by Razi Imam
Pham Kai started to sketch out a plan to reach the reef. It was about a hundred nautical miles from his beach. He could get there in about three to four hours, give or take wind speed and current. He was glad it wasn’t monsoon season, which would have further complicated his mission. The trunk also contained his grandfather’s wristwatch, an old Tissot, complete with a metal strap, in addition to a small compass and an old-style lantern.
Minh saw the wristwatch. “What are you planning?” she asked.
“I need an extra set of nylon nets to increase our odds of catching the fish,” he explained. “I’ll pawn Baba’s things to buy the materials.”
“Please,” Minh pleaded, “I don’t want you to do this.”
“What would I do without you?” Pham Kai asked her, helpless. “I must find a way to get your treatment started, and this plan is the only chance we have.” Minh lowered her eyes toward the jute mat, knowing he wouldn’t change his mind.
THE NEXT MORNING, Pham Kai got to the village pawnshop and met with the owner, who had run the place for over forty-five years. He recognized Pham Kai’s grandfather’s watch. “Did you know your grandfather was one of three people in the entire village to have a wristwatch at the time?” He regarded Pham Kai with sad eyes. “Life must have thrown you a real test.”
Pham Kai nodded, determined.
“Tell you what,” the owner said. “I’ll hold the wristwatch for you. One day you may want it back. You can keep the compass and lantern.” He then loaned Pham Kai the funds needed for his plan.
Pham Kai went straight to the local store and bought the necessary items for his fishing net. He spent the afternoon building it, then went to bed after an early dinner. At 9:00 p.m., Minh woke him and gave him a large mug of chai. She made it how he liked it—piping hot, sweetened with cane sugar and milk. Pham Kai took the mug and sat on the bench, looking out at the sea. After finishing the chai, he got ready in his standard fisherman gear—a loose-fitting hooded shirt, heavy trousers, rubber boots, and his favorite khaki cap. There was nothing special about the cap, except that it fit well and he thought it was lucky.
He embraced his wife. “Go to sleep. I’ll be back when you wake up, and if the sea favors us, I’ll have a su vang.”
He walked over to the beach, dragged his small blue basket boat into the water. With a few rapid to and fro motions of the paddle, he headed to his fishing boat. He climbed aboard a few minutes later, and stowed away his gear and basket boat.
At a quarter to two in the morning, he reached the coordinates highlighted in his notes. The ocean was pitch dark—he couldn’t even see the far distant lights of container ships heading to Vietnam. As he shut down the motor and dropped anchor, he could hear the water splashing against the reefs and rocks of Bombay Reef. He kept a keen eye out for Chinese patrol boats—if they were to come, he would need to shut down all movement and hope they didn’t notice him in the dark.
He grabbed the net, walked over to the starboard side, and switched on the spotlight attached to the top of the cabin. The surrounding area lit up, showing the reef and a nearby school of fish. He folded the net over his left shoulder, opening it and flipping the weights over his right hand. He then walked over to the edge of the boat and in one smooth, practiced motion, swung the net out over the water.
The net made a subtle splash and sank. Using the drawstring attached to the Braille lines, he began to haul the net back in. He caught about a dozen fish in his first cast, and it took a bit more strength than usual to pull the net onto the boat—the hauls were larger out here. One by one, he placed each fish in a large galvanized tin bucket full of seawater. He cast three more times on the starboard side before switching to port.
The port side yielded little—the fish had moved. He decided he needed to take the boat maybe half a mile north, alongside the reef. Five minutes later, he anchored again. As he shut off his motor, he caught a glimpse of a spotlight in the water about a mile away. He wasn’t sure if he had been seen—his cabin lights and spotlights were off, and the water hitting the reef was loud, so they couldn’t have heard his motor running. He rushed and tied one end of a thirty-foot rope to the bow of his vessel and the other end to his basket boat. He then lowered the basket boat into the water, and without making a sound stepped into it with his anchor. He rowed deeper into the heart of the reef, dropped anchor to secure his position, and then pulled the fishing boat closer to him.
The patrol boat approached, chugging to a stop about two hundred feet away. He could see the captain in the cabin. He was shouting at his crew in Chinese. They started sweeping the surface of the sea with their spotlights in a consistent figure eight pattern. The spotlight kept missing Pham Kai each time by a few feet. Holding his breath, the only noise he made was the water lapping against the sides of his basket boat. Just as he thought they were going to spot him, the boat swung away and sped to the southern tip of Bombay Reef.
Pham Kai pulled the anchor and climbed back onto his fishing boat, pulling the basket boat up behind him. He noted the patrol boat’s movements—they remained in sight for over an hour, then moved around the reef behind the lagoon and out of sight.
He cast his nets for another hour, catching several dozen more fish. At six in the morning, he headed back. An hour later, after confirming he was safe, he shut off the motor and anchored. He inspected his catch as the sun rose. He’d caught a good number of the standard fish found in these waters, but a su vang wasn’t among them.
A little after ten in the morning, he anchored near his beach and paddled ashore. Minh greeted him with two plastic buckets to transfer the fish, but she had to run for two more, as the catch was twice as large. Exhausted, Pham Kai went inside to change. He emerged a few minutes later to find Minh staring at the buckets. “Minh, I’ll try again tonight,” he said, sitting next to her.
By mid-afternoon, they had sold all four buckets and returned home. This was a good earning day—twice as much as usual.
That evening, Pham Kai studied his grandfather’s maps. Based on last night’s experience, he should be fishing on the north side of Bombay Reef. It was far more treacherous, but if there was any chance of finding a su vang, he thought it would be in that area. He’d have to take his basket boat in order to get close, maybe even float on top of the reef, and cast his nets there. That was where the rare, exotic fish bred and lived.
Planning in his mind, he lay down and slept, only to be awakened by Minh. She had dinner ready, and Pham Kai realized how hungry he was. She had made her specialty, a fish curry with mint, ginger, and coconut milk. She had added basil and cumin seeds for extra flavoring and red ground chili for spice. She had squeezed a full, fresh lemon into the curry base, and then cooked the fish in the curry for twenty minutes, adding noodles at the end. The key to her recipe was fried onion, with fresh cut cilantro and ginger as garnish on top. It was Pham Kai’s absolute favorite meal, and he devoured two healthy bowlfuls.
CHAPTER THREE
The Catch
“When acts of helplessness become habitual, those are the signs.”
~Rumi
WANG LI, THE captain of the Chinese patrol boat, was getting ready for another night shift, shaving over the sink in the tiny quarters furnished by the government. It was more of a naval hostel for sailors and cadets, not for officers—they had better quarters than what he’d been given. The mirror he peered into was small, flecked with toothpaste and shaving cream. No one ever wiped it clean. It had a crack in the corner, and he was convinced cleaning it would cause it to break, bringing him bad luck.
His starched uniform was laid out wrinkleless on his bed. He was the only captain who used starch, and the other officers made fun of him for it. It prevented the fabric from breathing—no small thing in the muggy heat of the South China Sea. But Wang Li was determined to look sharp. It inspired respect from his crew, or so he thought.
He mused about the previous night. He hated Vietnamese fishermen with a passion—they were a low class of peop
le who had no respect for Chinese sovereignty. He wished he had the authority to sink their boats on sight. He knew he’d caught a glimpse of a Vietnamese fishing boat. His crew felt he’d imagined it, but Wang Li was sure of it. He wanted to catch the bastard. He knew he was lurking near Bombay reef, trying to outsmart him.
***
PHAM KAI PULLED up about a mile from Bombay Reef, shut off the motor and the cabin light, and waited. Instead of casting his nets from his boat, he decided to go deeper into the reef using his basket boat.
He lowered it into the water, along with his gear, and stepped aboard. He then rowed toward the edge of the reef, where the waves were strong and violent. He had to time his forward motion with the incoming waves so that his basket boat would glide over the reef. It took him three tries, and the forward motion of the waves and volume of water lifted him over the reef. As soon as he reached the other side, the water was calm. It was still pitch dark, and all he could see of his fishing boat was the orange and yellow stripe on its side. He could see it despite the non-reflective paint, but one had to know what to look for to make it out.
Standing and balancing himself, he got started, the lantern giving off just enough light for him to work. He began casting both nets, one after the other. For the next few hours, he worked nonstop. His breathing grew heavy, and sweat poured off him. His hands grew sore from all the pulling, and his lower back started to cramp. His bucket overflowed with fish, and the floor of his boat was strewn with them. He checked his watch, a Casio replica, and it was 4:00 a.m. He had lost track of time.
As he started to navigate back, he realized that he couldn’t return the way he’d come—the force of the waves hitting the edge of the reef was too strong. He needed to go south and cross over the reef into the sea where the water was calmer. It took him forty-five minutes to get back to his boat. He hauled everything aboard, emptying the fish into the tin buckets.
At almost five in the morning, Pham Kai started his motor and navigated toward Vietnam. Safe in Vietnamese waters an hour later, he once again inspected his catch in the light of the rising sun. There were several dozen fish of all colors and sizes, but again, there were no su vang among them.
PHAM KAI’S NIGHTTIME adventures continued for three weeks. Minh grew worried that his strategies for eluding the patrol boat were getting bolder. The catches he brought home were large, with some excellent variety that fetched them good money, but he was putting himself in extreme danger.
Pham Kai knew he had figured out the patrol’s routine, and using his grandfather’s notes, he had discovered a key natural channel in the reef, allowing him to take his boat deep inside where he was invisible amongst the waves and mist. Every night, he started his fishing from the north end of the reef, then used the hidden channel to move toward the center. Transferring onto his basket boat, he would fish right on top of the reef.
Tonight was no different. Paddling his basket boat, he could make out the outline of the lagoon, and it didn’t look friendly. It had an old feel to it, as if time had stopped. Pham Kai shrugged off his misgivings and started casting his nets. Once in a while, he would notice a beautiful luminescent light in the water, but it wasn’t fluorescent plankton—this was quite different, and moved in a distinct pattern.
After several casts, Pham Kai decided to cast both nets one more time before heading back to his boat. As soon as he cast his second net, his basket boat started to spin in a strange way—the current was changing and gaining strength. An undertow had formed, and he was caught in it. This sudden movement of current occurred when a massive underwater cavern formed and water rushed in to fill the void. It created a negative pressure, pulling at the surface water and forming a massive whirlpool—once someone was caught in it, the likelihood of survival was low at best. But the water wasn’t behaving like a typical whirlpool—it was moving slow. Puzzled, Pham Kai had no time to ponder it further. He had to escape.
He had to get to the part of the whirlpool that would slingshot him out. His nets were pulled in a circular motion too, more fish were getting caught in them. He held the rim of his basket boat and jumped into the water, stretching himself out. He needed the combined momentum of the boat, the nets, and his body weight in order to escape.
Swirling around and around, focusing not to lose his frame of reference, his speed increased. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. He held his breath as he was flung from the whirlpool, hanging on to his basket boat for dear life until he was clear. He lifted himself back into it and collapsed with exhaustion. His head was spinning, water had invaded his lungs, and his hands felt like mush.
He sat up holding the sides of his little boat. His tin bucket was still inside—most of the fish had spilled from it, flopping on the floor. His lantern was gone. Using his last bit of strength, he hauled in his nets, heavy with fish. He searched for his fishing boat and paddled toward it, thankful the current hadn’t pulled it onto the rocks.
Back aboard, he retrieved another lantern from the cabin to inspect his haul, most of it still trapped in the nets. Untangling them, bringing the lantern close, he froze. He stared at his catch—in front of him lay two adult su vang fish. The first was beautiful, over a foot long, silver with tan scales. The second was also as impressive. He knew they both were worth enough for Minh’s treatment and then some.
For generations, the sea had provided for his family. Today, it had been beyond generous. Pham Kai wasn’t religious, but he did believe in the miracle of the sea. How else could he explain the forming of the whirlpool? He would never have caught the su vang without it. He brought out a cooler from the cabin and placed the first one inside.
He lifted the second su vang and it was bright, as if it were under a spotlight. Pham Kai paused as the realization hit him. His heart sank.
In his excitement, and with the noise of the waves hitting the reef, Pham Kai hadn’t heard the patrol boat approach. They had discovered his secret channel.
Wang Li smiled as he turned to his crew. “You’re all idiots. You should be court-martialed for taking so long to find this lowlife.” The crew stared at the tired, feeble-looking Pham Kai in disbelief.
There was still some distance between the two boats. Pham Kai dropped the su vang in the net, ran into the cabin, and started the motor. Maybe he could go deeper into the reef where the patrol boat couldn’t follow. A cannon-like explosion splintered the cabin wall and a harpoon, lodged deep into the side of the steering wheel housing. Pham Kai wasn’t going anywhere.
Wang Li jumped aboard with two of his officers, who pulled Pham Kai out of the cabin. They attached a six-foot wooden plank to his outstretched arms, its length running across his back at hip level. His hands were tied to the plank with nylon ropes around his wrists. The restraints exposed his shoulders, making them protrude outward at a painful angle. The officers forced him to his knees and stood behind him on each side. Wang Li gazed down at him, not saying a word. He smiled at him, exposing his yellow teeth.
A metal rod with two tiny prongs on one end hung from Wang Li’s gun belt.
Wang Li barked at him, “You scum of the earth. You’re fishing in the sovereign territory of the People’s Republic of China. You’re breaking our military laws by even being here. Today, you’ll wish you were never born. When I’m done with you, you’ll never be able to use your hands to fish again.”
The two officers grabbed Pham Kai’s arms on each side. Wang Li unclipped the metal rod and pressed a button on its side. A spark leaped between the two prongs.
Before Pham Kai could register what was happening, Wang Li brought the sparking rod down and pressed it against Pham Kai’s neck.
Pham Kai had endured pain in his life, but he had never experienced anything like this. He convulsed as the voltage surged through his body. Flopping to the floor of the deck, his whole body twitched. He could hear them laugh as they lifted him back to his knees. Wang Li brought the rod close to the other side of his neck and held it there. The anticipation of getting sh
ocked again was agony for Pham Kai.
Instead of touching his neck with the electric rod, Wang Li barked, “Rip his shirt off.”
They ripped Pham Kai’s shirt down to his waist. Wang Li brought the rod down and placed it on his right shoulder joint. He then pressed the button and 1200 volts moved from the rod straight into Pham Kai’s right shoulder, and he fell to the floor again. This time, however, he didn’t black out. It felt as if his arm had been ripped from its socket. He checked it in a panic—it was intact, but the entire length of it was shaking.
The officers were laughing at how his arm was no longer in his control. They once again lifted Pham Kai upright. Tears flowed down his face, and his stomach convulsed. His heart pounded hard. He knew he had lost—they weren’t going to let him go. They were going to shock him to the point of no return. He would never be able to move his hands again.
As Wang Li brought the electric rod close to his left shoulder, Pham Kai somehow summoned his deep fisherman strength. He sprang up and rammed his head into Wang Li’s nose. Before the officers could react, Pham Kai rushed toward the port side of the boat and jumped into the water.
Underwater he tucked his legs, flipping them over the plank like a reverse skip, and brought the plank in front of him to use it as a floating buoy. Kicking his legs, he swam deeper into the reef where the patrol boat couldn’t follow. He wasn’t just swimming for his own life—he was swimming for Minh’s.
The water of the channel was rough, and the rocks were sharp and dangerous. His knee hit the reef, and he could feel it bleeding. Far behind him, he could hear a commotion. Wang Li was shouting orders at the top of his lungs. They switched on both spotlights and swung them everywhere, searching for him.
