One level below that was the bridge, and the narrow catwalk that surrounded it. Bracketed to the catwalk’s railing, directly in front of the bridge’s forward-facing windows, were two life preservers, formerly bright orange but sun faded to a sort of bilious caramel hue. Threadbare green-and-white poly ropes had been laced through the railing’s stanchions and used to support one edge of a plastic tarp that had been stretched across much of the foredeck; it had been under its cover, Yuxia explained, that much work had earlier been done packing and prepping whatever sort of cargo the vessel had been carrying. If the vessel were being used for its intended purpose, this was where the fishermen would work with the nets, pull the fish on board, and do whatever else it was that fishermen did.
They made a cursory tour of the cabins, mostly just checking for dangerous and/or useful articles, and then ventured belowdecks. Things looked different here from when Yuxia had been put through her ordeal. Then, the place had seemed larger, since its contents had been neatly stowed in boxes. But in the hours since, some kind of frenzied unpacking had taken place, and junk was strewn all over, interspersed with slashed-open cardboard boxes. Yuxia remarked on this, which led to a conversation with Marlon in which she explained, as curtly as she could, what had happened in this place during the afternoon. Yuxia held up her wrists to show the damage inflicted by the ropes as she had struggled. This seemed to affect Marlon deeply, and she was astonished to see tears beginning to come into his eyes.
They decided to get out of there and sort through the junk later.
Batu conducted them to the galley and, as a sort of automatic reflex, got busy making tea. Watching Batu fill a kettle from a spigot, Marlon asked him about the ship’s supply of potable water, and Batu assured him that there was plenty—hundreds of liters—in its storage tanks; he prided himself on keeping these topped up at all times. “Water is cheap—not like fuel!”
This prompted the obvious question—which, as soon as it was asked, made Marlon feel foolish for not having asked it before—of how much fuel the vessel might have on board.
Batu didn’t know the answer, but the look on his face made it obvious that this could be a serious problem.
“I’m going to go up to the bridge and look at the fuel gauge,” Marlon said, getting to his feet, but Batu waved him off, saying that there was no such thing on a boat like this; fuel level was estimated by dipping a stick into the tank and seeing how much of it came out wet. So Marlon sat down again, and he and Yuxia waited while the tea was prepared.
“That guy on the bridge,” Marlon said. “Mohammed. Was he one of the ones who—”
“Who what?”
“Did that thing to you?”
“Yes,” Yuxia said curtly.
That seemed to dampen the conversation, and so they began to sip at their tea, sitting back in their chairs a little. Yuxia’s eyes fell closed, then slowly opened. “I am going down,” she said in English. Switching back into Mandarin, she asked Batu to pour a larger cup of tea—not just a thimble—so that she could take it to Csongor, who might be having a hard time staying awake up there. Batu rummaged through his bungee-corded cabinets until he found a mug. Meanwhile Marlon asked him, “When was the last time they bought fuel?”
Batu had a difficult time remembering. “They brought out a couple of drums last week,” he said. He set the mug on the table, holding it down with one hand, since the boat had begun to roll as they got away from the coast and into higher seas offshore. He poured the mug full, pausing once to refill the little teapot.
“A couple of
Batu made no comment.
“There’s really no reason to fill the tanks unless you’re going out on a long sea voyage,” Marlon said, working through the logic of it. “And this thing didn’t go out on long voyages, did it?”
“Not recently,” Batu said, meaning
Yuxia tossed back the last of her tea-thimble, then picked up Csongor’s mug and got carefully to her feet, stepping across the galley in a wide-based gait to compensate for the vessel’s movement beneath her. She passed out through the hatch and began ascending the stairs that led up to the bridge.
“What do you think the range of this boat is? Enough to make Taiwan?” Marlon asked.
Batu shrugged, as if to say,
From above, they heard Yuxia asking a question, then flashing into anger and speaking in a raised voice. There was a massive thud, as of a body hitting the deck, and the crash of a shattering mug. Csongor cried out in a blurry voice. There was more crashing and banging, and then a series of very loud pops.
