Chapter 511 - The Small Steam Engine
Li Di's contraband—the American-made small steam engine—was successfully replicated under the combined assault of Jiang Ye and the Machinery Works crew. Many of the specialized components were handcrafted by the two fitters Sun Li and Xiao Gui. The boiler's unusually compact and ingenious design gave them quite the headache.
The result was thirty percent larger in dimensions and twenty-five percent lower in power output. Overall, it would do.
"Don't underestimate it—compared to the locomobiles we brought along, its output efficiency is much higher," Zhou Bili said. "It's lucky we're reverse-engineering it now; a year ago, we wouldn't have been able to."
Over the past year and a half, the Machinery Works had continuously added specialized equipment and gradually completed its tooling. Combined with constant production practice, skill levels had improved rapidly. Workers had become increasingly adept at using their tools and had gained considerable experience in selecting substitute materials.
This small steam engine was quickly finalized and put into mass production. It was light enough to be installed on a rowboat—and motorizing such small craft was precisely what the transmigrated collective urgently needed. The engines would serve not only for inland-waterway transport but also aboard slightly larger boats for harbor patrol and security.
Following instructions, the Industry Commission installed these steam engines on transport boats, converting them into tugs. Meanwhile, purpose-built shallow-draft small barges were manufactured according to Wang Luobin's drawings. When Zhan Wuya saw the plans, he was taken aback.
"Chief Wang, is this supposed to be a barge?"
"Of course it's a barge."
"It looks more like a coffin to me," Zhan Wuya said. "Aside from being a bit larger and having a slight streamline below the waterline, it's basically a floating coffin!"
To reduce the vessel's weight, these small barges were fabricated from riveted iron plate. They looked much flimsier than the wooden-hulled transport boats—though, of course, their draft was also much shallower.
"That's exactly what it is," Wang Luobin said. "The British built these for hauling coal on canals." Britain was the first nation to build a large-scale canal network. Early canals carried little water and had no reliable motive power; boats were often towed by a single horse, so large vessels could not be used. In some stretches where elevation changes were steep, specialized boat lifts were employed to haul barges over the drop. Consequently, the barges were small and their draft shallow. A single converted tug could tow ten such barges. Each barge's payload was roughly 2.5 tons.
"The 2.5 tons isn't even the maximum capacity—that's the load set for a safe draft depth. In better channel conditions, four tons would be no problem."
Still, the draft truly was shallow enough to meet navigation requirements on the Nandu River. The tugs fitted with small steam engines could also get through—barely. Of course, the tug's loading had to be calculated carefully; it could not carry too much fuel—only enough for a one-way trip. Since fuel could also be taken on at the Hai family dock, the issue was not serious.
Zhan Wuya planned to convert four transport boats into tugs. Each tug would haul twenty-five tons per voyage. Powered boats were faster; they could make two round trips a day, moving two hundred tons of lignite per day from the Jiazi mine. Moreover, once the coal-washing plant came online, what they shipped would be clean coal rather than raw coal containing sixty percent impurities. The net effect was transportation capacity equivalent to around 550 tons per day of raw coal—more than enough for the coal-coking integrated plant.
"In practice, maintaining that volume will be impossible," Zhan Wuya said. "I doubt the uptime of these steam engines will be that high. Factoring in scheduled maintenance and breakdowns, keeping three tugs running on the route is achievable. Even so, daily throughput would still be 150 tons."
"You're too optimistic. Mark my words—once these tugs have been in service for six months, if you can keep two running simultaneously, the Machinery Works will have struck gold," Wang Luobin said.
"By then, small steam engines will be in large-scale production. If one breaks, we just swap it out!" Zhan Wuya declared grandly. "We're only waiting for the iron ore from Tiandu."
Wang Luobin smiled. Grand sentiment, sure—but things were obviously not that simple.
Landing three thousand people on a desolate beach was an operation even larger than D-Day. And they had to launch construction simultaneously in three directions, requiring correspondingly greater stockpiles of supplies.
Lingao's entire productive capacity was running at full throttle, churning out the materials needed for the Yulinbao landing. Work uniforms alone required nine thousand sets. Mo Xiao'an had originally planned to produce six thousand—by his reckoning, one set on each worker plus two spares would suffice. But when he submitted the production plan, Ma Qianzhu told him the figure was insufficient.
"You've never done construction work. Clothes don't just get worn—they get devoured. Four sets per person is the bare minimum. And shoes—at least three pairs each."
"Damn, that bad? The canvas and coarse cloth the Planning Commission allocated won't be enough."
"Tell Guangzhou to procure another batch. I recall they cabled recently about an English broker offering a large lot of cheap Indian cotton cloth. At the time we still had unused domestic stocks, so I didn't approve the purchase."
"Wonder if it's still available," he muttered to himself.
"What did you say, Commissioner Ma?"
"Nothing." Ma Qianzhu covered quickly. "Go take care of it."
"But I still have an application for more sewing machines…"
"Approved." Ma Qianzhu glanced at the application, mentally tallied roughly how much stockpiled material would be consumed, and agreed.
"That's wonderful. But you'll have to talk to Zhan Wuya and his people—have them hurry up, or we won't have time to make the clothes."
"I know, I know. Off you go—I won't see you out."
After shooing Mo Xiao'an away, he immediately called the Vehicle Works to ask whether the vehicle-production quota could be met on schedule.
"Definitely not in time," Li Chiqi shouted from the other end of the line.
Li Chiqi's Vehicle Works was swamped. They had to manufacture three different types of vehicles simultaneously: railcars for the simple railway, mine carts for the mining district, and "Purple Lightning Kai" human-powered wheelbarrows.
Producing all three at once kept Li Chiqi and Jiang Muzhi running like headless chickens. Fortunately, the Bao Lei family, recruited from Foshan, had stepped up as indigenous technical pillars.
The moment the Bao family left the quarantine camp, they were entrusted with critical duties: Bao Lei became the lead craftsman of the wheel-manufacturing team. Having risen from "looking like beggars" to having food, clothing, and shelter, the father and sons were overwhelmingly grateful to the "Australian bosses" and threw themselves into their work. Before long, they had fabricated wheels of various diameters to Vehicle Works specifications.
After watching their craftsmanship, Jiang Muzhi judged the products to be quite good—apart from a shaky grasp of tolerance, quality was nearly flawless. The only drawback was their slow production speed.
The Bao father and sons were fascinated by the transmigrated collective's "Purple Lightning Kai" wheelbarrows. Wheelbarrows were simple in structure and easy to build; the Baos had made many in their time. But how did the Australians manage to produce wheelbarrows so light, so nimble, so effortless to push? That secret had been something Bao Lei was determined to uncover.
In truth, Bao Lei harbored a hidden agenda. Arriving in Lingao and enjoying food, clothing, and security naturally filled him with gratitude toward the Australians. Yet the Purple Lightning Kai had also kindled his greed. If only he could learn how to make this type of wheelbarrow, he could open his own workshop and make a fortune!
But he soon discovered he was dreaming. Though poor, Bao Lei had been proud of his craftsmanship. Then one day he sneaked into the final-assembly shop and watched the Purple Lightning Kai being put together; his confidence evaporated completely.
The assemblers used only a few simple metal picks with wooden handles. Effortlessly, they fitted a cart together from a heap of loose parts. Bao Lei had built carts himself and knew that assembly was the most labor-intensive stage—constant adjustments, wood shims wedged in here, parts removed and planed there. Even the smoothest assembly took half a day.
Now, this worker had assembled over twenty carts in under half an hour. Each was completed in a single pass. The shock was profound. Dozens of carts, and every part on each was identically sized! The Australians truly deserved their reputation as master craftsmen! From then on, in addition to the awe an employee owes his employer, Bao Lei felt a new respect for them as fellow artisans.
Finally, when he saw the roller bearings on the wheelbarrow axles, Bao Lei knew he would never in his life be able to imitate the Purple Lightning Kai—not even the crudest knockoff. Perhaps the Ming had skilled craftsmen capable of turning iron into tiny spheres and fitting them into round housings, but he would never be able to procure such housings in quantity for installation on wheelbarrows. If he tried, the price of his imitations would be beyond anyone's means.
From that point on, Bao Lei became utterly devoted to the Australians. He worked with all his heart, no longer hoarding his skills. He grew far more enthusiastic about mentoring apprentices—he understood now that his own craftsmanship was nothing compared to theirs.
When the Machinery Works consulted its archives and fabricated several purpose-built wheel-making machines for the Vehicle Works, Bao Lei was terrified by these mighty devices that could shape hardwood as though kneading dough. He understood perfectly well that such machinery could completely replace his skills—and do the job better.
For that very reason, he worked harder than any other craftsman to learn how to operate the machines. Before long, he was the most proficient equipment operator on the wheel-making team. His younger son, Bao Bohong, also improved rapidly.
"It seems traditional craftsmen can absolutely embrace new technology," Li Chiqi observed.
Jiang Muzhi snorted dismissively. "Hmph—that's because he's destitute and works for us. If he had his own workshop, think he'd be so willing?"
(End of Chapter)