twenty-one Japanese. But fifty-five versus
seventy-three?
The garrison door opens, and Uncle exits,
munching on a rice ball. “Cheonson, you still
here? It’s late.”
I scramble to my feet. “What did they
decide? Is the armada attacking tomorrow?”
“Yes. And,” Uncle points to himself, “I’m
leading it.”
My jaw drops. I can’t imagine a fisherman
leading an assault, and I’m equally baffled
that he’s so calm about it. “Why?”
“They need someone who can navigate in
and out of Gyonnaeryang fast. That’s me.”
“But,” I sputter, “you’re outnumbered—”
“Kim Joonsa, I believe I ordered you to
bed.”
I jump to see Admiral Yi at the garri-
son door. His gaze shifts to me, and after a
moment he tells Uncle, “Sleep. We need you
alert tomorrow. I’ll reassure your nephew on
your behalf.”
Uncle grins and salutes. “Aye, sir!”
As Uncle trots off, the Admiral walks
over. “You’re worried, son?”
I nod, too embar-
rassed to speak. During
the half hour the officers
questioned me, I saw
how deeply the admiral’s
men trusted his abilities.
Yet the present threat
seems beyond even his
resourcefulness.
The admiral, however,
is the picture of composure
as he says, “I understand.
Our adversary is strong.
But not invincible. And
we’ve three things in our
favor.”
I blink. “Three?”
“One, these are our
waters. We know them bet-
ter than the enemy. Two,”
he gestures toward the
boxy ships in the harbor,
“our warships are nimble.”COMPOSURE
IS CALM
SELF-
CONTROL.