The Silver Lotus

by Thomas Steinbeck

  While on her way out of the room, Lady Yee nodded to her husband. This was a signal to serve the guests brandy and cigars, listen to their opinions if they cared to voice any, and then to see the gentlemen safely and quickly to their conveyances.

  16

  DURING DINNER THAT NIGHT, Captain Hammond gave a short account of the comments put forward by Lady Yee’s guests. Mr. Campion and Mr. Atwood were of the opinion that Malakoff was at the heart of the matter, and probably the murderer. The city attorney and Marshal Sanchez kept an open mind as to guilt, but agreed that Dr. Neruda was totally above suspicion, and Mr. Winslow, the city sheriff, agreed that the Indian doctor couldn’t possibly be involved in such an inbred sequence of events stretching back over years, and was, in fact, just another innocent victim dashed on the rocks of Point Lobos by the drug- and alcohol-induced incompetence of ex-captain Sigmund Malakoff.

  Lady Yee didn’t dwell on her victory in any fashion. Instead she remarked that she and her husband had something more important to celebrate. Captain Hammond looked surprised for a moment. He couldn’t believe he’d missed the date of an anniversary or a birthday. Lady Yee smiled and passed him a small, ornate silver box, which when opened, revealed a tiny scroll of gold paper. The captain carefully unrolled the paper and read a calligraphic greeting from heaven. Below was a simple declaration, which announced that in seven and a half months Captain Hammond would become the blessed father of a new son and heir.

  The captain, who was usually prepared for almost any emergency, found himself speechless once more. With tears welling in the corner of his eyes, he looked up at his beautiful wife and moved his lips, but nothing came out. And when his voice did return, all he could think to ask was how she knew it would be a son. Lady Yee simply laughed indulgently and shook her head. Captain Hammond recovered his dignity and agreed it was a ludicrous question. Then he gently kissed her hand, leaving behind a single tear like a jeweled drop of dew. He raised his glass of wine in gratitude, and toasted their mutual good fortune. With an unaccustomed emotional break in his voice, the captain vowed that he would endeavor to always be worthy of her sacrifices on his behalf. Then something else occurred to the captain and he smiled. He wondered what Macy would think of having a little brother. Lady Yee laughed and reassured her husband that as far as their daughter was concerned, the whole matter of credit for the idea of having a little brother was hers in the first place. The little imp would simply assume that she had gotten her own way once again.

  Within the week Captain Hammond was happy to report that as far as Monterey County was concerned, “the Hindu” was forgotten altogether. In less than seventy-two hours, the hounds had picked out another scent, and they were baying for Malakoff’s blood. The papers reported armed farmers and orchard men patrolling their barns, ricks, and outbuildings at all hours, and townsfolk took to locking their cellars and carriage houses. In no time at all, Sigmund Malakoff inherited the mantle of every evil from childhood bogeyman to Blackbeard the pirate and beyond. There wasn’t a case of chicken theft, stolen apples, or purloined pie that wasn’t laid at his door. And as everyone knew, fugitive murderers were the most dangerous of criminals. They were men who would not balk at the most horrendous and villainous of crimes. But that being said, there still wasn’t a person in or out of authority who had the slightest idea where to lay hands on the miscreant. Sigmund Malakoff had disappeared into the Monterey fog and was gone to all save the inventors of popular myth. And there must have been a numerous herd of such people, because Malakoff had been spotted in a score of unlikely places including a seminary in Carmel.

  All of these matters ceased to be of any interest to Lady Yee almost immediately. The infirmary was her only real concern, and it was gaining in popularity with the Chinese all the time. Dr. Neruda’s wife, Nandiri, and his daughter had become particular favorites among the Chinese women, especially those who were giving birth for the first time. And Chandra Din, the doctor’s son-in-law, was embarrassed to discover that all the elderly Chinese ladies were flirting with him and laughing about it afterward.

  Dr. Neruda and his family had already begun teaching a few promising candidates a rudimentary course of medical practices, mostly aimed at dealing with health emergencies or injuries. The biggest teaching hurdles were overcome with the help of dedicated translators, who were always young American-born Chinese. And as foreseen by Lady Yee, as soon as the infirmary became acceptable to the ancient and mysterious sisterhood of grandmothers and great-grandmothers and great-aunts and so forth, the men were encouraged, for the sake of the family, to submit themselves for proper medical treatment of illness or wounds. Midwives were instructed on sanitation, fishermen were taught how to bind injuries properly, and children were taught how to clean themselves and their food.

  Provisions never seemed to be a problem because most people were constrained by economics to pay in kind. As a result, there was always an abundance of fresh fish and fruit, garden vegetables of every description, eggs, chickens, and of course, rice. One old man, whose life had been saved with proper medicines, took it upon himself to deliver two hundred gallons of fresh springwater every other day. And though he had long since discharged his debt, he kept up the practice because he saw there was need of it, and he was inclined, he said, to gain merit for the life to come. All other necessary supplies were purchased in bulk by Hammond, Macy & Yee and delivered on a regular schedule. But the greatest indication that the infirmary was doing well came from the fact that it was no longer a topic of conversation in Monterey. The mechanism worked so smoothly that it became all but invisible in the fabric of the town. Even the used army ambulance was painted a bright Chinese blue to avoid its more somber connotations. The city fathers, always so tender to the barbs of the public touch, were grateful to be shunt of a humane responsibility for which they had no mandate, no funding, and no interest. However, the county sanitary commission showed its interest by sharing surplus medical supplies, and various small charitable organizations contributed blankets, bandages, lamp oil, and stove wood. A local Salinas brewer, who used Chinese labor, contributed a hundred gallons of 180-proof clear grain alcohol to help sanitize surgical equipment. The fishermen even established a kind of informal tithe, by which on common agreement the last two fish caught on any given day would be set aside as the freshest of the catch, and sold to help buy medicines for those who could not afford them. Lady Yee could have funded all this herself without the slightest financial burden, but she felt it was important that the Chinese make the infirmary their own, and the best way to accomplish that was to allow them to make meaningful sacrifices commensurate with their own interests and appreciation. She insisted, however, that the same modest profile be maintained, and in fact there were few white residents of Monterey County aware that such a thing as a Chinese infirmary even existed. Perhaps the most notable changes over a period of time were too subtle for most to take note of, but if one happened to spot a fisherman with a broken leg mending his nets, it might be noticed that he had been fitted with a modern plaster cast and not two boards tied together with rag line. And when he walked, it was with the help of a real crutch and not a driftwood stick. A woman with burns from a kitchen fire could depend upon medicines and fresh bandages every few days. But intrinsically, the most wonderful thing of all as far as the Chinese elders were concerned was the lowered mortality rate among women in childbirth, infants, children, and even the elders themselves.

  As soon as Lady Yee was confident that the infirmary could manage on its own, she went on to focus exclusively on another extremely important project, namely giving her husband a healthy son on or about August 1. This was the date she had decided was most auspicious for a son to be born. Captain Hammond was later proud to say that she was off schedule by only two hours. But she had cause, since there was a full moon and strong tides, which sailors believe influence such things. So at the stroke of two o’clock in the morning of August 2, Lady Yee gave birth to a strapping boy that weighed in at eig
ht pounds, eight ounces. Mrs. Neruda and her daughter were in attendance, but there were no real complications to contend with. Dr. Neruda had a more difficult time keeping the prospective father calm and collected, but by far the most excited and exuberant member of the reception party was little Macy who, in a very proprietary fashion, had decided she had waited far too long to get her promised baby brother. With Lady Yee’s blessing, Captain Hammond named his new son after his long-deceased father. The child’s birth certificate read Nathanial Yee Hammond. However, this wasn’t good enough for Macy, who used part of her mother’s name and for some inexplicable reason began calling her baby brother Silver, and, just as inexplicably, the nickname stuck. Soon everyone called him Silver, everyone except his mother, of course, who would only bend as far as Nathan, and disallowed Nat altogether. Even Captain Hammond gave in to Macy and began to call his son Silver, but Lady Yee suspected he liked the connotation as well as the sound of Silver Hammond.

  The following months were creative and rewarding. The captain purchased a steam dredge, which proved a very profitable investment, and Lady Yee chartered a small private school for Chinese girls. There was room for only twelve students at a time, but they were instructed in a broad range of skills, and worked hard at improving their English. Macy was growing by leaps, and already showed promise with languages, speaking Chinese and French. In turn, Macy also thought it her responsibility to teach her little brother a thing or two, which sometimes backfired in amusing fashion. Little Nathan somehow picked up Macy’s favorite phrase, “ba-ka,” the Japanese word for “stupid,” and to Lady Yee’s complete chagrin it was the first word her son ever gave voice to. It backfired on Macy too, because it eventually became Silver’s nickname for his sister when he was angry with her, which, as time went by, was often.

  Another dramatic curtain suddenly arose about nine o’clock one night while Captain Hammond was in Salinas on business. He had promised Macy, who was turning four and suffering from a cold, that he would be home before midnight with a special birthday present.

  Lady Yee sat up with Macy. She was coaxing her daughter to sip ginseng tea and honey to alleviate her cough when Li-Lee entered the nursery and announced that a Mexican boy at the gate was the bearer of a very strange message, and the houseboy was at a loss to know what to do. It sounded like there was a man dying in a cart. Lady Yee left Macy in the care of Li-Lee, gathered up her cloak at the front door, and followed the houseboy and his lantern out to the road. A rickety canvas-covered mule cart waited with a barefoot Mexican boy wearing a worn serape and a straw hat. In broken English he said there was a man in the cart who was coming close to meeting God. He had paid the boy’s father ten dollars to bring him from Gonzales to Monterey. The man was in great pain and in search of some Chinese princess who had an infirmary for poor people.

  Lady Yee took the lantern, drew back the rotting canvas tail flap of the cart, and spied a man wearing patched overalls and crude farmer’s boots, and splayed out on a bed of old straw covered with a tattered blanket. The man’s hair and beard were graying, long, unkempt, and, like his face, soaked with sweat. His parchment complexion made him appear ready for the morgue, and only his eye movement, shallow breathing, and twitching hands gave testimony to life. The man was obviously in agony, and it appeared that if he had originally purchased clothes that fit, then he had lost a great deal of weight very quickly.

  Lady Yee instantly ordered her houseboy to run and fetch Dr. Neruda. He was to tell the doctor to bring strong medicine for acute pain. In the interim, Lady Yee asked the Mexican boy why he had come here. He said the sick man had spoken of a place in Monterey that had doctors for poor people who couldn’t afford medicines. The boy said he had no idea what the man was talking about, but by asking people along the way he narrowed it down. They had been on the road for three days when a Chinese washerwoman told him to seek out where Lady Yee lived, and they would know what to do. The boy was obviously exhausted and hungry, so Lady Yee rallied Ah Chu out of bed, told him to feed the boy, and then find him a place to rest. She reassured the youth that his cart would be looked after and his mule sheltered, well watered, and rewarded with fresh oats.

  Though it seemed to take forever, a half hour later Dr. Neruda appeared with his son-in-law, Chandra Din. A cursory examination told the doctor that he might not have a patient for long. He administered an injection of heroin to alleviate somewhat the man’s pain, but it was obvious that aside from a terminally diseased and tubercular spine, which must have caused him excruciating spasms, the man was suffering from the effects of a mortal opium withdrawal, complicated by advanced malnutrition and dehydration. He said the man would have to be taken to the infirmary if anything was to be done at all, but he feared there was no time to send for the ambulance and a stretcher. Just moving the patient from one conveyance to another could kill him. By now all the servants were awake and converging to be of assistance. Perceiving that the boy’s mule was jaded to the bone, Lady Yee told her stable hand to fetch one of their own mules, prop up the cart yoke, and then switch animals. Dr. Neruda agreed that it would be best to give the patient another injection, leave him where he was, and take the cart to the infirmary. Chandra Din had already called for fresh water, and was coaxing the half-conscious man to suck the fluid from a small sponge. As soon as the mules had been switched over, Dr. Neruda and Chandra Din headed the cart down the hill toward the infirmary a mile and a half away. In parting, the doctor asked Lady Yee to send word to their wives about where they had gone and why, and this she agreed to do at once.

  The cart had been gone but thirty minutes when Captain Hammond returned home. His business happily completed, Macy’s father had purchased a German-made doll for her birthday. In an aside to his wife, the captain said he hoped Macy would take to tutoring the doll and give her poor little brother a break. As soon as she saw her new doll, Macy became oblivious to all else, and Lady Yee had an opportunity to tell her husband what had happened.

  The captain suddenly looked perplexed, and he had to ask his wife to repeat herself to make sure he hadn’t misheard her words. Captain Hammond’s instincts told him there was something odd afoot, and he said he would change his clothes and go to the infirmary at once.

  Lady Yee went to the kitchen to have Ah Chu prepare sandwiches and coffee in a hamper. She sent word to the stables to have a fresh horse harnessed to the captain’s shay and kissed him on the cheek as he went out the door. The big parlor clock began to chime the midnight hour just as the garden gate clanged shut, whereupon Lady Yee returned to the nursery where she spent the rest of the night looking after Macy. She had placed Nathan’s cradle in her own room, so as to avoid exposure to his sister, and Li-Lee rested on a cot nearby. She only disturbed her mistress when the baby required feeding, which thankfully wasn’t often.

  Captain Hammond found his way down the darkened streets that linked the warehouse and workshop districts. Residents were few, but the bouncing carriage lamps and jingling horse tack attracted the interest of various guard dogs chained to warehouse gates to give watchmen warning of strangers. The only lights burning in the whole district came from the infirmary. The captain let himself in and found Dr. Neruda, Chandra Din, and a Chinese nursing student still working on saving the inert man. Chandra Din explained that the patient had been in such excruciating agony that they had been forced to administer chloroform just to cut away the man’s filthy, lice-infested clothing and clean and bandage his ulcerated spine. He added that while he was under the influence of the drug they were also compelled to clip away his matted hair and beard, which were equally infested with vermin and filth. The man was resting more peacefully now that the opiates had taken effect, but the pain was ever present just under the surface.

  Captain Hammond asked if he might see the man, and was truly shocked at the sight that awaited him. He called Dr. Neruda to his side and asked him if he recognized the man. The doctor nodded. It wasn’t until they had cleaned the man up somewhat, and cut away his mountai
n of flea-infested hair, that it gradually occurred to him that with forty-five extra pounds on his frame, the dying man would look a great deal like Sigmund Malakoff. But one thing was obvious. According to Dr. Neruda, the dying man had been addicted to opiates for many years, and had recently come to grips with terminal malnutrition, which was a very painful way to expire, with or without opiates.

  It all seemed rather odd and fateful. Whereas the captain might have expected to find an anchor-framed sea captain, he discovered instead a withered old man on the cusp of death. Whatever he might have done, he was paying for his crimes with prolonged suffering that would shame a Persian executioner. Perhaps it was because they were both men whose lives had been forged from the same types of experiences, or because they shared the common bonding of courage and terror that casts the sailor’s lot in life, but Captain Hammond could not find it in his heart at this moment to be anything but compassionate. The man before him, now clipped like a dying prisoner from a Dickens novel, looked to be in need of kindness and patience, and Captain Hammond felt obliged by maritime tradition to deliver both.

  The captain asked for a chair, and then sat quietly by Malakoff’s bedside for an hour. Then suddenly the patient awoke for a few moments and called an unknown name. He spotted Captain Hammond sitting next to him, smiled slightly, and rolled over his extended hand as if offering his grasp in greeting. The captain gently took Malakoff’s hand and felt a weak but intentioned grasp. He was also instantly aware of the struggling pulse coursing just beneath the parchment skin. Malakoff smiled and closed his eyes once again.