Su Tong - The Boat to Redemption

‘Instructions from our superiors,’ Xiaogai said. ‘A new regulation. Critical times always require new regulations. Otherwise they wouldn’t be critical. The regulation takes effect today. Members of the Sunshine Fleet are not permitted to go wherever they damn well please in town.’

I looked over at the distant streets, where people seemed to be going wherever they damn well pleased. ‘Why do boat people have to travel together,’ I said, ‘but people in town can go where they damn well please?’

Wang Xiaogai’s gaze followed mine. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said with a derisive snort. ‘We treat everybody the same, boat people and townspeople. We were just told to deal with signs of trouble — wherever the wind’s blowing and the grass is swaying, on land and on water.’

I hated people playing with words, so I said, ‘Does that mean you can always tell how the wind’s blowing and the grass is swaying? Fine, go and watch the wind and grass if you want, but forget about keeping me under observation. I’m going into town, it’s my right.’

Xiaogai pushed me back. ‘I’m not going to argue with you,’ he warned. ‘Your rights don’t count during critical times, and I’m telling you not to go anywhere by yourself.’

Baldy walked up and gave me a shove. ‘Your boat people are on their way. Wait for them. It won’t kill you.’

But Scabby Five was the worst. Taking a red and white truncheon from his waistband, he pointed it at me. ‘That loud-mouth of yours isn’t going to do you a bit of good,’ he said. ‘Who said you had any rights? That’s one thing people like you don’t have.’

I stared at the truncheon in his hand. ‘What do you plan to do with that,’ I said with a sneer. ‘Enter a relay race?’

‘Go ahead, laugh,’ he said. ‘But this is a security group, and if you disturb the peace in Milltown, I’ll use it on your head.’

‘Come on, then,’ I said as I pressed up close to him. ‘I just disturbed the peace. Now use that on my head.’

Xiaogai and Baldy Chen rushed up to pull us apart, just as there was a sudden flurry of activity at the pier. The barge crews were coming ashore. Seeing what was happening, the security group sprang into action. Xiaogai pulled a whistle out of his pocket and blew it. Scabby Five and Baldy cast sombre looks at Xiaogai, who draped the whistle around his neck and said, ‘Take your positions and get ready for action!’

Action? What was he expecting? To my amazement, I saw that they planned to follow the crews as they disembarked, like a trio of annoying dogs tagging along behind the rag-tag, boisterous gang of boat people. Xiaogai called out numbers that Baldy Chen recorded in his notebook.

At first the boat people didn’t realize they were being followed. It was common knowledge that the Sunnyside Fleet — men and women, old and young — came to town in a slovenly group, leaving splayed footprints in the road and bringing all manner of containers with them, including woven baskets and plastic pails. Their joyful expressions belied the sounds of bickering that marked their passage — they were a happy group. So I fell in behind them, adding a morose tail. They turned around. ‘I see Dongliang’s coming with us today,’ one of them commented with a puzzled look. ‘He’s in a good mood.’

‘I thought you went ashore early,’ Desheng said. ‘What are you hanging around here for?’

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. They turned and saw what was behind them. ‘Hey, it’s Scabby Five and Baldy Chen, and there’s Xiaogai. What are they doing? They seem burdened by a guilty conscience, whether they’ve done anything wrong or not.’

Someone, it must have been Six-Fingers Wang, uttered a panicky scream. ‘They’re going to arrest us!’ The women grabbed their kids and scattered, while the men’s reactions varied: some bent at the waist, clenched their fists and stood their ground; others wrapped their arms around roadside trees. Chunsheng, timid as always, crouched down and covered his head.

The chaos among the boat people was echoed by chaos among the security group. A flustered Xiaogai blew his whistle madly — with no results — then cupped his hands, gesturing for everyone to come back. ‘Don’t scatter,’ he shouted. ‘Stay as a group. Don’t pay any attention to Six-Fingers’s crazy talk. We’re not going to arrest anybody! We’re here to supervise people, not arrest them.’

Looks were exchanged, followed by a tentative return to the middle of the street by a few of the boat people, who watched Xiaogai and his friends nervously. ‘Close up ranks!’ Xiaogai shouted, repeating his gesture. ‘Close up ranks, I say! Stay together and keep going. We’re not going to arrest anybody.’

‘So what?’ Sun Ximing said. ‘Do you expect thanks for not arresting us? What are you up to? Who said you could supervise us?’

Xiaogai took a sheet of paper out of his pocket. ‘Who, you ask? Read this and you’ll know who. It’s from the General Affairs Building.’

Sun tried to take the paper from Xiaogai, then, barely literate, he called me over. ‘Come here, Dongliang, and tell us what this says.’

I walked up and read what was on the pink sheet. It was, as Xiaogai had said, a new regulation: ‘Effective immediately, members of the Sunnyside Fleet must travel as a group on shore under the supervision of the security group.’ I read it again, this time out loud for the benefit of the people who had gathered around me. The bickering started at once. ‘Are we counter-revolutionaries or a labour-reform group?’ Desheng shouted to Xiaogai. ‘Why should we let you supervise us?’

‘You heard what this said.’ Xiaogai shook the sheet of paper. ‘These are critical times. When that’s no longer the case and you can go back to your normal jobs, we’ll stop supervising you.’

Baldy Chen glared at Desheng. ‘You’ve got quite a temper, Li Desheng, haven’t you? What’s so bad about being supervised? Will it give you haemorrhoids? Or cancer?’

Before Desheng could reply, his wife counterattacked: ‘No haemorrhoids and no cancer. Just baldness so severe that not a single blade of grass will grow on his head.’

The crowd roared, all except Sun Ximing, who looked glum. ‘Go ahead, supervise,’ he said, ‘but not like this. Anybody who sees us will think you’re letting prisoners out for fresh air and exercise.’

‘Nobody cares about appearances during critical times,’ Xiaogai replied. ‘By staying in line you make our job easier.’

Sun didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘What the hell does that mean? First you say you’re going to supervise us, then you want us to do your job for you. When a cat chases a mouse, the mouse doesn’t just roll over!’

Apparently, Xiaogai was serious about getting us to cooperate, since he offered Sun a Front Gate cigarette. Sun hesitated before accepting the cigarette, which eased the tension on both sides. The boat people continued to grumble and maintain their dignity as best they could as they silently closed ranks, no one making a reckless move. With the false alarm over, the odd procession moved slowly towards town, its tails still attached. But a subtle change came over the group, as the people rearranged themselves in families. Related men, women and children walked together in tight little units, apprehensive looks on the faces of the adults, who held tightly on to their puzzled children.

Walking a few paces behind Desheng and his wife, I was the sole straggler. My father had refused to come ashore, so I held my tote bag as if it were his hand. Made of grey leatherette, it was crammed full of oil and soy-sauce bottles and a sack for rice. But the most important contents were in the lining pocket: two letters. Father’s letters. One was a petition appealing against the decision of the Martyrs’ Orphan Appraisal Team, in which he argued that the team had been swayed by rumours, leading to an unjust decision. The second letter was also an appeal, not on his behalf but on behalf of the spirit of the martyr, criticizing Zhao Chuntang for his passive attitude towards the preservation and maintenance of Deng Shaoxiang’s memorial stone. I recall that one was addressed to Comrade Wang Chuan at the District Party History Office, the other to the appropriate person at the Civil Administration Section. My steps that day were heavier and more cautious than those of the other boat people, owing to a feeling that Father was hiding in my bag, vacillating between indignation and terror; I heard his voice emerge from inside: ‘Careful,’ he was saying nervously. ‘Be very careful.’