China Jewel

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China Jewel Page 22

by Thomas Hollyday

“It looks like an old knife.”

  “Yes, the brass blade kept off the growth while the animal life clung to the old handle, probably some kind of ivory. “

  “That is a huge knife.”

  “Some kind of old fashioned combat knife, maybe a Bowie,” said Peter.

  Peter touched the small square of conglomerate and the part of the anchor to which it was attached. He treated it carefully, afraid he might break it. “I can get at this on shore. I know what to do. It will take some time but we might have some answers.”

  Katy had an expert come from the Maryland Historical Society conservation department as soon as she could. Together they worked with Peter keeping the conglomerate in a pail of ocean water.

  They transferred their finds to the nearby museum where Katy had seen the name board. With careful work the mass of material yielded its secrets. They found the bones of two hands clasped over each other around the piece of chain. Under them were the remains of a metal box. They determined from its lack of rust that it was the lead inside of a tea chest which had originally been made of wood outside. It was about twelve inches square.

  “They called them catty boxes,” said the Maryland expert.

  “Cutter told me one like this was in the Peregrine model case at Cutter’s headquarters,” said Katy

  “Someone held on and died, his hands kept the grip, the fish ate him away and the hands stayed around the box. The conglomerate grew over it.”

  “How did he get to the anchor?”

  “The anchor must have been put out to get them off the reef. I expect there was lull in the storm swells. He went out from his ship half swimming and half walking, found the anchor then hooked the treasure box to it so he could come back and find it later. He worked too long and the lull in the wind stopped. That’s the delay that cost him his life. He found himself holding on to the anchor and the chain while the water came in and covered him. He may even have become entangled in the chain and couldn’t get lose. He drowned holding the catty box.”

  “These could be Captain Tolchester’s hands,” said Katy.

  Peter nodded, tapping on the box. As he did, the old metal top fell off and the box opened. A large emerald fell out on the floor near the tank of seawater.

  No one spoke. The room was silent. The round shaped jewel made a rolling sound as it went along and then came to rest against a table leg.

  Katy let out her breath and stared at Peter.

  “It’s the missing jewel.”

  The Maryland conservator said, “It’s worth a fortune. It’s so large.”

  Peter looked at Katy. “Tolchester wanted to get it back to the Chinese.”

  “It’s a national treasure.”

  Later when she was talking with Cutter the first thing he asked her was how she was.

  “I’m not shaking anymore.”

  “I should have been there. What did you kill the guy with?”

  “What did I kill him with? That’s the strange part. The captain thought it was a Bowie knife. It must have been there in those waters for decades.”

  “You were lucky.”

  Katy said, “I did find out what it was. I remembered the letter that had been found in the research. It was mentioning Tolchester’s bowie knives. It said,

  One of the knives is fashioned from bronze and while it is not as sharp as the steel examples, it creates a particular flash of reflected light from its shine as it flies something which excites those who watch.

  “It sure excited that bastard. Did they find out who the killer was?”

  “That is the other strange thing. He must have been trailing us all along.”

  “The police found a red Honda?”

  “Yes. He had a beard too.”

  She went on. “They identified him as the son of the former owner of the Williams Company.”

  Cutter said, “She told me he was making a lot of money in the electronics business in California.”

  She said, “I guess not. Anyway he figured out about the old ship and was trying to find the jewel the same as us. He did not want the boat to get any attention.”

  “So he tried to sabotage it.”

  “I imagine so. They will find out more as they investigate him.”

  “You happened to be in the way when he finally guessed where the emerald was located.”

  “I guess so.”

  “How is his mother doing?”

  “The newspapers write that she is standing by him. I think your boss talked to her.”

  “Bill is getting human in his old age,” said Cutter.

  “Yes, it was nice of him. I mean, she is on his board of directors, but still the press is beating her up pretty bad. You know, mother of the killer, that kind of thing.”

  Katy asked, changing the subject “Is the Peregrine all right?”

  “On the way to Guangzhou,” he replied.

  “I want you to get me aboard the Peregrine for the last stretch. I’m going to the finish.”

  Cutter said happily, “I was hoping you’d say that. I can’t wait to see you and hold you and tell you how happy I am that you are all right. I’m not going to let you get that far away from me ever again.”

  “Me too,” she said, and he could hear the absolute joy in her voice.

  Chapter 23

  October 7, 10 AM

  Guangzhou, Peoples Republic of China

  The clipper brig America, disgraced by the activities of Strand and by his related criminals, Slidell and Della, had been stopped mid-ocean. Chinese Naval vessels towed her to an anchorage at Macao. There she rested, her masts taken down, as the Peregrine sailed by her. The wrecks of the French entry and the British Willow were out of the water stored in cradles on the beach at a French island far behind in the South Pacific.

  Captain Hall and his crew backed sail by turning the main topsail backwards against the wind. This kept the ship in limbo balanced between forward and rearward motion while it waited off Macau. A suitable pilot would come aboard near the Boca Tigris. A precedent had been made only a few years earlier when a Swedish replica of an East Indiaman square rigger had sailed to Canton and waited here for entry.

  Already on board for this final stretch of the voyage were the managers of the Chinese Truck factory as well as many officials. The American consul, a tall, white haired man, came with them.

  The pilot and his staff provided the traditional entry pass or chop when they climbed her boarding ladder. Getting underway for this last leg of the long voyage, the captain and crew proudly raised all sail possible to catch the ten knot breeze blowing east south east on her port tack. All sails were set including the light air studding sails which gave a huge spread of white cloth to the air. Sea water sprayed the bow timbers as she coasted proudly to her destination. As she passed Lintin Island, various moored ships from several navies gave salutes. She was the apparition of an ancient privateer, pride illustrated in all the curves of her fast and beautiful shape.

  The visiting navy ships were arranged in anchoring spots along both sides of the channel. First came a Chinese frigate, grey with a French-built helicopter on deck decorated with the red star. Then a Brazilian frigate with its flag of red and green and one from Peru with red vertical paint were anchored. A French ship with its Panther helicopter, a Portuguese frigate with red and green vertical stripes, and a British frigate were next. The American carrier stood back at sea.

  The air was filled with the buzzing of international news service helicopters.

  Jolly’s call from Maryland interrupted Cutter as he flew above the Peregrine, observing from the clipper seaplane. He telephoned to give Cutter a description of the activities going on concurrently in River Sunday. From his friend’s excited and colorful accent, Cutter could picture the town’s fervor. He put on the speaker phone so Bill, grinning beside him, could listen.

  Jolly described the barge in the town harbor filled with politicians and the high school band. Since this was in a different time zone, Cutter could hear n
ight fireworks exploding. The band provided the musical backdrop for the River Sunday drama. Missed notes only added to the festivity and warmth of the celebration. Jolly said the streets, their colonial brick patterns specially cleaned, were alert to the feet of hordes of visitors in the harbor. He could hear the local guttural motors of large tourist launches. Above was the drone of helicopters mixed with the firework explosions. Jolly described the large television screens set to show real time the entry of the Peregrine into Canton.

  “They asked about my family,” Jolly gushed, “Big Smithy was there beside me holding his adze and occasionally showing how he cut masts. Pastor Allingham brought over John Reedy and he held up the carvings. He seemed to be proud this time of what his ancestor did.

  “At the courthouse the yacht club had constructed a quarter size model of the Peregrine and its members dressed in Peregrine shirts were giving demonstrations of replacing that foretop mast. They got all their lines and tackle right and, to tell the truth, the crowd loved it. The television folks can’t get enough of the town, that’s for sure.

  “Then there are the politicians. The governor has been here a couple of times in the big yacht he uses and I’ve personally seen one of the United States Senators. Later on today, the Coast Guard is going to put on a lifesaving demonstration out in the harbor. I guess that will be quite a show.

  “They also made sure we had a flyover from the boys over at Andrews’s field. Twin engine fighters came over low and let go some red, white, and blue smoke.

  “Of course I had to go by Lulu’s setup. She had a large tent with several of the Motorboat Lounge dancers dressed up and serving up beer. At the back was a large-screen television covering the race. I guess she had the biggest crowd. The Catholics had their fried chicken table with all of the Knights of Columbus out there serving the food. Charleston, the lawyer, even showed up to cook barbecue with his red apron over his coat and tie. I saw the women’s auxiliary from the Flying Tiger group wearing their peony flower corsages. You would have liked that, flowers I mean. Lots of food and booze. People are having a good time.” Jolly rang off saying he would report later with video coverage.

  The seaplane had circled back and was far away from the Peregrine now. For a while Cutter had to witness the Peregrine mooring in his mind. He could visualize it. First the extra sails were let go and fastened. The large square sails came down slowing the brig’s forward movement. The jib and spanker remained to give her headway. The deck crew stowed the lines and began the preparation of the big anchors.

  Then Willoughby brought the flying boat around close enough in its flight path. He could see everything through Bill’s telescope. The brig let go her jolly boat with a picked crew and the crew took out the line for the mooring buoy. The brig was too damaged from the firefight to be at a dockside for crowds to admire. The authorities had decided to moor her in the harbor at a special buoy. The crew took out the lines to snug this up. Nearby was the fabulous luxury hotel, the White Swan. The building was built on the point of land where the old factories of the China tea trade had been so long ago.

  From her masts were flying the banner of the old Williams Company as well as the Maryland colors. From her gaff spar in the stern, the United States flag spread out in a wide display.

  In tribute, a flight of Chinese SU30 Flanker jet fighter planes roared overhead, one after another.

  Then as their noise died down, they were replaced by Bill’s flying boat, this aircraft much older than the sleek jets, but as powerful in its own way. Bill had come through with what he had promised Cutter so many weeks ago at the start of this race. The seaplane’s race triumph flyover had been in preparation for weeks at Wake Island. His secretary Monroe had worked with the choreographers from Hollywood in great secrecy.

  On shore the noises were drowned by the roar of the large seaplane coming up the river. Then as the engines were dampened, the new sound was the pounding of American music serenading from huge suspended speakers mounted under the great seaplane wing. As the plane came closer, skimming over the water, the crowd at the harbor let out cheers. They could see an astounding sight. Bill had wing walkers, their blonde hair streaming back from the harnesses that held them, their legs flashing in reflective body suits in the sunlight.

  The choreographer had arranged the women in advantageous as well as safe places on the airframe. Two stood on each side of the wing between the engines. Two more were over the center of the wing by the cockpit. Then two were on each side of the fuselage standing on the small flotation wings that extended from the hull. Four more were on the fuselage behind the wing. Bill had arranged fourteen women in all. They were dressed in black body suits with the white Peregrine logo over the left chests. Coming from their heads were long streaming multicolored banners of red white and blue which alternated with red and yellow.

  They stood erect moving from side to side in time to the music. From the side windows more women danced inside with their hair streaming and their heads and hands outside of the open rectangles. Their hands moved in practiced rhythm, holding ribbons, and were easily visible from the ground.

  After the first pass, the plane's music stopped. Loudspeakers around the harbor began to broadcast the Chinese national anthem. Up on the plane the chorus line moved in unison to that music.

  A great warehouse near the shoreline suddenly opened back its huge doors and the people could see a large orchestra of dozens of musicians playing the anthem. The music switched to the Star Spangled Banner. The dancers on the seaplane wing flowed in rhythm as the seaplane made another circle around the brig’s mooring.

  Then, another more racy and excited tune belted from the wing speakers and flooded over the harbor .The women strutting in time to the words of the music told it all. It was the brash music of America combined from many different American historical periods.

  So it’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of company b

  A sweet talking sugar coated candy man

  Say a sweet talking sugar coated candy man

  So I’m a yankee doodle dandy

  A yankee doodle do or die

  A boogie woogie bugle boy of company b

  A sweet talking sugar coated candy man

  Then as the big seaplane circled Cutter looked down for the one thing that had come to rule his life and rightly so. He saw the real treasures. His son Jamie was below, aloft on one of the bare topsail yards, waving at the seaplane. Beside him, more beautiful than any of Bill’s chorus girls and just as excited, was Madeline. Last but not least, Katy was there, holding on with the best of them.

  From the windows of the big seaplane, Bill and Cutter saw the buildings of the former Canton came up at the end of the Whampoa anchorage. The seaplane began to come down. The flying boat made a graceful landing in the channel near the Peregrine and taxied to a pre-arranged spot nearby where a Chinese patrol boat helped with her mooring. She had landed almost in front of the half mile strip where the old factories had been, where the tea had once been traded, now resplendent in modern buildings. Cutter emerged with the others and waved to the large Chinese crowd assembled on the richly decorated pier in front of the ultra-modern skyscraper that was the hotel.

  “Long way from that starting line,” said Bill, grinning. Monroe moved up beside him and he put his arm around her waist. “You done it, honey.”

  “Me and a little British wind walker team and a lot of pretty and courageous women.”

  He nodded and said, “Jimmy, I think we beat old Fred Astaire today.”

  Cutter looked down at his cell and read the text from Sparkles, her final race accounting.

  “Boss, one hundred thirty nine and one half days logged from River Sunday. Nice going.”

  With all the delays and problems, Peregrine had still come in close to the crossing speed of the older John Gilpin, a hero of the earlier Pacific brig records. Added to that accomplishment, Bill’s songs of Hollywood, triumphant and modern, updating the history of this moment brought forth the backgro
und spirit of a still young land to the attention of an older culture.

  “You did it, Jimmy” said Bill, his arm around Cutter’s shoulder, a grin on his face. “Listen hard. You can hear them cheering back in River Sunday.”

  Chapter 24

  October 15, 8 30 AM

  The Pazhou Complex at the Canton Fair, Guangzhou

  Cutter stood with Katy and admired the huge photographs of multicolored peonies arranged on all parts of the booth. This was the patron flower of the Chinese manufacturer building the new Clipper car.

  The booth impressed as larger than any of the others in the Vehicles and Construction Machinery section of the Pazhou complex at the Canton fair. The name Johnson Company shone on durable yellow background plastic in two-foot-high red letters. Behind him as he faced the large crowd assembled in the aisle sat the concept model of the Clipper car. It was a smart small red and yellow vehicle resembling the Mustang yet with its own Chinese design in the eye-shaped headlights and toothy grille. In the small truck bed of the vehicle stood a beautiful Chinese woman, clad in a white evening dress almost appearing as a bride. Suspended from her shapely neck was a green jewel mounted on a sparkling necklace. A video camera attached to a large console sent the images of the booth real time out to the internet. Another screen brought in images of the celebration back in the United States including River Sunday. Both linked to receive and send images with different video cameras.

  “We have come a long way and we have a long way to go. Let us begin. We welcome this new era,” said a Chinese minister in a black suit, a short stubby man. He stood behind a red, white, and blue podium. The Chinese officials from the race headquarters in New York were assembled on both sides.

  Captain Hall stepped up and his face went out to the internet on the dozens of television news cameras. Captain Hall was handed the gold cup trophy on behalf of the Peregrine and crew. Bill Johnson stood beside him with Cutter behind.

 

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