Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 225

New Tales of the Ming Treasure Voyage
St. Paul's Convent School, Leung, King Sze Casey - 15
Ever since the haijin imposed on the ports a few decades ago, nobody could travel to foreign
countries, and those dreaming of a life of glorious maritime explorations were forced to quell their
wanderlust, contenting themselves with the monotonous cycle of farming and fishing. The elders, upon one
too many drinks, would speak in hushed voices the fascinating and curious lives of the outsiders, who lived
in the foreign states and had darker skin than us and led very different lives, who were kind and hospitable
and traded funny spices for our silk.
“That’s how your great-uncle disappeared, I presume,” my grandfather once revealed during New
Year’s Eve, as we were staying up for the shousui gathering. “Got smitten by one of the outsiders’ ladies,
didn’t come back. Stayed there, raised his family, with zero regard of his parents back in Ming who raised
him painstakingly. You’d think he would at least write back, but no, he never sent us a letter. Your great-
grandmother was worried sick. I’m ashamed to have such an unfilial man as my brother.” He sipped his cup
of wine and glanced at me. “You look like your great-uncle,” he rumbled. “You resemble him greatly.
Your personalities were similar as well.”
Having grown up listening to stories of maritime adventures, I had always craved the freedom of
the seas. When I started working at the docks, I was thrilled to discover that one of the ships made secret
biennial trips to the foreign states in the South Sea. I immediately joined their crew, hoping I would embark
on my own little adventure on the sea. But I was soon disappointed: the ship had a ‘restraining order’ put on
by the provincial government, after too many times of getting caught by the patrolling marines. In the
words of the captain: “The officials told us that had we been better at hiding our trading goods, they
would’ve turned a blind eye provided that we shared the profits with them; but since we were found out by
the marines, they had to carry out the orders of the government ministers.”
So we were completely over the moon when we found out that Admiral Zhang was searching for
ships that would accompany his fleet and traverse the seas to where he had to conduct court business. We
were to travel to where the foreign Muslims dwelled; the nature of the trip was not disclosed to us, yet we
rejoiced at the opportunity to exchange the uninteresting fishing port for an adrenaline-pumping
expedition.
~*~
I was patrolling the deck when Zhang Xie yelled at me to get downstairs. “The admiral wants to
see you.”
“Alright. Why though?”
“I dunno.” He patted me on the back. “The naval officers just told me to get you, they didn’t tell
me why.”
An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach as I approached the admiral’s room. What was it? Was the
food bad? Were we sailing too slowly? Did he – heaven forbid – find a rat and wish to complain?
The fantasies of gaining riches and glory was quickly ripped apart: the hired fishing vessels were
forbidden to mention their travels to anyone. From the gossip among the other hired sailors, we learned that
the imperial fleet was attacked by Wokou near Quanzhou, and although Admiral Zheng was safe, and their
goods unharmed, their fleet was badly battered, the sailors severely wounded. Had the admiral returned to
the capital, he would be immediately labelled a weakling and the mission a failure by ministers, and all naval
exchanges by the central government would be halted. He was reluctant to give up all he had accomplished,
for he knew that going back would mean being stripped of his title as Admiral, and he would have to return
to being a lowly eunuch; and after a heated argument with Vice Admiral Wang Jinghong, his second-in-
command, he visited the fishing ports in Guangdong, recruiting seamen who would not be averse to a
years-long trip to the southern foreign states. He was determined to continue his court-ordained
exploration and preserve his status.
The admiral was rather decent. He was quite apologetic about the secrecy ordeal, and paid us an
extremely profitable amount for joining his crew. He had also gone on each hired ship, insisting on getting
to know each sailor personally so that he could properly thank us. When he was making a speech on our
ship, he had caught a glimpse of the large box labelled ‘SILK FOR TRADE’ that we had neglected to hide;
he simply raised an eyebrow, turned the other way and resumed his speech.
Yet the other ships had not informed us that as part of the ‘get to know my crew better’ plan, the
admiral would sleep over at each individual ship; and when he had announced that he would be taking his