Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 143

New Tales of the Ming Treasure Voyages
King George V School, Bhat, Shraavasti - 15
In this story, the perspective of 3 characters come together to detail the incidents that occur and explore the relationship
between various characters.
Syaoran
Being the son of the captain of the Zhang fleet meant I was born into a life of uncertainty; each day was a surprise as we
painstakingly traversed vast bodies of water for months upon end without a clue, who was on the other side of the
water. An encounter with rabid villagers or the occasional rogue soldiers was common, taking the lives of several of our
crew including my mother, who remains missing to this day. Nevertheless, my father , General Chang-ho continues to
voyage aimlessly under the orders of the emperor like a pawn. Having travelled from India to Arabia, there was nothing
we hadn’t seen. Recently, we were given orders to form an alliance with a local village chief and to recruit more men
for our next voyage.
The day before, the crew had faced a malevolent storm that raged into the night. All the members were occupied in
keeping the boat from falling apart. While one issue was fixed, another emerged. The wooden planks that lined the
deck were damp, sagging with water; the sides of the ship were punctured by the debris of a junk boat along with the
help of a fervent whale. While several of the masts were splintered and collapsed to make a gaping hole that peeked into
the storage room. Hours had trickled by as the crew and soldiers laboriously pieced the ship together until dawn before
they succumbed to the slumber of exhaustion.
I was jolted awake as Wang Lei , one of the soldiers, yanked my arm in desperation. As my eyelids craned open, I could
see his eyes rounded in alarm, coloured with uncertainty. His face contorted in horror as he gazed towards the door. I
could hear the fierce clanging of steel, grunts of exhaustion and muffled cries of our nurses, followed by the abrupt flare
of gunpowder. The Wokou (Japanese pirates) had perfect timing! We scurried towards one of the storage room and
crouched behind barrels of liquor our swords poised, ready to attack. Unfortunately, a gruesome scene had already
unfolded beneath our eyes; a steel sword streaked with blood laid menacingly beside an unidentifiable limp body. Who
laid motionless on a wooden crate, while grubby men with dented brass helmets and tattered robes streamed into the
storage room lifting away crates of our gold and rolls of royal silk. I counted 10 pirates, if we were to show ourselves we
would be begging for our deaths…
Cheng Ho
Mrs Lin hadn’t been paying her loan for about 3 weeks now, I thumped my fist along the cluttered desk, which
trembled innocently beneath my fist. A veiled woman stood out as she hurried across the street, bumping into passer-
by’s who eyed her suspiciously. Upon closer inspection, I recognized her hole-ridden slippers and brass band that was
adorned around her index finger. She was attempting to run away again.
My feet crashed against the pavement, my breath uneven as I chased her along the cobblestone road. She had
abandoned the obnoxious scarlet red veil, causing her hair to pirouette behind her like a cape. As I swerved frantically
my shoulders brushed irritant bystanders, evoking several murmurs and grumbles of protest. She glanced back wary, her
eyes wide, pupil dilated filled with desperation. But I wasn’t going to be swayed again. I had mouths to feed, family to
support, children to send to school, I couldn’t let this pass.
The lady disappeared into the crowd, blending unsuspectingly. I shoved mercilessly through the mass of bodies,
receiving glances of indignation. I scanned the crowd and crept towards her clasping my hands on her shoulder firmly.
She turned instantly ... But. It wasn’t her. I had lost her, again.
Sighing in despair, I turned my attention to the crowd that had formed along the coast, spreading about a mile or so.
Villagers buzzed with anticipation as they spurted slivers of gossip amongst themselves. Behind the crowd lined the
villages best, equipped with steel swords slung on their back, and sickles or kitchen knives clasped in their hands,
waiting. Looking to see what this commotion was all about I slid through to catch a glimpse: in the distance was the
vague silhouette of a ship. There was no sign of attack, but it was too soon to say. The clear echo of the gong
permeated along the coast, eerily, as if in warning.
I faintly caught a discussion between a middle-aged woman and a young girl who naively questioned with wide eyes,
“Could it be the supposedly friendly treasure fleet? I heard the last town they visited was Yashiri which is a few hours
away at most!” The woman beside her rightfully laughed, incredulous, “Little girl. Are you asleep! Have you seen a ship
on these waters leave without prowling our village? Most of the ships that have anchored on this dock were filled with
ruthless Wokou , some of whom even set fire to our homes. You foolish girl!”