Chapter 665: The Race
The world's first steam-powered paddlewheel ship, Boroscaphe, began its journey with thick black smoke billowing from its smokestack. The ship trembled slightly as the giant wooden wheels on its sides gradually accelerated, rhythmically churning the waters of the Seine with a distinct thump-thump.
This vessel was a far cry from Geoffroy's original design.
Its hull lines had been refined for better stability and reduced resistance. The boiler and transmission systems were significantly optimized, improving effective power by over 20%. The cargo hold and crew quarters were no longer hastily designed, instead utilizing space to its fullest potential while maintaining structural integrity.
As brilliant as independent inventors might be, they could never match the industrial precision and resources of a state-backed military engineering system. What the state required from private designers was merely that initial spark of innovation. Once provided, it could transform that spark into a polished industrial product in no time.
After making a graceful lap around the river to showcase its sleek form, Boroscaphe docked back at the pier.
Joseph and his entourage of over a dozen attendants boarded the ship using a gangway, followed by a throng of excited nobles eager to explore the vessel.
Being well aware of the importance of publicity, Joseph wasn't about to waste this golden opportunity to showcase the steamship's maiden voyage.
Good wine, after all, needs to be advertised far and wide if it is to attract eager buyers willing to pay handsomely.
Not long after, Boroscaphe's paddlewheels began to spin again, drawing cheers from the gathered crowd as the ship approached a long banner stretched across the center of the river.
Seventeen or eighteen boats of varying sizes, including paddle and rowboats, were already gathered near the banner. The bold letters on the banner read: First Annual Seine River Cargo Ship Race.
Sponsored by the Palace of Versailles, this race offered a prize of 30,000 francs, drawing shipowners from across France to compete. Most of the competitors had been eliminated during the qualifying rounds, leaving only the top contenders with a reputation in the shipping industry.
Over a hundred journalists from various countries had arrived to cover the event, renting carriages to follow the race along the riverbanks for continuous reporting.
It's worth noting that ships in this era, even steamships, were generally slower than horses.
On the foredeck of Boroscaphe, Joseph raised a pistol and fired into the air.
The sharp bang echoed over the water. The competing shipowners, with eyes blazing, roared orders to their crews as the vessels launched forward.
Each ship carried 20 tons of cargo and over 50 passengers. The first to reach Le Havre and return to Paris would claim the 30,000-franc prize.
Five or six smaller paddle-sailboats surged ahead, leaving the others in their wake and quickly disappearing from sight.
Aboard Boroscaphe, Joseph watched various pieces of trash drift past on either side of the ship. Suppressing the urge to cover his nose, he maintained his composure for the benefit of the nobles and journalists onboard.
Despite years of improvements under the "Beautiful Paris" campaign, the Seine's sanitation still left much to be desired. From the water's surface, the stench remained unmistakable.
Inwardly, Joseph resolved: Once this race is over and steam-powered paddlewheel ships dominate Europe's inland shipping market, I'll double the fines for dumping waste into the Seine!
The stench finally faded as the ship moved beyond the city limits. Joseph scanned the surrounding waters with a telescope. Boroscaphe was currently in the middle of the pack, ensuring that some journalists had likely already begun drafting headlines like, "Steamships: Overhyped and Overrated."
However, as the competitors approached Vernon—a small town about 70 kilometers from Paris—the leading boats began to slow down.
The smaller vessels that had initially surged ahead relied on their oarsmen pushing themselves to the limit. Now, most of the rowers were utterly exhausted.
Larger paddle-sailboats and Boroscaphe pulled ahead into the lead group.
Four hours later, the steamship's unwavering pace of 8.5 knots had left nearly all competitors behind. Only three paddle-sailboats—Hidden Treasure, Seven Birds, and one other—managed to keep up by replacing their entire crews after reaching Normandy.
Camellia, ever diligent, moved tirelessly between the deck and the captain's cabin to report updates to the Crown Prince. Occasionally, she ventured to the second cargo hold to check on poor Perna, bringing her coffee and offering words of comfort.
Yes, Perna had joined the voyage, despite her severe seasickness. She herself wasn't entirely sure why but perhaps subconsciously hoped for the same attentive care from the Crown Prince as during their trip to North Africa two years ago.
By 6 PM, as Boroscaphe passed through Rouen, no other competitors were in sight.
This was entirely expected. Without favorable winds, steam-powered vessels were virtually unbeatable.
Joseph, accompanied by a host of nobles, proceeded to the ship's dining hall for dinner.
Meanwhile, Camellia hurried to the kitchen to check on the menu. If the onboard chef proved inadequate, she was prepared to cook herself—a directive she'd received from the Queen, whose primary instruction was to ensure the Crown Prince's meals were impeccable.
Unbeknownst to her, a pair of venomous eyes watched from the shadows of the ship's cabin.
Had Camellia turned to see the face beneath the pink wide-brimmed hat, she might have recognized it as Annemarie Herriot—the noblewoman who had once competed with her at Notre-Dame for a "True Love Bond."
"Damn that Austrian witch!" Herriot muttered through clenched teeth, glaring at her rival.
Annemarie Herriot had always considered herself superior. Born into the Versailles court, blessed with beauty, the daughter of a two-hundred-year-old noble family, and backed by her father's immense wealth, she had been accustomed to adoration and deference.
But that Austrian woman had humiliated her in front of everyone at Notre-Dame, and worse still, she was wealthier, more beautiful, and now served at the Crown Prince's side!
Since that fateful day, Annemarie had been consumed by jealousy and resentment, her once radiant personality now darkened and brooding.
Today, after pulling strings and spending a fortune to secure a place on the Crown Prince's steamship, she was met with that same detested rival once more.
Her chest tightened in rage.
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