Ting-Yan and Lee reeled the net back into the water to try for a second catch.

“You’re kidding me,” I said.

“Shouldn’t we get going?” Professor Duffy asked.

“Mother Mary is generous tonight,” said Old Lee.

“He means Tin Hau,” said Ting-Yan. “The Japanese destroyers in the harbour have been disturbing the fish. If the sea is generous tonight, we can’t afford to turn our back on her.”

“Do you want more money?” said Horace. “I’ll pay you to start the engine now.”

“Good fish, good cover,” said Captain Lee, waving away Horace’s cash.

“Jesus, Son of God,” Courchene grumbled. Emily and Raymond sat in the corner, watching wide-eyed.

The net went down, and the light went on.

Lee and Ting-Yan lived on these waters, and had done so all throughout the occupation. Through poor dead Tak-Tam and that psychopath Tak-Wing, Emily and I were related to them. Watching their expert casting of the net, I felt pride in kinship.

“You’re not selling us out, are you?” said Tanaka. “You’re not using that light to signal the Japanese? I’ve been a good friend to you all through this vile occupation.”

“You accuse me?” Captain Lee said.

“Of course not,” Tanaka said.

Lee muttered something racist under his breath.

In perfect Cantonese, Tanaka said, “I’m sorry, Uncle Lee. I didn’t mean disrespect.”

“Can we get going?” Horace said again.

As formerly pro-Japanese, Horace and Tanaka had both the most and the least to be worried about. If we got boarded, they could have said that Lee was kidnapping them. There was a fifty-fifty chance that Noma would vouch for them. On the other hand, they could have been apprehended and executed on the spot as traitors to Emperor Hirohito, which of course they were.

The second net filled more slowly than the first, but it filled. Everyone helped haul the catch on board and empty it into the hold. Now the hold was full.

“Crab traps,” said Old Lee.

“You’ve got to be joking,” said Courchene.

“Joking,” said Old Lee. He fell into a fit of laughter. Tears of mirth spilled down his cheeks. Out of sheer relief, we all laughed with him, except his daughter Ting-Yan, who rolled her eyes. She put out the fishing lights and started the motor.

Lee said he’d take us around Nam Tong Island to avoid Fat Tong Mun, a narrow straight where, if there were Japanese patrols, they could corner us.

“No one prone to seasickness, I hope,” he said.

I looked around at the other passengers.

“All ocean-going people here one way or the other,” said Kathy Duffy.

“Except me,” said Courchene. “At least in part. The landlocked Cree in me might puke, but the French in me has good sea legs.”