Chapter 430: The Proposal to Abolish Canal Transport for Sea Transport

Zhao Yingong now presented the full set of arguments he had flaunted when he met Zhang Pu. Shen Tingyang, having long studied this issue, was inwardly impressed by his well-referenced and grand discourse. This Master Zhao truly possessed “practical knowledge for managing the world”!

Throughout the dynasties, the grain tribute transport had always been a major affair of the state—costly, inefficient, and often intertwined with water management. Whether it was the Tang Dynasty’s transport of grain from east of the pass to the capital region, the Song Dynasty’s transport via the Yellow River to Kaifeng, the Yuan Dynasty’s sea transport, or the Ming Dynasty’s canal transport… each was an extremely complex system, involving numerous aspects. Thus, a specialized field of study, “canal transport administration,” had existed since ancient times. Unless one was capable and willing to delve deep, the average scholar would find it difficult to master.

Yet this Master Zhao could speak eloquently on the subject, and the depth of his insights far surpassed the knowledge an ordinary scholar would gain from books.

“Sir, your insight is truly sharp,” Shen Tingyang said, staring at him. “However, while switching grain transport to the sea is good, it’s not necessarily something the court, from top to bottom, would be happy to see happen.”

Zhao Yingong nodded. “You are right, sir.”

Shen Tingyang caressed the armrest of his official’s hat chair and sighed, “Sea transport has many advantages, but it also has three great difficulties that are always hard to argue for in the court.”

“Please enlighten me, sir.”

Shen Tingyang nodded and held up a finger. “First, waiting for favorable winds is not easy, and the time saved is minimal.”

Sea transport was unlike river transport, where one could row or scull. Large sea vessels for grain transport had to rely on wind and currents. The ancients’ understanding of these was limited, mostly based on experience. So, if they encountered a calm or an unfavorable wind, they had to wait. This was originally not a major issue, but the maritime technology of the late Ming had somewhat regressed. Navigation relied on coastal landmarks, making direct transoceanic voyages impossible, and often requiring zigzagging along coastlines or island chains. The problem of waiting for wind was thus more complicated.

“Second, the sea is unpredictable. In the face of gales and high waves, ships can be damaged and cargo lost. Currently, the transport of grain and provisions from Dengzhou and Laizhou to the Guan-Ning region suffers huge losses at sea. This has been a constant point of criticism in court discussions.”

A look of disapproval crossed Zhao Yingong’s face. There were storms at sea, and with backward ship and sailor technology, shipwrecks and cargo loss were normal. However, to incur such massive losses in the Bohai Sea, an almost completely enclosed inland sea, was, to put it bluntly, a result of foul play.

Shen Tingyang noticed his reaction but didn’t elaborate on the issue. Instead, he moved on to the third point: “Third, sea transport of grain involves many people and ships. A large number of civilian laborers and boatmen would gather, and over time, this could lead to trouble. It’s not like the canal boatmen who are all soldiers, managed by the garrison system.”

Zhao Yingong didn’t comment directly on these three difficulties but asked in return, “What do you think of these three points, sir?”

Shen Tingyang smiled faintly. “Exaggerations and utter nonsense!”

Zhao Yingong hadn’t expected him to be so blunt and his favorable impression of him grew considerably. He nodded. “You are right, sir.” He thought for a moment. He had been prepared to refute each point, but now it seemed unnecessary. He pondered before saying, “The so-called difficulty of sea transport, in the end, is nothing more than the obstruction of vested interests.”

“Vested interests?” This new term piqued Shen Tingyang’s interest.

“Correct, vested interests,” Zhao Yingong said with a nod. “A canal running from south to north, from the high officials in the court down to the boatmen and lock keepers, those who take openly and those who steal secretly… countless people feed off the river along the way. How could they be willing to let the court abolish canal transport for sea transport?”

Zhao Yingong then began to elaborate on the various corrupt practices of the canal system, another piece of background information from the Great Library’s compilations that he had long memorized. A boat of tribute grain, whether passing through customs, getting through locks, or crossing the Huai River… at every official checkpoint, there were customary bribes. Red envelopes had to be given everywhere. By the time it reached Tongzhou to file the documents and unload the grain into the granaries, countless hands would be out for money.

These were just the open benefits. In addition, the canal boatmen, the transport commanders, the escorting junior officials, and even the porters carrying the grain, all wanted to skim something from the grain on the boats—some out of greed, others out of necessity. The so-called “spoilage” along the way could be several times the official amount.

As for the cost of maintaining and dredging the canal facilities and building and repairing the transport boats, it was innumerable, creating a huge vested interest group.

To confront such a massive interest group, the court would not attempt it unless absolutely forced to. Yet, even in the twelfth year of the Chongzhen Emperor’s reign, when the dynasty was teetering, Shen Tingyang’s sea transport experiment, despite its success, failed to lead to the abolition of canal transport. Although he personally achieved a significant advancement in his career, it did nothing to delay the fall of the Ming Dynasty.

At this moment, Shen Tingyang did not yet know that his efforts would yield such a result. He had spent years of effort studying the switch to sea transport and was not entirely ignorant of the resistance in the court, but he had not imagined he would be facing such a behemoth. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of discouragement.

Zhao Yingong saw his spirits sink and knew his words had had an effect. If Shen Tingyang had been full of vigor and confidence, it would be a big question whether he would need his help. Now that he felt discouraged, he would feel a sense of powerlessness. With that feeling, and unwilling to give up his ideals, he would seek help.

“Don’t be discouraged, sir. In the court, there are still people who can distinguish right from wrong and understand what’s at stake,” Zhao Yingong said. “As long as we can win their support, even if we can’t implement the change immediately, we can always implement it in stages.”

He began to talk about Zhang Pu’s plan to transport Taicang’s white grain to the capital. Zhang Pu had been working on this—after his long talk with Zhao Yingong, Zhang Pu had also become very interested in abolishing canal transport for sea transport. He had exchanged many letters with Zhao Yingong discussing the specific implementation methods. So Zhao Yingong knew that Zhang Pu was already using his political power to advocate for this matter.

Hearing that Zhang Pu had similar ideas, Shen Tingyang’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Tianru has this intention as well?”

“Exactly. Tianru wants to relieve the people of Taicang from the hardship of the white grain tribute, and switching to sea transport is the best policy!” Zhao Yingong said. “It’s just that many in the court just shake their heads at the mention of sea transport. The best among them only say we must ‘be prudent’…”

Shen Tingyang thought about it and agreed. Many in the court were armchair strategists, either completely ignorant of practical matters or pretending to understand, spouting absolutely correct nonsense. It was best for them if nothing changed, to muddle along with the old ways, with no sense of the impending crisis. He couldn’t help but spread his hands. “It’s truly hopeless!”

“Therefore, for this matter, besides Tianru’s efforts, we also need your help, Master Shen…” Zhao Yingong then began to talk about the specific plan.

Specifically, Shen Tingyang would compile his research and sea charts into a book, then, through a familiar official, submit a memorial to the court, proposing a trial run of transporting Taicang’s white grain by sea. A small-scale reform would face less resistance than a major overhaul.

“As long as the transport of Taicang’s white grain to the capital is successful, the next step can be to transport the grain and provisions for Liaodong—this is the court’s most pressing concern. If we do this well, the court will naturally look at sea transport in a new light. Then, talking about abolishing canal transport will be a matter of course.”

Historically, it was Shen Tingyang himself who had petitioned the emperor to trial sea transport for the grain tribute. But at this time, he was not yet a Grand Secretariat Drafter. As an Imperial University student, he could of course submit a memorial to the emperor, but it would risk giving the impression of being “reckless”—bureaucracies detest those who don’t play by the rules. If he did that, his memorial might not even be read carefully.

Shen Tingyang naturally understood this. He nodded frequently. “But the choice of the person to submit the memorial is crucial.”

Shen Tingyang had many friends in the court, but if this matter succeeded, his own shipping company would surely be the carrier for the northern transport of grain. The interests involved were enormous. It would be best if a court official with no connection to his family submitted the memorial.

However, since Tianru was concerned about this matter, their Donglin-Fushe faction had plenty of people they could use. This would increase the chances of success…

Thinking of this, Shen Tingyang couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. His gaze fell on the young man’s smile, and he suddenly had an “epiphany.” How could he have been so foolish! This Master Zhao kept talking about “Tianru,” but he himself was supposed to be Grand Secretary Xu’s man!

Grand Secretary Xu’s family was right here in Shanghai. This Grand Secretary’s family must also be interested in the sea transport of grain. If Grand Secretary Xu were involved in this matter…

Shen Tingyang could no longer contain his joy. He immediately ordered, “Tell the kitchen to prepare a banquet and set it up in the flower hall! I want to have a good long talk with Master Zhao!”

A servant had just acknowledged and was about to leave when he was called back. “Tell the Third Mistress to personally cook a few of her specialty dishes. And bring the good wine from the outer study.”

Zhao Yingong graciously accepted the hospitality. He already had a good impression of Shen, and seeing him so forthright, he also felt a desire to befriend him.

The two moved to the flower hall, where a banquet had already been laid out. The Shen family was wealthy, and preparing a banquet was a small matter that could be done in an instant. The table was already set with cold dishes and dried and fresh fruits for accompanying the wine. The servants brought the wine, and the host and guest sat facing each other, first toasting each other.

With a cup of wine down, their relationship was no longer ordinary. Zhao Yingong steered the conversation towards navigation. The Shen family was a major clan in Jiangnan. Shen Tingyang’s family operated the sand ship trade on Chongming Island, specializing in the northern sea route, transporting southern goods from Jiangnan to Tianjin, and then northern goods from Tianjin back to Shanghai. At one point, their business had even reached Liaodong and was booming.

However, since the fall of Shenyang, the Shen family’s northern trade had taken a considerable hit. In particular, the silk from Nanjing, once a hot commodity in Liaodong, had seen its sales greatly affected. The supply of goods from Liaodong had also been cut off. The Shen family’s ships now only traded as far as Tianjin.