Читать книгу Cull - Stafford Ray - Страница 12

"But it will cost you nothing,” the man was saying. “All you need to do is get to the boat.”

“Loi,” she called. “Nguen Thang is here from America. He has money for us.”

Loi hurried to greet Thang. He remembered him from their army days. A fisherman. He disappeared with his family three years ago. Lost at sea, they said.

Good news was rare. He smiled and held out his hand. “Nguen Thang! Wonderful to see you!”

Thang took his hand and felt bone as he observed his friend’s emaciated state. “Xin chào,” Thang said. “Lin Poi tells me you are not well.” He noticed the green rice stalk in his other hand. “But you are expecting a better harvest this year?”

Loi handed the stalk to Thang. “Not any more. This is salt. See the dead tip? There will be no grain from this rice.” Defeat was written on his face and sagging shoulders. Tears prickled his eyes. “We’re eating our seed rice now and soon the soldiers will come and take that too.”

Thang slipped a small sack from his back and handed it to Loi, who looked inside. Rice, dried fish, coffee.

“Take it,” Thang said. “Have some now.”

“But I have nothing to give you,” Loi moaned, then brightened. “Come inside and we can have coffee.”

He ushered them in to squeeze around the small table onto which Lin Poi placed a clean cloth. She turned to the stove to blow buffalo dung embers back to life.

“We heard you were lost at sea,” Loi said as they sat. “So you weren’t lost and you look well. What happened?”

“We just took the boat out and kept going,” he answered. “We made it to America, well, almost to America. We ran out of fuel and were picked up by an American trawler.”

“Lin Poi has been saying that since you disappeared,” he said. “She kept hoping you got out with your family.”

“How is the family?” Lin Poi asked, moving from her place at the stove.

“They’re well. The children are being taught at home but when I get back they can go to regular school.”

He turned back to Loi. “I worked on the trawler and my wife cooked and washed for the crew, but there was no money. When we were in port we had to hide so we wouldn’t be deported, so it wasn’t much of a life.”

“But you’re OK now, aren’t you?” Lin Poi asked, wondering what life would be like in a foreign country.

“There were Vietnamese people working on the docks so I would go ashore at night and talk to them. One told me he had a brother in New York who was given citizenship after the war and now owned a restaurant. He thought his brother might give me a job for a while until I could find my way around, so we went to New York. We stole some money from the Skipper’s cabin and that night we caught the midnight Greyhound.” He smiled at the memory. “It was a long ride, but the brother did give me a job and we’re still in America. When I get back I get a green card.”

“We could go to America too,” Lin Poi appealed to Loi. “That’s what we should do.”

“I’m afraid that’s not what I can offer you,” Thang answered. “The boat I told you about has room for only one more family and that boat is going to Australia, leaving with the tide in two hours. It’s that, or I give you a little money and you take your chances. Sorry.”

The kettle began to whistle, drawing Lin Poi to the stove and coffee. “I heard they send you straight to Manus Island and you never see Australia. I knew people who…”

“It is a risk, and for some that will happen, but we are buying a lot of boats and everyone should arrive at more or less the same time. They’re not equipped to intercept more than a few, so most of you will get through to the mainland. Then you disappear, and I must say,” he added, “most people that make it there end up staying anyway.”

He spoke louder to include Lin Poi, who was pouring coffee. “There are thousands of Vietnamese in Australia and they do well there. I’m told they are always short of farm workers, so they’ll welcome you.”

Coffee aroma filled the tiny space, drawing the children’s eyes.

“What can they do anyway?” he added. “It must be better than here and at least they won’t shoot you!”

Lin Poi placed three coffee mugs on the table and went back to the sack. She paused with her hand inside it. “With so many arriving at one time maybe they will.”

There was no answer to that. She withdrew her hand and dropped some dried fish into a bowl in front of the children. They looked up at her but didn’t move. Thang was considering what she said. There had been no such assurances from Bunton but he needed this to work.

He shook his head. “I must be honest,” he said. “I don’t know about that, but I’m sure we would have heard if they were shooting people.”

She had picked up the hesitation but her options were limited. To stay was to die. She took a few tiny fish from the bowl and placed them in her mouth, a signal for the children to do likewise. He was still talking.

“And what choice do you have? I guess…”

“But, so many boats? If I was them, I’d shoot!”

She sat, her coffee untouched.

“So what do we do?” Loi picked up the diseased stalk of rice. “We can’t stay here. If we go, maybe we drown. If we get there, maybe we get shot.” He laughed bitterly. “So, if we don’t drown we get to live a little longer!”

Thang nodded as he silently sipped his coffee. It was their call. He watched the children munching on the crunchy salted fish and waited.

Lin Poi’s eyes followed his to the children. She placed her mug gently on the table and shook her head in resignation; covering her face with her hands, she sobbed.

They all watched.

She forced herself to lift her frightened eyes to Thang. “Chúng tôi đi,” she managed through her tears. “We go! We go!”