Huangming

Chapter 291 Braving Dangers and Preparing for a Surprise Attack

In late June, the Bohai Sea looked like spilled ink, with even the sunlight hiding behind thick clouds.

Lead-gray waves rose and fell, crashing against the ship's hull with deafening bangs, as if countless giant beasts were roaring underwater, ready to tear the ships in this area apart.

Dozens of ships of varying sizes are struggling to move forward in the waves.

Leading the group was a medium-sized Fujian-style ship, over ten feet tall, with three thick masts erected on its deck. Although the mainsail had been furled, leaving only a small section of the auxiliary sail, it was still being torn apart by the gale, making a loud rustling sound, like strips of cloth that could be ripped at any moment.

Following closely behind were more than twenty Haicang ships. These warships, which were a size smaller than the Fujian ships, looked even more disheveled in the huge waves. The hulls were tossed about by the waves, and the soldiers on the deck clung tightly to the gunwales. Many of them were pale and vomiting while holding onto the masts.

Further on were a dozen or so smaller sand barges, originally used for transporting grain and fodder, now looking like leaves about to be overturned in the towering waves.

On the deck of the Fujian ship, Mao Wenlong, a guerrilla fighter from Tianjin, stood with his hands behind his back in front of the ship's building. His armor rustled loudly in the sea breeze, but it did nothing to ward off the chill in his heart.

His face, which usually carried a hint of arrogance, was now contorted into a knot, his brows furrowed, and his lips pursed, as if he had swallowed a fly.

When we set sail from Dagukou in Tianjin, the sky was clear and the sea breeze was gentle. Even the weathervane on the mast was too lazy to move. Who would have thought that after only a few days, the weather would change so drastically?
"General! Something bad has happened!"

A sailor, soaking wet, scrambled onto the deck, his voice ripped apart by the howling wind.

"The three sand barges behind...they can't hold on! Just now...just now a wave hit and two of them capsized!"

Mao Wenlong suddenly turned around and looked in the direction the sailor was pointing.

In the distance, two grain transport ships had capsized in the waves, their bottoms facing the sky, like two flattened turtles, bobbing up and down in the waves.

The scattered grain sacks were swollen from being soaked in seawater and drifted with the waves. Occasionally, a few struggling figures could be seen, but they were quickly swallowed up by higher waves.

"Trash! They're all trash!"

Mao Wenlong kicked the railing next to him, and the iron railing made a loud "bang" as he kicked it.

He gazed at the surging waves, his heart aching so much he gasped for breath.

Those two ships not only carried 500 shi of grain, but also explosives that had just been received from the Ministry of Works!
These things were his family's assets that he was going to take to Pi Island, the source of his confidence in launching a surprise attack on Hetu Ala, and they were all swallowed up by the storm?
"General, the wind is too strong."

The adjutant beside him wiped the seawater off his face, his voice filled with anxiety.

"Should we order the anchor to be dropped and wait for the waves to calm down before setting sail?"

"anchor?"

Mao Wenlong roared, his bloodshot eyes glaring at his deputy.

"If we delay military operations, we'll both lose our heads!"

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

But compared to natural disasters, how weak is the will of an individual?

Mao Wenlong immediately said:
"Pass down the order: all ships, change course and head towards the coast of Liaodong Bay! There are islands and reefs there that can provide shelter from the wind! Have the remaining sand barges transfer the grain and fodder to the Haicang ships; save as many as you can!"

"Yes!"

The lieutenant immediately responded, turned around and shouted to the flag bearers on the deck, instructing them to relay orders using flag signals.

The wind is still howling, and the waves are still crashing.

Mao Wenlong gripped the wet gunwale. He had served in the army for many years and fought countless battles on land, but this was the first time he had sailed in such rough seas.

The capsized sand barge weighed on his heart like two huge rocks.

Five hundred bushels of grain, several hundred kilograms of explosives, and the lives of more than a dozen sailors...

"God, if you have any eyes, please stop this wind!"

Mao Wenlong roared at the howling sea wind, but his voice was quickly swallowed by the waves.

time flies.

The waves in the Bohai Sea showed no signs of abating. The leaden-gray waves, like moving walls, continuously pounded against the ship's hull, and the splashed water accumulated into shallow puddles on the deck.

Mao Wenlong's brows furrowed even more as he gazed at the few Haicang ships struggling to salvage supplies.

The loss of some grain was not a big deal, as the granaries in Tianjin could be replenished. However, the headwind was like an invisible hand, tightly gripping the tail of the fleet, slowing down the already slow speed by another 30%.

"General, the hourglass has run out again. In this hour, we've only covered less than ten li." The lieutenant held the wet hourglass, his voice filled with helplessness.

Mao Wenlong took the hourglass, feeling as if something was blocking his heart.

He was well aware of the monsoon patterns in the Bohai Sea: from March to May, the winds blow from the southeast, and from Tianjin to Pi Island, it only takes three to five days to reach the island with the help of the wind, the sails are full, and even the rowers can save some effort.

But now it's late June, the monsoon has already shifted, and a northwest wind is blowing. The fleet is essentially moving forward against the wind, and every step requires twice the effort.

"At this rate, it will probably take seven or eight days longer than originally planned."

He muttered to himself, his gaze fixed on the distant east, towards Pi Island, and even more so towards Hetu Ala.

Before setting off, he made an agreement with Xiong Tingbi that they must arrive at Pi Island by the end of June to join up with the garrison on the island. While the main force of the Jurchens was confronting the Ming army in Liaodong, they would launch a surprise attack on Hetu Ala and destroy Nurhaci's stronghold.

But this headwind has forced the trip to be delayed until early July...

"Hopefully, it won't ruin everything."

Hetu Ala's defenses were already weak. If this opportunity was missed, it would be extremely difficult for Nurhaci to launch a surprise attack once he realized what was happening.

He was filled with worry when suddenly a violent vomiting sound came from behind him, accompanied by the groans of the soldiers.

Mao Wenlong looked back and saw many people lying haphazardly on the deck. Some were vomiting violently while clinging to the mast, while others were curled up in a corner, their faces pale and their lips bloodless.

Especially those three adjutant generals transferred from the Beijing garrison.

Zhao Shuaijiao, Zu Dashou, and Huang Degong were in an even more disheveled state at this moment.

Zhao Shuaijiao, leaning against the ship's railing, vomited so badly he couldn't even straighten his back; all the heroic spirit he displayed during his daily training in the Beijing garrison had vanished. Zu Dashou slumped on the deck, covering his mouth with a cloth, his brows furrowed like a knot. Huang Degong was in the worst shape, almost vomiting bile; he spat out all the water his personal guards handed him after just one sip.

"Damn it... this wrecked ship is even more torturous than the Jurchen cavalry..."

Huang Degong was panting heavily.

These three adjutant generals were all fierce warriors who could take on ten men on land, and they had never flinched even in the midst of sword fights. But now, they were exhausted by the rocking of the ship.

"The army doctor! Where is the army doctor!" Mao Wenlong shouted.

Several military doctors carrying medicine boxes rushed over, holding medicine gourds and ginger slices in their hands.

"General, this is a medicinal soup made with Atractylodes lancea and dried tangerine peel. It can stop vomiting."

An old military doctor spoke as he instructed his personal guards to distribute the medicinal soup to the seasick soldiers.

"Let the brothers suck on a slice of ginger; it will make them feel better."

Supported by his personal guards, Zhao Shuaijiao was forced to drink half a bowl of medicinal soup and suck on a slice of ginger, finally stopping his vomiting. Gasping for breath, he said to Mao Wenlong, "General Mao... if I had known that traveling by boat would be this uncomfortable... I would have preferred to walk all the way to Pi Island..."

Mao Wenlong gave a wry smile: "General Zhao, bear with it. When we get to Pi Island, let the brothers have a good drink to calm their nerves."

Looking at the seasick soldiers, his heart sank even further.

Even if they get to Pi Island, these people will probably need two or three days to recover their strength, which will waste time.

The wind is still howling, and the waves are still crashing.

Looking at the waves being cleaved by the bow of the ship, Mao Wenlong suddenly drew his sword and roared at the wind and waves: "Brothers! Give it your all! The sooner we arrive, the sooner we can kill the Jurchens! We'll achieve great merit, and our wives and children will be rewarded! Let them taste the bitterness of losing their families and lives!"

His voice echoed through the wind and waves. When the seasick soldiers heard the words "Jian Nu," it was as if they had been pricked by a needle. Many of them struggled to sit up and gritted their teeth to continue carrying supplies.

Yes, they came to fight, to make something of themselves, what's a little seasickness?
Seeing this scene, Mao Wenlong felt a little more at ease.

He sheathed his sword and said to the flag bearer, "Send the order again: everyone who can row, go! Even if it's against the wind, we have to get through it!"

Although it is difficult to defy fate, sometimes human will can overcome it!
After everyone joined in the rowing sequence, the boat's speed increased significantly.

In the blink of an eye.

The ten-day voyage had been exhausted by seasickness, the howling of the headwind, and the anxiety of the unknown.

Lu Jianxing, a centurion of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, leaned against the ship's railing. His lips were sickly pale, and the dark circles under his eyes were even darker than the ink on the scabbard. If it weren't for his fingers still twitching unconsciously, one would almost think he was asleep.

Shen Lian, the captain beside him, was in no better shape. His eyes were swollen like two walnuts, and the stubble on his chin was thick and hard. He looked like a pickled vegetable that had been soaked in water.

These ten days were more grueling for the two men, who were used to handling cases on land year-round, than interrogating ten death row inmates in the imperial prison.

At first, I was seasick and felt dizzy, then I felt nauseous and couldn't eat. In the end, I didn't even have the strength to vomit, so I could only lie on the deck and let the ship rock like a sieve.

"Cough...cough cough..." Shen Lian coughed violently, and the phlegm he coughed up was tinged with blood.

He subconsciously looked up, rubbed his eyes which were stinging from the sea breeze, and suddenly froze.

On the distant horizon, a faint gray-black outline appeared, as if it had been lightly drawn with an ink brush.

He thought he was seeing things, so he rubbed his eyes harder. The outline became clearer and clearer, and he could even see the undulating mountains and the rocks on the shore.

"Land...land!"

Shen Lian's voice was hoarse, but it was filled with an unbelievable ecstasy as he suddenly grabbed Lu Jianxing's arm.

"Big brother! Look! It's land!"

Lu Jianxing was startled by his gesture and looked in the direction he was pointing.

When that dark gray silhouette came into view, even the usually composed centurion suddenly stood up, staggered a couple of steps before regaining his balance, his lips trembling, unable to utter a word for a long time.

"It's land! It really is land!"

"Good heavens! We've finally arrived!"

Shen Lian's shout was like a spark that instantly ignited the entire deck.

The soldiers who had been lying on the ground like dead fish suddenly sprang up from the deck. Even Zhao Shuaijiao, who was vomiting and barely alive, struggled to grab the railing and looked at the approaching coastline, tears welling up in his cloudy eyes.

Damn it, the hard times are finally over.

As the ship gradually approached the harbor, the scenery along the shore became clearer.

It wasn't a flat continent, but an island. Several dilapidated fishing boats were moored in the harbor, and a few soldiers in Ming army uniforms were waving at them from the shore.

"It's Pi Island! It's the brothers from Pi Island!" someone recognized the familiar military uniform and shouted excitedly.

Mao Wenlong stood at the bow of the boat, gazing at the island that was getting closer and closer. His nerves, which had been tense for ten days, finally relaxed.

He raised his hand and wiped his face, whether it was tears or seawater, and a tired but bright smile appeared on his lips.

"Get to shore!" he shouted to the helmsman.

Dozens of ships slowly entered the harbor, their massive hulls churning the seawater and making a "whoosh" sound.

The anchor was thrown into the sea with a loud thud, sending up a huge splash.

As soon as the gangplank was in place, the soldiers on the deck surged down like a tide.

Lu Jianxing and Shen Lian helped each other as they staggered down the diving board.

When their feet touched the gravelly ground, the two of them almost simultaneously let out a long breath, as if exhaling all the sea breeze that had been accumulating in their lungs for ten days.

"Second brother, third brother..."

Lu Jianxing's voice was hoarse.

"We...we've finally arrived."

Shen Lian nodded, looked at the lush trees on the island, and suddenly laughed.

"We've arrived... I can finally get a good night's sleep."

Now, Miss Shen Lian doesn't want to think about anything else; she just wants to get a good night's sleep.

All I can say is that romantic love is something you can only think about when you have free time.

A rough voice rang out from behind Shen Lian and the others.

"This is Pi Island?"

Zhao Shuaijiao stepped onto the gravel ground of the dock. The solid feel from the sole of his boot finally relaxed his nerves, which had been tense for half a month.

He gripped the sword at his waist, looked up at the island before him, and couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement.

The coastline, like a piece of black jade cleaved by a giant axe, meanders into the distance, with a thin layer of mist covering the distant Yantai Peak, giving it a rather magnificent appearance.

"General Zhao, you may not know this, but this island is also known as Jia Island."

The veteran from Pi Island next to me chimed in, "It's in the West Korean Bay, east of the Yalu River estuary. They say it was formed by mountains sinking into the sea, and underneath it's all hard rocks."

Zhao Shuaijiao squatted down, grabbed a handful of soil, and rubbed it between his fingers. Gravel dripped through his fingers, mixed with a few small pieces of seashells.

His brows gradually furrowed.

No wonder Mao Wenlong said, "The land of Jia Island is all sand and stone, with not a single piece of arable land." This land, composed of crystalline gneiss, is so barren that even weeds can hardly grow, let alone crops.

A few thatched huts dotted the distant mountain valley, the smoke from their chimneys so thin it seemed about to die out at any moment, clearly indicating that the soldiers and civilians on the island were living a meager existence.

"I see."

Zhao Shuaijiao stood up and looked at the soldiers unloading the ships. He finally understood why Mao Wenlong was willing to brave the wind and waves to transport grain.

This island simply cannot support an army of six thousand. Every grain of rice must be transported from Tianjin and Dengzhou. If there is any delay, the island will run out of food.

Just then, Mao Wenlong's voice came from the other side of the dock: "Generals, follow me!"

He was still wearing his wet armor, and the jade belt around his waist was soaked with seawater, but he didn't bother to rest and strode towards the center of the island.

After passing through several low bushes, a simple courtyard came into view.

The walls were made of rammed earth, the roof was thatched, and a wooden sign hung at the entrance with the three characters "Guerrilla Commandery" written in cinnabar. The ink was still fresh, so it was obviously newly built.

There were still piles of rubble on the stone roller in the yard, and the lime plaster in the corner of the wall hadn't dried completely, giving off a hurried vibe.

"I apologize for the inconvenience; the conditions on the island are very basic."

Mao Wenlong pushed open the half-closed wooden door and stepped aside to let everyone in.

"But there's no time to lose, we don't have much time left."

Soon, everyone took their seats.

Inside the lobby.

Mao Wenlong sat upright in the main seat.

A square hole was carved into the earthen wall behind him, and a yellowed map was stretched taut with hemp rope.

The mountains and rivers of Liaodong are dark green, and the coastline of Liaonan is silver. The most eye-catching feature is that Hetu Ala is surrounded by a red circle of cinnabar, like a beating heart.

Several routes, outlined in ink, start from Pi Island, meander through the foothills of Changbai Mountain and tributaries of the Yalu River, and eventually all point to that red circle. Next to it are densely marked with small characters such as "dense forest," "river valley," and "outpost," which are obviously carefully considered.

"Everyone."

"We braved more than ten days of wind and waves to get to Pi Island, not to rest."

He raised his hand and pointed to the red circle on the map.

“Hetu Ala is right there, Nurhaci’s stronghold. It’s time for our swords to taste his blood.”

Zhao Shuaijiao's brow twitched slightly: "General, do you mean... we're not going to rest?"

Of the 6,000 people, 30% are still seasick, and quite a few have been vomiting so badly these past few days that they can't even stand up straight.

"One day to rest, two days at most."

Mao Wenlong was resolute.

"The key to a surprise attack lies in the word 'surprise.' But our six thousand men are not just six people. The neighing of warhorses, the clash of armor, the transfer of supplies—how can any of these be kept secret? The Jurchens haven't made a move yet because they didn't expect us to dare to come around by sea. But by the time they realize what's happening, the gates of Hetu Ala will be welded shut."

Zu Dashou suddenly spoke up: "General, are you afraid... that the news will leak out?"

"It's not that I'm afraid, it's that I'm sure I will."

Mao Wenlong turned around, his gaze sharp as a knife.

"The longer we stay here, the more opportunities the Jurchen scouts have to report. Once they deploy troops to guard the mountain pass, we'll be trapped like turtles in a jar!"

He paused, then his voice suddenly rose.

"Therefore, we must depart at dawn the day after tomorrow!"

(End of this chapter)