The Red and Black Cargo Ship

THE RED AND BLACK CARGO SHIP

Fong Chan

"Stand up, salute, good bye father, sit down," Yau-Chih, the class
monitor, shouts out loudly. As Father Lau leaves the classroom,
Yau-Chih moves to the teacher's desk. He's supposed to maintain order
there until Mr. Wu, the math teacher, comes for the next class.
Instead, several of his fellow fifth graders rush up to surround
him.
"Please, please, Yau-Chih, show us your magic pen one more time!" begs
one of the boys. Flashing a cunning look, Yau-Chih pulls out a cheap
fountain pen filled with transparent ink and draws a popular comic
figure on a piece of paper. He holds up the paper and waves it dry;
then, he rubs the paper gently with cotton dipped in iodine solution.
Magically, the comic hero emerges, the lines of the figure in white and
the background in brown. The boys wow with delight. Suddenly, Mr. Wu
appears and the boys scramble back to their seats. Mr. Wu shakes his
head. "Yau-Chih, you're the class monitor. You are supposed to be an
authority figure. That is your job. It is not your job to be liked or
to be popular." With that, the mundane chores of arithmetic
begin.

After what seems like eternity, the bell rings and the class is
dismissed. Yau-Chih rushes like a whirlwind from the school building.
Outside the school, parents are waiting to pick up their children, the
well-to-do people with their chauffeurs insulating themselves in the
comfort of their cars, and the middle-class women loitering and
chattering in clusters. Yau-Chih walks briskly past the waiting
parents, crosses the busy street, and walks down the hill. Waiting
patiently in front of St. Mark's elementary school is Lai-Ying, his
younger sister. Yau-Chih greets her with a big smile, rubs her hair
playfully, and asks about her day. She smiles and extends her left hand
to Yau-Chih. He takes her hand and they stroll down noisy Basket
Weavers Road toward a place that sells curry fish ball for five cents
each. They stop and gawk at the food. Yau-Chih searches and finds five
cents in his pocket.
"Do you want one?"
Lai-Ying nods her head before he even finishes the question.
He washes the fish ball with sweet sauce and mustard sauce and hands it
to his sister. A smile grows on his face as he watches his
sister.

They approach the entranceway of the Shallow Water Pier Village, a slum
settled by refugees who fled hastily from communist China to Hong Kong.
The adults labor all day in nearby factories; their kids run wild
without supervision. Yau-Chih's face turns somber, his heart weary. He
walks with his sister up a steep slope, alleyways branching out
haphazardly leading to clusters of makeshift houses clinging to the
hillside. Yau-Chih turns into one of these alleyways, walks past a tiny
bridge, and treks up a few steps. At the top of the steps, a
rough-looking boy nicknamed Water Buffalo blocks the path. Water
Buffalo's parents are refugees from the rigid cold of the northern part
of China. Compared to other kids in the village, whose parents came
from the mild climates of southern China, Water Buffalo at thirteen
years of age looks imposing, big, and strong.
"Where do you think you're going, Yau-Chih?" Water Buffalo
snarls.
"We don't want any trouble. We just want to go home," says
Yau-Chih.
"You don't want any trouble" Water Buffalo mocks him. "You just want to
go home. You want to get past, crawl through my legs."
Yau-Chih bows his head, tacitly turns around. He and his sister start
on the long way home, Water Buffalo laughing raucously behind.

"Why are you home so late, Yau-Chih? You know you are not supposed to
wander the streets with your little sister," scolds his mother.
Yau-Chih turns and makes a face to his little sister. He swiftly puts
away the school bag and immediately proceeds to work, painting toy
Roman warriors for a nearby factory. Lai-Ying pulls up a chair and sits
quietly next to him, watching intently. When Yau-Chih is finished
painting a toy, Lai-Ying hands him an unpainted soldier from the
basket. As he paints, Yau-Chih's mind wanders to Never-Never Land.
Lately, he enjoys imagining himself as a Centurion doing battle with
Water Buffalo. After dinner, Yau-Chih finishes his homework and goes to
bed early.
A villager yells out loudly "Hurry, hurry, the food coupon man is
here!" A huge commotion engulfs the village. Yau-Chih rushes out of the
house and chases the coupon man. The slender Yau-Chih makes up for his
lack of size with swiftness and agility. He gets to the man quickly and
receives several coupons that can be exchanged for cooking oil, flour,
and dry noodles at the local parish church-all gifts from American
people. As Yau-Chih races home, Water Buffalo jumps out of nowhere and
begins to choke him. Yau-Chih clutches under Water Buffalo's clothing,
twisting and turning, and then wakes up gasping for air.
A recurring bad dream.
The truth is Water Buffalo has been harassing him ever since he refused
to give him the food coupons several days ago.

In the dark, Yau-Chih sees his father laboring away under the dim
light. "What are you doing in the middle of the night, father?" asks
Yau-Chih.
"Writing a commentary about politics in Red China. Mark this date son.
May 22, 1965. I proclaim this to the world that Chairman Mao is
plotting a comeback for power and there is going to be turmoil in
China." Then, his father murmurs quietly to himself, "Too bad my
superiors in Taiwan do not always appreciate my intelligence reports. I
should have sold the information to my American contacts."
To Yau-Chih, his father is an enigmatic figure who knows mysterious
things, like writing hidden messages using fluid produced from water
boiled with rice and revealing the messages by wiping the paper with
iodine; carving official government seals using a bar of soap; and
forging people's signature. "All it takes is a pair of keen eyes and
careful observation; everyone has certain defining features in their
signatures," the old man once told him. Yau-Chih thinks it will be fun
to learn to forge his father's signature for his weekly conduct report
in school. So, he listens to him carefully and practices
constantly.
"Are you writing this for a newspaper, father?"
"Don't be nosy, Yau-Chih. Go back to bed now."
"Father," Yau-Chih hesitates and the thought dangles. He wants his
father to help fix his problem with Water Buffalo, but he can't rally
the courage to ask.

For the fifth consecutive day, Yau-Chih must take the long way home to
avoid a confrontation with Water Buffalo. He paints toy soldiers for
several hours. Mother just went to the street market so he decides to
take a short break. Yau-Chih lives in a row house with four rooms, each
occupied by a different family. The walkway outside his house faces the
exposed part of a wall and the roof of the house below, an opium den.
The den has no windows but movable panels, allowing addicts to quickly
flee when authorities come for their occasional arrests. Yau-Chih pulls
a panel slightly ajar. He peeks inside and sees several bony men and
women lying side by side on a long pad. A middle age woman pays for a
small jar of opium paste and picks a spot on the mat. She uses a small
spoon to scoop up a small amount of paste, shapes it into a ball with
her hands, places it carefully on the silver tip of the opium pipe, and
heats it gently under a tiny lamp. She rests her heads sideways on a
hard pillow and inhales. In that instant she is sated. With the faint
lights of the opium lamps dancing around like candles in a church and
the ghost-like figures cloistering around, Yau-Chih finds the scene
surreal, Zen-like.

Lai-Ying wants her chance to view and is losing patience. She badgers
him, pulling and swinging Yau-Chih's hand wildly. Yau-Chih yields to
her demands and lifts her on to his shoulder. Suddenly, his father
appears. Yau-Chih has never seen his father look this way: so pale,
scared, hassled even.
"Yau-Chih, you are not supposed to let your sister watch people smoking
opium," he scolds absently, rushing into the room. He takes documents
from a drawer and stops to catch his breath. He puts his hands on
Yau-Chih's shoulders and stares into his son's eyes. "I think I have
been followed by agents of the Special Branch of the Hong Kong Royal
Police. Tell your mother I have to hide. You are a big boy now. Take
care of your mother and Lai-Ying in my absence. Make me proud." He
takes fifty dollars from his pocket and gestures as if to hand it over
to Yau-Chih. He hesitates and puts it back into his pocket. A nod is
the only response Yau-Chih can summon.
His father rushes toward the communal kitchen in the back of the house.
He jumps out of the kitchen window down to the ravine below. He
struggles through thick grasses, and then dashes from rock to rock
across a creek of untreated sewage flowing toward Basket Bay. Yau-Chih
watches the shadowy figure climb the steep creek bank and vanish. He
returns to the front of the house, and is startled by two men who look
like thugs. They describe his father and ask him whether he has seen
such a man. Yau-Chih regains his composure and replies calmly that he
has not. The men turn to Lai-Ying and try to talk to her. Suddenly,
inside the opium den, someone trips an alarm wire, panels swing
violently open and addicts rush panic-stricken like chickens flying
from their coop. In the chaos, Yau-Chih grabs Lai-Ying's hand and
sprints from the house.

For the tenth day, Yau-Chih takes the long way home to avoid Water
Buffalo. It is five days since his father has vanished. Yau-Chih asks
his mother anxiously, "Do you know when father will be back?"
"Your father is hiding in Taiwan." She points to the harbor. "When you
see a red and black cargo ship, it will be the time he comes
home."
Later in the day, Yau-Chih picks up his sister at school. Instead of
taking the Basket Weavers Road home, he turns right on East Main
Street.
"Where are we going, Yau-Chih?"
"Ah Kung Ahm."
Beyond the open market, they turn onto a narrow path to the waterfront.
On the far side of Ah Kung Ahm -- the rock with the shape of an old man
-- a clear view opens of the Carp's Gate, the eastern entrance to Hong
Kong harbor.
"Why are we here?" asks Lai-Ying.
"To wait for a red and black cargo ship to come," replies
Yau-Chih.
"Oh." Lai-Ying seems satisfied with the answer.
For several days, they come after school and sit patiently watching
cargo ships entering and leaving the busy harbor. His mother finally
loses her patience and yells at him when he comes home late again.
"Yau-Chih, what's wrong with you? You haven't been meeting your quota
lately. How many times do I have to tell you that you're not supposed
to wander the street with your sister?" Yau-Chih stays up late to
finish painting his toy soldiers.

It is a lazy Sunday afternoon. Yau-Chih is helping his mother make
vegetable dumplings for tonight's dinner. Mr. Cheung, father's
superior, appears unexpectedly at the door. His suit was expensive when
it was new, but its outdated cut betrays his provincial origin and sets
him in stark contrast to the fashionable Hong Kong professionals. He
gives Yau-Chih a dollar and instructs him to go buy a soda for himself
and his sister. When they come back, Mr. Cheung is gone. Mother looks
distraught. She takes from underneath her bed a big glass jar full of
sweet sticky rice wine. She has learned how to brew this wine from her
peasant father. She breaks open the seal, and starts to drink and weep.
Yau-Chih tries to ask her why she is crying but she motions him away.
By dinnertime, she is drunk. Yau-Chih helps her to bed and she falls
asleep. He boils some dumplings to feed his sister for dinner. Later,
he tucks Lai-Ying to sleep but finds himself sleepless. He listens to
the rhythm of his sister's breathing in the dark and stares at the
ceiling.

His mind spins and soon dissociates from physicality. He watches
himself making his way to the waterfront to watch cargo ships
traversing the harbor. He pays no attention as a middle-aged man sits
next to him. Silently, they watch the traffic in the harbor.
The man speaks: "Do you know why your mother told you to look for a red
and black cargo ship?" That voice! Yau-Chih turns and finds the speaker
a man who vaguely resembles his father. However, it is difficult to
tell because the stranger's face has been altered to almost
indiscernible from what looks like severe beatings. Yau-Chih decides to
remain silent.
The man points to the harbor. "See, it is dotted with black and red
cargo ships and not red and black cargo ships! That's because it's a
custom to paint black cargo ships red below the cargo line. Your mother
told you to look for a phantom because she wanted to give you hope for
my return."
Yau-Chih hesitates. Then, he stares intently at the man. Finally,
Yau-Chih bursts out, "Father!" and hugs the man tightly in
excitement.
"You know, son, the red and black cargo ship is never going to come,"
his father calmly continues.
Yau-Chih looks confused.
"Son, you might have guessed. I was a spy for the Taiwanese
government."
Yau-Chih looks at his father and nods timidly. Yau-Chih's father was a
political officer in the old Kuomintang (KMT) government in Mainland
China. When the communists took over China in a flash in 1949, the
Nationalist government hurriedly retreated to Taiwan and Yau-Chih's
father fled to Hong Kong. He was ordered to settle in Hong Kong, a
British colony, because of its close proximity to Red China. His job
was to gather intelligence about power struggles behind the Iron
Curtain.
His father lights up a cigarette and says dispiritedly, "I was caught
by secret agents of the Special Branch of the Hong Kong Royal Police
two days after escaping them in our house. They detained me in their
Devil Star Ridge headquarters. An overzealous agent debriefed me. He
stripped me of all my clothing, put me in a cell with a stainless steel
bed, and turned up the air conditioner. I was deprived of food and
water. When I tried to sleep, he banged a gong. He beat me repeatedly.
I refused to talk and he debriefed me too long." Yau-Chih's father
pauses to take a puff of his cigarette. Then he laments, "I died of
hypothermia. My government cut a deal with the Hong Kong government and
they shipped my body back to Taiwan."
"No, I don't want to hear it! Say it's not true, father!" cries
Yau-Chih.
The man touches Yau-Chih's head gently. "Don't feel bad. I was buried
in the company of my comrades who also gave their lives to the cause of
the ruling KMT party. I am happy now." He takes another drag of the
cigarette and painstakingly blows a circle with each puff to form a
chain of blue silky smoke. As the blue rings dissipate faintly into the
sky, he says to Yau-Chih, "You are a free spirit but you are a gentle
soul. You are kind, considerate, and loyal. I love you for that. I
regret that in life I did not take the time to know you better." The
man's eyes become misty.
Yau-Chih pats him on the shoulder. "That's okay, father."
His father continues. "But I worry about you. You are too gentle for
this world. You must learn to be strong."
"But I don't want to be strong!" Yau-Chih protests.
His father pauses for a long moment, contemplating Yau-Chih's
response, idly watching cargo ships plying the shipping lanes through
the harbor, "Just like avoiding your problem with Water Buffalo?"
Yau-Chih bows his head.
"Son, I want you to listen to me. Don't ever let people know what's
dear to you because they will use it to manipulate you. Never let
people know that you are afraid for they will crush you. And never run
away from your problems."
"But I am afraid of Water Buffalo. What should I do?"
"You have to find your own solution, son. And you will."
Yau-Chih's father rises and walks away. Yau-Chih reaches out and tries
to grab him.
He awakes. He's in bed, dreaming again.
He turns and finds his sister sleeping next to him. Her head rests on
his left arm, her face soft in the moonlight. She looks happy and
content. He listens to the rhythm of her breathing in the dark. He
turns and stares at the ceiling.

During recess Yau-Chih goes to the school chapel and he prays for
courage. As usual, he prays to the Virgin Mary because he feels greater
rapport with her. After school he takes Lai-Ying directly home. They
walk past the wooden bridge and up the steps.
Lai-Ying hesitates, and then stops, "Aren't we supposed to turn left
here? I'm scared."
Yau-Chih shakes his head; "We will go this way today."
Sure enough, Water Buffalo is there, waiting. "Who said you can come
through here?"
"This is our way home," Yau-Chih says calmly.
Water Buffalo hinges forward and hits Yau-Chih on the chest: "You
little brat, you take this path only if I let you."
Yau-Chih turns and takes his sister around the corner and tells her to
sit there and wait. "Don't look!" he says. Then, he walks back to face
Water Buffalo who immediately shoves him. Yau-Chih shoves right back.
Punches begin to rain on Yau-Chih's face and body. He takes a right
hook and then a left hook from Water Buffalo and his eyes begin to
swell. He wildly punches back. He takes several punches to the stomach
and a kick to the groin. Another punch lands on his right temple. He
feels dizzy and falls to the ground, then narrowly dodges a kick as he
collects himself and stands. Water Buffalo attacks furiously. Yau-Chih
falls and stands up, falls and stands up, and falls and stands up to
still more punches before falling again. In the maelstrom, life has no
endearing value to him and he is fearless. His face is misshapen and
blood drips from his eyes, nose, and mouth. Finally, Water Buffalo,
exhausted, sits down on the ground to catch his breath. Then, he warns
Yau-Chih but this time he sounds tentative. "Get out of here, you
lunatic. And, ah, don't let me see your ugly face again."
With that, Yau-Chih stands erect and turns to face Water Buffalo.
Sitting on the ground, Water Buffalo looks small and frail. Yau-Chih
whispers softly but affirmatively to Water Buffalo, "You'll see me
tomorrow. This is my way home." He calls his little sister. She runs to
him and holds him tightly, tilting her head up to glimpse at him.
Yau-Chih tries to give her a wink but his face is so swollen, the wink
is barely recognizable. She sobs, but somehow manages a smile in the
same moment. Slowly, the brother and sister walk past Water Buffalo and
begin their short journey home.