# San Kuo/Volume 1/Chapter 48

CHAPTER XLVIII.
Banquet on the Yangtse; Ts‘ao Ts‘ao‘s Song: the Northern Men Fight on the Chained Ships.
In the last chapter P‘ang T‘ung was brought up with a sudden shock when some one seized him and said he understood. Upon turning to look at the man he saw it was Hsü Shu, an old friend, and his heart revived. Looking around and seeing no one near he said, “It would be a pity if you upset my plan; the fate of the people of all the eighty-one districts is in your hands.”
Hsü Shu smiled. “And what of the fate of these eightythree legions of men and horse?” said he.
“Do you intend to wreck my scheme?”
“I have never forgotten the kindness of Uncle Liu, nor my oath to avenge the death of my mother at Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s hands. I have said I would never think out a plan for him. So am I likely to wreck yours now, brother? But I have followed the army thus far and after they shall have been defeated, good and bad will suffer alike and how can I escape? Tell me how I can secure safety and I sew up my lips and go away.”
P‘ang T‘ung smiled, “If you are as high-minded as that there is no great difficulty.”
“Still I wish you would instruct me.”
So P‘ang T‘ung whispered something in his ear, which seemed to please Hsü Shu greatly, for he thanked him most cordially and took his leave. Then P‘ang T‘ung betook himself to his boat and left for the southern shore.
His friend gone, Hsü Shu mischievously spread certain rumours in the camp, and next day were to be seen everywhere men in small groups, some talking, others listening, heads together and ears stretched out, till the camps seemed to buzz. Some of the men went to Ts‘ao Ts‘ao and told him that a rumour was running around that Han Sui and Ma T'êng had attacked the capital. This troubled Ts‘ao Ts‘ao, who called together his advisers to council. Said he, “The only anxiety I have felt in this expedition was about the possible doings of Han Sui and Ma Tiêng. Now there is a rumour running among the men, and though I know not whether it be true or false, it is necessary to be on one’s guard. ”
At this point Hsü Shu said, “You have been kind enough to give me an office, Sir, and I have really done nothing in return. If I may have three companies I will march at once to San Pass ​and guard it. If there be any pressing matter I will report at once.”
“If you would do this I should be quite at my ease. There are already men beyond the Pass, who will be under your command, and now I will give you three companies of horse and foot and Tsang Pa shall lead the van and march quickly.”
Hsü Shu took leave of the Minister and left in company with Tsang Pa. This was P‘ang’s scheme to secure the safety of Hsü Shu.
A poem says:—
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao marched south, but at his back There rode the fear of rear attack. P‘ang Tung’s good counsel Hsü Shu took, And thus the fish escaped the hook.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s anxiety diminished after he had thus sent away Hsü Shu. Then he rode round all the camps, first the land forces and then the naval. He boarded one of the large ships and thereon set up his standard. The naval camps were arranged along two lines and every ship carried a thousand bows and crossbows.
While he remained with the fleet occurred the full moon of the eleventh month of the twelfth year of “Established Tranquillity.” The sky was clear; there was no wind and the river lay unruffled. He prepared a great banquet, with music, and thereto invited all his captains. As evening drew on the moon rose over the eastern hills in its immaculate beauty and beneath it lay the broad belt of the river like a band of pure white silk. It was a great assembly and all the guests were clad in gorgeous silks and embroidered robes and the arms of the fighting men glittered in the moonlight. The officers, civil and military, were seated in their proper order of precedence.
The setting, too, was exquisite. The Nanping hills were outlined as in a picture; the boundaries of Ch‘aisang lay in the east; the river showed west as far as Hsiak‘ou; on the south lay the Hills of Fan, on the north was the “Black” Forest. The view stretched wide on every side.
Ts‘ao’s heart was jubilant and he harangued the assembly, “My one aim since I enlisted my first small band of volunteers has been the removal of evil from the State and I have sworn to cleanse the country and restore tranquillity. Now there is only left this land of Chiangnan to withstand me. I am at the head of a hundred legions. I depend upon you, gentlemen, and have no doubt of my final success. After I have subdued Chiangnan there will be no trouble in all the country. Then we shall enjoy wealth and honour and revel in peace.”
They rose in a body and expressed their appreciation saying, “We trust that you may soon report complete victory and we shall all repose in the shade of your good fortune.”
​In his elation Ts‘ao Ts‘ao bade the servants bring more wine and they drank till late at night. Warmed and mellowed, the host pointed to the south bank saying, “Chou Yü and Lu Su know not the appointed time. Heaven is aiding me bringing upon them the misfortune of the desertion of their most trusted friends.”
“O Minister, say nothing of these things lest they become known to the enemy,” said Hsün Yu.
But the Minister only laughed. “You are all my trusty friends,” said he, “both officers and humble attendants. Why should I refrain?”
Pointing to Hsiak‘ou he continued, “You do not reckon for much with your puny force, Liu Pei and Chuko Liang. How foolish of you to attempt to shake T‘aishan! I am now fifty-four and if I get Chiangnan I shall have the wherewithal to rejoice. In the days of long ago the late noble Ch‘iao and I were great friends and we came to an agreement on certain matters, for I knew his two daughters were lovely beyond words. Then by some means they became wives to Sun Ts'ê and Chou Yü. But now my palace of rest is built on the Chang River and victory over the south will mean that I marry these two fair women. I will put them in my palace and they shall rejoice my declining years. My desires will then be completely attained.”
He smiled at the anticipation.
Tu Mu, a poet of the T‘ang Dynasty, in one poem says:—
A broken halberd buried in the sand, With deep rust eaten, Loud tells of ancient battles on the strand, When Ts‘ao was beaten. Had eastern winds Chou’s plan refused to aid And fan the flame, Two captives fair, locked in the Bronze Bird’s shade, Had gone to shame.
But suddenly amid the merriment was heard the hoarse cry of a raven flying toward the south.
“Why does the raven thus cry in the night?” said Ts‘ao to those about him.
“The moon is so bright that he thinks it is day,” said they, “and so he leaves his tree.”
Ts‘ao laughed; by this time he was quite intoxicated. He set up his spear in the prow of the ship and poured a libation into the river and then drank three brimming goblets. As he lowered the spear he said, “This is the spear that broke up the Yellow Turbans, captured Lü Pu, destroyed Yüan Shao and subdued his brother, whose armies are now mine. In the north it reached to Liaotung and it stretched out over the whole south. It has never failed in its task. The present ​scene moves me to the depths and I will sing a song in which you shall accompany me.
And so he sang:—
When goblets are brimming then song is near birth, But life is full short and has few days of mirth, Life goes as the dew drops fly swiftly away, 'Neath the glance of the glowing hot ruler of day. Man’s life may be spent in the noblest emprise, But sorrowful thoughts in his heart oft arise. Let us wash clean away the sad thoughts that intrude, With bumpers of wine such as Tu K‘ang once brewed. Gone is my day of youthful fire And still ungained is my desire. The deer feed on the level plain And joyful call, then feed again. My noble guests are gathered round, The air is trilled with joyful sound. Bright my future lies before me, As the moonlight on this plain; But I strive in vain to reach it. When shall I my wish attain? None can answer; and so sadness Grips my inmost heart again. Far north and south, Wide east and west, We safety seek; Vain is the quest. Man’s heart oft yearns For converse sweet, And my heart burns When old friends greet. The stars are paled by the full moon’s light, The raven wings his southward flight, And thrice he circles round a tree, No place thereon to rest finds he. They weary not the mountains of great height, The waters deep of depth do not complain, Duke Chou no leisure found by day or night Stern toil is his who would the Empire gain.
The song made they sang it with him and were all exceedingly merry; save one guest who suddenly said, “When the great army is on the point of battle and lives are about to be risked, why do you, O Minister, speak such ill words?”
Ts‘ao turned quickly toward the speaker, who was Liu Fu, the Governor of Yangchou. This Liu sprang from Hofei. When first appointed to his post he had gathered in the terrified and frightened people and restored order. He had founded schools and encouraged the people to till the land. He had long served under Ts‘ao Ts‘ao and rendered valuable service.
When he spoke Ts‘ao dropped his spear to the level and said, “What ill-omened words did I use?”
“You spoke of the moon paling the stars and the raven flying southward without finding a resting place. These are ill-omened words.”
​“How dare you try to belittle my endeavour?” cried Ts‘ao, very wrathful; and with that he smote Liu Fu with his spear and slew him.
The assembly broke up and the guests dispersed in fear and confusion. Next day, when he had recovered from his drunken bout, Ts‘ao Ts‘ao was very grieved at what he had done and when the murdered man’s son came to crave the body of his father for burial, Ts‘ao wept and expressed his sorrow.
“I am guilty of your father’s death; I was drunk yesterday. I regret the deed exceedingly. Your father shall be interred with the honours of a minister of the highest rank.”
He sent an escort of soldiers to take the body home for burial.
A few days after this the two leaders of the naval force came to say the ships were all connected together by chains as had been ordered, and all was now ready. They asked for the command to start.
Thereupon the leaders of both land and naval forces were assembled on board a large ship in the centre of the squadron to receive orders. The various armies and squadrons were distinguished by different flags, the central naval squadron, yellow; the leading squadron, red; the rear squadron, black; the left, blue, and the right, white. On shore the horsemen had a red flag; for the vanguard, black; blue and white for the rearguard and the wings respectively. Hsiahou Tun and Ts‘ao Hung were in reserve and the general staff was under the leadership of Hsü Ch‘u and Chang Liao. The other leaders were ordered to remain in camp, but ready for action.
All being ready, the squadron drums beat the roll thrice and the ships sailed out under a strong north-west wind on a trial cruise and when they got among the waves they were found to be as steady and immoveable as the dry land itself. The northern men showed their delight at the absence of motion by capering and flourishing their weapons. The ships moved on, the squadrons keeping quite distinct. Fifty light cruisers sailed to and fro keeping order and urging progress.
Ts‘ao Ts‘ao watched his navy from the General’s terrace and was delighted with their evolutions and manœuvres. Surely this meant complete victory. He ordered the recall and the squadrons returned in perfect order to their base.
Then Ts‘ao Ts‘ao went to his tent and summoned his advisers. He said, “If Heaven had not been on my side, should I have got this excellent plan from the Phoenix Chick? Now that the ships are attached firmly to each other, one may traverse the river as easily as walking on firm earth.”
“The ships are firmly attached to each other,” said Ch‘êng Yü, “but you should be prepared for an attack by fire so that they can scatter to avoid it.”
​The General laughed. “You look a long way ahead,” said he, “but you see what cannot happen.”
“He speaks much to the point” said Hsün Yü, “why do you laugh at him?”
“Any one using fire depends upon the wind. This is now winter and only west winds blow. You will get neither east nor south winds. I am on the north-west and the enemy is on the south bank. If they use fire they will destroy themselves. I have nothing to fear. If it was the tenth moon, or early spring, I would provide against fire.”
“The Minister is indeed wise,” said the others in chorus. “None can equal him.”
“With northern men unused to shipboard I could never have crossed the river but for this plan,” said Ts‘ao.
Then he saw two of the secondary leaders stand up and they said, “We are from the north, but we are also sailors. Pray give us a small squadron and we will seize some of the enemy’s flags and drums for you that we may prove ourselves adepts on the water.”
The speakers were two men who had served under Yüan Shao, named Chiao Ch‘u and Chang Nan.
“I do not think naval work would suit you two, born and brought up in the north,” said Ts‘ao. “The Chiangnan men are thoroughly accustomed to ships. You should not regard your lives as a child’s plaything.”
They cried, “If we fail, treat us according to army laws.”
“The fighting ships are all chained together, there are only small, twenty-men boats free. They are unsuitable for fighting.' ”
“If we took large ships where would be the wonderful in what we will do? No; give us a score of the small ships and we will take half each and go straight to the enemy’s naval port. We will just seize a flag, slay a leader and come home.”
“I will let you have the twenty ships and half a company of good, vigorous men with long spears and stiff crossbows. Early to-morrow the main fleet shall make a demonstration on the river and I will also tell Wên P‘ing to support you with thirty ships.”
The two men retired greatly elated. Next morning, very early, food was prepared and at the fifth watch all was ready for a start. Then from the naval camp rolled out the drums and the gongs clanged, as the ships moved out and took up their positions, the various flags fluttering in the morning breeze. And the two intrepid leaders with their squadron of small scouting boats went down the lines and out into the stream.
Now a few days before the sound of Ts‘ao Ts‘ao’s drums had been heard on the southern bank and the watchers had seen their enemy’s fleet manœuvring in the open river. Chou ​Yü had watched the manœuvres from the top of a hill till the fleet had gone in again. So when the sound of drums was again heard all the army went up the hills to watch the fleet. All they saw was a squadron of small ships bounding over the waves. But as they came nearer the news was taken to the leader who called for volunteers to go out against them. Han Tang and Chou T‘ai offered themselves. They were accepted and orders were issued to the camps to remain ready for action but not to move till told.
Han and Chou sailed out each with a small squadron of five ships in line.
The two braggarts from the north really only trusted to their boldness and luck. Their ships came down under the powerful strokes of the oars and as they neared the two leaders put on their heart-protectors, gripped their spears and each took his station in the prow of the leading ship of his division. Chiao’s ship led and as soon as he came near enough his men began to shoot at Han Tang, who fended off the arrows with his buckler. Chiao twirled his long spear as he engaged his opponent. But, at the first thrust, he was killed.
His comrade with the other ships was coming up with great shouts when Chou T‘ai sailed up at an angle and these two squadrons began shooting arrows at each other in clouds. Chou T‘ai fended off the arrows with his shield and stood gripping his sword firmly till his ships came within a few feet of the enemy’s ships when he leaped across and cut down Chang Nan. Chang’s dead body fell into the water. Then the battle became confused and the attacking ships rowed hard to get away. The southerners pursued but soon came in sight of Wên P‘ing’s supporting fleet. Once more the ships engaged and the men fought with each other.
Chou Yü with his officers stood on the summit of a mountain and watched his own and the enemy ships out on the river. The flags and the ensigns were all in perfect order. Then he saw Wên P‘ing and his own fleets engaged in battle and soon it was evident that the former was not a match for his own sailors. Wên P‘ing turned about to retire, Chou and Han pursued. Chou Yü fearing lest his sailors should go too far, then hoisted the white flag of recall.
To his officers Chou Yü said, “The masts of their ships stand thick as reeds; Ts‘ao himself is full of wiles; how can we destroy him?”
No one replied, for just then the great yellow flag that flapped in the breeze in the middle of Ts‘ao’s fleet suddenly fell over into the river.
Chou Yü laughed. “That is a wad omen,” said he.
Then an extra violent blast of wind came by and the waves rose high and beat upon the bank. A corner of his own flag ​flicked Chou Yü on the cheek and suddenly a thought flashed through his mind. He uttered a loud cry, staggered and fell backward. They picked him up; there was blood upon his lips and he was unconscious. Presently, however, he revived.
And once he laughed, then gave a cry, T‘is hard to ensure a victory.
Chou Yü's fate will appear as the story unfolds.