Unexpectedly, out on the open water, Professor Duffy was sick. She vomited quietly overboard. “My sailor father would be ashamed,” she muttered, once she was feeling a bit better, and was seated again. “It’s the smell of all that fish in the hold.”

We rounded Nam Tong Island without incident. It was only when we turned toward Clearwater Bay that we got surprised. They sprayed us with bullets first. No one was hit, but new holes sprouted in the boat’s canvas roof. Suddenly, there was a Japanese patrol boat gunning toward us.

“Into the hold, quick!” shouted Ting-Yan. She lifted the floorboard.

“It’s full of fish,” Professor Duffy complained.

“Yes,” said Ting-Yan. “You get under the fish.”

Courchene went down first and helped Emily and Raymond in. Horace, Tanaka, and Duffy followed. I was last. “Must I?”

“Hurry, or they’ll see you.”

It was dark and smelly under there. The boat seemed to sway more vigorously than it had been a moment ago. We all gagged and choked, but tried to do it quietly. We heard the patrol come up alongside, and stern, rapid-fire Japanese.

Ting-Yan responded with a few Japanese words, awkwardly pronounced. Lee chimed in, even more awkwardly.

There were footsteps above.

“Floor,” said the water policeman, in English. With the clicking toe of his boot, he tapped the ceiling above our heads. We all dived under the mass of fish. One, still alive, flapped in my face. I wanted to yelp, but I managed to stay still and quiet. The hatch opened. We lay beneath the catch, not daring to breathe.

There was another mostly inaudible exchange. The floorboard fell again, and we heard the patrol men disembark.

“Don’t come out yet,” Ting-Yan whispered. “They can still see us. I’ll tell you when it’s safe.”

We lay there choking for what felt like an hour. Finally, the floorboard lifted. “Safe now.”

One by one we climbed out of the wet, stinking hold, each of us half human, half fish. Ting-Yan and Old Lee laughed at our sorry state, our bedraggled hair and clothes. But Ting-Yan fired up a little charcoal brazier to make tea. We imagined ourselves home free.

We were not home free. We passed between Tiu Chung Chau and Bluff Island, also known as Sha Tong Hau Shan. For the second time that night, a hail of bullets descended on us, but this time it kept coming. The canvas roof of the Oolong was shot to tatters, and it became clear that we would be too, if we stayed aboard. They were shooting at us from Tiu Chung Chau on the port side. A mortar round went into the hull of the boat. It began to take on water.

“Diu!” cursed old Lee. “Not tonight. Did that patrol know about our passengers and send a message ahead?”

“Time to swim,” said Ting-Yan. She tossed everyone a buoy. “You know how, right?”