“Freedom swimmers”

In 1973, Wong Yue-kui was desperate to escape China.

His father, a rice merchant, had died five years earlier in a labor camp where the Communists had sent him after they denounced him as a capitalist. Student militants known as Red Guards had ransacked their home in the southern city of Guangzhou and seized the family’s valuables, including a jade bracelet his mother had hidden in a rice tank.

Mr. Wong was 19 years old, the fifth of six children, and he needed to find better paying work to support his family. He prepared to flee to Hong Kong. His cousin taught him how to swim in a river, whacking him with a bamboo stick each time he reached out to the riverbank. One day, they were ready.

For 15 days, Mr. Wong and his cousin hiked in the hills under cover of night to prevent detection by the border patrol. He survived on five mooncakes and a bag of grape sugar.

At around 2 a.m. on Aug. 18, the two men stripped off their shirts — they had no other possessions — and plunged into the dark waters. Even from that distance, Mr. Wong could see the lights of Hong Kong’s buildings sparkling against the inky night sky. Hong Kong — and freedom — seemed so close.

He swam as fast as he could. Many escapees had been shot by border agents making the same crossing, their bodies washing up on the shores of Hong Kong. He forced himself to focus on getting there. Around five hours later, Mr. Wong crawled onto a muddy embankment. He had made it.