorted out the bewildering miscellany.

Most common were bamboo spears—bladed spearheads mounted on bamboo shafts stretching five to six meters long. The quantities far exceeded the number of corpses found aboard, and later interrogation revealed why: besides close combat, they doubled as javelins. Another spear type was wooden and double-ended, designed specifically for close-quarters fighting. The pirates' most common cold weapon proved to be a machete-style short waist-sword measuring only fifty centimeters in total length, though the blades were remarkably sturdy.

The ship also yielded throwing plum darts, small darts, ship-grappling hooks, rake-hooks—everything imaginable for naval warfare. Finally, they discovered massive fishing nets and sections of rawhide, meant for mounting on the gunwales to block light projectiles and prevent boarding. These protective measures had been removed for the fishing boat disguise on this particular voyage.

Incendiary weapons were standard naval armament, and two types were found aboard. The first consisted of bamboo-tube throwing torches—oiled blocks affixed to bamboo tips that could be hurled like stick grenades once lit. The second type comprised various-sized clay pots filled with powder, sulfur, and ignition materials, their concave tops designed to hold live charcoal. In battle, sailors would swing from mast ropes and hurl these onto enemy decks, where they shattered and spread their deadly contents.

"Incredibly rich," Yu Eshui said, too excited to notice the blood stains congealing and beginning to stink as he examined everything with evident delight. "Just this stuff alone—I could write three or four papers. Core journals would be easy."

"You can even interrogate real seventeenth-century Chinese pirates," someone replied. "What historian could possibly match your advantages?"

"Yes, yes." Yu Eshui didn't catch the teasing, still busy photographing and cataloging the miscellaneous scrap-iron debris.

Wu De dispatched Commune members to clear the corpses and scrub the decks with seawater and sand. By evening, the ship was spotless—except for the bullet holes pocking the gunwale and deck and the shattered remains of the deck shelters, no trace of battle remained.

Wu De surveyed the ship with a twinge of discomfort. He was navy background himself—now serving as Commune Secretary. He'd done countless fishing-boat escort missions during his service, and Chen Haiyang, that frigate veteran, had stolen this one right out from under him. Jealousy gnawed at him, though he wouldn't admit it.

Jealousy aside, duties continued. He inspected the offloaded items as the ship was methodically emptied—even the sails had been removed, though they'd been completely shredded. Commune members still crouched on deck, meticulously prying lead bullets embedded in the wood with iron picks.

"We really are poor," he sighed. Lead wasn't remotely precious—just look at the ubiquitous debased Ming coins to know it was considered a base metal. The Industrial Department's stinginess was born of necessity. Ancient mining and metallurgy operations, compared to the transmigrators' enormous appetite, produced far too little. The planned New Army, once established, would require lead bullets for hundreds to thousands of firearms.

"Chief Wu—the Navy's transferring eighteen prisoners. How should we handle them?" Fu Youdi reported respectfully.

Fu Youdi had become a cadre again. Wu De appreciated his style—bullying toward superiors, strict with subordinates. After the security crackdown at East Gate Station concluded, the perpetually anxious Fu Youdi—anxious specifically about not becoming a leader—had been appointed Labor Reform Squad Leader.

"All to labor reform. Guard them strictly," Wu De ordered. "The Security Group chiefs will be conducting interrogations at any time. Don't assign them too far from headquarters."

"Yes, sir."

The joint inspection reached its conclusion: the ship's construction was quite excellent despite its ragtag armaments. Best to repair it for use—whether for fishing or cargo transport—as it remained extremely valuable.

The damage was relatively minor. The basic structure remained intact, though the numerous bullet holes allowed waves to wash in. After thorough inspection, the team agreed the ship still had considerable utility and was worth repairing.

Repair meant hauling the vessel out of the water—a complex matter, but unavoidable for both ship repair and future construction. Per the Navy's preference, they should build a dry dock immediately. The Navy proposed excavating a simple dock at a sheltered cove on Lingao Point—forty meters long, twelve meters wide, and 2.4 meters deep, with stone walls on all sides. Water would be drained so ships could be repaired in the waterless dock. After repairs, water would be refilled and the ship could sail out. Installing ship locks later would make it suitable for new construction as well.

The Planning Committee rejected this proposal outright. The estimated investment was simply too large for their current resources. The Construction Group proposed a simpler alternative: a basic slipway.

Simple slipways used wooden rails and abundant lubricants to transition vessels between water and dry dock. The advantages were compelling: simple equipment, easy operation, and minimal ground-pressure requirements. For ships under five hundred tons, they needed only level ground with added gravel and ballast, rolled flat. The simple structure meant easy assembly and disassembly—if relocation became necessary, everything could be moved without difficulty. Many domestic small and medium civilian shipyards had used this very method to great success.

(End of Chapter)