He kept on running in the rain, past the hideous corpse of his friend, sprinting down the cart track. He veered and stumbled into the thicket, plunging knee-deep into the rain-soaked bush and lallang which cut his arms as he swept aside their knife-sharp blades. Behind him, not far away, he could hear the sounds of fighting and pursuit. On reaching the open stretch of scrub near the tin mines, he raced down the path towards the settlement, splashing through streams of mud. He did not slip. He did not stumble. He now had an unerring sense of direction and an acute sensitivity for the changing terrain under his feet. He leapt over rocks and boulders with the agility of a deer. Years of eluding capture by the Manchu guards had armed him well.
“Black Flags!” he bellowed.
The White Cranes sheltering in the sheds heard his warning at once. They grabbed their poles and whatever they could lay their hands on and raced after him towards the settlement. Gunshots rang out behind them. His first thought was for Wong-soh, the other women and their children.
“Wong-soh!” he hollered.
Bullets whizzed past his head. Old Stick’s spirit was shielding him from the gunfire, he thought. Old Stick had been warning him about the snakes in the bushes. That must be why his body had sat up in that preposterous manner! To scare off the enemy waiting in ambush! Thank you, Old Stick!
“How many dogs?” Lee Peng Yam stopped him. His voice was hoarse from shouting. All round them, the White Cranes were racing to the food stores and ammunition sheds with rifles, choppers, axes, parangs and whatever they could grab in the confusion.
“Don’t know! Didn’t see!”
More gunshots rang out. Hordes of Hakka miners were streaming down the slopes towards their huts.
“Take the women and children down the river!” Lee Peng Yam pushed him towards the jetty.
There was no time to lose. Big Rat led a small group of men and ran towards the Bandong River. The White Crane warriors would be able to hold off their attackers for a while. Tuck Heng followed them and they sped down the lanes of the settlement, yanking the cowering women and children out of their huts.
With each passing minute, the sounds of gunfire grew louder. The children tumbled after the adults, wailing for their mothers in the noise, smoke and confusion. Spears carrying balls of fire hissed through the air. Several huts burst into flames despite the rain. He rushed into Wong-soh’s hut, grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the safety of the bushes. Then they ran through the thick undergrowth till they reached the river. Not once did he let go of her hand despite her protests that she could look after herself. His sole thought was to get her to the boats. He had lost one mother before, and he was determined not to lose another.
“Into the boats!”
He shoved Wong-soh into the water and helped her into one of the boats. Then he waded back to shore to help the other women and their children. He pulled Aunt Loh and shoved her into the water too.
“Take her! And this one! And this one!”
He flung child after child into Aunt Loh’s arms. When he saw Big Rat, he grabbed another child and flung him into Big Rat’s arms. He was tireless as he swam back and forth between the boats and the shore, his arms making a grab for each woman or child floundering in the treacherous waters. Behind him, the settlement was on fire. The storm had eased into a drizzle, and thick columns of smoke rose from the burning huts. The fighting reached the riverbank. Several gunshots rang out in unison. He turned and saw White Crane warriors pitch forward and fall on their faces. The Black Flags closed in on them. A moment later, a violent blow hit his left arm. A bullet tore through his shoulder. He staggered and fell heavily into the water, gasping as more gunshots were fired into the river. Balls of fire hit the boats. Warriors fell like dominoes. He thrashed about in the bloodied water, flailing his arms as darkness threatened to swamp him. Blindly he struck out for the boats that were moving downriver with the current. He felt himself being pulled along, gasping and choking as water rushed into his nostrils and lungs. Then he knew no more.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself gazing into the weeping face of Wong-soh.
“Thank the Lord Buddha, you’re alive! Two days and two nights! You slept as one dead!”
He asked about the children.
“All safe, all safe! Drink this.”
His throat felt parched. He was burning with a high fever and his whole body ached.
“Aunt Loh and I pulled you out of the water.”
“What about Big Rat? He was beside me.”
“He’s in the next boat. He’s trying to get us to Penang.”
He touched the bandage on his left shoulder and grimaced with pain.
“Is the bullet still inside?”
“No, I cut it out. What you need now is some good medicine to close the wound.”
He remembered his father’s medicine chest. His one and only link with China had been left behind. He groaned and closed his eyes.
“Tuck Heng! Tuck Heng! Don’t die!” Wong-soh shook him violently.
He opened his eyes and gazed up at her tearful face.
“Don’t worry, Wong-ma, I won’t die.”
“Did you hear that?” Aunt Loh asked the women crowding inside the boat. It was one of those large flat-bottomed riverboats with an attap hut serving as the main cabin. Twenty women and children were sheltering inside it.
“We heard,” the women replied.
It was then, and only then, that it struck him that he had inadvertently called her Mother Wong.
“The gods know how many times I’ve prayed for this!” Wong-soh was in tears. “Thank you, Lord Buddha! Thank you, Lord Guan Gong!” She clasped her hands and bowed to the heavens.
Aunt Loh turned to him, but he was just as surprised as she was at the turn of events. “You two are of the same fate. One with no children and the other, no parents. Two lives floating like leaves in the ocean with no blood relations in this part of the world.”
“Wong-soh, why the tears? Adopt him,” the butcher’s wife urged.
By now everyone in the boat had edged closer.
“When we reach Penang, you can do it formally in the temple and give thanks and prayers to the gods. But who knows what tomorrow will bring! Today we’re safe. Tomorrow? Who knows?”
“Choy! Let’s talk about happy things! Wong-soh has found a son!” Aunt Loh chided the woman.
“Call her Wong-ma, Tuck Heng!” the women urged him, eager to be part of something joyous. “Let your joy dispel bad luck.”
“Greet your adopted mother, Tuck Heng,” Aunt Loh pressed him.
“Wong-ma,” he croaked.
The butcher’s wife thrust a mug of water into his hands. “No tea, so water will do. The gods in heaven will understand. Ah Tuck, kneel and offer your Wong-ma three kowtows.”
He knelt and kowtowed.
Wong-soh accepted his mug of water and wiped away the tears streaming down her face. Her deep wrinkles creased into a broad smile as she took a sip of the sweetest water she had ever tasted.
“Sleep, my son. You’ve got a mother to take care of you now.”
He lay down and turned to face the wall so that no one could see his tears. It had been such a long time since someone had called him Son.