When the last of them, Stinky Fu, was snoring, I sneaked out from behind the barrel. The last waking soul on deck.
The oil lamp had gone out, and the waves lapped the broadside in pitch black. Like a scurrying rat, I went over the deck to your cage and the dark, hunched shape of you.
‘Ah Tom,’ I whispered. ‘Shuush. Quiet. Don’t speak.’
You woke from your shallow sleep at once. Your eyes opened and your neck bones cricked as you turned to look through the bars of bamboo, crooked hump of nose and straggly beard standing out in the shadows.
‘Ah Tom,’ I whispered, ‘it’s me, Ah Qin. Do you remember me?’
Your night-blind gaze flailed through the dark at me. ‘Who?’
‘Ah Qin. You saved me from the sailors who wanted to cut my throat. Remember?’
I could smell the days lost at sea on you. Barbarian sweat, wrung out of you by the sun and blown stale by the breeze.
‘No,’ you said, ‘I don’t. .’
But I knew the thieving ten-year-old Ah Qin was somewhere in that head of yours. Your memory needed a prod, that was all.
‘I went with you to the British factory,’ I said, ‘to your room with the books. I told you about the Tanka people, and Mazu the Sea Goddess. .’
You stared at me, your eyes straining through the dark. Then remembering crept into your voice.
‘I waited for you the next day,’ you said, ‘but you didn’t come. You were younger then. A child. Now you are. . older. .’
Older. Uglier. Stinkier. Thin as bones. Not much better than Three Pipes Qin before he drowned. But I had no time to waste grieving for the Ah Qin I used to be.
‘I wanted to go back to you,’ I said, ‘but Mazu came to say I had to go to sea. So I went to sea with Fisherman Po and was a fisherboy for six years. Then Captain Yang’s gang came on our fishing boat, murdered Old Po and brought me aboard the Scourge. I’m not a sea robber, but a prisoner like you.’
In his cage, Ah Jack whimpered like a dog having a bad dream.
‘I’m sorry, Ah Qin,’ you said.
But not that sorry, I could tell. A Tanka ends up on the Scourge — well, that’s a pity. British devils like you and Ah Jack end up here, it’s a tragedy. But, to tell you the truth, I was sadder for you and Ah Jack too. It cracked the callus of my heart to see you cramped in that cage.
Stinky Fu cursed and coughed in his sleep, and the Scourge tilted, the timbers and mast creaking as the Sea Goddess breathed on the back of my neck.
‘Listen, Ah Tom,’ I said. ‘Mazu put your rowboat in the path of the Scourge for a reason.’
‘And what is that, Ah Qin?’
‘You saved my life once before. Now it’s my turn to save yours. Mazu has fated it.’
There was a long pause from you.
‘And how will you do that, Ah Qin?’
‘Mazu will tell me when the time comes.’
Another pause.
‘I see.’
Though you hadn’t much faith in me, knowing you had an ally on the Scourge must’ve put some ease into your mind, for you leant your head against the bamboo bars and dozed off. I stayed by your cage for a while, worrying over you as you slept, until the Sea Goddess blew on the back of my neck, telling me what to do next.
Down the trapdoor to the galley I went, into the dank, stinking pit of Yang’s cabin. Treading carefully so as not to creak the wooden boards, I stepped over Yang and his gang, snoring on rattan mats, my heart going berserk with fear. But the ruffians sleep deepest in the hour before dawn, and they slumbered on as I stole what Mazu told me to and slipped out.
Back on the deck of the Scourge I hid what I’d stolen in my robes, and prayed to Mazu to be long gone from the junk before they knew what was missing.
XII
The sun was midway in the sky when you and Ah Jack were let out of the quail cages. The galley slaves brought you bowls of rice, and the sea ruffians crowded round to stare at the gweilo at feeding time. Captain Yang came up in his turban and robes, and spoke to Pockmark Wan. The plan was to row you and Ah Jack to Hermit Crab Cove, then walk you across the mudflats to the authorities in Canton. The patrol boats on the Pearl River were as bad as sea bandits, and would steal the British devils from the Red Flag Fleet and reap the reward for themselves. The four hundred dollars was Captain Maggot’s alone.
They needed men to row the scrambling dragon to Hermit Crab Cove, and Pockmark Wan chose oarsmen, pointing at chests. You. You. You. I rushed to the fore, and thrust my chest in the path of his grime-blackened forefinger. You. Though I was not one of the gang, I had been chosen. The Sea Goddess’s intervention, no doubt.
When this was settled, Captain Maggot strutted up to you, puffing his chest out to make up for the fact he was several heads shorter, waving his dagger about. He rubbed the cotton of your shirt between his grubby fingers, as though to check it was up to his high standards, then, gesturing with his dagger, said, ‘Take off your shirts!’ You and Ah Jack looked at each other with panicking eyes. But Yang had a dagger, and not wanting to be stabbed, you unbuttoned your shirts and handed them over to the outstretched hands of his lackeys. Then you stood there, bare-chested before the leering crowd.
‘Look how hairy these barbarians are!’ Captain Yang smirked. ‘More like beasts than men!’
Ah Jack’s chest was broad and muscular, with whorls of dark hair. You were narrower, pale and freckled, with an overhang of belly. Both of you had more meat on you than any of us Hakkas and Tankas, and you couldn’t count your ribs like ours. ‘Cow’s milk bulks them up,’ one of the sea ruffians noted.
Chief Yang gestured again with his dagger. Off with your belts. Off with your trousers. Off with your boots. He wanted them all. I lowered my head in shame as you unbuckled your belt and slid your trousers down your hairy legs. The sea bandits grinned at the sight of you stripped to your underwear.
‘Hairy down to their toes!’ they laughed. ‘Like beasts! Like beasts!’
The sun beat down on the Scourge and waves slapped on the broadside, tilting the deck. You stooped and lowered your head, but Ah Jack stood with his chin up, refusing to part with his dignity. Captain Yang grinned at this, then reached to stroke Ah Jack’s brown curls. The lecherous look in Maggot’s eyes made my guts writhe, for now there was no denying what he wanted. Ah Jack looked murderous, but looks can’t defend a man the way weapons can, and there was nothing he could do as Yang stroked his neck.
‘Down on your knees,’ Captain Yang said.
Ah Jack had no understanding of what was being said to him, but you did.
‘How much money do you want, Captain?’ you cried out desperately. ‘I swear we will give you any amount you want if you leave him be!’
Chief Yang didn’t even look at you. One of Yang’s men jerked your head back by your hair to shut you up.
‘On your knees,’ Chief Yang repeated. ‘Down!’