San Kuo/Volume 1/Chapter 47
CHAPTER XLVII.
K‘an Tse Presents the Treacherous Letter: P‘an T‘ung Suggests Chaining the Ships Together.
This K‘an Tsê was from Shanyin, a son of a humble family. He loved books, but as he was too poor to buy he used to borrow. He had a wonderfully tenacious memory, was very eloquent and no coward. Sun Ch'üan had employed him among his advisers and he and Huang Kai were excellent friends. The latter had thought of him to present the treacherous letter as his gifts made him most suitable. K‘an Tsê accepted with enthusiasm, saying, “When you, my friend, have suffered so much for our lord, could I spare myself? No; while a man lives he must go on fulfilling his mission or he is no better than the herbs that rot in the field.”
Huang Kai slipped off the couch and came over to salute him.
“However, this matter must speed,” continued K‘an Tsê; "there is no time to lose.”
“The letter is already written,” said Huang Kai.
K‘an Tsê received it and left. That night he disguised himself as an old fisherman and started in a small punt for the north shore, under the cold, glittering light of the stars.
Soon he drew near the enemy’s camp and was captured by the patrol. Without waiting for day they informed their General, who said at once, “Is he not just a spy?”
“No,” said they, “he is alone, just an old fisherman; and he says he is an adviser in the service of Wu named K‘an Tsê, and he has come on secret business.”
“Bring him,” said Ts‘ao Ts‘ao and he was led in. Ts‘ao was seated in a brilliantly lighted tent. He was leaning on a small table and as soon as he saw the prisoner, he said, “You are an adviser of Wu; v hat then are you doing here?”
“People say that you greedily welcome men of ability; I do not think your question a very proper one. Friend Huang, you made a mistake,” said K‘an.
“You know I am fighting against Wu and you come here privately. Why should I not question you?”
“Huang Kai is an old servant of Wu, one who has served three successive rulers. Now he has been cruelly beaten, for no fault, before the face of all the officers in Chou Yü's camp. He is grievously angry about this and wishes to desert to your side that he may be revenged. He discussed it with me, and as we are inseparable, I have come to give you his letter asking whether you would receive him.”
“Where is the letter? said Ts‘ao.
The missive was produced and presented. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao opened it and read:—“I, Huang Kai, have been generously treated by the Sun family and have served them single-heartedly. Lately they have been discussing an attack with our forces on the enormous army of the central government. As every one knows our few are no match for such a multitude and every officer of Wu, wise or foolish, recognises that quite well. However, Chou Yü who, after all, is but a youth and a shallow minded simpleton, maintains that success is possible and rashly desires to smash stones with an egg. Beside this he is arbitrary and tyrannical, punishing for no crime, and leaving meritorious service unrewarded. I am an old servant and for no reason have been shamed in the sight of men. Wherefore I hate him in my heart.
“You, O Minister, treat men with sincerity and are ready to welcome ability and so I, and those under my leadership, desire to enter your service whereby to acquire reputation and remove the shameful stigma. The commissariat, weapons and the supply ships will also come over to you. In perfect sincerity I state these matters; I pray you not to doubt me.”
Leaning there on the low table by his side, Ts‘ao turned this letter over and over and read it again and again. Then he smacked the table, opened his eyes wide with anger saying, “Huang Kai is trying to play the personal injury trick on me, is he? And you are in it as the intermediary to present the letter. How dare you come to sport with me?”
He ordered the lictors to thrust forth the messenger and take on his head. K‘an Tsê was nustled out, his face untroubled. On the contrary, he laughed aloud. At this Ts‘ao told them to bring him back and harshly said to him, “What do you find to laugh at now that I have foiled you and your ruse has failed?”
“I was not laughing at you; I was laughing at my friend’s simplicity.”
“What do you mean by his simplicity?”
“If you want to slay, slay; do not trouble me with a multitude of questions.”
“I have read all the books on the art of war and I am well versed in all ways of misleading the enemy. This ruse of yours might have succeeded with many, but it will not do for me.”
“And so you say that the letter is a vicious trick?” said K‘an.
“What I say is death your risked that your little slip has sent you to the If the thing was real and you were sincere, why does not the letter name a time? What have you to say to that?”
K‘an Tsê waited to the end and then laughed louder than ever, saying, “I am so glad you are not frightened, but can still boast of your knowledge of the books of war. Now you will not lead away your soldiers. If you fight, Chou Yü will certainly capture you. But how sad to think I die at the hand of such an ignorant fellow!”
“What mean you? I, ignorant?”
“You are ignorant of any strategy and a victim of unreason; is not that sufficient?”
“Well then, tell me where is any fault in my navy.”
“You treat wise men too badly for me to talk to you. You can finish me and let there be an end of it.”
“If you can speak with any show of reason, I will treat you differently.”
“Do you not know that when one is going to desert one’s master and become a renegade one cannot say exactly when the chance will occur? If one binds one’s self to a fixed moment and the thing cannot be done just then, the secret will be discovered. One must watch for an opportunity and take it when it comes. Think; is it possible to know exactly when? But you know nothing of common sense; all you know is how to put good men to death. So you really are an ignorant fellow.”
At this Ts‘ao changed his manner, got up and came over to the prisoner bowing, “I did not see clearly; that is quite true. I offended you and I hope you will forget it.”
“The fact is that Huang Kai and I are both inclined to desert to you; we even yearn for it as a child desires its parents. Is it possible that we should play you false?”
“If you two could render me so great a service, you shall certainly be richly rewarded.”
“We do not desire rank or riches; we come because it is the will of heaven and the plain way of duty.”
Then wine was set out and K‘an Tsê was treated as an honoured guest. While they were drinking some one came in and whispered in Ts‘ao’s ear. He replied, “Let me see the letter.” Whereupon the man pulled out and gave him a letter, which evidently pleased him.
“That is from the two Ts‘ais,” thought K‘an Tsê. “They are reporting the punishment of my friend and that will be a proof of the sincerity of his letter. ”
Turning toward K‘an Tsê, Ts‘ao said, “I must ask you to return to settle the date with your friend: as soon as I know I will have a force waiting.”
“I cannot return; pray, Sir, ser. I some other man you can trust.”
“If some one else should go the secret would out.”
K‘an Tsê refused again and again but at last gave way, saying, “If I am to go I must not wait here; I must be off at once.”
Ts‘ao offered him gold and silks, which were refused. Tsê started, left the camp and re-embarked for the south bank, where he related all that had happened to Huang Kai.
“If it had not been for your persuasive tongue then had I undergone this suffering in vain,” said Huang.
“I will now go to get news of the two Ts‘ais,” said K‘an Tsê.
“Excellent,” said Huang.
He went to the camp commanded by Kan Ning and when they were seated he said to his host, “I was much distressed when I saw how disgracefully you were treated for your intercession on behalf of Huang Kai.”
Kan Ning smiled. Just then the two Ts‘ais came, and host and guest exchanged glances. The former said, “The truth is the General is over confident and he reckons us as nobody. We count for nothing. Every one is talking of the Iway I was insulted. Aiya!” and he shouted and gritted his teeth and smacked the table in his wrath.
K‘an Tsê leaned over toward his host and said something in a very low voice, at which Kan Ning bent his head and sighed.
The two visitors and spies gathered from this that both Kan and K‘an were ripe for desertion and determined to probe them.
“Why, Sir, do you anger him? Why not be silent about his injuries?” said they.
“What know you of our bitterness?” said K‘an Tsê.
“We think you seem much inclined to go over to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao,” said they.
K‘an Tsê at this lost colour: Kan Ning started up and drew his sword, crying, “They have found out; they must die to keep their mouths shut.”
“No, no,” cried the two in a flurry. “Let us tell you something quite secret.”
“Quick, then,” cried Kan Ning.
So Ts‘ai Ho said, “The truth is that we are only pretended deserters, and if you two gentlemen are of our way of thinking we can manage things for you.”
“But are you speaking the truth?” said Kan.
“Is it likely we should say such a thing if it were untrue?” cried both at the same moment.
Kan Ning put on a pleased look and said, “Then this is the very heaven-given chance.”
“You know we have already told Ts‘ao of the Huang Kai affair and how you were insulted.”
“The fact is I have given the Minister a letter on behalf of Huang Kai and he sent me back again to settle the date of his desertion,” said K‘an.
“When an honest man happens upon an enlightened master his heart will always be drawn toward him,” said Kan Ning.
The four then drank together and opened their hearts to each other. The two brothers Ts‘ai wrote a private letter to their master saying that Kan Ning had agreed to join in their plot and play the traitor, and K‘an Tsê also wrote and they sent the letters secretly to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao. Kan’s letter said that Huang had found no opportunity so far. However, when he came his boat could be recognised by a black, indented flag. That would mean he was on board.
However, when Ts‘ao Ts‘ao got these two letters he was still doubtful and called together his advisers to talk over the matter. Said he, “On the other side Kan Ning has been put to shame by the Commander-in-Chief whom he is prepared to betray for the sake of revenge. Huang Kai has been punished and sent K‘an Tsê to propose that he should come over to our side. Only I still distrust the whole thing. Who will go over to the camp to find out the real truth?”
Then Chiang Kan spoke up, saying, “I failed in my mission the other day and am greatly mortified. I will risk my life again and, this time, I shall surely bring good news.”
” Ts‘ao Ts‘ao approved of him as messenger and bade him start. He set out in a small craft and speedily arrived in Chiangnan landing near the naval camp. Then he sent to inform Chou Yü, who hearing who it was chuckled, saying, “Success depends upon this man.”
Then he called Lu Su and told him to call P‘ang T‘ung to come and do certain things for him.
This P‘ang T‘ung was from Hsiangyang. His other name was Shih-yüan and he had gone to the east of the river to get away from the strife. Lu Su had recommended him to Chou Yü, but he had not yet presented himself. When Chou Yü sent to ask what scheme of attack he would recommend against Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, P‘ang T‘ung had said to the messenger, “You must use fire against him. But the river is wide and if one ship is set on fire the others will scatter unless they are fastened together so that they must remain in one place. That is the one road to success.”
Lu Su took this message to the General, who pondered over it and then said, “The only person who can manage this is P‘ang T‘ung himself.”
“Ts‘ao Ts‘ao is very wily,” said Lu Su, “how can P‘ang T‘ung go?”
So Chou Yü was sad and undecided. He could think of no method till suddenly the means presented itself in the arrival of Chiang Kan. He at once sent instructions to P‘ang T‘ung how to act and then sat himself in his tent to await his visitor Chiang Kan.
But the visitor became ill at ease and suspicious when he saw that his old student friend did not come to welcome him and he took the precaution of sending his boat into a retired spot to be made fast before he went to the General’s tent.
When Chou Yü saw him he put on an angry face and said, “My friend, why did you treat me so badly.”
Chiang Kan laughed and said, “I remembered the old days when we were as brothers and I came expressly to pour out my heart to you. Why do you say I treated you badly?”
“You came to persuade me to betray my master, which I would never do unless the sea dried up and the rocks perished. Remembering the old times I filled you with wine and kept you to sleep with me. And you; you plundered my private letters and stole away with never a word of farewell. You betrayed me to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao and caused the death of my two friends on the other side and so caused all my plans to miscarry. Now what have you come for? Certainly it is not out of kindness to me and I care no more for our old friendship; it is cut in two, destroyed. I would send you back again, but within a day or two I shall attack that rebel and, if I let you stay in my camp, my plans will leak out. So I am going to tell my attendants to conduct you to a certain retired hut in the western hills and keep you there till I shall have won the victory. Then I will send you back again.”
Chiang Kan tried to say something but Chou Yü would not listen. He turned his back and went into the recesses of his tent. The attendants led the visitor off, set him on a horse and took him away over the hills to the small hut, leaving two soldiers to look after him.
When Chiang Kan found himself in the lonely hut he was very depressed and had no desire to eat or sleep. But one night, when the stars were very brilliant, he strolled out to enjoy them. Presently he came to the rear of his lonely habitation and heard, near by, some one crooning over a book. Approaching with stealthy steps he saw a tiny cabin half hidden in a cliff whence a slender beam or two of light stole out between the rafters. He went nearer and peeping in, saw a man reading by the light of a lamp near which hung a sword. And the book was Sun Wu’s “Art of War.”
“This is no common person,” thought he and so he knocked at the door. The door was opened by the reader, who bade him welcome with cultivated and refined ceremony. Chiang Kan enquired his name and the host replied that he was P‘ang T‘ung, sometimes known as Shih-yüan.
“Then you are surely The Master known as 'Phoenix Fledgeling,' are you not?”
“Yes; I am he.”
“How often have I heard you talked about! You are famous. But why are you hidden away in this spot?”
“That fellow Chou Yü is too conceited to allow that any one else has any talent and so I live here quietly. But who are you, Sir?”
“I am Chiang Kan.”
Then P‘ang T‘ung made him very welcome and led him in and the two sat down to talk.
“With your gifts you would succeed anywhere,” said Chiang Kan. “If you would enter Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s service J would recommend you to him.”
“I have long desired to get away from here and in you, Sir, will present me there is no time like the present. If Chou Yü heard of my wish he would kill me, I am sure.”
So without more ado they made their way down the hill to the water’s edge to seek the boat in which Chiang had come. They embarked and, rowing swiftly, they soon reached the northern shore. At the central camp Chiang landed and went to seek To‘ao Ts‘ao to whom he related the story of the discovery of his new acquaintance.
When Ts‘ao Ts‘ao heard that the newcomer was Fêng-ch‘u, or the “Phoenix Chick” Master, he went to meet him, made him very welcome and soon they sat down to talk on friendly terms.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao said questioningly, “And so Chou Yü in his youth is conceited and annoys his officers and rejects all their advice; I know that. But your fame has been long known to me and now that you have been gracious enough to turn my way I pray you not to be niggardly of your advice.”
“I, too, know well that you are a model of military strategy,” said P‘ang T‘ung, “but I should like to have one look at your disposition.”
So horses were brought and the two rode out to the lines, host and visitor on equal terms, side by side. They ascended a hill whence they had a wide view. After looking all round P‘ang T‘ung remarked, “Sun Wu, come to life again, could not do better, nor Jang Chu if he reappeared. All accords with the precepts. The camp is beside the hill and is flanked by a forest. The front and rear are within sight of each other. Gates of egress and ingress are provided and the roads of advance and retirement are bent and broken.”
“Master, I entreat you not to overpraise me, but to advise me where I can make further improvements,” said Ts‘ao.
Then the two men rode down to the naval camp, where twenty four openings were arranged facing the south. The cruisers and the battleships were all lined up so as to protect the lighter craft which lay inside. There were channels to pass to and fro and fixed anchorages and stations.
P‘ang Tʻung surveying all this smiled, saying, “Sir Minister, if this is your method of warfare, you enjoy no empty reputation.” Then pointing to Chiangnan he went on, “Chou, my friend, Master Chou, you are finished; you will have to die.”
They rode back to the chief tent and wine was brought. They discussed military matters and P‘ang T‘ung held forth at length. Remarks and comments flowed freely between the two, and Ts‘ao formed an exalted opinion of his new adherent’s abilities and treated him with the greatest honour.
By and bye the guest seemed to have succumbed to the influence of many cups and said, “Have you any capable medical men in your army?”
“What for?” said Ts‘ao.
“There is a lot of illness among the marines and you ought to find some remedy.”
The fact was that at this time Ts‘ao’s men were suffering from the climate; many were vomiting and not a few had died. It was a source of great anxiety to him and when the newcomer suddenly mentioned it, of course he had to ask advice.
P‘ang T‘ung said, “Your marine force is excellent, but there is just one defect; it is not quite perfect.”
Ts‘ao pressed him to say where the imperfection lay.
“I have a plan to overcome the ailment of the men so that no one shall be sick and all fit for service.”
“What is this excellent scheme?” said Ts‘ao.
“The river is wide and the tides ebb and flow. The winds and waves are never at rest. Your men from the north are unused to ships and the motion makes them ill. If your ships, large and small, were classed and divided into thirties, or fifties, and joined up stem to stem by iron chains and boards spread across them, to say nothing of men being able to pass from one to the next, even horses could move about on them. If this were done, then there would be no fear of the wind and the waves and the rising and falling tides.”
Coming down from his seat Ts‘ao Ts‘ao thanked his guest saying, “I could never defeat the land of Wu without this scheme of yours.”
“That is my idea,” said P‘ang T‘ung, “it is for you to decide about it.”
Orders were then issued to call up all the blacksmiths and set them to work, night and day, forging iron chains and great bolts to lock together the ships. And the men rejoiced when they heard of the plan.
In Red Wall’s fight they used the flame,
The weapon here will be the same.
By P‘ang’s advice the ships were chained,
Else Chou had not that battle gained.
P‘ang Tʻung further told Ts‘ao Ts‘ao saying, “I know many bold men on the other side who hate Chou Yü. If I may use my little tongue in your service I can induce them to come over to you and if Chou Yü be left alone you can certainly take him captive. And Liu Pei is of no account.”
“Certainly if you could render me so great a service I would memorialise the throne and obtain for you one of the highest offices,” said Ts‘ao.
“I am not doing this for the sake of wealth or honours, but from a desire to succour mankind. If you cross the river I pray you be merciful.”
“I am Heaven’s means of doing right and could not bear to slay the people.”
P‘ang T‘ung thanked him and begged for a document that would protect his own family. Ts‘ao Ts‘ao asked where they lived. He replied that they lived by the river bank and Ts‘ao Ts‘ao ordered a protection to be prepared. Having sealed it he gave it to P‘ang T‘ung who said, “You should attack as soon as I have gone but do not let Chou Yü know anything.”
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao promised secrecy and the wily traitor took his leave. Just as he was about to embark he met a man in a Taoist robe, with a bamboo comb in his hair, who stopped him saying, “You are very bold. Huang Kai is planning to use the 'personal injury ruse' and K‘an Tsê has presented the letter of pretended desertion. You have proffered the fatal scheme of chaining the ships together lest the flames may not completely destroy them. This sort of mischievous work may have been enough to blind Ts‘ao Ts‘ao but I saw it all.”
P‘ang T‘ung become helpless with fear, his three hun flown away, his seven po scattered.
By guileful means one may succeed,
The victims too find friends in need.
The next chapter will tell who the stranger was.