Dragon Land (37 page)

Zheng Yan sat beside me. ‘Now you must listen to me very carefully, Lizzie. I must get Ping Li out of Shanghai and go to Hong Kong with her. The Japanese are targeting the Chinese people and killing them, and the stories coming out of the other cities are of slaughter and atrocities. I’ve managed to get a passage on a ship leaving the harbour tonight that will take us to Hong Kong. Now you must come with us, as we can’t leave you behind, so I want you to pack a small bag and gather as much money as you have in the house and we’ll leave when it gets dark.’

I began to protest. ‘I must wait on Jonas …’

Zheng Yan stopped me. ‘Jonas said we were to look after you and Peter. We couldn’t do anything for Peter, but you have to come with us. Remember what Jonas made you promise if there was danger?’

I nodded but couldn’t speak because I was so choked up with worry over the future.

Zheng Yan smiled. ‘You can pack a bag right away and we’ll pick you up later. You’ll have to make your luggage light, so just one bag or suitcase. Also you must wear something warm, as it will be cold on the water.’

After they left, I wandered around the house in a daze. Peter’s room was just as I had left it to go into hospital. His colourful blanket from his bed was gone, but everything else was still in place. It was the same in our room, and I remembered the last time Jonas and I had been in it. It was the morning he left to go to Peking, and now the Japanese army had occupied it and Jonas was missing, as was Alex.

I didn’t know what to take with me, but Zheng Yan had said one case, so I had to choose carefully. I packed Mum’s carriage clock and Mr Wang’s box, in which I put the pendant for safekeeping. I took what clothes I thought I would need in Hong Kong and looked out all my photographs and Peter’s calligraphy chart. If we were going by sea then I had to make sure they wouldn’t get wet so I looked out a waterproof coat and wrapped them carefully in it before tying it up with string.

I took what money was in the house, telling myself that Jonas would maybe get to the bank to withdraw the rest. Finally I took my money belt from the wardrobe and placed my two gold bangles and Mum’s wristlet watch inside, along with my passport. As I put it round my waist I had a sudden image of the first time I had worn it on that long-ago cycling holiday with Laura and Pat. It seemed a lifetime away, being young and longing for adventure. Now that adventure had come knocking at my door I realised all I wanted was a life with Jonas and Peter. But my life now seemed fraught with danger and loss.

I was also worried about paying my young paper boy and the old lady from the laundry, so I left their money in two envelopes under a stone on the veranda and hoped they were still alive to pick them up. I sat on the veranda in my thick woollen coat and looked for the last time at my garden. The birds were still chirping in the trees and everything looked so normal that it was hard to believe that fires were raging all over the city and thousands of lives had been lost.

As soon as darkness fell, Zheng Yan and Ping Li came to collect me. They were well wrapped up and they each carried a large bag. We made our way down the road towards the waterfront. The Bund seemed to be untouched, but fires were burning in the Chinese old town and we had to avert our eyes from dead bodies lying in the gutter. Ping Li said the British government had sent a battalion of soldiers to protect the international community, but who was protecting the Chinese population?

I couldn’t understand the clandestine way we were leaving and I asked Ping Li why this was.

‘It is because I have no passport. Zheng Yan has his from his work in Hong Kong, but I have never had one, so he thinks I might not be able to leave Shanghai.’

We could smell the river before we reached it, and dark shadows made the jetties and wharves seem deserted. But we heard voices, as ships were docked in the harbour. I saw lights on these ships and dim figures walking about.

Zheng Yan knew where he was going and he led us to a dark shape that turned out to be a Portuguese cargo vessel. The captain was tall, fat and had a dark beard, and he looked as fearsome as my childish pictures of a pirate. I saw Zheng Yan hand over money to him and he quickly ushered us up the gangplank.

‘Hurry now,’ he said in broken English. ‘The naval ships are watching all the shipping going in and out.’

He took us to a small compartment beside the cargo hold and told us to stay quiet until we had cleared the naval blockade. Ping Li huddled close to me, while Zheng Yan arranged the three bags against the wall.

We heard the sound of the ship’s engines and the movement of the ship as it slipped out of its moorings. Shortly afterwards we heard voices, but we couldn’t make out the words. After an hour the captain, whose name was Rodrigues, came and told us to come up to the galley.

‘One of the Japanese ships called out to us, but I told them I was a Portuguese cargo ship, so they let me through. There is a storm forecast tonight, but hopefully we will miss it.’

Ping Li looked frightened. ‘Did he say if it was a typhoon, Zheng Yan?’

Her husband said he didn’t know. ‘We have to face what’s ahead of us with courage.’

To begin with the water was a bit choppy but nothing out of the ordinary. However, by the time we were out in the open sea, the wind had grown stronger and the boat rocked from side to side.

Ping Li’s eyes were wide with terror. ‘It is a typhoon. I know the sound of that wind, as I was caught up in one when I was young. It was a miracle we survived it.’

I didn’t realise I was clutching my St Christopher medallion, as my hands had grown numb with the cold. The wind grew even stronger and the sea looked as if it was boiling. The cargo shifted in the hold and the ship’s bow seemed to rise right up out of the water with each huge wave.

I closed my eyes as if it would all go away if I didn’t look at it, but I knew we were going to drown on this ship and that I would never see Jonas or Peter ever again. I heard myself quietly muttering a prayer as the captain’s voice shouted at the deckhands to make manoeuvres, but the ship twisted and groaned as it hit every wave. The deck was awash as the waves crashed over it and spray splashed against the small windows of the galley. We had to sit where we were, as there was no other place to go.

The captain appeared and was soaking wet. ‘We’ve hit a typhoon and you may have to get into the lifeboat,’ he said before hurrying out.

We all looked at one another. We would have no chance of surviving in a small lifeboat, not in these mountainous seas. Zheng Yan put his arm around his wife and I huddled next to her. If we were to drown, then we would all go together, that was for sure.

A crashing sound made us all sit up. It was as if part of the ship had broken. The captain didn’t reappear and I silently thought the crew had abandoned us and gone off in the lifeboat. It was a sobering thought. I tried to take my mind off this terrible voyage by recalling in my head all the books I had read about pirates and seafarers and how I had envied them their swashbuckling lives full of adventure and buried treasure.

‘Yes, Lizzie,’ I scolded myself mentally. ‘Be very careful what you wish for, as it has indeed come true now.’

Then, much to our relief, the captain made another appearance. ‘Part of the ship’s hold has been flooded, but we are bailing it out now.’ He made the sign of the cross. ‘With God’s grace, we’ll make it.’

The three of us were too traumatised to answer, and he turned on his heel and went out, no doubt to help bail out the flooded cargo hold.

I can’t remember how long we sat in that little galley, but when the first light of dawn appeared in the window I thought the wind had dropped a bit, although the sea looked just as rough. Then a deckhand appeared with a pot of coffee and we gratefully took an enamel mug each. We had to hold the mugs because the small table in the galley kept moving to and fro, but the coffee warmed us up.

Zheng Yan suggested that Ping Li and I should have a sleep, so we put our feet up on the bench and much to my surprise I fell sound asleep.

When I woke up, Ping Li was still sleeping, but her husband had good news.

‘Captain Rodrigues has said the typhoon has moved further east and we should be all right. He said we were lucky, as we only caught the edge of the storm and things could have been worse if we had met it head on.’ He seemed to be worried. ‘The only thing is we’ve been blown off course, so we won’t be landing at Hong Kong. We should manage to get to Macao, though, where he hopes to repair his ship.’

I said, ‘Macao? That’s the Portuguese territory, isn’t it?’

He said it was. ‘We can get another ferry to Hong Kong from there. It may take a bit longer, but we seem to be over the worst.’

I almost said amen to that.

When Ping Li woke up, we said were heading for Macao, and she gave her husband a terrified look. The sun was going down when we docked. When we saw the damage to the ship, we were grateful that it hadn’t broken apart, but Captain Rodrigues was in a good mood.

‘I can’t turn back to Hong Kong till my boat is repaired, but you can stay here in Macao till you get another passage. Here is the address of an old woman who has rooms to let. She will put you up for a couple of nights.’

Zheng Yan said, ‘A couple of nights? Can we not get a passage tonight or tomorrow?’

The captain shook his head. ‘The storm is moving towards Hong Kong, so I think you should stay here till it passes.’ He shook Zheng Yan’s hand. ‘Goodbye my friend, and safe journey.’ We looked a sorry trio as we trudged up from the docks, which were busy with ships’ cargoes, and we made our way towards the tavern that the captain said the rooming house was next to. We soon found the bar, as the noise coming from it was deafening: sailors of every nationality were drinking, singing and fighting. A few women were screeching at two men to stop fighting, but their screams went unheeded.

We found the rooming house, and the dark-skinned old woman who opened the door said to come in. ‘I only have one room,’ she said, eyeing the three bedraggled customers standing on her threadbare mat inside the front door.

Zheng Yan said that would be sufficient, as we were only staying for a couple of days. The room was grubby-looking and very basic. It held two beds with thin blankets spread over them. There was a tiny brown-stained toilet next door and a jug of water on the marble washstand.

We were too tired to argue over the price and Zheng Yan paid in Shanghai dollars.

‘So you’ve come from Shanghai, have you?’ she said.

We said we had. And as we hadn’t eaten for almost twenty-four hours, I asked her where we could have a meal.

‘They do food in the tavern,’ she said, but on seeing my expression she muttered, ‘Maybe not. There are some shops that sell food in the town so you can go there.’

Zheng Yan said he would go to see what was available, and he came back with three cartons of rice with sweet and sour sauce. The three of us ate our meal quickly, as we were starving, and then we went to bed. I shared one bed with Ping Li and Zheng Yan had the other. Because we were exhausted, we soon fell fast asleep.

The sun rising on the horizon woke us up, and we found a cold-water tap in the courtyard. After we had had a quick wash, we drank some water in place of breakfast. We sat in the courtyard and basked in the warm sunshine, which we had thought we would never see again after our trauma at sea. Ping Li and I were fascinated by the banyan trees, with their exposed, weird-shaped roots, and I found myself unconsciously clasping my St Christopher – something I had done a lot of since we’d left Shanghai.

Later we made our way up the cobbled street to see if we could get some more food. In a dark corner of the square we found a small café and enjoyed coffee and little baked rolls.

Zheng Yan said he would go to book three tickets on the ferry to Hong Kong later that afternoon. I tried hard not to worry about Jonas, but he was on my mind all the time. I knew we had to get to Hong Kong immediately because he might be looking for me there, but, as Zheng Yan said, he was going to get the tickets today.

Back at the rooming house, which incidentally looked more derelict and squalid in the sunshine, I gave Zheng Yan all the money I had taken from the house. At first he said I should keep it, but I said I wanted him to look after it as I was afraid I might lose it.

Then Ping Li and I changed our clothes and washed what we had worn on the trip. We found an old bucket and filled it with cold water from the tap before hanging the clothes out to dry on a small washing line hanging limply from two tree trunks. They soon dried in the heat of the sun and we folded them back into our bags.

Zheng Yan had set off for the docks and the shipping office in the afternoon. He asked the woman at the rooming house if there was an office where he could buy tickets for a ferry to Hong Kong, and she said there was. When he’d asked for directions, she’d said it was a building at the far end of the loading jetty.

Ping Li and I went back into the town, mainly to get away from the house, as the woman had scowled at us after Zheng Yan left. The streets were cobbled and quaint and not unlike the narrow alleyways in Shanghai. Small shops were open and the warm sun was pleasant on our tired bodies. I still felt twinges of pain where my wound had been stitched, but I hoped it would soon settle down. The doctor at the hospital had said to rest, but the tossing of the boat the previous night hadn’t helped.

We sat down on a stone bench and watched as people went by, but after an hour Ping Li said her husband should be back with the tickets, so we made our way to our room.

‘I hope my husband has managed to buy tickets for a sailing later today, but if we have to wait until tomorrow we’ll just have to put up with our landlady,’ said Ping Li.

This was a sentiment I heartily agreed with. We admitted that we were grateful to have survived the typhoon, although we realised we were in a strange country and had no one to turn to for help. As Macao was a Portuguese territory, we didn’t understand the language, so I suppose we were lucky that the owner of the house had a small English vocabulary, which I reckoned she had gleaned from British seamen who had stayed in her house over the years.