Chapter 180: A Shark's Feast

This stretch of sea lay south of Lianzhou Prefecture and northwest of the Leizhou Peninsula; because it produced pearls, it was called the Pearl Mother Sea.

All seven great pearl grounds of Hepu were distributed across these waters; compared to this place, the Zhou pearl ground was but a drop in the ocean.

In the southern part of the Pearl Mother Sea lay Weizhou Island, whose strategic position—"Xieyang Peak stands sentinel to the south, six pearl pools ring the northern face, and to east and west lie Lei, Lian, Qiong, Ya, and Jiaozhi, scattered like pieces on a board that none may look down upon"—made it extremely formidable.

Camp soldiers and a naval force were therefore stationed there, commanded by a Mobile Corps Commander, charged solely with guarding the pearl pools and preventing clandestine harvesting.

But since the Wanli era, the southeastern sea lanes had known long peace; the Weizhou navy's function of guarding the pearl pools had largely fallen into disuse, and there was little clandestine harvesting either—its main duty had become suppressing pearl-worker uprisings.

Aboard the Chaozhou, Bai Qing raised his telescope.

In the naval stockade he saw fifty-odd warships of various sizes moored; very few patrol soldiers crossed the camp's open ground, and no sentries were visible atop the stockade wall.

It was now mid-afternoon; according to what the hawk boats' reconnaissance had learned, at this hour the Weizhou navy should be napping, and with no Tanka uprising in progress, the navy would not easily leave the stockade.

This gave Bai Qing the perfect chance to catch them all in one net.

Bai Qing finished his observation, lowered the telescope, and said: "Raise sail, close to two hundred paces and open fire."

The helmsman shouted: "Raise sail, port side to the wind, ready the cannons!"

In the time it took to eat a meal, the Chaozhou's massive hull appeared before the stockade wall.

The soldiers on the wall opened their bleary eyes, glanced at the sea, then stood up, faces blank, never connecting the great ship before them with an enemy.

The Chaozhou slowly sailed within two hundred paces; Bai Qing ordered the sails lowered and the starboard side turned to face the foe.

The hull swung left to present its beam, ten gunports opened along the side, and bronze cannon barrels thrust out.

"Fire!" Bai Qing gave the order.

Aboard the Chaozhou, the gunners lit the priming charges one after another; ten bronze Siren cannons let out a fierce shriek, their carriages lurching backward, snapping the recoil ropes taut, the recoil transmitting through the hull—the Chaozhou listed slightly to port, her planking groaning.

Then smoke billowed, the hull gradually righted itself; the yacht built by Nan'ao shipwrights from composite timber had withstood the test of the first broadside.

In the acrid stench of sulfur, Bai Qing raised his telescope and saw great columns of water and dust erupting all around the Weizhou naval stockade.

Several breaches appeared in its stockade wall; planks and splinters flew everywhere.

Soldiers ran frantically from the barracks, scattering like headless flies.

Soon a second broadside arrived, and the panic in the camp grew worse.

The Chaozhou had only ten broadside cannons; the destructive power of a single salvo was quite limited, but the blow to the Weizhou navy's morale was enormous.

Nearly an hour passed as the Chaozhou's broadside guns fired without cease, yet not a single warship in the stockade came out to give battle.

The Weizhou stockade wall had been blasted down by more than half; the Chaozhou's fire extended, carefully avoiding the warships, and pounded the camp area indiscriminately.

The camp was soon pockmarked with craters large and small; rubble, debris, and shattered planks lay everywhere—though there were not many camp-soldier corpses.

Through the telescope, Bai Qing saw that shortly after the firing began, large numbers of camp soldiers had fled inland across the island.

Weizhou Island was vast in extent, its hills covered with forest; once the camp soldiers fled into it, flushing them out would be no easy task.

Fortunately Bai Qing had already achieved his objective; he called a halt to the bombardment and ordered the crew to take small boats and board the ships, each vessel carrying one Spaniard.

Once ashore, the Spaniards pointed this way and that, putting on airs as they issued orders.

The other crewmen boarded the navy's warships to inspect their hulls; any that leaked badly and were unfit for use were scuttled on the spot, while those still seaworthy were sailed out of the stockade.

In the distant forested hills, Meng Zhenyue, the Weizhou navy's Mobile Corps Commander, watched this scene, his hands clenching the earth, his temples throbbing, his teeth nearly ground to powder.

A Company Commander beside him urged: "General, those red-barbarian cannons are formidable; it's not safe here yet. We'd best run farther north."

Meng Zhenyue roared in fury: "Damn your mother! The stockade is lost, the ships are gone—what use is living on? Gather the scattered troops; while the red barbarians are ashore and not yet firmly established, we'll retake the stockade!"

"Ah?" The Company Commander's face showed reluctance. "The wokou have guns."

Most of the enemies in the stockade had black eyes and black hair; though they lacked the shaved-pate style, they took orders from the red barbarians—most were likely counterfeit wokou of that sort.

Moreover, every one of them carried blades and weapons, and a squad of twenty-odd men held firearms on guard—clearly not to be trifled with.

After being blasted by the cannons, the Weizhou navy had lost nine-tenths of its courage and scattered into the woods; fewer than twenty men remained around the Mobile Corps Commander—how could they retake the stockade?

Meng Zhenyue growled low: "What's there to fear? Weren't the red barbarians just routed last year? Even the Nan'ao navy could defeat the red barbarians—how are we any worse?"

Meng Zhenyue had long been stationed on a lonely island with fragmentary news; he knew only that the red barbarians had been defeated, not the details of the battle, and assumed the navies of Fujian and Guangdong were all alike—he had never thought much of the red barbarians.

But this brief exchange had shown him the red-barbarian cannons were indeed formidable; he thought a moment, then added: "The red barbarians must be weak on land. If we just charge them, we're sure to drive them back!"

The Company Commander still hesitated.

Seeing the warships in the stockade growing fewer and fewer, Meng Zhenyue roared: "Stop your damn brooding! Lose the stockade and the warships, and I'm the first to lose his head—you won't live either. Order the men to charge!"

Just then a soldier cried out in alarm: "General, look!"

Meng Zhenyue whipped his gaze toward the edge of the stockade and saw two counterfeit wokou carrying a large water barrel to the foot of the hill, where they lifted off its lid.

The counterfeit wokou took ladles and splashed the barrel's contents about in every direction; after splashing for a while, they would carry the barrel to a new spot and continue.

Meng Zhenyue was puzzled—until he saw one of the counterfeit wokou light a torch, and then it dawned on him. He shouted at once: "Damn it, that's tung oil—run!"

With that he abandoned everyone else and sprinted northward on his own.

The Company Commander could not react in time; he only saw the counterfeit wokou touch the torch to the oil-soaked ground.

Flames leaped up with a whoosh, then spread visibly, setting two or three zhang of the woods ablaze.

Weizhou lay in the south, where rainfall was heavy and the forest very damp; once the flames left the tung oil, they spread extremely slowly.

But the smoke was immense—truly billowing black clouds.

Meanwhile, the other counterfeit wokou kept pouring oil and lighting fires; more than a dozen fire points appeared at the foot of the hill at once, and the smoke condensed almost into a solid wall.

The Company Commander choked and coughed repeatedly; within moments he was dizzy and light-headed, and he scrambled up and fled into the island's interior, the other soldiers scattering in rout as well.

By the time one barrel of tung oil was spent, most of the hillside and the stockade barracks had caught fire.

The stockade lay on the island's south side, and today a southwest wind was blowing—uphill at that; with the wind feeding the flames, even the dampest timber would be dried out and ignited.

In no more than the time of a meal, the dozen-odd fire points had joined into a single line, slowly advancing up the slope.

On the sea some forty-odd li to the northeast of this place.

The lookout aboard the Zhangzhou shouted: "Black smoke off the port quarter!"

Bailangzai pulled out his telescope and looked southwest; sure enough, he saw a column of black smoke shooting into the sky, and he immediately ordered:

Course set for the White Dragon Pearl Grounds."

The White Dragon Pearl Grounds were one of the seven great pearl fisheries of Hepu, lying more than twenty li offshore.

It was now deep autumn in the eighth month—the sky cold, the water chill—yet several hundred Tanka boats still lay anchored in the pearl grounds, with countless pearl divers bobbing and sinking on the sea's surface.

On a Fujian junk at the edge of the pearl grounds, the grounds supervisor was shouting at full volume: "Winter's nearly here! The Emperor and Eunuch Wei, in their compassion for the toil of you pearl folk, have decreed that this year's harvest ends at autumn's close. You base-born wretches had best be grateful for imperial grace and not dare slack or shirk! Pay your pearl levy in full—violators will be punished without mercy!"

Even as he spoke, pearl divers were steadily rowing their Tanka boats up to the Fujian junk.

A small skiff was moored there, with several petty clerks aboard whose job was to grade and weigh the pearls the divers handed up.

A clerk took a few pearls, weighed them on his scale, and shouted: "Medium grade—three pearls!"

The sopping-wet pearl diver's eyes flew wide, and he said in disbelief: "These are clearly top grade—how can you call them medium?"

The clerk shot him a sidelong glance and said coldly: "Oh?"

Bowing low, the diver begged: "Please, sir, have another look! These three pearls are big and round, already blushed a pale pink—calling them finest grade would hardly be an overstatement!"

The clerk said impatiently: "You say finest grade, so it's finest grade? If they were truly finest grade, would a luckless wretch like you have fished up three in a row?"

The diver was stunned: "These three pearls—my sister paid for them with her life!"

He was drenched through, trembling slightly in the autumn wind, seawater dripping from his body—drip, drip—shattering into droplets on the deck.

The clerk glanced into the boat's cabin and indeed saw a person lying there, chest rising and falling shallowly and slowly, a pool of blood spreading beneath.

She must have been stabbed by some other base-born wretch while fighting over pearls underwater.

The clerk had seen plenty of this sort of thing—it was always these lazy, thieving, shiftless lowlifes bringing it on themselves.

The clerk spat: "Bad luck!"

With a thud, the diver dropped to his knees and kowtowed: "I beg you, sir, be merciful—take these three top-grade pearls, and let me carry my sister back to the water village for treatment!"

The clerk said: "Out on the pearl grounds, someone dies every day or two. Other people die and that's that, but your sister has to be treated—what kind of logic is that?"

The diver said nothing, only kowtowing again and again.

The clerk, annoyed, said: "Help your sister up and let me have a look."

Overjoyed, the diver hurried into the cabin and helped his sister up—she was so weak she no longer even had the strength to cry out in pain, and was raised up like a lump of rotten flesh.

The clerk took one look: the person was dark and gaunt, hair wild and unkempt, features withered—you couldn't even tell if it was man or woman, and she hardly looked human at all, more like a drowned ape.

Clutching his chest, the clerk said: "Damn it, you scared the life out of me! Ugly as that, you'd be better off dead and done with it!"

"What did you say!" The diver was furious beyond measure, veins bulging on his forehead, his features twisting with rage.

Alarmed by his terrifying expression, the clerk hastily waved his hand: "Fine, fine—count it as three top-grade pearls. Get lost."

Choking back sobs, the diver said: "Thank you, sir." He immediately rose and went to the stern to work the oar, and the Tanka boat shot out across the sea like an arrow.

The clerk toyed with the three wet pearls, holding one up to admire it in the sunlight—then, while no one around was watching, his other hand darted into his clothing and stuffed a pearl into his rectum, the motion so swift that no one saw a thing.

His clothes were specially made, the hem slit higher than ordinary garments, and his trousers had a purpose-built opening as well.

This trick was a family art, practiced since childhood, which was how he could insert it so fast and accurately without changing expression.

After the pearl was stowed, he reached into his breast and produced a top-grade pearl he had prepared in advance, so that three were still assembled, and placed them in the basket.

The basket was hauled up to the Fujian junk by a rope.

Just then, a man on the same boat said: "Hey, that woman's dead."

Another said: "Hey, that man's dead too."

The clerk looked behind him and saw that the Tanka boat had stopped on the sea at some point, the body of the diver who had just been there slumped over the bow, a great gush of blood pouring from his neck—he had clearly slit his own throat.

The woman's body was in the cabin and couldn't be seen.

His colleague must have noticed the Tanka boat stopping and guessed as much.

This sort of thing—one family member dead, and the survivor refusing to go on living—the clerks had seen so often they treated it as mere entertainment.

Feeling the pearl inside him, the clerk thought of how he'd be rich once they made landfall, and felt thoroughly content.

On the Fujian junk, the grounds supervisor took the basket, and upon seeing two pale-pink finest-grade pearls and one top-grade pearl, broke into a smile. He clasped the three pearls in his palm and, stooping, went to knock on the door of the sterncastle.

A moment later, a shrill voice came from within: "What is it?"

The supervisor said: "Reporting to Your Eunuch—we've obtained a finest-grade pearl."

"Bring it in."

The supervisor pushed the door open and entered, head bowed, not daring to look around, and set the pearls on the table.

The eunuch picked up the pearl, examined it for a moment, then said: "How is it recorded in the accounts?"

"The accounts record it as top grade. Rest assured, Your Eunuch—I've had a top-grade pearl substituted for this one, so no one will ever tell the difference."

The eunuch said lazily: "Thoughtful of you. You may go."

The supervisor withdrew carefully. After the door closed, before he had gone far, he faintly heard a silken, seductive voice from within say: "My lord, how could you do such a thing in front of him—you've quite shamed your slave girl——"

A chill ran through the supervisor, and he silently cursed: "That dog eunuch plays some filthy games!"

Just then, the supervisor spotted a cluster of soldiers on the port side whispering among themselves, and immediately barked: "What are you doing!"

A soldier pointed into the distance: "Is that an official vessel?"

The supervisor followed his pointing finger and saw a great ship slowly approaching where sea met sky. Its sails curved in full, rounded arcs—utterly unlike the warships of the Great Ming, more like the clinker-built ships of the barbarians.

The supervisor couldn't make up his mind for the moment. He thought of going back to ask for instructions, but feared spoiling the eunuch's "pleasure," so he could only say: "Let's watch and see."

After the time it takes an incense stick to burn, the ship came within two hundred paces—close enough now to see the crowd of heads on its deck and the tricolor flag hanging at its stern.

The supervisor muttered: "Looks like red barbarians."

Everyone in the entire pearl grounds had noticed the great ship, and one by one they stopped what they were doing to look over.

The pearl divers wrung out their clothes aboard their boats and stopped going back into the water.

The patrol squadron's warships moved to surround it, but seeing how tall the clinker-built ship was, and having received no orders, they held off for the moment.

The supervisor on the Fujian junk said: "Go—ask the barbarians what they want."

Before his men could move, the great ship slowly came to a halt, the gunports on its port side swung open, and bronze cannon barrels slid out.

The steward's pupils contracted: "Not good!"

Before he could react, the cannon on the galleon thundered, and through the gunsmoke, grapeshot and iron pellets burst forth.

They riddled the several patrol inspection warships moored nearby like a hornet's nest, the archers aboard convulsing as mist of blood sprayed.

Three ships were instantly crippled and could no longer move; the remaining warships froze for a moment, then turned tail and fled.

The steward was stunned, gripping the bulwark as he roared at the patrol warships: "Come back! Eunuch Zhao is still aboard!"

Before the words died out, a dense crackling volley of matchlock musket fire rang out from the galleon.

Whizzing shots tore past the steward's ears without cease; masts, bulwarks, and deck around him were struck one after another, splinters flying everywhere.

The steward's legs went so weak he could barely stand, and he hurriedly ordered the soldiers to turn back for port, while pushing open the door of the sterncastle to report to Eunuch Zhao.

The moment the door opened, he heard a woman's shriek.

The steward looked closely—Eunuch Zhao sat collapsed half-naked in the grand armchair, already hit by two or three shots, his pale white body stained bright red.

One shot had struck him square in the head, and the wall behind him was splattered red and white with brains and blood.

The steward's head buzzed, and he stumbled backward out of the room.

Then a shout came from the direction of the pearl grounds: "Don't let them escape!"

Immediately, killing cries rose to the heavens.

The steward turned his head and saw Tanka boats charging at the fleeing patrol warships.

Once they grappled alongside, the pearl divers leapt aboard like they were pumped full of stimulants, daggers in hand, throwing themselves at the patrol soldiers with utter disregard for death.

The dozen-odd patrol warships in flight were quickly surrounded by the dense mass of pearl divers, like a corpse ringed by a swarm of ants.

In the blink of an eye, the entire pearl grounds fell into chaos, severed remains of patrol soldiers drifting everywhere across the sea.

"Crack-crack-crack——" Another volley of gunfire.

The Fujian junk's deck was punched full of countless holes, splinters flying; several rigging lines were shot through, and the square sail on the foremast, losing its tension, collapsed outright, crashing down onto the deck.

The surviving crewmen were scared out of their wits and abandoned ship, leaping into the sea one after another.

These men normally lorded it over others, watching the pearl divers go down once and then return to the ship to warm themselves, mocking the divers for being lazy.

Only now did they realize they had no idea how cold the deep-autumn seawater was. The moment they hit the water, they were frozen into wailing misery, feeling as though the air in their lungs was about to freeze solid, and they tried to climb back onto the Fujian junk—a thoroughly ridiculous scene.

But the Fujian junk's bulwarks were high—how could these men climb them? They could only go pale, teeth chattering, clawing at the hull with their fingernails, producing a grating sound that set one's teeth on edge.

Before long, some had their limbs cramp up, their heads sinking beneath the water, choking down two mouthfuls of icy saltwater, their bodies convulsing violently for a moment before going still, their backs floating up to the surface.

The soldiers on deck, unaware of what was happening in the sea, seeing the barbarian ship's guns firing without cease, their comrades falling one after another, the deck stained with blood and flesh like a scene from hell—they too were scared witless and jumped into the sea in droves.

Those in the water struggling to get aboard, those on the ship scrambling to get into the water—it was quite a spectacle.

In the chaos, a small boat slipped away, quietly heading northeast—it was the vessel that had been weighing the pearls.

The soldiers in the water saw it as a lifeline and struggled to swim toward the little boat.

The petty clerks aboard the boat were terrified, rowing with all the strength they could muster, but they collided with several floating corpses, slowing the boat down, and a man grabbed hold of the gunwale.

A clerk raised his oar and, gritting his teeth, smashed it down on that frost-pale hand.

A scream of agony—blood flowed, and four fingers were smashed clean off.

But the delay cost them—more soldiers swam over, more hands gripping the gunwale.

The men in the water fought to climb onto the little boat, which could not bear the weight; in mere moments it capsized, and all the clerks fell into the water.

The crowd fought over the capsized boat, brawling in the water, spray flying, and gradually those choking on water,

frozen stiff, and cramping grew more numerous; more backs floated up in the sea, bobbing with the waves.

The steward watched the scene before him and murmured: "It's over. It's over."

Suddenly, his eyes lit up with hope—he spotted a Tanka boat anchored on the sea some two hundred paces to the northeast.

It was the very boat where the brother and sister had met their end earlier.

If he could just swim to that boat, he would surely escape with his life.

At present, all the soldiers in the water were fighting over the capsized little boat; no one had yet noticed the distant Tanka boat.

The steward steeled himself and began stripping off his clothes. The soldiers on the Fujian junk had all fled; one man alone could not sail the junk, so swimming was the only option.

Just as he was preparing, the wanton woman from Eunuch Zhao's cabin came running out, begging him to take her along.

The steward shoved her away hard: "Get lost!"

Then with a splash, he dove into the water.

The woman couldn't swim and could only fret helplessly, despair and malice rising in her eyes. She stood up and shouted at the soldiers: "Stop fighting over it—there's another boat over there!"

The soldiers in the water knew the little boat couldn't bear everyone's weight; if they kept fighting, they would all die together. In their despair, hearing the woman's cry, they all swam toward the Tanka boat instead.

Just then, the steward swimming in the lead suddenly sank beneath the water. A moment later, a patch of bright red and half an arm floated up to the surface.

The scent of blood had attracted sharks.

The pearl grounds had been harvested for years, with dead pearl divers' bodies every single day; over time, the place had bred schools of sharks, ferocious in the extreme.

Sharks love to bite moving prey. Earlier, with so many corpses around the Fujian junk and everyone fighting over the small boat, no one had yet been attacked by sharks.

Now that the steward had swum beyond the range of the corpses, he naturally became the sharks' first choice of prey.

The sharks beneath the surface were beyond counting. The soldiers on the sea's surface disappeared rapidly, and in no time at all, half of them were gone.

Those who were seized were dragged straight to the bottom, barely able to let out a single cry of agony.

After another moment, the remaining half vanished without a trace as well, only thick bright red rising to the surface, followed by arms, feet, intestines, and the like floating up.

The prostitute saw this and was frozen with terror, backing away repeatedly—but she tripped over a corpse, toppled backward, and tumbled straight over the side of the ship into the sea.

By now, the patrol soldiers on the sea's surface were mostly dead; there was little living left.

The prostitute couldn't swim either, and struggled violently, but within moments felt a sharp pain in her calf. She opened her mouth to scream, and icy seawater poured straight down her throat and nose.

At this moment, a fleet appeared on the horizon where sea met sky.

With a crack, a yellow signal flare burst high above the fleet.

The pearl divers all turned back to look, fear written on their faces.

One of them shouted loudly: "Don't be afraid, those are the boats coming to take us to the island!"

Another said: "On the island there's no forced labor, no debased registry—everyone has a house on shore, and everyone can light a fire and cook!"

These were all people Bai Qing had planted among them. They had been pearl divers themselves, so they naturally understood what pearl divers feared, what they wanted, and how to blend in.

Moreover, they had all been through the battle at Naozhou Pearl Grounds, and had all seen how Lin Qian had made his promises to them. At this moment, copying his example was not difficult at all.

Someone said on the spot: "I can swear to Third Granny and to Mazu that this is all true. Trust us, everyone—if I speak a single lie, may the waves drown me!"

The pearl divers of White Dragon Pearl Pond looked at one another, all hesitating.

Whether they believed it or not, they had nowhere else to go anyway. And since pearl divers took the boat as their family unit, with the whole family aboard, they had no lingering attachments—so they all stayed where they were.

The pearl diver who had sworn the oath looked awkwardly at the expressions of those around him, scratched his head, and thought: when the helmsman swore his oath back then, it hadn't been like this.

Aboard the Zhangzhou, Bailangzai pulled out a telescope to scan the sea surface, and said to the helmsman: "Tell everyone to keep watch on the sea—don't let a single person escape ashore!"

On the sea, the sharks' gluttonous feast continued.

The crew saw that nightmare-like scene once again. Because there were so many corpses, sharks from all around the area had come to fight over the food, making the sea surface seem to boil—shark dorsal fins were everywhere.

The entire stretch of sea had been churned red, and a thick stench of blood assailed them, making one want to vomit.

A crewman watched with brows knit tight, unable to hold back: "Boat master, use the muskets and kill all these beasts."

Bailangzai slowly shook his head: "The suffering of the pearl divers was not caused by too many sharks."

The helmsman had once said similar words to him. Back then Bailangzai hadn't understood, but only now did he grasp the helmsman's painstaking intentions.

"Save the gunpowder and lead shot for our true enemies.

While in the Pearl Mother Sea the sharks feast on human corpses.

On the Ye family's stage, the five acts of *The Singing Phoenix* had just barely finished.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen