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Chapter 86: The Dragon King Checks His Ships

~9 min read 1,718 words

The shipowner frowned: "We cannot take shelter from the rain. Keep sailing."

"Aye." The navigator was somewhat surprised, but since the shipowner offered no explanation, he did not press the matter.

The shipowner cursed his bad luck inwardly.

He was the ship steward of the Huangyan Lin clan of Taizhou Prefecture, sent this time on his master's orders to Macao to investigate the whereabouts of another three-masted Fujian junk belonging to the Lin household, and incidentally to sell some silk and porcelain.

That three-masted Fujian junk had departed from Yuegang at the start of the year, likewise bound for Macao, but after putting out to sea it had vanished without a trace.

He went to Macao to make inquiries, but no one there had ever seen the ship at all.

Only after greasing palms at the Senate House did he learn that the Lin household's three-masted Fujian junk had never called at port.

Plainly, the ship had been seized at sea.

Even if the Huangyan Lin clan had declined somewhat in recent years, it was still a great family with four hundred years of heritage, holding some reputation on the southeastern seas — even the great sea bandit Li Kuiqi would show them a measure of face.

The Lin clan's merchant ships might not sail entirely unhindered, but they ought to have traveled in safety — to have been robbed for no discernible reason, how could he explain this to his masters?

And that was only the first piece of bad luck.

The second piece of bad luck: at Macao, some wealthy magnate or great merchant had appeared from nowhere and sold a massive quantity of raw silk, porcelain, pearls, and other goods all at once, driving prices down considerably.

His cargo of this voyage would have sold for ten thousand taels of silver in previous years, but this time it could only fetch eight thousand — the severity of the price drop was astonishing.

The market was what it was, and he couldn't very well haul the goods back; since there was still profit to be made, he could only swallow his pride and accept it.

After selling the goods, he tried greasing palms at the Senate House again to learn the source of that surplus supply.

But the barbarian who took his silver only told him vaguely that the goods had come from the eastern seas.

Every maritime merchant in the whole Great Ming was to the east of Macao — saying that was as good as saying nothing.

The shipowner had no choice but to set sail for home in frustration.

The third piece of bad luck was the freak weather on the return voyage — torrential rain that would not let up. A voyage that should have taken a little over a month had only covered half the distance after more than half a month.

The ship being seized and the goods selling poorly were already enough to anger his masters.

Add to that a failure to arrive on schedule — did he, as ship steward, want to keep his position or not?

That was why, when the navigator suggested putting in to shore to wait out the rain, he refused with a sour expression.

Boom!

The muffled thunder rolled in, shaking men's hearts with dread.

The shipowner walked to the side of the ship, leaned over to look at both gunwales, and said irritably: "Steward Zhao, don't just watch the deck — haven't you seen that the scuppers on both sides are blocked?"

Steward Zhao went to the gunwale for a look — and indeed they were.

Water was trickling out of the scuppers in fits and starts; no wonder the water on the deck was accumulating more and more.

He hurriedly called for shipworkers to clear them with wooden rods.

The shipworker singled out tied a rope around his waist, took the clearing rod, and carefully climbed over the railing at the ship's side. Bending down, one hand gripping the railing, he used the rod in his other hand to clear the scupper.

Suddenly, a gust of crosswind struck, and the Fujian junk lurched violently.

The man outside the railing's hand slipped, and he tumbled into the water. As he fell, his head struck the hull with a crack, knocking him unconscious instantly — and in the blink of an eye, the sea swallowed him.

Seeing this, the shipworkers on deck hurried to pull the rope. Five or six of them hauled together and barely managed to snatch the man back from the Sea Dragon King's grasp.

They laid him on the deck, where a pool of blood spread from the back of his head, quickly staining the rainwater on the deck red.

"He's still breathing." A shipworker put his finger beneath the man's nose and said.

The others showed no joy on their faces — rather, they looked grave. With an injury to the back of the head, without putting ashore for treatment, the man would surely die.

The shipowner shouted from the sterncastle: "Is he dead or not? If he's dead, throw him into the sea!"

Steward Zhao stepped close for a look, then raised his head and called up to the shipowner: "He hasn't breathed his last yet."

The shipowner waved his hand impatiently: "Throw him back, throw him back. That's the Dragon King checking his roster — if he wants the man, then perhaps if we throw him back, the rain will stop."

Half the shipworkers feared the shipowner, and half were superstitious at heart. Hearing this, they lifted the man together and — splash — tossed him into the sea.

The man's body bobbed with the waves, and after a few swells, there was no trace of him.

A man had died, and the shipworkers' hearts were heavy; even Steward Zhao's urgings grew listless.

Fortunately, after a little under half an hour, the rain gradually lessened.

"The scuppers are clear!" A shipworker exclaimed in delight.

The shipowner turned to look — sure enough, at the scupper, water flowed out in a white line, falling into the sea.

The water on the deck visibly receded by a great deal.

After another hour of sailing, the heavy rain gradually ceased and the dark clouds withdrew.

In the distance on the sea, a patch of green outline emerged.

The navigator pointed at the outline and said: "Shipowner, that's Nan'ao Island."

The shipowner nodded slowly. The Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao Island accepted the Huangyan Lin clan's bribes every year, so there was no need to worry about harassment from the camp soldiers when passing by.

After the heavy rain, the sea breeze was damp and chill. The shipowner could not help but shiver, then turned and went back into the stern cabin to escape the wind. He lay down on the bed, intending to nap for a while.

He had lain there for barely an hour, drifting between sleep and waking, when someone rushed in from outside the cabin in a panic: "Shipowner, three ships have appeared off the starboard side!"

The shipowner sat up and said impatiently: "What's there to panic about? Are they from Nan'ao Island?"

"They're coming from the eastern seas."

The shipowner's eyes flew wide. He rose to his feet, went out of the cabin, and gazed into the distance — sure enough, on the eastern sea, three black specks were bearing down on them.

If those ships had come from Nan'ao Island, they would have been the camp soldiers' patrol vessels.

Coming from the eastern seas, they were certainly sea bandits.

The shipowner steadied himself and said: "Hold course, and make for port at Nan'ao Island!"

His subordinate withdrew to relay the order.

The shipowner stared fixedly at the three black specks on the sea. They were too far away to make out the size of the approaching ships; he could only vaguely sense that they were moving at no slow speed.

His two-masted Fujian junk had never been fast to begin with, and with eight thousand taels of silver loaded in the hold, the gaps stuffed full of his personal goods, and water having just seeped in, there was no way to pick up speed no matter what. He could only pin his hopes on the newcomers being Li Kuiqi's men, who would show some restraint toward the Huangyan Lin clan.

Before even an hour had passed, the three ships in the distance had drawn much closer, close enough to make out the decks with the naked eye.

Two Cangshan junks and one Haicang junk sailed side by side across the sea, each carrying only a small number of men, and riding the southeast wind, they flew at great speed.

Nan'ao Island still lay far off on the horizon.

Another hour passed, and the sun sank toward the west. The entire sky blazed with fiery clouds, and even the sea itself was ironed a deep red.

In that baleful crimson light, the shipowner squinted at the three approaching vessels. Every man aboard held a weapon in hand—there could be no doubt these were sea bandits.

The shipowner summoned Steward Zhao and ordered: "That banner from the household—bring it out and hoist it on the mast."

Steward Zhao acknowledged the order and set the crew to work.

With sea bandits bearing down on them, the crew dared not dawdle. Soon they fetched a wooden box from the hold and opened it, revealing a neatly folded banner inside.

The crew took out the banner and lashed it to the mast with rope.

The banner snapped in the wind, and upon it was embroidered a large character: "Lin."

The Lin clan of Huangyan was a household of considerable standing. If the approaching ships belonged to Li Kuiqi's men, they would surely cease their pursuit upon seeing this banner.

Yet to their surprise, the three ships showed no sign of slowing.

The shipowner cursed inwardly—what beardless little thieves were these, who had never even heard the name of the Lin clan of Huangyan?

Seeing that they were about to be overtaken, the shipowner could only pray silently that once he proclaimed the name of the Lin clan of Huangyan, it would frighten these petty thieves into turning back on their own.

(End of chapter)

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen

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End of Chapter

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