The Age of the Sea, Part 2
There is a place called Wonsando out in the waters off Hongju, where Taesu and the Chungcheong Baekimbang had done business.
It shares the same Chinese characters as Wonsan in Hamgyeong Province, but this is a separate place entirely, south of Anmyeondo.
The value of Wonsando is simple enough to explain.
Every tribute-carrying vessel in the Three Southern Provinces, including Chungcheong, had to pass by Wonsando unless it was equipped with some kind of steam engine.
That was a major reason so many tribute ships sank in the waters off Hongju. Of course, the sea here was treacherous, but like the Bermuda Triangle, the real issue was the sheer volume of traffic—so there were plenty of accidents to go around.
For that reason, a fort had long ago been established on Wonsando.
The Chungcheong Naval Command, based in Boryeong, held both the authority and the duty to inspect all tribute vessels in the country from Wonsando.
If the ships failed to arrive on time, they could even sail out and drag them in.
Later, when King Cheoljong tried to bring Wonsanjin under direct state control, the military openly resisted—despite him being a king of humble origins—and the order was eventually rescinded under the even softer reign of King Gojong.
Wonsando was Joseon’s finest piracy point.
And its owner, naturally, was the Chungcheong Naval Command, not the government.
With the Gyeonggi naval forces effectively gone, it was one of only seven state-sanctioned pirates left in Joseon.
Captain Cécile’s failed blockade of tribute ships was already being carried out by the Chungcheong navy. They would let you go if you paid, but France would probably have done the same if you paid them, so in the end it was all the same.
The westernization of Joseon, a maritime nation, was already complete.
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Instead of the uho, the fourth-rank post under the Naval Commander, who no doubt hated being assigned to a remote post, the local military officer in charge of Wonsando’s day-to-day affairs received a report from the najang as usual.
“Sir. This morning, five shabby fishing boats came in, and…”
The local officer dug into his nose and flicked the result away.
“I told you to leave the fishing boats alone. We can’t risk sending ships out just to seize a few croakers or herring. Those bastards will have to come ashore sooner or later to sell their catch, and then we can swoop down on them.”
“That’s what I thought too. But even from afar, I could see they were carrying enormous loads of white cloth. It looks like there are people trafficking goods without our permission.”
“What? Those insolent bastards dare smugglers on my turf?”
Of course, Taesu and the Chungcheong Baekimbang were not trading with foreign countries.
And naturally, the Chungcheong Naval Command had no authority to permit such trade or collect taxes on it.
But the local officer grew furious as though his own pockets had been picked. He treated the state’s affairs as his own, and this was what absolute devotion to the king and country looked like.
“Which way did they go?”
There was no such thing as a good soldier serving under a strong commander, and the najang did not give some idiotic answer like, “I don’t know.”
“North, sir. Without question.”
“Good. Send the watchmen up the mountain at once! Dispatch a rapid message to the Boryeong Naval Command!”
Wonsando had no warships. There was no sea battle to fight.
If there was going to be a naval battle, it would be the Chungcheong Navy that came out.
Yes, a naval battle. In the local officer’s mind, this was war.
And right on cue, as if it only ever worked properly in moments like this, Joseon’s beacon system sent up its smoke.
This was surely the Wonsando beacon tower that, in the original history, there was apparently no record of lighting even when Captain Cécile raided nearby Oe-yeondo right under its nose.
The najang asked, “And what shall we do, then?”
Meaning, what if the Boryeong Naval Command ate the whole thing before they got their hands on it?
The total staff assigned to Wonsando was only forty-two men. And they had no ships.
But then again, when had Joseon ever had the money to establish a fort on an island that was, by law, supposed to be uninhabited anyway?
It was because they had suddenly “discovered” people living there in violation of the abandoned-island policy.
Unable to so much as squeak in protest because they were “criminals,” the residents of Wonsando paid triple and quadruple labor and tax burdens to build a pirate headquarters and feed the pirates.
The local officer unleashed a brisk, atomic-scale oscillation and drew energy straight from the void.
“Drag the village men out and have them rig even a fishing boat. There’s no need for us to risk ourselves chasing them into the open sea. Let the Boryeong Naval Command handle that—we’ll go to land.”
“To land?”
“Yes. The cargo they carried, and whatever goods or money they exchanged it for, will be on shore. We’ll land and give chase there.”
From Wonsando to the mainland it was not even a thousand paces. Fishing boats could easily make the crossing, and because it was land, the odds of a successful pursuit were high.
The najang was impressed. The property of those damned smugglers would all be confiscated by the state.
But justice was not to be.
First came the Chungcheong Naval Command, which chased after Kim Sun-won’s fleet.
Then came the local officer’s Wonsanjin, which pursued the Chungcheong Imbang.
Both were overturned like a lie by the insane storm that was a local specialty of these Chungcheong waters.
The Chungcheong Naval Command recorded massive noncombat losses, enough to surpass even the damage suffered by the Jinmu Navy in its fights against the French.
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To ignore the mountain spirit’s voyeuristic pestering, which had been going on all through the walk, I engaged in a serious discussion with Un-hong.
“If Hobansu—Im In-son—moves the various Chungcheong Imbang closer to the shore, wouldn’t it be better to build a fixed harbor, like the ferry landing on the Imjin River? We’d talked about setting up a market in Kaesong too, hadn’t we?”
“If we make it that obvious, the Chungcheong Naval Command will strip us bare immediately. It’s better to keep the Imbang near the local market and haul the goods in quickly, like we did today.”
So that was why the trade had moved so fast compared to the volume involved.
Why on earth should merchants have to avoid the military just because they were doing business in their own country? What was this, some contraband DVD peddler smuggling South Korean dramas into Manchuria?
“The thing we need to watch out for isn’t just official interference. That bastard Jo Gwanseop, who got burned in Cheonggyesan, may send people after us again.”
“Don’t worry about that. I told Kim Sun-won, who’s on his way back, to spread the word carefully. Isn’t that Jo Gwanseop fool hanging around Incheon? Kim Sun-won’s from Incheon too, so he can easily keep tabs on things while he’s coming and going.”
“Hmm? Even if the Imbang in Ganghwa launches boats, how would they send word to us faster than that merchant?”
At that point, I had no choice but to hedge. If I told her that Yi Seong-nyeo would be our little security system, she’d never believe it.
Besides, the message I’d sent to Kim Sun-won wasn’t just about communication.
Kim Jwa-geun was only a backer; I planned to take him down later anyway, but Jo Gwanseop had always been my real target for revenge.
Jo Gwanseop was clearly doing business by ship between Incheon and Ganghwa.
That meant our allies, who effectively held maritime control over western Gyeonggi, could teach him a lesson.
Until now I’d left the matter alone because he’d gone quiet after that incident, but if he had sent hitmen, that was another story.
I’d originally thought this was something that could only go smoothly if I were there in person, but if communication worked, then the story changed again.
…I seemed to have become part of this strange world myself.
Just then, I heard the mountain spirit’s irritating laughter.
[My, my. That octopus-headed fool is simmering like a boiled crab.]
What are you talking about?
[Did we not send Yi Seong-nyeo to Ganghwa? It seems they thought she had merely been sent away quietly because she intended to keep practicing as a bandit for a while longer, but now they’ve caught on.]
So your little scam got exposed?
[It seems a naval vessel came chasing after them late, only to get caught up in the rage of those brutes and wound up sinking several ships. Judging by how furious they are, that sea of theirs may spend a while trying to bury a Western jackpot.]
I really should have stopped listening to this bastard.
Improper means lead only to improper results.
And no, I wasn’t talking about the naval ships that got wrecked while trying to rob us—that was the proper result.
My complaint was elsewhere.
What are we supposed to do if their shipping routes are wrecked and we can’t trade with Chungcheong anymore?
[Ah, don’t worry about that. Even a god can’t just go around causing natural disasters the way you swing that axe of yours.]
When did I ever swing my axe wildly?
[If we could do that, which king wouldn’t have spent the treasury on sacrifices and then ruled the world by controlling sea and weather as he pleased? Just like humans, gods can’t slaughter living beings without cause and get away with it. The sea god will be torn apart before long.]
Part of me thought this bastard might actually be the worst one of all, but that octopus god wasn’t exactly innocent either. He can rot in idleness until the stars find their proper places again.
[As with officials, it usually gets brushed under the rug. That’s why that fellow dared do it. But if you are going to practice righteousness, how could I look away from such injustice? I shall go and report it to those above through Yi Seong-nyeo.]
…Then won’t you get reported too?
[Since I’m not doing it directly, they won’t know. Besides, sinking the sea for one’s own profit is no less serious than murder. I can’t speak too loudly.]
Yep. This bastard really was the worst one of all.
Then Un-hong tapped my shoulder.
“Hm? What is it?”
“Because when people call out to you, you don’t answer. What are you so lost in thought about?”
It was a little hard to tell her I’d been thinking about her, because her expression was rather serious.
I followed the direction of her gaze.
A middle-aged man in a gat was standing in our way, with five or six young men behind him.
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The forces that saw the residents of Wonsando as good prey were not limited to the military.
The people of Boryeong, Hongju, and Gyeolseong, who lived on land by dutifully following the law, thought the islanders who had violated the abandoned-island policy to avoid taxes and labor service were enjoying some kind of unfair privilege.
The same sort of resentment that some modern people feel toward unemployment benefits and basic welfare payments.
The difference was that Joseon people were even more self-directed than modern people, so they personally took it upon themselves to establish tax justice.
The people are the sovereign.
That was why they shook down the Wonsando fishers when they came ashore to sell their catch.
They weren’t exactly backed by the magistrate’s office. As always, it was the privatization of tax redistribution.
The Chungcheong naval forces had been a tax collector who’d wandered off without realizing it, but in Joseon the real power still lay with civilians.
Usually, the leader of that sort of gang was a local scoundrel like the one here now, or some former classical candidate from a well-off family who had bought his way into status.
The residents’ choice to make the gat-wearing man their spokesman was an excellent one.
The local ruffian instantly recognized that Taesu and Un-hong were dressed nothing like fishermen and created a justification on the spot.
“You’re unfamiliar faces. Merchant types, I’d say, trading goods on Wonsando? By rights, any ganmin—criminals from Wonsando—must pay a fee when they go down to the mainland to trade. You’re from elsewhere and probably don’t know the custom, so I’ll be generous and spare you the beating. Just pay three nyang.”
Yes, this was why the educated were the ones who had to lead local society as elites.
The villagers supported him by slapping the backs of the Wonsando fishers kneeling beside them, as if to say, look at this.
With dignified wisdom, the ruffian preempted any excuse Taesu’s group might try to make.
“These bastards even had the nerve to say they’d already paid the Gyeolseong county office. You won’t be saying anything so ridiculous, will you?”
“Go ask the Gyeolseong county officers, then! We were originally…”
The fisherman never got to finish.
One of the villagers who had to do the work that elites should have been handling kicked him down.
The fisherman collapsed without even managing to say that, in fact, they shouldn’t be collecting money in Gyeolseong either.
So they had met Taesu’s group in the middle of their own shakedown.
Still, no matter how superior Joseon’s civil-military cooperation might have been, there was no way the devastated Chungcheong Naval Command could mobilize civilian power this quickly.
Un-hong quickly grabbed Taesu and said, “We’re not far from the county seat.”
“Got it.”
Taesu obediently handed her the axe. Then he cracked his knuckles.
“Did you say three nyang?”
The ruffian’s mustache trembled.
“Y-You insolent little straw-hat bastard! How dare you? What are you idiots standing around for? Wrap those two up in the straw mat!”
The Joseon folk martial art used for civil correction: straw-mat wrapping.
A straw mat was not a mattress. It was only there to claim they hadn’t intended to kill anyone; if you took a real hit, you were lucky to come away only crippled.
The village youths picked up straw mats and clubs and formed the straw-mat arhat formation. It was a drill that had disciplined countless people for being unfilial to their parents, unbrotherly toward their siblings, and hostile toward their neighbors.
But Taesu had no parents, no siblings, and no hometown.
He grabbed the collar of the man who had stepped forward first.
The trick of the straw-mat arhat formation lay in its precise, rotating cross-attacks, where several men took turns striking without tangling their clubs.
But once two of them became entangled, the youths couldn’t swing carelessly anymore.
While they hesitated, Taesu broke the formation exactly by the book with a shoulder throw.
“Ghk!”
The young man didn’t die only because it wasn’t concrete he’d been thrown onto. He truly spat blood from his mouth.
Taesu stomped on his face to knock him out, then looked around.
“Two pennies.”
The nearest young man learned exactly what that meant.
The second opponent was holding a club.
When Taesu lifted his right foot, the man flinched and turned both the club and his arms toward it.
And in the next instant, for reasons no one could explain, Taesu’s left kick slammed into the empty side of his ribs.
Taesu seized the neck of the bastard who’d lost his club and staggered. A vicious knee strike went in.
“Ughk!”
But that wasn’t the end. The opponent had been about to lurch forward when he took an uppercut strong enough to scatter his teeth, and then he flipped backward and sprawled flat.
Taesu addressed the collapsing straw-mat arhat formation once more.
“Five pennies.”
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Taesu was already familiar with Joseon’s currency system.
Three nyang was three hundred yeopjeon. In other words, three hundred pennies.
The ruffian thought, Surely not, but Taesu really did beat three hundred strokes out of everyone combined. Even the unconscious one was not spared.
That included the ruffian, who had intended to surrender with dignity.
“Y-You dare lay hands on a yangban! Can’t you see this great gat?”
At those words, Un-hong quickly realized where Taesu was about to hit and said, “That’s a Tongyeong gat!”
Taesu’s foot, which had been about to fly in a high kick, changed course.
Drawing his leg back and folding it in, Taesu shot a side kick toward the ruffian’s solar plexus.
“Hhk!”
As bile surged up to his throat, the ruffian bent forward. Then Taesu’s rough hand seized the back of his neck, and after one more knee strike, the gat was ripped away.
“Exactly. This isn’t something some low-ranking provincial thug should be wearing. Looks like this business is pretty lucrative.”
While Un-hong inspected the gat, Taesu proceeded to carry out countertaxation on the civil tax authority.
Then he walked over to the residents of Wonsando.
They had been sitting there with their mouths hanging open, but they quickly returned to their original posture: kneeling again.
“You’ve saved us from those wicked men. We will never forget this kindness.”
“Then I’ve got something I want to ask.”
Taesu divided the confiscated money among them, three nyang each.
The Wonsando residents, who had feared they’d be lucky if Taesu didn’t extort even more from them, were deeply moved.
Fishermen were not an especially privileged class, but they were still not lower than merchants. And yet they spoke with voices full of deference.
“Ask us anything!”
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Since the whole world was the Great Voyage, this left the rear vulnerable.
If they were going to use the sea route, then they needed a maritime base.
The naval robbery attempt by the Chungcheong command meshed perfectly with Taesu’s own sloppy plan to strike at Jo Gwanseop.
For that, he needed the mountain spirit’s help, whether he liked it or not. When he heard the story, the mountain spirit was delighted.
[At last, you’ve learned how to devise a scheme.]
Taesu felt annoyed.
But he did not cancel the scheme.
Author’s Note
1. The nature of Wonsando, the multiple layers of exploitation inflicted on Wonsando’s residents by both the military and nearby land dwellers, the number of warships and personnel stationed at Wonsando, and the amount of the “trading fee” paid to the Gyeolseong county officer are all historical facts.
However, in actual history, the residents not only chased them onto land but out onto the sea as well, seized the islanders’ boats, took hostages, and demanded payment. This was called chuchak.