Chapter 588: The Three-Year Pact with the Minister of the Navy
Brittany, Northwest France.
On the northern shore of Brest Bay, the bustling Brest Shipyard, nearly the size of a small town, thrummed with activity like an anthill that had just discovered syrup.
Over a thousand workers moved raw materials along wooden tracks, wielded massive tools to cut lumber, or scaled towering wooden scaffolds to construct ship hulls. Thick smoke poured endlessly from numerous chimneys, dyeing half the sky a grimy gray-black.
This largest shipyard in Brittany, quiet for nearly three years, had finally come alive once again—because the Prince was here.
On the shipyard's docks, Joseph stood with a group of about 50 people, all holding telescopes and periodically discussing two ships on the nearby waters.
The gathering included high-ranking naval officers such as the Minister of the Navy, Marquis de Castries, and Brest Fleet Commander Rogivert, alongside shipbuilding experts like Naval Construction Director Borda and renowned warship designer Jacques-Noël Sané.
The dock was host to the finest minds in French naval engineering.
Before them, the two ships began to move at the sound of a distant bugle.
On the left was a traditional oar-and-sail frigate, its half-raised sails billowing as enormous wooden oars sliced into the water.
To its right was a smaller vessel, a seemingly unassuming 24-gun light frigate, the Inflexible. Yet the towering smokestack rising from its hull revealed its extraordinary nature.
This ship had just completed its retrofit, becoming the world's first steam-powered warship, equipped with the latest LJ52 high-pressure steam engine from the United Steam Engine Company.
This "performance beast" boasted a staggering 52 horsepower, dwarfing its British counterparts, which offered less than 20 horsepower. Although still in testing, the ship had only one engine installed. In the future, it would be equipped with two engines for a combined output of over 100 horsepower. This power was expected to propel the light frigate to a top speed of 12 knots in favorable conditions.
In the calm Mediterranean, such speed was revolutionary—equivalent to flying. Smaller 30-ton boats, powered by rowers at full tilt, could barely reach this speed. A comparable oar-and-sail frigate managed just over 10 knots.
Traditional sailing warships in the Mediterranean, where winds were weak, crawled at frustratingly slow speeds. Even standard oar-and-sail vessels outmaneuvered them with ease, let alone steam-powered ships.
The oar-and-sail frigate quickly sliced through the waves, gaining a lead.
Meanwhile, black smoke billowed from the smokestack of the Inflexible as its speed steadily increased, reducing the gap between it and the oar-powered vessel.
After nearly 20 minutes, the oarsmen aboard the frigate began to tire, and the Inflexible maintained its steady pace, inching closer.
Observers on the dock broke into smiles of excitement.
Sané, the chief designer, couldn't help but exclaim, "The Prince was right. We don't need paddle wheels to achieve excellent propulsion."
Borda nodded in agreement. "If we'd gone with our original design, the ship's weight would have increased by at least 30 tons, significantly reducing its speed."
Two months earlier, when Joseph announced plans for steam-powered ships, the designers had insisted on using paddle wheels, large waterwheel-like structures mounted on the ship's sides. Protected above the waterline by oak casings, paddle wheels were theorized to be durable against cannon fire.
Paddle wheel designs, though not yet in widespread use, were well-documented in theory, and some functional models existed.
Joseph, however, rejected the concept outright.
Paddle wheels were heavy, and adding protective casing would cancel out much of the steam engine's power advantage. Worse, they were large and highly visible, making them easy targets for enemy cannons. Any significant damage to the paddle wheel would effectively render the ship useless.
Instead, Joseph proposed the use of a screw propeller, a design inspired by later eras, leading to the development of the experimental Inflexible.
Standing nearby, Marquis de Castries couldn't contain his gratitude as he looked at Joseph.
Three years earlier, the Prince had promised advanced steam-powered ironclad warships. Castries had waited patiently, even as the navy failed to launch a single new third-rate or larger warship during that time.
Now, Joseph's arrival in Brittany and the creation of a functional steam-powered vessel had reinvigorated his faith.
Watching the Inflexible steadily close in on the oar-and-sail frigate, Castries clenched his fists in excitement. "If we had 20 of these ships—no, just 15—we could challenge the British fleet in the Mediterranean!"
While steam-powered ships couldn't yet match British battleships in direct combat, their speed and endurance made them ideal for hit-and-run tactics. With superior mobility, France could exhaust and harass British forces until they were forced to retreat from the Mediterranean.
Just as Commander Rogivert was about to echo his superior's sentiment, he noticed through his telescope that the Inflexible shuddered violently. The black smoke from its smokestack faded, and its speed quickly dropped.
A technician from the Inflexible soon arrived onshore by rowboat, his face grim. "Your Highness," he reported to Joseph, "the propeller experienced severe vibration again. This time, the main shaft was even fractured."
Joseph frowned.
This marked the fifth occurrence of severe vibration since testing began.
Initially, Joseph had assumed that scaling up his childhood model steamships would suffice for creating steam-powered vessels. He quickly realized how mistaken he was.
The propeller's design alone was a significant challenge. While Joseph could recall its basic shape, details such as the exact blade angle, curvature, and optimal materials were entirely unknown and had to be determined through trial and error.
After numerous iterations, the engineers settled on beechwood for the propeller and a four-blade configuration, eventually producing a working prototype.
However, from the moment the propeller was connected to the steam engine, persistent vibration plagued the system.
Joseph suspected the issue stemmed from manufacturing precision. The propeller blades weren't perfectly symmetrical, causing uneven forces during high-speed rotation—a principle akin to how vibration motors in modern phones operate.
Joseph rubbed his temples in frustration. Now he understood why early steamships relied on paddle wheels—manufacturing a reliable screw propeller with the tools of this era seemed nearly impossible.
Exchanging uneasy glances with Borda and the other engineers, Joseph silently wondered, "Do we really have to use paddle wheels?"
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