It was an early morning at the renowned Sai Kung public pier

By Kayden Hui

It was an early morning at the renowned Sai Kung public pier. The sky was dotted with scattered clouds. The sea seemed deceptively calm, with only occasional waves gently lapping over small rocks. The dock itself embodied the monotonous style of modernism. It was complemented by a large, barren concrete wall stretching along the island’s coastline, ultimately meeting a wharf that resolutely jutted out into the water. The dock was adorned with austere luxuries, as if designed by a man devoid of creativity and effort. It was a monotonous expanse of reinforced concrete, weathered benches, and factory-made tiles and railings. 

The complex was a cluttered mess of people, putting typical conversational volumes into obscurity. As I attempted to draw a breath of fresh air, the vile mix of intoxicating engine exhaust, accompanied by fish carcasses and excrement, filled my nostrils. “What’s this stinking stench?” I exclaimed, “It’s called the scent of Sai Kung” My father jokingly responded, hoping to relieve me from the pungent smell. I trod through the hordes of people and sat on a bollard, seeking a moment of peace and tranquillity. As I peered through the crowds, I saw flags fluttering along the concrete-grey coastline. The arrival of a skipper was followed by chants of crowds extolling its panelled interior, which captured my interest. Thus, I coaxed my parents to head towards the banners and flags. 

With heavy hearts, a deal was made at the price of 300 dollars. As my parents and I approached the docks, it seemed as if the small business had garnered a large crowd of twenty. Nearing from a distance, it was a small wooden vessel with a respectable size of twenty metres and a beam of five to six metres. Upon closer inspection, I was appalled by the absurdity of the vessel’s bow - it was rather blunt, appearing as if it was devoid of streamlining, proven by the vessel’s stupendously loud engine, and its staggeringly low speeds, resulting in several complaints from the passengers, who said in a blinkered attitude, “Haiyaaa, this sluggish ship is slow as heck, kayaking would be faster than this!” Their complaints lingered for a brief period before the vessel finally approached the docks. Upon disembarkation of the previous passengers, it seemed as if the skipper was flattering them, ostensibly after a passenger fell seriously ill.

As we were brought on board, we were greeted by a small vessel and a finely panelled classic interior, which was popularised during the Edwardian era and had pretty much faded into obscurity ever since the introduction of modernism. Though the walls were mostly obscured by the seats, the vessel was a fairly old design due to the lack of windows. However, they were replaced with fine wooden railings and intricate carvings on the corners, which were considered a rarity, considering Sam Pans were typically used by the peasantry. Speaking of which, the crew were also regarded as a peculiar sight, as they were dressed in traditional attire and the farmer straw hats seen in European renditions of Chinese people on the internet. When the passengers had finally retired to their respective seats, a loud churning commenced abruptly, and the vessel was out to sea. 

The journey was far from the typical excursion into Hong Kong’s waters. The captain was seen desperately flattering the passengers with an arrogant attitude, while excessively making attempts to engage his passengers. The ensuing events were an appalling spectacle, as the overbearing captain meticulously crafted his atrocious joke and said with a tone of contrived enthusiasm, “What do you call a fish with no eyes?” To his dismay, what followed was a lack of response and wry smiles from several passengers. As I peered into the distance, a sizable wave with a respectable height was spotted, and to my surprise, the captain had spotted the anomaly before I sighted the wave. To my dismay, however, the captain addressed the anomaly as “by no means a threat” and turned hard to starboard, which placed the vessel in a precarious situation. As the wave finally announced its presence, passengers, only then realising the gravity of the situation, fell into confusion and disarray. All of a sudden, the wave crashed violently into the wooden plating of the hull, sending the hopeless vessel into a thirty-degree list and kilograms of water plunging from the starboard side. This resulted in layers of agonising screams from passengers, while the captain struggled to keep the vessel’s passengers calm. When the effects of the waves finally subsided, what remained was a steady hum of the engines and the indistinct murmurs of those who had not yet found their footing on the now soaked wood. The captain cleared his throat, uttered assurances that struggled to convince halfwits, and avoided the eyes of his bewildered passengers. This resulted in a strong criticism from multiple passengers complaining of his incompetence and arrogant attitude. It was at that moment my suspicion solidified: this captain embodied the Dunning–Kruger effect and was proudly confident in his own ineptitude, and this assumption seemed to garnered traction, as several passengers have approached the captain regarding the poor handling of the vessel; one said “Are you out of your mind fool?” which the captain responded in an uncordial attitude of “I know what is best, besides who are you to judge?  You know little of navigation!” This sparked a volley of indistinct shouts and a verbal exchange between the passengers and the skipper. As tensions escalated, it seemed as if it wasn’t enough – a swell was slowly increasing in strength, threatening to push the vessel to the brink of capsizing.

The crests of the waves soared above the skies, while the troughs deepened into cavernous pits, threatening to shatter the vessel with a single devastating collision. Tossed like a cork upon the turbulent seas, for a moment, the screams bested the groans of the vessel; it felt inevitable that the vessel would eventually be capsized. From a distance, a trawler docked in Sai Kung’s piers loomed whimsically, almost as if it deemed the captain’s actions as pathetic, and as we approached closer, the effects of the waves subsided, and from a distance behind us, other vessels seemed to be navigating as usual. Yet, just as the dock came into view, the vessel lurched violently, forcing a wave of vomit and filth to spill across the deck, leaving a reminder of what predicament the entire journey was.