Chapter 1320: Repeated Attempts

Dongjiang Town had ships, but the largest among them were no more than four-hundred-liao vessels, and there were only two such ships, positioned at the center of the formation. The other boats were not big ships, their gunwales not particularly high, and climbing them was hardly difficult. Many Jurchen soldiers disguised as Han civilians could leap from the rafts, grab the gunwales, and haul themselves straight over with a surge of strength. The government troops on deck, after a moment of shock, immediately moved to counterattack, but the arrows shot from the rafts were lethally accurate. A few were shot dead or wounded, and then the charging Jianzhou Jurchen soldiers hacked through another round. The rest lost their will to fight and simply jumped into the sea to flee for their lives.

Some ships fell, yet on others the slaughter raged fiercely. The vessels rocked and swayed, the decks far from steady. The Dongjiang Town soldiers were far more accustomed to this than the Jianzhou Jurchen troops; even their archery and gunfire from the ships were more accurate than the enemy's. What was more, the blood feud ran deep. Though initially caught off guard, they roared and fought back, not only killing and driving off the enemies on deck but even sweeping away the remnants on the rafts.

The Jianzhou Jurchen knew their rafts were crude. To contend with Dongjiang Town's ships, they had devised many methods. Braziers had actually been placed on the rafts. From those rafts that had not closed in on Dongjiang Town's vessels, fire arrows were loosed one after another. With the pitching of the sea, there was naturally little accuracy to speak of, but the sails and hulls were large enough targets. When fire arrows wrapped in oilcloth struck, it immediately threw the crews into frantic disarray. Some ships were even struck by multiple arrows, and as flames rose, abandoning ship became the only choice.

There were also men at the front of the rafts throwing out flying claws. Once they hooked a ship, they pulled with all their might to draw it close. In a contest between ship and raft, the Jianzhou Jurchen were indeed at a disadvantage, but once they closed in for melee combat, it was no different from fighting on land. Some of the smaller rafts were not even meant for boarding; they simply rammed desperately into the ships and were then fastened with iron hooks and spikes. The soldiers on the raft would swim away, and then raft and ship alike would begin to burn together.

But these tricks could only achieve surprise. Once the Dongjiang Town fleet reacted, it steadied its formation. Ships at sea were, after all, more nimble than rafts. Those vessels already ablaze were ignored, and those still locked in fierce deck combat all received support. Companion ships drew near, and more soldiers poured in to slaughter the Jurchen troops. After all, not many rafts could actually latch onto the ships, but the ships could maneuver freely.

When ships and rafts drew close, the archers and firearms on board also opened fire. The ships at least had wooden planks and earth for cover, but the rafts were a flat surface. The Jurchen soldiers on them had no other recourse but to shoot back with all their might. Once Dongjiang Town's ships closed in on a raft, they would directly hurl down jars filled with incendiary material. Once ignited, the flames were nearly impossible to extinguish, and the Jurchen soldiers likewise had to leap into the sea to escape. There were also ships that simply rammed and capsized the enemy rafts, then used long spears to stab the enemies in the water to death — an even greater slaughter.

The battle did not last long. The Jianzhou Jurchen raft vanguard began to retreat, and even the five ships the Jianzhou Jurchen had seized were overtaken by Dongjiang Town's vessels. Three were retaken by boarding, and the other two, with no other option, had to be set ablaze and destroyed.

By all rights, a pursuit on the battlefield should yield great results and spoils, but this stretch of sea was less than three li wide — far too narrow. Neither the ships nor the rafts could move quickly, and the pursuit had to be called off and withdrawn not long after it began.

Judging by the corpses and wreckage floating on the sea, there was a victor between Dongjiang Town and the Jianzhou Jurchen, yet both sides were silent. The Jianzhou Jurchen's objective had not been achieved, and while Dongjiang Town seemed to have gained the upper hand, it had lost ten ships, with no small number of casualties among its soldiers. More critically, those men paddling the rafts were not merely Jurchen troops disguised as Han civilians from Liaodong; there were genuine Han civilians from Liaodong among them. But in the end, who could afford to distinguish? They simply cut them down without question or pause, terrified that a moment's mercy would let the enemy slip through.

Having killed so many of their own people, no one's heart could feel at ease. Moreover, this series of moves by the Jianzhou Jurchen weighed heavily on everyone's minds. The enemy knew their own weakness in naval combat, yet they had prepared many methods for it. Heaven only knew how many more such methods they had in store.

"Commander, over a hundred are dead in battle, and another hundred and twenty-some wounded are crippled. If we keep grinding on like this, we can't afford it!" Li Jiucheng spoke these words practically through gritted teeth. The island had nearly twenty thousand able-bodied soldiers and civilians, but those who could man the ships and fight the Jianzhou Jurchen head-on numbered fewer than four thousand. Every death was one less — this was Dongjiang Town's true capital. If this attrition continued, the Jianzhou Jurchen, who numbered over five thousand, might well win in the end.

Mao Wenlong's face was utterly grim, but he showed no sign of panic. He simply spoke: "This time we were careless and fell for their tricks. From now on we'll respond with caution. They won't gain any advantage!"

After saying this, Mao Wenlong paused in thought, then turned to a young military officer and said: "Little Liu, go to the Xuzhou trading house again and appeal for urgent help. Tell them the situation here is critical and we need their support. Have them send out as many men as they can to help. Say it just as Li Jiu taught you a moment ago!"

The man addressed as Little Liu hastily acknowledged the order and rushed off at once. Mao Wenlong, his face dark, muttered sullenly: "It makes no sense for us to be fighting tooth and nail here while they hole up in that compound enjoying themselves. This time, we must swallow them whole!"

"The Tartars are attacking too fiercely. The Commander fears you may be in danger here, so he's transferred two thousand able-bodied men over as a precaution. When the time comes, they can lend a hand." This troop movement on Pi Island was not concealed; the movement of two thousand able-bodied men could not be hidden anyway. A battalion commander leading the contingent ran over to the Yunshan trading post and shouted the announcement.

At a time like this, Zhao Song dared not let his guard down in the slightest. He did not even open the main gate, merely standing atop the wall to acknowledge the message. These two-thousand-some able-bodied men of Pi Island were stationed a hundred or so paces — a few dozen paces — from the Yunshan trading post fortress. Both sides could see each other clearly. Many of the men were barefoot, the weapons in their hands nothing more than sharpened wooden staves, and not even every man had one. The eyes with which they looked upon the fortress walls were filled with hope.

Being watched by so many people with such hopeful gazes was uncomfortable. Fortunately, Zhao Song had seen gatherings of tens of thousands, even over a hundred thousand starving refugees in Shandong — scenes far more chilling than this. He cast a cold glance over them and was about to step down when the Pi Island able-bodied men surrounding the Yunshan trading post parted. A young military officer in battalion commander's attire strode over, escorted by several bodyguards.

Zhao Song recognized this man: Liu Xingzhi, a battalion commander of Dongjiang Town. Though nominally a battalion commander, he served at Mao Wenlong's side and could be considered a trusted confidant. The three Liu brothers had fled here from Guangning. Originally ordinary civilian households, the three brothers were fierce and skilled in battle and had been quickly promoted. Among them, Liu Xingzhi was exceptionally shrewd and perceptive, and was held in high regard by the Dongjiang Town officers.

"Camp Commander, sir! The Tartars have struck from the western shore! The situation is desperate! Our Commander is holding the line on the northern shore and requests that you, Camp Commander, come to his aid!" Liu Xingzhi shouted at the top of his lungs from below, his face a mask of panic and urgency.

Hearing Liu Xingzhi's shout, Zhao Song froze for a moment. He first raised his head to look toward the high point of the hilltop, then shook his head indifferently. Liu Xingzhi's cry had already stirred unrest among the crowd of able-bodied men below. The northern shore was locked in fierce combat, and now the western shore was in crisis? Did that not mean Pi Island was in grave trouble? Did that not mean disaster for everyone? These men from Xuzhou were well-equipped and looked formidable; if they went to the rescue, they could surely turn the tide. The able-bodied men all looked over with earnest, pleading expressions.

Faced with such a plea and the expectation of so many, even the Zhao family troops standing guard on the wall could not help but glance toward Zhao Song. Zhao Song's expression grew darker, yet he remained unmoved. He merely lowered his head and gave a few orders. The people outside the Yunshan trading post had assumed this meant they were coming out, and a stir immediately rippled through the crowd. To their surprise, more Zhao family soldiers armed with firelocks appeared at every position — a clear sign of reinforced defenses. Seeing this response, utterly devoid of human compassion, some already began to curse aloud.

"Master Zhao, will you just stand by and watch as so many Han commoners on Pi Island are slaughtered by the Tartars? If the Tartars break through, do you think you'll meet any good end? Come out and fight them with us!" Liu Xingzhi cried out hoarsely, tears now streaking his face. At his shout, the able-bodied men who had come over immediately joined in, their voices rising like a tidal wave.

A trace of tension now showed on Zhao Song's face. He swept his gaze over the crowd — these Pi Island able-bodied men in tattered clothes and bare feet, clutching wooden staves, their expressions earnest, or furious, or grief-stricken. Zhao Song then glanced at the soldiers beside him, who clearly seemed swayed.

"Fire at the ground in front of that man!" Zhao Song suddenly bellowed. The firelock soldiers' reaction was instinctive; they immediately blew on their match cords and fired at a spot a few paces in front of Liu Xingzhi. Bang! The sound was not particularly loud amid the clamor and din, but Liu Xingzhi saw it clearly and instinctively recoiled. Then, everyone's attention was fixed on the spot.

Living on our Pi Island, making silver off our goods, and at a moment of life and death like this, instead of thinking of rescue, they want to kill? The fury of the Pi Island able-bodied men was instantly ignited. Everyone cursed and shouted, but none dared to press forward. They all knew well the deadliness of the Zhao family troops' firelocks.

"Cut the damn theatrics! There are at least two of your battalion commanders mixed in here. How many of your Commander Mao's personal men have come? If it were truly a life-or-death crisis, would you drag a bunch of soldiers over here to put on a show?" Zhao Song roared curses from the top of the wall, pointing with his finger as he spoke.

At his shout, the fervor that had just been stirred up deflated. Those in front turned to look back, and word spread from one to ten, from ten to a hundred. The two directions Zhao Song had pointed out were immediately fixed by everyone's gaze, exposing several squads of men. Though they too were dressed in tattered rags, their bearing and spirit were completely different from those around them, and the weapons in their hands were blades and axes.

Though the Dongjiang Town able-bodied men who had been herded over did not understand what was happening, the clamor began to subside. Zhao Song, however, was hopping with rage and roaring from his position: "Try any more of these stinking tricks, and I'll lead my men out and wash the lot of you bastard scoundrels clean first, then go fight the Tartars myself! Get lost! Get lost right now, or we open fire!"

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