Chinese Cinderella and the Secret Dragon Society (22 page)

‘My precious little treasure!’ she said over, and over.

Master Wu smiled at the panda, which was licking his hand like a gentle puppy. Then I remembered the photo of the pet panda he had brought over from Sichuan as a baby. ‘Master Wu,’ I said. ‘Is this Mei Mei?’

Master Wu laughed. ‘Of course! Isn’t she pretty? Just look at her.’

As if on cue, Mei Mei stood up and leaned her left forearm against a tree. With her right hand, she pushed a stalk of bamboo into her mouth like a pipe and peeled off the outer sheath by twisting it against her teeth. Biting off pieces of the tender pith, she chewed each morsel separately until the entire stalk was eaten. Then she clasped her hands
in front of her face, licked them clean and wiped her mouth like a cat.

David and Marat told Master Wu about meeting Kenshio, and how they had recognized Mei Mei’s footprints but pretended she was a monster. I clung to my aunt and told her everything that had happened since our parting. It was wonderful to be with her again.

‘Your smile is so wide it’s running around your face eight times!’ Master Wu said to me at last. ‘I’m sorry I have to interrupt your reunion. The American airmen need you, and so does my mother, Grandma Wu. We have to join them before sailing to the mainland.’

‘Will you come with us, Big Aunt?’ I begged. I couldn’t bear to be parted from her now that I’d found her again,

‘No. I’m sorry, I can’t. Not yet.’

‘Then can I stay here with you?’

‘That isn’t possible either, I’m afraid. Otherwise your father and stepmother might accuse me of kidnapping you. Strange as it may seem, you’d probably make your stepmother happier by wandering around Shanghai as a homeless refugee than living here with me in Nan Tian.’

‘Why does Niang hate me so much?’

‘She wants to control you. You are too independent for her.’

‘When will you come back to Shanghai, Big Aunt?’ I asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ she answered. ‘There’s so much to do here. Grandma Liu still needs me and… I’ve become heavily involved with the resistance movement in Nan Tian. Besides, you’re getting an excellent education at the Martial Arts Academy with Grandma Wu.’

‘We really must go, children!’ Master Wu insisted. ‘Let me show you my short cut.’

Master Wu led us to an opening between a twisted old pine tree and a craggy rock. He pushed away fallen branches and debris to reveal a hidden stairway covered by a grated lid. One by one the boys climbed down into a steep, narrow tunnel.

Big Aunt held me tightly.

‘Can’t you come with us?’ I begged her one last time.

Her eyes were sad. ‘No, my precious, I must go. We have four seriously wounded Americans on our hands. They can’t walk and they need medical attention. I must send a message to Dr Chen by pigeon post as soon as possible. Besides, it’s best if you don’t know where I am in case you’re questioned.’

I fished Lawson’s pilot badge out of my pocket and gave it to her. ‘This is my most precious possession in the whole world,’ I said. ‘The American
pilot, Ted Lawson, gave it to me last night. It’s a symbol of friendship between China and America. I want you to keep it for me until I’ve grown up.’

As I entered the tunnel with Master Wu, I looked back one last time and saw Big Aunt and Mei Mei outlined against the forest. Big Aunt was holding Mei Mei’s paw with her hand and waving goodbye to me.

The tunnel was steep, dark and damp, but thankfully very short. When we came out, we were already halfway down a hill on the south-west side of the island. Immediately below us was an imposing Buddhist temple, painted white. Its dark grey slate roof had pointy corners that tilted upwards on either side, and trelliswork decorated the wooden front door and windows. Two stone lions guarded the temple gate, one on each side. In front of them stood several well-armed guerrilla soldiers, dressed in civilian clothes. They were protecting the wounded American airmen. Thatcher was talking to Grandma Wu and Li Cha, who appeared to be the man in charge. From time to time, small groups of men would run up and report to him. As soon as we arrived, Master Wu joined them and they conferred urgently for a few minutes. Then Grandma Wu and Master Wu took us aside.

‘We’ve received information that a scouting force of eighty-five Japanese soldiers has arrived on
the island,’ Grandma Wu said. ‘They’re searching for the Americans. Master Wu needs to leave immediately, to deal with the situation. Please say goodbye now. We’ll have a quick lunch here and be on our way.’

Li Cha ordered food, and Grandma Wu gave us bowls of sautéed bean-curd over rice, with cups of piping hot water. After lunch, we set off towards the harbour. Six rifle-carrying guerrillas marched alongside the four wounded airmen borne on stretchers. Word of the Americans’ bombing raid had already spread. Everywhere, wide-eyed villagers gazed at our procession with respect. Many of the children stood at attention and some even saluted. The airmen responded by giving the children chewing gum, pens, coins and buttons torn off their coats.

By late afternoon, we reached the southernmost tip of the island. I could hear the cry of the seagulls and smell the clean, bracing air of the ocean. In front of me an expanse of blue water stretched out to infinity. In the afternoon sunset, a junk sailed slowly towards us from the mainland. As it came close to shore, Grandma Wu called out our password to the sailors and they responded by saying ‘
Wang Qin bi Chu
’ four times. We ran towards the boat, buoyed by a frenzy of excitement
at accomplishing our mission. We were going to sail away from the island with the Americans!

But our joy was short-lived. From the direction of the junk came a clear high whistle. Someone shouted, ‘Emergency!’ Without a word, our guerrilla guards grabbed the bamboo poles from the porters and lowered the wounded Americans into a muddy ditch that ran parallel to the sea. Quick as a flash, Grandma Wu jumped in after them and ordered everyone to do the same. She flattened herself on the ground and held a finger to her lips.

I crawled beside her and carefully raised my head to look. A gleaming white gunboat shot out from behind a sandy promontory, the red insignia of the rising sun of Japan clearly visible on the ship’s hull. My heart pounded against my chest. The two boats were now side by side. A million thoughts went through my head. Had the Japanese found the remains of the crashed plane? Did someone betray us? Surely it wasn’t Kenshio? What if the Japanese saw us jump into the ditch?

Now I could hear voices. The Japanese were questioning the men in the junk. They sounded arrogant; the conquerors addressing the vanquished. I was sure we were doomed. These fishermen were so very poor. I remembered their bare feet and torn clothing. Some were certainly
close to starvation. Could anyone blame them for turning us in for money?

I hid my face in my arms and plugged my ears. It was awful, lying helplessly in the ditch, waiting. My hands were clammy and sweat ran down my neck. After what seemed to be an eternity, someone poked me in the elbow. Slowly, I opened my eyes.

‘It’s a miracle!’ David was whispering. ‘They’re going away!’

We waited until the sound of the gunboat faded. Then we climbed out and sprinted towards the junk. The guerrillas helped carry the Americans on to the boat, jumping in only after everyone had boarded. They cocked their guns warily as the boat pulled up its anchor and moved away. Lawson tried to pay them, but they shook their heads and wouldn’t accept any money. One of them whispered, ‘It’s not necessary. We know what you’ve done for China.’

At that moment, I felt very proud to be Chinese.

18

Escape to the Mainland

At first we had a breeze. The sails were hoisted and the junk gathered speed. We children remained on deck because the main cabin was so crowded. Grandma Wu rolled down the bamboo blinds at the sides to hide the wounded Americans lying on the floor. After a while, the boat slowed down. Grandma Wu scanned the sea anxiously through her binoculars.

‘Our boat is almost at a standstill,’ she said in a worried voice. ‘This is terrible!’

David and Marat looked at one another. Without a word, David pulled out the flute dangling on a chain around his neck and began to play a stirring tune. I didn’t know the words of his song, but the music sounded familiar. Where had I heard it before? The lilting melody was a testimony against oppression, a prayer for justice
and a plea for freedom. Each note went straight to my heart and lingered there.

While David played, Marat scanned the ocean waves. Not long afterwards, a black shape emerged from the water and surged rapidly towards us. Marat began jumping up and down with glee.

‘Ling Ling! Ling Ling!’ he chanted loudly. Sam and I soon joined him.

David kept playing, but I could see his eyes sparkling with happiness. We watched the dolphin’s sleek, streamlined body as it swam at breakneck speed, drawn by David’s music like a nail to a magnet.

‘Ling Ling to the rescue!’ Marat shouted, as the dolphin leapt in the air and splashed back into the water right next to the junk. David gently scratched Ling Ling with an oar. She reared and rolled over in the water, as if suggesting that David should now pet her belly. Everyone laughed.

Meanwhile, the wind had died down completely and the light was fading fast. The boat rocked gently in the water. We were becalmed. The sailors started to row, but progress was agonizingly slow.

There was a bucket of small fish on deck and David tossed a few to Ling Ling, who jumped to catch them. She sprang playfully into the air several more times before submerging herself and
turning over once more. This time, David gave her underside a long rub with his oar.

‘Stop playing, David!’ Grandma Wu commanded, her eyes fixed on her binoculars. ‘There’s something on the horizon. Let’s hope it’s not the Japanese patrol boat we saw earlier.’

‘I’m not playing!’ David protested emphatically. ‘I called Ling Ling here to help us! Last summer, Grandma Liu, Marat, Ling Ling and I practised this routine for hours and hours. I’m going to show you. Wish me luck!’

He stripped down to his shorts and put on a life jacket. Under Marat’s direction, we attached a large rubber life ring to a rope that we tied firmly to the deck, then we threw the ring overboard. Ling Ling hovered, making an insistent clicking sound as she swam.

‘She’s scanning the water,’ David explained to me. ‘When the clicks hit the rubber ring, they’ll echo back to her. That’s how she finds things in water. She’s listening for those echo-clicks.’

With Marat’s help, David climbed on to the railing and positioned himself above the water, getting ready to dive. Ling Ling splashed around beneath him. ‘Click! Click! Click! Click!’ David counted to three, then jumped overboard and climbed on to Ling Ling’s back. At the same
moment, I saw Ling Ling slide her snout through the rubber ring.

‘That gunboat is definitely Japanese!’ Grandma Wu was shouting. ‘I can see the sign of the rising sun. It’s heading right for us. Full speed ahead!’

David whistled sharply as he grabbed Ling Ling’s dorsal fin with one hand, and clutched the rope between the junk and the dolphin’s snout with the other. Ling Ling moved her tail up and down energetically in response. I could hardly believe what I was seeing! David was riding on Ling Ling’s back as if she was a horse! Boy and dolphin zoomed through the water together, pulling the junk behind them like a dog on a leash. It was an amazing sight!

The Japanese gunboat kept following us. No matter how hard Ling Ling and David pulled, they couldn’t shake it loose. Ling Ling started to make a sharp, high, eerie, whistling sound.

‘Why is Ling Ling making that noise?’ I called out fearfully to Marat. ‘It gives me the creeps!’

‘That’s her way of calling for help,’ Marat replied. ‘I heard it only once before. The day we found her, when she was bleeding from a fish hook stuck in her back… Hey! What’s that swimming towards us? I think it’s Bumby! Grandma Wu, let me have your binoculars for a second! Yes! Yes! It’s definitely Bumby!’

‘Who’s Bumby?’ Sam and I asked in unison as we saw a huge black pilot whale rapidly approaching our boat, seemingly from nowhere.

‘Bumby is Ling Ling’s cousin!’ Marat shouted happily. ‘They swim together all the time. He weighs over 2,000 pounds. He’ll show the Japanese a thing or two!’

Bumby submerged himself under the water behind our junk and waited patiently until the Japanese gunboat was almost on top of him. Then he surfaced and went to work. When he butted the ship’s hull with his enormous head, the boat listed dangerously to one side. Before we realized what was happening, Bumby dived down and disappeared from view. He must have been batting his tail beneath the water because giant waves began rocking the gunboat violently from side to side. The vessel was about to capsize when it suddenly reversed its course and sped away in the direction of Nan Tian Island.

We cheered loudly and clapped our hands at the sight of the Japanese gunboat retreating. Thatcher came on deck. He gave us the thumbs-up sign and taught us a new American expression to celebrate our escape. We shouted, ‘Hip! Hip! Hooray!’ at the tops of our voices whenever he raised his arm. Soon everyone on board was bellowing, ‘Hip! Hip! Hooray!’ when Thatcher gave the signal,
even Grandma Wu, the American airmen and the seamen.