Chapter 889 - The Difficulty of Outsourcing

Hong Kong Island. The Hong Kong Shipyard.

Sea breezes swept across Saintess Bay, where rows of sand slipways and simple gantry cranes lined the shore in a display of industrial ambition. Several Harmony-class ships already taking shape stood on the slipways, their massive ribcages pointing skyward like rows of skeletal saplings. Workers swarmed the scaffolding, hammering and fitting materials into place.

Six Harmony ships had their keels laid. Workers were now installing the ribs—both keels and ribs supplied by the Ma'niao Iron and Steel Complex. To conserve labor, the keels used wrought iron rather than steel.

Not far from the slipways stood a cluster of simple bamboo sheds serving as the shipyard's temporary offices. In his drive to complete the Harmony ships on schedule, Shi Jiantao had funneled every available labor quota and material into factory construction; "non-essential" infrastructure like proper offices had been ruthlessly cut.

"Your sample is unqualified." Shi Jiantao sighed and set down his tape measure and protractor. He glanced at the wooden rack along one wall of the shed, piled with the latest batch of sample components submitted by various indigenous shipyards for testing. He sighed again.

Before him on the workbench lay a rib plate for a Harmony ship, bearing a standard code from the newly implemented classification system: a hull plate for the Harmony 800 Standard Model, port midship section, material fir.

Since January 1631, the Heung-shan shipyard had been producing while still under construction. Before the Planning Commission formally issued its quotas, Shi Jiantao's Hong Kong Shipyard had already completed the first Model 800 Harmony ship as a prototype.

That vessel was experimental, meant to test whether his concept was viable. The results had proved encouraging: from manufacturing the first standardized component to final launch, the entire construction period took less than fifty days. A considerable portion of the parts had been produced at Lingao's wood processing plant and then shipped to Hong Kong.

By then, Hong Kong was already constructing its own timber processing facility. Shi Jiantao's master plan envisioned utilizing Guangdong's abundant timber resources—logs could be floated directly down the Pearl River to Hong Kong on rafts.

It was precisely this calculation that had given Shi Jiantao the confidence to pound his chest and accept the Planning Commission's order. The speed displayed by Bopu Shipyard on Project 901 had only strengthened his conviction. The prototype 901 was supposedly combat-ready in three months. Though Bopu lacked sufficiently skilled workers and experience in building such vessels, mechanized production and modern management had enabled the lead ship to complete launch within roughly ninety days. Fitting out naturally required additional time afterward.

According to Shi Jiantao's plan, only keels, ribs, and components requiring high precision would be manufactured in Lingao. Everything else would be outsourced to Hong Kong Shipyard and indigenous workshops throughout the Pearl River Delta.

Currently, rib installation was halfway complete. Hong Kong's timber processing plant had successfully begun production. Purchasing shipbuilding materials—timber, flax, cloth, lime, tung oil, and oakum—proceeded smoothly in Guangdong with assistance from the Guangzhou Station. Through the Station, a batch of shipwrights and carpenters had also been recruited from the Pearl River Delta, receiving training while working.

By all appearances, the Harmony Ship program was progressing well. Yet beads of sweat had begun appearing on Shi Jiantao's forehead, multiplying drop by drop.

It had started during the delivery inspection of the first batch of outsourced samples the previous month.

The shopkeepers of the recruited shipbuilding workshops had shown great enthusiasm for the outsourcing contracts—who didn't want to do business with the Australians? Their reputation alone, demonstrated by their siege of Guangzhou and the burning of the Five Rams Relay Station, made everyone eager to curry favor. Moreover, Australians were famous throughout the business world as "Honest and Reliable Young Gentlemen" who kept their word.

Now, the opportunity to supply parts for their ships seemed like fortune falling from the sky. The Australians' reputation for possessing strange and wonderful vessels had spread far and wide; everyone hoped to learn something from the association. Furthermore, rumors claimed the Imperial Court would soon issue a decree blockading trade with Macau, which had already caused a decline in shipbuilding orders throughout the Pearl River Delta. Many yards had gone months without commissions. The Australian contracts represented a lifeline everyone wanted a share of.

Shi Jiantao had provided sample parts of each outsourced component along with precise dimensions to the contracted shipyards. Blueprints he withheld—not for secrecy, but because the shipyard artisans couldn't read them. Many were completely illiterate.

The outsourcing effort proceeded disastrously. When the first batch of parts arrived on schedule for inspection, dimension discrepancies appeared immediately.

Ship components for wooden vessels had relatively loose tolerance requirements and didn't demand extreme precision. But this batch of outsourced parts didn't merely deviate slightly—the curvatures were completely wrong, and the dimensional tolerances exceeded any acceptable range. Even among the three trial products submitted by each workshop, the variations between them were wild. Comparison with the samples was almost laughable.

Shi Jiantao issued a yellow card on the spot and sent them back to "rectify." He emphasized repeatedly that he wanted parts "exactly the same" as the samples.

The shopkeepers patted their chests, expressing complete understanding, and departed. Days later, they returned with three new samples each. The results: still unacceptable.

"However long that board is, you make it that long. However wide, you make it that wide. Not a hair's breadth of error. The shape must be exactly identical—understand?" he said, wearying of repetition.

And so came this third round of sample submission. Shi Jiantao felt like a student with bad grades still hoping against hope for a passing mark.

"This time they're definitely the same," the shopkeeper assured him repeatedly. "All made by our master foreman."

The inspection results still showed unacceptable deviations. Shi Jiantao looked at the shopkeeper—terrified and craning his neck to watch the verdict—and could only shake his head.

"It can't be wrong—look, isn't this piece exactly like your sample, sir?" The shopkeeper was afraid of the "Australian," but three consecutive failures had made him anxious. His shipyard had thirty to fifty men waiting for work and pay. They hadn't had business in a long time; if they couldn't secure the Australian contract, forget making money—just keeping the operation alive would be impossible.

To the naked eye, the shape and dimensions this time appeared close to the sample. Under measuring instruments, however, the dimensional gaps remained evident.

"Still off." Shi Jiantao wiped the sweat from his forehead, his expression troubled. What now? The beautiful vision of outsourced production was bursting before his eyes like soap bubbles—colorful but insubstantial.

Sending them back for another round of rectification would only produce the same results. And then it struck him: he had consistently overlooked a fundamental problem. Though the parts he was outsourcing were all simple "rough work," the simplest components in the ship, standardized manufacturing demanded relatively tight tolerance requirements even for rough work.

Meeting tolerance requirements demanded better production tools and precise measuring instruments—neither of which these indigenous shipyards possessed. Shi Jiantao had conducted on-site inspections of their facilities. Watching carpenters work with nothing but crude saws, axes, and primitive iron tools made the quality of their output inevitable. Without precision measuring instruments, accurate dimensional control was simply impossible.

This was not the twenty-first century, where standardized production equipment and measuring tools could be purchased off the shelf. Even a small electronics or machinery workshop in the countryside, however poorly equipped, could quickly acquire whatever was needed from the market once orders came in.

The shipyards of this era had nothing—not even the basic concept of standardized production. Making their output usable would require enormous effort: retraining workers, upgrading process equipment, establishing entirely new protocols.

Which brought him back to the old path of training workers himself. Shi Jiantao wanted to tear his hair out. He had worked so hard on this approach; if he stumbled on the H-800, he would become a "braggart" forever, bearing a stain that could never be washed away. After all, it was he who had proposed coming to Hong Kong to establish a shipyard, building the Harmony ships, and achieving outsourced production through standardization.

"Report for retraining starting tomorrow," Shi Jiantao said at last, the decision forced upon him. "Bring all your workers. We'll teach them how to work. Understand?"

"Yes, yes." The shopkeeper nodded repeatedly, though muttering internally: learning how the Australians worked would be interesting, but who was paying for food? Dozens of people traveling to this small island needed to eat, drink, and take care of necessities—all of that cost money.

Shi Jiantao understood his thoughts perfectly, though it rankled. By old-time standards, inspections were charged; training required payment in the opposite direction. Even in this era, apprentices only ate for free—they certainly never received wages. But right now, he needed these people. Though the shipyard artisans weren't particularly skilled, they were still better than naturalized citizens with zero woodworking foundation. Besides, he couldn't get many naturalized citizens allocated to him anyway.

"Your people come here, food and lodging fully covered by us. They'll learn on the job."

And so, by evening, he had reached a "commissioned training" agreement with the shopkeeper and foreman of the first indigenous shipyard accepting outsourcing work. The term was one month. During this period, Hong Kong Shipyard would cover all food and lodging expenses while the shipwrights learned by working.

Shi Jiantao thought grimly: even if they couldn't learn, at least they would do a month's work. If it still didn't work out, he would have to think of something else.