When the S.S. Bruce docked in North Sydney, Wang Lee waited until the other passengers had left. Then he made his way to the top of the wooden gangplank and looked around. In the fading light, the little girl and her father hurried, hand in hand, along the snowy dock. Halfway down the gangplank two men stood huddled together. They were talking seriously and nodding. One of the men had a grey bushy beard. He was the captain of the S.S. Bruce. Often during the trip, Wang Lee had seen him staring from the wheelhouse window or bending over his compass and charts. The other man was taller than the captain and had a thin grey mustache.

The men looked up and watched Wang Lee come towards them. As soon as he met their eyes, Wang Lee knew they had been talking about him. He could feel it in his bones. He was so sure that when he reached the men, he stopped. Wang Lee lay down his bag and waited.

The captain did not speak or look at Wang Lee. The man with the mustache laid one hand firmly on Wang Lee's shoulder; with the other hand he pointed up the gangplank. Wang Lee picked up his bag and slowly went back on board the S.S. Bruce.

The man with the mustache was a Canadian immigration officer.² He led Wang Lee to a small room below decks. He closed the door and dropped into a creaking wooden chair. He pulled some files from a desk drawer. For a moment he sat studying them. He looked up at Wang Lee. "You have papers?"

Wang Lee nodded and reached inside his jacket.

"You speak English?"

Wang Lee shrugged. "Yes," he said, handing over the papers. "A little."

"Travelling alone?"

Wang Lee nodded.

The immigration officer glanced at the papers. "If you want to enter Canada, you must pay five hundred dollars." He spoke slowly and loudly as if he were speaking to a child or a deaf person. "Five-hundred-dollars."

"Five hundred dollars?" said Wang Lee.