Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 315

The Eighth Treasure Voyage
Ying Wa College, Tsai, Lon Hei Amos - 12
The Ming Treasure Voyages consisted of seven sea expeditions to the west, led by the eunuch Zheng He.
Its primary aim was to create new relationships with the countries of the west, the secondary aim to destroy
sea rivals that challenged the massive fleet. Or at least that’s what the history books all say. But no one wrote
of the eighth voyage—because the emperor had ordered that any historian that wrote this shameful bit of
China’s glorious history down be executed and their work destroyed.
However, the Emperor’s officials missed one record written not by the famous historians, but by a
young sailor who died from cholera on the decks of one of Zheng He’s junks. Most of the parchment was
lost at sea, but one scrap was kept and taken care of by his friend, who lived considerably longer than his
friend. Here is the recovered manuscript—
Today is third year I’ve been on this damned ship. I overheard the older oarsmen chatting last
night, so I know we’re getting close to a land called Arabia now. I hope they’ll let us off the junk to explore
for a while when we replenish supplies, instead of just lugging cargo out and in the entrance like we did in
India and in Cambodia. The hold and the decks really stink with the smell of decaying wood and human
waste now, and since we can’t take baths on the ship, the odor just clings to our bodies. I don’t understand
why [the Emperor] ordered this eighth expedition to the west, though I hear rumors that this voyage is
actually a conquest to expand our territory to some islands in the west and even to a faraway land called
Africa.
The treatment we sailors get is unbearable. It’s even worse than at home when I worked as a
servant in a merchant’s mansion. The captain always eats and drinks the best meat and the best wine, but all
we junior sailors get is this dirty water and these stale balls of flour.[ My teeth] are filled with cavities and
some are even blunt from chewing on the rock hard food.. It might just be the exhaustion, but my stomach
is aching terribly after a day of scrubbing the decks. Or maybe it could be the breadworms I had to pick out
from my flour ball three days ago. At any case, my stomach is hurting like somebody stuck a red hot iron in
there.
(The next part has been soaked through and is indecipherable.)
…Today, we reached Africa. The sandstone walls and bright fires of the Arsumite city, so
reminiscent of my home city of Chengdu, are faintly visible from the cannon holes of the hold as I am
writing this, late in the night… …sadly, I can’t observe the sight clearly as [my vision] has been deteriorating
lately. My vision has turned faintly jaundice, dark spots dancing across my eyes every time I try to focus on
something. I feel more and more nauseous, and I vomited three times on the deck today – and received ten
lashes for it!…… at least the merchant’s household had a few doctors to heal sick inhabitants, but I’m so
scared that I might die here on this ship without even knowing what struck me. Back in China, I always
complained about how bitter the medicine was, but in my present state, what wouldn’t I have given for a
good dose of herbal medicine! I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight for my terrible stomachache which
now feels like a thousand squirming rats gnawing at my insides now.
(The following part has been burnt.)
…This morning, one of my crewmates died, foaming at the mouth and twitching violently before
the closest sailors threw him overboard to avoid spread of the disease that took him and five other men
before him. It was five years since our departing China when our first man died, a remarkably long time
since the other ships already started [having casualties] two years ago. The crew of one whole ship
completely died off and Zheng He was forced to leave the ship on an unhabitated island, just one year ago.
When I saw the dying man today, I knew my death couldn’t be far. I’ve been lucky to hold on for five
weeks since the first of the symptoms began: vomiting, jaundice vision, et cetera. I’ve been careful not to let
[the rest of the crew] know I’ve had the unknown disease, because if they knew, they would certainly throw
me overboard…I’m still clinging onto the hope that the doctors in the port can fix me up before anyone
notices, even though deep in my heart I know it is impossible. This could be one of the last entries I ever
write…
This is the end of the young sailor’s records. The following text was written by his friend who
survived the unsuccessful conquest and escaped to the African city of Cyrene to avoid the tragic return to
China, during which half the remaining sailors and soldiers died of typhoid and cholera.
I hated this (hopefully) last voyage to the west. Because of all the innocent souls sacrificed in the
process, because of my poor friend who died in the voyage. His death was for nothing, since when the fleet
landed, a quarter of its force had died in the sea voyage and half of the survivors died in the twelve battles
we fought against the African tribes in which we lost eleven. In the last battle, I escaped into the forests of
Congo with twenty other sailors and soldiers, meeting some of the natives and befriending them. We lived
with the tribe for almost five years, hunting and gathering just like them, before I decided that I wanted to