Annoyed at the surface, and at a deeper level steaming with shame, rage, and other feelings he couldn’t identify, Cheung nodded. Why didn’t she say thank you to Captain Lee or the fishers, who had done all the work?

The launch boat motored off with all the fishers’ precious rope still tangled in its railing.

“Dead devils,” said Granny Tang in the general direction of the departing British boat. “Stupid eggs.”

The rescuers hung around Lee’s boat a bit longer, talking and laughing about what had happened. Finally, grandmother and granddaughter got back on their boat, and one of the larger Tanka boats towed them back to Aberdeen, where they lived.

“You were kind to them,” Cheung said to Lee as he pulled up anchor a second time. “Even though they were not kind. We deserve better masters.”

“This is what the Good Book teaches,” Lee said. “To treat all men as brothers. If we were all brothers under God, perhaps we would be our own masters.”

“Tin Hau teaches people to help one another also. She is the goddess who helps especially ocean-going people when they’re in danger of drowning. If any supernatural intervened today, it was her.”

“Perhaps. But only the Christian God wants to unite all of the people. Unity among brothers is what we need in order to be free.”

“Your brains are scrambled. The Christians wants to unite people under the white man’s God. Then the white man will be our master forever.”

“Better the white man than a Manchu emperor puppeting for the Japanese,” said Lee.

“I don’t want either,” said Cheung.

“Then we are back where we started,” Lee said.

The sunset over Fragrant Harbour was a beautiful misty pink and purple. The men began the long journey back toward the Causeway Bay Typhoon Shelter, trying to forget their differences and dreaming of the feast they would have with Cheung’s family at Tai Hang once they got there, even if there would be no fish.

CHAPTER 6Typhoon ShelterTHE TROUBLES OF CAPTAIN LEE

June 30, 1997

Great-Aunt Violet has been talking so much, she’s forgotten to eat. Though it would be more polite to leave some for her, the crabmeat is so sweet, tender, and garlicky that Ophelia can’t stop munching. She sucks the meat from the shell and then uses her teeth to scrape the peppery, crunchy deep-fried coating onto her palate. She eats the slivers of fried garlic by themselves as though they were potato chips. The crab’s head stares balefully at her, so she picks it up, turns it over, and scoops out its creamy, grey insides. A little bitter, yet redolent of the sea.