The Boat to Redemption

by Su Tong

  So that’s what they were, shock troops! A barge-load of shock troops was on the move and our spacious forward hold emptied quickly, leaving nothing but two rows of buckets used for toilets, all filled and sending their hot stench straight into my nostrils. Some of them must have been knocked over, since the deck was soiled with puddles of a disgusting liquid. The smell was overpowering.

  After changing into rubber boots, I snatched a mop and began cleaning up. But I’d barely begun when I saw that something else had been left behind – a bundle wrapped in an army raincoat had been tossed into a corner. I touched it with my broom; it moved. Then a child’s leg kicked out, scaring the hell out of me. The next thing to wriggle out of the raincoat bundle was the head of a woman with hair going every which way, and I heard her complain crisply, ‘Why’d you hit my leg with that?’

  Two people had taken refuge in the army raincoat: a thirty-year-old woman and a little girl, apparently a mother and daughter. Two pairs of eyes, one dazed, the other lively, both gaped at me sleepily.

  I struck the deck with my mop. ‘Up!’ I said. ‘Get up! I have to clean the cabin.’

  As soon as they stood up, I saw how weary the woman was. She had a pale, unhealthy face. And there was more inside that raincoat, lots more. She opened it up to expose a bulging knapsack and a rolled-up blanket, plus a netted basket with a wash basin and rice tin, all tied together by the hood and sleeves of the raincoat, which she held in her arms. The girl’s arms were just as full: she was hugging a cloth doll and had an olive-green army canteen draped around her neck by its strap. She was also holding a little blackboard on which words had been scrawled in juvenile writing: ‘East Wind No. 8,’ it said. ‘Huixian. Mama.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I demanded. ‘How dare you sleep on while everybody else has left the boat! Who are you?’

  ‘Who are we? We’re not going to tell you.’ The girl glared at me and put herself between me and her mother to keep her mother from telling me. ‘He’s mean,’ she said. ‘Let’s ignore him.’

  ‘This is a shock-troop barge,’ I said. ‘How did you sneak aboard?’

  ‘We didn’t sneak aboard,’ the girl said provocatively. ‘We flew aboard, so you couldn’t see us.’

  The woman combed her fingers through her tangled hair and glanced eagerly at the shore. ‘Huixian!’ she scolded. ‘Don’t talk like that! It’s rude.’ Then, turning her eyes away from the shore, she smiled, almost apologetically. But she hadn’t answered my question. She crawled out of the hold, dragging her bundle and the girl with her. Then she turned and said, ‘We’re shock troops too. I just overslept. I didn’t dare fall asleep at night. I was exhausted.’

  From Inside an Army Coat

  I CAN’T SAY why, but one look at Huixian and her mother raised doubts in my mind about them.

  I’d always been suspicious about people like that. If they were shock troops, my name wasn’t Ku Dongliang. I didn’t know why they’d boarded our barge and was pretty sure they’d tricked their way on. We’d received strict orders not to allow unknown persons, as well as the old, the weak, the sick and the infirm, to board the barges for the trip to Milltown, and I hadn’t seen a single child at the Horsebridge pier. I wondered if they’d slipped aboard barge number seven in all the confusion during the two days when the river was clogged with all those ships. If so, why had the former soldier turned a blind eye when they came aboard, and how had the shock troops let her get away with it? Whatever the reason, they’d made it possible for Huixian and her mother to hide inside an army raincoat for two days and two nights.

  Since the woman and her daughter definitely hadn’t come to Milltown to work, they’d probably come in search of someone. Announcements of missing persons were broadcast daily, and it usually took only one to locate someone. If the announcement was repeated, the person was truly missing. The announcements for whoever this woman was looking for must have been repeated several times, but the name had made no impression on me. Stuff like that didn’t interest me. With so many people travelling, not finding someone wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. As far as I was concerned, other people’s misfortunes weren’t worth more than a tear or two, compared to what my family had gone through.

  I had no idea where these two were from. In Milltown, food was supplied at the work sites, and when ration cards were handed out, personal information was dutifully recorded. So if Huixian and her mother had eaten at a public canteen, their details should have been recorded. But there was so much going on at East Wind No. 8 that no one had checked up on Huixian and her mother. Even if they had, who could say whether the data was reliable or not, since it was even rumoured that a murderer had managed to pass himself off as belonging to the shock troops? That made a mockery of recording personal details in the first place.

  I watched Huixian and her mother closely, mainly because they must have had a shady background, but also – I forgot to tell you this – because the woman resembled my mother. I know it sounds strange, but I wondered if she might have been my aunt, a Horsebridge woman I’d never met. For three days the Sunnyside Fleet waited at the piers for orders. I had time on my hands while everyone else was busily running around; everything I needed to do had to wait till I was ashore. Until then, I was on my own. So I stood on the bow, hands on my hips, coolly watching the construction work at the piers.

  The heavens opened and the sound of rain rose around us. Rudimentary tents popped up, occupied by labourers from the surrounding areas. Some ran up to our barge to borrow firewood or a bucket or bowl. I said no, but Father invariably overruled me, and I had to lend them whatever they wanted. But the borrowed items never made it back to us, and before long we were down to a single bowl, which Father and I were forced to share at mealtimes. When I complained, he criticized me for being small-minded. ‘A few bowls, what does that amount to?’ he said. ‘Sharing a bowl can be our contribution to the success of East Wind No. 8. You’re young enough to make a real contribution, so why don’t you go ashore instead of standing around looking down at what’s going on, as if it’s got nothing to do with you? That kind of behaviour will get you into trouble.’

  Talk like that from my father went in one ear and out the other. He thought I got a kick out of watching people busily running around, never considering that I might be concerned about the loneliest people down there. I kept searching out the mother and her daughter. With the oversized army raincoat draped around her, from a distance it was hard to tell if she was a man or a woman. But up close she was obviously a woman whose face showed that she was sick. Instead of continuing down the road, she paced back and forth on the riverbank. The weary look on her face could not mask the fact that she was pretty, her eyes exuding a charm and warmth that was tempered by signs of resentment, as if there was an unpaid debt owed her; it was a heart-chilling look. She seemed more emotional than my mother, yet given to bottling things up. Every time she came near the water I felt like asking, ‘Are you from Horsebridge? Did your family run a butcher’s shop? Is your family name Qiao?’ But the looks she gave me, cold and resentful, made me shrink back rather than engage her in a conversation. I could see that the raincoat did more than protect her from the rain, that it had multiple uses, in particular providing a makeshift roof for someone on the move. All her belongings were hidden under that raincoat, not to mention her daughter, the skinny little Huixian, who was never without her grimy little doll; she’d poke her head out every so often and blink once or twice before slipping back inside.

  Tents had been thrown up on the school playground, some clearly marked ‘women’, where women with children were welcome. Maybe because she had her child with her, or maybe because she was just too shy, she walked into one of them and walked right back out again. As I continued my observation, separated from them by a strip of water, I concluded that they had to be looking for someone. But who? And although they were looking, they were not finding that person.

  The day before the incident, I watched the woman pace back an
d forth by the piers, shielding her daughter with the raincoat. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought she was just out for a walk or checking the lay of the land. And as darkness settled around us, the rain fell harder, swallowing up mother and daughter.

  After cooking dinner, I took the food to Father in the cabin. ‘Have you ever seen my aunt, the one who lives in Horsebridge?’ I asked him.

  ‘Yes, back around the time of our wedding. I’d have liked to see her again after that, but I never did, since the sisters had a falling out.’ That’s not what I wanted to hear. Apparently, they hadn’t come looking for my mother after all. Why I felt bad I couldn’t exactly say.

  The incident on the pier occurred the following morning. Our barge was loaded with broken bricks and tiles, and we were about to weigh anchor and head downriver when a shrill wail burst from the shore. The voice was crisp and clear, but obviously juvenile and hysterical, and loud enough to drown out the rousing voice coming over the PA system. From aboard the barge I spotted the little girl; she was holding her doll in one hand and dragging the army raincoat in the mud with the other as she ran madly back and forth. Running and bawling, she attracted the attention of everyone within sight and earshot.

  Several of the female labourers chased after the girl. ‘Stop running!’ they shouted. ‘Your mother’s coming back!’ Someone near me recognized the girl and told me she’d cried and made a fuss all night. ‘She can’t find her mother. At first I thought she’d gone off on some sort of errand, but it’s morning now and the girl’s still all alone.’ That was when we knew that something was wrong. The woman in the raincoat was missing. The labourers, loving mothers all, went up to Huixian with toys, food, even some plastic flowers. She fought off all their pity and heartfelt sympathy and ran towards the barges, biting one woman’s hand and spitting in the face of another. She dodged in between the legs of the women trying to catch her, and when she reached the gangplank to barge number one, she stopped in her tracks. Then she came aboard. ‘Where are you going?’ they shouted. ‘Your mama’s not on one of those boats. They bring people here, they don’t take them away.’

  I still recall how Huixian searched for her mother aboard the barge. Stumbling along with terror-filled eyes, she looked everywhere, crying out for her mother the whole time. The tugboat started up its engine, but then shut it off. ‘Whose child is she?’ people wondered. ‘Why is she running around like that?’ She’d changed into a red-striped shirt since the last time I’d seen her; her braid had been combed and was tied with a bow. I recognized her right away, though. I noted that she’d not only lost her mother, but that her canteen and little blackboard were also missing.

  While some of the crew members ran after her, others shouted across to people on the shore, discussing what might have happened to her mother. Opinions differed on the water and on the shore. The labourers on shore came mostly from farming villages and, given their view that females were next to useless, assumed that the girl’s mother had abandoned her. Few of the barge people accepted that, probably because they spent their lives on the water and had seen their share of drownings, many intentional. Their initial reaction was that ill luck had found the woman. I saw Six-Fingers and his mother, one at the bow and the other on the starboard deck, crouching down to look into the water. Looking for what? Everyone knew the answer. The tugboat crew were on the roof of the engine room searching the water, shielding the sun from their eyes with their hands. I knew that everyone on the river was of the same sad but unexpressed opinion that the woman would not be coming back, that she’d taken the easy way out.

  Boat people consider it taboo to look for a dead person aboard a sailing vessel. But no one on the Sunnyside barges had encountered anything quite like this before. A taboo is meaningless to a seven-or eight-year-old girl, and nothing can change that. She had her own logic: her mother had brought her to Milltown on a boat, so that’s the way she was going to leave. People tried to talk some sense into her: ‘Little girl, we bring people here, we don’t take them away. Your mother isn’t here.’ But Huixian would have none of it. Even at her young age she knew adults’ weaknesses. ‘You’re lying!’ she said through her tears. ‘If a boat can bring people somewhere, it can take them away too.’

  She stamped her foot in front of Sun Ximing, convinced that her mother was hiding below deck and trying to get her to come out. Sun Ximing’s son tried to get her to stop. ‘Don’t do that,’ he said. ‘You’ll stamp a hole in our hatch, and you’ll have to pay.’ But Sun’s wife pushed her son aside and opened the hatch to let Huixian see for herself. ‘See, little girl? There’s no one in there, nothing but bricks.’

  Huixian got down on her knees and stuck her head in. ‘Are you down there, Mama?’ she cried into the darkness. ‘Come out, Mama! Please come out!’

  The crew exchanged glances. Desheng’s wife wiped her moist eyes and glanced at her husband.

  ‘Why look at me?’ he said. ‘I’m not the Dragon King.’

  His wife lowered her eyes and gazed down at the water. Since she couldn’t argue with the Dragon King, she took her frustrations out on the water. ‘It’s all because of this year’s floods. Why was there so much water? It’s the damned water. Come and stand over here. See how easy it would be to jump in.’

  However ridiculous the woman’s comments may have sounded, I was struck by the knowledge that she’d fathomed the river’s secrets: it sends the autumn floodwaters downstream, causing the riverbed to lose its temper. The banks slink off, leaving the murky water to rush angrily along and cover the river’s cruellest secret. I’d thought about this secret in the past, and I knew what it was. It was whispered in people’s ears, two simple words: ‘Come down, come down.’

  The tugboat blew its whistle, pressing the people on the barges to do something about the little girl. But no one knew what that something should be, so they congregated on Sun Ximing’s barge. As he looked down at the tree limbs and leaves floating by, Six-Fingers made a quick calculation of the speed of flow. ‘Already past the town of Wufu,’ he announced. ‘Way past Wufu.’ At first they didn’t know what he was talking about, but only for a moment. What he meant was, if the woman had jumped into the river, her corpse would already have been carried down below the town of Wufu. No one spoke; they all turned their heads to gaze sadly in the direction of Wufu.

  Sun’s wife took the girl’s hand and raised her voice in angry protest. ‘What kind of woman abandons her own daughter? With officials on land and the Dragon King in the water, someone should deal with people like that. I don’t care where she’s run to, they should tie her up and drag her back.’

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t considered the effect of her angry denunciation on the girl, who yanked her hand free and began pounding Sun’s wife on the arm. ‘I’ll tie you up!’ she screamed. ‘Tie you up!’

  I saw the women trying to pull the girl away, but she’d have none of it. Some of them walked up with open arms, but to no avail. She moved up next to Sun Ximing, which pleased and surprised him; he gestured for the others to watch what they said around her and had his wife go and get the girl some sweets. His normally tight-fisted wife suddenly turned generous, stuffing a sweet into the little girl’s mouth, which opened wide to accept the treat. Her eyes lit up as she sucked it, and she spotted me. ‘It’s him!’ she shouted, pointing at me. ‘My mama’s on his boat!’

  Panicked, I turned and ran. But Huixian took off after me. I knew why she was chasing me, but not why I was running away. Whatever the reason, by overreacting I caused a bizarre scene, as people on all the barges started running, turning the fleet into a rocking runway. They were chasing each other up and down the sides of the barges, shouting, ‘Don’t run! Don’t run!’ But no one stopped. I kept looking back, afraid that Huixian might fall in. I needn’t have worried, for she had an astonishing sense of balance. Like an avenging demon she kept after me, her feet virtually flying on what for her were unfamiliar boats.

  I calmed down once I made it back to barge n
umber seven, where I pulled back the tarp and said to the girl, ‘Go ahead, look for yourself. Your mama won’t be hidden on our boat unless she turned into a brick. If she didn’t, she won’t be in there.’

  The people who had been running after Huixian stopped when they reached our barge and watched as I jumped down into the hold and started tossing the damaged bricks up on deck, one at a time. ‘Go ahead, look,’ I shouted, ‘and tell me which one of those is your mama.’

  Dodging the flying bricks, she stamped her foot and yelled, ‘Your mama is a brick!’

  ‘Dongliang!’ Sun Ximing called out. ‘What’s going on here? Why was she chasing you?’

  By then I was getting angry. ‘How the hell should I know? She may think she knows me, but I sure don’t know her!’

  Amid all the shouting, the tugboat crew ran out of patience and sounded the whistle. Slowly getting under way, the eleven barges turned into a gigantic boa that smelled the arrival of spring, heading out into the river. Startled by the movement, people aboard the barges turned and shouted, ‘Stop! The little girl’s still aboard!’ The tug crew ran into the cabin, where a burst of garbled shouts emerged from a battery bullhorn. Finally one of the men blew into the bullhorn and said impatiently, ‘What’s all the fuss? What are you afraid of? She’s just a little girl. It’s not as if you’ve taken a class enemy aboard!’