Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 300

Santa Maria
St. Mary's Canossian College, Tam, Celine - 16
Midnight.
A lone figure sat in the middle of the barely-illuminated library, as a single candle burned its life away in
front of him. The sound of dripping wax was almost in sync with the sound of tears rolling off of the man’s
cheeks, as the flickering flame illuminated his face, tear-streaks gleaming.
Even after years of pursuing financial support, the Court had eventually overruled his numerous requests,
leaving his reputation at stake. Clinging onto the last sliver of hope he had, he had desperately scoured the
shelves of the library for any sort of supporting document that could aid him in his voyages. Despite his
eagerness, he knew deep down that any related papers, documenting the famous Oriental maritime voyages
60 years ago, had already been destroyed. At least, those were the accounts of the events that had happened
officially; however, he dared not consider any other alternative. After all, giving himself hope was one thing,
allowing himself false hope was another.
Until he came across the slim, leather-bound booklet.
A memoir. He had commissioned those who were fluent in the language to translate the contents for him—
that was how desperate he had been, for anything that could possibly lend him a helping hand. As he sat
down at the library, he started to flip through the pages, scouring for any stray piece of information that
would be useful.
FIRST VOYAGE
11th July, 1405
One year ago, 16-year-old me was standing in front of the docks, staring at a notice that read
“BOATMEN NEEDED”, while clutching onto the scraps of a stale mantou someone had thrown out the
night before.
Having turning 17 just a few nights ago, I was standing in front of the exact same docks, watching as
workers loaded crates and sacks of supplies onto the fleet of ships, lined up neatly across the docks. From my
vantage point, I noticed that a horde of men were loading red, heavy-looking chests onto the more
extravagant ships, along with countless rolls of what seemed to be silk, and bucket loads of something that
shone and twinkled under the sunlight. It took me a while to realize that they were loading pure gold onto
the ships.
I had been instructed to report to the supervisor for my assigned ship, standing by one of the docks. He
happened to be reading off from a list, while a crowd of men, mostly teenagers, surrounded him. After
silently thanking my rather short stature, I slipped into the crowd, careful not to knock anyone over.
“…As I was saying, do note that…” By the time I had gotten close enough to hear what the supervisor was
saying, the briefing had ended. That was when the pale-looking young boy next to me stuck his hand in
the air, and waved it about. All he did was ask for food.
At that instant, the calm-looking supervisor’s face flushed red with fury, and he flew into a rage, spittle
flying from his mouth as he yelled at the boy. “Who do you think you are, boy? There are more than 27
thousand men on this voyage. Do you reckon that we have time to serve every single one of you, what with
everyone busy preparing the 255 ships for the upcoming voyage?” He frantically put his hand down. I dug
out a mantou from my pocket, split it in half, and quickly shoved it into the boy’s hand. He flashed me a
brief smile of gratitude, fingers closing around the scrap of mantou, before dodging the supervisor’s glare and
slipping into another part of the crowd.
Truth be told, I did not anticipate life on deck, not to mention my horrible sea-legs. But still, there was no
point in turning back now. From the promotion materials at the recruitment docks, the government had