The Silver Lotus

by Thomas Steinbeck

  Lady Yee openly sympathized in all the particulars, and especially with the medical needs of Asian minorities in foreign lands. She modestly mentioned her own efforts to start a medical facility for the local Chinese and reflected on the rigidly conservative inclinations of her own compatriots when it came to matters of traditional medicine. In that regard, she supposed there was little difference between their two cultures. Dr. Neruda agreed, but added that the sectarian inclinations toward violent expedients made matters almost intolerable for many people, and the Hindus were certainly no strangers to the dagger and the garrote either. The doctor shook his head sadly, and mentioned in passing that there was even a Muslim crewman aboard their ship who seemed to go out of his way to be rude to the doctor and his family whenever the opportunity presented itself.

  It was then that the distant doorbell was heard to ring, and a few moments later the aging houseboy entered the dining room, bowed to Lady Yee, and apologized for the interruption. He carried a note for the captain on a small silver platter and said that there was a messenger waiting at the door for a reply.

  Captain Hammond apologized to his guests for the interruption, took the note, and after reading it asked his guests to pardon his absence for a few moments. Then he rose from his seat, bowed to Lady Yee, and followed the houseboy to the front door. When he returned, Captain Hammond announced that he had good news. His meeting with Mr. Campion that afternoon had borne fruit. The harbormaster had used his influence, and it had been arranged to send a steam launch to retrieve the survivors’ baggage from the stricken ship the following day. However, the captain noted that timing was a factor, and though the seas and swells had calmed considerably, off-loading the baggage was a feat that could only be accomplished at high tide if the ship’s cranes were to be of any use. That tide would be at flood at 3:47 the following afternoon, and Captain Hammond’s services had been requested to help supervise the transfer on behalf of the passengers. The captain blushed slightly and said it seemed that they had chosen him as their unofficial ombudsman, and Dr. Neruda’s family happily seconded their choice. And in that vein, Captain Hammond said he would need to know the cabin numbers the Nerudas occupied and a description of the baggage they left aboard. Unfortunately, any goods stored in the ship’s hold would have to wait to be unloaded until the ship was kedged off the rocks and brought into the bay for repairs.

  The company rejoiced at the news and applauded the captain’s efforts on their behalf. Then, as a perfect addendum to their celebratory feast, Ah Chu entered wearing his formal whites, bowed to Lady Yee, and presented the table with an elaborate jungle spectacle of sculpted fruit and custard-filled pastries molded and decorated to represent exotic birds. Even Captain Hammond was somewhat taken aback. He was usually required to settle for a simple rice pudding flavored with dates, a fruit tart, or a segmented orange laced with gingered honey, and he couldn’t remember when he’d ever been confronted with a feathered dessert course that stared back at him from a pineapple perch.

  The next morning, Lee Woo, the perennially drowsy stable boy, harnessed up the shay and drove Captain Hammond down to Mr. Campion’s office overlooking the harbor. The fog was just beginning to rise off the bay, and the weather held a promise of bright sun and calm winds, which the captain hoped would make the off-loading exercise all the more rational. Once the ship was pulled off the rocks, the odds changed.

  On arriving at Mr. Campion’s offices, Captain Hammond had the dubious pleasure of meeting the captain of the stricken ship, and sadly his opinion of the man only slipped further down the scale. The officer’s name was Sigmund Malakoff, and he claimed Estonia as his homeland, though something in the way he spoke English made Captain Hammond doubt his veracity. The man was in his late fifties, shabbily dressed, overweight, balding, and crude by nature. He looked disheveled by habit and spoke a fractured dockside English, supported by profanity in Hungarian and German. The spider’s web of broken blood vessels on his cheeks and nose, his bad teeth, and the tremble in his hands spoke of a man who had long since left behind his amateur standing as a tippler. The general odor of cheap vodka seemed to cling to his clothes like an oily mist. It was obvious to everyone present that the Estonian captain, now that his company had beached him with prejudice to await further investigation, had become totally disengaged from all interests except those relating to his own situation. To everyone’s surprise and distress, Malakoff claimed total indifference to the fate of his ship. He seemed even less troubled with the fate of his injured seamen. As far as the vodka-laced Estonian was concerned, since he no longer held command, the company could go get stuffed. The owners could shoulder the burden of the ship, the passenger liability, and the crew, and then go to the devil.

  Captain Hammond was not in the least surprised to find that he had taken an instant dislike to this dangerously ignorant and blatantly self-righteous dipsomaniac. It seemed that even the ship’s first officer, Mr. Atwood, who had since been placed in command by the vessel’s owners in Vancouver, found that treating his ex-captain with even a shadow of civility was a forlorn exercise at best. Mr. Campion finally lost his temper and became enraged by Malakoff’s attitude and manner. He angrily backed the man to the wall and threatened to have him immediately charged and arrested for criminal negligence. And he reassured Malakoff that he had the maritime authority to do just that at any moment he wished. The Estonian was suddenly taken aback. He blustered and stuttered at the harbormaster’s effrontery, but seeing the determination of Mr. Campion’s expression, Malakoff then squealed out an insulting sequence of ludicrous excuses, and despite the cool temperatures he began to sweat like a boiler-room stoker. He was at once deflated but not humbled. He chose to remain intractable and couched all his replies with thinly veiled sarcasm.

  Captain Hammond, Mr. Atwood, and several others watched with growing concern while Mr. Campion slowly began to lose all patience with the recalcitrant and unrepentant Malakoff. All at once the harbormaster threw up his hands in despair, pierced the air with a curse, turned on his heel, and disappeared into his office muttering something about duty and common decency. When he once again emerged, Mr. Campion was hefting a big navy-pattern Colt revolver and waving a pair of ship’s manacles. He motioned for two of his burly harbor men to approach. From three feet away, Mr. Campion lifted and pointed the heavy Colt at Malakoff’s head with both hands shaking with anger, and then he declared that the heathen was under arrest for criminal obstruction of an ongoing maritime rescue. Malakoff instantly puffed up like an enraged toad. Again Mr. Campion backed him to the wall while the man unleashed even more desperate flourishes of indignity and stuttered objections to violated prerogatives. But before he could finish his disjointed protests, Malakoff had been shackled by the wrists and bum-rushed toward the door on his way to the sheriff’s lockup. Mr. Campion called after his men to respectfully inform the sheriff that he would prefer charges within the hour, and that bail should be denied pending judicial considerations of further charges.

  Captain Hammond and the other men present were deeply impressed by Mr. Campion’s courage and strength of character. His diminutive stature, receding hairline, and spectacles suggested a rather reticent warrior who disdained unseemly confrontations at all costs. But the witnesses were caught wrong-footed and found they were now well beyond appropriate comment. Captain Hammond saw at once that Mr. Campion was obviously not a man to be taken lightly, and despite his diminutive size, with a big navy Colt in one hand and righteous indignation to fire his boilers, he came off as ten feet tall and divinely buttressed with the vision and courage of a latter-day Diogenes.

  Captain Hammond had sent word to the ship’s passengers to respond with a list and description of their baggage, their cabin numbers, and so forth. And at two o’clock that afternoon, he boarded an ocean steam tug that had been sent down the coast to assist in the salvage operations.

  Captain Hammond was to be accompanied by Mr. Atwood, who as acting captain would order the remaining crew ashore
and then stay on board with two volunteers, so that the ship could not be claimed derelict by the salvage company; Mr. Campion contributed five iron-backed stevedores to help wrestle the passengers’ baggage on deck. From there the goods would be lifted in cargo nets and slung over the side with the ship’s stern cranes. At the flood of high tide the tug would creep up to the port-stern portion of the ship, take on the nets, and then back away. The salvage company would also send their men on board to make a full hull inspection, and appraise the situation from an offshore perspective as well. The tug’s captain would send out a boat to sound the seafloor to the stern of the ship and determine the best place to sink heavy kedge anchors, which in turn would be cabled to the steam winches on the ship’s deck. Then, after due deliberation, and with bids and counterbids flying about like stock tickets, the salvage company and the owners would decide upon the best and safest way to pull the vessel off the rocks, hopefully without tearing out her bottom and sinking the poor freighter on the spot, an unacceptable outcome for everyone, especially the residents and tourists who cherished Point Lobos for its rugged natural beauty. The last thing anyone wanted to view was a rusting hulk sticking up out of the waves waiting for the sea to do what the salvage men couldn’t. None of the locals were willing to wait that long, and there was already wild talk of blasting the derelict to smithereens with dynamite. This, as Captain Hammond pointed out to a local rancher, would only cause even greater damage to the seal rookeries and nesting sites by distributing noxious materials and garbage everywhere.

  The steam tug approached the stranded ship around three o’clock, and the jolly boat transferred Captain Hammond and his men to the vessel shortly after. With cabin keys acquired from the purser at Mr. Atwood’s orders, Captain Hammond, his stevedores, and various crewmen who had remained on board soon had the entire passenger compartment covered, and all the listed trunks and baggage were accounted for. The men then assembled the collection on the rear deck to await transfer to the tug.

  At 3:47, exactly at flood tide, the tug crept up to the port-stern quarter of the ship and took the cargo net full of baggage in exchange for the salvage appraisers and engineers. She then used the cargo nets to bring aboard Captain Hammond, his men, and those remaining crewmen who had not been sent ashore before. This time the only people to remain aboard the ship representing the owners were the acting captain, Mr. Atwood; the chief engineer, Mr. Pennywhite; the purser; and the Filipino cook, who was too frightened of heights to ride the cargo net to safety.

  As far as Captain Hammond could appraise the situation, everything went pretty much as planned, and by six-thirty that evening the tug was back in harbor, with the passengers and their baggage reunited at last. The captain made his report to Mr. Campion and then hired a teamster and his wagon to cart Dr. Neruda’s trunks and luggage up to the guesthouse. The captain rode with the wagon and was surprised to find his guests not at home to accept delivery of their goods. He had the wagon unloaded and the Nerudas’ baggage placed in the house, and after paying off the teamster the captain walked home through the twilit orchards entertaining modest ambitions of a long hot bath, clean clothes, and a good meal served in peace with his family.

  But the captain soon had to admit that the best-laid plans usually come apart in the planning stage, and so he was slightly annoyed, but not altogether surprised, to discover through Li-Lee that his wife was entertaining a few gentlemen in the formal parlor, and Dr. Neruda and his family were also in attendance. Captain Hammond had no wish to present himself to strangers in his present state of dishevelment, so he sent the maid to bring him clean clothes and boots, and then made his way unannounced to the bath. The captain didn’t waste any time speculating about what his wife was concocting in the parlor. He knew he would find out about it sooner rather than later, and besides, the things Lady Yee could get up to were usually more colorful than he could imagine anyway, so he sat back in his beautiful copper bath and let the hot water soften the knots in his arms and legs.

  12

  WHEN THE CAPTAIN joined his wife just before dinner, after her guests had departed, it was instantly obvious to him that whatever he was feeling good about most likely now paled beside what she was experiencing. For the first time in memory, Lady Yee displayed an indelible smile that not even her vaunted inscrutability could modify or hide. Her expression was punctuated now and then by a slight, almost involuntary chuckle, which she politely hid behind her sleeve like a schoolgirl.

  The captain pretended not to notice and recited an abbreviated gazette of the day’s activities out at the ship, which ended with his delivery of Dr. Neruda’s baggage and trunks to an empty house. As almost an afterthought he asked where the Nerudas had gone. It wasn’t as though they were socially in demand after so short a time, and there was no sight of them about.

  Lady Yee smiled and said that, at her personal request, the Neruda family had been invited to dine with Master Lao Key of the Boa Chen Key Company. This immediately got her husband’s attention, and he flashed a rare look of surprise. The Neruda clan had barely been ashore seventy-two hours and they were already enjoying the hospitality of a man who was well-known for his highly secretive and mantled habits. Most everyone who had done business with the Boa Chen Key Company over the years, including Captain Hammond, had never met the man. Master Lao Key and his company controlled more than fifty successful mercantile and trading interests between Monterey and San Jose, and yet it seemed there were only about six people in all of California who could pick him out of a crowd. And it was said, in jest, that his wife and children were not among their number.

  Lady Yee didn’t wait for her astonished husband to ask further questions. She knew that he hated having to drag things out of people one detail at a time, and he was not particularly fond of surprises. He came to these tendencies naturally from long practice at sea.

  Over a cup of tea, Lady Yee explained that she had for some time been in contact with various tong elders, local Chinese entrepreneurs, and various concerned businessmen who depended upon Chinese labor for their success. She said these interests had shown concern for the same problems, and had committed to making modest financial contributions, but only when the medical facilities and the infirmary were established and functioning. None had shown the least interest in financing a pig in a poke, and with empty buildings and a dearth of adequately equipped medical staff that’s just what her schemes appeared to be on the surface. In polite terms they were saying that they didn’t believe Lady Yee could manifest such an enterprise, much less contrive to have it function with the professionalism and certainty expected in the medical field. After ringing for the maid and requesting that dinner be served in fifteen minutes, Lady Yee continued. While the captain had been occupied rescuing the passengers’ baggage and goods, she had taken the opportunity to interview Dr. Neruda and his son-in-law in some depth. She also had a marvelous conversation with Mrs. Neruda and her daughter later. Based upon an idea of their wants and wishes, and taking into account an unknowable future in Canada, she had offered them a contractual position to open and run the infirmary. There would be no need for them to seek out clients, and those patients who could afford to pay would be encouraged to contribute toward the upkeep of the infirmary, which would benefit all in turn. For those who could not, then perhaps a gift of goods or services would suffice. Lady Yee had agreed to finance the whole operation for three years, and that included not only salaries but medical supplies, linens, and food for patients. She then grinned and confided to the captain that she already had a scheme in hand to eventually farm out a majority of those costs to the very people who doubted her ability to harness such an extravagant and unusual agenda. Lady Yee’s proposed financial responsibilities in the matter didn’t concern the captain in the least. His wife was a very wealthy woman in her own right; in fact, the captain believed that if she called upon financial backing from her esteemed father, she could probably buy and sell the late Leland Stanford once or twice. But that aside, Capta
in Hammond was still concerned that the cultural and racial bias inherent in the conservative nature of the principal parties involved would, as it always had, derail the course of enlightened self-interest. It was the captain’s opinion that traditional Chinese attitudes and prejudices would remain the most volatile hindrance to success. Without the full support of the tong masters and village elders, not to mention the more successful business elements within the Chinese community, one could easily end up with a medical staff, a functioning infirmary, and no patients willing to submit themselves to the care of foreigners.

  When Li-Lee quietly announced dinner, Lady Yee took her husband’s arm, smiled reassuringly, and guided him toward the door. Captain Hammond took his place at the head of the table. He kept silent while the soup course was served. He had almost finished his abalone chowder before he allowed his wife the pleasure of elucidating the details of her apparent success.

  Lady Yee began by saying that her father, who was a sage in his own right, had encouraged her to understand that the only truly imposing barriers between cultures were those constructed to service either fear or jealousy, or both. With everyone either grasping for what the other fellow had, or fearing that person’s possession of some coveted technology, and subsequent influence and wealth, there was little room or patience for negotiation and compromise. She went on to say that both fear and jealousy were very personal emotions, and few people would admit to suffering the negative effects of either one. “Such goading emotions are always difficult to pin down,” she said, “but relatively easy to manipulate if one knows what to do, and to whom to do it.” Lady Yee went on to observe that most of the world’s greatest warriors, leaders, and criminals have used this same principle for centuries. The Chinese were past masters at stirring up the masses using these methods. But then, she joked, unlike Europe, the Chinese had always enjoyed a substantially greater peasant population to inflame.