Song

by Michelle Jana Chan

  ‘That’s not true.’

  Town was talking. Chi was buying up enough provisions to last a year. He cleaned Louis out of rice and maize. Ten five-gallon cans of oil and heavy gas burners were sent for directly from Georgetown. Song had been researching new methodologies of panning for gold, without the need for manpower. It was too slow to rely on ten men on the banks of a river with a battel in their hands, swirling water around day after day. Song wanted a more effective, more efficient way of working. He’d heard about equipment that could do the same job ten times more quickly: step-filter machines that used the energy of running water to separate different sizes of gravel. Piling up on the side of the dock were slender wooden planks, long coils of thick rope and huge bales of canvas tarpaulin. Children peeped inside crates to catch sight of the newfangled equipment. There were bottles of mercury, the colour of the moon reflected on the river, and strong-smelling pots of turpentine and white spirit.

  The night before Song left, he lay in bed with Hannah and held her hand in his.

  ‘It’s never been this hard to leave,’ he said. ‘But I’m doing this for you now, you know that. You will be on my mind every day. Wait for me, won’t you ?’

  ‘Where do you think I’d go ? Take your rowboat and head downriver to the big open sea to see the world ?’

  ‘Don’t joke about that.’

  ‘I’ll be here, Song. I want you to go upriver. It’s what you do. I knew that when I found you.’

  ‘I found you first. I saw you outside Louis’ and you didn’t even notice me. You were just a girl. Covered in icing sugar. Cakes falling off the back of your bicycle.’

  ‘I found you before that. I saw you with Father Holmes walking down my street years before, and you can’t even remember. The boy with the vicar.’

  ‘Who’s to say which came first ?’ Song said.

  ‘Let’s call it a tie,’ Hannah said. She squeezed his hand. ‘I’ll be here waiting.’

  The expedition set off early the next morning in fourteen boats. A crowd on the bank watched them leave. Nobody – not even the new recruits – knew where they were heading or how long they might be. Song and Chi caught each other’s eye. Chi winked. Upriver. They were on their way again.

  Song’s navigation was sharp and they arrived at the site in under a week. Song was surprised to feel the dread rising in him as they neared their destination. His fears hadn’t diminished out here. The ghosts of the past lingered. He knew the approach so well now: every bough of every tree, every rock breaking up the flow of the river. He’d even notice a new log caught among vegetation by the bank, or a new nest.

  As they pulled up, Song jumped out of the first boat and tied up. Again, he noticed his hands trembling and he tried to block out the darkness of the past.

  They secured the rest of the boats. There was not enough room to pull all fourteen up the bank, so they tied a half-dozen to each other and moored them out on the river.

  Without wasting any time, they began to set up right away, felling trees and clearing a good area of forest to construct the camp. Cover was the first priority. They put up one closed shed for dry stores and five open-sided shelters: three for storage, one with hammocks and another floored with matting for meal times. Song wanted working conditions to be comfortable. The cooks were under strict instruction to provide generous meals. After the fresh food ran out, one cook was to stay in camp and prepare food while the other went off fishing and hunting.

  After the first buildings were standing, half the men began work on widening the mine pit. As they burrowed sideways into the rock, parallel to the seam, they constructed supporting wooden beams to prevent collapses.

  Song had sheaves of illustrations on how to assemble and operate the new equipment. The filter system was thirty-foot long and used a step technique every six feet to separate the finer granules from the coarser matter. This refined material was then transferred to mechanised trays of sand which vibrated vigorously, using the power of the river’s current, which forced the gold to accumulate at the base of the trays. It was then collected on wet muslin sheets.

  Song thought about what Mr Leigh had said. ‘I don’t want to hear of you pork-knocking a few specks of gold dust out of the ground.’ He could now, hand on heart, answer that call.

  Song stayed with Chi upriver for nearly a month to help organise the site. Then he went to Yupukama to see Sammy and the others. He found them recently returned from a long successful hunt, and the village had been feasting.

  ‘Celebrating ?’ Song asked.

  ‘More interested to know if you’re celebrating,’ Sammy said.

  ‘You were right,’ Song said. ‘It was just a matter of time. We’re celebrating.’

  ‘Glad you found what you were looking for. Happy now ?’

  That was a good question. Was he happy now ? Because of finding the gold ?

  ‘I’m married, Sammy. That makes me happy now.’

  Sammy smiled. ‘You’ve figured it out then.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘But you’re back.’ Sammy said. ‘Looking for more ?’

  Song nodded. ‘Yes. Will you come back with me ?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘We’ll come. Can’t promise how long we’ll stay, but we’ll come.’

  Song wished Mr Leigh could see him now. Getting local insight. Buying land. No disputes.

  Chi had put together a hard-working team. Some learned more easily than others, but nobody slacked. That night Song spoke to the group and outlined his plans for the mine.

  ‘You will always be the ones who were with us from the start. That’s not down to luck. I don’t believe in luck and you should not rely on it to get you anywhere in life either.

  ‘Chi hired each of you because we believed you had something more to give than the average man on the streets of Bartica. Not just muscle and might. You should know by now that we’re looking for more than that. It’s no coincidence that none of you were pork-knockers before you joined our team. Experience isn’t essential. What is essential is drive. All of you want to do well in life. We want you to do well in life, too.’

  There wasn’t a whisper among the young men. Song could sense their thrill at being here, for the opportunity to work hard, to share in the spoils.

  ‘I’m leaving tomorrow to find a way to get the best price for the gold you all find here. The system doesn’t make that easy. The system goes against people like you – the ones plucking the gold out of the ground. I don’t think it should be that way. You’re key to this team. Without you I wouldn’t have anything to take with me to Bartica tomorrow. I need you to get the gold out of the ground as effectively as you can. I want us all to get richer. If you stick with me, I will stick with you.’

  ‘I’ll stick with you,’ someone said.

  ‘Me, too.’

  There were murmurings of support among the young men.

  ‘As the operation grows so will the team,’ Song continued. ‘When I get back from this trip I am going to bring more bright young workers like yourselves. That’s because you’ll all need a break from time to time and we can’t close the mine in your absence. You’ll want to spend the money you earn. Just don’t go telling me how.’

  There was a ripple of laughter in the darkness. The light had faded. It was just the beat of the frogs in the night and Song’s steady voice.

  ‘Chi is your boss here. If you can be a tenth as solid as this man, we’re in business. Hard work will be rewarded. If the mine does well, you will do well. This isn’t about a wage, it’s about commission. That’s how it will work here. If we all work harder, we all do better. Not just me. Not just Chi. All of us.’

  Song could feel the surging excitement in the group. The fever was rising in all of them. He hoped his words would get them thinking bigger than battels and liquor.

  CHAPTER 23

  Song arrived back in Bartica in the dead of night, light of step, moving swiftly from tying up the boat to being back at his room where he knew Hann
ah would be sleeping. He knocked on the door softly so as not to frighten her. But when there was no response he let himself in. He looked to the bed and saw her shape under the sheet. He breathed with relief.

  ‘Hannah,’ he said.

  She sat up sharply.

  ‘Song. Am I dreaming ?’

  He came to her. ‘I’m back.’

  ‘At this hour ?’

  ‘At any hour, you are my most precious thing in the world.’

  ‘I missed you.’

  Song took her in his arms and they held each other. He didn’t want to make love to her, only to hold her close.

  ‘Tell me how you are.’

  ‘Bereft without you. Happy now.’

  ‘And how is Mary Luck ?’

  ‘Complaining that I married a man who is never here.’

  ‘Of course. And Bartica ?’

  ‘This town loves a mystery. And you’re the mystery right now. Nothing people here like more than not knowing something. Gives them an excuse to make it all up and then tell you what they know for sure, no doubt, definitely. Some days you’re thieving and murdering upriver, the next day you’re as good as dead, the day after you’ve bought up half the interior and are selling it to some big-time American company and have moved to Venezuela. Been standing up for you, Song, fighting like a wounded jaguar, like only a woman knows how.’

  ‘My woman. How is it that you’re by my side of all the sides you could be beside in the world ?’

  ‘Because I am. You know I think I even enjoyed shouting down all the nonsense I heard, the roundabout ramblings. This town’s half built on lies, the rest is built on sin. Still, I’m going to hate to leave this place when the time comes.’

  ‘Can we talk about that, Hannah ? When can we leave ?’ There was almost five pounds of gold burning a hole in Song’s pocket.

  ‘So soon ?’

  ‘Georgetown is the next step. It’s where business is done. Besides,’ he winked, ‘this cramped room isn’t the place to raise a family.’

  ‘I’ll throw that straight back at you. I think,’ she paused, ‘I might be pregnant.’

  Hannah’s words caught Song’s breath. This is what he’d let himself dream about. He had wanted to show Hannah how much he loved her with a baby. A family.

  ‘Silenced,’ she said, clapping her hands ‘Got you.’

  ‘You have, Hannah Luck Holmes. In every way.’

  Later that day, Song visited the weighing station to declare a half-pound of gold.

  ‘We’re moving to Georgetown,’ Song told Edward Hoare. ‘You’re welcome to join us on the boat, but be warned: this time Hannah and Mary Luck and all of Mary Luck’s life will be in tow, so I won’t be offended if you turn me down.’

  Mr Hoare laughed. ‘The ferry sounds like it might be less crowded. We won’t be seeing so much of you around here then ?’

  ‘I don’t think I could ever leave Bartica entirely,’ Song said. ‘This was my home for so long, where I grew up, where Father Holmes taught me everything I now know. I’ll be keeping the room. I’d like to continue to declare my finds with you, if that’s okay, although I’ll get Chi do it from time to time. I’ve hired Bronco; I don’t want my neck broken for a penny weight.’

  ‘A penny weight ? They’d kill you for a grain here. Well, don’t go abandoning us altogether, Song. Bartica wouldn’t be the same without you. Besides, the selfish truth is I couldn’t bear to lose my private charter to Georgetown. You’re the only one who can afford it.’

  Song headed down to Ashkanzi’s, accompanied by Bronco.

  ‘Glad to have you here, Bronco.’

  ‘You better get used to it,’ the big man replied. ‘Town’ll kill you for a lot less than you got. And less than that again.’

  The pair walked into the shop together. Farad nodded at Bronco. ‘Why you brought him along ?’

  ‘He’s helping me.’

  ‘You living scared ?’

  Song passed him the gold. ‘I’m sure not dying scared, Farad.’

  Farad scowled. ‘This ain’t the lot. I’m no fool. You couldn’t pay a dozen wages on this.’

  ‘What are you suggesting ?’

  ‘I’m not as stupid as you or my father think.’

  ‘I’ve never thought you were stupid,’ Song said. ‘I just don’t trust you. Like you don’t trust me.’

  ‘My father didn’t trust me from the day I was born.’

  ‘Maybe you haven’t given him a reason to change his mind.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ Farad sneered.

  Farad handed over the money to Song, who headed off to pay the tax on what he’d declared. Sewed into the hem of his shirt, tied around his waist, he still carried more than four pounds of undeclared gold. He swore to himself that he wasn’t going to be giving everything he pulled out to Governor’s House and their lot. Not after all he had seen, all that had passed. He would find a way to get the better of them.

  Song watched Hannah prepare for the move. Overall she seemed excited, in spite of her expressed mixed feelings about leaving. And Song discovered she had never left Bartica. He wondered how he would have been if he had never left Lishui. Not so perceptive as Hannah, but perhaps as kind. A simpler life. Or perhaps he wouldn’t have made it. Too many hungry children. Life for him had taken a different turn and perhaps, in fact, he was the lucky one. He had survived. With only a shirt on his back and a swing-basket of rice.

  He was surprised at how little Hannah had, too. A few dresses, and a matching hand mirror and hairbrush made of mother-of-pearl. It made Song want to buy her anything she set her eyes on.

  Mary Luck made up for her daughter’s modest luggage. She boxed everything she had ever owned, never mind if it was rusty or broken. She might have packed the bakery itself had there been a box big enough. Short John spent three days to-ing and fro-ing between her house and the dock and did not hold back on his jibing. He laughed out loud when he picked up a cage with two brown hens clucking nervously inside.

  ‘They got chickens in Georgetown, you know,’ he said to Mary Luck.

  ‘Course I know they got chickens,’ she said. ‘I already been twice to that city. You calling me stupid ? I’m taking them because I like my chickens. Bartica eggs taste different to city eggs.’

  ‘Do they ?’ Short John asked. ‘Eggs is eggs. I’m going to fry you one of each and see if you can tell the difference.’ He strained to lift up the next box. ‘You mind me asking what you got in this one, ma’am ? You trying to snap my back in two.’

  ‘You don’t mind what I got and what I not got,’ Mary Luck said. ‘This is personal stuff. You just pack it up like you was packing bone china. I don’t want nothing to break.’

  ‘Other than my bones,’ Short John grumbled. ‘This ain’t china, ma’am. Hey Song, I reckon your mother-in-law’s been popping your pieces of eight in these here boxes.’

  ‘They’re rocks, if you want to know,’ Mary Luck said.

  ‘Lordy, Lordy,’ Short John said.

  ‘Don’t you be complaining,’ the old woman said. ‘I should be the one complaining. Lived here all my life only to be uprooted by my own daughter. If I can’t take some of my Bartica roots with me then I ain’t leaving. You tryin’ to deprive an old woman of her rights ?’

  ‘Ma’am, I’ll box up and carry your whole darn yard for you, if you want me to,’ Short John said. ‘Not saying I won’t grumble ’bout it ’long the way though.’

  The journey was longer than usual because the river was high and fast, and the rains had cut up the road. Mary Luck insisted the box of chickens be on her lap all the way, even when the birds were flapping in panic on the boat. She was agitated, and hardly stopped talking to Short John up front.

  Hannah slept most of the way. She’d become tired with the pregnancy. Song sat close to her so she could rest her head. He thought how different this journey was to the one with Father Holmes when they were travelling from Georgetown to Bartica. That was more than ten years ago. So much had changed.
This time he was the one being turned to, the one promising a new home.

  As they approached Georgetown he felt full of trepidation, yet hardly able to contain his excitement to show Hannah the big house he’d bought. She stirred from her sleep as the cart slowed down and the beautiful whitewashed buildings came into view.

  ‘What’s that ?’ she asked Song, pointing to their right. The building was fringed with delicate fretwork, with jalousie shutters propped open.

  ‘The colonial administration building. And over there, the clock tower sits above Stabroek Market. It’s open every day.’

  ‘And that ?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘Those are the law courts.’

  ‘The law courts,’ Hannah repeated softly.

  ‘And that,’ Song said, pointing to the opposite side of the road, ‘is our new home.’

  Hannah and her mother looked at the enormous white house. ‘We’re going to live there ?’ Hannah said. ‘Opposite the law courts ?’

  ‘Have you not told me something ?’ Song teased. ‘Do we need to be afraid of the rule of law ?’

  Hannah became shy. ‘I didn’t think we’d be living opposite the law courts. Did you, Mama ? Such a nice neighbourhood, Song. Such a beautiful big house. Why did you buy a house so big ?’

  ‘For all the grandchildren you’re going to give me, of course,’ Mary Luck chimed in.

  Song laughed. ‘Do you like it ?’

  ‘Now I know why I didn’t shed a tear when I sold the bakery,’ Mary Luck said with some satisfaction. ‘I didn’t know at the time but I do now.’

  Hannah squeezed Song’s hand. ‘I love it already.’

  A woman called Little A welcomed the party at the door. Song had asked Amalia to find him a housekeeper and the woman she suggested was also called Amalia.

  ‘I’m younger than Amalia at the vicarage so folk here call me Little A,’ she said. Little A was also a quarter of Amalia’s size.

  ‘I don’t think that’s the only reason, Little A,’ Song said. ‘This is my wife Hannah and my mother-in-law Mary Luck.’

  Song smiled as he spoke those words. He had never needed to introduce these two women to anyone before. Everybody in Bartica knew everybody.