Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 3 2018 | Page 42

I got a tattoo of your name right above my heart, so that you’re with me wherever I am.
The port was so full of life, Lana.
You can buy anything you want there.
I found a dress that will look nice on you, I bought it so you could wear it.
When we got back to the boat, one of the sailors stopped me and laughed at the dress in my hands.
“Aye mate, I see you got yourself a lassie waiting,” He clapped me on the shoulders, “well, I wish you good
luck my dear friend.”
I like to think of it like that, that you are all the way in London waiting for me to come for you.
I would hate to think that you have found someone else.
Forever yours,
Zhang Lee
*
Dear Lana,
It is March 7 th , 1867.
Things are, fine, right now.
No fights, no stowaways, no deaths, no nothing.
Just my boys and I, and celebrating the night away until London come along.
Life is, not amazing, far from it, actually, considering you’re not here with me, but it is easy to cope with,
easy to pretend that everything is fine.
I had to wake up at 3 in the morning today to stand watch.
Standing watch basically consists of sitting on the foremast staring out at the open wide sea, making sure that
nothing bad happens.
Staring out into the dreary darkness, the only strip of water I could see from the moons reflection, I was
bored, so I decided to carve a small piece of wood into the shape of your dog, Bubbles.
Suddenly, a whoosh came from beside me, and one of my boys, Mike, landed on the foremast next to me,
swinging in from the main mast.
“Lee, you need to see this,” He said, handing me his telescope.
Looking into them, I cursed,” Oh no, “I groaned.
At the distance, was a pirate ship, and they were coming straight for us.
“All hands on deck,” I shouted at the top of my lungs.
Instantly, all the sailors and ship boys stumbled onto the deck, some of them still in their pajamas.
“What happened?” The captain shouted out to me.
Sliding down, I gave him the telescope, “Well, that’s not good,” Shumway muttered, “Everyone, man the
guns, now!”
Instantly, all the sailors and ship boys ran to the gun port, loading in the gun powder and making sure that
everything was working smoothly.
The pirate ship was coming closer, close enough that we no longer need the monocular to see them.
“On my mark,” The captain shouted, “three, two, one, fire!”
Everyone covered their ears, turning away from the cannons as the ball of gun powder sailed through the air
and smashed onto the pirate ship, making holes in the sides.
Eventually, after an exhausting hour of reloading the guns and dodging cannons, the pirate ship finally sank.
Today was too close, Lana.
I fear something bad may happen on board.
Wish me luck, and hope that I survive for another day, Lana.
Forever yours,
Zhang Lee.
*
Dear Lana,
March 23 th , 1867.
Someone killed Captain Shumway, a dagger to the stomach.
Now Rothenberg is Captain, and he is adamant in finding out who has done it.
People are getting wired up from this, Lana.
Please help me.
Yours,
Lana.
*