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water. The ring of light over Hong Kong did not look brighter or nearer. Not onlywere we losing our strength and determination, but the current was also weakening.Sooner or later it would turn against us. Tom’s pain was growing worse.In the distance, slowly but surely, we saw dots of light—still too far away toknow if they were from a passing ship or from a house on shore. Nevertheless, thesighting energized us, and we swam with renewed vigor. Tom joined in to paddlewith his hands. Yes! Those lights were, in fact, from the windows of not one, but twohouses. Beyond exhaustion, we had reached a shore surrounded by oyster beds.Holding Tom between us, we staggered toward the lighted window of thenearer house. The oyster shells cut into our legs, but we did not notice until weentered the house and saw the blood. We had arrived at a safe house, one with aglow in the window, which signaled a welcome and safe passage for runaways.We knew that some residents along the shore made it a business to take inrunaways. While our hosts provided shelter, food, and water, they were sizing usup: Just how much were we worth? Soon they would call our families to negotiatethe fees; for the right price, they would hide us from the authorities. Depending onhow much the smugglers thought a family could afford, the going rate was between5,000 Hong Kong dollars and 10,000 Hong Kong dollars each. There was a silentagreement between the Hong Kong government and the refugees. If we could makeit into the city and disappear into the population, we could apply for legal status.Otherwise, we would be sent back to China.Against the odds, we made our escape 35 years ago. Countless others triedto run away, but not everyone succeeded; many were imprisoned or killed. I stayedin Hong Kong for several years before coming to the United States. I became anaturalized citizen in 1985. I now have two grown sons in their 20s. They had neverheard this story until I finished writing this essay and shared it with them.Persevering129lisa ngLisa Ng, age 55, was born in China. At the New York Public Library’s TompkinsSquare Center for Reading and Writing, she cites the “passion and devotion”of her tutors, Rodger Larson and Shaun McCarthy, and the site advisor, TerrySheehan. Lisa Ng says, “I decided to write this story after I recorded it forStoryCorps, an oral history project. I credit my successful escape from mainlandChina to Hong Kong to having been a champion swimmer in high school.”