Chapter 32: New Target
Lin Qian on the Galleon still didn’t know the pursuers had already turned back to port.
Even more unaware of the Spanish Fleet slaughtering each other in Lingayen Bay.
After all, his original intention was just to set up a feint to lure away the Spanish warships; he hadn’t expected things to coincide so perfectly.
Therefore, that evening, Lin Qian ordered a full-ship lights blackout, lower sails, and stop the ship.
When Jose came to the Captain’s Cabin to find Lin Qian, he was informed by Bai Langzai guarding the door that Lin Qian was near the main mast on the Deck.
Jose walked to the main mast but didn’t see Lin Qian’s figure. While searching around, he suddenly heard Lin Qian’s voice from above his head: “Start with your family. How did your family rise to prominence and become noblemen?”
Jose looked up and saw a pitch-black figure straddling the main yard.
“Captain Your Excellency, what are you doing up there? Climbing like that at night is too dangerous.”
Lin Qian’s indifferent voice came from above: “Thanks for the concern. Just tell your story.”
Helpless, Jose could only recount his family history while watching in fear and trepidation as Lin Qian moved back and forth on the yard.
“My full name is Jose Enriquez de la Rhea. My great-great-grandfather was an admiral in the Castilian Navy in the 15th century…”
“My great-grandfather sponsored Columbus’s voyage and obtained 1/64 of the profit rights in the New World…”
“My grandfather vigorously sponsored the Invincible Fleet, but the Invincible Fleet was miserably defeated, and the investment was a total loss…”
“Be more specific: who was the investment target, what was the name of the ship, and the exact amount.” Lin Qian’s voice came from above his head.
By now, Lin Qian had climbed to the main topsail yard, where his figure was almost invisible.
Following Lin Qian’s request, Jose began explaining in detail. Truth be told, Spaniards’ names were mostly very lengthy; even as a native speaker, he sometimes couldn’t remember them all, and he didn’t know why this Easterner Lin Qian wanted such specifics.
Jose finished recounting the family’s failed investment in the Invincible Fleet, then spoke of the inflation caused by the influx of silver from America.
He mentioned the Royal Family’s 1509《 Land Price Limitation Decree》.
He then described how his grandfather and father had borrowed against mortgages from Genoese bankers to maintain a respectable lifestyle.
Later, how they were implicated by the fall of the Duke of Lerma and had their property confiscated by the Royal Family.
At that moment, Lin Qian missed a step and plummeted vertically from the yard, but fortunately a rope tied around his waist kept him from splattering as a puddle of meat mud on the Deck.
Amid Jose’s dumbfounded stare, Lin Qian’s figure climbed back up the rope to the yard, then carefully descended the shrouds.
Only when Lin Qian clutched his waist and jumped onto the Deck did Jose close his gaping mouth.
“You just mentioned the Duke of Lerma. If I recall correctly, that was 1618. What happened in the two years after?”
Lin Qian’s voice was calm, not at all like someone who had nearly fallen to his death.
Jose was momentarily stunned and mechanically replied: “After that, nothing. I became penniless. The Royal Family confiscated the family’s last property, leaving only a noble title. I spent my days drunk like a beggar on the streets of Madrid. They call people like me ‘blood-drained nobleman’…”
“Then why are you on the Galleon?”
“Of course to make money and revive the family. I heard the routes to the East are highly profitable, so I called in favors from friends to sneak aboard. A noble title sometimes still has its uses.”
Lin Qian eyed him scrutinizingly: “What goods did you bring to Manila?”
“Three hundred pounds of tobacco.”
“Why follow the ship personally?”
“After all, this is my entire fortune.”
“Sale price? Profit?”
“Sold for over 300 pesos, profit about 180 pesos.”
“300 pesos is still a fortune for ordinary people; not enough to say you couldn’t afford whoring fees.” A cold glint flashed in Lin Qian’s eyes.
Jose said bitterly: “That bit of pesos was spent long ago. Damn yellow… Ming citizens nurtured by heaven and earth who opened casinos…”
“Not leave some as return trip capital?”
Jose sighed: “The Governor learned of my situation and specially ordered no return cargo for me… On that note, the Governor’s a bastard, but his daughter is really something. The joy girls in the Royal City most popular dressing like her… hehe…”
Lin Qian reviewed everything Jose said in his mind and found no flaws for now.
Seeing Lin Qian ask no more, Jose breathed a sigh of relief: “So, respected Captain Your Excellency, did I pass the test?”
Lin Qian smiled: “Almost. Now tell your story again, this time backward.”
Three hours later, Jose finally finished again; by then he was parched and yawning nonstop.
In contrast, Lin Qian’s expression remained unchanged, and he tirelessly probed for details.
Every name, figure, and date in Jose’s first version was cross-examined by Lin Qian. Any slip-ups were immediately corrected.
This kept Jose mentally on edge; as he spoke, he inwardly griped that if Lin Qian weren’t a pirate, he’d make a fine warden.
Fortunately, he told the truth; the second version differed little from the first, preliminarily earning Lin Qian’s trust.
“Alright, you promised sales channels and ship repairs. Now get specific.” Lin Qian said casually.
Jose grimaced and glanced at the eastern sea surface, where a faint white glow had appeared. Conservatively, he could still sleep two hours.
“Shouldn’t we… rest a bit earlier?” Jose pointed east, choosing his words carefully.
Lin Qian turned to look. With dawn near, he could use the morning light to catch up on yesterday’s sea log.
At the current speed, the voyage to Great Ming would take at least ten days; questioning Jose wasn’t urgent.
So Lin Qian waved Jose off. Jose, like granted amnesty, ran back to his cabin.
Lin Qian stretched his waist and headed to the Captain’s Cabin. Last night the safety rope had chafed his waist; even after a night, it still ached faintly.
No doctor on the ship, nor anyone to treat it.
With that in mind, Lin Qian hurried back to the cabin, opened the sea log, entered yesterday’s date, weather, wind direction, and other basics, then began listing items needing replenishment.
First, the ship needed a doctor.
In the age of sail, sailors’ average lifespan was only 20 years, mainly due to primitive medical care.
At this time, Western medicine wasn’t much different from carpentry: amputate for external wounds, bleed for internal, opium for pain, mercury for disease.
They probably killed more than they saved.
Even just scurvy left them helpless.
Let alone cholera, typhoid, yellow fever, wound infections, sepsis, and such.
Lin Qian’s previous life was in design; he knew nothing of medicine. Upon docking in Great Ming, top priority was finding a reliable traditional Chinese doctor for the ship.
With a ship doctor, crew survival rates would rise; in battle, no fear of injury means more bravery; it would also save his own skin, lest he die from stepping on a rusty nail.
Second, short on crew members.
Full count, he had just over sixty crew members. Only with everyone multitasking could they barely keep sailing; sea surface combat was out of the question.
Per Galleon operating needs plus combatants, Lin Qian estimated around three hundred crew members.
As for recruitment, Lin Qian had a preliminary plan: the Tanka People at Pearl River Estuary were ideal.
Tanka People lived on ships from childhood, familiar with the ocean and skilled at handling boats, with strong technical advantages.
In Great Ming, Tanka People were untouchables, lower than commoners; anyone could bully them, their lives full of hardship and discrimination.
Thus, Tanka People deeply hated the Great Ming Imperial Court and had strong rebellious spirit.
Coincidentally, many of Lin Qian’s crew were Tanka People, like Bai Langzai.
Returning to Great Ming this time, he could settle Bai Langzai’s troubles: first, fulfill Lin Qian’s prior promise（Chapter 3）; second, recruit thereby.
Finally, they needed a base.
Even if crew never went ashore, the ship needed port repairs. A Galleon was too conspicuous; big ports drew ill-intentioned eyes, small ports lacked repair facilities and expertise.
Thus, finding a base to build a dry dock was essential.
The site must: one, not under any faction’s control; two, have a deep-water harbor; three, sufficient population; four, supply grain and basics; five, not too far from towns or routes.
Along Great Ming’s coast, islands abounded, but few met all conditions.
Fortunately, Lin Qian didn’t need to scour sea charts inch by inch; history had already picked the spot.
That was—”Nan’ao Island”.
The island lay in the Fujian-Guangdong border no-man’s-land, isolated offshore. The Imperial Court stationed a Vice General there with over a thousand troops, rife with payroll padding and virtually no combat ability.
Good ports ringed the island, with abundant fish.
On the Island, timber was lush, with freshwater; it could support town construction, land reclamation, and self-sufficiency.
Most crucially, twenty li west lay Guangdong’s Chaoshan; six hundred li southwest the Pearl River Estuary; three hundred li northeast, Zhangzhou Yuegang Port—right at the throat of Great Ming’s sea routes.
Control it, and control the entire southeast route’s lifeline.
Historically, Zheng Zhilong had entrenched there to rise.
In this timeline, Zheng Zhilong was only sixteen, likely still an apprentice at some small port, nowhere near Nan’ao Island.
The perfect chance for Lin Qian to seize it first.
