CHAPTER 279: CHAPTER 206: HANGING TILE ARMOR

In a sense, Okabe Iyayama could also be called an engineering geek—he tackled problems with technical solutions.

He didn’t rush to find Harano to discuss his son’s school matters—hands-on work took priority—so he led his son and apprentices to tinker away in their assigned small workshop. After seven or eight days, they built a whole pile of "models" as Harano requested, enlisted the guard unit’s help with some testing, and only then notified Harano.

Harano arrived right away. Upon entering, he ignored the models labeled "Horse Ship" and "Customs Ship", his eyes immediately drawn to several models of the "Great Anzai Iron Ship."

These Great Anzai Ship models were more or less alike, lined up on the table like a heap of wooden boxes.

All these ships’ sides were covered with a thick wooden plank wall to protect the rowers, with smaller gunports and arrow slits opened in the wall. The upper deck was open, protected by a low bulwark—actually an extension of the side plank wall.

On some models of the "Great Anzai Ship," the deck even had a similarly sturdy "small cabin," or for some, a lookout tower standing tall on top.

As for power, nothing too fancy—just oars and a mast. The mast carried a gigantic, rigid wind sail emblazoned with a painted gourd crest.

In addition, Harano tried out the masts—the "Great Anzai Ship’s" mast could be folded downward from the center, and the protruding oars got extra protection via bamboo blinds that could be hung on supports outside the hull.

All these scale ship models were beautifully made, fully showing off Okabe Iyayama’s outstanding carpentry skills. If he lived in the modern world, with these model-making talents, earning a million a year wouldn’t be a dream.

Hell, if he started streaming online, people might even get on their knees begging him to make them stuff.

Harano watched intently; Okabe Iyayama observed his expression. Seeing that smile appear on Harano’s face, Okabe instantly relaxed and began to explain in detail the differences between the ship types and their pros and cons in naval warfare.

Harano listened patiently for a while—not overly anxious about this part, since he still wanted input from the navy instructor Yu Da and grandpa Izumi Hichiji. When Okabe’s explanation reached a good stopping point, Harano courteously pointed to the model’s side hull and asked, "About the ship’s copper-plating method—has Lord Okabe solved it?"

"Your Highness, please take a look!"

Okabe Iyayama was well prepared, confidently signaling his son and apprentices to carry over a big rack on which a small section of "copper-plated side armor" had been built, as Harano requested.

Harano’s focus sharpened. Taking a closer look, he found this copper armor wasn’t one flat piece, but hung up in overlapping layers. The upper layer covered a bit of the lower layer’s edge, like roof tiles, with a fish-scale beauty to it.

It was gorgeous—the copper sheets were pliant and even, lined up neatly, shining with a bronze-gold luster, almost like a piece of art. But...this wasn’t the armor he’d pictured!

He wasn’t after something flashy or pretty—he wanted it practical!

After thinking for a moment, he asked tactfully, "These copper plates... can’t you just nail them on directly?"

"No, Your Highness, we tried that. Nailing them straight on does too much damage to the hull—seawater seeps in through the nail holes and the wood rots easily, plus..." as Okabe Iyayama spoke, he had his son and apprentices bring over another rack, pointing at it, "See, if you nail it directly, the defense is really bad."

Harano bent down to examine the directly nailed armor, finding that the thin copper sheet had been blown open by an Iron Cannon shot, exposing the wood underneath—if you want to defend against Iron Cannon bullets at close range, the forged steel plates used in regular armor need to be 2–3 centimeters thick. Now, using copper and less than a tenth of that, it’s as good as nothing.

Moreover, he’d given Okabe Iyayama four specs of iron and copper sheets; just like Kuuki Jialong in history, Okabe had chosen the thinnest kind—0.3 centimeters thick.

Harano pondered a bit and asked, "Can’t we make the armor thicker? Don’t worry about the cost—Wanjin can still muster up ten thousand catties of copper..."

Okabe Iyayama wouldn’t compromise on technical grounds, and having grown bolder, he immediately cut him off: "No, Your Highness, if we make the armor any thicker, the ship’s speed will drop like crazy."

"What’s the speed now?"

"As estimated, only about two-thirds the speed of a normal Anzai Ship. If we thicken the armor further, it’ll get even slower."

So that’s how it is...

Harano nodded lightly and did some quick math in his head: a normal Anzai Ship in good wind and current does about 9 knots per hour; so the "Great Anzai Copper Ship" would only manage about 6 knots—against the current and wind, you’d lose half again, barely 3 knots per hour, neck-and-neck with a tortoise crawling ashore.

And even 6 knots an hour was painfully slow at sea—barely maneuverable. If you made the armor ten times thicker, up to 3 centimeters, the ship would probably just sink straight away.

Even if it didn’t sink, odds are it’d be stuck in place—a floating copper coffin.

Trying to build an Ironclad without a steam engine really is kind of hopeless...

Harano gave up. Some things can’t just be solved by imagination. He immediately tossed out the nailed copper-plating idea, while Okabe Iyayama grew a bit nervous seeing Harano’s serious look—after all, Harano wanted the copper on the ship mainly to prevent fire attacks, not for strong Iron Cannon defense. His emphasis might’ve been a bit over the top. On one hand, he wanted his work to be perfect; on the other, he appreciated how Harano treated him as a true expert and hoped his ship could help Wanjin win battles.

He hesitated a bit, then said, "If Your Highness doesn’t really care about hull defense or longevity, we actually could just nail it on..."

Harano snapped out of it and quickly waved his hand, "No, no, that’s not necessary—I don’t know much about this kind of thing, so I’ll go with Lord Okabe’s judgment. If you can boost defense against Iron Cannon, that’s great. Thanks for thinking it through."

If you could defend against fires and against Iron Cannon blasts, you’d totally dominate in naval shootouts. What kind of idiot would say no?

But... does this really work?

As he spoke, his gaze fell to the "suspended, layered fish-scale armor panel," and he asked with concern, "This overlapping suspended version can block Iron Cannon shots?"

"It can!" Okabe Iyayama had actually come up with this on the spot, and immediately had them bring out another wood frame, pointing as he said, "Take a look—I had your guards test it with Iron Cannon fire. The results were even better than I’d expected; it wasn’t penetrated even at a distance of forty ken."

"It wasn’t penetrated at forty ken?" Harano didn’t know much about ships or armor, but knew his own Iron Cannon’s power—if a Wanjin Iron Cannon can’t get through at forty ken, then with typical Water Thieves’ knockoff matchlocks, even at thirty ken, it could hold up.

But given that the copper sheets are the same thickness, why does nailing direct fail, but hanging in layers works?

He examined the impact point for a while and saw that the "tile" hit by cannon fire was just dented, not pierced. Knowing a bit of physics, with a little more thinking, he figured it out—the suspended, overlapping tile armor distributes impact, each panel has a sloped angle, so a straight-on matchlock shot just glances off, gets damn well ricocheted away.

This really is an inspired idea—a kind of weird beauty in turning the impossible possible.

Looking at it this way, Okabe Iyayama really might outdo what Kuuki Jialong came up with on his "Great Anzai Iron Ship." Hiring him really was money well spent.

Harano asked himself honestly—he’d never have come up with this sort of method, and was now genuinely interested in this ancient "suspended armor." After fiddling with the "model" a while, he sincerely praised, "How did Lord Okabe come up with this idea? Amazing stuff!"

Okabe Iyayama, to his credit, stayed honest and didn’t claim credit. He shook his head and said, "You’re joking, Your Highness. This is the overlapping mortise-and-tenon method, one of the fifteen woodworker techniques. I just applied it to a ship."

Mortise-and-tenon joints, huh?

No wonder there’s not a single nail in sight...

Harano yanked on it a few more times, saw the armor didn’t budge, and felt reassured. He agreed right away: "Let’s go with this for now, then. Once we build the real ship, we’ll see how it works."

......

With the armor problem solved, the biggest challenge for the "Great Anzai Copper Ship" was overcome. Harano then brought in navy instructor Yu Da, the well-traveled grandpa Izumi Hichiji, and the main navy officers to serve as an "expert review panel." From a practical standpoint, they finalized the "Great Anzai Copper Ship’s" design.

The firepower type: 30 meters long, 13.8 meters wide, equipped with 6 small-caliber cannons, 6 Iron Cannon Banners, 20 armed sailors, and 40 armed rowers—while sailors and rowers normally man the ship, in a pinch they grab weapons and armor, form the front line of spearmen, and carry out boarding actions or shore assaults.

Of course, Wanjin Navy was basically a giant transport squad at this point—they didn’t have nearly enough real combat-ready manpower. The force needed rapid expansion; Harano put this on the agenda as well—since the army wasn’t doing much anyway, he just had all the Iron Cannon Banners learn to swim and get transferred aboard, letting the army fill any vacancies at its own pace.

Meanwhile, the Wanjin Shipyard was finally established, with Okabe Iyayama as its first director. The first experimental "Great Anzai Copper Ship" was scheduled for delivery in five months.