Chapter 81
Chapter 81
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Age of Great Voyages (2)
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Everything in this era is 100% handmade.
There are no bolts or nuts that you'd indifferently pass by anywhere in the modern world, no standardized parts whatsoever.
Taking a look around inside a ship—which could be called a microcosm of the world—gives you a rather eerie feeling.
Not a single 'identical item' exists. Not just in this space, but reflecting on my entire life, everything feels fundamentally alien.
The wood creaking underfoot at its own whim isn't processed lumber meeting any consistent modern standards.
There are no sturdy rivets or angles at any joints or connections. Everything's just roughly tied with ropes or nailed with uneven spikes, and even the ropes vary in thickness.
What nonsense is this from a tax collector?
I've examined it all this closely, but it looks like our first crackdown was a bust.
The first boat we spotted was just your run-of-the-mill illegal fishing vessel.
We took it down easily.
As Joseon's very first tax collection fleet approached with trumpets blaring and drums pounding, the fishermen quickly dropped to their knees along the gunwale.
Truth be told, I should have admitted right then that it was a wash. No rare loot drops in a dungeon without even a single elite mob, right?
When the soldiers came back from tearing apart the cargo hold with some indecipherable net—unable to tell if it was for catching fish or some convoluted symbol of a rotting plague god—I threw in the towel.
Then I ordered them to implement the contingency plan for fishing boats.
Fishing boats aren't sailing around with cash on board. So for vessels without proof of paying the fishing tax from the Equal Service Bureau—like this one—we've prepared alternative collection methods.
Drawing wisdom from Yi Sun-sin, several ships in our fleet already have drying racks set up. We hung the catch meticulously from them.
Perishables like mackerel were handled by our fisherman-turned-soldiers, who expertly snapped their necks and soaked them in seawater to bleed them out. Oysters and seaweeds foraged from the shore went into separate crates.
The tax-dodging fishermen wore looks of 'Those bastards were after loot from the start,' but they bowed their heads quick when I glanced their way.
Now in a state of enlightened detachment, having let go of any lingering hopes, I gave the fishing boat one last scan.
Viewing the world from a slightly different angle revealed something rather welcome.
For someone like me, who'd never handled fish in either my past or present life due to my profession, it was one of the few I recognized by sight.
But the name wouldn't come to mind. I pointed and asked.
"What fish is that?"
The boat's captain—or so he seemed—fisherman Mansu answered swiftly.
"That's mackerel, sir. Heh heh. Care for a bite? Folks on land might not know, but it's killer eaten raw."
Without waiting for my reply, Mansu drew his dull sash knife and slit the mackerel's throat.
I fought to hide my sinking heart. Hadn't these idiot soldiers even disarmed them during the tax collection—no, the plunder?
But Mansu just kept gutting the fish and pulling out the bones. He probably figured I was testing him by asking about a fish even a kid would know.
I'm no such corrupt official, though.
Well, if he's offering, I'm not about to refuse the gesture.
Joseon has no refrigeration tech, so it's been ages since I had sashimi. Even in Korea, mackerel sashimi wasn't something a broke exam prep student like me could have often.
Inland Joseon folk, who think 'dried fish' at the mere mention of seafood, would freak out (and rightly so for safety), but our sailors had enough sea experience that no fuss broke out.
I trusted my skills and partook in the mackerel sashimi. No heavy metals, radiation, or microplastics here—just block the germs and we're good.
Hm. Should've brought soy sauce.
"Truly delicious."
Mansu grinned broadly, scratching his head.
Then, gauging my mood, he sidled closer and whispered.
"Uh, sir. We're ignorant folk, but isn't the fish haul a bit much for just taxes...?"
"Hey now. Would you rather we go strictly by the book and thrash you with fifty strokes of the heavy rod? You'd be lucky to walk home after that."
"N-no, not that."
Mansu shrank back, chastened. I could practically hear his men's thoughts from behind: 'Ugh, what a fool. Folding that quick?'
I decided to save the captain some face.
"But the law does allow rewards for those who come forward after a proper announcement. I've heard Hwanghae Province is rife with folks trading privately with Chinese ships."
Mansu's expression wavered. I seized the moment with a knowing smile.
"What do you say? Depending on your loyalty, I could return these fish and exempt you from fishing taxes forever."
I pulled out a blank paper and waved it.
Mansu might be illiterate, but any Joseonner familiar with official notices would get it.
Just add a name to this blank tax receipt, and he's paid up anywhere, anytime.
I'd borrowed wisdom from the swiftest monarchs. Yi Sun-sin, King Seonjo—wartime eras birthed plenty of useful policies for victory.
Mansu glanced at the empty sea—nobody around anyway—then drew closer. Hey, leave the knife.
"I'm just a lowly seaman, but I've always tried to be loyal to the realm. It ain't about the money; I heard a rumor somewhere."
"I knew your loyalty the moment I saw you. Speak."
My goal from the start wasn't some piddly fishing boat.
Sure, collecting fishing taxes is the fleet's raison d'être.
But that's not my job—once I set up the system, the tax fleet and coastal ferry overseers will handle it.
My role is to establish this brand-new Tax Fleet 1 successfully, smoothing the third administrative measure.
Boost my reputation, pocket some side income, then bow out.
I'm not spending my life as a middling War Office clerk.
Everywhere, impact trumps substance.
Take piracy, for example. Britain, that is.
With Francis Drake as pioneer, they raided countless merchantmen, later escalating to humanity at large. Global-scale wako success story.
Their flashy spoils match their savagery; even in the 21st century, the British Museum—the world's biggest fence—proudly displays the evidence.
In truth, Japan or Britain's economies—like any pirate state—relied on steady transport and fishing fleets.
But folks don't notice that. Brits laud the pirates.
Did Elizabeth knight a transport fleet captain like Drake?
Same here. For my aims, I need a 'big score.'
So I turned the prow toward Baengnyeong Station in Jangyeon County, Hwanghae Province (modern Baengnyeongdo), as tipped by fisherman Mansu.
Hub of Hwanghae smuggling.
East Asia was 'closed' at this time, but that's just official policy—private levels were highly international.
Chinese ships' illegal fishing and trade weren't fleeting; they were entrenched industries. As Park Mun-su noted during his Hwanghae probes, 'No year without Chinese ships.'
But Chinese vessels didn't unilaterally invade Joseon.
Fishing aside, trade (unless British-style) needs mutual consent.
Joseon complicity, that is.
Commoners aside, even garrison commanders would feign 'Oh dear, Chinese ships? Must enforce the law and shoo them!' while towing private traders out to boost Joseon-Qing ties and personal wealth.
Don't underestimate Joseon. 'Declining maritime trade' is slander. Left alone, they thrive.
So locals knowing the score isn't odd.
After getting dates from Mansu, I anchored roughly off Hwanghae coast to avoid spooking smugglers.
While cooks foraged ashore for fresh water, I quizzed the troops for details.
"Any of you from Baengnyeong Station or frequent there? We're off to claim major military merit. Even a woodcutter lad speaking up now gets rewards richer than for spies—'No prize richer than the informant' [Wei Liaozi Sunzi]. Follow this edict; hiding knowledge means punishment like the lawless rebel."
Had I not actually returned the fish to Mansu earlier, this would've fallen flat.
But Shang Yang's legend of rewarding the pillar-mover shone here. Sure enough, one soldier hesitated forward.
His name? Palgeum from Baengnyeongdo—a convict revived via Park Mun-su's corpse alchemy, now soldiering. Name sounds Jurchen-ish, but whatever.
"I'll seize this chance to clear my name."
"Stand tall, and I'll petition rewards. Speak."
No bluff. Arming convicts encourages this exact thing.
Emboldened, Palgeum spilled.
"They're a mix of Chinese and Joseon from Haerangdo. Renowned for skilled, swift, brutal sailors. They skirt heavy garrisons like Ochapo in Hwanghae, but hit a couple spots near Baengnyeong."
"What's Haerangdo?"
"Island off Liaodong coast. Old fishing village frequented by Dongnyeongwi folk (early Ming-era Joseon-Jurchen enclave annexed by China). Long tied to Joseon by boat. They trade seal meat and hides; Chinese call it Sea Sheep Island."
More details painted Hwanghae as a grand trade route.
Joseon couldn't invade China; Chinese ignored it, their Jurchen overlords landlubbers. Total extraterritorial zone.
Even Joseon runaways settled there—Jeju folk especially, to my shock. Who called this era's navigation primitive?
I asked what mattered.
"What do they mainly trade?"
"Hides and meat as I said, sometimes Chinese porcelain or grain swapped for Joseon coins, bara, gongs."
Joseon coins unusable in China... melted for copper, probably.
Odd metal instruments confirm it. No sudden Eastern music fad. Seen similar reports from Pyeongan.
Punishment? Death, naturally. Joseon's metal-poor; export's high treason.
Can't leave such traitors' loot un'confiscated' for the treasury.
Fear not, Joseon people.
With Kim Unhaeng here, our customs sovereignty is secure. (Fun fact: Customs Service was a dream posting in my exam days.)
No handing tariff decisions to foreigners like King Gojong.
'100% tariffs'—exports/imports quarantined.
And performance bonuses? Made-in-China porcelain even Europeans covet. Not bad.
When Kim Unhaeng struck the Haerangdo pirates, they were just departing Baengnyeong Station.
He ordered matchlocks, bows, spears readied—no cannon loading. Feared damaging precious cargo.
That's the civilian-vs-martial divide.
Guide Palgeum shouted.
"That's their junk ship!"
Kim Unhaeng eyed a classic Chinese junk, straight from 21st-century illustrations.
Name sounds trashy, but iconic premodern Chinese hauler. Excellent sailing, cheap, decent combat.
Yet Koreans know it from Opium War pics of British guns sinking them. Symbolic, in a way.
Kim Unhaeng, average Korean, cheered inwardly.
"Perfect! I know that ship's weaknesses. Fragile—one tap and it sinks. No wild cannon fire!"
Haerangdo pirates had no time to rage at the insult.
Our tax fleet looked green, but with speedsters, patrol ships, even two turtleboats (unwanted for noncombat, so plentiful)—six warships total.
Not British navy, but 1 vs. 6? No contest.
Pirates fled like treasure-laden lecherous beastfolk; Kim Unhaeng pursued full throttle.
Then, far astern, a massive waterspout erupted.
Kim Unhaeng and troops fell silent awhile. Roar and spray drowned voices anyway.
Soon, his plaintive voice emerged.
"...Why do those bastards have cannons?"
21st-century equivalent: drug cartel rolling out tanks and rockets (real places exist).
Unprepared-for-combat soldiers panicked instantly. Some prepped to dive.
Kim Unhaeng agonized. Spray hit astern—now in range. This shot hasty, but next might nail.
Troops eyed him hopefully: pretend not to notice, turn back.
But he betrayed it.
"What are you waiting for? Pursue!"
"S-sir (he's no elder). At least fire our cannons! Without disrupting them, next hits us for real!"
Miscannon your own ship sinks. Defeats the purpose.
Kim Unhaeng roared like Yi Sun-sin berating laggards.
"Reload and they escape! Six to one—what's to fear? Want military law execution?"
Troops still hesitated.
He gritted teeth, grabbed his bow.
"Close to matchlock range only. After, hide astern—no complaints! Someone fetch heavy reed arrows quick!"
Not his foresight, but bow in hand spurred obedience. Some knew his Wangsipri Hawk Bow fame.
And they witnessed a legendary scene.
Junk's complex sails maximize thrust, but weakness: cut ropes, adrift helpless.
Otherwise, catches wind well.
Haerangdo's Jangjin yanked ropes expertly.
"Ha! Thought Joseon navy grew bold— all bluff. Trembling at one cannon! Can't even return fire—out of powder and shot, eh?"
Comrade chimed.
"At this rate, sail extra ships to Gyeongseong next? No need hiding anymore?"
"True. Not just silks and gold—Gyeongseong girls softer, no? This haul meager... Huh?"
Sudden slack in his grip. Jangjin looked up puzzled.
Rope severed.
"How the...!"
Next arrow explained.
Common sense: hard to hit with arrows/guns in rocking sea battle. But those bizarrely broad-tipped shafts nailed ropes unerringly.
Not industrial rope; once nicked, wind did rest. Fibers frayed screaming.
"That guy's shooting!"
At comrade's yell, Jangjin whirled.
Couldn't.
The ship's last key: massive late-autumn lateen sail enabling upwind—crashed down, burying Jangjin.
Darkness enveloped him.
Next, ship-shaking thud.
'Joseon rams us?'
Buried under sail warped time sense.
Before grasping, familiar Joseon boomed.
"All down flat! Touch the loot, lose your hands!"
Sounded desperately urgent.
Author's Note
1. Chinese-led smuggling, piracy, illegal fishing rampant off Hwanghae coast; even naval commanders joined— all true.
Annals repeatedly note 'Junk incident unreported late—probe and punish magistrates,' hinting organized cover-ups. Even kidnappings hushed till caught.
Palgeum real too: Baengnyeong convict. Jangjin fictional.
2. Haerangdo (Chinese: Haoyangdo, still called that) was pirate isle of mixed Joseon+Jurchen+Chinese off Liaodong. Like Sambongdo (Ulleungdo or Vladivostok?) as Joseon draft-dodger haven.
500-year unrootable pests—Chinese turf. But one king sent officials/soldiers to nab runaways: bold Yeonsangun (got emperor's OK). Aggressive on island purges too.