Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 25

New Tales of the Ming Treasure Voyages
Chinese International School, Zhu, Edward - 12
On a land, which we now know as Calicut, in the West Coast of India, legend among local people speaks of
a strange event many years ago.
That day, a ghostly assembly of ships clouded the horizon. Each one of these ships was the size of countless
houses, with dragons painted elegantly and flawlessly against the sturdy wood. The clouds covered the sky;
no, not the clouds, those were sails, stacks on stacks of red, flowing cloth, each a darker silhouette of the one
before.
As the ship progressed forward, a wave of foreign sailors alighted from their ships. There was a large
commotion from the other side as the natives scurried over to see what was happening. However, they ran
straight away from the port in fear. There were shouts and cries far away as natives reached for spears in an
attempt to protect themselves, or run away. The port was empty.
A group of native soldiers in red tunics rushed over, followed by five other groups, each holding spears and
shields. They were led by a middle-aged, limping man in a slightly darker tedious red dhoti, shoulders
bowed and his chin out and down. Before they started marching towards the bridge extending from the
port, a representative climbed down gracefully from the ship, followed a bit less swiftly by three guards.
“Greetings,” the foreign representative said in Arabic after a few minutes of silence. “We are from the land
of Ming Empire and I would like to greet you fine people of this land. We come in peace. Do you fine men
have a spokesperson? Because -”
“I am their spokesperson,” the man in a dhoti interrupted in Arabic. He limped slowly, and walked at a
crooked pace towards the crew. “My name is Rama Kushna,” he chirred.
“We are glad to meet your people.” The foreign representative said in Arabic. “I am Ma Huan, a
representative from my fleet. We come in peace.”
Rama Kushna attempted a smile. “You have travelled a long, long way for this.” He paused. “What do you
want?”
“Your country contains countless goods that we seek to trade with our own goods.”
“I’ll report to my king,” Rama Kushna said in a shrill voice.
He arrived at the palace, with the red elephant decorations sent swinging about as he swung open the door,
where the King held an emergency meeting.
“Rama Kushna! Tell everyone about the event,” the King, sat in the far-end part of the table in a overly
cushioned red chair, announced with a skeptical tone drifting off his words. As he fiddled at his bushy beard,
his pet parrot echoed,
(“event, event.”)
“Your Majesty, a fleet of ships from the Ming Empire just arrived at our port. Their fleet is like nothing
we’ve seen before. They say they have brought trade items for us, but I see that they have more soldiers than
their items.”
“The ‘floating city’ has come to our attention lately,” one advisor in red chattered.
“Indeed?” the King droned sarcastically. (“indeed? indeed?”)