"On Board" - 1947
从船尾的大舱爬上甲板来，吹向面来的清风，顿时使我觉得爽快起来。 船面是黑暗的，月亮不知藏在哪里，不过眼前几尺之地，依稀还可以看见起重机和物件的黑影。 我靠着栏杆，俯视着海，海是漆黑的，船尾旋律的转轴声特别响亮起来。
船已过了檀香山了。 我这样想，没有感情，也不是深思，明天船抵金门湾的时候，对我不是航程的终止，不过仅是一个经常的段落—— 我是海员。 我看着侨胞抱着同一的使命，却各有复杂不同的感情，到一块离家数千里的土地去谋生之道。 许多去了，许多回来。 回来的不久又再去，有些一次，有些多次，有些去了永远不回来。
“深思么？” 我知道船中段铁梯下走来一个人影。 我以为他是进入三等位的大舱的，可是他却停步在我的后面多事地发问，从他的声音我听出他是三等位中最年轻的青年。
“不，只是让脑子休息。” 我没有回头，淡淡的回答。 我从没有和他交谈，也好像没有相识的必要，他是在香港上船的。
“你是一位海员，是不是？” 他的问是多余的。 他不客气地靠在我旁边的铁链上。
“是。”
“多少年头？”
“记不清楚了，在海上生活的人是不计算时间的。”
“你喜欢这种生活吗？” 他不放松地追问。
“谁敢说他喜欢或不喜欢呢？ 生命是在我们毫无所觉的时候赐给我们的，反正不能把它放弃。 生活也不是自己可能作主的，乞儿休想进宫殿，私生子休想不给别人唾弃。”
“你错了，先生，生命或者是天赋的，但是生活却是自己争来的。”
“你没有争的权利，没有争的自由。” 我急速地接上他的话，我的头猛转过来，好像机敏的野兽一样，我看见他底发亮的眼睛： ”你是一个理想主义者。”
一会儿无语，倒是他先开口： “先生， 你为什么不试试脚踏实地，到人中去求取新的生命，而放弃漂流的生涯呢？”
“我爱思想，我不能忍受在东方的土地上挨着饥饿，日夜忙着图谋抢得点果腹的东西，也不愿在西方的土地上低头忙着积贮自己享受不到的金钱。 我本是从陆地上来的，我也曾产生过许多希望，立过许多大志。 但是别人夺去我的自由， 别人把我要争自由的权也要剥去。”
“我是从饥饿的生命线上走出来的。” 他的声音是诚恳的，他的停顿很可表明他底痛苦的回忆：
“我看过比野兽还不如的人类，挣扎着多活几天，我看见他们为了生存而自私。 但是我更看见他们真诚的同情，他们的合作和善良，只要他们有生活的基本条件，所有的人都是善良的。 我很庆幸自己离开了这虎口，走进有希望的土地去，到我强健起来的时候就回来为我的理想而服务。”
“我曾遇见许多像你这样抱有伟大希望的青年，但是我不曾见过一个回来。我认许你是从困苦的环境出来的，或者你的经历比别人多，但是你不曾看到社会别一个阶层，你假定了奋斗的人一定有出路，你还不知道什么是压迫，你还未知道别个阶层的人早已夺了你奋斗的自由。 你的热心将来还要增加的，到你听到了在外国的土地中的中国广播，你的心会出于荣耀而跳动，到你听到大新公司或其他在中国熟习的名称时，你对华侨社会的希望就更大，但是渐渐你就给华埠黑暗的引诱力灌冷。”
“我不相信你的话，你是一个悲观主义者。”
“我知道你不会明白我所说的，你也不想去明白这些话的。 对于像你这样的人，只看见几乎可以说是公平的争斗，不曾感受过别个阶层的压迫。 我知道只有你自己，才可以把空虚的希望消灭的。”
静默混在黑暗中，我掏出纸烟来，探手摸火柴。 海水击着船身有力地作响。
“生命就像一艘破浪的船。” 他说。
我划着火柴，橙黄的光照在他的面上，我看见上面胜利的痕迹。
Climbing out from the sleeping quarter at the stern of the ship to the deck, I instantly feel refreshed with a breeze blowing by my face. The deck is dark, and it is unknown where the moon is hiding. But within just a few feet away from the eyes, one can still vaguely see the black shadows of the crane and objects. I am leaning on the railing, looking into the sea that is pitch dark. The sound of the rhythmic propeller at the stern is especially loud.
The ship has passed Honolulu. Without emotion nor any deep thoughts, I think when the ship enters into the Golden Gate Bay tomorrow, it is not the end of a journey for me, but just one of the regular phases —— I am a seaman. I have been witnessing overseas Chinese embracing the same mission, yet with varying complex feelings of going to a place several thousand miles away from home to make a living. Many have gone and many have returned. For those who returned for a while, they will go again: some do it once, some do it many times, and some leave and never return.
“In deep thought?” I am aware of a shadow coming down from the iron ladder at the mid section of the ship. I assume he is going into the third-class sleeping quarter, but he stops behind me with his meddlesome questioning. I can tell from his voice he is the youngest lad in the third- class section.
“No, I just put my brain to rest,” I nonchalantly responded without turning my head. I have not interacted with him, and there seems to be no need to be acquainted. He was getting on board in Hong Kong.
“You are a seaman, aren’t you?” His question is redundant. Uninvitedly he leans on the iron chain next to me.
“Yes.”
“How many years?”
“Can’t remember clearly now. Those who live on the sea don’t count time.”
“Do you like this kind of life?” He continues to press on with questions.
“Who could say whether one likes or dislikes? Life is granted to us when we were entirely unaware of it, yet we cannot abandon it regardless. Living is also not something we can be self-determined about, just like there is no need for a beggar to think of entering a palace, or an illegitimate child to think of avoiding being cast aside by others. ”
“You are wrong, Mister. Life may be endowed by heaven, but living comes from what we strive for ourselves. ”
“You don’t have the rights nor the freedom to strive.” I rapidly interject his speech with my head forcefully turned around like an alert, wild animal. I see his shining eyes and say to him, “You are an idealist.”
After a moment of silence, it is he who opens his mouth first: “Mister, why don’t you put your feet on solid ground, go find a new life in the crowd, and forsake this drifting livelihood?”
“I am fond of thinking. I cannot bear living with hunger on the Eastern land, plotting day and night to snatch some food to fill the stomach. Nor do I wish to lower my head in the Western land, busy with saving the money that I am unable to enjoy. I originally came from the land, and I too used to have much hope and set forth many great ambitions. But people seized my freedom, and they even seized my right to fight for freedom.”
“I came out from the hunger of a lifeline.” His voice is sincere. His pause adequately reflects his painful remembrance of the past.
“I have seen humanity that was worse than wild animals who struggled to live for a few days longer. I have seen how they became selfish for their own survival. But I also saw their earnest sympathy, their cooperation and kindness. As long as they have the basic conditions to live, they are all kind-hearted. I rejoice for having left this tiger’s mouth and entered the land of hope. When I become stronger, I will return to serve my ideals.”
“I have seen many youths like you who embrace great hopes, but I have never seen one returned. I recognize that you came from a harsh and bitter environment, and perhaps you have experienced more than others, but you have not seen the other social class in the society. You assume that those who strive would certainly have a way out. You have not yet known what oppression is, and you still don’t know people in other social classes have already seized your freedom to strive. Your enthusiasm will intensify in the future. When you listen to Chinese broadcasts in the land of a foreign country, your heart will jump with pride. When you hear the name of Da Xin Company or other well known brands from China, you will have greater hope for the overseas Chinese society. But gradually you will be cooled off by the sinister lure in Chinatown.”
“I don’t believe your words. You are a pessimist.”
“I know you won’t understand what I said, and you don’t want to understand these thoughts either. To people like you who can only see what may be considered as a fair struggle, they haven’t experienced the oppression from the other class. I know only you yourself can eliminate empty hope.”
Silence fuses into darkness as I take out a cigarette and reach for a match. The seawater is hitting the body of the ship creating forceful sounds.
“Life is like a ship breaking waves,” he says.
I strike up the match and see the tangy yellow light shines onto his face. I see traces of triumph there.