Chapter 33: Grappling and Bloodshed (I)

"This stuff is awful." Lu Lvzi chewed on a strip of wind-dried jerky and grumbled.

Chen Xin was chewing tea leaves in his mouth, saying nothing, his face still wearing that professional smile. Lu Lvzi had no idea what they had talked about at the bow that night; he only assumed the proprietor had given Chen Xin some instructions. And Chen Xin seemed unaffected by that night's events, still mingling with the sailors as usual. Since Proprietor Zhao still intended to take him as a son-in-law, he wasn't worried for the time being.

This was the twentieth day aboard the ship. Yesterday they had passed Korea's Jeju Island, not taking the Jeju Strait but continuing south from Jeju's western side, arriving near the sea lane south of Nagasaki. Today every lookout bucket on the masts had a man posted, all of them peering around constantly. Just then a crosswind struck the ship's port side; the sailors hurriedly adjusted the sail faces and lowered the starboard leeboard to reduce sideways drift. The crosswind blew against the broad sails, and the hull swayed gently.

Lu Lvzi had no idea about their heading, and Chen Xin couldn't read the star-measuring boards either. He had tried to learn several times, but Hei Pao and the others brushed him off with a few words and were unwilling to teach him. After passing Jeju Island yesterday, with a point of reference, he had barely managed to get some sense of direction. He knew the voyage had been fairly smooth so far and they were nearly at Japan. They had encountered no major storms along the way, nor any other sea bandits. Twenty days had passed, and he had no idea how the great battle at Ningyuan and Jinzhou was going now, or how Liu Minyou's clothing shop was faring.

Nearly all the sailors had come onto the deck. Everyone had placed their weapons close at hand — mainly dao, spears, grappling hooks, and some flying claws. Wang Zugui and the other gunners had brought out two barrels of gunpowder and were loading powder and shot into the breech blocks of the large Frankish cannons. Zhu Guobin was still in the middle lookout bucket, his eyes sharp and gleaming as he scanned the sea. His dark skin was covered in sweat, glistening slick and shiny under the sunlight. Proprietor Zhao had also stuck a Japanese sword through his waist sash and was peering over the gunwale along with Second-in-Command Han Bin and the others.

The sea merchants of this era could transform into pirates at any opportune moment without the slightest technical obstacle. Especially on this ship, where more than half the cargo belonged to others — if the sailors wanted a fat payday, the best source was plundering other vessels. After passing Jeju Island, they were not far from Nagasaki, Japan's sole open trading port, and the chance of encountering other merchant ships was high.

The atmosphere on deck was markedly different from usual. Aside from a few seasoned old sea dogs who sat resting with their eyes closed, utterly unconcerned, the other sailors were visibly agitated, restless, constantly drawing their blades halfway out and shoving them back. After Lu Lvzi finished his jerky, he seemed to sense it too and was about to ask Chen Xin when Chen Xin spoke in a low voice by his ear: "Brother Lu, if we run into another sea vessel today, I'm afraid there'll be a fight. We're not here to throw our lives away — unless it's absolutely unavoidable, don't rush to the front. Keeping your life is what matters."

Lu Chuanzong said carelessly, "Got it, Brother Chen, don't you worry. Even if I have to give up this life, I'll make sure you come out safe."

Chen Xin was a little moved. Hai Gouzi and the Zhang Da brothers had said similar things before. Though it had never been put to the test, he believed they meant it. What he had actually given these men was not much — there had even been some deception — and what they gave back far exceeded his expectations. The simple honesty of people in this era was something he had never anticipated. If their positions were reversed, he asked himself honestly whether he could do the same. Facing them, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of shame.

Lu Lvzi pulled out his tobacco pipe and handed it over. Chen Xin had taken up smoking these past few days too. The ship was only so big, and after a long time aboard, everyone got a bit irritable. Smoking did have a relaxing effect.

Just as he was about to take the flint and strike it, they heard Zhu Guobin suddenly shout from the middle mast.

"Ship ahead!!"

A chaotic clatter erupted on deck as everyone shot to their feet. Proprietor Zhao bounded up to the steering deck in a few quick strides, shoving a sailor who had been about to go to the latrine back onto the deck. He stood on the steering deck, shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked in the direction Zhu Guobin was pointing. Far off on the sea, there was indeed a black dot, still not clearly visible. He said to the two sailors manning the helm below the steering deck, "Steer us over for a look, damn it."

The two men immediately adjusted course. Han Bin led the others in shifting the sail positions to better catch the wind. The deck was crisscrossed with ropes; every sail adjustment required untying and retying, no light task. For a moment the air was filled with shouting as everyone bustled about in a flurry of activity.

Once everything was adjusted, the Fujian junk was now on a diagonal parallel course with the distant sailing ship. Proprietor Zhao went to the bow and climbed into the forward mast's lookout bucket himself. From time to time he issued orders from the bucket, adjusting their heading. The distance between the two ships closed rapidly.

Chen Xin took a spot with a good view on the starboard side near the bow. By now he could make out the general structure of the ship opposite. Several sailors behind him jostled and shoved, trying to get to the front to see. Hei Pao and Second-in-Command Han Bin were right beside him. Though Hei Pao and Han Bin didn't get along in normal times, now was the moment to stand united against outsiders, and both men were observing intently.

That ship was sailing from southwest to northeast — it had to be returning from the Chinese coast or the Southern Seas. It carried four sails in total. At the bow was a bowsprit, jutting forward at an angle, flying a small white soft sail. At the stern hung a Western-style square soft sail, but neither soft sail was large in area. The two masts amidships carried folding balanced lugsails just like the Fujian junk's, but the masts had no lookout buckets. The bow was of the "Yamato-style" with wooden rails — like a hybrid crossbreed of Eastern and Western sailing ships. People could be seen moving about on board, and there was a figure at the top of the mainmast, presumably looking out this way.

Han Bin spoke to Hei Pao: "It's a Japanese red-seal ship."

"That's right." Proprietor Zhao had already come down from the forward lookout bucket and said as he reached the two men.

Han Yong also walked over: "Big Brother, judging by how deep she sits in the water, the cargo must be considerable. Do we do it?"

"Do it. Why wouldn't we? What's the point of putting to sea if we don't?"

Hei Pao whipped his head around and bellowed at the crowd on deck: "Grab your gear, we're doing business! A hundred taels for every man when we take the ship, a hundred taels for every head you take! Anybody who wants silver, give a damn yell!"

Han Yong also shouted loudly: "Bring plenty of flying claws, no fire pots!"

A cacophony of howling cheers erupted on deck, weapons clanging and clattering. Even Lu Lvzi, hearing the promise of a hundred taels of silver, grew wildly excited. After the sailors finished their hollering, they began making preparations. They brought spears, grappling hooks, flying claws, and the like to the starboard side and laid them ready. Quite a few men pulled out simple leather armor and began putting it on. Several men armed with bird guns had already started loading. Chen Xin wasn't too keen on those things — the powder charge and shot were only three or four mace, far too weak.

Wang Zugui and the other gunners finished loading the breech blocks into the large Frankish cannons and inserted the iron wedges behind the blocks, then began loading that red-barbarian cannon. The loading process was no different from a fire lance, only requiring more tools. They removed the wooden wedges beneath the gun carriage and shifted the barrel backward. Then Wang Zugui took a long-handled powder scoop, scooped up a load of powder from the powder barrel, and loaded it through the muzzle. Next he took an iron ball weighing about six or seven catties from a wooden tray on the deck, shoved it into the muzzle, and tamped it down firmly with a round-headed ramrod. Finally, he poured some priming powder over the touchhole, and the loading was complete. It seemed even faster than the Banjiu foot gun.

Chen Xin returned to the second deck and retrieved his own Banjiu foot gun. He knew that the type of red-seal ship opposite them — Tokugawa Ieyasu, to promote trade, had issued red seals to Japanese sea merchants, and also to Chinese sea merchants. Its full name was "Red Seal for Crossing the Sea to Foreign Lands." Only those who held one could enter the port of Nagasaki. Any ship with a red seal could be called a red-seal ship.

The deck was in noisy chaos. After reaching the third deck, Chen Xin didn't hurry up; he stayed by the ladderway and first loaded all his powder and shot, then stuck that Japanese sword through his waist sash. Though he had no desire to fight to the death, he still had to be prepared. The open sea was not like land — there was nowhere to run. If it truly came to a desperate moment, he would have no choice but to fight.

As he turned his head, he suddenly saw Song Wenxian inside his cabin, sitting leisurely at a wooden table, half-squinting his eyes and slowly drinking wine. Seeing Chen Xin, he raised his cup with a smile: "Why is Accountant Chen in such a rush? Would you care for some wine to fortify your courage?"

Chen Xin smiled, went over, took the cup, and drained it in one gulp. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said to Song Wenxian, "Mr. Song remains unflustered in the face of danger. This young man hasn't yet attained such composure. But if the two ships clash and we lose, the cargo Mr. Song is escorting will surely be lost entirely. Why not dissuade the First-in-Command?"

Song Wenxian still had his eyes half-closed, deaf to the clamor on deck. He said to Chen Xin, "I am merely escorting the cargo. I am responsible only for the cargo, not the ship. Even if I were to swallow my pride and try to stop them, cutting off everyone's path to wealth and drawing a bellyful of resentment — what would be the point?"

Chen Xin said, "Lives are at stake. Is Mr. Song not afraid at all?"

"Fortune is sought amidst danger. The First-in-Command has weathered a hundred battles; presumably he won't lose. If he wins, all who witness it get a share. I too can have a sip of the soup, can I not?"

This Song Wenxian, a scholar, spoke with utter frankness. Chen Xin couldn't help but laugh: "Mr. Song is indeed no ordinary man. This young man is full of admiration. When the fighting starts, Mr. Song may take temporary shelter on the second deck — it will be somewhat safer."

"Many thanks for the reminder, Brother Chen." Song Wenxian cupped his hands with a beaming smile, then picked up the wine pot and poured himself another cup.

By the time Chen Xin returned to the deck, the ship opposite had sensed the Fujian junk's hostile intent and had already changed course, turning to sail east by southeast. It looked like they wanted to flee, but their speed was no match for the Fujian junk's, and the distance was still gradually shrinking. It was still morning; if they hoped to drag things out until nightfall to escape, it would likely be very difficult.

The wind direction had shifted again by now. Relative to both ships' headings, it was now a headwind — but not a direct headwind, rather a headwind slightly off to port. By adjusting the sail faces to a nearly parallel angle with the wind, just slightly angled off, they could still capture some of the wind's force. The Fujian junk also lowered its starboard leeboard. The three balanced lugsails showed their full advantage at this moment. The Japanese ship's two soft sails, fore and aft, were completely counterproductive and had both been struck, leaving only the two rigid sails.

An hour later, the Fujian junk had closed to within less than a li. The performance gap between the two vessels was obvious. The red-seal ship had probably realized it couldn't outrun them and made no further course changes. The distance rapidly closed to two hundred paces. The Fujian junk sat slightly higher than the red-seal ship. Chen Xin could now clearly see the men on the opposing ship, several cannons, and the bobbing of spears and grappling hooks. On the sunlit deck, the glint of blades flickered from time to time. The man standing on the red-seal ship's mainmast was still shouting loudly toward their side, though no one knew what he was yelling.

As the distance closed, the sailors on the Fujian junk brandished their weapons and let out strange howls. From the ship opposite came equally loud shouts and curses. Listening to the clamor, Chen Xin felt a knot of tension; his palms grew slightly sweaty. He stole a glance at Proprietor Zhao and saw his expression was cold and composed, his gaze never leaving the ship opposite.

Battle was imminent. Chen Xin went to the less crowded port side to light his matchcord. Once he started moving, his hands were actually trembling a little. He struck the flint several times without igniting it. In the end, Lu Lvzi came over to help, and together they got the matchcord lit. Lu Lvzi had already drawn both his Japanese swords; his face looked flushed — he was nervous too.

Wang Zugui and his men had finished loading the red-barbarian cannon at the bow. Another man stood beside it holding a forked linstock, each prong wrapped with a burning matchcord. Once ready, Wang Zugui turned his head to look at Proprietor Zhao, but Proprietor Zhao was still silently watching the opposing ship, giving no signal whatsoever.

Ahead, the red-seal ship had likely spotted the cannon on this side and was trying to bring its broadside to bear up front, intending to return fire with the several cannons along its gunwale. Proprietor Zhao finally gave a slight nod. The linstock descended toward the touchhole.

With a thunderous "BOOM," the cannon barrel recoiled violently, the deck shuddered, and the bow was engulfed in smoke. The Fujian junk continued forward, passing through the white cloud of smoke. The acrid, heavy smell of gunpowder filled the nostrils. Chen Xin's eyes stung, almost bringing tears. As the cannon roared, his heart pounded wildly in his chest. He gripped the Banjiu foot gun tightly; the part he held was already slick with sweat.

The moment the cannon blast faded, Proprietor Zhao's shout rang out: "Helm to port!"

The Fujian junk swiftly began turning the helm and trimming the sails, its heading pointing diagonally ahead of the red-seal ship, running parallel to it while simultaneously closing the distance. The Fujian junk held the speed advantage; every adjustment the red-seal ship made left it in a passive position.

"BOOM." A puff of white smoke erupted from the red-seal ship's port side. A black iron ball came screaming through the air with a sharp whistle, passing in front of the Fujian junk's bow and plunging into the sea far off the port side. A great splash of water shot up with a crash. By now the Fujian junk had completed its turn. Wang Zugui and his men returned fire with the starboard red-barbarian cannon. The iron ball fell behind the red-seal ship, again missing.

"Am I really going to die here today?" Listening to the cannon fire, this question suddenly surfaced in Chen Xin's mind. He had crossed centuries to arrive in the Ming dynasty — was he going to die silently and unnoticed in a robbery like this? In a daze, he lifted his head and looked around. Through the swirling smoke, Proprietor Zhao's figure stood at the bow, utterly motionless.