318. Hero? New Devil? (1)
As the year of Sejong 13 (1431, Sinhye year) drew to a close, the ships that had journeyed to Tianzhu (India) began their return voyage.
The captains of the Haeung 5th and 6th Fleets, patrolling the waters near Jeju Island, spotted the returning vessels and eagerly raised their telescopes to identify them.
Their primary concern was the color of the signal flags fluttering atop the masts.
‘Please, anything but black (墨色, symbolizing bad news).’ they thought.
The captains, who had been watching the approaching ships with tense expressions, visibly relaxed.
“Fortunately, it’s green. Signal the 6th Fleet; we’ll escort them in.”
“The signal’s already arrived from the 6th Fleet, sir.”
The captain of the 5th Fleet, upon hearing his deputy’s report, shook his head with a slight smile and muttered.
“That guy’s personality… He’s become even more impatient since joining the Haeung.”
* * *
With the Challenger-class battleships now numbering nine, the court accelerated its plans to organize a deep-sea fleet bound for the West.
While the court and military focused on this endeavor, Hyang’s attention was drawn to the potential for diseases entering Joseon via these ships.
“The only saving grace is their incredibly slow travel speed compared to the 21st century, right?”
Considering the incubation periods of various infectious diseases Hyang recalled, even a sudden outbreak among the crew would pose minimal threat to Joseon.
Because, realistically, they would likely perish en route.
It might seem callous, but that was the stark reality.
“However, there’s also the issue of unforeseen variables…”
This concern prompted Hyang to intervene in drafting the deep-sea fleet’s operating procedures, implementing stringent quarantine regulations.
-Ships returning from deep-sea voyages are strictly prohibited from immediately entering the Suyeong (Naval Base).
-The Joldosa (Naval Commander) of the Suyeong where the deep-sea fleet is stationed must designate a primary port of call on a nearby island, prioritizing it for returning ships. The mandatory docking period is a minimum of 5 days.
-Following this period, doctors will board the ships to examine crew members for infectious diseases and review their medical records.
-If an infectious disease outbreak occurs during the voyage and escalates, the ship’s doctor (船醫) has the duty and authority to advise the captain or highest-ranking officer to abandon the voyage.
-The captain or highest-ranking officer, upon receiving such advice, must make for the nearest Joseon naval base or port.
-In cases of severe infection, rendering ship operation difficult and posing a high risk of external transmission, the captain or highest-ranking officer must evacuate the crew and scuttle the ship to prevent further contamination.
-The captain or highest-ranking officer must raise a large signal flag at the ship’s highest point to ensure clear and rapid external confirmation of the situation.
The color of the signal flag is… (details omitted below)
“Scuttling the ship seems excessive, considering the construction costs and the value of the cannons and cargo…”
Military and Ministry of Finance officials voiced their objections to Hyang’s proposed rules, but Hyang remained resolute.
“If a method exists to perfectly disinfect a ship carrying an epidemic, I will gladly retract the order. While the value of the battleships and their cargo is substantial, it pales in comparison to the potential loss of life and property from an epidemic spreading within Joseon.”
Hyang’s words silenced the officials. Despite improvements in public health and water resources under Hyang’s management, Joseon remained vulnerable to epidemics.
Notably, while smallpox was now less feared due to Hyang’s introduction of cowpox inoculation, the King still performed ancestral rites whenever an outbreak occurred.
Sejong, upon reviewing the proposal, immediately affixed his royal seal.
“Since a small precaution can avert a major disaster, the Crown Prince’s reasoning is sound. Proceed accordingly.”
“We obey your command!”
“That being said… The ‘nearest Joseon naval base’ mentioned here… Surely, it doesn’t refer to the naval forces and Yeongjin (military camps) within Joseon, and it’s unlikely to be Japan… Could it be that you intend to establish naval bases in distant foreign lands and remote regions?”
At Sejong’s inquiry, Hyang and Jo Mal-saeng responded in unison.
“Yes.”
“That is correct, Your Majesty. It is a necessary measure.”
“Hmm… Discuss the financial implications thoroughly with the Ministry of Finance.”
Sejong subtly passed the responsibility to Hyang and Jo Mal-saeng.
And so, the seeds of the Joseon navy’s formidable reputation, one that would instill fear in European forces venturing into Asia from the east of Africa, were sown.
Following Sejong’s decree, the military and court acted swiftly.
Yeongjong Island in the West Sea, Dalido Island in the South Sea, and Mureungdo Island (Ulleungdo) in the East Sea were designated as primary ports of call for ships returning from deep-sea voyages, and construction commenced.
* * *
The ships, escorted by Haeung-class battleships, arrived at Mokpo Suyeong and docked at the temporary port of call under construction on Dalido Island.
“It’s desolate here,” Kang Nam-gil muttered, observing the unfinished pier.
“But military law is absolute…”
Accepting the situation, Kang Nam-gil addressed the sailors.
“Five more days of quarantine! Just five days! You don’t want to risk your families getting sick, do you?”
“Yes, sir!”
The sailors replied, suppressing their eagerness to disembark. They were well aware of the devastation epidemics could cause, many having lost loved ones to disease.
* * *
After successfully completing the quarantine period and confirming the absence of any abnormalities, the two battleships were finally permitted to dock at Mokpo Yeong (Mokpo Naval Base).
With the assistance of tugboats from Mokpo Yeong – grandly named but only slightly larger than rowboats and smaller than Hyeopseon (small warships) – the ships safely docked. The deck covers leading to the ship’s hold were opened, and the windlass was put into operation.
“Careful! It’s all saltpeter! Saltpeter!”
“The hold is packed with saltpeter! Bring all the carts we have!”
At the sailors’ shouts, the soldiers waiting on the pier with carts to receive the cargo glanced at the ships’ drafts.
Seeing the waterline nearly touching the surface, their mouths dropped open in astonishment.
“How much did they load?”
“Heumi…”
Based on past experience, the draft line, regardless of the load, always remained a hand’s breadth (approximately 30cm) above the waterline. This time, it was level with the water.
* * *
The report detailing the cargo unloaded from the two ships was immediately dispatched to Hanseong via express messenger.
“A report from Mokpo Suyeong! An itemized list of the cargo and quantities!”
“Give it here!”
Kim Jeom snatched the list from his subordinate and quickly scanned it.
“Huh? This…”
Rubbing his eyes, he examined the list again.
After reviewing it several times, Kim Jeom turned to his subordinate.
“Are these numbers accurate?”
“Yes, sir. There are no errors.”
“Send someone to Mokpo Suyeong immediately for an on-site inspection (實査, a thorough investigation)! Now!”
“Yes, sir!”
Kim Jeom, after issuing the urgent order, returned to the list, his eyes fixated on the ‘saltpeter’ entry.
Saltpeter total: 27,000 kwan (approximately 100 tons).
27,000 kwan equates to nearly 170,000 geun.
At the time, Joseon’s annual saltpeter production was just under 30,000 geun.
This was achieved through the establishment of ranches and saltpeter fields as Gyeongjang progressed. However, this figure was misleading. To produce usable saltpeter, it required three years of aging. Consequently, the actual amount available to the military was, at best, half that.
Yet, a single voyage had yielded enough saltpeter to last five years.
Kim Jeom reread the special notes appended to the entry.
-Top quality, ready for immediate use.
Kim Jeom muttered to himself, “Grand Master Jo will owe me a great debt. Or perhaps I should be the one treating him?”
* * *
Sejong, after reviewing the reports from the Ministry of Finance and the military, turned to Hyang.
“There was a good reason for your insistence on Tianzhu. Well done.”
“You flatter me, Your Majesty,” Hyang replied with a bow.
Sejong, pleased, addressed the assembled ministers.
“Now that we have secured a substantial supply of saltpeter from Tianzhu, the military must intensify its training. However, remember not to be wasteful simply because it is abundant.”
Jo Mal-saeng immediately bowed.
“I will keep it foremost in my mind.”
As soon as Jo Mal-saeng finished, Heo Jo stepped forward.
“I, Minister of the General Affairs Department Heo Jo, report that now that the military’s saltpeter needs are met, it would be beneficial to return the saltpeter and manure produced on the ranches to the private sector.”
“Return the saltpeter and manure to the private sector?”
Sejong inquired, intrigued. Heo Jo elaborated.
“Saltpeter fields have long been a source of discontent. Saltpeter and manure are essential components of fertilizer (施肥, 거름 주기). Now that the military’s requirements are satisfied, returning the ranch output to the private sector for agricultural use would be advantageous.”
Sejong nodded in agreement.
“Minister Heo’s suggestion is sound. However, given the importance of fertilizer for farming, greed and corruption may arise. The ministers should deliberate and devise a plan to mitigate this.”
“We obey your command!”
* * *
Having addressed the saltpeter issue, Sejong moved on to the next item on the agenda.
“Petitions are continuously being submitted to extend the semester of the Samin Academy until before summer. What are your thoughts on this?”
Jo Gye-saeng bowed and replied.
“This stems from the Samin Academy’s curriculum. To elaborate…”
According to Jo Gye-saeng, the issue arose from the Samin Academy’s unique completion requirements.
The Samin Academy lacked a fixed education period – a school year or completion date in modern terms.
Students could only advance to the next course upon demonstrating complete mastery of the current material. There were no exceptions.
Adding fuel to the fire was the absence of a formal ‘age limit’.
Typically, children aged 5 to 15 – those before the gwanrye (coming-of-age ceremony) for the Sadaebu (nobility) or before lifting the deuldol (lifting stone) for adult certification among the Sangmin (commoners) – entered the Samin Academy. However, this was an ‘unspoken’ rule, not a formal restriction.
Without an age limit for admission, there was no age limit for graduation.
This sparked intense competition among parents.
“My child must graduate before the children of other families!”
Initially, the situation at the Samin Academy was quite different.
“They teach and feed them for free? Son! Stay there as long as you can!”
Parents, enticed by the prospect of a free daily meal for their children, worried about early graduation.
However, as the economy improved with Gyeongjang, parental attitudes gradually shifted.
“Oh my! Is that family’s son still on the Thousand Character Classic? Our son has finished it and moved on… Heumm…”
Dol-soe’s mother, humiliated by an encounter with her nemesis at the laundry, sought out Dol-soe upon returning home.
“Dol-soe! Dol-soe!”
“Yes, Mother?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’ve been cutting grass to feed the cow, Mother.”
Dol-soe’s mother retorted, “Is the cow’s feed more important than your studies! Go inside and study right now!”
Similar scenes played out across Joseon.
“Madam! Don’t you understand what’s at stake? I’ve become the laughingstock of that Yong-pal! Jang-soe, you rascal! Get inside and study!”
Author’s words.
Hello?
This is Gukbbong, author of ‘Black Company Joseon’. Thank you for reading ‘Black Company Joseon’.
First, I apologize for the sudden hiatus.
Early Monday morning, my sister experienced chest pain and had to be taken to the emergency room.
Due to a family history of heart problems and her being single, I had to accompany her as her guardian.
Examinations revealed a problem with her heart’s blood vessels, requiring a procedure. Subsequently, she experienced arrhythmia and cardiac arrest.
Fortunately, she was resuscitated, but remained in intensive care, preventing me from writing.
Her condition has now stabilized, and I have resumed writing.
I had intended to take a hiatus for the entire week, but I didn’t want to inconvenience readers, so I wrote and uploaded this episode in my spare time.
I apologize for the sudden interruption.
I will do my best to continue the series.
Thank you for your understanding.
Gukbbong Dream.