Chapter 932 – On the Qiantang River
In the past few days, Wanbi Bookshop had grown suddenly quiet. Two days earlier, news that rocked the entire city had diverted everyone's attention.
A strange-looking large sailing ship had entered the Qiantang River through Biezi Gate and now lay anchored outside Hangzhou. Standing on the city walls, one could see this streamlined vessel—its tall masts and white triangular sails drawing many observers. Idle spectators climbed the walls or other high ground to gaze at this peculiar ship, pointing and chattering.
Those who had been to sea, traveled along the Guangdong and Fujian coasts, and seen "Red-hair" ships—or those who had glimpsed the rare Illustrated Gazette of Natural Science at Wanbi Bookshop—could all recognize this as a so-called "Red-hair ship." Some even knew it should be called an "Australian ship."
But it appeared far more elegant than Red-hair ships. Though Red-hair ships were large, they lacked such beautiful lines and certainly didn't have a strange smokestack constantly belching smoke.
The ship lay anchored in mid-river, having lowered several small boats that cruised the water. The boatmen on the river had naturally fled. But the gentry and idlers in the city, safe atop the city walls, still pointed with great interest at the ship's rigging and cannons. Talk of the ship echoed everywhere.
For the officials of Hangzhou Prefecture and its two counties, the Haitian's sudden appearance was like taking a blow from a padded club. Since the wokou troubles of the Jiajing era, nothing threatening had materialized outside Hangzhou's walls. The appearance of this ship seemed to herald the end of those peaceful days.
They had already received news: two days before, the soldiers and militia of Haimen Guard had suffered a defeat near Biezi Gate—several hundred dead, wounded, or missing. Those who had routed the government troops were the crew of this strange ship.
Though the reports claimed "several thousand sea pirates," anyone who wasn't a fool could see this ship couldn't possibly hold "several thousand" sea pirates. Street rumor said the enemy actually numbered only twenty men, yet had utterly routed over a thousand government soldiers and militia.
Officials vaguely knew this was a new band of overseas barbarians that had emerged in Guangdong—the "Hair-bandits." The previous year, they had attacked Qiongzhou and Guangzhou, done some killing and looting, failed to capture any walled cities, and retreated to sea. Who would have thought they would now appear in Zhejiang? And sail brazenly up the Qiantang River right to Hangzhou's doorstep!
The city's officials, high and low, were at a loss. Should they immediately deploy troops and fight this ship to the death, or dispatch an interpreter to ask their purpose and try to persuade them to leave the river?
After much debate, the officials decided not to rashly resort to arms. War meant burning money, and burning money didn't necessarily achieve the goal. If things went badly, it might bring even greater trouble. The lesson from Guangdong was still fresh—they had some idea of the Guangzhou campaign. Since even the Guangdong Coastal Defense Vice Commander had suffered a major defeat at the hands of these Hair-bandits, Zhejiang's naval forces might well fare no better. Besides, the other side had made no military moves so far; all day long, just a few small boats cruised back and forth on the river.
Though this matter concerned all of Zhejiang, the specific handling fell to the Hangzhou Prefect. The Prefect knew he had to hold his nose and instruct the two county magistrates to "calm the populace"—whenever rumors spread, commoners would panic, while various unsavory characters inside and outside the city would be eager to profit from the chaos. Meanwhile, he searched the city for someone capable of handling negotiations.
Li Damin shifted his body and woke from a groggy nightmare. He felt his body swaying. He struggled to open his eyes and saw dark-grey deck boards. He realized he was lying in a net hammock, rocking slowly and rhythmically.
Li Damin was dazed, not knowing where he was. After a long while, he came to his senses and recalled that final moment: he was fleeing for his life, caught in a chaotic, screaming crowd. He had shouted for his father, trying to find Li Shanmin in the mass of bodies, but there were so many people, and the sea pirates' gunfire was as dense as popping beans. People kept falling, blood splashing all over his body and face. Finally, after a huge explosion, someone knocked him down and he lost consciousness.
Thinking of this, he finally felt pain throughout his body. He lifted the coarse cloth blanket covering him—not thick, but very clean—and got a shock: he lay stark naked in this cloth hammock. His body was covered in bruises, and white cloth strips were wrapped around his legs. The sight terrified him, reminding him of a companion who had "violated military law" years ago—beaten with several hundred strokes and sent home, dead that same night.
Looking around, he found himself in a small cabin with twelve similar net hammocks hanging, each holding a person asleep. The cabin pitched and swayed constantly.
"Damin!"
Someone called his name. He looked and saw it was his neighbor, Wang Jiashan. Before the sea pirates' first volley of bird-gun fire, Wang had been standing right beside him.
"Uncle, where is this?" Li Damin hurried to ask. "Where's my father?"
"Haven't seen him..." Wang Jiashan seemed injured somewhere and spoke with difficulty, panting. "But I saw him running very fast... probably... he's okay."
"Where are we?"
"We're..." Li Shanmin wanted to say they were on the "sea pirates'" ship, but calling the others "pirates" while on their turf wasn't wise. Besides, these "pirates" had kindly rescued him from a pile of corpses. "...on that ship..."
Li Damin got a fright and began to tremble. After all, he was only fifteen—a boy who had just experienced a nightmare of slaughter and rout, only to find himself trapped on a "pirate ship." How could he not be afraid?
Just as they were talking, footsteps echoed on the deck above. The grating overhead opened, and a youth came down the ladder—also about fourteen or fifteen, with short hair like a monk's, wearing a grey cotton jacket, and carrying a leather case slung across his body.
Wang Jiashan hurried to call out: "Doctor Fu..." and tried to sit up.
The youth waved his hand. "Don't move. Your injuries haven't healed yet."
He came over and asked a few questions—nothing more than how he felt, whether the wounds were painful—then examined his tongue coating and took his pulse.
"Your wounds are basically not serious. Rest quietly for a few days and you'll be fine. I'll have herbal medicine sent down later. Take a few more doses and you'll recover." The youth spoke and then turned around.
This was Fu Wuben, Liu San's apprentice. He had come aboard the Haitian with Liu San to serve as the ship's doctor.
Seeing that Li Damin had woken, he asked about his condition. Li Damin spoke a bit of the Nanjing official dialect, barely able to understand Fu Wuben's Mandarin. Seeing that his demeanor was kindly and he was distributing herbal medicine, Li Damin figured he meant no harm. He mentioned pain in his chest and under his ribs.
"It's nothing serious. Your ribs were stepped on. You're lucky they're not broken—just bruised." Fu Wuben said. "The medicine will help. You'll gradually get better."
"Sir—" Li Damin, seeing him speak so gently, mustered his courage to ask, "Have you perhaps seen someone named Li Shanmin?"
"Li Shanmin? Haven't seen him." Fu Wuben shook his head. Seeing the disappointment and worry on the boy's face, he offered consolation. "I heard it was chaos at the time. Lots of people ran. Probably he escaped home? Don't worry. The chiefs don't go around killing randomly. Although you've been wounded and captured, from now on you've escaped your suffering—no more risking your life for the government while being mistreated. Just wait for the good life."
Li Damin listened in confusion, not understanding what "good life" there could be after being captured. Not being killed by sea pirates seemed mercy enough from heaven. Though young, he could tell from Fu Wuben's words that the other side wasn't going to release them—they would probably be taken overseas somewhere. The thought of leaving home and never seeing father, mother, or siblings again cut like a knife. But in front of the "pirates," he dared not show such emotions, lest he lose his life.
Fu Wuben made a round of all the wounded prisoners in the lower deck infirmary, distributing medicines and changing dressings for those with external wounds. He had become very proficient at all this. Years of intensive training and practice, and Liu San's painstaking cultivation, had borne fruit. Fu Wuben was now not only Liu San's disciple and assistant, but also one of the first registered medical practitioners licensed by the Health Department, making weekly rounds at Run Shi Tang branches throughout Lingao. Once a week, he also sat in at the General Hospital, seeing patients alongside Liu San.
Though Fu Wuben had studied traditional Chinese medicine, Liu San had continually imparted modern medical theory and knowledge during the learning process, also letting him audit some courses and attend anatomy observations. The aim was for him to "master both Chinese and Western medicine." Fu Wuben had good comprehension, was willing to study hard, and progressed quickly. Liu San thought highly of him.
"You've done well." Liu San looked over the case files and round records Fu Wuben had filled out and found no problems with his diagnoses or treatments. "There are now dozens of prisoners on the ship. Population density is high. Pay extra attention to epidemic prevention and hygiene."
After finishing his instructions, Liu San left the ship's infirmary and went up to the quarterdeck to get some fresh air. The Haitian was anchored in the Qiantang River. Sailors were taking advantage of this rare opportunity to scrub the deck with river water and wash clothes and hammocks.
His mood was very dark. Liu San hadn't actually needed to sail north with the ship. He knew perfectly well that the Executive Committee's arrangement to have him aboard the Haitian was largely to give him a chance to lie low for a while.
The news of Xuanchun's pregnancy could finally no longer be concealed. Originally, a naturalized-citizen maid getting pregnant or having a child was no longer newsworthy in Lingao. Tang Menglong had won first place: his maid had given birth to a son. Then more and more maids were rumored to be pregnant—the Senate was about to experience a "baby boom."