Dispatched to Sea (3)
Whooooong—splash.
Riding a gentle wind as it carved a path through the sea, the Horned Whale made a magnificent sight. In terms of size, Europe now had ships bigger than a Horned Whale—but only because those vessels had horns mounted fore and aft, steel reinforcements driven into their hulls for structural support.
"Hmm. The sea here is far too peaceful."
"Tell me about it. Where's the fun in that?"
"Shall we head a little further south?"
The navigators of Daehan had their maps spread out, debating where to go next. They'd been racking their brains over how to show the trainees what the sea was truly capable of, and in the end they settled on a southern course.
And since this was the flagship, Haile and Yi Sun-woo were both aboard.
"Daehan's maps are truly remarkable, sir."
"Haha. These charts have been drawn and corrected for over three thousand years."
"What? Three thousand years?"
It had already been more than 3,500 years since Daehan built its shipyard at Ryeonhwa and began building ships in earnest, setting foot upon the open sea. At first the maps covered little more than the nearby waters of Asia, but their reach had steadily expanded—and it had been some nine hundred years since the marine chronometer was invented. Except for the frozen seas to the far north and south, there was nothing, anywhere, that did not appear on a Daehan chart.
"Could we obtain one as well?"
"Ah... I'm afraid maps are out of the question."
A chart as precise as Daehan's, soundings and depths included, was worth its weight in gold—arguably worth more. They were managed as first-class state secrets, and even the copies carried aboard ships were nothing but abridged versions noting only what was strictly necessary.
"I see..."
"Still, I'll draw up charts of the surrounding waters for you. Complete the rest yourselves, little by little."
"Yes, sir."
Handing over the real thing would only be wasted on them for now. Sailing the coastline and securing control of nearby waters first—that was the sensible way.
Kwaaah—splash—screeeech!
"Heh heh? Now this is open sea. The wind's gotten rough."
"Hahahaha!"
Watching them closely, Yi Sun-woo realized the drill instructors had grown bored and were deliberately steering toward storms and heavy winds. The corners of his mouth crept upward of their own accord. Apparently he had no intention of objecting either.
Kukwakwakwa!
"Waaah!"
"It's the wind!"
Like demons, the sailors had found the storm.
"The wind's blowing like this, so you furl the sails, you idiots! If the mast snaps like this, you're dead men!"
Even on a deck pitching in madness, the drill instructors gripped nothing—not a single railing—while they drove the trainees mercilessly. Their faces were calm as though they were riding an amusement park attraction, some of them grinning ear to ear with delight.
"Uuueeek!"
Vomiters were multiplying everywhere.
Splash—crash-bang!
"Aaaaagh!"
One man's legs were swept off the deck by a wave, then slammed back down against it.
Skrrrt—skrrrt!
"What are you doing, you dogs! The cannons are rolling! Fix them down right now, or what!?"
With the ship lurching every which way, the cannons were jolting loose from their carriages and rolling free—and if one of those smashed into the hull, the whole ship could break apart. The trainees crawled along the floor, lashing ropes and driving in securing bolts.
"Kwahahaha! Now that's a fine sight! You dogs!"
The trainees, still riding high after finishing their coastal training exercises, were now rolling around like pinballs, and the instructors could not have been more delighted. After all, didn't it remind them of their own days as fresh navy recruits in training?
"In my day, it was twice as rough as this, you sorry lot! Get your heads on straight!"
"Aaaack!"
Rolling here, tumbling there—on a deck turned into pure chaos, only the instructors were whooping it up.
"Blow, wind! Fall, rain! Nyahahaha!"
For the trainees it was a taste of hell, but to these rough men of the sea, weather like this was the minimum required for sailing to feel like sailing at all.
"Uuuugh..."
"I feel like my whole body's broken."
The sailors of the flagship, having spent the past three days sailing through storm after storm, lay groaning across the deck.
"Ah! It was refreshing though—got a free bath out of it. Damn it all."
To be fair, the Daehan sailors had stripped off their clothes and washed themselves in the rain, which they'd thoroughly enjoyed.
"Think it'll rain somewhere again soon?"
Compared to the trainees, their mood was night and day—and a shadow of dread had fallen over the trainees' eyes. The memory of their long ordeal of training was coming back to them.
"Right then! Let's make for the coast and continue the voyage!"
"On your feet, you dogs! Hurry up!"
"How long are you planning to lie there?!"
"Moaning over something like this? Once we're back, you're all rolling again!"
The instructors' eyes had begun to gleam an icy blue. Were they really going to restart the hellish land training the moment they got home?
"Aaaaack! We're up! We're up, sir!"
"Up! Now!"
"Move!"
Fire had dropped at the trainees' heels—no, molten lava had been poured over them. It felt as though they'd have to spread sails and break their bodies doing it. Though their limbs wobbled and their stomachs heaved, the trainees gritted their teeth and forced themselves upright.
At the sight of the instruments of torment returning to their eyes, laughter returned to the faces of the Daehan marines.
The Netherlands had gritted its teeth to assemble twenty-one ships for the sake of colonies and new trade routes overseas—then departed Amsterdam carrying a mere fifteen days' worth of food and supplies.
"Uuuh... water..."
"Damn it..."
They had rationed and rationed, but the water and food had run out all the same. The only places they could have stopped were European territory or Pyeong-an Naru, and these men had no money. They had set out with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Had it not rained along the way, they would all have died of thirst.
"Land ho!"
"Given the timing... that would be the Canary Islands, no?"
"Spanish soil..."
"No help for it! We go! We have to find food."
"Yes, sir!"
They had no choices left. With nothing in hand, the fleet resolved simply to take what it needed by force. Being only a small village, they lowered boats and sent as many men ashore as possible.
"Find food and water!"
"And leave no evidence behind..."
At the cold admiral's single word, the men's eyes went frigid. They were facing death themselves—this was the hour to become brutal.
Bang! Bang! Shraaak!
"Aaagh!"
"Kyaaak!"
The villagers who had come out to see what was happening collapsed in an instant. On one small island of the Canaries, a village that had lived modestly off farming and fishing was subjected to a resupply that was robbery in all but name, conducted at gunpoint and knife-point.
"P-please... spare me..."
"..."
After clearing the village and searching house to house for food, one man discovered a woman hiding inside. He hesitated a moment—then loosened his belt and approached her. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, tears streamed down the woman's face.
For a long while afterward, the only sound inside the house was ragged, gasping breathing.
"Ghk. Ghk..."
"..."
Truly cruel creatures. It would almost have been kinder simply to kill her—or at least to spare her quietly, in secret. Leaving behind the woman's eyes, brimming with resentment, he gathered up whatever looked useful from the house and stepped outside.
Seeing his comrades emerging here and there with their clothes in disarray, he gathered they'd all been in much the same situation.
"Everyone, move quickly!"
"Yes, sir!"
"It's a small village. Not much to be found, is there?"
"We'll hit a few more places, so keep moving!"
At the heartless admiral's word, the little village on one corner of the island was left heaped with corpses, burned to the ground, vanishing into a scorched wasteland.
Oh, they had said in words that each would respect the other's territories and colonies—but out on the open sea, who ever honored such things? In medieval and early modern Europe, navy, merchant, and pirate were three words for the same thing.
Thump—thump.
"Still, they had quite a lot hidden away, didn't they?"
"At this rate, we could hold out quite a while."
The sailors who'd collected the food and water ferried back and forth between ships, dividing up the cargo. And in the folds of their coats, plenty of things that would fetch a fine price as well.
"Now we make for the nearest port to resupply!"
"Under way!"
Looting villages alone would never secure enough provisions for all twenty-one ships of the fleet. So they sold their plunder at the ports, and used the proceeds to buy food. Such was the present state of the self-proclaimed civilization of Europe—little different from the Aztecs or the Inca, and perhaps crueler still.
"Damn it... England and Spain everywhere we turn..."
"Keep going?"
"What choice do we have?"
The Dutch fleet sailed ever southward. Over three months, they had plundered two villages—no, they had raided five settlements in all.
They had already made a handsome profit, but factoring in the cost of the ships and hired crews, it was still not enough.
"That's the Cape of Good Hope there."
"Ha. To think we'd ever come this far."
"Aye—and now the real voyage begins."
They pressed on. Who knows how many more villages they plundered, how many more fleets they raided?
Half a year had slipped by since they left the Netherlands. Not long ago, they had departed the Spanish port at Zanzibar and were sailing north.
"Huh? A ship!"
"Where? Sound the bell!"
"One ship, sir—and I've never seen that design before!"
"Venturing onto open water alone? Excellent! Let's go see what she's carrying!"
The admiral thought it laughable that anyone would dare sail a single ship into open sea, and steered his fleet on an intercepting course, keeping his distance. If the stranger caught sight of them and fled, it would be a nuisance—so they would pass casually by, then swing about and pounce.
Including the two ships they had captured along the way, his fleet had grown to twenty-three. Surrounding a lone vessel would be laughably easy.
"Huh?"
"What is it?"
"She's... setting sail toward us, sir?"
"She's running!"
Well, of course—anyone with half a brain would flee. That was simple sense.
"Watch which way she goes!"
Speed was everything in piracy. Their ships carried somewhat less cargo than most, but they were fast—and naturally, they meant to give chase.
"Um..."
"Out with it! What is it?!"
The sailor hanging from the mast top hesitated just slightly, and the captain, growing impatient at the thought of losing the quarry, barked at him—ready to climb the rigging himself on the spot.
"She's coming this way, sir?"
"What did you say?"
"She's heading straight for us!"
"Why?"
It made no sense no matter how he thought about it. That ship was a single vessel—fleeing wouldn't have been enough for her.
For the trainees who had battered through the rough seas and were now coasting along the shoreline, it finally felt as if they might survive after all.
"Three days... I drank a lifetime's supply of seawater in three days... huueeek."
"Me too... I died and came back."
Drink too much salt water and even dry heaves come calling. Days had passed, and a few of them were still draped over the railing, swaying weakly.
Meanwhile, lookouts scanned the horizon from the mast tops—one a trainee, the other an instructor.
"Watch closely. Out here at sea, everyone you meet is an enemy. The sooner you spot them, the better our odds."
"Yes, sir!"
At sea, unless it was a ship of your own side, you had to treat everything as hostile. There were no Horned Whales in these waters, and this was no Daehan shipping lane either. With the deck crowded full of trainees, extra caution could hardly hurt.
"Huh? What's that?"
"What's what?"
"Instructor! Over there—is that a ship?!"
Snap.
The instructor, the petty wretch, pulled out his telescope for himself alone.
"Ohh..."
"There's what, twenty of them or so?"
"Twenty-three."
The trainee had decent eyes himself, making out the rough count with the naked eye, and the instructor correcting him with a smile blooming at the corners of his mouth.
"Gah... we should avoid them, shouldn't we?"
"What's that now?"
"You said everyone at sea is an enemy?"
They're enemies, so with that many ships, shouldn't we run? the trainee reasoned.
"Right. They're enemies."
"So shouldn't we run away?"
"What are you saying? They're enemies, so we fight them, obviously."
"...Sir?"
Our trainee Balay, standing at the mast top watching the sea, felt as though he might faint. He was beginning to feel something like a desperate longing to go home...
"Enemy ships! Twenty-three of them!"
"Ohhh!!!"
"We have guests!"
The instructor at the mast top shouted the news, and the mood among the instructors on deck began to bubble with excitement.
"He's lost his mind..."
"What was that?"
"Nothing, sir!"
It looked as though he would be eating lunch somewhere very far away today.