This American is living a charmed life,” Ned complained.
He twisted in his seat and yelled to Mr. Yip over the sound of the powerful engine: “What should we do? Wait for them to come back, or what?”
“It’s not necessary to wait,” Mr. Yip called out, “Enjoy the boat ride. We will talk when we get to the restaurant.”
“What restaurant?” Ned asked.
Mr. Yip pointed. Ahead was one of Aberdeen’s enormous floating restaurants with gold dragons and crimson banners.
Among the throng of dilapidated junks, it was an improbable oasis.
Fifteen minutes later Ned found himself dining in style. The OWL-sun had set and the lights of Aberdeen were blinking across the harbor. Mr. Yip took it on himself to order a lavish feast. It was enough for Ned to forget his anger.
In the middle of the meal, one of Mr. Yip’s men brought in a nautical chart. Mr. Yip spread it out on the table.
“This is the ZhuJiang Kou estuary,” Mr. Yip explained.
“Most foreigners call it the Pearl River. Here is Guangzhou.” He pointed with his chopstick.
“And here, above Zhuhai, just north of the special economic zone that the PRC has set up above Macao, are a group of small offshore islands. It is there that Captain FaHuang picks up your people. If you go tonight with some of my men you can meet them. You don’t have to wait for them to get back.”
“How do I get there?” Ned asked, looking at the map. He could tell it wasn’t that far: maybe fifty miles.
“We have a special boat coming for you,” Mr. Yip said.
“It is what they call a cigarette boat.”
“Wonderful,” Ned said. He knew that cigarette boats were capable of speed in excess of fifty miles per hour.
“There is only one problem,” Mr. Yip said.
“What’s that?” Ned asked.
“I’ll need a bit more squeeze.”
April 19, 1990 10:51P.M.
“Marissa!” Tristan called excitedly.
“We’ve made contact.
Why don’t you come on deck?”
Marissa sat up in the darkness. She had been lying on a bamboo mat in the storeroom.
It had not been a good evening. An hour and a half out of Aberdeen, after rounding the southern tip of Lantau Island, they had run into a sudden squall. Within a few minutes, the rosy sky was transformed into a black swirling mass of clouds. The slight chop gave way to five-foot swells.
The queasiness Marissa had felt at the start quickly blossomed to full-blown seasickness. Since there were no facilities on board, she could only cling to the poop deck railing and vomit off the back of the boat. When the rain came, she was forced down into the filthy hold.
Tristan had been solicitous, but there was little he could do.
He’d stayed with her, but after he’d opened one of the box lunches and started to eat, the sight and smell of the food had made Marissa feel worse. She’d sent him away.
The storm had also hindered their progress. With the gusty high winds, they had been forced to reef the huge butterfly sail that they’d been using up until the storm. Switching to the diesels, the captain merely kept the boat on course. Bentley explained that he wanted to conserve fuel.
Evenafter the storm had passed and the sail was rehoisted, the traveling had not been pleasant. The wind had all but died, and a dense mist had formed over the water creating a pea-soup fog.
On several occasions, huge ships suddenly loomed out of the darkness with foghorns blasting, giving everyone on the small junk a terrible start.
But finally they had arrived, and for the last half hour they had been slowly cruising the coast back and forth between the mainland and some small offshore islands. At first Marissa had watched the shoreline with everyone else, amazed that she was looking at Communist Chinese territory. But after a time she’d retreated below to lie down for a while. By then, she was more exhausted than seasick.
“Come on!” Tristan called out.
“I know you’ve had a bad time of it, but this is what we’ve come for.”
Marissa struggled to her feet. She was dizzy for an instant.