by Ian Hamilton
Also by Ian Hamilon
The Ava Lee Series
The Dragon Head of Hong Kong: The Ava Lee Prequel (e-book)
The Water Rat of Wanchai
The Disciple of Las Vegas
The Wild Beasts of Wuhan
The Red Pole of Macau
The Scottish Banker of Surabaya
The Two Sisters of Borneo
The King of Shanghai
The Princeling of Nanjing
The Couturier of Milan
The Imam of Tawi-Tawi
The Goddess of Yantai
Copyright © 2019 Ian Hamilton
Published in Canada in 2019 and the USA in 2019 by House of Anansi Press Inc.
www.houseofanansi.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
House of Anansi Press is committed to protecting our natural environment. As part of our efforts, the interior of this book is printed on paper that contains 100% post-consumer recycled fibres, is acid-free, and is processed chlorine-free.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Hamilton, Ian, 1946–, author
Fate / Ian Hamilton.
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-4870-0386-9 (softcover). —ISBN 978-1-4870-0387-6 (EPUB). —
ISBN 978-1-4870-0388-3 (Kindle)
I. Title.
PS8615.A4423F38 2018 C813'.6 C2017-905981-5
C2017-905982-3
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017953511
Book design: Alysia Shewchuk
We acknowledge for their financial support of our publishing program the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council, and the Government of Canada.
For Kristine Wookey, who has been incredibly generous with her time and advice, and whose judgment I trust.
( PROLOGUE )
June 1959
Chow Tung stood on the shoreline staring across Shenzhen Bay at the flickering lights of Yuen Long four kilometres away. The water that lapped at his feet was black and gave off an odour that he couldn’t identify, but it was strong enough to make him breathe through his mouth. It was two a.m. and there was a chill in the air.
Yuen Long was in the New Territories, a part of Hong Kong. Chow and ten companions were in a village on the outskirts of Shekou, in the People’s Republic of China. They were preparing to swim the four kilometres that separated the two towns and two very different realities. By the time the sun comes up, I’ll either be dead or starting an entirely new life, he thought.
“I’m scared,” said Lin Gui-San, who was standing next to him. Her hand gripped his.
“We all are. It would be strange if we weren’t,” Chow said, squeezing her hand in return.
Chow, Gui-San, and five others were from the same village, Changzhai, near Wuhan in Hubei province, about nine hundred kilometres north of Shekou. The remaining four were from Dongguan, a city about eighty kilometres northwest of where they stood.
Chow was twenty-five and Gui-San twenty-four. They had met at the Changzhai village school eight years before, when Gui-San’s father was sent there from a neighbouring town to become head teacher. There was an immediate attraction and they quickly bonded. Since then, their relationship had survived separations while they attended different universities and took whatever temporary jobs they could find. But they had been together for the entire past six months; their plan was to marry when they reached Hong Kong.
Their decision to flee China was fuelled by the madness of Mao Zedong’s Great Leap Forward. Two years before, Mao had instituted his misguided program of communal and agrarian reform, resulting in the deaths of millions of Chinese from mass starvation. The period was already being referred to by the peasantry as “the years of slow death” and “the bitter years.”
Gui-San and Chow were now the only living members of their families. When Gui-San’s mother died, they no longer had a reason to remain in Changzhai. And so they made a commitment to each other to do whatever was necessary to get to Hong Kong.
“All we have now is each other. You and I are the beginning of a new family,” Chow had said.
“And we’ll start making it a larger family as soon as we get to the other side.”
The task of getting to Hong Kong was too challenging for the two of them to do it alone, so they spent weeks gathering a group of like-minded people from the village, most of them young, all of them desperate. They recruited five: three men, Nui, Fa, and Tam, and two woman, Mei-Lin and Ai. Together the group rented a truck and driver found by Gui-San, and in early June they began a slow five-day journey to Shenzhen.
Chow had heard that the Chinese border town of Shenzhen provided the best options for people wanting to get to Hong Kong. He didn’t have any specific information about crossing points, but when he reached Shenzhen, he found it full of people who were there with the same purpose and willing to share what they knew. The Changzhai group spent their first few days in the area learning all they could.
They learned of three main routes. One was on land, across Wutong Mountain; it involved getting over a five-metre-high barbed-wire fence and then past guard dogs and armed soldiers of the People’s Liberation Army. The other two were by sea. To the east of Shenzhen was Mirs Bay, its coast only four kilometres from Hong Kong and its waters reportedly calm. But Mirs Bay was infested by sharks and heavily patrolled by the PLA, who shot so many swimmers every night that they’d been forced to hire thirty local crews to remove the bodies from the water each morning. The third option was Shenzhen Bay. It didn’t have sharks and wasn’t patrolled so vigilantly, but its water was polluted and putrid, and it had riptides and currents that could defeat even the strongest swimmers.
Many in the group were uncomfortable about swimming under normal circumstances, but as they listened to the stories about the ferocity of the guard dogs, the height of the barbed-wire fence, and the willingness of the PLA to shoot on sight, a water crossing became more and more appealing. Choosing between Mirs Bay and Shenzhen Bay was easy once the group learned about the sharks.
But Shenzhen Bay remained intimidating. As Gui-San looked out onto its filthy, malodorous waters, she repeated, “I’m scared.”
Jin Hai, the leader of the Dongguan group, heard her and moved closer. “We should be okay if that thing floats,” he said, pointing to the wooden door that lay on the beach. Chow had purchased the door two days before, thinking it could function as a raft. Their group had carried it twenty kilometres from a campground near Shenzhen to the harbour near Shekou.
Jin Hai had met Chow the night before as they were each trying to determine the best spot from which to start their swim to Yuen Long. They had independently determined that the beach in the village was the closest point to Hong Kong they could reach without going into the much larger Shekou, where there was a greater risk of running into the PLA. Then they had talked about the dangers they faced in the crossing and how they might best cope with them. Chow had told Jin about the door he hoped to use as a raft. Jin had told him that he and his friends were strong swimmers. Then Jin said he believed that strength lay in numbers, and suggested they undertake the journey as one team. Chow liked the idea; he thought adding four strong swimmers to the group would improve their chances of getting safely across the bay.
“It floats. We tested it in a river and even had someone lying on it,” Chow said in response to Jin’s comment. “But it won’t take more than one person at a time.”<
br />
“What are those holes along the sides and bottom?”
“One of our group, Nui, is a carpenter. We borrowed an auger and he drilled those as handholds. Some of our people are nervous about swimming by themselves in open water. We figure two of them can hold on to the end of the door and kick, and two more can hold on to the sides.”
Jin Hai walked closer to the door and examined the holes. “These are a great idea.”
A woman who had been standing behind Jin stepped towards Gui-San. “Hello. My name is Mai. I’m from Dongguan.”
“I’m Gui-San, from Changzhai, and the other women with our group are Mei-Lin and Ai.”
Mai pointed at Gui-San’s navy-blue Mao jacket and pants. “We’re dressed the same, but I don’t think these clothes will be much good in the water. What do you intend to wear?”
“We didn’t bring swimsuits,” Gui-San said. “The men are going in their underwear, and I guess we’ll have to do the same.”
“Good.” Mai laughed. “Then I won’t be alone.”
“We’ll wrap up our clothes, shoes, and a few small personal possessions in blankets and bundle them on the raft. There’s room for another blanket if you want to do the same,” Chow said.
“What do you mean by ‘small personal possessions’?” Mai asked.
“I have a jade bracelet that belonged to my mother. Gui-San has a Zippo lighter that was her father’s, and a small photo album,” he said. “You shouldn’t try to take anything much larger. We don’t want to overload the door.”
“No, of course not,” Mai said. “And it is very kind of you to let us take some things with us. I was worried about my clothes.”
“We are in this together, and none of us wants to walk into Hong Kong in our underwear.”
“Shh, I think I hear something,” Jin Hai said.
Everyone froze, afraid to move or speak. Chow heard a faint noise. “That’s an engine,” he said, and then to his left he saw beams of light flashing across the water. “It must be a patrol boat.”
Jin turned. “There’s a warehouse over there. We need to get behind it.”
“What about the door?” Tam asked.
“Bring it with us,” Chow said.
They scurried along the beach and then climbed a set of stairs to the warehouse. A wooden fence with some scattered rocks stood behind it. They put the door against the fence and then settled down to wait. The noise from the engine became louder, and to their left, part of the wharf was bathed in light. No one moved or spoke. The noise continued to increase. The light moved past the wharf, reached the warehouse, disappeared for a few seconds, and then reappeared on the other side. The boat then continued along a path that took it away from them, and gradually darkness and silence returned to the wharf.
“What should we do now?” Tam asked.
“Wait,” said Chow. “We were told that patrol boats in this part of the bay travel between Shenzhen and Shekou every three hours. That boat should come back this way in about ten to fifteen minutes. Once it passes, we won’t have to worry about it for at least another two hours, and by then we should be halfway to Hong Kong.”
It may have been only fifteen minutes, but it seemed to Chow that an hour had passed before he heard the hum of the boat engine again and saw its lights flitting across the water until they reached the shoreline. Everyone was hunkered down, and he noticed that some people had their eyes closed. Even after the boat had gone past the warehouse and begun its journey back to Shenzhen, no one moved until the only sound coming from the water was that of waves rolling onto the shore.
Finally Chow stood. “We should get started.”
The others slowly got to their feet and began to gather their things. Nui and Tam picked up the door and led the way back to the bay. When they reached it, they dropped the door at the water’s edge. Ai was the first to join them. She spread her blanket on the ground and Gui-San quickly did the same. A few minutes later the blankets held the shirts, shoes, and clothes of the men from Changzhai and the most valued personal possessions of them all. Off to the side, the men from Dongguang were stripping and putting their clothes onto another blanket. The four women, still fully dressed, watched them, their discomfort obvious.
Finally Gui-San reached for the top button of her jacket. “What the hell,” she said, and began to unbutton it. A few minutes later, four neatly folded blue jackets and pants were added to the blankets and the women were huddling together in their underwear. Gui-San shivered, crossed her arms over her chest, and said, “We should get going before we die of cold.”
Tam tied the blankets together, carried them to the raft, and loaded them on.
“Who is going to be on the raft, who is going to push, and who’s going to swim alongside?” Jin Hai asked, looking at the raft. Like the other men, he was trying not to stare at the scantily clad women.
Chow looked at his six companions and remembered their fears about the swim. “Ai will be on the raft. Mei-Lin and Gui-San will hold on to the end. Fa will use a side handle. Tam, Nui, and I will swim. That leaves room for someone from your group on one side.”
“We’ll start with Mai there,” Jin said. “Wei, Bai, and I will swim.”
“We can change positions as needed,” Chow said to everyone. “But you have to speak up if you need a rest or are in some difficulty.”
People nodded but no one spoke. Jin reached down, grabbed the end of the raft, and pushed it into the water. Ai clambered on top. Mei-Lin, Gui-San, Fa, and Mai reached for their handholds. They waded into the bay.
The first thing Chow noticed was the temperature — the water was even colder than he’d found it at the shoreline. The second was how slimy the bottom was beneath his feet. And the third was that the odour from the water was nauseating. He heard someone gag and fought back the same reaction.
“I hope it doesn’t stink as much when we get further into the bay,” Jin Hai said.
“I hope the water gets warmer,” Chow said.
“I don’t think it will, but we should be able to get used to the temperature. I’m not sure I can ever get used to this smell.”
Chow walked until the water was above his waist. He was moving alongside the door, fearful, despite the test in the river, that it wouldn’t be as buoyant as he’d predicted. But even with Ai on the door, it floated high on the water. His spirits rose.
Gui-San walked next to him, one hand gripping the raft.
“It’s time to swim,” he said.
She reached out with her free hand. “I want a kiss.”
He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips, then wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.
“Stay close to me,” she said.
“I’ll try.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” he said, and kissed her again.
As the group sorted themselves into position around the raft, the tide suddenly strengthened, knocking some of them back on their heels.
“We should expect more of this,” said Jin Hai. “But we’ll have to swim through it.”
With that, they all slid into the water.
The first half-hour was more difficult than Chow had anticipated. He did start to acclimatize to the water’s temperature, but the stench remained unabated and the raft and swimmers kept bumping into unknown objects. The current seemed to run directly against them. Somehow, despite these challenges, they were making decent progress; when he looked back, he could see the lights of Shekou slowly receding in the distance.
Chow swam in open water on the left side of the raft. Gui-San was on his right, one hand holding the raft, while she kicked like mad. He couldn’t see how everyone else was doing, but no one was asking for help, so that was a good thing. The only person who spoke was Ai, who twice said, “I should take my turn in the water.”
“And I could use a rest,” Nui res
ponded after Ai said it a third time.
As Ai moved to the edge of the raft and prepared to get into the water, Chow asked, “Who else needs a break?”
The raft came to a halt and they talked among themselves as they clung to its edges. When they began to swim again, three of their group had changed positions. The raft began to move noticeably faster. Chow wasn’t sure if that was caused by a change in the current or if the new swimming configuration was generating more power.
They moved deeper into the bay. With the moon hidden by clouds and the lights from Shekou and Yuen Long no more than faint pinholes on the horizon, it became darker. The wind died down a little, the water became less choppy, and the grunts from the swimmers and the sound of arms and legs thrashing in the water became more distinct.
Chow lost track of time. From his position, he could only see the swimmers on his immediate right and Nui sitting on the raft, and he had no sense of where they were in relation to land. After what seemed like an hour but was certainly less, his legs began to tire. He stopped swimming for a few seconds, turned, and floated on his back. When he started up again, he felt revived, only to have the tiredness creep back after a few minutes.
Gui-San had moved from the end of the door to the left side. With her head lowered and her face almost immersed in the stinking water, she never stopped kicking. Chow was impressed by her energy but said nothing, not wanting to distract her.
“I think we should take a rest,” Jin Hai shouted.
“Yes,” Chow replied, more than pleased with the suggestion.
The raft came to a gradual stop, and as it did, Chow could hear the others breathing heavily.
“Thank God we have this door,” Tam said. “I don’t think I could have made it without it.”
“Do you want to change places with me?” Nui asked.
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“Does anyone else want to rotate?” Chow asked.
When no one answered, Jin Hai said, “Then let’s get started again. We’re doing well, really well, everyone.”
