pappabearbooks Chapter 84 Suez Will Not Sleep Tonight
Chapter 84 Suez Will Not Sleep Tonight
On the bridge, Li Te was completely focused.
"Speed reduced to 3 knots. Helmsman in center. Distance reported by the flank rangefinder."
"Port side 4.8 meters from the quay! Starboard side 4.5 meters!"
"Hold on. Engine room, be prepared to stop at any time."
"clear!"
The "Guangfu" cruised into the narrowest section of the canal at a snail's pace. The sides of the ship were less than five meters from the bank, a distance at which even a slight deviation would result in a collision. But the ship remained as stable as if it were gliding on rails, and even the pitching and rolling were barely perceptible.
At the outposts on both sides of the strait, the officers were all doing the same thing: taking notes.
Speed, draft, rudder effectiveness, stability... all the data were hastily written down, ready to be sent to London. Some even began sketching the details of the hull—the direction of the welds, the structure of the turret base, the layout of the funnels.
"See those welds?" a middle-aged major whispered to his colleague. "Continuous welding, not riveting. The strength is at least 30 percent higher, and the weight is 20 percent lighter. Our shipyard is still using the old methods."
"And there are chimneys," another person said. "Three chimneys, but only half the amount of smoke emitted by the Intrepid. Oil-fired boilers, at least forty percent more efficient."
"The most critical issue is the fire control," a third voice interjected. It was an officer from the artillery. "Look at the main gun turret's servo speed; it's incredibly smooth. It definitely has a central fire control computer with electric synchronization. Ours is still using hydraulics, which has large errors and slow response."
As they spoke, their pens flew across the paper as they took notes.
This wasn't a visit; it was a live lesson. A brutal lesson on the "naval technological gap."
In the middle of the canal, there is a particularly tall watchtower. Several people stand on it, all of whom are of high military rank.
Leading the group was a major general named Carmack, in charge of defense in the Canal Zone. He had been looking through high-powered binoculars for ten minutes without saying a word.
"General," the adjutant asked cautiously, "should we signal them to speed up? At this rate, it will take eight hours to get through, and they won't be finished by dawn."
"Slow them down." Carmack put down his binoculars, his face grim. "The slower the better. I want those London gentlemen to see clearly what we're dealing with."
He paused, his voice even lower:
"You know what? I received a private letter from Abbasnot. He followed the ship in the Indian Ocean for more than 30 hours, and he said it was the most humiliating experience of his career—the enemy was right in front of him, but he couldn't catch up with him, couldn't defeat him, and could only follow behind like a shadow."
The adjutant didn't dare to reply.
"Now I know." Carmack raised the binoculars again. "It's not that Abbasnot was incompetent, it's that this ship... simply doesn't belong to this era."
The "Guangfu" slowly passed below the watchtower.
They were so close they could see the sailors on deck. They stood motionless at their posts, like statues. No one peered out curiously, no one whispered; the discipline was frightening.
Carmack suddenly recalled the discipline of the Royal Navy during Nelson's time—that proud, almost ingrained professionalism.
Now, he sees the same thing in a group of Chinese sailors.
At four o'clock in the morning, the "Guangfu" ship sailed out of the southern end of the canal.
The moment they entered the Mediterranean Sea, the entire ship breathed a sigh of relief. Li Te ordered the speed increased to 15 knots and headed towards the high seas.
Wang Wenwu came to the bridge and handed Li Te a cup of hot tea: "Thank you for your hard work."
"Of course." Li Te took it and took a big gulp. "The hardest part is over. Next is the Mediterranean, then the English Channel, and then London."
"How did the British react?"
Li Te pointed to several ships in the distance above the glass bowl. They were ships from the British Mediterranean Fleet, following at a distance, not daring to get close.
"That's the reaction," he said. "Awe, but also resentment."
Just then, a communications soldier brought over a stack of newly intercepted telegrams.
They were all sent to London by the British garrison. Wang Wenwu quickly glanced through them and smiled.
"Look at this passage: 'Our ship hull welding technology is more than five years ahead of ours; we recommend that the Navy immediately organize a technical research effort.'"
"This section is even more direct: 'No existing warship can defeat this class of warship in a one-on-one fight. In the event of a conflict, at least three times the strength must be concentrated, and heavy casualties will be incurred.'"
"And this one," Li Te pulled out a card, "from Major General Carmack himself: 'What I have seen today has overturned all my previous understanding. I recommend a reassessment of the overall strategy towards Lanfang.'"
Wang Wenwu put down the telegram and walked to the porthole.
The first rays of dawn were breaking over the Mediterranean Sea. The sea turned from deep black to deep blue, and the "Kuangfu" ship left a long white trail behind it.
“You know, Little,” he said softly, “three years ago, when the young master and I led the first group of people to the Persian Gulf, our biggest dream was to have clean water to drink and a house that wouldn’t leak. Nobody thought about building warships, let alone sailing warships to Europe.”
"And now?" Lee asked.
"Now..." Wang Wenwu looked at the increasingly bright sky, "Now I'm thinking, when we get old, how should we tell this story to our grandchildren? How did we start from a desert, build the world's best ship, sail to the doorstep of the British, and force them to open their doors and let us in?"
Li Te laughed: "Will they believe that?"
"Probably not," Wang Wenwu laughed, "but that's alright, history will remember."
The communications soldier arrived again, this time carrying a public news telegram.
"Minister Wang, Captain, the European newspapers are out."
The two men took it. French, German, Italian... Although he didn't understand the meaning of some of the words, he could still recognize the words "Restoration Ship," "Suez," and "Giant Ship" in the title.
The top one is in English, from Reuters, with the headline in bold:
Suez Cannot Sleep Tonight: Eastern Giant Ship Traverses World's Throat, Technological Leap Shocks Western Navies
The subheading reads: "Witnesses say its size and sophistication far exceed expectations; the Admiralty declined to comment."
Wang Wenwu handed the newspaper to Li Te: "Tomorrow, all of Europe will be talking about us."
"and then?"
"Then," Wang Wenwu turned to look at the bridge ahead, where the European coastline was still hidden in the morning mist, "it's time for us to take the stage."
The ship's bell struck six.
A new day begins.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Mediterranean in London, in the Admiralty building, Lord Fisher stared at the thick eyewitness report on the table, his face ashen.
Outside the window, the Thames River is shrouded in morning mist.
For the first time in three hundred years, a warship not belonging to the European navy is sailing toward this river.
Moreover, it was a warship that they couldn't catch up with or defeat.