Chapter 1494 - Books on the Ship

The route from Guangzhou to Xiamen was one they had traveled many times. The traditional course followed the coastline; as long as one took care to avoid reefs and grounding, there was little danger.

Consequently, once the ship was properly underway, only the helmsmen charged with monitoring the compass and reciting course directions maintained constant vigilance, observing sea surface and coastline conditions. Everyone else took on a languid aspect. Even the working sailors appeared relaxed. The Dongshanju employed soft sails, which had initially felt unfamiliar to Chinese sailors accustomed to operating simple hard sails. Fortunately, soft sail operation was no arcane secret; many European vessels sailing in East Asia and Southeast Asia hired Malays and Chinese as crew. Finding men with experience was not difficult—veterans teaching novices, a few voyages for practice, and the techniques became second nature. Some accidents were inevitable when climbing masts to secure yards; a few sailors were killed or injured. But in this era, human life was cheap; this did not count as remarkable.

For merchant ships coasting along the shore with fair weather and favorable winds, all hands except those on duty were happy to be idle, each finding his own way to kill time. Sailor fellows gathered in the lower hold to study dice points and domino combinations, or sipped a few mouthfuls of liquor before lounging on deck to pick lice and chat. Some simply slept the hours away. As for the Big Boss and Second Boss, one had press-ganged poor Manager Liu into a game of Xiangqi, while the other sat contentedly absorbed in a book.

"Huamin, what are you reading? You seem utterly engrossed." Liu Deshan moved his Chariot to the second file, smiling at Manager Liu who sat frowning in deep concentration, then turned to ask.

"Oh—a book I bought at a Wanbi Bookstore the Australians opened, when I passed through Hangzhou last time."

"I've seen Australian-printed books—beautifully produced, as always. But Huamin, I thought you'd given up thoughts of the imperial examinations. Why pick up the eight-legged essays again?"

Chen Huamin scratched his head in embarrassment and laughed. "This isn't classics or history—just a leisure book. A vernacular novel."

"Vernacular novel? Three Kingdoms? Water Margin? Or Golden Lotus?"

"None of those. It's a vernacular novel written by Kun people—a volume that's generated considerable buzz among Jiangnan scholars of late."

"Oh? What is it about?" Hearing it was written by Australians, Liu Deshan's interest was piqued. He no longer paid any attention to Manager Liu staring blankly at the chessboard.

"No one knows who wrote it—everyone says it came from Australian hands. The title is Old Affairs of Guardian Huang Resisting the Kin. It tells of a xiucai surnamed Huang, given name Shi, from Tianjin Wei of our dynasty. By some unknown means, he travels back to the early Southern Song, apprentices himself to Marshal Yue, and is bestowed the courtesy name 'Qubing' by Yue Wumu himself. From there, Huang Shi assists Marshal Yue in organizing army and logistics, repeatedly routing the invading Jin soldiers. And after Marshal Yue is unjustly killed, he contends with treacherous court officials on one hand while single-handedly propping up the Southern Song state on the other—ultimately rebuilding the lands of Huaxia."

"Sounds thrilling! But how can a modern man travel to a past era? That seems illogical on its face."

"Consider it a tale like Dream Under the Pagoda Tree. Yet though the writing is plain, this story stirs the soul. I'm now reading the section 'Marshal Shi Alone Enters Yanyun to Behead the Slave Chief'—truly heart-pounding, leaping right off the page! As if there really were such a great hero striving to preserve our Han family's rivers and mountains from loss. No wonder Jiangnan scholars have produced this evaluation of the book and its marshal: 'One body fights across three thousand li; one sword blocks a million soldiers.'" Chen Huamin spoke with mounting excitement, rising to strike a pose as though holding a sword aloft—as if he himself were the great general in the book, leading elite soldiers and fierce commanders to sweep the Tartar barbarians from the Central Plain.

But then Chen Huamin sank back down, gloom settling over his features as he murmured: "If only my Great Ming truly possessed a figure like Marshal Huang, how could we have been driven to the very walls of Beijing by the Jianzhou slaves, who entered as though crossing empty ground?"

"Huamin!"

A soft shout pulled his thoughts back.

"Sorry—sorry! I was too absorbed in the drama, lost myself for a moment."

"No harm done. Just hearing the synopsis makes my blood boil, as though I were there in person—and it does shadow the Liaodong war situation. Small wonder you lost yourself."

"Exactly. Though Liaodong lies a thousand li distant, the fate of a nation concerns the common people everywhere. These days, hearing how the northern situation grows worse by the day... I truly fear that one day the Great Ming will repeat the disastrous path of the Great Song!"

Liu Deshan, an ordinary merchant, was not particularly concerned with Liaodong affairs. Hearing Chen Huamin speak so gravely, he felt somewhat dismissive. "The Eastern Barbarians can certainly strike at the capital's walls, but Liaodong and the capital still have hundreds of thousands in their armies. The slave chief's country is small, his soldiers few. Even if every last one of his subordinate slave soldiers were forged of iron—how many nails could they drive? They cannot ruin the big picture."

Chen Huamin shook his head. "Cousin, you and I have both studied for some years, yet on the general trend of the world, our insight is truly shallow." So saying, he drew another book from his travel chest.

This volume differed in format from Old Affairs of Guardian Huang Resisting the Kin—twice as large yet much thinner, bound in the Australian left-opening style. The cover bore an illustration: a warrior in full armor astride a black horse, standing amid ice and snow. Though rendered only in black and white, some unique technique of engraver and printer made warrior, horse, and landscape appear utterly lifelike—one could almost feel the chill of the scene.

The header displayed five characters in Song typeface: "War History Research." Below, a smaller line read: "Liaodong War Situation Special Issue." The cover also listed subheadings: Heavy Snow Falls Full on Bow and Sword—Beginning and End of the Great Ming's Administration of Liaodong; Impact of the Denglai Rebellion on the Liaodong Situation; Analysis of the Eight Banners System; Beginning and End of Huangtaiji's Ascension to the Throne...

Liu Deshan did not linger in Guangzhou as frequently as Chen Huamin and was less familiar with Australian publications, but from the binding, title, and sentence style, he recognized at a glance that it was printed by Australians. He had never been particularly interested in military affairs, yet the cover and title proved irresistible. He took the journal and leafed through a few pages.

Once he began, he found himself unable to put it down. The Australians' articles were written entirely in vernacular—which, for someone of Liu Deshan's modest literary background, presented no difficulty. The pieces were accessible and easy to understand, the analysis progressing from shallow to deep, explaining matters one by one with considerable clarity and no small interest. Even a merchant like Liu Deshan found himself drawn in. Uninterested in discussions of military logistics, he flipped directly to the palace-intrigue-style Beginning and End of Huangtaiji's Ascension to the Throne and read with relish. He ignored Manager Liu beside him, eyes still fixed on the chessboard awaiting his move. Only after finishing did he look up and exclaim: "Truly satisfying! I daresay even the Court itself may not know enemy affairs in such detail!"

Chen Huamin nodded. "Precisely! The saying goes: Know yourself, know your enemy—a hundred battles, no peril. As I see it, regarding the Eastern Barbarians' internal situation, our Court at present is like blind men groping an elephant. How could they understand matters as clearly as the Australians? And the discussion and commentary in this journal—though the Court employs many officials, few indeed could match such insight." He sighed. "The Australians are not subjects of my Great Ming, yet they concern themselves so deeply with the Liaodong war situation. Truly remarkable."

Liu Deshan sighed in return. "If the Australians were willing to serve the Court, even a hundred Eastern Barbarian nations would be swept away. The Zheng family seemed so formidable—and in a single day, they were scattered like smoke and ash!"

Chen Huamin sneered. "The Australians possess such abilities. Why would they ever consent to serve the Court? As I see it, sooner or later they will—"

Manager Liu blanched with shock. Though they were aboard their own ship, speaking such words remained grossly improper. Setting aside the government, even if the Australians learned of it, they might not be pleased. He hastened to interject: "Young Master—speak cautiously! With caution!"

Chen Huamin fell silent. Manager Liu was a trusted family servant and clearly had his best interests at heart. And yet—if the Australians truly did change dynasties, would that really be so terrible? At least under their rule, everyone seemed to live quite well.

Liu Deshan spoke up. "Cooped up below deck like this, the air is stifling. Let's go up top to catch some breeze."

The three ascended to the deck. Chen Huamin called out: "Little Wang—where has the ship reached now?"

"Reporting to the Captain: we've just entered Xiamen waters. A little further and we'll reach Xiamen itself."

At that moment, the lookout's voice rang down from the masthead: "Ship sighted ahead—approaching at high speed!"

Both men, together with Wang Chengti, rushed to the bow, each drawing out a single-tube telescope to look.

After a moment, Wang Chengti spoke: "Triangular-sailed fast ship. Also flying the blue-background star flag. Australian."

Chen Huamin lowered his telescope. "Mm. From the ship type, it should be a patrol clipper. It appears the Australians have formally designated these waters as their territory."

The lookout's voice came again from aloft: "They're signaling. They want us to heave to for inspection."

"Follow standard procedure."

"Aye." Wang Chengti turned and shouted: "Lower all sails! Raise the Lingao navigation flag!"

"Stop lying about—on your feet, you layabout! And you over there—put your back into it! Didn't you eat this morning?!"

Once the Dongshanju had come to a steady stop, the patrol clipper drew alongside. An officer aboard led several sailors in boarding, first checking the ship's Lingao registration documents, then reviewing the cargo manifest. Finally he had the cargo hold covers opened and inspected carefully for some time before asking: "Your ship is carrying a considerable quantity of salt. Are you intending to sell it in Xiamen?"

Liu Deshan, quick-witted as ever, answered immediately: "This is for transport to Shanghai for sale..."

"Do you have a salt license?"

This was his Achilles' heel. Liu Deshan hemmed and hawed, eventually forced to make the excuse that this was "private salt."

"Jiangnan's private salt has always come from the north. Since when has it been smuggled up from Guangdong? Aren't you afraid of taking a loss?" The officer sneered. "Don't lie to me: this salt is intended for sale on Xiamen Island."

Liu Deshan swallowed hard. Denial was useless here; bribery didn't work on Australians. He had no choice but to smile apologetically: "Your Worship is wise. This salt is indeed intended for transport to Xiamen Island for sale. This humble one's eyes were covered by the copper coins tumbling before them—momentarily bewitched into coveting a few small coins..."

(End of Chapter)