Chapter 282: Interrogating the Captives

The men before the Haenyeo had an extraordinary air about them; they were likely high-ranking officials of the “bald-headed sea bandits.” Though the women were not worldly, they understood that under authority, obedience was the only way to avoid suffering and save their own lives. One by one, they knelt on the ground with submissive expressions.

They exchanged a few words. There was clearly a significant difference between 21st-century Korean and the 17th-century Jeju dialect. Feng Zongze and Nangong Wudi’s Korean was only at a basic level, making communication somewhat difficult. They resorted to a combination of gestures and speech. Fortunately, Korean, like Japanese, is a language isolate and highly conservative, so it hadn’t changed drastically over several centuries. After a flurry of gestures, facial expressions, and “seumnidas,” Feng Zongze was finally able to communicate smoothly with the Haenyeo.

From the Haenyeo, they learned that the women were indeed from a nearby fishing village. The village had few men; most of the inhabitants were women. Because the men who went out to sea to fish often perished in storms, over time, villages dominated by female divers had formed. The women primarily made a living as Haenyeo, harvesting various marine products, drying them, and selling them to merchants.

Life was naturally extremely hard. The money from selling dried abalone, sea cucumbers, and other seafood, supplemented by their fish catch, was exchanged for a small amount of grain, barely enough to survive. Contrary to what the Senators had assumed, Jeju Island was not self-sufficient in food and had to rely on imports from the Korean peninsula. Although the Haenyeo didn’t have a broad perspective, the older ones all said that the population had been decreasing over the past decade, with many people moving to the mainland.

In recent years, Jeju Island had also suffered from a series of natural disasters. The court’s grain relief was both meager and slow, leading to many deaths from starvation and many more fleeing. Several nearby villages had been abandoned.

As for the specific conditions on the island, the Haenyeo knew little. They rarely traveled. Merchants who bought their seafood and sold them grain would visit the village every month. Some villagers had been to Jeju town. Since Jeongui County was close, many people had been there.

Feng Zongze sat up straight and asked, “What is the population of Jeongui County? How many soldiers are there? What is the size of the town?”

“My lord, we are but ignorant, lowly commoner women. We do not fully understand your questions. If our answers are poor, we beg for your forgiveness…” The Haenyeo who answered was about twenty-five or twenty-six years old and seemed quite sharp. She was the one who answered all of Feng Zongze’s questions. With her head bowed, she said respectfully, “We do not know the population of Jeongui County. We only know that there are few households in the town itself, and there are two villages outside the walls. In total, there are probably no more than two or three thousand people.”

As for soldiers, there were about two hundred. The Haenyeo had no concept of measurement and couldn’t say how large the town was. However, she mentioned that there was a large government granary inside the town, storing a lot of grain.

This was important news. The eyes of Feng Zongze and Nangong Wudi lit up—grain was of the utmost importance. Especially after hearing that Jeju Island’s…

“I’ve heard there are many cattle and horses here. Where are they?”

“The cattle and horses are all in the mountains over by Mount Halla. They are all over the mountains. There are just not many here,” the Haenyeo replied. The reason for their scarcity here was the lack of sufficient water sources by the sea. Cattle and horses required a lot of drinking water, and this area only had springs.

Feng Zongze nodded in satisfaction and asked, “What is your name?”

The Haenyeo hesitated for a moment before saying, “Replying to my lord: this humble servant is of the Pan clan.”

This wasn’t really a name—but even in China, up until the 1930s, many women in remote rural areas went their whole lives being known only as “Clan X.” The Haenyeo were baekjeong (commoners), just one step above public and private slaves (nobi). It was normal for them not to have a personal name.

“Are you a sanggun?” he suddenly asked.

The Haenyeo’s eyes widened as she glanced at him, then she quickly lowered her head again. “This humble servant is young, only a junggun.”

The so-called junggun and sanggun were ranks within the Haenyeo community of Jeju Island. Starting from “child sanggun,” one progressed through hagun, junggun, and sanggun, finally reaching the rank of daesanggun.

But these titles were only used among the Haenyeo of Jeju Island. Even the officials and scholar-gentry of the Joseon Dynasty might not have known them. The fact that this foreign sea bandit knew such a thing was quite surprising to the Haenyeo.

Nangong Wudi and Xue Ziliang asked a few more questions about the local situation. The Haenyeo knew some things and not others. It was clear there was little more value in questioning them.

Feng Zongze ordered them to be taken away. “Give each of them a relief biscuit and a bowl of hot soup. Let them retrieve their clothes and fishing tools.”

“What, are we keeping them?” Nangong Wudi’s enthusiasm for the Haenyeo had cooled considerably. Although their figures were decent and two of them were relatively young, he was not fond of their looks.

“Let’s keep them for now. We’ll decide what to do with them after we’re done interrogating the soldiers,” Feng Zongze said. He had no romantic notions about the Haenyeo; rather, he intended to use them for civil affairs work. According to Du Wen’s article, “How to Use Class Theory in Civil Affairs Work,” the oppressed class were natural resistors and collaborators. The Haenyeo, with their low status and difficult lives, had the desire and motivation to improve their lot.

Next, they interrogated the soldiers. According to the Special Reconnaissance Team’s report, there were only five garrison soldiers at the beacon tower. When the special recon team appeared suddenly, they made no attempt to resist and only tried to flee. It seemed they had no will to fight.

Looking at the soldiers, it was clear their fighting spirit wasn’t high. They were all gaunt, looking as if they hadn’t had a proper meal in a long time. The battle tunics they wore were tattered and faded. They had no armor, only conical hats, and their weapons were crude. The Senators had seen the weapons captured from the Ming army at the Battle of Chengmai and the assorted equipment abandoned by pirates. But the standard of the Joseon army’s weaponry before them was worse than that of a large pirate band. They had none of the firearms that were already common in the Ming army. The pikes they were equipped with had extremely short shafts, at most 1.70 meters long, making them practically useless except for ceremonial purposes. Their swords were also of poor quality. The only things that were slightly better were their bows and arrows, which appeared to be well-made.

Joseon-ruled Korea was known as “Little China,” and in its disregard for the military, it not only emulated the Ming but even surpassed them. The Ming, at least, had a small number of elite household troops as the core of their army.

Nangong Wudi looked at the soldiers and their weapons and thought to himself, “If I were Kinoshita Tōkichirō, I’d come and invade Korea too. How is this army any different from scarecrows?”

The soldiers quickly confessed everything they knew. As soldiers, they were frequently transferred around the island. The leader of the post soldiers had been serving here for over twenty years and had been stationed at almost every garrison post on the island. He knew much more than the Haenyeo.

From the soldiers, Nangong Wudi learned that there were a total of three companies of soldiers on the island, with five hundred men in each company. This meant the total regular army on the island was fifteen hundred men, lower than the two thousand figure they had previously estimated.

The magistrate of the island had repeatedly requested the court to expand Jeju’s garrison to five companies, to form a full battalion. However, with constant natural and man-made disasters over the years, the court was overwhelmed and had neither the intention nor the ability to strengthen Jeju’s defenses. Fortunately, since the Tokugawa shogunate’s policy of national seclusion, the threat of Wokou pirates had lessened considerably, so they had managed to get by.

Because the main threat to Jeju Island came from the sea, the three companies of soldiers were dispersed across the island. Jeju town had five hundred men, while Daejeong and Jeongui counties each had over two hundred. In addition, there were nine garrison posts, or “po,” similar to the Ming weisuo. Each po had thirty to fifty garrison soldiers. These posts were all located at the harbors and bays around Jeju, spread out along the coastline, fully reflecting a coastal defense strategy focused on guarding the ports. There were also eighteen beacon towers, each with five post soldiers.

The Joseon army was equipped with artillery. The various garrisons and towns had a small number of cannons, but they lacked heavy equipment like the Ming army’s Hongyi cannons.

From this, it appeared that the largest concentration of troops was the five hundred men in Jeju town. A single infantry company could easily annihilate them.

As for a navy, the Joseon Dynasty had virtually no naval forces on the island, only a few small boats for coastal patrols.

“Who are the officials on the island? Name them one by one!” Feng Zongze commanded.

“Yes, sir. The Observer of Jeju is Lord Yi Jin-gyeong, the Adjutant is Lord Yi Dae-ha, the Magistrate of Daejeong is Lord Yi Gu, and the Magistrate of Jeongui is Lord Choe In-geon.”

The Observer of Jeju was the highest-ranking official of the Joseon Dynasty on the island, a third-rank civil official, while the Adjutant was the highest-ranking military official.

“How many government slaves are on the island, and where are they?”

The government slaves (gwan-nobi) were of the greatest interest to the Senators—they were perfect candidates for collaborators. At the very least, even if the government slaves were not politically enlightened, they were the most convenient source of labor.

“The government compounds in the three towns of Jeju, Daejeong, and Jeongui all have government slaves. We don’t know the total number, but there must be tens of thousands. During the famine a few years ago, many starved to death or ran away…”

The forward command was quite satisfied with the soldiers’ testimony, having gathered a great deal of detailed intelligence.

After ordering the prisoners to be taken away, the forward command held a brief meeting. They decided that time was of the essence and that they should immediately dispatch troops to control the three towns of Jeju, seize all the grain stored within them, disarm the various garrisons, and control the main ports of the island.

Nangong Wudi proposed sending a mixed task force of infantry and artillery. The infantry would march along the island’s official roads, while the artillery and supplies would be transported along the coastline using the large launches and rowboats brought by the fleet. Among the three towns of Jeju, besides Jeongui County, both Jeju and Daejeong were on the coast, which would make it very convenient to use ships for supply and support.

Out of caution, they decided to first attack Jeongui County, the closest to the Seongsan base, to get a direct assessment of the Joseon army’s combat effectiveness and the town’s defense system. They would then plan their next move based on the situation.

Jeongui County was the location of the Seongeup Folk Village in their time. During the development of tourism, South Korea had restored the old county seat into a folk village. Although it wasn’t on the coast, it was very close to Seongsan, and there was a road connecting them. Both Xue Ziliang and Nangong Wudi had been to this folk village. However, the folk village was, after all, a modern construction. Although it was a restoration based on so-called historical research, no one could guarantee how different it was from the reality of this era.