The Emperor's Gift

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I see a small junk named The Dragon Moon. Men are filling her hull with yellow silk, rice and tea. My heart jumps, for I know that this junk will sail all the way to Beijing, to the Forbidden Palace. Yellow is the royal color. It is a crime punished by death to wear yellow silk unless you are a member of the Emperor’s family. I am once again certain that I, like the yellow silk will reside in the Forbidden Palace. It is easy to stow away upon The Dragon Moon. I crawl inside a crate of tea where it is dark and fragrant. I am so very tired. The voices of the sailors and the rocking of the junk lull me to sleep. I dream of accompanying the emperor in heroic battles. I sit on his shoulder chirring a war chant. I dream I sit breathlessly within the emperor’s quiver as he hunts tigers, boars and bears in the wild mountains. The emperor crouches low in the pine brush. He moves silently as if with cat paws. I see nothing. I hear nothing. The emperor slides an arrow from the quiver and balances it on his bow. It feels as if the trees are watching, but nothing moves, not even time. With a roar like thunder and the speed of lightening the beast is leaping towards us, his ready claws like daggers. Then I see that this giant tiger is not leaping he is flying with great golden wings. The emperor’s arrow is flying as well towards the tiger. It looks so small against the tiger’s huge stripped chest. We will be devoured if I do not open my weary eyes!


“There was no way to prevail against the Flying Tigers. They were huge, five hundred feet long; armor clad and carried hundreds of sailors.”


It was the voice of one of the sailors. My heart froze. Was my dream true? Were there flying tigers, flying tigers that were five hundred feet long and armor clad, tigers who could carry off and devour hundreds of sailors? I had only seen a drawing of a tiger that some one had left in the shrub. I do not remember it having wings. Did all tigers fly? Did they all eat sailors?


“The crew lived their entire lives on the Tigers in those days. Babies were born; couples were married and people died without living in a home that did not move on water. They say there were gardens within their hulls.”


The sailors are telling fantastic tales. Babies are not born on tigers. Gardens do not grow on tigers. I listen.


“They say that the junks took with them white pigeons that could carry messages back to the shore if one of them should sink under the waves. Even the Flying Tigers could sink beneath the waves.”


“Their hulls had air tight compartments.”


“Yes but nothing withstands an angry sea, not even The Flying Tigers.”


“I wish those Tigers still sailed the South China Sea and I were a part of their crew. It is not right that seasoned men such as we should take orders from that Dragon Lady and her son. Serving a boy captain is not honorable.”


“Not serving a boy captain is death when his mother is a dragon lady, a pirate from the south.”


“Yes, how can such a thing be? Our captain is afraid of spiders and mice yet his mother is the dragon lady. I would rather take orders from that woman than her cowardly son.”


“Fool, you do take order from her.”


“Those Tigers had cannons. With a junk like that we would give the orders.”


Our captain is a boy. Though the sailors mock him, I think well of him. He has left his home and family to seek his dreams. He is the captain of this junk and he is the captain of his dreams. When night falls I will creep into his cabin. I want to see this boy. Now it is day and time for me to sleep.


While the boat maneuvers the shallow waters of the canal I sleep, I sleep for miles and miles. The shadows grow long and a twilight hush falls over the sailors. For the first time since I left the shrub I feel so alone. The air is indigo now and the first stars appear. I do not wish upon them nor do I feel like singing. Who is there to sing to, who is there to sing with? What must my mother and father be feeling now? I did not even say good-bye. I know that if I had waited to say good-bye I would have never left. I am hoping that I lose the contest at the Imperial fair. No, I will not lose. I make a promise instead of a wish upon the stars. I promise I will return home again someday soon. I feel the rolling rush of water beneath the junk taking me farther and farther away from my home. I wonder if the boy captain ever feels as alone as I.