“Stop making silly guesses, you two,” said Monkey, “and let's work out how we're going to get the master across.”
“I'd have no problem crossing that river,” said Pig. “I could ride a cloud or swim and be over it before you'd had time to eat a meal.”
“And I could be across in an instant on a cloud or by walking on the water,” said Friar Sand. “It's easy enough for us,” said Monkey, “but the problem is the master.”
“Disciples,” said Sanzang, “how wide is this river?”
“Three or four miles,” said Pig.
“You three decide which of you will carry me across,” said Sanzang.
“Pig can carry you,” said Monkey.
“It'd be hard,” said Pig. “If I tried carrying him by cloud we wouldn't get three feet above the ground. As the saying goes, mortals are heavier than mountains. And if I tried to swim with him on my back we'd both drown.”
As they were talking on the bank a man appeared upstream rowing a little boat. “Disciples,” said Sanzang with delight, “here's a boat. Let's ask the boatman to take us across.”
“Boatman,” shouted Friar Sand, “ferry us over.”
“This isn't a ferry,” replied the man on the boat, “and I couldn't possibly ferry you over.” “'Helpfulness first, in Heaven and earth,'“ said Friar Sand. “You may not be a ferryman, but we don't keep coming to pester you. We are Buddhists from the East sent by the emperor to fetch the scriptures. If you could have a little consideration and ferry us over we'd show you our gratitude.”
At this the boatman brought his craft over to the bank and said as he rested on his oars, “Masters, this boat's too small to take all of you over.” When Sanzang took a closer look he saw that the boat was carved from a single log with only enough room for two hollowed out in the middle.
“What shall we do?” Sanzang asked. “This boat can take us over in two trips,” said Friar Sand. At this Pig tried what he thought would be a clever way of saving himself some trouble and getting himself well in with the master. “Friar Sand,” he said, “you and Brother Monkey look after the luggage and the horse while I take the master over first. Then the man can come back for the horse. Brother Monkey can jump over the river.”
“Good idea,” nodded Monkey.
While the idiot supported the Tang Priest, the boatman pushed off and rowed straight into the main stream. Once they reached the middle there was a great roar as huge waves blotted out the heavens, and a terrible storm blew up. What a wind!
The skies were filled with angry clouds;
Towering black waves were whipped up in the river.
The flying sand from the river's banks was blotting out the sun;
All around the trees went down with cries that rose to heaven.
The churned-up rivers and seas struck terror into dragons,
While trees and flowers perished in the dust.
The blows were like the crash of thunder;
The mighty gusts all roared like hungry tigers.
Crabs, fish and prawns lay down to pray to heaven,
While birds and beasts were driven from their nests.
Disaster struck all boatmen on the lakes;
No human life was safe upon the seas.
The fisherman by the stream could barely hold his spear;
The river boatman could not punt his ferry.
Houses collapsed as bricks and tiles flew;
In the universal terror Mount Tai was shaken.
This wind was the work of the boatman, who was in fact a monster from the Black River. Watch as the Tang Priest and Pig plunge into the waters, boat and all. They disappeared without a trace, and nobody knew where they had been carried off to.
On the river bank Friar Sand and Monkey were desperate. “What are we to do?” they said. “The master keeps running into disaster. Now he's in trouble here at the Black River after escaping from the last demon and having a peaceful stretch of his journey.”
“Perhaps the boat capsized,” said Friar Sand, “let's look for him further downstream.”
“No,” said Monkey, “it can't be that. If the boat had capsized Pig can swim and he'd certainly have saved the master and raised him above the water. I noticed there was something a bit wrong about the boatman just now, and I'm sure that he caused the wind and has taken the master down under the water.”
“Why didn't you say so before?” asked Friar Sand. “Look after the horse and the luggage while I go to look for him in the water.”
“But the water doesn't look right either,” said Monkey. “I don't think you'll be able to.”
“It's nothing compared to the water in my Shifting Sands River,” said Friar Sand, “I can do it.”
The splendid monk took off his tunic, tied strips of cloth round his wrists and feet, and plunged into the waves with a great splash as he whirled his demon-quelling staff. As he strode through the waters he heard voices, so he drew aside to steal a look. He saw a pavilion, over the doors of which was written large PALACE OF THE GOD OF THE BLACK RIVER IN THE HENGYANG VALLEY.
He could hear a monster saying to himself as he sat there, “It's been hard work getting him, but this priest is a holy man who has cultivated his conduct for ten lives. One piece of his flesh is enough to make you immortal. I've waited for him long enough, and now my ambition has been fulfilled.”
Then he issued his orders: “Little ones, fetch the metal steamer at once, cook those two monks whole, then write an invitation and deliver it to my second uncle asking him over to eat them as a birthday feast.”
This was too much for Friar Sand's temper. He beat on the doors with his staff, yelling abusively, “Damned monsters, give me back my master the Tang Priest and my brother Pig this minute!” This gave the demons inside the doors such a fright that they ran in to report, “Disaster!”
“What disaster?” the old monster asked.
“There's a very sinister-looking monk outside beating at the outer doors and yelling for them.”
At this the monster sent for his armor, which the little demons brought in. When it was all properly tied on he went outside, holding his flail of steel pieces joined together by bamboo-shaped links. He was a vicious sight.
Round eyes gleamed fiery red in a square-cut face;
His blood-red lips were curled round an enormous mouth.
The whiskers of his beard were strands of wire;
The matted hair at his temples was cinnabar red.
He looked like the sinister Year Lord in his might,
With the angry face of furious thunder god.
The iron armor he wore was burnished with flowers,
And many a jewel was set in his golden helm.
Holding the flail of bamboo-shaped steel in his hand,
He stirred up a gale around him as he walked.
At birth he had been a creature of the waters,
But he left his native stream and turned to evil.
If you would like to know the true name of this spirit,
He used to be called the Little Alligator.
“Who's that beating at my doors?” the demon roared.
“I'll get you, you ignorant damned devil,” said Friar Sand. “Deceitful monster, disguising a yourself as a boatman and rowing over to snatch my master. Give him back at once and I'll spare your life.” The demon roared with laughter at this.
“Monk, you're throwing your life away,” said the monster. “Your master's mine now, and I'm going to steam him for a feast. Come here and see if you can beat me. If you can hold out for three rounds I'll give you your master back; but if you can't I'll cook you with him and you can forget all about going to the Western Heaven.”
Friar Sand was now in a towering rage, and he swung at the monster's head with his staff, which the monster parried with his flail. The pair of them had a fine underwater battle:
The demon-quelling staff and the bamboo-link flail;